The Red Son's Head (1950s w/ Zombiesaur)

Lissandra was returning home.

She had just been to investigate a haunting out in Northampton, apparently a number of adolescents had sighted some strange things. As expected from Lissandra, this was a hoax. She had her name in the newspaper classifieds as an 'occult detective', but apparently people didn't take that as seriously as 'superhero who can shoot lasers from his face'. Other than the spirit of a rather unpleasant Pug, Lissandra had encountered very little in these past few days. And yet, she could constantly feel it. The minds of flowers and the rage of dead psychopaths. Yet, her home was exempt from it. She knew she could return safely and sleep, despite the horrors that house used to represent. Daniel probably helped the most, he always seemed so happy. It would be good to s-

The Street:

Conscious, Lissandra lay on the concrete path. Funny, she didn't remember ever laying herself down in the first place. Either way, she got herself up and wiped her dress off, despite the lack of any dirt being fairly prominent. Habits.
This isn't right. She felt something quite wrong, in fact. Very, very wrong. She looked around herself, not noticing anything immediately. Was there something wrong with the cars? It was hard to tell, but she'd sworn they normally looked a lot more... Preposterous. No, it wasn't the cars, it was most certainly something nefarious. She could feel it. Has something happened to Daniel? No, this presence wasn't new to her. It was almost like... Time travel. Not an absurd idea. She had no idea what truly presented her transportation the first time, she just didn't think a second time would be so uneventful. She felt compelled to return, and immediately started studying her journal for anything to do with time travel.

This presence is undoubtedly the Red Son's Head. Whatever time it is, they linger in their ruination and-
"Hello milady, taking it a bit old school are we?" A slightly older gentlemen had approached Lissandra from the back. Lissandra responded in her casual, cutesy voice.
"Did you know that if you take an elephant's eye and some vinegar you have what you need to possibly create an aura of nostalgia? You could take it old school whenever you wish." The man held his jaw open. "Of course, I haven't ever tried it. Elephants only have two eyes per number which seems a little excessive just to relive some old memories."
"Elephants?" The man said without thinking.
"Yes. Tell me which year it is."
"1950..."
"My thanks. Now be on your way." The bewildered man started shuffling away, towards whichever destination he had intentions of reaching.

Focusing on her journal once again, Lissandra did not take notice of the second presence of death. But there were many dark matters at work tonight, whom they were working for is just one mystery to be solved.

Something was wrong.  This was the first thought that crossed Amber's head upon awakening.  As was in her nature, she had fallen asleep in a far off corner of a park in her compsognathus form.  It was a small chicken-sized dinosaur that fed mostly on insects and small rodents.  Most importantly to Amber, however, it was unassuming and easily hidden.  She didn't always sleep outside and, in fact, as part of her quest to remember what it was to be human she had been trying to break herself of the habit.  Sometimes, however, the walls and roofs of her meager dwelling were just too claustrophobic and she couldn't deal with it.

A combination of an extreme sensitivity to sunlight and eyes that made light unnecessary in most places anyway meant that Amber almost always slept during the daylight; not that she required a whole lot of sleep in any case.  It was, as it turned out, one of the advantages of being half dead.  This time was, or at least should have been, no exception.  It was in the brightest and hottest part of the afternoon that she had gathered her robes into an out of the way corner of the woods and curled up for a few hours of rest.  While shifted the sunlight didn't bother her in the way it did when she wore her human skin.  She should have awoken just as the day was starting to settle into dusk, but instead she found herself in mid-afternoon daylight.

Perhaps the few hours discrepancy of time wouldn't have been too much of a concern except for the smells.  Nothing around her smelled as it should and, for that matter, now that she looked around nothing looked familiar either.  She chirped her distress.  Familiar or not, she could still hear the sounds of human civilization not too distant from her and however she had ended up where she now was, she didn't appear to be entrapped.  There was a certain sense of safety involved in remaining in her ancient animal form but the illusion of safety didn't give her much in the way of information and information was what she needed.  Where was she and how had she gotten here?

