Amelia Renard
This was getting absurd. The longer this went on, the more sure Amelia became. That she was in a nightmare, or a dream - whichever! And none of this would harm her. But, looking between the two women who arrived, she was becoming less and less sure that she was safe. Whatever was going on... it wasn't normal. It wasn't natural.
The first one, a young-looking girl, with beautiful, silvery blonde hair, and an old-fashioned dress. She spoke posh, and acted posh, almost like a noble girl of old. She gave off an eerie vibe, and didn't really seem to be all there. But she seemed harmless, at least. Her lilting voice and charming looks giving her a child-like demeanor.
But, the other. Amelia was not frightened by much, but she felt a chill run through her spine as their gazes met. This woman had arrived like Dracula, but with a flurry of flying crows, instead of bats. And she herself had an identical injury to them all, a festering, horrific wound in her throat. Every cruel word this woman spoke caused it to bleed. And that smile she wore, was far from friendly or kind. It was predatory. Murderous. She called them all lambs, as if she were a wolf for the slaughter.
This was what that girl meant. Is this what they had attracted? It was absurd and horrific at the same time. Amelia didn't know whether to laugh at the impossibility of the situation, or to run as fast as she could.
"You may call me Mary..."
"Care to guess my legend."
By this point, Amelia was backpedaling, looking at this 'Mary' with wide eyes. What did she mean, by legend? And honestly, did it matter? This woman had seemingly popped out of a mirror. As soon as that posh girl approached from the fog was the moment sense and rationality took a nosedive from the window.
"I will give you a hint... reflections." This clue really almost made it too easy.
Amelia's gaze fluttered from Mary, to that mirror that she held in hand. The one the woman had popped out from. Was this woman really suggesting...? And even if she were, would the two men with Amelia even know? They seemed foreign, this particular legend was a western thing, as far as she knew.
"Bloody Mary?" Amelia said, her stride stopping just short of the two men behind her. "You're saying that you're Bloody Mary? Are you serious?" The thing that scared Amelia the most, is not the claim, nor the legend of Mary herself. It's the fact that... she almost believed it. She almost believed this nonsense. The confusion and trepidation was clear, both in her tone, and expression.
She didn't want it to be real. She knew it shouldn't be real. But, this felt very, very real. And that scared her.