s-bradburiedalive

[s-bradburiedalive]

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"Uh, I mean, nightmares? Regular ones, run of the mill kinda scaries. Eyes lurking in the dark. Horrible, twisting shadows. Monsters. Heat, so much-- And darkness. No hatman or any such thing, though, thank goodness," Sutton tried to joke, but she doubted Abigail actually appreciated any sort of attempt on her part at levity.

Sutton hadn't really had bad dreams before, maybe a time or two, but she also hadn't had many problems in her personal life. Sure, there were the heart issues. And, sure, sometimes she got a little anxious, and she needed to take something for it, or she'd get a little sad, and she'd need to take something for it, but her life, other than brain chemistry and internal irregularities, was what a lot of people might call perfect.

Of course, perfection wasn't real. What was that old saying? Nothing gold can stay? "I'd wake up thinkin' my eyes were all... black long before they ever were. I'd always check in the mirror. It wasn't real. But I'd draw them, sometimes." She shrugged. "Apparently, they're all right. A couple have sold pretty well."

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Leaning back from the table, Abigail mulled over Sutton's words with a pensive expression on her face. Sutton's situation sounded... well, traumatic. To go from the nuclear family dynamic, with their bright Instagram smiles, to learning now that her father wasn't her father? That it was the product if an adulterous affair? She supposed anyone would be shaken by that. Anyone who had been raised in a normal, two-parent household, at least.

Pursing her lips, she considered this new fact. But it just didn't make any sense. In all of her reading and research, people didn't turn into Yao Guai simply because their family life was torn apart. Otherwise the world would be overwhelmed with monsters. There was usually some kind of catalyst-- a physical attack or exposure to a ghoul or malevolent spirit. Normal people didn't sprout horns or bleed black overnight.

"What kind of nightmares?" Abigail pressed, still puzzling over the facts in her head. None of this made any kind of sense to her.

[s-bradburiedalive]

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"My dad," Sutton murmured, pausing. Her dad was Alan Bradbury. He was a good man, a great dad. He was kind and funny and a little goofy at times, to be a CEO of an international company. He was at as many of her art shows as he could make, he held her hand when she was little and still scared of needles, and he showed her endless support in all of her pursuits. Her dad was the man that raised her, fucking sperm donation be damned.

Sutton cleared her throat. "My mom had an affair. Or, I mean, they weren't married, at the time, and she barely remembers the whole thing. But. The baby, me, wasn't actually-- My dad isn't my birth dad. And we all kind of found that out... Before I moved here. So that was great and everything, You know. Really fun. Not at all life changin'."

Sighing, Sutton shook her head. "Nothing started then, though. I didn't just-- just wake up the next morning with horns and black eyes and black blood, falling through walls and shit. It didn't happen like that. The nightmares started first."

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Abigail blinked, taken aback as Sutton hunched over, her head in her hands. She— it looked so vulnerable. So... human. Even though she wasn't. It. It wasn't human at all, Abigail reminded herself. But, the creature had thought of herself as a human for so long. It hadn't been long at all since that night when she'd first stumbled upon Sutton, when she'd seen the dark abyss of those eyes staring at her. Seeing Sutton like this, Abigail almost felt... sorry for her.

Her gaze shifted from Sutton to the shelves that lined the room around her, to the jars of preserved specimens, tiny delicate skeletons pinned to frames, and Abigail stiffened. Swallowing, she looked back at Sutton before folding her arms behind her back. She listened in silence, mulling over the words.

"Family drama?" Abigail repeated, her eyebrows furrowing.

[s-bradburiedalive]

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What kind of instinct was it that led Abigail to pull out the knife? Or was it just because Sutton was... different? Not... human. She didn't want to think of herself like that, but it was becoming more and more obvious. Humans didn't have blood like that. They didn't grow horns or have black eyes. They couldn't walk through walls, not unless they were superheroes. But Sutton Bradbury wasn't a superhero, she was an artist, a rich girl. A monster.

Sutton put her head in her hands. It was a lot easier to come to terms with the fact that something was very, very wrong with her when her blood looked like that. Not just the color, but whatever the fuck was going on under that microscope. Fucking horrifying. What was wrong with her? What had done this to her? Had she always been like this, or did something happen?

"I just started to notice it not that long ago, after all the other weird shit," she mumbled, keeping her face in her hands. Sutton took a few deep, shuddering breaths before finally straightening up, running a hand through her hair. "I don't-- I don't know. Like, it was fine a year ago when I had my last appointment. I haven't needed to go to a doctor other than routine stuff for a year. I've been fine. Nothin' stressful's really happened except--" Except she found out that her dad wasn't actually her dad and moved to Connecticut for school and had to piece together how much of her life was a lie. "I've had some family drama over the last year."

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"It's alright. I... acted on instinct. It can be difficult not to react like that." Abigail tilted her head in an almost imperceptible dip of apology. A Xiang would not bow to a Yao Guai. But she couldn't help but feel... regretful. There was enough going on as it was, without her drawing a blade on Sutton. Even if it was only a scalpel.

