The Prophecy


venadia_icon.jpg christian_icon.jpg jacob_icon.jpg byron_icon.jpg

Summary: A prophecy in Union Park.

Date: February 19, 2009

The Prophecy

Rating: PG-13

Union Park

Union park is yet another well-developed and pleasant entertainment place within town for one to go to and spend time in. The park itself is rather large and housing several attractions for an individual to browse themselves with. It holds a large playground for kids as well as benches for parents to watch them play in. Also within the park is a long jogging trail as well as a pond and several picnic areas to sit oneself down at. There's also a couple of barbecue and fire pits in which a person, or group of people can hold a party at in the outdoors.

The area is lush green and full of life. Various trees, shrubbery and flowers litter the area as they add to the attractiveness of the place. A couple of shady spots can be found to hide away from the heat of the sun, or to bask under the silvery glow of the moon and starlight at night. There's also an abundance of wildlife here, varying from squirrels, raccoons, rabbits and even opossums. It's not all too uncommon to see people lounging about the area, either having a picnic, party or simply taking the pleasure to exercise on the jogging trails. The area is rather active not only in the daytime, but also at night as well and is monitored by some few security and is kept fairly litter free.

For a nice stroll at one of the local parks, the late afternoon passes by slowly, and rather unexcitingly…so far. The sun sparkles pools of illuminating, brilliant rays down across the grounds of Union Park. Sparklets of rippling water glisten under the light as tiny waves caress within the small pond found there. Several ducks and various other native birds swim around within it as other pedestrians can be found gathering around on benches, in the playground or simply enjoying walking their dog or feeding the birds. The wind is cool, yet not too terribly cold oddly this warm day and the skies remain clear up ahead as the dark greyish storm clouds that had rilled the city for several days now are only a speck in the far distant horizon. All of you have come here in one form or another, whether it was to get away from the daily drag of the morning hours and into the afternoon or simply to avoid the strange dimensional, and rather annoying phenomena that is the local coffee shop.

Making her way through the park slowly, Venadia's hands are in her pockets, her gaze on the ground. The long hair hiding the sides of her face as she holds her shoes in her pockets, the bare feet curling in the green grass, though very cold, it seems to be almost ritualistic in nature. Her toes curling slowly with every step. The ice blue eyes never once looking up at who else might be around, merely seeming to instinctually stay away from others who may be around.

Jacob, having just had an interesting run-in at his repair shop, has come to the park to regain some peace of mind. He's one of those people on the benches, though he's not feeding any birds. Instead, he's watching the slowness of the clouds above from the shade of an overhanging branch. A content sigh escapes his lips, as he enjoys one of the only luxuries he can afford: sitting on a park bench, staring at the midday sun.

It's on a bench near the pond that Byron's seated at the moment, his coat and scarf seeming to work effectively to ward off the cool of the day—it's not cold enough for a hat, at least he seems to think so. Maybe he just doesn't own one. He's sprawled back there, legs stretched out, a loaf of bread beside him providing the fodder for the gathering of quacking ducks in the water and meadow before him, crumbled crumbs cast forth every few minutes. His head's tilted back, and he's watching the sky, lost in thought.

Christian can be found walking along one of the paths of the park with a casual step, observing the park itself as a whole. A raised brow would be given to one of the birds that waddle closer to him though he doesn't do anything in particular beyond that, rather choosing to let his sights drift downward to the leatherbound book in his hand. The pages are empty save for his own scrawl, a pen in hand that glints with a silver sheen from the sun overhead as the light scribbling sound can be heard should anyone drift too close. He doesn't seem fanatic in it, his features holding a calm look to them though when his eyes do drift away from the thing a certain glint could be caught within. "Hmm"

