Haunted Roads

Who: Maggie and Sophie
Where: Starting outside Sophie's school
When: Friday Afternoon


Time moved too fast sometimes. Other times it seemed to move too slowly. The years that Bastian had been gone had felt like she was stuck in molasses, dragging her feet through the motions of day to day life, trying her best to make Sophie happy but knowing that the girl missed her father and no amount of Maggie's actions could change that fact. The past few weeks though, they seemed to be on a lightening pace.

She couldn't keep up with it. Didn't know what to make of the immense changes that had come so quickly. All she could do was keep her feet moving and hope that she didn't stumble. She wasn't sure she could make it much longer without that stumble.

Extra shifts had been handed out to Maggie like they were candy, apparently there was a bit of a staff shortage too many pregnancy leaves all coming at the same time. Must have been something in the water. Maggie couldn't complain too much about the extra hours, money was always something that their family needed, especially trying to keep the bar up and going. Expenses never seemed to stop adding up. But the extra hours didn't help the situation at home.

She didn't like to think of it as a... situation, but she wasn't entirely sure what else to think of it as. A change in circumstance? A change in the way she had to view the world? Knowing that things... no beings she had never thought to be real were very much so... it fundamentally changed a great number of things. Almost too many things. Despite all that it did change there was one thing Maggie was determined not to let it change and that was their family. She prayed every night that it wouldn't, that they could somehow sort through it all and make sense of this new world. But she knew that prayer alone wasn't going ot manage it.

She had to make certain that it didn't. She knew that talking with Sophie was the only way and once that hurdle had been crossed a small amount of peace had settled into Maggie's heart. Things were far from simple and far from certain but it was the small things that were what mattered to Maggie. Knowing that Sophie had accepted this... change in the person that her father was meant a great deal to Maggie. It wasn't easy for her, it sure as hell wasn't easy on Bastian but knowing that Sophie was finding her own peace with the idea went a long way to curing those nervous motherly worries.

Of course that didn't last long with a teenager. The message that she'd received from Sophie that she wanted to talk had sent a whole new flurry of those through her. Overreacting... perhaps but it was one thing for the mother and daughter to talk another to receive the request (that she didn't put out first) from Sophie. The topic... a mystery. Left her mind entirely to wander which wasn't always the best thing despite the fact that Maggie trusted her daughter. She wouldn't be a mother if she didn't have the ability to think of the worst.

So even before the final bell rang at Sophie's school she had her old worn volvo parked directly in front of the school. She was waiting for the students to come spilling from the doors including her daughter.

When: Night
Where: Towers
Who: Bastian and Sophie

Bastian was not looking forward to this. He didn’t sleep all day or the night before, he sat up knowing that all too soon he’d have to sit down with Sophie and tell her what had happened. What had really happened. He knew he should have done this weeks ago, he should have just bitten the bullet and blurted it out to all of them. But he hadn’t…and the longer time went on the more he began to wonder if just…not telling her was best. He knew it wasn’t though, as living in a lie never made anything better in the end. Living in a lie was never how he wanted things to be between him and his family. But this wasn’t exactly the easiest conversation to have. He wasn’t even sure how to start it up. He’d managed to get through it with Maggie and his father though. One more time…for some reason he didn’t think it was going to be third times the charm for him.

Typically he’d be at the bar by now. He’d be behind the counter handing beers over to eager patrons and keeping his mind busy with endless tasks that never really distracted him as much as he hoped they would. By now he’d be listening to the mumbles of the tv spouting of scores for sports or the weather for next week. By now he’d already be ready for the night to be over with. But instead he was sitting in the living room with a drink in hand and the bottle too far away in the kitchen.

He’d refilled the glass at least five times by now.

A cigarette was between his fingers, the smoke floating up and out the open window just behind him. He always tried to avoid smoking in the house, habit that his ma got him started on long ago. No one wanted to smell that when they first walked into a place. If there was ever any night to let that rule slide a bit though, it was tonight. A drag was taken…soon after another was…. The cigarette burning down, counting the minutes by exhales and inhales. By the clinking of melting ice in his glass, by the slight tick tick tick of the clock on the wall that Bastian didn’t remember.

