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quiet, persistent, those calculated steps betrayed the rather ungraceful lanky walk that soon ceased beside a worn down vehicle; she was close, very close he could tell. pocket cat tilted his head aside, gently so, granting an opportunity for his nose and mouth to savor what faint scent she'd left behind. those slit like pupils hovered within the pool of glimmering yellow and lime, tracing over crackled cobblestone steps that diverted from the main street.

oh, how quaint. was she hiding inside the bookstore? was this supposed to be a reading lesson between the two? once anew his path was followed with slow footsteps climbing each step in a lazy manner, as if he was almost certain she wouldn't be getting all that far from his trajectory.

              despite her impressive stature, technical abilities & the strong, down-to-earth personality, abella deep down wasn't arrogant like many of the mechanics who worked for nil, being a stunningly humble & kind-hearted woman. everyone who knew abella back in oldegård loved her, let it be her parents, younger siblings or even the hometown soldiers. there wasn't a single soul which she wouldn't help & so when the third day of termina came, one can only imagine the devastating shock abella experienced when she found out that many of the people she once knew have either died or turned into horrific monstrosities, murdering, raping & devouring others without a slither of hesitation or thought.

the last thing she remembers is olivia's screams from within the depths of the museum, & then, running... running far away from those horrific wide eyes which even hours later she can still see, leering, burning right through her. ❛ no... no... ❜ the mechanic trembles while crouching, weaving fingers deep into her red locks of hair. ❛ olivia... ! no! god damn it! no, no, no! how did you even── ❜ the sudden creak of the front door & chiming of the bell however interrupt any & all thoughts, making abella's eyes snap wide open & quickly glance over the crooked counter in both confusion & dread. what she sees in that moment though defies every expectation possible. ❛ .... ?! ❜ is this... a man? a cat? no, wait, but those checkered pants...

. . .

❝ ohhh. . . . ❞ the figure sported some distant resemblance to a man known as daan, those checkered pants and shoes but that is where it ended. its head tilted slightly as the height now felt free enough to stand tall. ❝ poor, poor thing. ❞ one step after another, the creature's jaded eyes swerved animalistically from item to item, shelf to corner, not once blinking - it didn't need to. ❝ there is no need to be afraid, i'd like to think we are. . . good acquaintances. ❞ from any prior events they had shared in the past, something seemed naturally different than the creature's previous iteration. this one was hunting.

              abella can barely register what daan is saying before the door breaks down & all hell goes loose, sending a myriad of deranged screams through the crooked house like a ponderous wave. it is fast & deafening, similar to what the end of the world would sound like. abella immediately looks at the living-room door with a hitched breath, her hand holding the wrench quickly turning beat-red from the sheer force of her subconscious grip. to the only other person in the room, she must have looked absolutely terrified. a young woman frozen like a lamb by the messy desk, wide-eyed & breathless, seemingly unable to budge as the screams outside grow louder & louder along with the thundering slams of naked feet, only for her to suddenly move & instead of daan, she lunges straight at the massive closet near the door which just begins to open; a dark, blooded face of an old toothless woman with dirty wisps of hair & wide eyes emerging like a wraith from within the pitch black slit.

abella screams, & holding onto the sides of the closet, tilts the entire hefty thing to the side, effectively slamming the door shut just as the old woman screeches on top of her lungs & clenches her sickle-wielding hand outside that's now completely bent at an odd angle with a bloody bone sticking out. abella immediately steps back with a heaved breath, watching how the door resumes its horrifying rattle from whoever else is now banging against it, but now in vein. the door refuses to budge & she glances back at daan, quickly jogging up to the desk in order to grab her make-shift bag. ❛ okay, let's go. ❜ she returns to his side & despite the fact she just topped the whole massive closet all on her own, the mechanic proceeds to smash open the nearest window with her wrench, quickly cleaning all of the sharper pieces with a single sweep.

daan followed suit, vaulting over the narrow window she’d cleared, landing beside her with a muted grunt. his breath hitched ever so slightly on impact. though his face appeared calm, his eye moved quickly — too quickly — measuring their surroundings as if prey.

