Case File 013: "Cross the Boarder"

Sasha walked into the house and started to explore the first floor. It seemed like everyone was either going upstairs or downstairs and no one was staying to explore the middle. She stopped just a few feet inside the living room. That feeling of being watched had returned full force. The only thing saving her from being paralized right now was that she could see light from outside the windows.

Clenching her first, she forced her feet to move slowly forward so that she could make her way around the room. At the windows she stopped. Her heart was racing faster than she had ever felt it and she felt this intense pressure on all sides of her, like it was trying to suffocate her. Sasha's right hand gripped the window sill tightly to help her keep her wits about her. The coolness of the wood was slightly calming.

Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and let it out counting to ten both times. It was a relaxation technique taught in meditation. After taking one more of the breath's, she slowly opened her brown eyes and froze. A blue fire seemed to light up the chair for a few minutes before disappating. It was at this point that even though there was some light, Sasha could not move or think.

"Aaaawwww, now that's too bad~" He said in a sing-song voice as he leaned in closer to the young man. His smirk grew just as his irritation did. Who the hell did he thin he is calling him 'Starving artist/mafia poser' when he wasn't looking to dandy himself? His hold on Derik's shoulder wasn't letting up at all. Grigori just pulled him even closer, almost bumping his nose against Derik's as he got a little too close for comfort.

He couldn't help the grin that crossed his face as he yanked Derik to the side, letting his lips flutter against the unhealthy-looking boy's ears as he whispered. "That pains me~." As if to add more fuel to the fire, he placed a small kiss on Derik's shoulder before stepping away from him and heading upstairs to where Eir had gone off ahead. Taking hold of his hat once again, he looked back at Derik, flashing him another flirty grin.

"Come upstairs if you change your mind~"

Now that that androgynous schmuck was taken care off... Time to make someone else squirm.

He found her in the attic. She was being cautious that it looked kind of funny to just watch her take pictures and soothe her pet mutt at the same time. Her concentration was almost astounding. Almost, the floors were still creaking bellow her. Grigori couldn't help but wonder what kind of reaction she'll have is ever she finally notices him by the doorway.

"Nice pooch~"

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((OOC: Another short and bad post.))

Eir tensed as she felt the air shift and someone join her. She crossed her fingers it was the androgynous shrimp. But the voice that rang out in the stale air made her wince. The Russian green haired man. She muttered a few curses in Norwegian under her breath before turning to look at him, flashing her camera, taking a picture of him. Her dark forest green eyes meeting his faux gold ones. Nidhogg backed up and looked to Grigori, waiting to see what his master did.

"He doesn't like strange men. Maybe you should go sucker someone else conman. I'm not interested in your games..." she practically hissed at him.

Eir needed focus, and this guy was like one big distraction. His aura shooting off dangerously in every direction. And there was something that made the air change and put a bad taste in her mouth when he came in the room. Something she didn't like or want to trust. She searched her mind for the answer, oh the books she'd read... Black magic! That's it. He dabbled in dark arts that would feed off his soul. Hmph... How tasteless.

The skin on the back of her neck prickled slightly as she felt as if fingertips were brushing against the nape of her neck. A small shudder, followed by a distressed whimper mixed with a moan escaped her lips, her heart rate picking up along with her breath as she whipped back around, expecting to see someone, gun in hand. But no one was there... Damn that Communist! He was distracting her enough to have a ghost make her bothered and uncomfortable. Nidhogg growled as she sighed, slipping her gun back into her bag.

Brave little girl wasn't she? Talking to him like that while taking a picture of him. But it looked like she figured out what his deal was judging from how tense and distracted she was getting. Grigori chuckled as he continued to lean against the door way, not paying any mind to the strange presence inside the room with her. Making the Norwegian squirm was much more fun that throwing some goddamn specter out of some shit-hole of a house.

"Well, that was pretty mean~. I'm not really doing anything wrong just by being here~."

Taking off his fedora he began waving it in front of his face, feigning a little discomfort as he moved away from the wall. "Dusty little hell hole isn't it? I'm surprised your pooch can breathe in here."

