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Prologue: Namira
Topic Started: Jun 26 2013, 19:32 (279 Views)
FalseHumanity
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The world rushes back to you. There's the hum of traffic, the rumble of voices, the birds in the trees. There's a certainty, a firmness, in each sound and movement. It's like waking from a dream – the blurry thoughts, the dry mouth. Your eyes hurt.

Nothing looks right. The movements are clean, swift. Nothing shifts in the shadows. There's no voices on the wind. You're looking left and right, straining to catch the shape of your Keeper lurking in the crowds.

But these- these people, these things crowded in the streets... it's something you haven't seen in a very long time. None of them shine, none of them glisten. They don't look right.

For a while, you stay like that, pacing the streets, staring these things down. They look familiar. Each bored, normal, human face brings back a shard of memory of a different time when you looked just like them. And the dream starts to fade. Your thoughts clear. Each minute of normal sunlight hurts a little less.

And then from around the corner you see it.

Something moves in the crowd that distinctly is not human.

It has to be your Keeper.

It HAS to be.

Fuck.

It is.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

You've got to do something.
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The Odd Wolf

(Italics = Thoughts)

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Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. No. This isn't happening.

Despite the sinking feeling in her stomach, the woman managed to force her trembling legs to turn around quietly. Somehow she found the road easy to navigate, the few people easily being brushed aside in her quiet haste. She knew what was behind her; what is was, wanted, and would do. More importantly, she knew the smallest failure would cost her more dearly than anything else in this life.

This isn't happening. Fuck. No... No.

Darting across the street, she managed to slip into a building while barely catching it's name. 801 Grand. Noting the name and the bizarre look of the guards Namira began to feel a bodily sensation that she hadn't felt in decades. Glancing around almost violently, she darted into the nearby bathroom with a strangely lithe ease. Nothing felt right. Hell, nothing SMELLED right. As she sat down, her thoughts kept spinning at a dizzing pace.

I'm alive. Yes? No? Shit...I. I'm alive. I know that. What now? Do i run? Where? Where am I...? I saw people. Humans. People...Live people. They looked different. Paler. Darker? No...Shit.

"FUCK!"

The curse rang along the words far longer than it should have, but by the time Namira had come to process this fact the tears had already blinded her. Somehow, despite all odds, she had escaped.
Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 27 2013, 17:16.
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FalseHumanity
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There's a cough from the next stall over.

"Excuse me?" It's a quiet, gentle voice. You might guess she's the same age as you. "Is everything okay?" She pauses. "I've got more over here if you need it..."

Before you can compose yourself enough to answer, the door opens.

"I think she went in here. Stay here, I'll handle it." Another woman, this time deeper, rougher.

"She might get feisty. I really think-" A man's voice, raspy and pitched a little too high.

"I said I'll handle it, Slip."

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Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 30 2013, 00:34.
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The Odd Wolf

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She froze. Did they find her already?

Shit. Shit! Fuck, how did they. No. Calm down. Think. What are they looking for?

Closing her eyes and taking in a silent breath, Namira stands up and flushes the toilet. Pausing for a moment to try and do everything to compose herself, she steps boldly from the restroom with a passing glance at the two. As she turns to start washing her hands, she pauses as if something had struck before rounding on the twosome.

"What the HELL are you doing in here? Don't you know this is a women's restroom? Are you a pervert or something?"

This is the dumbest thing I've ever done...

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Edited by The Odd Wolf, Jun 27 2013, 17:15.
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FalseHumanity
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You round on them and freeze. One of them is a short, wrinkled woman with tattoos covering her face and body. Black tribal markings run from her eyes across her cheeks and down her neck, to her arms and out to her fingers. There's a warm breeze that tousles her hair, and you think you catch the sight of leaves underneath her hair. Her eyes are clouded and seem to vibrate in place.

Next to her, poking his head through the door, a dark-haired young man with a pale, sallow face stares you down. It takes you a few seconds to actually discern the details of his face - he's hard to focus on. By contrast, you feel a slight chill just looking at him, and you can't tell whether he's unsettling or draining.

The woman cocks an eyebrow at you. "I do know it's a woman's bathroom. That's why I'm in here. Him, on the other hand..." She waves a hand irritably at the man in the door. "Slip, get out before someone calls the police."

