Morningstar Manor

He'd stopped trying to call, but he hadn't stopped trying to get in. Every free minute, when he wasn't needed he spent driving back and forth, loitering in the front of the building, waiting for...anything.

He'd been there for two hours today before giving up and returning to the station.

Now he sat in his office commiserating over a cup of coffee, and trying to avoid looking at his rumpled pullout.

She'd lost track of how long she'd been sitting in the lobby, but she knew it'd been hours. She couldn't help it, really. Every time she got up to move, she was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread that told her taking another step would be a really bad idea. But when she sat back down, she felt like she was being watched. Hours of that was really starting to get to her. But she had a feeling that constantly feeling like she was being watched was far preferable to what would happen to her if she kept walking once she stood up, so... she sat.

She dragged her fingers through her hair and wished that Noah were there to keep her company.

Memphis was sitting in the Mocha, hands around a huge coffee cup. He was staring off out the window, wondering where Travis was actually at. He'd tried calling, but his phone wouldn't work. Leaving the Manor was beyond pointless as well. It was like one huge prank being extended out and he did not like this one bit.

Icene had found herself sleeping a lot the last couple of days, coming home from work on Friday she'd had Chinese in her apartment, with a bottle of wine, and an early night, alone. Yesterday she'd cleaned and cleaned and cleaned, changing sheets, towels, sorting through her wardrobe and dresser, and bagging some stuff for donation to the local women's refuge. Today was laundry day though, and she hefted the two large bags, one in each hand, and pack-muled her way down to the laundry.

She wasn't really thinking, or watching, but she could feel something watching her, and with the ice having been on surge all weekend, it wasn't hard to let a little of it go, reducing the temperature in the stairwell by rather more than just a few degrees. The sense of being watched faded as she descended.... Once in the laundry room she sorted clothes into washers, loaded towels and sheets into a third, and then bagged all the delicates into net bags by set, before loading them into a fourth machine. Setting each of them running she sat down in a chair and wondered why she hadn't bought a book or something. That was when the being watched sensation started again... and the temperature began dropping. Icene scowled, and began prowling the room, every sense alert, but found nothing. With a sigh she sat back down, facing the door, and with her back firmly up against a wall.

Bridget's priority on the day after Halloween was to hit up various stores in town to see what kinds of post-holiday clearance items she could pick up. But on this particular Saturday, she ran into a few problems on the way out. The elevator refused to take her to the garage, the stairwells seemed to be blocked off below the lobby, and the lobby doors themselves were locked.

After speaking with the security guard downstairs, Bridget headed back up to the sixth floor. Her forehead was firmly wrinkled as she re-entered the apartment and shut the door behind her.

"Phin?"

Travis had stayed out with the guys last night. They'd escaped the police and managed to cause a little bit of mischief, then gone for midnight breakfast and crashed out at Tom's. He'd called to check in and let Memphis know he'd be home later. Now it was later and he was home. Or so he thought.

When Travis opened the door for the lobby, there was another door there. Then another. And another. No matter how many doors he opened, there was always another one to take it's place. Confused by the sudden stuck in Wonderland feeling, he turned back around to the sidewalk wondering if it was just a late prank.

It was a tough choice whether to take the elevator or go down the stairs. Emily finally decided that she at least wanted a chance to run rather be restricted in a small box, and took the stairs from the 7th floor.

She heard something creeping somewhere above her, and did not stop or look back before she reached the ground floor. She dashed to the lobby from the staircase panting to catch her breath, and turned around cautiously to listen if that something had followed her.

Luckily not this time, it seemed.

Emily held her aching head with trembling hands as she tried to collect herself, even if she was aware that the security guard sitting behind the desk was staring at her. She finally turned and approached the desk. The guard's eyes widened when he saw the fresh injuries on her forehead and chin. The corner of her eye had darkened and swollen a bit.

"H-hi. Can you please explain whatta hell is going on in here?" she demanded unable to stay calm.

Being the weekend, Adam slept in. Dozing away the morning, and a good chunk of the early afternoon, was completely normal for him, but eventually he was roused from his dreams by a soft thrumming noise that just wouldn't stop.

It wasn't unpleasant per say, but certainly distracting.

He rolled onto his back, frowning and blinking up at the ceiling, trying to clear away the sleep from his eyes and to bring the mysterious, out of place black shape on the ceiling into focus.

It slid into focus-and everything stopped. His movement, his breathing, his heart as a leering, tooth split face gazed down at him.

( Adam catches up with an old friend. )

Father MacManus had been awake all night, sitting up with old Mrs. Radinsky on the ninth floor. He had given her the last rites around midnight, but stayed with her until morning while she was fading. At dawn, she sat up, opened her eyes, smiled at her daughter who was in the room with them, closed her eyes, and was dead.

She had been ninety in September, and all her children, grand-children and great-grand-children had been there; Father MacManus had been invited as well and said grace. The old woman's body had been riddled with cancer, but she was happy with her life, and true in her faith.

Father MacManus stayed for a bit, talking to the family and praying with the daughter and grand-daughters, then took his leave, hoping for a bit of sleep at the rectory, but just in case getting himself a triple espresso in the Mocha. Then, he left: - he pushed against the door, went through, and stood in the lobby again.

What??

He tried again, pushed, and walked into the lobby.

After about thirteen tries, he sat in a chair, sighing. Had he lost his mind, or was the devil fooling him?

The elevator stopped where it usually did not. The 13th floor. The doors opened with a hiss to a dark long corridor, and waited.

Heavy footsteps approached one strong clank at a time. The rhythmic banging was too fast for only two feet, and once the tall creature came to the light of the elevator, it was apparent it had four feet. Like that was not enough, it had fangs, eyes that burned like little furnaces, and long arms with crab's scissors - except they were huge, and sharp like razor blades. It was like a half-breed between a horribly mutilated man and the deadliest, ugliest animal evolution could conjure up.

( The Bait (warning for minor violence) )
(OOC: Either or both rescue and more menace very welcome - security, friends, or spooks like Ruprecht or Cambion(?) etc. No need to hold back with me! :D)

Jon didn't often walk the floors, he found the bright chirpiness of the breathers wearying, but today he was making a special effort.

Last night, when the silly partying had died down and the last of the trick or treaters who had braved his door [some mothers would take their children ANYWHERE for free candy] had been sent away laden with sugar and E numbers, he had gone down a level to see to the souls in his care. It had been as much a relief to shrug off the soft human shell and spread his wings and arch his spiked spine as it had been to accept the grovelling adoration of his subjects.

It always amused him to see their cringing desire to be noticed. Did they but know it they were all equals - equally damned, that is - and it struck him that even the damned sometimes needed a day off. No dammit, he grinned, why stop at a day. Let them have a whole week! Ruprecht in particular deserved some time to be himself. He was well aware of the stress his old friend must suffer having to pretend all the time.

So he had opened the ways and now was going from floor to floor, cigar between his teeth, wondering who, or what, would be brave enough to approach him. If anyone - the little humans tended to steer well clear.

Ang sat bolt upright in the bed, the scream echoing through the apartment, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes were wide and her breathing fast and shallow. The nightmare visions faded from her mind, but not fast enough for her liking. With a sob she lay back down, burrowing into Alec's side for comfort, knowing she'd woken first was no comfort at all this morning.