Post by thewomaninwhite on Sept 17, 2009 21:21:21 GMT -5
The Woman in White strode through the halls of the school, her ghostly white dress shimmering as she moved in and out of the moonlight. Her red hair flowed behind her - what a change that was! Just weeks earlier she had worn her hair up all the time, neat and professional. Now... now she was no longer a pathetic office worker, but something above the rat race. Something above the humans. She was a wraith, a specter hellbent on one thing and one thing only. Revenge.
She resisted the urge to head to the Freak's dorm. She knew she could burst in and rip his head off before he had a chance to react. It could all end tonight. But no, she told herself. Wait. There are far worse ways to destroy someone than simply killing them. The Woman in White knew this for a fact. She herself had been destroyed weeks ago, but as far as she knew, she still qualified as alive. Barely.
A shadow passed in a nearby hallway. The janitor was about. The Woman in White resisted the urge to duck into the shadows and vanish into the darkness. All the better that some would see her - she needed the rumors and stories to spread, to circulate, to grow and form tall tales. She could just imagine them now - stories of the ghostly Woman in White, the figure of loss, pain, and tragedy. She knew what stories they would tell of her.
And she planned to top them all.
The Woman in White knew the door to the headmistress's office, because she now knew this school like the back of her hand. Except that symbol was unfamiliar to her. Damn the symbols! Where had they come from? The Woman in White knew many of the inner workings of this school, and even she was at a loss. She only hoped that the plans of whoever painted the symbols would not cross with her own.
When she reached the headmistress' door, the Woman in White reached into her dress and pulled out a knife and a note. She carefully positioned the knife above her palm and then, suddenly and without noise or complaint, drew the blade across her palm. She turned her hand over, and her blood dripped down onto the knife, covering it in a crimson cover. Then she took the bloodstained knife and pinned the note to the door with it.
Satisfied with her handiwork, the Woman in White made a crisp and rude hand gesture at the door, turned, and slipped away back into the shadows, leaving the note behind.
Attention Bloodthirsty Bitch,
I will keep this brief. I know you have more important things to deal with, such as the death of your dear History Professor and that little accident with the mage. But understand me well, for I am not one to be trifled with.
I want Ian Harris. I will be coming back for him shortly. You will know the signs of my return. When you see them, and you WILL see them, you will know what you will have to do. Turn Ian Harris over to me, and I will let your freak show of a school remain standing.
Should my demands not be met, you, and everyone else who has been harboring Mr. Harris will pay. I will torture your staff, unleash horrors you can't even imagine on your students, and burn your wretched school to the ground. Do not test me. I will not be denied.
You have until I return.
Sincerely,
The Woman in White
She resisted the urge to head to the Freak's dorm. She knew she could burst in and rip his head off before he had a chance to react. It could all end tonight. But no, she told herself. Wait. There are far worse ways to destroy someone than simply killing them. The Woman in White knew this for a fact. She herself had been destroyed weeks ago, but as far as she knew, she still qualified as alive. Barely.
A shadow passed in a nearby hallway. The janitor was about. The Woman in White resisted the urge to duck into the shadows and vanish into the darkness. All the better that some would see her - she needed the rumors and stories to spread, to circulate, to grow and form tall tales. She could just imagine them now - stories of the ghostly Woman in White, the figure of loss, pain, and tragedy. She knew what stories they would tell of her.
And she planned to top them all.
The Woman in White knew the door to the headmistress's office, because she now knew this school like the back of her hand. Except that symbol was unfamiliar to her. Damn the symbols! Where had they come from? The Woman in White knew many of the inner workings of this school, and even she was at a loss. She only hoped that the plans of whoever painted the symbols would not cross with her own.
When she reached the headmistress' door, the Woman in White reached into her dress and pulled out a knife and a note. She carefully positioned the knife above her palm and then, suddenly and without noise or complaint, drew the blade across her palm. She turned her hand over, and her blood dripped down onto the knife, covering it in a crimson cover. Then she took the bloodstained knife and pinned the note to the door with it.
Satisfied with her handiwork, the Woman in White made a crisp and rude hand gesture at the door, turned, and slipped away back into the shadows, leaving the note behind.
Attention Bloodthirsty Bitch,
I will keep this brief. I know you have more important things to deal with, such as the death of your dear History Professor and that little accident with the mage. But understand me well, for I am not one to be trifled with.
I want Ian Harris. I will be coming back for him shortly. You will know the signs of my return. When you see them, and you WILL see them, you will know what you will have to do. Turn Ian Harris over to me, and I will let your freak show of a school remain standing.
Should my demands not be met, you, and everyone else who has been harboring Mr. Harris will pay. I will torture your staff, unleash horrors you can't even imagine on your students, and burn your wretched school to the ground. Do not test me. I will not be denied.
You have until I return.
Sincerely,
The Woman in White