|Cee cut all of her (ropes) wrote in rooms,|
@ 2015-10-29 02:55:00
|Entry tags:||!marvel comics, cerise stone, cristián martin-argüelles, elliot russell|
marvel log: elliott, cee, & cris
Who: Cerise & Elliot, followed by Cris.
What: Meeting with the serial killer.
Where: St. Raymond's Cemetery, NY. Marvel.
When: Pre-dawn. As agreed upon with Elliott, and after her meeting with Cris.
Warnings: Possible violence. Will update as needed.
But Cee was running late due to all that time spent talking with Cris. She drove fast and skipped all of the lights that she could. She felt strangely attuned to the city, knowledgeable of its grid without ever having grown up there. It was mathematical in a way, and she'd never been good at math anyway. So the confidence was an illusion. She parked on the street further down the block and walked fast through the dark to where the cemetery gates stood tall and iron. One boot up, secure on metal, and then over. She crunched in the tailored grass of the dead, the lawn was well-maintained, there were barely any dead leaves. No crunching until the soles of her shoes met with the gravel of walkways.
None of her knives, but she was still armed. No knives, she felt a little naked. The cotton of her shirt was thin, no vest. Irresponsible, and she didn't care. There was no justifying the carelessness when she thought about Zoe, but… then yeah, there kind of was. The girl's father had done the same half-cocked kind of bullheaded shit, that was one cog in the whole clockwork of why they all were even here with this problem now. She tried not to feel guilty about it as she walked hurried, there was enough guilt with everything else without throwing Zoe into the mix. And besides, the truth of it still remained that fucked up junkies with daddy issues weren't the most ideal at child raising.
There were mausoleums, they stood tall and angry in the dark. There was probably a night watchmen prowling somewhere with his iPod plugged in or watching porn of his smart phone. It wasn't smart to be here, Cee knew that. But she'd never thought herself real smart anyway.
She held her arms out by her sides, hands kind of extended for width as if to say, I'm here to anyone who might have been watching. It would be dawn in an hour or two, and the fading moonlight felt right.