Taking advantage of of the shade of the tree she was currently under, Amber triggered the painful process of shifting back into her human body and, as with every time she shifted, there was a vague sense of returning to something weak and clumsy.  Weak and clumsy it may have been, but at least it had hands and vocal chords for speech and sometimes those things were needed.  Her black robes she put on quickly, covering every inch of her body except for her void black eyes and the slit of skin between them.  Unusual as it made her appearance, her robes provided necessary protection against a toxic sun that could burn her sensitive flesh within minutes.

Once properly attired, Amber walked to the edge of the wooded area and onto the city sidewalk that was beside the park.  Something was very very wrong here and her sense of unease multiplied as her eyes darted about a very strange city.

Nothing was in there. Nothing that seemed plausible, anyway. The reality of the situation started seeping in, and Lissandra panicked. There must have been a purpose for this. This kind of thing doesn't just randomly happen twice in a row, especially not at the same house.

Something else? There was another presence. It wasn't familiar in the slightest, but there was a huge presence of... Death. Not dead, but a distinct lack of spirit. It wasn't exactly malicious, either. Just unnerving. Upon the decision to ignore and investigate the house, Lissandra saw the entity of which the presence came. To be fair, it wasn't exactly inconspicuous. To be even fairer, neither was she in her Victorian dress.

The subject in question was most probably a woman, and wore a guise of black robes. If she didn't detect a presence, she would think nothing of it. But feeling her, here, under these circumstances: Something was awry. She put the journal back in her satchel, and clutched it tight. With a bright smile on her face, she approached the hooded apparition. Her voice was light and fluffy as always.

"Good evening, miss. A nice afternoon, wouldn't you agree?"

Amber felt rising fear bubble up within her. Nothing was familiar, nothing was as it should be. Looking around, it almost appeared as if she had somehow gone back in time. But time travel was impossible, wasn't it? Things like that, they didn't really happen, did they?

Or perhaps there was some sort of more plausible explanation. Just because it didn't look like Amber was imprisoned didn't mean that she wasn't inside some sort of extensive prison made to look like another time and place through science, mystic arts or some other kind of super-powered being. Surely that had to be a more reasonable explanation than time travel. Surely.

The one thing that looked like it belonged in this strange place almost as little as Amber did was a woman in a Victorian dress. A woman who, perhaps spotting her own lack of fitting in, opted to speak to her. It was not, however, the dress that caught Amber's attention but the strange way the necrotic energy within her shifted within her vision. It was't like anything she had ever seen before, almost as if she had a connection with death that went beyond the unavoidable influence it had on all living things.

"Why do the energies of death touch you so strangely," Amber asked, completely ignoring the question that had been asked of her. The niceties of verbal interaction were things she was still working on remembering.

The girl definitely answered to Lissandra's liking. Of course she didn't expect a normal response, as that would indicate a normal presence. Lissandra wasn't one to co-operate in conversations herself, though took note of Amber's ability to detect something in herself.

"Huh. An interesting rebuttal for I could ask the same." She giggled. "Maybe they like me, haha!" Lissandra pranced about the stranger, admiring her appearance. "I like your woven cosmetics. Very authentic."

She couldn't get over the feeling. There was only one spirit here. Possession, perhaps? Was it even possible for a wraith to kill a host body's soul and still use the body? This one was very obviously hiding her body, perhaps there was a link. This, to coincide with all the other strange things? Obviously a link.

Lissandra began placed her hand on her Satchel of Questionable Things, containing things like blood, teeth and hair. Things Amber might be able to detect unbeknownst to Lissandra. She spoke again, though this time much more serious and quickly.

"I'm not all too sure of what horrific apparition you present to be, but it would be foolish to act rash. I have banished a demon from this plane and I've heard they don't get much more powerful than that. I am Lissandra, liberator. So tell me: What are you and what affiliation do you hold with the Red Son's Head?"

The idea of energies liking someone seemed to be a strange one but who was Amber to judge? She didn't exactly have an idea how necrotic energies actually worked or even more than the most basic idea of what they were. She saw them in all things living and previously living and in some fashion she harnessed them, although even then she didn't exactly understand the mechanics of how it worked. The stranger talked a little strangely but, far from putting her off, it was almost a comfort. It had been a very long time since Amber herself had adhered to the conventions of speech. Not because of any dislike of them, but rather because it was hard to remember those conventions after so long not speaking at all.

