Victorian Fear

[Sarah Tintagyl]

OOC: Invite only, see me or Sentinal on IRC or shoot us a PM to get involved. A larger description of the 'Victorian Fear' thread and hopefully threads will be made in the Open RP forum in a little bit. Thank you.


"No! Get away from me! Please! God! Help me!" The girl screamed over and over at the shadowy figures that surrounded her. She was naked, the ground underneath her a black, ashy sand that smelt of sulfur and coal, and her skin was seared and cut from the shadows' attacks and the very heat of the place. Scrambling against the ground, the girl clawed at the ashy ground, crawling towards the granite wall a few meters away. Not that it would do any good for her, once against the wall, she could go no further and the shadows continued to advance all around her. "I said get away from me! Leave me alone! I don't belong here! Why are you tormenting me like this!"

"Because..." The voice that came from the shadows was a hideous shriek that made the girl's ears bleed, literally. "...we are a part of you and you..." Suddenly the voice changed like it always did, changing its tone from a loud shriek to a strong husky voice, full of terrible power. "...are a part of us!" All at once the shadows jumped into the air, swirling around the girl as some invisible force took hold of her mouth prying it open. Tears streamed down her eyes as she felt the force inside of her, pulsing through her veins, her muscles and after the shadows had disappeared, she sat alone on the hot ash gripping her body and crying out as her voice began to change from its feminine pitch to the same huskiness that the shadows had spoken with. She felt her eyes burn, her body begin to melt, and the same power that was in the shadows begin to escape from her. "No!..."

---

"...No!" Alice jumped up from the bed, sweat rolling down her face and neck, her flaxen hair matted to her back. Looking around frantically, trying to breathe normally again, she began to calm down when she realized she laying in her own bed, in her own bedroom. The red wool curtains looking down over the city of London below. She took a deep breathe and crawled out of bed, striking a match and lighting the lamp that stood on her vanity. Alice had been having the same dream, the shadows over taking her body for well over two months now and while her husband at first had only said it was perhaps a bit of bad meat or some anxiety from a party, it has become much more than that. Putting her hands on the vanity, she swallowed the spit in her mouth and coughed a few times. She felt sick, very sick, sick physically and sick mentally because every time the dream would come to an end, she would wake up, but still feel the shadows inside of her. A horrible feeling that would never fully go away, it was another part of her condition that Alice had not told her husband about. How could she? People with these problems were normally looked up in the asylums outside of the city.

Putting the lamp up against the mirror Alice looked at her face and sneered. She looked so pale, but what scared her most was that her eyes still had a horrible almost carrot tint to them and they were supposed to be blue, baby blue, like her mothers.

"Mrs. Brighton?" The voice was followed by a knock at the door. "I heard you scream." Then the door opened as a large woman with red hair and freckles walked into the room, shutting the door behind her. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, nothing is wrong Anne, it was just the dream again." Alice said as she rested her forehead against her hand, half because she had a splitting headache, the other because she didn't want Anne to see her eyes, at least not directly. She watched as the maid took a few more steps into the room and then stood in the middle of the floor with a worried look on her face. "Anne. Its getting worse, I've had the same dream for the past two months."

Anne's face went white, nearly as white as Alice's. "But you told Mr. Brighton that you hadn't been having the dream since the Fitzhugh's last party."

"Well I don't want William to get suspicious, Mary Ellesmere was put in a mental asylum two months ago for almost the same reason, she was seeing things from her dreams, creatures or some sort. They took her out into the countryside and threw away the key, you know her husband is already seeing another woman. I can deal with nightmares, I'd rather my life not ruined."

"Aye, but..." Anne said wringing her hands. "Mrs. Brighton, you haven't slept soundly in the past week and Mr. Brighton comes back from his trip to Amsterdam in two days. He's going to know something is wrong, also dear," The maid smiled as she walked over to Alice's side and bent down, running her cracked hands through the young woman's golden hair. "You are a beautiful young lady Alice, but these nights are starting to catch up to you, your eyes even look bloodshot."

Alice sat up and covered her eyes, embarrassed from the maid looking at her. "That will be quite enough Anne, thank you, but I'm going to try and go back to sleep. Its still late, I might be able to get a four or five hours or so before daybreak."

Anne nodded and stood back up. "I meant no offense Miss Brighton, though, have you thought of seeing a doctor about this?"

She glared back at the maid. "Didn't I just get done telling you that they will lock me up?" Her voice came out husky and primal, immediately Alice's eyes widened and her hand cupped her mouth as she ran over to Anne and softly wrapped her arms around the maid's broad shoulders. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say something like that." She shook her head. "Anne, something is wrong with me, I...I feel like there's something inside of me and I'm scared." Her eyes welled up in tears as she buried her face in the large woman's shoulders and began to weep quietly.

Anne smiled and walked Alice over to the bed and sat her down, stroking her hair. "Mrs. Brighton, dear, everyone is scared and no one wants to see you going through this kind of pain and if you're worried about people saying things if you go to one of the more, respected, surgeons in London, why not just go to a less respectable one and see what they say. Medicine is medicine, I never believed much that one doctor for the Queen was better than the doctors I have to put up with for the kids and I."

Alice chuckled and pulled herself away from Anne to breathe and smile. "Okay, I'll at least do that, maybe they can give me some tonic or some cure for these dreams. I'm sure the feeling in my stomach is just my mind." Then she frowned. "Or maybe I should see a priest."

"Dear, you can talk to the Good Lord any time you want and if there's something wrong with you that He can fix, he will fix it in His good time. But I'm going to tell George to prepare the carriage tomorrow and you can go down to London for a visit with one of the fine establishments of the middle class." Anne smiled and kissed the woman on the forehead and helped her back into bed and under the covers. "Now, do everyone in the house a favor Ma'am and try to think happy thoughts before going to sleep, alright?" Alice nodded as Anne reached over and turned off the lamp, the room went pitch black for a moment, a flash of dim light from Anne opening the door and then darkness again. Closing her eyes, Alice turned over on the bed and gripped the covers tightly with her hands and tried to push the thoughts of shadows, of hurting feelings in her stomach, and everything else that kept her from sleeping, out of her mind. But right when she felt like she was going to be able to fall asleep, the pain, like she had never felt before pulsed through her stomach. She winced in pain, pulling the covers under her chest and gritted her teeth until the pain finally subsided. By the time the pain had finally vanished, either Alice had passed out or she had never slept because when she opened her eyes, the sun was shining brightly through the windows and the dim chiming of the clock downstairs rang eight times.

The rest of the morning went by fast, Alice hadn't been able to eat much, instead filling her body with four cups of heavily sugared tea. So when Anne gave her a slip of paper of the various medical establishments throughout the city, she had no idea who to go to first, whether they could be trusted or if they would even take her seriously. A lot of doctors, or at least she assumed, didn't want or have the time to spare for people with bad dreams and strange feelings in their stomachs. They were too busy trying to bargain off the next vat of cure-all tonic to the dim-witted public. But as Alice bounced around in her carriage as her driver took her across the cobblestone streets of the capital, she would pay a great deal for a cure-all tonic, maybe that's how they got people to believe in miracle drugs. Maybe there were a lot of other people with her problem, other people aside from Mary Ellesmere.

Finally the carriage came to a rest outside a modest establishment with Parliament Building just peaking over the skyline and the clock tower chimed once. "Where exactly are we George?" Alice called out from inside the carriage.

"Doctor John Walton, Mrs. Brighton. I happen to know the good doctor and figure if you're looking for someone out of the usual line up of quacks, he's the man to see."

Opening the carriage Alice stepped out onto the street, her long red dress brushing up against the mud that caked the cobblestones and the dust from the factories that hung high in the air. She smiled just for the fact that it wasn't raining as well. "Hopefully I'll only be a few minutes."

George laughed. "I expect a few hours Mrs. Brighton, but I assure you, there's no rush."

Alice sighed as she closed the carriage door behind her and walked opened the door to the building in front of her. Strolling in the first thought that crossed the young woman's mind was that the house was small, but she pushed that thought immediately out of her head. She was here to get help, the last thing she needed to do was to talk down to the man that was going to be helping her.

"Excuse me? Miss? Can I help you?" Alice turned around to see an old woman in servants clothes staring back at her, the woman was thin with white hair that hung like wet strings from her balding head.

"Yes, I'm here to see Doctor Walton, I'm afraid I never actually scheduled an appointment. My name is Alice Brighton."

"Ah, well I'm sorry Miss Brighton but Doctor Walton isn't actually in London right now, business called him up to York the other day." Alice shook her head at her luck and turned on her feet immediately, cursing herself for even wasting the time to see someone other than her husband's doctor. But as she walked back towards the door, the maid approached her. "Though if I may ask what is wrong with you Miss Brighton, the Doctor's daughter, as strange as it sounds is quite well versed in medical dialogue, at least enough to probably give you the right amount of medicine. Doctor Walton trusts her with his life and she has the key to his cabinet, if you're ill, at least let us help you until the Doctor returns from York."

Alice looked back, a frown on her face. She wanted to say no, the maid was trying to pawn her off to some girl, who for all she knew, had no medical experience whatsoever. However, even Alice knew somethings about tonic and medicine and anything that the girl could give her, she could discuss it with her husband's doctor later. This way, she could avoid the possible scandal that Mary Ellesmere had put herself in. "Why, that would be a charming thing to do." She smiled.

"Very good, if you'll just wait in the parlor then, I'll have Alexandra come down." The maid bowed and left the room as Alice looked around again. It was quaint, a sofa looking out a large window at the busy street outside, a few lit lamps, and a few pieces of art that were likely knock offs of originals. Originals that Alice had either seen or actually owned back at the Brighton Estate. Taking off her coat and hat, she walked over to the sofa and sat down resting her head back. The feelings from the night before were still pulsing in her stomach, but she was doing a good job at controlling them as well, hopefully the girl could give her something that would make it vanish. Alice thought whiskey, but anything would do. However when footsteps finally marched down the stairs, Alice really felt like she had been pawned off, the girl was wearing trousers, a flannel shirt and coat much too big for her body, let alone Alice mention anything about her hair. Scandal or no scandal, this, this was almost comical. But as she thought that, the pains returned, sharply, making her grip her stomach. Trying hard not to seem like she was in agony.

"You must be Alexandra, Doctor Walton's daughter. Alice Brighton, a pleasure I'm sure."

Edited January 4, 2011 by Sarah Tintagyl

[Little Fame Monster]

From her seat in the upstairs study, Alex heard the front door swing open and then slam, followed by the murmurs of voices, one sounding familiarly like Mrs. Grey the maid. A frown etched across her face, her dark eyebrows curving down and inwards in an expression of frustration. Jane Scholls was late for her appointment. A glance over to the old grandfather clock, eighty years old but still faithfully swinging its pendulum to keep time, far in the corner of the room revealed that Miss Scholls was precisely forty five minutes late.

Alex rose slowly from her plain wooden chair, closing the black leather bound journal that John Walton, her father, used to carefully document each of his patient’s cases.

She was just draping her black wool frock coat’s sleeve over her left arm when the study door slowly creaked open and Mrs. Grey peeked in kindly face. “Pardon the intrusion, Alex dear.”

Alex pulled her right arm into the coat and tugged it down so that the coat straightened against her torso. “Has Miss Scholls decided to show for her appointment at last?”

“No, dear. There’s a Miss Alice Brighton here to see you. I told her to wait in the parlor. She says she doesn’t have an appointment.”

“Well, I suppose since Miss Scholls apparently has much more pressing business to attend to than her health, she won’t mind that Miss Brighton take her appointment time. Please tell her I’ll be right down.” Alex snatched up her father’s journal off the table along with a stray black fountain pen.

