London & Cora & Open
Well, this was turning into quite the interesting night. Cora settled onto his shoulders with the easy grace of the dancer she'd been in her pre-circus life, grateful that she at least didn't have to deal with the cumbersome layers of her seance costume. Any thoughts about how odd or awkward it should be to let a stranger lift her to study a murder scene were quickly forgotten as she spotted exactly what she'd hoped to see. There, next to the tank, a spirit damn near broadcasting waves of confusion and shock. She couldn't make out much detail -- it was like looking at someone backlit by the sun, where all that was discernible was the vaguely person-shaped outline. Cora opened her mouth to speak, a request to be put down already forming on her lips, when the spirit abruptly turned towards a shimmering, growing ball of light.
Both the spirit and the light vanished as soon as they made contact, an act that drew a startled sound from her. "Whoever it was, they just crossed over," she explained, not even trying to keep the wonder from her voice. For all that she spoke daily to the dead, she'd never actually witnessed a spirit moving on to whatever lay beyond this world. It was a good thing, she supposed. No vengeful spirit to haunt the Lagoon and bemoan its untimely murder, which would undoubtedly have meant bad things for the circus. Now that her only possible contribution to the investigation was gone, Cora felt it was rather useless to remain. "You can let me down, there's nothing left to see."