The Returned

[Bjorn]

Bjorn threw on a clean shirt as he made his way across the apartment. A layer of dust had settled on most surfaces since his last visit, and was barely disturbed as he moved around. Maybe he’d give the place a good clean one of these days, though it was nothing more than a glorified storage room as of late. He only ever spent the day when it was convenient, and that was exactly why he’d woken up there now.

Holstering his favoured handgun, the telepath furrowed his brow and reached out to the hellion. He would no doubt get an earful for transgressing into her mind rather than texting (again), the latter which she continued to assert was the only welcomed method of communication.

Don’t be late.

Hoisting a mostly-empty backpack over his shoulder, the vampire made for the door. He’d been warned as to the worsening weather conditions, but chose not to heed the issued notice. He’d already significantly cut down on travel time by spending the day in his apartment, and in turn lessened his chances of getting caught in the oncoming blizzard. As for Robbie, well, he hoped she realised her value to him was determined by her usefulness in moments such as these.

[Robbie (DELETED 10144)]

Don’t be late.

Robbie tensed as she noticed the many heads that had turned. The violation of her headspace had caused an instinctive reaction. Instantly, she’d become the centre of attention in an otherwise very quiet library. Unfurling her fists, she took stock of her work area, now in disarray.

“******* vampires!” she bitched, getting to her feet and collecting her things. It sure was uncomfortable being the centre of attention, but she had bigger fish to fry. Namely a curly-haired dickhead by the name of Bjørn. Shoving her books and laptop into her backpack, she all but stormed out of the library.

Robbie knew better than to complain. After all, this deal they’d worked out was skewed immensely in her favour. If anything, the expectations fell short of the benefits, even if they were ******* ridiculous at times. There was also the matter of this being pre-arranged. The library had swallowed time and lulled her into productivity with such ease that she’d not seen the hours go by. When she bothered to look at her phone, a string of expletives fell from her lips as she ran across campus towards her dorm.

Wickbridge was miles away, and in this weather, it’d take forever to get there. That was her problem to resolve, for she had agreed to meet with him and bring what he’d asked long before the blizzard had been announced for tonight.

What’s going on?

“I’m on my way,” she replied unhappily, startling the people around her. Rolling her eyes, she reached for her phone. It wasn’t easy to manoeuvre given how packed the train was, too many people and not enough trains. By the time she texted her response, she was pulling into Wickbridge station.

[Bjorn]

The morgue was hardly a free for all, but getting in was easy enough. Never had Bjørn been part of a receiving party for someone returning from the shadow realm, and as such, didn’t know what to expect. Gripping the backpack strap and hoisting it further up his shoulder, he quietly moved further into the unfamiliar building. Maybe there’d be a ritual altar or door or... well, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly.

His curiosity lured him into an elevator, which took him to up towards a floor he’d been ignorant of. Keeping an eye out for traps, Bjørn ventured further into the space. It retained the impersonal, medical feel of the morgue below, but there were remnants of structures that were not at all morgue compatible. It confused him, but he wasn’t here to solve a mystery. No, he had other things to look out for.

Every hadn’t specified when she’d return exactly.
Robbie hadn’t given any sort of response.

What’s going on?

Bjørn could take more control if it came to it. He didn’t share Every’s ability of seeing through his thrall’s eyes, but as he stalked back down to the ground floor, he wished he could. The thought was cast away as quickly as it came; being able to pry into someone else’s life so intimately was a line once crossed that one could never return from.

The telepath hoisted himself onto one of the fixed metal gurneys and stared at the ceiling. The irony of it wasn’t lost on him, but he was too concerned with his vibrating phone to indulge in a chuckle.

Reassured by Robbie’s text message, Bjørn folded his hands over his stomach and stared idly at the ceiling. The seconds that passed felt like minutes. Blowing a raspberry, he realised it would be a very, very long night.

[Every]

It was almost irritating, the fact she'd died twice in under a month. However, at least, she went down both times swinging. The only thing that truly bothered her was really the fact she'd been killed by those she called friends in each instance. The shadow realm was always the same, yet different. She could almost feel the anger displaced by wraiths when she was attacked and ripped into. The retaliation was always instinctive, snarling as she tore into what she thought was always their very soul. As she walked through the shadow realm, Every searched for more spirits - she searched for Freyja.

