serpent

Valerie always spoke as though her words were bullets being loaded into a gun, leaving listeners in suspense about when she’d pull the trigger. It was a necessary skill to have in their line of work, but Valerie’s talents were in a league of their own. It was admirable, and it was suspicious. As the daughter of a conman and a former lawyer-turned-political advisor, Adriana knew better than to get her hopes up when people made promises that seemed too good to be true, because they usually always were. Especially if they were from a politician. Especially if they were from a Woodlander.

Despite the two strikes against her, Valerie was the still Adriana’s greatest (and only) ally in this dangerous game. “The youth are our future,” she said, forging a genuine-looking smile made for campaign posters. Now that would make a great slogan to put on a baseball hat, even if Valerie didn’t appear as enthusiastic about Fable City’s public education system (unfortunately, few politicians ever were). There was no doubt that they were playing with different goals in mind; Adriana envisioned a better future for the city, and Valerie… it was hard for her Adriana to figure out exactly what Valerie wanted sometimes. Power in the office, revenge over the man who wronged her and her constituents - all of the above, mostly likely, and Adriana couldn’t find fault in those motives. A bit self-serving, but still valid. And after all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. And Valerie was a powerful friend to have; if all went according to plan, they’d be diving headfirst into a political battle, and it’d take the greatest tactical minds to win.

Which is why Adriana did not hesitate to grin and bear it when Valerie prompted her to. Faking it was easy; teeth bared just slightly, hiding fangs she was not ready to draw out just yet. It won’t be much longer. “I trust that you have more than just confidence up your sleeve,” Adriana said. There was no doubt Valerie was serious about disposing Eric, but if Adriana needed more than just empty promises to get by on. She wasn’t a just another voter, after all. “I just want to be assured that history won’t repeat itself. I know things move slowly in government, but not everyone has the luxury of time.” The cracks in the foundation of their city grew with each day Eric held office, and Adriana was tired of being the only one who worried it might never be stitched back together.

The youth are our future. Practiced at hiding her response - you had to, with Eric lurking - Adriana saw none of the disgust that flashed across her face. What a nauseatingly cliche statement. And to think, she was smart. Perhaps Valerie would bring someone else in for the branding when it was her turn to run for election. Because as clear-cut as that statement might be, it truly wasn’t applicable. Young people were angry, they mobilized and coalesced into movements, which when aimed correctly, could topple even the greatest of empires. And hers hadn’t even been built yet. “Since I’m the closest thing you’ll ever have to a mentor - “ Capable women in politics were hardly two-a-penny in the city. “- I’m going to be brutally honest. That’s one of the worst slogans I’ve ever heard.” Keep smiling, she almost added, her tongue nearly running away. “And trust me, Eric’s are pretty shoddy.”

He always wanted to make it about himself - the charming handsome young man. History likes people like me, he had once said, utterly serious. Valerie had rolled her eyes so hard she feared they would be permanently lodged at the back of her skull.

“I never make a move without knowing I’m going to win.” She retorted quickly, hissing as she lowered her voice - offended by the accusation. Did Adriana seriously think this was her first rodeo? She had stuck the dagger in her own mother’s back. If she could do that, then she could certainly betray Eric with ease. “He won’t even be given the chance to stand down and hand over the reins of power nicely.” She wanted not a trace of good about him by the time she was done. She wanted him shamed - the same way he had made her feel small. She wanted him ruined. “I’m not a patient woman Adriana. I don’t have time either." You should be grateful I approached you at all. 

“You can trust me. I want this as much as you do - more probably.”

Mina’s eyes widen and she stares up at Valerie for quite some time, unable to speak. “Did… I hear you correctly?” She’s asking, quietly, because it sounded like she said she’d take care of her car. But she could be wrong, she could just be hearing things. But even so, the very idea makes her panic. If she did hear her correctly, then she should take it. But she feels like she can’t. It’d probably end up being thousands of dollars and the very idea makes her head spin. But she can’t take that kind of money from Valerie. 

