A Quiet Haunt

[Reika]

She knew she shouldn't be there, condemned, boarded, dust coating what was left in the building. It was more than a relief walking through the echoeing quiet, her bootfalls muffled by the dust. It felt safer here, hidden from the prying eyes of the public.

She had been in the bustling city for a few months, but Reika still felt like a complete outsider. It was much closer to her home here, ruined, forgotten. She came from a city that had long learned to fear the dark and the forsaken. Even a deep shadow was a danger, and in this place she couldn't help but to remember battles, to remember scars she had earned.

There was a dusted mirror along a corridor, the many swiped hand marks showed that she wasn't the first. Despite how childish it seemed she followe dthe motion as well, looking at herself in the dark victorian wear. Long sweeping skirt, very feminine top, corset properly tied, her hair swept up and away from her face and neck. She didn't look like herself.

Her hair was never this neat, normally it was pulled back into a tight ponytail when she was out and about. Her regular attire would include a black shirt under a tight jacket, denims that fit tight over her legs but loose enough to slip boots on easily. You could barely see a scar peaking along her colar bone. she traced her fingers along over the fabric to where the mark met another scar that defined even the shape of her shoulder.

She was forever marred by her past, she followed the corset down over ribs that had been broken and cracked countless times, a scar from a blade that had nearly pierced vital organs. She moved down to her hip where there was another scar that cut deep into the muscle making an unnatural crease in her skin when she moved. Her eyes followed where her had wouldn't unless she bent, down her legs where there were countless cuts and scrapes as well as a few bullet scars as well.

She brought her eyes back up to her face, luckily her fights rarely ended with wounds there, her features nearly flawless in terms of scarring. Taking a deep breath she moved away from the sight, taking long slow strides through the dark and quiet halls.

She came down a sweeping staircase leading out to the main entrance of the building. Reika looked to the boarded doors, imagining the stained glass casting bright colors on the marble floor. Her eyes were caught by a glint flickering on the wall, she glanced up at the aging chandelier, the glass tinkling as it swayed ever so slightly.

She turned to the back doors, leading out a terrence. By the looks of the overgrowth the house had once been a place of luxury. Rose bushes untamed taking over the lawn, hedges unclaimed making inpenetrable walls. She found one clear section of low wall, settling down to watch the afternoon sky as storms brewed in the distance. She longed for home, but knew it may be a good wait before even the possibility reared its head.

[Dorian McCalster]

He walked along the side walk, enjoying the silence and the peace, even as afternoon began to break to night. He would need to find a place to sleep tonight, just like every night...perhaps he could make his way down town and look for some high dollar citizen who would allow him to sleep on their floor for the night, after they made him pay for it in some way...as he walked on he began to ponder the idea of breaking into one of these old houses. They were long abandoned, the evidence painfully obvious in the over grown foliage and cracked bricks.

That was fine for him however, especially at this moment...do or sleep in the streets or on the floor of some sex starved human being. He paused in front of a house that looked beyond repair, yet still as beautiful as it could ever be and swallowed a mouthful of cotton. Without thinking he stormed forward and to the front door, kicking it in with a strength he forgot he had.

It broke to the other side, making one hell of a racket, skidding through the darkness of the musty old house. He waited, afraid to hear some spectator raise from its grave to try and chase him from the porch, but nothing came. He laughed, a short sound and stepped inside, wiping off his shoulders. This place would work...

[Reika]

The sound was so sudden it litterally made her jump and sweat. She wasn't sure what it was, though the closest comparison she could think of were door being blown off their hinges. She realized shortly that her mouth was open, though she didn't remember making any sound. Her instincts kicked in, she pulled free the only weapon she had, the small pistol firm in her hand.

What a coincidence she had used the run down home to reminisce the past, now she was living it as a possible threat was less that on hindred feet from her. Her heart was racing and images of what it could be went racing through her mind. All she could think was to pray that it was not local authorities.

She stepped slow and soft, hearing what seemed like a male voice in the hall. She pressed her back firmly against the wall, peering slowly into the dark where she had been admiring not an hour before. Her eyes should adjust quickly, after long years hunting in the night, her hands steady. Muscle memory was her savior, as she raised the weapon to a moving shadow, her aim snapping into place on the center of the dark mass.