Sutton's reaction to the microscope caught Abigail off guard and her instincts screamed at her to take a step back, to brace herself for some kind of explosion of rage, of an act of violence, of some kind of monstrous outcry. But, as she watched Sutton's face, watched the panic and the fear and the way her eyes darted to Abigail's, the way it seemed like she was begging for some kind of reassurance... Abigail fought her reflexes and remained where she was.

"I don't doubt that it looked normal at one point," Abigail said, raising her hands slowly in an attempt to placate Sutton, "but, that's not the case now." The hair on the back of Abigail's neck stood on end and every nerve in her body was sending alarm bells for her to act first, to attack first, to do something before Sutton flew off the handle and lashed out at her. But she forced herself to keep her hands empty and calm and open. "Do you remember when it first started to look different? Maybe something triggered this?"

[s-bradburiedalive]

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Such a damn non-answer, but Sutton didn't push. Mostly because she didn't think it'd be appreciated, and she'd already gotten a taste of Abigail's lack of appreciation. She really didn't want to give Abigail another reason to want to kill her.

She did soften, though, at the apology. At least, the closest one that she figured she'd get. Sutton didn't mind. She thought that the regret was nice enough. "It's fine," she murmured. "I shouldn't have gotten so close without saying anything first. Just sorta acted, I guess." She'd try to be better. If they kept meeting like this, if it didn't end with Sutton actually meeting the business end of one of Abigail's scalpels or knives or spears or whatever else sharp and pointy and dangerous that she had.

Sutton glanced at the microscope hesitantly before peering down. That... looked odd. It looked fake, honestly, and she reeled back. "Oh, what the fuck?" she asked, looking between Abigail and the microscope. "That ain't real." It couldn't be real, but she looked in the microscope again, and then back at the blood, and then away, biting her lip, shaking her head. "It hasn't always looked like that," she said immediately, trying to defend herself. "It didn't. It was normal blood until pretty fucking recently."

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Of course it had hurt. But, Abigail had grown numb to minor pains like that. Mental toughness, her family's rigorous training, and years of hunting Yao Guai had made her indifferent to something as minor as a slash against the back of her hand. "I'm fine." Abigail replied stiffly, laying her palms down flat on the metal table, her posture rigid.

"I shouldn't have done that. Pointed the scalpel at you." She said, her voice flat as she stared at the back of her hand and the scab that had formed there. It wasn't an apology, it wasn't bending her head to a monster. She was merely stating a fact. She shouldn't have done that. Her family would agree, she shouldn't have done that. Abigail pushed away the other thoughts her family would have on the situation. On what else she shouldn't have done.

At Sutton's words, Abigail slid away from the microscope and tilted her head for her to look. "You'll see what I mean right away. And why... you really shouldn't go to a doctor. Make an excuse. Fake an illness. Lie about needing to complete a project." Just don't go to that doctors appointment, Abigail thought. If she went and a doctor saw black blood flowing into a vial, they would examine it under a scope. And they would reach out to others and her father, with all of his knowledge and all of his connections, would find out.

And he would act. And he would make her act.

[s-bradburiedalive]

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"Shouldn't matter if you heal quickly. I bet it still hurt," Sutton said, though, really, what did she know? Abigail was so much different than her, and she did heal fast. Maybe she didn't feel pain the same, either. All Sutton know was that, if she'd done something like that, it would have hurt like hell.

She sighed in relief as Abigail let her take a step back. "Thanks," Sutton told her. It felt like a weird thing to thank someone for. Thanks for not stabbing me when you totally could have! My blood stains weird these days. It would have been a real shame to get it all over Abigail's weird secret science lab. Museum storage space. Whatever the fuck it was.

There wasn't really anything else for Sutton to say, so she just fiddled with the straps of her bag until she heard Abigail speak, more to herself than to Sutton. Sutton wasn't stupid, despite what a lot of people thought, and she learned from her mistakes. Rather than stepping forward, she asked, calmly but curiously. "What is it? Could I-- Could I take a look?"

You just-- You were bleedin'. Abigail stared at Sutton in utter bafflement. Yes, of course she was bleeding. She'd done it to herself, of course she would bleed. "I was proving a point." Abigail held the back of her hand up and gestured to the already scabbing wound. "I heal quickly. And it was just a scratch." She wanted to add, I don't need your help, but. Well. They both knew that wasn't true.

She'd spent all of her time in Shanghai mentally whittling away at the memory of that night. She had pruned away the problematic parts, the parts where Sutton had helped her home, had stitched her up, had cleaned the blood from her skin and tucked her to bed. She'd clung to the narrative she'd reported to her family-- she had been ambushed, fought and killed the chimera, returned home, administered the mithridate, and recovered enough to tend to her wounds.

Realizing she still had the scalpel in her hand, Abigail suddenly felt a wave of shame wash over her. Sutton hadn't... she hadn't done anything wrong. Abigail had been the one to overreact. Swallowing, she tilted her head for Sutton to step back and set down the scalpel on the table. "I-- Mm." The apology stuck in the back of her throat, her fathers words from childhood echoing in her mind. Do not dishonor my name, Abigail. And bending her head in apology to a Yaoguai? She couldn't.

