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The Worst

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How does one react to finding out that her landlord has died?  For Spahro Llorn it involved an unsuppressed squeal of jubilation and then breaking and entering.  It took no time at all to jimmy the lock into Natalie's room, then break into her desk and begin altering account books to reflect that Spahro had paid her rent in advance to cover three full years at the house in The Goblet.


Then she put on her favorite outfit, including the top that almost gave her cleavage, and went out for breakfast.


The cool night air seemed to dance on her skin as she skipped along the streets, waving to starving refugees and blowing kisses to beggars.  Most people, of course, had their breakfast in the morning, but for a Keeper in Ul'Dah that was just not practical.  Spahro kept a nocturnal schedule to protect her skin, her eyesight and her reputation.  besides, Ul'Dah was a lot less hectic at night, which made it easier to hear and spot things she wasn't supposed to.


A little street vendor served her some grilled snake with a coating of desert spices and a warm cup of mulled cactuar juice which she delighted in while headed to work.  the headquarters of Tonberry's Lantern were housed on the second floor of an ugly building off of Pearl Lane and included a grand total of three employees.


There was Titileo, the editor, a Lala of impressive girth, more impressive mustache and laconic disposition.  He saw Spahro first as she came through the door, half a snake hanging out of her mouth, happily crunching on the delicate bones.  "You're late."


"Don't care!" she replied and plopped down behind the communal desk of all of The Lantern's contributors.  The room wasn't large enough to house desks for every writer along with all of the printing equipment which took up most of the space.  vast churning gears and heavy brass plates filled two thirds of The Lantern's office.  In charge of it all was a gargantuan female Hellsguard named Twin Mulberry was was constantly cursing the Twelve as she tried to fit her overly large hands into the small spaces in the machine.  Her hands were, as usual, covered in bandages from getting caught between gears and presses.  Spahro was sure if she'd been anything other than a Roe she'd have been an amputee several times over.  "Twin, you would not believe the great luck I've had today!"


"Eat dragon cocks in all twelve hells you scandal spewin' pile o' coeurl shite.  Did somebody die?"


Spahro liked Twin.  "Yes!  Natalie McBeef!  The Sultansworn I was investigating is dead!  Stabbed in a raid or something.  I heard it through the grapevine.  She was also my landlord.  originally I'd just taken the room to investigate, but now that she's dead my life's gotten a lot easier.  This is just fantastic."


Titileo frowned and ran his fingers across his mustache, "Your only lead died?"


"No," Spahro rolled her eyes.  "Not my only lead, but think about it.  We've got Sultansworn dying under mysterious circumstances and all sorts of other crazy stuff going on.  This could be the biggest story in the history of The lantern.  What if she was killed by Taeros to to cover his own tracks?"


"Yer a bloody vulture," Twin added helpfully.


"What can I say," Spahro said with a smile as she spat out a snake bone.  "The hunters get the choicest meat, but the scavengers get the guaranteed meals."

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  • 4 weeks later...

Spahro slumped and frowned at the wall, holding the still dripping paint brush in her teeth.  This was the most ambitious work she'd ever done, and she was having a hell of a hard time with it.


No one was much using the house that McBeef had vacated with her death.  Most of the people had left when she did, which allowed Spahro to have free reign of the walls in the unoccupied rooms.


Iron was gone, Franz was gone, and had left some truly terrible cookies.  Something had happened to Shadow, Koporo and Kage.  Jana had wandered off, probably to do some more horrible grief driven murder, and G'Leo was...  Well, he was G'Leo, so he was probably dry humping a cactus or something.


That left just Spahro and her work, and work was coming along slowly, but surely.  Red paint dripped down the wall, pooling at the edge where it met the floor.  A crudely sketched drawing of Natalie McBeef was the source, and while the drawing itself was in charcoal, the big red X across her face might have been too dramatic.  Paint was expensive.


All across the wall were sketches, scribbled words in various colors and big, bold connecting lines.  It was a mess, but it was her mess.  She chewed on the paintbrush and began pacing back and forth, trying to make sense of the wall.  "What I don't get," she muttered to herself, pointing an accusatory finger at the multicolored mess, "Is why in seven hells anyone would even want this much Garlean tech."


She spat the brush out of her mouth and dropped down to the floor, thinking.  Her first thought was that the floor was cold and she should have worn some clothes for this, but she didn't want to risk getting paint on them.  Her second thought was that sitting in a dim, candlelit room, naked, staring at a conspiracy wall was probably not a good sign for her sanity.


"I need a cake," she said flatly, and stood, stretching her sore arms.  "You can wait."


She left the room, leaving the writing on the wall to dry.


((I've actually been using this OOC, and I thought other people might want to see it as well.))



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