Log:Fear
| Fear | |
|---|---|
"Are you sure you're okay hon?" | |
| Participants | 2017.11.12 Molly has a bit of a horror story unfold in her home. Some NSFW language. |
| Location
Blackstone | |
| Blackstone was an inherited residence. It was a family thing. Not a Crowley family thing, but an Utridge was. The Crowley family was not a wealthy one. Molly got lonely at the estate sometimes though and her mother would visit so once dinner was finished and Alora was upstairs in her room asleep the two would sit in the living room downstairs and talk. Her mother was leaving early tonight though. So it was about nine in the evening as they were walking to the front door. "You should really call that young man and apologize about that article." her mother tells her as she opens the door. Because mom is always reading gossip. There is a sharp chill in the air tonight. It's literally freezing. Her mother pauses and jerks her head back towards Molly, "He probably had no idea you were such a whore dear." In light of her disparaging words, Molly's mother wears a sadistic smile. A second later, after the shock of the stinging statement begins to wear, the older woman lifts a brow at Molly and speaks again. "Hon? Did you hear me? Are you an Alora going to come over for lunch tomorrow?" She looks concerned, as if worried about Molly suddenly. Molly looks to her mom when she hears her words and there's a bit of a dumbfounded look, "Why did you say that?" she asks her. Then she sort of shakes herself once she realizes her mom is talking like she didn't say anything. Maybe she needed more sleep, "Yes, we'll be over for lunch tomorrow. Just drive safe." she tells her. "I'll call Mister Graywolf as well." she adds. Molly's mother remains there, paused on the steps. Obvious concern in her expression. A mother's love. "Are you sure your okay hon," she asks. The exterior light behind them, beside the entrance door flickers. The bulb is getting old. Probably time to replace it. Against her mother's better judgment, and begins to move again shortly after and heads to her car. "I'm fine mom. We'll be okay. Tell dad we'll see him tomorrow." Molly states with a smile and a wave. Then there's a look to the light that flickers and there's a frown. Though the woman stays for just a moment to make sure her mom is safely in the car before she closes the door. "I'm going insane." she mutters to herself." as she turns to head towards her office. The chill from outside briefly follows Molly back in. It's difficult escaping a Vermont freeze. However, despite its age, the Blackstone home heats well and very soon tendrils of that warmth curl invitingly around Molly. Upstairs Alora is curled in her bed, the careless smile of a child dominates her features. Its peaceful. Molly's 'quite' time of the day where she can relax before bed. Molly heads back down the hall to her office with a look over her shoulder at the cold. She didn't like when Winter finally settled in, but it was life. She shuts the office door behind her and settles down at her desk, to take up her phone and send a text message to Malaki. Once that's done she turns on her laptop to focus in on a few tasks that need to be finished. TXT From Molly To Gray : I wanted to apologize for the gossip column piece this week. TXT From Gray To Molly : I should be the one apologizing. Think nothing of it, Ms. Utridge. Malaki texts back rather quickly. Perhaps he's a night owl? Time passes by quickly and the tasks that Molly set out for herself fall completed one after the other. Before she's aware of it, the day is gone and the firm grip of night has settled in. Molly looks to Malaki's response and there's a bit of a soft smile, "Well, isn't he sweet?" she states to no one in particular. Because the house is empty. Or so she thinks. Once tasks are completed and reports sent out she powers the laptop down and makes her way back out of the office and heads for the stairs that lead to the second floor. All the usual lights are shut off as she climbs the stairs. The Blackstone is a comfortable temperature. Warmer upstairs obviously, but that's by intention. Vermont nights are unforgiving on the winter time. Alora's door is cracked open just a tad. Molly gives a look to her bedroom door and then down to the hall to Alora's and there's a curious quirk of her eyebrow. Maybe her mom forgot to shut it all the way? There's nothing that alarms her. Not yet at least. She does make her way down to the door though. Because she's going to check on her, just to make sure she's alright.
