[NSFW] The Trail [Closed RP - OOC Welcome]

[Lumin]

((This RP is intended for the community to read and hopefully enjoy. Below you will find a link to Tonberry news stories that will allow the community to interact with as this is a closed RP. That being said, there is a disclaimer:

 

The following stories do not depict any actual person or event. The content within is intended for mature readers. Reader discretion is advised.

 

Please enjoy!))

 

-Lumin 

-desmond28

 

Ribbon Maker News Thread (May digress to NSFW)

 

---

 

Victim 7

 

 

Time ticked by. A picture had been painted in the room left still and quiet. The artist had masterful brushwork and knew his medium quite well. There were two glasses left on the nightstand. The flavorful drinks inside were gone, but the scent yet lingered. They were not cheap buys and clearly did not go to waste as both glasses had been emptied completely. There was an imprint upon the rims of both glasses. If the color was to be any judge, the lipstick undoubtedly came from the same pair of lips.

 

A smell much stronger than that of the liquor pervaded the air. The presentation had staled… spoiled. It was perfect and ready for its audience. The bed sheets were crumpled and used. Clothes had been removed in such a fashion that they had been torn and left in tatters. But those tears would be proven purposeful. A single strip of cloth was missing and nowhere to be found through the folds of the sheets would they be searched. But it would not have been that simple.

 

The sheets, once pale, bloomed brightly beneath the doll-like figure left on the bed in tattered clothing. But the shade spread widest and appeared deepest near the top. This doll was nearly without a face. The tool used for this particular piece was undoubtedly the same as the last and the one before it. Whatever it was, it was not left behind anywhere near the doll with the long hair gunked in meaty red.

 

The scene remained unmoving. The picture was left, intended to be found by the same eyes as always. And it was. And, as before, there was one oddity left behind. Upon the ticking clock, a strip of fabric was left tied neatly in a bow despite the frayed edges. But it did not match the fabric of the deceased miqo’te left broken and used on the bed -- only distinguishable as such due to the lengthy furred tail. The fabric found on the clock belonged to the previous victim.

 

But how long before the new tattered ribbon was found? How long before another female miqo’te was gone from the world in such a gruesome manner? And even when the new missing tatter was found, along with another body, it would only promise more faceless miqo’te women. Again and again with no end in sight.

[desmond28]

His linkshell sounded off. His unit was trying their damnedest to get in touch with Paul.

 

"Inspector, you need to get to Gridania immediately."

 

"What is it?"

 

"He struck again. There's another miqo'te brutalized at the Carline Canopy."

 

Making haste, Paul arrived on the scene as quickly as he could. He found his sergeant and two other officers on the scene.

 

"Inspector Desmond, it matches our guy, with some differences."

 

"Alright, I'll have a look around."

 

Stepping around the room, Paul relives the scene. The images go through his head. The drinking of wine, the lipstick on the miqo'te and how she looked. Did she know what she was getting into? How little did she know that it would end so brutally for her. Her face was beaten so that she was unrecognizable. Her clothes were equally unrecognizable, torn to shreds.

 

He moves to the wine glasses, bends down, looks at them, and then sniffs them. "Get these bagged, I want the contents tested and I want to know where it came from and how much it cost. I want to know its godsdamned recipe. Nothing left out."

 

"Yes, sir!" Officers move to carefully collect that and other evidence that he points out.

 

Paul's gaze moves to the clock. He doesn't pay as much attention to the time as he does to what's on the clock. He moves closer and inspects it. The color does not match the current victim.

 

"This too, take this and compare it with our last victim's clothes. Something tells me we aren't going to like the result."

 

Moving around the bed, Paul says, “Sergeant, I’d like you to head downstairs and see if anyone remembers seeing our victim with anyone. Alright? You know the procedure.”

 

“You can count on me, Lieutenant.”

 

Now he is looking at the girl’s face. "She must have been beaten to death."

 

Now the pathologist enters and says, "That will be up to me and what I put in my report. But yes initial examination does suggest severe blunt force trauma to the head."

 

"When are you going to cut the doctor talk and let me buy you a drink?"

 

"When you start acting like a gentleman, now get out of my way."

 

Tossing up his hands, Paul grins and says, "Yes, ma'am."

 

As she examines the body Paul continues to look around. His nose picks up a familiar scent.

