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Aug. 3rd, 2008


MM15 [Fred, Inara, Xanadu]

Three little beauties all in a row. They were not together but would all be the next to go.

The City was impatient and my bidding nary ceased. The deeds must be done.

The knife sat in my pocket but there could be no mistake. No the gun, it was steady in my hand, the scope clear as ever in the night.

First came the brains. The smart beauty who sought to solve problems.

Perhaps given more time, she might have solved this.


Next came the beauty, the one who sold her love. I was intrigued and wondered how many had. She had travelled a great deal and seen many things I knew. Where she went now, now she had no choice.


And then came the mystery. Could she tell the future? Could she see the past? She has ancient bloodlines. Had she seen this, her own future and resign to what it was?


The City would be appeased.

Jul. 20th, 2008


Post-its [Open to Dead People]

OOC: Did you die in the MM plot? Feel free to join in.

This was out of her league. Not only had her work load doubled during the reign of the mass murderer but none of the souls were moving on. She was pretty sure they were just being stubborn, but dirty looks weren't working. Ignoring them wasn't enough either; dead people were near impossible to ditch. Something about being able to walk through walls.

Eventually the reaper hunkered down in her apartment, sitting on a love-seat she'd salvaged dumpster diving, and hoped someone would just catch the serial killer already. She was half tempted to ask the recently deceased so she could pass on the information to Dexter, but if she did that she realized it would only encourage them to stay that much longer.

After the first week George finally posted a sign on her wall that read: YOU ARE DEAD. GET OVER IT.

Jul. 2nd, 2008


Let me tell you 'bout the cars and the keys. (Open)

She'd spent hours carving each selection of wood uniformly, working each piece until they were smooth in her fingertips. Tiny sprite creatures circled her room in excited patterns, encouraging her with tiny voices. In reality they were sometimes more of a hindrance than a help, but if they ever wore on her patience Nimue did not show it.

"Nimue look!"

"Nimue see!"

Crouched over a dirt floor, painting uniform letters on each newly crafted wood tile in red, she still wore hoof-shaped platforms, attached only to the balls of her feet. Her calves had adjusted to the unusual footwear long ago and she'd ignored the small ache in her back. Combined with the small antlers she wore in her hair, the creature though human cosmetically in appearance, also looked very wild. When she finished and the paint had dried, Nimue cast the runes.

"Nimue look!"

"Nimue see!"

"Nimue alone?"

Each tile landed face down. Not one offered her insight as if to say you have no future. Nimue looked up excitedly, wildly about her underground hut. The shelves, as always, remained silent, as was her bed and her hearth and her straw rug. There were no answers and yet...

"Nimue go!"

"Nimue scared!"

"Nimue hiding?"

The seer froze in place, knowing that eventually she had to leave the safety of her home and discover what silenced the rune tiles. Yet she prolonged her only option until she heard the frightened sniffles of the sprites and noticed that they had stopped talking as well. If there was one thing Nimue knew about the sprites it was that they rarely stopped squeaking. She rose to her feet, and for their sake, felt a bit braver.

"Nimue go?"

"Nimue look?"

"Nimue find."

So she did.

Leaving the hut, the forest was utterly recognizable. The trees were all strangers and the seer did not feel welcome. Whatever magic had transported her to this new land did so without the smallest sign or warning. Feeling faint, she steadied herself against one of the strange trunks.

"Gods, what is this?"

She had only to walk a small way before this new place became even less familiar. She spied on a building from a safe distance behind the edge of the forest trees. The structure as imposing as a castle's keep, and yet there nothing built or in place to protect it. Nimue immediately noticed the absence of stone walls and guards. It looked to be made of wood like a peasant's hut but far too grand to be so. It appeared so box-like and unnatural that Nimue immediately mistrusted it. The neon sign in front lit without a hint of natural or magical assistance and she came to the conclusion that it should not be able to exist at all. That it did startled her.

She could not comprehend what the large metal slabs parked in front of it were.

She'd spent so long staring at The Bates Motel that the moment she noticed the skyline of The City behind it, she fell to her knees which were scraped upon impact, praying loudly to the trees which had no reason yet to care for her, begging between gasps and tears for protection.