World's Cutest Direwolf
"One of these days when we have room to breathe I'm just going to take you to a Walmart and just leave you there," Terry mused as he followed Alex out. "Or maybe follow you around with a video camera to record your reaction."
Cephalopod Lothario
Leon and Jarl
As the pair of wizards walk into the apartment, the smell of fresh paint rises to meet their nostrils, drowning out everything else. After the morning with Celes, it's unmistakable, nauseatingly thick in the air. A weak threshold tears at their power, peeling off shreds of magic.
To enter the living room, they have to move past the knocked-over floor lamp, setting it upright. It flickers feebly, then dies, the only light in the room filtering behind them from the door.
Past the couch is a disorientating sight. A corpse. Art. The limp, sprawled out form of a young man, hands clutching at his throat as though struggling for breath, head bowed toward his chest. And on his clothes, his hollow cheeks, wide, sightless eyes, the dark stain on the rug around him—paint. A thick, wet glossy layer, beautiful blues and purples like a nebula on his skin. Paint on his mouth, his lips, his teeth, as though he had swallowed a bucket of it. The rug was a rainy street, devoid of other features, the body the centerpiece. It adds a surreal element to the scene. Death and art.
Very French.
The expression on the man's face is strange to see on a body. Eyes wide, the streaks of paint on his face resemble tears. The artist's intent is clear.
GUILT
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Tim
Proteau's face went flat, as though trying to tell if Tim was mocking him, somehow. After a moment, he seemed to decide Tim wasn't, but he stayed oddly thoughtful looking.
"La poésie, Doctor Hochberg. I see those years in university weren't wasted."
Proteau leaned back, looking through the tinted window at the highrise where the other wizards were doing their work—bright lights of a hundred families having their dinner.
"If you cared to tell me why you were actually in Paris, now would be the time."
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Alexander
Alexander side-eyed Terrance, muttering under his breath by way of reply.
"They sell guns at wall-mart, don't they? I think I'll find myself at home."
Before any reply could be made, he shifted straight into his game face, flashing his most charming smile at the hotel receptionist, moving in to offer a handshake, his palm turning faintly silver as he brought his Hunger to the surface.
"Ah, Mademoiselle. Just who I was looking for. There's an item or two missing from Ms Wagner's room. I don't suppose you know who'd have key access?"
edited 12th May '17 1:12:52 PM by DrTentacles
Just a harmless giant from a foreign land.
Tim gave Proteau a long glance, just shy of a Soulgaze. For a moment he considered it but then simply shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. But I think I really should not. Not because I don't trust you." Not that I do but I am trying for diplomacy. "But it would require me to divulge greater context I am not at liberty to disclose. But I think at this point trying for a diplomatic white lie would be...nonconstructive."
He paused.
"All I can say is that we are searching for something in order to avert something unfortunate from happening. I assume you can get behind that goal?
"You can reply to this Message!"
The Wildest of Ronins
Leon stares into the blank unresponsive eyes of the corpse, looks like he wouldn't even need to check for a pulse.
"...Well, shit. Guess he really is dead. And this is one weird murder scene."
Leon frowns as he refrains from stepping any closer, he didn't want to disrupt the evidence especially since they had a detective with them back outside. Someone or something was clearly angry about the theft of the paintbrush though. Murderously so. He didn't get a very murderous vibe off of Celes, so he suspected it was whoever made the paintbrush in the first place. But he could be wrong. He wasn't exactly a trained investigator even if he's picked up some stuff since becoming a Warden.
They should almost certainly inform the detective about this situation post haste, but, Leon did want a first good look before they start rummaging about and disrupting the lingering spiritual after effects. And as terrible of an idea as it was, it would be fast, and allow him to perfectly recall all the detail at a later date.
"Hey Jarl, back up a bit, I'm gonna open the Sight." Once Jarl and Tjalfe back out of view, Leon breathes deep to center himself before opening his Third Eye and taking in the death scene, and other parts of the apartment.
Click Click Boom Boom
Annette gave the receptionist a small wave and small, polite smile as she spoke to them. David, with his suitcase wheeling behind him, stopped just short of his mother to hide behind her hip. "Y-Yes, thank you. We're actually ch-checking ou...t?"
Before she could get the sentence finished, attention had shifted to Alexander, and Annette couldn't stop the look of "Really?" that came to her face. Is this what it's like when he's around people attracted to him? The incubus comparison wasn't an lie...and he isn't even pretending to have shame.
...that's actually pretty funny.