Abigail slid her blood under the scope and looked it for a long moment, a distraction from the horrible silence. Normal, red blood. Healthy and strong. She switched to Sutton's. Technically speaking, the quantity of cells looked... healthy. They just looked discolored and misshapen as well. "That's so bizarre." Abigail murmured.

[s-bradburiedalive]

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Really, Sutton should have expected this from the way that Abigail always fucking reacted whenever Sutton was around. That didn't stop her from flinching at the feeling of the scalpel hovering near her neck. Her eyes clenched shut, probably the smartest thing she'd done since entering the basement, as she knew they'd turned black.

"Sorry," she breathed, her eyes still tightly closed as she waited for a movement that never came. "Sorry. You just-- You were bleedin'." She'd just wanted to make that stop. It was so stupid. Abigail didn't seem to like anyone in her space, much less a fucking monster. Slowly, she put her hands up, and, when she was sure her eyes weren't going to get her actually stabbed, Sutton opened them to look at Abigail.

"Can I take a step back?" she whispered. "I'm gonna put-- I'd like to put some more space between us, so that you don't feel like you've gotta stab me, and so I don't feel like I'm gonna get stabbed. Which, I mean, you're more than capable of doin' it. I'd just really like to not do that before we, uh, before we figure out what exactly's goin' on with me, you know?"

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Abigail had been able to quash her instincts to go for the gun when she'd seen Sutton's horns appear out of her skull and was quite proud of that. However, she was unprepared for the creature's sudden proximity, her sleeve pressed against the open wound. There was only so many unexpected turns she could handle.

When she felt Sutton's presence pushing into her carefully maintained orbit, soft skin and wavy hair far, far too close to her, Abigail was unable to stop years of training. Heart pounding in her ears, she whipped the scalpel in her hand up, poised just above Sutton's carotid. The blade hovered a few scant inches from the skin, a flick of her wrist away from spilling black blood across the clean, bleached floors. She yanked her hand away, feeling the already scabbed over wound split at the sudden motion.

"Don't touch me." Abigail warned, the words coming out with a calmness that she didn't feel. Her pulse raced at the way the creature held her hand-- a fear response, a response to the sudden vulnerability. That's what she told herself.

[s-bradburiedalive]

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How much different could the blood look, anyway? Sutton had seen her own blood before. In high school, they'd all done blood samples in one of their labs, even though Sutton was already very familiar with her own blood type. She'd seen pictures, she knew the color, knew that it was mostly healthy. She was, despite her conditions, mostly healthy.

What Abigail showed her in that microscope didn't look healthy at all. But it was Sutton's blood. She knew that as instinctively as she knew the color of her own eyes. Except that was wrong. Sometimes they were wrong. Sometimes she was wrong. Like the red blood cells that weren't really red anymore, spiky and strange and unfamiliar. This wasn't right, and Sutton looked up to tell Abigail as much when she watched the other woman slice open her fucking hand.

"Jesus Christ," Sutton breathed out, immediately stepping forward and pressing her sleeve to the wound out of instinct. "Why the fuck'd you do that? Does it hurt? Do you have any bandages in here?" It was just a cut, something small and insignificant and barely even there, but the last time Sutton saw Abigail bleeding-- which, really, was the last time she saw her-- she'd been dying from it. And the image of someone nearly dying in front of you, from poison, from bloodloss, really stood out to you.

She didn't look at the slide, instead frowning at Abigail still. "I know what blood looks like, and I know mine's... I know whatever that is is wrong." That didn't really change anything, though. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do, then, because I can't just-- I can't just stop livin' my life. People would notice. And my life is painting and reading and going out every now and then and taking care of my cat and, yes, doctors' appointments. How do I explain that I no longer need a doctor for the lifelong medical condition that I was born with?"

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Dextrocardia, ventricular sepal defect, arrhythmia-- context clues and a firm grasp of Latin root words were enough to inform Abigail of the severity of the situation. The way Sutton seemed shockingly blase about the situation implied longevity. She really had thought she was human her entire life. And maybe she was. Zombie hypothesis nonwithstanding. Had something happened to turn Sutton into a... whatever she was?

Frowning at this new information, Abigail glanced back through the microscope. She wasn't a cardiologist; she wasn't even a biologist. She was just a Fangxiangshi who had looked at far more Yaoguai blood in her life time than any person could fathom. But, it baffled her how this... blood situation could be beneficial to Sutton's heart situation.

Regarding Sutton with a frustrated expression, Abigail sighed. "Look at this." She said, gesturing to the microscope. As she waited for the creature to look at its own blood, Abigail went to one of the drawers and withdrew a clean scalpel. Without flinching, she drew the blade across the back of her left hand and squeezed a daub of blood onto a fresh slide.

Abigail pressed the slide together in a business-like fashion before holding it up. "Now look at this. Can you really tell me that a doctor wouldn't immediately try to detain you, after seeing the difference?"

