Who: Emma Lockhart What: Next target. When: Sunday morning Where: Her house. Warnings: Implied killing, nothing major.
Emma flipped a light switch and nothing happened. The bare bulb that dangled above her kitchen table remained stubbornly dark and she smirked. She'd fallen behind on all the bills lately, except her mortgage. A roof over her head wasn't something she could live without but electricity and hot water? After a few days she didn't miss them so much.
Opening a drawer she rummaged around until she found a candle and matches. Once the candle was lit she flopped into a chair and pulled a cigarette out from one of her pockets. Before she could light it a soft growl from the still dark hallway stopped her.
Nymeria wasn't fond of cigarettes. The direwolf didn't like the smell let alone the taste. Emma didn't care, not even after experiencing smoking through Nymeria's senses she stubbornly clung to her awful habit.
"They're my lungs, not yours."
Another growl, the sound of padded paws crossing the floor and Nymeria came closer, rested her head on the table top and silently conveyed her disapproval with a stare that would have made any other person's blood run cold.
Emma ignored her choosing to concentrate on the spread of photographs before her. Some were from the newspaper others were taken from magazines and still more were printed from the internet. All were of the same scene, different angles of the same angry faces.
Most of the faces had X's over them now.
Emma hadn't said anything when she received news of the attack on Liam and Melanie. She didn't even go to see Liam in the hospital during his recovery. She'd reacted in another way had quietly slipped into herself and let Arya take the lead.
A few more X's and her current work would be complete. A few more X's and she might put forth the effort to get the electricity back on. Until then she'd sit by candlelight blowing smoke rings into the dark dark nothing while her savage heart and soul looked on.