All Abandon Hope, Hellmouth Seal Thread #1

The energy in the room was nearly electric. The tension was exhilarating. The anticipation was deadly. Not to It, of course, but rather to those which had been gathered. It felt as if it had waited an eternity for such an occasion, but then, it supposed… it had. Almost a decade had passed since the last time that It had been this close to seeing its goals accomplished, the Seal cracked and the armies and forces of Hell unleashed. Twice within those few years it had been so close – at the hands of those inept humans, and the vampires, in the town called Sunnydale, and so close again at the hands of the Angels, and the Devil, their infernal and eternal war that had come so near to ending it all. Yet both times, it had been snatched away. The Apocalypse averted. Evil thwarted. It seemed merely yesterday, and yet each passing increment of time had seemed to stretch on forever. Beneath the earth, it’s creatures stirred. Demons and vampires of the strongest, purest breeds, writhing in hunger and desiring to spill the blood of all and wreak vengeance and chaos, and it ached to see them free, to set them loose on to the world and watch. Watch, and wait until the time came when its spawn would outnumber those of the humans, when they would be the precious few, and it would reign supreme, tangible and powerful. The time was close. It was close enough to taste.

It had taken little effort to find those willing to bend to its will. This city was ripe for the plucking. The energies of the Hellmouth had been poisoning the well for hundreds of years, and with the event that they called the Great Revelation, the power and corruption of the touch of the First Evil had only grown stronger, its hold more concrete. The Sheriff had been eager. Eager to please. Eager to seize power – willing to bend and break the rules of his species without hesitation to do so, having done so once within recent months to claim his position, the First had known it would take little to persuade Killian to its side, and so the steps had begun. The first of many. The woman had not been of the First’s choosing, but of Killian’s. Her bloodlust and desire for power was less only by a little of that of the Sheriff, and the First had been pleased as it had observed her with its servants. The selection of those to be offered had not been at random, though whether it was that the young Childer had such a knowledge was unknown, nor did it concern the First.

The hybrid had been chosen because of its rarity. The breed of his werewolf nature was of that which had become near extinct, and with the near impossible joining of the two species, vampire and werewolf, it had become even more of a unique power source that it had directed the Bringers to. To the boy, the First had appeared as the uncle that hung heavy in the boy’s conscience and thoughts. Mason. A glimpse in the crowd, outside of the school, and then a handful of more times over the next day until he had been lured into the darkness, unaware of the danger of the vampire’s presence of that of the First’s Bringers, until it was too late.

The witch had been chosen for vengeance. The balance of all things that had meant to be had been tampered with, at her hands. The blood of the Turok Han was on her hands, her own and through the magic that she had channeled to awaken the potentials. And she had escaped, unscathed -- no more. To her, it had appeared as her long lost lover, snatched away from her in a similar act of vengeance, on a human scale. The witch had struggled, had attempted to protect herself with her magic, but the First's warriors were strong and had come well armed with weaponry and the sedatives meant to tame the savage beasts.

The last had been chosen to prove a point. To the First, Evelyn was little more than another victim, but to her keeper, to her would-be Goddess, the enhanced human was the tie to this world. A tie that needed to be severed. Illyria had been great, once. Now, it was little more than a pawn, but even a pawn could prove dangerous if positioned properly, and it was not going to allow such a risk, not when it was so close. The form of Knox had been easily assumed. The last Qwa’ha’Xhan of the once God-King, beckoning the dark-haired girl into the recess of the school from the library where she had worked, unaware of the hazards beneath her until it was too late.

A dozen of the bringers stood, encircling the sub basement at all of its corners and entrances, ensuring that none should leave or enter unaware. Two more stood, to either side of the great Seal that had been cleared, and cleaned, glittering in bronze and silver hues. One held the dagger, enchanted and ensorcelled to do damage even to those superior in strength and durability as if their flesh was merely human to ensure that the sacrifices would bleed proficiently. The other secured the chains, examining the trio of unconscious forms that were hung from the circular rack in the ceiling. Hung by their feet by manacles, their wrists were bound in metal cuffs, each of the three cuffs connected to a central chain that was bound to the center of the seal to ensure that when their blood flowed it would flow directly to the channels in the seal and not be misplaced. They were not gagged, but all had been taken from their person except for the basest of their attire to ensure that there were no charms of protection or items that would allow them to manage an escape.

The First stood, for the moment unseen, a mere ripple of energy to the side of the torch-lit room, basking in the sight. ”You should not dally,” it spoke, its sight turning towards the vampiric hosts. ”Already, they stir.” It declared, its focus turning back towards the sacrificial lambs suspended a handful of feet above the seal, studying them as their heartbeats began to shift, and their muscles began to flex and tense.

TAG :: Killian Brandt. Danika Pierce. Evelyn Mercer. Tyler Lockwood. Willow Rosenberg.

This post has been written by MANDY!

The witch known to some as Willow Rosenberg was the first to stir, so far her night had gone from bad to extremely bad within a matter of a few hours. At first Willow was in a bit of a shock over the fact that her long lost lover, Tara Maclay, had appeared before her, and started to have a conversation as if nothing horrible had ever happened. Willow so badly wanted to believe that Tara had returned to her after so long, she wanted to believe with all her heart that the powers that be decided to send Tara back where she belonged, by Willow's side. But as the conversation continued, it slowly dawned upon the red haired Wicca that it wasn't Tara at all, and was in fact an old enemy from the past, returned to either take vengeance upon Willow, or just to play a stupid mind game with her because it was bored. The old enemy was The First, a very old and powerful enemy that Willow and the Scooby gang had faced before in the past back in Sunnydale.

The first was unlike any enemy that had come before it, much older and more powerful than the Mayor himself. There was a few times where Willow thought there was no stopping it and its plans to destroy the world in brimstone and fire, in a sense she was right, because there was no way of killing The First. That was made very clear toward the final days of Sunnydale, hell it took the destruction of an entire town just to slow the thing down, and even then The First just got back up, wiped its chin, and disappeared off to lord knows where. The rumour was that it had gone to another Hell mouth someplace in the world, it was one of the reasons why Willow, and the rest of the gang came to New York.

The big apple was the perfect place for The First to spread its kind of darkness, a city full of all kinds of vices that it could feed from, and even amplify until the people ended up destroying themselves. In a way Willow hoped that The First hadn't come to this hell mouth, deep down she hoped it had gone someplace far away on the other side of the world. Unfortunately it turned out not to be the case, something Willow had learned tonight after she worked out that it wasn't the real Tara she talked with earlier.

