Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Lingo on 12-07-2012, 21:59:02</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>12-07-2012, 21:59:02</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">&nbsp; (http://url=http://i752.photobucket.com/albums/xx169/lingogirl/willing.jpg]http://i752.photobucket.com/albums/xx169/lingogirl/willing.jpg[/url])</div>It was not like Frank O'Sullivan to give up his whole day for a new arrival. After all, he was a busy man, and not one to lend his precious time out to any stranger. No, that time could be spent sitting in front of his precious, run down desk in his dark office, going over paperwork and recounting the rent he had collected from his lodgers. Grumbling about the squeaky doors and flickering lights<div class="floatleft"></div> in the building, then setting the work aside for another day. Perhaps it was because the new arrival was alone and with a car full of heavy, antique furniture. Perhaps it was because the renters on the first floor near his office couldn't get their kid to shut the hell up, and the childless man could not stand another minute of all that crying. Perhaps it was because this woman was moving into an apartment building with one old elevator and lived on the the highest floor, level four. Or, perhaps it was because this young woman, this Jayne Addams, was a pretty young girl and a welcome change from the usual day to day bullshit Frank busied himself with. Yes, that was probably it. <br><br>A meager twenty-three years old, Jayne Addams had the disposition of a thirty year old professional. She had been polite and well spoken when he offered his help, but not bubbly and wild like the other twenty some girls he saw gallivanting around town. She walked with a certain elegance, wielding a quiet confidence young women often lacked too. Frank thought the slight rasp to her quiet voice was sexy, especially paired with her narrow chin, pouty dark lips, and smoky grey-blue eyes. Her hair was pulled up into an plain ponytail, exaggerating her delicate features. Her faded jeans and black wife beater fit her slender, small-boned frame so perfectly, the sloppy outfit looked intangibly stylish. Jayne had the narrow shoulders and dainty collarbones of a princess. He watched her as she somehow heaved boxes twice her size up four flights of stairs to drop them with a thud outside room 406, standing up with a sigh and fixing her little tank top which had revealed one lacy, black bra strap, teasing him with the idea of her small, perky breasts.<br><br>She was strangely quiet. When he asked about her family, she had replied that they lived a good distance away, unavailable to help her. She briefly mentioned her psychology profession. When Frank teased her about having a boyfriend to help her out with moving, Jayne smiled politely and told him her boyfriend, Mark Welsh, was a busy programmer and not much for heavy lifting. She was on her own. <br><br>Now that the furniture was unloaded and the sun was starting to set, Frank was set on leaving. He had made his good impression on Jayne, and he had enough sense to know no young woman wanted an old man prying into her life. He had no real purpose to stay, as she had quickly decorated the apartment as she'd seen fit. The antique furniture was classic and feminine, and a well placed incense gave the main room an enticing scent. Some pictures of friends were scattered around, and one with a happy, smiling Jayne and a young man with dark hair and glasses (Mark, Frank supposed) sat near the bedroom door on an end table. <br><br>Jayne was busy tidying up a closet in her new bedroom, making sure all her shoes were lined up on the floor with military precision. An awkward Frank stood outside near the entrance, waiting to be dismissed by the other. Oddly, this was the third time she had retreated to the closet, though she didn't know what she was looking for. It was that nagging thought in the back of her mind, that she had misplaced something she had to find. Maybe it was to make sure all her shoes were put away neatly, and that she wasn't missing a pair. Sure enough, all of the familiar, expensive high heels and boots sat neatly where she placed them, matched and organized by type. <br><br>"These have to be all of them..." The girl mumbled to herself, frowning. What was the matter with her? She had a guest waiting outside. Giving an annoyed sigh, Jayne stood and tugged on her ponytail, giving one last look over her shoes when something caught her eye. A barely detectable glitter in the back of the closet. Had a buckle fallen off one of her shoes? Bending down again to pull out the object, Jayne's mouth opened in a silent gasp when it was followed with a chain. A heart shaped locket. This definitely wasn't hers, either.<br><br>The locket was very old, clearly. Dented at the bottom, the silver shone beautifully for the most part but had tiny scratches along the side, which made sense, because when Jayne tried to pry it open, it wouldn't budge. Despite it's imperfections, the locket was beautiful and had that antique style that Jayne always loved. <br><br>"Ms. Addams? Y'sure you don't need any help?" O'Sullivan asked from the main room, getting impatient waiting in this woman's apartment. It was almost time for dinner. "Uh," Jayne began, eyes trained on the locket, "Well I- wait! I do have something to ask you." The woman emerged from her room, cradling the piece of jewelry in her hands. Frank frowned and put his hands in the pocket of his worn jeans. <br><br>"This isn't mine. Mr. O'Sullivan, was there a former tenant in this apartment recently? Do you recognize this locket?" She dangled the locket for him and he gingerly took it from her. Rubbing his thumb over the silver face of the locket, he shook his head after a moment. "Can't say that I do, darlin'. It's as old as the hills thoguh, I can tell you that. Sure it ain't something of yours you just misplaced?" He inquired softly and Jayne shook her head confidently. "I am positive it's not. I don't own any jewelry like that." She noted he had completely ignored her first question. There was a pause as he studied the locket closely. <br><br>"Will somebody come back to retrieve it, do you think?" Her question made the old landlord laugh. "Definitely not, Ms. Addams, definitely not." He smiled at her, offering the locket back. "Tell ya what; take it as a house warming gift, it'd look just swell on you." Jayne shook her head, taking a step back. "No, I couldn't. It looks very special, don't you agree? It's too-" She faltered, not wanting to express her thoughts out loud. <em>Too alive.</em> That was it. That locket had a history of it's own, a history she didn't have a clue about. It was almost eerie. <br><br>"Alrighty then, I could just pawn it off somewhere around here..." The old man closed her fist over the locket, surprised when Jayne's hand came to rest on top of his. "No, no really," She persuaded, smiling uncomfortably now. "I can keep it, for now." The landlord looked at the woman, both curious and amused. "Just in case someone comes back for it." His hand relaxed and Jayne held the locket once more. He gave her a toothy grin and laughed. "Whatever floats yer boat, Ms. Addams. I think you'll find yourself stuck to that locket, but I hope you're right." The two exchanged a pleasant smile. "Now, my wife Nancy'll kill me if I come home late for dinner again. I really better be off. I'll be back in the morning if you need me, missy." He walked to the apartment door and opened it, retaining a look of impassiveness when Jayne followed. <br><br>"But I am curious now, Mr. O'Sullivan. Why are you so sure no one is going to miss this piece of jewelry? I'd like to know about the former tenant." The man looked a little peevishly at the blonde. "That's confidential, Ms. Addams, nothing you need to worry about." He shut the door before Jayne could say anything else, retreating down the dark hallway and down the stairs. Jayne paused at the door, still holding the locket, a little insulted. "What a shady guy he appears to be." She murmured aloud, and looked down at the locket. She hadn't wanted to hand it off to him. It had some sort of purpose, and Jayne was going to find out. In the meantime, she walked back to her room, laying the locket on the dresser beside her bed and would try to whip up a hearty dinner after running up and down stairs all day with heavy boxes.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>12-07-2012, 22:31:06</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://www.kaboodle.com/hi/img/b/0/0/2/d/AAAAC3tBGP8AAAAAAALaLQ.jpg?v=1226092644000)</div>The building was old, and worn out. The walls seemed to sag under an unseen weight. The weight of ages. The weight of memories that had been made, shared, and lost within its halls.<br><br>But the locket was older. This was its home, as much as any of the living tenants. More than Frank, more than her neighbors. More than any of them. It belong here when another stood on this lot, and before that, when a colonial home first was built up out of the sticks and mud, when it came from across the seas in a box of worn wood and velvet. A box long since discarded and decomposed.<br><br>It called to Jayne almost immediately. Something in her resonated with it. It trembled, a brief, imperceptible movement in the forgotten darkness of the small, narrow closet with a slanted ceiling.<br><br><em>Jayne...<br><br>Jayne...</em><br><br>Her fingers touched it, and immediately the room seemed to hum. The crackle of energy, of something electric. The silver was not dusty, for all its time spent there stuck between the floorboard and wall. It wasn't cold, either, like metal should be. It seemed to throb with a warmth as it nestled into her palm. Freedom. Light. The light of a young woman. A consciousness, from some imperceptable place was awakening, stirring from a slumber.