John softly clenched her small hand with one of his, and smiled, he still felt sleepy but it wasn't as bad now. He had gotten a lucky break, because her bleeding was so severe, she'd been treated without any delay. But how would he get them out of there? They didn't have their real information, but he was not an adult, and he would not be able to prove it. And then there's the fact the Eleanora may or may not remember him. Therefore she may freak out that she's in the hospital, with some blonde guy who went to her school. Gah, that was irrelevant right now. What was most important, was getting them out of there without getting sent to some kind of juvenile home.
John's eyes were open with a start. Scaring the doctor who had softly shaken his shoulder. He got that a lot, the surprised look, when people first saw the contrast in his eyes, they gave him the same look. He shakily got his thoughts together. Why was this man bugging him. Why did his neck hurt. And why was he one this probably filthy bench. The bench made him stand up. Who knows who's bottom sat on that thing. He was shifting back into full on comfortable snugness now. His glare was back on and directed at the doctor. "Well how is she?! Is she okay? Is the transfusion finished or whatever?" The coated doctor nodded at him and began to try to turn the tables. He would need a number to contact their parents. "She should be fine. We deduced her blood type and have given her the correct transfusion. The procedure is simple, after making sure she was alive. She was in such a state that we had no time to ask for parental consent. But that will come later. Your parents will be here shortly, right?" The doctor asked him softly and gently. "We can call them for you, if you don't know where they are at the moment." He rattled off a fake number which the doctor wrote down on a piece of paper. He then gave the old man her address. No one was there anyway, so maybe he could think of a way to get her out of this while they scrambled for parents who didn't exist. He thanked God throughout his conversation. Multiple times for sparing Eleanora's life and also giving him the knowledge of what had already happened. Otherwise he wouldn't have even tried to save the little girl in that room in front of him. He brushed past the man, who still asked for his last name. He opened the door and quietly stood at her side. She looked so peaceful. So unenergetic, he looked about the room and couldn't see her wand, he didn't grab it in his haste to bandage her. He vowed to get it for her, knowing how highly she seemed to value it. He would scour the entirety of the hot springs for their things. But for now, he simply wanted to be beside her, to see with his own eyes that she was one hundred percent in time. That he had made it in time. He took her hand in his and sat in a chair beside her. They would come back to ask about the fake number, in which case he would forward them to his mother. Who he would ask to him out before he would get chewed out by her too. John smiled. They were going to be okay.
John made the sign of the cross with his body and prayed for strength as he churned his legs to keep up with the fast pace wheeling of the gurney. He knew little to nothing about the words they were calling out. But he did hear something about a blood transfusion. He didn't know what that was, but if they were willing to try it. It mean he wasn't too late. She may have a good chance! He would have to ask a doctor about her survival rate. His heart soared anyway and his eye sockets began to feel heavy, but he subtly shook the crying feeling away. He had to stay strong, at least for now anyway. He gazed down at the little girl. One of his few friends in this huge world. He would stay with her till the end after this. Assuming that he didn't get weak and die. Again. She was finally wheeled into a room and he was pulled to the side of it. He was then grilled. Who was he in relation too her? Elder brother? What was her blood type, did he know? Where were there parents? Why were they alone? Was he okay? Did he know anything about his sister's medical history? How old was he? What was his blood type? And his parents? Did he need a phone to call them? If his eyes had a special super power, they'd be activating right now. He cranked up his glare to one hundred percent and was kindly told to wait outside. He adamantly refused and so he was removed into the hall. Luckily there was a bench right across from her room. A little indention in the wall, with a snack machine inside it, right beside the bench. He settled on the bench and stared intently at the door. Should he update his mom? What lies would he feed her? John sighed, keeping friends was becoming too complex and tedious. His gazed stayed on the door till his eyes drooped, his mouth moving silently and subtly in prayer as his fingers were clasped together, and the red beaded rosary was produced and held in his clenched fingers. Wait and pray. Just wait and pray. Or get up and find a way to help and speed up this blood transfusion. He yawned throughout his prayer, his eyes stayed closed as he leaned back against the wall behind his little green bench. He didn't know when praying turned into exhausted sleep. But it did.
