Chapter Text
_____________ERICA____________
Even in the remains of her trance-like state, Erica could sense an unneasiness about the night. Whitechapel, for all its demons and monsters, looked decidedly peaceful from her hilltop vantage point— deceptively so, her subconcious screamed— and the idea that she wasn’t supposed to be here, as an observer, but somewhere else (with someone else…?) tapped away at her skull with the urgency of a hatchling at its egg. Waiting.
“For what?” She mused aloud, her wide eyes betraying supressed concerns. If she wanted to run away, then why were her only thoughts of her best friend: Sarah… And Benny, and Ethan, and the way that they actually made a pretty good team when it came to it. Not that she’d go around saying it, but dorks and misfits weren’t all that they were. And they’d proved that, in a crisis, they’d always be there for her; just as she had decided that she’d always be there for—
Erica’s train of thought lurched violently off its tracks as a glowing purple orb of death engulfed the town in one fell blast.
All she could do was stare.
Not an observer then, Erica thought to herself: a witness.
“For that.”
Nonetheless chipper as ever, Rory remarked only “Cool explosion!” of the incident. It honestly didn’t require a Holmesian leap in logic to deduce that the young vampire had yet to successfully process any of the night’s events thus far. When he did, however, the finality of Anastasia’s words resonated with both junior vampires watching eldritch energy dissipate across Whitechapel. Where else, but the ever-clueless Whitechapel, destined to dismiss a sorcerous act of genicide as a freak weather incident? It was hapless and helpless, but definitively their Whitechapel: Team V and Team— a rare thought popped into Rory’s head, which he felt instantly, as ever, compelled to vocalise. “Ethan and Benny will be sad if they missed that.”
Erica was no longer the only one whose concience fought to resist Anastasia’s ancient vampiric allure; for a split second, worry was etched clear into the faces of both undying teens. It almost instantly muddled with the induced uncertainty, leaving only a phantom concern with the dull urgency of a microwave timer. Their remaining superior’s orders had been clear. Taking one last look around, Erica followed Anastasia and Rory into the night, blinded to her own apprehension.