Serendipitous Act 1: Danoloma

1. In And Out Of Mind

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Rain. A soothing constant in the day to day drone of everyday life. Culturally and historically, rain heralds many things. Harvests, floods, fortune both good and bad.

It means many different things to many different people in many different places. One of those places is in a small town not unlike any other, with a very morose, determined young woman.

Shirley Devine hates many things, but at this moment all of them are cast aside. All of her fury is pointed at the rain, her ripped tote bag, and whoever had the gall to steal her umbrella at the goddamn grocery store.

She marches on, not unlike a soldier. A very surly, soaked and irritable one.

Behind her, a clap of thunder rings out and an annoyingly familiar stench of burnt sage and ozone fills the air. Shirley pays it no mind. She can almost feel the loving embrace of her little apartment's shoddy heating.

The end is in sight. She's in the final stretch. Just as she trudges past the wrought-iron gate leading to the courtyard between her building and the neighboring one, she hears it. Silk being torn in reverse, along with a louder than usual thump against the ground.

It sounds like trouble.

Shirley has a particular knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Behind the gate, though, she is surprised to see not the Dragotsena or some other strange glowing object, but a person.

It isn't much of a decision after that, really. Shirley fumbles the gate open, sets her cargo down onto the small bench built into it, momentarily sneers at the raindrop heavy cobwebs covering it and strides purposefully to one of the long neglected planters, currently housing a girl, laying on her side.

She's dressed like an actor in some kind of period drama set in ancient Greece if they had near see through togas. Did she drop out of a helicopter or something? No, no Shirley would have definitely noticed.

She looks to be shorter than Shirley, but more muscular.

She is abruptly startled from that train of thought by the stranger releasing a heaving, wet cough, rattling her whole body in the process, before going very, very still.

With a deep, exasperated sigh, Shirley pulls up her soaked sleeves and reaches down to scoop up the person in a princess carry. Only to startle once again because of the very distinctive *lack of arm* on her left side.

Now, carrying her up the four flights of stairs to her abode wouldn't have been a problem for theoretical Shirley. Theoretical Shirley would easily jog up, and repeat the process to get her groceries without getting winded.

Real Shirley on the other hand, the one with actual experience doing EMT work, almost stumbles and drops her guest a few times, and stubs her toe on the couch as she sets them down. By then she has a good grasp on the severity of the situation. A few scratches marr her face, along with the missing arm and large gash in her side, sluggishly leaking the same inky, dark liquid that's covering Shirley's front and ruining her carpet.

"Come on, you're not exactly the prime example of a normal human being," She says, breathless. "You've no room to judge someone's weird blood condition."

Shirley ducks under the doorframe and stumbles into the bathroom, knocking over the medicine, makeup and hair dye laid out neatly on the washing machine in her haste to get the clunky first aid kit. A little voice in Shirley's subconscious kept screaming till she splurged a frankly gross amount of money on it, but ever since she had moved in a few years ago it has proven to be quite useful.