City of Shadows Mux City of Shadows Mux

Log:Blood in the Water - Coming Back
Coming back isn't always the same as when you left.
Players Colt, Elias, Sasha Gray (NPC)	August 10, 2022 Returning from the funeral home, Sasha finds her apartment a strange and different place. Elias and Ethan find it strange for other reasons. Finding that Sasha's tea contains valerian root, and that the bathtub had been all but scrubbed clean, the pair have new leads to follow. Sasha decides to abandon this place where she died, finding a hotel to stay in while she contemplates her new existence.
Getting Sasha out of the funeral home turns out to be easier than one might expect. The old woman working the front desk nearly fainted at the sight of what was, just moments ago, a cadaver up and walking around. Offering very little resistance, she simple stared, slack-jawed, at what she was seeing. Who would she report it to? Who would even believe her? Sasha's apartment building, on the other hand, might be a bit more tricky. The neighbors are all well-aware that she's been reported dead, which could cause a fair degree of complication. Fortunately, during the day, most of the residents are at work, which makes the apartment building she lives in particularly quiet and boring. Getting her back to the building was easy enough. Getting her inside shouldn't present too much more of an issue. Ethan is certainly prepared to spin a line to anyone who shows up, but given nobody does he looks at Sasha as they approach her door. "Listen," he says. "I know you've been through a horrible ordeal. You probably want to settle in and not think about this anymore---" Though how much settling in can she *do* in the place where she died? He pushes that thought aside. "But someone harmed you. And whomever they are, they're still out there. Do you mind us coming in, and looking around? And do you mind talking to us a little bit about what you remember?" Elias tries not to look to side-eyed at Sasha, after all, he's met vampires and they're basically the same thing, right? Sure. Instead he occupies himself by looking up at the apartment building once they arrive, holding his lower lip between his teeth. "We have the key, right?" He asks, because obviously that's the best way in, every other way is illegal or annoying. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns towards Ethan and Sasha, nodding his agreement. "The more we know the faster we'll get to the bottom of this." The girl has been almost entirely quiet during the ride. Lucius and Kas and the others went to go check on other things, leaving Sasha in the capable hands of Ethan and Elias, officially dubbed her escorts-but-not-that-kind by Colt. She stares up at the apartment building like some strange monolith of a different time, eyes far away as the other two talk. It's only the question about the key that finally gets her to blink out of whatever trance she was in, looking at the pair. "Key? I --" She looks down at the bag that contains what personal possessions were found on her body, rummaging around slowly in it until she pulls up a Happy Bunny keychain with a few keys on it. "Yeah," she agrees, throat a bit hoarse. I guess I do." She moves to hand the key to Elias, looking to Ethan. "I -- I don't remember much," she admits, leading them to the stairwell and starting up it "Work was -- long. I remember I worked late. I came home. I poured some tea, and started a bath. I --" She pauses on the steps, thinking. "I -- I'm sorry, I don't remember." Starting up the stairs again, she nods. "We're on the right," she tells the other two, pointing at the door. "It's okay," Ethan soothes, pat patting the air. He glances over at Elias with a rueful expression that says the question was worth a try, but that he's not entirely surprised by her answer, either. The closesr the get the more on alert he goes though, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. The last thing he wants is for the three of them to be surprised by this thing. Another question does occur to him though. "Have you made any new friends lately?" he asks. "Been corresponding with anyone new online, anything like that?" Elias accepts the key and follows along, still keeping his ears sharp for anything out of the ordinary while still trying to listen in on the conversation. "I hope it's not something that comes out of the bathtub like Ghostbusters, I couldn't take a bath for a week after seeing that movie as a kid." Maybe it's an attempt to lighten the mood, or it's just one of the Lost's rambling commentaries. "Get any packages that day?" He adds his own question as he trudges up the stairs. Sasha shakes her head. "I don't remember getting in the bath," she admits. "The last thing I remember -- was the tea." She reaches up to rub at the back of her neck, skin still pale but showing signs of regaining some color. "And no, no new packages. Same tea I always drink." She stops in front of the door, looking to Elias, as she handed him the key. "This is the one." And then, to the both of them -- "That woman. Said that I died." She reaches down, fingers trembling as they trace the Y-shaped incision on her chest, swallowing hard. It should be impossible for this woman to be up and moving right now given that the coroner most likely left all of her organs tucked neatly back inside her abdominal cavity in carefully weighed and measured bags. And yet, here she is. If it weren't clear which apartment was Sasha's though, the two supernatural men would know right away. As they approach the