you can run but you can't escape

[singmod]

THE DARKWALKER COMES

The Darkwalker strikes again. This time, it does not come for one Interloper — but four.

WHEN: March 2nd.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: death of playable character; supernatural death; mention of dead body; themes of death; supernatural beings; themes of terror; themes of peril.

YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN'T ESCAPE

The sun sets on another day in the Northern Territories. The night is calm but cold, scant clouds drifting low in the skies promising snowfall soon. A waning moon sits in the skies amongst its sea of stars, and those looking up may notice it — slowly, one by one, the stars begin to go out.

Then the moon's light is swallowed whole, and a blanket of green gloom descends upon the town of Milton. One more, the sky is dark and green and terrible. Many of those will recognise it, what this means and what will come. Others will not understand it, not know what it is that awaits them all.

They will soon find out: the Darkwalker comes.

Fear washes over you like a cold wave, a vice-tight grip that squeezes the breath from you. Interlopers will find themselves over-come, and everything in their bodies and minds tells them to run. To flee. And so you run, heading for cover indoors. Curtains will be drawn, some may hide under beds, within closets or wardrobes. Some desperate attempt to conceal themselves, make themselves small, unseen. Some Interlopers, in that fear, may rush to friends or loved ones to hide with them, others may simply cowered alone — crawling and whimpering away from the night. The fear is irrational, unable to be overcome — even by the bravest or most stoic of Interlopers.

The Darkwalker howls: indescribable, unnatural, demonic. Low moans and groans. It comes from the east, the faint booms of footsteps in the distance growing ever nearer. It is coming, once more. It's coming for one of you. And still, you are powerless, unable to do anything. And it is an agony, awaiting its arrival. You cry, you whimper, you cower. Curling up for some shred of comfort, and finding none.

The footsteps draw closer and closer, and you feel like the ground itself may be threatening splitting open beneath you. It isn't you that it hunts, but you notice its path — a straight line from the east towards Milton Church. It seems to go on forever, building into a crescendo. Your heart beats so hard you fear it may burst from your chest, as if you might die of fright.

There is an almighty sound; the Darkwalker devours and suddenly the sky is alight: streaks of pale colour shoot across the gloomy green — almost blinding for one long moment. A woman's scream fills the air and then snaps into silence.

The skies return to normal, the green is gone, the fear melts away from you. It is done.

There is no body in the street. Interlopers venturing out will need to go looking for whoever it is that's fallen victim to the Devourer. The answer will be found within Milton Church.

Towards the altar, peppered amongst faint glimmers of intangible green that will fade by morning, lie the twisted and mangled bodies of Nicholas Wolfwood, Millions Knives and both iterations of Vash the Stampede. There's no blood, no physical wounds — simply the contorted bodies that lie dropped like ragdolls. Each of their faces stare with wide eyes, frozen in horror — just as La'an Noonien-Singh was.

The Darkwalker has devoured more. There is a story, told by Methuselah: It is said that the Darkwalker will awake from its slumber and swallow the world whole. One head will swallow the stars and moon and sun. Another will swallow the seas and lakes and rivers. The third will swallow the land, and every living thing upon it — and only then will the Darkwalker be satisfied and return to sleep once more.

It feels as if the Darkwalker is making good on its story: one by one, it will devour you all whole. And now the Interlopers of Milton must grapple with more death.

FAQs

1. Essentially, a 'party post' for reactions to the Darkwalker's attack, the immediate aftermath, and any funerary preparations. Have... fun???

2. Information on the Darkwalker's attack can be found here.

3. An OOC Rundown for the original Darkwalker's attack, which includes some FAQs can be found here.

4. Notes about the characters:

Wolfwood: He doesn't leave any messages behind. Folks are welcome to go through his house, which is the cabin by the pond -- there's nothing in there of his, and the only changes he made to the house was pulling a twin bed over in front of the fireplace. The wall of the cabin is also scorched from inside, from where his Lightbringer power erupted at one point.

Vash The Stampede (Trigun Stampede): He really didn't have much belongings or anything in particular of note, so it is a free for all situation in terms of possessions.

Vash The Stampede (Trigun Maximum): He'll be leaving behind his meager belongings. all of it can be found on either his person or in the church's living quarters which is also decently stocked with foraged foods. alas he's prepared no messages because he is absolutely atrocious at saying goodbyes.