 

"You smell that, doc?"

 

"It's rather stale..."

 

"Don't forget to test the body for foreign toxins. In fact, let's do the full workup. I want to know what she ate for breakfast this morning."

 

"Is that what you like to know about a girl?"

 

"How else am I supposed to know what to make her for breakfast after she spends the night with me?"

 

"You're impossible."

 

"I'm actually very probable."

 

"Inspector, there is nothing more for you to do here. We know the procedure. Don't you have a wife to go home to?"

 

"I thought I would but I don't. Besides, I'd rather be here and hit on you while you examine a body. It gets me off."

 

"Impossible," she says again with a grin all while examining the body.

 

After all the evidence was collected; ribbon, glasses, body, bed sheets, dusts for fingerprints... the body was moved to the morgue for further examination.

[Lumin]

By that time, the artist was already well enough away from the scene. While he would have preferred to stay and admire the aftermath, he had plenty enough experience to know better. This did not mean he was entirely without a manner in which to enjoy hearing just how much his work had been appreciated.

 

For a long time, the pearl he held had remained painfully silent. Then, there was a shrill loud enough to cause odd looks in his direction at the bar he chose to spend his coin at. The dark-skinned keeper hardly batted an eye towards the attention he was being given. It was short lived. Any other sounds that came from the pearl were muted in comparison to the first scream of shock. Someone had finally found his masterpiece. But where was the true critic?

 

Time passed along and as the ice within his glass began to settle, deprived empty of its previous contents, the man could hear movements within the room so far away almost as if he were still there. Within time, a voice that stood out had entered the room. With the pearl cupped against one silver-furred ear tipped in black as though it were dipped in sooth, he listened.

 

A small chuckle broke out now and then as he listened. The inspector was quite the lady’s man. No surprise there after what he had seen. He could still recall how the man lifted a certain enfeebled miqo’te into his arms and carried her away. The inspector, Desmond, only wanted to believe he was the shining knight. But wasn’t there still darkness? Oh everyone had it. And he was determined to wring out Desmond’s light until there was nothing else left but that darkened core.

 

When the smell was noted, he only smiled further. The pearl was crushed and the pieces were dusted away neatly into a napkin.

 

“Oh, let me get that for you, sir. And a refill for your drink?” Called the young waitress that practically flew to his side to attend to him.

 

The miqo’te’s golden eyes gazed upon her. She was tall, slender, and quite beautiful. But hardly his particular interest. This did not mean he was completely without any interest at all for her, of course. The napkin was handed over for her to take. “These things are so fragile… Luckily not everything is as delicate.”

 

The woman took to blushing quite readily and their hands touched a bit longer than necessary.

 

“Nevermind the drink,” he answered. “My name is Ehvar. When do you get out of here?”

[Lumin]

Victim 8

 

 

A tender song played in a sea of white. The only disruption came after the set notes had been played where the clockwork device would click over the track and began the tune anew once more. The floor crunched beneath any steps taken around the area of the room. Tiny seeds were strewn about in an almost decorative fashion. As before, it was all set around the center-piece -- the bed. The difference this time was that the room had not been paid for. It was the bedroom in the victim’s small apartment dwelling.

 

This time, there were no drinks involved. The bed sheets were not even crumpled. Instead, the white comforter was somehow kept smooth beneath the elegantly dressed figure left resting atop it. At first glance around the room, one might not have even noticed that any wrongdoing had occurred at all.

 

However, beneath the white veil, the horror could be found. The red seeped through, but only made it seem that the veil was dyed in that particular fashion perhaps. The merry song clicked to a stop before it resumed its steps back again. There was one more detail about the body that wasn’t readily noticeable due to the blinding scene of white all around. A small touch of red did taint the scene enough for the trained eye to manage, however. The bride’s wedding finger was missing. Where the cut had been made, it was bound in white cloth in an attempt to keep with the rest of the decor.

 

But there was something else wrong with the picture. The dress, while it was clearly high-end, did not fit the wearer’s body as a tailored fit might have.

 

The miqo’te’s original clothes would eventually be found outside the bedroom elsewhere -- folded in a rather neat pile and with an envelope resting atop it all. Within the envelope, a small engraved key -- one matching the music box still playing away in the false-bride’s bedroom.

