➤ INTO THE ENDLESS. Zoey’s pretty sure she stepped through the fucking looking glass. Because it had NOT been winter when she had leapt off her motorbike and gone racing into her dad’s flat looking for him, her satchel clanking and rattling as she ran.
And now she’s here. In a forest amid snow and fog and nowhere NEAR London. “Fuckstockings,” she mutters under her breath. She turns in a slow, wary circle, taking in her new surroundings. Snow falls steadily around her, and the fog waits in all directions only a few yards away. A warning prickles along her skin. Somehow she thinks straying from the path is a very, very bad idea. Because of COURSE it is.
“Sure. Red Riding Hood. Is there a wolf waiting in this fog? Or a hunter?” She asks to no one at all, before picking a direction and starting out.
➤ BODIES WITHOUT SOULS. A bookstore is right up her alley. Maybe there’ll be some information she can use. Something she can find. Empty notebooks and pens so she can take notes on everything. Or maybe she’ll pick up on something useful. You can learn a lot from bookstores. Also cemeteries. The bookstore is as eerily silent as the rest of the town, and she moves carefully, bootsteps nearly silent as she heads towards the bookshelves. It’s interesting, that the books aren’t any later than the 1990s.
“Why, though?” Zoey wonders aloud, flipping through a book at random. Does it mean that it was sometime then that whatever made Mathias this way happened? Did something even happen to Mathias to make it this way? Maybe it had always been this way. Or maybe something had happened elsewhere and Mathias had ended up collateral damage.
➤ THE END APPROACHES. The town hall gives Zoey the creeps. This TOWN gives Zoey the creeps. The sort that usually tends to lead to portents and blood. (And death. Sometimes death.) There have been moments where she’s wanted to crawl out of her bloody skin. As it is she’s tense and on edge, the itch of restless energy eating at her.
So she stands at the bulletin board, reading the notes and things that have been stuck to it. The map catches her attention first and foremost. In part because the moment she draws closer, almost reaches out to touch it there’s the coppery taste of blood on her tongue. And she immediately withdraws her hand. Written in blood.
“He is coming.” Arching an eyebrow, she tilts her head. “That’s a bit fucking vague, isn’t it?” As though she’s talking to Mathias itself. The blank paper and pens, obviously left for note writing reasons, start her thinking. “I wonder.” Gods, she’s been here all of how long and she’s talking out loud? Ah well, she’s never been the right side of normal, anyway.
She grabs a piece of paper, but, rather than grab a pen, she instead pulls a hairpin from her hair and uses it to prick her finger. Using that, she writes ‘WHO is coming?’ on the paper and pins it to the board beneath the first words. Maybe the offering of blood will make a difference. She could have waited for a really bad vision to try it, but she’s not that patient. And writing a note in bloody tears seems a bit extra even for her. (But Zoey is almost certain that she WILL be having visions, here. With the way it makes her feel... Yeah. It’s practically a guarantee.)
It might not be ENOUGH blood, is the thing. And she draws the line at bleeding herself dry to test a theory. There will be more blood though, soon enough. She knows that.
Zoey Westen | Original Character
Zoey’s pretty sure she stepped through the fucking looking glass. Because it had NOT been winter when she had leapt off her motorbike and gone racing into her dad’s flat looking for him, her satchel clanking and rattling as she ran.
And now she’s here. In a forest amid snow and fog and nowhere NEAR London. “Fuckstockings,” she mutters under her breath. She turns in a slow, wary circle, taking in her new surroundings. Snow falls steadily around her, and the fog waits in all directions only a few yards away. A warning prickles along her skin. Somehow she thinks straying from the path is a very, very bad idea. Because of COURSE it is.
“Sure. Red Riding Hood. Is there a wolf waiting in this fog? Or a hunter?” She asks to no one at all, before picking a direction and starting out.
➤ BODIES WITHOUT SOULS.
A bookstore is right up her alley. Maybe there’ll be some information she can use. Something she can find. Empty notebooks and pens so she can take notes on everything. Or maybe she’ll pick up on something useful. You can learn a lot from bookstores. Also cemeteries. The bookstore is as eerily silent as the rest of the town, and she moves carefully, bootsteps nearly silent as she heads towards the bookshelves. It’s interesting, that the books aren’t any later than the 1990s.
“Why, though?” Zoey wonders aloud, flipping through a book at random. Does it mean that it was sometime then that whatever made Mathias this way happened? Did something even happen to Mathias to make it this way? Maybe it had always been this way. Or maybe something had happened elsewhere and Mathias had ended up collateral damage.
➤ THE END APPROACHES.
The town hall gives Zoey the creeps. This TOWN gives Zoey the creeps. The sort that usually tends to lead to portents and blood. (And death. Sometimes death.) There have been moments where she’s wanted to crawl out of her bloody skin. As it is she’s tense and on edge, the itch of restless energy eating at her.
So she stands at the bulletin board, reading the notes and things that have been stuck to it. The map catches her attention first and foremost. In part because the moment she draws closer, almost reaches out to touch it there’s the coppery taste of blood on her tongue. And she immediately withdraws her hand. Written in blood.
“He is coming.” Arching an eyebrow, she tilts her head. “That’s a bit fucking vague, isn’t it?” As though she’s talking to Mathias itself. The blank paper and pens, obviously left for note writing reasons, start her thinking. “I wonder.” Gods, she’s been here all of how long and she’s talking out loud? Ah well, she’s never been the right side of normal, anyway.
She grabs a piece of paper, but, rather than grab a pen, she instead pulls a hairpin from her hair and uses it to prick her finger. Using that, she writes ‘WHO is coming?’ on the paper and pins it to the board beneath the first words. Maybe the offering of blood will make a difference. She could have waited for a really bad vision to try it, but she’s not that patient. And writing a note in bloody tears seems a bit extra even for her. (But Zoey is almost certain that she WILL be having visions, here. With the way it makes her feel... Yeah. It’s practically a guarantee.)
It might not be ENOUGH blood, is the thing. And she draws the line at bleeding herself dry to test a theory. There will be more blood though, soon enough. She knows that.
➤ WILDCARD.
[Choose your own adventure!]