door, the smell of old blood lingers in the air. Faint, but there, probably all but undetectable to a human. And under that, even fainter but still detectable, is a different but related smell -- Fresh blood. Even fainter, less than what you would smell if someone cut their arm, most likely, but there nonetheless. Ethan holds up a hand, falling silent, signaling for Sasha to stay back. He glances at Elias. He gestures at himself, then two fingers towards the door, then gestures at Elias and then to Sasha. It's an awful lot of charades to try to convey he's asking Elias to keep her safe while he goes in there first to see what's what and to make sure nothing's going to try to jump them. Or kill her a second time. But it *is* just a suggestion, or an ask, because he arches an eyebrow as if to ask Elias' opinion of it too. And either way he's gotta step aside to let Elias make use of the key. "There's the same smell as back at the.." Elias looks to Sasha, then back to Elias. "Where we picked her up." Might be better for her sanity if they didn't keep pointing out she was in a morgue in a funeral home. "Fresh blood." That probably doesn't help. However, he moves up to the door and inserts the key, giving it a quick twist and pushing open the door to let Ethan go in first while he positions himself between the apartment and Sasha. Sasha's apartment is -- well. Clean, for starters, just from the look of it. Everything very spartan. Cheap furniture, little decoration, but everything kept neat and tidily in its place. The truest mark of a person that doesn't spend much of their time at home, other than to eat, shower, and sleep. There isn't even a television in the place, though there's a laptop on a glass-and-stainless-steel coffee table. Much of everything looks untouched. If one didn't know the police had been over everything in the house, one might suspect they hadn't been there at all. Sasha waits outside with Elias while Ethan goes inside, though the girl wastes no time in whispering to the other man, "I don't smell anything. What -- do you think is in there?" She purses her lips tight, which does nothing for the pale and practically bloodless color of them. "Do you --" She swallows. "Do you -- think that -- they're back?" Inside, the smell is still there. Ethan moves through the apartment, trying to track down the source of the smell, but it's all but impossible. Just when he thinks he has it pinned down, it comes from a different direction, or no direction. Trying to locate the source is a maddening task that proves all but impossible. Ethan moves with caution, eyes narrowing. Then his mouth twists. He glances back towards the hallway, and mutters under his breath in First Tongue. "Walking dead means in the know." Granted, he's not sure how many more shocks she can take, so he texts Elias real quick, alerting him that he's about to go wolf so he can smell better, but telling him the apartment *seems* all clear. That way he can at least *prep* Sasha if they decide to walk in. Then he rolls his neck around and shifts, wincing a little at the snap and crackle of bones and such that might well be filtering out in the hallway. Still...now he's got a better sense of smell to work with, and this was one of the things he wanted to do at the crime scene anyway. He just. Hadn't expected seeing the body first would involve her needing to come back here. Elias pulls out his phone as it gives off the soft chime, then looks to Sasha. "He's giving it a thurough look, probably best if we hang out here unless one of your neighbors comes a snooping." He peeks inside the apartment himself leaving the door open only a crack. "You don't happen to feel tired at all, do you?" He asks curiously, turning to look at the still pale Sasha, trying to think of her odd look as no different than the weird miens he's used to seeing over some people, a lot less weird than most, frankly. Sasha gives Elias a flat, but vaguely amused look. Her eyes are the blue that looks almost like a washed out gray. She offers a little snort back at him, a smile finding her for the first time since she rose up off the slab. "Tired? I feel like *death*," she teases, though her heart really isn't in it. Still, she's trying. It takes someone rather resilient to not be a screaming, gibbering mess in the first place. "So," she questions, as she waits on Ethan to do his thing. "Who -- exactly -- are you?" She looks him over. "You work for Mr. Shaw? Why was he even there?" Apparently, it's question hour. Inside, once Ethan takes the wolf form, the world seems to open up to him. The apartment is practically a vibrant tapestry of different smells, mostly of Sasha. The one's he's focusing on in particular, though, almost manages to elude him again. Eventually though, he finds what he's looking for -- sort of. The fresh blood smells aren't coming from *one* place. They're coming from *many* places, all over the apartment. No discernable source, and no sense of actual blood anywhere other than the smell -- but there are dozens of spots all through the place where the faint, almost maddening smell is coming from, just lingering in the air like a drop of blood *should* be there, unseen. It's strange, and definitely not something that Ethan has seen before. Ethan shivers, but he shifts back up into his human form and calls, "All clear!" It's not, really, not with this blood smell everywhere, but he can't see a reason to keep the woman out in her hallway, and every minute they stand out there is a minute she could be discovered. Still, he goes back over to one of those specific spots. One of those places where a drop of blood *should be.