It Follows Me

They didn't know what to do anymore. Not that Cricket had ever had a clue about what was wrong with them, but it was getting worse after the night at the masquerade. They'd practically attacked someone else, marking them both in the process, and felt a unnerving sense of dread that bubbled underneath the surface. Or maybe it was their own fears about the way the magic had reacted to someone it had taken as a threat. So faced with limited options, and marks that looked like scars all over their body, Cricket texted the one person they hoped could help explain something. Or help get rid of the marks. Cricket heard the knock and the sense of dread was overwhelming, answering it quietly and stepping back so no one outside of the apartment would be able to see them except for Lydia.

"Christ all-fucking-Mighty." Lydia murmurs, quickly stepping inside and closing the door behind her. she'd seen a lot in her days. gunshots, lost limbs, hell, literal hell as she held someone's head together with her own hands, there wasn't a lot you could do to shake her. but this?

she hadn't really ventured outside since the masquerade, when someone else's magic had practically forced her own out, an ugly set of events that had left tallulah scarred. the blonde had tried everything - scrubbing, make-up, salicylic and hyaluronic acid, her own nails to pick at the skin and yet...nothing. it spidered up from each finger, following the veins and arteries within her forearms, stretching just beyond the elbows before disappearing completey. many would say it was invisible, tallulah so pale that such scarring was difficult to see but, she knew it was there, and that's all that mattered.

a quick assessment of what she can see, and it isn't a lot, but the girl looks unwell. she can sense the despair, the solemn energy as it radiates from behind the door, and then pushes into her as the front door cracks open and tallulah speaks.

"Oh, yeah?" Aspen watched the other pup curiously, keeping their own Australian shepherd, Ace, between their legs and back from advancing on the other dog, despite their clear desire to play. "What happened? - If you don't mind me asking, of course." She had brought it up herself, after all. "Ace is a friendly pup. He might be able to help him feel a little more comfortable? But I dunno, I hear ya if he needs some time to recoup. We're all a little like that, ya know?"

She nods, watching the puppy curiously watch Goose, the older dog simply yawning and deciding to lay in the cool grass while they talk. "Yeah... I do know... We were running in the woods by my house and... I don't know I think hunters laid bear traps? We don't even have bears in the area and—" Her voice gets high pitched for a moment but she stops the rant and simply takes a breath. "He ran through some leaves and it snapped on his leg." She looks to the bandaged nub with the prosthetic. "So now we just walk and take many breaks."

@drailcdx ft. lydia

It couldn't hurt to get a second opinion on the house. Since Aisley came over and since almost everyone else had something to say about her house, it seemed like a good idea. Her grandmother had been pretty spiritual, and while Lydia wasn't a big believer, it might put her learned suspicions to rest.

It's always a question of whether or not someone knew how to waltz, she has doubts he does, but she appreciates he's willing to at least try. Historically, it was like pulling teeth to get partners on the dance floor with her, as if the act of not knowing was something to be ashamed of. This time, a small, but pleased smile, actually forms across her face as she takes his hand. She can feel the grief that lingers on him, but she wonders how much of that is her projecting since Johnny himself seems charismatic. Even keeled.

As they made their way to the dance floor and their hands found the appropriate placements on each other's bodies, Johnny couldn't help but count his lucky stars that he got to be the one who shared the first dance of the night with her, and moreover, that it was a waltz that she was asking of him. His mind seemed to travel through the currents of times and space itself to bring him the memory of his gran and grandad teaching him the waltz in their living room in preparation for his first school dance. Of course, on that occasion, the learned skill hadn't proven to be of much use, and had in fact, been the cause of a considerable amount of embarrassment and suffering. But this? Well, this almost seemed like it was the universe's way of making good on the promise of his gran all those years ago, that he would be glad he'd be glad he'd taken the time to learn when a pretty girl asked him to dance.

