comewither: (→ broken mirrors)


THIS IS MY HOW'S MY DRIVING POST. Feel free to comment here.
comewither: (⊗ i was over here)
hello this is atreyu and I have been on hiatus SINCE FOREVER.

WAIT WHO:

Mabel is a paranormal investigator with who can see ghosts and other strange things, an unpredictable limited ability to create wards and open doors that should stay shut, and just a wee bit dead. She is also a would-be proxy of the Slenderman.

WAIT WHAT:

Once upon a time Mabel went out into the mists on a mission and got herself bit, leaving her with horrific nightmares that triggered those buried, dark things in her mind. Dean Winchester's death shortly after pushed her over the edge, those dark inhuman things taking over her mind completely and driving her back into the mists.

Since then there have been vague rumors of a masked woman accompanied by dark, tentacled things lurking around the outer neighborhoods, but nothing substantial has ever come of it and everybody has had a lot more important things to think about.

Mabel is gonna show up FOR REALS soon, covered in blood and having no idea of where she's been.
comewither: (⊗ darkness sweeps in)
It's a hollow shell when she finally makes it back, barely recognizable in the circle of ash surrounding it. It's too much, after everything that's happened; Mabel drops what little she's carrying, and stares at the remains of her car. It must have burned hot, for there wasn't even a semblance of the insides left, it was all twisted steel and melted plastic. If she touched it, she was afraid it would collapse.

Her weapons, stored in the trunk and under seats, were gone. Her research books, her clothes, her stash of emergency food, her spare cash hidden deep within the front seat - burned. She had a box of matches in her pocket, her wallet, and her cell phone. She had been carrying a metal pole she had found, just in case, but it would do her no good.

The grassy area surrounding her car had been untouched, although some of it was close enough to have caught aflame. Worse, though, was the message lying on the ground in front of her, constructed of carefully collected ash:

WE ARE ALWAYS WAITING


Mabel sat down hard in the dirt, and for the first time in what could be years, tried not to cry. When the police car came, when they put her in handcuffs and took her away, she was losing that fight.
comewither: (Default)
this is up and this is down

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Mabel

February 2012

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