Millions Knives: He'll leave behind sharpened hunting and skinning knives (hah), some fishing equipment, and scattered feathers around the church.

Comments

[flambeaux]

Locked together in sin—constant, inconstant—and they promised no secrets, no lies. An impossible promise to keep.

The warmth of Lestat’s hand cradles his own. Louis looks down at it with soft eyes, always so melancholy. Louis imagines it turning to char and ash—and then Lestat suggests getting up to ridiculous mischieffit for naughty schoolboys. It's stupid, it's—

Louis huffs a little laugh in surprise and shakes his head, trying and failing to twist his mouth into something disapproving.

"Ain’t the worst thing we ever done in a church, but it’s probably been looted anyway."

It’s not entirely pessimism. Louis doesn’t need any ash-tasting wine to drink something toxic. The worst thing they did in a church was blood and murder, including his own. Louis draws Lestat close by his jacket, breath to breath.

"I..." How does he explain their difficult love, how he can't live with him and can't live without him? He doesn't. He puts it into his kiss instead, plaintive, hesitant, and hungry all at once.

cw: mention of person in vegetative state

[sputnik]

[ Konstantin watches him, then gives a small nod, thoughtful, folding his arms over his chest. He's quiet for a short while, chewing on some thoughts. Finally— ]

I was in the military, too. Older than you, of course. But I think the worst thing I've ever seen done to a man came after.

[ He sucks on the inside of a cheek, something in his eyes wavering. He doesn't like talking about it, but there's something in him that feels like he should open up to this boy. He doesn't know why, if it would.. help in any way possible, but.... ]

It was after I became a cosmonaut. After the crash. My co-pilot, he.... survived it. They told the public he died, but really they kept him alive, hooked to machines. A vegetable.

There's so much that can happen to someone... so many ways to die. [ His eyes slowly look to the dead bodies, those four men, frozen in fear. They must have died horrible deaths, but at least they died. They aren't suffering anymore. ]

...But the thought of being forced to stay alive, is what frightens me the most.

[solitarysoul]

[He frowns. They could keep people alive like that? Maybe that explained some of the things in Stitches' bunker, but those all eventually had a sort of life. Enough to move around and attack, at least.
It seems like a waste of resources, though. If his army didn't bother to give them the food or gear they needed, they'd never spend the resources to keep someone alive. Stitches and Needles, though...those things might have been technically alive but they were far from people then.]

But why would they do that?

[Was Konstantin's military doing experiments with people as well?]

[bigbaddy]

[ When the other looks over at Bigby, he'll be able to see them nod in regards to the angel question. Truth to be told, Bigby never did get to ask what exactly Vash was. It was just obvious that he wasn't human, and he seemed too uncomfortable with it to say anything more than that about it, and Bigby respected that. It wasn't like Vash was going to hurt anyone, just because of what he was.

.. though his thoughts can't help but linger on that for a moment, even in the middle of the ache he feels in his chest when he thinks of Vash now.

Vash didn't want anyone to know what he was. He seemed so ashamed. It makes Bigby think of an encounter a while ago, in the forest. The blood Konstantin was throwing up. The things he said afterwards. They'd put you in a laboratory. Do tests, study you.

It's an inkling Bigby has had in his mind since that day. The thought that it's likely Konstantin's condition wasn't just medical. Not in the plain old human sense, anyway. He hadn't wanted to confront the other about it back there, given how vulnerable Konstantin had been, and given the chance the other lashing out, but..

After being quiet for a moment, Bigby turns his head to look in the other man's direction. ]

He didn't want people to know he wasn't human. [ He says, slowly. His gruff tone thankfully mostly masks the thought that he might means a little bit more with his words.

But he does. He's saying them to Konstantin specifically, and for a reason. ]

He was terrified what it'd make people think of him. Of what would happen to him, if people knew. He didn't even want to tell me, even though he knew I wasn't some regular human either.

[flanerie]

"Alas," Lestat says, with a stroke of genuine sympathy befalling his tone - he knows how unfortunate it is to be so diminished, even if he will not be as forthcoming with his understanding as Ruby is with hers. Far more palpable to be a hunter of monsters than a monster oneself.