 

Once the key was used, inside would be found the bride’s wedding band. Attached to that band, was another bow of tattered cloth -- matching the previous victim. The wedding band was bloodied, but the finger that once resided within it was nowhere to be found.

[desmond28]

"In her own bed," the inspector said in an angry whisper. His fists clenched and shivers went down his spine. He wasn't scared. No, not Desmond. The man was absent of fear. What was the cause of his shivers was the anger that pulsed through his body with every heartbeat as his eyes surveyed the crime scene. Like he did with all the recent ones, his mind played through what he knew happened. He could see it taking place vividly and this only served to fuel the emotion of hatred that swelled in his heart.

 

"Collect the seeds. All of them. Test them all, dust them, and find out where they are sold and farmed."

 

His command was obeyed by two officers designated to collect important evidence of the scene. They knew the normal procedure of what to collect, but Desmond needed to make sure his mind was spoken. He approaches the bed where the gritty scene told its tale.

 

"What can you tell us? How are you going to help us? Tell me you fought back, that you have a message for us..."

 

He pleaded to the victim. Though she lay there void of life, her blood screamed for justice. In some cases, the victim would make efforts to fight back which, in turn, would give Desmond and his team what they needed to put Ehvar away for life.

 

Sadly, as Paul looked over the victim, he found no such detail. Further examination, however, did reveal the missing finger.

 

"Her ring finger is missing... I doubt it’s around but cover the entire apartment. This gown... he had here wear it for his sick game. Find the clothes she had on when she let him in."

 

 

"How do you know she let him in?"

 

 

"I feel it in my gut."

 

After a search is commenced outside the bedroom, a call to the inspector is made from his sergeant.

 

"Captain! You need to see this."

 

The folded clothes were found as well as the envelope.

 

"Open it, carefully."

 

The key is revealed. They deduce that it must fit the music box that is playing that incessant tune. Desmond and the sergeant find the inevitable: the ring with the ribbon attached.

 

The sergeant states what they're thinking, "Probably from the last victim. We'll test it to make sure."

 

"He's sending us a message. It's a game to him. We won't find the finger here. Make sure to see if any parts of her clothes have been torn or cut off."

 

Desmond reaches to the music box and stops the tune. He looks over the victim again. By now the pathologist was making her routine examination before moving the deceased.

 

"What is it, inspector? I know that look..." she says from the other side of the false-bride.

 

"This isn't her gown. Find out where it came from."

 

He turns to look out the window. Rain was now pouring down outside and it slightly tattered against the window from the gusts of wind parading through the air outside.

 

"What? No inappropriate comments?" She continues her initial examination.

 

Desmond doesn't answer. He's quiet, staring out the window. Finally, after a few moments he sadly says:

 

"This is a horrible day for rain."

[Lumin]

As the thunder struck the ground so nearby, it should have been enough to startle anyone out of their skin. The lamps would flicker as the door creaked open, allowing in a small hint of the sheer downpour outside the building. The robed figure that entered was indistinguishable for the most part other than being soaked from head to toe.

 

“Late night?”spoke the smooth voice with only a hint of odd accent curling at the edges.

 

“Can I help you?” The woman answered, suspicious. Not just anyone walked into the office. And no one was due for quite some time while she finished filing away reports of her findings.

 

“Perhaps,” the man answered. The hood was pulled back and he gave a small shake of his head at the disturbance the change gave his furred ears. At least the fabric kept most of the moisture out. The woman looked a bit skittish. The thunder struck again and while she jumped, startled, he merely tossed a look back towards the windows looking out at the horrid weather. “Not a fan, are you?”

 

“What?” The woman asked.

 

“Of the storm,” the miqo’te reiterated.

 

“Oh.. They are alright. It’s just been a long week. But -- why are you here, sir?”

 

“To pick up my sister’s wedding dress,” the miqo’te answered. “I was told one had come in a few days ago -- to come give it a look. I would have stayed home given the weather but… Well.. You know how insistent women can be. The storm made no difference to her.”

 

The woman seemed amused. She even laughed. The male miqo’te only grinned after her. “I think I do remember you coming in before.” But there was a protocol. She followed it as well as she could manage with the man remaining so close and distracting nearby.

 

“C’jihro Tia?” she asked, repeating the name given to her as she checked through the forms. “Odd… are you not a keeper?”