<br><br>And then Frank was there. Frank O'Sullivan. A bully when he was a boy and now a man the world had forgotten and past by. He was leaning over it. Voices, words. Her voice. Jayne's voice. Husky and girlish both. That was the voice it needed. The voice it knew. And then Frank's meaty, fat hand fell atop the locket.<br><div class="floatright">(http://idesigniphone.net/wallpapers/51649.jpg)</div><em>"Alrighty then, I could just pawn it off somewhere around here..."</em> he was saying.<br><br><em>No, you won't,</em>, the voice told him. You are a sorry, fat fool that deserves nothing and less. An imperceptible, irrelevent speck amongst the timeless infinities.<br><br><em>No</em>, the locket told Jayne. <em>Do not let him.</em><br><br>And she didn't. She didn't. Yes, she would be perfect. The locket was left on that dresser, and apartment 406 crystallized into its reality. The incense she burned, the scent of it filling the air, along with the smells of her cooking. But then there was another aroma. The smells of her childhood. She could distinctly smell the food her mother used to cook, the musty aroma of her grandmother's cottage. The cologne her father wore. Each a stabbing nostalgia, each was a probe into who this Jayne Addams was.<br><br>And then from the bedroom, there came a sudden, loud crash as the closet door bounced against the plaster-covered wall. A window blew in from the previously un-opened window and curtains danced around the locket. A connection. Real. Physical. Beyond boundaries and beyond realms.<br><br>A singular thought.<br><br><em>Finally.</em>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>12-07-2012, 23:58:55</strong>
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				After Frank had abruptly left, Jayne was left a little jumpy. Saying she was scared would be an exaggeration easily, but the whole apartment had left her unsettled. But that was reasonable, wasn't it? To be alone in your very own, first apartment, in a dilapidated old building... It was all something that would panic any reasonable person. It's was just nerves. Paranoia. Even if the building was old, the part of town it was in was not. It was a safe place to live, she was positive. Looking outside now, even as she stood at the stove preparing a warm stew from her childhood, Jayne could see children playing outside on the grass of a neighboring complex. A brother and sister giggling over a soccer ball, probably waiting for dinner to be ready in their bright, new apartment. A much welcoming, friendlier place, but with that also came a higher price tag. This building was just fine, and sooner or later, it wouldn't appear like some dark, creepy place but like home. <br><br>The thoughtless stirring and cheerful outdoor view was soothing, and a smile played on Jayne's lips. After pouring the soup into a bowl, she walked briskly to set her meal down on the table, when a loud crash made her yelp, and she nearly dropped the bowl. Catching her breath, the girl was wide eyed and had a hand over her heart, feeling it thud in her chest. Fortunately, the bowl was on the table, and some steaming broth had spilled over the rim. The last thing she needed was no meal and a broken dish on the floor. <br><br>Where the hell did that come from? It was down the narrow hallway of her apartment and near the bedroom or bathroom, she knew, but what could have happened? Had something she hung up fallen? It seemed very unlikely. That unfamiliar, creeping dread filled her, and Jayne rubbed her bare shoulders as her skin grew clammy. It was unlike her to be this jumpy. Quickly walking through the hallway and to her room, Jayne paused in the doorway as the curtains billowed in the window. The door to the closet was open too, and it swung soundlessly through the air after hitting the wall. Everything felt so quiet, she was desperate to hear a noise, anything. The stove humming with electricity, the air conditioner. The children playing outside. Anything to justify the presence she felt in the room. <br><br>But there was nothing there. Even the wind was soundless, and Jayne slowly entered, her eyes set on the window. She hadn't opened it, she hadn't spent anytime in there since she unpacked everything. Jayne knew herself well, and she did <em>not</em> leave things untidy. It was simply past her capabilities. <br><br>Maybe Frank had when he helped her with the furniture? Then why hadn't she noticed it earlier? But that had to be it, really. There was no other excuse. Tired of this horrid, panicky feeling Jayne shut her closet door, then with a single swift movement brought the window down and slid her hands up to the lock to secure it shut. Staying there for a moment, she slowly turned around, looking down at the locket, fearing it might've fallen on the ground to be lost again.<br><br>Frank had been weird, this locket was still weirder. It was the oddest thing about this whole apartment building, frankly. It held a secret, something she could not put her finger on. She had never seen a piece of jewelry with so much character. And it wasn't the design of it that jumped out at her but it's... presence? How utterly ridiculous. It was an old locket, not a damn person. <br><br>"I must be tired..." She groaned, rubbing a soft hand on her temple eyes still on the locket. While she was protective over it, not wanting to just hand over something important to Mr. O'Sullivan, Jayne did not like it. It was not hers, and it didn't belong with her. She had no desire to try it on, either. She was afraid of how it would look. She picked up the locket once more, turned it on it's side to examine the clasp, and tried to open it again. It wouldn't budge, it was probably rusted shut. Enclosing her hand around it, Jayne felt a bit better as she left her room and went into the kitchen, brandishing a butter knife. Leaning against the counter, her hair fell on one shoulder as she used the knife to try and pry it open. After a few minutes of prying, Jayne halted. Somebody could've sealed it shut maybe, and that somebody might return for it. This probably wasn't hers to open. Suddenly feeling guilty, she put down the knife and walked back to her room, running her fingers over the fine carvings in the locket. Taking a deep breath, she put it inside the drawer next her bed. She would forget about it for now, eat dinner, and then get in the shower and get a good night's rest. <br><br>While she ate her meal, she toyed with the idea of giving it to Frank. But he couldn't have it. He would just pawn it off and let it rot in some consignment shop. It troubled her, but she couldn't hand it off. She had to figure out what purpose the strange locket had.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Jayne did not regret her decision.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 05:29:56</strong>
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				Jayne went to the window.<br><br>The air was still balmy, but the wind held a faint, biting coolness. Leaves hushed against each other as a quiet breeze stirred them, the secrets that they whispered unintelligible. The moon rose, enormous, perfectly round, and the color of burnished gold. In that quiet, old part of town, Jayne could hear the wind gusting through the trees outside, the children playing in the distance and, all around her, the old apartment building creaking and shifting around her. Some would think it eerie, but to some such night sounds were as comforting and familiar as childhood memories of a family's smiles or snowball fights in the winter.<br><br>The curtains themselves seemed to reach out and embrace Jayne. They slid up along her sides, enveloping her as she came forward and gripped the window. They danced along her hips, her arms, the air making them squeeze and slid across the fullness of her breasts through her tank top and the silky material brushing across her cheeks before the window closed, and they feel with a heavy stillness.<br><br>By the time she left the room with the locket, the curtains fluttered again. This time, it was clearly no breeze. But would she notice such a fleeting thing? Doubtful, with her eyes absorbed by the burnished, vintage and faded locket. The weight of it in her hand, the comforting sense of protection it could bring. It pressed itself into her psyche. It was a forgettable little piece of jewelry. No one would come looking for it. No one would want it. But she wanted it, didn't she? There was no harm in taking it. No harm in keeping it. It kept her safe. Made her feel safe.<br><br>Jayne should just take her shower, long and hot, and enjoy herself. And then she should put on her new locket and curl up into bed. She was tired, after all.<br><br>Tired, and alone.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 08:35:53</strong>
