Re: [Capital: Misha & The Revenant]
He didn't know, of course, that time had stopped. He might be outside life and death, and possess a number of unusual qualities, but he was just as subject to the forward flow of time as almost everyone else. The room became a different room from one moment to the next. He didn't blink often, and he wasn't breathing, so it did not happen in a blink, or breath to breath. The room was, and then it wasn't.
The desk was empty. His eyes swept across to the open, empty suitcases, then across the bare floor at his feet. He turned, as if the corpses might have gotten up and walked, and he looked back at Misha. The room was an empty shell with the contents scooped out, just like that.
He was still looking toward the far end of the room. "Accomplish?" He turned back, and finally he moved, stepping toward the empty pink suitcases. His fingers slid inside, feeling for anything that didn't match what his eyes were telling him.
A cold wave rose from the pit of his stomach, and it changed his entire affect. Rage. He tightly gripped the edge of the suitcase, which promptly buckled under the pressure. "Where are they?" he croaked. "Where is the boy?"
It took a long time for the feeling to pass, and, with it, the urge to shake Misha until he told him where the woman was, and where the dead boy. His expression smoothed over again, but there was no hint of the distant humor from before. "She was a link in the chain," he said, looking at Misha as if for the first time. "I need what she had." It was around her neck - a short chain with a simple filigree locket. "She killed for profit. She can't kill again. She has something I need. The dead need justice."
He crossed to Misha, closing the gap between them. "Death stops for nothing and for no one," he said, softly. "No ruse of the living does more than delay a reckoning. I was broken and remade by death in the image of death, and I am death. There is nothing left to break."