 

“Nothing escapes you, does it?” The dark miqo’te chuckled. “Stranger things have passed through your doors than someone of mixed clan heritage, I would hope.”

 

“I’m sorry,” the examiner gushed out apologetically. “Sometimes my mind gets away from me. Nature of the job.” With the report left at the counter, the examiner waved towards C’jihro to beckon him after her. “This way then, sir. Let’s see if this is your sister’s missing dress.”

 

The miqo’te followed behind silently. He kept to himself and did not seem overly interested in anything on their way to what he could only assume was the storage room for collected evidence. Even then, he waited patiently near the doorway and did not go inside as the woman searched for the proper container.

 

“Here we are,” she announced. The long box was brought out and set on the nearby table. It was only then that she realized an important detail to disclose to the man. “I really hope this is -not- the dress you’re looking for,” she said as she lifted the lid off and view the ruined clothes herself. The veil was still bloodied. More importantly, the dress had been cut to have removed it from the body of the deceased.

 

“No, this is the one,” the miqo’te said with a grand smile. “No mistaking it.”

 

“Really?” The examiner asked, surprised. Was the man not at all fazed by the state of it? The blood? “Are you certain this is the one you filed a report about?”

 

“Yes. C’jihro Tia. Did you not check it out before?”

 

The examiner gave pause. Had she? She offered a long sigh. The lid was placed back into place. The box was shifted across the table to allow for its collection into her arms on her way back towards the door. She handed the box towards the man and offered her apology once more, “I’m sorry, you’re right. It really has been a long day. I must not be thinking straight.” After all, why else would she have so readily brought him back to the evidence storage without having confirmed that? She could remember taking out all the proper papers at least.

 

“Well then, how about a break?” C’jihro suggested.

 

“What about your sister’s dress?” The examiner countered, though she smiled.

 

“I think she can wait for it a bit longer,” the miqo’te replied.

[Lumin]

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.

[desmond28]

Why wasn’t the doc in the morgue? And where was her latest report? He hadn’t heard from her all day, which was odd. As he makes his way into his office, the inspector notices a file on his desk. As he glances over it he notices is it the doc’s report from the crime scene dubbed ‘false bride.’ He rushes out to the squad room, rather flustered.

 

“How long has this report been on my desk? Dammit, we’re at eight! Eight woman brutalized. I don’t care how minor you think it is, if this floor so much as cracks, I want to know immediately!”

 

No one says anything in reply. However, the report had been there since the night before. As he moves back to his office, he looks the report over and notices a detail. The seeds from the last crime scene. They came from Summerford Farms.

 

The world nearly froze as realization hit. “Oh no…”

 

As he runs out of his office he yells to his sergeant, “Get the squad and meet me at Summerford Farms!”

 

Arriving first at the scene, it does take the inspector some time before he sees Sireh arched against the rock.

 

He quickly makes his way down to get a look. Maybe he was wrong, maybe it wasn’t her. But he was right and it was her. Sireh, the innocent pathologist, who just didn’t want to be alone, was brutalized like those before her.

 

He notices all the details that are changed including the fact that he could recognize her face. His fists clench as he is knelt beside the body and he strikes the ground. He sees all the details were meant for him. He took something from him and then left it in a place he was fond of. The anger swelled inside.

 

“I’m coming for you,” he whispers fiercely.

[Lumin]

((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.”

[desmond28]

Not only had Paul read the note for him from his friend, Synerva. He had also learned that she had been abducted and nearly a victim of Ehvar. If he was going to take her, it confirmed one thing: it is personal. Now he will go for Lissa, if he hasn’t already. Synerva was quick with the details and Paul wasted no time making his way to the storehouse.

 

Dammit Lissa, why didn’t you wait? We were supposed to find a plan together. Don’t you know what he’ll do to you?

 

Paul’s voice echoed in his mind and after that last question he himself came to terms of what will happen. And the fact that Lissa knew... But she said she trusted him. Now Paul could not break that trust. He needed to find her. He had to. He couldn’t afford this loss, not with Lissa.

 

Riding fiercely, he had made his way to the storehouse. It matched Synerva’s description. He leaped off his steed and walked the rest of the small distance to the storehouse. Not seeing anyone outside he moves inside. Just as Synerva told him he would, he found the bodies of her carnage. He didn’t blame her, how could he? She fought in self defense.

