The Opulent Quarrel - Round One: Mademoiselle Primfel's

The Opulent Quarrel - Round One: Mademoiselle Primfel's
#11
RE: The Opulent Quarrel [JOIN OUR IMPENDING DISASTER]
Username: Agensandra
Name: Cassandra Devin
Species: Prophet
Gender: Female
Color: do not ask me to see (#4444AA)

Biography:
Quintus Smyrnaeus Wrote:One heart was steadfast, and one soul clear-eyed, Cassandra. Never her words were unfulfilled; yet was their utter truth, by Fate's decree, ever as idle wind in the hearers' ears, that no bar to Troy's ruin might be set. She saw those evil portents all through Troy conspiring to one end; loud rang her cry, as roars a lioness that mid the brakes a hunter has stabbed or shot, whereat her heart maddens, and down the long hills rolls her roar, and her might waxes tenfold; so with heart aflame with prophecy came she forth her bower. Over her snowy shoulders tossed her hair streaming far down, and wildly blazed her eyes. Her neck writhed, like a sapling in the wind shaken, as moaned and shrieked that noble maid:

“Twenty-five bucks an hour, plus expenses. An advance on the first four, here and now. You’re not gonna like what comes outta this.”

“I don’t care,” this poor fat bastard’s basically foaming at the mouth when he signs, “I just wanna know if he’s still seein’ that son of a bitch.” A hand like a pale fish comes up; it shakes like one, too. This guy shook the floor on his way in, for that matter. The landlady would complain if it weren’t for the fact that she’s gonna have a heart attack next week, and she doesn’t feel up to tackling the stairs.

“Oh, he is.” I can see it, clear as day. Poor, poor bastard. I’ll bring him the photos, and then he’ll get it into his head to tote a shotgun to their next meeting, and then... well.

Fat, fishy eyes narrow at me, catching me staring off into space. “How do you know? None of the other PIs could catch a picture of him. I just want you to look into it, that’s all. Bring back photos. I just want something to hold over his head, that’s all.”

What do you say to that? “I have my ways,” is what I come out with, eventually. “I have precognition that lets me see how things will go” was a little too spooky, even for me. Not what people want to hear in these dark times. Plus, he wouldn’t believe me anyway. No one ever does.

Description: My name?

My name’s Devin. Cassandra Devin, prophet. Private eye on the side, but it’s essentially the same thing anyhow, am I right? People come to me because they have cases no one else can figure. I’m the end of the line for the most desperate folks, the ones who want to find out where their kid is buried, or whether their second in command is skimming profits off the top, or (like this poor bastard) who their favorite boytoy is fucking. I don’t get many cases, but my clients are usually willing to pay more for answers. The way I see things… heh. Well, the way I see things is always pretty grim. But it’s answers people want, and it’s answers people’ll get. I’ve done some pretty dirty things in my time to get to the truth. Didn’t like them, but the truth is the truth, no matter what.

Still, you wouldn’t know it to look at me. I may be short and ginger, and I might wear the same ratty grey trench coat all the time, but to the world I’m clean, moderately prosperous, and reliable. There’s not a court in the world that would argue against my word.

Weapons/Abilities: Not that I ever let it go that far. For some reason, no one’s willing to believe me. These days I just act on what I see, get pictures, bring proof. Let them do the work for me.

It’s not actually that hard, I find. I’ve got no evidence for this, but it seems like every time I put my second sight to work, things always seem to turn out for the absolute worst way possible. One time - because come on, who wouldn’t do this? - I decided to take a look at the national lottery... the ball spinner jammed and set the building on fire, and fifteen people burned to death.

I didn’t actually let that happen, of course - slipped a fifty to a friend in the office, snuck in with his help and oiled the machine up good - but I never tried that again. Not that particular example anyway. Thing is, it’s not consistent, you get me? It’s always something bad, and it’s always to do with what I’m scrying, but… look. So for example, one time I was tailing this suspect. Nasty fuck, mugged people and beat them to death with a half-foot of lead pipe, like he was right outta Clue - and just for fun I decided to have a little look-see, if you get what I mean. Had to jump the gun and nab him before I was ready, because on the way he was going to take out a couple walking home from the theater. A nasty future, but not for him, see?

...man, I gotta get out of this town...

Aeschylus Wrote:CASSANDRA
[1178] And now, no more shall my prophecy peer forth from behind a veil like a new-wedded bride; but it will rush upon me clear as a fresh wind blowing against the sun's uprising so as to dash against its rays, like a wave, a woe far mightier than mine. No more by riddles will I instruct you.

And bear me witness, as, running close behind, I scent the track of crimes done long ago.

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Round Idea: Hellfire Cruises: See the Lake of Fire! Visit Mt. Sisyphus and the Tantalus Isles! Feast on the delicious liver at Prometheus' Cafe and forget your troubles at the famed River Lethe! The round is basically Hell, but now it's a tourist trap!
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Messages In This Thread
RE: The Opulent Quarrel [JOIN OUR IMPENDING DISASTER] - by AgentBlue - 12-17-2015, 12:34 PM