“Yes, dear.” Mrs. Grey responded, already making her way back down the stairs.

Alex strode out of the study after the maid, and made her way down the stairs, turning to the parlor.

She was momentarily stunned. A woman with blond hair impeccably done was lying in the couch. She was wearing a long flowing red dress and laced boots, all to the height of fashion. Both boots and red dress were almost spotless except for some mud where the long train of the dress had dragged in the streets. Whoever this woman was, she was very obviously upper class. Alex was used to well-to-do folks, who were usually the only ones able to afford proper treatments, but not [I]quite[/I] so well off as this woman was. Beautiful and rich, the woman made Alex suddenly very conscious of how slovenly she looked in her menswear.

“You must be Alexandra, Doctor Watson’s daughter. Alice Brighton, a pleasure I’m sure.”

Alex could feel the woman’s gaze on her, the blue eyes examining and judging her. Although Alex hadn’t even known the woman for more than a minute, she could already feel her irritation rising.

Brighton… the surname sounded familiar. Alex couldn’t believe she didn’t recognize the name immediately. The Brightons were an extremely well-off family and owned the largest and most lavish estate in London. They were well connected by both blood and the social circles they associated with. Alex didn’t care much for politics, but even she realized that, simply put, to earn the wrath of the woman sitting on the sofa in front of her would be idiotic. Miss Brighton had the power to turn all of Alex’s father’s patients away and put the Waltons out on the street. She realized that the smart thing to do was to swallow her pride and don the façade of the good-natured, bedside manner that her father was so easily able to do.

“It’s Alex.” She winced at how curt she sounded and tried again. “Please, Miss Brighton, call me Alex. And the pleasure is all mine.” Alex was uncertain how to greet the lady and so she awkwardly inclined her body at a strange half-bow. Her insides twisted. No doubt she looked like some sort of pained animal with her graceless bow.

She received only more staring in return. She was aware that her usual style of dress shocked most sensible middle and upper class Victorian women into silence. She couldn’t stand the frilly corsets, dresses, and bodices. She was grateful that her father thought the Victorian women’s fashion was silly and allowed her to dress as she pleased. Women’s clothing always made her feel as if she were going to die of either suffocation or from breaking her neck because the dresses restricted her ability to catch herself. She was quite clumsy as it was. There was no need to play dice with the devil and die prematurely.

The awkward silence hung heavily between them. Alex could stand it no longer and decided to break it. If the lady was going to be rude by staring… fine. She was going to do her damnest to kill Miss Brighton with manners. “Miss Brighton, before we begin the consultation, would you like anything? Tea, perhaps?”

Alice shook her head. “No, thank you. I’d rather get this over with.” Alex felt her annoyance flare anew at Miss Brighton’s haughtiness. She noticed that Miss Brighton’s eyes widened as the blond woman realized the slip-up in her words. “I-I simply would like to know the nature of my condition.”

Alex approached the sofa and sat down. She opened the journal to the latest blank page and in spidery scrawl, wrote down Alice’s name and the date. “Now, Miss Brighton, if you would please explain to me as to why you have chosen to grace the Waltons with your presence today?”

She turned away from the journal just in time to see Alice’s eyes tighten, to her satisfaction, in offense. She felt immediately guilty after getting a good look at Alice’s face. Dark bags hung under the aristocrat’s eyes. The whites of her eyeballs were tinted a sickly dark orange-yellow, contrasted by the highly visible capillaries. Her cheeks, no doubt usually rosy when healthy, were ashen. All these features were blasphemous to her beauty, and Alex was certain that Miss Brighton must be radiant when healthy. She also noted that Alice’s arms were crossed protectively over her abdomen and the crease in her red dress showed that she was applying much pressure on her torso, an indication of pain.

“Alexand-Alex,” Alice took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m just having a little trouble sleeping. Just a few nightmares. It’s nothing severe, just a silly problem. Isn’t there some kind of cure-all remedy you can give me? And if not that, just something to help me sleep.”

There was a strain in her voice. Although whether or not the strain was because of the pain or anger towards her, Alex didn’t know.

“Miss Brighton, that is now how this works. It would be irresponsible of me to simply gibe you medication without knowing properly what’s wrong with you. I would be breaking the oath my father swore… that all doctors swear the moment they become physicians.” She tried to quell her rising anger, but could not hold back her temper. She felt insulted that Alice had asked her for cure-all remedy as if she were a common quack. “If you seek some sort of “miracle elixir” or cure-all, which are all just horse piss anyway, then feel free to seek out any apothecary in this city, or better yet seek out a royal doctor. Anyone who you can pay to just give you whatever it is you want and say whatever it is you want to hear.” Alex snapped, and then stopped cold, realizing what she was saying and [I]who[/I] she was saying this to. She never had spoken out of turn as such, but there was just something about Miss Brighton that rubbed her the wrong way. Well, it wasn’t necessarily Miss Brighton, but her class of women. Their husbands made the same amount of money in a day that her father toiled a year for to match. The money that families like the Brightons had could be used to help the poor or be donated to the city to help develop better sanitation systems. Instead, they used their wealth to throw lavish parties where even more money was wasted on old wine and on garish jewelry and dresses. Alex felt that her father made enough for them to live comfortably, but the way Miss Brighton’s blue eyes looked around their home, Alex could see that Alice was clearly used to much more. Beyond feeling some disdain for Miss Brighton for judging her way of life, Alex also felt strangely… threatened. Alice embodied all the characteristics that she didn’t. Her dress. Her beauty. Her poise. Her grace. She defined Victorian femininity. Alex was just the opposite. She never had a female figure in her life and so she simply couldn’t understand Victorian femininity. And yet…

…she was almost envious of Miss Brighton. And hated the feeling.

“I shouldn’t have come here. I knew this was a terrible idea to begin with.” Alex watched Alice rise. There was a hint of a quiver from anger in her voice.

Alex watched Miss Brighton walk to the door. She wrestled internally with herself for a moment, her pity for the woman defeating her prejudices. She exhaled and ran her free hand through her tangled, mussed, brunette hair and tousled it for a moment before finally rising to stop Alice. “Wait! I-I apologize. What I said was…” She wasn’t sure how to phrase her words. “…was… unnecessary of me. You’re here for treatment. It’s not my place to judge you.”

Alice paused, her hand resting on the doorknob. The blond woman slowly turned her eyes slowly to meet the doctor’s daughter’s.

“Miss Brighton… you need treatment,” Alex continued. “It’s obvious you’re not well. Your face shows signs of sleep deprivation and it’s apparent to me that you’re not eating well. Your jaundiced eyes and the pain in your abdomen are what worry me. I think the nightmares are a secondary problem to what’s ultimately causing your pain.”

“So what’s wrong with me?” Alice’s voice was tinged with apprehension. Alex saw her clench her fists as if to strengthen her resolve and brace herself for the worst news possible.

Alex exhaled again. “Please sit.” She gestured to the sofa. “I can’t know for certain until you’ve told me all of your symptoms. Even then you may have to return for a follow up. You exude symptoms similar to someone with liver disease.” Being a wealthy socialite did have its drawbacks. Heavily drinking fine wines every night did take its toll on the liver and the aristocracy weren’t exactly known for moderation. “Your eyes are yellow as a result of an accelerated rate of hemolysis. How heavy have you been consuming alcohol as of late? Have you noticed any changes in urine color since you last erm… visited the powder room? And please describe to me in detail your dreams.” Alex realized that she was bombarding Alice with questions before she had even decided whether or not to return. Alex was hoping that by doing so, Alice would be drawn back by identifying with the symptoms she described. Either way, if it was a serious liver condition, there was little that a small time physician could do beyond provide pain medication and send the patient onto a larger hospital.

[Sarah Tintagyl]

From the moment Alex Walton had walked down the stairs into the parlor, Alice had her doubts. Let alone that the girl was wearing men's clothes, but when she had spoken to Alice in the attempt to diagnose her and then to have the gall to turn her request down, it was nearly more than she could handle. In truth, Alice would have liked to request a bit more than just a cure-all elixir and perhaps if the actual Doctor Walton would have shown up other than his daughter she would have. Instead the the girl talked to her as if she was a doctor waiting to see actual appointments and that Alice's time there was an inconvenience, even at the risk of scandal and going to see a doctor who was more qualified it was better than chatting with a young rat who thought she knew two things about medicine. However even as Alice had made up her mind to leave and barely could stand the sight of looking back at the young girl, when Alex shouted out to call her back, her hand paused on the doorknob. She was flustered and angry, but the pain was still beating against her frame, tearing her stomach apart, enough that she wanted to vomit and so when Alex offered the thought of treatment, Alice's original desire and the hope that what had plagued her for two months could be stopped.

Slowly, trying her best to hide the pain surging through her body, Alice walked back into the parlor and over to the sofa where she had originally sat. As soon as she was seated, Alex bombarded her, question after question, they were sensible too. Though the thought of liver disease, especially at such a young age, horrified her and Alice's features paled even more than they had been when she had first walked into the office.

"Miss Walton. Forgive me, but liver disease?" She wrung her hands around themselves. "I'm only twenty-five years old and no one in my family has ever had liver disease so its most definitely not passed down."

"Genetics aren't the only causes of the disease Miss Brighton, my father has seen cases of liver disease and even heart failure with ladies much younger than yourself. It could be a personal imbalance, something you were born with perhaps, or just something that had a reaction. Or you might not have liver disease at all." Alex frowned, she wasn't particularly a fan of the aristocrat reclined on her sofa, but the poor woman looked like she was in immense pain already. To scare her enough to give her a heart attack, it just wasn't in Alex's personality. "So can you answer the questions for me?" She said reaching over onto the table for the notepad she had brought down from upstairs.

"Well." Alice paused and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "As to the alcohol, I can sure you that I am not a heavy drinker, my husband and I both try to stay in the right state of mind at the parties we attend. I also don't have the stomach to drink copious amounts of liquor or wine. Not to say I don't enjoy a cup of wine every now and then, but enough to turn my eyes, red? No, there's no possible way I have consumed that much alcohol."

"And your urine?"

"No change whatsoever." Alice sneered at the girl.

"Its nothing personal Miss Brighton, just a simple question, you might have liver disease, I just want to make sure that we cover all our bases." Alex held back a chuckle, congratulating herself for bringing the woman back down to earth. It was the case of all the aristocratic types, their personal business was the business of no one and Alex loved nothing more than to tear down the shields that socialites constructed. "And the dreams?" She narrowed her eyes. "You said you've been having dreams that keep you from sleeping?"

Immediately the aristocrat's demeanor changed, the haughty act was dropped from her weak eyes and face and a real sense of fear overtook her. "Its not that they keep me from sleeping." Her voice softened, almost being afraid to speak about the horrors running through her mind. "Its that they scare me from going to bed at all, when I lay down, I dread closing my eyes, just because I know what will happen once I do." Alice turned and looked at Alex in the eyes, the brightness of the red and yellow color throwing the girl's focus off, if only for a moment. "Its always the same dream that I've been having for two months, I open my eyes and I'm laying on ash or some kind of black sand. It's very hot, everything around me is ashen and black, burned, and charred, like Dante's descriptions of Hell in the Inferno. I think that's where I am, Hell and so I'm laying there and suddenly these black figures appear. I'm not sure whether they come out of the ash or are always hovering around me, but they start approaching me from all sides and I always scamper back." As Alice continued to explain the story, tears began to form in her eyes. She took out a handkerchief from one of her pockets and dabbed her eyes. "They speak to me, the shadows tell me that they are a part of me and that I am a part of them. Then all at once, the shadows leap into the air and force themselves down my throat. All the while I'm screaming for them to stop and let me go. After the shadows are down my throat though, I feel so different and all the pain that I'm feeling now, happens to me in my dream. The pain in my stomach, in my muscles, in my veins, everywhere, it all started in my dreams." The socialite took a deep breath, composing herself and continued without the quiver in her voice. "But right before I wake up in every dream, I feel like my body is melting and the pain is like a power ready to burst out of me. Then I wake up, shivering, panting, and with the pain still running through my body."

