Trail Of Tears: Message In A Bottle

Rihko finds herself down alone in the basement, something itching at the back of her mind for the last week, not really sure what's wrong. News of Dirt's death hit her a little harder than expected, or most. His promise to tell her a story never fulfilled, but at least he followed the other request made of him to not disrupt her bar anymore.

A scent hits her as out of place in the musky, sweat stained training areas. It's hard to place what it is, and then she recognizes it. The smell of fresh soil, raw earth, something long since stamped out in this underground haven by traffic.

Rihko wanders around in the basement complex, pacing through the TM course at a slow, steady rate, circling the boxing ring, walking back and forth along the firing range. She knows the Den by heart these days, after living here so long, and she pays no attention to the equipment or the amenities as she walks by them - rather, the kitsune paces because that is what she does when she has thoughts to work through, when her body demands activity to match the steady, methodical working of the gears in her mind. Many things weigh on her, many things more than she'd admit to anyone except her mate, and Taggart has had his own problems lately... his own heavy troubles, but some time, some day, she will find the right opportunity to bring them up. She blinks, though, roused from her thoughts by the new scent. Her head turns, left and then right, her nose sniffing at the air as she focuses on this new intrusion into her thought pattern. Worries placed on hold, the kitsune's tails sway behind her and she begins looking for the source of the scent.

She spots it, a root broken through the wall, and a pile of earth around it as it reaches out, grasping around something in its clutches.

Rihko tilts her head to the side for a moment, her ears flicking back and then forward again. Her tails coil and wave behind her, and she frowns a moment, looking around the room. Curious, the kitsune moves forward, closer to the root, and looks at what it's got itself wrapped around.

The root, once grasped tight, seems to loosen and a small polished, perfectly round marble drops free from it, bouncing as it impacts with the floor below. The thing glimmers even in dim light, amethyst in color, with waves of sea green on the inside.

"Huh..." Rihko comments, quietly. Her tails twist and coil again as she looks from the root to the marble, and then a few quick steps are followed by a fast snatch as she reaches for the marble, intent on picking it up to get a better look at it.

The thing is murky, twisting, almost living inside, but hard as expected on its glass surface. What looks like an eye forms inside, and then it winks, a familiar feeling rushing through Rihko, and then suddenly it grows cold in her hand, sharp and painful.

Rihko draws in her breath, hissing at the sudden change in temperature; she rolls the marble in her fingers until she is just barely holding it by the tips of the claws on her thumb and fingers. She gives it a look of dubious concern, then crouches down and sets it on the floor.

The thing collapses in on itself on the ground, opening a hole into the earth below her, it grows wide quickly.

Rihko instinctively tries to back away from the growing hole, wary, her tails twitching, but something about the feeling, something about the eye, causes her to hesitate; her foot slips down into the hole, and she slides down after it, paw reaching for the edge of the pit to try and keep her descent at least somewhat controlled.

Once past the lip of the hole Rihko finds herself in darkness, blacking out. She sees nothing about her, but hears a whisper in her ear. "You were promised. I am sorry I am not here to deliver this, but I never break my promises." And suddenly Rihko snaps awake. Surroundings unfamiliar, a small apartment barely furnished with more than a bed and some clothes lying on a nearby table. She brings her hand up to her head, and stops and blinks, a very masculine hand, much larger, and not the furry one she's known so well.

Rihko frowns and sits up, giving her head a quick shake. She rubs her strange fingers over her strange face, feeling unfamiliar features. She looks up and around the room, and then slowly gets up. "Thank you..." she murmurs quietly, testing her voice, and looks down at herself.

A deeper voice, sounding odd and unfamiliar from inside the head speaking emits. Looking down, the body is well toned, flesh and complexion is similar to her own when she was human, so at least it's not too jarring. The bed is unkempt, definitely no females in this place, little more than a bunker the way the small apartment is kept. A single window has a curtain taped over it.

Rihko sighs. He runs his fingers through his hair and gives his head another little shake, then looks around the room. He searches for clean clothes to wear, a mirror, and hopefully something that can help identify who he is... and, in the back of his head, there is the hope that holographic Al will pop in to tell him who he is this time and what he has to do.

