#Before this short I never knew raccoons can live near the sea. I checked it up it's real

[lovewillthaw-j]

Sweet mother and child scenes from Far From The Tree (Disney short film, 2021)

[savannah-lim]

Room With A Viewing || Savannah & Carrington

Timing: Before No Dead Room Mates Allowed Parties: @carringtonblackwood and @savannah-lim Location: Carrington’s townhouse  Content: Mentions of body horror, compulsion  Summary: Savannah checks out Carrington’s property as she’s thinking of renting a similar one. She gets more than she bargained for. 

If she was honest with herself, Savannah should have moved out of the hotel room weeks ago. At the very least, she should have moved to a different hotel, even a different room. Staying in the same room as your now-confirmed-dead co-worker was pretty freaking morbid, and she really needed to stop tripping over all of Javier’s things when she got up to go to the bathroom in the night. If this stranger knew of a well-priced townhouse downtown, it would have been foolish to pass it up, so she went to his address, ringing the bell and waiting till he answered. Jeez, was everyone in this town handsome? “Hello, Carrington? Mr. Blackwood? I have no idea what you prefer. I’m Savannah. Here for the tour.” 

Carrington answered the door a few moments after the bell rang, smiling warmly at the lovely woman on his stoop. “Carrington is just fine. ‘Mr. Blackwood’ makes me sound like an old man.” The irony was not lost on the 420 year old vampire. But they weren’t here to talk about his age. So Carrington stepped back and swept his arm out, indicating that Savannah should come inside at her leisure. The foyer was bright and clean, white walls against dark floorboards, with a matching staircase that lead up to the second floor. Carrington gave Savannah the general layout of the first floor: foyer, with kitchen to the right (which included access to the short stair-case leading to the single-car garage) and living room to the left. Half bath just under the stairs, and an extra room down the hallway and to the right. Carrington’s piano was housed there currently.

“So what brought you to town, Savannah?” Carrington asked, observing her curiously as he moved casually towards the kitchen. “And may I get you something to drink while we look around?”

"Carrington it is." Thank God. Savannah loathed forced formalities. The house was great from the outside, and The Bureau covered her rent up to a certain amount as part of her assignment. In the long-run, it had to be cheaper than staying at a hotel, but the idea that she might afford a place like this, even with White Crest prices, was hard to believe. She followed him inside, looking around. "I'm sorry, and you pay how much for this?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I'm here on a case. An investigation into the disappearance of my colleague. Javier Sterling." God, a drink would be fantastic. "A light beer if you have one, or a vodka and some kind of diet soda?" 

Forced formality had been part of Carrington’s life from the nearly the moment he was born. So it was a blessed relief when he met someone who didn’t seem to mind letting them drop. Carrington gave her a wry look when she asked about his rent. When he gave her the price, he knew it sounded ridiculously cheap, all things considered. “You’d think there might be a catch,” he amended. “But other than the occasional pesky creature deciding to make it’s home in my attic-” He shook his head at the memory of the alghoul infestation. Bloody nightmare that was. “- it’s been pleasant.” The answer to his question gave Carrington a slight pause. But he covered quickly, reaching into the fridge for two light beers (a locally brewed brand that he found quite palatable). He opened them - careful to find a bottle-opener instead of just popping the tops with his hand - and handed one to his guest. He took a slow pull, thinking back on the news he’d heard of an FBI agent poking around. “I remember hearing the FBI was around town, though I never met Agent Sterling myself.” He gestured they should walk back through the foyer to look at the den if she wanted. “I assume  by now you’ve heard the stories people tell about this town? About people disappearing?”

And never coming back. 

“Like… what?” Savannah asked, waiting for the revelation. “Rats? A cockroach infestation?” That was an even bigger deal-breaker than knowing there had been a murder on the premises. Judging by what other people had said, that was true of most places in White Crest At least the crime scene clean-up crew removed all signs of the body. At least the walls were repainted and the floors recarpeted. “Once, a raccoon got inside my old apartment. The sounds I woke up to..” She shivered, sipping the drink Carrington had given her. “They record the statistics of deaths and unsolved disappearances. Both are far above average for a town of this size.” She looked around the kitchen. The cabinets looked new. The stove was spotless. Did he ever do any cooking? “Have you lived here long?” 

“Squirrels mostly,” Carrington assured her. “The occasional family of bats.” The irony of that wasn’t lost on him. He shook his head, glancing up at the ceiling with a long-suffering look. “Bloody menace. And God knows how they’re getting in.” He took a long pull of his drink. “Though I haven’t seen any in awhile, so I think they’ve finally given up. Or found a better attic to roost in.” Her story about the raccoon made him grin in a way that said he shared her pain. “I can say there has never been a racoon in my attic, so small mercies, hm?” Carrington hummed in agreement as she mentioned the statistics. “Yes, they are. Makes one wonder if any of the stories are true. Or-” He made a small gesture with his drink. “- if perhaps they’re more… self-fulfilling?” He watched her as she regarded his immaculate kitchen. He did cook- if she was wondering - but he also tended to be unnaturally tidy. Too much clutter made him feel anxious. “About a year now,” he answered smoothly. “I came for work. And a change of scenery. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but it’s been… interesting.” He took another drink, still watching her curiously. “So… what do you think of White Crest so far? Have you been warned to stay away from any particular place yet? That seems to be a favorite pastime of the locals.” 