[s-bradburiedalive]

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None of this seemed particularly great to Sutton. Not the little hum of contemplation that Abigail gave, not the look on her face. It actually seemed really fucking bad! This was not going great! "Huh?" She blinked at Abigail before processing the question. "Oh, I have dextrocardia. My hearts a mirror image of what it'd normally be." She put her hand over the right side of her chest. "So, it faces to the right, and it's on the right side of my chest, and so the positionin' of everything's a little... off. But most folks can function just fine with dextrocardia, especially when it's isolated like mine is. Mine just affects the heart, not any of my other vital organs, though with some people the position of their livers change, or the valves in their heart don't function properly," Sutton rattled out, used to going over the specifics of things.

"I had a ventricular septal defect when I was younger, but I had surgery to get that fixed before high school. So, I mean, all the stuff involving that's mostly fixed, but I do still have a mild arrhythmia." And she still did, even if she didn't feel as constantly fatigued as she used to. Her heartbeat was still abnormal. Almost worse, really, but it didn't... seem to be having any sort of negative side effects on her these days.

"Abigail, I just can't not go," Sutton said, brushing her hand through her hair. "That's why. I've been seeing cardiologists my entire life. I can't just stop seeing them, say that everything's all hunky-dory and go about my life like it's normal. My parents would get concerned, the doctors. Hell, I'm seeing some of the best specialists in the fuckin' area. I can't just..." she sighed. "I can't just cancel this kind of appointment. That'd be just as concerning as showing up with whatever--" she looked at the slide, "--whatever that is."

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Abigail ignored the question about her role with the archive, choosing instead to increase the focus on the microscope. Sutton, at least, seemed to recognize the error. At least she apologized. It. She was staring at blood that wasn't human, at red blood cells that weren't red in the slightest. They looked almost... pointed, at times. Not at all like the normal, round erythrocytes that should be in every living, breathing person. Which is what Sutton looked like. When its horns weren't around and its eyes weren't black and it wasn't slipping through walls like a specter.

"Mhm." She hummed, taking in the information. Life long illness, a sickly childhood. But now... Sutton was fine? Better than fine? Glancing back at the creature for a moment, Abigail wondered just how Sutton had gotten into this situation. Had she been bitten by some kind of zombie..? But, dried blood didn't look like that. And the cells, they were clearly alive. Sutton was, clearly, alive.

"What do you mean by your heart's in there the wrong way?" Abigail asked, stepping back from the microscope and folding her arms across her chest. "And no. You can ask questions about yourself. That's why you're here. I'm no doctor, so I can't diagnose you but... You can't go to your doctors appointment. If a medical professional sees that," She pointed at the microscope, "I can't promise I won't step in."

[s-bradburiedalive]

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"You do all the, uh, archival stuff, too? Catalogin', that kinda thing?" Sutton asked, before she realized that she should probably shut up. "Nevermind. No questions. I forgot." She tapped the side of her head, though. She'd remembered, at least, even if it was a little too late.

From there, though, all she could really do was observe in silence. She took in the room, the books and materials, and, yes, organs in jars. Body parts, really, ranging in size and type. Some of them were actually quite fascinating, the details of them not anything that Sutton had ever seen in nature before. She loved painting still lifes, loved capturing a moment or a place. A dream. A lot of her recent paintings had been grim. This place would hardly stand out, except for the clinical cleanliness of it all.

Sutton glanced over at Abigail as she spoke, shrugging. "It was pretty useful growing up, if I needed bloodwork or a transfusion. I was sickly." The heart issues had been a part of it, but those weren't exactly issues. They hadn't affected her daily life. And as she'd aged, she'd outgrown a lot of her sickliness. She'd just needed check ups these days to make sure that everything was still functioning like it was supposed to, even if the way it was supposed to wasn't normal.

Nothing about Abigail's tone boded well for what she'd seen in that microscope, and Sutton felt just as wary, crossing her arms over her chest and attempting to be smaller. "Better. I mean, better. Better than I'd felt before. My heart's always beat funny, and it's in there wrong, anyway, but I feel... just better. Like I can do things for longer. Like I could run a marathon, if I tried it, and I wouldn't get tired." She felt stronger, too. Maybe not Abigail strong, but stronger than she'd been. Faster. Her senses were sharper. It was strange, but it was better.

Maybe that was the scary part. "Got a, uh, diagnosis, doc?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light. "Fuck. Does that count as a question?" Did that? She was really fucking this up.

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"I suppose it's somewhere halfway between the two of those things." Abigail said begrudgingly. Except, unlike a museum, no one other than Abigail had ever been inside the basement with the collection. She had a fraction of the family's relics here and even that was still too concerning for them. The ancient texts were locked away in, stored in climate controlled cases that slid into the deep cabinets that lined the room. And, while the monster parts were off putting to look at, the texts were what mattered the most.

