asgardmeridiem | [OPEN DARKNESS EVENT LOG][DAY/NIGHT 131]

Samantha was a survivor. She had seen horrors some of these fools couldn't even imagine. She had killed, left people for dead, drenched her hands in blood and clawed her ways from the very bowels of hell. As she panted and gasped, deep in the heart of Baldr, away from the house and any public places, she reflected upon the sheer number of things she had seen.

The strangeness had seemed so ... miniscule at first. She'd known better, however. She'd gotten away from it all, gone to ground, hidden herself where nobody could find her. still, they'd come. They always came. She'd been damned lucky she'd had light on her. Survival had been a bare thing that time.

Ever since the first drop box she'd found, it had been nothing but lurking, just at the edge of the light with her eyes watchful for threats. Fighting upon fighting had made the days bleed together. She was exhausted, haggard, panting and bleeding from a few wounds right now, bandages closing the worst of them. She had the look of a wounded animal, ready to snap at any foolish enough to come close.

Of course, being her district, Eve had returned to Baldr many times during the past few days. It was the place where she had first encountered the Darkness when this whole mess began, and it was also the place she would return to at the end of the day, when she was nearly exhausted and it was time to find some well lit place to crash in. Seeing as how this day had decided to forego the day part and jump straight ahead to a perpetual night, she could barely even tell if it was the end of the day or not--but her body certainly could, with the way it was beginning to strain.

Her job was hardly done, however, and she still trekked on. By this time, she had decided it would be far much more convenient for her to tape her flashlight somewhere, and she had. It looked ridiculous, yes, but she couldn't deny that having a flashlight attached to her head through various means made beating up these things using only a steel pipe easier. It was a better alternative than risking dropping either her weapon or source of light, and she was pretty sure others would agree with her on this--crimes against all that was fashionable aside.

Either way, regardless of the injuries her Regeneration couldn't heal, she kept moving. It was vital, if she wanted to get anywhere without being assaulted by yet another annoying pack of ravens or flying objects. She needed to keep moving, and she needed to stay alert. Because of this, when she hears what she seems to believe is heavy breathing, she's quick to turn in its direction, flashlight aimed and ready.

The light would give her position away, but if it was something she should worry about, it would also help defend her against it.

Her claws were out in a split second. A garbage can shifted as she crouched low. It took a full two seconds before the fact that there was light registered properly. She looked, in the light, on the verge of springing. She also looked like hell. Her clothes were intact, but torn in a wide variety of places. There were claw marks all along her arms and rips through her jeans. Only two or three looked deep enough to justify anything more than washing them off, and her body fought off infections well, but she definitely looked like someone who had seen more than her share of raven swarms lately.

She snarled and then paused, eyes narrowed. She started to make out the person she was looking at and relaxed only a small inch. "Eve," she said, the word having a sort of croaking quality to it. "How do I know you're not one of them, smart enough now to use that thing as a trick to fool people?"

It was a logical question, though at the same time the presence of the light was pretty clear as to what side of the 'fence' Eve was likely on right now. Samantha crouched there, tail lashing low behind her while she waited to see the girl's intentions.

If this hadn't been one very awful situation, Eve would have probably snorted as soon as she had processed Samantha's question. If not for the fact that she could clearly see the other girl in all her screwed up glory right now, she would have thought that she had been blinded somewhere along the way. No matter how she looked at it, the question was incredibly stupid and paranoid--definitely not the kind that would come from someone who knew how to keep themselves entirely calm.

Still, she knew she would probably get her own eyes clawed out in a second if she didn't make herself less of a threat to ease her paranoia. Shrugging her shoulders, causing her light to move as she also lowered her weapon a bit, she relaxed her posture. Even though she wanted to comment on her appearance at the moment, now really wasn't the time. Witty quips could always wait until they were in another location, and preferably one that involved a generous amount of functioning light bulbs and candles.

"Are you serious?" she says, lightly and almost like they weren't in the middle of an invasion. "Do you really think I would be stupid enough to carry my one weakness with me? Lame."

"Old trick," she said, shrugging. However, she did begin to relax. Eve's sense of acrid humor hadn't changed one bit under the circumstances. That was a good sign that it was actually her, and not somehow some sort of monster. She nodded and reached up to brush her hair. "Never said it was a very good trick. You look like hell."