This entire place felt like that sometimes, like it was nothing but rooms he didn’t remember. So much was made to mimic the house but it was always just a bit off. Just…not the same and he knew it never would be. It made him feel like a stranger…or maybe it was just the place that he was blaming that feeling on. Something to bitterly pick apart rather then that bigger picture of what really made him feel like that. Those obvious reasons that he couldn’t face…those reasons that made him not even want to look in the damned mirror. Running away from them didn’t do anything. Denying them didn’t somehow change it. Bastian was well aware of this…too aware…but sometimes it felt like the only choice out there. Or the easiest at the least.

Easy wasn’t going to keep the rug from being pulled out from under him again. That fact was always apparent in his thoughts. Some flashing fucking sign that followed him constantly. He’d been trying to find those to speak with, others to create some sort of tie to in order to keep his family safe. But what it always boiled down to was that he didn’t know a damned one of them. Anyone could talk kind words and pretend to be a caring bastard and then, at the right moment, would fucking snap their jaws shut around you. The last thing Bastian wanted was to somehow get them into all of this even deeper then they already were.

Faintly Bastian sighed, the sound seeming to echo in the empty place. No one else was home, out for the night leaving Bastian to sit and wait. He’d told Sophie he wanted to talk with her tonight however, he hoped that was enough to get her to come home rather then stay out through the night too. So far he wasn’t certain, night had been around for at least an hour or two now.

The silence was starting to eat at him….gnawing at that calm he was trying to keep. Suddenly in an almost jerky motion he was up to his feet, finding some music to turn on to help to curb that vacant feeling the place seemed to hold tonight.

It didn't help.

When: Night
Where: Admiral Theater
Who: Prissy and Sophie - Narrative maybe

“Here puppy puppy….” Priscilla cooed into the shadows of an alleyway near the Towers. She could hear the wounded little werewolf growling and snarling in the darkness, she could envision the way that blood dripped from his muzzle and the bright red that had to be staining his pretty fur now. She’d seen the fight, quick event that it was…and had followed this little puppy to his hole where he was trying now to lick his wounds. How many humans would realize what those howls were tonight? How many would figure out that the dog seen racing by wasn’t just some ordinary dog….

“Aww is there a wounded dog in there? I’m a vet…” the words were sickly sweet near to Prissy’s ear. She smirked, she couldn’t help it. The human had walked right into this. Prissy turned, doe like eyes glossy with tears threatening to be shed. “I think he’s really hurt…” she pouted, glancing quickly back into the darkened alleyway with frantic urgency. “Is he yours?” the woman questioned and Prissy shook her head “No, but I feed him sometimes. He’s a stray I think.” She sounded so genuinely concerned and very afraid. She couldn’t let the poor puppy sit there in the dark all alone could she? He needed some company….

“Don’t worry; I’ll take a look at him okay?” The older woman moved Prissy off to the side, giving her a pat on the back in that comforting gesture that all would be okay. Prissy sniffled and nodded her head. Her amused little smile for now buried back under a false guise of tormented worry. Slowly the woman moved into the alleyway…were the hairs on the back of her neck standing up? Could she started to feel that doubt eating away at her gut….

She didn’t have time to listen to her instincts and turn back. No soon her soothing words to the dog unseen turned to a short lived scream. A harsh sound cut off as sharp teeth clamped down over the woman’s throat, crushing it. Priscilla giggled, peeking around the corner to witness the fresh wash of blood that splattered to the wall in a decorative display. “Now don’t you feel better?” she questioned, arching a brow with that smirk now holding her lips. All she got for answer was a muffled growl. He was too busy enjoying his new found meal.

With a laugh Prissy turned away, continuing to make her way down the street. Normally she could have been driven right to the theater…normally she would have taken up that eager driver of daddy’s on the offer. But tonight Prissy wanted to be out and walking the streets. She wanted to smell the blood in the air and hear those cute noises from dark corners where the werecreatures hid away. How many would die tonight? How many would be reborn?