Between the two of them, it'd been the allurist whom Every had been more concerned of in the darkness. In the throne room, she'd been more concerned for Amalea - the lone human of the group until the queen beckoned her thrall. "I hate this place." She'd said quietly to herself after a few days as she found the broken remains of the Morgue. Her fingertips touched the shimmering rubble, the rock crumbling beneath her touch before she focused. She'd always liked life link, disappearing from one realm and into the next.

There was never a lack of interest when she returned back to the mortal realm. She'd watched it once through Zachary's eyes, the way she affected the shadows within the morgue. The way that she seemed to manifest from thin air, fading back into existance. Once, she'd started an unfortunate intern who'd been working late at night - his scream echoing off the walls. She had never asked Velveteen if she'd heard from the man again, but it'd been amusing nonetheless. Granted, she did expect it to have been a startling sight as someone appearing naked out of thin air would startle anyone that wasn't used to the city.

It was when she finally finishing materializing, Every lifted her hands and brushed off her arms. "I need to start leaving clothes in here again, it seems." She muttered to herself.

[Robbie (DELETED 10144)]

Bjørn hadn’t led her down this path without first giving her the necessary information to remain safe. Well, as safe as one could be in Harper Rock. He’d armed her, trained with her, and exposed her to the utmost horror that the rift had to offer: a summoned fadebeast. At first, she felt like a player stuck in a game, navigating a familiar territory turned on its head. Now, she accepted the city for what it was — what it had become — and reacted to the world around her with a maturity born from experience.

It was why Robbie didn’t react to the ambulating zombie outside the train station, or the person shooting it down, with unabridged terror. The scene erupted into chaos as people who’d been stepping out of the building were cowering back into it, rendering an exit near-impossible. Still, she persevered.

By the time she made it to the morgue, she felt very much like a video game character.
It was an odd realisation considering she’d never paid gaming any heed.

Snow speckled her mane as it fell more and more heavily from the dark, low clouds. Everything about a precipitous snowfall amplified the deafening silence. Around her, the streets were empty, businesses closed for business due to the incoming blizzard or abandoned as the city erupted into the chaos over the past week. Wickbridge was one of the first places to have problems.

Rifle cradled to her person, backpack straps biting into both shoulders, Robbie made for the morgue’s heavy double doors. It was a surprise to find them unlocked, though every new surprise hardened her countenance. Soon, nothing would be a surprise.

The naked woman—half woman was a surprise. As if she was being 3D printed in real life, the woman’s back was turned. Robbie had never seen a zombie or fadebeast, or even a vampire, materialise the way this ‘thing’ had.

Licking her lips, she lifted the rifle and pointed it towards her, keeping the door flush to her back heel. Bjørn had said he’d be here, or at least that’d been the impression she’d gotten, and yet, she didn’t see him. Narrowing her eyes, Robbie waited to see what would come of the shadows.

Tension built in her finger as it hovered over the trigger.
The shot surprised her, the kick of the rifle affecting her balance.

[Bjorn]

Bjørn didn’t respond to the surrounds like an animal would.
He was not sensitive to the shift in the air.
He was not affected by the shadows, or felt drawn to the rift.

The telepath existed on another plane. He existed with a sensory disability that brought to life every frequency around him, blinding him to the natural world beneath the unseen network of electromagnetic radiation. The same sensitivity that allowed him to access the internet with his mind and reach through the ether to speak his mind to another, made him susceptible to the constant activity that travelled these unseen frequencies.

As he lay on the autopsy table no more active than a corpse, his mind was vibrant. Every few seconds he’d blink the images away to listen for any changes in his surroundings. This continued minutes at a time, until he was startled from his technokinetic dream by a shot.

Bjørn sprung to his feet and unholstered the gold-plated gun at his ribs simultaneously. Aside from his mental abilities, he’d become a seasoned fighter. Training relentlessly, he’d cultivated a kind of instant vigilance that wasn’t stifled by his mind’s distracted nature.

Leaning heavily on one of the double doors, he exited the autopsy room with his weapon drawn.
It took a few blinks to comprehend the scene before him.

