ein Raubtier das vor Hunger schreit Who: Abel, Rafe, & Nish. What: Abel partially transforms and stalks his fellow Norse pantheon deities. Where: Each tenant's respective floors, then the third floor. When: April 22, Saturday evening. Notes:Mood Music and Translation.
Abel opened his eyes to his apartment; he was mostly asleep on the couch, passing in and out of unconsciousness as he struggled to handle the growing thing in his brain that threatened to engulf him. He'd felt it all his life; that dark, heavy sensation that coiled in the back of his mind, that pushed him to do taboo things unsanctioned by society at large. And now, after the dream with the man called Tyr, with Nish who'd burned him with her icy-cold touch (though he knew she had not been herself, but something else, something more, something different, something hated), Abel found himself scraping at the edge of control. He leaned forward on his couch, bare feet on the floor, hands wrapping around the edge of his skull. Whatever the thing was, it pulsed, threatening to crack it wide and escape, to leave the carapace of his form and unleash the destruction that it had been promised.
He muttered to himself, trying to bring back some sense of... And then he fell forward on all fours, onto the rug that was meant to protect such things from the hardwood floor (or was it the reverse?) because now his nails were claws, digging into the ground. He arched his back, pain threading through every limb as his flesh contorted, retracted, changed. Clothing ripped, revealing white parcels of flesh now sprouting hair. No, not hair, Fur. Abel grimaced, groaning as his face pressed forward, mouth and nose elongating into the semblance of a snout. Teeth too sharp for a human mouth nipped at his lips, but all of this was forgotten as the thing that was Abel was taken back, gently secured in a box, and the thing that was something else took control. It ran forward on all fours around his apartment, tearing up the floor, shredding the rug. One wall became a victim as it finally found the door, sensing an exit, not understanding how to work the knob. It crashed into it, splintering the doorway, caving the door in from the inside.
Then it swung loose, properly defeated, the knob and frame shattered. The thing that had been Abel rose up onto its hind legs and moved through the fifth floor, leaving long claw marks in the dirt and waving grasses of the fifth floor, intent on making his descent to where he belonged.
Rafael sat cross-legged on the floor before a roaring fire. It warmed him in ways he knew were impossible; it was familiar in a way that should not be. But it had been a long week, and Rafael was long past questioning the means and motives of this place. He was drunk on mead, newly woken from raucous dreams of his bronzed and bearded counterpart, and he stared into the flames as though they held prophecies he did not already know.
The tapped kegs were far from him, but he had come prepared: a deep beer stein, souvenir from some absurd and long forgotten Oktoberfest, sat on the ground between his feet. Until recently it had been filled to its rim with honeyed alcohol. It was half-empty now, and Rafael intended, quite soon, to finish it.
Nish came around the corner, her own beloved 18 oz ceramic coffee mug in hand, ready to be filled yet again with mead. But as soon as she laid eyes on the scene she stopped short, lips parting with slight shock by what she saw. Rafe, sitting by the fire, more drunk than she’d ever seen him. Her throat tightened up immediately with emotions she was still working through and she hesitated, taking a step back. She wasn’t ready for this...neither of them were. “Oh...I’m sorry...I’ll go…” she said, turning to head back the way she’d come.
Before she could exit the scene, the sound of scrabbling claws came from an apartment that was not ajar a moment ago. It sounded as if something were trying to escape. The sound paused, as if listening for Nish's voice again; perhaps centering itself, focusing on the noise as a means of exit from its current predicament.
Rafael's head turned at the sounds, his gaze casting about in the relative dark, looking for their source. Too long spent staring into firelight made him nearly blind when he looked away from it, and when he could not find the sound's origins, he looked back instead to Nish. He raised his glass to her. "No, it's okay. There's enough for us both," he said, chuckling softly. "Believe it or not. So help yourself..."
She looked back, his voice stopping her just short of turning towards the danger lurking further down the hall. Her features were tired, her eyes rimmed in red, though the shadows in the room hid much of this from his view. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her mug, and before she could think better of it she stepped forward, closer to the hearth and the kegs sitting around it. Cautiously, she filled her mug at the nearest one, choosing a seat nearby, not too close to Rafe, but not too far away that they couldn’t talk. She took a long drink from her mug and then settled it on her knees. “I guess I don’t have to ask how you’re doing,” she said softly, a humourless smile on her lips. She caught his eyes briefly with hers. “Me too.”