Alex sat still, unsure of what to say or do next. The woman in front of her had been reduced to tears because of a dream she was having, it was impossible to even imagine how horrible the dreams actually appeared to Alice herself. "You've been having these nightmares for two months you said?" She was trying desperately at this point to think of what she could possibly even give to the aristocrat to ease the suffering.

"My husband and I were attending a party at the estate of William Onslow, the Earl of Onslow."

"Secretary to the Board of Trade?"

"The same. Honestly Miss Walton, I was absolutely fine before that party and then I came home, went to bed, and suddenly began having the dream always with the same intensity and vividness. I'll admit though that the pain did not start out this bad, it was never this acute." Alice said her right hand clenched over her stomach. "Its gotten worse over the past two months. I thought originally it would just go away, my husband said it was bad food or bad drink, but when it never went away, well, I got worried. A young woman, only slightly older than me was locked up in an asylum for talking about this kind of pain three months ago. Its why I came here after my husband went abroad for a few days, I need help Miss Walton, but I can't afford to go to a doctor that might spread a rumor among my friends." Alice leaned over and grabbed hold of Alex's sleeve. "Please, I'm begging you, there must be something you can do to dull the pain. Something you can give me. I don't think I can hide something like this much longer."

Edited January 5, 2011 by Sarah Tintagyl

[Little Fame Monster]

Alex was at a loss for words, seeing the aristocrat on the verge of tears and tugging at her coat sleeves in desperation. She cursed herself silently. She had twice erred today, first by stereotyping Miss Brighton, and secondly with the diagnosis. The symptoms first presented to her seemed to be signs of liver disease, but something was different at hand here. The shade of Alice’s eyes, which Alex had first attributed to jaundice, had darkened within a matter of minutes.

She thought that her eyes had deceived her at first, when Alice turned to face her again in her desperate plea, but on second examination, Alice’s eyes had indeed turned an angrier yellow and red. The quick change made her uneasy. Whatever this sickness was, Alice’s symptoms were fast changing, indicating that the disease was progressing at an alarming rate. Alice had to be treated, and treated soon or else…

She didn’t want to finish that thought. Still, she had absolutely no idea what was wrong with Alice. As for the dreams, she had no idea what to make of them. Alex wanted to brush them off as foolish, fit for the swindler dream interpreters who also predicted the dark dooms of your future for outrageous prices. Such nightmares seemed fit for the fairy tales. The troubling thing was that such a dream had been recurring for weeks now. Her father had been no expert in the psyche and had not passed on to his daughter any knowledge on how to remedy such cases. The field of the study of the mind was not advanced. Most were simply thrown into insane asylums were they forever remained prisoners to be tortured…

Ah, there was the rub. Alex realized as soon as she came upon this thought why Alice had gone out of her way to come to a regular physician like her father instead of a celebrity physician for the rich. Patient confidentiality didn’t exist when there was good gossip to be had and having Alice Brighton for a patient with such symptoms made good gossip. The rumors would fly that William Brighton had married a crazy woman. True or not, the Brighton’s reputation would be hurt and there was also the possibility that Alice would be thrown into the madhouse.

“Miss Brighton,” Alex knew she had to pick her next words carefully or she would risk the possibility of driving Miss Brighton away again. “I’m going to be honest. I know not what sickness ails you. I know you may think that I have reached such a conclusion because you don’t think much of me. After all, I seem to only be a slip of a girl trying to play doctor while papa’s away, especially with my current state of dress,” she grinned wryly. “But I assure you, my father’s trained me to be competent, and while I may not be quite as skilled as some of the doctors that you can no doubt afford, I know with certainty that most physicians would be in the same dilemma that I am in about your symptoms. However, I also realize why it is that you came seeking out my father and not one of the best doctors in England. I also assure you that I won’t brush your condition off simply as a problem of the psyche… that you’re insane and send you off to rot in an asylum, and that I will do my damndest to figure out what it is that ails you. I do, however, have a temporary solution that may help with your sleep and your pain. Know that this will not treat your disease but only provide relief. Allow me a moment to grab the tonics you need.”

Alice only nodded, distracted by the pain in her abdomen that was fast spreading. She lied back on the couch and almost groaned in agony, watching Alex turn on her heels and head back up the stairs. She waited, breathing shallowly from the pain.

Alex returned after only a few minutes, holding two round glass bottles, with a circumference that fit each hand perfectly. One held a dark brown liquid, and the other one clear. She approached Alice and held them out. “Here. The one with the dark brown liquid is a sedative. It is quite strong. Take about a tablespoon full of this each night before bed. It will help you sleep. The clear one is a painkiller. Three tablespoons will do whenever you’re in pain. The relief will come within half an hour to an hour. Do not take more than I have recommended for either, for too much of either drug may be deadly. Return here when you have finished either of these bottles and please let me know if you experience any other changes. I will do my best to research your symptoms and figure out this disease.”

Alice took each of the bottles out of Alex’s hands and slowly turned them, studying them. “Thank you. Your payment?”

“I follow my father’s philosophy. Payment is not due until your disease has been cured.” The rule was foolish from a business standpoint, but Alex also admired her father for laying down such a rule. It was what separated him from the other quacks within the city who didn’t seek to help the sick, but to rob them with outrageous false treatments.

[Sarah Tintagyl]

"I'm sorry that just won't work." Alice said reaching into her dress pocket and pulling a few gold pounds out, placing them into Alex's hands. "If you won't accept it as payment, then by all means accept it as a gift, but I am not going to walk out of this building with these tonics and offer nothing in return." She grimaced for a moment when the surged again, but managed to smile as she took the young girl's hand. "I will return in a few days time, hopefully by then your father will have come back from his business in York and my treatment can continue, you've been an absolute darling Alexandra, take care." The aristocrat stood and thinned out her dress as she walked to the door, having the maid open it for her and stepped out onto the cool October streets of central London. It was chilly and amidst the gray clouds of soot and smoke pouring out of house chimneys and factory smoke stacks, there were heavy gray clouds outlined in the pale sunlight that was fast fading. Alice chuckled, the entire city always had the essence of gray and rain about it, puddles still filled the cracks between cobblestones as she walked a few meters over to where George had parked the carriage, patiently waiting for her return.

"Doctor Walton give you what you need Ma'am? Feeling better I hope?" George said as he lifted his cap as Alice approached the carriage.

"Unfortunately no, Doctor Walton wasn't in. Instead I was treated by his boyish daughter." She shook her head and her hair bounced back and forth. "I nearly felt bad for her, wearing trousers, men's shirts, her hair matted against her skin constantly. The good doctor should learn to raise her correctly, like the young lady she is."

George chuckled as Alice stepped into the carriage. "If you met John Walton Mrs. Brighton, then you would know that he wanted a son more than anything. But having a daughter that loves his work as much as he does. Well, why that's nearly the same thing. So give her the chance she deserves. After all, did the young lass help you?"

Alice took out the two bottles of tonic, the brown one looking like a combination of sludge and rainwater that collected on the streets, the clear one seemed much more promising. "Yes she did George, now would you please get going, we'll be late for dinner."

"Of course Ma'am." He said whipping the horses as they went into a frenzy and barreled off onto the cobblestone streets As they traveled through London, Alice fiddled with the two bottles. She thought of taking the pain killer immediately as the pangs had become much worse since she had left the Walton's parlor, but with the bouncing of the carriage and the fear of spilling whatever chemical was in the bottle all over herself, she decided to wait until she was in the privacy of her own powder room to administer the tonics.

The ride back to the Brighton Estate in Mayfair, was nearly a half hour ride and that was when the streets were not crowded. Leaving the Walton's office around five in the afternoon, London was literally plugged with carts, pedestrians, and other barriers too keep Alice from getting back to her home in any reasonable time. All the while the pain in her stomach becoming steadily worse, though for some strange reason, as the carriage took the route through White Chapel, she felt like something inside of her was about to explode. Taking a deep breath, Alice pushed her head back against the back of the carriage and sighed, listening to the paperboy shout out headlines from down the road. Recently, White Chapel had been the setting of a few gruesome murders of prostitutes working the streets of the area at night. They had been attributed to a villain rightly named, Jack the Ripper, however there were rumors that whoever or whatever was causing the murders was either extremely sadistic or not human at all. The bodies of the women were nearly unidentifiable, bite and claw marks had disfigured their faces, their features, and the marks seemed to be from some kind of animal and of course the creative journalists of the London Newspapers attributed various myths and legends to the murders.

Alice had paid little attention to the killings, but at the same type she felt nervous traveling through White Chapel even in the day. Looking out the window of her carriage, every grimy laborer, child, and whore was watching her, anyone of them could have been Jack the Ripper and she would have no idea. They could grab a hold of her carriage and never let go. "George, can you hurry up at all, I feel like we've been sitting here forever. We're getting glaces from the people."

"I am trying Mrs. Brighton, but the roads are a bit crowded today. I'll have you home in no time though." George snapped the whip again as the carriage drove back down the streets crossing towards Hyde Park and finally coming to rest on the peaceful and empty streets of Mayfair. The feeling of a gray London wasn't as powerful here, thought the sun had since dipped behind the London skyline and the lampposts were in the process of being lit for the night. George stepped down from his driver's seat and opened the carriage door as Alice fumbled with her two bottles of tonic, her hands trembling as she stepped into the house, immediately swarmed by maids asking to take her coat, her gloves, everything, and then take her to dinner in the hopes that she would feel better. But Alice pushed them away in such anger and force that the maids and other servants stood like statues at the parlor doors and the foot of the central staircase, unsure of what to say.

"I feel very ill, I appreciate all of your concerns, but right now I would like to retire to my room. Anne if you would be so kind as to help me change and get me into bed, Bernard, you can bring the food up in a few minutes if you so desire."

"Of course Mrs. Brighton." Said the butler bowing, while Anne took Alice's frail arm in her own and guided the socialite up the staircase and to her bedroom. Opening the door, Alice left her arm and immediately collapsed on the bed. She had given Anne the two tonics and the maid had set them down in the woman's powder room for later use.

"Mrs. Brighton, perhaps tomorrow you should just stay in bed, maybe its the corset taking a toll on you. The lifestyle of an aristocrat isn't an easy one." Anne smiled, trying to cover up the lie that she was mashing through her teeth.

"I've stayed in bed before Anne, I've haven't done anything for two months since all of this started and I don't think I can take much more either." She pushed herself up and pushed her hair back over her shoulders. "I'm hoping whatever that Walton girl gave me is going to work, if not, I really don't know what else I'm going to be able to do."

"Walton girl?" Anne looked at Alice curiously as the socialite disappeared into the powder room and shut the door behind her.

"Its a long story, I don't feel like going into details." Alone in the powder room, Alice reached over and turned up the dimly burning lamp to brighten the color of the red wallpapered room. A bathtub stood on the far corner of the marble floor with drapes hanging over it for extra privacy. The sink stood up near a large mirror with the two tonics staring back at the young woman with a hint of malice. They looked so dangerous sitting there, full of chemicals she didn't know, let alone know how to pronounce. Unscrewing tops of the bottles, she took out a spoon from the cabinet behind her and tried to remember the measurements that Alex had told her. Was it a tablespoon of the brown and three of the clear or three of the brown and one of the clear? And more importantly could you mix the two together for a more potent tonic? Alice shook her head, it was one of the brown and three of the clear, and as for mixing them, Alex had said they could be deadly. She didn't want to chance something like that.

