setting
Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

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 [Private] Dawn of the Dead - Page 5

[Private] Dawn of the Dead

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Re: [Private] Dawn of the Dead

Peyton Marx | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Mon Aug 31, 2015 10:30 pm

My brow was furrowed with so much tension that I could sear it was just making the pain in my head worse, add that to the sickening churning in my stomach as I tried and goddamn failed not to think about what I'd 'seen' happen in this room. About the possibility of the same shit happening to me. Shit, anyone in this position who had a fucking ounce of self-preservation instinct in them would be freaking the fuck out now too. Well you sure as hell know more that I fucking do! I pulled and twisted against the restraints again, looking wildly around the room like a way to get the hell out would magically appear. I didn't look at him when the next time he spoke, saying the words I seriously didn't want him to say, even though anything else would've been a lie, just cursing again because what the hell else was there to say?

I looked down at my arms, drawing in a deep breath through my nose and then almost fucking choking on it. The lack of scent, everything about it seemed off and rubbed me the wrong way, even though it was probably stupid as shit to be thinking about that right then. What's a loss of smell compared to fucking possible torture, right? I was trying to make myself examine the bonds, like doing to would reveal how to get them the fuck off, when the door opened again and that fucking blonde bitch walked back in. I glared at her as she moved into the room, thinking at that moment that I'd give anything to close the distance between us and snap her neck. I growled again when she spoke, opening my mouth to say something of my own but getting cut off when she summoned someone else into the room, someone heading straight for me.  Who the fuck do you think you are? I snarled, watching the woman approach me.... with a fucking syringe in her hand. Get your fucking minion to back the hell off. I strained against the restraints again, not moving my eyes from the woman, trying to ignore the panic that was starting to build up again.

"I'd tell you not to struggle but knowing your kind you'll probably just ignore me." The woman beside me said it a low pitched voice as blondie started answering Vin's question, but i was so focused on the syringe that I barely hear what she said, the words 'mage' and some shit about the big kids handling it just about filtering through. My focus shifted just for a second. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Where do you fucking get off acting like you've a right to do this shit? I'm not a fucking puppet. Something wet against my arm had me looking down again and Vin's question was like it was ripped right from my own head. Keep that the hell away from me. "There really is no point in fighting it Ms. Marx, you're quite at our mercy as you can see." There was a pinch in my arm as her minion pressed the needle into the vein on the inside of my elbow. "The syringe contains a tracker. As I said, you're not dealing with vampires here but mages. The tracker is magical and will infuse with your blood. It will be impossible to remove and trying... well, frankly attempting to do so would be idiotic and only cause you harm. Nobody wants that, some moreso than others perhaps." Her eyes darted towards a corner of the more and the sense of irritation that hung over her seemed to increase for a moment. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Why don't you just talk fucking straight?! The woman with the syringe finished up and as she drew her arm away I snapped at her hand, a few inches short of actually being able to reach it. But she startled anyway, eyes widening as she step back.

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Re: [Private] Dawn of the Dead

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Mon Aug 31, 2015 11:12 pm

Adrenaline. It was so fucking useless in this situation. It didn't matter how much of it was pumping through me, I couldn't save either of us. I couldn't fucking do a thing but watch this woman completely destroy Peyton's life like those fucking fangers destroyed mine. I couldn't fucking do anything but watch as she was stripped of the simple fucking freedoms that no doubt she'd learn she had taken for granted all of her life, just like I had learned. All I could do was watch and listen, just as all she could do was watch and listen, and I felt so fucking useless right now. I'm going to fucking kill you personally mage. I spoke to the woman I assumed was in control of this mental shit. And I'm going to take my time with it you fucking bottom feeding whore. I wiggled and growled as more and more rage began pumping through me, fueling even more adrenaline.

''Calm down.'' she sounded so fucking sick of this conversation, which was fucking ironic, because clearly none of us wanted to fucking be here. So why the fuck were we? I had no doubt Peyton was just as fucking pissed and nervous as I was, and she made that apparent. We weren't fucking puppets. And that's exactly what this felt like. Like we were just fucking toys to be picked up and fucking dissected and played with. I was getting fucking sick of it. Too much shit was coming our way, and there wasn't enough room for us to fucking get a fucking moment to fire back.