"...may I ask, what is a 'laser'?" But sympathy flickers easily into curiosity as he studies Ruby's peculiarly luminous eyes, which until now he thought only a strikingly unusual feature. He doesn't know what it is he ought to be imagining shooting out of them to lay waste to her enemies.

no worries! happy to keep it going if you want

[lanfeared]

"In a manner of speaking."

Death isn't quite the same, exactly, as where she'd been — entombed, sealed away for hundreds of years, experiencing a dreamless sleep but fully aware of all that time passing by just out of her reach. No wonder, then, by the time she'd been resurrected, she'd had her sights keenly set on securing power for herself in whatever form she could.

But she merely watches him calmly, as he nears her, lifting her chin to keep him in her line of sight, until he's close enough for her to reach out and touch if she so chooses. She doesn't, but she can feel the tension of perception crackling in the air, in the spaces between what they say and what they don't.

"Suppose I'm very good at that," she murmurs. "And, along those lines, sensing that we could be... of use to each other."

[guidemyway]

"Yeah. It's- Still something I was kind of getting the hang of using myself. But I think that almost makes it a bit more weird to have it gone." There were other people that had defined Ruby by what she could do with them. But it was still very new to her.

She can't help but grin a little at the question. It was always interesting to see what some people knew or didn't know around here. "Oh- A laser is kind of like a light. It's just really intense or bright. And concentrated in a certain area sometimes. When the monsters got caught in mine back at home it would either blind, stun, turn them to stone, or straight up turn them to dust."

[powersuited]

You think they're two different people.

[ She doesn't voice it like a question, but a statement — because of course, being here longer than she has, Bigby would have already come up with his own theory about what's really going on. Even in the midst of so much that's uncertain, so much she feels like she doesn't understand, having Bigby here, standing in front of her, with a firm idea of where they should start looking for answers, lends a bit of comfort all on its own.

Her gaze briefly strays to the movement of his forearms as he folds them over his front, the dark hair that covers them, a reminder of the wolf within, the beast that's still a part of him even though he's been denied the ability to fully transform. For a moment, she wishes she hadn't let go of his hand. ]

And Methuselah... he's as in the dark about why we've all been brought here as everyone else is?

[flanerie]

In spite of all of Lestat's presumptuous arrogance, there is a slant of soft surprise to his mouth before Louis covers it with his own. He kisses him like he might be able to chase the elusive taste of Louis' laughter, that melody as sweet as his maudlin sighs are bitter.

He could suggest other worst things they could do in a church. The door has a lock, and they have practice being quiet as church-mice themselves. But something of the moment forestalls him. The bruised tenderness, the risk. The delicate elation of being reached for first, as though he is balm and not poison, or so it feels.

Lestat slips an arm around Louis' waist and anchors him to his chest, willing his heartbeat to bleed through the insulation of his coat. He slows the kiss, deepens it, drawing it out like a dream of a long summer night.

He has rarely been so happy at a wake. He was right about snow.

[flambeaux]

Louis would not describe Lestat as soft, warm, and pliant, but he has his moments, often looking like the love he so cloyingly binds catches him by surprise too. The young man Lestat was peers through the curtain from a century ago. As Lestat presses them together, Louis makes a small urgent sigh against his mouth. His hand finds his pulse under his scarf, made so dim by their muffled senses. His drum beats faster.

The moth burns himself on the flame but reaches for it again and again. It's not joy precisely, but a perverse relief at not being slain and discarded like broken marionettes in the next room. Louis is alive enough to taste Lestat between every breath, and he seeks the reminder like the faithful seek their communion. He who opened Lestat's throat with a knife opens his mouth to receive him.

Louis, usually so fastidious, murmurs into Lestat's mouth, "I can't even remember if I locked the door..."

His intent had been to discuss vampire business in private, but kissing a man is also business he'd like to keep private. Bashfulness doesn't enter into it, but fear of being discovered and hunted does.

cw: imagined murder

[flanerie]

Lestat is almost certain Louis did not lock the door. Perhaps, without his own knowing, he neglected that security precisely so he would not be tempted to indulge himself in this.

There is the opportunity to make another idly playful threat in demonstration of his devotion to stave off Louis' anxieties. Parting heads from bodies is beyond him now without the use of a good, sharp edge, but he could always shoot or strangle, or even put his still-wicked teeth to use. But then there would be yet more fussing over unnecessary bloodshed, and he's in too pleasant a mood to spoil it.

