Lumin

The blond seeker moved into her room, silent as she ever was when holding the stack of articles from various locales. She began to sort through them as she stopped near the fireplace. Each page that was deemed unwarrantable of her attention, was simply cast aside from her hands into the fire -- until one headline stopped her and she turned completely still. Eventually, she moved further into the room, through the door and into her bedroom. She turned and stood at the desk in the corner. There, on the wall, were countless articles concerning a certain vigilante as well as news of a man known as the Ribbon Maker. There were once other reasons why the two sets of news were on the wall together. Now, the Viper and Ribbon Maker had something new in common. They were both dead. M'lissa Keht set the article down onto the table. Her hands were set at either side after removing her visored turban and setting it aside. She continued to read the words over and over again. Was it true? Was it real? Or was this another nightmare that she could wake from? No amount of wishing seemed to wake her. But there were points that she tried to linger on in the text. He was unknown when he should not have been. She tried to hold onto that idea. She tried to find comfort in it -- to tell herself to remain patient and wait before reacting. She tried until her hands turned to fists and inevitably no amount of paced breaths wishful thinking could help what was brewing. A chair was left in splintered pieces against a nearby bookshelf. The table was upturned and the flowers within the vase were scattered along with the soil, dirtying the floor they landed on. She began to rip the articles one by one from the wall until her hands landed on one article. Brass Blades Assaulted, Prisoner Escapes. The page was handled far more carefully then, clutched to her chest as she finally relented. She succumbed to the angry, hurt sobs that left her slumped on the floor. "Why...?" she demanded in question. If the article was at all to be believed, which she was determined to think it could not, there was no one left to answer.

Ehvar gave a curious tilt of his head. His wrists were red and irritated, but thanks to Tsuki’s negotiation skills, the bindings had been loosened for his comfort. She stood like a silent statue nearby and surveyed the situation with that dead stare of hers. But she said nothing to protest what Ehvar wrote down, though he swore he could feel her anger swell somewhere beneath that flat, scaled face of hers. It was impossible to tell what she was really feeling. His own golden gaze looked over the page he had filled with.. Everything. He held nothing back. Why bother at this point? He had written down where each girl was found. Why her specifically. What he had done to acquire them.. What he did once he had. All the way from number one to the final number eleven, M’lissa.

Unnervingly enough, the Raen woman’s expression remained unchanged and dead to it all even when the inspector laughed rather than respectfully taking her hand like a proper gentleman would have. The insult was not lost on her, however. And she purposely kept her hand extended just a few seconds longer before she dropped it back to her side. She gave no further answers or explanations. She barely nodded her head to agree that she was ‘associated’ with Ehvar. It was not until he left that she moved to the miqo’te’s side. Ehvar felt his wrists throb with pain. He still had the restraints pressuring against them as far as he could reach. That pain kept him from screaming out things he -wanted- to say at this point. “They will kill her if I don’t say anything,” he practically growled out the words. “It’s just a damned coeurl, boy. You can get another,” Tsuki grunted back, eying the chains that were latched far too tightly. She began to turn to demand their loosening when Ehvar said something else to gain her attention. “Hope you are good at your job,” Ehvar had muttered before he called back towards the inspector -- hopefully before he could leave the room. “I will tell you what happened to those women. And why. Just.. get my Mere the help she needs. Alright?” The smile was forced, but looked genuine enough if no one paid attention to that tantrum he had before Tsuki’s arrival or the fact that he was still straining restraints in his anger even now. Tsuki stood there, stunned. She had been warned this would not be easy. She had no idea it meant that the fool would throw himself right into an impossible situation like this. It was enough to cause her to falter in silence for a moment. Then, she too looked back towards Inspector Desmond. “Make this agreement official in writing.. And we have a deal, Inspector.”