Plugging in the microscope, Abigail waved Sutton's apology away. She-- it didn't know where anything was. As long as it abided by the ground rules (no touching, no questions, no screaming), she could be okay with it taking up space. With it... existing, in this most secret of places.

Pausing at the information Sutton just gave her, Abigail chewed the inside of her cheek before breaking herself of the bad habit. "Interesting. You're the universal recipient. AB+ is the rarest blood type in the world, statistically speaking. But," She said, scrutinizing the slide for a moment before slotting it into the microscope, "I'd be surprised if your blood looked the same as it used to."

Focusing the lens, Abigail blinked, not entirely sure what she was seeing. The cells in her blood looked... fundamentally not human. The composition looked similar as far as the ratio of platelets to monocytes and erythrocytes. But that... the red blood cells. They weren't red at all. The majority of Sutton's cells were black and appeared misshapen. Not at all how human blood should look.

Pulling back from the lens, Abigail looked warily at Sutton. "How do you feel, right now? Healthwise."

[s-bradburiedalive]

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"I'm not, honest!" Sutton said hastily, crossing her heart. "It's meticulous as hell. And a lot. Sorry. I ain't really used to seeing anything like this outside of a... a lab. Or a museum." Something like a cross between the two. She hadn't meant to upset Abigail, but, really, she never did. It just sort of seemed to happen, what with her existence being something preternaturally awful in every single way.

Her hands went to her hair once the container was in Abigail's hands, and Sutton felt around at the horns, poking and prodding to see if, just once, just maybe, they wouldn't actually be real. At least they weren't large. Maybe she should start wearing hats everywhere. That way, if this did keep happening, she'd be covered, literally. The eyes she couldn't help. Sunglasses, maybe? The mirrored kind, so that folks couldn't see that she lacked pupils. Or that it looked like her entire eye was just one big pupil.

"You know, I've had folks lookin' at my blood for years, and I still don't really understand much about it. I know I am-- was?" Sutton paused, her eyebrows furrowing together. "It's supposed to be AB+. I don't know if... all that's changed, now." She wanted to step a little closer, actually curious to see the lab work in action when most of her life it'd been carted off to different rooms, away from her attention. It was interesting to watch Abigail work. Nice, really, to see that intense focus directed at something that wasn't her, even if it kind of still was.

Sutton quickly moved as Abigail nudged her, wanting to stay as far out of the way as she possibly could. "Sorry," she said quickly, though her eyes widened as she watched Abigail pick up a big ass microscope like it was nothing. Because of course she was super strong. Of course. Christ alive.

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Abigail's eyes narrowed slightly at Sutton's words. She wasn't certain if the other-- the Yaoguai was mocking her, but she wouldn't hear ill of her family. "If you're making fun of my family, you can leave." She said, voice frosty. The Xiang's catalog was something that distinguished them from the other families, a bargaining chip they could leverage in times of need and struggle. Information was power and the Xiang family wielded both with an iron fist.

When Sutton produced the vial from her bag, Abigail held it up to the light before glancing back at Sutton. The horns protruding from her skull were still present, still unsettling as they ever were. But at least her eyes weren't black to match the blood. Because, if someone had told her they had put motor oil in that container, Abigail would have believed them. In the light, she could see traces of red, but without it? It was the color of pitch.

"You're not wrong. I wonder if the structure of your blood has changed. Hemoglobin is what makes human blood red, if you didn't know." She said as she opened a drawer and withdrew a few slides. Abigail pulled a pair of latex gloves on and a syringe, carefully drawing a sample from the vial and smearing the dark substance on the glass slide. It didn't seem different in viscosity from human blood, which was interesting as well.

"Excuse me." Abigail said, nudging her head for Sutton to step out of the way so she could pull the microscope from where it was stored in one of the many cabinets. Hefting the bulky machine easily, she set it up on the table and began to examine the substance.

[s-bradburiedalive]

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At least the place had hand sanitizer. That simple, mundane fact actually managed to calm Sutton down. Not enough for the horns to go away; she had to actually be relaxed to control that, at least right now, and she was calm but not anywhere near being relaxed in this place. She'd just have to deal with them and hope they went away before she had to step back outside. Or that Abigail kept a hat lying around her second house.

"Helluva life's work you've got going," Sutton mused, looking at the everything of it all. It was, indeed, very thorough. Meticulous, and it all look organized. Of course it was. For as little as she knew about the other woman, Sutton couldn't be surprised that Abigail would be so fucking meticulous in her work. If she wasn't so worried that she'd end up in pieces scattered around the place, she might even appreciate the beauty of it. It was odd, and sterile, but it was also fascinating. Her eyes were drawn to some of the jars, her fingers itching for pencil and pad to sketch some of the things that she was seeing. A lovely still life. An odd one.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the little container, handing it over to Abigail hesitantly. It was... still her blood, and Sutton had been poked and prodded her entire life, had constantly had blood taken and given, but this felt odd. Different. Like she was doing something she wasn't supposed it.

Still, she handed it over, placing the container gently in Abigail's hand. "It's not completely black," she felt the need to clarify. "In the light, you can kinda see the red. It's just dark. I'd think it was paint if I didn't know better."