By the time she’d made her way to the theater there were at least two dead that she knew of….well the last one might have survived. Prissy didn’t stay to watch, she just smelled the blood as she passed by the park. But as fun as tonight was just for that sort of show…Prissy had a different kind to get herself focused on. She had a cute little teenage girl to corrupt and play like a puppet. Her and her band mates. Not a difficult task for Prissy, not at all. In fact she was rather looking forward to it. They all made such pretty dolls. She just had to pull a few strings…

Once to the theater Prissy stood out front, leaning her back against the wall and putting a cigarette to her lips before pulling out her phone to give Sophie a text to let the girl know she was there. Of course if Sophie and the rest of the band were out front they’d likely notice the succubus right away. She always stood out a bit…tonight by stance as much as by persona.

When: Early Night
Where: Old Town Towers
Who: Bastian, Maggie, Sophie

Somehow he had convinced Sophie that they should wait a night in going to the Towers. It hadn't been easy, no words really were explanation enough, but he had to make it work. It was better that then face them with such a cruel truth so shortly after he arrived in their home. Theirs....not his...such thoughts made him so heavy hearted. Everything had changed....he came back hoping it would be the same but he should have known. The world kept turning, everyone had to keep living....he had just never thought that things would go this way for all of them. He had wanted to give them all so much better...

Before daylight came Bastian was up, shutting every blind, making sure that not an inch of light could get in...he could have gone back to sleep then but instead he stayed awake. He sat there...watching his little girl sleep from the couch that he'd taken up as his bed for the night. He was afraid if he closed his eyes for too long she'd be gone. It was a foolish thought but there it remained all the same.

She was so much different now. He could so plainly see how the passing years had affected her. A tough women who no longer was a little girl at all. he wondered all through the night if Maggie had so much of the life he'd missed captured somehow. Of course Maggie would...but would he be able to look at it? To face completely just how much he had missed? Nothing could make up for those lost years...and nothing would make up for it if he was gone for so much more.

He told Sophie he had no want to leave again...but that tug at the back of his mind reminded him every second that she was out there and less then happy with him. His sire. The bitch.

Bastian pretended to be asleep when Sophie woke for school. It was difficult to let her leave at all but he had...and while she was gone he took that time to rest. Unfortunately for him she was back before night fell, leaving no chance for him to go out and try to feed. He was paler today then yesterday but Bastian dismissed the comment of it away, saying only that it was caused by a bad nights rest. That was all.

But again he had to stall; he hated the lies…the pathetic attempts of explanation that likely made no sense. He could only come up with so many reasons…but through them all he knew that she knew something was up. She was smart, too smart for all his attempts.

Still she let him wait till nightfall. Content it seemed, to simply be around him.

Finally the time came and Bastian got to his feet. He was nervous there was no denying that. Nervous…fearful….and half tempted to try to convince Sophie that they should meet somewhere else. But he knew that any that were after him would know long ago where both all his family lived. His showing there or not, wouldn’t change that.
So he took them outside, he turned in his key to the hotel as he could never stay at any for long…and used that stolen car to drive them to the towers. There he parked in the back; the car wouldn’t be used again. He couldn’t push his luck for too long.

Once parked it was up to Sophie to lead the way, pulling him along through the unfamiliar halls.

Who: Sophie (Narrative)
Where: School
When: Sometime in the Day
What: Ignoring Class Lessons

Nothing unusual to any of her teachers, or any others, that Sophie slept through most of her classes. Seated as per her custom, to the back of the room, eyes closed behind dark shades, Sophie attempted cat naps, but while others thought she did just that, Sophie was too pumped to sleep.

Bastian. Now that was like a dream in itself. Was it real? Had she hallucinated it? Nope, none of it. He was real, and he was really here. But damn, she had not wanted to leave. She hadn’t wanted to go home, to get bitched at for staying out all night, and to not be able to tell Maggie anything. In fact, if Maggie weren’t at home today, Sophie might have skipped class and tried to sleep in. A feat seeming less and less likely, not for her surroundings but just for her own emotions and racing thoughts.

Too many of those thoughts she had to keep pushing aside. Sophie questions everything in her life. This however, she was choosing not to question. For the first time in her life. Was that what faith was? Yes. She understood now exactly what faith meant. She loved him, was grateful to have him back, and would do whatever was necessary not to screw any of that up.

Besides… nothing beyond that mattered. He was back, alive and well, and that was what mattered.

Now… how long was Sophie going to have to avoid Maggie? She could lie easy enough, but not when there was something she was itching to share. Straight away after school she wouldn’t be returning home anyway, but back to the hotel. Sophie knew exactly where it was.