The miqo’te gave a small shrug as though the thought of returning to his cell was nothing. It wasn’t true. The guards were having fun using him as a punching bag while he was in chains. It left him seething with hatred and wondering what was taking them so long. Although, now hearing that Leto might have folded.. He supposed that could have explained the reason for the delay of his so-called allies. It was something he would just have to endure. Then, as the guards were unclipping his chains from the table and floor, Ehvar found himself led, not to the cells, but elsewhere. “I do enjoy walks,” Ehvar attempted to show good humor about it all despite the anger and impatience eating away at him from inside. But the walk ended and he was forced to face a curtained window in another room. He gave no fuss as he was locked in against the rail.. Not until the sight was unveiled to him. The chains grew taut and his jaw clenched. Golden eyes scanned the beast’s battered body. She had been so shredded into because of that damned woman. Her beauty had been stripped right from her and it left her bare and scarred. One of her tendrils were gone and she practically became like him in such a state. That side would forever falter. She would not be as perceptive as she was before. That woman destroyed his Mere. For a time, Ehvar was dead silent. Then, suddenly, his hands gave a harsh jerk that caused the railing to creak and the chains to whip and clang noisily against it. “What the hells do you want from--” “Ehvar,” a voice suddenly interrupted from the doorway of the room. There was security that had chased the odd woman with the dead stare down. “You’re not authorized to--” “I must speak with him. On behalf of House D’Aulaire,” the Raen woman announced-- not just to anyone, but to Desmond in particular. She walked her way right over and handed over a small heap of folders that likely corroborated her story.. And would take a lot of time to read through. Both were necessary for her mission’s success. “This man is not well. He was assigned to our lady’s custody after the passing of his previous lord and guardian. I am afraid anything more you have to ask of him, you will have to deal through me.” Her paled hand jutted out almost robotically towards Desmond. “You must be Inspector Desmond? You can call me Tsuki.”

Ehvar’s smile gradually faded away into the stern look offered Paul’s way. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of Synerva while he was bound and trapped away headed for prison. But to hear that Leto had turned on him? His initial response was doubt -- despite how timid the boy was. Leto never questioned orders. Leto killed if he had to evil if he was still just a child. Even at risk of being imprisoned like himself, Leto stayed behind with Mere. That was not something Paul could have lied about. If Leto had not pointed the way out to the inspector, he never would have found the last scene until it was spoiled and done with. But could Leto have really spilled everything? Why? Was it for his freedom? The boy did seem concerned over prison. The inspector was nearly to the door when Ehvar tilted his head back and called after him. “I do not know anything about this Synerva woman. But maybe.. Someone is trying to frame me in their own game. Someone wanted Keht dead for what she did. I would almost be willing to take the fall for it too, if she did die.” He stared back after the man with a cocky smile playing at his lips. “You never did mention that, by the way. Other than being tied up with ribbons.. Beaten up… How is the murderer doing?”

“Lissa?” Ehvar sounded out the name, testing it on his lips and appearing baffled. Then, he gave a start. “You mean M’lissa? M’lissa Keht? The same girl who killed my guardian -- my father, Ludovic? She was tied to a bed… with ribbons made of.. what?” The miqo’te squinted, trying his best to decipher what it was he was being told as though he had no idea. “Wait, so you are saying she was in my old home? Some psycho killer was having a kink-show in my old house? Well, if I were you.. I hope you at least arrested her… If that is the same girl. She is a murderer, after all.”

The face Ehvar made in response to the picture presented before him was one of pure disgust. “Who..? I do not know this person. I do not even know what I am here.” He shifted his feet restlessly beneath the table. He sat more upright to convey that desperate emotion clear as day. “I was minding my own business. Checking into my old man’s house after someone told me something was going on in there. Then you barge in and now I am here. Being shown.. This?” Ehvar’s chained hands wave after the photo for emphasis. “Look, you can ask anyone who knows me. I like the ladies -- love them. But not like that.”