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Abigail rolled up the sleeves of her sweater before pumping hand sanitizer from the large bottle that sat on one of the stainless steel tables and rubbing it on her hands in a business like manner. Protocol and routine dictated that she should sanitize before conducting any kind of examination of a specimen. The only difference between protocol and reality was that she'd never had a living specimen in the room with her, watching her, practically clutching its pearls at her.

Sutton looked like the type that might have worn pearls. Glancing over at the Yaoguai, she froze when she saw the horns protruding from her head. Wǒ kào--! Her hand immediately went to the handgun strapped to the underside of the table, but she fought the instinct to draw it from its holster. Instead, she merely gripped the table in tight hands and offered a strained, thin lipped approximation of a smile.

"It's my family's life work. We... well," She said, tilting her head towards the rows of jars, the wall of apothecary drawers full of specimens, categorized and labeled and documented. "I maintain records. Very thorough records."

With a quick breath to steady herself-- to distract herself, really, from the fact that Sutton was so blatantly inhuman-- she held out a hand. "The sample, please."

[s-bradburiedalive]

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It wasn't that hard to keep up with Abigail, but Sutton felt the suspense building for the entire walk. Each minute seemed to drag, and she was grateful that they were walking just so that she could keep moving the entire time. She felt restless. She felt like maybe this was a mistake. She felt like she didn't have anywhere that she could fucking go.

This all felt really fucking ominous, and Sutton shot Abigail a look informing her that she thought as much before she started heading down into the basement. "Alright. No touching, no questions, no screaming." All very, very normal requests for someone to make when they were guiding another person into their basement. Like, super normal. Very, very normal things.

It was not normal. It wasn't normal at all. It looked like... a lab. That was the closest that Sutton could get to it, but that wasn't quite right, either. Her eyes widened, and, when she saw what looked like a heart in a jar, they widened even further, her hand raising up to press against her own frantically beating chest. Was she going to die down here? Were her own internal organs going to end up in jars, her backwards heart that apparently pumped black blood sitting somewhere to be studied?

"Not touching anything, not asking questions, not screaming," Sutton said, her voice high, and she felt those stupid fucking horns growing out of the top of her head as she attempted to calm herself down, swallowing around the tightness in her throat. "I'm not doin' any of those things, swear it. Just a little-- Holy shit this place is... something."

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It hadn't always been this way. That was a troubling thought-- could Yaoguai traits be latent? Could someone really go their entire life, completely indistinguishable from a human, only to undergo some... transformation, some catalyst, that would turn them into a monster? That information didn't sit well with Abigail, for a multitude of reasons. One, it meant that potentially anyone could be a Yaoguai, or at least have the predisposition to become one. She had become familiar with vampires and werewolves, who could transmit their monstrous nature to humans like a disease and looked, from what she could tell, as normal as anyone else in the moonless night.

But, as Sutton talked about her appointments and her chronic illnesses and her medical history, an even more unsettling thought came to her mind. It meant that Sutton was telling the truth about this. She didn't know that she was a Yaoguai. She hadn't been one for... well, since Abigail had first tried to kill her in the alleyway months ago. Thoughts of catalyst events, trauma, and epigenetics ran through Abigail's mind at the memory. Cào, had she..? No, she wasn't going to think about that right now.

"Keep up. We'll continue this conversation when we get to... when I have my equipment." Abigail said, walking at a brisk pace away from campus. Her safe house was a quick fifteen minute walk from the edge of Yale's campus, a nondescript looking town house that her father had purchased when she'd been relocated here. Like his gift of the mirror in her apartment, the place was more secure than Fort Knox. She unlocked the deadbolt and knob to the front door quickly before pushing inside.

The door opened easily, not betraying its immense weight. Cold iron tended to be heavy. This level of the safe house had the barest of essentials to maintain a facade of someone living in the house to keep prying eyes away. What mattered was the basement.

"Follow me." Abigail said, setting her messenger bag down in the hallway and hanging her coat on the rack. Pausing at the door to the basement, she turned to face Sutton. "Do not touch anything, do not ask me any questions, and please do not scream." She warned before punching in a rapid series of numbers into the doorknob's lock. The deadbolt turned and she descended into the basement that held the culmination of her life's work.

[s-bradburiedalive]

.

"Not until recently," Sutton breathed out quietly, almost wanting to sag in relief. It was out there. Someone else knew about it. Maybe telling Abigail wasn't the smartest move, but it was the only one that she could think of that might work. "It was pretty normal before all the, uh, other stuff." The falling through walls and black eyes and horns peaking out through her hair. She was normal before all of that. Now, Sutton didn't know what she was.

A monster, probably, just like Abigail thought. The blood was telling. She didn't think anyone good would look like they're oozing black blood. That seemed like it probably wasn't a sign of "super normal, okay person." It didn't really seem like the sign of a person at all. And at first she could have believed it was a trick of the light, and at first she could have hoped it was nothing more than a trick of light. Maybe she was having... a bad day? Internally? Medically? But she'd seen it multiple times, pricking her finger, cutting herself while cooking dinner. It was very, very real.