❝ this works too, ❞ he muttered, voice low but strained at the edges. his good eye flicked toward her, taking in the finer details now that the light allowed it: she was strong, clearly built for manual work. beautiful, sure but there was a sharpness in her, something he might be able to put into good use.

❝ let’s not overstay our welcome. follow me, ❞ he said, keeping his tone steady. he strode to the edge of the building and pressed his back flat against the wall shoulders tucked in, head tilting just enough to peek out at the open area ahead.

              abella isn't surprised to see daan's reaction, nor the fact he is carrying a literal scalpel around. he did vaguely introduce himself back at the supposed ' train station ' as a doctor &, considering how the whole village has gone mad, he would do well to arm himself along the way but, just the method in which he holds that scalpel. the sheer composure, elegance & almost bored-like mannerisms of the hand. abella can't help but to follow its movements, her amber eyes catching faint slants of light like gold coins in the dark. ❛ uh, right... ❜ something in her gut tells her to be careful, but that feeling gets immediately replaced by one of urgency once the villagers start banging on the door.

suddenly glancing back at his good eye & seconds before she turns in place to check the wooden cupboards, the young woman in overalls answers frankly, ❛ abella. ❜ then, the chaos ensues. to the tandem of loud groans, screams & tearing of wood, she almost pulls the drawers out from their hinges in a rush, her blood-red hair like a crimson veil dancing around her curvy frame. ❛ shit... shit... nothing... ❜ torn clothing pieces hit the bloodied floorboards, followed by rusted spoons, forks, plates & even rotten meat. one that definitely does not belong to an animal.

' hmmm. ' he moves over to the suitcase, kneels aside it and inspects its rather mold covered case. hard to tell when it's been last used. ' ah, so this is why you've asked me to open the suitcase. it's covered in something even i can't tell what it is. ' daan cautiously snaps up the rust covered hinges with a single finger as if afraid of contracting an illness and their due snap ensues the release of a smell so foul that even a mortician would request for a vacation after inhaling that. for a moment he wretches, his forearm instinctively blocks his mouth and nose before the worst came to worst; so much effort to be rewarded with utter trash. an old flashlight, couple undergarments with unexplainable stains, all mingled with a fairly acceptable knife. why am i even doing this. . . his fingers pinch the hilt, any miniscule touch with the dirty garments causes the muscles to faintly convulse.

in the midst of all, the entrance door outside the living room can be heard bursting open. ensued angry shouts immediately blare out across the hall, they're searching, hunting and wouldn't stop at anything until they've had the intruders hanging on the town statue bleeding.

              to some, crows due to their high intelligence & capricious nature often represent a number of things such as wisdom or incoming change, but to people of oldegård, crows were said to be nothing short of an omen; a prelude to death. when abella first saw them flying along the windows of their train, she already knew something bad was going to happen but what she didn't realize at the time was just how bad things were going to get.

from the thick mist & looping train tracks, to screaming villagers & massacres in broad daylight. abella for the first time in her life relied on her wrench not to mend, but to viciously beat & kill. lord above knows that she mean to do it & when the old door creaked open in the dark corridor, she still didn't meant to, only for the pale fingers to tighten around the bloodied wrench. come on, come on abella, she thought, just make a big swing & ──

even astute practitioners can be rattled and her approach, no matter how docile, was far away from placing anyone's mind at ease. daan's sympathetic response was, in simple words, crude and raw; he immediately jolts away from the cushion whilst his hand seeks to grasp the frigid shrapnel's sleek body. his cold, calculative sight could easily pass for that of a surgeon ─ ready to carve.

he takes one long, very long, look prior to relenting any hostile behavior. “ well, what are the chances I get to find someone normal in here. . . ” he puts aside his surgical knife, never truly away. to know if she's trustworthy or not would take time, alas daan sighs while cracking the faintest of smiles. “ to more important things before introductions. ” he's swift in his foot work, took no more but seconds for him to stand aside her and finally close the door of the living room.