Sure, Eric gave her expensive gifts all the time, but that felt different. They were gifts. And he never told her how expensive they were. One time she found out how much a necklace had cost and argued that she couldn’t take it, but he had insisted. And he had made sure she never refused a gift again. 

Biting her bottom lip, she’s brushing hair out of her face. “I…” she starts, before shaking her head. “I just… I needed to know more than what was given…”

It’s like trying to talk to wood - dense, empty and all together useful for a single purpose only. Although she feels like curling her lips and issuing a sharp retort - did I stutter? She quells her irritation, inhaling sharply. As if fresh air were such a cure. “Please, allow me. I want to do this.” Let her believe it’s all some grand gesture, Valerie will reap the payoff later. The truth of the matter is that it’s merely a drop in the ocean. It’s fun to be wealthy. Gold drips from her fingertips. She’s never known any different. “You’ve got enough to worry about.” Dead boyfriend, failing career, false friends...you’d think there was a number one in there somewhere. Apparently not.

At her answer, Valerie leans in, genuinely interested in what she has to say. Digging in deeper, Valerie hushes her tone - quickly checking to make sure no one can overhear them. “That’s dangerous. You could have asked for my help.” I might not have given it, however. But that doesn’t need to be said. “Judging by their reaction, you found it.” The question hangs in the air, Valerie on the edge, waiting - impatiently. It’s a prompt - and she can only hope that Mina will answer in due. Either way, she’ll coax the truth out.

To say rage was coursing through her veins was a dire understatement. It was pure and utter hatred underneath her skin, a lethal poison with no target to aim at. That was the problem with shadows, but having lived in them for so long - she had almost forgotten. Destroying people was a matter of ease - a face, a name, all of which could be easily swept aside. But the demolition of an idea? Of a movement? All together more difficult. By no means impossible, but troubling. That was why she had decided to enlist the law to her side - or at least the man who could carry out deeds in its name, even if she had every intention of making him hers. 

Under the blanket of night, the only light came from the cigarette in her hand, doing little to ease her anxieties. She hated feeling this way. She despised being a victim. It reminded her too much of things she thought had long passed. Hearing footsteps to her side, Valerie raised her head in greeting, smoke swirling in the air. “Thank you for coming.” Tart politeness, aiming to establish authority. “No doubt you must be busy. The Sheriff must have you dancing.” That man lacked a backbone. Perhaps it was time to replace him. “How would you feel about a side job? It seems that war has just been declared. It’s time to fight back.”

location: triton’s car park time: 00:45 OPEN

          Fingers lined her pockets, a shiver crawling down the length of her spine. Despite the chill, which had begun to settle in her bones, Lara had not made any attempts to leave the wreckage site. No, instead she kept her eyes trained on many, plucking tales of the story from the lips of many - it was unamusing how different they were. But that was the thing about opinion, it so rarely held any true facts. Even the culprit would spin their own story, perhaps they stood among them, admiring their own handiwork. Her scarlet Mercedes was reduced to boiling metal and the horrid stench of melting plastic tyres. It was her favourite, the one which Jason had gifted because it reminded him of her, vibrant and powerful. She loved the car more than she loved him. 

Glittering stilettos tapped against the concrete, as she walked over to the nearest bystander prepared to pick another person’s brains, “It seems that demons of witching hour have a predilection for arson. They’re clearly trying to take a page out of Guy Fawkes book, although I don’t see us commemorating it like the English.” The neutral tone of her statement did not betray her internal ire, for she was determined to keep her cards very close to her chest…better for her to analyse everyone else. 

One fundamental rule of the universe reigned supreme. Like called to like. Whether it be people, animals or places - everything was drawn together by an undeniable bond, seeking similarity. In times of strangeness, the process was only accelerated. Valerie was sure that was how she and Lara Drake (hell, even their surname was the same) were standing side by side, the wrecks of their cars  scraping up against each other. Valerie had insisted on having her reserved parking space next to someone of the same class - to try and avert this sort of affair. But these arsonists, whatever name they claimed to go by, clearly had no notion of Woodlander and Stray. Everyone was the same shade of murky grey - marked an enemy.

