Bulletin Board

[Leila Bancroft]

There weren't a whole lot of wooded areas in Nebraska; most of the state's land was plowed into fields. It was a bit tricky when Leila wanted to hide, but nothing she couldn't handle. She'd left a very pretty young man and his little girlfriend behind at a skeezy motel room after a bit of fun. Her kind of fun. The police probably wouldn't be able to identify the boy, though; there wasn't too much left of him. It was almost a shame; he was quite a looker. He couldn't have been older than 17 - much too young to be out for a wild midnight tryst in a hotel room. And the girl, oh, those trashy clothes! Still, the watch and necklace were a nice addition to Leila's ensemble.

She checked the time on the watch - 2:27AM. There might not be very many people out on the roads, but it didn't bother her much. She hoped to get to California before feeding again, so maybe there'd be a trucker burning the midnight oil. The hunger - and her libido - were starting to get insatiable, and she didn't know why. She still wanted to avoid leaving a trail, though. Walking for a while didn't bother her much, anyway. Judging by the GPS on her stolen cell phone, the road was just ahead.

Another half-hour of walking and Leila emerged on the side of a highway. It wasn't an interstate, but it was a pretty big road nonetheless. Headlights were approaching, so she smoothed her skirt and waved her hand out in the road. The vehicle rolled to a stop and the window rolled down. "Hi there," she said with a sincere smile, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes. "Wondering if I could get a ride?"

[Ellen Harvelle]

Ellen stared at the woman before her and came to the conclusion that she’d gone insane. What on God’s green Earth possessed her to pull over? What could give her the urge to help some stranger when she knew this woman could possibly not even be human? There it was though, when her eyes scanned the figure, a woman stranded, who at one point in time was someone’s little girl, and needed help. No matter what paranoid thoughts entered her mind, Ellen’s motherly instinct kicked in.

“Get in. There’s a bar up the road a way, you can use the phone.” Ellen said, face void of all emotion yet somehow soft. Even with the helpful aura Ellen had today she knew the shotgun was safely tucked away under her seat, just in case her paranoia was right.

[Leila Bancroft]

As a light breeze caused the clouds overhead to shuffle away from the moon, Leila got a better view of her "good Samaritan." A woman, middle aged, pretty solidly built... she looked like she'd been through some rough times and seemed more than a little wary,though what woman wouldn't be in a situation like this one?

“Get in. There’s a bar up the road a way, you can use the phone.”

Leila pulled on the door handle. It stuck for a second, then gave way, and she slipped inside. Pulling the seatbelt across her chest, the lies came to her lips more quickly than any truth ever could. "Thank you so much, miss. You're the first vehicle I've seen on this road since my car broke down a couple hours ago. I've been walking ever since."

Between feedings, Leila had come to the conclusion that, especially with (straight) women, a pretense of innocence was one of the best ways to get her where she needed to go. A bar, too... that would be handy. Bars usually contained quite a lot of drunk boys willing to go for a... No! Leila told herself. She couldn't chance another feeding so soon, as much as she wanted it. But what would happen when she couldn't hold off the hunger?

Dismissing the thought from her head, Leila turned her attention back to the driver and the road ahead as the car forged on into the night. Once again putting on an air of pseudo-innocence, she asked, "What's this bar like? I hope it isn't too rough..."

[Ellen Harvelle]

Ellen smiled in a half smirk moving the vehicle back to the interstate. “Well rough is a nicer word for it but…” she looked her new companion up and down for a second, seeing curves go on for miles. “You won’t get much trouble.” She finished laughing at the image of half drunks slurring their words in effort to get a phone number from this woman.

The road moved from paved concrete to dirt gravel as Ellen debated small talk. If anything loathed was trying to make small talk to a stranger, but this young woman could be in serious trouble or could be a demon…there was talk goin’ around about the rise in demon possessions. Either way Ellen wanted to know what she was getting herself into picking up this hitchhiker.

“Gotta name, hon?” Ellen asked her voice giving a little more country to it than she would have liked.

(OOC: Sorry I’ve been busy with school, and I know it’s kinda short so sorry about that too)