Spending the mourning inside [D2, EM]

[Samantha Hayne]

With the layer of frost coating Minuit, spending more time indoors wasn't the worst idea ever. The red-bricked apartment she'd spent the night in was warm and cozy enough to make the thought appealing, even if the various haphazard furnishings she'd managed to get in here weren't in the best of condition. It had the essentials, at least, and that's what mattered. Everything else would come in time.

She had to stand on top of plastic box she'd found out by the trash the other day in order to be able to reach high enough to make proper use of the sink. A broken mirror above it reflected her mien back her while Samantha got ready for the day. Staying indoors was one thing, but she had to at least get out of bed, after all. That done, she went over to a broken-down couch and plopped down. Breakfast would have to wait; Philipe would come over a little later with some groceries he had promised her, and until then there was not an edible thing in sight. Well, maybe some of the mold growing in a few corners, if she'd grow desperate enough.

Not having much to do until then, she took out the envelope she'd acquired last night. Before long, all of the photos inside were laid out in front of her on the couch. Who was the figure common to all of them? The man who appeared in them as recently as a few years back, and as far back as when her father was still alive. What was his relationship to the family? To her nephew?

She took one of them in hand; and studied it for a moment, before laying it back down. Then she produced a box of matches, took one out, struck it against the side of the box; and with the burning match in one hand, took the photo back into the other.

"Show me the past," she said, "show me who this man is."

She looked up at the ceiling, and sounds started coming out her mouth.

"Shivers, livers, hives and boils," she started going through random words and names, "Mary, Steve, Reeve and Larry. Pittsburgh, Church, Candy-cane, crib. Ghostly, love, today, king, beholds, tomorrow. Bellows, below, roadside, apple-trees. Mother, passed, libraries, full, remorse."

The words came faster and faster, until she was listing them off at speeds impossible for any mortal tongue to match. As she continued, she placed the burning match against the photo, lighting it up, and letting it burn until she was forced to release it.

And her eyes went completely white.


Manipulation + Occult + Wyrd vs Composure + Wyrd: 7d10o10h8 2 - loophole used: Activating Portents and Visions (contested by comp+wyrd or other powerstat). Hoping to see something of the man's past that might help her figure out who he is.

[Mirachaya]

The man's face appeared the same age as outfits changed to reflect the times. Not decades, but centuries back. Then, he turned to face the direction Samantha was looking at him from. "I see you," he mouthed and a terrifying grin spread across his face.

[Samantha Hayne]

"Do you now?" she asked, almost challenging him.

She wasn't sure if it was just a part of the vision, him saying it to someone else; or if he was genuinely aware of what she was doing. If he was... and if the vision was true... then he was obviously no changeling. Fae? Maybe? That didn't seem likely, given the nature of the photos. What, then? There were things other than changelings, fae, and ghosts, of course.

[Mirachaya]

The vision broke before she got an answer either way, more than a grin that appeared to go too far up the sides of his face revealing sharpened teeth.

[Samantha Hayne]

She lit a new match, and took another photo of the man in hand. She had seen the past... now it was time to see the future. Perhaps she could figure out where this man... or thing... would be in the coming days?

"Show me what is to be, show me where he will be."

Again the words came, faster and faster until they were emerging from her lips at speeds beyond human comprehension. "Boiled, soiled, foiled, and coiled. Rampant wicked carousing cedar. Tall, structure, short, road. Give, receive, gate, grave."

More and more the words came, until one would stuck; or not; and reveal what was to come.

Manipulation + Occult + Wyrd vs Composure + Wyrd: 7d10o10h8 1 (same contract, looking into the future instead; looking for the most important event coming up for the target; gains the informed condition, loophole used)