The grass was cold, almost an icy chill as the few sprinkles of dew that remained upon the ground seemed to nearly cling to bare feet. The chill of the water nearly seems to run up the foot and starting with the toes as blades of grass mix in between them, and adding to the near numbing, yet fresh feel of the soft earth below. The afternoon was quiet…the sound of kids playing in the playground with their parent's watching. The soft quaking of the nearby ducks as they puddle together in a flock of feathers to partake from those that fed them. The rippling of the fountain was somewhat soothing and nearly mesmerizing as it the flashes of brillinat light shimmer across the pool of rippling water. A few joggers run across the trails that lead deeper within as they pass by those that walk along them. The feel of the benches were warm across one's back as the sun seems to break past the few clouds that linger high above and make for a rather peaceful day…

Though such would not last very long…especially for our little Oracle there amidst the calming and sedative spot within the city. As Venadia steps through the rich earth, the feel of wet, fresh grass cold agiant her feet, the young woman might notice something odd there in front of her. A young boy around the age of twelve seems to be sitting down amongst the ground and plaing with a tin can in his hands. The can as it were from closer inspection seems to actually be floating just above his palms. The glint of the bright sun blaring against the thin metal. A sudden flash seems to nearly be blinding as he turns it in such a ways that the light directly shoots off of it and right into Venadia's eyes. The sudden sound of screaming can be heard but not by anyone else around…only for the young psychic to remember that sharp shrilling twang of a child suffering…

Stopping abruptly in her steps, Venadia's hands go to the sides of her head. Crying out softly, she slides down to her knees, her head being ducked down being the only thing keeping her ice blue eyes be seen as they slip to a brilliantly bright white. No Pupils, no color seen in them as her breaths begin to quicken uncontrollably. The eyes seeming to stare in front of her at… something.

It's the sudden cry that breaks Bryon from his thoughtful reverie, his head jerking up a bit to look over in the direction of the sound - her eyes not quite noticed, not from this distance, he frowns nonetheless with a furrowing of his brow. Pushing himself to his feet, he circles 'round the bench, heading that way with a brisk walk that breaks into a jog, "Venadia? Hey - you alright?"

Jacob rests with his head against the back of the bench, focusing his attention on the slowly drifting clouds overhead. The soft cry of the oracle was too soft for him, but Byron's call to her gets his attention, and he lifts his head to see what was happening to some poor stupid human. …that's when he spots the blonde from Patty O'Beef's as the source of the concern. He sits at attention, but doesn't stand to approach just yet.

The sound of a woman's cry draws Christian's gaze away from the book though he doesn't seem to go to her rescue, rather he'd leave another Galahad to save the day. He does observe though, at which he does best with the scrawl of that pen's tip along another page of the leatherbound book in his hand. "Now isn't that interesting." He comments idly to himself, letting his gaze flicker about the park to the other inhabitants as if to see just how they react in compliance to her sudden motion. The curl of his lips would signify the expected action of Jacob, as with the fact that Byron seems to be the only one in the park that truly does go to the proverbial damsel in distress though his attention isn't given to them anymore.

Venadia's head whips back suddenly, her hair catching the wind and falling slowly down her back as if moving in slow motion. Her eyes are open wide, hands falling limply on to her lap palm up, the look of horror on her face intensifying. Her eyes close for a moment, and then her back straightens, the look on those soft features turning gently serene. For those who get close to her may notice that the air starts to turn cold, her olive tinted skin seeming to glisten as if touched by the early morning dew.

Her lips part and ever so slowly words begin to spill forth. But not the voice you may expect from her, no it's her voice and yet what seems to be thousands of lyrical sounding voices all speaking at the same time, and all of them spilling from her lips.

"Screaming children loud and clear, sounds like a hot piercing knife.
Bleeding palms, dripping from the fingertips out stretched to no where.
Yet the man held sting of the silent bee, touches the flesh of the arm of the screamers.
Number Five…. Number Five…. Number Five…"

Her sleeves of her top flutter and as she speaks of stinging on the arms, a bruise suddenly forms, though not having been touched by anything. Then just as suddenly the words stop tumbling from her lips, her eyes flutter and she starts to pitch forwards as she expells a ragged breath.