Ehvar gave a slow, gradual tilt of his head and his brows furrowed slightly inwards. It was not that he did not understand what Desmond was saying. He knew exactly what the man was referencing. The point that he could not grasp was why he was thinking he could play such a game with him when that ‘card’ had already been dealt. There was also the fact that, angry as he could get over Mere’s condition, there was no way he was breaking through the chains. The folder was taken up and, after a long suspicious look Desmond’s way, he flipped it open. The coeurl looked well enough. Alive, which was far better than what he was expecting in the first place. Of course, it was no surprise about Leto. Of course the boy did not run. Though skittish, he was still loyal. The folder was shut, though he did notably look at the pictures a while longer before doing so. “If you are looking for my gratitude.. you will be disappointed.” The soft look in his eyes slowly faded to something more stern to hide it away. “You see… I do not have any idea what or who you are talking about.”

Where Ehvar sat, he did not at all look the part of the madman that everyone had in their minds for some time now. Even as Desmond entered, the miqo’te remained docile and somewhat slouched in his seat while not being entirely improper in his posture. If someone had not seen the damned evidence in the manor where Paul had caught him, they likely would have doubted he was the right guy. “As well as can be expected,” Ehvar answered calmly. When he looked up, there was quite the bruise forming just beneath and to the side of that dead eye of his. He would give the one responsible credit if he did not know it was just a lucky shot in the dark to go for that side of his face specifically. Then again, with his limbs bound in chains and both angry and anxious looks focused on him, it was not like there was much he could do to aid himself in his current situation. “You are not here to make pleasantries, Inspector,” Ehvar said with roll of his eyes. “So let us carry on to why you really are here. Yes?”

Lissa could have fallen unconscious at any point, but when Ehvar left and mentioned that her inspector had arrived, her panic took hold. She could not hear what had happened outside the room. She was only able to wait and continue her struggle for air against the pain she felt all over her body. It was to the point that she really could not have guessed what was even hurt. Before, when Ehvar hit her face, it was just the one injury. Then they just kept adding up after she woke in her old room. Eventually, she lost track of where he struck her -- where she pulled too hard and hurt herself -- where he grabbed -- where he cut. At some point, she left herself. She thought of how foolish she had been to have left on her own -- to have even thought she could have stopped Ehvar herself. What good had she done? But then she had to give herself some credit. If she had not acted, then what? Ehvar would have been gone from the storehouse by the time Desmond and his team found it. There would have been nothing to have led them in the right direction. More women would have died. It might have been foolish and reckless.. But her choice had worked, had it not? It was Desmond’s voice at her side. It was Desmond who freed her from the restraints. As much as it pained her to move anything, she reached to grab for his hand through the blur of her vision. Then, when there were more voices, her hand squeezed more tightly. She could hardly make out what was happening. She gave something of a futile fight when she was moved. Soundless cries of pain left her lips. Then, suddenly, her hand lost its grip and went limp somewhere along the way. Between the pain and the shock, she finally lost consciousness.

The groan Ehvar let loose mingled into a primal growl when he was finally brought down. He could still hardly catch his breath over the pain, but the frustration and humiliation he felt over his loss was far greater than that. He felt the chains that were put into place and he might have started to struggle until… Mere. Abruptly, all fight in him was gone. Just before it was all done with, he was laughing. Though what it was he found so funny would remain a mystery for the time being. The blow to his head easily did him in. It also reawoken the flow from his previous injury -- though that was hardly something of note when he was soon left behind at the pillar. She could hear the doors along the hall, but she could not exactly make out what the sound actually was. One by one there was a bang and it reminded her briefly of the gunshots she heard before Ehvar struck her. It reminded her of the sick thuds when Ehvar struck her face in the past -- and also more recently. It reminded her of the drop of the body she once witnessed Ehvar disposing of. And then, suddenly, the thud exploded its way into the room she was trapped within. M’lissa was still securely strapped to the bed. Her breaths wheezed loudly and were clearly labored not just through her nose but deeper. Her face was left bloodied from the assault she had no defense over. Her wrists were bruised and swollen from the fight she gave that did no good. The dress she had been forced to wear was in tatters on her body and it was quite clear what had likely been done to her in the time Ehvar had her there. There was further bruising over her body. Her face was not the only place he landed his fists and raked the spikes. The worst damage, however, was still likely due to the hits she took to her head, the grip that had been placed at her neck that left very telling marks there, and undoubtedly further damage to her chest that could have been affecting her lungs from the sound of her distress. She could hardly focus past the blood in her eyes, but her lips did move. There was no sound. And it was clear this had not been her first attempt to call out to him judging from the tears that soaked her face nearly as much as the blood. There was also another piece left behind. Ehvar knew the outcome of this to the very end. He knew Desmond would find Lissa one way or another. Desmond was not going to fall victim. Though, Ehvar did not likely expect to have been taken prisoner, the result was still the same. Lissa’s hair had been pulled up into pigtails that had since become messy from her struggle and whatever happened between herself and Ehvar while they were alone in the room. It was what secured the hair that Desmond would most definitely find interesting to say the least. The bows tied there were not made of just the fabric from the recent victims. They were made of pieces of the last two missing fingers from the deceased. Their missing ring fingers -- skinned, separated into segments, cleaned and tied to resemble bows in her hair.