The scrabbling grew louder for a moment, as if impatient to be heard. Then it fell silent once more, before being replaced by what sounded like footsteps punctuated by long rasping sounds of something being dragged along the ground. The ajar doorway swung wider, admitting a shadowy figure. It was long and lean, and reminiscent of one particular person that was sitting before the fire. Its chest heaved, as though it had just run miles and paused momentarily as it was caught in the gazes of its small audience.
A long, low growl emanated from the figure, something no human should have been able to make.
Neither intoxication nor distraction allowed that sound to be ignored. Short hairs on Rafael's nape stood on end. He rose too quickly, toppling over what remained of his mead. The stein cracked against the hearth, splitting on stone. "Nish… do you see that?" Nish looked up and set her mug down on the floor, following his gaze.
He did not wait for an answer, but drew back from flames and beast in one swift motion. Malice radiated from the being, whatever it was; fear coiled cold and leaden in Rafael's belly.
Nish stood from her chair as if burned, putting it her and that...thing. Pure icy terror settled in her gut when she saw it lurking in the shadows, the thing she sometimes felt just out of sight in her dreams. Inside, Loki struggled to assert control over her, but she wouldn’t allow it. Frustrated, he shouted at her, filling her head with his command.
’RUN.’
“Run!” she cried, grabbing hold of Rafe’s sleeve and pulling him with her, down the opposite corridor, instinct and adrenaline taking over her trembling limbs.
As soon as they moved, the beast knew one thing: prey. It lurched forward, throwing itself from the doorway and over the chairs where they'd been sitting; though made of heavy wood, the furniture tumbled like houses of cards in his wake, one sprawling toward the nearby flames in a crash of cinders and sparks. The beast -- whatever it was, for it seemed a man and animal combined, neither one nor the other wholly -- followed after them, grunting in their wake as it scrambled to close the distance between them and it.
It seemed to be gaining on them. Rafael was sure he could feel hot breath on his nape, could smell its coppery scent. Still he moved behind Nish, putting himself between her and their pursuer, though gooseflesh rose on every inch of his skin. Recent wounds ached from his exertion, protesting with every stride; cold sweat poured into reopened cuts, sharply stinging.
Rafael hit the stairwell door at full speed, slamming it open and against the wall behind it. He grabbed Nish's hand and pulled her inside, moving down the metal stairs two at a time.
Nish nearly stumbled down the stairs, though she managed to follow close at Rafe's heels. She could hear the thing growling close behind them, but didn't dare look back, instinctively knowing that she would freeze up in terror if she did. Her hand clenched tightly to Rafe's, letting him lead them down the winding stairs at a speed that made her dizzy. The defensive cold began seeping into her skin again, though not yet the burning frost.
She saw the ground floor coming up swiftly, and a new terror gripped her heart. “We’re trapped in here,” she said breathlessly, referring to the sealed front doors of the building, terror plain in her voice.
The animal thing struggled with the door, catching it with one hand-paw just before it closed; nails raked against the steel obstacle, screeching in protest as it pulled the opening wide again so it could continue its pursuit. It paused at the third floor landing, peering over rails to see where its prey had gone; and then it let out an echoing shriek that was part howl, part scream, the sound reverberating in the close space of the stairwell. Before too long, it took off after both Rafe and Nish, moving as quickly as it could between two and four feet, its movements unnatural and somewhat obscene.
It spiraled around the stairs, the few flights between it and the lobby floor closing in distance quickly; the back of Rafe's form came into its sight quickly, and it reached out with one clawed hand toward the nape of the man's neck. Sun-browned flesh unzipped, blooming open in gouts of red. Rafael's hand tightened on Nish; he pushed her ahead of him, out of the range of those sweeping, hard claws.
He stumbled. Pressed a hand to his nape, hoping to staunch the flow of blood. It only poured through his fingers, thick and hot, spattering to the floor in wild patterns as he ran.
The thing’s roar sent a chill of fear down Nish’s spine, just as the sound of it swiftly coming up on their heels. She yanked open the door to the main floor, but not fast enough - she heard Rafe’s cry of pain and looked back, seeing blood. “Rafe!” she cried, pulling him through the door, finding a small measure of courage and kicking the horrible beast in the face - a weak defence, but enough to push it away from Rafe - and then struggled to push the door closed behind them, her shoes squeaking and slipping on the floor as she tried to use all her body weight to keep the door shut. The creature slammed into the barrier only a few moments after they'd escaped; the metal shrieked, shoving against Nish's attempts to deny the animal man thing entry. It whined, the sound like nails on stone.
