Recycling Journal (lostwithouther) wrote in inkworld, @ 2012-10-08 22:20:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | confused |
Who: Ed, Jason, and Liz
What Finding one-another in Fantasia.
When: Weeks after the original rift began.
Where: The Village- Inn
Rating: High?!
Status: Locked / Complete
Today marked seven days. Seven days since he’d gone from New York and found himself in this strange town, clearly not in the world that was his own, nor the world he’d met Liz and Jason. Here the technology was grossly inferior, their dress incredibly out-dated and there were fantastical creatures he’d never thought possible. He didn't belong. Then again, where did he belong? In lore, vampires were ancient beings. There could have been others like him- covens even but he doubted any of them shared in his philosophy that this disease plagued his body and needed to be rid of. No, he might as well see a witch doctor or visit the apothecary.
Traveling was difficult. There were few shaded areas and nights were completely dead of activity but for the pub which was filled with nothing but harsh mead and salted meats. He couldn't find enough wildlife around... nor did he have a donor to feed from. Usually Jason provided him with stolen samples from the Red Cross or Liz... well... she’d visit and offer her own...
A week without feeding had not done him well. He’d checked himself into the town Inn, noting the odd stares he’d gotten for the amber color of his eyes and the strange point of his ears, the oddity of his clothing and the blanch of his skin. Edward took to remaining in his room, pacing, as if waiting for someone to find him, his mind slowly slipping from the blood deprivation. He stared off into the darkness, biting his lips and tongue anxiously, poisoning himself with the infection of his blood and finally unable to take it any longer he curled onto the chair with his white button down shirt half open, shoeless and hair strewn every which way chewing on the veins of his left wrist with his fangs, enjoying the coppery taste and sticky feel of the thick red liquid rolling around his mouth.
Jason was a pig in shit. This world, wherever, whatever it was, was rich with scents like nothing he'd ever found back home. Mildew… A sour-sweet tinge of rot… Acrid, metallic-smelling expired blood. His was not a world of accommodating smells, textures, tastes… But this place was. It had a life to it that New York had lost years ago, drained away into the sewers and the hungry mouths of its occupants. Looking around, darting out a feral, heavy tongue Jason could almost pant, the air was so intoxicating. Turn one away, there, fresh meat searing on the fire! Another, a jolly fat one wobbling and corpulent, succulent as a heated hog. He looked almost cooked already, sweating away the day in the bizarre regiments that seemed tradition in these parts.
For that matter, as Jason looked down in frank assessment of his wardrobe, he really didn't fit in at all. Nobody seemed to go for the dark look here, or form-fitting. Or remotely in acknowledgment of form, although if the roly-poly man in the market square giggling a small pursed mouth inset between flabby cheeks for the amusement of passers-by and a thrown coin was any indication he'd feel all the more better not seeing anymore of the form than advertised.
For a moment Jason whimsically toyed with following the fat man and seeing how much bacon he could carve off, but he settled instead for the first of the strongest scents (and the most appealing; the fat man's sweat from all the labored dancing in fool's motley had not left him a pleasant thing to even so much as sniff close by to) and wandered off to go track down the searing meat. It smelled mouth watering, but there was an odd sharpness to it that he found puzzling, a tang which…
Yes, didn't seem quite right at all. Almost separate, distinct, as if somebody particularly soaked in the ripe scent of stale blood was somewhere nearby and overwhelmingly familiar enough to break through all the other smells. Could it be? Jason stared around, food momentarily forgotten in his amusement, taking stock of all the rough-hewn wooden buildings. Tavern, hall of some kind, an inn… Was it possible in one of those he smelled Ed?
Liz had gone several days ago to visit Ed at his apartment, it was typical because often the man... her friend, needed looking in on. But he wasn't there. So Liz returned every day since then. Still nothing, every afternoon letting herself into his apartment. It was strange. For six days now he had not been home, traveling during the day was difficult for him. And he wasn't the type to run off, unlike herself. Plus nothing seem to be missing. Nothing out of his lab, which would have been the first to go.
Liz wandered in circles around the apartment, anxiety and worry consuming her. Is this what that felt like? She wander offhandedly thinking of her friends and the many occasions she just had gone with no word. She thought to herself as she lightly rested her hands at the top of her stomach, which was only slightly starting to look larger than it should. The woman's mind racing with thoughts. Maybe him and Jason had just gone on a hunting trip, that involved extensive traveling. Or maybe gone off to find something for his research? But everything came back to the fact that nothing seemed to have been out of place in his bedroom, or the rest of the apartment.
So the woman turned to the thing that was most useful, and most comforting. Magic. In her heightened sense of worry, the woman’s breathing was becoming shallow as she slowly worked her way into a panic attack. The woman went to the door, getting her bag that was placed on the floor. Inside was a number of various essential things, which included components for spells. She quickly rummaged inside, finding a smokey quartz pendulum for scrying, and a very large map. The witch carried the bag, placing it over her shoulder. Sitting on the living room floor, opened the map up and began searching the city. Then the state, and when that failed she widened the search to the continental US.
Liz wasn't happy, for she also searched Jason figuring perhaps the two where together. The witch didn't give two-shits where he was. Except if he knew where Ed happened to be, in which case finding him would be helpful. But the scrying had failed to find both. It wasn't a difficult task, easiest of all the magic she was able to manipulate. Its failure sent the woman into an all out asthma attack. She couldn't think straight. The reasoning was an endless list of possibilities. The most prominent in her mind was that Ed was killed, dead. The woman folded the map, rather poorly shoving it into her bag, rummaging around frantically and pulling out several things.
The woman went to the bathroom floor which could be drawn upon with chalk. Liz began writing ancient symbols all connected by a framework of a pentacle. Symbols covering every single inch of it, which sprawl all across the entire bathroom floor. Then she placed at the four corresponding corners; a tiny deep-red candle light by the spark of her fingers, a small stone bowl which she filled with water, a feather placed delightedly with the prominent side surrounded by nothing but open space and not the floor, and a piece of wood.
During this preparation the young witch attempted to calm her emotions, knowing that the state of herself would affect the spell. It always had. And this particular piece of magic was an ancient form, and far more darker form of a divination- sense life spell, intertwined with a transportation spell. The woman tamed her asthma with her inhaler throwing it back into her bag. But the panic attack wasn't as easy, nor was her obsessive thoughts. This caused concern, but despite it she was still following threw with the spell.
Liz knew this was dangerous; she wasn't prepared for a fight although she always had fire magic that was simply the flick of the wrist, so she never truly was unarmed. Standing in the center of the pentacle, holding a knife in hand. But only after fiddling with her bag a crossed her right shoulder and laying comfortably a crossed her frontal torso onto her left hip... And fixing the map properly so it didn't ruin. The witch grounded the best she could, with the rampant thoughts and panic attack. Then extended her hand, holding the knife out speaking in the same ancient tongue that was written upon the floor. Extending energy of her intent and with the knife slashing at her palm. As blood dripped upon the floor, magical flames rippled out of the crimson drops and collided with the writing.
The element representations where extinguished; the candle melting into nothing but a pile of wax. The water evaporating into the air leaving the empty stone bowl. The feather burning into ash thrown upward. And the wood catching fire. When the flames reached the edge of the pentacle, it erased the chalk writing and turned back inward towards the witch. The flame surrounded her, and within a mere moment the woman was gone. Quickly following traveling far-far from it's source; a burst of flame in the center of the room in-which Ed was sitting within, chewing upon his own arm, appeared quite out of now where. When it faded, stand in its place was Liz untouched by the fire. Although smelling ever strongly of flames, and sulfur.