Suddenly though that heartfelt sensation is replaced by something else. A warm moist feeling Molly hasn't feel in a long time. The sensation radiates through her breasts causing her nipples throb. She's lactating. Warm, sticky breast milk seeps through her bra, and blouse. Alora being fine was Molly's first concern. There's a bit of a relief there. Her daughter was her main concern. Though her heart does flood with warmth at the sight. She takes a step back, closing the door completely and gently when she's figured out she's asleep and safe. The sudden throbbing of her nipples and the warm sticky lactation causes her to gasp as she stops in the middle of the hallway. A furious blush rises along her cheeks as she looks down at herself and then starts to unbutton her shirt as she heads for her bedroom, "What the hell..." she exclaims as she closes the door behind her. The light flickers when Molly turns it on. Perhaps it's the wiring? The Blackstone home is an older one. The flickering continues for several seconds before the bathroom he bathed in light. Molly's blouse falls to the floor when she catches sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. She's definitely lactating. No mistaking it. The sticky fluid seeps through her bra, darkening the cream color material to tan, before it beads up in translucent white drops. It's surreal. The warmth of it, the sensation it causes in her nipples. Then it isn't surreal. The sensation grows warmer. As it does, the tan material of Molly's bra cups starts to darken, brown then red. A bright red. A blood red. He seeps through the material and begins to run down her abs in sticky trails. Molly is feeling a bit on edge between the lights and things. Thought she starts to go for her bra just as she realizes that the liquid is darkening. There's a bit of panic that grips her and she strips the bra off quickly, tossing it on the ground and looking down to herself as the red trails over her skin. That causes a yelp of concern as she grabs blindly for a towel to start wiping at the blood. "Please..." she whispers. As luck would have it, the towel is white. Easily within reach of the frantic woman. Molly grabs it and starts to clean herself up. A million different diagnosis flash through her thoughts. For a brief instant WebMD has nothing on her. It's probably a few seconds before she notices her blouse on the floor. It dry. As is her bra. The white towel in her hand is pristine still. Not the first hint of milk nor blood. She's standing in front of the bathroom mirror, drying her bare skin in a frenzied panic. Molly is frantic. Between the week. Raising a child on her own. The gossip and life in general, her brain is frazzled. She gives a look to the floor and her blouse as she towels her skin. Her eyes then look to her bra and finally tears sting her eyes as she looks to the mirror and she gives an exasperated sigh as she looks to herself, "You're losing it, Molly." she tells herself. There is a response, though it isn't audible as one might expect. It's physical, even tangible. Molly's proclamation of self psychosis is punctuated by the brief flickering of the lights in the bathroom and then the explosion of one. There is a blackout as a bulb shatters completely, raining down in a shower of glass and sparks on Molly. Then just a quick as it began, it's over. The lights, except the busted one, all comeback on, and in the mirror Molly isn't alone. Where her reflection should be there is a figure, masculine, wearing a hat. Nothing else can be determined of him. He lunges at Molly. Molly straightens a bit when she sees the lights flicker, clutching the towel to herself. She wasn't sure what the hell was going on really. There's a shriek when the bulb explodes and she ducks to make sure that none of it hits her eyes. A cut on the face could be explained. Once it's over she straightens back up. Then she looks back to the mirror, and when she realizes she's not staring at her reflection and then something is lunging she screams and scrambles backwards for the open door, heading for her room. Naked from the waist up, she flees! Molly's bedroom door is closed though. It's locked. It doesn't budge a bit. No matter how hard she pulls the knob it just doesn't give. No matter how hard she turns it, it won't open. At the same time that she's trying to escape, the lights in her bathroom begin the flicker again. An ominous presence can be felt. Molly can see her breath in the suddenly chill air. Goose flesh rises on across her breasts, shoulders and the skin on her arms. The exterior windows frost over. There is no escape. Molly yanks on the doorknob a few times and there's a bit of a growl as it won't budge. She lets it go and moves over to her nightstand, opening up the top drawer she pulls the gun there out and points it at the bathroom door. Because if something was going to come out she was going to put a bullet in it. Yes, she was scared to death and freezing, but she was also not sure what else to do for the moment. Suddenly the bedroom door bursts open! Molly's not expecting the bedroom door to burst open so naturally when it does she turns that way with a start, thinking that maybe someone has gotten into the house. Or her mom's back. This could be awkward. It's Alora standing there, lined up for a kill-shot between sight-posts of Molly's gun. The toddler's in the hallway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, having just opened the door to her mother's room. Pajamas and a teddy bear. She doesn't even notice the gun. Molly's completely clothed again. Her blouse and bra are dry. The bathroom door is open and the lights are on. None of them are broken. There isn't the faintest sign that anyone other than the woman and her child are there. The temperature is warm again, bordering on stuffy since hot air rises. It's like it never happened. Like she imagined it all. A nightmare maybe? Molly settles the gun into the drawer very carefully and slowly as she sees her daughter standing in her doorway. Because now she feels very very insane. "Hey baby. I didn't hear you get up on the monitor." she tells her. She's dressed? That barely registers. She pads across the carpet to her daughter and reaches out to pick her up, "Are you doing okay?" she asks her. "You aren't seeing anything are you?" she asks her. "I heard a noise," Alora admits to her mother, finding comfort in the woman's embrace. She smiles, nestling in and nearly immediately going back to sleep. She yawns, then smiles. Her breathing becomes rhythmic and content. There is nothing out of the ordinary if Molly investigates. It must have been a bad dream. Maybe she's working too hard? Black Rock Tom peers across the veil from the Shadow world, unbeknownst to his victim. A white. He seethes in his hate for her and her whole race. He considers killing her and her spawn right then and there, but he can't. Malaki is calling him. He can hear the man chanting. He can feel the cadenced of his war dance. The pulse of Comanche blood. Next time, his mouths before vanishing in a twisting plum of dark smoke. | |