John ran his fingers through his golden strands, pushing his hair put of his eyes and away from his face. He gazed down at the lightly covered body of the girl named Eleanora. He only had a few options left. And none of them were any pleasant to him. But he was running out of time, if she was even still alive. His fingers fumbled into his pockets as he dial nine-one-one. He took a deep breath as it rang. It was strange to feel relieved that she may be possibly okay. But sad because he would probably never see her again. His white knuckles grip began paler as he stood up to his full heights and spoke. "I need a paramedic to come to the Trembling Mountain in Brookridge. Yes. The hot springs. Hurry. My kid sister has lost a lot of blood and I am scared she won't make it. " he said it all plainly despite the way his heart turned as he looked at her. He was told a team was dispatched as soon as he said blood. His hand wrapped around her's gently and he waited until the door was burst open. What the men saw was not expected but they were not payed to investigate. He introduced himself as her elder brother and was allowed to sit beside her as she was loaded into the back of the vehicle. As it shut the doors and sped off, he prayed that his lie would hold, even if he had to make it a reality.
OOC: Trigger warning. John had snapped his phone shut and ceased his conservation with his mother. Last time he didn't get to even say goodbye. Was that running water? How strange, the place was still dark. Maybe she was sleeping still and was running the water for a bath or sleeping spell or something strange, his footsteps were quiet as he approached her bed and lightly felt her sheets. Nothing there, but her lights were off in the bathroom and her blankets were clearly flung off. His thoughts flashed back to a run down but still neat and foresty house in the suburbs. Warning bells flashed in his cranium and speed could not be the word to define how fast he scrambled across the bed and shouldered through the slightly cracked door. Sweet. Saint. Pete. His mouth opened to shriek out her name but he contained himself. She was still. So still. Too still. The bottom of his shoes were getting wet. He ignored that thought and didn't even bother with flipping the light switch that would illuminate one of his greatest fears. Light let his mind process and register the tinged water. The reddish hued water obscure her body but his mind didn't stop there. In seconds he let his eyes roam over the red tides to the source of this off color bath. Her wrists still pumping her scarlet life essence and they steadily leaked by the minute. His heart thudded in his chest as he dropped to his knees and prayed he had more time with her. His hand plunged into the water and wrapped around her pale flesh. The water was warm and that surprised him but he didn't know why. The slosh of the water continuing to spill over the edge was irrelevant. The fear and sadness he felt at seeing her vibrance pale with her skin was irrelevant. The queasy feeling in the pit of his belly was irrelevant too, as was her comfort as he pulled his soaked arms out of the water and set her on her back. Stay calm. For her sake. Blink the water out of your eyes. For God`s sake, you are the chosen one. Saved from the fire and brought back from death. Bring her back too! Make another miracle. He blinked furiously and didn't bother wasting a single millisecond. His synapses firing as his heterochromic eyes blinked rapidly throughout his adrenalin pumped actions. Screw looking for the first aid. The sound of running water and the squeak of a lot toilet paper being pulled filled the room as he continued to open and shut his eyes and keep his fingers focused and still. Wrap. Wrap and stay damnit! She cut so deep. Maybe too deep. His chest rose and fell faster at that thought and he banished it for now as he carried on wrapping the paper around her wet wrists as best he could. So cold and lifeless, that small and daintily built wrist. Phone find the phone! He finished the second knot around the source of red flowing from her and quickly and shakily made sure the blood was not seeping through. He bit his lip as he stared at the phone. No cops. **** her for being a damn orphan. He knew a hospital would probably save her, but after being released, she would be sent to an orphanage, probably medicated to high hell once they found out about her crazy...Or even worse, sent to an asylum...He would be able to plead for his mother to adopt the girl, but there was no way he'd be able to get her out of the asylum--or find the orphanage she was sent to, for that matter. He didn't have those kinds of resources. His eyes began to drown. He was crying again. What more could he do? This was no time for contemplation though. His knees were wet now. But no time to dwell on the unwanted situation. Gingerly he locked one arm under her shoulders and another under her kneecaps and sent his mind into overdrive again. He laid her down in her bed and listened to to her nose. Breath!? Jesus, he couldn't tell, it was much too faint if it were there at all. His chest began to rise and fall more rapidly. CPR? He didn't know how? Couldn't doing it wrong kill her? He didn't want that at all right now but it seemed like it was his only option? Give your son favor tonight. So that he may save a daughter. He leaned in pinched her nose and blew gently into her mouth before shifting on his knees to her chest and pumping the center of her lifeless flesh with five counted measured press. Palm over hand style before repeating the process again and again. He panicked and softly slapped her cheek. "Wake up you magical idiot! Wake up for God! Wake up for me, this isn't supposed to happen so why is it?!" He sobbed before trying to perform his own version of CPR. Stifling his tears he stopped pumping and looked quick and wildly about the room for something. Anything to spare her life. He found nothing and so he put his back into CPR as his tears flowed with her blood.
