nysalogs | ( closed ) february catch all

[ Koltira's hackles are already up, though that's hardly unusual for him. His head aches, and he felt a certain amount of contempt radiating from Harlan that made him want to choke the man right then and there. But he knows Cain would probably disapprove of that.

So he grunts; he nods; he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he focuses on his other senses, sharp even in death: his delicate hearing, his keen smell. He mutters to Cain as they start their surreptitious investigation: ]

We should look for an office, first. Some place with records.

[ "Cain would probably disapprove of that." Look at that, they're becoming better friends already, learning so much about each other! Cain would be proud; he is proud of Koltira's restraint already, because as much as he doesn't advocate violence, the way Harlan keeps eyeing them is already making Cain wish the man would scurry off and leave them alone to get on with poking their noses into all the places he doesn't want them to go.

As Harlan glances over at them, Cain smiles, his best totally innocent, nothing to see here smile completely pasted on.

He nods to Koltira once Harlan's glance has slid suspiciously away, back to dealing with some of the workmen. ]

An estate as big as this, with work being done, they'd still need to keep track of... whatever they're doing with the missing servants. [ He turns to get a better look at the fountain. Huh. He gestures at its missing eyes. ] That's an odd sort of centerpiece, don't you think?

[ Koltira glances at it in his peripheral vision, careful not to gawk. He's a big man, tall and solid, and that's all aside from being an elf with cracked, hypothermia-blue skin. There's only so much he can do to avoid drawing attention to himself, but he knows 'naked staring' is on the list. ]

Curious. Let us bear it in mind.

[ He dares not try to draw near it now, not with Harlan so close. They must slip past him, gain access to other areas of the house. He sees a corridor up ahead. Perhaps they can conveniently lose their way. ]

[ Cain, on the other hand, isn't nearly so quick to try to leave the main room. They're here as a courier and his guard — on official business. That means they have every right to be here, and he wanders closer to the fountain, peering up at it with naked interest. After all, he has nothing better to do until the lady of the house returns. It'd be strange if they tried to sneak off right away, without at least making a cursory attempt at waiting to deliver their message.

Cheerfully, with raised voice, he beckons Koltira over. ]

Come look at this craftsmanship! [ Says Cain, developing a sudden interest in sculpture. ] It reminds me of that piece at Lady Noellin's. You remember, from that job three weeks ago?

[ Koltira is not one much for ruses. It takes him a moment to understand that Cain is playing to their cover, but--fortunately--just a moment. For once, his inscrutable face works in his favor; only someone who understood the slight twitch of his ears might know anything is amiss. ]

Yes. The carving was subpar and indelicate.

[ He glances over the fountain, as though he were simply examining it from an artisan's perspective. ]

There is more precision in this work.

Isn't there? And look at this...

[ Cain leans — carefully! mindful of the eyes on him — over the side of the fountain for a better look. He points not at the eyes, but at a fold of one sleeve, artfully draped over the woman's elbow. It's fine craftsmanship indeed, though not nearly so deserving of his enthusiastic interest.

Hidden from view by his body, he turns his hand, pointing not to the fold of the sleeve, but toward the strange hole drilled through the statue's hand. It's utterly out of place; it ruins the carving. ]

A bold choice, but I think it suits the composition, don't you?

Gauche.

[ The word sounds strange in his guttural mouth, but the curl of his lip is genuine enough. Despite what undeath has done to him, he comes from a people known for their commitment to #aesthetics. ]

Perhaps the sculptor's hand slipped.

[ Cain huffs out a small laugh, darting an amused glance at Koltira. So much for playing to their cover, though he hadn't really expected Koltira to do much towards that beyond stand and glower. But this is a different side of the elf, that wry humor that he's found peeking out now and then. He likes it, has come to seek out those rare instances of the sense of humor that Koltira keeps buried most of the time. ]

Now, now, it's deliberate. [ Dryly chiding, with a note of amusement that keeps his words from really being scolding at all. ] Look, you can see how smooth the edges are, it wasn't a mistake.

