#ehrpgevent005

Ian stood in the middle of the dirt path that led out of town, staring nervously into the woods. Behind him the town was busy in preparation for the night to come. Horses, sheep, and chickens were locked up in the barns, except for the ones that were left in the middle of town as an offering to the wolf. His own family were already locking the windows and putting his younger siblings down for bed, even though the sun still had a few hours before it set completely.

“Where are you?” He mumbled, looking into the woods. The last thing he wanted to do was go into the woods on wolf night, but he needed to find them. He heard stories about people who were locked out on wolf night. The bodies were barely recognizable come morning.

As the sun started to set, Ian sighed angrily. They still were no where in sight. He didn’t want them to end up as just another mangled body after the sun came up. If he was quick enough, he would be able to find them and get to the house in the woods before the wolf came out.

 After Eichen, he'd gone to another facility - and then countless more, as they shut down or moved him along. Even so, the only real change was who was around him: friends, enemies, and strangers. Lots of strangers. Twenty years of strangers. By now, he'd given up on forming alliances; he preferred to be alone.

 It seemed his self imposed isolation was ending, though, for he heard a knock on the door. A visitor? A new roommate? Or, perhaps, simply a nurse or a guard, reminding him to head down for some forgotten meal. He forgot a lot nowadays, despite being only 37.

 Hnikarr forced himself up and away from his writing - a small comfort, now that he'd gotten past his supposed illiteracy - to go to the door. His hand closed around the cool metal of the handles and he hesitated for a few of moments before opening the door. "Yes?" he questioned, his voice lacking emotion, but his expression pleasant enough.

“Touch my ass again and you’re dead.”

It had been years since he'd left Eichen. Sixteen, to be exact. Now, at the age of 36, he ran his own company - an empire, really. A conglomeration of research facilities spanned the continent, among with more sprinkled around the globe. Xerxei was proud of his work, but it was tiring, and sometimes he gave into his instincts. While his Cotard's Delusion had finally faded away to near nothingness, surfacing only rarely, his bloodlust had remained, and he allowed himself to submit to his desires every so often.

Now, in his office, he found himself assaulted by a certain craving. He couldn't simply bite his own wrist or arm anymore - such a thing never sufficed. He'd simply have to wait in his office for someone to show up, then make an offer of a trade: money for blood. A wondrous opportunity for whomever happened upon him.

At that moment, he heard a soft buzz from the landline receiver - someone was about to enter. Xerxei stood in an attempt to make himself look presentable, but he was tired . . so tired.

“What are we doing today then?”

Blood, a lot of it too. She remembered it clearly despite the whole of it all remaining a fuzzy mess. She couldn’t believe what she had done. Well, it wasn’t only her. Flashes of memories started coming back to her. She had been at home with a friend. They had been in the middle of preparing dinner when a strange knocking came at the door. Of course Lucinda had opened the door. It was a safe neighbourhood, what was ever going to happen? Then they came in. They wrecked her home and when they were about to start on both her and her friend. That’s when something had snapped within her and she had grabbed the closest kitchen knife and.. 

She shivered at the memory. It had been a nightmare come true and now she’d have to bare the consequences. Taking a single glance at her blood stained hands she quickly averted her eyes back to her friend; eyes stained with tears. 

“What will we do?,” she whispered, licking her beaten lips.