As satisfying as it was that there were times his fists connected -- that he could feel the flesh and bone struck beneath his heavy blows -- he wanted more. He needed more. Ehvar had planned to bring out the darkness in Desmond. And it was shone, but in a way that left him anything but pleased over the matter. He thought perhaps it would work the man into a bloody fight with him -- something they both could have enjoyed. Something Lissa would have enjoyed as well if she had not been so.. Difficult. But she was a matter for another time now. When the inspector dropped down, he foolishly planned to press onward still. He did not catch sight of the blade. It was hardly a blur. Then, the flash caught the focus of his good eye just before the sharp pain struck into his side. It was enough to cripple Ehvar down to the floor and he knew why. It was not just some wayward jab. It was aimed to send a shock to his system. One fist hit the floor, his other hand grasped where the blade slammed into his body. It was enough to leave him gasping and unable to immediately recover, defend, or retaliate.

Ehvar felt everything drop away. It felt as though the color had all but left his face for a moment. His fingers felt numb, but they soon clenched with anger. It caused the spikes to drop down. It wasn’t what he intended. It was just the rage that fueled him in his next actions. Just like when the woman, Synerva, first hurt Mere and he was in shock -- when he struck down at her face as hard as he could manage when he did not want to go that far so quickly. Desmond nudged that balance and it did more than go off kilter. It collapsed all together. It was with that anger-- a blind rage that he launched himself forward. The force with which he used was not held back and each blow he surged forward was meant to do more than just taunt -- more than just hurt. And even though the advance was not as planned, the moves were still calculated. Years of training guaranteed that. The same training that had been done to control his emotions, however, did have its limits. Not everyone knew of his weak spot for the creature. Those that did knew not to tread on it. Now that he was on the attack, he did not just focus on his prized fists that were his trademark in the murders. His legs too were used in an effort to break the man down a foot or two if the swings had not done that already. He would attempt to deliver a kick into Desmond’s shin to bring him down a notch. Gods willing, he would make good on his promise to rip that tongue from his gaping mouth soon enough.

The swipe came and Ehvar did make an effort to catch the leg as he had before. However, there was a problem. The swing came from his left side -- where his vision was lacking and thus his hand slipped right past and failed in the attempt to defend himself or grapple his enemy. He landed down hard enough that it took the wind out of him for a second-- long enough to cause him to chuckle in amusement at the turn of events. That laugh was brief and quickly snubbed away after Desmond spoke. The man who did not want to play his game apparently decided to play his own. The friendly look was quickly leaving his golden eyes as they focused in on the inspector before him. He quickly got to his feet as he growled out his next words, furious, “If you are bluffing, I will have your tongue out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

