InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "No violin music please."

Bellum Anon (bellum_anon) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-04-27 23:02:00

Entry tags:

plot: fables

Who: Everyone!
What: Transformation Plot Post
Where: All over.
When: Moonrise on the 28th.
Warnings: All kinds, I expect.

The moon slipped up past the horizon full, round, and white. Its effects had been predicted, though perhaps not fully believed by the residents of the building.

Moonlight streamed through the windows of the building, washing the city in pale light. For the tenants of Bellum Letale, where ever they were, scattered in the night, it had a tangible effect.

Change rippled through the building, much as it had over a month before. But this was not simply a twitch in the fabric of things, gone in the blink of an eye. It was a rolling change, gradual as the moonrise, tangible, and, in some cases, likely terrifying in its inexorability. People became what they were, what they ought to have been, and what they weren't.

The moon was up, and trouble was about to run high in Bellum.

[Notes: Remember that the events of last month still apply-I.E, those who became vampires will be vampires when they take on their fable form, the Frog Prince will still be human after being turned back last plot, etc. Whether the fables are aware a month has passed since they were last around is up to the players. This log posted with the anon account so that the mods do not wake up tomorrow with 100 notifications in their gmail. Go forth and plot!]

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blackcatsrbad
2010-04-28 06:53 am UTC (link)

Ichabod remembered this place, and he knew it wasn't Sleepy Hollow, although that knowledge was faint and at the very back of his mind. It didn't seem important, really. Katrina would still be here, and surely there were people willing to offer the local schoolteacher lodging for the night. And food - he hoped there was food. Perhaps he might even be lucky to stumble upon a feast.

But he was ever attentive as he checked each door on the sixth floor, listening for sounds of ghosts and dead things - the sorts of stories told around the fire by the inhabitants of Sleepy Hollow. He was disappointed to find that the unlocked apartments were empty, and he was halfway to the stairwell leading down when he heard the footsteps. They were far too heavy to be those of a normal man, and he felt his chest constrict in fear.

His curiosity, however, propelled him forward to see just what was coming up the stairs towards him. When he saw who - or rather what - it was, the terror was nearly suffocating.

It was the Headless Horseman, the figure feared by all of Sleepy Hollow, and Ichabod had heard far too many stories about him to even count. He didn't have his horse, but then again, a horse wouldn't have fit in the narrow stairwells and hallways. Unable to speak, he backed away from the nightmarish figure advancing upon him, having absolutely no idea what to do. Something about a bridge he couldn't cross - but there were no bridges here. Could he outrun the Horseman? Dare he even try? But his legs wouldn't work properly, and he kept backing up until he hit the wall. "Please," he managed, the quiver in his voice evident. "Leave me be, Sir Horseman."

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reclamation
2010-04-28 07:04 am UTC (link)

As he was coming up another flight of stairs (pointless, why make a house so high?), a figure came into view. Outlined in a lighter shade of black, they - he - stumbled back and pressed against the wall, radiating fear with every word, with every breath. William was stock-still on the steps as he considered the man before him.

He who would dare come into this town and take a place among those who had owned it for centuries, who flaunted himself on the paths at night as if taunting the ghosts ...

William started up the stairs again, as even and paced as before. His arm shifted the cloak back and away from his side so that as he reached for his sword, the schoolteacher would be able to see it, even in the darkness of the stairwell. The sound the blade made as his hand wrapped around the hilt and drew it from the scabbard was a slow, long shing noise - of metal and steel and blood to come.

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blackcatsrbad
2010-04-28 07:16 am UTC (link)

He didn't expect the Horseman to answer - he was headless, after all - and even despite his situation, he wondered if the Horseman could even hear him in the first place. Well, that would make pleading rather useless, wouldn't it? Ichabod barely had time to mull this over during the short time that the Horseman paused, and once again he began to advance forward, his footsteps impossibly heavy on the ground.

He saw the sword, and in that moment he knew that if he didn't move - if he just stood there, paralyzed by fear - then the steel blade being withdrawn before him was going to be stained with his blood.

There was nothing else he could do but run - so run he did. Ichabod turned and raced up the stairs, practically tripping over himself in his haste. "Help! Someone, please, it's the Horseman!" He didn't know if anyone would, or could, help; but fear had taken precedence over rationality. There had to be somewhere he could hide, but where? Was anywhere safe? He didn't dare look back for fear of falling, and if he fell it gave the Horseman time to catch up. He paused briefly at the top of the stairs, scanning the hall frantically before opting to continue on up to the eighth floor. Cole's apartment, 802 - maybe he could hide there.

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reclamation
2010-04-28 07:28 am UTC (link)

It couldn't be said that he was surprised when the schoolteacher chose to run - it was what usually happened, after all, and there was only a certain extent to what kind of emotions you could have while being dead - but he was quickly ranging to displeased, possibly irritated. When the schoolteacher started to rush up the stairs, William stopped his slow, meaningful walk and began to run as well.

