A Meet and Greet

"We should explain some more, Geoffry, before we start the process of taking her out to inspire her writings. Set out the rules, her guidelines, and what exactly we want her to do." A tall, thin man says.

His voice is guttural, as if someone has messed with his vocal chords, and he has yet to relearn how to talk properly. His back facing me, even still, I take in his appearance. He's visibly older, his hair greying a little around the edges, his shoulders hunched a little, coming to a little rounded peak on his upper back between his shoulder blades.

Suddenly, he turns to look at me and I have a hard time holding myself in place and not turning around and running. His eyes are like a blood moon, dark red glinting in the dim fluorescent lights of the few lamps around. His nose and mouth seemed to be set forwards, his temples father back than I would have originally guessed. His mouth and nose look almost snout-like, well if humans had snouts. Large, wolf canines bite out between his lips. His stance, and the look in his eyes just scream predator.

"Well hullo there girly. Fenrir at your service." He greets me, with a wolfish grin, bowing lightly in my general direction. This still does nothing to put me at ease, but I try not to flinch away from the approaching figures.

"Jaden." I manage to squeak out, higher pitched than I would have liked it to be. I can’t seem to even begin to find my normal calm demeanor. Not in the face of some of the most nightmarish creatures I have ever met in my life.

"What a cutie you got yourself there." A female voice says from behind me as I feel a sharp pointy object against the back of my neck. My stance goes rigid and I hold my bag to my chest almost as if being still will make it so that they won't notice me. The voice giggles and she passes around in front of me so that I can see her.

Again with the ultra pale skin, covered almost everywhere in piercings and tattoos. Her hair long and black, snaking down her back in bunches, like snakes, and her clothing style, none too modest, but probably very handy in the profession of myth and murder.

"Ayah, stay back. She's off the market for chewing." Eyeless William says without so much as looking up from whatever is capturing his attention. Maybe he is trying to burn a hole in his pants?

"But Will" Ayah whines and exaggeratedly pouts in his direction. Almost as if he has ruined her entire night by simply telling her to leave me alone.

"Ayah, stop being annoying. Without her our plan won't work." Someone else’s high pitched voice trills from the corner of the room.

I glance over, but the deep set shadows don’t help me see anything there. The darkness almost swirls around the spot from where the voice came, as if it was one with the voice.

Curiosity grows in the pit of my stomach as these monsters and myths continue to bicker amongst each other, instead of speaking to me. The one that they have deemed somehow necessary for their little plans to work.

I still can’t wrap my head around how they believe that anything will change if I write about them. And then what happens in this case? If nothing changes, do they blame it on me? Do I do this and be murdered later because it doesn’t have the same impact that they are hoping for.

Finally, curiosity wins out over my fear and I clear my throat just a little.

Suddenly, silence falls with my simple sound, and at least two dozen eyes are staring right at me. In all different shapes, colours, sizes. I bite my lip a little trying to keep myself calm and composed, but not sure if it works at all.

“Uh,” I clear my throat again when the words die with very little sound. “Well, I’m just. I don’t know if I completely understand your plans, and how it is that I fall into them. Geoff said that I was to be your biographer, but I’m not sure that me, writing stories about you, even with ‘evidence’ will really change anything in the way that you want it to be changed.” I trail off as I come to the end of my conjecture. And a deafening silence follows my rambling.

I stand there in complete silence, hoping someone else will break it. I don’t even know if I am still breathing or not, as I can’t hear any sounds in the room. Eerily similar to when Geoff came to find me in the woods.

The stares seem to become more intense, and I wonder if some of them can even peer into my soul, as they all attempt to bore holes into my body with their gazes. Some even appear to be studying me, intrigued by this mortal that has deigned to speak in their presence without being spoken to directly. As if I was an experiment brought out to be tested and they weren't sure what to do.

To be fair though, I had no idea what to do myself as it is. Standing in the living room of a house filled with only god knows how many murderers.

"You're kind of pretty, you know." Ayah lilts after the long staring contest.

Her sudden interruption of what had almost been eerily calm silence startles me and a small gasp comes out through my lips as I whirl around to find her, and lose my footing in the process. I stumble and fall, landing not so gracefully on my butt.

Everyone in the room chuckles and I sigh in relief, well that is, at least until Ayah starts to troll her way towards me.

"Hahaha, funny, cute, a brilliant writer. Boys, I think we've got ourselves a nice little human pet, don't you agree?" She says as she wraps her hands around my upper arms and practically lifts me to my feet again. Before walking around me, studying me now more like a designer to their model than predators to their prey.

"Tiny frame, tiny everywhere basically. Big doe eyes, oooh yes I see... hmm." Ayah mutters as she continues to circle me. Nodding approvingly at things, tutting things like my lack of imaginative hair style, my posture, etc... "A little bland in the fashion department." She states loud enough that everyone can hear, but everyone knows that she truly isn't acknowledging their existence.

She’s barely even acknowledging mine, and I’m the one she is studying.

"You're a cute human, you'll make a good pet." She grins directly at me this time, patting my head a few times noncommittally, before skipping out of the room, humming quietly to herself.

"What was that?" I ask before I fully process my words. My eyes widen as I realize what I've said and I quickly clap my hand over my mouth. Not fast enough though, because my words had already been said and were hanging there, in the air above my head, like a wire holding a knife. One wrong move and snap, I'm dead.