（ ₀₆. ） ❝ the devil hides in the sun ❞

[generose]

( elizabeth stirs quietly, blinking once and then again as she tries to adjust her blurry vision. first thing that immediately stands out; she's in a car. an unfamiliar one at that, quite sure that margot's car didn't look anything like this... not to mention she the last thing she remembers was sitting in the kitchen. not to mention she was sure

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[kleptophile]

[Lewellyn is not known for his quiet, measured reactions to anything. When he wakes up, it's with a sudden jerk, and alarm follows almost instantly with the realization that he has no idea where he is. Worse? He's in an enclosed space - even before his hand lashes out and yanks on the door handle to confirm he's locked in, his mind is already screaming 'trap'.]

What in the goddamn hell!

[He's vaguely aware that there's someone else with him in the car, and that just makes it even worse. He doesn't even look; the situation is plenty bad enough no matter what he might see. He scrambles to shift positions enough to lash out with a foot at the window - which completely fails to break, and earns a round of vicious swearing from him as he falls back on the seat and nearly lands on Elizabeth...which immediately sends him scrambling back the other way, giving her a half-wild glare as though she is personally responsible for all of this. Logic may take a few seconds to set in here.] The fuck is this, and who the fuck're you?

[So, yes, he's

[generose]

( watching all of this, she vaguely wonders if she's enclosed in this car with a rapid wolverine. though his wild failing and kicking does help to confirm her suspicions that this car wasn't going to be easy, if at all possible, to escape from.

that half-wild glare will get a half-controlled glare in return. )

Your guess is as good as mine, and I'm Elizabeth Tudor.

[kleptophile]

[Lyn has spent most of the last two hundred years in the United States, and never learned much history of it or anywhere else in his hardscrabble life; the name doesn't ring any bells for him. The claim that she doesn't know what's going on either relaxes him infinitesimally; it's a little bit like the day he first woke up here, so he's got at least some reason to take her word for it. Mayfield is a weird town that does weird things - this much is established fact.] ...Lyn. [He actually gives her a more careful look-over now; paranoid as she is, she doesn't exactly look dangerous, especially in...whatever that stupid get-up is.

And then he becomes aware of what he's wearing.] ...oh, christ, look at this. [Momentarily, irritated disgust overrides everything else, and he drags the sweater-vest up and over his head. At least a plain shirt doesn't make him look like he's only a pocket-protector away from a beating from self-respecting men everywhere.] What kind of games is this place pulling now?

[generose]

( elizabeth allows herself to calm down a bit, letting out a heavy sigh as she reaches up and snatches the bow from her hair, chucking it at the windshield. glancing over a little at the mention of a name, nodding a little and just glad the riled up kicking and whatnot seems to have stopped for the time being. at least she doesn't feel the need to worry, much. but it wasn't so much him, but more what mayfield could be planning.

though she does give him a look, almost giggling a little. the question gets a silence from her, really thinking over the thought before speaking; ) Mm, it's probably to early to tell. But the weird things this place does, does all seem to have something in common; torture, maiming, or outright death.