The Russian chuckled as he began fiddling with whatever he could get his hands on, wanting to see how the entity would react to its home being messed with by someone with an unnatural hair and eye color. His serpent familiars, born from his practice of the dark arts and carefully hid there presence from the world began, to hiss in his ear. Reacting to something that the normal eye couldn't see. There was that strange feeling of being watched. They didn't know what it was or where it was coming from, but they reacted so harshly that it felt as if they were biting his skin to stop him from doing what it was he was doing.

"How interesting." He chuckled as he slapped both hands together to get rid of the dust.

This may not be such a boring night after all.

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((OOC: Another horrible post T3T Dangit...))

Eir gave a small groan of annoyance. Maybe she'd need to take her gun back out after all, but she didn't want to waste any bullets on him... She'd rather just punch him in the face really. Nidhogg snapped his jaws at the dangerous man. The hairs on the back of her neck were on end, she could feel and see the snakes. Her eyes watching him from an angle so hopefully he wouldn't see in the dimly lit attic.

A strong shock, traveled through her body causing her to hiss out. She hadn't seen it coming at all! What did he have to do with memories? And now came the splitting headache... Great, perfect place to get it too. A small groan escaped her lips as she tried to ignore the pulsing in her head.

It was definitely those snakes. She'd have to stay on her guard with him around. Peachy. Just peachy. Not only did she have specters to worry about, she had this green haired piss lick to worry about as well. Eir slipped behind some of the stuff to slide down and sit on the floor. She couldn't work with a head ache. She could barely focus as is.

Nidhogg sat in front of her protectively. She sat behind a pile of old furniture that was covered with sheet and linens, covered in dust. There was only one entity in this room. But it could branch out and bounce off the walls, that much she gathered. There was something about this attic that was giving it an advantage. Lack of light? Next thing she heard the door to the attic slammed closed and locked itself loudly.

She leapt out of her skin, knowing it hadn't been Grigori leaving the room, Nidhogg barked loudly in distress. Eir held a hand over her heart, trying to calm it down. Now they were screwed... This thing... didn't want them leaving the room. This wasn't a simple poltergeist like she'd been informed. There was malicious intent. Definite malicious intent...

Laurence looked back at the doctor. Somewhat surprised to see him with his gun he replied,"since when does a scientist have a gun? Put it away. We need to be objective." He continued down the stairs to the basement. The feeling he had upstairs was gone.

There was no feeling of paranormal activity. Maybe something would crop up later that night. Until then, they would just have to explore. The basement was large and had three separate 'rooms' divided by bare wall that was ready to be remodeled. D'Angelo's boots clopped against the concrete floor.

"Hello, my name's D'Angelo...and this is...," Laurence fought himself to say the next part," my friend Thomas. Is anyone here with us?"

The basement was silent and well shielded from the noise of the upper floors. Laurence's cigarette was nearly completely spent. He put it out on the pommel of his sword as to not disturb the actual environment. Moving to the center of the room he continued,"We just want to get to know you...we hear you've been throwing things around down here."

"Eh, what-?" The loud bang the echoed in the attic surprised him a little, forcing him to look towards the door and notice that it was, in fact, closed. The metallic click that came after made him realize just how stupid it was to actually decide to come up here of all things.

There was no one else there but the two of them. No human presence behind the door, physical body heat... Nothing.

But still, there was this strange foreboding feeling that made him wipe that usual smug-assed grin off of his face.

Oh, they were fucked. If those little devil things that came with all that voodoo black magic stuff were just scared before, they were going crazy now. One of them literally tugged at the back of his clothes to pull him closer to the girl he's been speaking to earlier. Something that he really didn't want to do at the moment. Unfortunately, none of them, in all their dark, slithering and annoying glory, would have that and they just hissed their distaste into his ear. Biting him, constricting his every muscle and telling him to move or end up in hell with every last one of them.

He choked and clutched at the belt of his satchel. His other hand slapping and gripping at the clothes over his chest as he felt like they were forcing his chest to cave in.

"Alright, alright, alright!" Grigori ended up agreeing in the end, walking deeper into the darkness in hopes of finding that bitchy girl to ease their distress. "Honestly, if all of you are just going to be like this then I don't know why I tried to get you guys in first place..."

It annoyed him that black magic can often have a price. Whether it was blood or something different entirely, Grigori couldn't even believe that he's done what he's done.