He nips lightly at the fullness of Louis' lower lip, employing only the bluntness of human dentation, and laves his tongue over the sting in apology. Louis' fingers find Lestat's throat pressing into them, Adam's apple bobbing in a swallow of anticipation.

"Would you like the door to be locked, Louis?" He murmurs, with a smile. "If it's privacy you want..."

He steers Louis as if in a private ballroom, backing him towards the door with another firm, speech-stealing kiss. It won't keep Louis from talking if his heart is set on it, since it never does, but it is always fun to try.

[flanerie]

Well. Perhaps it's not such a tragedy that Ruby has been deprived of her gifts after all.

Lestat is too practised a liar to let his momentary apprehension - which is all he will call it to himself, since it is an irrelevant concern for the time being - show. His expression remains defined by warm interest, eyebrows quirking upwards in appropriate wonder at her marvellous, not even slightly concerning talent.

"All of that, as simply as casting your gaze upon your foes? You are a formidable one."

[bigbaddy]

[ He has to inhale for a moment as he thinks about that one. ]

It seems so. Can't tell for sure, obviously. [ Especially when Bigby has encountered so many people with something to hide in his line of work. It makes it pretty hard to not think about what other people could be hiding as well - especially people that aren't part of their group, that didn't get pulled into this place the way they did. ]

But so far he's seemed nothing but good. He brings way more food over than we've got here in town whenever the new people show up, and he has answered some of people's questions about this place. Even if he doesn't know how we ended up here, he at least knows some stuff about the lay of the land and all.

[ Which could just be to try and pacify them, sure, but-- Bigby's mind always gets stuck on the food whenever he considers that. It's an awful lot of effort to do every single time, when Bigby is pretty sure the goodwill towards the guy would have lingered even if he had only done it once or twice. ]

[guidemyway]

Vampires didn't have souls, right? Pretty sure that meant he might be on the list for people she could zap with them if they worked.

Either way she's happy to shrug and roll with it. He hadn't done anything particularly suspicious to her outside of some weird looks. No reason to look into this, right?

She gives a shrug. "I mean- I personally think the scythe and rifle are a bit more scary. But I've done some neat things with the eyes before. So yeah. I guess I am."

[flanerie]

Lestat wonders if it might be some sort of curse, that young women of a certain age and confidence seem doomed to recall to him an unholy terror. Ruby, charming and amenable, is nothing like the hellion in question.

But perhaps, once upon a time, before it soured and curdled, there was a streak of this same fearless assurance of her own terrifying might.

"They are certainly more...visceral," he agrees, tipping his head in acknowledgement. "If I were a monster, I'd shudder to think you had caught my scent, one way or another."

[powersuited]

Unless that kindness is a cover for something else. I'm assuming the idea has occurred to you too.

[ Besides, how many Fables have something of a reputation for presenting themselves as friendly at first glance, only to reveal much more sinister intentions underneath that well-meaning facade? Some of the most famous stories that they feature in contain villains who disguise themselves as heroes, evil queens who pretend to be kind-hearted. Snow herself knows the terrible truth that can hide in plain sight almost more than anyone, considering her past.

But she doesn't want to accuse Methuselah of having bad intentions without anything to point to as proof, and she doesn't want her own history to influence any preconceived notions, either. It's more telling, at least, that she's relying on Bigby's assessment to inform her next steps here, but if anyone has a strong sense of being able to sniff out the truth, it's the wolf standing in front of her now. ]

I don't know. I'm just... so tired. [ She chuckles hollowly, briefly reaching up to sweep a few strands of dark hair back from her forehead. ] Remember when we thought the most we'd have to deal with was trying to get Fabletown back on track, after everything?

[bigbaddy]

[ Honestly, he can't say she's necessarily wrong. It's the entire problem with this place. It's so hard to know anything for sure. At least back home he had some information to rely on - both from his senses and just the fact that they knew the community better, that they knew better what they were dealing with. But here? They don't have either of those things.

Methuselah could have nefarious intentions. He could also be well-meaning. Even though Bigby leans a little more towards the latter, he will easily admit it's hard, if not impossible to tell for sure.

Maybe it's why he doesn't say anything more about it right now. He can see how tired Snow is feeling, and though Bigby doesn't get physically as easily tired anymore in this place ever since the recent Aurora, he does feel mentally tired. He's not sure he wants to immediately know which community member they lost.

