1stwitness | (no subject)

She groans, coughs hard a few times, and rolls over, looking up at him. His hair is a fright.

"Bloody hell, what was that thing?"

"A demon of some sort, I imagine. Possibly in the service of the demon."

"Ow, my head." She sits up, checking him over for wounds with a quick glance. Nothing serious, just a few cuts and bruises. And then she looks around. It's dim, and there seems to be some sort of unearthly light filtering through shabby curtains. They're in some sort of farm house.

For a moment, her heart stops. Ichabod can see the colour drain from her face as her eyes dart around the room.

"No, no it can't be. There aren't any..." She shudders out a sigh of relief, almost on the verge of tears. "No, it's not -- where I thought it was."

She works hard to tamp that emotion down. Melting down in the middle of a crisis is Not Done.

"I know where it is", he says quietly, looking at the curtained windows, the stone slabs of the floor, the arch of a door to areas beyond - and then getting very interested in the table leg. "I lived here, once, but it was a far warmer place then."

Edited 2013-12-30 22:43 (UTC)

"Well?" She tugs on his sleeve, needing him to be present and accounted for "Where are we?"

A shadow falls across the far wall, and disappears the arch of the door.

"It was the home I shared with Katrina, in Sleepy Hollow." He looks up at her. "And I think we may be in Purgatory. I am so sorry you were dragged into this."

Alex scoffs and waves a hand, her gaze watching the movement in the dark. She pushes herself to her feet, and wipes her hands on her jeans. Luckily, she was wearing boots and not heels today.

"Hardly the first time I've been in someone else's subconscious. Well, it's the first time I've been lugged there by a ruddy great goat man, but that's about par for the course. Are you hurt? Did you break anything?"

She didn't think he hit his head on anything, but since she was choked out, she's not entirely sure.

"No, I think not", Ichabod assures her, looking up to follow her eyes. "Scratches, bruises... what did you see?"

"I'm not sure." She takes a step forward, still watching, wary. Her hand fumbles for her gun before she realizes it's not there.

Well, at least it's not the farmhouse she thought it was, but damn, she could be forgiven for thinking it was. Same levels of dust about. Only the fittings are all Georgian, instead of mid-century.

"So you think this is Purgatory? Where you meet Katrina in your dreams? And you think that creature worked for the other demon?"

"It seems the most likely explanation."

He's on his feet too, moving into a mutually defensive position with Alex.

"And I've seen this house there, just as it is now. A torment for her."

Alex frowns, looking around for something, anything to use as a weapon. "Oh of course. This is right out of the text book." She takes a step to the fire place, and retrieves a poker, hefting it in her hand.

"Let's go say hello, shall we?"

"Pass me another of those fire irons", he says grimly. "I may as well enjoy this encounter."

She hands him the one she'd selected, and picks out another, this one a bit shorter, and easier for her to handle.

"Well? It's your house. After you."

There's movement again in the other room, definitely the sound of someone shuffling slowly across the floor boards. Maybe dragging something heavy. Along with the sounds of the house, the creaking and the echoes of all the empty space around them, she thinks she hears a voice.

Maybe it's the wind.

"And whatever that is, it does not belong in my house." He goes first, his poker raised in a clenched grip.

Alex falls in behind. She hasn't had any tactical training clearing a house with a poker, but she imagines the principle is the same. Watch your partner's six. Keep your eyes open.

"It's really a nice place," she says, her tone weak. "Could do with an airing out."

"It was beautiful, when we lived in it", he says quietly. "New furnished, it was so bright. Colourful, and it caught the sun."

He snaps round as something creaks to his left, but there's nothing there.

Edited 2013-12-30 23:33 (UTC)

Alex quirks an eyebrow at him. "Sorry, I hadn't really -- thought. It must have been lovely."

Her sarcasm reflex may have got the better of her on that one.

"Wait, did you hear that?" There's a quiet moaning sound coming from what appears to be the sitting room.

"Yes." Carefully, attempting to be quiet, he moves in that direction and trusts her to follow.

She does, leaving enough room between them, and keeping an eye behind them. The chill is starting to get to her, and she wishes she'd brought a jacket.

Even moving quietly, every step of their booted feet seems incredibly loud to her ears.

Ichabod reaches the door to the sitting room, and peers around the frame.

"...is there somebody there?"

There's a figure in the middle of the room, blocking the way to the front door, and equally obstructing what appears to be the hall beyond.

It's not an imposing figure, hunched a little at the shoulders, hands clasped. It appears to be female, with silver grey hair swept back into a bun. But there's one key detail missing.

The woman has no face.

"...and again I say, she does not belong here." Ichabod approaches her, decisively. "Who are you?"

"This house could really do with some airing, you know," a soft, almost pleasant voice whispers into his ears. "And you should buy more books."

"Ichabod..."

There was an edge of warning in her voice. There was nothing about this that didn't set off alarm bells in her head.

"I know", he says over his shoulder, then looks back at the woman. "That implies we intend to stay, which we certainly do not."

"You could do with some appliances," the soft, cultured voice continues, from just out of field of vision, "and put in some Internet, please? This is your home, isn't it?"

Alex sputters a laugh under her breath.

"Okay, I'm starting to like her. Come on. Let's see if we can't find a way out of here."

She stops at the bottom of the stairs, listening. A breath of fresh flutters her hair, and it's coming from the cellar door.

"What's down there?"

"I'm not", Ichabod says, glowering, then looks at the door. "The cellar. We should go that way."

"Right."

Alex eases her way passed the old woman, and heads for the door.

Ichabod follows, not taking his baleful gaze off the old woman for a moment.

Alex finds the latch to the door, and tugs it open, coughing as she gets another faceful of dust. There's very little light on the stairs, and she can't see where she's going. Maybe he knows the layout better, seeing as it was his house.

"After you."

"Of course." He strides down the stairs, ignoring the dust and the darkness completely. "Few people know what I'm about to show you, not that it matters now. Katrina and I built an escape route, should the war find us here."

"That's -- actually brilliant. Everyone expects the cellar to be a dead end."

She follows close behind, trying to find her footing and following the sound of his steps.

"Maybe it'll open back to the bar?"

"We can only hope. At the very least, it should take us out of this house."

He's fumbling at the wall in a particular spot.

She's watching their back, listening to the old woman with no face moving around at the top of the stairs.

"Ichabod? Perhaps we should... Erm..."

There's an eerie light filling the room, and it sounds like there's a voice coming over a radio, saying something about staying away from the dog park.

"Yeah. We should go now."

"What in the world... yes. Yes, immediately."

A door springs open when he hits the catch, and he grabs Alex's hand and steers her towards it.

She took his hand and followed him through, ducking her head to pass under the thick curtain of roots.

They emerged in shadow, the sound of dripping water faint in the distance.

[ cont'd here. ]