When Willow worked out what was going on, she was jumped by The First minors, blind monk guys, which cut out their own eyes in order to prove themselves to their one true 'God'. Now anyone that knew Willow would know that she wasn't much of a fighter, in fact if she had the choice then Willow would rather talk her way out of a dangerous situation, and would only resort to fighting as a last option. But when it came to The First, and its minors, there was no talking with them. So like a cornered animal, Willow fort back the best way she knew how, with Magic. Willow was a very powerful witch; powerful enough to hold her own in a fight if it came down to it, and that was exactly what she did in the situation.

The red haired Wiccan managed to fight at least three of the eyeless minors off, before they managed to get hold of her, and inject her with drugs that knocked her out cold for a few hours, a drug which started to wear off. With a painful groan, Willow slowly opened her eyes, and lifted her head up straight as she tried to shake off the cloud of fogginess that was the after effect of the drug. When she finally realized where she was, and the fact that she was restrained like a piece of meat, Willow's eyes snapped open, and instantly landed on the circle of eyeless guys that stood around a very familiar sight, a hell mouth. "Shot...this is not good...very not good at all." Willow knew it would be in vein. But she still tried to free herself of her bounds that held her so tightly in place, while she struggled against her bounds, Willow discovered that she wasn't alone.

Two other people hung beside her in the very same state Willow was in a few moments ago, a state Willow wished she remained in so as not to be the first to wake up to this nightmare. Unfortunately lady luck was nowhere to be seen for the red haired Wicca tonight, and she was about to witness something she had only heard about second hand back in Sunnydale, the opening of a hell mouth, which housed the darkest creature of all time. The Turok Han, something more powerful than any vampire still walking the earth today. Oh yes tonight had taken a very dark turn indeed for Willow, and it was only going to get even dark with every passing moment.

If there was something that Evelyn really missed lately, those were the days when her part time schedule was really part time. As of late, it was only part time when it came down to the salary because, in terms of working hours, the young woman found herself staying in late more often than not. God, how she missed having Hope as a boss. The new librarian they brought in wasn't anywhere as organized as the other woman had been and it was a nightmare for Evelyn to work with them. She didn't know if she had gotten too used to Hope's way of running things or if it was simply a case of clashing personalities and styles but she really wanted her old boss to come back. It wasn't that anyone was forcing her to work extra hours, it was simply that Evelyn wanted to put everything in perfect order before she went home and that always took too much when she did it by herself.

The whole afternoon had somehow rushed past Evelyn while her eyes shifted between the computer monitor and various pieces of paper on her desk which contained information that needed to be uploaded into the database for everything to run smoothly. The library was quiet – there was rarely much going on late in the afternoon, unless exams were drawing close or a teacher which the students considered particularly creepy handed out some assignment that couldn't be done with the help of Google and Wikipedia alone. Some might have said it was an almost eerie quiet but Evelyn had been too engrossed in what she was doing to stop and pay attention to details that were too... horror story cliché.

After flipping another page over, Evelyn yawned and stretched a little, lifting her eyes from the monitor. A small scream of surprise left her lips when her green eyes caught sight of a person standing right in front of her computer and she jumped to her feet, pushing the chair to the floor in the process. Knox. The Qwa'ha Xhan that had served Illyria before her, that had aided her to return to this world, taking away the life of Winifred Burkle in the process and earning himself Wesley's hatred for it. The very dead former Qwa'ha Xhan. Evelyn herself had made the Y-cut on his body, she was positive that the man had left this world a good number of years before. Yet, he was standing right before her, his shirt stained with blood in the place right above his heart, looking as normal and as casual as if it was the most normal thing for him to there.

Knox even sounded oddly... at peace with the fact that he died, which surprised Evelyn, considering her past experience with souls that didn't move on. He explained that the Powers That Be woke him up from his eternal rest because Illyria was in danger, the kind of danger that could extend to the entire world if it wasn't averted, and that he needed her help since he couldn't do too much in his condition. Evelyn agreed to help and follow him, leaving her bag behind, since he insisted that they weren't going far and that she didn't need to do too much. As they turned into a dark corridor, however, Evelyn understood that she had fallen into a trap, like a complete idiot. Cloaked men... no, not men – creatures – attacked her and, even if she tried to fight them off, a sting in her arm made her world turn to a heavy black.

She couldn't tell how much had passed before she slowly started coming to her senses, groaning at the odd feeling of numbness in her body and the way in which her head felt heavier than it should have, as if... she was hanging upside down? Evelyn opened her eyes, glancing around her, registering the fact that the hooded creepers were around and that she wasn't the only person that was hanging from the ceiling like... (the thought made her shudder) an animal ready to be sacrificed. ”Knox?”, she tentatively asked. ”What is going on?”, she murmured in a quieter voice.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - O P E N y o u r E Y E S - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

i'll never see . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . any side of heaven
i l l . w a l k . f o r . M I L E S
t h r o u g h . a . b l a z e . i n . H E L L
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was the moment he'd been waiting for.

Since his conversation with The First several weeks ago before the St. Patty's Day Masquerade Party, Killian had been strategically helping to put together a list of individuals who would be ideal for this sort of rendez-vous. With The First's help, they'd come down to three individuals specifically, all three of whom served their purpose and provided a diverse bloodshed to the opening of the Hellmouth. They all had their parts to play; for Killian, he was the manager of the operations since The First did not have a corporeal form to help assist, Danika Pierce served as the muscle, the Harbingers did the dirty work, and the three involuntary bleeders would be the vessels in which the true Evil would climb out from the depths of Hell and run amock on the very city Killian was sheriff of.

Though, there was a particularly proud moment in seeing the red-headed witch suspended upon the iron Hellmouth seal. Having been present at the Hospital the day she had stopped in to see Dawn, he found revenge of his own in ensuring she would be one of the three offering her blood up to a greater evil. For The First Evil, it was definitely personal ... and that was something the two of them had in common when it came to Willow Rosenberg.

He grinned, noticing that she was the first to begin coming to. He crossed his arms over his very muscular chest, those rippling biceps hidden behind a white t-shirt tucked underneath a black blazer. The blonde-haired sheriff stood tall in those blue jeans of his, not baggy, but snug enough only to fit him in the right ways.