"I'm going, I'm going," he grumbles.

"Anyway." She stares you down. "I'm just trying to help-"

Behind you the stall opens and the other woman walks out. She's tall, shapely, and wearing a nicely-cut business suit. She calmly moves to the sink and begins washing her hands. "Is something the matter?" She glances over at you, her eyes a deep brown. "Do you want me to call security, honey?"
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The Odd Wolf

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She stares at the woman for a very long time. Something isn't right here...or maybe it's too right. Her attention is diverted away by the approach of the other woman, a blank look on her face before she realizes that the woman is speaking to her. Stumbling over her words, Namira forces out a reply despite the mental gymnastics in her head playing out like the final desperate round of the Olympics.

"I...Uh. No? Um....The man is gone, I just. I need to get back to work. Or get to it. New. I'm...new." she stutters at first, but it slowly coalesces into an attempt to appear feeble.
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What are you doing...You don't even know who this is....
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FalseHumanity
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The businesswoman puts a hand on your shoulder after studiously drying it. "You're making my friend uncomfortable. I think it'd be best if you leave."

"I only want what's best," she says dryly. "So I'll leave." The crone's fingers flit out, and a card lands on the counter next to you. You pick it up to study it. It's a tarot card, of a naked woman breaking free of her bindings and wrestling a lion. "When you know who you are, we'll find you."

And with that, she leaves.

The hand on your shoulder grips a little tighter for a second. "Well, that was... strange." Her voice turns from serious to light and cheerful. "Tell you what, how about we get a little bit of coffee? I'll walk you back to your office afterwards."

She doesn't even give you time to protest before she ushers you out of the bathroom and into the building proper. A few twists and turns, and then she is pouring you a cup of hot coffee.

It gives you a second to study her.

She's probably about thirty-two or thirty-three, with blonde hair up in a professional bun. She has an ID tag tucked under her suit by her waist. She carries herself with an air of confidence that helps to calm you a little. Every movement is clipped, tight, like she has only so much time and none of it to waste on grace or fluidity. Her nails are short and bitten, and you can tell where she files them to hide the signs of stress.

She takes a sip of the coffee, and grimaces. "This coffee tastes like dirt." She sets it down, smiles at you. "You can call me Helena. What's your name, honey?"
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Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 27 2013, 23:37.
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The Odd Wolf

Within the whirl of action, Namira somehow manages to keep the barest hint of coherency. As she feels the situation slowly slipping out of her control, a moment of dizziness strikes her. Allowing herself to be dragged along to...wherever they were. Something about this world just was overwhelmingly underwhelming. There was nothing attacking her senses at all times. No shining creatures, no insanity creeping in her mind, no ecstasy, no torture. She couldn't fathom how this was anymore. What happened to her? Honestly, who...who was she? Jerking up from her contemplations at the sound of pouring liquid, she coughs lightly as the default "innocently scared" mode takes over again.

"Ah...Namira." She managed to squeak out some words, her voice seemingly weak from unuse. "I...have to admit, I'm a little confused as to what just happened. Who was she?"

What are you doing? This is bad. You need to get out. Figure out where you are, what's happening. Where you are. Actually, where are you?

She turns her attention to the surrounding crowd, obviously keeping her auditory attention to the woman before her, but attempting to take in the world around her.

I dont...get it.
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FalseHumanity
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"It's nice to meet you, Namira." She smiles at you, to reassure you. "As to what happened, I'm afraid I'm just as confused as you are. Usually people don't get accosted in our building."

She takes a drink of coffee, giving you a few seconds to look around and take in the scenery. You're in some sort of retail office, with the mandatory 'Hang in there!' posters on the wall and a couple of computer screens displaying rows and rows of numbers.

A few people pass by, dressed business-casual-y, ties and coffee mugs ubiquitous. They all look so... bland. Much like the woman in front of you.

She sets her cup down on counter, next to the coffee maker. "There was a strange look about them. Especially that woman..." She shakes her head. "But enough of that. What's past is past. It's time to move on. And speaking of moving on-" She checks her watch, laughs. "I've got about ten minutes left on my break."

