Owainn Morgan (dditectif) wrote in thedarkera, @ 2015-04-30 17:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | owainn, z-detective, z-vampire hunter |
In an old photograph torn, tattered, and stained, and faded to yellow in a brown leather frame
So many bodies piling up, and none of them were spoken for. No one came calling to claim them from the morgue with any speed, not even those of higher, finer dress and class. All the coroner could tell him was that the bodies riddled with holes had minimal to no blood left in them. The man crushed nearly beyond recognition had every bone in his body broken. All the obvious Owainn could pick up from looking at the damned bodies. He needs to get in touch with the doctor, find out if he would be willing to help with more in-depth examinations.
And then the note left on his desk, that was disruptive as anything. It'd led to spending more of his day in a proverbial fog than he'd been spending previously. Whatever he needed to dull edges a little, make the day more palatable as he searched on his own time for who the her might've been. He knew. He knew that chestnut brown hair better than anything else in the world. The two of them shared it. It haunted his dreams.
For now, he's noticing more and more a familiar face haunting his investigation of these murders. Neat facial hair, someone not part of the police force. At the morgue. At the crime scene of the latest few. Murderers who killed out of reason beyond heat of the moment liked to revisit. Watch people react to their sickness. Repeated faces were always of interest. Even in his distraction, Owainn notices.
And it leads him to following the man. To a boarding house known for the lesser-of-the-world. Not quite the scum that were riddled with fleas and drank from the gutters, higher than that. But people with means and money had friends in London and wouldn't dream of boarding houses as suitable arrangements.
Interesting.
He follows in awhile later, when he should've been either into his cups in the first floor public house, or well into his rented room. Either way, he'd find his mark and they'd have a nice chat.