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Tweak says, "I'm cold."

Kimberly Corman hearts nerds (cheatingdeath) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-09-18 20:51:00

Entry tags:

!shelved, day 24, hannibal king, kimberly corman, location: forest, rogue

Day Twenty-Four, Morning
Who: Kimberly Corman, Hannibal King, & Rogue
What: Waking up in Vas Captio
Where: In the forest nearest to the clock tower
When: Day 24, 8am
Rating: PG-13
Status: Active

With a soft groan of displeasure at being awakened by the sound of buzzing - she hated bugs - Kimberly Corman rolled over onto her side only to be poked further awake by a stick to her chest. Eyes wide, Kimberly shot up into a sitting position, looking around in horror. No. No, this couldn’t be right; she’d fallen asleep in bed. Where the hell was she? Looking down at herself in the darkness, Kimberly noted that she was still in the same tank top and pajama pants in which she’d fallen asleep. Her brow furrowed. Maybe it was a nightmare and she was really still asleep.

The sound, however, of twigs snapping in the trees looming ominously above her seemed to point to the contrary. The smell of moss and earth - and...oh God, it smelled like the crematorium - filled her nostrils and Kimberly’s heart began to race. She could feel herself beginning to tremble and her chest constricting. Kimberly knew this feeling and it wasn’t good. An anxiety attack sometimes felt as awful as a heart attack, she’d read. Sometimes, Kimberly was sure it was a heart attack.

Wherever she was, it wasn’t her bedroom and she was in danger. Carefully, Kimberly got to her feet and stood very, very still, paused and listening for any sounds that might alert her to danger. Her eyes were wide and searching for the very same signs, which was difficult enough as she tried to adjust to the lack of light...and the fog. Wherever she was...was a death trap and she needed to get out as quickly and carefully as possible.

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ex_kingship986
2009-09-19 02:58 am UTC (link)

King was not happy. Not in the least. He'd woken up in a forest, with the smell of death all around, and bugs, and dirt and-- well, at least he wasn't being mauled by vampires, right? There was an upside to all this. The hunter was groaning and rolling over onto his side, then onto his stomach so he could push himself up, gloved hands pressing into the dank dirt before darkly-clad knees found purchase there as well. Slowly, he climbed up to his feet and bent to dust himself off. Black pants, black combat boots, black fingerless gloves, a black three-quarter length sleeve shirt, and a Kevlar vest with three loops on the front (where silver stakes should have been, but weren't), and a large blue, white and red target painted on the back. His 'Hello My Name Is: FUCK YOU' sticker had fallen off long ago.

One hand rubbed at a beard-covered jaw as he listened-- were those women's voices? Women? He'd been attacked and drugged by women, then brought here, stripped of his weapons, and was going to be forced to live here and pleasure them all night and day for eternity?

This was heaven. Why was he still wearing clothes?

Well, really, things could have been a lot worse.. there could still be vampires in the world. To King's understanding, they were all gone now. So where was Abby? Last he remembered, he'd been out hunting werewolves with her (what was a slayer to do when there were no more vampires? Kill the enemies of the vampires, of course), and now here he was.

He glanced down at the box laying not far away, then bent to pick it up, glancing through the items without much interest before he tucked the box under his arm and came through the brush, none-too-quietly. "Hello Ladies." He greeted with a brilliant smile.

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cheatingdeath
2009-09-19 03:13 am UTC (link)

"What?!" Kimberly asked, eyes widening. "Nothing. No one. What?" She had no idea what the girl thought that Kimberly was accusing her of, but whatever it was, the other woman was clearly pissed off about it. Kimberly wasn't trying to push buttons unnecessarily. Not when she could very well be at the top of Death's List by now. "I'm sorry," she added quickly, blinking rapidly.

The other woman turned away and started shouting, affording Kimberly the chance to look around again without fear of taking her eye off a potential threat - since said threat wasn't paying her any attention at the moment. The other woman was calling her crazy and Kimberly supposed she was. She also thought that if that other woman had seen all the death she had in the past couple of months, up close and personal, gruesome as hell freak accidents and all, she'd be crazy, too. Kimberly could hear the other woman talking about finding a payphone and threatening that she'd better clear out - as if Kimberly was thinking of sticking around in the middle of the woods in her pajamas and bare feet completely unprotected - but something else had caught her attention.

Behind her, the woman was yelling at her, but in front of her, the brush was moving and loudly, at that. Kimberly took in a quick breath and didn't realize she was holding it until a man emerged with a grin and a polite - if potentially smarmy, had he not been so good looking - greeting. Kimberly let out the breath, but stiffened still. Now she was surrounded by strange people in a strange place - one of them hostile and one of them much bigger and probably stronger than she - in the dark. Could this nightmare be any worse? I just want to wake up. Please let me wake up. Please, this can't be real; I didn't have a vision. I don't want to die. I can't; not here and not now, she thought. Rather than respond to either of them, Kimberly just stared back at the man, shaking and wide-eyed. The woman was angry, but the man was big. He became top priority.

