Slendie RP, Anyone?

The inside of the crate is hard to see in the gloom of the room. But from the rising sun he can see something reflecting back up at Louis.

Louis' eyes widened as he carefully set the crate's lid down beside the box itself, immediately reaching into the depths to withdraw a single butterfly knife. He rummaged around contently within the crate as his free hand spun and twisted the vicious blade with unnatural speed and grace, causing it to click and whisper as it caught the rising sun. He looked up at John, his smile wide. 'It's just full of knives,' he murmured. 'All different types too.'

Hannah's strides lengthened, carrying her over rougher terrain. She walked blindly, following her instincts, with her thoughts darting around like startled fish. They moved from topic to topic before she could work out what to think, let alone think it.

"Just knives?" He grimaced. "So nothing dangerous?" He said sarcastically.

Louis grinned at John's tone, his toothy smile reflected in the Bowie knife he'd just retrieved from the crate. 'I'm sure you'll manage to find a gun or two,' he laughed, throwing the knife up in the air and catching it again by the handle.

He didn't smile after Louis, he looked quite serious. "Let's wait a bit before opening these crates."

Louis hesitated, tapping the larger knife thoughtfully on his chin as he slipped the butterfly knife into his shirt pocket absent-mindedly. His mind drifted back to John's threat of killing him if he attempted to harm anyone again. However, he felt perfectly in control of the situation at the moment. With a sigh, he replaced the Bowie knife in the box, pulling the lid back on. 'Sorry, Herr John, knives are a little hobby of mine.'

"I could tell. I'm just really damn tired and I got a headache coming on." He leaned back on the couch. "I'm gonna try to get to sleep..."

Louis nodded. 'That's understandable,' he said, attempting to causally slide the knife-filled crate into the bedroom. 'I'll try not to mess with your dreams too much.'

Hannah suddenly broke free of the trees and into a clearing. Her mind was so preoccupied with being empty that it took three good bounds for her to realise she was no longer sheltered by branches.

She spun around slowly, her mouth hanging open with amazement. The clearing was amazing: it was nearly perfectly circular in shape; the snow was fresh and painted by the sunrise; and along its border grew a mixture of plants, looking as if they were drawn to its magical presence but were far too shy to venture inside. Hannah wondered if she had stumbled into her own personal paradise. "What the Hell is this place?"

Louis narrowed his eyes, attempting to judge if John was asleep or not from his stance near the window. He padded silently up to the coach, standing over the recumbent figure as he carefully measured the brain activity. Deeming it safe enough, he slipped back to his prized crate, dragging it into the other room as quietly as possible.

He sat crossed legged on the bed, pushing the lid off the box and plucking out a shaped throwing knife from within. He judged the distance from his current sitting position to the opposite wall as too easy, so he sat opposite the open door and took careful aim at the dreary portrait which hung on the far wall of the sitting room.

With a dull thunk the picture fell from its nail, cord sliced neatly by the knife that was still vibrating slightly in the wall. Louis swore in German, clapping his hands over his mouth as he listened intently.

Hannah slowly stepped into the centre of the clearing, looking around her with eyes full of wonder. Once there, she tucked her long jacket under herself and sat down. The fox stepped delicately through the snow to sit by her, its legs folding gracefully as it sat by her side.

Hannah felt surprisingly warm, huddled in the snow. She reached out and dragged her fingertips through the top surface of the snow, the fox watching her hands intently. Scooping up a few palmfuls of icy flakes, she formed a snowball and rolled it over the ice ground. Yipping loudly, the fox chased after it, pouncing on the ball playfully.

Its actions caused a smile to break out on Hannah's lips. "You need a name," she said aloud. "The only question is, what could it be?"

"What was that?" John asked from the other room.

"You look.. Female." The fox cocked its head to the side. Having destroyed the snowball, it - no, she - had padded back over and sat in front of Hannah. Ice crystals hung on her whiskers, which twitched subtly when she breathed.

"Hmm.." Hannah pondered over the question she had provided herself with. Ginger, perhaps? Amelia? She frowned. "Louis, what's a good name for a pretty girl?"

Walking into the clearing Slenderman slowly spins around his tentacles spiraling outwards from him as he carefully inspects each tree clockwise from then entrance. Not noticing Hannah Slenderman drags a black bag into the clearing and watches as a large black tree lunges down and rips into the bag devouring the contents of the bag in one go.

Hannah gasped quietly, staring at the bag with horror. Any thoughts about naming the fox died and she threw herself backwards, afraid of the entity before her.

Louis hesitated, twisting his hands together nervously as he prayed John wouldn't spot the rather large knife sticking into the wall not too far from the couch where he lay. 'It was probably next door,' he called through, attempting to sound dismissive.

Kamilla thought Louis, a small smile playing on his face as he cast his mind back.

The fox - or Kamilla, as she was now called - leaped between Hannah and the Slender Man, yipping and snapping furiously. The fur on the back of her neck stood straight up, and it was evident that, even though she was protecting Hannah, she was terrified.

"Right..." The other man groaned and the sound of him adjusting his position on the sofa can be heard.

Ignoring the fox Slenderman walks away the empty bag of mulch trailing behind him as if possessed.

John sat up on the sofa, feeling... he didn't know how he felt, he wished he was more articulate to put a word on it. But the hairs on his neck were standing on end.

Louis breathed out with relief, attempting to work out how to casually remove the incriminating knife from the scene without arousing John's suspicions. He put his head round the door: however, the remark he was about to make died on his lips as he saw the other man's face. 'What?' he whispered. 'What is it?'

The man didn't answer him, instead he stared at the door, intently, his mouth slightly opened in a lax way. Very little activity is going on in his concious thought. Just concentration on what is outside.

Hannah just stared at the bag, mouth agape, while the fox continued to yip and growl protectively. After a long moment, when the bag could no longer be heard dragging over the rough ground, Kamilla paced back to Hannah and dropped down before her, still growling softly.

Louis plucked the butterfly knife from his pocket, twirling it swiftly in his hand as he padded slowly over to the apartment door, ready to stab out at any intruders.