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				A buzzing. Jolted out of her thoughts, Jayne pivoted, her cell phone vibrating on the living room’s coffee table. Dinner had quelled her appetite, and now her body felt heavy with fatigue. The moon had rose in the sky, shining against the peaceful blue sky. How long had it been going off that she just noticed it? What if it was the landlord about the locket? “Shit,” She swore quietly, jogging out of the kitchen to the living room, she bent over gracefully to retrieve the phone, flipping it open and bringing it to her ear in a smooth motion. “Hello?” She asked breathlessly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. <br><br>“Jayne? Why didn’t you pick up your phone?” Impatient, uninterested. Mark. Did he want to see her? It would be great if he wanted to come by and see her new place.&nbsp; “Hey!” She cooed more enthusiastically,&nbsp; a smile tentatively appearing on her face. Fixing her tank top as though he was in the room with her, she straightened her posture. “Are you busy tonight?” Her voice betrayed her desperation. There was a pause. “Well… That’s why I was calling. I’m getting off work soon, but would you want to stop by my place in twenty minutes or so?” She could hear him scrubbing his chin. <br><br>Jayne was sorely tempted to agree and go. This was how she usually saw this fair weather boyfriend of hers; she went to his place, he said a few kind words, and they went to bed. Their lovemaking was short, sometimes painful, and never satisfying. He didn’t listen to her body or wait for her to respond, only demanded her to feed his desire. And, desperate to hold onto her once happy relationship of four years, Jayne gave without hesitation. <br><br>He was busy. Work was crazy. He had been mad about her in college, he still loved her. Mark was always a good guy. Mark loved her, just like he did all those years ago, she knew it. <br><br>But this trysts always made her feel worse, and now that she had a good excuse, Jayne was going to say something. “Listen, Mark…” She began, biting her pretty pink lip. “I had to move today, I just settled into my new place. I’m exhausted. Maybe… maybe you could come over and see my apartment?” She added cheerfully, her free hand closing in a eager fist. <br><br>“Jesus, Jayne, not tonight. Work was crazy today, Lloyd is riding my ass. Sorry babe, but if you can’t stop by tonight, I think I’ll just turn in, kay?” He groaned, and Jayne could imagine him sitting at his desk, looking at the clock, waiting for her to hang up. “Yeah… Course.” She couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice. “It’s fine, no biggie.” An attempt at cheerfulness. Mark cleared his throat. “I miss you, Jayne.” He spoke softly. “I miss you too.” She smiled dreamily, feeling those brief pangs of euphoria he brought to her on rare occasions. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you, babe.” She shut her phone, frowning at the screen. He hadn’t bothered to ask her about moving, about her day. Maybe he really was tired…<br><br>The shower had helped to undo the tight, complicated knots in her back, allowing the shoulder blades to relax gently, her shoulders falling from her neck. She stood several minutes under the hot spray, the hot drops of water working like a fine masseuse to release the tension. Her icy eyes grew heavy with sleep, giving her a sultry, listless expression. Wrapping her slim body in a heavy, terry cloth towel, Jayne padded into her room, her long blonde hair released from it ponytail and drying around her shoulders. The towel almost hung to her knees exaggerating how slight she was with its bulkiness.<br><br>&nbsp;Buffing her hair with her fingers, Jayne began picking out what she’d wear to sleep when the locket caught her eye. Why did she leave it out like that? It only bothered her the more she looked at it. Taking sure steps to the locket, she picked it up and opening the top drawer, she hastily dropped it in with her pantyhose and shut it. Selecting a pair of pale pink panties, and wearing a loose fitting silk cami and matching shorts, she glanced over at the drawer once more. <br><br>She liked old, special things. And she’d be crazy to admit the locket wasn’t old, exquisite, and nearly captivating.&nbsp; It was a rare piece of jewelry. So, maybe it wasn’t hers, but what would it hurt if she tried it on before returning it?&nbsp; She cautiously approached the drawer, pulling out the locket. She was afraid it wouldn’t suit her. Lifting her wet hair with one hand, she let the locket glide over her neck and settle around her. Letting her hair down, Jayne frowned intently at her reflection. The locket was warm against her damp skin. It looked great against her healthy, flushed complexion and brought out the grey in her eyes. The heart had nestled itself within her cleavage, fitted perfectly between her breasts. The thick chain and heart was strangely light. It was a lovely necklace. <br><br>But not hers. She didn’t want it. Right? It was somebody else, probably an old woman who realized she left it and was worried sick. Maybe the locket had been a gift from her late husband, her only real memento of him. <br><br>She’d leave it on for one night. There was no way it could come to any harm in her sleep. Pulling back the clean, cold sheets on her bed, Jayne smiled complacently as she tucked herself in, stretching her body out and snuggling deeper with the covers. It only took a matter of minutes before Jayne Addams was sound asleep, one well manicured hand on the pillow, the other enclosed around the locket protectively, her blonde hair splayed out on the fluffy pillow. <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 08:52:57</strong>
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				Frank. Nancy. Mark. Lloyd. Every person that was touched by Jayne, even only by second-hand knowledge, was touched by something else. Something more. The depth of her remorse, the sadness that was left by her phone call, it was a void to be filled. The constant let downs, emotional, physical, sexual. They could be filled. Easily.<br><br>When she got out of the shower and shimmied into that flirty, comfortable cami, it called out to be worn, too. To fill that void. She put it on, and it settled with a heaviness against her chest. A warmth blossoming out from it. A secret promise between the two of them. She didn't need those people. Those names. The warmth creapt along her skin and into the core of her being. It tickled like a faint spark of electricity along the soft, creamy curves of her chest, her cleavage, the swells of her breasts and towards the sensitive tips of her breasts.<br><br>And then Jayne was crawling into bed, and then... sleep.<br><br>Jayne would still until a chill finally roused her.&nbsp; It was as deep as any cold. It seemed to almost radiate from within her very bones, rather then from the outer world. It howled over her flesh as though to ravage it. As slumber was yanked from her she'd find&nbsp; herself laying in bed, though the blankets were pulled away, leaving her body exposed, save for the scant clothes she wore to bed, curled in a fetal position around the locket, clutching it tightly. It was the only warmth in the room.<br><br>The window was open again. Outside, street lights shone in. A harsh breeze was penetrating the sanctity of the bedroom. it would happen again, but on the second time the room was hot. Sweltering, stifling heat. Even as a shimmering sweat came upon Jayne's lithe form, the warmth only seemed to intensified, as if stirred to life by the exposure of ripe, nubile flesh. There was a sense of another presence. Of eyes watching her movements. Feasting on the mere sight of her.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 09:19:55</strong>
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				&nbsp;Her fine brows furrowed in her sleep. She had been cuddled up asleep only a little while ago, what was going on? Her skin pricked, every inch of it coming to life and forming goose bumps. Her fingers curled together for heat and her nipples grew erect. The cold finally dragged her out of the much needed rest and she jumped, giving a breathy gasp, her legs splayed out on the bed in front of her, one hand still clutching the locket in a death grip. The metal was ridiculously warm, as if she held the metal close enough to a flame so that it gave off a robust warmth. She must’ve kicked off the covers in her sleep. Jayne felt oddly nauseous, and the chill in her bones only made her feel more disoriented. Maybe she had a fever? That could be why it was so damn cold in- <br><br><em>The window.</em> It had been closed. Jayne froze, her eyes now open and awake, her chest heaved with shaky exhale. Now she really was scared. <br><br>Would someone break in? It seemed impossible! She was on the highest floor, with no nearby trees or shrubbery to aid someone to climb. Jayne always slept lightly; she would’ve heard someone break in. And yet… “H-hello?” Her gentle, raspy voice called out, waiting for an intruder to make noise and jump, now that she was awake. The young woman pulled the covers protectively around her frame, though they did nothing to ease the cold. It must be a really bad fever.&nbsp; <br><br>The curtains billowed elegantly in the window, and with them brought in such a drastic change of heat. Or maybe it was her. Or maybe this was just some crazy dream. Could she really be sick? Feeling the air cling to her skin and making her squirm uncomfortably, she rose from her bed and shut the window with a forceful thud. The air seemed to lay still in the room. Jayne’s breathing increased, her lips parted and she panicked. That ominous feeling of being watched engulfed her. Perhaps there was an intruder. <br><br>Crossing the room on the pads of her toes silently, she found an old shoe horn and&nbsp; gripped it tightly. It was some meager form of a weapon. She would’ve wrapped her robe around her half naked form; it was the sensible thing to do if there really was someone there. But Jayne could not bear the idea of more fabric against her skin, which already felt somewhat clammy with sweat. The locket stayed around her throat, some sort of defense, or at least something she could clutch nervously in her hand. <br><br>Quietly exiting the bedroom, Jayne saw the kitchen empty, the living room empty and even her bathroom. The apartment was too small for a good hiding place. Instead of relief, she only felt a more terrible sense of fear. Her voice oddly calm, she spoke up the slightest and called out again, “Hello?”