She couldn’t wait to have them withering in her grip. Their day would surely come. It always did. And justice, perhaps not entirely of the court kind, would be served. Some people didn’t break promises. Valerie never backtracked on threats.

Snorting lightly at Lara’s jape, Valerie pressed her lips close. Around them, the autumn air whirled, threatening to chill prematurely She smelt something sharp in the air. The scent of war. Bearing a sweetness only for her. “Capital punishment?” Valerie asked lightly, cocking an eyebrow as she mused the idea. Burning them - or straw replicas - at the stake was a little outdated...but if they were determined to be heathens, perhaps they should die the same way. What a poetic idea. “You’d make martyrs of them.” And that was the last thing any of them needed.

Nights with Valerie usually deliver some sort of clarity in his otherwise hazy mind, a few hours of peace and primal instinct as the stresses and noise of the outside world faded away into bliss. However temporary that was, it was still better than nothing at all. One other thing that certainly pushed their torrid affair into something that Caleb could handle was the sheer fact that it was a well-kept secret, his pseudo-relationship with her tucked away somewhere he had been assured no one could really find it. They met in the shadows often, bodies pressed tight in a hotel where no one could trace them while pretending the other didn’t exist in daily life. She was his secret to keep and he was her shame to hide. That was up until the night of the meeting, the ghost of her whispers having followed him for days.

He had half a mind not to come, wanting to punish her for exposing them and winning.

Nevertheless, Caleb presses on as he slips the keycard in and enters the room. His eyes immediately take her in, an almost predatory once over as he glowers at her impatience. He’d normally be pleased about her statement, but tonight’s a little different. He doesn’t apologize or make excuses, however. After all, he shouldn’t have a reason to be sorry or to quell whatever feelings she clearly didn’t possess for him. 

“If people had suspicions about us before, then they definitely know now because of your little stunt.” He states, all the while shrugging off his jacket. In truth, it clearly affects her campaign more than his own life, but Caleb also preferred to keep his relationships private for the sake of upholding a certain reputation he had established after his fall. “Happy with yourself?” 

Stunt. A lapse in judgement. An absence in control. A chink in her armor. Something that can be used against her. Valerie winces at the word, shivering under her robe. It’s a terrifying thought, the idea that she jeopardized her own future, all for a game, in the name of winning. I bet you’d like that - to be a part of my downfall. Two lofty figures, it’s no secret that they seek to send the other tumbling. Luckily, it isn’t physical - or one of them would soon be joining Eric six feet under. Although there’s panic pulsing in her veins, Valerie remains calm, amber liquid quelling a little of the discontent within. He will do the rest.

“Nothing a little branding can’t fix.” She shrugs, projecting an image of indifference. That’s all politicians are - illusions, false people with a quench for power and egos beyond control. At least she’s unapologetic about it. She doesn’t delude herself like Eric used to. He truly did see himself as some sort of warped hero. “I’ll paint it as community outreach. Bridging the divide between the two sides.” The wit dances across her tongue, a wiry smile making it clear that she isn’t serious about her proposal. There are some sheep who would swallow it up. That’s the troubling thing about this city. Her insinuation is clear. I do not make mistakes. I can’t. I’m not capable. 

In truth, she isn’t sure if anyone noticed. Hopefully, the whole “murder club” situation overpowered it.

Deft hands untie the knot on her garb, allowing it to fall to the floor in a messy heap. Bare, without a stitch across her body, Valerie stands in all her naked truth - a goddess in need of nourishment. I’ve had enough of conversation. A lover might have approached him, but a hater makes you chase. Slithering onto the bed, she reclines, legs slightly apart. The implication is made.

She can’t, however, resist one final comment. “You could even sell a tell-all. Make enough money to buy a proper suit.”

time: 1:13 am location: triton’s car park availability: open to all

She feels childish sitting in the car park, next to her car. But she can’t help it. Tonight was supposed to be fun. It was the first time she went out for fun since Eric’s death. Everything else was for necessity or try to figure who had murdered Eric. Sure, she’d gone out with Emme or Soren a few times, but nothing like a party. No parties since the Gala… and it seems like every party or get together is going to end up badly. 

