simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
Elise Cutter
SCENE:
Overcast, In Saline
TIME:
Post-Arc 3, July 7th
LOCATION:
Clemency Private Hospital, Central District
PARTICIPANTS:
Passeri, Eric, Dagger, Kiwi, Dante, Pei
Overcast, In Saline
The doors slid open to a figure in a black coat, its hood shrouding their features. With quick, purposeful strides, it approached the counter, its boots and the hem of its coat tracking a straight path of water across the reception. It placed a hand on the countertop. “Passeri Park. Now.” Its voice was quiet, almost a rasping whisper, and try as the nurse behind the counter might to muster up the courage to tell the hooded figure about the various procedures it had to go through to make a visit to one of their patients, especially one of such renown as a famous idol, she could not in the face of solemn intent from the unknown being.
The figure left immediately after receiving the directions to the Princess’s suite. Anyone who knew how she operated, would have known that this wasn’t how she usually functioned. She never left tracks, she didn’t exist, she was a ghost. But now, suffused with panic and worry, the white-haired wraith of the Tigers was too far gone to even think about hiding her presence. She maintained her quick pace towards the Princess’s room, and every second that she spent in the elevator on the way up, as the rainwater began to pool around her feet, felt like an eternity.
Not another one. Not another one. She can’t possibly lose another one. Having a Potential didn’t help anything. People around her still fell to threats like these. As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t have known about it, if one of her associates in the dreg heap hadn’t told her about it. Her disinterest in the news, outside of the things she required for her jobs, was haunting her now. She should have known. She should have been there. She should have been the one to have brought her to the hospital.
Her fist collided with the wall of the elevator, scattering more droplets of rainwater across the metal box. She sighed, and drew back the hood.
Whoever it was that did this will pay dearly. They will not die peacefully. What dreams they will have when she began her hunt will only be of her, in the shadows, her knife at their neck, her breath at the back of their necks.
The lift doors opened, and she stepped out, continuing her single-minded approach to the Princess’s room.
She pushed open the door, and her eye fell immediately on the Princess at her bed. Without a word, or waiting for Passeri to say one, she made a sound like a snarl, and fell over her, her arms wrapped around the woman’s neck, her black coat falling to the ground heavily.
“You’re still alive,” was all she could manage to say. Not another one. There will never be another one.
The doors slid open to a figure in a black coat, its hood shrouding their features. With quick, purposeful strides, it approached the counter, its boots and the hem of its coat tracking a straight path of water across the reception. It placed a hand on the countertop. “Passeri Park. Now.” Its voice was quiet, almost a rasping whisper, and try as the nurse behind the counter might to muster up the courage to tell the hooded figure about the various procedures it had to go through to make a visit to one of their patients, especially one of such renown as a famous idol, she could not in the face of solemn intent from the unknown being.
The figure left immediately after receiving the directions to the Princess’s suite. Anyone who knew how she operated, would have known that this wasn’t how she usually functioned. She never left tracks, she didn’t exist, she was a ghost. But now, suffused with panic and worry, the white-haired wraith of the Tigers was too far gone to even think about hiding her presence. She maintained her quick pace towards the Princess’s room, and every second that she spent in the elevator on the way up, as the rainwater began to pool around her feet, felt like an eternity.
Not another one. Not another one. She can’t possibly lose another one. Having a Potential didn’t help anything. People around her still fell to threats like these. As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t have known about it, if one of her associates in the dreg heap hadn’t told her about it. Her disinterest in the news, outside of the things she required for her jobs, was haunting her now. She should have known. She should have been there. She should have been the one to have brought her to the hospital.
Her fist collided with the wall of the elevator, scattering more droplets of rainwater across the metal box. She sighed, and drew back the hood.
Whoever it was that did this will pay dearly. They will not die peacefully. What dreams they will have when she began her hunt will only be of her, in the shadows, her knife at their neck, her breath at the back of their necks.
The lift doors opened, and she stepped out, continuing her single-minded approach to the Princess’s room.
She pushed open the door, and her eye fell immediately on the Princess at her bed. Without a word, or waiting for Passeri to say one, she made a sound like a snarl, and fell over her, her arms wrapped around the woman’s neck, her black coat falling to the ground heavily.
“You’re still alive,” was all she could manage to say. Not another one. There will never be another one.