Looking in the mirror before taking the spoonfuls Alice felt like crying, she had never looked at herself with such depth before. Her eyes really were nearly red, the blood vessels inside throbbing and her irises almost turning a sickly yellow from their original blue. Her skin had only turned more ashen and pale as time had gone on and her body felt so frail on the outside, even while inside it felt like she was burning up. Finally taking the first spoonful Alice let the liquid slide down her throat, the brown chemical did taste and feel like sludge as it snaked slowly towards her stomach, crawling through her and making her entire body shiver. The second spoonful went down easier and she looked back into the mirror and smiled, waiting for the pain to go away. Alex had said a half hour to an hour, so more than enough time for her to fall asleep. But as Alice went to walk out of the powder room, the world stopped and the pain doubled back on her the worst it had ever been. Her feet collapsed as she fell against the sink staring up at the figure looking back at her in the mirror. Her blonde hair hung straggly over her face as she panted, her chest heaving and her hands quaking.

"What...what..what's happening to me? Make it stop! Make the pain stop!" Alice threw her head back and screamed as her body burned and something built up inside her throat. She gagged for a moment and opened her mouth throwing up a black tar from deep inside her body. Her eyes widened as she put a hand up to the mirror, but as soon as she touched it, she pushed so hard that the class cracked into pieces and her fingers digging into the breaking glass. She groaned and slammed her hands against the sink, panting loudly, bile dripping from her mouth. "Make it stop...Make it stop...ugh...ugh....AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Mrs. Brighton?" Anne flung the door open and stared in horror at the image in front of her. "Mrs. Brighton!" Alice was coughing up bile, gripping both tonics with her hands, so tightly they were in danger of breaking in her hands. The whites of her eyes had taken on a reddish glare and even her irises had the color of carrots or oranges. Her skin was deathly white and she was sweating bullets.

"Anne...Help...Take..." Alice stumbled over from the sink. "I need to see the Walton girl."

And within moments the carriage took off from the Brighton Estate back towards the Walton's Parlor on Fleet Street.

[Little Fame Monster]

A quiet ping echoed through the small room as fingernail came in contact with golden sovereign, force emitted from a finger powerful enough to launch the coin high into the air. It arced through the air, spinning so quickly it gave the illusion of a perfect golden circle. The honeyed colored face of Queen Victoria, etched into the metal, hung spinning in the air for a moment before gravity took hold of it and flung it back downwards towards the earth. Before the coin came crashing down to the floor, a deft hand reached out caught it, gently cupping it for a few seconds before flicking it upwards into open air again.

Sitting cross-legged in the midst of a pile of books and papers next to the desk in her father’s study, Alex had wasted no time in researching Mrs. Brighton’s disease. An hour’s search had proven fruitless. Her father’s collection of medical texts were by no means deficient, but in such a case of a disease as rare as Miss Brighton’s, Alex needed access to resources that could only be founded in a university. Her inquiries into Mrs. Brighton’s dreams also proved futile. Her father was a physician specializing in cardiac surgery and he had very few texts specializing in the neurosciences. The field of the human psyche was also in its infancy. Only recently had more work been done to understand why human behavior twisted itself so in some individuals as to cause such radical actions as seen with psychosis patients.

She flicked the coin upwards with her thumb and caught it once more before reaching for yet another medical text. She grabbed a hefty text bound in a simple black cover. She flipped it open and stared at a title of Vorlesungen über die Menschen -und Tierseele by Wilhelm Max Wundt. She blew air of out of her cheeks in frustration. She didn’t know quite enough German to decipher whether or not this text would be useful. She just knew the name of the author, Wilhelm Wundt, a well-known authority in the practice of psychology.

She glanced down at the sovereign in her hand, one out of the many that Mrs. Brighton had handed to her before leaving. Alex had only stared in awe of the sum of money in her hand as Alice Brighton rushed off. Eight sovereigns wasn’t much, but it was definitely worth far more than the medicine Alex had prescribed. The moment that Mrs. Brighton had pressed the money into her hands, Alex was sure that she had misjudged the woman. Most people would have kept their money and left, but Alice had chosen to trust that Alex had given her the right treatment, a trust shown through the simple exchange of the sovereigns.

And because Alice Brighton had put her trust into her, Alex’s conscience told her that she was duty-bound to find the cure.

She was about to set the German text down in the pile that she had set aside for texts she would ask her father about when he returned from York when she heard the front door swing open so hard that the doorknob slammed into the wall of the antechamber. She heard Mrs. Grey rushing to the door to meet the commotion and another voice calling out, “I need to see a Miss Walton! Please! It’s urgent! Miss Brighton’s condition has worsened!”

As soon as she heard this, Alex dropped the book she was holding with a curse and used her free arm to propel herself forward onto her legs. She was in such a hurry to the door of the study that she tripped and knocked over one of the stacks of papers. She cursed again, flinging the study door open and running out, leaving behind a flock of loose papers.

From atop the stairs, she spied Mrs. Brighton, visibly much more pale and sickly than before, propped up between a woman with red hair, dressed modestly and a man dressed in such a fashion that Alex could only assume him to be a carriage man. As her feet pattered their way down the wooden stairs, she shouted, “ What’s wrong with her?!”

“I… don’t rightly know,” said the woman with her arm looped around Alice to hold her up. She was pressing a wet towel gently to Alice’s forehead. “She had just returned from here and was in the powder room, looking no worse than when she had first left. I heard her scream shortly afterwards and when I ran in, she was like this Miss Walton.”

Alex reached the last step of the stairs and moved forward to examine Alice. To her astonishment, Mrs. Brighton was still awake. She leaned in and gently raised Alice’s head to look into her eye and almost leapt back at the difference in Alice’s appearance. Both of her eyes were so bloodshot that they appeared almost entirely crimson. She had paled so significantly that her blood vessels were visible, a web of dark blue creeping across her cheeks. Alex smelled something sour on the blond woman’s breath: bile. Her condition had definitely worsened. “Mrs. Brighton. Can you hear me?”

She saw Alice shift painfully to meet her gaze and could hear her labored breathing. “Took… your… medication… and… pain…” she suddenly leaned forward again and gagged, and then screamed piercingly.

“There’s not much I can do for her here. We have to get her to the hospital. Get her back in the carriage! I know one near here that can help her!”

Alex hurried into the carriage with Mrs. Brighton and who she supposed to be her maid. With a crack of the reins, the horses whinnied in protest and moved at a quick gallop, dragging the carriage after them down the dirtied cobbles of the London streets. As if to match the mood of the moment, the sun hid behind thickening dark clouds, dark as the smog that choked its way out of the gray, impersonal factories of London.

[Sarah Tintagyl]

It was only Alex and Alice in the carriage as the two other maids would only slow the group down. George whipped the horses as hard as he could, rampaging across Fleet Street heading towards Westminster where the hospital was located. Everyone was scared, Alice looked as though she was going to die at any moment, she had features that neither Alex nor George, nor any of the maids thought was humanly possible for a human being at yet she was surviving. To how long though, was another matter entirely. In the carriage itself, Alex held the young woman tightly in her arms, the smell of putrid death coming from the socialite's breath, her veins pulsing with every bounce in the carriage and a deep husky voice coming from deep within Alice's throat. Alex shuddered at the thought of being in such pain and worse, if Alice did die, the last state of being she would have on the Earth. "No one deserves this." She said holding Alice's face in her bosom. "No one."

"Alexandra..." The voice was weak. "Am...Am I going to die?"

She shook her head and gently stroked Alice's hair. "No, no Alice, I promise you're going to be just fine. We're almost at the hospital now, they'll take you in and know exactly how to help you."

"I'm tired, I want to go to sleep."

"No! Alice!" The young doctor grabbed the aristocrat's head tightly. "Do not go to sleep, you have to be strong Alice, you have to stay here with me, you have to stay her-" Suddenly the carriage rattled and both Alice and Alex ended up on the floor of the small wooden box. The doctor raised her head, trying to keep Alice's body straight as well. "Sir!" She called out to the carriage driver. "What's going on?" She poked her head out of the window at a man in a long black coat standing in the middle, she could barely see his face, but she could see his smile, grinning sadistically at her.

"Get out of the way!" George called out from the driver seat. "We have a woman in here that needs immediate medical attention!"

The man chuckled again and began to take a step forward before Alex saw a gleam of silver appear from out of the sleeve of his coat. "No! Watch out!" She screamed but it was too late, the stranger with speed that Alex had never seen in her life jumped up from the ground and landed over George. The old driver didn't have a chance and the next moment the silver knife was embedded deep into the driver's chest. George cried out in pain as the man flung him down to the street, he hit the ground and shivered as death began to take control of his senses. He seizured right on the street as Alex jumped out of the carriage to rush over to his side, just as blood began to pour out of his mouth. Then hearing the chuckle of the stranger, she looked back up in horror at what she was seeing. The man's eyes were nearly as red as Alice's, his teeth were yellow and elongated from his mouth like fangs, his fingers looked more like claws and she could see beneath his coat, barely lit from the lampposts of black tar-like scars running up and down his chest. "Who...who are you?"

"Vassago."

Vassago seemed ready to leap down on Alex next, until a horrible shriek came from inside the carriage and Alice, fumbling with both tonics came falling out onto the street. She pushed herself up to her feet, swaying left and right, her eyes fully crimson and her veins a bright blue, she wasn't going to make it. "Alexandra...Alex...Alex...help me...help me...the pain...the pain...."

"Alice watch out!"

Alice didn't have time to think, she swayed around looking up to see a pair of red eyes driving their way into her body. The force was so great that she felt her chest explode as she was thrown back across the street and into the wall of a building a few meters away from where Alex lay next to George. She groaned, flashing in and out of consciousness as she watched as the creature, he wasn't even human to her, jumped down onto the street and slowly began to push his way over to her. The creature was now on all fours of its being and the form began to look more and more like giant rat, two horrible teeth in the front, beady red eyes staring at her, making her shake, making her squirm. Her head flew back as sweat began to pour out of her body as if she was bursting at the skin. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME! THE PAIN! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!" Still with the clear tonic in her hand Alice shook as she went to unscrew the top of the bottle, but the minute she put any pressure on the glass, her hand tightened and a strange, unnatural strength filled her and she watched as the glass burst into millions of pieces. She looked at Alex and all the young doctor would see, was a pair of literally glowing red eyes.

All at once, Alice screamed, louder than she had ever screamed before. She could feel her entire body shaking, shaking with the feelings she had coursed through her for two months. She jumped to her knees as her hands when to her face and watched in horror as her pale skin began to gray, her nails began to grow right in front of her. First just a bit, but soon they began to look like actual claws. But it began to spread, Alice braced her hands to the ground as she looked at her arms, her sleeves stretching and bursting open as harden biceps formed out of her once thin and frail arms. Both all at once her dress began to tear apart, her boots undoing themselves, stringing out as claws burst out of the fashionable white shoes she had been wearing. The horrible sounds of clothes tearing spread across her body, as Alice's entire frame began to grow and stretch, muscles hardening like stone along the way as her claws began to tear at the clothes still hanging over her new form. Finally, two bumps took form on her back, the socialite yelled in pain as the nubs broke open like boils and then folded back over her. Wings, large wings, like a harpy's, but leathery like skin sprouted from her back. She stood up and screeched like some monstrous bird, some demon from Hell and grinned, just as sadistically as the rat did in front of her. Alice's teeth had changed as well, not fangs, not putrid yellow teeth, but teeth like shark, rows of sharp jaws barely fitting in her small face. Her hair hung low behind her back as she tightened her fists and screeched again at the demon-rat in front of her.