Savannah nodded thoughtfully. “We had a family of sparrows nest in our roof too once when I was a kid. I’d wake up to the sound of baby birds. It was quite exciting for a young child. Probably less so for my parents.” A year wasn’t too long. She’d already been here a couple of months, and they’d passed in the blink of an eye. “I quite like it. The investigator in me is kind of excited by all the mystery of the place, but logically, I know I should be far more disturbed than I am.” Savannah gave a low chuckle. She looked out the window. A thick fog had rolled in from the sea, seemingly out of nowhere. “Coastal towns and their fog, hm?” she said, making small talk as she headed for the bathroom. As she got closer to the door, she heard water running. “Oh, is there someone in the shower?” 

Carrington smiled at the image Savannah’s story brought to mind, but the town’s oddness quickly became the subject again. “Well, then you’re in for a treat if you hang around for awhile.” He tipped an eyebrow at her. “Should you be? Perhaps you just have an open mind when it comes to… preternatural occurrences?” Or perhaps it was all building to a head, and Savannah would slowly find herself going mad. Carrington sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. He glanced out the window as she mentioned the fog. It was rather thick this evening, but Carrington didn’t give it much more than a passing glance. “It’s part of the charm,” he quipped as them moved on. But his smirk waned as they neared the bathroom. “No. There’s not.” He approached cautiously, listening for any sounds other than the running water. There was nothing in the hallway to indicate intrusion, and he’d sensed no one else in the house but himself and his guest. But something felt… off. 

Slowly, Carrington opened the bathroom door. Steam poured out, rolling across the ceiling and instantly making the vampire’s pale skin feel damp and sticky. It was so thick that it took a moment to make out the strange shape behind the fogged up glass of the shower. Even then, it took a moment to realize just what he was looking at. And if Carrington’s blood hadn’t already been cold, it would’ve turned to ice right then and there as he saw what was in his shower. “Christ…” 

"An open mind is the most polite way of putting it," Savannah answered with a vague chuckle. More likely she was just a cat about to be killed by her curiosity. The very same curiosity led her towards the bathroom as Carrington confirmed there was nobody else home, and she pulled a gun from beneath her jacket. "Don't worry. I'm FBI," she answered, just in case he was alarmed by his house guest's sudden revelation that they were armed. 

An attempted burglary would be one thing; it was a very nice house, but what kind of thief stopped to use the shower? God, please don't let it be some kind of bunny boiler ex who had let themselves in... No such luck, unfortunately. "ARGHHH!" Savannah screamed. It was Javier, except it wasn't. Scales and tentacles covered his body, his face malformed by something. It seemed to be growing out of his skin. 

"It's not real!" Savannah insisted. "I'm fucking dreaming. It's not real." 

“Well, it’s not always a bad thing.” But curiosity could certainly be bad for one’s health. Especially here. Though Carrington was guilty of it just as much as anyone else. But his move towards the bathroom was more concern than anything. If someone had gotten in without him knowing… When Savannah pulled her weapon, Carrington gave it a glance, and a nod of acknowledgement to Savannah herself, but was otherwise unaffected by the presence of the gun. Though what good it would do was yet to be seen. So Carrington prepared himself for the worst as he opened the door. But that still didn’t prepare him for what was actually on the other side. Savannah’s scream caused the creature to turn it’s grotesque head towards them. It’s mouth opened, and instead of a voice, thick black ichor gurgled up from Javier’s - from the creature’s - throat… spilling down his contorted face and body like oil. It made a shuddering motion, and lurched suddenly in their direction. Without a second thought, Carrington pushed Savannah back into the hallway and shut the door. He held the knob with one hand - the door didn’t lock from the outside - and kept the other in front of Savannah. He turned to her a moment later, hand still on the knob, as she tried to tell herself it wasn’t real. 

“Of course it’s not real,” Carrington said, locking his eyes with hers. They were very blue, and looked at her with a gentle intensity that tightened the corners just so. “It’s not real at all. There’s a raccoon in the bathroom. Like in your old apartment. Remember? You told me that story.” He waited patiently - not caring for the use of compulsion to alter someone’s memories, but in this case it was necessary - to see if his suggestion would work. All the while trying to ignore the way the doorknob shuddered in his grasp.

Savannah’s heart hammered in her chest, beating against her rib cage like an animal that didn’t want to be contained. Her body was hot, palms sweating, muscles tight and tense. Instinctively, she tried to fight Carrington off, beating his chest while she reached for her gun, but it was no use. He was deceptively strong. “What do you mean?!” She practically yelled in his face. “I saw it! I fucking saw him!” But as quickly as the panic had overcome her, something started to calm it. Savannah shook her head, as if waking up from an unplanned nap. “What… what the…?” She cleared her throat, standing up straight. “Sorry. This is embarrassing. I’m clearly not getting enough sleep.” She pointed towards the bathroom door. “You should… call pest control. I’m gonna go.”