Post by kolli on Feb 8, 2016 5:23:47 GMT
Bobbi-Sue Transom, she runs a finger over the words carved into polished granite. The stone marker was carved with a death date of over five years ago and still she couldn't help but visit it each time she was in town. There was no body in the coffin below her feet, she knew that for a fact but to everyone else, Bobbi-Sue had been mourned and buried in a closed casket funeral. The wooden box had been weighted but none alive anymore knew that.
Her touch traces the words once more, the name as familiar to her as breathing for it had been her own. That part of her life was no more, gone the day her home had mysteriously burned down with her parents inside though she had not been there that night. She had found the culprit behind those deaths but in doing so, she had marked herself as a target. It was difficult to go up against something metaphysical, paranormal and what most people would never come across in their lives. She'd learned a lot but that knowledge had come at a price. Faking her own death had been hard to do but necessary. A car accident, a few pieces of jewellery recognizable as hers and her identification on a homeless woman in the driver's seat. There was no one of blood left to identify her body and so she had been declared dead.
As her old life, her old name was gone, she had come across the name she used now, on another grave stone in a very old overgrown cemetery in the state of New York. Zenia Stuyvesant, a young woman of her age who had died several centuries before. Even before New York had become New York. It was a name that was different, well removed from who she had been and all of her identification reflected it. Even if they were forged but they had to be.
That didn't mean she didn't remember every day what it had been like in her previous life. The life she had now was very different, almost nomadic though she had a home base to return to and a space she was making her own. A place that housed others who had encountered paranormal things. She learned much on her own in the last five years and took off when she heard of matters that required her kind of attention. When she was at the Academy, she helped out as she could. Reigning in the new recruits or helping teach them skills they would need to know along the way.
With the weather turning, it was best she headed for there as life on the road on a motorbike became rather miserable when it was wet and cold. Whatever threat she had heard of in this had passed and she didn't feel like tracking it down further. Besides, she needed to get back and restock on her travel arsenal. Also, she didn't relish having to clear the dust out of the cabin she hadn't occupied for a couple months now. More than likely, whatever she'd left in the fridge had gone beyond bad.
It took her two days to ride from her hometown in nowheresville Iowa back to the Academy, between weather delays, construction delays and just plain bad roads. She was a little cranky when she finally turns off the highway and onto the driveway that led up to the cluster of buildings. The place seemed busier every time she came back and she was fairly sure there had been a few improvements since she'd left. As it was, she revs her bike engines as she passes by the main cabin and garage, then the outer cabins. The track was a little more rough the further along she went but finally, she comes to the cabin just before the bridge. Home sweet home.
Easing the bike into then through the car port, she parks it in the rather large shed attached to the back of the cabin. It was where she worked on the motorcycle monstrosity in her down time with all of her tools. She was quite the handy mechanic, a skill remaining from her life before. She'd helped her father in his auto shop all the time, became quite good at it too. Taking off the panniers, she sets them by her front door then locks up the shed. She planned to take care of her post trip maintenance once she'd warmed up. She passes by the faded blue jeep cherokee 4x4 parked in the car port in favor of opening the door and scooting inside.
She gives a long deep sigh of relaxation at being home as the panniers are dropped on the table in the mudroom and she shrugs off her leathers. They were damp and clammy from the rain she'd encountered a few hours earlier, the cold having settled in her bones because of it. Conditioning the black leather jacket and chaps could wait until she'd had a hot shower and was in clean clothes. She leaves her wet socks on top of her boots before stepping into the main area of the cabin.
Looking around, she notices the layer of dust on everything and silently thanks her foresight of having laid a sheet over her bed linens. That at least would be comfortable, if a little chilly, but if she got a good fire going in the wood stove over in the corner, things would warm up in no time. She wasn't going to check the fridge yet, instead she moves to her coffee maker and pulls a new bag of grinds from the cupboard above. After spooning the required amount into the filter, she first fills the carafe then the reservoir before replacing the pitcher and starting the machine. It could burble and do it's thing while she showered.
