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Entry tags:
final investigation
[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.]
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.]
no subject
[It feels empty and he knows it, yet at the same time he doesn't know what else he can say-- what the him she knew might have said instead. This must be how the nexuses feel, he thinks, and for a brief moment his own anger at someone who isn't even here surges.
He's tired. He's so tired.]
no subject
[It's not. Even putting their trust in this actual literal murderer - well, it feels like a betrayal, but they don't even know her to begin with.
She sounds so, so tired.]