Soft golden light poured out of the roof access door as it opened to reveal, not the dark stairway that it normally would have, but what appeared to be a tidy girl's bedroom being dimly illuminated by a desktop lamp. The silhouette of a young woman, framed by the glow, partially obscured the oddity, but not enough that any witnesses would fail to notice that the room's dimensions were easily four times the size that would be able to fit in the space provided by the little outcropping that constituted said access. Such facts didn't concern Inchuriel, though, mostly because she already knew there wouldn't be any witnesses, not yet anyway. Only one person would be here tonight besides her, and it was a few moments before he would arrive. She had foreseen it.
It had taken quite a bit of time and effort to sort through the shattered mess that had become of the Great Pattern to find a time and place where she could meet the mortal that had piqued her interest through the memories of her host. Holly had been quite the fan of his, reading in wonder the articles that the various media printed about the mysterious masked man who swung through the air like an expert gymnast could only dream of doing on gossamer strands he seemed to conjure from nowhere. At times he struck quite the romantic figure, either saving damsels in distress or, if the Daily Bugle was to be believed, playing the dashing rogue in daring acts of skullduggery. Well, that's how Holly had interpreted it anyway and, because Holly was a part of her now, she couldn't help but think of him in that light as well. She knew better than to let that image intrude on reality though.
She calmly stepped out onto the roof, closing the door behind her. Oddly, now that the door was closed, it was easier to make out her appearance. Despite the fact that they shared the same features, the long elegant raven hair and chestnut brown eyes set in a slender yet subtly heart-shaped face, Inchuriel left a much different impression than had Holly Masterson. Where Holly had been cheerful and bubbly, Inchuriel was poised and confident, always with a mysterious twinkle in her eye that seemed to say, "I know something you don't know." At first, the change had been a little unsettling for her family and friends, but eventually they had decided that it was simply a case of a girl finally maturing into adult hood. Well, the ones that hadn't simply started avoiding her had decided that anyway.
With a couple minutes to go, Inchuriel meticulously smoothed out her skirt. She had purposefully selected subtly alluring yet unsuitably, even jarringly, mundane clothes to contrast against the scenery of a New York rooftop in the middle of the night. She wanted to leave an impression, wanted to make it so she would keep popping into his mind when it started to wander. So, she had chosen a short black skirt and a white tank top that emphasizes her rather slender form and and long legs that were covered up to the knee in white socks. The look was completed by a pair of simple black Mary Janes. Satisfied that her outfit was in order, she leaned back against the door with her arms crossed beneath her chest to wait for her 'guest'.<|im_end|>
Three weeks had passed since Peter had donned his new suit - a fitting name for something that was so much more than just clothing. It was a mass of black that covered his form when on duty, with an elongated spider logo that seemed to pulse with energy. Small strands of white dotted the legs, creating a chaotic spread that made him look like a living nightmare. The suit had given him strength beyond anything he could have imagined, and he felt invincible.
He couldn't quite recall how he obtained the suit - whether it was a crashing meteorite or a facility designed to help him recover - but he didn't care. He was able to take down petty thugs and stereotypical super villains with ease, and he knew that he would soon be facing greater challenges. But that didn't bother him; he was ready for whatever came next.
The Daily Bugle continued to criticize him, but that wouldn't matter once he revealed his true identity to the world. In the meantime, he would continue to pose for photos that made him look good, even if he hated doing it.
By tonight, he was ready to see where his skills could take him, willing and wishing to push himself even further. The second skin, symbiote, aid, whatever you wanted to call it, was influencing him without Peter even realizing it, as it did with anyone else it'd be associated with. Tonight, however, he was frustrated. The city was rather peaceful despite his searching, no muggers to defeat, rapists to stop or delusional megalomaniacs to thwart.
It was just his luck - positive or negative luck is up for debate - that he landed on that rooftop, a somewhat stunning figure catching his eyes. Even without the suit he'd be paying attention, bored of being single, but with his more primal urges being urged on by the sight of a young, attractive woman. She was rather lovely, somewhat above average height with the kind of face that would drive men to extremes, a cheeky glimmer in her eye that let on she was aware of a joke only the most privileged would know.
That wasn't all that caught his eye, however. It was the clothing. By herself in the middle of the city on an isolated rooftop, it was truly unique. The suicidal dressed much, much more reserved than her and she certainly didn't have the air of such a person - the opposite, someone wanting and waiting for someone specific. That was the most important thing, the kind of looks that would attract Peter Parker, the air of strength that would intrigue the symbiote.
Landing on the rooftop with more grace than usual - the stick black webs the symbiote had an unlimited supply of were much easier to manipulate than his artificial webbing - Peter strode over to the girl, eyes flickering over her form under the mask. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this without company?" He asked, cocky tone he seemed to always have more obvious than usual.<|im_end|>