Several minutes later she emerges from the bathroom clad in slouchy but clean clothes, her hair damp at her shoulders. She collects a cup of coffee and moves to start the fire necessary to chase the chill from the cabin. Now that she was back, she really should go check in with the main cabin to let them know she was still alive. Of course that was if her muffler pipes hadn't already announced her return.
Her touch traces the words once more, the name as familiar to her as breathing for it had been her own. That part of her life was no more, gone the day her home had mysteriously burned down with her parents inside though she had not been there that night. She had found the culprit behind those deaths but in doing so, she had marked herself as a target. It was difficult to go up against something metaphysical, paranormal and what most people would never come across in their lives. She'd learned a lot but that knowledge had come at a price. Faking her own death had been hard to do but necessary. A car accident, a few pieces of jewellery recognizable as hers and her identification on a homeless woman in the driver's seat. There was no one of blood left to identify her body and so she had been declared dead.
As her old life, her old name was gone, she had come across the name she used now, on another grave stone in a very old overgrown cemetery in the state of New York. Zenia Stuyvesant, a young woman of her age who had died several centuries before. Even before New York had become New York. It was a name that was different, well removed from who she had been and all of her identification reflected it. Even if they were forged but they had to be.
That didn't mean she didn't remember every day what it had been like in her previous life. The life she had now was very different, almost nomadic though she had a home base to return to and a space she was making her own. A place that housed others who had encountered paranormal things. She learned much on her own in the last five years and took off when she heard of matters that required her kind of attention. When she was at the Academy, she helped out as she could. Reigning in the new recruits or helping teach them skills they would need to know along the way.
With the weather turning, it was best she headed for there as life on the road on a motorbike became rather miserable when it was wet and cold. Whatever threat she had heard of in this had passed and she didn't feel like tracking it down further. Besides, she needed to get back and restock on her travel arsenal. Also, she didn't relish having to clear the dust out of the cabin she hadn't occupied for a couple months now. More than likely, whatever she'd left in the fridge had gone beyond bad.
It took her two days to ride from her hometown in nowheresville Iowa back to the Academy, between weather delays, construction delays and just plain bad roads. She was a little cranky when she finally turns off the highway and onto the driveway that led up to the cluster of buildings. The place seemed busier every time she came back and she was fairly sure there had been a few improvements since she'd left. As it was, she revs her bike engines as she passes by the main cabin and garage, then the outer cabins. The track was a little more rough the further along she went but finally, she comes to the cabin just before the bridge. Home sweet home.
Easing the bike into then through the car port, she parks it in the rather large shed attached to the back of the cabin. It was where she worked on the motorcycle monstrosity in her down time with all of her tools. She was quite the handy mechanic, a skill remaining from her life before. She'd helped her father in his auto shop all the time, became quite good at it too. Taking off the panniers, she sets them by her front door then locks up the shed. She planned to take care of her post trip maintenance once she'd warmed up. She passes by the faded blue jeep cherokee 4x4 parked in the car port in favor of opening the door and scooting inside.
She gives a long deep sigh of relaxation at being home as the panniers are dropped on the table in the mudroom and she shrugs off her leathers. They were damp and clammy from the rain she'd encountered a few hours earlier, the cold having settled in her bones because of it. Conditioning the black leather jacket and chaps could wait until she'd had a hot shower and was in clean clothes. She leaves her wet socks on top of her boots before stepping into the main area of the cabin.
Looking around, she notices the layer of dust on everything and silently thanks her foresight of having laid a sheet over her bed linens. That at least would be comfortable, if a little chilly, but if she got a good fire going in the wood stove over in the corner, things would warm up in no time. She wasn't going to check the fridge yet, instead she moves to her coffee maker and pulls a new bag of grinds from the cupboard above. After spooning the required amount into the filter, she first fills the carafe then the reservoir before replacing the pitcher and starting the machine. It could burble and do it's thing while she showered.
Several minutes later she emerges from the bathroom clad in slouchy but clean clothes, her hair damp at her shoulders. She collects a cup of coffee and moves to start the fire necessary to chase the chill from the cabin. Now that she was back, she really should go check in with the main cabin to let them know she was still alive. Of course that was if her muffler pipes hadn't already announced her return.