The First Evil spoke to he and Danika, suggesting they hurry and get on with it, for the sacrifices were beginning to wake. He could see that, even hear it, as Willow expressed worry about how bad this situation was about to be. Oh, she had no idea ... actually, for that matter, neither did Killian. But being on his side of the field meant he didn't have to worry nearly as much as the wiccan.

He glanced over at the blind Bringers who seemed to know exactly what they were doing, "Interesting characters ... " he thought aloud, before offering his eyes to Danika. This was, in fact, her glory moment. She'd been responsible for the kidnapping of these three individuals, though he never asked questions on how involved she truly was and how much work the Bringers had done for her.

"Are you ready for your moment?" asked he, a glisten of pride and anticipation in his eyes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
k i n g o f m y w o r l d !

hellmouth crew, CLOSED ! who;
king of my world by saliva ! lyrics;
an original by danny ! credit;

They were glimpses; moments in passing that at first caused Tyler to take a second look, but to shake it off the first time. Mason was gone. And although the world proved itself to double in strangeness each week, he knew better than to think that his uncle was somehow there. But, it started to happen regularly over the course of the day. Then finally, he had been able to address him; he’d told him to follow and Tyler had unquestioningly. He followed the form of Mason Lockwood straight into a trap that he was ill-prepared for. The attack took him before his reflexes could kick in. There was no fight. Just a sudden blanket of darkness and Tyler was in their hands. For the first time in a long time Tyler had been doing surprisingly well. The hybrid thing; it wasn’t so bad. If anything, it was a gift. He felt stronger, more in control and it took away the curse of being a werewolf. He was no longer bound to the transformation month after month. He didn’t have to suffer through his bones breaking and twisting every single full moon. There was no more chaining himself up to stop from being a danger from people and if anyone thought that that was a bad thing, they were out of their mind. This was good. And yeah, Tyler might have been using some of his power to his advantage lately and he felt indebted and bonded to Klaus, but he was the one that made him, it didn’t have to be a huge deal. Tyler didn’t know the mess he was getting into or how little control he really had when it came to what he would do to his friends, but it was far from his mind. He didn’t see the repercussions yet. He saw what he considered to finally be a break.

Of course, all of that was far from his mind tonight. All he felt as he stirred was the heaviness over his limbs and a grogginess that took him several minutes to claw through. As soon as his mind started to come to, he just wanted to close off into darkness again. But, preserving through it, he started to rouse. And that was when he felt that the heaviness wasn’t simply because he was exhausted. He wasn’t lying down, but instead suspended upside down. He groaned, dark eyes opening sleepily to take a glance around him. First, it was the men—monsters—in the cloaks that caught his attention. He could feel the tension in his muscles suddenly, the creeping fear drawing up through him. If the way he was hung wasn’t startling enough, their appearances were. He wasn’t blind to their being more people hung up. In fact, he looked over. One, he didn’t recognize at all and then the other... The woman from the library? They were all pieces of a puzzle that in his groggy state of mind was impossible to figure out and perhaps even without the affect of the drug that knocked him out would also be that way. Oh, this was bad. This was incredibly bad. It looked like a sacrifice—Hell, it looked straight of some midnight horror film that he might have shrugged off several months ago. This wasn’t a movie, however and it wasn’t some crappy nightmare. It felt too real to be a dream and yet he still pled to his subconscious to wake up. Too bad he was awake and this was his sudden reality. The other voices were what grabbed him next. He didn’t recognize them and furrowed his brow. “Who the hell...?” Then, in echo of Evelyn’s question, “What’s going on?”

APPEARING AS TARA MACLAY

The First observed, detached and intrigued by the circumstances surrounding it simultaneously. It was not the first time it had seen such a culmination of events. It would not be the last. Good waned and evil rose, and evil ruled, and evil conquered and slew and tormented and destroyed, and in time, resistance would grow. The apocalypse was brewing, a volcanic torrent of blood and fire and darkened skies that needed only one last straw – one match to set off the chain of events that would spell the end of the future of this world. It smiled, serene in its satisfaction as it solidified, lashes drawing apart to reveal the large blue eyes, doe like and innocent, and yet not, ringed by the soft tan lashes and pale porcelain skin, the peach hued lips and the downy tawny hued hair of the meek-mannered witch, the one that had died at the hands of fate, and chance combined, snatched away from the red-headed witch that had so defied the First’s intentions at the mouth of hell in the city that now lay in ruin.

”It’s good, that you are awake.” Tara’s voice slipped across the antechamber, her lips curling into the same soft smile that Willow would know oh so well. ”I wouldn’t want you t-to miss anything,” she spoke, her voice eager and pleased, genuine warmth seeming to coat her endearingly stuttered words as she drew closer to where the witch was hanging. A hand rose, as if to brush against the cheek of the witch, but fell away a moment later, her attention turning to the Bringer that dropped to his knees at her approach. ”Begin with this one,” she instructed the demon, who despite having runic scars branded over his eyes, seemed to suffer no impediments for this seeming impairment. He rose, the cowl slipped back as his sightless eyes turned to the witch, a smile touching his lips, a guttural sound that might have been a chant, if he had possessed a tongue with which to utter it, escaping from his throat and mouth. The Bringer moved, rising to its feet, the dagger in hand as it approached the witch. ”Take no chances with that one, she is ever so… troublesome,” Tara said, almost dismissively then, as she strolled with a languid pace around the outside of the pit dug free to reveal the bronze and silver seal beneath.

As his master commanded, the Bringer obeyed, without hesitation or delay, the dagger brought to the hollow at the witch’s waist, slicing upwards from the hollow of her stomach and upwards towards her collarbone, and then just as quickly and easily, slicing a line just along the midsection of her rib cage, creating a slightly distorted cross upon her flesh, the fabric of her shirt easily slit and almost immediately soaked with the crimson liquid that sprang up from beneath the split skin, trailing downwards, streaking along her throat and face, and beginning the trail along her extended arms, dripping in rapid succession, beginning the pitter patter against the seal beneath. The Bringer studied the cuts, and the blood flow, content with the flow, and with the fact that the streaks of blood against her mouth and nose, and pain combined with the residue of the sedative in her system should keep her docile enough until she lost consciousness in a few minutes time.