No mirror, and the shiniest surface is the metal pots in the kitchen. There's really only one set of clothes, hanging over the table, very worn jeans. Inside however there's the depression of a wallet.

Rihko pulls on his jeans. He frowns and shifts his weight back and forth, hopping a little and trying to get comfortable, then just gives up on it and sighs, settling for good enough. He pats at his wallet, then pulls it out and checks through it.

There are a few pictures, and an old license. Very familiar faces adorning them. In fact, a family photo with her own human face on it, from when she was younger. The name Tatsu come's across her breath before the name is made plain on the license. There's no money in it, not much of a surprise.

"No..." Rihko exclaims, under his breath, eyes going wide. His hand trembles for a moment, tenderly stroking the driver's liscense, finger tracing over the name it bears, gaze taking in the happy faces of the family in the picture. His hand is still shaking, just a little, as he carefully and reverently replaces the items in the wallet and slips it into his pocket, then his hand moves up to brush moisture from his eyes. He looks around the apartment again, everything seen through a new filter. With new meaning. Unsure of what he is experiencing, Rihko quickly moves to the door of the apartment, eager to find someone to question.

The door opens on the second floor of what appears to be a motel, the railing not far ahead and looking down on a parking lot below. The sun is bright, the temperature hot, and the musty smell of dust overrides anything else. Ahead is a cityscape high overhead, skyscrapers, and a capitol building and wide but empty city streets. A giant red sign on the edge of the place announcing Austin Motel.

Rihko takes in a deep breath of the hot, dusty air, slowly walking forward to grab the railing and stare at the sign, down at the parking lot, and then along the street. "Austin...?" he mutters. "Austin?!" His knuckles turn white for a moment as his grip tightens, and then relaxes, his eyes seeking out the signs of civilization gone to rot - shoddy maintenance of the motel, beyond what can be explained as a lax repair crew, looking for abandoned cars rusting along the sides of streets, buildings dark and lifeless husks as the world of business is abandoned to the business of survival. Anything, that might tell him he was in the world that is, and not about to witness the last day of the world that was.

Searching about, the place is very much abandoned, most of the rooms easy access. There is no traffic on the road, many cars simply outright abandoned on the six-lane street. An abandoned waste truck not even covered with flies, the garbage it was picking up long since disposed of by the environment. No people around, and eerie silence for a city.

Despite the desolation... despite the dead, sulking, abandoned city... despite the utter absence of life... Rihko laughs. He whoops, and howls with joy, the sound of his voice echoing back at him from the solemn, mourning buildings. Because of the desolation, -because- of the abandonment. Because it meant he was alive, or so he hoped. A thought strikes him, and he falls silent. Still. His gaze turns to the sky above, and he contemplates it for a moment, before looking down at the dirt below his feet. "Thank you," he says, sincerely. "Thank you very much. I will always remember you." Eyes bright, then, he looks around, and starts walking, pacing the the road.

Before he can leave, a faint memory returns, backpack with supplies in the hotel room, the foreign memory none-the-less Rihko's own. Inside the bathtub of all things.

Rihko hesitates a moment... but of course he'd need his things. He goes to fetch them.

The backpack isn't heavy, not many personal affects, though there are rations carefully laid out, and what appears to be a journal. Odd, Rihko doesn't remember him keeping a diary. There's also a very large hunting knife, and a pistol with ammo. Next to the bathtub is a sawn off shot-gun. There's still blood on the end of it that doesn't seem to come off.

Rihko quickly checks over the gear, but the journal... the journal draws his attention, like a lone spotlight in the desert. Once he identifies it for what it is, he sits on the edge of the tub, breath coming faster and hand shaking a little as he carefully opens it to begin reading.

Pen scratched notes, hard to read if she wasn't already familiar with it. Short entries, first one dated a week after pday. A simple note: Something is very wrong... it begins, and an entry on how people, friends, are acting weird. The next entry a few days later, people spontaneously dying in rather gruesome ways, and a note that he's going to leave San Antonio, but there are issues with a woman named Yuna. (perhaps his girlfriend). A few weeks later, there's a horrifying passage about him having to put Yuna down, and fleeing. Then the notes become more sparse, entries every month or so, not a lot of detail, mostly assumed information now, obvious anyone who'd be reading it would know what the hell is going on.