&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 17:57:25</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The darkness inside the apartment was unnerving. It seemed to hang thickly within her room, shadows grown heavy within the corners of the room, under her bed, and in between each wooden slat of wood. Almost an impenetrable blackness of solid, unsettling gloom. It was no better in the rest of the house, and made it all seem so alien. So out of place. What was known became unfamiliar, what was intimidating became reassuring. Only the locket made her feel at ease. It was the only cool spot on her body as perspiration became dewy on her curves, making her shorts cling uncomfortably to the underside of her ass.<br><br>There was a flicker of moment at the corner of her vision, a half-realized glimpse of a silhouette in the hallway. Yet it was just a trick of light, a play of a passing car's headlights coming in through the window. Still the question remained, were eyes upon her as she slept? The shadows did have a certain sinister intent about them. <br><br><em>Hello?</em> She had called out. The whispers called out foolishly. After all, it was only the shadows. Yet, those shadows seem impenetrable and yet depthless. They were like pools of oblivion that begged one to go closer, to lean in. See if they were really as solid as they looked. Just a touch, it couldn't hurt... could it? She was safe. As long as she kept the locket on.<br><br>Then there was another movement out of the corner of her eyes. Where before it was only a fleeting glimpse without real shape or form, what teased her vision this time was clearly a figure. Tall form, cloaked in the umbral folds. There was a haunting strength, though definitions could not be seen, there was a foreboding sense of power. <br><br>Silence. And then a sound.<br><br><em>Bzzt.<br><br>Bzzt.</em><br><br>Her phone, on her dresser. It buzzed with an incoming call. Yet no number was listed on its screen. No familiar ringtone that would have been Mark, the only one likely to call her at this time time of night. Nothing. It was as if the phone wasn't even on.<br><br><em>Bzzt.<br><br>Bzzt.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 19:14:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A small, rational part of her remained, despite her fear. Reasonable Jayne did not fret over such small things. That was for the weak, the superstitious. She was a sensible girl, a sane sensible girl with a degree in psychology, who did not get caught up in the tricks the mind occasionally liked to play.&nbsp; <br><br><em>This is all some sort of whacko lucid dream. It is nothing. Go back to your bed, lay down, and you will wake up and this will be nothing but a stress induced dream. Do you see anything, smart girl? Do you? If you can't see it, it isn't real. This isn't real. Go back to bed. </em><br><br>She wanted to, desperately wanted to, but she was rooted in place. This living room, right now, she had to be here. Besides, the way her clothes clung to her and with the heat she wouldn't be able to lay down and rest. Sleep was, unfortunately, not an option. Reason would not aid her right now. The locket laid heavily on her chest, as if protectively wrapping itself around her. She continued fiddling with it with one hand. It even felt like the room had gotten darker, the lights outside the apartment dimmer. It felt like she was being pulled into an entire different plane of existence. The shadows looked occupied, and Jayne felt a wild urge to scream when she saw a figure. It wasn't an intruder but... It looked like some sort of figure. Masculine. Frightening. What was it, and why was it here? Despite her curiosity, Jayne back pedaled closer to the windows, as if clinging to any shred of the outside world, and not this gaping void of loneliness. <br><br>But what she was experiencing was not loneliness. There was something, something that knew more of her than she knew of it, and it was far worse than being alone. Watching her from a corner. She did not want to be trapped with it. A heady gasp escaped her as the familiar sound of her phone vibrating was heard, and the young woman deflated with relief. <br><br>Jayne had no idea who it could be, but it had to be someone checking in on her. Maybe her parents, or former room mates. Someone familiar. Jayne put down the shoe horn, feeling foolish for carrying it around and picked up her phone. No caller id, not even a number. It wasn't blocked. Jayne did not want to answer it. Jerking the phone open, she pressed her pretty pink thumbnail on the <span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">END</span> button. The vibrating did not stop. An agitated mewl rose from her throat and she pressed it again, more frantically. <span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">END END END.</span> It wouldn't stop. Scared and now getting angry, she pressed <span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">SEND</span> and drew the phone up into the ear, "Who is this?" Her gentle, raspy voice had an edge to it. Dream or not, she wasn't going to whimper like a little girl. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 19:34:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Words.<br><br>Her voice. Such a sweet, perfect, lovely voice. Even the ragged breaths and the mewling sounds of protest.<br><br>"من أنا؟ " Speaking with a tongue was alien, and ancient. Tens of thousands of years old. This was not the tongue of Jayne. But the voice alone. The tone of it, the <em>feel </em>of it. Distinctively masculine, though on retrospection it was hard to say why, because it wasn't like any man's voice she had heard before. What was for sure, however, was that it sounded, if anything, bemused and curious. <br><br>"Qui suis-je?" It spoke again with one of the tongue that it knew when came across the seas. Close, but it as still not there.<br><br>"Who am I?" Ah. There it was.<br><br>"This isn't real. Go back to bed," the voice promised her. Mimicked her own thoughts in that promise. Promised even as she huddled against the window and her pink nails glinted in the dim light. Promised even as the flimsy layer of her cami shifted, the hiss of fabric made against someone's skin was heard. She felt, it, then, most definitely someone's hand from behind her, running across her hair through the cloth that offered so little protection did nothing to constrain the movements of her pert breasts. Touch stroked her spine, and then felt upon her rear. Fleeting, so very brief, yet it was cool--icy, even--leaving the fabric behind with a pleasant tepidness that cooled against her skin. But there was nothing behind her. Just a wall.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 20:00:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jayne immediately recoiled from the phone, her mind immediately going to the loons she saw on television who claimed they were abducted by aliens. Was this some sort of prank? She brought the phone back to her and tapped her bare foot, only further confused and therefore angrier. "Excuse me?" She demanded, and this time the voice responded with something more familiar. Was that french? Yes. He had repeated her question in French. Jayne had learned the language back in high school and had an elementary understanding of it. <br><br>Finally, the voice spoke in English. Jayne tensed up as the man spoke, almost sorry she had asked. When he side stepped her question, Jayne's once feverish desire to return to bed vanished. The young woman was torn in two directions. A part of her wanted to defy him, stay up and show she wasn't afraid. She wouldn't go running back to her room and try to block out what happened. A part of her also was glad he was speaking to her; he reassured her, this wasn't real. Like she so desperately wanted to believe. That he knew what was going on and was advising her on what to do. <br><br>Still, his tone was light, airy. She imagined him laughing at her, mocking her ignorance. She wanted to get more info out of him. Opening her mouth to speak, Jayne heard the slightest noise behind her. Before she could register what was happening, a cold, nearly icy touch ran fluidly down her spine and even further down. Unable to contain a helpless, startled shriek, she pivoted. Her shoulders lurched back and she nearly dropped the phone, taking a few paces back and staring at the wall. She hadn't imagined that. She felt her back with one hand, putting the phone up to hear ear again. She took a moment to calm her voice and take a steady breath. "It's a dream, right? It has to be." Jayne sounded lost. "Well, I can hardly sleep with my window being opened in the night and it being so hot. Maybe it's better to stay awake... If I really am." She said pointedly, placing the blame of what had happened on this mysterious voice. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>13-07-2012, 23:17:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She didn't want to return to the bed? It was where all this started, was it not? Returning unto the womb of this nightmare. So much like a locket, in its own ways. Entrapping, secure, safe. Locking her away in a sleep while outside, what horrors awaited her mind and body, flesh and spirit? That other womb -- the locket -- that bore her calmness and reassurance was of something foul and unspeakable. If only she knew it and the voice were one and the same, yet both mere parts of a greater whole.<br><br>"I didn't appreciate you trying to hang up on me, Jayne," the voice said flatly. A disappointment even, one that reached into her very soul, as if for some reason she should be saddened and disappointed in herself for failing that voice. The darkness seemed to enclose all around her. Yet, it was not wholly terrifying. The shadows almost seemed meek and yearning. They wanted to caress against upon her body, to lovelingly stroked the sweet curves of her form. Aching to leave her flesh with the tingle with the affections of the otherworldly petting.