APPEARING AS WESLEY WYNDAM-PRYCE

The First had already paced onwards, the shape of its form shifting, rippling slightly as it moved, from the languid, if slightly awkward movements of the witch’s lover, to a more stilted, half prowling movement as its form slipped into that of the face that the Qwa’ha’Xhan had last seen, still and cold as death, now, not all that far from it from the gray pallor under the scruffy jaw and the stain of crimson that spread over his waist and side. ”Ah, the infamous Ms. Mercer,” Wesley spoke, his lips tugged upwards in a darkly amused smirk as he studied the prone figure of the dark haired girl. ”I suppose it is only appropriate that I should watch you die, as I did the last of Illyria’s would-be Priests,” He said, his tone self-satisfied, his accent crisp, his voice clear despite the hand that he held pressed to his side as if to hold in the last drops of blood that sustained him. ”You should be pleased – your death brings the world one step closer to the hell that your would-be King would have relished in, the ravaging of flesh and the rending of limbs, the spilling of blood and the torments of the innocent. Does it please you, to know that the end of all things, is done because of you?” He questioned, his head angling to the side partially to half meet her gaze with his own. ”Let hers match mine, a reminder to her God-King of what is to come,” he directed, with a slight smile. ”Do you think there is room in that sarcophagus for two?” he questioned, mildly, his tone curious as he watched her impotent struggle against the steel sheaths that encircled her wrists and ankles.

”From beneath you…” Wesley’s voice began, the First’s form stepping forward, shifting on past Evelyn’s vantage point, even as the Bringer followed in its footsteps, sightless eyes shifting up to stare at the girl, one hand rising to settle around her slender waist, securing her in place. The other hand rose, the dagger glinting, already coated in crimson, reflected maroon and black and copper in the torchlight, before the knife came down in a swift, piercing movement, sliding into the tender flesh just beneath the ribcage and digging upwards, plunging into the soft underbelly and piercing into the hollow within the ribcage, and pulled free a mere few seconds later, the damage already done. The Bringer watched, as the blood bubbled and welled out of the wound, studying its flow along the librarian’s body before the demon turned, again, to follow in the wake of the First Evil.

APPEARING AS MASON LOCKWOOD

”…it devours,” the voice spoke again, familiar to the last of those left suspended by the chains of steel and iron, as the form of the First paced into view of Tyler in the shape of his uncle. ”But then… you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Tyler?” Mason questioned, studying the youth, a chuckle escaping from him at the groggy questions that escaped his ‘nephew’. ”I’m wounded, Tyler – I mean, I know it’s been a while but I thought for sure you’d remember me. You know, I always thought you and me, we had real potential for something special, if I could’ve gotten you away from the ball-busting bitch of a mother – how is she, these days? I have to wonder, if bleeding you dry does actually kill you, what do you think that’ll do to her?” He mused, mostly rhetorically, as he studied the hybrid. ”Tell me, this hybrid thing, is it really all it’s cracked up to be?” He asked, his head turning towards the Bringer, gesturing the demon forward, taking a half step back to give the demon room to work. ”First of a new generation, there’s not many that get to say that, you should be proud – you and your sire, you’ve got great work ahead of you.” He observed, with a faint smirk. ”If you survive,” he reiterated, a hand rising to indicate the forearms for the Bringer’s attack. ”Sever the sinew, to keep him docile,” he indicated.

The First turned, then, Mason’s gaze searching out that of Killian, looking satisfied as the apparition crossed towards the Sheriff, arms crossed over his chest as he turned to watch the Bringer at work. A quick slice, from the outer edge of the elbow and across the forearm towards the wrist, slicing through the vein and muscles beneath to keep him from being able to struggle, and then a mirror cut across the other, leaving the last of the victim’s blood to flow, following the line of body and flesh and conforming to the laws of gravity, as beneath, the metal darkened and tinted red beneath the combined ‘donations’ of the three.

”It almost seems the beginning of a bad joke, does it not?” The First observed, glancing again towards Killian. ”The hybrid, the witch and the priestess walk into a bar….”

This post has been written by MANDY!

(OOC;; if anyone wants anything changed please let me know.)

At first Willow was entranced by the vision that was Tara, it had been so long since Willow had set her eyes upon any image of Tara, including a picture of her long lost love. The red haired Wicca had almost forgotten just how beautiful, sweet and innocent Tara looked, granted she knew full well that the thing which was stood in front of her now was nowhere near the innocence or even beauty that Tara held. But The First did a very good job in portraying at least what would be a passable Tara, in fact if this was Willow's first time with The First, as she assumed it was for the other two that hung next to her, then she would have believed it was actually Tara. Even when the cold hand ever so tenderly brushed against her cheek, it was enough to send a very real and even very enjoyable shiver down her spine. This entranced state however wore off when the bringer came into view, and the almost beautiful vision of Tara gave orders to start with Willow, something Willow knew her Tara would never ever be capable. The real Tara couldn't even kill a fly, let alone give an order to hurt someone in such a horrible manner, especially when that someone was her love, her everything.

When the bringer stood up and moved closer to where the red haired Wicca hung like a piece of butchered meat. Willow struggled even harder against the bonds that held her in place, it even felt as if she was coming loose, before Willow could work on using the looseness her to advantage however. The bringer cut into her shirt, and then cut deeply into the flesh, which caused Willow to scream out in great pain. The pain was so great, Willow closed her eyes very tightly, and tried to go to a very bright and happy place within her mind, a place where the real Tara would always be, a place where they could be together always. This happy place was ripped away from Willow however, for when the bringer came to the end of his cross like shape, he dug the knife in a little bit deeper, in order to make sure enough blood was split. The resulting pain, was enough to rip Willow away from her happy place.

Once the cross was finished the bringer withdrew the knife, and moved on to his other victims. Willow just hung there, almost lifeless, and just dripped her crimson blood upon the seal below. Willow was now nowhere, lost in a void of blackness and coldness, there was no Tara, and there was no happy place, just an endless black void where she felt pain and a great coldness. But after a few short moments Willow came back, only it wasn't the Willow that left, this was another side of Willow, a side which was normally locked away within a cage. When Willow awoke this time, her eyes were just pure black, there was no pupil's or any kind of colour, only a soulless black, which the First might even appreciate.

