Marcella Bellini (born_greater) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2020-09-09 15:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | friar tuck, marcella bellini |
WHO Marcella Bellini, Friar Tuck
WHEN Tuesday afternoon
WHERE the Parsonage
WHAT taking steps to divest herself of her villainous employer
WARNINGS none
Marcella paused, and watched the cursor blink as she hesitated over what she was doing. Was this a good idea? She let out a nervous breath, glancing around the library as she hit print. She waited until she had the piece of paper in her hand, and then deleted the file and logged out of the computer. She had to be careful, because she knew she was taking a risk with this message, but her conscience nagged at her. If she was going to get out, she at least had to give the other woman the chance too, even if she didn’t like her all that much. Folding the paper into thirds, Marcie slipped it into an envelope addressed to Isabelle Darlington, sealed it, and posted it in the box outside the library. Done. It was done. She walked away quickly, hoping, praying, that she had done the right thing. There was one more errand she needed to run today. Two items, deceptively light, weighed down her bag. One, a thumb drive sealed in an envelope and addressed to Marian. The other, a red velvet ring box containing a tooth. She drove herself across town to Tuck’s church. Usually she had John’s driver to take her on errands, but today she insisted on going alone. She didn’t want him to know where she’d been, just in case. John was a paranoid and suspicious man at the best of times. Once he knew about this letter, that was going to get a lot worse, but Marcie felt like she’d covered her tracks well enough. An anonymous letter printed at the library surely couldn’t be traced back to her. And she had Macolm on her side too. She’d been pretty certain of that last night. The Parsonage was a cute kind of building, tucked in next to the church. Marcie parked and got out of her car, looking up at the tall windows as she crossed the road to the gate, and quietly let herself in. Should she knock, or just leave the parcel and run? Suppressing her nervousness (because after all, last time she’d met the Friar, it hadn’t been the most… congenial of first impressions), she rapped sharply thrice on the door knocker and took a step back to wait. |