I closed my eyes as the needle went in. Not wanting to watch, and feeling completely useless to stop it from happening. Maybe it looked like I'd given up. I hadn't, but this was one battle we clearly weren't going to win. ''If you want straight answers, you'll get them. But let's make this quick, you mutts aren't the only thing on my to-do list tonight. I won't be giving you my name, you know I'm a mage, that's enough for now. What I will tell you is, we share a common enemy. The supremacy, the organization of vampires that captured you Mr. Wolf are planning something that will absolutely destroy every life around you, and I'm not talking about your puny little town either, I'm talking global destruction. I'm talking the death of the human race, the death of my mind, the death of yours, the death of everyone. Vampires will rule the world. I only want to do what any sane person would, I want to prevent it from happening. That is why you needed to be injected with that Peyton Marx. You play a big part in the coming of a new world.'' She smiled as the last words left her mouth, but her expression quickly went flat again as she cleared her throat once more. She then got up from her seat and began walking around the room, examining the walls... the floor, the ceiling, until she was behind both of us and we couldn't see her anymore. ''We have all made mistakes on our journey, this room you are sitting in... You might recognize it wolf. It is the same room you were tortured... The same room she was summoned.'' This room is the reason I don't believe a fucking word you're saying. I spat out, and she stopped to lean in over my shoulder. Her eyes dashed to Peyton, then back to me. ''Because you believe I side with vampires? Correct? You don't actually believe they invented such a powerful room do you?'' She moved away and began walking around the room again as I processed what she had just said...

''We've all made mistakes''. This room... It all made sense. ''Like I said, I'd like to get this over with just as fast as you would. So I'm going to wrap it up. The bottom line is, you two are the single most valuable resources to us, to The Supremacy... You two are going to mold a new world.'' her face lit up, like a mother talking about her child's greatest achievement. ''You two are going to make changes none have even dreamed of.'' Her expression faded again, and her tone went serious. ''But only if you allow us to stop The Supremacy. And allow us to help you.'' It was the third time she'd mentioned this. It was the third time she'd mentioned The Supremacy, something I had never heard of. I knew Ursula was a part of something, but attaching a name to it made it sound so fucking grim...

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Re: [Private] Dawn of the Dead

Peyton Marx | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Tue Sep 01, 2015 1:18 am

A tracker. A magical fucking tracker. My arms were glued to the syringe and even though I knew it was probably my goddamn head playing tricks on me it was like I already could feel the liquid, imagined it pumped away from that spot, tainting my blood and making my skin crawl around every area it spread to. Invading my body just like these assholes were going to invade my life. What the fuck had I done to warrant being tracked? Shit, I liked to think I wasn't a big indulger when it came to self-pity or any of that crap. The whole 'why me' was annoying as hell when other people did it but right then that was exactly what I was thinking.

My head turned slightly towards Vincent when he spoke, threatening the woman who seemed to be running this freakshow. I completely understood it, the urge to lash out against her and get a chance to turn the tables, put her in the position of feeling so utterly powerless. It was like bloodlust, that urge, and it had nothing to do with her being a mage as she claimed. 

A snarl broke past my lips when she snapped back. Calm down? Are you fucking kidding me? Like you wouldn't be thinking the exact same shit if the roles were reversed you sick bitch. My voice rose as I said it, eyes flickering to the now empty piece of plastic that had effectively changed everything. How the fuck could such a seemingly insignificant piece of equipment have so much impact? I felt even sicker than I had before, and it didn't get any better once she'd started 'explaining'. She'd said she give straight answers but it was like what she was just saying just led to me having more questions. She made me fucking ill, and when she said my name it was fucking nauseating. Use my name again and I won't rest until I've ripped out your tongue. I warned, voice dangerously low. But she just rolled her eyes and continued, making me want nothing more than to rip those out too. She had to have a death wish, the offhand way she was saying this shit was just asking for it. When she just casually mentioned what had happened to Vin, the torture, I jerked forward against my restraints involuntarily.

Then shit got really weird. My eyes widened when her face took on this almost... fanatical look. Like some batshit cultist talking about their beliefs. Saying that we were... that we were their most valuable resource. It was unbelievably. Actually that's exactly what it was, and I didn't believe it. I looked at her, letting out a short, humorless laugh. You're fucking crazy, you probably all are. Spent too much time snorting fucking fairy dust and the effects are showing. Her fists clenched and my lip curled in satisfaction. "Enough of this. Nothing you say, or believe, changes the facts. I've merely told you the truth, whether you accept it or not matters not." She paused, raising a brow and looking us over. "I think that about covers everything. As I said, there are other things I need to accomplish tonight and I'm sure I've give you plenty to think about."
With that she just turned on heel as walked out the door, her minion at following on her heels, leaving us there still strapped to the fucking chairs. The door shut and I stared at it for a moment, eyes wide wondering if they were just going to leave us here. What the hell no- I stopped as a low hissing noise filled the room, my brow furrowing at it. What was that? I looked around, trying to find the source but even as I did my mind started to fog, my head start to grow heavy until I couldn't hold it up and it fell forwards. Then for the second time that night everything went black.