It was sick, depraved, dangerous, but he loved the feeling of power that came with it.

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((OOC: Finally, a decent reply...))

Alyss finished sketching the odd things in the room, taking a few pictures and pulling a recorder from her bag. She let it run, carrying it carefully after everything else had been put in her bag.
"Hello?" She said softly. "We're not here to harm you. I promise. We just need to find out what you want. Why you're here. What is your name?" She waited. "What do you need?" She asked after a long silence. She left the room after a few minutes, leaving the tape running there and looking for the others who had been on the floor. She hadn't heard anyone on the stairs... so where had they gone?

At the slamming of the door, Sasha dropped behind a nearby chair and hugged her knees to her chest. Stay calm, stay calm, its ok, just stay calm. There is nothing there. It was just your imagination. Stay calm. You can see and that is something. Were just some of the thoughts that were racing through her head. There was only one question Sasha had though. What was the blue flame she had seen? She wasn't sure if it had just been a figment of an overactive imagination or something else. All of her being hoped that it was the former rather than the latter.

Looking up to the windows, she noticed that the curtains were still closed a little. Jumping up she ripped open the curtains the rest of the way and the light from the street lights came into the room. Despite the light not being much, it made Sasha feel much calmer. The room even seemed to take on a more relaxed feel now that the curtains were opened fully.

Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and some of the wall paper looked like it was peeling from the walls, otherwise it looked like any normal living room. Hesitantly, Sasha started walking around the room and examined the room. Nothing seemed too strange now, at least that was what she thought at first. Coming upon a light switch, she flipped it and nothing happened. "Rats" was the muttered word that anyone in the same room would have heard if anyone had been in the room with her. It was then that a chill ran right up her spine and goosebumps started to cover her arms.

Aaron Matsuda, a freshman who had been conned into working as Dr. Keats's assistant, rode up the hill to the house location on a bike. Panting as he finally made it up the hill he could see the Doctors motorcycle and a car they had used on a few of the last cases. It was starting to get dark, fast. Hopping off his bike he walked it the rest of the way to the car parked across from the street.

The back of the car was open and a few walkie-talkies were left in the trunk. Matsuda took one and clicked it on. No talk was going on between the teams in the house. This meant the investigation was already in full swing. looking over to the house he couldn't help but wonder if they were going to be okay in there.

Clicking the button at the top of the radio he spoke into it, "Uh...Hello? This is Matsuda. Everything going good in there?"

He would only be good in this situation as an observer. The only reason Matsuda came was because Keats had requested he did to get more field experience. Waiting on the radio for anyone to respond he anxiously looked over at the shady house. It was staring down at him. he could faintly hear the sound of footsteps. The small japanese-american student shifted in place and looked into he trunk for anything else he could do while he waited.

"I am objective, Laurence. A gun proves useful if should we run into anything that is less then welcoming." A look of eye rolling could be seen from Laurence's face, even with in the dark basement. "I'm being serious. The last case I took, a douchebag gave me a lead to a meth lab. They were not happy with my intrusion. Besides, who the one with a sword on them at all times? I don't even want to hear it."

Keats surveyed the room. The heat seem to come for a north west corner, which Keats pointed towards.

Keats slowly stepped towards the room past the dust covered junk of years past. Though he was sure that everything would be under control, he couldn't help but hear the blood as it pumped through his ears and back into his head. The area that they approached seemed to be radiating a heat that the rest of the house was lacking, yet when it came to the physical sensation, it didn't feel a bit different.
As they rounded the final corner into the space, something happened.

"It's gone." whispered Keats. The vision in his googles went from a bright yellow to green, the color of lukewarm.

"Guns don't work on ghosts, Doctor." This was a discussion he continually had with Dr. Keats. Meth lab incident aside, Laurence always felt uneasy around investigations where guns came out. The blonde haired investigator was one to try to find a peaceful way of resolving the case. To him, showing he could do damage was far better than doing damage. He sighed and put out the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and pocketed the stub.

"I once met a man standing at the edge of a well." He spoke aloud, almost as a reminder to himself. Reminiscing for a moment.

Walking forward to the position pointed towards he could feel the temperature drop at the corner of the room. Something touched him. Turning back to the other investigators he asked," Did one of you touch me?"

