Re: MORITURI TE SALUTANT!! [S!4]
03-22-2012, 05:55 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
A veneer of dust coated the expansive ballroom. Dirty white dust sheets had been draped over anything of any value a long time ago. Overhead the ceiling sagged towards the centre of the room, occasionally motes of plaster would fall and scatter upon the scuffed and marked marble floor. It gave the distinct impression that too much frenetic energy on the floor above and the entire ceiling could easily come tumbling down; the multi-tiered chandelier that had once hung in the centre of the room had already done so. It had gouged great scratches into the black and white floor and, up until now, it was the only part of the room where the blanket of dust had been disturbed. The nameless woman stood and silently regarded the room, her naked feet finding the marble floor cold and hard beneath her.
It was a far cry from the Market; her home for the last year or so. The Market was characterised best by the hanging multicoloured veils that formed the walls from one room to another and the exotic incense that just about masked the scent of blood and sex with its own obnoxious choking odour. It was something of a cross between a brothel in design and a black market in function and somehow, despite its opulence, it managed to be shadier than the shadiest dark alleyway could have ever hoped to be. You could stay the Market for as long as you pleased, so long as you didn’t mind being the merchandise. They said that if it wasn’t for sale in the Market, it didn’t exist; Nameless could believe it.
Nameless fished her notebook from her robe and, lit only by the dim green light cast from the flickering runes of her collar, she regarded the last couple of pages and her blocky writing upon them. After a moment she tore off the pages, balled them up and tossed them away into a dusty corner of the room. Given her change of circumstances she doubted very much whether she’d need her old list of prices. Without any more fuss than that she slid the notebook away and looked for a door out of this once-grand room. A hypothetical observer might have been surprised by the nameless woman’s understated reaction. It was not that she was not surprised to be suddenly removed from her own world, or that she did not fear for her life. It was more that everything she had ever cared about had already been left behind. It was a simple exchange of one unfortunate circumstance for another.
The double doors that were the closest exit from the ballroom creaked ominously as Nameless pulled them open. A long and dark hallway lay beyond, a broken window at the far end with curtains being blown around by the raging wind. In between Nameless and the broken window was the eponymous detective Jamie Knight. She had shoulder length auburn hair and a face covered in freckles. She’d jammed her notebook into the pocket of her loose fitting tan jacket and in the hand freed up by its absence she held a flashlight. The beam of which was directed upon Nameless. Her expression was neutral for a second before it coalesced into a friendly smile; it was always important to be polite to potential customers.
“Who are you?” Jamie asked warily, glancing around to make sure she had a clear path back out of here in case this stranger turned out to be as crazy as she was oddly dressed. “What are you doing here?”
Nameless reached into her robe and produced her notebook. For a moment it had looked like Jamie was ready to run; she was more used to the people she met on her investigations and as brave as she was she wouldn’t even try to face down someone with a gun. Jamie frowned as Nameless started writing something; this investigation had taken a turn for the odd that she just had not seen coming. She was intrigued and she moved closer, though she was careful not to give the impression she was letting her guard down. By a not insignificant couple of inches Jamie was the taller of the two. Were it not for the outlandish robe she might have mistaken Nameless for a kid, that and inescapably adult look upon her face. After a moment’s fervent scribbling Nameless held the pad up to Jamie.
‘dont hav a name and u wudnt beleve me y im here' Nameless' Nameless’ writing was large and clear and slightly child like. In the world she was from knowing how to write at all was an accomplishment that most of the population could not claim, but by most standards she was borderline illiterate. Jamie just frowned at her.
“You don’t have a name?” she asked with more than a modicum of disbelief in her voice. Nameless replied with a polite nod. “And I’m guessing no voice either.” Another nod. A look of understanding crossed Jamie’s face. “Oh do you have amnesia?” She was always meeting people who had amnesia. Usually once their memories were restored they would turn out to know vital things about the thing she was investigating.
‘close enuf lets say yes'
“What do you remember?” Jamie asked, getting out her notebook at the prospect of unearthing some important clues.
‘ur jaime night’ Nameless wrote. Jamie looked momentarily taken aback as she read her own misspelt name and then after a second this turned into a smug smile.
“You’ve heard of me then?” she asked cockily, but Nameless was already writing again.
‘herd theres tresure here sumwhere we get it together and split 50 50 ?’
“Sure.” Jamie said without hesitation. Whoever this nameless woman was, she seemed to know more than what she was letting on and sticking with her would be, if not a good idea, then at least interesting.
‘more people here 3 men a woman some snakes and a urn’
Yes, Jamie thought, she was certainly going to make this investigation interesting.