Jacob, like many people nearby, just watch Byron and Venadia, though quite a few people lose interest. And surely, the majority of people do watch, not to approach, but in Jacob's case there is a reason - after all the last time he saw her she ran from him at just about full speed. No no, better to watch from his distance this time. Then again, how many of those watching seem to have an intrigued smile creeping upon their face? He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows onto his knees, and momentarily hugs the trench closer to his thin body to ward against the slight chill in the air. From Venadia he spares one glance to his satchel, as it to remind him that it's there — but then the prophecy begins, and Jacob thanks God that he's close enough to hear it. The voice intrigues him finally to stand, and after lifting his satchel up he proceeds towards Byron and Venadia. "Excellent," he says in complete disregard for her health. He turns to Byron and asks, "Do you know her?"

"The… hell?" Byron doesn't quite reach her, one hand pausing reached out for the woman's shoulder a few inches away - feeling the cold against his fingertips, one knee bent in a half-kneeling posture that soon sinks to the ground as she begins to speak. Blink. Blink. Blink. "Ven, what-" Then she's toppling forward, and he grunts, reaching forward to catch her even as he answers Jacob, "-shit. Yes, I know her-shit-call 911, man, she's having a seizure or something!"

The dark eyes of the man with the leatherbound book rest upon the two idly after his recent inspection, his head canting to the side slowly with the shift of dirty blonde hair to the wind. The pen in his hand drifts as she speaks in those lyrical voices, etching the very words that she speaks with a tsking sound, "Nine one one, Nine one one. Why is it they all think the enlightened need Nine one one. Tsk." The sound holds an almost viperish tinge to it, though whether or not he had realized just exactly what he had done could only be up to him. Most likely, he was taking it as a form of psychosis or otherwise. "Look at her eyes and you'll see her true." The words are spoken with an almost calm surety to them though somewhat distant as his attention seems to be truly lost back to what he wrote again. "Interesting."

The park is big enough for the little 'incident' to go unnoticed, but there are still those that are staring and some lady starts to pull out a cellphone as she runs on up to Byron and Venadia. Her words sounding distressed and concerned as she asks, "Did you need me to call 911? I have a cellphone with me. Is she alright?"

In the meantime and a good ways away a young boy can be seen kicking a tin can as he goes to take a spot on the ground and starts fiddling with it in his hands…

Venadia's body is cold, shaking as if it had been snowing outside. Her eyes open enough for anyone close enough to see, that her white glowing eyes slowly stop glowing and turning to the ice blue again. Face paled, while she sighs tiredly… "nooo." She whipsers raggedly… "Mr… Mr.. Sinn… call.." Her head turning to the side as she goes lip against Byron's knee.

Jacob seems completely unstirred by Byron's excitement, and luckily the majority of humans nearby seem to be ignoring them in a rather human manner. Instead, he simply replies in a soft lecturing tone, his British accent taking full force here, "Do calm down, mate. Trus' me, whatever's 'appenin', 's'natural, awrigh'?" Byron receives a rather sincere and honest look for a moment, then Jacob looks towards the woman approaching, who receives a cold hiss from Jacob - who stands between her and Venadia as if protectively, "She's fine," he begins, the poisonous tones continuing, "Go run along and mind your business." He looks sidelong to Christian, now. "Is she awrigh' t'stay in public?" It doesn't take an Intuit like Jacob to see Christian has a grasp on what's going on. All of his 'look in her eyes' business. And Jacob may not understand the power at display, but he knows he never met a person whose power was a danger to themselves.

"Whoa." The word's whispered from Byron's lips as he catches sight of those glowing eyes, fading slowly to their usual colours. The man just stares down at her for the moment, though he continues to support her, before the words of the others knock him out of that brief reverie. "Sinn? Don't know a… shit." Then she's out, and he grimaces, glancing up to the others with a slightly cold look, "Well, either've you two assholes know a Mister Sinn by any chance?"