Crash! A paint can fell from the drawer underneath the staircase the Dr. Keats was standing near. Surprised at the sudden movement Laurence Then the walkie talkie on his belt fizzled and cracked with Aron Matsuda's voice came from the large box. D'Angelo Answered, "So far. We have stuff being pushed around in the basement. Continuing to investigate."

Outside Matsuda sighed, picking up a deck of cards that was left in the back of the truck.

The paint can crashed to the floor. Keats heart jumped in him as his head whipped in the direction that he heard the sound. Looking back at Laurence, he pointed a finger. "Say what you will, but there are only a few levels between small disturbances and animated objects. Do not think that I say that lightly."

Laurence's radio crackled. On the other side of the line he could hear Matsuda, his office drone. From the sound of it, he would be coming down.

Keats thought about the small space and realizing that his trigger finger was more then usually itchy, he decided to put it away. "Practicality invites me to do so," he explained, almost annoyed. Keats wondered about Laurence, as he did from time to time. Why were they friends? Why did either of them put each other through the torture of the other's company? Then Keats remembered- They could at least talk to each other.

"Let's finish up sweeping the area." Taking off the goggles, Keats needed his eyes to readjust to the darkness surrounding them. "Let's get some lights up and going. We don't need to be walking around with tiny flashlights." He went over to a switch, but no power. Keats supposed this only made sense if the house was to be sold. No doubt this would result in another wise and condescending remark from his "friend".

Any moment, Matsuda would be down. Keats had known Matsuda for about a semester. He'd been very handy in doing minimal tasks that Keats asked of him. This thought made him slightly rueful, but Matsuda was just so darned handy. "Oh well," he thought.

"I'm checking out the south corner of the basement. Keats crossed back and away from the stairs. In another space that was supposed to a room. There was a door way with a door, despite the walls being little more then wood structure and insulation. His flashlight shone across the floor, but instead of dusty gray, crimson reflected back. A lot of it. Keats was taken aback. Blood?

Keats bent down. The crimson was crimson indeed, but it was dry. Blood turned dark after a minute. Scratching the stain, he brought it to his noise to sniff. The dry substance had a chemical smell, almost like-

"Paint." So the tenet was an artist. Standing up, he shone his flash light in the direction the paint seemed to lead up to: a pile of sheets that must be covering the artist's work. Reaching out to grab one of the sheets, he tore it away. Curiosity turned to disgust. It was a very vivid and graphic picture of a predator bird picking out the eyes of a dove that still seemed to be alive. There was something unsettling about the picture, and Keats couldn't put his finger on it. It would have made sense if this man was doing some kind of political painting or had just seen "The Wall" one too many times. This picture disturbed him. There was something dark and sick about it, and staying in the same room made him feel just as ill as the painting.

He turned to walk, no, run towards the door way and back to where others were, but before he could take another step, the door slammed shut. Keats heart froze. Time froze for a moment. In that moment, he would have the time he needed to open the door and get away from the painting. He feared having to look back, he almost prayed that he wouldn't have to turn back a this moment. In that same moment, he had reached for the door knob and griped it to turn. Though his hand moved, the door knob didn't. He was locked in.

"Com'on then kid. We'll check the North." Laurence patted Derik's shoulder. Derik seemed to be more than a little on edge to Laurence. Either he'd never been on a ghost hunt before, or he had and encountered something. Laurence walked in the opposite direction of Dr. Keats past the still unpainted wall dividing the basement.

The air was stale and dry. Dust kicked up from underneath Laurence's boots,"Don't worry about Dr. Keats, kid. He's always on edge about something. I think it's a disease." He turned back to the darkness with a grin looking approximately where Derik would be to see if he got the joke. Not able to completely see the kids reaction Laurence turned back to the cluttered basement, igniting his lighter to see better," Most likely we're not going to encounter much."

The lighter revealed a large room with painting materials, ladders, and a few chairs around the room. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to grab his attention right away. The dim light flickered a little, making the shadows seem to dance. The blonde haired investigator walked forward to the middle of the room.