And Sutton didn't know what to do about that.

Sutton looked at Abigail, tired. "I have to go to that appointment. Abigail, I have chronic, lifelong medical conditions. I have to go to see specialists ever few months to make sure I don't die. I can't just not go. I can't just cancel. That'd be more concerning than the blood." She also didn't know what else she could do, though, because this was clearly bad. Abigail knew it. Sutton knew it. Still, she followed after Abigail, falling into step with her as they headed into the library. "Told you that you wouldn't wanna do this out there," she murmured.

.

Abigail's lips pressed together into a frown at Sutton's question. Yes, yes she did know a place that they could go. But, she wasn't going to let that slip. Sutton already knew too much about her. It had seen her cache behind the mirror of her bedroom, had witnessed just how she hid her emergency stash of tools. It knew far too much.

When Sutton handed the phone back to her, Abigail's eyebrows furrowed together into a deep frown. A small container of blood. That was odd, to be certain, but nothing that would necessitate her being involved. She wasn't a phlebotomist. Sutton snatched the phone back and added-- "Black?" Abigail asked, eyes wide. "That's-- and it hasn't been before?"

Surely Sutton would have known about black blood sooner than this. "You can't go to that appointment." Abigail said abruptly. If a civilian doctor saw black blood, they would hospitalize Sutton in a heartbeat, keep her for observation, investigate where they had no place being. No, that couldn't happen. Not unless Abigail wanted to deal with the aftermath herself. And she really did not want it to come to that. "Come with me." She said, sliding her phone back into her pocket and pushing the doors to the library open. "I know a place where I could examine your... sample."

[s-bradburiedalive]

.

"Do you have anything better that we can go than the library or outside?" Sutton muttered, frowning. But, fine. She got it. It wasn't the best place to do... whatever, but outside literally wasn't any better. There were just as many people out there, probably more, and nobody needed to see that. Or overhear her try and explain what the fuck it even was.

Hesitating, Sutton took the phone and began very quickly typing out her message. I have a small container that has my blood in it. She started to hand it to Abigail but she paused, quickly adding, It's black. She handed the phone back to Abigail and crossed her arms over her chest, more of a defensive gesture than anything else. "And, uh, I don't want anyone to see that?" She shrugged. "I have a doctor's appointment in a few days for my heart. I don't... I don't know what to do."

.

When Sutton didn't immediately follow her out of the library, Abigail glanced back at the creature with a distinct air of irritation. She took in the way Sutton clutched her bag and raised an eyebrow. Whatever was in there clearly had the Yaoguai on edge. "What's wrong with outside? Better outside than in here. This is, after all. A library." Abigail said with a gesture to the quiet stacks. Most of the students had headphones on, but that didn't guarantee their discretion. And anyone who talked over a low whisper was immediately under the watchful eyes (and ears) of the nearest librarian.

But, it seemed that Sutton wouldn't be swayed. Shifting her weight in her sensible shoes, Abigail sighed before pulling out her phone. Opening her notes app, she typed out a quick line. What do you have in your bag that's so concerning? She held her phone out to the creature and waited for it to respond.

[s-bradburiedalive]

.

Sutton should have expected the way that Abigail just sort of did a drive by conversation, but she was still scrambling to tuck her phone away and stand before striding after Abigail. When she caught up, she glanced over at the other woman.

There was such a drastic difference between the way that Abigail looked while dying and the way she looked now, as if it never happened. Nobody Sutton knew recovered that fast from that many injuries. Abigail should be dead. Even if it was probably stupid, Sutton was really, really glad that she wasn't.

"I don't know if this is the kinda conversation I wanna have outside," Sutton said, gripping her bag tighter. Granted, no one would know what would be inside the little container, but she still didn't want to show off her freaky blood to just anyone. Showing it to Abigail sent off all manner of warning bells in Sutton's head, too, but she needed help.

.

Abigail let Sutton's words hang in the air before watching the creature retreat to a nearby study table. She hated the position she had been placed in. If they were here, her aunts and uncles would admonish her for her weakness, but remind her that there was a very simple solution to her problems.

She could hear them in her mind, the advice they would give echoing off the stone courtyard where she and the other members of the family trained. If you insist on keeping up this charade, leave via the back door, slip out through the stacks. Hunt the creature down in the night and use that training we beat into you. Do not fail us, do not dishonor our house.

But for all her attempts to mold herself into the model Fangxiangshi, Abigail couldn't resist the lure placed in front of her. Sutton was a mystery to her, one she couldn't just let get away. The first human-passing monstrosity that seemed just as confused at its existence as she was. She had the chance to document, to learn, to bring something more to the family than just dried out talons and shameful stories of chimera venom nearly killing her.

So, when the clock hit 5, Abigail logged off from the computer, picked up her messenger bag before adjusting her cardigan and the useless glasses on her nose. Slipping back from the desk, she walked briskly past the table. "Come on. Let's talk outside." Abigail said, not bothering to stop as she headed for the exit.

