Regroup (RP)

Continues from Retreat!

- Emma -

Henry is not pleased by your instructions to not involve the police any more, he is also disturbed by your surprise that he 'worried', and the thought that 'he could have ignored it' when you were ... abducted? He is not sure about what happened, he has a lot to think about.

Kat is happy to stay as long as you like in the paid-for room, this does not seem like the first time she has done exactly that, though, presumably, under less bizarre circumstances.

David —if you text him with updates and enquiries— assures you that 'they are doing fine at home'.
• How long do you stay? Right up until checkout Sunday? Monday? The staff are seemingly-thrilled to have you.

What do you do?

- Benji -

You can find no sign of Emma in the tunnels, from tracking her scent it appears she is not here anymore, but you can't tell how. Maybe her 'exit' is related to the piece of wall that interested her earlier? It possibly looks like the dog has passed though that area from time to time, but you can not tell how.

These tunnels are twisty and turny and confusing, and you are hurt, and possibly distracted.
• Can you keep your bearings? Do you go looking for the dog, for Chaudry, for poor dead Persephone? Do you manage to find your way back to the sacrifice chamber and avoid detection? Do you, instead, find your way deeper into the tunnels and to other possible allies?

What do you do?

- Persephone -

For all the trauma your body underwent, you have healed up fantastically well. Your old injuries —the bruises, the scars, the vampire bite— are almost completely invisible, and the new tiny, white scars —all that is left of a brutal mauling— might even fade or be overlooked.

You have spent a lot of time naked recently.
• How long does it take you to realise that there are people in your condo? That your sister is hosting a party?

What do you do?

Benji is extremely relieved when it seems like Emma’s trail disappears somehow. There are no signs of blood or violence. The trail just… vanishes. She must have got out!

The last few traces of Emma he can find are very near that strange section of wall she was looking at earlier. It looks like this is where the dog comes and goes too… He wonders how Emma knew how to get through it. There must be some trick to it — a password or a secret button maybe… He spends some time trying to figure it out, but if there is a trick, it’s too clever for him.

Still, this is the closest thing to a way out he has right now. He should make sure he can find it again before he gets himself lost in the tunnels. He rummages through his pockets and pulls out an old block of rosin which he uses to mark the wall. It doesn’t leave much of a visible mark, but it does leave behind a familiar woodsy pine scent. As he heads deeper into the tunnels, hoping both to hide from Chaudry and the hellhound and to look for some other way out, he marks the wall with the rosin at intervals so that he can follow the familiar smell back to that weird section of wall if he needs to.

He wanders deeper and deeper and deeper into the tunnels, clutching his ribs with one hand and his sword with the other. Once he thinks he must be a safe distance from Chaudry and the hellhound, he begins to hum to himself a little to distract himself from the pain and the nagging hunger. Being hurt always makes the cravings worse, each stab of pain reminding him that he would feel better if he fed. But there’s nothing to feed on down here… On the bright side, he doesn’t have to worry about hurting anyone for the time being, although he does worry about what he might do if it takes him a very long time to find his way out of here. If he spends days or weeks down here, will he be able to keep himself from attacking the first person he sees when he gets out?

Or if he gets out, rather. He is trying not to think about it, to keep himself from panicking, but what if he gets trapped down here forever? Will he starve? It takes vampires a very long time to starve to death and it’s not at all pleasant. He hums a little louder, trying to drown out his thoughts.

After a time, a bit of rustling in his coat reminds him that the rats are still with him. Talking to them is a better distraction than the humming. He talks to them about what happened— about his fears and his guilt over Persephone’s death — and it makes him feel a little better. He takes the time to pick out names for them too. The lead rat is Tchaikovsky, the biggest one is Brahms, and the little one with the twitchy nose is Paganini.