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Whispers filled the small room Dr. Keats was trapped in. Shuffles and scrapes came from the walls as if something was trying to get out. Some of the voices sounded human, and others wailed and moaned in a demonic manner. Growing in intensity the calls from beyond moved in on him, closing in on him. the moans turned to growls, hisses, and screeches. Whatever trapped him there was moving in on him.

The panting crashed against the floor. Everything went silent. The painting lay on the floor like a corpse in a crime scene. The black room seemed to die with it. But something still didn't seem right. From the silence came scratches. The canvas pushed up at itself from the floor as if something was gnawing its way out. More places began to push up and a red mire bled from the porous canvas.

A muffled crunching and snapping came from the dead frame as though something hideous was eating it's corpse. A Tear split apart the flesh of the canvas and a scream of something innocent resonated through the room. Black hideous, malformed talons poked out as the canvas was shredded. Not quite solid, not quite liquid; A black mass birthed itself from the gruesome bloody red mess mixing it's dark colour with that of the red canvas.

Shaking off the inky ooze, a large black eagle stood on the edge of the decaying frame, digging in it's razor sharp talons. Eying the doctor with a piercing gaze it shifted, letting a piece of the bloodied cloth fall from it's mouth. It had found it's new prey. A horrid stench came from it's filthy tarred feathers as it moved closer to him, scraping it's talons against the floor and leaving behind a trail of putrid somber sludge.

Eir was on edge, the sounds from below causing her to jump. The feeling had vanished for now. She stood, Nidhogg following close to her. She saw a few things covered with thin cloth sheets. Her curiosity peeked to see just what the previous owners had left behind. She slowly reached a hand forward and pulled the cloth off as fast as she could. The loud rustling caused a chain reaction as other things were pulled at.

Many sheets fell to the floor fell to the floor, throwing up a thick layer of dusk. The dog gave a small sneeze, shaking his snout, Eir going into a sneezing fit. Her small body shot around as she sneezed, as she bumped into some sort of armoire, sending off a family of not so people friendly cats jumping off of it.

The ashen blonde screamed, jumping back while Nidhogg was set off growling and barking at them, chasing after the cats around the attic, knocking many things over. Eir jumped up, flushed and panting.

"NIDHOGG! CALM DOWN! THEY'RE JUST CATS! NIDHOGG?!?" she whimpered in a whisper-scream.

Eir had slightly forgotten about the green-haired Russian, her mind on getting a hold of the dog. Said dog was running the cats towards Grigori. His barks ringing through out the house and he and the feral cats were stirring up dust causing the Norwegian to go sneezing again as she kept calling out to get him to come back to her.

The armoire rocked back and forth, having one of it's supports moved. Creaking and moaning the giant moved as the dog chased the bolting balls of fur. With a sudden thud the coat-holder fell onto the small Norwegian engulfing her and smothering her with antique coats and mothballs. The crash could be heard, and felt throughout the whole house.

More dust permeated the air and covered the fact the girl was missing. A small, seemingly mountain of coats covered her small frame. It was over. It couldn't possibly get worse. The armoire was big enough that it would take three four or five large men to lift it. Then something else moved within the darkness touching her leg.

Something else was in there with her.

Scratching, ripping, tearing... These were the sounds that could be heard among the backwards moaning that came from the other canvases. The moment to escape was passed. Crap got real now.

Turning, he saw the bird emerge form the canvases. The same black and bloody predator that was in the crude painting. Keats felt even sicker, his heart in his throat. He could barley breath as he tried to keep his cool. But the bird didn't even look like a real bird. It was as if peaces of the canvas had torn it's self apart to make the hideous deformation of a creation that once had come from God's hand. It was abomination incarnate. Even it's movements denounced all that was natural. A hideous animation. Keats could have vomited if that was all that happened.

Before Keats could pull out his gun, the bird had gone. Keats didn't know what was happening. Had it been there at all? he wondered. He shone his flashlight in every corner of the room, expecting the bird to be hanging from the ceiling like a bat. But after an entire minute, it was gone.

Keats had no idea of what was going on, and that scared him. He couldn't tell if he had seriously been a hallucination or if that thing actually happened. After all, the shredded painting was still on the floor. What it had alway been there?