Rihko begins flipping through the journal faster as she gets through the sparser sections, scanning, looking for a mention of a plan or other survivors. When he gets to the last page, he stops and thinks a moment, then smiles. He finds a pen, and jots down a quick note... unsure exactly what might happen, but utterly convinced it is the right thing. 'My sister Rihko is alive in California. She is going to find me.'

Inspecting it, the handwriting is very much Rihko's, rather than Tatsu's, distinctly different and recognizable. The journal is stashed away, and then the sound of an engine. There's a nervous tension creeping in at the sound, instinct. A motorcycle.

Rihko raises his head at the noise, so loud in the otherwise dead city. He grabs his weapons and moves over to the motel room's sole window, carefully peeking out, feeling the tension running through his body, working himself up, getting himself set on edge.

It's a woman on a harley, the thing loud and obnoxious, drawing attention from all around. The woman stops, something seems off about her movement. It seems as if she's not really looking around so much as moving. However her voice does ring out, "Hello? Hello?" simple question, it echoes through the motel courtyard.

Rihko narrows his eyes, the hairs at the back of his neck stiff, the tension slowly creeping up a notch as he watches... unable to say what, exactly, seems wrong about her. Still, the oddity and the tension are enough that he remains quiet, warily watching from the window, hoping that someone, anyone *else*, would go poke their nose into the trap first.

Nothing, the woman seems to pause, sniffing at the air, and then sneezes, not even bothering to cover her nose, blood dripping out of it soon after, and then she collapses on the ground. The instincts inside of Rihko's new body take over, and the urge to run is too much, Rihko's vaulting over the landing heading away from the area. Catching a glimpse of something strange about the collapsed woman on her way over.

Rihko makes sure the next few strides of his escape are clear, then whips his head to the side, looking at the woman; he files away as much detail as he can, mind pushed to that strange, hyper aware state by the intense fear and the surge of endorphins, the feeling of extreme danger and the assurance of his continued existence being placed in jeopardy. Then he turns his attention back to his escape route, and flees, intent on getting as far and as thoroughly away as he can - heroics are for the movies, not for people who want to live.

The woman's jaws as wide, blood flooding from her nose, and something strange emerges from her mouth. Almost translucent, like a tendril it reaches up toward the air and freedom. The woman is spasming now, dying, or long since dead, the look of pain and fear reaches out from deep within. The look in her eyes is the last thing Rihko sees before he's out of sight. However the urge to keep moving does not stop.

Rihko does not stop running; he may be a stranger to the area, but he trusts his brother's instincts, his body, and if whatever was in the woman elicits THAT much deep, primal fear, it was something to be avoided at ALL costs. The deathly stillness of the city changes for him yet again as he flees; no longer the abandoned-but-harmless bones of an old junk yard, the poignant but beautiful skeleton of a dead tree, it is instantly something far, far more sinister. Neigh-invisble death lurks in every shadow and imaginary cobwebs trail across the streets, each one a tendril that will alert It that something is alive and stirring within its web.

Rihko runs onward, not looking back now, pushing himself further than one would expect, top speed. Eventually curiousity gets the best of him, and a glance back in the motel's direction shows a hazy fog over the area, thick enough to make the sign for the Austil Motel no longer visible. Before long the dry riverbed that bisects the city in front of them, a large bridge cuts over into downtown, but his breath is coming hard, and his heart pounding and he's exposed.

Rihko slows, taking deep, heaving breaths as he slows down. His vision swims a moment, and then he shakes his head and glances back behind him again. He starts moving again, slower this time, eyes scanning the ground in front of him, and the streets further on, carefully looking for piles of dust or other moving things. He makes his way towards the bridge, no quite ready to break from cover yet though.

The journal mentioned being out in the countryside, having left San Antonio, trying to stay ahead of it while still salvaging. Antonio's population not like those creatures, but just strangely... absent entirely. The last month has been trying to figure out what happened, or find any working communication device to call for help. No mention of encounters, so this must be his first. Suddenly Rihko hopes he remembers this and doesn't go walking back to where he was staying...

