Log:Blood On The Leaves: Anne's Body

Blood On The Leaves: Anne's Body
"Are you expecting company?"
Participants Sterling, Vorpal, Edmond, Rozalia	2017.11.03 A group comes to visit the Mortuary. Part of the Blood On The Leaves plot.
Location Nightingale Mortuary
The weather is warmer today in Vermont. That's because the weather all over the place is messed up. Nightingale Mortuary is a Dusk refuge but open to all usually. Lady Rozalia Cobalescu owns the establishment. Down in the basement is where she can be found today. There's only one body down there currently and that would be on one Anne Marie Tennyson. She's currently back in cold storage. Roz however is sitting at one of the tables and typing notes into a laptop. Her glowing eyes staring at the screen a bit grumpily as she does. After his initial wigged-out distrust of Vorpal and Vorp's subsequent humoring him in making a day pledge not to shank him, Edmond's actually been completely cool with the guy, invisible or awe-striking. One wooden hand's waving a little dismissively at something they'd been talking about as they head into the basement; the end of his sentence, at least, is audible to Rozalia when they're close enough. "--think you were actually Gentry, I seriously just don't easily trust people who offer help when I'm breaking rules." The Summer courtier's in birkenstocks with cargo shorts and a bright red silk embroidered shirt with a mandarin collar, loose-fitting and comfortable, and the ensemble shows quite well that his feet are of a dark, sandy-looking clay with roots in, his hands and forearms are dark polished wood, and whatever else is visible of him looks like a starry night sky with a vine pattern creeping up from under his collar. He's lean and graceful and pointy-eared, and his face is stupidly pretty. His teeth are very white when he grins widely in Vorpal's direction. "But that was very cool and I am altogether down with doing stupid things in the future, if you are so inclined." His accent's a lyrically rolling South Indian one with a heavy British influence. "It's well with me, Edmond, -truly," sighs Vorpal, as the fellow continues to gush towards him. "It wouldn't be the first time, it shan't be the last. And yes- if you are determined to fling yourself at imprisonment and death, I will likely find time to help reduce the chances of both. Fear not." Gosh, but he sounds tired. Tolerant, though. Very... very tolerant. Where Edmond looks gorgeous, Vorpal looks... intense. He's heavily, artfully scarred, and his shadows EAT parts of his body, hiding them as they wander across. The bits exposed tend to fade in the light, revealing bones or- on his hands- curved, prehensile blades hiding in his flesh. That's not worrying. Oh, and that smile of his. The SMILE. Even when the shadows devour his face, the grin remains, combining with his drained demeanor to leave him seeming like a worn-down parent with an exuberant kid. It ain't far from the truth. Once the service elevator has offloaded its occupants, it gets called back up to the ground floor. Well, that's not suspicious at all. When the door opens to the elevator there's a look over to the people that enter the basement. Rozalia gives a smile, "Good afternoon." the Romanian states. No, English is not her first language, but she speaks it well. "Mister Vorpal and Mister Edmond." she nods to them. Then there's a look to the elevator when it gets called up again and then back to the two men, "I bet you are here for follow up on Mrs. Tennyson, yes?" she asks. "That's right," says Edmond with a slight bow and a charming smile, both reflexively courtly. "And just Edmond is fine, Ms Cobalescu-- or Mr Basumatary; either works." He glances back at the elevator and frowns slightly, unsettled. He hadn't noticed anyone following them, but it's entirely possible there was already someone else upstairs. But then he's briefly giving Vorpal side-eye; a belated reaction to the tired tone... and he just looks back to Rozalia. "If there's anything to go on, as to what did this to her..." "As is Vorpal. Mister is- a step down from the singular," explains the Dawn. The sound of knives are thick in his presence, but always changing- scalpels slicing away diseased flesh, or knives breaking down carcass to meat. That sort of thing. "Do you have a security detail, Miz Cobalescu? There's a changeling upstairs, and I certainly hope you're expecting visitors, because I suspect they've just called the elevator." There's an... energy to his tone that hasn't been there since Edmond met him in the morgue. The idea they've been tracked here is... well. Exciting, apparently. From overhead there can possibly be heard a few rather light footsteps, and then someone controls the elevator again, sending it down. To those with keen ears - it's only one set, and