She leans forward, closer.

"So let's get down to brass tacks. You don't actually work here, do you?"
Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 29 2013, 22:51.
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The Odd Wolf

The smile is what gets her. A flash of something from memory crosses her brain as she leans in, the shaky amateurish demeanor melting away as she stares the woman down with a strange sense of confidence.

"Honestly, no. I simply was using the bathroom, but I didn't think I would have an audience. Then it came to what you saw and I am as confused as you are."

There was something different about all this. She didn't know why, but suddenly she felt like this world was simple. Namira couldn't understand it, but she knew that if she wanted to she could have gone to town with these people's mind. Something called to her to do so, but she bit it down...but perhaps a bit of fun could be had. Smiling warmly, she cups her mug with both hands and brings it to her lips in an almost friendly manner. I wonder...

"Regardless, I think I could do with a job. Tell me, how does one work in such a grayscale wonderland as this? You strike me as much more than your station."

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Edited by The Odd Wolf, Jun 29 2013, 19:22.
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FalseHumanity
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Helena pauses, clearly taken aback, and then she bursts out laughing. "And what's your name, honey?" She gestures for you to walk with her back into the lobby. "But seriously, I'm impressed. You've got some skill as a dissembler. And, a good judge of character." She offers you her hand. "Helena Martin, Communications Liason Head for Principal Financial here in Iowa. If you're looking for a job, I'm not a bad one to ask."

She digs in her pocket for a second before pulling out a small white business card. "Here's my number, and the location of my office. I could stand to have an assistant who can gauge clients during meetings and deals. How about you drop by tomorrow and we can do a little informal interview? Say, three?"
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The Odd Wolf

Namira pauses, her confidence visibily wavering for a brief second. Staring at the business card as if it were venomous, she gingerly snatches it from the woman's hand. Glancing down at the card, she attempts to commit the words to memory but all she can do is realize that she doesn't even know where this place is. Clearly, it isn't home. Noticing the woman continued talking, she jerks her gaze up from the card with a sort of blank, empty stare as the words slowly sunk in.

"Huh?" she says slowly, stumbling over the words with slow blinks before jumping slightly. "OH! Ah...I suppose that would work. I can't imagine that I have much going on since I...ah..."

Namira freezes, staring at the woman carefully. Suddenly common sense kicked as she began to realize this all felt a little too easy. Too okay. This woman sounds important and just picked up a random stranger off the street...Something just...doesn't seem right. Shaking her head as if that would help in clearing it, she lets a wide, warm smile cross her face.

"I'm sorry. Had a bit of a brain fart there..." she says dismissively, a short hand wave accompanying. "I'll be there. Is there anything that is required of me to bring? I fear I have no references or formal attire. I'm pretty sure I'm a foreigner to these parts."
Edited by The Odd Wolf, Jun 30 2013, 07:15.
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FalseHumanity
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She smiles again at you, but there's concern playing behind her eyes. "No, you don't need to bring anything else. Just... get some rest. Feel better." Helena touches you on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's been a rough day."

She goes to leave, but turns back as if struck by a thought- "If those people give you any more trouble, just let security know, okay hon?"

And with that, she walks to the elevator and disappears into the crowd.

You look down at the card again, and try to parse out the words again, when something feels different under your fingers. You flip the card over to find the words 'The Hotline' and '1-800-799-SAFE' scrawled quickly in pen.
Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 30 2013, 22:37.
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The Odd Wolf

Namira stares at the card for a long moment, seemingly lost in thought.

What are you doing? You really have...gotten free.

Tensing for a moment, Namira glances up from her reverie before shivering. Something in her mind was stirring and she wasn't sure she liked it. That change she felt when the woman addressed her, it was electrifying. Addicting....Ecstasy. She shivered again and let a wry grin cross her face, catching the eye of a few men before dancing out of the foyer with a tune on her lips. The melodic tune carried easily amidst the din, drawing more gazes as she exited the building with a skip.

As the sun cascades over her face, she glances around to try and gauge the world around her for the first time. Brief flashes of stonework and tech assault her, drawing a sudden sense of unease as she realizes the city around her is not like her once-home. Staring long and hard at the words, somehow she manages to make sense of them. This world is not her home, but it will be. It has to be.