[Every]

There was a lot of processing that she needed to do now that she was back. Every couldn't help but think about Locryn as she considered what had happened. If she was honest, she'd never thought Amalea would open the rift but... she had. It was a curious thing, but Locryn had been correct - Amalea was the one human who knew vampires better than most. As her body reappeared, Every focused into the mind of the healing thrall and found that she was sleeping, "Good." She'd been concerned when the connection had severed when Locryn and Amalea had given the blood to the vampire upon the throne.

She'd thought she'd lost her, again.

Disconnecting from the sleeping human's mind, she raised her arms slightly to stretch out her muscles and rolled her head slightly before the sound of a heartbeat caught her attention. Turning, Every found herself staring at a human pointing a gun at her - not really an uncommon sight, really. However, it was fact that seemed uncertain about her weapon. The blast of it shocked Every, and clearly the dark haired girl. The brunette started. Heat grazed her shoulder before the bullet impacted the wall behind her before she gave the other female a blank, unimpressed look.

"I would actually feel threatened if you could shoot that and not nearly fall on your ***." Her hand lifted as the graze healed itself, the black blood that hit the air beginning to disippate before she focused upon the human. Within a moment, the familiar aura connecting thrall to master had her lifting an eyebrow. "Bjorn's thrall, hm? Well, at least that saved you from getting punched. Where is he, anyway?"

Very aware of the fact she lacked clothing as she finally stopped materializing, Every folded her arms in front of her chest. "What's going on outside, anything different?"

[Robbie (DELETED 10144)]

The world as Robbie knew it was unraveling at the seams. Literally unraveling, if there was any truth to Bjørn’s accounts of a widening rift and what lay beyond it. The changing world was a testament to there being something beyond humanity’s reach, and she had no reason to doubt him. From the very beginning he’d been candid, most of the time at the expense of her comfort and with no regard as to her sensibilities. If he was manipulating her, then he was doing too good a job portraying an open book for her to question his intentions. As far as she was concerned, she could take everything he said at face value.

It was what he didn’t tell her, however, that was a problem. He’d not given her all of the facts — for a variety of reasons. And in failing to paint a full picture he’d moulded into her a weakness: veiled ignorance. As a result, she was overconfident, and noticeably unprepared for surprises.

It was only now, faced with a naked woman who’d all but materialised from thin air, that Robbie began to doubt herself, and Bjørn. The woman had mentioned his name, and the human found herself wavering in her decision to shoot a second time. How did she know him?

Though armed and clearly disposed to using the weapon, Robbie pointed it to the ground and eased her grip on it. Zombies didn’t threaten to punch you; they closed in to bite. This was no zombie. It certainly wasn’t human, either. It spoke as though it were sentient. Robbie was inclined to communicate with it, or at least try, before shooting again: “What do you m—.”

[Bjorn]

“He’s here! And to ****. That’s how outside is going,” he called out, holstering his gun. He motioned for Robbie to stand down, meeting her eye while clearly avoiding the naked sight before him: “You bring the clothes? They’re for her—” He glanced towards the shadow, motioning with his hand as he made clipped introductions: “Short-rib; Robin. Robbie; Every.”

As Robbie kicked the backpack towards Every, Bjørn folded his arms across his chest and turned his back to the two. “I figured if Locryn couldn’t be here, someone else should.”

[Every]

"It's a pleasure." Every said after the introduction. Her hazel eyes lifted to the ceiling where the bullet had punched through and back to the other woman. "Thanks for the clothes. I haven't had time to restock my pack." She dug through to find the bottoms. She took no time putting them on, turning on her heel to finish dressing. "What do you mean, to ****? Clarification needed, Poodle. The city has always been going to ****."

She paused in her actions to twist her hair up, snatching a pen off a nearby desk to secure it. "How clear is it that the rift has been opened?" Every could only frown. Her mind imagined full scale invasion of the undead; a product of her own paranoia, really, as well as what literature had painted over years. She pulled the top over her form, snagging it on the pen only briefly. A downfall, really, but one that was remedied quickly. The shadow made a noise of frustration as she realized that once again, she'd lost a sword she'd appreciated. This time it was who-knew-how-far-down into the Labyrinth, in the chamber of an ancient vampire.

"Have you been alright?"