[s-bradburiedalive]

.

"Good, that's-- that's good." Sutton hated it, the way she felt cowed by Abigail's stare. She should be used to it. That was the way Abigail looked at her every time they were around each other. Impassive, cold, like she was either nothing or something to be studied or something to be killed. Not the last time, though. That had been a little different. Sutton wondered if Abigail could recall the way that Sutton helped her, too. Not that Sutton ever planned on holding that against her.

She couldn't get the image of Abigail nearly dying out of her head, the horror of it. It melted in with her dreams, all of the nightmares, the ones she painted, the ones she didn't, couldn't. She couldn't paint that. She couldn't relieve that experience outside of her brain. She never wanted to see anyone like that ever again.

Giving Abigail a nod, Sutton said, "Alright, I'll just, y'know, wait over there. I guess come get me when you clock out?" Did librarians clock in? She wasn't sure. But she gave Abigail one more sheepish look before finding a table close by and sitting down, her bag in her lap, her fingers drumming on the table. She got out her phone to give herself something to do, scrolling through Instagram and trying not to be overly anxious.

.

Abigail regarded Sutton with an impassive gaze, as though she was any other student asking for a reference book or wanting to book a study room. And not the dark horned, dark eyed monstrosity that she was. Even if she was, by all accounts, very bad at being a monster. Abigail's shoulder twinged as Sutton blew a loose strand of hair from its face, remembering the last time she had seen the Yaoguai. She recalled more than she would have liked from that night; the pain had been awful, but not enough for her to black out.

No, she remembered Sutton stitching her up, washing her face, wiping the blood from her arm. And she remembered finding it in the morning, sleeping on her couch. She should have killed it then. But she'd been tired and hurt and something about how helpless the Yaoguai had looked stopped her from even trying. That was why she had gone back to Shanghai. To stamp out that troubling weakness.

"Yes, I recall helping you." Abigail replied. This was a mistake, she knew it was, talking to the monster again. But, when Sutton tapped the bag slung from its shoulder, she couldn't help the curiosity that crept in. For all her work as a warrior, as a fighter, she was always going to be a scribe at heart. What did it have? It was fairly obvious why it needed Abigail's help- it was no closer to solving the mystery of what it was than she was. But what could she possibly have that had her desperate enough to ask for Abigail's help?

Glancing at her watch, she nodded. "I'm off in fifteen minutes. We can discuss... whatever you have then."

[s-bradburiedalive]

Sutton's smile dimmed slightly at the frigidness that Abigail responded with, but, she thought, it was also pretty rare to see Abigail smile. It was kind of a bit of give and take. "Uh, yeah, hi, hello."

She looked down and then looked back up, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. "Yeah, actually, I was wondering if you could help me with a thing, right? Uh, kinda like the thing we were researching the last time that I was in here? I was wondering if you'd be down to talk some things over with me. You were a big help last time." When you weren't trying to kill me or trying to figure out what I was so that you could kill me or breaking into my apartment because you were contemplating killing me.

"I have something I wanted you to take a look at, maybe?" Sutton tapped her bag. "Just, y'know, maybe not out here." It looked like ink, but it would be really weird looking at her blood out in the open at a library. Sutton already felt weird about this as it was. She also, almost, wanted to ask Abigail not to try and fucking murder her, but she didn't go that far. Yet.

. Abigail frowned as she clicked through the library records. She didn't normally work the front desk, but after being out for as long as she had, she needed to maintain good will among her coworkers. So, she had agreed to work the Saturday morning shift after one of her coworkers had to call out. It was nice, in a way, to get back to doing simple tasks after being gone.

She'd healed from the chimera attack ages ago-- the Mithridate had indeed worked wonders. She'd picked the stitches out only a day and half later and the soreness in her shoulder had faded before the week was over. Fangxiangshi healing also helped, no doubt, but it had been a quicker recovery time than normal.

No, she had... volunteered to go back to Shanghai for the better part of a six weeks. Partly under the pretense of delivering additional materials and updating the family on the presence of previously unknown monsters of varying descent- the Chimera, a kelpie she had hunted, among others. And mostly because there was something comforting about being back.

Oh, it was difficult living. Waking up at 4 for early morning meditation followed by intense physical training and then hours dedicated to studying and general skill improvement. Her uncles and aunts had wasted no time in critiquing her, reminding her that she represented the Xiang family in the West, that she lacked focus. And she had. She had been slipping. She had been saved by a Yaoguai, a monster that she should have killed. If she was a better Fangxiangshi, she would have.

But, now Abigail was back in New Haven, refreshed and ready to continue to do her duty. She would document and eliminate the new threats, expand the family records, digitize and copy the information, and see what use the monsters could be for the family in their mission.

As she flipped through the pages of her book, motion registered in the corner of her eye. She looked up and swore quietly under her breath, blood running cold. It just had to be Sutton. Folding her hands into her lap, she offered a frigid smile. "Hello. What can I help you with?" She asked.