The press of Christian's lips would signify the recognition of the name she says, though whether with distaste or otherwise could only be known to him. Something else is added to the notes then when his eyes drift back downward to the book before flipping it closed with a hum when the other woman hurries in with her cell phone. It seemed Seattle did indeed have a number of people who might just come to the woman. The pen is snapped closed before flipping it over with a tap-tap motion with the sound of a dull thud from the leather as he eyes the woman there. "Considering the distressful tone marked by a rather limp and barely moving woman, I would have to believe that she has some reason to think she needs to get to the man in which she called out for." A raised brow is offered to the man who called him an asshole though, a faint hint of amusement flickering across his eyes before letting them flicker across the park in calm perception. The boy with the tin can seems to evade his notice as he hadn't been the one to view what happened, a sad thing for the kid indeed. "I only know one 'Sinn', a rather domineering name hm?, to which his first would be Saul. Hmm, yes, Saul Sinn." Though he does dole the information to the two, he doesn't seem to hold any regard for the woman resting in Byron's lap.

The woman that was getting out her cellphone starts to back away after that rather nasty hiss from Jacob, though her eyes never leave from the strange demeanor from the young woman on the ground. Simply nodding her head the woman was about to leave, until she sees the pure white glow of Venadia's eyes. "What the…" The woman quickly backs up further as she brings out her cellphone then flips it open as she starts to dial. The look on her face is sheer shock…almost looking at Venadia as if she was some sort of disease. The woman with the cellphone simply gives now the three of you a very, very strange look as she puts the phone to her ear to listen for whoever was on the other end to pick up…

In the distance sun rays catch brightly upon the glint of a tin can that floats in the air…to which falls silently to the ground as a few men dressed up as some kind of officals drag a crying boy out of the park and into a white van…

Jacob ignores Byron for now as a boy gets yanked up from the ground, and the woman begins to dial a number that probably isn't 911. The universe seems to be trying to tear him in three pieces - and for a moment, the briefest of moments, he doesn't know what to do - but this moment ends, and Jacob decides to protect the one he knows. What good were his abilities against men in vans? The woman, though, could be taken, and so as she steps away, so does Jacob approach, slowly extending a hand. "Let us use your phone." If Jacob really expects her to hand the phone over, it's not showing in his tone or eyes.

"So… do you have any idea where I could find this guy?" Byron doesn't notice any vans, or children, being concerned with the passed-out woman in his lap - moving to rise to his feet, hauling Venadia up against his side, pulling her arm over his shoulders and wrapping his own arm about her waist, grunting, "A phone number'd be nice—or a hand, yeah, but I guess I can't expect that-"

Christian's gaze flickers across the poor child that seemed to be in a situation that absolutely nobody could possibly do anything for before letting it drift towards the woman with her phone. When Jacob approaches her, the same look of bemusement from long before brushes across his lips. "Seems someone is afraid of people who aren't of the norm. Sure does seem that way. Yes, I do believe she is your regular run of the mill brand person." He comments before shrugging and looking back towards Byron. Indeed, it seemed he didn't truly worry about what she could do. After all, they had done nothing wrong. The tilt of his head is given before letting his gaze drift back down towards the woman in his lap with the press of his lips. "Why don't you get her phone out? She looks to me like she would have one, doesn't she you?" The words are spoken in a matter-of-fact manner as he crosses his arms before raising a calloused hand to brush his jawline.

The woman in which Jacob approaches starts to quickly backpeddle as he reaches his hand out for her…phone. The woman's eyes widen like saucers as she immediatly does the only human thing to do…and especally when in a situation where an individual is frightened and doesn't understand. She calls out for help as her voice raises in a higher pitch, "Get the hell away from me! You're one of *them* aren't you?" That look of utter distaste quickly befalls the other woman's features as she continues to back away from Jacob. The phone for the moment is closed shut as she seems to be abject from giving any of them help. Her brow furrows some as that look of distaste grows stronger and veers towards an agitation as she comments back in somewhat of a snidish tone, "Why don't you go somewhere where your kind is wanted, instead of disturbing the rest of us here and causing trouble."