Rihko sighs. So many problems to deal with... and then his gaze hardens and he shakes his head. No. He would make sure his brother survived. And he would come find him. He looks around and finds a quiet spot, then opens up his brother's journal again. 'Motel infected,' he jots down. 'Not safe. Holy shit, terrifying. Tatsu, I will be coming soon; east from California, then south on 35 from Oklahoma City. If you move, head north, and leave notes so I can find you.' He signs it, Rihko, and then tears a corner from the page and writes a note to check the journal, putting it in his pocket with his wallet. Then he repacks, checks his equipment, and begins moving through the city again, looking for signs to the interstate and anything worth picking up on the way, as well as more signs of danger.

There's the sudden sound of alarms, tornado sirens, that's... an odd thing to have trip. Nerves already on edge, the loud sound ringing throughout the empty metropolis is really nerve wracking. The interstate signs are pointing up 35 toward Dallas. Most stores are abandoned as many parts of the country, no sign of the people at all, as if they just melted or turned to dust in the wind when p-day happened. There's a few cars that simply crashed as if their driver went missing while in the car. Its truly a ghost town. A small shopping area bridges the way toward the interstate, a gun store, convenience and clothing stores, and a hardware store all are tempting places to loot.

"Shi-" Rihko starts, nearly jumping as the sirens start. "Damnit. What now..." he mutters. He quickens his pace, heading for the hardware store first; the only thing on his shopping list though is a set of filter masks. If some kind of fog is going to come through and eat everything, he wants at least a token defense. After that, if the coast looks clear, it's into the convenience store to look for food and other convenient supplies, or, if it comes to the worst, hiding from a tornado in the freezer.

The stores are remarkably unlooted, paintmasks fairly easy to find in one of the aisles, and the convenience store has plenty of food that's not gone bad, although a thick black mold has grown over the insides of the chill cabinets. The weather has turned dark, the sky above preparing for downpour.

The mold gets suspicious look, but the rest of the store... Rihko would love to find such prime salvaging back in Fairhaven. Two plastic bags from behind the counter are filled with food, and Rihko briefly considers dismantling the store's microwave... and discards it as an impractical idea. He looks around inside the store for a rain poncho, then, gives the sky a glance and crosses into the gun shop. God Bless Texas... there, he pulls the journal out and adds a quick 'I love you' to his note, tucks it away, and takes the time to check over Tatsu's guns, make sure they are in good working order, and case the establishment for useful additions.

The shotgun looks like it's seen better days, and lots of use. The pistol seems in much better condition, less use perhaps, and maybe sentimental value? Rihko scratches hard at their memory, trying to remember how much experience with weaponry their brother had before things went to hell. Rain begins to fall, hard, heavy and sudden pattering at the windows with a nearly constant thrum. The weapon shop has many options, Rihko easily finding the keys to the locked displays, while most of the rifles are simply out and available to toy around with. He is caught up in looking through supplies and doesn't hear anything until the door bell jingles as it opens.

FUUUUUUUUCK is the only thing going through Rihko's head, and he turns, right hand reaching behind himself to draw his knife even before he's finished whirling to face the door. Of course, -his- knife isn't there... his hand quickly moves to the pistol and draws it out, eyes locking on the store entrance. "Stop!!" he yells.

The eyes of a young girl look back at him and she squeaks, looking genuinely frightened, no trace of the odd movement of that lady. She huddles against herself, and manages to squeak out, "Mister, please don't kill me. And don't kill yourself." The sirens blare again, and hail begins to fall outside, bouncing on the concrete, still tiny speckles.

Rihko relaxes, just a little, his gun starting to lower. He realizes he was holding his breath and slowly lets it out, only to give another little jump as the sirens start up. He sighs and gives his head a little shake, then motions with his head for the girl to come in the rest of the way. "Sorry. This place has me frightened. I am scared, and I am leaving." He keeps his gun in his hand, pointed down at the ground, but looks wary. "Who are you? What happened here?"

The girl points at the bathroom. The last lady to come through here killed herself in there." she is soaking wet, the water dripping over her golden shoulder length curls, her dress dirty and torn. She's very gaunt, underfed and malnourished for certain. She shivers visibly, perhaps in fear, or the cold. The hail outside growing larger, and the wind is blowing it so it's falling at an angle, the larger balls plunking off glass and metal.