Ehvar’s hands were thrown up hardly in time to catch the foot aimed for his face. A hit there would have been very unfortunate. His head was still throbbing with pain from this encounter with the wretch that undoubtedly took Mere away from him. The bloodied coeurl was just another sad memory for him to push aside for now. There was nothing that could be done about it -- least of all by dwelling on it. As the foot pressed with such force, the weight hit the switch at the palm of his hands. There was a reason the switch was there, after all. If it had not been, when he made the move to catch the foot and the weight shoved his own hands at his face, the spikes would have been rammed into his own face. The spikes snapped back down and he was forced to skid back along the floor a few inches from the force of the kick. It only made him grin more and more. The inspector did not want to talk, but he was talking with him all the same with his body. “You have seen her dance. I can tell. -- Just not the same sort I was talking about. -- And let us be honest here.. You do not want a peaceful end to this. If you did, you would have just let me walk away, Inspector. You need it to be this way.” The limb was not shoved back, but allowed to drop down when he suddenly released it and tucked in his body back and away. A click sounded. The spikes were back into play as he took his first swing aimed for the side of the inspector’s torso. Another followed immediately after regardless of if the first connected or not, this one aimed much higher towards the opposite side of his body, at Desmond’s neck and towards the back of his head.

As Ehvar swept himself low to avoid the first swipe, his movements should have been very familiar. Even the way he followed through with the motion to close the distance was the same. But unlike that familiarity, he did not make to strike the inspector. He did not even take a swing. Instead, sliding narrowly around his side, he gave the sword-wielding arm a shove just enough to angle it away from the side he maneuvered himself to. Though, from an onlooker, it looked as though he were simply playing with his opponent and giving an abrupt shove that only looked softer than it was. There was still enough force behind it meant to try and knock the other man off-balance. “Did you know she used to dance?” Ehvar asked in a friendly tone as though they were having a chat sat around a campfire. “It is a shame you might never see it -- You never will as I have.”

It was impossible to tell if there was any life up the stairs. There were no words to answer Desmond with. That silence only caused Ehvar to smile wider. He watched how the inspector dropped away his coat. He took note of a weapon he was not all too surprised to spot. “I knew you had it in you,” Ehvar replied, excitedly. His hands were removed from his pockets and he glanced down to the metal that braced his knuckles fondly. When a button was pressed in by his thumbs, spikes that had been folded down into the metal valley were extended out and at the ready. The button was kept pressed in and the release was likely elsewhere on the setup. “Come then. Ladies first,” the dark miqo’te called forth in tease as he fell into proper stance -- though it was very lax and loose. His fingers curled in towards himself, beckoning for the inspector to press forward first.

Ehvar’s brows gave a rise upon his forehead. He looked amused where he stood, hand still outstretched a second or so longer as though he expected Desmond to suddenly change his mind and take the deal. But that did not happen and soon the hand was taken back and shoved into his pockets even with the blood that clung to them. “That was not really the offer I made,” he spoke up. “You have to make the choice, inspector. I will not repeat myself.” Ehvar already moved to walk around the man -- giving enough space between them so he could keep watch for any sudden moves -- for what it was Paul would decide. Judging from his movements, Ehvar planned to simply leave out for the door if Desmond chose to continue up the stairs. “And, just so you know, I will not make the offer again.”

Up the stairs and down one lengthy hall, there was a room that possessed what Desmond sought after. Raspy breaths were all that could have been heard by one with exceptional hearing. But the other target had already made it to the top of the stairs. His hands, with the metal fists still strapped securely over his knuckles, were bloody. His clothing was disheveled and he was still patiently fixing it over his body when he watched the last of his men fall at the inspector’s hands. “Not even knocking? No orders from your superiors? Nothing official at all. It is almost as if this is a personal affair to you,” Ehvar pointed out as he smiled down towards the man. But before the inspector could engage, he would caution. “Ah-ah… I have a proposal to make.” “The game I have with you.. I will consider it over. I will be done. If you let me leave now.” The grand smile remained on his face as he started his way down the stairs. “Or you could fight me. Let loose your beast. Show me your darkness. I know it is there. But.. if this is as personal as I think it is.. Could you chance losing her?” A hand was extended outwards towards Desmond, but from a couple steps away. “Agree and we shake on it. Proper business and the like. Or.. will you show me what you really are?”