World's Cutest Direwolf
"Checking out, yes. People tend to do a lot of that when Alex gets like this," Terry said, giving Anne a "yes, really" look, complete with eye-roll.
Jarl
The stench of fresh paint alone was enough to start overwhelming Jarl's senses. That was the problem with super-sensitive smell, any time you walked into a room with a particularly bad scent, you caught all of it like a barrage.
"Well. We'll want to find out who he was." Jarl started to look through the dead man's pockets for something that could identify him. Passport, wallet, driver's license, any kind of mundane thing that he could show to Proteau. Meanwhile, he instructed Tjalfe to sniff around, look for any scent trails besides the overwhelming paint stench that might give them a better clue.
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An Alchemist, A Vampire and his Dog
"Missing? That's terrible!" The receptionist might be overacting. It's a little difficult to tell. "Well, besides the housekeeping, and just between you and me," she leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "I saw one of the managers acting very suspiciously with two Moroccans earlier. He's sitting on the couch over there," she pointed towards a man in a slick tuxedo in the corner of the lobby.
"He might be of more help to you."
Still not embarrassing enough to stan billionaires or tech companies.
Cephalopod Lothario
Jarl and Leon
The ability to see the soul of reality can be wonderful. It is a shame wizards rarely find themselves using the sight on wonderful things. In the real world, the man was an empty-eyed corpse, mouth and throat filled with paint.
In the sight, he's been eaten.
Instead of droplets of paint, his skin crawls with iridescent maggots, chunks of flesh hollowed out, body pitted with wormholes. Even after his death, they continued to crawl over his body, hollowing out chunks of flesh. His face is an unrecognizable ruin, mouth agape, a writhing ball of festively-colored maggots within. There is abject terror in his eyes. He undoubtedly died of suffocation, but while he was dying some creature was feeding on his guilt, ripping off chunks of his soul to grow fat.
Whatever did this was only going to get stronger with each kill.
Leon feels his throat convulse, gag reflex reacting beyond his control to the assault on his senses. The vision wavers, and starts to crumble—but before the sight fully breaks, he's able to spot a final thing—faint brushmarks. This man has held the paintbrush, though he no longer has it. It looks like a mark—a brand on the man's palm, glowing a cheerful blue, in the shape of a cresting wave.
The sigh breaks, and he staggers, a wave of illness passing over him.
Jarl's search of the man uncovers a battered leather wallet, creased and cracked with age, with an ID for Arkhas Bellet, age 22. Inside are coupons, some old bus tickets, a brochure for some sort of art gallery, and a large wad of euros—nearly two-hundred total.
Before Tjalfe can find any trails, Leon staggers behind him, falling to the ground with a crash.
The crash is followed with a sharp, familiar crack—a gunshot. A blinding flash comes from one of the pitch-black doorways, and plaster sprays across the room.
Tjalfe growls and sprints toward the flash.
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Alexander
"Beautiful."
Alexander moves as though to go talk to the man, then pauses, looking back at the receptionist.
"Actually, as thanks for your help, would you like to get coffee? On me. If you can't tell, I'm rather new to Paris. I'd love to have someone show me the sights."
He pulled out a pen, holding it out to write on the woman's hand.
"My number. I'll be in the city at least a week. Call me when you get off."
He flashed a smile, then moved to speak to the manager.
edited 15th May '17 1:35:25 PM by DrTentacles
Jarl
Generally speaking, Jarl considered himself a calm and reasonable man.
However, calm and reasonable generally went out the window the second someone started pointing guns. While he might not be able to see dick in the dark hallway, he did know how to deal with someone holding a firearm. He pointed his glove in the general vicinity of the would-be shooter and yelled "Hexus!" The unfocused blast of raw magic wasn't meant to do anything other than cause the gun to jam long enough for Tjalfe, already a heavyweight by lupine standards, to pin the unknown assailant down long enough for Jarl to close the distance.
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Alex, Terry, AND PEGGY ANNE
The receptionist got just a little red in the face, smiling and timidly waving back at Alex as he went to talk to the manager.
The manager, meanwhile, just turned around to stare at Alex as he approached, clearly not as charmed by the vampire's aura. He merely folded his arms behind his back and gave him a level look.
"Can I be of assistance, monsieur?"
edited 15th May '17 1:37:08 PM by math792d
Still not embarrassing enough to stan billionaires or tech companies.
