Avatar of Morose

Status

Recent Statuses

7 yrs ago
My power grows exponentially each day as we come nearer to Halloween.
7 likes

Most Recent Posts



Jack Hudson

Location: Building 2 (Mess Hall)


Jack continued to hold Tatiana close to him, enjoying the juxtaposition of the warmth of her skin and the chill of the AC unit. As Bazhooli started glancing between Sophia and himself, he couldn't help but feel a bit awkward. They'd just arrived in Newnan that day, after all. It wasn't the time or place for people to be looking at him--not yet. He hadn't earned that. All he really wanted, after all, was to keep Tatiana safe. The entire world could burn, as long as Tatiana would make it out alive.

"Not too often, I hope," Jack said, glancing at Sophia. "You a pefohmah?" Jack asked Bazhooli, stating the obvious. "I grew up in Boylston, the theatah district of Boston...Got a few circuses go through there evehynow and then."


Édouard Riviere

Location: The Truck


Édouard groaned a bit, tugging on his ears in a fit of desperation. If he had to listen to Amelia butcher the French language one more time, he'd lose it. Glancing around him, he considered which was worse: throwing himself from the truck or listening to her use the grammar of an English pig high on cocaine. The ground looked even more tempting, and he forced himself to breath, remembering the anger management exercises his middle sister, Darcey, had been recommended to use by her tutors.

"Si tu déformes le français encore, je te tuerai. Tu me comprends?" Édouard hissed, noticing that the translator was far off, dealing with the walkers as they passed. There'd be no one to tell him off aside from Amelia, and he couldn't help but fantasize about throwing her off of the truck. Perhaps she'd learn to use proper grammar then. It was a kindness on his part, really. He'd be doing her a favor.

Throwing a glance over at Svetlana, Édouard couldn't help but ponder why she continued to pretend to not speak English. Still, each time he began to seriously consider it, those awful bangs seemed to flip the bird at him. Not that it was a hand gesture he wasn't used to receiving in America, of course. His fantasy about brutally murdering Amelia changed, with Svetlana cutting her bangs off at the same time. It'd improve the dimensions of her face and everything. Letting out a content sigh, Édouard closed his eyes, hoping desperately that Amelia would try to say something in French, so he could follow through on his threat.

No one could say he didn't warn her, after all.



Aislin Carter


Aislin merely shrugged. She never felt all too concerned about the idea that someone would notice anything wrong with her. It had only been a few months prior that she had learned of her own powers, and from a girl who grew up loving horror and Halloween, it was fitting. "She can't hurt me," Aislin said confidently. She flickered out of sight, before returning a moment later, cupcake in hand.

Aislin bit into the cupcake, looking at the photographs. They were truly gruesome and horrible, but most of the ghosts haunting her home appeared similar. She spent a few moments staring at each one, not showing the slightest trace of alarm, as she continued to slowly nibble on the sweet frosting. Eventually, she came upon the final one, depicting a ginger in her dying moments.


Handing the photographs back, the one of Edwina on top, Aislin raised an eyebrow at Mercury. "I'm not going anywhere. This is my house. You can't hurt anyone inside of it." If Mercury would argue, Aislin would do what she did best: scream at him to leave. She did notice the way that last photograph looked a bit more worn than the rest. Figuring that Mercury was on some sort of quest to avenge his girlfriend, Aislin finished cupcake. "Now go before my friends make you."
@Lady Amalthea She really needs a pay raise. :P


Cecily Ashworth

Location: The Coroner's Office ---> the Morgue


Cecily felt more than a little strange, sitting in Wallace's office. Her laptop in front of her, she continued typing away, frowning and stopping every few moments to change a sentence. The wording of this would have to be careful, especially given the fact that her parents would be quick to scold her if her moment of fame ruined their careers. They profited off of ineffective forensics departments, of incompetent police work, and easily persuaded witnesses. The moment her parents had seen the news that their daughter had been appointed County Coroner, they were furious. She sighed a bit, remembering that call. It had been the usual complaints, culminating in a wish that she had been more like her brother.
I apologize for any inconvenience my resignation may...

Cecily shook her head a bit, backspacing over the words. She already hated the sound of the sentence, just as much as she hated the situation she ended up in. Improvisation wasn't something she exceeded at. And now, now they had her in charge of the entire show, when she didn't know the first thing about opening up a human corpse. Pulling at her hair, Cecily deleted the draft of the email. She'd finish it later. She could only procrastinate signing the release papers for the bodies so long.

She bit her lip, her mind flashing back to the events of the week. Riley's car crash. The deaths of four residents of the Boston Heights. Roy getting shot. Roy telling her that he covered up Peyton's murder. The mysterious brands they found on Alicia and Gretchen, and the odd compounds detected in Alicia and Lorna's lungs.

"I can't do this by myself," Cecily whispered, rising from the chair. She knew that she should probably dress better than she did, in case the press came, but she could hardly care. She wore her favorite t-shirt -- an Iron Man comic strip -- and a comfy sweater, all for comfort. Her pistol was concealed as well, just in case someone tried to kill her again. Leaving the office, her fingers briefly ran over where the bullet had collided into the frame of the door just a week prior, and she sought on some of her now underlings.