With one soft spoken word, Willow untied the bonds that held her trapped upside down and fell to the floor somehow landing upon her feet. This different kind of Willow then turned her attention upon the other bringers, which came toward her when they realized she had broken free. The first bringer was taken care of with the greatest of ease, with just a small wave of Willow's hand; the bringer was set a like with a purple-blue flame. This normally caged Willow then stumbled forward toward the oncoming second bringer, and with an outstretched crimson stained hand, sent the bringer flying clear across the room, where he smashed harder into a crate.

Willow was about to move on to the other bringers, which were now moving toward her to avenge their fallen brethren. But before Willow could cast another spell, the blood lose had become too great, and she collapsed upon her knees, before she finally fell on her side upon the blood stained ground. Once on the ground, Willow's eyes returned to the emerald green hues they normally were, she then tried to look around the room to see how bad the situation truly had become. When her eyes set upon the now blood covered hellmouth however, they fluttered heavily before they finally closed shut. Willow was now totally unresponsive, she was back within that dark, cold void where she found that last bit of strength to put up some kind of fight, only this time there was no more strength or fight left to be found.

Evelyn was confused; confused and scared. When she had decided to give her life such a drastic turn, to dedicate it to such a strange cause, the young woman had imagined that it wouldn't be easy, that she was putting herself in the way of danger. She had foolishly hoped, however, that the road from imagination to reality would be one which she would be lucky not to have to cross. If anyone would have told her that there might come a day when she would be hanging head down, bound by her arms and her ankles, surrounded by creatures whose sight alone was enough to send shivers down her spine... Evelyn thought that something like this could never happen to her, not so fast, not when she had just found Illyria and connected to her. It couldn't be related to that... could it? Was this going to be her life from now on? The thought scared her. It terrified her. She wanted to think that she was ready for everything that came along with her position but deep in her heart she was aware of the fact that she was far from being ready. She was still too young and naïve, wasn't she?

The fact that she believed in the apparition of Knox and followed him must have proven in kind just how naïve and silly she was and Evelyn was angry with herself for not thinking things through more thoroughly back then. It was much too late to do it now, when she was waiting for... what exactly? The sound of a man's voice caught her attention and Evelyn glanced to her side, squinting a little through the shadows to get a better look at the one that spoke. He was familiar, he was... Her eyes widened a little at the realization of the fact that he was one of the students. She couldn't remember the name off the top of her head, especially since she there were other thoughts and worries that took precedence, but she was certain that she had seen him passing through the corridors before. Glancing at her other side, Evelyn saw another woman which she didn't recognize. That meant that the ones in the school hadn't been the only ones target. Then... why were they targeted? She heard another man talking and she felt a wave of fear washing over her; she dreaded to think what their moment was going to consist in.

Evelyn's attention was drawn to the woman that appeared out of nowhere and started addressing the ginger that was tied in the same position as she was. Her breath seemed to froze in her chest when she heard the instructions that were spoken, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of the Bringer cutting across Willow's chest. Biting her lip, she squeezed her eyes shut, not baring to watch it. She might have wanted to become a surgeon but this was, this was... horrible and it was going to... Evelyn didn't want to end that thought. She wanted to think that when she opened her eyes again, she would be at home, in her bed, waking up after a really strange nightmare. Except that...

”Ah, the infamous Ms. Mercer”

The sound of her name being spoken made Evelyn open her eyes, a small gasp of surprise when she saw who was the one that was speaking to her: the man in the sarcophagus which Illyria held so dear. The Goddess had told him that he was a ghost bound to this realm but Evelyn had never imagined that he might appear to her, especially not under such circumstances. The young woman felt her heart skip a beat when she heard the next word that flowed through the ghost's lips. ”You...” was all she could whisper. He was the one that had pulled the trigger, wasn't he? She killed the woman he loved so he killed her Priest and she... was Illyria's Priestess as well. Evelyn looked at Wesley in fear, her green eyes wide, filled with tears, his words stinging, cruel and merciless. ”No, it's not my fault, I'm not going to...” Her voice trailed off. She knew how to give Illyria's powers back and if the Goddess asked her to, Evelyn would have no other choice but to comply with the order. She gave Wesley a begging look, struggling against the binds that held her, trying to yank at them as hard as she could, making use of the extra strength that came with the implants that Illyria gave her. The hand that settled on her waist made her let out a squeal of fear and she tried to jerk away from it. It held her too tightly for her to be able to move and before she could form another thought, her scream of pain filled the cave where they were held prisoners. The cold blade cut through skin, tissue, muscle, deep inside, the pain beyond anything Evelyn had felt in her entire life, making tears fall from her eyes almost instantly. Let hers match his... the bleeding wound at the side of the ghost, the wound which must have killed him... Another sound of pain left her lips when the blade was pulled out of the cut, leaving room for her blood to spill, warm and sticky, dripping down her body and all the way to the floor underneath. If only she could... free her hand to press against the wound and slow it, hold it in – hold her life in. Evelyn tried to think rationally, to analyze her chances of survival, the time she still had if she managed to do something but it was hard. She was hurting and a heavy fog was falling over her thoughts. ”Not my fault...” she murmured as her eyelids fell close heavily, the sounds around her almost like the faint buzz of static.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - O P E N y o u r E Y E S - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

i'll never see . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . any side of heaven
i l l . w a l k . f o r . M I L E S
t h r o u g h . a . b l a z e . i n . H E L L
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He enjoyed watching The First Evil in action. It was a taunter, relishing in its power and its superiority, quite similar to him. More often than not did Killian hold his power over people's heads, and not just the power he was given by the vampire hierarchy, but the power he awarded himself by always being ahead of the curve. He eyed the entity as it teased Willow verbally, only to lead to her being sliced and diced to spill the blood. The smell of her blood excited him, and if he were a younger vampire he might have had to have a bit of it for himself. But he was older, with more of a trained appetite, and he could do without it.

For now, anyway.

But watching her bleed was rewarding enough. She was a burden, given information from Dawn that made her a target. It really hadn't been fair to her, but Dawn had played her cards, and he would hold the winning hand every time. As he promised her, misery was coming her way. Willow Rosenberg was but one instrument in his plan to break Dawn Summers down to completion. The other two, while vital to the plan to open the Hellmouth, did not give him a personal stake in admiring their pain and suffering. His eyes, as the other two were cut as well, remained on the red-headed witch. He longed to see her fade away. He longed to see her perish.