Venadia makes a small sound as she is hauled up against Byron, her body still very cold to the touch, even as her head rests against her own arm. Fingers curling slightly against his shoulder, but as of yet otherwise he's still having to hold on to her. She's breathing and seems ok, other than the obvious."

In the meantime, and a good distance away, the figure of men can be seen loading the young boy into the van as the doors close shut and soon the vehicle drives away, and leaving the rest to deal with what they have on their hands.

"Yeah, great plan, I was hoping to get lynched tonight…" As the woman shouts at Jacob, Byron steps along over to the bench that he was settled on earlier - easing Venadia carefully down to settle beside him, letting her lean to his shoulder as he reaches over to detangle her purse from her other arm. The bag's settled in his lap, and he rustles through it - muttering under his breath, "Of course, she doesn't have a phone… well, here's her address, I guess I could get her back there-" The ID's pulled up, and he squints at it, before sliding it back into the wallet, purse snapped closed.

It's this. It's moments like these that make Jacob's blood boil, like this that prove to him that he and his kind are the true denizens of this planet. But as the phone closes, and she calls for help, Jacob only offers her a piteous look. "Poor simple woman, causing all the trouble herself." With a click of his tongue he looks behind him and says to the others, "Gentlemen," his British side once more taking precedent, "We should get her to her feet, before some muggle here claims we tried to kill them." Yes, Jacob reads, and yes, he occasionally references pop culture. No human nor mortal is immune to the appeal of literary fiction. Jacob approaches the bench Byron sits upon, and readies to help her up, "Least we can do getting her in a cab and home, she's one of us." He looks now to Byron. Christian, without a doubt, with his air of superiority and understanding of the events - Jacob would wager quite a pretty penny on it being due to his own mutation. Byron, though, Jacob watches curiously to see if he indeed is one of them - but he remains ready to help Venadia up and walk.

Christian nods slowly to the man that had drug her to the bench before casting a glance towards the woman that threw insults, "Mm, don't you just love hysteria? It's such an easy thing to invoke it seems. It does." He teases towards the woman with the phone, seeming rather uncaring for how she might just react to the dangerous glint in his eyes. With that, he casts a glance towards the three and seeing as how two of them are doubleteaming the currently slack woman with the golden hair it seems he decides that is quite enough to handle her. "Mr. Sinn lives at <insert address here>. If that is where she should be taken, hm, I wouldn't know. No, not at all." He offers before turning and beginning to stride off…with the production of a phone from his pocket.

"I don't give a shit about 'us' and 'them' side-taking stupidity," Byron replies in a slightly growly voice at the look from Jacob, "She's a friend - that's what matters to me. I've got a car, c'mon, gimme a hand—there's no way she'll be able to walk." That said, he shifts to heft Venadia up, assuming - well, hoping, at least - that Jacob's going to lend a hand with the process, since carrying her out solo'd be rather difficult. The call over from Christian gets a glance, numbers noted, but he doesn't comment.

"I'm not done wif you yet, Mate," calls Jacob to Christian before he heads off, leaving him to help Byron. He doesn't looks back to the woman for now, he just growls and helps Byron and his friend. To most normal people like Byron the concept of doing something for a friend seems entirely familiar. But to Jacob - friendship is not a skill he immediately possesses, so he continues to help her based on the fact that she is of his kind.

The muggle in question, continues to watch the three of you with a strong hint of trepidation as well as outright disgust. She makes her way back and away from the rest of you especially after Jacob's and Chris's comment. A rather dirty look is given on over to the three as she puts her cellphone back into her pocked and heads away once more. Under her breath though those that might be listening can hear the soft curse towards their kind. With Venadia all prepped on up on the bench and readied to head off into Byron's car…the three of you are spared some very odd looks from those close by.

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