 

Just then he heard some noise. “Lieutenant Desmond,” he introduces himself. “Come out!”

[Lumin]

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.

[desmond28]

The kid was scared, it was obvious. Poor kid, Paul thought to himself. He glanced around some more as he says:

 

“Look, I don’t care about some dead animals and I know you didn’t do the rest. I’m here for one reason only. Lissa and Ehvar. Where are they?”

[Lumin]

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?”

[desmond28]

“Sure, kid. Look, you’ve been a lot of help,” Paul says as he walks up to the teen, hand extended.

 

If he shook his hand, Paul would tighten his grip, yank him forward, and then send his other elbow into the teen’s face to crush his nose.

 

“That’s for Lissa’s coeurl!” He then makes haste to his next destination. Time was not an ally in this case and he could not waste Lissa’s time.

[Lumin]

“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.

[Lumin]

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.”

[desmond28]

The images that entered Paul’s mind now were not good. Gridania? And he had to make his way from Limsa Lominsa. It made him think that he should have used alternate means to get to Lissa. After what seemed like hours, Paul finally found the manor that was abandoned, just as Leto said it would be. So this is where it all happened. It was a fitting location, because it would end here. But not for Lissa or Desmond, it would end for Ehvar.

 

Standing before the manor Paul looked it up and down once. Then he said in a whisper, “See you soon, Ehvar.”

 

Paul rushes up to the manor and in one devastating kick knocks the door open in splinters. It drew the attention of two individuals inside. They quickly made their way to him and they weren’t asking questions.

 

The first used hand to hand to attack Paul, but he blocked once, then twice, and in the second block unsheathed a blade and swiped at the individual’s throat. He watched his life leave his body all over the floor.

 

The second now approached Paul with a set of daggers. He blocks two swipes, dodges a third, counters with a slash at the target’s belly. He screams in pain and then the blade silences him as it pierces his skull from his lower jaw.

 

Now Paul listens carefully for any noises, something that would indicate where Ehvar was holding Lissa.

[Lumin]

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?”

[desmond28]

A fierce look was given to Ehvar from the bottom of the stairs. Paul’s eyes reflected weeks of torment that was in possession of the victim’s before they died, save Synverva. He didn’t answer Ehvar’s mocking questions. It was pointless and further, Paul was not going to let him think he was in control. He didn’t hesitate in his reply, however.

 

“I need to know she’s alive. So before you try and be my psychologist, why don’t you be a good negotiator and show me proof of life. After that, then we’ll talk.”

 

He takes a couple steps toward the stairs and then stops. “Oh, and one more thing. I better like what I see.”

[Lumin]

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.”

[desmond28]

A moment of silence and perhaps even tension was in the air. Had they guns this would be one hell of a standoff. Finally, Paul doesn’t give the male more room for his escape. Instead he works his coat off and, at the same, calling out.

 

“Lissa!” He yells. “Do you hear me? I’ll be right upstairs, I promise.” He hoped that somehow she could make some noise for him.

 

Now that Paul’s coat has fully hit the floor a blade is revealed at the back of his waist, though he does not draw it. His hand merely rests on the hilt. He glares for a moment at Ehvar.

 

“Alright, let’s dance you and I.”

[Lumin]

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.

[desmond28]

Nothing was heard. But he had to believe that she was still alive. He had to believe that If she could speak that she would have Paul end this. And really, he didn’t trust Ehvar to keep some deal made with authorities. Would Lissa be able to sleep knowing he could just change his mind at any moment? No… he couldn’t accept that. But he could accept the offer to go first.

 

“Thank you,” Desmond replies mockingly. He draws the three foot katana out, a traditional Doman swordsman weapon. He poises himself, feet planted where they needed to be, and then he arcs the blade in an upward motion as he steps once forward. An easy enough attack to block, but it would pack incredible force behind it based on his footwork.

[Lumin]

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.”

[desmond28]

Because of his footwork, Paul did not topple over. But rather than resist the force of the push, he used it in a spin to rotate his body and bring his leg up to plant in Ehvar’s face. It almost seemed as if it was planned, the way he accepted the opposing force and threw it right back at his opponent.

 

“This will go a whole lot easier if you just give up now. Just lay down your weapons and surrender.”