final investigation

[arsholes]

[It's been almost a week since Orthrus' lucky escape. Almost a week, of all calls to Heisenberg going (metaphorically) to voicemail. Almost a week, to rest and recover from the harrowing losses of the previous Friday.

It's been almost a week. And the storms are getting worse.

You know the locked door on the first floor? The one that goes into the center of the tower, right across from the great entry hall doors?

Today, there's a heavy iron key sticking out of the lock. With a familiar crest on the head.

The key is sticky with wet yellow paint, and wetter blood.]

Comments

[ninehundredlives]

[Susan stands, folding her arms close against her body. She seems...pretty obviously uncomfortable.]

I'd check you for a head injury, but it's probably some sort of magical bullshit. [...] Fine, then. Are you...the only ones left?

[reresurrected]

[Well, since she seems to be... well (?) enough to stand, that's Baldr's cue to do the same, though it's clear he's about as uncomfortable as she is with the entire situation.]

No, there are four more of us. They went to investigate the other part of this floor...