Logs:Widows and Wings
Widows and Wings
|Characters:||Dustin, Ivy, Saulot|
|Summary:||Killer Instinct something fishy going around in pack territory.|
She's been missing for the last couple of weeks and hasn't been seen coming in or out of her house. However, she's been coming around since the passing of the week. Strange, sure, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Except almost anything and everyone she invites inside has yet to come back out.
At one point in the time she spent with the Killer Instinct pack, Ivy took her bug-out bag and headed back to her Grandmother's house to check in on her, to stow her junk in the spare bedroom there, and to lighten the bag down to a reasonable weight with only about a third of what was inside before. A few necessities she never offloads or leaves home without.
She headed back to the Traphouse and that was when she told Dustin about the old woman her Mimi Rivers told her about. Which has spurred them to walk around the neighborhood in the direction of the cemetery and the Merriweather house. No need to bring the whole pack or a humvee full of weaponry just to look into the disappearance of an old woman, right? Right.
"I remember the cookies Mrs. Merriweather used to bake when we were all little shits tearing up her flower garden," Ivy reminisces as they walk.
Dustin wasn't exactly in the know over the disappearance of a random human within his territory, as long as they're not Wolf-Blooded affiliated with his pack or gang, nor did he really care about it. That is, until words spread that the old woman is suddenly back after ghosting out for a while. And apparently, people who frequented her house began disappearing, too? He was gonna give a look into this at some point, but that point seems to be now when Ivy also hears about it and takes him along to investigate. "Hmm? I guess we're gon taste some of her cookies again, if this visit goes well." He has his suspicions that this might not be the Ms. Merriweather she once knew after all, but he keeps his mouth shut. Minutes later and they'll arrive at the house.
The house is quiet save some old doo wop that can be heard faintly coming from the windows. Two cars are parked outside. Mrs. Merriweather's old lemon and an subcompact that isn't from around here. Both wolves can make out a sweet, coppery scent that's overpowered by the scent of wet earth. Despite that smell the earth below them is rather dry, if not dying without anyone watering the grass in sometmie.
She hasn't heard about the old woman's reappearance even. Mimi Rivers hasn't been over to the Merriweather house since their mahjong or bingo appointment was missed. You know, one of those old ladies daytime games they can play around a table with tea and scones.
Ivy picks up the pace when she hears Dustin's words -- and she even gives him a playful little shove as she blurts out, "Dibs on all the cookies!" before she starts to run in the direction of the front porch. That's when the copper smell of what her mind deduces is blood strikes her senses, and she stops in her tracks with both hands raised up and out as the hackles are raised at the back of her neck, fingers curling and uncurling as she sniffs the air.
As the scent promptly hits him, Dustin's nose perks in the air to sniff like it's reflex. His eyes roam around the exterior of the house, taking note of the parked vehicles, and hearing that faint noise coming from inside. Hey, at least there's someone home. Would be a bummer if they walked all the way down here for the house to be empty. Dustin itches his jawline, shifting his stare over to Ivy. "Ms. Merriweather owns two cars? Must be rich." Ivy knows more about her, while Dustin couldn't bother. He lets out a chuckle when she teases him with that little push, and goes to catch up. It's around the same time that Ivy deduces the scent when he follows suit, too, looking at her with furred brows. "You're thinking what I'm thinking?" He catches another whiff of the air, and goes to knock at the door. Loudly.
The can hear the music lower, and behind it the faint sound of two people talking. Those voices, too, grow quiet as someone begins approaching the door. "One moment," the old bird calls out from inside. A few more moments pass by until they can hear someone behind the door. Despite the old woman's usual habit of checking the peeple she simply opens the door after a few seconds. She's in a flowery blue dress and on top of that an apron that's painted in flour here and there. "Hello, hello," she beams to them both. She's wearing a pair of solar shields even though the sun's long since went down and moon shines high above.
Ivy joins Dustin on the old woman's porch, beside him as he knocks - or kind of pounds? - on the door. She arranges her body in such a way that her left hip is toward the front, while her right hand is bunching up her skirt and going for a thigh holster underneath it, where there's a hunting knife in the sheath on the outside of her thigh. In the dark and with her body swiveled so her right hip is facing the street, she must hope to take it out without being noticed.