The sound of my own hoarse groan managed to bring me back to consciousness, the throbbing in my head not as bad as the when I'd come to before, bound to a goddamn chair. The thought jarred me fully awake and I sat up, not immediately registering that I actually had the freedom to do so. I squeezed my eyes shut against a wave of dizziness, pressed a hand against my head until it passed. When I opened them again and looked around it took me a second to recognize where I was, and it wasn't the white room. it wasn't even my own house. 

It was Vincent's. I was on one end of the couch, like I'd been sitting there already and passed out. Fuck, I genuinely wished that was the case but all I had to do was look down at the raw skin on my wrists from where I'd struggled against the straps to know that it hadn't just been a really fucked up nightmare. I looked around, my gaze finding Vincent who was still out. I reached over, gripping his shoulder and shaking it. Vin, wake up. My voice came out hoarse and I cleared my throat before trying again. Wake up, because I seriously need a fucking drink. There was so much shit to think about and work through but my body was shaking after the panic and rage, leftover adrenaline still running around my body. I needed to chill out, even just a little, before I even tried to sort out my head.

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Re: [Private] Dawn of the Dead

Vincent Sawyer Byrne | Wolf; Pack Master/Alpha

Posted on Tue Sep 01, 2015 1:55 am

My headache was increasing, it's severity joining the party from hell. To say it was the cherry on top was so fucking typical, but it really was. It was the cherry on top of a fucking cow shit sundae. I shared in Peyton's frustrations. But deep down, I knew neither of our outbursts were going to have any impact. Actions spoke louder than words, and I was fucking bound. Action wasn't possible. It was in that moment when I realized why they made this white room mask scent. So we couldn't hunt them down after. So others in their coven could be standing right beside us at a supermarket or in line at the fucking bank and we'd have absolutely no fucking idea.

The roles wouldn't be reversed. I thought to myself. The difference between us and their kind, the difference between us and fangers was... They talked. They loved the fucking sound of their own voice. They talked and prodded and that was all they fucking did. They strung their enemies along. They played games. Wolves got shit done. Wolves went straight for the fucking jugular and called it a fucking day. Our kind didn't do this kind of sick shit, because we weren't fucking twisted fucks. Because we didn't have a death wish. It's eat or be eaten, kill or be killed, and that was one thing their kind couldn't understand. Or maybe they were just too fucking cocky to consider it.

The way she had used Peyton's name ran chills down my arm. The emphasis on every sound. Why do that? Why the fuck do that? Was it supposed to mean something? Was it something we were supposed to fucking decode? I didn't fucking get it. I wanted to speak up, but I felt fucking defeated. I had fight in me, I really fucking did, but a part of me hoped if she said everything she wanted to say, then maybe this could end. Maybe we could get the fuck out of here and figure out our next move from there. It didn't matter anyway, Peyton spoke the words for me, and said exactly what I would have had I opened my mouth.

Truth was, I was fucking terrified. My head slumped forward, and I tried my best to keep my eyes fucking closed. I wanted nothing more than to mute out her voice too. I hated this room. I fucking hated this room and I hated this fucking witch, if that's even what she really was. I hated it, I hated it so much I wanted to fucking die just to escape it. This room represented hell, everything that was done in rooms like this represented hell, and I was fucking alive. Neither Peyton nor I should have to fucking deal with the hell of this room before death. I was absolutely fucking positive it was only a matter of time before they wheeled in that cart and began fucking torturing both of us. There was a good chance it'd happen. What if she wasn't a witch at all? What if this was just some sick twisted experiment from the very same people that did it to me the first time? Trying to provoke me. Trying to bring Lilith out for a fucking chat, trying to make Peyton watch, or fuck, transfer Lilith to her, I didn't fucking know. I had no idea.

When she left I didn't move my head. I kept my eyes closed tight. I didn't even flinch at the sound of Peyton's voice because I couldn't fucking look at her. Truth was, I was the one that brought this on us. I was the fucking reason this happened. It was like making a mistake and suffering for it forever. Reliving it. Never being able to make amends, never being able to fix what you'd broken. That's what I'd done. That was on fucking me. The hissing sound was the only thing that forced my eyes open, but they didn't stay that way for long. Eventually my head went right back to where it was comfortable. Right back to that cowardly fucking position, and everything went black again.