His progress was hampered by the stairs, and by his cloak, which was made for a long, dark winter more than for chasing. He kept his sword firmly in his hand as he leapt from stair to stair, taking them two at a time if he could, his balance kept by some force conjured up from beyond the grave. The yelling drew his attention further and he saw the schoolmaster pausing briefly at the top of the next set of stairs - only to ascend further even as William nearly reached him.

He slashed out with the sword toward the schoolteacher's retreating back. A hit wasn't likely, but perhaps he could terrorize him further and make him trip, force him to stumble - slow him down.

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blackcatsrbad
2010-04-28 07:52 am UTC (link)

As he ran he tried to remember the stories, tried to think if some weakness had been mentioned - anything he could use to stop the Horseman or even just force him to abandon his chase. He kept drawing a blank, and the only thing that came to mind was the bridge, which wasn't here in this godforsaken place. Ichabod could hear the Horseman behind him, and realized with a growing sense of dread that his footsteps were no longer slow and deliberate. How was he to ever outrun something that was no longer alive?

The stairs seemed impossibly long, and he could barely breath from a mix of fear and exertion. He was close - so close - to the eighth floor when he heard the hiss of metal cutting through the air, and instinctively he threw himself forward to avoid the blow that he was sure was aimed at his head.

It wasn't the best idea, since he wasted precious moments trying to get back on his feet. He made the mistake of glancing back, seeing how close the Horseman was, and letting out another terrified cry. He scrambled to regain his balance and propelled himself forward, managing to catch himself before he fell to continue running. "Stop, please, what do you want?" He had a choice to make, and he had to make it quickly. Either he kept running to the very top, where he would be trapped and likely killed, or he could hide. A door might stop the Horseman for a few moments, enough to give him time to escape somehow.

He sucked in his breath and changed course, running towards 802. He hit the door with a bang, scrambling for the doorknob and slamming the door shut behind him once he was in. Now, to hide.

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reclamation
2010-04-28 08:03 am UTC (link)

He may have missed, but the schoolteacher flung himself down anyway, as if to protect his neck. A good move, though misguided. William strode further up, rounding the stairs heavily, and was nearly upon the man before he scrambled away. The cry of terror meant that he was well on his way to succeeding. The fear, the pain, the final end - those were all he sought.

For now, in any case.

Obviously there was no answer to the hysterical question. William was nearly at the top of the stairs when he saw the schoolteacher hit a door, force it open, dash inside and slam it shut. So there was a stumbling block, was there? It would pose no problem.

He didn't run any more. Once again, his footsteps were even and sure, stopping just outside the door he knew the man had gone through. Briefly he tried the handle - it was caught and locked. Trying to cut the door open or break the lock would damage his sword. Only one solution, then.

William took a step back, brought up his foot, and slammed it hard against the edge of the door, nearest the lock. His boots were heavy and built, prepared to spend months in the wild, supporting him as he fought. Strong though the door may be, it wouldn't keep him out forever.

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blackcatsrbad
2010-04-28 08:12 am UTC (link)

Ichabod glanced wildly around the apartment, which seemed both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It was nearly impossible to think through his panic, fear, and the sound of the Horseman's footsteps approaching; but he tried. He had no weapons, and none of them would be of any use since he was already dead. Hiding, then, was his only hope.

The first kick at the door made him jump, and he glanced back at the door in terror before scrambling for the bedroom. The window caught his eye, and he tilted his head to the side, wondering why something seemed to be telling him to open it. He made his way over to it and tried, but it was locked - it took some fumbling, but he finally managed to get it when he heard another, heavier kick at the front door.

That startled him even more, and in blind fear he abandoned the window and instead hid in the closet, trying to be as quiet as he could so the Horseman wouldn't find him. Maybe he would give up and finally just go away.

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reclamation
2010-04-28 05:02 pm UTC (link)

The door gave on the third kick, a cracking noise indicating its break from the lock. It flew back and slammed against the wall only to come back toward its original position, but William put out a hand to stop it, gently pushing it open again so he could come in. The room was dark and empty, the signs of living muted by the moonlight that was almost as black as the rest of the world in his nonexistent eyes.

He didn't hear any struggling, any frantic noises or climbing or running. For a few long moments he simply stood in the first room, waiting for something to happen. An attack? No. The man had fled; he wouldn't fight back now. An attempt to sneak out? With no eyes to restrict his sight, William could see wherever he wished. There was no movement except for the door slowly shifting on its hinges.

Unconcerned, he made his way into the bedroom, through the open door and pausing as he came within sight of the window. It was unlocked. On the edge of hearing, spiritual or real, he heard something.

Ah ...

He kept himself turned toward the window for several long moments before slowly making his way around the room, passing by the closet without notice. It would have been simple for the man to scramble out the window, but where would he go from there? Unlocked it may have been, but ...

Abruptly he turned, wrenching open the closet door and being rewarded with the sight of the man he sought cowering inside. His assumptions proven right, he slashed at the schoolteacher, sword hissing in the air, aiming high.

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blackcatsrbad
2010-04-28 05:27 pm UTC (link)

Ichabod flinched in his hiding spot as he heard the door finally give way, but he knew he had to keep absolutely still and silent if he was to have any chance at survival. He held his breath as he strained to listen, trying to figure out where in the apartment the Horseman was judging by his footsteps.