The Wildest of Ronins
Leon laid on the floor still somewhat dizzy from his little stint seeing things as they really were. The nausea had thankfully passed before his stomach had decided to evict its contents, and that little surge of adrenaline from almost being shot certainly didn't hurt in getting him to pull it together. In fact it helped to provide him on something completely different to focus on rather then having him caught in a bit of a loop in the Sight memory.
He lept back to his feet, landing in a crouch as he peered over the upended couch to see where the shooter was shooting him from. Which wasn't too difficult to ascertain given the wolf that just went lunging in that direction. In case Jarl's little hex didn't work, he threw up an angled shield spell in front of himself, meant to deflect any bullets into the exterior facing wall.
Click Click Boom Boom
World's Cutest Direwolf
"Getting off is also a thing that tends to happen a lot around Alex," Terry murmured to Anne as he followed the vampire over to the manager.
Annette gave a loud, sudden snort of laughter that was quickly muffled by her palm at Terry's joke. Thankfully Alexander's attention was on the mysterious stranger and not on them...and that David wasn't tall enough to hear anything whispered at her height. Goddammit she shouldn't find an incubus setting up his next meal funny, but it was.
There was a book that came to mind. A very perverse one. Alexander fit it almost to a T.
Maybe he ghost wrote it.
"I...g-guess it's nice he doesn't beat around th-the bush with it?" she mumbled very, very softly, maybe even too soft for Terry to hear.
World's Cutest Direwolf
Terry guessed he was supposed to talk softer lest he corrupt the presumably-innocent child. It was hard sometimes to gauge how well other people could hear. Speaking quietly enough to match Anne's whisper, he replied, "He's certainly going to be doing something in the vicinity of her bush."
Cephalopod Lothario
Jarl and Leon
The hex goes off, a blind, brute-force wave of magic accompanied by a rush of cool winter power. Jarl feels a rush of vertigo, though it quickly fades. Even with his power reserves, that sort of unrefined blast is draining. A smoke alarm in the center of the living room chirps, then crackles with static, another sudden flash of light in the pitch black living room.
A second later, there's a muffled, human-sounding yelp from the direction Tjalfe ran in, followed by a second gunshot—this one louder than the last, followed by a dull click, and the sound of a heavy impact. Leon's shield shivers as a bullet deflects off of it, plaster spraying across the paint-splattered floor again.
For both wizards, the next few seconds are a tense scramble, a struggle to navigate the tight apartment in pitch blackness. Newpapers, magazines, and clothes tangle their feet, and Jarl feels his shin smash against a low table with a burst of pain.
Finally, they round their corner, moving through the doorway scooby-doo style, one covering another to see...
Blackness.
Well, mostly blackness. There's a giant shape that could be a bed. Lumpy piles of something on the floor.
A large furry shape hunkered on the floor at the foot of the bed, something human-shaped underneath. The furry shape is growling with the comforting noises of Tjalfe, and the human-shape is breathing in short, terrified pants.
They really need to get some light in here.
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Tim
The car has faded into uncomfortable silence. Stakeouts were always rough. Mind-numbing boredom, with the threat of uncomfortable adrenaline at any moment. Proteau had faded into sullen silence at Tim's second refusal, the only noise left the sound of the crackling police scanner, and britpop blasting over the radio.
Then, a shape line of chatter, distinct from the rest comes from the scanner.
"Gunshots reported on Robert-Doisneau Ave. Following domestic disturbance complaints. All active officers asked to report to the scene."
Proteau sat up, looking at Tim with hostile, questioning eyes, one hand falling to the service revolver at his hip.
"This was supposed to be a quiet sting. Merde."
With a shrug, he popped open the door, leaving his coffee inside.
"With me."
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Alexander
Damned Heterosexuals.
Alexander let out a mental sigh of annoyance at the veiled hostility of the manager, his own demeanor changing from "flirty" to "I can buy your hotel, and you with it." His smiled was very tight-lipped as he stepped up, offering a handshake with a bit more muscle than was strictly needed.
"Alexander Thorne. I am told you're the manager? My friend has a complaint. There are items missing from her room. Might I know who would have had access?"
edited 16th May '17 9:59:50 AM by DrTentacles
Just a harmless giant from a foreign land.
Tim sighed, revealing his lasing rod as well as flexing the hand carrying his shield rings. Quiet is not what Jarl and-slash-or Leon tend to do, but no need to point that out.
"After you then, lieutenant."
"You can reply to this Message!"
