#pathologicrp

The entire town was abuzz with the newest decree. The inquisitor had demanded that nobody move from their districts? Were they to just die in their homes then? No. That would not happen to Anna. And they would not barge in her home with their guns either!

She just knew that would happen. Misfortune always found a way to get to her, but she wouldn’t be caught just yet. Everyone in town knew where she lived, she was a sitting target if she was to stay there, but she didn’t have to. Without a second thought, Anna took a small kitchen knife with her and carefully ventured out, avoiding any noise that reached her ears as she made her way through the dying streets.

It would take two trips in her mind. One to make the deal and another to fully move in, but it had to be done. She couldn’t be found alone in the Willows anymore. It wasn’t safe. At least she still had one friend, right? And what were friends for after all, if not to help one another in times of dire need?

Her hurried footsteps finally came to a halt as she pressed her body close to the artist’s building’s door and knocked until she heard back from within.

POV: Andrey Stamatin Time: Afternoon Day: 5 Status: @twyrineconcoction

Despite his attempts to lessen his frustrations, there was an uncomfortable presence within him that remained. Part of his memory still eluded him. Even as he strolled through the town’s streets he only had scarce glimpses of what he had been doing these past couple of days and what he should have done instead. His thoughts often strayed to his brother and how he longed to see him; to see that he was still safe, and if he needed anything in that mess of an apartment of his. Yet despite his longing he first had another to visit while the sun was still up.

One of the biggest weights on his shoulders carried the face of a woman he deeply cared for. There was an unbearable guilt within him, as if he had been moved to do and say things that he wouldn’t dream of before. It was a damned nightmare, but one that he’d bend and shape into something much greater.

On his way to the Stillwater, Andrey stopped by one of the clothing stores. There wasn’t much in stock those days, but he still managed to find a large piece of golden cloak. It wasn’t cheap, but it was also a strong fabric that would be able to withstand the winter’s cold winds. She’d like it, he thought as his fingers brushed against the fabric. Yet it wasn’t quite what he had in mind when he had first stepped inside that shop. He wanted something better, something that would bring her smiles back.

Andrey’s last stop before the Stillwater was yet another clothing shop, this time on the Stone Yard. They usually had more elaborate kinds of clothing, and today didn’t disappoint his expectations. Even with the little they had, he managed to find an ivory nightgown with an embroidered bottom.

The coin he had to spend on those two trips were enough to draw Andrey’s breath out, but he’d surely make the coin back in no time with the Broken Heart’s clients nonetheless. Without any other planned stop, he approached the Stillwater’s door and knocked twice before stepping inside if he noticed that the door wasn’t locked shut.

The morning had been an atrocious mess. The entire town was going insane and for the first time in his life, it looked like his father couldn’t handle what was going on either. Just a few hours ago he had received a messenger that held a letter inked by the man himself. The head of the bull enterprise wanted him back in the Lump, to stay in there until further noticed, which could only mean until the rabble would come for their throats.

No. He wouldn’t do that, nor would he yield so easily.

He might not be as respected as his old man, but he could prove to be just as powerful and wise if needed. And so he made his way out of his hideout and towards the opposite side of town instead.

It was hard enough to walk through the different districts. The people were crazed and the guards seemed even moreso. Saburov needed to tighten his reins as well if they were to survive this, though who knew how much longer that man would last as well.

No. They needed to get away.

He’d bring Capella along if only he knew where she was, but for now he only had one goal in mind, and that was to reach the Crucible in one piece. The town was at least a sliver of what it used to be there. Even the walls didn’t seem to be as gripped by the strange blisters that the other buildings seemed to now carry. But surely even those wouldn’t dare touch these buildings. They could not. A mistresses’ daughter lived in one of them after all. She could protect them.

The youngest Vlad straightened his coat and shifted the leather of his gloves against the palm of his hands to feel more at ease with his schemes. He had to make this work.

POV: Grace Time: Morning Day: 9 Status: Open

Grace woke up under her warm blankets once again. So warm. So cozy. That place was truly heavenly, though today it scared her. She had already learned that there wasn’t too much noise in those apartments, but today there was a constant ringing, a constant background noise that kept repeating itself in her thoughts. The walls were thick and not many sounds slipped through, but she felt as though she was suffocating in a turmoil of screams.

She must have just had a nightmare, but normally those didn't leave her as terrified as she was. Instincts urged her to find any comfort she could. Normally she didn't have any but now she had the artist, though even he was sick just the day before. Maybe it would be alright, maybe just seeing him would ease her troubled state.