He squeezed his eyes shut when he heard the footsteps grow louder and louder until they were right there in the bedroom, praying that the Horseman would see nothing and go. Perhaps he might think that he went out the window, and leave to search for him below.

For a moment he really did think that he was safe, that the Horseman would give up his search and go on to find another victim - as much as he disliked the idea of someone else being hurt, there was nothing he could do to stop him. First he had to save his own head, and then he could worry about warning the others. The closet door opening caught him by surprise, and he barely had time to suck in a breath to cry out before the sword swung towards him.

He did the only thing he could do - he raised his arms and turned, trying to protect his head. He felt the sword's blade slice through flesh, burning pain engulfing his arms like fire. Ichabod stumbled backwards with a low cry, taking hold of whatever clothes were on the hangers and flinging them at the Horseman in an attempt to distract him before dropping to all fours and trying to crawl away, thinking that if he stayed low to the ground he might have a better chance. Next time, he knew, the Horseman wouldn't miss.

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reclamation
2010-04-28 06:45 pm UTC (link)

The blood hit the air like a splash of color in his black world, and while it wasn't the clean cut he'd come to expect, it was nonetheless a hit. He tried to bring the sword back around to slash a second time, but it was hampered by the sudden clothes that came piling on him - the empty collar of his cloak, over his arms, onto his sword. It didn't hamper his sight, but his movement was slowed, as it was intensely difficult to cut someone when the blade was covered; he saw the shape of the schoolteacher drop and vanish, and lashed out with a kick to try and stop him.

William struggled to pull the clothes off himself and his sword, jerking and shifting his cloak back over his shoulders. He finally swung his sword free and turned on his heel. Where had the man gone -- ? There was still a head to be claimed!

Near to the window he saw him, a figure half-illuminated in the black moonlight with the blood vivid and fresh on his arm. With speed, but not running, he made his way for the schoolteacher, intending to finish this once and for all.

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blackcatsrbad
2010-04-28 09:40 pm UTC (link)

He managed to dodge the Horseman's kick, crawling as quickly as he could towards the doorway. Once he got out he leapt to his feet and slammed the bedroom door, knowing it would only hold him for a second at best. The window in the bedroom was now out of the question, but luckily there was more than one escape route in this apartment.

It was Cole who knew that there was a fire escape, and considering his lack of options, Ichabod decided to use that knowledge to his advantage. He climbed onto the kitchen counter and used every ounce of strength he had to shove the window open, pausing only to glance at the approaching Horseman before squeezing through the opening.

He was terrified of how high up he was, with nothing but metal keeping him from plunging to his death, but he knew he had to time to waste. He clambered down the stairs, zigzagging his way to the sixth floor windows before stopping to see if the Horseman would follow.

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reclamation
2010-04-28 10:06 pm UTC (link)

The man scrambled out the door and slammed it shut, leaving nothing but a trail of blood glinting in the darkness to follow. William didn't even bother to wrench at the handle but kicked out the door instead. It banged against his shoulder as he came out into the main room. He saw movement in the kitchen - a figure fighting with the window, which gave way. For a moment the schoolteacher glanced back at him.

He was moving forward in a split second, but the man had already slipped out the window. William was quick to reach the same place but his size suddenly worked to his disadvantage; even as he forced the window open further and tried to clamber out onto the metal grating below, he knew that the schoolteacher was already too far down. He could chase him, yes; follow him down the grating and back through yet another difficult window. He could follow him until there was nowhere left to go. But his cloak caught on the edges of the window as he tried to force his way out, and by that time he had lost two floors of ground.

For a few moments, he simply crouched there, half out the window, hand gripping tight to the frame.

There would be ample time to find him again. After all, there was a blood trail to follow now.

William pulled himself back inside and stalked to the broken front door, putting his sword back in its sheathe. Tonight - for the moment - the schoolteacher would have his freedom.

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blackcatsrbad
2010-04-28 10:24 pm UTC (link)

Ichabod didn't dare breathe as he watched the top half of the Horseman's body appear out of the window, his knuckles turning white from the effort of holding on to the metal railing. If he made it out and came after him, it would be the end. No matter where he ran the Horseman could catch him, and that sword would meet its mark.

He only exhaled when the Horseman disappeared from view, but his body was still tense as the minutes ticked by. For all he knew it could be a trick, and he could simply smash his way out of the window and be on him in a moment. Finally, however, he roused up the courage to investigate. Besides, his arms were bleeding, and he knew enough to realize that the flow needed to be stopped. Inch by inch he made his way back up the fire escape, peering through the window.

The apartment looked empty, and the front door was wide open - but what if the Horseman was there, waiting? Still, it was either wait out here bleeding or risk another attack, so he pushed the window back open and slipped inside. A quick sweep of the place told him that the Horseman had indeed left, but Ichabod wasn't taking any chances. He locked all the windows, shut the front door - even though it wouldn't stay shut - and locked himself in Cole's bedroom. That way, at least, he had the window to escape from if the Horseman returned.

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