John popped up and sprung out of bed and made his way to the T.V. standing up and glaring at it as it began to give him the information he wanted to know. The Fast News That You Can Use. The news station reported nothing about a bunch of bathhouse deaths in Brookridge, so he let out a unknown breath he'd be holding. He grunted, his body was itching to leave and get away from this crowd, but maybe things had changed for the better. Still, the idiots had somehow gotten the Lord to give him a second chance. Which means, that after his death, those idiots had ****ed up. Royally. Shaking his head, the deduction was a clear as day, but there was no time to dwell on the negatives of this obvious second chance. He left his room and marched imperiously up the front counter and turned his duo different iris's on poor unsuspecting Liandra, "Good morning. Beautiful day the Lord has made. "I'm Simon, yes, like the one who hears God. My little sister is locking me out of her room, so I need spare key." Liandra didn't seem so phased when going up against a hardcore son of God. John felt a tiny thrill. She was delightfully polite, the tramp. He listened to her reply by asking for his ID to which he began to cross examine her. His gaze took in her entire appearance, he didn't hesitate to lean over the desk and check out her uniformed body. Perfect. "Listen here, you miserable low-life that will never amount to anything." He reached into his back pocket and brought out his school's ID before finishing, "My name is Simon, but because of computer glitch, my name was switched with some idiot named John. Can you help me out? I just want to check on my little sister." His gaze softened and he tilted his head, letting his lower shift slightly as if he were biting it in anxiousness. She reached up and swiped the corner of her left eye while grabbing a key with her left. He walked off without saying a word. Dumb heathens didn't get good byes. The number was on the key. And as he gazed at the key and pondered what he'd even say to the girl he stopped in front of the door because his heart was pounding too much for his liking. He was nervous, he frowned in perplexed thought, then it hit him. He'd grown accustomed to her face. Her cherubic, dark haired, blue eyed, face. John sighed, he needed to calm down for a moment. So he walked five feet from the door and rubbed his eyes with his sleeve as he called his mother, just to hear her voice.
He frowned. Would she be an idiot? And die again? Damn it! He couldn't babysit her all damn night! He sat down. Then stood up. Then he sat down again. He was getting flustered. He didn't get flustered, ever. His frown was at maximum capacity. How was this happening? What did the others do to bring them back to life. Was he the only one who remembered? She clearly didn't if she was willing to come see him again. He began to get dressed and gazed down at the floor. He had to make sure that idiot girl got to her room safely. He did, but when that was done he took out his phone and scrolled through the contacts, thinking hard about a certain number he was supposed to carry a day or so from now. Shaking his head he cursed his memory, he relied on the phone to keep that in order. Now when he needed her number he was without it! Well, it would be weird to call her. But he needed to know she was safe. She had to be, despite being here all alone. He thought hard, he was God's chosen. Saved from the fire. And brought back in time from the dead. He wasn't surprised if he was unstoppable. But first he had to see if he was the only one who walking about with their memories in tact, perfect way to check was firing a text to Cherno. Where ever that good for nothing ******* was. It was his fault John resorted to lying in filthy blond vagina. He glared at the door, she touched his doorknob, ick. Spoiler Text to Cherno; Where are you, asshat. If I don't find out where you are in the next five minutes. I will no longer have a best friend named Cherno. His eyes flickered over his appearance in the mirror. He looked good enough, he headed out the door and made a mental note to check on Madeline at some point in the near future. And with that he began the hunt for Eleanora. In the morning. For now he crawled back into bed and fell asleep. ((Will edit later if I can grab a cellular.))
John did like this, but this was not the time to satisfy himself. There were more important things abound that this heathen didn't understand. His arms swung and she was sent sprawled on his right side. "I will get the money. You will get out." As he crawled out of bed and put on his jeans, he switched on the lights and moved to block the door. He took out the rest of the cash and held it out. "On your way Jezebel." It felt good to be back. Memories kicked in. She saw his face. Bruised knees. Flushed face. Choked sobbing. Death. He shook his head and softened his gaze."I want you to do something for me. I won't tell the cops that Reuben pimps out little girls. You just have a good, safe time here."