<br><br>"You must learn to listen," the spoke spoke to her All at once they seemed to surround her, and in reply to her whispered pleas came a sound hissed from the darkness. The sound of a endless plague. The buzzing of flies. Pestilence, and death. Louder and climbing into crescendo. It came from the phone, as well. The crackling rush of static. Growing before the noise became intolerably loud...<br><br>And she was left to awake on her bed, in a tangle of her bed sheets. They were wrapped around her limbs as though she tossed and turned all night. But it was more than that. When she tried to disentangle the sheets from herself, she found them knotted--no, <em>tied </em>-- around her slender, delicate ankles.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>14-07-2012, 00:45:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She shouldn't have been surprised it knew she had hung up. Really, what was normal about anything that was going on? But it only confirmed her fear that the caller was with her. In the room. Watching her, even daring to <em>feel</em> her. Jayne felt a pang of regret for what she done, but she was unable to place an explanation with the emotion. Why should she apologize to this being, if it was the one with her in the apartment, waking her up so rudely? "I don't like taking calls from unknown numbers." She shot back over the phone, looking around the room, clearly becoming paranoid. Where was it now? <br><br>It seemed to get darker, oddly. Jayne could see lights on outside the apartment and it seemed... distant. Like the street was moving away from her, or maybe it was the apartment that was being sucked away. The thought made her get goosebumps. When the voice spoke again, Jayne was going to reply when she heard a horrid, scratchy sound. Was that bugs? Or static? The hell was wrong with this room? She opened her mouth to ask but instead drew phone away from her ear and clasped her forearms over them...<br><br>"Stop!" Her wide eyes opened and she struggled, breaking out of her sleep with that single groan. Jayne's hands rested over her head, and she looked around nervously. Her room. Was she really dreaming? It would explain why sweat clung to her body, and she was so tangled in the sheets. Her head fell against the pillow with a sigh, and she closed her eyes. This had been an eventful night. It was only five am now, and she did not intend on getting up. The young woman needed to relax, just forget the whole crazy thing. <br><br>Maybe the apartment was a little scary. Just something strange she'd have to get used to. There wasn't anything wrong with it, after all. Jayne sat up and reached to untangle her legs when she noticed her feet were stuck. She frowned, squinting in the darkness and tugged again; it was tied. Panic bubbled in her throat. She pulled at the knots urgently, flung her feet over the side of the bed and flicked a light on- <em>nobody there.</em> There was no way she could've done that in her sleep. Jayne wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep. <br><br>When I wake up, she thought, everything will be okay. Just don't think about it. She fingered the locket around her neck. Comforting. Familiar. Had she really just picked it up yesterday? It felt... Nostalgic, in&nbsp; a way. But it was too heavy, and she never liked sleeping with jewelry on. Slowly, she raised the chain off her chest and pulled it over her head, looking at the engravings. No matter how hard she studied it, the locket did not jump out to her, or tell her anything about it. Gently laying it on her night stand, Jayne nervously turned out the light, pulled up all the covers, and tucked them under her arms, her hands resting by her sides. She thankfully fell back into sleep's numbing embrace in moments. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>14-07-2012, 01:19:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There came a thud. And another. And another. The sound of wood trembling. Of someone breaking into her apartment?<br><br>No. Softer. Thud, thud, thud. A knock on her door. They knocked again, and the muffled sound of a man's voice from outside.<br><br>"Miss Addams, ya in there?" It was Frank, and when she opened the door he gave a sigh of relief. "Oh, boy. Glad I got'cha before you went t' work, or where ever. Sorry about the power being out, this ol' place has got old bones and old guts. Think it's probably just a fuse box..." Frank stopped when he realized Jayne wasn't yet dressed. He grew nervous, though he couldn't resist looking over her youthful, curvaceous figure. His eyes lingered, and he noticeably blanched.<br><br>"It's the damnest thing, though. No idea what caused it. Bottom floors are fine, though.... uhh... I ... I've done my best out here but... but... it seems like it might be the wires in here short circuiting, so I'll have to give it a look and then I'll... I'll get of your hair..." he stumbled over his words as he spoke, and she'd likely grow uncomfortable as his eyes returned again and again to her chest, partially revealed but now lewdly on display from the cami she wore to bed. He kept staring at her plunging cleavage.<br><br>It was only when she brought a hand to her chest to cover herself in modesty that Jayne would realize he wasn't starting at her cleavage at all. He was staring at what was nestled in it. That locket. Hadn't she taken it off? Yes, she set it on her night stand. Unless that had been a dream...<br><br>"Decided to keep it fer yourself after all...?" Frank spoke, ending the long uncomfortable silence as Jayne stood there, fingering the piece of jewelry.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>14-07-2012, 06:43:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jayne groaned irritably, face down on the pillow at 6 o'clock in the morning. With all the traumas last night, she felt exhausted. Her muscles were still recovering from moving all day, and she had woke up this morning with her ankles trapped in her sheets. Not a good start. <br><br>Rubbing her eyes, Jayne stumbled from her room and into the hallway, gripping the walls. The light burned her eyes, and she found herself repeatedly blinking to and covering a hand over her lids. Still half asleep, Jayne was oddly calm answering the door after the mysterious voice last night- and her lack of clothes. Unlatching the bolt and cracking the door open to peek out, Jayne frowned when she saw her landlord. "Mr. O'Sullivan?" She whispered, her voice raspier than usual. The young woman opened the door all the way and Frank looked distracted. What the hell was he looking at? <br><br><em>Oh.</em> Jayne didn't easily blush, but she did shift her weight uncomfortably. She wanted to kick herself; why didn't she put on her robe before answering the door? The blonde was practically nude. Keeping her eyes attached on his (and hoping he would do the same) Jayne leaned against the door frame, watching him carefully. "The power? It was working just an hour ago..." Well, she thought it was. Wasn't it working last night. Wordlessly, the tired woman nodded, moving aside to let him in. When he stood outside and kept on stammering, Jayne's features were marred with an annoyed expression. <br><br>"Come in, Mr. O'Sullivan." She demanded softly, crossing her arms over her chest, and that's when she felt it. Cold, smooth, <em>metal.</em><br><br>A hand immediately clutched the heart, and her full lips parted. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Frank seemed very uncomfortable around her, and when he spoke, she swallowed hard, unable to find her voice. "No, I haven't..." She replied forcefully, earning a disturbed look from Mr. O'Sullivan. "I just, must've been fooling around last night and slept with it on..." Realizing her guest was uncomfortable, Jayne rubbed her eyes and tried on a small smile. <br><br>"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm still sleepy. Mr. O'Sullivan, can I get you something to drink?" <br><br>With Frank toying around with her electric box and wielding a cup of orange juice, he hummed some jaunty tune while Jayne sat in her room with her- <em>no the</em>- locket, watching her reflection in the mirror. Though it was odd to think of it, she was beginning to correlate the 'dream' last night and the locket. It had been useful in the dream, and was back on her neck when she woke up. As much as she wanted to fall back on her psychology terms and the 'effects of a stressed mind in a new environment' Jayne felt her fears were rational. <br><br>The power would have to be back up in order to do her work today; just a few recorded interviews to be copied, and a document detailing the analysis. Simple stuff she could do at home, no need to go into the office. As tired as she was, Jayne wouldn't mind having the excuse to leave the apartment for a comfy, wi-fi accessible Starbucks. She needed some time outside the apartment. <br><br>In the meantime, she changed into a long sleeved cashmere black dress, and belt cinching her waist. The dress laid just about her knees, and she wore a low pair on sling back heels. Pulling half of her hair back and securing it with a black barrette, she studied the locket on her neck. It looked right... It felt familiar enough... But reason clouded emotion. This wasn't hers, and it had been a silly mistake to wear it last night. Unable to put the locket away, she laid the locket on her dresser. <br><br>Exiting the privacy of her room, she ran a hand over her soft, flaxen hair and nodded towards Frank. "Is the power coming back on?"