around this crew not something entirely intimidating. Should they wait long enough for the elevator to come down, it proves to be a woman. A reasonably small woman, with unruly raven hair, dressed in business casual with a walking coat and a nice grey pair of boots. "Edmond and Vorpal then." Rozalia states with a chuckle. "I'm not expecting anyone else, but it might be Cassian." she states. Then she listens for a moment, "Those aren't his footsteps though. And he tends to be more elaborate in entrances." she admits. "And yes, I have some idea." she states to them. "As for security, I don't think it's needed. This place is open to my Court and others. If there's a problem, there's plenty of knives down here." she tells him with a smile. 'Plenty of knives down here'. Edmond glances around as if parsing the actual room for the first time, and actually laughs aloud. "So there are," he says, and then as the elevator doors open, he takes a step to one side and pivots on his heel, not blocking Rozalia's view, but casually using himself as partial cover for her in case there's an explosion of sharp things that aren't on tables or attached for Vorpal, incoming. When it's just some lady in business casual, he looks a little nonplussed. Vorpal turns on his heel as well, a heartbeat before the doors open. His thumbs are hooked into the pockets of his ratty old denim pants, his head tilted to the side as Sterling comes down, the doors open, and she comes face to face with Edmond, Rozalia- and the terribly Wyrd, very Sublime Vorpal. She's studied a moment. The Mantle is reassuring, but... he still doesn't look away as he intones, "One of yours, then, Miz?" Vorpal turns on his heel as well, a heartbeat before the doors open. His thumbs are hooked into the pockets of his ratty old denim pants, his head tilted to the side as Sterling comes down, the doors open, and she comes face to face with Edmond, Rozalia- and the terribly Wyrd, very Sublime Vorpal. She's studied a moment. Seems human, but he knows better. Or at least assumes better. This COULD be some random human, and the changeling elsewhere. "Greetings, Miss! Welcome to Nightingale Mortuary. Can we be of assistance?" Best to wait a moment, let her reaction expose whether she can see them or not. "You were expecting someone else, Sunset Colada?" the first person that Sterling addresses, as she steps out of the elevator, is Edmond. The face isn't familiar, but the voice is - British and somewhat caustic. But this time it's not calling him 'boy'. Nor is it at all unfriendly. Her eyes pass from the living painting, over to Vorpal, who she doesn't immediately address - just kind of eyes him from head to toe. Eventually, after that long examination, she states, "And I am assuming this is Vorpal. A pleasure." Finally, though, her gaze lands on Rozalia and she inclines her head to the other woman. "Hello, miss. My apologies for merely coming in - you do have a reputation among the Court. I can leave, if now is an inopportune time; but I believe I may have seen two shady individuals coming into your establishment." There's a half-smile presented to Edmond and Vorpal. "Cassian is usually the one that does the stabbing. Or well, he is the knife eared one." Rozalia chuckles softly to that. She gives a wave when Sterling steps off the elevator, "I'm Rozalia." she states in introduction. "I'm not used to people walking about with their mask up." she muses. Then there's a look to Edmond and Vorpal, "Ah yes, these two shady individuals." she grins. "They're here about a body. Come on in." she motions to her. "Didn't know who we were expecting, Plague Doctor," Edmond says, relaxing; that voice is, in fact, quite familiar. And he does finally get out of the way, and he jams his hands in his cargo shorts pockets and looks a little wryly annoyed. "If you want it brighter in here, fair doctor, I can oblige-- but I think it would be rude." He glances back to Vorpal and Rozalia, and takes another step back out of the way. "I'm only here out of curiosity. The good doctor here might be able to help with a better autopsy than the one performed by the police morgue..." he suggests uncertainly, then looks at Rozalia again. "I mean unless you've already got that covered." "Edmond, if you turn the lights on, so help me, I will turn them -all- the way off and then nobody is going to be happy," mutters Vorpal. His shadow pulses faintly, as if testing restraints. "The present lighting is perfectly adequate. And yes- I am Vorpal, though you have me at a disadvantage... Doctor. Perhaps an introduction?" "And yes, we're here to answer some questions about Anne and how she passed- if you've had time to collect the proper information, Miz Cobalescu." "Doctor Maria Sterling. Doctor Sterling, or only 'Sterling' is fine," offers up Sterling in