Then throwing her body back jumped into flight directly at the rat both aiming to kill the other.

The dreams finally made sense...and it was no dream...it was possession....it was a curse that neither Alex nor anyone in the world had ever seen up until that point.

[Little Fame Monster]

Alex’s first thought as the carriage stopped was of George, who had been brutally stabbed just moments before. She didn’t even stop to think as she leapt from the carriage to help him. As soon as her feet touched the cobbles, she rushed and bent down to help. She grunted with exertion and flipped George’s body face up. The blood’s smell of iron immediately overloaded her senses and she had the urge to retch.

Vassago’s aim had been true. The knife had been buried right into the carriage man’s heart. As Alex laid his body face up, his head had lolled bonelessly against the street. His glassy eyes gazed upwards at the sunless sky as thick, bright red artery blood spilled down his coat from the puncture wound. The killer had either punctured George’s heart or had pierced the pulmonary artery. Even then, George might have lived with immediate medical attention, had the killer not flung him into the streets, where the fall had pushed the knife deeper into his body, either completely severing the artery or entering into one of the heart’s four chambers. Still, such a fall had made George’s death relatively fast and painless.

She looked down, lost in George’s empty gaze, watching the red slowly spreading across his coat and pool around his body. She became aware of a quiet drip, drip, drip… and looked down. The blood from George’s mouth was sliding off of the side of his face onto the ground. She wondered for a moment why the street was so damn quiet, and why nobody was coming to help. Looking around, she realized that, from the broken down buildings and a nearby dirty alleyway, that this was an extremely poor section of London where few dared to venture beyond desperate prostitutes and hardened criminals. She then could feel panic rising as she realized that the insane man could still be around. For all she knew, he could be biding his time in the shadows waiting to slit open her throat.

A shriek cut through her thoughts, causing her heart to jump into her throat. The voice sounded like Alice’s.

She jolted again when the horses all stamped their hooves with unease, jerking the carriage forward so that the giant spoke wheels of the cart turned forward onto George’s corpse. She heard his bones break grotesquely from duress under the weight of the carriage and Alex could feel bile rising up her chest. George’s dead body shifted, his head falling to the right so that his empty gaze rested on Alex, unnerving her.

Panic once again nestled into her gut and she was ready to turn and flee. She then remembered what her father had taught her from his battle experience in Afghanistan. It was natural to be scared, John Walton had said, but panic was the destroyer of clear thought and got people killed.

Alex knew she needed to defend herself and Mrs. Brighton. She was carrying nothing on her except the sovereign Alice had given her as payment. She then looked down at George. He had been Mrs. Brighton’s carriage driver. It was illogical for him to have such an important passenger and remain unarmed.

She patted his still-warm corpse, trying to guide her mind away from macabre thoughts that rose as she did this. He was carrying a pistol in a holster and a whip, both at his right side. She had never used a whip in her life, and it had been years since her father had taught her how to shoot a gun. Still, both were better than nothing.

With bloody hands she untied the coiled horsewhip from his side and pulled free the pistol. Another scream cut through the air, and she snapped her head in its direction, hands fumbling to check the pistol’s chamber for bullets. She raised her head just in time to see Alice thrown an impossible distance down an alleyway. She blinked and shook her head, wondering what the [I]Hell[/I] the man was to possess such super power and speed. Vassago began to approach Alice where she had fallen. She knew something was unnatural. There was something bursting from the back of his coat…

Alex watched in horror as the man sped forward towards Alice Brighton, his face contorting and elongating. His ears peeled backwards onto his head and jutted sharply into a point. He fell forward on all fours, but continued to scramble forward on hands that sprouted fur. His fingers enlarged before closing together to form some sort of paw.

There was a tearing noise as his clothes became tatters under his transformation. The man who had been there moments before had been replaced by a giant rat-like beast.

For a moment, Alex wondered if she had inhaled too much of the fumes of Alice’s tonics whilst mixing them. This had to be some sort of hallucination. It was also possible that the hallucination was trauma induced. After all, she had just witnessed a murder. She may have been used to death, but she had never seen so much blood.

She feared for Alice’s life and began sprinting after the beast, pistol raised. She was no marksman and she was too far away to make the shot count. She had only six bullets in the pistol’s chamber and then…

She glanced down at the whip. She didn’t know how to wield it, so it had to be a last resort. She hoped to down the beast with the bullets, or at least slow it down enough to find help.

She saw Alice, doubled over in pain, raise up her right hand, holding the painkiller that she had been prescribed. The blond woman seemed to stop mid-motion, as if confused, and then the glass shattered in her hands, the tonic mingling with blood and glass on the alley floor. Alex watched her seize and stare at her hand in wonder.

After a moment, Alice joined her in such wonder. She could hear, even from fifty feet away and with her feet pounding hard on the cobbles, the bones and joints in Alice’s hands snapping and popping as her fingers elongated and curled like claws.

Alice screamed again as her face contorted next. The scream halfway cut off and went from high pitched and human into a deep-throated rumble that echoed across the empty street. The laces of her bodice ripped and the seams of the red dress she had on groaned as Alice’s rib cage expanded. Similar rips in seams showed all across her dress as her entire skeletal structure expanded and muscles tore, new and larger sinews building upon her bones, making her entire body more powerful and bulkier. New bones ripped through the back of the red dress and slowly grew, and unfurled as leathery, bat-like wings.

Alice now no longer was the beautiful blond aristocrat that Alex recognized. Her skin was now ashen gray, dark veins hideously showing through and fangs protruding forth from pale-red lips, the only color left on her face now except her dark red eyes.

Just as the transformation finished, the rat beast came barreling into Alice, fangs gnashing to try and bite her. To Alex’s surprise, Alice bore the full force of the beast’s tackle, grabbing the monster by its fur. The man-beast shook itself free, using its ultra long tail like a whip and smashing it into the harpy-like demon, who was then thrown backwards into the wall of the alley way. She was thrown at such a force that some of the bricks behind her cracked under the pressure and snapped so that part of the wall crumbled. Not shaken for even a moment, the she-demon charged forward at the rat beast, fangs bared in a snarl and claws at the ready. The rat, again attempting to use its tail, snapped it forward to attack, but this time, the demon was ready. She caught the rat’s tail with a claw and using all the force she could muster, swung him. The rat beast emitted a high-pitched wail, so high of a decibel that Alex, who had stopped nearby and watched the battle with mouth agape, gun still raised in one hand, bent over and held onto her ears in agony.

Whipping the beast above her head by his tail, the demon slammed him into the alley wall. Moving quickly before the beast could regain his orientation, the she-demon grabbed the beast’s tail again with two claws and pulled in opposite directions. He shrieked again as the two sections of the tail she gripped separated. Sinews ripped, spraying droplets of crimson all over the alleyway as the beast writhed the remains of his tail in agony.

Alex finally snapped back to attention when she felt blood raining on her. Disgusted, she leveled the pistol in the direction of the two battling monsters. She had the gun pointed at the rat beast, but Alice—no, the she-demon reached forward for the rat beast, moving into Alex’s sight line. The doctor’s daughter hesitated, not knowing which beast to target. She knew that the rat beast had once been Vassago and should be killed, but would the harpy demon remember her identity as Alice Brighton, or would she rampage through the streets? Alex sincerely hoped she was just hallucinating all this. Still, the red streaks running down her face and hands from the rat beast certainly felt and smelled too real to be a simple hallucination…

She sighed, turning her pistol to the rat beast once more, praying that Alice still retained a semblance of humanity in this demon form, cocked the gun, exhaled, and pulled the trigger.

[AironthFlamewing]

OOC: when do i post?

[Sarah Tintagyl]

When the gun fire a silence overtook both of the battling monsters in front of the doctor's daughter. The Rat turned his grotesque head towards her immediately as the bullet ricocheted against one of the buildings behind the furry creature. It screeched at Alex and his priorities were construed for a moment as jumped towards the girl, the yellow teeth bared and was only stopped from tackling Alex to the ground by the sudden whoosh from the side as the Harpy pushed and in turn tackled the Rat back to the cobblestones. Every movement one of the creatures made was enough to feel like an earthquake was pounding London into dust, but finally with Alex behind it, the Harpy, who was not entirely sure who was a friend or a foe at the moment, rested her chances on the Rat-beast, he had proven much more powerful, dangerous, than the girl had been. At the same time, something deep inside the Harpy's rabid mind was trying to steer the Rat away from the girl, that she was a friend, that she was an ally, that the Harpy even knew who she was...it was impossible to be sure, but the girl was not to be harmed.

The Harpy clawed her feet into the ground standing poised like a statue, leaned forward and curled her hands ready for the Rat's next attack. The Rat had taken a hell of a beating by this point, his tail was useless, he was scratched, bitten, and torn, bleeding from various cuts and bruises, but was still ready to fight, while the Harpy could feel its energy being sapped already, she hadn't even taken much of a beating but still she felt tired. Growling, the Rat paused for a moment before barreling once again across the street towards the Harpy, the winged demon caught him as the Rat knocked her back into the wall of a house, bricks collapsing on both of them from above as the Rat buried his teeth into the thick leathery hide of the Harpy. She howled in pain, reaching desperately for the Rat on top of her and dug her claws into its back. Yanking him off of her, the Rat squealed, throwing its feet around trying to break free from her grasp.

She could fling him back on the street, continue to pound him into the ground, but nothing seemed like it was working, the Rat could probably be reduced to nothing more than a carcass and it would still get back up and attack again. So with the Rat still in her claws, the Harpy jumped to her feet, even with her enemy's nails still slashing towards her chest. On her feet, the Harpy's wings began to flap, dust rising across the streets as she leaped into the air with the monster in her hands. The flying was scattered for the Rat's balance was superb, even in the air the giant creature hung onto the Harpy without falling and at clawing her neck, sent both monsters barreling back towards the ground. However, both landed on the roof of a house right up from where Alex stood watching the fight, dragging shingles and bricks with them as they skid across the roof. Both monsters finally stood facing each other, both tired, both beaten and battered, but with anger flaring up inside of her, the Harpy let out another piercing scream condensed all her energy into one more attack and ran, not flew, towards the Rat, her talon like feet crushing the shingled roof below her. The Rat barred its teeth ready for the attack, but as the Harpy came at the Rat from the left with her claws and he dodged right, her body leaned forward and with her right hand grabbed hold of his body while her jaws embedded themselves into the furry creature's neck. Screeching in pain, the Rat felt itself jarred threw the air as the jaws bit deeper and deeper into his throat. Blood sprayed across the Harpy who received one more clawing before with both hands and an amazing strength pulled against both side of the Rat. There was a silence and then from the street, Alex could watch as the winged demon pulled her enemy apart, literally at the seams. Crimson droplets were flung across London reflected in the pale moonlight barely showing through the sky.

Throwing the two pieces of the Rat corpse to the streets, they immediately began to change back into the man who had just killed George. But it would be too much for Alex to handle the sheer horror of what the body looked like ripped into by the strength of the Harpy was indescribable and how the authorities and people of this area in London would take to seeing a body torn in two by a mysterious force, chances were, everything would be hushed up. Lights were already turning on from the houses below and as windows began to open, they would watch as the Harpy screeched aloud in some victory yell before looking back down at Alex, the lone body on the street. Her wings flapped as the creature took off into the air, pausing for a moment, its eyes zeroed in on the girl by the carriage, whether to attack or let her live. The blood lust was there, the joys of destroying, to use of the passionate energy that was flowing through the Harpy, but still there was that voice, the voice saying that this girl was a friend and that she was not to be touched. The gun was no longer raised, there was no threat and so the Harpy turned away from the opening windows and the horrifying shrills coming from women and children seeing the monster dash away through the sky towards the English countryside north of the capital. But all that remained of Alice Brighton on the street were the tatters of a beautiful red dress and the glass shards of the tonics that had been crushed in her hands.

