*hears the rapid foot-tread approaching and can only think something else has gone wrong (what now?)* *opens his mouth to call out in inquiry—*
*—and is nearly knocked off his feet by a dark, fast-moving shape that looks vaguely like a man?* *stumbles against the wall and stares after you, (no one I recognize) and (I know everyone here) streaking through his mind like fiery little warning flares*
*is still processing that when his eye falls on the dark spatter-trail you've left in your wake (blood??)* *feels his stomach drop* *has no idea how these pieces fit together, but is not liking the pieces themselves (no Lord in evidence)(a stranger in the House)(blood on Ecthelion's floor)*
*takes off like a shot, sprinting over the slick floor, without any regard for his body's strident protests, following the blood all the way back to—*
*yanks the basement door open (blood on the handle) and stops(as movement and breath and thought ends here)* *because—*