* And he shifts his senses from the physical world to the Hisil. It probably won't be perfect, given the time of day, and some investigation may have to be done all over again at night, but it's a start. His face is set into a deep frown, the look of a man having all sorts of thoughts and none of them pleasant. "Um. Yes, we sort of handle, um, peculiar situations for him. I guess he wanted to take a more active interest in this one." Elias adds, trying to sound like he does this all the time and this isn't his first outting and this is really all run of the mill. At the all clear, Elias pushes open the door and allows Sasha to step inside ahead of him with a, "Ladies first." He follows after and closes the door behind him with a soft click. "I only ask if you're tired because sometimes your subconscious remembers things you don't and there's ways of, getting people to share their dreams while asleep. Kind of like hpnosis." Ethan shifts his senses to the hisil, attempting to locate the source of the smell. Which, as it turns out, is slightly more difficult than it seems. In the city, the Gauntlet is thickest, especially in the home of a human that doesn't believe in all of that spiritual nonsense. Sasha has locked herself away from the spirit world as readily as one can. Still, with some time, Ethan manages to peek through. The other side doesn't seem much different from this side. Minor spirits of stress and anxiety trying in all but vain to whisper through that veil. A little bit of hope, but nothing out of the ordinary. Sasha moves inside with Elias, looking around her place as if she barely knows it anymore. "Please," she says, voice just going through the motions as she looks around. "Come in. Get comfortable." Heading into the kitchen, she checks the kettle -- empty, naturally. Moving over to the sink, she adds water once again, setting it on the stove and lighting the flame. "No," she answers Elias. "I -- I was in a place where there were no dreams. Not -- ones I want to remember anyway. I don't think I did, but --" She struggles to find the words, how to express terror in oblivion when the mind can't accept the reality of her situation -- whatever the hell *that* is. "I don't want to sleep. Maybe ever again." Ethan seems to decide that Elias has talking to Sasha under control; they have a rapport and from the sounds of it the fellow is asking good questions. He shoots Sasha what he hopes is a reassuring smile and murmurs his thanks to her invitation as if he hasn't been sort of doing just that, and then just moves right on into the bathroom. He looks to see if the water is still there, in the tub, before he does anything else in there at all. He's not putting a lot of stock and faith, it seems, into 'the police were all over this place.' It's very hard to make yourself comfortable in an apartment where someone just died, especially when you're talking to that someone. Still Elias does his best to look like he's at ease as he slowly wanders, taking a look around at the place. He frowns a little at the mention of no dreams. "Or your mind is blocking them, still." He sets her key down on the kitchen counter after holding it in the air to make sure she sees him doing so, then shoves his hands in his pockets. "I'd recommend keeping a dream journal if you do sleep though. When you wake up, just scribble down what you remember, no matter how silly. Even if you were eating McDonald's on an inflatable raft with a British sounding rabbit." The tub is as dry as a bone, though the scent of Sasha's soap lingers. Hard to tell whether it was used that night or not, but the tub is as clean as the rest of the apartment, the bathroom meticulously maintained. If Ethan were looking for some sign of struggle there, he doesn't find anything, though the drain plug seems to be missing, perhaps simply misplaced by the police. If anything else is missing, it's hard to say, not knowing what the contents were in the first place, but most essential bathroom items appear to be present. Sasha looks up when Elias says she might be blocking her dreams. "I --" She pauses, considers. "If my mind is blocking them -- isn't there a good reason for that? I think I read that somewhere," she mutters. "That we push the bad things out of our head so we don't have to see them, remember them. If I can't remember -- isn't that a sign that I'm not ready to face it?" Ethan nods to himself, and pulls his little multitool out of his pocket. He switches on the penlight at the end of it. He eyes the tub dubiously and a mite unhappily, but he's supposed to be a big bad werewolf, not some wimp who is afraid of a tub. Feeling Properly Respectfully Wary of the tub, he steps into it and bends down, first to shine a light into the drain, and then to twist around on his back so he can shine it up into the faucet. This is, perhaps, a level of thoroughness that is bordering on the ridiculous, but some nagging sense at the back of his brain spurs him on anyway. "And then we pay therapists thousands of dollars to unblock it." Elias says with a shake of his head. "We need to confront it eventually, or else you stay broken. Trust me on this one, I have personal experience there." He tilts his head to the side. "Perhaps we can see if Mr. Shaw is willing to pay for a trusted psychologist to help you through things." He leans one hip against the counter, but turns to look out of the kitchen, for a moment wondering what Ethan is getting