Victim 11 The world was slowly coming into focus around her. The lights were bright and the setting all too familiar the more she was able to make of her surroundings. The room was colorful and warm. The feel of the bed was welcomed at her back. It almost made her forget -when- she was. It almost made her instinctively smile and wonder how time had been turned back. But just as quickly did she note things that were wrong. There were webs in the furthest reaches of corners. There was dust on things not moved or handled in two years. There were belts that restrained her to a bed that was once hers. This was her room. This was Ludovic’s Gridanian estate. This was her home. Her arms gave a jerk, but the belts were tough and secure. Her legs tested and the same bit into her ankles. Her body felt bare, but that was only because she had grown so accustomed to wearing the leathers that covered her body so thoroughly. What she wore was not even baring at all. She had been dressed, at some point, into something that was not her own and never had been. Aside from the stitching that repaired it, the dress was extravagant and fit her snugly. It was the sort of dress she might have once dreamed of wearing. But now? This was anything but a dream. Ehvar approached, smiling down after her with a face that no longer was full of blood. “I thought you would never come back, Lissy. I was getting bored playing with replacements. I was starting to wonder if you would ever notice.” “Let me go, Ehvar,” M’lissa demanded. “And let you run away from your special day?” Ehvar laughed as he caressed the woman’s cheek. He marveled how she shook beneath his touches. Though, what he saw as her being shy and timid was in fact her being terrified of what was to come. “This is all for you, Lissy. Our special day. I want to make sure you enjoy every second of it. Until the very end.”

“Only doing my job,” Leto grumbled, not all too pleased about his job’s current state obviously. He reached to take the man’s hand. Hey, stranger things happened than shaking hands with one of the good guys, he supposed. But then, next thing he knew, he was cupping both hands over his face and howling out as blood spurted from his nose. “Ye arse!” Leto gave his best shout back after the inspector. But the man was already tearing off and away.

A relieved look slowly worked its way to Leto’s face. His hands lowered and he actually had the nerve to hesitate with the guy that was so urgent -- and for a very good reason that he should have thought of. It was not like he did not know what Ehvar intended with that woman. Vaguely anyway. Whatever happened to her was just unimportant to him. “He said they went home,” Leto answered with a shrug before looking back into the room towards the bloodied coeurl that somehow still clung to life -- Ehvar’s coeurl. “That place in the lavender beds? You know.. The dead guy’s house. That is where they all used to live it up, right?”

The teenager wasted little time in showing himself around the corner. He was a bloody mess, though it wasn’t from the bodies the inspector found just in the doorway before the room. His hands flew up. The boy with the scarred lip quickly stammered out his defense, “I was just trying to help Mere--er-- the big coeurl thing. I didn’t do any of it!” It was a lie of course. There was a dead coeurl outside that was his handiwork. M’lissa’s coeurl that, thank the twelve, the inspector had clearly not had the pleasure of meeting to have even recognized the beast. Leto continued to hold his breath in suspense. In truth, he did not know what to expect with this inspector guy that had vexed the boss so much. It either took an awful lot or one awkward stumble to get on Ehvar’s bad side. No one really figured out which that was with Lieutenant Desmond. But an order was an order and he had to deliver that message -- he just wanted to make sure he accomplished it without getting himself killed.