He did pay his mind over to Evelyn and Tyler, the two he was not the slightest familiar with, but both of whom served as blood sacrifices for the release of the Turok-Han. Though human, Evelyn's blood smelled differently than most, definitely different from Willow's. There was power in it that he couldn't explain, possibly the reason that The First Evil had chosen her. But it was Tyler's blood that disgusted him. It was both monstrous, like a werewolf, yet dead like a vampire's. Quite a curious combination, this 'hybrid,' and quite despicable nonetheless. Killian held no favor toward any race other than vampires, mighty prejudice in that way, and he especially held ill will for werewolves. Whatever a 'hybrid' was, he wasn't impressed. There was satisfaction in watching him bleed just the same as Willow.

The First joined him and Danika with a smug comment which was returned by his trademarked smirk. However, before he had a chance to respond, he happened to notice a change in one of the captive's. By the time his eyes had been drawn back to Willow, she was already falling from the fixture that had suspended her, landing on the blood-soaked Hellmouth seal below her. Killian's brows furrowed as she ignited a oddly tinted fire on one of the Bringers near her, another who approached her being sent across the room.

He didn't need to act, however. Right when he was about to put her down, she fell down on her own. The blood loss drained her of some of her power, and more importantly, her strength. She collapsed against the seal in an opportune placing, continuing to feed it her blood while she slipped into unconsciousness. Relieved to see this, he looked back at The First.

In reference to the joke about these three walking into the bar, "Looks like that one's had one too many."

Arms still crossed over his chest, he gave his head a bit of a tilt.

"So, when does this whole thing kick off? I'm anxious to see the beastie."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
k i n g o f m y w o r l d !

hellmouth crew, CLOSED ! who;
king of my world by saliva ! lyrics;
an original by danny ! credit;

Barely a couple of years before, if someone had told Tyler that the course of his life would end as a hybrid, suspended above some kind of symbol like an animal in a ritualistic sacrifice, he would have laughed. Not only would he have laughed, but he would have called the person quite a few choice words that would probably translate to being insane and a moron, simply put. He was just a normal teenager then and his life had resembled normal. Right now was one of those times that he missed it. He missed Mystic Falls when there was no such thing as vampires or werewolves and his biggest problem revolved around sports, girls and homework. And life had been all right back then. There were things in his life now that he didn’t want to give up, that he couldn’t have had before everything happened. And now that he was a hybrid, everything felt a lot better. But, suddenly, all of it felt like Hell. Because it was looking less and less likely that he was going to survive this. The first woman to be attacked was the one he didn’t recognize and Tyler watched in groggy fear as she was cut and the blood started to pool. It was hard to watch, but that mixed with the scent of her blood caused him to close his eyes in an attempt to stop his features from shifting. When he opened them again, it was in time to see the redhead break out and attempt at fighting the eyeless strangers. A witch... And as she slumped, he could hear another voice that managed to haul his attention to the other woman. He felt like livestock suddenly, waiting for its turn at the slaughter. Fearful, he watched as Evelyn was attacked next. He might not have known her personally, but it felt worse that he had seen her around. It also brought up questions of why they were there. He didn’t recognize Willow, but Evelyn was someone he’d seen at the school.

And he was next. There was no wonder, because he was the last one there and when he heard Mason’s voice he felt his insides sink. He looked at his uncle in fear, laced with confusion. He couldn’t know if it was him. A part of him wanted to scream that it wasn’t and that if Mason was going to come back a ghost, he wouldn’t have addressed him like this. He wouldn’t want this to happen to him. His uncle had been someone he had been able to attach and look up to for a short amount of time after his dad passed. “Stop it.” He growled when he continued on. He wanted to hear none of it. And he especially didn’t want to be hearing it from his voice or form. Tyler wanted to wake up. He wanted it all to be some vivid nightmare and he’d wake up okay, freaked out, but all right. There would be no sacrifice, no uncle ordering him to be sliced up or two other victims. “Why’re you doing this?” He demanded and when the Bringer came forward, Tyler immediately began to struggle. He pulled hard on the chains, using his newly enhanced strength to try to make some leeway, but it didn’t do him any good. Frankly, he wasn’t sure that blade would sting as bad as the words had, or affect him like the ones circling his head did now. Then the blade dug into his arm, past skin and tearing into the muscle and tendon beneath. The pain ruptured through one arm, then the other, causing a yell of pain out of the hybrid’s throat. He knew it would heal, but as the blood flowed, it was going to take more time than the usual cut. Especially given the depth of which it pierced. Eyes shut, but he could still hear. A beast? By what he heard, he was doing his best to try to fit the puzzle together; from their reason for being there to what they could possibly be attempting. So far, he didn’t get too far. Except knowing that they were being bled for something to happen—the release of a ‘beastie’ apparently.

[[ooc:// thanks! <3]]

If it had not been for the nature of the interruption, it might have been a welcome one. It was not to say that Illyria was displeased in keeping Alaric’s company – he was pleasing to look upon most of the time, and in terms of conversation she found his to be less droll than most of the humans. Their relationship was … simplistic and yet complex, and she found at times that she understood him no better than any other, and yet at times… she thought perhaps there was something of him that she could grasp. His concern for his offspring, or… the bloodline of the woman whom he had loved, his desire to conquer anything that would endanger them – this she could understand, and considering it was this which had driven him to pledge his loyalty and fealty to her, she found no reason to complain about such a human sentimentality. She felt a compulsion to protect him, and those others within her circle of… compatriots, but it was not out of… human emotion, but rather out of a simple… necessity – or so she often believed it to be.

Those loyal to her where few and far between in this day and age, and she required them to be whole, and hale – and thus it was, when she had felt the first pang of fear, and panic, she had drawn to an immediate halt, as she took those few seconds of time to process. Evelyn. Her relationship with her High Priestess was even more convoluted than that of the one with Alaric, but there was no hesitation in Illyria’s movements, as she recognized the peril of her priestess, slipping out of the warehouse and moving at full speed and grace across the city, following the bond between her, and her Qwa’ha’Xhan. She would have been able to find Evelyn anywhere, anytime from the bond between them, but with the shards of her sarcophagus embedded into the human, the Priestess had become something else, something more, she was not just a servant of Illyria, she was, in some way, a part of the Old One. Her pain was echoed, her fear sour in Illyria’s throat, and she felt a fury that she had not known in a great many years.