She had to see her father again.

Who: Sophie and Bas
Where: Studio7
When: Sometime between 9:30 and 10:30
What: Ummm... Hi Daddy!

The Stepford Wives. First night at Studio Seven, though not their first night anywhere. This was, by far, their biggest gig yet, even if Studio Seven specialized in local acts. Still, how they did here would make all the difference in theith immediate futures. It was a foot in the door kind of venue and whether you did well here or sucked, it would enfluence whether others hired you. Not to mention the exposure was the absolute best they could hope to have at this juncture.

Like their audience and even the club employees, most of The Stepford wives had something in their system. But they weren’t complete idiots and none wanted to be wasted tonight. At least not yet. After the show would be a great time for that. They’d all done a few lines, shared an eight ball just before they took the stage. Gave them great energy, though Sophie had balance it, took a little of the edge off, by smoking a bowl. She wanted energy, not anxiety.

Needless to say, she was beyond happy with her feeling, and just as happy with the sound of their set. Even better, the feedback they were getting from the audience. That was a greater high then any of the other shit any of them put in their bodies.

The set began with an intense energy with Burn ‘em Down and continued when Sophie took ver the lead vocals on the lewd Cumming into My Own. With the audience reeling she carried them straight into a caustic cover of the Distillers’ Hate Me. Finally, after Psycho Bitches out of Hell Sophie relinquished the vocals once more to concentrate her energy on guitar, and a nice glass of water. That Distillers song was hell on her throat.

God this was fun. Too bad Maggie would never appreciate it the way Sophie did. Not to mention she really would freak on some of the shit coming out of her little girl’s mouth.

Who: Keisuke and Open
Where: Walking back towards the Towers
When: Monday Night
Rating: TBA

Keisuke had finally finished giving his assistant all the paperwork that he'd finished with in the last two weeks. Translation of the latest journals that the publishing company he was currently signed up with had been easy, if a little boring. He'd resisted the urge to correct some of the grammer and terminology in the original, disappointed and amused at the same time that Japanese had changed so much through the centuries. Honorifics, titles, even the ending of phrases changed. Sometimes he felt he had to work just as hard with his mother tongue as he did with learning English, just so he didn't sound awkwardly anachronistic, with formal speech that had long fallen out of use.

The girl he'd met with had pretty eyes hidden behind thick ugly black plastic glasses. She'd been snuffling continuously and had apologized profusely that she'd caught a cold and she hope she wouldn't give it to him. He'd made no response, merely continuing to let her know which documents needed to be mailed to Los Angeles, which needed to be edited and sent back.  He did not enjoy dealing with postal services, even UPS, FED-EX, AIR, or any of the companies. Something about mail and mailing things seemed like such an annoyance, a rushed way of doing things. "We'll have it there by midnight!" No. He'd leave all of the messy paperwork detail to the book-keeping assistant that the local publishing sister company had. She didn't seem to mind and in fact had mentioned once that she enjoyed starting her work later because of his later "hours of inspiration". She and his publisher both knew that Keisuke did his work best when uninterrupted during the evening and sleeping through the day. Being an eccentric artist had its benefits.

Wrapping the loosened scarf he had on more tightly around the neck of his dress shirt, he paused for a brief moment as he walked down the darkened streets of Seattle, sporadic cars whizzing by in their hurry to be where they needed to. He was running low on gauche and he'd been thinking of finishing up the watercolor work he'd been fiddling with since last week. He remember there to be an arts and crafts shop somewhere nearby but given his lack of explorations thus far, he couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was in his fuzzy memory. Seeing not many people on the street, he wondered if he'd be luckier braving a stranger for directions or wandering into a nearby cafe or store to ask for the way.

Standing there, slightly tousled black hair falling over his eyes a little, black dress shirt paired with a thin grey and white scarf over loose slacks, he had a look of blank uncertainty even as he touched his finger to his lips in thought. The black handkerchief he'd tied in the morning, shifted downwards a little, but remained tight, paired with the black leather gloves he wore to cover his sun scarred hands. Finally deciding, he turned a little, looking around to see who looked like they wouldn't mind being bothered for directions.