OOC Message
This stuff between the line breaks is very poorly written dream sequence. XD


I was swimming... I could actually feel my muscles aching, like I'd been lost at sea. But when I reached the beach I looked around. It was a city, Seattle, but not... It was far fucking larger than Seattle. It stretched for miles and miles. The buildings were on fire. I was on the beach, but I could feel the heat radiating from the city before me. I wanted to move but I was sinking into the sand. Stuck. I had no fucking control of my body. People were walking by as if nothing had happened. A woman, hand in hand with a man walking across the beach. A man and his child flying a burning kite. A chunk of ash from the kite fell down and landed on my shoulder and singed through my fabric, and when I pulled up my sleeve that symbol was there, as if I'd never burned it off to begin with. It was glowing red... I could smell my burning flesh. ''You can be cured from that you know?'' The voice had my head turning upwards as the woman... Peyton was passing by. She grinned as she threw on her hood. Her feet didn't even stop as she carried her boots in her hand, like she was going on a stroll down the beach. I didn't even find it odd... Her to speak those words in passing, and my eyes moved up to one of the buildings as a little girl had her nosed pressed up against the glass. The building was on fire, and I tried to yell for someone to go fucking help her but something else came out. Something I didn't even know. I couldn't even control my voice anymore.




I was being shaked. I noticed that before I noticed the voice, and soon after, I realized where I was. I didn't even move my body from the position it had been placed it, I just looked at her, my eyes slowly widening as I realized everything that had happened. Was that real? I asked quickly. Did that... My eyes moved to her arms, and the redness around them answered my question. Fuck... I got up, nervously scratching the marks on my own arms as I tried to think of something to do. I felt like I needed to do something. What had happened... It made me feel like it wasn't right to just fucking sit down with a drink but what else could I fucking do? What could I fucking do. Uh yeah... That's, that's a good start. It's a good idea I mean...

I moved to the kitchen and began opening cupboards... The first one, cups... The second one, dishes... I even opened the junk drawer before slamming it shut and taking in a deep breath. I knew where the fucking liquor was, but my body was flying blind. My mind was somewhere else. Liquor. I commanded myself, hoping that would get the fucking job done, and finally opened the right cupboard. I grabbed the bottle, a couple of glasses and moved back to the living room to pour our drinks.

I couldn't sit down, not yet. I just held my glass and leaned up against the wall by the window. I didn't know what I was looking for, but I felt like I needed to fucking guard or... Shit something! Anything but sit and relax with a fucking drink. I spoke too soon... I muttered and took my time taking another drink. Maybe I jinxed it. I finally turned around and moved back to the couch. I'd said our date was good... Remember? I was wrong, that was the worst fucking date imaginable.

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Re: [Private] Dawn of the Dead

Peyton Marx | Wolf; Warlord/Battlelord

Posted on Tue Sep 01, 2015 3:17 am

My brow rose a fraction when the first words out of his mouth basically echoed one of the first thoughts I'd had when I'd come to. Maybe it hadn't been such a stupid thing to think after all? Yeah that was the first thing that came to my head too. My mouth twisted at my own words and I shook my head, turning away. Yeah, my sentiments exactly. I muttered when he cursed, looking back down at my wrists, wishing the marks would just fucking fade already. I gripped one wrist with my hand, squeezing tightly so that when I took it away my fingers left pale impressions on the inflamed skin.

A quiet sigh slipped passed my lips when he agreed to the drinks, not knowing what to say or how to put my thoughts into words. I didn't even know what I should be thinking about, didn't know which part of what had happened or what I'd heard to start with. So I just nodded in response, still looking down, as he got up and headed to the kitchen. After a few seconds of just sitting there I looked around the room, searching for something, anything that could act as a distraction. I wanted something to take up my attention. Yeah maybe I was avoiding shit but so fucking what? 

When nothing grabbed my interest I slumped against the back of the couch, at the same moment Vincent came back into the room. Thanks. I said when he poured the drinks, my voice sounding weirdly hollow even to my own ears. I reached forward taking the glass and staring at it. It was fucking weird, this feeling, like I wasn't really in my own body, like my mind had detached. I took a swig and then lowered the glass, rotating it so that the liquid swirled. I could see him by the window out of the corner of my eye and when he move my head turned and cocked my head when he started speaking, confused at first. What? I frowned, waiting for him to finished the thought. A dry laugh of surprise that didn't sound anything like a proper laugh escaped me. Huh, maybe you did. Guess you know what to avoid in future in that case. I gave a one armed shrug. Can't say it didn't leave an impression as far as 'dates' go. Ugh, that had to be a mark of how fucked up the whole situation was, the fact that I'd rather trade inane comments than actually talk about it.

I was still fucking around with the glass, fidgeting was definitely one of my shittier habits but right then it seemed worse than ever. I leaned forward and set the glass down before I dropped it. Do you... I paused, casting around my thoughts for an idea that would give me something to do. Do you have any paper and like, a pen or something? I just, maybe having something to keep my hands occupied will help with... I trailed off gesturing vaguely. Maybe doing something physical would give my head time to clear, sort shit out in the background. It was my go to, just fucking around with a pencil and paper when I needed to calm down, it had been for as long as I could remember.

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