up to but decides he can handle himself for now. "It will also help to have something to do, rahter than sit around and dwell on it." Ethan's investigation doesn't turn up anything. *Anything*. Not a stray hair, or a speck of rust. Nothing that one would expect to be in a bathtub like that. It's as if the thing has been professionally cleaned. One might even guess newly installed, if one didn't know better. Even the drain and the faucet is impossibly, immaculately clean. There is absolutely nothing to be found there that Ethan can see. Which is weird in and of itself. Nobody is *that* meticulous about their bathroom unless they're trying to hide something -- or the most serious forms of OCD. The tea kettle starts to whistle in the kitchen. Sasha gets up, moving to pour herself a cup, giving her time to think on what Elias said. "I -- I mean, maybe," she admits. "That sounds -- you know, perfectly reasonable." Her hands shake as she moves to try to pour the water over the infuster in the cup. "And maybe I'll do that, some day. But -- but right now, it's been about an hour, you know?" THere's an edge in her voice now, a slight quaver like one fighting back tears, "and for right now, I think I just -- I need some time. To. Process. Or whatever. I think I'm allowed to be just -- whatever this is for a bit while I try to figure that out, british rabbits on floaties or no. But. Maybe. Some day." Ethan pulls himself out of the bathtub, frowning. He pauses and Googles the most common OCD medications, and then gently eases Sasha's medicine cabinet open to see if she has any matching pill bottles. That wouldn't be definitive; there's always the chance that she has it and is untreated, but it would still be a data point, and right now they desperately need some data points. He's trying to be quiet about it though, and he grimaces apologetically. It's not exactly a nice thing to do, snooping in people's medicine cabinets. It still has to be done, though. "I understand." Elias murmurs, and he makes it sound like he does, because, well, he sort of does. "But I am serious about keeping yourself busy and not dwelling on it too much, even processing. Knit, watch old movies, something." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of his newly printed business cards, which he pins to her fridge with a magnet. It wouldn't be to odd to find a card for the company she worked at in her apartment should anyone snoop after all. "In case you need it." What is keeping Ethan, he wonders, once more peering back into the apartment. Sasha's medicine cabinet doesn't have any of the most commonly listed prescriptions for OCD. But it does have one or two whose most common prescription is anxiety, along with a hefty dose of melatonin. For someone that doesn't want to go to sleep now, she seems to have been trying just about every way before. Given where she works, where she lives, and her general personality it's a wonder that she doesn't have even more stocked up for that. Sasha takes a sip of her tea, nodding. "Yeah," she agrees. "I -- I need to call my friends. Let them know --" She stops, thinking about that. "Let them know -- what? That I'm not dead?" The fingers of her free hand go to that Y-incision again, the staples holding it together unsightly but hidden, thankfully, by the blouse that she's wearing. "Yeah. Guess I can really pull that one off. 'Just kidding, still alive? What, this? Slept through an autopsy. Happens all the time, it turns out.'" That's when Elias notices it. The tea that she's drinking is herbal, something soothing, calming -- and absolutely saturated with Valerian root. Elias can smell almost every herb and flower and piece of fruit that went into the damned blend, and that one manages to stand out. NOt a blend that in and of itself has any mystical connection, but valerian is well-known to be used in several occult applications -- primarily for calming, compliance, and *communication* -- sometimes with Other Realms. Some of the Privateers are quite fond of it for communicating with their Gentry masters through whatever planes of existence they happen to find themselves on. That smell is one that Elias knows well. Ethan comes out of the bathroom then, catching the last part. "There are, as it happens," he says, "several odd cases of people doing just that. They can Google it. There wasn't a mark on you when you were found. Tell them someone made a mistake, and you're fine now. People will, on the whole, believe any bullshit explanation if it lets them remain in their safe, comfortable little worlds. They never finished the autopsy, which means you have no death certificate, which means you should be able to retain access to your ID, bank accounts, credit." A faint, quick smile. "Would suggest taking some PTO though." A quick glance at Elias, just sort of checking in. He'll fill him in on what he learned on his apartment wander when they're able to speak without talking about her right in front of her. Elias leans back, arms across his chest as he waits on Ethan. Then he sniffs the air, and sniffs again, suddenly standing up a little straighter. There's a loud hiss from deep in his throat as that scent finally registers in his brain and he's moving forward. "Don't drink that." He says sternly but not yelling, he doesn't want to spook the poor woman, though he attempts to pluck the cup from her hands, holding his fingers around the rim and lifting it like a dead rat. He pulls it closer for another small sniff, just to confirm what he's smelling and makes another noise