Perhaps she’d been a little too on the nose with her Halloween costume. She dressed up as Nancy Drew, vintage outfit and magnifying glass. But she loved the outfit, loved the way it made her feel. And she had felt carefree, having put on a performance, singing to start off the party before they changed it to karaoke. And from then on, she’d drank a few cute mixed drinks, making her feel even better. But this? The fire? It was enough to sober her up.

She’s staring at her car, feeling her heart break. She’s had this car since she was eighteen, using her college fund money to get a small baby blue sedan. It was old, not that expensive, but it was hers. She even went as far as to name it Sully and get a custom plate made for that name. She loves this car, and Eric hated it, insisting she get another car. He demanded it each time she’d drive it, but she put up a fight about it. He just demanded that she use his own personal driver from then on, and in order to keep the peace, she did.

But now her car is ruined and she doesn’t know what she’s going to do to fix it. She’s going to be absolutely broke and she had been living pretty comfortably. “Don’t they know that some people don’t have money to get their cars fixed?” She’s asking, glancing up at the person who had stopped right next to her. 

Halloween, the only night where monsters could roam the earth without apology. She had planned for tonight to be a spectacle, lazily stuck a pointy hat on her head and dressed head to heel in black. It wasn’t her costume that painted the illusion. But her aura. Tonight, she could be totally terrifying, without limit and restraint - and pretend it was all acting. Tonight, she was free.

That was, of course, until her witching hour was usurped by righteous gremlins who saw fit to deface the earth with fire.

The crime itself was mild. Any hooligan with two brain cells to rub together could purchase gasoline and set the world ablaze. But this was co-ordinated, this was direct action - ten or more cars set alight at the same time, the same symbol carved into more. This was a political statement - and a warning, to both the victims and the town. They were lurking. They were listening - and they did not like what they saw. They would like it even less by the time she was done with them.

Paralyzed by anger, unable to see anything but fury, Valerie’s fist clenched at Mina’s wining words. Good God you idiot, I don’t care. The truth danced on her tongue and fizzled on her lips, replaced at the last moment by reason. Control yourself. Don’t lose the bleating lamb over something so simple. Thus, instead of snapping, Valerie forced her lips into something resembling a sympathetic smile. 

“Criminals tend not to think about those things.” You would have thought she was stating the obvious, but perhaps not. Having seen Mina’s car, Valerie quite frankly thought this was a blessing in disguise. "You don’t need to worry about that, I’ll take care of all of it.” An empty, expensive, gesture ought to settle the relationship for a little while. “Frankly, I’m more concerned at why you were on their list at all. Have you been looking into Eric’s death?”

And if you have, how can I use that?

Time: 12:20 am Location: Triton’s Car Park Status: Open

He’d been one of the firsts to reach the scene. The party itself wasn’t really his kinda place, but he’d wanted to go, wanted to make sure nothing fishy happened. He hadn’t bothered dressing up, either, wearing only a long-sleeved shirt and jeans to appear at least semi-casual. Sticking out like a sore thumb, he’d taken a seat at a table in the back, watching people dance and sing awful karaoke songs while he enjoyed a chilled bottle of beer. It was late into the night when he heard some of the kitchen staff ask what was burning. Then someone opened one of the exit doors, allowing the smell to grow stronger, to become more distinct. No, that wasn’t from the kitchen. It was gasoline.

Logan shot up from his seat and headed toward the door, already seeing the glow of a burning flame before he could even step foot outside. He ordered some of the nearby staff to hurry and get as many fire extinguishers as they had. Surely the fire department had to be on their way, the bonfire too big to miss. But with ten or more cars ablaze in front of him, he wanted to keep this from spreading, from damaging more than just the cars. God forbid someone actually be in one of these cars still. Not again. Please not again. The workers were gone and back within a couple minutes, handing Logan one as they all spread out to extinguish what they could while staying clear of the smoke. Despite the sheer number of cars affected, and the fact that no one could know what was inside each one, the fires themselves were put out quickly, and without any additional harm done. All the cars had, luckily, been empty of people and combustible items.