”My Priestess – she has been taken,” had been all that she had offered to Alaric for explanation, but it had been enough for him to follow, though as they grew closer to where she felt Evelyn’s distress, she could sense it from her Seneschal as well, Alaric’s alarm growing as he realized the injured parties were located within the school. She did not hesitate, tearing through the double doors that led into the side hallway of the school, and it took only mere seconds to reach the first of the enemies. ”Bringers,” She declared, with a snarl, as the runed, scarred and cowled priests swarmed from their shadowed nooks within the school, intent on preventing her passage. ”Servants of the First Evil,” She seethed, even as one of her fists connected to the ribcage of one of the demons, her other hand catching it by the shoulder and spinning it around to pin it solidly against her chest, a twist of elbow and shoulder and arm sending a sickening crunch reverberating through the hallway before she let its limp form drop, stepping over it and moving swiftly towards the next. She dispatched the next with similar ease, wresting the dagger from its hand and impaling it through its back and severing the spinal cord, leaving it spasming as it fell, and she turned then, tossing the dagger towards Alaric. ”You will find this useful,” She proposed to him, before turning back, again, intent on wading her way through as many as she must to make it to the cavern below where she could sense Evelyn’s fading essence.


tag: Alaric, then back to regular posting order.

Illyria froze. .... More so than usual. Ric cocked his head to the side in question, frowning at her – but it only took her a moment to move, saying something about this Priestess of her her's, and Ric was moving too. He hadn't heard much at all about this Qwa'ha-whatever til today, but her importance was made pretty obvious, if not by what Illyria said, but how clearly the God-King intended to help her... whatever had happened. Ric did his best to keep up, mindset shifting to one more suited for something that was gonna be dangerous but the farther the travelled, he began to realize they were heading towards the school. And he choked. God, not the kids. Still, he followed, ready to whatever son of a bitch that had set foot in the school, threatening the students and staff. Out of all days he'd had to take off, seriously? He followed suit behind Illyria when the double doors were swung open on their hinges.

They were immediately met with mutilated figures that Illyria dubbed 'Bringers,' servants of The First. Damn it, what had happened at the school? As the Bringers surrounded them, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, Illyria quickly brought a few of them down before throwing Alaric a bloodied dagger, one of their's. He caught it instinctively, felt the automatic reluctance to wield something that wasn't a stake or specific supernatural-killing thing, Samael yet again haunting the brinks of his thoughts... but something was going on here and Illyria was right. Whatever was happening was huge, to involve a God-King's Priestess and servants of the First Evil... Bringers were on him at this point but he fought his way through, the dagger slicing through the Bringers' cloaks and into them.

He turned and ducked, avoiding a blow to the head – as he moved, he embedded the dagger into a Bringer's side. Blood ran onto his hand and for the most fleeting of moments Ric had to pull it together but he was fine and the Bringer had dropped. Before a second passed another was crowding him and aimed a kick at the side of his knee, which Ric had managed to to dodge in the nick of time, swinging the dagger at the second Bringer only to have him move just right so that his fist collided with his jaw. A second later, the dagger was in that Bringer's chest. Alaric wasn't slowing down yet, to riled up on adrenaline, though he doubled over when he was dealt a hit in the gut. Thankfully he recovered quick enough to not get stabbed with anything sharp, and continued the fight, trying to keep up with Illyria.

In life everyone is different, each unique person interpreted experiences in their own special way, like the first time someone ever has sex, when some people reached that first release of build up pleasure and hormones they feel as if they have reached out and touched God. While others have an outer body experience, and actually believe they see themselves from a different perspective, a perspective they never knew about themselves.

It was the same with a near death experience, some people when close to death see their whole life flash before their eyes, while others see old friends past or loved ones stand over them and tell them everything is going to be okay. But there was none of that for Willow, oh sure she had faced death a few times; she had been in situations where her life was in extreme danger. Never before had Willow been cut open like a fish, and laid bleeding out all over a dirty floor, in a room full of evil creatures that wanted to release creatures that were ten times more evil.

For Willow there was just nothing, just a cold abyss that seemed to have no end, an abyss that was void of time, substance and life. It was as if Willow had been sent to a dimension between spaces, a dimension that was like a sealed off corridor between other dimensions. It was this black abyss where Willow found herself while she hung upside down like a piece of meat a moment ago. Only something within side Willow brought her back from the brink of this empty abyss, a side of herself Willow wished she didn't have a side she worked hard to keep locked up and caged within side herself. Perhaps it was what human nature was about or it was part of the universe, everything and everyone has a light side and a dark side, there cannot be one without the other. What it all comes down to in the end was which side that person chooses to embrace.

Willow made her choose long ago, and choice to embrace her light side, to be a good moral person who fort and lived in the name of good. Unfortunately that choice was what led to Willow bleeding to death, and trapped in a cold dark basement a long with perhaps two other innocent souls who had no clue what was going on. Before Willow passed out from the loss of life, she wanted to do anything and everything to safe those she found beside her. Willow wanted to save them from the pain and horrible suffering she knew was going to happen at the hands of The First, and his minors. Even though Willow didn't know them from Adam, she still wanted to do right by them, to save them, be the hero Willow knew herself to be deep down inside.

Maybe if Willow was more selfish, and lived a life that was grayer than light, a life where she looked after herself and no one else. Then Willow might not be covered in dirt, losing her life force by the second, she might be out in a nightclub or at home with a beautiful woman wrapped around her body. But if Willow was that kind of person, then she would stop being Willow, she would be a totally different person who was as alone and as fucked up as someone like Faith. So yes choosing to be good and moral had its draw backs, in Willow current situation some very BIG draw backs. But if Willow had the chance to change anything about her life, she would politely refuse them and she would have carried on being the person she choice to be. That was if Willow and the rest of the innocent people got out of this basement a live.

APPEARING AS MASON & WESLEY

The First Evil watched, still frozen in the image of ‘Uncle Mason’, his expression pleased within the realm of composure, his fingers lacing behind his back as he watched the proceedings, the flow of blood steady and rapid, a satisfying splash and drip of crimson liquid against the seal. The pain of the sacrifices was great, and with it, the First felt pleasure, and satisfaction. Their pain, while not adding to the strength of the sacrifice itself, was part of him, of the First – all evil, all darkness, all pain, all suffering, hate and jealousy, rage and pettiness, they all came from within its heart, and strengthened it simultaneously. Evil in all of its forms, blossomed from the seeds it had planted, and stood back to let the world and human kind water. And what a wonderful job they’d done in this little garden of evil.