"Mrs. Merriweather!" she cheerfully says, though the tone might very well be faked. "I came home to see Mimi. She sent me to check on you."
"Oh, hello there," Dustin is somewhat caught off guard. He was almost expecting nobody to answer the door, fearing the worst after scenting that blood, or maybe he did expect something else to answer the door than the frail old woman. Instead, there she is, greeting the pair warmly like any kind neighborly old woman would do. Dustin quickly tries to take up a pose as to commit to the "we're definitely not here to investigate the weird things that's happening in your house" act, and wraps an arm around Ivy in the process. He smiles.
She dips her head in greeting to them both, smile as wide as can be. She opens the door for them, and then motions for them to come in. The house is as pristine as ever. A shelf with little porcelain dolls, all of them pointed towards the door. Further in and into the kitchen, and they can see someone else inside. A man sits at the table, a hood pulled up over his head and his gaze cast off to the side. The most he gives to the pair if they turn his way is a curt wave as he keeps his gaze on the linoleum.
"It's so good to see you, Mrs. Emm," Ivy cheerfully says. She keeps her hand out of sight once the knife is withdrawn from its sheath, but she comes inside the house ahead of Dustin, using him as a bit of a shield once he's inside, to conceal the presence of the weapon. "Did you finally get your cataracts removed?" she asks the old bird, a head tilted to one side as she studies her, as if trying to see her eyes behind the solar shades.
The house is about the same size on the other side. The perfect egg shell white walls and the awfully clean linoleum floor. Whatever spirits might have called this place home are nowhere in sight. What lives in the shadow now are spirits of a darker bent that clearly shouldn't be callin this place home. The oddest, though, are the avian spirits that have now taken roost in this place's shadow. Small, black birds sitting here and there, all of them looking in the direction of the Uratha.
Dustin makes cautious steps as he enters the old woman's abode, nose lowly sniffing once, twice, and then his eyes lay on the hooded man. Okay, this is already getting weird for him. Where's the scent of copper coming from? Dustin stops in his tracks for a few beats to pretend like he's admiring the interior of the house, when in reality he's peering into the Shadow with his sight, gazing rather nonchalantly at the dark spirits that now dwell in the house's Shadow reflection. All sorts of red flags. He returns to the material world again, and keeps his eyes peeled on hooded fella over there, allowing Ivy to deal with the talking.
The smell of blood becomes much more pungent as they come inside. Mrs. Merriweather, for her part, reeks of bleach. She was baking something sweet, but it's hard to find that scent with those other aromas around. As they come inside the door closes shut behind them with a clack. When Ivy's question comes the old woman turns to face her, flashing a wide smile. "I haven't had those, dearie. You must be confusing me with someone else," she says before laughing. "Let me fix you all something." Beat. "You look like skin and bones."
"Oh, my mistake," Ivy says, frowning a tiny bit. "I was just curious about the glasses. You always had perfect eyes before. I remember because you yelled at us when we would get in your yard; about your 20/20 vision. Remember that, when we were little kids? Oh, man I sure missed you!" she burbles. The old bird makes to go fix them some food, but Ivy gets in the way, trying to wrap her free arm around ol' Mrs. Merriweather to give her an impromptu, one-armed, nostalgic as heck hug.
The smell of blood is nauseating, Dustin having to pinch his nose once or twice when that whiff just slaps him in the face. "Some food would be nice," he says to the old woman, playing it cool and trying his very best not to look extreme. He maintains his stance while standing though, eyes still peeled and watching shady hooded man, because sitting on your ass makes you vulnerable and gives you that false sense of security.
There's a clear point of hesitation before she eventuall takes Ivy in that embrace. She carries a strange scent with her. Something clearly foreign along with what might considered her normal, human. Except the smell isn't out of this world.
The woman isn't wholly as she seems. Behind those glasses Ivy can catch a sight of it. A glimpse, really. There were no eyes behind those glasses. Nothing there except some hollow, black pits.
That man ain't all there. He tries to hide it, but there's something way off. Those weren't fingers he hid in his sleeves, but they looked like claws. Nowhere near as sharp as that of a gauru, but sharp enough to do some damage. Underneath that hood the glint of his eyes just barely shined through as Dustin kept his gaze on the man. His eyes were completely jet black and glinted oddly when the light did hit them. <OOC> Conri had to wrtite out stuff separate for you both.
