08-14-2013, 03:06 PM
8/3/13, approx 4.15AM
The body is surprisingly light; Samantha realizes as she steps into the freight elevator that she had half expecting the authority inherent within its keeper to add weight to its flesh and bones. Much like the medieval peasants had thought grace itself had weight, and could be detected in an object after it had been blessed.
The elevator closes its doors, and the arhythmic clank causes a subtle shiver to pass through her. Nerves are still tense, piano wires and all that. She watches the doors, beaten pewter, as the elevator ascends. Benedict in the security room will have seen to it that the camera is currently not recording. She looks up at the small device, esconced in the corner, and shifts the light weight that's bent at the hips over her shoulder.
The doors open. A beat, a moment of hesitation, and then she emerges from the elevator with a purposeful stride, moves quickly down the hall, checking for anybody that might be watching. The body on her shoulder is hidden within a large duffel bag; the fact that Samantha is a slender, beautiful woman should preclude people from thinking there's a body's worth of weight over her shoulder. Luckily, nobody is out in the hallway. She reaches the right door, unlocks it, and steps inside.
Only then does a mild sense of security wash over her. Security, at least, from the threats on the street. She moves over to an armchair, and carefully deposits the duffel bag, which she then reluctantly unzips.
A long, long minute passes as she considers the stiff features of the face. The hair in disarray, the flecks of dried blood, the sunken eyes half closed. With a shiver, Samantha reaches out and closes them. Waits, and then relaxes. The eyes stay closed.
The threats outside seem miles away now, and insignificant compared the danger inherent in this still form before her. Here, before her, sits true danger. No matter how she plays it now, unlife for Samantha has become infinitely more perilous.
The body is surprisingly light; Samantha realizes as she steps into the freight elevator that she had half expecting the authority inherent within its keeper to add weight to its flesh and bones. Much like the medieval peasants had thought grace itself had weight, and could be detected in an object after it had been blessed.
The elevator closes its doors, and the arhythmic clank causes a subtle shiver to pass through her. Nerves are still tense, piano wires and all that. She watches the doors, beaten pewter, as the elevator ascends. Benedict in the security room will have seen to it that the camera is currently not recording. She looks up at the small device, esconced in the corner, and shifts the light weight that's bent at the hips over her shoulder.
The doors open. A beat, a moment of hesitation, and then she emerges from the elevator with a purposeful stride, moves quickly down the hall, checking for anybody that might be watching. The body on her shoulder is hidden within a large duffel bag; the fact that Samantha is a slender, beautiful woman should preclude people from thinking there's a body's worth of weight over her shoulder. Luckily, nobody is out in the hallway. She reaches the right door, unlocks it, and steps inside.
Only then does a mild sense of security wash over her. Security, at least, from the threats on the street. She moves over to an armchair, and carefully deposits the duffel bag, which she then reluctantly unzips.
A long, long minute passes as she considers the stiff features of the face. The hair in disarray, the flecks of dried blood, the sunken eyes half closed. With a shiver, Samantha reaches out and closes them. Waits, and then relaxes. The eyes stay closed.
The threats outside seem miles away now, and insignificant compared the danger inherent in this still form before her. Here, before her, sits true danger. No matter how she plays it now, unlife for Samantha has become infinitely more perilous.