TEASER 001 ( LEO ) : //

Slender hands retrieved black, thick-rimmed glasses from the nightstand gently, fingers curling as he picked it up with a surprising amount of delicacy.  The room was warm, its large and intimidating windows shut and the air conditioner shut down, and the room smelled of smoke. Not cigarette smoke, but smoke - fiery, yet ashen.

No excessive noise was made. No rustling of movement, no heavy breathing, no echoes of laughter - nothing. The only noise that could be heard was the slight turning of the pages as time went by, more fervent and fervent as seconds passed.

"Here it is," Murmured the man with the glasses. His lips curled into a small frown and his eyebrows furrowed as he scanned his eyes at the passage, and his right hand instinctively moved to his pocket, pulling out a slick, black phone. He set down the book on the nightstand where his glasses once were, and quickly dialed a number. Two rings passed before the recipient picked up. "It's Leo."

A muffled noise of surprise was heard over the phone - despite the fact that no, it was not on speaker - and Leo stayed silent for a few moments as the friend (okay, not friend, perhaps acquaintance?) chatted wildly for a few moments, before they went silent - indicating for Leo to speak.

"I found something that may be adequate to your taste." Leo paused for a few moments, pursing his lips, unsure as to how to voice his next sentence. "A burning in 1835, but nothing makes sense. These people, the one involved - I've never heard of them, and I have never read any mentions of them in the town records. It's frustrating."

More possibly than not, that was the most they've ever heard Leo speak.

"Inspect the scene? No, don't call it 'check it out', that sounds unfitting - Fine. I'll inspect the scene later. Good evening." The end of his sentence was slightly hesitant, as if he didn't know whether to voice it or not, but he did anyway. The other line promptly went dead.

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If he could describe the place with one sentence, it would be eerie.

The place mentioned in the book - where the supposed witch burning took place - was located near the outskirts of the town. It was empty, and it appeared as if nobody took any residence here anymore. It was just a field of land, dry and cracked. The place looked like it was stuck in eternal summer; no sign of humidity and zero drop of water anywhere. Of course, summer was supposed to be fun - this place? Not so much.

Cicadas could be heard in the background, and the rustles of the wind didn't calm his nerves in the slightest, and only worked to make his muscles tense and posed for action - getting the hell out of there.

He was Leo, though. Emotions such as fear never really struck deep in him.

He trailed along the supposed place, noting every sort of oddness in the details - the tall tree in the corner that was not dead, despite its fellow trees already long gone and dried out, some places that looked too clean and tidy for something supposed to be abandoned - and stopping his tracks abruptly when he heard a rustle to his left.

In the corner of his eyes, he spotted something moving. It didn't look animal.

"There's really no need to hide," He spoke with confidence, posture calm to hide his growing nervousness. "I already know you're there. Hiding is purposeless."

Another rustle, and the abrupt snap of a branch.

Then? Nothing. Leo was silent and stayed in his place, acting as if he was a lion waiting for his prey - was it really the other way around? He was rather unsure - but the, whatever it was he saw, seemed to have escaped. Cursing silently under his breath, he waited for a few more moments to see if the . . . thing? person? came back, before striding with his hands tugged deep in the pocket of his black trousers to inspect the land he was positive the person had been in earlier, checking for footsteps.

This is a massive breakthrough.

Where the trackprints were supposed to be - well, animal, human, whatever - they weren't. It didn't even resemble anything vaguely human. Instead of footprints, or duck prints, or even wolf prints -

There was nothing.