The hug is so genuine and affectionate and warm from Ivy. She's an inspirational bitch, after all. But even as she is hugging on the creature that stands within the curl of her arm, she is bringing up that unsheathed knife in her other hand, moving with stealth until the last moment at which point she attempts to drive the knife home in Mrs. Merriweather's neck, making no attempt to double-check that the old bird really is gone. Gut instinct may render her a murderer in the end, but she goes with it, unleashing some recently pent up grief into the poor... thing, that has allowed her to hug it.
Of course the hooded shady guy is not a human, it's been staying in its place for what almost felt like forever like a statue, even though Dustin knows for damn sure that ain't no statue. A low throatted growl emerges from him, he knows it's something menacing. And if it isn't? It's still an otherworldly being, no relations to the Uratha whatsoever, so what's the worst that could happen if Dustin goes to confront it, right? That's when everything turns chaotic as Ivy brandishes a sharp dagger and just stabs into... whatever the hell that woman is!
A piercing screech reverberates off the walls as Ivy sinks that big knife into that things neck. It doesn't stop, and she doesn't run out of breath either. Her glasses fall to the ground, revealing to Dustin the hollowed out pits that make up her eyes. She mutters a curse under her breath and through clenched teeth while the man at the table pounces into action. He hops from his seat, and in the blink of an eye he explodes into a massive flock of crows.
No need to panic. It's just ol' Mrs. Merriweather whose neck Ivy has jammed her father's old hunting knife into. She doesn't let go of the grip of the knife, nor does she leave off the embrace of the old bird. She, instead, tightens it to ensure the creature it's going anywhere without taking the Cahalith with her. "What'd you do with Mrs. Emm?" she snarls, meantime.
Skin twists and bends, flesh and bone contorts, and fur oozes out of his body as Dustin shifts into his Urshul form, a massive pony-sized wolf with a majestic grey white fur. He emanates a howling wind that swirls around the swarm of crows, the wind causing massive disturbance in the crows' coherency as they struggle to fly.
The mad flock of the black birds is blown back by Dustin's winds. They don't separate too far since there's not much room for them to disperse inside the small confines of Mrs. Merriweather's house. The peck, claw, and scretch at both of the wolves, and swarm around them. The cloud of wings and beaks keeps at it as Uratha flesh slowly begins to knit back together.
When you're a hot-blooded eighteen-year-old, you don't think things through. So in the immediate wake of having demanded to know what happened to Mrs. Merriweather, Ivy is twisting the knife in the phony old bird's neck -- which kind of renders the vocal cords and other anatomy in that vicinity useless. And now all these angry birds are clawing at pecking at her, which leads her to yank the knife out of the things neck. Her dress is already ruined by the gout of blood that has spouted from the neck, and now it is dripping from the blade she's yanked back into view.
Dustin snarls and snaps his massive, slavering jaw at the swarm of crows as they surround him with their beaks, nipping at his fur and skin until some flesh is visible, only for the wound to be knitted back again in a macabre fashion. Having had enough of the Crow-Host's bullshit, Dustin howls out a thunder of threats in First Tongue at it. "Leave, or I will-" he immediately chokes on some avian fur in the middle of his act, the gigantic wolf form coughing it up, and not finishing the sentence there in embarassment.
~You will choke on your pride, and we will be back.~ All those voice and all that cawing. All of it in that ancient language. The circle around, still peck and clawing at the Uratha. ~We look forward to seeing you again.~ And with that they disperse. They fley past Ivy and out the door while other burst out of the windows with a ruckus.
As the wounds shrink up, so does Ivy, sinking down to her former self, leaving her standing there with the blood of the hatchling on her dress and beginning to get tacky on the hunting knife's blade. "Jesus. I'm... I saw those eyes and I kind of lost it," she offers to Dustin, by way of apologizing for freaking out and stabbing her in the neck. "I guess I ruined questioning them."Dustin reverts to his Hishu again, eyes still glaring at the broken window that the Halaku broke through, silence for a moment. He heaves out a sigh and turns to Ivy, nodding his head to her. "Don't be sorry about it. That thing wasn't Ms. whoever-the-fuck-her-name-was anymore, something else took it over. We should leave now before more crows start pouring. That /thing/ will be back, and I'll be fucking ready when he does."