"Evidence forms need to be looked over again, signed and dated in triplicate before we release the bodies," Cecily reminded them. It had been the only slight change she implemented, since being appointed County Coroner. She wasn't going to leave any room for corruption in the department if she could help it. And perhaps, with her taking everything seriously, they wouldn't turn around and vote her coroner. That'd be nice. "Are all of the files backed up on paper yet as well?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Entering the morgue, Cecily found the bodies, all of them on a separate slab. Each time she looked at them, she couldn't help but have a horrible suspicion. The brands on Gretchen and Alicia -- someone had to be doing it on purpose. Perhaps it was some sort of mark from a killer, perhaps a gang symbol. At any rate, she doubted that Justice would do anything about the deaths. It was all up to her, the last line of defense.

"Hello Alicia, Lorna," Cecily said quietly, standing near the dead girls. "You know, in the New 52, Suicide Squad members are brought back to life via some complicated mechanism...I'm not sure if that's possible, but...Well..."

She didn't really know where she was going with this. Cecily looked over the forms, glancing at the evidence gathered. She'd spent a few days in Roy's apartment, scouring YouTube and online textbooks for information on how to properly perform autopsies. She had studied chemistry and biology in college, never taking more than just a course on anatomy. And had the victims not been practically related to Caesar, she would have called in Machete Security Services. They likely had someone on staff who knew forensics.

Instead, her mind flickered to Lawson's case file. The FBI had taken over that investigation, given jurisdiction into what appeared to be a simple manslaughter case. She was certain that it wouldn't be taken well, but...She couldn't help but be tempted to try to send this case up to the FBI, to pass along the buck.

"There's kerosene in your lungs..." Cecily added, staring at Alicia in particular now. "And you knew the woman who tried to kill me...If only the dead could talk, right?"


Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway

Location: Imperial Apartments 4C


Tuesday had been up for a few hours, hitting her laptop as it refused to load. It refused to do much beyond play Merry Happy by Kate Nash, looping the song over and over again. While it was one of her favorites, now wasn't the time. It would be visitation day before she knew it at the lockup, meaning it'd be time for her to get to work. Her current client was a stereotypical rich girl, unable to live without oxycotin behind bars. Tuesday snorted slightly, at the thought of it.

Her client had no taste. Oxycotin, of all things? "Work, dammit!" Tuesday screamed, hitting the computer. As if in retaliation, Kate Nash's voice grew louder, only to be mixed with Tuesday's phone ringing. Sighing deeply, she glanced over at it, only to see the familiar number. Picking up on it, Tuesday found herself facing an onslaught in Spanish.

"Calmarse hijo de puta , voy a conseguir el producto entregado pronto," Tuesday protested, only for her employer to continue to screech. "Yo nunca dejo abajo, tonto? Eh?" For a few moments, Tuesday paused, listening as the man on the other end only became more enraged. Seemed his daughter wasn't doing too hot, they'd need her to deliver more than she usually did. "Más de miel más dinero, eh, el Cránero?"

She smiled a bit, before hanging up. An angered client had turned into an opportunity for her to earn a bit more money. She knew that Riley likely would be irritated with her, but thinking about her sister was the last thing Tuesday wanted to do. Murders seemed to follow Riley, anyways. She'd seen the news, with all of the shit going down at the Boston Heights. It wasn't any different than the same mess that happened back home. At least Marc wasn't here. The first time she'd been in prison, he came to talk with her on occasion, to try to get her to sober up.

The thing is, Tuesday knew what she was doing. She didn't need anyone's pity. Glancing over at the knocking on the door, Tuesday walked over, opening it up fully only once she had spotted Ronnie. Clad in her undergarments, as she hadn't gotten dressed yet for the day, Tuesday's many tattoos would be visible.

"Thanks, man," Tuesday grinned, seeing the food. "You got the munchies already?"


Dorothy Pender

Location: Med Bay


Dorothy overheard Gen's complaints, her voice wafting into the Medical Bay. She couldn't help but roll her eyes slightly, even considering the circumstances. Once this entire mess was over, she was going to have to sit down with Genevieve and explain some things for her. They were friends, but tough love was needed. Her childish insistence to aid everyone with her psychology skills had to come to an end. She was in dire need of a reality check, and fortunately for her, the doctor would soon be in.

Seeing Anisa spew all over the preacher, Dorothy smirked slightly. "Welcome back to the land of the living, captain," Dorothy said curtly, her hands folded at her side. The captain had improved remarkably, and Dorothy let herself, for just a moment, feel happy that her friend hadn't died. They didn't need a dead captain, after all.

"Your vitals are stable, and the crew is quite worried...Three people can come in at a time," Dorothy said. "Any more and there won't be room to work in here."

She stepped aside, allowing Jackson and Anisa to do their thing. Dorothy knew rather well that the two of them were practically family, and she busied herself with finding the proper medicine to help Anisa deal with the lingering pain. Finding some painkillers, Dorothy filled up a glass with water, and set it down with the medicine next to Anisa. Her eyes flickered towards Genevieve outside of the Medical Bay and she pursed her lips slightly.

"Captain, do you require further medical assistance?" Dorothy asked, knowing rather well that Anisa was rather in tune with her body, and would let Dorothy know quicker than any test if there was another emergency on her hands. If not, she'd mend the boy's leg as best as she could. Assuming, of course, the crew didn't decide again that everyone could pile inside of the med bay and nothing would go wrong.


@Pundii :O She called me a bitch

@Lady Amalthea So I'm a bastard now, huh Mom? Huh? :P
@Witch Cat reminder that you're on day 6 on your post counter. :)
@Gilgex I'll get a post up within the next 5 hours, as soon as I finish prepping for lab :)
© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet