Who: Harry Dresden & Fingon (Plus Glorfindel & Maedhros) What: Dead bodies and an ultimatum. Where: The morgue and then elsewhere When: Afternoon, today Warnings | Status: Death | in progress
He didn't want to do this, he didn't want to do this, he didn't want to do this. He'd rather face down a gaggle of ghouls than stand with Fingon the Valiant to confirm that his brother and High King was dead. They weren't human, they weren't faeries but they were the closest approximation to the fair folk here so Harry had a better idea of how to approach them than anyone. He spent a lot of time with them, and outside of Erica Strange he was the only other human who seemed to interact with them on any regular, friendly basis. At least someone that wasn't a kid. Octavia Blake didn't count. She was a child.
Harry looked up at the building of the morgue, squinting in the sunlight, then half turned and looked out over the parking lot for signs of their arrival. They were silent when they walked, generally speaking, but they didn't appear from nowhere with the strange, unsettling manner of regular faeries.
He suppressed a shiver and held back a sigh, frowning. God. What was happening here that their people were getting murdered? He needed to find out. The police investigation didn't know what it was doing and after everything else that had happened this case wasn't getting the attention it needed. Harry furrowed his brows and turned the rest of the way when he caught sight of gleaming figures coming across the way. They moved with an eerie, supernatural grace, even though the dark haired man in the middle walked awkwardly. Compared to him, the other two practically floated. Harry straightened his back, looking neither intimidating nor weak and submissive.
Their slow progress came to an end and by the time they were within speaking distance, Harry bowed formally if not deeply. He'd respect their status, their culture. He'd respect their King.
"Your Majesty," he said gently, his eyes locking on the elf Lord.