It wasn’t until he knew the cars had sufficiently cooled down that he approached the bunch of them to evaluate what kind of damage had been done. It was then he saw a Mercedes with a peculiar mark on the charred roof, a symbol he’d become aware of recently. Fucking Augury. He ran a hand over his mouth, sirens approaching in the distance as he made his way to the remains of his car. Well this week was just getting more and more complicated.

After he finished reporting on what he saw, he stepped off to the side to let the guys do their job with cleaning up. He had to think of what to do next, had to think of whether he should see what insurance would cover or immediately check and see what files the FCPD had on the Augury. Leaning against the outside of Triton’s, away from the crowd, he banged his fist against the wall, inhaling deeply, then exhaling as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he realized he wasn’t alone. “Sorry,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets so they wouldn’t ball into fists. “Been a long night.” Happy fucking Halloween, right? “Your car get mixed in with all that?”

Needless to say, Valerie was fuming. 

It wasn’t so much the cost of the crime committed (not for her, personally, anyhow) but the fact that one had been inflicted at all. In her world, the only criminal activity she knew was white collar - bribery, insider trading, blackmail - the sort you might see on Suits. This? Street crime, with rats as culprits? This was a whole new sensation. Valerie had to say, she wasn’t particularly enjoying it. The audacity of these people, to strike at the heart of her city, to think they could intimidate her with one action. The flames screamed a silent message.

We are watching you. We hold the power around here.

Well, Valerie would have to see about that. They had done a very dangerous thing, targeting her. She was not the type to roll over and give ground to them and their terms. She had the resources to fight - a dirty war, if need be. By making it personal (over Eric, of all people), they had signed their own death warrants. It would not be today, nor even tomorrow - but one day soon, a new reckoning would come. Soon, they would be nothing but a distant memory. It had to be that way - for any other outcome was unthinkable.

Having played the part of dutiful mayor long enough (people who weren’t even victims had allowed themselves to be freaked, eagerly searching for a leader to show them towards the light), Valerie excused herself and headed towards the exit, the shell of her car mere meters away. Now, you couldn’t even tell it had been better than everyone elses. An empty shell - much like its owner. Once outside, Valerie exhaled sharply, watching her breath spiral in the air. Winter hung in the air, but she did not feel its chill. 

Someone else, however, would. 

It took her only a moment to find him, having tracked him since his arrival. "Sheriff.” She greeted courteously, doing her best to swallow the frost in her voice. She knew she needed him as an ally and was determined to keep him at least close to being on her side - considering their conversation at the last - and only, thankfully - meeting. But as a public servant, it was her duty to see crime fall. How else was she supposed to get elected? “The look on my face should answer that question.” Like thunder. “I do hope that this is at the top of the Police’s priority list?”

there was nothing soren wanted more than to just leave, to escape the fray and pretend his neighbours were still his neighbours and not… murder suspects. 

luck has never liked him much, and try as he may to hold on to the pretense of innocence, he knew one of them was guilty; try as he may to leave to place, a voice calls him back. 

valerie.

his smile is fixed and his spine is metal when he turns to face her; a woman too similar to his father for his liking, running from one only to run into another. figures, knowing him. 

(it’s okay though, soren tells himself, he knows the drill too well at this point - hardened ice against dragon fire and pray that they don’t melt away the shield protects him from the fact that he is in fact, wholly terrified of being burned alive) 

“it probably is a niche market,” soren smiles lightly, choosing to ignore the sarcasm dripping from her voice. “albeit not a successful one, i hope. and not one i want to target.” 

he freezes at her insinuation, forcing himself to keep himself composed, forcing himself to believe his own words. “and besides, i’d like to think we’re all… witnesses as opposed to suspects for the time being.” his smile is tight now, lacking in the ease it usually comes with. “unless you’ve given anyone any reason to suspect you, of course.” 