Ok, that was the pot calling the kettle black, but under the circumstances it was also the best she could come up with. She got to her feet slowly and was about to add something else when a distant 'cawing' could be heard. She whipped her head in its direction, but did not see fluttering of shadow drawing closer. The patrol was seeking somewhere else.

"We need to find somewhere to rest. I can't take much more of this."

"Hey, you said smart," she replies, shrugging her shoulders. Samantha didn't seem like she would attack and the slightest provocation anymore, so that was enough of a sign for her to fully relax. She didn't need more scratches on her face to add to her collection, after all. That would be simply terrible. "Har har. Thanks, Captain Obvious. I'll bring my make-up case next time I go clean up the streets."

And while she doesn't hear the bird call as the other girl did, she does take notice of her body language. That was more than enough to inform her that it would be a good idea to get out of here as soon as possible, and preferably before something found them. As much as she loved the adrenaline rush that came from defeating her enemies, it was about time for her to retreat. She was pretty sure her body wouldn't be too happy if she went for another round, and neither would Samantha.

Sighing and running a hand through her hair, frowning when she feels a number of knots and tangles, she nods. "Have you been to any of the shelters? You look like you haven't seen a healer yet."

"You mean the targets? Fuck that," she said, stalking towards the alleyway that was away from the sounds of flapping. She frowned and looked to the left and right before she started moving. The demon only gave a half glance to make sure that Eve was following her, her fingers motioning her along.

"I prefer to work alone, just with a few. Those places are asking for trouble," she added, her voice pitched very low as she started looking for one of the houses that was unoccupied for the moment. The search couldn't be hard. "Why would you go there? A few scratches won't stop me."

She cocks an eyebrow at that kind of response, following the other girl while minding her step. It was most likely nearly impossible to be utterly silent while trudging through the alleyways, given the state of the city right now, but she would be hard pressed not to try. The last thing she needed was to alert some nearby Taken or whatever that she was here by stepping on and crushing some soda can that fell out of the trash. That would be incredibly lame--not to mention annoying.

"You're not very compassionate for the civilians, are you?" she says, in a hushed tone as they moved on. She had an idea of what Samantha was looking for, and she was pretty sure it wouldn't be nearly as easy as she'd like. "They add up, trust me. I've had more than enough scratches turning into stinging infections."

Samantha crouched as they reached the edge of the street. Their light shone out like a little beacon in the darkness, glowing just at the edge of the sidewalk while she looked left and right. Nothing so far. "Compassion gets you killed in times like this, Eve," she whispered. "I helped a few earlier, but nobody sane's still on the streets if they can help it. It's just gotten real hard to stay hidden since yesterday."

She finally turned towards Eve and looked her over. There were wounds that hadn't regenerated yet dotting the girl's skin. That made the demoness frown and then finally sigh. "Where's the nearest deathtrap?" she asked, caving in a little. She didn't need Eve at risk too.

"Only if you're an idiot. It does save you the burning shame, though," she says, slowly and as if she were stating a simple fact of life to a child. Perhaps it was the sense of civic duty that had been drilled into her head ever since she was a child, but it seemed incredibly obvious to her that the moral choice was to try and be at least slightly compassionate. Still, she did understand the second half of her statement. If someone was still out on the streets, they were either hardheaded (not that she, herself, was) or taken. Either possibility wasn't very cute.

Admittedly, however, she was surprised at her question. She straightened her posture, still keeping an eye on the street in case something approached, and resisted the urge to smirk. "Is that a change of heart I see? Goodness gracious," she responds, before shaking her head and motioning her to come closer. "For your information, it's not a deathtrap. There's enough light in there, that if one of those things came close to it, I imagine they'll end up worse than a vampire."

Samantha was about to say something nasty back at Eve when she paused. She sniffed the air and blinked, turning towards the girl. There had been an argument or two she'd wanted to level, mostly excuses and half-baked apologies, but something didn't feel right in the air around them. She felt a shifting and her hair started to stand on end. She realized quickly that it was because of the sound.

"Shhh," she said taking a step towards Eve and planting a finger there on her lips, leaving a little bit of a bloody smear as she listened more carefully. The sound was a bit like a whistle, not familiar at first because she'd spent so much time in the mountains and not the plains and low hills of the midwest. But in a second, her eyes widened further and there was a moment in which she looked afraid, honest to god terrified.

"We... we have to get out of here, now!" she hissed. "The nearest basement or the shelter. Wherever!" The whistling was starting to get closer slowly.