Impressive. Withheld judgment, Lydia isn't shocked he knows, but she is pleasantly surprised. It's rare people, especially her male counterparts, know the steps. It just isn't taught outside of WASP cul-de-sacs and debutant gatherings. He gives her a heart warming story and something about the closeness with his grandparents warms her heart. It feels familiar. Lydia laughs with him at the memory, she can practically see it in her own mind. Somehow, someway, it's like she's standing in the room as small children giggle and point. "That's very sweet of your grandparents." She comments, moving with him letting him take the lead and simply feeling the beat of the music.

Aisley lifted her eyebrows even as she took a seat in one of the chairs. “Interesting,” she allowed, keeping her tone cool and steady. Her fingers moved in tiny circles and lines, nothing more than restless motions to the untutored, but she traced out runes of protection and shielding. The house bothered her, the feel of the watching eyes much like a branch scraping across a frosted pane of glass.

It's moments like these she wonders if she should keep inviting people over. Company was nice, it helped her feel less alone, like she had a community again, but rarely did anyone return for a second visit. The house just... Bothered people. Lydia was used to it, she grw up in the home when it was dark and wall to wall with plants and all sorts of things her grandmother kept around. She thought she made it more inviting but she figured maybe there was more work to be done.

As they made their way to the dance floor and their hands found the appropriate placements on each other's bodies, Johnny couldn't help but count his lucky stars that he got to be the one who shared the first dance of the night with her, and moreover, that it was a waltz that she was asking of him. His mind seemed to travel through the currents of times and space itself to bring him the memory of his gran and grandad teaching him the waltz in their living room in preparation for his first school dance. Of course, on that occasion, the learned skill hadn't proven to be of much use, and had in fact, been the cause of a considerable amount of embarrassment and suffering. But this? Well, this almost seemed like it was the universe's way of making good on the promise of his gran all those years ago, that he would be glad he'd be glad he'd taken the time to learn when a pretty girl asked him to dance.

Impressive. Withheld judgment, Lydia isn't shocked he knows, but she is pleasantly surprised. It's rare people, especially her male counterparts, know the steps. It just isn't taught outside of WASP cul-de-sacs and debutant gatherings. He gives her a heart warming story and something about the closeness with his grandparents warms her heart. It feels familiar. Lydia laughs with him at the memory, she can practically see it in her own mind. Somehow, someway, it's like she's standing in the room as small children giggle and point. "That's very sweet of your grandparents." She comments, moving with him letting him take the lead and simply feeling the beat of the music.

He repeats her name like it matters and she'll admit, it's got her attention. Her palms are rough in comparison to hers, a steady grip up until he lets go, she gets flashes of his life prior to this. At least, she thinks she does. Maybe she'd just had more to drink than she thought but the energy he presented was different from where he'd been, she could feel it. She couldn't explain it, but she could feel it transfer from his palm to hers.

Johnny had this feeling that Lydia was still deciding on what exactly she thought of him and his way of being in the world, but that was more than fine with him, because still deciding meant that she hadn't written him off; that there was something about what he'd said and the way it had made her feel that was worth considering. He watched her carefully as he awaited her response, before she spoke his name, prompting an easy grin to find its way to his features. He liked the way that his name sounded coming from her mouth, and he sincerely hoped that this wouldn't be the last time he got to hear it.

It's always a question of whether or not someone knew how to waltz, she has doubts he does, but she appreciates he's willing to at least try. Historically, it was like pulling teeth to get partners on the dance floor with her, as if the act of not knowing was something to be ashamed of. This time, a small, but pleased smile, actually forms across her face as she takes his hand. She can feel the grief that lingers on him, but she wonders how much of that is her projecting since Johnny himself seems charismatic. Even keeled.

Her words prompted an easy laugh to rise out of Johnny and he nodded his head appreciatively, whilst he took her hand as she offered it and gave it a shake. "Lydia..." He repeated thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth twitching in a threat of breaking out into a dreamy smile; it was a pretty name for a very pretty girl. "Name's Johnny. Johnny Haven. It's not much, but it's mine" He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders as he released her hand that he'd held onto up until then. "But you know something Lydia? I've gone all around this place tonight, looking for someone who could keep my attention. And standing here talking to you? Well, I have this funny little feeling that I'm not gonna be looking anymore. Unless, of course, you would rather that I did?" He posed the question earnestly, not having any desire to force his company upon her if she wasn't as interested in continuing what they'd started here as he was. "I'm not gonna be offended if you would rather that. Disappointed? Absolutely. But not offended."

