Who: Alistair and Derrick
When: Morning? (can change if not cool)
Where: Ad Gustum dungeons
This captivity had proven to be the most enlightening experience in so many ways. He was just over the six-week mark, and far as he could tell his supposed 'family' was not at all disturbed by his absence. He had been watching, of course. There was little else to do when he was not being visited by his mistress. In the hours that Tanith slept, he haunted her dreams. In her waking hours, he projected. Sometimes he simply followed her around, watching her daily activities. Sometimes he scoped the mansion. Sometimes he popped back in to the Azrael house he had been staying in, and no one ever seemed to question the loss. He had empathy, of course. He'd always known perfectly well he was skirting the line of discomfort with all of them. Now he knew just how little they truly cared for him. All to the better, then. When he staged his takeover, he would feel no pity when he torched the place to the ground.
He had taken to sitting in the center of his cell, his body a perfect stone effigy of the full-lotus position. This way when he left his body, anyone who happened to look in on him simply assumed he was meditating. And he was doing that sometimes. He'd picked up the practice sometime in the early 1900s after falling for a rather gorgeous import from Thailand. He had frequented her boarding house regularly. She had a pain tolerance that was truly
par excellence. He'd regretted killing that one, and not only because he hadn't been finished with her yet. He was trying to remember what her name had been or if he'd ever even known it at all when the sound of footsteps brought him back into himself. Not Tanith or Angeline. He knew their sounds well.