His eyes snapped open. Terror. Darkness. Joy. Blue eyes. White wand. Why was his room so awfully dark? He felt so sick. Was he daydreaming and had fallen asleep? He was feeling tired on top of his sickness. He stayed in bed. What was the point, God of going through this? He bit his lip in thought. He was a prophet? Nah, he disliked people too much. Either way, this was the Lord's doing. He would need to sit down and think. Winning this game and deciphering the purpose of living this life was still inconceivable. He stood up and stretched. He was naked. Why was he naked? He had no reason to be- Oh. Blonde. Rail thin beauty. Piercer gaze to rival his own. His face turned into a blushing frown, no time for that. Break down. A deal. Running from the room. Pronounced dead. He shook his head to dispel his current thought process. He glared at the door as the knock upon it came just as he expected. He wrapped a blanket around himself and let her enter since the door was already unlocked. "Go away. No one wants you here. And go flip some damn burgers for money. Harlot. Now get out of my room." He smiled in the dark, feeling a pang of sadness. Such a great nun, if only she wasn't so dumb. He sighed and rolled about in his blankets for comfort, forgetting about the other person in the room while he began to plan out the next phase of this blessed chance.
Duncan arrived. Observing all but not saying a word. He disliked the brightness of this place. Maybe he could talk to the staff about dimming a corner of the room for him. After all, this was for them. Right? He continued his broad sweeping stare as he headed over to the food. The white on this tux could go too, but he didn't have anything dark on underneath it. He sighed grumpily as he began to pile a plate with food. Nothing worth listening to was being talked about, otherwise there'd be more arguing and less helping people off the floor. He shook his head as he continued piling. Free food. The only thing worth coming here so far.
Duncan snorted as he scrolled through his email and popped the one from Theodore open. He then quickly hunted down and opened the original email from C. This dork thought something was going on. Ha. He shook his head. However, the occurrences did seem occult. And who in this state didn't know about the multiple weather changes and even the global blackout. And maybe these posers would have some way of knowing more about this occult stuff. Or maybe..an even more interesting thing was happening with the spirit world, and this kid wanted to gather certain people to discuss this 'email' with. That was it, that decided it for Duncan. He stormed down stair and was glad his mother was home all the time for once. She was startled when her son grabbed her and dragged her upstairs to show her the email Theodore had sent. "Mhm. Yeah. We're friends. Yes, I know the son of the owner of Antilum. No I will not ask you for top quality pills, what is wrong with you?! Okay, that's where I'll be because you're giving me a ride." He began to shove her towards the door after answering all of her questions. "And get me a damn suit!" He hated and loathed suits, they felt so constricting around him. But this guy wanted them dolled up. And for the chance to learn more about this fiasco, he would do anything. Including, dropping his prey for the night. After all, it was a lab. A place where science, safety and life, intermingled! What could go wrong?
He couldn't find that *******. Was his information bad? It must have been. That weasel he sent to tail his prey was not doing it's job. He would tell them off when he got back to school. But for now, he would rest, recharge his already full batteries. He went home, changed into pjs. And got into bed then went promptly to sleep.
*dubstep in the middle of your song*
OOC: Feeling a bit nervous. So my creativity is offline and online sporadically. bad post is bad. She said no. Ugh! She was such a joykiller sometimes. The small things that made him happy, she just wouldn't let him have it. Hmph. That would change with his birthday. He nodded assuredly as he tied and laced up his boots and shoved his skully down over his ears. Oh he was going to do his on spying on Clark, it just didn't feel right having someone else do it for him. With a sigh placing two arms in his jacket sleeves, he was leaping at out his first floor window and onto the snow covered ground. Using his GPS app to hunt down his current target.
Duncan woke up with a yawn and stretch. Wondering why this dark dripping room was different seeming then the one he was actually more used too. He looked around and noticed the things he kept at home. Oh. He was home. Why was this crazy woman keeping him here. He frowned and entered his bathroom, freshening up his body with a shower and a shave, he strode out and changed into something more lazy then what he was used too. If she was going to trap him here, he might as well give her hell and enjoy himself. She was keeping him away from exploring that ritualistic murder for goodness's sake. Speaking of which, there had to be some information on it on the internet, especially if there was a news report on it. www.fnycu.com was quickly typed in as soon as he fired up his laptop and settled into his very ergonomic black chair. And he smiled at the logo and words "Fast News You Can Use. If we don't report it first, then it's a lie!" They were so bold and he loved it, that in your face attitude. But they were also accurate, so it made them even more valuable. When the homepage was done loading, he only had to click twice to find the page he wanted. After all, in such a small community, NINE deaths were a big ripple. And will you look at this, apparently some BAE students were missing and they had been for days. Duncan wanted to rub his chin but he didn't, he wasn't some old weirdo in thought. Besides, he was more interested in the ritual styled killing. After skimming and scanning the page, he came up with no imagery or information on what kind of ritual the altar was based on, nor any religion the culprit was involved in. But that would be revealed, soon enough. After all, they were a top notch news team. And Duncan even had respect for them. With that curiosity quenched he pondered what to do next. How could he forget his quarry. Which he had no access too at the moment, unless Clark was out and about somewhere near his home. Then Duncan can claim that he felt trapped like a rat. So with this new plan hatching in his cranium, he sent out a few texts to his mindless scouts and ID'd the miserable cur's location. It was only a few blocks away. Now he just had to figure out a good enough reason to get there.