He repeats her name like it matters and she'll admit, it's got her attention. Her palms are rough in comparison to hers, a steady grip up until he lets go, she gets flashes of his life prior to this. At least, she thinks she does. Maybe she'd just had more to drink than she thought but the energy he presented was different from where he'd been, she could feel it. She couldn't explain it, but she could feel it transfer from his palm to hers.

Cricket smiled as they spun slowly for the other, feeling more like themselves around Lydia even with the steady worries they had about attending at all. With the other, Cricket knew they could be themselves and not worry so much as they offered a bit of a smile before they were holding the other's hand. "Thank you, but your outfit is gorgeous." The other looked radiant. They nodded. "I think so, I mean, I am. I've been worried all day that I wouldn't so I'm trying to come to terms with everything being better than I imagined. What about you? I don't think I've seen you in ages."

Lydia lets out a low whistle at the turn, giving Crickets hand a squeeze as their fingers find each other. She clicks her tongue at the compliment, waving it off with her hand. "I'm so glad." And she means that. The redhead knows very well how it feels to be in a room full of joy and not feel the same. "Just remember to feel it while you're here." She chuckles, giving a nod as she starters to wander, linking her arm with theirs. "It's been so long! The hospital's been so chaotic and with Goose being injured it's been crazy. But tonight has been good! Seeing the town pull out the stops is a breath of fresh air."

Aisley followed her inside, pausing as she took in the temperature of the house. Her brow furrowed, but she remained silent for the moment. Usually she would presume Lydia preferred it chilly, but given her decision to light the fire, that didn’t seem to fit the situation. Something played along the edge of her senses, a hint of a scent or a sound that she couldn’t quite make out. If she were still a child or apprentice witch, she’d likely be running out of the house to seek her elders to do a cleansing.

It's obvious that Aisley can feel it too, the presence that always seemed to loom in the matriarch's house. Lydia used to hate it as a kid. She'd sometimes find herself waking from nightmares as a kid, calling for her grandmother to come save her from the dark. She clears her throat as the other woman joins her, putting on a smile at the mention of gardening.

who: @drailcdx ( mac ) where: just off the dance floor in the club

Despite being a spectre himself, Mac didn't believe in ghosts. Not really. Lived too long, seen too much other crazy shit, there was usually an explanation for everything. Yet, standing before him, was a ghost of times passed. A decade he'd long let go of, his first taste of a life doing something he believed he actually enjoyed. At first, he isn't sure who it is he's talking to, but flashes of a face in the crowd every Friday night, young and eager gazing up at him while Mac looked from behind a microphone into a sea of angsty youth. Maybe Rowen wasn't surprised, but Mac sure was. "Oh. Hey." The scent of old club basements and sweat and blood wafts through his nostrils but it's just a trick of his mind. "Likewise. It's rare I see someone from an actual lifetime ago."

As much as he might have wanted to stick with Atlas for the whole of the night, Johnny knew that his friend had played a part in bringing this entire event into existence, and that he had a lot of people he needed to talk to. That was fine by Johnny anyway, since the man, with an easy charm and charisma, had never had much trouble with finding people to strike up a conversation with when the need arose. He flitted around the venue, exchanging pleasantries and bits of laughter with various patrons, in search for a conversation or a person that captured him entirely. It was still with the echo of laughter upon his features from a conversation that had entertained, but not captured him, that his eyes landed on such a someone; a beautiful dame with hair like the setting sun that stole the breath from his lungs for a moment.

A charmer? Coming to her doorstep? Her upper lip raises out of habit, half smile half snarl as her eyebrow also quirks up. He speaks like he's straight out of some fairy tale book she's sure her grandmother read to her as a child, and while she'd normally call his bluff on the manners; she can tell it's genuine. Lydia had a natural ability to tell when people were well meaning or not, it made her good at her job, it made her good with people. She nods at his reasoning, giving him a once over, arms crossed over her chest before she decides she'll humor it.