"Enough of this crap." Keats turned around to shoot the door knob off. As he aimed at the door knob, his heart sank in sickish misery, for he recognized what he saw in the corner of his eye. The animated bird launched it's self at the eye's that had caught it presence. It flew in Keats' face, making him topple like a wood block tower. Keats out of desperation turned his head to the left, just enough to prevent the bird from clawing out his eyeballs. The sharp talons ripped into his forehead. Refusing to die like this, Keats attempted to grab the bird, but before he even had a chance, the bird was gone.

Not wanting to miss this opportunity to escape, Keats took his gun, shot the doorknob, and from the floor lunged his way out of the cramped dark room. There wasn't much more light. The sun had finally set on Seattle.

Eir screamed in horror as the armoire engulfed her within seconds. She couldn't see a thing and she felt surrounded. It was too heavy for her to even budge. She screeched and beat against the wood. The blonde felt something against her leg and her feaer heightened as she beat her fists against the back of the armoire and kicked at it helplessly.

"HJELP!! FÅ MEG UT! NOEN! NOEN! VÆR SÅ SNILL Å! FÅ MEG UT! HJELP!!" her cries for help were muffled but it was clear she was in distress. Having reverted to her native language of Norwegian.

She continued screaming out the same things over and over. Tears streaked her face in the pitch black dark as she struggled and whined out. Nidhogg barked, jumping and barking as loud as he could, slamming into the door and running through the house, barking as loud as he could to get attention to help Eir.

She coughed and cried out, feeling her limited air supply. The Norwegian girl writhing and contorting to try and push the blankets away. The heat increasing uncomfortably. She couldn't tell now if it was paranormal or natural causes for these things but the small space was not comforting.

Her hands dripped with little teardrops of blood from the wood of the armoire splintering a little under her constant beating and jabbing into the flesh of her fists. The amulet around her neck sending shocks through her skin and whole body dangerously as she continued to yell desperately. It felt as if she were trapped in some sort of box that would indeed be her own casket.

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Translation: HJELP!! FÅ MEG UT! NOEN! NOEN! VÆR SÅ SNILL Å! FÅ MEG UT! HJELP!! = HELP!! GET ME OUT! SOMEONE! ANYONE! PLEASE! GET ME OUT! HELP!!

Sasha, hearing the heavy thud upstairs followed by a gunshot from what seemed like downstairs sprinted out of the room and up the steps. Her skin was crawling. There was no way for her to know if there had actually been something in the living room with her, but she didn't care at this point. She was getting away from it.

Hearing screams now from upstairs, she figured the thud had been something heavy falling on someone. Sprinting up more steps to the doorway where the screaming was coming from, she tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Slamming her hand on the doorknob to try to dislodge it, she ended up just making a shooting pain go through her hand. If the door wasn't going to budge that way, maybe it would open if she slammed into the door.

Sasha ran down the stairs, took a breath at the bottom, then sprinted back up and rammed her shoulder into the door. It didn't budge again and just shot even more pain through her shoulder than what went through her hand. Deciding not to give up, she ran back down to try again. Stretching out a little first, she frowned. This was gonna hurt a hell of a lot more than last time. With that thought, Sasha sprinted back up the stairs to ram into the door again.

He was expecting an easy and anxiety free walk back to where he'd left the Norwegian girl just a few moments ago, but the barking, the noise, the clatter and the telltale meowing of the furry little devils made said otherwise. Not even the supposed paranormal door slamming in his face could cause so much hairs on the back of his neck to rise up the way that those characteristically feline noises did. They were shrill and painful to listen to, much like the sounds made by his great aunt Pavlina whenever she would start dragging her talon-like nails against a chalkboard's surface. It was horrible.

Pair that up with the knowledge that these were CATS. Small domesticated carnivores that turned his childhood into a living hell in just a span of ten seconds. Those little monsters almost turned him blind and now he was inside a room with god who knows how many of them.

He was paralyzed, even more so when he saw the little beasts had been herded right to him by Eir's mutt. And, oh great, they were the black, hungry and feral kind.

Before he could even succumb to his fate, whatever malignant force had been holding the door shut seemed to just let go of the damn thing. Letting whoever had been ramming against it burst through as the door itself literally flew open, forcing the feral felines to scatter in fear into a potential hiding place that could shelter them from the intruders and whatever else it was that was with them and the new comer, had the unfortunate luck of being stepped on Eir's dog as it ran out to look for help.