Duncan's contact info : gothicinbrookridge.tumblr.com And I think his mother should be added to the list of NPC's.
He deserved his spot as captain of the soccer team. He was just so damn good. He crossed his arms over his chest as he trudged across the snow covered ground. The goal he had his parents set up was about thirty feet from the house. It annoyed him but it let him get as much practice as he needed. He was getting annoyed, starting to feel too cold because of the exertion he put on his body from practice was quickly fading. His sweat cooling and reducing his core temperature, instead of making it normal. His arms rubbed his shoulders as he finally walked into the house, leaving snow prints and slamming the door behind him. He was still angry at his mother. And did minor things, here and there, basically being a slob to annoy her to no end. So he stomped his way across the shiny marbled floor. Satisfied with the clumps of snow that fell off his charcoal black boots as he loudly made his way up the stairs. He heard a voice shout out to keep it down, but he just jumped up to the top flooring and grinned as the shout became a shriek of his full name. He hightailed it too the safety of his room and locked his doorknob before kicking off his boots right in front of the door. He changed quickly, there was no time for a shower with the demons prowling about outside. Tch, she would arrive and he would be 'sleeping' so he'd not be able to open the door for her. Duncan chuckled and a smirk was on his face as he heard footsteps going up the stairs and his eyelids shut out all vision. He was asleep after the first few minutes after pressing play on his iPod.
He helped her with dishes. He helped her with shopping. He helped her with lawn work. He helped her with other various chores around the house. Ugh! This is hell on Earth. He flee'd the soonest chance he could get. Calling around on his cell phone, as he hid in his room. He paced back and forth, quietly, as he finally got some info on Clark's whereabouts. Where he was. Check. What was he doing. Check. Who was he with. Check. Duncan jotted these things down as he stood by his window. Getting light while balancing the phone on his cheek as he wrote. When that was done, he crawled under his bed and stayed down there. In the absolute darkness of his black entrenched room. The she-witch of Brookridge would never find him here.
DAY 43 January 11th, Friday Duncan's phone rang out in the night. Like a baby crying for it's mother it cried to him. He reached out to the small device and slide his thumb across the damn screen. Irritated that it was his mother's ringtone, and not his alarm, so he'd wake before his prey did. What in the hell did she want?! "Whaaaaaat?!" He whined childishly into the phone. "Your school is in shambles Dunny-poo! Come home right now!" The shrill voice drilled into his sleepy skull and pulled him out of his sleeping stupor. "No, God! I have things to do here. Education and friends and social life and blah blah." He lied through his teeth, not yet knowing school was canceled. "School's canceled, so cut that crap. Get dressed, baby, we're worried about you. No more arguing!" Her voice was lowering in it's tone, to indicate her seriousness. "But mooooooom. The snow is like fifty feet out there! Jeeze. It's too deep to get home." He sighed in relief that that weird blizzard had come through town. It was his ticket to staying here and away from those lunatics at home. Suddenly, a horn began to blast through the chill winter air. Again and again, cutting the air for seconds on end. It slapped the smirk off his face. "I'm already outside, Dunny-poo." He could hear the smirk on her lips, the one she stole right from his own. Duncan mashed the end button on the touch screen,angrily getting dressed for the day.
Duncan punched the air in frustration. He then marched over to his pillows and began to flip them and toss them about the room. Ugh! He did nothing of value. Spying was tons of fun. But Duncan got impatient. Quick. His fist were still curled up at his sides as he gazed out his window. Still pearly white, at least it was nice and dark outside. The sun was down, and noticing that made Duncan sigh and relax. He crawled into bed, kicking off only his shoes. Still too irritated and upset to fully disrobe and change into clean pj's. Ugh! Wait, was he angsting? Damnit! He shook his head and sank deeper into his pillows. He turned on the television after reaching out inthe darkness for the remote on his bedside table. The news. Wonderful. He listened and watched quietly while removing his skully. Nine dead. BAE students? Who'd have thought. While he was busy, tailing the ****** of the year. Someone was preforming rituals. Right under the schools nose. Weirdos. Idiotic weirdos. He humped and switched of the T.V. When darkness enveloped the room again, he was finally able to to cast himself off to sleep.