Mason’s lips turned upwards, as he watched the witch struggle, a blast of power felt from her as she dropped from her bonds. He watched, unmoving, his lips cut into a smirk as he felt her power darken and grow – so much stronger, with the darkness that she pulled upon, rage and hate and loss and grief that manifested, for almost a full minute, into pure power, lashed out at the Bringers. He did not feel their loss, not regret or grief, perhaps a moment of agitation for having to replace them, but where there was one there was a thousand. And soon, he would have more than the world could contain, pouring out of the earth from the seal that the witch’s blood coated now. ”Yes, I might agree,” He agreed, absent mindedly, with Killian’s assessment of the ginger. ”It’s a pity. She came so close, years ago, to raising hell all on her own… such a waste, now,” He said, dismissively, watching her as she collapsed, just to the side of the seal.

His smile grew a fraction wider, as he watched the seal do the same, a trembling of earth beneath them felt just slightly as the magical entryway began to pull back, to withdraw and recess into the earth around it, the scent of dark and damp and blood rising from it. ”Soon, little one,” He spoke, with a low chuckle, as he glanced towards Killian, as the vampire professed it’s eagerness. ”Soon, Hell will rise, and this world will remember what is it be afraid,” He said, his gaze shifting back towards the remaining two sacrifices that dangled, dripping and wounded, on the verge of or fading in and out of unconsciousness. ”Do not ask why, Tyler – ask why not? Is this world so filled with those that would welcome you with open arms that you would fight for it so? You have been shunned, and cuckolded, even by those that you would call friend, or lover, family – welcome the new world, Tyler, where things like you, like your Master, they will be Gods among men,” He said, with a smile, shaking his head a little at the protests of the hybrid, though his attention was turning even then, towards the pale-skinned girl who seemed just as inclined to protest, however weakly.

”Of course not, child, you are only… following orders,” The First spoke, its form rippling with a smoky residue just long enough to assume the shape of Wesley once more. ”Just like a good little soldier.” He spoke, mockingly, his words coated with distaste. ”Did you truly think she would have a purpose for something so insignificant to her, something so beneath her notice as you are, but for this?” he questioned, a brow angling towards his temple as he stared at her. ”Mayflies, she called the humans, gnats and cockroaches… what, then, does that make you, I wonder?” He asked, though even as he spoke, his form stiffened, his gaze snapping from the dangling Priestess, and out towards the dirt and stone tunnels that led upwards to the school itself. A low hiss escaped, as it felt the presence of the God-King, the death and pain of the demons that served it felt in residual drops within its thoughts, eyes widening with rage and anger. ”Illyria,” It hissed, low, its eyes locking upon the seal, and the amount of blood that had pooled and sunk within it. It would be enough. He felt a surge of satisfaction amidst the annoyance.

”They will rise, soon,” He confirmed, looking towards Killian and Danika, then. ”The intruders must be stayed,” He ordered, a hand rising to gesture the remaining Bringers towards the surface, to slow the shadow of an Old One that was, as they say, storming the castle. ”If she finds you here….” He spoke, suggestively, turning his focus to the two vampires, a suggestive smirk on his lips briefly.

This post has been written by PLAYER'S NAME

The fact that Illyria's ghost friend, Wesley, was here, only served to further confuse Evelyn. She didn't know about the First Evil and the ability it had to mimic those that had passed away from this world. As strange as the succession of ghosts was, Evelyn had no reason to believe that they were not real, that the same entity was behind all of them. First Knox, then Wesley... It couldn't be a coincidence; Evelyn knew that there had to be some logical explanation for the fact that one had lured her right into a trap and the other was taunting her after she had already been restrained, she just needed the opportunity to see find that explanation. That wasn't easy to do when she was far too scared about what was going to happen to her and the other two prisoners to be able to focus on much of anything else.

To be trapped and bound like an animal, cut without mercy and left bleeding... Evelyn found it hard to believe that something like that could happen in the real world, to real people – not even after the world had turned out to be this really strange place, in which supernatural creatures walked the streets like humans did. But it happened. There was no way she could stop the blood flow. The only thing she could do was focus on any thought that passed her mind, no matter how random, in order to keep herself from drifting away, from giving away to the urge to let go and fall asleep. Her knowledge of anatomy became the rock she was clinging to. Number of bones in a human body, naming some random ones, trying to recreated the trajectory of the blade inside her body in order to determined whether it had done heavy internal damage, whether she stood a chance in case someone came to her rescue – their rescue – and applied pressure on the wound until the paramedics came to give her proper medical attention...

Evelyn tried to cling with all of her strength but it was not enough. She could feel herself slipping more and more, until a sudden feeling jolted from the base of her neck and through her body like a spark of electricity. She opened her eyes, her vision blurry. Evelyn wondered if the implants reacted to something, she wondered how long had passed since she had closed her eyes in the first place. She looked down at the ground underneath her, noticing how it seemed to open, then tried focusing on what an unknown man was telling to the familiar student. The words made little sense to her beyond the fact that something was not right with the young student. Things like him? A Master? What was he? A sense of dread took over Evelyn at the thought that not even the school was as normal as she thought it to be. For a few moments, her eyes slipped towards the other occupants of the room, the man and woman that seemed to watch everything with a sense of satisfaction. They looked human but Evelyn imagined it was only an appearance. She didn't watch them for long, as the familiar figure of Wesley caught her attention once again, her words cutting into her just as painfully as the dagger had.

Tears fell freely from her eyes, not just because everything was hurting, but also because Evelyn knew, deep inside, that he was completely right. She was supposed to follow orders, not just because that was the mission of a Qwa'ha Xahn but also because Illyria would have left her little or no choice about it. What he said next... Evelyn's eyes widened in shock. ”She... Illyria...?” Evey cringed in disgust at the feeling of blood filling her mouth and she tried to swallow it back to be able to speak. ”Illyria is behind this?”, she murmured. The God-King that she had wanted to serve had ordered that she was tied up and sacrificed like an animal? She heard Wesley saying Illyria's name but it sounded like a sort of echo. Was she here to see Hell take over the world? She... helped it happen... Evelyn closed her eyes, deciding to surrender to the darkness that was calling for her, to stop fighting the weakness in her body.