Dust was flying everywhere, caused by the mutt, the cat and the person that just had a very... dynamic entry.

"... дерьмо́! If you hadn't just saved my ass from a clowder of diseased ridden cats I would seriously be laughing said ass off right now! Ho~ was that a close one~!"

He breathed out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding in as he turned around to look at Sasha. He could hear Eir's cries for help loud and clear in the background.

"I should thank you now... But instead of doing it now, I think I should head on over to that chick I was with earlier and start helping her 'cause seriously... She sounds like she's getting raped back there..."

Before he could even home to force himself to stay away, the sound of purring caught his attention and he turned back to Sasha, hoping to put someone in between him and the cats.

"Aaaand I think you should come with me because I have no fucking idea what it is that she may be dealing with."


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((OOC: We seriously need to have our router replaced... The moment I pressed preview the damn thing decided to screw with me and I lost everything that I had previously typed down... Now this one's half-assed...

... дерьмо́! - ... Shit!))

As soon as Sasha burst through the door and started to fall, she went into a front salto and stood up. She turned to look at Grigori and raised an eyebrow, then grabbed a nearby lamp and used it to keep the cats away from them. "We definately should get her out of there." was her quiet reply because the screams had gotten louder since she entered the room and it was starting to give her a splitting headache.

Continuing to use the lamp to keep the cats away, she made her way towards the big armoire. "Might want to stay close. Don't know whats up with these cats. Think we can lift this thing up by ourselves? It looks pretty heavy."


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OOC: salto is another word for somersault and sorry for the short post. I am having writers block right now. Can't even write anything decent for the book I am working on writing.

Nidhogg rushed all the way from the upstairs towards the downstairs basement, another closed door? He snarled and slammed into the door and instead of putting up a force the big dog pile drived through the door and ran down the stairs, barking up a storm. The cats were the last thing on his mind, his master was trapped in a big box and she was not enjoying it obviously! She was trapped!

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Eir whined before she heard voices. It was Grigori and that other girl. The one who seemed to go off on her own. Sasha, that's it. She was distracted a bit by the fact that she was trapped when Grigori made the rape comment. A slightly watered down scoff escaping her throat.

And then Sasha said something about trying to get her out. The blonde whined, pushing against the wood, wincing and making a face. Her hands were bruised and cut up from the wood chipping against her hands. She looked around her a bit frantically and gulped back her fear a bit. Eir closed her eyes and felt the wood of a cane against her leg. That's all it was after all.

She focused herself to calm down. It was just a giant armoire limiting her air capacity and suffocating her and isolating her from the rest of the house. There was no elements to bother her that were unnatural. She'd have sensed it. Everything had calmed down now. There was an underlying thing that seemed ever permanent though. She'd figure it out once she got out.

Eir shifted herself up and wiped the tears from her face. She just needed to stay calm and hope it would be lifted off of her. But two of them weren't enough people, the blonde couldn't even budge it on her own. "Grigori?! Sasha?" she called out cautiously. The girl shifted a bit to keep the jackets out of her way so that they had a better chance of hearing her.

"Please! Get more people. You two can't even lift it on your own. I can barely budge it on my own. You have to hurry while things have calmed down for now. We don't know when it's going to be very troublesome again." Her voice was a bit shaky and her accent was a bit thick but her words were still making it through the wood and understandable enough to understand what exactly she was saying.

Laurence burst into the room hearing a gunshot only to see Keats laying on the floor with ripped pieces of canvas floating down over him. Upon further inspection he also saw a puddle of black paint creeping up on the scientist in the dimming light. Pulling out a flashlight and turning it on he pointed it at the admittedly sad scene of a grown man cowering at the falling cloth.

"God! I thought you were dying." Laurence stifled his emotion at that and looked around, "So...you done playing with your arts and crafts, or do we have any leads?"

At that moment Matsuda walked down the dark stairs shining a heavy-duty flashlight down on the scene,"I heard gunshots. Everyone alright? I can call 911 if you need." The diminuative student took a look at his cell phone only to see it's battery had drained, "That's odd. I'm sure it was charged just a minute ago."