&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>14-07-2012, 08:52:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oh, yea... I'll get it runnin' again in a little bit," he said as he was squinting at the old electric box. He seemed perplexed with his back to her, and he gave a glance over his shoulder at her. Frank met her eyes momentarily, before he looked back at the mess of wires. Jayne could clearly see the scorch marks and spread of blackened char. "Just never seen a damned thing like this in all my life. Like somebody fried it with lightening or something," he mumbled under his breath.<br><br>A moment's pause, and Frank did a double-take at Jayne, "Ya look mighty lovely, Miss Addams. Think ya'd look better with that necklace on, don't you think?" And he was back to inspecting the wires while Jayne gathered her belongings to make the short trek to the nearest Starbucks.<br><br>"You really must learn to listen, Jayne," he called to her. At least, it came from Frank. But it was not Frank's voice. The cadence was wrong. The pitch. There wasn't the slur of a low-class upbringing. If anything, the voice sounded regal. It was a different voice. A familiar one. The one from the phone. From her dream. But then, it was just Frank. He scratched his ribs and bent down to an open toolbox, and scrounged within it, spotting Jayne staring at him and nodded to her, "Don't worry, I'll lock it up nice and tight for ya. Nothing will be missin' when you get back," he promised.<br><br>It was not easy to escape the apartment. The elevator was out, and the one set of stairs inside was blocked with a woman trying to get a massive dresser down the stairs. She apologized profusely, but it wasn't until Jayne took the outer stairwell, old and rusty that it was, that she made it down stairs. Jayne barely made it down stairs towards the exit when Nancy, Frank's wife, flagged her down to verify some records on her new lease. By the time she made it outside, a garbage truck blocked the exit into the main street by car or bike. It was getting ridiculous, as if the whole universe was out to prevent her from getting to Starbucks... or leaving the apartment.<br><br>Thankfully, it was only a few short blocks and she could walk there easily enough, but even that proved easier said then done. Though eventually she'd make it there, though the whole time there was a nagging, niggling feelings that she forgot something.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>14-07-2012, 18:40:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jayne nodded, watching the man curiously as he toyed around with the fuse box. She had no idea how her power could have failed like that. Had it stormed last night? The sky looked clear last night, even while the sun was setting. Locking eyes with Frank for a moment, she seemed perplexed, not quite catching what he mumbled. It was when he moved away for her to see the charred remains of her electricity. "Oh, God!" Jayne responded, her brows furrowed with concern... It wasn't... the thing from last night right? <em>No.</em> No way. <br><br>She seemed to be fixed on the electricity before he spoke, making some odd compliment about her appearance. Raising a brow, Jayne smiled shyly. "Thank you Mr. O'Sullivan, but I don't intend on keeping the necklace." She reassured him, turning into the living room to collect her laptop. Fishing out the charger and case to carry her small laptop, Frank spoke again though it was different.<br><br>Suddenly Jayne felt a jolt through her body, like she was the one being shocked. Feeling that same heat from last night, the enveloping shadows, the sinister chill that ran down her back. <em>You must learn to listen.</em> The same thing the voice told her. Jayne walked into the doorway of the kitchen. <br><br>"Mr. O'Sullivan? What are you talking about?" She demanded softly, shaking her head. He finally turned around and addressed her as if she hadn't even asked a question. Jayne had to get out of this apartment, simply put. "'Course. Goodbye for now, Mr. O'Sullivan." She nodded politely, and left the room, her face drawn tightly with concern. <br><br>By the time she got to Starbucks, Jayne's fear had changed to irritation. Not only had she found it impossible to leave the apartment, she had to take the most ridiculous path to get to Starbucks. <em>And it had begun to rain.</em> "What fresh hell is this?" A slightly damp Jayne grumbled as she entered the warmth of the coffee shop. <br><br>Five hours and two venti lattes later, Jayne had finished her reports, and therefore was allowed to go home. She leaned back into her comfortable chair, biting one of her nails nervously, a habit she broke but only reappeared when she wa truly upset. She couldn't go back yet. Maybe there were some errands she should run? Of course, it would be fine. <br><br>A few errands turned into getting some supplies for her house, some groceries, and even stopping at a nearby bar to get some drinks and food with friends from work. It was nearly sunset when Jayne was heading back to her place and, maybe some of this stemmed from the drinks, she wasn't all that scared. It was an old locket, she had some weird dreams, that was it. Not a good way to start off in your new place, but tonight would be better, right? <br><br>Climbing the dark stairs (and almost tripping once) and walking down the narrow hallway, she stopped in front of her apartment and unlocked the door, groping for the light switch. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>15-07-2012, 08:45:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Five hours. Five hours was far too long. Too long to be forgotten. Too long to be alone. Not after so long. So long without companion. Companionship. That was what Jayne needed, too. It felt it. It knew her. Knew the hollow words she had shared with the one she called Mark, and the ache of a body that had no passion.<br><br>Five hours turned into twelve, and an energy changed in the apartment. But finally, finally she was returning, and Jayne fumbled at the light switch, and found it. And turned it on. Nothing happened. Though, the apartment was not completely dark. It was only a veil of shadows. Shadows that reminded her of the night before of the figures she thought she had seen but were only car lights. Indeed, the street lamps cast a faint silvery glow across the apartment's interior.<br><br>There was another tiny source of light. A singular candle rose from the middle of her table. Beside it, a paper rested on the tabletop. The candle itself was a tall, tappering candle, unlike the cheap votive candles, boxy and short, this appeared to be hand dipped beeswax. Timeless and antique. The note beside it was scrawled in the now-familiar handwriting of Frank, and she'd see the locket sat atop it as a paper weight.<br><br><em>Jayne,<br><br>The electric needs more work that I thought. I will be back with an electrician. The rest of the apartment has power but I have to keep the breaker to your apartment off. In the meantime, I pro-rated your rent. Please dont burn candles, maybe stay at your boyfriend's place tonight. I also saw you forgot your locket. You shouldn't lose that.</em><br><br>But then then the handwriting changed. The heavy weight of a chicken-scratch penmanship relaxed and grew into a long, sweeping cursive, stylized and subtle in its beauty and refinement.<br><br><em>My treasure has been taken, and the time of your initiation has begun. I have seen the truth of your soul, in your moments of weakness. Judged by the unspoken words you whisper, Judged by the three pillars. Your flesh knows my touch. Know me, for I am your Master, and you are my puppet.</em><br><br>There was a sudden clatter, and the locket on the table jittered, and the spun like a top in a slow, spiraling circle.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>15-07-2012, 17:13:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Her arm stretched out against the wall, and she finally found the little notch of a switch. Flicking it on, nothing happened. She did it again, just to be sure. It was still dark. "Shit..." She half swore, half whined, and her eyes came to a halt on the lone candle and note. The locket sat there, too. <br><br>Dropping her bags of things she had bought, Jayne picked up the note, pushing her hair out of her face and read. Frank, lights out, yada yada yada. What really caught her attention was the elegant cursive that flowed across the bottom of the page. Definitely not Frank's. She frowned, squinting in the shadows, and began to read. By the time she was finished, Jayne was visibly shaken and her hands trembled. The sound of the turning locket was background noise to her own panicked thoughts.<br><br>Initiation? What was this, some sort of fraternity ghost she pissed off? She didn't think the frat boys made the new members call them 'Master'. That very word gave her the chills. Frank's note was right; she was calling Mark. Jayne had no idea what this 'initiation' was, but she sure as hell did not intend on staying to find out.&nbsp; <br><br>Snatching the locket off the table, she squeezed it in her hand and dialed Mark's number. He wasn't responding, and Jayne hung up and tried again, gritting her teeth. "C'mon, Mark. I know you're at work, busy as always, but I'm gonna let this bad boy ring until your head flies off. Answer." She murmured to herself, desperate for a chance to leave. <br><br>"Yeah, Jayne?" A tired voice asked. <br>"Mark, the power's out at my apartment," She tried to sound light hearted but the panic was clear in her voice. "I need somewhere to stay. Can I come over tonight?" <br>"I'm busy in the morning. Do you hafta?" He then chuckled, adding, "I never knew you were afraid of the dark." <br>"No, but I would like to take a shower, and not eat cereal out of the box, thank you." Was her testy reply, her voice held an edge. Realizing that would only agitate him, Jayne relented. "Just for tonight. Please." There was a silence. <br>"Oh, fine. But you need to be out of there by seven next morning. Got it?" <br>"Yeah, I'm getting my stuff together now. Thanks... Love you, Mark." <br>"Love you too." He replied absent-mindedly and hung up.