.. so he just lets out a slight affirmative hum to the last thing she says, then sighs. ]

Do you want to try and sleep some more? [ The Darkwalker did kind of interrupt their nightly rest, on top of it all.. ] If you feel like you might not be able to, I-- um.

[ G-Give him a second. He rubs the back of his neck, stammering a little more than the usual. ]

I could stay here, if that would-- if it'd help.

[ Not to lean into guard dog stereotypes, but.. well. You know. Bigby is just kind of like one big guard dog. He's not sure if his presence would make her feel safer after all of this, but he does know he would feel better if he could watch over her in the wake of that. Bigby is still feeling pretty shaky too. ]

There's a chair, I'd be fine.

[moralabsolutism]

[Rorschach gave an audible sigh. There really was no guarding his thoughts at the moment, not when his emotional state was kicked into overdrive. He might as well have been saying what he thought out loud for all that he was able to hide them from the Communist at the moment.

Since he wasn't getting around broadcasting his thoughts anytime soon, he might as well just project what he was thinking with more purpose as it stood.

Rorschach knew all about how death could be a mercy for some people and a punishment for others. From what he was witnessing here, he sure as hell didn't think that whatever was doing this was interested in being merciful in any sense of the word. He aimed his words at Konstantin, the thoughts much more coherent and sentences less choppy than the ones he usually spoke out loud.]

If that's what you want, I can offer it to you quicker than whatever this thing is willing to do. And with less pain.

[powersuited]

[ What's becoming steadily clearer to Snow is that this isn't home — not just because there's less here that's familiar than anything she otherwise knew, but because the rules are different. Beyond that, she doesn't necessarily know who she can trust here yet — at least, apart from the person she's known the longest, but maybe that goes without saying. ]

I don't know that I could — [ She starts to protest before he can finish his words, only to fall silent when he offers to essentially stay here and watch over her so she can get some needed shuteye.

It's a suggestion that she can't immediately dismiss, not when she knows part of the reason she feels less capable of dealing with all of this is because it's the middle of the night and it was the Darkwalker responsible for pulling her out of sleep in the first place. Even now, she's still trying to shake those lingering feelings of dread, of fear, and the thought of having to lay back down and try to quiet her mind again is something she doesn't want to navigate alone. ]

... okay.

[ Although her first instinct is to protest him sitting in the chair, rather than making himself more comfortable, deep down she knows he'll insist. So instead of fighting him on that point, she pauses, looking to him, her gaze saying a myriad of things that don't actually make it out before she starts moving back towards her cot, the frame creaking as she settles down onto it and then draws the covers back to tuck her legs underneath. ] Thank you.

[sputnik]

To study him, I think. [ Konstantin gives a long sigh, running his hand back through his hair. ]

On our mission, we.... encountered something. Something never before discovered — alien. They're probably running tests to see if he was affected at all by it.

....And also to hide the truth of the crash from the public. It wouldn't look good if an esteemed space mission ended in such tragedy. I know they lied about me, too. Told the public I was recovering in a medical facility, when really they were keeping me hostage. They even doctored film and photographs.

[ A wry hint of a smile. Such things aren't so unexpected in the USSR, but... he'd never imagined it could happen to him. ]

[sputnik]

[ Konstantin pauses at the words, eyes slowly moving from the feather and back over to the other man. He's well-adapted at controlling his expressions, his emotions; to be what he is, a person must be — and yet he can't suppress a certain surprise.

It does sound almost... specifically for him, though he's not necessarily assuming the other man is doing that intentionally. It's more that he feels the weight of the words, things that strike him particularly hard, relevant to his own situation. He's never heard someone say such a thing aloud before, and he's staring in silence.

That's part of it, isn't it. A huge part. He's afraid. Sometimes it's easy to pretend that he isn't, to fall back into the person he was before — strong, capable, unafraid. Commander Veshnyakov. In comparison to how most people would handle suddenly becoming infected with something so.... grotesque, he'd even been able to deal with it almost abnormally well.

...But that was just because he had a goal, which was escape and then to rescue his son, and he was able to fixate on that hard enough that his own upsets didn't matter. He could ignore the constant awareness of this disgusting thing inside of him, play the part needed for the scientists; he could do anything if it meant getting to Aleksei.

But he hates it. Hates what's inside of him, hates what he's become. He's fucking terrified of what might happen to him. And he's terrified to be looked at like some kind of monster. He's supposed to be good. A Hero.