Until, that was, Kimberly looked him over. And then she couldn't decide who was more dangerous. His size was intimidating as hell, but she had a belt. He was smiling; she was screaming. It was a split decision and Kimberly reminded herself, again, that if it was her turn and she had to die, at least the cycle would be broken. "Can you help me?" she asked him quietly, sparing a quick cautious glance over her shoulder at the other woman before looking back at him. "I'm lost and I'm freaking out and I need to get out of here." Before that crazy bitch really snaps, she thought but didn't say. She looked quickly back at the woman and noticed the box, finally. "Yes. I don't know what it is; don't open it. God only knows what's in there," she warned.

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criminalrogue
2009-09-19 03:27 am UTC (link)

Rogue shook the box, hearing the bits moving inside. Sure, she didn't have Ms. Marvel's flight or Seventh Sense; what she did have was strength with a touch of invulnerability. Let's not talk for the moment about the whispery voice that sometimes crept into the back of her mind, that wasn't important. What was crucial was that Rogue had this box in her hand and a crazy lady behind her.

A crazy lady and some other man. Because she was turning around to the sound of that masculine voice like a cat with it's hackles raised, ready to strike the moment she had to. If that smile told her anything it was that this man was behind the whole damned thing. She looked him up and down, nothing sexual about it; rather she was sizing him up. She was taking in that armor and the way he carried himself. Mystique had taught her well.

"I'm givin' you to the count of three to tell me what's going on here, sugar."

She gave it a beat, taking none too careful steps in the direction of the man, her heavy coat still on despite the heat. Think you could take her, Hannibal?

"One."

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ex_kingship986
2009-09-19 03:50 am UTC (link)

"Help you? I don't even know where I am. I take it you two.." He took a moment to look each woman over, before looking up again and lifting his eyebrows. "Lovely ladies don't know what's going on, either? Oh-- well." That woman wanted to know what was going on here? She thought he knew? She was sorely mistaken.

"I'm afraid I don't have that information for you, ma'am." He said in his most customer-service voice, eyebrows furrowing some as he tried to look very sincere. "But as soon as I have one of the clerks find it for me, I'll fax it to you straight away. Would you like a cup of coffee, while they're at it? Maybe a scone." He turned his head then to look at the non-angry woman. "I like scones." He told her easily. "Cherry. Strawberry. Apple is my favorite." As if it were some sort of state secret, before those brown puppy-dog eyes landed once again on the woman with the streak of white in her hair.

"I'm not really sure how I got here. One minute I was on a beach in Maui with ten beautiful, naked women all throwing little pickles at me.. and then I was here." He spread his arms out wide, looking around him in confusion, before his eyes fell back on her again. "This seems an unfortunate turn of events for me, because neither you, nor your lovely companion here, are naked. Nor do you have any tiny sweet pickles. This seems like a downward spiral for me. If I could get us out of here..." Brown eyes turned from one woman to the next, taking a long moment to pause and let the silence stretch, before he continued. "I would have done it already. I'm missing my pickle party."

Then, abruptly, he held up his own box. "Water, tube socks, wet matches, a journal and a pen. The party isn't nearly as good here." He jerked the box back under his arm. "Let's go find someone to complain to, shall we? See if I'll spend another weekend in this hotel."

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cheatingdeath
2009-09-19 04:31 am UTC (link)

The fact that the man was lost as well in spite of his far more laid back demeanor was even more unsettling to Kimberly, almost, than the woman with her threats and glares. Great. They were all lost, they were all confused, the man was sounding more and more like Eugene with every word and the woman was counting to three. Kimberly fought not to look as offended by the patronization as she felt from the man and fought even harder not to roll her eyes at him when he went on about where he'd been before here. Lies, she thought immediately but was wiser than to vocalize.

"Whatever," Kimberly finally said to both of them as he finished his schpeil by saying that if he could get them out, he would. "This is an accident waiting to happen," she said as she heard still more rustling in the twigs above - or the brush to the side, she wasn't sure and didn't care. She was about to take a step around the man when he held up his box announcing its contents. Random assortment of crap, sounded like, and Kimberly wondered if the same thing was in all the boxes. Water could be poisoned, a paper cut could get infected, matches were totally bad news although if they were wet at least they wouldn't be as dangerous, and a pen...well. A lot of damage could be done by a pen, potentially, and she didn't want to think about it. The socks seemed to be the only safe thing in the box, but she still didn't want to touch hers. "Can I have the socks?" she asked sheepishly, nodding down to her bare feet. "Please?" She was addressing the man because, quite frankly, the woman scared the shit out of her.

Taking a deep breath, Kimberly bent down and picked up her own box. She wouldn't open it now, but at least she wouldn't leave it in case there was something in there she would need at some point. "Complain, or call for help, whatever, sounds good to me so long as it means getting the hell out of here," she replied to the man. "I'm Kimberly," she offered and then she looked back at the woman, raising her eyebrows as if to say, see? If I was going to hurt you why would I bother introducing myself before I did it? It was Kimberly's way of offering a truce without vocalizing and chancing the other woman's temper flaring at her again; she seemed to have turned her anger on the man and that was just fine with Kimberly. In fact, she'd prefer it stayed that way, if she could help it.

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