answer to Rozalia, politely, now that she's off the elevator. Several more steps carry her over properly with the rest of the group, and she says, "I usually keep the mask up for comfort - but if you wish, I will lower it." It's said with indifference, in spite of the former words regarding 'comfort'. Whose comfort? Hers? It doesn't sound like it. A small nod, accompanied with a smile - now that her face can be seen - is offered to Edmond and she says, "It is good to see you again." Her eyes turn onto Vorpal again next, and she studies the man as she might a specimen in a jar, introducing herself once more, "Doctor Maria Sterling, of the Dusk Court. Oneirophysic." "Nice to meet you Sterling. And if you would like to keep it up that is fine." Roz offers to the Doctor. "I've got the answers you guys needed." Rozalia states to Edmond. "Anne Marie was tortured to death. After that she was strangled to death. No signs of sexual assault or such. Which given the torture and strangulation is strange. Whoever did this wanted her to suffer. So it was either personal or she fit the profile of a serial killer. No money was removed from her wallet. No teeth marks in the flesh that mark for dominance or anything." she frowns. "Though the note in her pocket that you found is what perplexes me. Was it a message to her husband or to a greater scale do you think." she looks to the gathered. Eyebrows going straight up, Edmond places his hand dramatically over his chest and looks at Vorpal, wounded. "She called us shady! I wanted to obviate her misconception, at least on my part~~" Is he actively teasing the longsuffering high-wyrd awe-strikingly sublime Lost God? Yes. Yes he is. Then he gives Dr Sterling a quick, crinkle-eyed smile; he's apparently happy to see her again, too. Not one for grudges, him. Finally, Edmond comes around the desk and keeps enough distance for Rozalia's comfort, but is most definitely glancing at the papers on it. "Overkill? Or tortured nearly to death and then strangled? Is her husband one of us? Also-- since she was left in a very public place for everyone to see, I don't imagine it was only to her husband. If it had been, she likely would have been left at home." Iiiiiiiinhale. Eeeeeexhale. "Yes, Edmond. She did call us shady." Vorpal gestures to his general form rapidly. "It's -accurate.- Besides the obvious, we- well. YOU are far too happy to be strolling into a house of the dead. You should be pretending to be somber- if that emotion is among your repertoire, which I am beginning to suspect it may NOT be." Another, shorter, calming breath cycle. "A pleasure, Doctor Sterling." The Shadowsoul throws his arms wide and evokes an elegant bow, his shadow flaring behind him and- for a brief instant- devouring the room in shadow before retreating in a rush as he straightens. "Vorpal, God of the Hunt and Slayer of the Beast That Walks, Dawn Aspirant and- the lowliest little Harvestman recruit on the roster. Until someone else joins." It's a little shocking, to hear someone go from declaring themselves deific with one breath to calmly stating they're the absolute bottom of one of the Freehold's totem poles. He has tremendous confidence in what he says, regardless, and seems to see nothing incogruous between the dichotomy of "rookie hedgeguard and "totally a fucking god." "I concur. The message seemed very deliberately sent to us as a whole. It's why she was killed- because she's one of us. I've heard tell it may be The Soundless, taking a stand- I'm not sure I believe that. But it is either, I suspect- a singular killer based in the fort actually called Fort Brunsett, or else a group operating in the city of the same name. Time will tell, and hopefully not writ in the blood of more innocents." "Ah, I think the original introduction of your name to me was 'the douche that thinks he's a god'. I see they were partially right - though I wouldn't pass the judgment of 'douche' as of yet," Sterling says in a thoughtful manner, watching Vorpal's pomp and circumstance with the continued demeanor of a scientist regarding a specimen in a jar. Then she's grinning at Edmond turning soon back to Rozalia. "I believe Sunset Colada is correct - it was meant for a larger stage, which they found. Do you have any idea with what impliments she was tortured? Anything unusual regarding the wounds on her body? I would think that may hold specific answers, thought he strangulation doesn't read any particular bells." As she falls silent, the Wyrd-mask around her unravels, leaving... Darkness. Grey mist? White lightning. Black mist. It becomes apparent why she keeps her mask up, as her skull is exposed - covered by misty flesh, and surrounded by a starry halo of shadowy darkness - but still wholly on display, as if she were a walking x-ray. And she's small, diminished, perhaps