of displeasure. "Valerian. Is that a new tea?" He sets the cup aside, and wipes his hand on his pants in an unnecessary but desired need to clean them of even close contact with that stuff. "Who the fuck puts that in tea?" Sasha still jumps. The tea still spills, onto her hand, the flesh there turning red as she gives a little yip of pain and surprise, dropping the cup. It doesn't shatter, but the tea does go *everywhere*, spilling across the counter, the floor. "W-What?" Sasha's eyes go wide, though she's already moving to the sink, running cool water over the burn. She has that much wherewithal. It takes her a second to regain her composure, but she eventually looks to Elias, shaking her head. "It's the same tea I've been drinking for -- five? Six years?" The question about the valerian gets a raised eyebrow from her though. "People who -- want to sleep? Valerian tea has been used for -- centuries, as far as I know. They even sell the little pills at the grocery store." She looks at the cup, and then back up at the other two. "You think someone poisoned my *tea*?" A look to Ethan, then, and then back to her hand, starting to blister slightly. "Guess I'm not dead after all," she laughs, a dark sound in her throat as she holds it up for the pair to see. "All the weaknesses of the mortal coil, or whatever." "Idiots." Elias mutters under his breath, then glances to Sasha. "Not you." He does grab some paper towels to help clean, still shaking his head. "Yeah, okay, probably if it's just regular, but in the wrong hands it's dangerous and can.." He looks over to Ethan and Sash, holding the tea sopped paper towels. "Let's just say things can get in through a mind dosed with that and leave it at that. Maybe one in a million in random chance, but it could be something." Tossing the papertowels, he goes to find the tea blend. "I'd just stick to camomille." Sasha does, in fact, have a heartbeat. Though what association the tea could have with all of this is anyone's guess. Whatever happened to the woman seems to have regenerated her body, though the incision hasn't healed entirely. A process that works from the inside out, repairing the vital functions first before worrying about the cosmetic, though presumably based on her hand those will come in time, as natural healing progresses. She grabs a towel, moving to help Elias clean up the mess. "You really believe in all that stuff, huh? Ghosts and spirits and magic and monsters." There's a moment, and she sighs. "Says the -- girl who just came back from the dead. Right. That probably sounded pretty stupid." Sitting back, she just leaves the sodden towel on the floor. "Poison tea. Blood-stealing -- something." She rubs absently at her forehead. "Is it even safe here?" she asks. "I mean. I died here once. I guess. I just -- don't know where else to even go." "Maybe we could have a sample of the tea? To look at later?" Ethan asks quietly. He's not picking up on the significance, but he'll learn. Sooner or later he'll have enough contact with enough things that some of the real occult stuff isn't a mystery to him. Besides, he's focusing on Sasha. "It's not stupid," he says quietly. "It's natural. Your entire worldview has been turned inside out, something hinky is happening, and frankly? You're handling it *very* well. I was a bit catatonic for several days after I learned this world was...not what I thought it was. You're doing great." As for the other, slowly: "It...had occurred to me...that it might be wise to have someone watch you, for at least one night, if you were comfortable with it. And I'm not sure whether this apartment is safe or not, to be honest. It..." A pause. "I don't like how it...feels." He's not about to tell her he doesn't like how it *smells.* "But it's yours. And you get to go where you want. Nor do you have to be watched if you don't want. I'm also willing to just give you my number. Ask you to put it on speed dial." For all that he's just going right ahead and offering opinions, he does look at Elias too. "What do you think? What's your recommendation?" Elias looks over at Sasha as she begins to question his beliefs, then give a slow and solemn nod when it seems to dawn on her. "Like I said, to most people it might be harmless. But strike the right person or slip into the right state of mind." He shakes his head. "It's like winning the world's shittiest lotto, and the tea might have been your scratch-off. Or it was enhanced in other ways, no knowing for certain without digging deeper." He looks over to Ethan, lips pressing into a thin line as he considers. "I'd say let her pick up some of her stuff and get Mr. Shaw to spring for a nice hotel room near Omega tower. Maybe one with a jacuzzi tub and room service. She can have some peace, and we can be close at hand." Sasha sits on the floor a minute. "It's different than that," she says, looking around. "I mean -- this is my place. I know it's my place. I'm -- home. But it doesn't feel like home. It feels like *someone's* home. Just -- not *mine*. Like I don't belong here anymore." A slow shake of her head, coppery curls spilling down the side of her face. "Same as everywhere else. I guess that's what it feels like. Coming back. Just -- feeling like a stranger to the *world*." Standing up, she dusts herself off. "I guess a hotel won't feel any stranger than this place," she admits. "So. let's do that. If it comes down to 'places where I died' versus 'places where I MIGHT die', I think the 'mights' have it." She moves toward her room. "Let me go pack some things."