A veneer of dust coated the expansive ballroom. Dirty white dust sheets had been draped over anything of any value a long time ago. Overhead the ceiling sagged towards the centre of the room, occasionally motes of plaster would fall and scatter upon the scuffed and marked marble floor. It gave the distinct impression that too much frenetic energy on the floor above and the entire ceiling could easily come tumbling down; the multi-tiered chandelier that had once hung in the centre of the room had already done so. It had gouged great scratches into the black and white floor and, up until now, it was the only part of the room where the blanket of dust had been disturbed. The nameless woman stood and silently regarded the room, her naked feet finding the marble floor cold and hard beneath her.
It was a far cry from the Market; her home for the last year or so. The Market was characterised best by the hanging multicoloured veils that formed the walls from one room to another and the exotic incense that just about masked the scent of blood and sex with its own obnoxious choking odour. It was something of a cross between a brothel in design and a black market in function and somehow, despite its opulence, it managed to be shadier than the shadiest dark alleyway could have ever hoped to be. You could stay the Market for as long as you pleased, so long as you didn’t mind being the merchandise. They said that if it wasn’t for sale in the Market, it didn’t exist; Nameless could believe it.
Nameless fished her notebook from her robe and, lit only by the dim green light cast from the flickering runes of her collar, she regarded the last couple of pages and her blocky writing upon them. After a moment she tore off the pages, balled them up and tossed them away into a dusty corner of the room. Given her change of circumstances she doubted very much whether she’d need her old list of prices. Without any more fuss than that she slid the notebook away and looked for a door out of this once-grand room. A hypothetical observer might have been surprised by the nameless woman’s understated reaction. It was not that she was not surprised to be suddenly removed from her own world, or that she did not fear for her life. It was more that everything she had ever cared about had already been left behind. It was a simple exchange of one unfortunate circumstance for another.
The double doors that were the closest exit from the ballroom creaked ominously as Nameless pulled them open. A long and dark hallway lay beyond, a broken window at the far end with curtains being blown around by the raging wind. In between Nameless and the broken window was the eponymous detective Jamie Knight. She had shoulder length auburn hair and a face covered in freckles. She’d jammed her notebook into the pocket of her loose fitting tan jacket and in the hand freed up by its absence she held a flashlight. The beam of which was directed upon Nameless. Her expression was neutral for a second before it coalesced into a friendly smile; it was always important to be polite to potential customers.
“Who are you?” Jamie asked warily, glancing around to make sure she had a clear path back out of here in case this stranger turned out to be as crazy as she was oddly dressed. “What are you doing here?”
Nameless reached into her robe and produced her notebook. For a moment it had looked like Jamie was ready to run; she was more used to the people she met on her investigations and as brave as she was she wouldn’t even try to face down someone with a gun. Jamie frowned as Nameless started writing something; this investigation had taken a turn for the odd that she just had not seen coming. She was intrigued and she moved closer, though she was careful not to give the impression she was letting her guard down. By a not insignificant couple of inches Jamie was the taller of the two. Were it not for the outlandish robe she might have mistaken Nameless for a kid, that and inescapably adult look upon her face. After a moment’s fervent scribbling Nameless held the pad up to Jamie.
‘dont hav a name and u wudnt beleve me y im here' Nameless' Nameless’ writing was large and clear and slightly child like. In the world she was from knowing how to write at all was an accomplishment that most of the population could not claim, but by most standards she was borderline illiterate. Jamie just frowned at her.
“You don’t have a name?” she asked with more than a modicum of disbelief in her voice. Nameless replied with a polite nod. “And I’m guessing no voice either.” Another nod. A look of understanding crossed Jamie’s face. “Oh do you have amnesia?” She was always meeting people who had amnesia. Usually once their memories were restored they would turn out to know vital things about the thing she was investigating.
‘close enuf lets say yes'
“What do you remember?” Jamie asked, getting out her notebook at the prospect of unearthing some important clues.
‘ur jaime night’ Nameless wrote. Jamie looked momentarily taken aback as she read her own misspelt name and then after a second this turned into a smug smile.
“You’ve heard of me then?” she asked cockily, but Nameless was already writing again.
‘herd theres tresure here sumwhere we get it together and split 50 50 ?’
“Sure.” Jamie said without hesitation. Whoever this nameless woman was, she seemed to know more than what she was letting on and sticking with her would be, if not a good idea, then at least interesting.
‘more people here 3 men a woman some snakes and a urn’
Yes, Jamie thought, she was certainly going to make this investigation interesting.
Heaven Help Us | Make Room!!!! | I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You