Rihko's eyes widen, and he glances towards the bathroom, his mind only far, FAR too happy to provide mental images and horrific scenarios. He stares at the girl again, his drive for survival bricking away the howling terror clawing at the back of his mind as he begins contemplating and calculating, and he forces his body to relax. He looks at the hail outside, then to the bathroom, then back to the girl. "I'm Tatsu. I'm passing through." He nods his head towards the bathroom. "How long ago was it? Did you go in and look at her?"

The girl shakes her head. "Three days ago. I heard the shot and didn't go in. My name's Marley." she offers. And then says, "They're all gone. Everyone leaves, or dies." she shivers again.

Rihko shifts his weight, and nods. "Yea? I bet. This place is awful," he says, substituting 'place' for 'pestilent boil on Hell's ass'. He wracks his memory, trying to think of infection symptoms as he watches the girl, eyes wary. "It's hailing out, Marley, but I am feeling the sudden urge to go somewhere else. You want some food? There's plenty over at that store."

The girl shakes her head, "People get sick. I don't eat because I don't want to be sick." She shifts, uncomfortably at the stare from Rihko. "I can show you my home, mister." Outside in the hail there's movement beyond the constant downpour of dimesized. A dog it appears, weaving in the storm. The girl squeaks when she notices it first, and starts to get up, moving toward the pistols. She can hardly be more than thirteen or fourteen at the oldest.

Rihko glances at the bags of food he had salvaged, then back to the girl. "If you microwave food, it usually makes it safe..." he offers. "I haven't eaten anything here yet," he adds, thinking 'I hope', "and I really, really do not want to get sick either." He circles the room a little, letting the girl move to the guns while keeping some distance, just in case.

The girl moves and grabs one of the pistols, picking it up and holding it up in the direction of the dog. The dog is still moving through the hail, it pelting on it, rather violently against it, but if it notices the pain... it doesn't show. It staggers in their direction, its eyes spotting the two of them in the little store. She squeaks again the pistol shaking in her hands. "Sick dog." she manages.

"I see..." Rihko says, his voice almost growling. He doesn't want to put a bullet through the window, so he moves up to the door; he staggers a moment and gives his head a quick shake, then raises his pistol and shoots the dog. Then he turns to Marley. "Look, I'm not sick, but I'm about to get real dizzy for a moment and I might forget things. I hit my head earlier. Once it passes, I'd love to see your home."

The girl gives a suspicious look to the man's actions, frowning. "Okay Mister, but if you do get sick please leave. I don't want to have to see you..." behind her, the dog that was just brained is leaking on the pavement, the rain and hail washing the blood into the drain, the blood filled with black and white semi translucent filaments. The brain opened up is filled with similar filaments woven through it. The girl points, "Don't go near it, mister, or you'll get sick too." She looks both ways outside, and gives the corpse plenty of distance as she heads along under the canopies to avoid the hail. The storm seems to be breaking, moving eastward quickly over the city. The tornado sirens still blaring occasionally, but no tornado in sight.

Rihko glances up at the sky as he slips out, and then follows after the girl, eyes widening as he looks at the dog, silently thanking the storm for keeping the air clear. Rihko staggers, dizzy, losing his balance; his hands come up to brace himself as he falls, and he kneels there on the ground. He can feel the world twisting around him, his tenuous connection tearing, the world reasserting itself as his head spins the world around him. He slowly nods his head, then, and tries to calm himself as he mentally lets go.

The girl is at his side, tugging at him, the look of fear on her face at losing yet another person, although there's a sad bit of numbness too. The sound of her voice is too distant to hear. And then reality snaps, and Rihko coughs at the dirt in her mouth, face first on the training room floor. A small marble directly in front of her.

Rihko coughs. She doubles up and coughs, and splutters, spitting out dirt; she snatches the marble when she sees it, then curls up in a little ball and lets herself make a thin, strangled shriek.

Nothing to give her company, the marble's magic gone, a simple glass marble is all that's left, the last touch of Dirt upon the world, and his parting gift.