Jarl
"Hey Leon, think you can fetch us a light? I'm about to start asking this fellow some very poignant questions." He turned toward the human shape and, more importantly, used his ragged, terrified breathing to locate the approximate location of his face. In the pitch dark, the Sidhe magic running through his bones made his ice-blue irises glow slightly in the dark. Perfect for dramatic effect.
"So, if you don't mind telling me exactly why you just take a shot at us, that would be lovely," he said in a nonchalant tone. "Preferably before my friend here gets the bright idea to rip your guts and eat them for breakfast." He pet Tjalfe's flank.
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The Three Stooges (ily <3)
"Just the managers and the cleaning staff. I can have it checked who cleaned her room and have them submit to an inspection, if there are valuable items missing."
Still not embarrassing enough to stan billionaires or tech companies.
Hiding that she was giggling at Terry was difficult when she was simultaneously weary of the man speaking to Alexander now. She knew he was just trying to find who'd snuck into her room, but his lie could cause trouble. Specifically if she had to speak. Annette was not a liar. She was barely sociable in general. With anxious, fidgeting hands she glanced back at David rather than face the conversation in front of her. David was hiding behind her hip and watching, curiously.
"Bist du in Ordnung?" she mumbled to him.
David nodded.
The Wildest of Ronins
Leon swayed as he entered the room, partially due to the lack of clear reference points, partially due to with the excitement over, his thoughts went back to what he saw in the Sight. He nodded silently to Jarl's request for light as he dug out his crystal pendant from beneath his sweater and muttered some terrible german under his breath. It wasn't exactly meant to be a light focus, but it worked well enough for him to focus on mentally as he cast the spell and held the now glowing blue crystal aloft illuminating the room and the shooter. Leon's free hand quickly found a wall for him to lean against as he did this.
Click Click Boom Boom
Cephalopod Lothario
Jarl and Leon
Blue light from Leon's crystal filled the room, momentarily dazzling after several minutes in the pitch black apartment. At the foot of a king-sized bed, Tjalfe still had the gunman pinned to the floor, amid piles of dirty clothes.
The gunman, only partially visible below the wolf, was a black boy—or very possibly a girl—a figure, at least, in his—her—their late teens with dyed frost-white hair. Even pinned under a wolf, they had an oddly delicate air, smooth skin, and, of all things, black-winged eyeliner around their dark eyes. Another terrified intake of breath came from their mouth in response to Jarl's threat, a strangled plea coming from their lips:
"Merci, monsieur, s'il vous plaît"
At the tips of an outstretched fingers, a tiny pistol lay on the floor, slide jammed, barrel still smoking. Around man and wolf both, was a messy circle of what looked like dirt from a flower-pot, any will that had instilled it broken.
Drying footsteps of paint filled every part of the room except for the area encompassed by the circle.
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Tim
Proteau glared at the lasing rod, instantly on guard.
"Put the wand away, Potter, unless I say otherwise."
He started to walk briskly through the front of the highrise, skipping the elevator to the third floor and taking the stairs, two at a time. Proteau's hands flexed with anticipatory violence. Someone was going to pay for this going bad.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Alexander
"That will likely be unnecessary."
Alexander leaned in, eyes cool and amused. His hearing, however, was fully capable of picking up Annette and Terry's conversation behind him. Which made keeping a straight face for intimidation rather more difficult than usual.
Dammit, you two. Wonderful time to discover your sense of humor, Ms Wagner.
His refocused on the manager, voice a hush whisper.
"All you have to do is answer my next few questions. The Moroccans. Did they bribe you, or threaten you?"
edited 26th May '17 10:30:23 AM by DrTentacles
Just a harmless giant from a foreign land.
Tim gave Proteau a long suffering glance. "Unless you happen to have a spare sidearm, I'd keeping this in hand." He informed the cop with soft steel in his voice. Part of him regretted not taking his own pistol, gun laws be damned.
But then, that same part would probably not be happy unless he had a fully loaded G3 with him with now. Something about this situation made him expect a sudden need for tactically applied overuse of force.
"In fact, If this situation got so much out of hand that I need to intervene with magic, I assume you'd prefer I use precision over brute force?" He added, barely failing to contain a tone of shut up, I know what I'm doing in regard to his choice of foci in play.
...And you really should see my other "wand", a tiny, tiny corner of his brain couldn't stop pointing out. Harry Potter is a damn amateur.
edited 22nd May '17 2:06:22 PM by 3of4
"You can reply to this Message!"