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Steeling her mind, a grimness flashing across her face she looks around with a new-found purpose. She had to find a home. Clothes. Friends. Things to make her seem less abstract and noteworthy. A simple clothing shop catches her eye. Bounding across the street, she gingerly steps inside and looks around.
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FalseHumanity
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You slip through the door into what looks like a consignment shop. It's packed full of racks of varied clothing best described as 'vintage' or 'unique'. The man at the counter looks up at you and nearly steps around to help you, but he pauses, and then returns to the magazine he has out in front of him.

After a few minutes of searching, you're able to locate a few less-noticeable articles of clothing. There's a dressing room somewhere in here. Maybe it's the time of day, but it's quiet in here.

As you move through the stacks, you look back at the man at the front. He's young, with just a little too much chin and a chauffeur's cap. He keeps looking over and you can see the turmoil written clearly on his face. He wants to come over and talk to you, but then your eyes meet and he looks away. He pretends to be busy.
Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 29 2014, 21:18.
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The Odd Wolf

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She slipped into the dressing room, sinking to her knees just as the door clicked shut. For a moment she felt like crying, sobbing, drowning away this horrible dream in tears before sighing heavily. Closing her eyes and calming her breathing, her hands clutched tightly to the slightly worn cloth in her hands. She focused on it, reminding herself where she was. That darkness couldn't follow her here, or rather, didn't know she was here. The humans were too dense for simple search and destroy...if they were capable of that. Namira shuddered to think too hard on what the Masters were capable of, despite having vivid flashes of encountering their methods before. This wasn't a safe place to be, but where was?

Where on this god-forsaken plane is there a place to hide from them? They stole me away from...here, I suppose. They control me-

"No. Not anymore." Her words seemed foreign and wrong, but the shook her from her own reverie. "I'm free."

She glanced up at the door again, then down at her clothes in her hands. Frowning at how mundane they seemed, she quickly went about putting them on. For a moment she hesitated on her next plan of action. The morality of it, but then...she couldn't seem to drum up the guilt. A sort of distanced feeling and how easily it would be to... She froze as she found herself already putting her sweater over her newly taken shirt. Sighing softly, she resolved herself to the course of action. Efficency was required. She had to get out of here and find some place safe. Someplace she could really think.

She stepped out of the dressing room with the movements of a supremely confident woman, her gaze burning with enticement. Smirking playfully at the dodgy counter-boy, she begins to peruse the racks a few more times before finally striding up to the counter and leaning provacatively, her eyes firmly locked on his. "Hello, stranger..."

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Edited by The Odd Wolf, Jul 10 2013, 08:37.
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FalseHumanity
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He jerks up to attention so fast you think you can hear his spine cracking. The poor guy can't even process what's going on, his magazine knocked askew by the rapid motion.

"Uh, can I-" He visibly redirects his eyes up. "What can I do for you?"

It slides slowly off the counter.
Edited by FalseHumanity, Jul 10 2013, 09:55.
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The Odd Wolf

Namira glances at the vanishing magazine with a sly smirk, flicking her gaze back to the man's quietly. For a moment she says nothing, purposely letting the boy squirm under her gaze before smiling disarmingly.

"Well. You are a jumpy one, stranger." her voice mimicking his slight accent easily. "How are you today..."
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FalseHumanity
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"I'm, uh, I'm good." He cracks a nervous smile. "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude. You're just very, very pretty." He leans down, picks up the magazine. "I'm sure you must get that all the time."

He pauses.

"Welp, that could have gone better. Let me start again. I'm Nathan. I like the taste of my own foot. What can I do for you today?"
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The Odd Wolf

She smiles. Smiles far more genuinely than she has felt in a long time. The compliment wasn't unexpected, though...she wasn't quite sure why. Shrugging off the confusion mentally, she stands back up, hips cocked slightly to accentuate her figure again. Despite appearances, Namira felt nothing towards what she was doing. It felt robotic and automatic, but not altogether wrong. Whatever.

“Well, Nathan the Foot Eater, I was wondering if you had a map I could borrow.” She said coyly, her eyes never leaving his. “I seem to be a bit lost. I'm not really from around here, you see. I fear I may not find my way back to my...hotel. Would you be a kind soul and help me?”