Poor taste, then. Even worse.

[ He's looking at it closely, though, wondering. The whole setup looks like something he'd expect to see in a dungeon, not a rich woman's house. Something that whispers of secrets, of things locked away. Things that might be incriminating. He glances back at Cain, pursing his lips. ]

But perhaps we should move on, lest we offend someone with our criticism.

Of course, we wouldn't want to offend the gracious lady of the house, even in proxy.

[ After all, if they did that, they wouldn't be able to find out if she's really guilty of the crime Voss thinks she's committed. And that, when lives are at stake, is something that Cain doesn't want to risk. He turns away from the fountain with one last lingering glance at the missing eyes, making a note of them — justice is blind, isn't it? It feels rather on the nose, considering why they're here.

Rocking onto his feet lets him tamp a foot down on the floor beneath the tarps. It sounds... oddly hollow. Hmm. He casts a sharp look at Koltira, meeting Koltira's gaze, to see if he caught that. ]

[ Koltira's long ears twitch. They ain't just for show, after all. Rather than look at Cain directly and confirm it, he just glances down, as though studying some speck of dust on his shoe. He bends to brush himself off, squinting at the tarp as he does so. He's honestly already convinced that something untoward is happening in this house. ]

No. That would be an unforgivable crime.

[ He moves on, casually inching closer and closer to a corridor. ]

[ Cain follows along, tapping — there's only that resonance near the fountain itself, nothing else to indicate a hollowness beneath the floor anywhere else in the room. Strange. It could be part of the plumbing, but... Well. It's hard to say.

But he doesn't make things quite so easy on Koltira. He'll have to apologize later, he thinks idly, as he wanders around the room, a meandering course that examines all the artwork on the walls, eventually, finally, getting them nearer and nearer to the corridor that Koltira was eyeing.

Of course, as soon as they near it, Harlan swarms them. Cain comes to a screeching halt, blinking in surprise. ]

Good sirs, the music room needs to be cleaned. I'm afraid I can't allow you to enter.

[ Cain murmurs their understanding, but he peers around the man. The room doesn't look like it needs a cleaning. If anything, it's gleaming, like it's just recently been scrubbed. ]

[ Undeath had dulled some of Koltira's senses. Most food is ash to his tongue, and his nerves are not what they used to be. But one taste, one smell, stands out now above all others. He runs his tongue over his canines as they linger by the music room, his eyes narrowed. After they've stepped away, and thus pacified Harlan's irritated handflapping, he mutters to Cain under his breath. ]

There is blood in that wood.

[ Cain stiffens, stealing a quick, narrow-eyed glance at Harlan, his hovering suddenly taking on a much more suspicious tinge. He looks back at Koltira — not because he doubts Koltira's word, but because that's a very, very alarming fact. It doesn't bode well at all for the fate of the servants they've been sent to find. ]

And all recently cleaned away, it seems. [ He also keeps his voice low; no need to give anything away when there's clearly more to investigate. ] Can you sense it from anywhere else?

[ He shakes his head, 'no'. ]

Not from where I'm standing. But perhaps if we were to range a bit further into the house ...

[ He keeps his head and voice down, though he glances again towards the corridors. He wonders if he can simply incapacitate Harlan, here and now. It'd be in the name of justice, after all. ]

[ Cain casts a last longing look back towards the music room, but it seems like there's well and truly no way past Harlan's lurking. They'll have to look elsewhere for now and hope that while Harlan's busily guarding that room from them, there's other clues to be found elsewhere, away from his far too attentive eyes.

He gives Koltira a nod, then turns to Harlan, approaching the man with a friendly smile.

A quick conversation: If Mistress Delia will be long, is there somewhere we can wait where we won't be interrupting the construction? and they're quickly ushered along to an office. Harlan leaves them there and heads back to oversee the workers. Cain frowns after him. ]

He seemed oddly relieved to be leaving us alone in his mistress's private office, didn't he?