In the air, the demon flew further into the night, but slowly a confusion began to take over her head, her energy was spend and she was in no shape to continue wherever she was headed. She just wanted to get away, away from the prying eyes, away from the Rat's corpse, away from everything and the voice in the back of her head, the same voice that had pleaded for the girl's safety began to get louder and louder. So loud in fact that the Harpy finally settled down in a small grove of trees outside of a farmhouse. Falling from the sky at such a speed, the Harpy dragged her feet against the ground, knocking over shrubs, bushes, and with the force probably enough to destroy a small tree, finally came to rest in a pillow of vines and branches near a small rock and finally being able to see a clear sky. Finally the voice over took her mind and the world went black...

...When Alice woke up her first feeling was that she was sick, however the pain that had coursed through her for the past two months had surprisingly vanished completely. After vomiting and still feeling very tired and fatigued, she looked down at her arms, the ashen skin had become a bright and healthy white again, she felt better, relaxed, and surprisingly strong as well, some deep strength that had been awoken only recently. Then the thoughts of the dream came back into her head, the dream she had just had of herself becoming some horrible demon and then the dreams of the shadows that she had before. Were they related? Where was she now? Looking around she found herself basking in the sunlight, covered underneath vines and leaves, wearing the tatters of her red dress, fabric hanging loosely over her thin frame. Her body was cut up as well, long gashes and cuts lined her chest, her sides, and even her neck. A wave of confusion fell over her as she sat up and panted, looking around and hearing the beats of horse hooves coming closer.

Turning her head Alice watched through the grove as Alexandra Walton dismounted her horse and seeing the gleam of blonde hair in the grove began running over to where Alice was laying among the vines.

"Alexandra! Alexandra! What...what happened? Where am I? What's going on?"

Edited January 8, 2011 by Sarah Tintagyl

[Little Fame Monster]

Red eyes locked onto brown for a few moments as the harpy hovered in a stationary position in the air. Alex stared back, pistol raised and her finger hovering over the trigger, ready to pull it at any second. Surprisingly, the harpy hadn’t made any motion to attack her and had even saved her when Vassago charged her, fangs bared and ready to tear her to pieces. She sighed and lowered the pistol, knowing that somewhere in the demon that a semblance of Alice Brighton remained, and that as long as that the spark of humanity existed, she would never be able to shoot the demon.

The harpy broke off eye contact first, flapping her wings and catching the breeze so that she soared high into the air. Alex watched as what was once Mrs. Brighton flew away into the darkened London sky. She quickly tied the whip that was still in her left hand to her trousers, and stuffed the pistol into her trouser pocket. She ran back towards the carriage and began unbridling one of the leading horses, a brown mare of about sixteen hands high. The harpy may not have killed her, but nothing stopped her from possibly harming others. There was also the possibility that Alice may somehow recover from her condition and return to her human form. Alex hated to imagine how scared she would be, alone in tatters for clothes, confused as to how she ended up in such a state.

Alex undid and threw aside the reins, which jingled slightly as they fell to the floor. Luckily, her riding skills were decent, having traveled often on horseback with her father to see patients outside of London. Her father didn’t have the money to afford a carriage and pay the carriage driver. Still, she had ridden with a saddle and a bridle all those times. This time, she had only the horse’s mane to hold onto and steer with.

The mare knickered quietly as she pet its mane gently, before grabbing a hold of it and swinging her body with all her might to mount the horse. She had just swung her leg over the horse enough to allow her momentum to slide her into place on the mare’s back. Looking up, she could still see Alice flying off into the distance, wings illuminated only by the waning moon. She gently kicked the horse with her right boot heel, and she responded by moving forward into a slow trot. Alex brought her heel down again and the horse accelerated into a swift gallop. Riding the mare without a saddle was not as quite as comfortable as it would be had Alex had a saddle, and with no reins to hold onto, Alex was afraid of being thrown off the mares back with nothing to help her break her fall.

She soon found herself galloping out of the city, moving quickly towards some nearby woods. She never took her eyes off Alice, who continued to hover towards the forest. It was possible that Alice maintained some self-awareness and was flying away from the city to prevent herself from killing any innocents. The thought comforted Alex, who now was certain that her decision to not shoot Alice was the right one.

Suddenly, the harpy tilted her wings to the side and began dipping into the trees. After a few moments, she had flown below the cover of the leaves and branches and was visible no more. Uttering a curse and grabbing the pistol from her pocket for protection, Alex guided the mare headlong into the thick trees and the unknown.

As she rode through, a large branch smashed her squarely in the face and she almost lost grip on the mare’s mane. She tugged hard, and the mare slowed down to a half-gallop. At the slower pace, she was able to observe the forest in more detail. The tree branches and leaves grew together so densely at the canopy that the light of the moon and the stars was masked, and everything was thrown into a blue-silvery haze. “Mrs. Brighton?!” she called out, hoping that the sound of her voice would attract the harpy. She also hoped that there were no large animals present in the forest that would also be attracted to her voice and end up mangling her.

She was met with a response of a quick fluttering of wings from behind her. She turned around with unease and squinted into the darkness, her eyes not yet adjusted to the low light. Waiting, she heard nothing except the sound of the mare’s steady hoof beats and crickets. “Alice! If you can hear me, answer!” she yelled again.

She tilted her head, focusing hard, praying that she would get some sort of response. None came and she guided the horse forward in the direction that she hoped that Alice had landed in.

***

After an entire night of searching, Alex was ready to give up, believing that Alice had perhaps flown off into the night soon after landing and that the trees provided a dense enough cover so that Alex could not see her. She muttered an expletive, tugging on the horse’s mane to turn the horse around, but by some act of God, the mare didn’t respond and continued trodding slowly forward past another group of trees.

Alex found herself in a clearing, where the threes didn’t grow quite as thickly. She felt the morning sunlight directly hit her face as she glanced around the clearing. Her heart jumped when she saw Alice’s form on the ground, tangled amidst a mess of greenery. Sometime in the night, Alice had morphed back from the demon.

She was a mess. Her face was smeared with dirt and mud and her dress was caked with dried blood. Her transformation into a harpy had stretched and ripped the beautiful red dress she wore. Now it hung on her like strips of fabric, particularly down her back where the harpy’s wings had torn through.

Alice was awake, and turned her head to face Alex. The moment she saw Alex, she cried out, “Alexandra! Alexandra! What… what happened? Where am I? What’s going on?” As she said this, Alex stopped the horse and leapt off its back. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she ran, her feet pounding to close the gap between them. She came to Alice and kneeled down into the vines and leaves, sighing in relief to see that Alice was fine. “Mrs. Brighton?” she gently helped the blond woman sit up, one hand supporting her back.

Before Alex could even answer her questions, Alice frantically threw herself at Alex in an embrace for comfort, which the younger woman returned with a few awkward pats.

“The last thing I remember was being thrown into a wall by that man… and trying to drink the tonic. And there was just… just pain,” she paused, tears rolling down her face. “Where… where are we?”

Alex pulled out of the embrace. “Come Mrs. Brighton. I know everything’s confusing right now, but we need to get you back home. Your husband must be frantic.” She spoke with the most soothing voice she could muster, although her own heart clenched with unease after recalling yesterday’s events. She wondered how she could explain what had happened to Alice without being thrown into an insane asylum. “Come on, take my coat before you catch the death of you in the cold.” She peeled off her giant coat and offered it.

Alice gratefully took it, too tired and scared to even care of how dreadful a scandal it would be seeing her dressed like this… with a man’s coat. Her mouth twisted into a bitter grin when she saw the state of her dress. Alex’s coat at this time was the [I]best[/I] thing she had on.

“Come now,” Alex hopped up onto her feet nad offered her hand. “Let’s get you chome and safe.”

Home sounded absolutely wonderful right now. She could do with a good scrubbing in the bath. Alice looked up at the girl and smiled, taking her hand without a moment’s hesitation.


***

Will Brighton paced up and down the length of his bedroom in the Brighton estate worriedly, his haggard face covered in a five o’clock shadow when it was usually clean-shaven. He had returned home in a good mood, anxious to see Alice again.

Instead of being greeted with a loving kiss from his wife and eating a nice dinner, Will Brighton entered the estate and found Anne sitting on the living room couch weeping, being questioned by the Chief Inspector of London. It was then that he heard that Alice was missing. Her carriage had been found empty. One of the horses from the carriage was missing and two bodies were found. One was identified as George Caraway, the kindly old carriage driver that Will was quite fond of, who had been stabbed in the heart. Strangely, his pistol and whip were both missing. The other was a still unknown man, who had been mangled so badly that he was unidentifiable. All that was found of Alice was tatters of red dress in a nearby alleyway along with a shattered glass bottle and some blood.

There had been no eyewitnesses to the crime, but there were those nearby who reported that they had heard almost inhumane screams and a gunshot.

Will hoped that Alice had somehow been the one who had taken George’s whip and gun, had untied the horse, and escaped to safety. He knew that this was a pipe dream and that most likely, Alice was dead.

He ran his hands through his short, curly, brunette hair. He buried his face into a palm and groaned. The thought of Alice dying caused his throat to close up and eyes to sting. He couldn’t even bear to think of life without seeing her face, her blue eyes shining, and hearing her laugh.

“Mr. Brighton!” Anne stopped abruptly at the doorway, jolting him out of his thoughts. She was out of breathe and clearly very excited.

“What is it?” he tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, for there was no reason to be angry at Anne.

“It’s Mrs. Brighton, sir. She’s alive and well. She’s here!”

Will didn’t even bother to hear the rest of what she had to say and ran past her into the antechamber.

There she was. Her dress was torn hideously into strips, her body and face covered in filth, and her hair a tangled mess with vines and leaves caught in some of the scraggles. Despite all this, she was still Alice, his beautiful Alice. All of the worry that had built up from last night had instantly dissipated the moment he laid his eyes on her.

He turned and noticed a tall, lanky girl, dressed strangely in men’s clothing who was standing next to her. The girl had Alice’s arm draped over her shoulders as she helped support Alice.

His heart leapt and the moment felt surreal. He dashed forward and swept Alice up into an embrace, burying his head into her hair. “Oh God… oh God,” he groaned with relief. “Thank God. Alice, I thought I had lost you.” He gently stroked her tangled hair, and then pulled back to look at her tear streaked face, running a finger along her face lovingly. “Alice… where in God’s name have you been?”

[Silhouette]

For William, it was a rotten end to a wholly rotten journey, a carriage with an odd wheel, making what should have been a reasonably pleasant journey into an absolute nightmare. He would never be using another man's coach again, that was for sure. At least George took good care of his charges, whereas this toothless old beggar obviously starved the poor beasts. He turned his rage back to the true source.

The reason he had gone to Amsterdam in the first place was to negotiate a rather lucrative contract for exporting fine quality cloths to the continent, and the ungrateful !@#$%^& hadn't even bothered to turn up. Three whole days wasted. Did the man have no idea how much money William could have turned over in three days? Absolutely disgraceful. And then there was the channel crossing. An ungodly storm had thrown his charter vessel around like a cricket ball at a county match. He had been violently ill the whole way across, and woe betide anyone who spread that story around. Still, he was less than an hour from home now. Home and his loving wife. She had been awfully ill the past few days. She was complaining of headaches, and had a deathly pallor. It was all he could do to hope she had not taken a turn for the worst. His worry finally got the better of him, however.

He leaned forward, tapping the coachman on the shoulder. "Hurry it up a bit will you? There's two shillings in it for you if you get me home before midnight!" He had to yell to make himself heard, even over such a short distance. But to the coachman, the prospect of an extra two shillings was too much to pass up, he did what he could to egg the horses on a little quicker. William sat back and closed his eyes, deep in thought.