Once she got out of bed her eyes scoured to try and find just where the artist would be. There were so many rooms that seemed to be locked, and maybe he was in one of them, but she hadn't the means to push through those. Eventually she reached the bottom floor and with it, the door leading to the exit. She could go outside. She could take in the air, as plagued as it could be, and maybe that'd ease her thoughts and yet the steps required to reach the door seemed unbearable.

Grace wasn't sure why, she couldn't put it into words, but that morning she couldn't will herself to leave the artist's loft. The thought of what could be outside scared her. It must still be the lingering feelings from her nightmare, and if that was the case that would be alright. She'd much rather stay inside the artist's warm apartment after all. Maybe she could just wait in here a while until her uneasiness subsided.

POV: Anna Angel Time: 8:24 AM Day: 1 Status: Open

Anna couldn’t sleep once again. Was the sound that bothered her the kids again? Or was it the stuffy air inside? The sheets? She wasn’t sure. Everything seemed to bother her that morning, even her breakfast came out wrong.

With her cheeks already flustered with rage at how the day had begun sour, she opened up one of her windows to catch a whiff of the morning breeze. The chill that brushed against her skin was a welcome addition, but the sound, again, was not. There were whispers buzzing in the air. The whole town seemed to already know something that she didn’t, and that set her on edge. She was accustomed to know the on-goings of the town, if something had happened, she had to discover what. What if it was about yesterday? What if Peter Stamatin felt worse and fell ill? Anna felt her heart sink further at the thought.

Covering her slim figure quickly with her oversized coat, Anna rushed outside and donned her more charismatic persona. She wandered carefully around the street, though she didn’t have to wander far, the news were far more scandalous than she could have imagined. Isidor Burakh had died.

The sentence didn’t ring right in her mind. Burakh? Dead? As in really, fully dead? It couldn’t be...

Her steps hurried to his abode. It wasn’t too far off from her own and in that moment she had even forgotten to tiptoe her way there. To her dismay there was a crowd gathering there already. There were even candles scattered around! When did they even put those up?

POV: Andrey Stamatin Time: Morning Day: 6 Status: @twyrineconcoction

 A promise was a promise, and Andrey would keep his. Despite his presence being needed at the Broken Heart, he grabbed a twyrine bottle and a loaf of bread before making his way to the Stillwater.

POV: Andrey Stamatin Time: Evening Day: 5 Status: @twyrineconcoction

Hours slipped by without Andrey’s notice and he still wanted to get more affairs dealt with before the end of the day. He knew his visit would likely be unwelcome, but he had to see the man with his own eyes, even if just for a moment.

He expected the most troublesome part of this endeavor would be to not make it too obvious that he was perhaps being overly protective and yet as he was making his way down the street a man in tattered clothing jumped out at him with a knife. Andrey could scarcely believe someone in town was foolish enough to try and go against him, but the occasion also brought with it a much welcome adrenaline rush.

He didn’t often have the occasion to freely wild his navaja and he wasn’t about to ignore this man’s attempt to rob him, or worse. Not only did old Saburov welcome and rewarded the town’s protectors with gold now too, but the spoils of victory could also be his. Normally he wouldn’t sink that low, but today it would be a treat.

Andrey side-stepped and swung his knife in return, needing only a handful of gestures to find the opening he needed to stab his assailant’s guts. Despite still receiving a few blows of his own, Andrey came out mostly unscathed from the fight. A few cuts here and there, some blood that the man had coughed on top of the architect, and that was about it. His heartbeat was still pounding in his ears when he bent down to claim his material reward. That man should definitely renounce his claim to the knife he wielded, and since he also seemed to carry some morphine, Andrey took that also for having to endure the hassle of the whole affair.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. He didn’t need to stop on his way, though still did once he reached his brother’s front door. He folded his hand and knocked three times before raising his voice and reaching for the door’s handle.

POV: Vladislav Olgimsky Jr. Day: 4 Time: Morning Status: @tincture-enjoyer

Vlad had heard the bells toll and he’d heard afterwards from his father what had happened just hours ago. In the day before he hadn’t the thought to actively act. He was too taken aback by the thought of the Sand Pest being back to actually be able to think straight and act accordingly. Hence why as soon as the morning came, he picked up a pen and began writing down a note.

He’d heard of the new healers in town, of the hospital and even knew part of his father’s plans, but he had other goals in mind, along with other worries.

“Doctor Dankovsky,

We haven’t had the chance to meet yet, but I hope to rectify that as soon as possible. I have certain matters I would like to discuss with you.

Please come see me as soon as possible.

- V.O.”

On the back of the letter Vlad left the instructions for the capital doctor to find his dilapidated shack. It wasn’t the most welcoming abode he had, but it was the safest one for now.