"I am not a horrific apparition," Amber answered, black eyes almost eye level with the slightly taller woman. "I'm half dead." The words were spoken casually, as if such a state was completely natural and normal. For Amber it was. For others? Their comfort at the realities of her state had ceased to matter a very long time ago.

The satchel at the woman's side glowed dimly. Something inside, perhaps, triggering her sight. Or perhaps it was as simple as the satchel being made of organic materials. A passing glance was given to it.

The skin around her exposed eyes itched with the sunlight and she wished, not for the first time, that it was night or even that the clouds might come and blunt the harshly exposed sun. By now, perhaps, the bridge of her nose was starting to redden and, if she remained in the light much longer, it would eventually start to peel and blister. Her robes had never been a matter of fashion.

"I don't know anything about demons and I don't know anything about a Red Son's head," Amber answered, feeling more and more confused. "I don't need liberating. I do need to know where I am and I think I need to be away from the sun." Unease could now be heard in her voice. Freedom from the damaging rays of the sun could be found by shifting but then she couldn't speak to the only person who might have some ideas about what was going on. "My name is Amber."

Lissandra stared at Amber, still looking quite unimpressed. She took a second observation of the woman's build, leaning from side to side to gather a full image. It was like her eyes molded with the rest of her attire. Aside from that, it seemed everything she said was plausible. Lissandra had researched zombification: A mass of death without spirit. Though the combination of both and the aversion to sunlight would point towards a half-dead result. It would also make enough sense for an oddjob like herself to be thrown into such a strange affair. Lissandra made eye contact once again and smiled, shifting herself back into the bubbly personality that was so at home with her.

"Oh! My apologies, Miss Amber. With me, now." Lissandra moved up to one of the building's verandas, and gestured for Amber to come underneath it with her. It was her old home. Her present home. Heck, she had the key in her bag, but she didn't know if there was anyone inside.

"I am truly sorry. I haven't encountered an undead person like yourself, before. Very interesting. Where we are is simple: London. I live here, in fact." She smiled again, looking up at the size of the house. "But I do believe some sort of spontaneous travel through time has occurred. For me, anyway. I came from 2020, and now it's all 1950s and the automobiles look like bugs... Heehee."

"I would go in, but I'm not too sure if anyone's home... They're not the kindest bunch... If you can sense necrotic energies like you imply, may you inform me of what you can see?"

((OOC: Leaving this up to you. If there's signs of life or none, that's all you.))

As Lissandra seemed to know more about what was going on and why, Amber saw no reason not to listen to her directions. It was natural, as a pack animal, to go along with what the alpha demanded. At least in these limited circumstances, she was comfortable with the other woman taking on the role of alpha. Should circumstances change, she was nothing if not adaptable.

Amber wasn't quite certain if the term 'undead' was fully accurate to describe her condition. From what readings she had done, the term implied something that went somewhat beyond her present condition. While she was certainly more (or less depending on how one looked upon it) than a living creature, she wasn't quite dead either. Her heart still beat within her chest, she still required oxygen and sleep still took for for limited times during the day. Still, it was close enough to the truth of her existence and as such she saw no reason to correct the misnomer.

Following Lissandra up to the building, the only thing Amber noted was the faint glow coming from the wood the building was constructed out of. Given the previously alive nature of all wood, that wasn't unusual and was no indication of life or death within the building. "1950s?" Maybe it shouldn't come as much of a shock given all the other experiences of her life, but time travel wasn't one she thought she'd ever encounter. The idea was more than a little overwhelming.

"I don't exactly sense them," Amber answered, distracted and giving concerted effort to ignoring the problem at hand and focusing on those things she was more comfortable with. "I see them. In things. So if there's something in there I won't know until we get inside and I can actually see it." A pause to collect her thoughts. "If it helps I can change forms into something that might have a better chance of hearing or smelling anything that might be inside before it can hear or smell us." Because human senses were dull and almost useless.