---

As it happened, the coachman did get him home before midnight, what little good it did. Seeing the Chief Inspector at your home is never a good thing. When the maid is in tears, it tells you something is seriously, seriously wrong. Bit by bit, he pieced together the story, and with every passing second, his horror grew. Alice missing, poor old George dead, and what about this poor chap torn to shreds? Who, or what, could possibly do that to somebody? Once the inspector had asked all his questions, William retired to his bedroom. He tried to sleep, but it wouldn't come. After a fitful hour or two, - he had lost track of time- he started pacing the room. How lost count of how many times he paced the breadth of that room. His every thought was with his dearest Alice. Was she alright? Was she even alive?

When the maid stormed through the doorway, his head snapped up, before reality overruled his hope. He didn't even here her polite address.

"What is it?" This had best be important. It wasn't her fault, but she must know he wanted to be alone.

The next bit of news brought him around. He sprinted out of the room, and was shocked by the apparition stood before him. Alice was a mess, but it was still Alice. He noticed the girl lending Alice an arm, but paid her little heed. Right now, his attention was firmly fixed on his wife. Before he knew it, he had wrapped her up in a strong embrace.

"Thank God, Alice. I thought I had lost you." He looked at her grubby face, streaked by tears, and could feel tears of his own starting to bloom at the corners of his eyes. A slightly sterner voice now that she was home and safe, but the tears in his eyes showed that he wasn't mad in the slightest. "Where in Gods name have you been? What happened out there?"

[Sarah Tintagyl]

Everything about the past ten hours had been nothing but a blur and as Alice rested her head against Alex's back as they galloped back through the English countryside towards the outskirts of London, the cold damp wind of an autumn morning stinking her face and her exposed skin, she did her best to think back. What she could remember was that she and Alex had been traveling in the carriage to go to the hospital because the medicine that the doctor's daughter had given her had nearly killed her, but that they had never made it to the hospital, they had been attacked and then things had begun to become fuzzy. Alice could see images, the hit from the tail that sent her flying into the wall of the house, her laying against the bricks as a huge rat like beast came towards her, then there had been an immense pain and the minute she thought about it her head began to pound. Sinking her head deeper into Alex's back Alice tried to think, to get through the pain that was swimming through her mind, she wasn't sick anymore after all, she felt fine, better than fine actually, and perhaps that had something to do with it as well. Closing her eyes, she could see it, the tonic breaking in her hand, her dressing ripping apart as her arms grew out, her muscles harden, it was the last thing she could remember before she woke up the next morning. But she didn't want to think of it, remembering the changes being done to her scared her enough and her head pounded as the horse galloped back into the streets of London.

When Alex pulled around to the streets of Mayfair and the Brighton Estate, Alice looked over her shoulder and the line of carriages with the symbol of Scotland Yard emblazoned on their black sides. She sighed and shook her head as the horse came to a stop and Alex jumped down off of its back, riding bare was something Alice had been accustom to over small stretches of countryside watching her husband hunt with some of the English Lords, but she had never got full gallop over miles of marshland, she had been worn out before, by now the young woman was exhausted.

Alex helped her off the horse and wrapped her arm around the socialite as she guided her into the house, immediately after opening the door the entire room, her husband William, the maids, and the police everywhere else widened their eyes in absolute joy and amazement. "Mrs. Brighton! Oh thank God!" Anne screamed as she jumped off the sofa in the parlor and wrapped her hands around the blonde woman. "Everyone was so worried about you, what? What happened to your clothes?"

But before she could answer another figure pushed his way through the crowd, the only person there who Alice wanted to talk to. William looked down at her as both their eyes began to tear up and he cupped her cheek gently and then pulled her in tightly for a loving embrace, burying his face into her shoulder and neck. "Thank God, Alice. I thought I had lost you. Where in Gods name have you been? What happened out there?"

She looked back up at him and bit her lip. "It was all a series of misfortunes that played one after the other." Turning her head back to Alex who was still waiting in the antechamber. "William, this is Alexandra Walton, she's the daughter of Doctor John Walton one of the Physicians on Fleet Street, she's been working to cure me and well, yesterday night, as Anne surely has told you already, I had a horrible reaction with one of the tonics that Miss Walton gave me. We were going to the hospital, but were attacked, I presume..." She turned to the Chief Inspector standing in the corner of the room eying the entire meeting with dancing eyes. "...the same man that has been doing all of the other gruesome attacks through White Chapel?"

"Its most definitely a possibility Ma'am." The Inspector nodded his head and walked out from the corner. "Though however you and Miss Walton got away, its literally a miracle as I was explaining to your husband. From what a witness said on the street, there was some massive bird like creature attacked some massive rat creature, its the strangest report that I've ever heard. But its in line with what other witnesses have seen, the other attacks in White Chapel, every other witness has talked about a giant rat, its hard to imagine. The man, Victor del Piazzi, the assumed murderer was found ripped in half, literally in half."

"Ripped in half?" Anne gasped putting her hand to her mouth while Alice suddenly groaned and fell back into William's side, right hand holding her skull. "Mrs. Brighton? Oh darling." The maid said walking over. "You aren't well. You need to get some rest, a good bath, and a good night's sleep." She took the socialite's hand. "I must say, you do look much, much better than you did yesterday. Why you look like you were never sick at all."

"Well you have Alexandra to thank. She's the one that was able to cure me, her tonics did the trick, its just these blasted headaches." Alice said chuckling as Anne began to lead her towards the stairs. "Though, Alexandra, please don't go anywhere soon, I'd like to talk to you about something before you leave, about your payment for helping me."

"Alice, you don't have to worry about that." William chimed in. "You need your rest."

She shook her head. "She was the one that cured me, I'll be the one to pay her, I have my own thanks to give privately as well." Alice smiled, being guided up the staircase, while everyone else in the room looked suspiciously at the girl. She was immediately taken to her room, a hot, steaming bath that was already bubbling when she arrived and relaxed into the bubbles thinking her first pleasant thoughts in two months. But even under the relaxing steam of the bath, the pains of her headaches and the blurs of the evening continued to return. So when she finally got out of the bath, dressed herself in her nightgown and ushered the maids out of the room, she had Alex brought back into see her.

Alice as she walked in and leaned back on the pillow. "You don't have any idea how amazing this feels, to finally not be in constant pain. I can promise you this Alexandra, you and your father will never, ever go without food on the table again." She pointed to a small chair next to the vanity. "But if you would be so kind, I have a question to ask." Her face paled slightly from the fear of what she was going to hear. "Be quiet about it, I don't want William to hear, but, after I was hit from that rat-creature's tail. What happened to me? I have an idea, a horrible dream that I pray to God isn't true. But..." She paused. "...what happened to me? And...do you think its gone for good? I..." Alice wrung her hands. "I'm worried about my headaches."

Edited January 11, 2011 by Sarah Tintagyl

[Little Fame Monster]

Alex confusedly followed the Brightons’ maids down the mazes of hallways of the estate. She had never been in a home as grand as the Brightons’. Every of the many rooms she had glanced into whilst walking past was well furnished. Each window was adorned with luxurious, thick, velvet curtains tied back with golden string. The walls were adorned with beautiful patterns and paintings by contemporary art giants such as Delacroix and Manet that Alex was certain were originals.

She was so busy looking about in awe that she didn’t notice that they had arrived in Alice’s room and the maid had stopped moving. She accidentally bumped into the maid who was propelled forward. Alex muttered a quick apology, but not before the maid shot her a scathing look.

Alice was lying back in a king-sized bed with a bed frame that rose high behind her head, carved intricately with swirls. Seeing Alex, Alice nodded in appreciation at her maids, then waved all of them away, asking for a moment of privacy. As much as she was grateful for her maids and all their work, Alice knew that maids were the medium for the spread of gossip among the upper class. She didn’t trust the lot to keep their mouths shut except for Anne who, at times, acted like her surrogate mother. When she was confident that the maids were out of earshot, she spoke, “You don't have any idea how amazing this feels, to finally not be in constant pain. I can promise you this Alexandra, you and your father will never, ever go without food on the table again. But if you would be so kind, I have a question to ask.” Alex nodded her head. “Be quiet about it, I don't want William to hear, but, after I was hit from that rat-creature's tail. What happened to me? I have an idea, a horrible dream that I pray to God isn't true. But... what happened to me? And...do you think its gone for good? I... I'm worried about my headaches.” Alice was afraid to directly ask Alex what had happened, for what she recalled of her dreams seemed to be impossible. She feared repeating what she had seen and for Alex to commit her into a mental ward.

Alex grew uneasy hearing Alice speak of Vassago’s transformation. Part of her still believed that last evening’s events had been a result of hallucinations from fear or a bad batch of the tonic, despite the fact that she knew perfectly well what [I]had[/I] gone on had really happened. It was just hard to accept, considering Alice’s transformation from her disease, if it really was a disease, defied medical science and logic.

Alex had always considered herself practical. Unlike most, she didn’t put much stake into religion or superstition. Hard science had always explained how the world worked to Alex. Alice’s transformation had proven some of the superstitions of who she considered “fools” true and Alex’s grasp of her reality—everything she had held to be true—seemed to be disintegrating.

More unsettling to her was that she had no idea how to help Alice. Demonic possessions obviously fell out of her field of expertise. However, if the processes behind Alice’s transformation wasn’t caused purely by magic and were catalyzed by some scientific means, there could be some sort of tonic developed to block these processes and in theory, prevent Alice from changing.

“Mrs. Brighton, what I’m about to tell you will sound unbelievable, and I may sound like I need to be institutionalized, but everything is what I saw,” Alex began quietly, averting Alice’s eyes. “After the man—Vassago—he attacked you… you changed as well. You grew in size, your skin turning into the same sheen as marble. You grew wings. You… you became a… a [I]demon[/I]. You tore Vassago to pieces.” She paused uneasily, not wanting Alice to feel that she was a murderer. “I shot at Vassago with George’s pistol and he came after me. You saved my life. Then you flew off, and I took one of the carriage horses to follow you. I looked for you in those woods all night. Obviously, I didn’t find you until the morning.”

Alice felt sick and something cold situated in the pit of her stomach. She had been hoping that all she had dreamed was a side effect of the medicine that Alex had given her. Alex had collaborated her hallucination. “And… and the headaches? Will they go away? Will…” she lowered her voice. “Will the demon go away?”

She saw Alex’s brows furrow and any hope she had evaporated. “I can’t say for certain. Obviously, demonology is not a topic I’m familiar with. If it is indeed a possession and what we have heard in superstition is true, possession does not end so easily,” she sighed. “I wish there was more I could tell you, Mrs. Brighton, but I can’t quite believe what’s happened has happened myself.” She was worn ragged from last night’s excitement and from the lack of sleep. She had been coasting on a rush whilst searching for Alice, but now that they were both back in safety, she could feel the exhaustion tinging at her eyes and her head felt heavy and she only could hold herself up by pure effort. She massaged her temples and sighed.

Alice could see Alex’s exhaustion and frowned. “Alexandra, you can rest here for today and return home whenever you wish.”

Alex shook her head, “It’s kind of you Mrs. Brighton, but my father will be returning from York soon and I should be home when he does. I’ll be sure to speak to him about your symptoms and see if he has any ideas for a cure. If we find anything, I will find you immediately. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to find us.”