When the other girl plants a finger on her lips, leaving a disgusting, bloody smear on her as she does, it's not exactly easy for her to resist the urge to knock her hand away and spit. Which she does. But, well. She's never been a big fan of having people touch her face. Well. It's more of a gut instinct than anything, which is exactly why she focuses on cleaning her mouth before paying attention to whatever it was that was freaking Samantha out.

Initially, she blinks, confused and unsure of what it was that she was hearing. Living in New York, the sound wasn't personally familiar outside of what she had heard in movies, but it manages to click quickly enough. Sighing with the highest amount of exasperation she had displayed since arriving at Asgard, she immediately grabs the other girl by the wrist, turns in the opposite direction of the sound, and begins to run for it. As reckless as some might say it is, generally being too annoyed to properly react to things did have its charm in situations like these.

"Little suggestion," she says, not exactly preoccupied with keeping her voice down at the moment. "Don't trip, because I am so not up for picking up any stragglers."

Samantha only threatened a trip on the first two steps. She was fully on her feet and following Eve easily as soon as they were past and moving through the streets at a good clip. In the distance, there was cawing and then an abrupt silence from it. Only the faint whistling of the wind, getting closer slowly but surely, came to them with all of its ominous import.

Samantha didn't look terrified, but she definitely looked extremely nervous. She had a 'if it's not one thing, it's another' sort of look in her eyes as she scanned their path ahead. Thankfully, even the monsters seemed to be getting the idea to stay out of the path they were on.

She jabbed her finger up ahead, pointing to what looked like a storm cellar. "There!" She wasn't sure if it was a good enough structure, but she also wasn't sure how many options they still had. She already had a talon out in case there was a lock to pick, though as one door banged open in a breeze, that seemed a non-issue.

With the sound becoming undoubtedly closer, a questionably sound cellar seemed better than no cellar at all. Without skipping a beat, barely pausing to scan any dangerously dark corners (though that seemed unnecessary, all things considered), she quickly runs for the entrance, careful not to trip and fall over anything on her way in. Once inside, she motions Samantha to come help her with the doors, already examining her surroundings and trying to find something useful.

"Come on," she says, grabbing one of the handles. "If that thing is as ugly as it sounds, we need to make sure this won't open up at the wrong moment."

Samantha raced just behind her, pausing only to squint down the street. The sight of the tornado was barely visible, enough for her faintly wide eyed look to turn into a rictus of a scowl. It was still a ways off, but coming their way. Lunging in, she slammed the door behind her and cracked a glow stick, tossing it into the room.

One look around found a two-by-four on a nearby table. She grabbed it and wedged it into the crook of the doors before grabbing her arm. "Not that you're wrong, but I don't like you standing next to the suction chute. There's a tool closet," she said, motioning to a little stone doorway. She started pulling her down the steps towards the place, looking at the wood above them. God, she hoped this place would at least hold up a little.

While she appreciates the plan, as always, she's not one to appreciate being touched so suddenly. She jerks he arm away as soon as they're making their way down, and begins to examine their location with more detail. In theory, the place looked sturdy enough to withhold a number of things. Realistically, however, she couldn't be sure. The whistling of the wind didn't sound too far away now, but seeing as she had never dealt with tornado before (and never mind one that was powered by a stereotypically named mass of evil), she couldn't really say for sure if it was strong or not.

Regardless, she follows Samantha, remaining sharp and aware just in case she had to react suddenly. "Aw, so you do worry about me," she begins, smirking at how incredibly cliche the line was. "I'm touched, really."

It was strange. Normally, both of them didn't like being touched, being physically close to people when it wasn't on their plan of things to do. Right now, however, Samantha's mind was only on the pragmatic needs of the situation. As soon as they were inside, she slammed the door and barred it as best she could before crawling down into a corner, getting under the work bench and brushing cobwebs out of the way.

She'd dealt with one of these, period. Someone had explained what to do, and she was just hoping this thing wasn't in the upper categories, because they were in serious shit if it was. "Get the hell down here. You can poke fun at me when we're not dead," she grunted out, shaking her head. She sighed sourly, shaking her head. "I could say the same thing to you too, you know. For someone who's watching to keep me from causing so much trouble you do a lot of protecting and helping me."

Why did it sound like the wind outside had stopped? Something felt very wrong...