The trouble with demons is that they were all once angels, creatures who tore out their own wings and sliced their skin with halos, hoping to free themselves as they fell. But no matter how long they dwell in the depths of hell, they continue to remember. When purity brushes up against them, they recoil in disgust before lunging, hoping to choke it from the innocent soul at their side. For they are a reminder - and they cannot, refuse to, remember, if even for a minute. Maybe it terrifies them. Maybe they just want to paint the world with colours of their own chaos.

Valerie is the demon. Soren is the angel.

For now, at least.

Her lip recoils in revulsion at his tone, the lightness in his eyes and the easy way in which he carries himself. She’s read his profile. She knows him. He is someone who faced hell, thrown to the dogs - and made it out the other side. He is someone she once might have been. And she despises it - and him. 

“Right - “ Valerie replies, stressing the word. “- It would be awfully hard to cultivate a...what do they call it? Youtube - “ Disdainful at his profession, she wrinkles her nose “ - profession - “ She’s adament it isn’t a career. “- from behind bars.” Quite frankly, she doubts he has anything to do with Eric. He isn’t the type to possess bloodstained fingertips. But sometimes, it is the innocent ones. And at least she can have a bit of fun. “Well, that’s for the Police to decide?” If they can ever make their mind up. Incoherent at best, she suspects it’ll be months before the killer is caught.

“Of course not. Not every politician is a criminal.” Her lips crack into a velvet laugh. “But there will always be those who despise women who possess power. If this were a few centuries ago, I’d be a witch. I suppose murder suspect - wait no, witness - comes close to that.”

Everything in the world has a price. There’s a going rate on the hotel room she swans across, paying generously for the pleasure of being the only one slip between the sheets. The receptionist on the desk has a tag of their own - Benjamin Franklins lining their pockets as they promise not to breathe a word of her identity and to keep this room permanently at her disposal. Even Caleb, the man who will meet her here, in his fallen and reformed status, can be bought. It’s a mutual transaction, purchased with moans and the best fucking orgasms. She’s blessed, she knows, to have so much currency available to her. And in these uncertain times, it may be needed more than ever.

Can an election be bought? Can a murder? How about innocence?

She doesn’t see why not.

But they are questions for a different time - for tonight, she intends to be pounded so hard she can’t think straight. That is, after all, the attraction behind Caleb. He seizes her attention, her hatred and her body. In his grasp, her vision narrows - focused wholly on him. On their own, such words sound sentimental. But they both know the truth. Each of them is cast in a dusty grey. Together, they are coated in sinners darkness.

The clock ticks forward and Valerie’s impatience grows. She’s already showered, robe hanging limp on her shoulders, wet hair clinging to her back. If you were earlier, you could have had me in there, she’ll point out later. Then, with red wine staining her lips, the door clicks - and her lover (although she’d rather refer to him as her fucker, given it sums up the situation better) enters. 

“About time.” Valerie growls, ready to pounce.

LOCATION: Gala Ball. TIME: An hour before Eric’s murder. AVAILABILITY: Closed for @dragonscaledrake​.

The artificial glitz and glamour that occupied the ballroom nearly blinded Adriana. It seemed as though the Gala only became more and more extravagant every year, its opulence leaving a bad taste in her mouth that couldn’t be covered up with decadent h'orderves. It was hard for her to remember what the point of these lavish parties were, aside from giving the Mayor’s image a boost in the eyes of his affluent constituents. Mostly, they were just boring. The sense of feeling out of place never truly faded away with time, though Adriana spent most of these nights working, never truly off the clock. Every attendant was also a voter, and as a part of Eric’s administration she’d talk him up at public events (thank goodness for the open bars). Even if a Barbie doll’s smile was more genuine, most of the attendants were too tipsy to pay her much mind.