[KaiserMelech Mikhail]

[i]Zelenaya Shtetl, Pale of Settlement, Russian Empire- Winter 1886[/i]

Zelenaya was a peaceful little village in the northern part of the Pale of Settlement. The winter of 1886 was a light one, and snow peacefully covered the ground in a way that seemed almost polite, as if it didn't want to impede anyone's work or daily life in any way. It was a delightful Wednesday morning, and nobody had any hint of the tragedy that would occur on this day. The markets were filled with people, the small wooden synagogue had the sounds of prayer leaking from the poorly-fitted doors, and small animals were seen running down the street with the unfortunate farmer chasing after them. Down by the river, children played games on the ice and had snowball fights with the fresh white powder. Then, the sound hoof clops was heard down the main road. Five soldiers of the Imperial Guard arrived in town clutching several books. The leader of the group, a colonel by the looks of him, strode into the main square and got off his horse.
"Which among you speaks Russian," he belted out so that it seemed the whole town heard him.
"We all do," the town milkman said, "we learned it to better live in this great nation!"
"Flattery will get you nowhere Jew," the guard belted at him, "but since you said that, it makes my job that much simpler. By orders from St. Petersburg and his majesty, the May Laws are in effect for the Pale of Settlement! This town is now illegal by imperial decree! All residents of Zelenaya are ordered out of their homes, and are to relocate themselves to the nearest town of 10,000 residents or more! Failure to comply will be dealt with harshly." The colonel drew his pistol out of its holster and smiled evilly. With that, the other guards rode out to the stretches of town to relay the order to any residents. A rider finally made it to the farm of Golde, owner of one of the largest properties in Zelenaya. He dismounted and banged on her door. A young man in his late teens opened the door.
"How can I help you sir," he asked, trying to be polite to the soldier.
"You, where is your father," the soldier asked.
"He was killed in a pogrom the summer," the boy said, "my mother is the owner of the farm now."
"This was the farm of Pavel Harolvich, was it not," the soldier said, without even a bit of remorse for the death of the man's father at the hand of most likely soldiers like himself.
"Yes, it was," the boy said, "how can I help you."
"Are you Mordechai Pavelvich?"
"No sir, I am his younger brother," the boy said, hoping that his name was not on some unknown list as well, "I can get him for you though. Mordechai!"
A young man only two years older came round the corner, firewood in hand, with three dogs trailing him. "Can I help you," Mordechai asked. By this time, Golde had appeared at the door and was wondering what the soldier wanted with her son.
"How old are you boy," the soldier asked him.
"I turned 21 this summer, sir," Mordechai said, propping his ax against a stump.
"Good age," the soldier said, as he crossed the name off in his book, "Mordechai Pavelvich, you are hereby conscripted into the army of his serene majesty, Czar Alexander Alexandrovich Romanov. Your enlistment period of 20 years begins today."
"How is this possible," Golde yelled, "we payed the extra tax, we're exempt from the draft."
"Quiet Jewess," the soldier hissed, "under new laws, all citizens of the empire are eligible. This is a chance for your son to prove his loyalty to our Czar and our nation, if there is indeed any to be proved."
"Do not worry mother," Mordechai said calmly, dropping the firewood in the pile near the side of the house, "I will be fine. You have Dmitri to help out around the farm."
"That won't be necessary," the soldier said with a despicable grin on his face, "this house is to be vacated by Saturday. This family is to be moved to the nearest town with a population of over 10,000 citizens. This is the law of the czar!"

The news had been given, and the town was in despair, the town, except the rabbi, it appeared. Motl, the tailor, stopped in at the synagogue to check on the aging man. He found the rabbi in the back room, fiddling with something on the table. On closer examination, it was a yellow man made of clay from the river. The rabbi was finishing with the face, sculpting perfect eyes, a nose, a mouth, and ears. "Rabbi," Motl exclaimed, "what on Earth is that creature?!"
"It is a golem," the Rabbi said, "and the answer to all our problems. When brought to life, it will be invincible to anything the soldiers can deliver upon us. I will first have it kill the soldiers, then it will bring back out young men. I will build an army of golem, and our town will be left at peace!"
"This is sorcery! This is heresy" Motl yelled, as he ran out of the synagogue.
"Poor boy," the old rabbi muttered, "he will soon thank me."

Back at Mordechai's farmstead, the stables were being raided by the soldiers. "Fifteen horses here," on said, "one for the woman, one for the boy, one for the recruit, two for eating, and ten for the cavalry."
"Sasha, come here," Mordechai said, calling his favorite horse. The six year old male was completely black, from tip to tail. While he was bred smaller than the average steed, thanks to years at the front of the plow he had far more powerful legs, and could endure long trips to and from distant locations.
"Look, the Jew thinks he's a Cossack," one of the guardsmen laughed, "better pray you are sent to Ukraine, they are the only ones who take your kind. However, knowing the Czar's fondness for you people, Siberia seems like a likely post for you and your friends."
Mordechai simply smiled at his taunters as he tied the saddle on tight. He had stocked the side-packs with enough food to last him the trip to Vilnius, where he and the new recruits were probably heading to be trained. While the rest of the town continued to stock carts high with their belongings, and talked about where they were planning on going, the soldiers and the new conscripts, 16 in all, headed out of the city. Out of the synagogue window, the rabbi watched them depart, then he rushed back to his room. Grabbing a stylus, he set to work on the forehead of the creature. He wrote three small letters, aleph, mem, tav. [i]Emet[/i], truth, the word that would bring the monster to life. With that, the yellow clay turned a bright red, and the creature slowly turned and stood up in front of the rabbi. "Now my creature, your first task is to kill the soldiers who were just in this town," the rabbi said, grinning to reveal putrid yellow teeth, "travel to the East and kill all the soldiers."
The creature broke through the wall with no effort at all. Its strength was terrifying, and it would soon be unleashed in a torrent of blood. Walking all day, it continued on through the night while the men were camped. It soon caught up with them while they were preparing their fire. Stealth was obviously not in the creatures repertoire, as in full view of everyone, it stepped out of the woods, grabbed one of the guardsmen and with a quick twist ripped off his head, sending blood rushing skywards as the body fell limp.
"You are all soldiers of the empire," the colonel yelled, "destroy the unholy creature!" The golem's mission had changed. Originally only the guardsmen were thought of as soldiers, but now everyone was a target. Two of the recruits grabbed shovels and charged at the creature, swinging at its legs. This did absolutely nothing, and with a few quick punches by the creature, both men lay dead. Samuel, the Rabbi's son, knew the story of the Golem of Prague, and knew how to stop the creature. "The word on top," he said to the recruits, "if we erase the aleph, the creature will revert to clay." A quick nod meant that everyone was in agreement, and it was none-too-soon. The colonel finished emptying his pistol into the creature, and had just been struck down, his skull caved in by the creature's fist. The ten remaining men rushed the beast and knocked it over, while Samuel grabbed a rock and scraped off the aleph. The red man turned back to a pale yellow and the men slowly began to get off it. Mordechai was the last one off, but as he began to prop himself up the face changed. No longer did the Golem have the face of a man, but a beautiful woman appeared instead. The yellow color shifted immediately back to red.
"Brave men," the creature said in Aramaic, a language unfortunately nobody spoke, "this body is now mine." The creature grabbed Mordechai and forcedly kissed him on the mouth before flinging him into the woods. The tree branches caught his body and lessened the force as he fell to the ground unconscious. He had some broken ribs, and walking would be tough for a while, but he was alive. While he was out, the creature finished with the men, killing them one by one before leaving the sight. There was now a demon loose in the wilds of Russia.

Waking up the next day, Mordechai saw the campsite in ruins. Bodies lay all around, but they did not look like they were killed by brute force, instead they were almost like dried husks, their very life force had been sucked out of them. Something truly evil had done this. Mordechai was lost about what he should do. If he continued to Vilnius, he would almost certainly be blamed for the deaths of all his comrades, and he couldn't return to Zelenaya because the city would be swarming with soldiers at this point. It was then that he remembered is family in the West. His second cousins were in England. Perhaps they could give him a place to stay, or at least rest while he figured out what to do with his life. The journey west would be an difficult voyage, but luckily he had a friend. "Sasha," Mordechai yelled out, as he saw his horse walking in the snow, trying to uncover something to eat. Offering the animal some bread from a pouch, he jumped on the saddle and continued off. Wandering south, they finally hit a road heading west. It was a week's journey before they hit the German border. Germany would be an easier journey, as he no longer had to hide his true identity. His knowledge of Yiddish meant he could carry on conversations with the everyday German. During the travelling, Mordechai would pick up odd jobs to give him enough money to carry on. He would sometimes bring deliveries between cities. In the country, he would help and old couple chop firewood or collect wayward chickens for some spare change. It was by no means luxurious, but he always managed to keep himself fed, his horse healthy, and a roof over his head every night. During his travels he attempted to pick up English. He would meet travelers and businessmen and offer to do some work in exchange for a lesson or two. Throughout Germany, then France, he could speak English well enough to ask where places are, understand directions, and he learned a few actions in case he needed to work on the way to Manchester. In the fall of 1887, he reached Calais. In a strange attempt to order a boat ticket to Liverpool, he enlisted the services of a Russian who spoke German and a German who spoke French, and soon the last of the measly collection of Francs he accumulated was put towards a ticket on the next ship out and a spot in the hold for his horse. This was Mordechai's first trip on the high seas, and needless to say it was horrendous. Vomiting all the way, the only two places he was on the voyage were sick on deck, or screaming in his bunk. Every night was a different dream, with the same horrors. He saw the men die in front of him, and the woman's face from the golem always appeared in the background. "You can run my love, but you will never run far enough. I stay here to roam this land, but you will meet new dangers wherever you go. You will never be rid of us!" Every night the dream occurred, and by the end of the journey his bunkmates shoved a sock in his mouth to keep him quiet at night. Finally the ship docked in Liverpool, and Mordechai embarked on the next part of the journey. Seeing a roadsign at the edge of the city, he sounded out the words. "Lon-don... York... Man-ches-ter... That's the one!" A day and a half later, Mordechai found himself in the industrial city of Manchester. It was certainly nothing like Zelenaya. The city was loud, crowded, and polluted, but he carried on. Asking literally everyone he saw if they knew where his family, he was finally directed to a small brick house at the edge of the city. Knocking at the door, an older man, opened it. He was certainly shocked to see a man standing there with a large leather sack, an unkempt beard on his face, and the smell of someone who hadn't bathed since the end of August.
"Can I help you sir," he man asked.
"Yes," Mordechai answered, flashing a smile, "I Mordechai Pavelvich from Russia. You my cousin. I was wonder if I could live with you?"
"Um, wow young sport," the man said, "I wasn't even aware you had decided to come here. Well, I'm sorry you came all this way, but I simply have no room for you and your horse. I'll tell you what... Lara, grab my billfold!" The man's wife appeared with a small brown leather book, and the man pulled out a few bills. "Here is 100 pounds for you, I suggest you take it to London. You can do the most there. A job is around every corner, if you know enough. You speak English do you?"
"Yes sir, I speak little English. I hope to learn more while I here. Soon, I speak English really good," Mordechai said, again flashing a wide smile.
"Good chap," the man said, "Now just take the largest East road, it will take you straight to London. And, good luck."

And indeed Mordechai held up his promise. By the middle of 1888, his English had improved significantly. While he still held a thick accent, he fit into everyday British life. His hard work ethic had led him to a great position as the manager of a small factory in the city. He managed to save up enough money to afford a modest apartment in Central London. One day, while riding down the street from his factory to a meeting he had with an important client, he saw a carriage rush by him with a two women in the back. One was dressed in men's clothes, and the other was screaming and holding bottles of a strange liquid. "Well Sasha," he said, "that was certainly a different sight."

Edited January 13, 2011 by KaiserMelech Mikhail

[AironthFlamewing]

OOC: I'm sorry but I've lost time and can no longer participate in this