That was the problem. The thing that hid her identity was the most recognizable thing about her. She looked like a burglar. Everyone would expect it from someone who looked like she looked. If she walked into a party, people would hide the silverware.
She didn't mind, though. She walked into the party anyway.
When it came to her work, she only left witnesses when she wanted someone to hear about it. Otherwise, she was careful, very careful. Everyone might have seen her waltz in the front door, but no one would be able to prove she'd been involved in the untoward happenings in the cellar.
"W-why are you doing this?" the Lalafell whimpered.
"I kill parents to get to their children. I kill children to get to their parents," Qhora offered by way of explanation.
"B-but killing me won't get to anybody," the victim cried.
"I know. You're just a loose end."
"W-what?"
"Finished. Used up. Done with. Done for." Moonlight flickered across the murderer's sharp
Qhora turned the page and paused a moment to admire the beauty of temporarily untouched parchment, the placeholder of so much potential, an enchanting gold by candlelight. An odd, lavender glow at the centerfold caught her eye.
"What...?"
A falling meteor symbol suddenly flashed bright from the blank page, blinding Qhora, and she slammed the book shut.
"Really?" A voice came from behind her.
"Godsdamnit, you... blasted... loser," Qhora hissed. She snatched up the book from her desk and whipped it at the offending voice.
The book bounced off a man's shoulder. "Ow. I'm hurt. By both your words and your words." He picked up the book and waved it around, wiggling his eyebrows at his own wit.
"Huh. I didn't think that would actually hit you."
"Just because I'm dead, doesn't mean I'm incorporeal."
"Isn't that... exactly what it means?"
The ginger-haired Hyur shrugged.
"How did you even get in this locked room if you're... corporeal?" Qhora demanded.
He shrugged again.
"Ugh! Do you have any idea how much I hate your stupid guts?"
"You don't tell me often enough," he said with a grin. He opened the book and leafed through the pages. "I knew you were thinking about taking up writing, but autobiography? Isn't that a bit, I don't know, tame?"
"Hey!" She grabbed the book out of his hands and wrapped her arms around it, pressing the volume against her chest. "Did you just call my life story tame?"
"Well, yeah, compared to the visions of identity stealing shadows you were actually--"
"You were spying on me there, too?!" Qhora tried to sound as offended as she could possibly manage.
"Oh, honey. I'm always spying on you."
"I hate you so much!" Qhora shrieked the start of the statement, then grumble-yelled the end of it. "You're going to piss me off so much, I'll wake someone up."
"That's what you get for writing in your Company room instead of your house."
"Aargh! Get out! Just get out!" She wielded her book two-handed and smacked him about the head and shoulders.
"Okay, okay!" he said, laughing between the strikes of the book. "I'm never really gone, you know."
"I know! But at least if I don't have to see you and hear you, I can pretend I don't have the biggest loser jerk corpse in the entirety of Eorzea tailing me everywhere I go."
"Such a fantasy--"
"Get out!" she shrieked again.
He laughed some more and stepped back against the wall. Despite his theoretical corporeality, he vanished through the wall, leaving amused laughter to reverberate around the room.
As Qhora stood fuming in the center of that laughter, there was a gentle knock on her door. "Everything all right in there?"
"Yeah, sorry. Nightmares," she offered by way of explanation.
"Okay," said the voice. Footsteps moved down the hallway.
She didn't mind, though. She walked into the party anyway.
When it came to her work, she only left witnesses when she wanted someone to hear about it. Otherwise, she was careful, very careful. Everyone might have seen her waltz in the front door, but no one would be able to prove she'd been involved in the untoward happenings in the cellar.
"W-why are you doing this?" the Lalafell whimpered.
"I kill parents to get to their children. I kill children to get to their parents," Qhora offered by way of explanation.
"B-but killing me won't get to anybody," the victim cried.
"I know. You're just a loose end."
"W-what?"
"Finished. Used up. Done with. Done for." Moonlight flickered across the murderer's sharp
~~
Qhora turned the page and paused a moment to admire the beauty of temporarily untouched parchment, the placeholder of so much potential, an enchanting gold by candlelight. An odd, lavender glow at the centerfold caught her eye.
"What...?"
A falling meteor symbol suddenly flashed bright from the blank page, blinding Qhora, and she slammed the book shut.
"Really?" A voice came from behind her.
"Godsdamnit, you... blasted... loser," Qhora hissed. She snatched up the book from her desk and whipped it at the offending voice.
The book bounced off a man's shoulder. "Ow. I'm hurt. By both your words and your words." He picked up the book and waved it around, wiggling his eyebrows at his own wit.
"Huh. I didn't think that would actually hit you."
"Just because I'm dead, doesn't mean I'm incorporeal."
"Isn't that... exactly what it means?"
The ginger-haired Hyur shrugged.
"How did you even get in this locked room if you're... corporeal?" Qhora demanded.
He shrugged again.
"Ugh! Do you have any idea how much I hate your stupid guts?"
"You don't tell me often enough," he said with a grin. He opened the book and leafed through the pages. "I knew you were thinking about taking up writing, but autobiography? Isn't that a bit, I don't know, tame?"
"Hey!" She grabbed the book out of his hands and wrapped her arms around it, pressing the volume against her chest. "Did you just call my life story tame?"
"Well, yeah, compared to the visions of identity stealing shadows you were actually--"
"You were spying on me there, too?!" Qhora tried to sound as offended as she could possibly manage.
"Oh, honey. I'm always spying on you."
"I hate you so much!" Qhora shrieked the start of the statement, then grumble-yelled the end of it. "You're going to piss me off so much, I'll wake someone up."
"That's what you get for writing in your Company room instead of your house."
"Aargh! Get out! Just get out!" She wielded her book two-handed and smacked him about the head and shoulders.
"Okay, okay!" he said, laughing between the strikes of the book. "I'm never really gone, you know."
"I know! But at least if I don't have to see you and hear you, I can pretend I don't have the biggest loser jerk corpse in the entirety of Eorzea tailing me everywhere I go."
"Such a fantasy--"
"Get out!" she shrieked again.
He laughed some more and stepped back against the wall. Despite his theoretical corporeality, he vanished through the wall, leaving amused laughter to reverberate around the room.
As Qhora stood fuming in the center of that laughter, there was a gentle knock on her door. "Everything all right in there?"
"Yeah, sorry. Nightmares," she offered by way of explanation.
"Okay," said the voice. Footsteps moved down the hallway.
![[Image: g9ASfFg.jpg]](http://i.imgur.com/g9ASfFg.jpg)