originally a Wizened. Roz gives a nod to each of them before looking to Edmond, "Yes, her husband is a Changeling. He's a member of the Summer court. He gave a positive ID of her body." she tells her. "I don't think it was him. But could be wrong." she admits. Then to Vorpal there's a nod, "Good theory, though if the Soundless started actually murdering people I'm sure that would make people less thrilled to work with them." she chuckles. Then there's a look to Sterling, "Fingernails pulled off, cigarette burns, amateur level stuff. Thinking they were not really trained for it. We might be looking for some younger folks or someone starting off." she tells them. Edmond just shuts up, actually, taking another step back. He gives Sterling a tight little smile as she looks to him, and he doesn't seem to have any more reaction to her mien than he does, in general, to having been in an elevator with a clicky slicey shadow god. To Rozalia, he just nods, jaw working a little bit. "Would that have been CB, then, with that particular introduction?" Vorpal asks, tone amused rather than insulted. "Give it time. The more it sinks in I'm serious about the latter, Doctor, the more common the former opinion crops up. It usually doesn't abate until something capital-b Bad happens and suddenly someone who can stand up to Gentry is Useful instead of Irritating." Vorpal studies Sterling as she strips her strengthened mask. His lip curls into a grin at the parallels he sees there. "I used to have those," he murmurs, gesturing faintly towards Sterling. What's he talking about? Her halo? ... skulls..? But he's already moved on. "Definitely amateur. Torture from a professional would have left very, very obvious tells. Water in the lungs, broken bones, flayed flesh, destroyed sensory organs, electrical damage, and far more intense burns. This is- someone who's watched movies. Ones concerned about their ESRB ratings." "It sounds like mortals. More than likely someone who is unaccustomed to dealing with Changelings - you would see more cut marks, I believe, or specific signs of harm than... these. This is merely to hurt, without necessary purpose otherwise," Sterling says, thoughtfully, but does not in agreement with Vorpal. She lifts her own hand, examining it, and the oddly-shaped, metallic nails - she's not a razorhand, certainly, but there is a little in common with Vorpal's blades there. "Possibly someone who has only recently found out." Rozalia looks to Edmond and there's a bit of a curious look to him. She wasn't sure if he was alright. Then there's a look to Vorpal, "Yeah, I figured if they were trained we'd see more...knifework. Prettier cuts. I...probably shouldn't go into that." she clears her throat. "And yes, we'd see more thing." she nods finally. Then she gives a look to Sterling, "That's more what I'm guessing. Someone might have be ensorcelled or Enchanted. Might have been taught to hate us. Something. We just have to keep our eyes open." she admits. "If I come across anything else though I will send you two a text or you can check in here if you like." she offers. Vorpal nods and grimaces faintly. "Will do. I rather preferred the idea of a talented killer hiding in Fort Brunsett. It's somehow both a letdown and distinctly more serious if we're being targeted by mortal hunters capable of identifying us- even if this was just a fluke." "Anne Marie was a Beast, some sort of cat it looked like. Not very high on the Wyrd scale. So her nails, claws being removed were a defense against that. Taking away a major weapon probably took most of her threat away." Rozalia tells them with a frown. "I'll let you guys know if any more bodies turn up that don't get covered on the news at least." she adds. "You can just let him know," Edmond says quietly, gesturing toward Vorpal. "I'm not a member of the freehold and there's nothing I can do for her or her husband, and there's nothing I can do to help investigate. Thank you for letting me listen. I should go." He offers the three other Lost a slight bow, and then withdraws, heading swiftly for the elevator. Vorpal stares quietly into space for a long moment before speaking up as Edmond moves to leave. "If you want to change that- being not part of the freehold- just ask me. I'll find someone to speak to you. Stay safe. You know how to reach me." "Miz Cobalescu. If you learn anything new- find some clue as to where her death happened or something- let me know. I want the ones who did this." "Is he alright?" Rozalia asks as she looks after Edmond. Then there's a look back to Vorpal and a nod to him. "I will let you know. This isn't just a Freehold matter. It's all of us. So I'll keep everyone posted. Thank you for bringing her in." she tells him. "You two be safe. I know it's not needed, but still." she offers quietly.