Callisto (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
myfavoritemurder) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wickedchouette2021-04-28 05:49 pm
myfavoritemurder) wrote in wickedchouette2021-04-28 05:49 pm
(no subject)
[It's Callisto's second day in Norfinbury. She has roughly 5% of an idea of what's going on, and even that 5% is colored by misconceptions and incorrect assumptions (this is a snowy corner of Tartarus, right?), none of which are helped by the fact that she hasn't quite figured out the network yet. So far, she's screamed for attention from Hades and Ares, and received nothing from either of them. She's wandered around a bit in the snow, trying and failing to get her bearings. She's gathered up some warmer clothes (because leather armor really isn't warm). And she's gotten into a scuffle over supplies and murdered a man. As you do.
She doesn't know his name. They'd tumbled into the house at the same time, half an hour or so before lockdown, and had the bad luck of zeroing in on the same puffy down jacket that just happened to be folded neatly on the living room sofa. Neither of them had been polite or selfless enough to step back and let the other have it. Both of them had wanted it badly enough to try and fight for it. But only one of them, as it turned out, had had the stomach to deliver a killing blow.
Her plan is to drag his body outside and dump it before the doors lock, because while spending the night locked up with a corpse is doable, it's not really preferable. Those plans are waylaid, however, by the front door opening and another woman tramping in. Kneeling at the head of the body, table-lamp-turned-murder-weapon lying on its side next to her, Callisto blinks in surprise at her unfamiliar appearance (is she some sort of dryad?). But she doesn't seem that perturbed, and she certainly doesn't seem guilty.]
Was he with you?
She doesn't know his name. They'd tumbled into the house at the same time, half an hour or so before lockdown, and had the bad luck of zeroing in on the same puffy down jacket that just happened to be folded neatly on the living room sofa. Neither of them had been polite or selfless enough to step back and let the other have it. Both of them had wanted it badly enough to try and fight for it. But only one of them, as it turned out, had had the stomach to deliver a killing blow.
Her plan is to drag his body outside and dump it before the doors lock, because while spending the night locked up with a corpse is doable, it's not really preferable. Those plans are waylaid, however, by the front door opening and another woman tramping in. Kneeling at the head of the body, table-lamp-turned-murder-weapon lying on its side next to her, Callisto blinks in surprise at her unfamiliar appearance (is she some sort of dryad?). But she doesn't seem that perturbed, and she certainly doesn't seem guilty.]
Was he with you?
no subject
Her body is still trying to adapt to being snapped into the cold, her skin a paler shade of green than it should be and the leaves in her red hair left wilted. Her Norfinbury-issued green coat, dress slacks, and hiking boots are a mish-mash of colors, styles, and sizes. They're barely enough to keep her from freezing.
Her arms are wrapped around herself and even with the door immediately shut behind her, the cold still bothers her more than the bloody scene before her ever could. Her eyes follow from the blonde woman to the dead man. The indifference is palpable.]
No. [She replies dryly.] But I'm sure he would want me to have his clothes. To make up for whatever life he surely squandered.
[She tries hard to maintain whatever dignity that her voice will allow versus her undeniable discomfort. She hasn't even caught sight of the jacket on the sofa yet, but to someone who has had to slowly upgrade from a skimpy one-piece suit made from leaves, a pair of good gloves is surely enough of a luxury.]
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