’You need a weapon. There are swords on the third floor…’
’I don’t know how to use a sword!’ she told him, annoyed.
’I do.’
But she had other things to think about. “Rafe...are you okay?” she asked desperately, her voice high with fear and worry.
"I'm fine," he rasped. The bloodflow had eased, but it had not stopped. He straightened up, wide eyes searching the first floor corridor for anything of use. His eyes were drawn to the altar where he had earlier met Abel. He cringed at the sight, but forced his gaze down, studying the plinth it sat upon. It would be heavy, of course, but he thought it could be done. "Stay there."
He dropped his hand from his neck and darted away. A heavy scraping issued forth from the hall near his home; it drew deep gashes in the floor as it passed, but it moved. Blood and sweat poured down Rafael's back as he pulled the marble altar closer.
"Help me," he called, looking back to Nish over his shoulder. He paused, panting, then started dragging the object again. "In front of the door."
Nish watched his progress, anxiously watching the blood pouring down Rafe’s back from his wounds, still struggling to keep the door closed. It had clicked shut behind her, but she could still feel the thing thumping against it, struggling to get at them. The sounds of claws scrabbling at the metal door's surface made it sound like the animal was trying to tear through the door itself, with questionable success.
At his insistence she pulled away from the door, glancing nervously behind her at it as she rushed to help Rafe drag the stone altar over the entrance, her fingers scraping painfully over the stone as they forced it across the doorway.
The creature continued to tear and hurl itself at the door, ignorant of the attempts to impede its progress. It howled, moving back and forth in the space to gain more speed, using shoulders, arms, fists, feet, anything to get through to the prey on the other side.
Rafael stood before the altar, watching the door tremble with each slam of the body behind it. He did not trust their barricade to hold, but as adrenaline left him in a flood, exhaustion rushed to take its place. He turned his back to the altar and slumped down, his legs folding untidily beneath him. The wild calls continued. He lay his head back against the altar, feeling each strike against the door reverberate through his already wounded back.
Nish crouched to the floor when she saw Rafe fall, worry joining the fear twisting in her stomach. “Rafe?” she said, her hands cradling his face, clammy skin seeming to be at once too cool and burning up. “Hey, no...don’t go to sleep, I need you,” she pleaded, though her real worry was him going into shock. She looked up at the door shuddering under the weight of the creature trying desperately to get through it, and then at the heavy stone altar pressed tight up against it. “Loki,” she cried aloud, not caring if Rafe heard, “I need help…”
’Find something else to wedge the door with,’ he told her anxiously. Nish glanced around her, spotting it almost immediately. A loose ceramic paving stone, probably shifted by the altar, that looked just thick enough to wedge along the underside of the door. It had cracked into pieces, and she picked several of them up and fit them just under the gap between the door and the floor, letting the creature’s struggling do the rest, driving them into the other stones to form a wedge. The door’s shuddering lessened significantly, though she could still hear the wild thumping behind it.
More wild, twisted howls emerged from behind the door. It was clear that the thing behind it would not be sated until either it found its way through the door, or it exhausted itself. Screaming, snarling metal rung through the halls, making teeth ache in response.
The thing that had been Abel threw itself against the door again, and again, and again, unceasing it its endeavor to have and rip and tear what was on the other side.
Between Nish's voice and the violent, arrhythmic thumps at his back, Rafael soon stirred back to waking. The bleeding had slowed; even with the locked doors, Rafael could attend to his wounds well enough in the privacy of his apartment. He struggled to his feet, fingers touching at the tender, torn flesh.
"I'm okay," he mumbled. "I'm okay. I…" He glanced to the door behind them. Between the altar and the broken paving stones it would hold for a little while longer. "Thank you, Nish. I'm going to go. I need a shower, and…" He nodded, as though having decided something. "I'll check in with you later, okay? Be careful…"
“Rafe, no...you need help…” she pleaded, holding onto his arm. The ragged gashes on his back looked bad, and the sight of so much blood was, embarrassingly, turning her stomach.
’Let him go,’ Loki said. ’He wants to lick his wounds in peace.’
’But…’
‘He dumped you, Nish...you don't owe him anything anymore. Let him go.’
She swallowed, stunned, the words stinging too much for her. Tears swam in her eyes, from hurt and fear and embarrassment. And then she let go of his arm, turned, and staggered on fear-weakened limbs towards the other hallway, and the stairwell on the other side of the building, leaving Rafe behind.
Then he staggered off for home, the sounds of his howling pursuer echoing in his ears.