26th Autumn 514 AV
Late Afternoon
About the 16th Bell
Late Afternoon
About the 16th Bell
It was with a kneel that begun the slow, careful inspection of what was before her. A small testing poke with the kukri point, a small lift of the arm and the moment of simple silence and contemplation. Even in her self-imposed exile from the Quay, she still had to work - coin was a necessary evil that brought much joy to others and somehow put food on the table. It made her wonder really when one decided that things had to be priced by such a useless object at times; after all, it was only a bartering aid at the end of the day. It was no true tool, it was no stomach filler, it was simply just a means to an end. And it was that that caused her to have some strange bitter taste within her mouth.
The note book was flipped open, a clench of the ink vial between her fingers before the fine quill was dipped. The messy scrawl escaped, barely clinking against the edge as she made her notes and careful inspections of what was before her. And it was something she was beginning to hate seeing of late. All the meanwhile the low mumbling of words escaped, it helped her think in the dreary silence of this alleyway of death.
"Body. Female. Brunette," there was a small tilt of the corpses' chin, a look to the stilled face that seemed locked between both horror and calm - almost as if it had accepted the coming of Dira throughout the struggling. She continued, and pushed on through the dulled ache within her hand, "Matches description supplied by madam, age... probably twenty something." The gaze hovered down to the abdomen, her throat constricting for a moment as she looked upon the rather obvious cause of death. A whistle of air escaped out, the slight feeling of nausea resting in the pit of her stomach. It was probably why the madam had sent a guide to take her here instead to look, and it was also why she did not blame the guide for sticking around.
Lowering the book and putting the kukri away, Fallon begun to move. Gloved hands wriggled, the very careful and cautious press against the body as she rolled the entire slumped state of the dead onto its back. There was a squelch, the pale flesh resisting at first before her hands pulled away with a tackiness to them. Part of her said she should be used to it, she had seen the dead before, she had killed before as both a squire and a mercenary. Why should this be so different?
Simple, she did not go back to look at them and analyse. Cheeks puffed, a small wipe of the digits against a clean section of fabric, before once more she took up the quill and the book once more. It was this time however that she took herself to standing, a slow and careful sweep of her surroundings. Ears strained, the gentle hum of noise as she tried to focus through the near silence. The Commons truly had become the grave, deserted, empty, and devoid of anything - unnerving to say the least. It gave her some comfort though, it meant she was away from the immediate danger of the rioting - and meant she could take a while longer inspecting what was before her. Clearing her throat she continued. "Twenty something... slashed through the... abod... A-b-d-o-m-e-n," She gave a lean down, eyes squinting but not able to bring herself any closer, "Appears to be singular and clean. Head appears to... bruising..." She shook off the sensation of nausea once more and pushed herself to continue, "Perhaps beaten unconscious and left to... bleed to... death?" A suck in of the stench of death, a firm clearing of her lungs, "So going to need a stiff drink after this."
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