Helen Keen (todaysproverb) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2013-10-16 19:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | helen keen, marisol auzenne |
Sometimes we're thrown off our pathways - what I thought was my way home....
WHO: Helen and Marisol
WHAT: Night Vale has a way of just...bringing people in.
WHERE: Night Vale
WHEN: Late Wednesday night.
WARNINGS: Scary content, possible gore, surrealism, maybe language, and Helen is in her stripper gear. This will be updated otherwise.
The day had been normal enough. Helen was on her guard, sure, while she got herself done up in the dressing room...but something had been bothering her, and she couldn't put her finger on what it was. She did her job, of course, worked the pole like a champ, brought in a good stack of singles while she was at it - a good night, normally. She actually liked stripping, and she didn't carry any guilt or sense of wrong for the work.
But something, SOMETHING was still FEELING wrong.
Trying to shake it off, she fastened the buckles on her decorative corset, tugging on the garter straps for her stockings. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped through the door that would normally take her out into the bustle of the club -
...But on the other side, she found herself standing in a very hot room, full of really retro sound equipment, microphones, and dust. She looked back at the door she had walked through...but it was just an open door leading into an unfamiliar hallway. Cold terror curled against her spine, skin starting to sweat under the leather straps of her gear.
She strained her ears for the music of the club, but instead could only hear the dull whine of machinery and dead air...and the even duller whine of something screaming in the distance.
Oh, no.
"...Hello?" Her voice echoed. This place...it felt...but it couldn't be. She gathered volume.
"Is anyone here?"