Not one to ignore suggestions that may or may not help extend her very mortal lifespan, frowning slightly as continues to examine their location with a critical eye, she does as she's told. Once she was under the work bench, resisting the urge to sniffle due to the dust that had most likely accumulated in here due to years of not being touched, she shrugs. "What? So you expect me to be an ass all around? How mean," she says, cocking an eyebrow at the other girl. "Be nice to your subordinates. Know your enemy. Don't be mean to the obviously super strong person. If this were a movie right now, you would be screwed. It's common sense."

And, well. She could have gone on explaining the fine details of why it's only logical (logical, if you were the kind of person to have own an extensive amount of movies that somehow apply to your life) to be helpful to everyone, but it seems that she hears the same thing as Samantha. Glancing up at the roof, she adjusts her posture just in case. "...Do you hear that?"

That being, of course, nothing.

Samantha had so many things to say to that, most of which she wasn't getting to today, or at least not just yet. "Yes. The table's bolted in. Grab hold just in ..."

It was too late. Silence was replaced with a deafening roar. The whole world seemed to shudder horridly. Wood and rock screamed in tortured rage above them as the wind hit a feverish pitch. There was a tremendous crack and one of the walls shifted a little. It sounded like there was a war going on upstairs.

The floorboards above them rattled, buckled and one of them cracked when something thundered into it and then just disappeared. The howling was like the hordes of hell, pulling the air through the aged boards in all directions as it sounded like a giant crashed into the other room. One floorboard popped off in the corner, air flooding and sucking around, trying to pull but without its full force.

All that could be seen through the hole was whirling wind and madness.

Eve had experienced a lot of things in her teenage life, but this one was definitely on another category. Most notably, on the category of things she couldn't kick butt and take names to make go away.

Not a moment after Samantha had mentioned the word table, she immediately grabs hold of it, tightly securing herself around one side of it and digging her nails into it. Unsurprisingly, it felt like the tornado was trying to suck her in, slightly lifting her from her spot and attempting to draw her into was (undoubtedly) would be her death. But, of course--she wouldn't allow that. With as much force as she could muster, she pressed her feet firmly against the floor, maintaining herself as far away from the front opening of the table. If she were lucky, this wouldn't last longer than she could hold out.

And still, slowly but surely, the strength of its pull began to weaken as the tornado made its way over the structure.

Another of the floorboards flew off and the buffeting winds roared for a few more critical seconds. It felt almost like it was an eternity, the tornado raging onwards until suddenly there was a lessening of wind and a heavy crash above. Two more boards splintered, but the whole structure held. There was no rain and the girls were completely alone as the faint raging could be heard starting to dwindle away.

"Fuck this shit," Samantha growled as she finally let go of the table and collapsed. She flipped a light on to give them some gloom in the small chamber. There were small gaps in the air above, promising that they wouldn't suffocate in there at the very least, but there was the question of getting out of the room.

Almost against her will, she can't help but to let out a sigh of relief. As long as they were alive and not in tiny chunks inside a tornado, Eve couldn't find it in herself to care too much about their current predicament. She flexes her fingers after letting go of the table, proceeding to stretch her arms and then the rest of her body once she has stood up. After that's done and over with, she gives the room a cursory glance.

"Hate to state the obvious," she begins, taking full inventory of anything that might be of use. "But we're stuck. Any bright ideas inside that noggin of yours?"

"Wait for a bit," she muttered, eyes closed. "The shadows won't get in here, so we're safe from an attack. If you're not starving, we can just wait here for a bit and hope this shit finally blows over. In an hour or so we can check the door, but I've been going non-stop for ages..."

She just wanted to sleep, damnit. she didn't care if it was on the floor of a ruined basement.

She sighs, sitting on top of the table they had been cowering under a few moments ago and flexing her shoulders. At this rate, she was going to have to do some heavy maintenance on herself--preferably at the local spa she had heard about. That sounded very nice.

"Fine," Eve replies, simply allowing herself to be slightly less on edge. "But if I'm not dying out there, then I better not die from breathing dust down here."

As visions of spas and just taking a nap started to run into their collective heads, Samantha grunted. Something wasn't quite right. She had a warm feeling on her face. She glared down at her cheek out of the corner of her eye and then up towards one of the slats.

A small, grainy shaft of light gleamed for a second dully through the broken floorboards. It had a different feel from a flashlight, and there was no sound from outside. The sun was beginning to rise.

She grunted. "Sun's coming out," she muttered.

[OPEN DARKNESS EVENT LOG][DAY/NIGHT 131]

The Final Hour - Closed to Eve Samson

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