<br><br>Jayne relaxed. A little. For some reason, she wanted to look around the apartment and say 'Bite me' or something along the lines of that, though she wasn't ready to accept that... all the things going on, had been something she didn't believe existed. Not yet. But she wouldn't have to worry tonight. <br><br>Feeling oddly guilty when she put the locket away in a drawer, she pulled out a lacy black negligee (Mark had told her, only half kidding, if she brought any of her dingy shorts or over sized t-shirts, she didn't get to sleep in bed) and matching panties, and another outfit for tomorrow- an eyelet lace white top, dark wash jeans, and&nbsp; peep toe white high heels. She also brought some things for a nice shower. Before going to the door to leave, Jayne felt compelled to look at the locket once more. What connection did it have with what was going on? And more importantly, what was in it that refused to be seen?&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>16-07-2012, 00:00:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jayne was almost to the door when she hesitated. Almost free of the madness of the apartment, but she doubled back and moved through the darkness towards her bedroom when things started to go terribly, terribly wrong. First came the thundering shudder of wood as he dresser rattled madly as though it caged a wild lion, before the antique drawer that held the locket exploded forth which such zeal that it flew from the oaken stand and skittered across the floor, crashing and tumbling and spilling its contents out across the floor. The locket rolled free in the final few moments and spilled out of the door of her bedroom and sat there, coming to a halt inches from her feet.<br><br>Another startle as her cellphone went off at her hip before she could even have time to react to the locket, almost seeming to stare up at her. It was Mark. Or so the caller ID suggested. But when she answered the phone there was a a perfectly clear sound of silence, and then the voice. It spoke as if it was in that very same room with her. One could almost imagine the seductively crafted lips that molded the words, and feel their warm breath sliding against their ear as it spoke softly into it. It wasn't that much further of a stretch to envision hands. Strong, guiding, experienced hands sliding along her curves, promising to open a world to her.<br><br>"I want to know why you are afraid of me," it said softly, easing, coaxingly. The voice promised compassion, empathy, and safety. And yet, she knew not to trust it. Though knowing and feeling were two completely different things.<br><br>"Or perhaps you are afraid of what you may feel... and not me?" Rich, rumbling voice mused quizzically, as though he could see her standing in her bedroom doorway. "You are afraid of feeling, Jayne. Afraid of the truth. What has made you be so timid, Jayne?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>18-07-2012, 19:26:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jayne recoiled, taking a few steps back, icy eyes fixated on the rattling door. She shrieked, a shrill frightened yelp, and jumped as the locket came crashing out on the floor, reflecting in the dim light from the window. She gave a shaky exhale, followed by soft, unconnected breaths. When her phone went off, Jayne found it hard to move. Resting her hand at her hip, she took a few more desperate pants. Mark. Why was he calling her back? She didn't know what she could do if he decided not to let her stay over...<br><br>This wasn't Mark. Waiting in the utter silence, Jayne opened her mouth to speak when the voice piped up. It was soothing, almost sympathetic. Her tense posture began to mold into something more comfortable, and she found her voice. Why she was afraid? Where should she start, the haunted apartment or the omnipresent locket? Side stepping his question, Jayne cleared her throat. "Leave me alone, that's all I want." She replied in what she hoped was a commanding voice, giving a paranoid look around the room. It had touched her before, where was it now? In her room? Back pedaling into the hallway, she listened to him speak, as though mulling over the possibilities. The fear of intimacy. That hit a nerve. Jayne's palms began to sweat. <br><br>"You don't know me. You know as much about me as I you." She retorted haughtily, then bent down to pick up the locket, looking around as if she might see him. "Is this yours? If it is, just take it and go away. I won't be here much longer, I was just getting my things." Feeling a bit foolish, she lifted her bag of supplies to go over Mark's defiantly, raising a brow. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>18-07-2012, 23:50:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oh, but you are mistaken, Jayne," the voice admonished. A reprimanding cluck of his tongue. The quavering in her voice, the raggedness in her breath, what was happening to her was obvious to the voice on the other end of the line.<br><br>"If that is what you think," it spoke slowly, calculatingly, "Then let me tell you what I think."<br><br>"I think you are making assumptions about me, Jayne Addams. You assume I am some nuisance, a petty pervert that snoops through widows' houses and amuses himself with their silly pedantic ways," The voice was growing colder, rising in volume from the husky whisper it held before. She could almost feel the angry heat of breath lancing out across her neck, teasing the tiny hairs along her nape of her neck.<br><br>"What I think is that you should be more hospitable and polite," the voice lowered, dropping back into a refined, persuasive purr. "I think you should be flattered that of all the women in the world, I have come calling to you. No -- not flattered. I think you should be titillated. I think it should start at those hard nipples, so sorely in need of a little touch, and go all the way down your spine like a bolt of lightening, to light that fire that's been dormant for far, far too long, Jayne," he spoke with a svelte, charming seductiveness, her name spoken with the fondness of an intimate lover.<br><br>"I think you use Mark as an excuse to not feel what I've just described. I think you chose to pretend to love an emotionally unavailable man so there is no risk. No chance of failure. I think you prefer that than anything real. I think Mark Welsh doesn't give a fuck about you, Jayne. I think Mark Welsh is making love to Jennifer Thane from his office right now, before he kicks her out before you get there. I think you would still smell the sex in the air but pretend it was your imagination with you arrive," the voice continued. Unrelenting. Unsympathetic. Completely, brutally honest.<br><br>"I think you are a scared little girl in a woman's body, and you don't know what to do with you. You don't know what's expected of you. I think you aren't going to leave, because I'm not going to let you. I think you should open your bag and put on the black negligee you packed because Mark doesn't deserve you, and you deserve so, <em>so </em>much more," it promised.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>06-08-2012, 08:24:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The voice was unrelenting in it's cool detachment. Feeling like prey being hunted by predator, Jayne was becoming increasingly defensive and brash. He wanted to share his thoughts on the matter? About time, she thought. Jayne gave a small huff of defiance, her hand resting on her hip. "By all means, enlighten me." She cooed in a sarcastic tone.<br><br>His slowly building anger shocked her. The young woman bit her pretty, delicate bottom lip, waiting for another physical outburst- the window flinging open, doors being shoved out of their place, anything. She felt nearly grateful when nothing happened. To be watched, haunted... She'd be nothing but a liar if she said it wasn't scary. Terrifying was a better word. But it was safe, at least. To have this thing with her and able to control her surroundings, she didn't want to think about it. <br><br>Though it appeared this voice was not satisfied as a spectator. Jayne's breath caught in her throat and a strangled gasp transmitted over the phone. His words had a strange effect on her, even as he accused Mark of cheating. It was a possibility- a strong possibility, maybe- that she couldn't face. Mark loved her... Right? Why shouldn't he? Jayne felt tears sting her eyes before rubbing her eyes roughly, ashamed. <br><br>She was disgusted by his arrogant forwardness. She was afraid of the things he promised, afraid of vulnerability. She wanted to scream, throw the phone down and call the police. But he had also aroused a curiosity in her now, no matter how reluctantly she wished to explore it, it was there.<br><br>He promised Jayne she couldn't leave and for some reason, a part of her believed him. Maybe he was right. Maybe trying the door would be fruitless, and she would really be trapped. Trapped, but not <em>alone</em>. <br><br>Struggling to regain her composure, Jayne steadied herself, lifting her chin up the slightest. Ignoring her intuition, clinging to faint hope; she had to at least try to get out.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Sighing irritably, the waify woman strode out into the living room. Her duffle came down beside her on the floor with a gentle thump. She faced the door to get outside, her heart pounding. "You can't stop me." She disagreed softly, her eyes drifting over the apartment, waiting for some sort of protest. Nothing.