Who: Stahma What: Stahma's lost in the fog and facing her guilt. When: Evening January 25th Where: Around Warnings: Violence, monster deaths Status: Narrative, complete
Stahma was entirely discontent, to make an understatement. She was alone, and she was becoming paranoid. Or perhaps she already had been paranoid and the fog was making it that much worse. But of course being part of the bratva meant one had a constant level of paranoia regardless of anything. There were enemies lurking everywhere in her world. It wasn't unlike the current state and the monsters that she encountered in the fog. At least she had a gun and she knew well how to use it. That was her saving grace because Stahma was not a fighter. She could fight if pushed, but she preferred other methods of eliminating opponents. She was the subtle one, the stiletto that no one saw coming until it was too late.
And yet she was walking along the street, gun in hand. Why was she on the street when it was obviously dangerous? Stahma was trying to find someone, anyone, to know that she wasn't alone with the monsters that lurked in the fog. She needed to know there was hope for surviving whatever this was. Obviously this was just another bout of Orange County's strangeness, but even with that, Stahma was having trouble seeing a way out. With her paranoia running high, she hadn't tried to hide her unearthly appearance. Her grey hair, white skin and lilac eyes were in full view as she moved along. She had her cell phone on her despite the fact it didn't work outside. But she had caught onto the fact that when it made a screeching noise, a monster was near.
Which was why when she heard that telltale screech, her gun immediately snapped up to attention. She stopped walking and turned around, looking for any sign of the monster. The instant she saw it coming towards her, and it was obvious it was a monster and not another person, she shot it in the head, killing it. She met a couple other monsters along the way, putting those down as well. The city around her was no longer recognizable. She at least knew the way back to her home. She wasn't straying that far from i so she wouldn't be caught outside too long. She definitely didn't want to be out there at night if she could help it.
Deciding that she wasn't going to be running into anyone, Stahma turned to head back to her home. It was on the way back that the screeching signaled another monster. However, this one was different. This monster, while twisted and grotesque like the others, had an appearance that was familiar to her. Far too familiar for her own liking. She stopped breathing, and she was certain her heart stopped beating as well for several long moments as she just stared at the monster, gun raised.
"Kenya," she breathed. What was this? Was it actually Kenya and she had somehow been turned into one of these monsters? Or was it something. Emotion gripped Stahma and a slight tremor ran through her arm holding the gun. Could she actually shoot her? She didn't want to. Wasn't killing her in her dreams enough? Now it seemed she needed to kill Kenya again. It seemed inevitable as the monster lumbered towards her, and Stahma backed up, trying to keep some distance between them.
"Do not make me do this." She spoke in Castithan, though it didn't matter as there was no one else around to hear her. "I do not wish to take your life. I can't take it." The guilt weighed so heavily on her. Even moreso knowing that one day, Kenya would dream of it and would undoubtedly hate her and turn from her.
But was that not what she deserved? Stahma did terrible things to people, both in the dreams and here, didn't she deserve to be alone? Or, better yet, didn't she deserve to die some horrible and painful death? People like her, like Datak and her father, they all got what was coming to them eventually. Was this her poetic justice, to be killed by Kenya?
Yet if this was Orange County being Orange County, perhaps this wasn't actually Kenya. But Stahma was torn on whether or not to pull the trigger and get back to safety. Or perhaps she should simply try to make it to her home without confronting the monster. The monster leapt and lashed out with its claws. Stahma dodged, but not well enough. She cried out as the claws dug into her arm, deep claw marks bleeding pink against her pale skin. She made a decision in that moment. It was a decision of survival. She aimed the gun and pulled the trigger several times.
Ironic for it was similar to the decision she'd made in the dreams that had led to Kenya's death. Datak had given her the ultimatum of it was either her life or Kenya's. She'd chosen Kenya's because Stahma didn't want to die, and she didn't want to die here and now. She was mending her relationship with her son, and she was finding she could have a life here that was her own. She didn't have to be dictated what to do by anyone, least of all her father or Datak. So with the monster now dead, Stahma rushed back home, feeling some sense of relief, but also knowing difficult times were coming. But she would try to face them and make better decisions than her dream self had.
But could the wicked truly change themselves? Stahma didn't have the answer to that, and she wondered if people thought she didn't deserve the chance to change. But she wanted to try and be better. She was changing the longer she was here in Orange County. She was finding an independence that she never wanted to give up. And she was finding her dream self was changing. Perhaps the combination would be a good thing for her if she let it be.
And that was the catch. Stahma needed to let herself change for the better and not hold onto bad habits.