Things that go bump in the night

It had grown late, and outside the safe comfort of the Atheneum and the Loreseeker's guildhall, night had fallen. Her breath fogged in the cold air as Maea closed the door behind her and came down the steps to the street below. Frost sparkled on broken cobbles in the dim light of the stars, and though the farmer in her worried about what the cold might mean for the budding blooms on her fruit trees and the tender crops, she still smiled softly at the beauty of it. It should be cold. Dressed in a flimsy dress more suited for the balmy sunshine of the day, with only a shawl to cover her shoulders and onlylight shoes on her feet. But she was not, and as the white haired young woman began to walk the familiar path that would eventually lead her to the Outskirts and home, she thanked Ludo again for the precious gift. Though light as air and darker than the shadows between the ruins, tattered enough to make Evie Wordsworth wrinkle her perfect nose in disgust, the shawl staved off the chill and left her perfectly warm. Content, even. One might even say happy, and be surprised to know that she had lost every blood relative she'd ever had only half a season ago. Ludo had given her more than a shawl, in truth. Peace of mind might seem a strange thing to receivr from a child of Mort, and yet she had found it in a few simple words that tasted of truth. You're not as alone as you think. Maea wanted to believe it was the truth. Unfortunately, it also seemed to be the case in a more literal sense this evening. As she made her way down the street, she became increasingly aware of a presence nearby. Whether following her or merely watching she couldn't tell, but it made the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. Unnerved, she picked up the pace. MAEA Sometimes darkness can show you the light

KRISTOPHER we never see other people anyway, only the monsters we make of them    Loneliness was such a strange concept to the ancient man. One might say that he was lonely, having been on his own for a century and a half, but was he? What was loneliness but a construct of the primal urge to connect with others and be part of a community? If that urge had been crushed through so many years of forced isolation, did it still qualify as lonely? He didn’t think so, but others may disagree. Then again, he didn’t much care for the opinion of those lesser beings.    Tonight, he strolled under the cover of darkness, his strength not yet close to what it once had been. It was such a shame... He used to be magnificent... Now, he was biding his time and avoiding the sunlight as much as he could until his strength replenished itself again.    Unfortunately for him, that meant less opportunity for hunting. No, no... Not deer or rabbit or anything of that sort, but for any of those foolish enough to venture out into the darkness when predators lurked around every corner. And yes, he was absolutely the quiet, patient, deadly hunter just waiting for the opportunity to strike.    Tonight, the brisk winds of Flowerbirth evenings blew, which would chill any non-Ascended to the bone. Apparently, besides that little thing he had come across at amusing mob that had gathered at the Spire. He nearly chuckled to himself at the thought of the protest. It was adorable...    Kristopher watched her from a distance, observing her movements as every fine predator would. “Feel me,” he spoke into the winds, just loud enough that it would reach her in a hissed whisper. “Know me, young one.”    It was then that he made his move.    Rapidly, he darted forward on nearly silent feet behind a few buildings until he was a decent distance ahead of her. He waited a moment, then walked onto the street only a few steps ahead of her, so she would have to stop short to avoid crashing into him.    Clothed entirely in black, save for the pristine white shirt he wore beneath his long coat, Kristopher lifted his brow at the girl. “My apologies,” he said softly. “It’s remarkably bold for such a frail thing to wonder the nights by her lonesome. There are so many dangers that lurk in the shadows.” He flickered a fanged grin at the girl. so who is the real monster; the looker, or the judged?

Maea had been too focused on something pursuing her from behind. That anything might approach from the road ahead had not crossed her mind. The sudden appearance of the tall figure before her brought her to a dead stop, with a racing heart and fingers numb from a very different kind of cold. One that Ludo's rags could not stave off. With the back of her neck crawling with unease, she heard the man speak. He was tall, towering over her so that she had to tilt her head back to see the face.... but it wasn't really necessary. That voice, the way he spoke... the sharp smile just confirmed what Maea already knew, and it did not bring her any comfort whatsoever. She recognized him, from the mob outside the Spire. He had smiled the same way then, as if he was a cat and she an unsuspecting bird about to be pounced. Well. Seems this was the pouncing being done. "I'm just on my way home" she said quietly, and backed up a step. How her voice remained steady was more than she knew; something about this man and the situation was deeply troubling. "I won't be out long... but thank you for the warning. If you would excuse me...?" Maea tried a smile, quick and faint and gone too soon, and attempted to step around the man and walk swsy. This was probably not the time to stick around for small talk... introductions would have to wait. For a sunny day, in public, surrounded by other people. MAEA Sometimes darkness can show you the light

KRISTOPHER we never see other people anyway, only the monsters we make of them    His eyes slithered over the willowy girl, a cunning smirk worn over his lips, more for show than at all genuine. It was a rare time that he showed anything remotely genuine to any of the lesser creatures. He saved his true self for those he deemed worthy, not that there were many these days. A pity…    Kristopher narrowed his eyes as Maea took a step back from him. Of course it didn’t bother him in the least, though it did amuse him. She felt uncomfortable, perhaps unnerved near him. If it was the latter, she was smart.    Just for the hells of it, he took half a step towards her, blocking her way past him. He stood there in front of her for a moment with only the dangerous grin as an explanation. Then, he stepped aside, offering his arm for her to take as though he was escorting her. “Allow me,” he whispered, practically daring her to decline.    If she took his arm, he would move with easy and completely comfortable steps under the darkness. Regardless, he wouldn’t be letting her go off alone. “Your people don’t appreciate the night as they should, my dear. For under the veil of darkness, one’s true self may be revealed. Never has that been so in the daylight.” so who is the real monster; the looker, or the judged?

Her attempt to slip away was thwarted by a deft sidestep, and Maea had to stop dead in her track to avoid crashing into the man. Somehow, the thought terrified her and she had just begun to back up again when he moved. A dark-clothed arm shifted, rose - she flinched, prepared for a blow, pain, anything - and was offered to her. Like a perfect gentleman. Maea stared at the hand. Was this a trick? A quick glance up at his sharp smile told her that it was. But of what kind? Was this the part where she ran and he gave chase, and the end was a scribbled paper on the notice board informing of a death in the night? She took his arm. Her hand was very small and very pale against the black fabric, and looking at it made her feel weaker - was that even possible - so instead she kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead, hardly seeing where they went as the man led her on. Any casual passerby would only see a couple out on a late night stroll. Maybe note the difference in height between them, shake their head at how little the was wearing in the cold night. But the road remained empty, and Maea wanted to scream at herself. How could she have let herself ens up in a situation like this? Stupid! "My people?" she murmured, grateful that her voice remained steady even though her knees were not. "I thought everyone in the Hollowed Grounds were the same..." Natural, Outlander, accepted or rejected... everyone lived and died the same. Or did they? MAEA Sometimes darkness can show you the light