<br><br>"So, you know everything about me, do you? My life, my boyfriend. My fears." She continued, speaking . "And I'm supposed to prefer your company above his, too." This made her laugh darkly, and the woman ran her hand through her hair. An anticipation stirred inside her, and her raspy voice grew somewhat breathy.&nbsp; <br><br>"That's not an easy thing to do, especially when all I get are obscure phone calls. However, you gave me something else too, didn't you?" Jayne demanded, opening her fist to reveal the locket. She had taken it off the floor when it had fallen, clutching it possessively in her hand all this time. Now she gazed down at it with her grey-blue eyes, fingering the cool metal. Another moment passed before the woman abruptly knelt to place the locket on the coffee table, scooped up her duffle bag, and headed straight for the door. Her hand fumbled as she undid the bolt and used as much force as she could muster up to open the door. She just needed to leave this room. That fucking door was all that kept her from the safety of Mark's. <br><br>It was stuck shut. Like she hadn't bothered to unlock it in the first place. Jayne was hit with an unbearable sense of dread, and her narrow shoulders trembled with panic. <br><br>Instead of speaking into the phone, Jayne threw the bolt in place once more, jerked it out and tugged again. The door refused to budge. How could this be happening? She resumed locking, unlocking, and pulling on the door again and when it didn't move a desperate, frustrated groan escaped her lips. Her hands jerked away from the door to cover her eyes, breathing harshly. It took her a minute to lower her hands but when she managed she was still facing the door. She didn't want to turn around. <br><br>The phone was still by her ear, supported by her shoulder and resting against her face. Jayne cradled it in her hand once more, taking a slow, steady breath. "Please let me leave." She whispered, issuing a plea, but one delivered so vacantly it was clear the woman was bereft with exasperation. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Umbral Sanguinus</strong> on <strong>09-08-2012, 01:21:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I gave you nothing," the voice replied. It was eerily quiet and distant. Almost small. Hurt. Angry. The locket had been set aside. She was not worth the gifts he could over. And then the voice grew. The voice swelled and seemed to fill the room. She could hear it no matter how close or far the phone was from her ear.<br><br>"I can give you <em>anything</em>," it added. The void of the room seemed to be filled with a presence. She clutched the phone and huddled near the door as the air behind her seemed to subsumed into the words that spoke to her now. "But I see perhaps you aren't ready," it said with a heavy sadness. A voice of regret, and disappointment. Disappointment in her, most of all. The disappointment of unmet goals, of daring hopes, of abject and utter failure. Jayne was a failure. That is what it told her. How it made her feel. The cold, clammy darkness of her living room that shrunk around her like an oppressive, stifling coffin...<br><br>"I do not enjoy being disappointed, Jayne. In fact, I go out of my way to make sure I am not. And yet, here we are. What does that tell you, Jayne?" There was a pause, listening for her response, or the response of her body. The coldness of the room was worse than a shoulder turned away. Shunned.<br><br>"Perhaps you need to reflect on yourself. Stop listening to your doubts and listen to your gut. Try to sleep, pleasure yourself, do whatever you can to forget... and tomorrow, do not be so worried about what other people think about you. You're never going to get Mark's love or your parent's approval," the voice continued in its under-the-breath crooning, "Do not waste your time on them," he said, and the phone went silent.<br><br>The door was cracked open.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Corrupted. (Lingo and Umbral) </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lingo</strong> on <strong>18-08-2012, 05:11:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was insulted. No, it was insulting her. Had she gone too far? For once, Jayne felt unsure. It was a rare, vulnerable feeling, one she did not particularly enjoy. And the voice knew it, didn’t it? Preying on her worries, the fear of failure. It was too much to bear, and she didn’t have any smart comeback to say. Instead, she chewed on her bottom lip regretfully. “I don’t know.” She admitted softly, feebly. The line went dead all too soon, though Jayne had no idea of how to respond. <br><br>Mercifully, the door cracked open. Though Mark’s place didn’t sound like a sanctuary anymore it was… Still comfortable. Familiar at least. She could not stay tonight, even though she wanted to prove the voice wrong. It had no reason to be disappointed with her.&nbsp; Jayne stood still for a moment before reluctantly picking up her duffel. Mark would be upset if she was late. The woman retrieved the locket and clasped it around her neck as some sort of apologetic gesture.<br><br><br><br>Mark was in no mood to have sex, unsurprisingly. Not even bothering to feign her usual disappointment, Jayne had climbed into bed without a word. The thought of Jennifer Thane, that little seed of doubt, had killed the little sex drive she might’ve had. Which really couldn’t bother her that much, as Jayne had never been a sexual woman- never able to fully lose herself in the act… Maybe that’s why he- <br><br>“Something wrong.” He asked half-heartedly, as it was hardly spoken as a question. She was wrenched out of her thoughts, and the two laid shoulder to shoulder, eyes glued to the ceiling, completely unattached. Jayne wasn’t sure to be touched or not. <br><br>“My apartment I… I don’t know. It feels like I just have no control…” She murmured back groggily, not needing to explain to Mark what was going on and having him kick her out for going mad. For all Mark knew, she was just overreacting over lost electricity.<br>&nbsp;<br>He merely chuckled at that, “If it’s about the power, or whatever’s wrong in that old building, you need to relax already. Can’t expect that stuff to get fixed overnight, can you?” She heard his hand go through his hair. Mark was never a sympathetic listener, even when they were happy. The blonde shuffled in her spot, holding back the urge to turn to him and shake his shoulders. I’m not overreacting. I’m not being the control freak you think I am. I am scared. I am scared, confused, and you are supposed to comfort me. Mark, you’re supposed to save me. <br><br>“No, I suppose I can’t." She sniffed defensively. "But I just wish I could do something about it. I just wish I had some control over my space.” She couldn’t keep the frustration out of her voice and Mark looked at her quizzically. The man propped himself up on his elbows. “You sure you’re just freaking out over some lost power?” He retorted abrasively, and Jayne flinched. She had gone too far. “I told you that place was shitty. Don’t know why you bought it if you’re already complaining.” The woman could tell he was getting irritated. <br><br>“No, no… You’re right. I just like to worry too much, huh?” Jayne cooed softly, her hand brushing his shoulder. The man snorted in response, smirking knowingly. “Jayne, honey. You know what it’s like being in an office, all day, with a million of dumbshits who refuse to do their job correctly? You wouldn’t with that cushy psychology job of yours, I suppose. But, if you did work in a job like I do, then you would <em>really</em> know what it’s like to feel like you have no control.” He lectured her like this, because no matter how aloof he became, Jayne was always underneath him, needing his guidance. Her feelings were of no consequence. <br><br>“So, I suggest you get your pretty little head over it. Just trust things to work out, huh? Nothing you can do about it.” Mark turned his back to her, and Jayne was struck with a feeling of déjà vu. Just what the voice said. <em>Do whatever you can to forget... and tomorrow, do not be so worried about what other people think about you….</em><br><br>Jayne left earlier than she was ‘instructed’ to the next morning, leaving Mark in bed. In a fresh change of clothes and showered, she made a brisk walk back to her apartment, her hair still damp in the cold air. <br><br>Eagerly climbing the stairs of the dark apartment, a groggy Frank intercepted her, carrying a mug of coffee. <br><br>“Morning Miss Addams. Damn power’s still down in your apartment. I was just going up to fix it and I uh-“ <br><br>“Don’t worry Mr. O’Sullivan. I’m sure it’ll come up soon.” Jayne toned sweetly, smiling courteously and attempting to pass him on the stairs. <br><br>“Now Jayne, I don’t you toyin’ with that circuit. It’s shot, are ya sure don’t want me to go fix it?” <br>“Really Mr. O’Sullivan, I thank you but I believe I have it under control.” She patted his shoulder and left the man on the staircase without another word. <br><br>Unlocking her door and entering in a rush, she dropped the duffel bag promptly and sat on her couch. The locket hung heavily on her chest, buried in her blouse. Her hand was in her phone, as it was the only means of communication she had had with the voice so far. Looking around, the apartment was still. But not empty. She had to try a new approach to this entity. <br><br>“I’d like… I’d like you to turn on my power again, please.” She asked politely, though her raspy voice filled the quiet void of the apartment. It was her way of acknowledging the voice. Recognizing it’s power, it’s mere existence. It wouldn’t shun her like it did the night before, right?&nbsp; &nbsp;<br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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