Jarl
Jarl had a look at the circle, then at the tiny pistol, then at Tjalfe, still pinning the tiny person to the floor. He scratched Tjalfe behind the ears. "God dreng. Tilbage." note Ever obedient, the wolf slowly stepped off his prey as Jarl planted a boot on the pistol. Might be good evidence.
"I can't help but notice you didn't answer my question, still. You've got some breathing room now - I'm not an unfair man. All I want to know is what happened, and why did you try to shoot us? You give me that, the cop who's probably coming up the apartment building stairs right now could probably be convinced to be lenient."
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alex, Terry and Anne
The manager hesitated, clearly getting ready to fire off an insignant response when he picked up the vampire's expression.
"...Bribe."
Still not embarrassing enough to stan billionaires or tech companies.
The Wildest of Ronins
Leon mutters in annoyance under his breath at all the french being spoken as he maintains the glowing magical light. Being the one who had shots taken at him, he feels like maybe he should have been the more upset of the group, but really it was clear the shooter was panicky and after seeing what he Saw, Leon couldn't entirely blame the person.
"I don't even know if you understand english, but if you do, its fine. I'm not happy you shot at me, but I'm not gonna hold a grudge. I don't know what exactly killed your friend out there, but its not here anymore."
Click Click Boom Boom
Cephalopod Lothario
Jarl and Leon
The androgynous figure drew themselves into a defensive crouch, dark, shadowed eyes darting between Leon, Jarl, and the wolf. They seemed oddly careful to avoid putting their hands outside the edges of the circle. After a couple seconds of quick, panicked breaths, they answered, voice slow, hesitant, as though choosing their words carefully.
"Police? S'il vous plaît, pas de police." note
Something about Leon's remark seemed to strike them as bleakly funny. Dark eyes fixed on the warden, and the figure in the circle let out a soft, almost mocking laugh.
"Si courageux. Drôle."
They shivered again, eyes flickering down at the paint.
"I did not expect this. I am Fortune. I thought you were the monster. I...we were attacked. Is everyone dead out there?"
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Alexander
Alexander gave the man an encouraging smile, his own posture growing less threatening, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a wallet full of American dollars, crisp twenty and hundred dollar bills.
He passed the man a twenty, then started to pull out more assorted bills, almost bored.
"Who were they? What were your instructions? Did they leave contact information?"
edited 26th May '17 10:57:31 AM by DrTentacles
Jarl
"Pardon, but I can't stop the officer. He's already on his way." Jarl switched back to English as well, for Leon's benefit if nothing else. He put his gloves back in his jacket pocket and shook his head. "I might be able to make him listen to reason, but given the kind of fils de pute we're dealing with, I can't make too many promises."
"I'm afraid so. There's only one body, though - I'm not seeing any others." That worried him. Had there been more people here? If so, where were they now? "Is that why you drew the circle, Fortune?" He gestured to the flower pot trail. "To fight off some kind of monster?" His tone was less harsh now, but he kept one eye on Fortune, one eye on Tjalfe, ready to bark orders for the latter at any moment.
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Alex, Terry and Anne
The manager's eyes followed the wad of bills with the tell-tale expression of someone who had just became Alex' new best friend. He took the twenty and shoved it in a pocket.
"Two thousand, and I will provide you with all the information you need."
Still not embarrassing enough to stan billionaires or tech companies.
Jarl
"Well, that bodes ill." He scratched Tjalfe on the head, just to remind his fellow apex predator not to go completely bananas.
"See if you can piece together what happened to this guy. We-" he pet Tjalfe on the side "- are going to see if the brush is still here. It's a long shot, but if it isn't, then we'll know what whoever did this came for."
Of course, that didn't mean he was going to march in undefended. He slipped on his gloves - an apartment this size was too tight for swords - and briefly closed his eyes, feeling the cold core of power within him spread outward from his heart, his hunting senses starting to fill his mind. Then, he walked in the door.
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Criminals, Minors and Potion-makers, Oh My
The hotel's lobby was surprisingly spacious and well-decorated for a place this cheap. It had a real red carpet and everything.
The bonus to the carpet, of course, is that it's really easy to get a good sniff around. Especially if you happen to have enhanced senses.
The staffer at the reception desk, a mid-twenties woman with short-cut blonde hair, waved at Anne and David as they passed. " Mademoiselle Wagner. Enjoying your stay?" Her eyes drifted to Anne's before blatantly (and shamelessly) drifting to Alexander. "Can I help you, monsieur?"
Still not embarrassing enough to stan billionaires or tech companies.