[ Relieved, like he was getting them away from the scene of the crime, maybe? ]

[ Very curious, indeed. Koltira folds his arms over his chest, like someone who's come to a decision. The decision is this: they are not leaving without that man.

But, for all his lack of subtlety, he isn't a fool. They need more than a whiff of blood to offer as evidence. To that end, he glances 'round the office, eyes narrow. ]

Yes. But he was foolish, in his haste. Let us see what we can find in here.

[ He starts to search around--feeling, in particular, for a catch on the desk, a notch in the bookcase. Something that might conceal what a person wants to hide. ]

[ Cain's wasting no time himself in digging through the papers on the desk, shifting them around carefully so he can examine them and replace them as he goes. ]

Hm. There might be something in here.

[ He holds up the household ledger then starts paging through it. ]

Aha. Records of the staff. Though this is all above board...

[ He sets the ledger aside and joins Koltira in searching for anything more hidden, tapping at the drawers as he opens them, checking for hollowness, false bottoms. ]

[ As Cain's running his fingers around the desk, Koltira's investigating the bookcase. He finds no books cleverly disguised as levers, nor any other secret mechanism. Thus, in an effort to be thorough, he sets himself against one end of the bookcase and shoves, pushing it further down the wall.

Doing so reveals a door. ]

Ah.

[ Nearly at the same time, Cain finds a hidden catch. Pressing it reveals a false-bottomed drawer, and a second ledger — a match to the one he's just set aside. He pulls it from the drawer and turns to Koltira—

Just in time to see the bookcase shoved away and the door revealed. ]

Oh, good job! I found something, too. [ He waves the ledger about, a prize that he's showing off as he stands and comes over to investigate Koltira's find. ] Looks like Miss Delia's hiding a house full of secrets.

[ Koltira glances at the ledger, frowning. ]

They are clearly guilty. Must we skulk about like this?

[ He's opening the door, anyway. Might as well see where the passage leads. Stale, unpleasant air wafts over them, and Koltira grits his teeth. Already he has an ominous feeling. ]

Yep. Like thieves in the night. Except in the day!

[ He's not going to miss seeing where the secret passage leads to, of course; the ledger can wait until they get back out to the well-lit office, and in the meantime, Cain tucks it into his jacket for safe keeping.

He uses his newly freed hand to waft at the air in front of his nose. Eugh. That's certainly not a pleasant stench. What exactly is back there...? ]

They're guilty of the kidnappings, but we don't why, yet. We need evidence to see them brought to justice.

[ It's not a long corridor, and it's a tight fit besides. Koltira frowns once they reach the passage's terminus; there's nothing here except for a peephole, looking into the kitchen. His ears flick back, irritated. ]

A waste of time.

[ He glances to the ledger in Cain's hand as he heads back, still feeling uneasy. The blood alone was evidence for him--nevermind the rest of this strangeness. ]

They deserve the justice of the grave.

Justice isn't just killing people as a solution for everything.

[ It's an absent answer; Cain's figured out by this point that just saying the words isn't going to change Koltira's mind, but he's not going to stop saying them, either.

He's more interested in running his fingers along the passage's walls, feeling around to see if there's any hidden levers, that sort of thing— But there's nothing to be found, and he sighs with disappointment as they enter back into the brightly lit office. Ah, well. He returns to the desk and spreads out the ledgers side by side to pore over.

That produces more success. ]

Besides, I wouldn't call this a waste of time. Look here, these are the names of the servants who've gone missing.

[ He gestures to a page in the second ledger. ]

[ He scoffs. He knows well that this isn't really the time for a philosophical debate, but he's just enough of a dick to want to get the last word in (and/or agitated noise).

He looks at the ledgers with interest, though, the cold light in his eyes brightening as he compares the columns of names. ]

Proof that they know more than they're letting on.

[ He glances up, around. His gaze catches on the shelf again, on what seems to be an unusual piece of art. ]

Cain, look there.

[ Justice scales. Hardly strange in and of themselves, but there's a peg sticking out of the the central body, made of wood. An odd feature, to be sure. ]

What do you make of it?

( closed ) february catch all

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