((OOC note: I would like to thank Sorcini for her contribution to this scene's aftermath as well as volunteering her character, Synerva Devereux, for victim number 10! More details should be found in related news article to this scene. )) Victim 10 The lock was harder than the one she handled before; but it eventually did pop out of place and allow entry into the old storehouse. The ground floor was normal -- just as it had been years ago. It was a cruddy old safe-house that only looked like a tavern on the surface. Very few were ever allowed entrance -- only those with the key. Once, they had stolen that key when they were young and far more foolish. This visit was not for the booze. She already had her fill over the years. Besides, she was not a welcome guest in the establishment anymore. Not that there was anyone there to welcome her at all. The place was eerily quiet. She might have thought it completely vacant if she did not hear the strange sound that came from down the stairs. There was a bloody trail she followed. It started sometime ago near the entrance-way but became thicker the closer the arrived to the destination. There was once a room labeled for storage that was not a storage room at all. It was a room used by those who needed a place to stay -- one that no one else knew how to find. In the broken doorway were two bloodied bodies. They meant nothing to her, so she casually stepped over them on her way into the room. But what had happened and where were the others involved? The sound she heard before came again -- a low rumbling growl. Her blue eyes stared after the sight that she thought could not have possibly been real. When she figured out the location, she expected to arrive to another girl’s body. She expected a scene made to taunt the inspector. What she did not expect to see was the mangled coeurl on the floor. She barely recognized the creature. “Mere..?” she called out, both concerned and confused. If the coeurl was there, then where was the beast’s master? He had to be near. He would not have just left Mere to die alone. But there was no sign of him. The room was empty aside from the dying coeurl, torn rope, and remnants of what looked to have been a part of a woman’s clothes. Somewhere above, shots were fired. It was enough to startle her into spinning around, intending to head back out and up the stairs. However, upon turning, she came face to face with the one that was missing from the picture. The dark miqo’te stood over her, quite a bit taller than her. His golden gaze focused down upon her as she froze in place in her shock. It was not only the fact that he was there when he had not been noticed before that frightened her. There was still blood trailing down his face from the gash on his head as well as a scrape cut across his chest. “It’s time to go home, Lissy,” Ehvar announced just before he took a swing for her head. His fists were still wrapped in metal. Outside, the young male midlander waited. He stood over the large body and was still giving the furred beast a cautious nudge of his foot to test it for life. The door to the safe house opened and the youth watched as Ehvar, bloody-faced, carried out the blond female miqo’te who had broke into the place. “What happened in there? Where is everyone else?” “Gone,” Ehvar answered simply. “What about that woman we found?” the youth inquired. “Gone,” Ehvar repeated as he easily found where it was the young midlander stowed away his chocobo. The brown bird was untethered and, after resting the girl’s body across its back, he followed after. “Wait, where are you goin’ with Gobs?” the boy complained, finally leaving the woman’s dead coeurl behind. It had been shot in the head multiple times. “What am I supposed to do?” As Ehvar steadied the bird beneath him and kept the girl’s unconscious body from sliding off, he smiled through the blood on his face. “You’ll stay here and deliver a message for me to the inspector.” “Inspector??” Leto echoed with some dismay, shouldering the large rifle. “I’ll get arrested with all this mess around here.” Ehvar did not care to reply about those troubles. They did not matter. He knew the inspector would arrive long before anyone else. If Lissa had found him, her ally wouldn’t be too far behind. “Just let him know.. That we have returned home.”

Victim 9 A strong-smelling liquid dripped from the woman’s fingertips which hung limply in the air. This one took quite the journey to accomplish. But it still came through with little difficulty. After all, the artist and the inspector apparently shared a number of things in common. The inspector had a fine appreciation of women and the love they could offer towards him. The man also had a fondness for the water-logged areas of La Noscea. The maker wanted to make best use of what knowledge he knew of his favorite follower. He wanted to do his best to present a piece that would speak the world to the inspector. Just down the hill from Summerford Farms, the body had been found, hugged over one of the many large rocks jutting out from the flow of water. The woman had likely been tossed over the higher-ledge to have fallen in such a way, her back curved over the rock. There were a number of very important differences in this scene. No longer was the body left in the comfort of a room. No longer was the body portrayed as though it had peacefully rested itself down to sleep despite its injuries. Even more astonishing was the fact that there was very little bruising to the woman’s face -- making her easily identifiable. The missing medical examiner, Sireh. The toy had been played with, as had the others. Perhaps their date had something to do with the cloth found blown against a tree some distance away. A strip of cloth had been taken from her clothes. And just as the victim before her, her ring finger was missing. But this scene did not have any pieces from the previous victim’s resting place. The missing wedding dress was still gone. The false bride’s missing finger was still gone. And now, another finger was gone and, with it, another bit of cloth.