All of this to say that Bigby's words have him pausing for a beat that stretches on maybe a little too long, surprised, taken aback. Then he's blinking, clearing his throat as he looks back down to the feather, taking his eyes away from the other man's. ]

It must have helped him, though. Ultimately. Telling you about it. [ Again, hypothetically, let's say Bigby really is a werewolf, and Vash really was some sort of supernatural being— ]

It meant he wasn't alone in that. I'm sure that he was glad to have you.

[solitarysoul]

Oh. They wanted to see how it affected him? And you too, I guess.

[He's not sure why the guy needed to be alive for that. Unless they were harvesting something from him...? That's kind of a terrible thought so he pushes it away.]

I don't really know how you'd change film. It'd just be easier to hide it all I think.

[sputnik]

Someone who lives in space? Somewhere beyond Earth? That certainly grasps Konstantin's attention, something reflected in the subtle movement of his body to turn, facing his companion that bit more.

In his own time, alien lifeforms are.... undiscovered. The thing that had gotten into his shuttle and then into his skin is completely unknown, a first. But he's bumped into people here and there from various points in time, and it's certainly feasible that in the future.... such things would be further discovered.

What if someone's found what's inside of him now? What if they've found a way to remove it? He's careful, though, to keep his interest curious and not desperate, controlling the lids of his eyes and the muscles of his face, lets himself brighten like the person of his youth who was so excited to explore the stars. He ignores the way his heart pounds a little with adrenaline. What if.

"He must be from the future. Did he describe what kind of life it was, if not little green spacemen? Something... animal-like? Or maybe humanoid?"

Or maybe neither of those things, like the soft wet larval thing inside of him. It's capable of changing though, rearranging itself, growing limbs and eyes and teeth like some amalgamation of creatures. There's no way to describe it except nightmare.

He meets the other's eyes and lets Louis hold his own, offering a small smile afterwards. Not humoured, but thoughtful, and a little sad.

"Justice is a scary word. I'm not sure I trust anyone who claims to value it quite so much. Seems like if that's the case, a person would do whatever it took to have something to punish."

that's a wrap on this one! <3

[bigbaddy]

[ Some tension seems to seep out of his shoulders the moment he realises she's agreeing to this idea. Not that he was ready to fight with her over it - if Snow didn't want it to go this way, then Bigby would just let that be considering the situation - but it's just that he feels a little less worried about her when he knows he can be right here with her for now. That if anything else happens, they'll be in it together.

Maybe deep down there's a bit of guilt that he isn't immediately getting involved with the post-Darkwalker investigation, but.. maybe he wants to be selfish for once. Maybe he wants to choose the one person that matters more to him than anyone over the town for now.

So when she moves to lie back down and thanks him, he just replies with: ]

No problem, Snow.

[ Anything for you, he doesn't say.

Instead the man moves over to the chair he spotted, sitting down there. Considering the time and the way the sun is already out so little here these days, it's still dark in the room, but Bigby still sits there quietly and surveys the room, watching the door to make sure no one gets in. .. and looking at Snow in the bed too, sometimes.

He'll stay there for as long as she needs. ]

dropping one more in to close us out!

[powersuited]

[ Snow's gaze tracks him wordlessly, silently, as he makes his way across the room — it's not a very large space at all, so there's less distance for him to clear, and even as he settles himself into the chair with an accompanying creaking sound, she's somehow more conscious of his presence in this room than she was before she let him in to begin with.

But she doesn't say anything about it, even if there's a brief impulse to try and break the silence, to speak into the darkness once she reaches over and turns off the small light on the makeshift table beside the bed. In the darkness, she's aware of her own breathing, the slightest groan of the bedframe, while he seems to remain quiet and unmoving. She wonders, for a moment, whether he can still see in the dark even if he can't fully transform into the wolf anymore, whether he can see her lying awake, her eyes open, as she inhales slowly and then exhales just as slowly.

For a little while, she turns her head towards where he's sitting, waiting long enough that her eyes adjust to the darkness and she can see his silhouette in the chair, the outline of his head and shoulders. She glances in his direction right up until she feels her lids begin to droop, and when she finally drifts off to sleep, her breathing evening out, the last thought that crosses her mind is whether the chair will be empty by the time she wakes in the morning. ]