The taste in her mouth felt sickening. Vomit? Yeah...that seemed appropriate.
Edited by The Odd Wolf, Oct 9 2013, 18:25.
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FalseHumanity
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He stares at you, pinches himself, stares a little bit longer, pinches a little bit harder.

It's quite clear to you that he's never been in this sort of situation before.

"Tell you what," he says, "I don't have a map but I'd be happy to walk you back to your hotel if you're lost."
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The Odd Wolf

She stared at him briefly before chuckling softly to herself. It sounded like the music of the ethereals but she didn't even notice. Leveling her amber eyes on the man pointedly, she let a look amusement slowly filter down before placing a hand over his teasingly.

"A kindly offer to be sure, Nathan Foot-Eater...but I really am simply looking for a map." She smiled disarmingly before softly running the tips of her fingers against the back of his hand before retracting the contact and straightening up. Her eyes, however, never left his. "If, however, you know of a place to find a map of the area I would gladly appreciate the info. Besides...I wouldn't want you to abandon your business for some strange woman."

Despite her playful voice, Namira hated this. Hated her words, her actions...hell, she hated this man for bringing out whatever it was controlling her. A flicker of simply murdering the man crossed her mind, giving her pause. Woah now. I don't even...Calm down. She breathed softly, closing her eyes for a moment before leveling them against Nathan's again, waiting for his response.
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FalseHumanity
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He freezes when you touch his hand. His eyes flick around, desperately casting about for some topic to turn to, and his eyes flicker over your form again.

They widen.

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"Is that-" He points at your waist, at the price tag poking its way out from under your sweater. "Uhh..." He visibly screws up his courage. "I'm gonna have to ask you to take those clothes off for me."

He pauses.

"I don't mean that like- I mean to say-" His face is brightly flushed. "I need you to pay for those."
Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 29 2014, 21:18.
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The Odd Wolf

Namira sighed slowly and quietly

Well...shit.

Her fingers curled back as her eyes closed. A simple aura of smallness seemed to fall over her, as if she were suddenly less than she was. Whatever had driven her to act seductively strong seemed to have fled leaving nothing but the confused woman from before. When she opened her eyes again it was a fragile stare, barely capable of locking her gaze to his. She shook slightly before exhaling a timid breath.

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"I...I'm s-sorry." Her voice cracked suddenly, her attempt to lie suddenly grabbing hold of whatever truth it could salvage. "I just...I didn't have anything else. I didn't think...I'm sorry. I needed to change..they would find me like this...I'm so sorry..."

As she spoke her voice grew softer as she felt her own genuine fear and exhaustion finally catching up with her. False, otherworldly bravado and confidence would only carry her so far.
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FalseHumanity
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His face crumples as you speak, and he looks away from you. You can't tell if it's shame, or fear, or what, but he stands there with his eyes downcast and his fists clenched, silent.

It stretches out for what seems like an eternity, even though it couldn't be more than five or ten seconds.

Eleven.

Twelve.

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He looks up at you.

He opens his mouth, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the apology in them.

There's a little sag, just a bit, that you can't control as you realize he's going to call the police. It's a shift of body language, from desperation to dull defeat.

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His eyes harden like knives and his mouth sets into a white slash across his face. He reaches down and, to your surprise, instead of retrieving a phone the drawer of the cashier's station springs open.

He pulls out four bills and sets them on the counter.

"Miss," he says, his voice cold and calm in the air, "do you know anything about old souls?"

He pulls a store business card from under the counter and begins writing neatly on it in black pen. "It's the idea," he continues, "that sometimes a soul is reborn into a new body for a second chance at life. Sometimes, it's to guide and protect the people around them. Sometimes, it's to make up for a life cut tragically short." He puts the card on the little stack of bills and his hands return to his sides.

"I've heard an old soul is an angel or the devil sent to judge a man's heart. That they give you one narrow chance to change your fate... and it's all too easy to miss."

He readjusts his hat down over his eyes and turns his back to you.

"I've never been a good Christian," he says to the wall, "but I hope you'll recommend me to Him."
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