The one woman always acutely aware of the playing field, even when Adriana was not, was Valerie. The sight of her colleague parting ways with some local business owner marked an opportunity for Adriana to swoop in, to speak with someone familiar. The two stood beside a gaudy ice sculpture, which Adriana assumed was meant to depict a castle. Although she had approached Valerie in hopes of talking shop, she couldn’t help but make a snide comment on the tasteless piece. “Figures that Rousseau couldn’t ‘make room’ in the budget to fund the public school’s extracurriculars, yet managed to scrounge up enough money for these grotesque decorations.” Her voice was low, drowned out by the chatter and music in the ballroom but audible enough for Valerie to hear her. It’s Eric’s kingdom, and we’re just living in it, she thought bitterly to herself. But hopefully not for long. 

Some subscribe to the notion that as you rise, you should better those around you. Funnily enough, Valerie had never paid that school of thought two cents, other people merely blips or pawns on the horizon. It was rare for one of them to reach out and snatch her attention. Strangely, Adriana had been one of those people - a rising star at her Ivy college, a Fable native and most importantly (since she was bankrolling the campaign) cheap. Eric might have been more than happy to disregard her worth with cheap comments about her appearance, but Valerie saw deeper, perhaps something that resembled herself a little. Quietly, without interference, Adriana had begun to rise. Eric even stole one of her ideas once in a while. High praise indeed. Naturally, therefore, Valerie’s gaze had fallen onto her when searching for a co-conspirator within Government ranks. She had Roland on the outside and Adriana within, kept in the darkness. It was perfect.

Under these circumstances it was easier just to nod and agree, which Valerie did, summoning false enthusiasm and hiding her displeasure behind a large gulp of champagne. Adriana might have been right about the ice sculpture - but damn that man could choose good alcohol. “Right...public school.” Muttering as she spoke, Valerie pressed her lips back together, as if she had never spoken. She - or they - might be on the cusp of power, but even the smallest mistake might tumble them. Eric could have spies anywhere. Hell, this entire event was nothing more than an ego boost, designed to make rich people sign big checks. It wasn’t exactly a tradition she despised - even if she had plenty in the bank of her own. “I’m surprised he didn’t commission one of himself. It’s his one true love.” Mina included. That poor mop was hanging at his side, all doe-eyes and joy. At least Adriana wasn’t romantic. Bitterness she could withstand. “As I’m sure many men have told you over the past few years. Smile. And grit your teeth. It won’t be much longer. That much I can promise.” It came closer, the most satisfying taste of all. “And then you can do whatever you want with -” Ah, what was it? “- Children’s art clubs.” Petty cash, at the end of the day. And honestly, smart. Give them a crumb to stop them tearing off half the loaf. Not that Adriana saw it that way, obviously. “This is his final curtain call.”

susparia task - social media

As Lewis Carroll might say, this night was becoming curiouser and curiouser. By the minute, it threw twists and turns, detoured into unexpected places - and dragged in individuals Valerie firmly believed belonged far away from her. Which was why she kept a watchful eye on them - especially after the announcement - and subsequent promise - that they would all do their best not to throw anyone else under the bus. Valerie didn’t know about a bus - but she knew there was a highway near by - and trucks could make just as a fine mess. No doubt, she wasn’t the only one questioning that premise. 

Whilst a few preferred to hang back and discuss their agreements merits and failings in an all together civilized manner, Valerie preferred to attack her prey one-to-one. In isolation, it was far easier to see through people, to make them tremble and extract the truth from their lips. With no particular target in mind, Valerie kept a careful watch on the door - simply approaching the first individual out of the cluster she had identified to leave the building. Then, she struck.

Soren. 

Never a woman to mince her words or fuck about with formalities - out of the workplace, at least - Valerie got straight to the point. “This must present a unique business opportunity. You can be the very first person to live stream the life of a murder suspect.” False joy entered her voice, manifesting in icy sarcasm."I bet there’s a real niche marked for that.”

Letty has always hated nights like these, ones where she feels a loss of control over her life. The feeling has permeated her life that way more than she cares to admit as of late, knowing how little power she really has though she always pretends otherwise. Nights like these were the worst because it was on nights like these that she realizes once more how rarely things went her way. Though she always tries to put on an air of confidence, pretending that things are exactly the way she intends them, these nights remind her that life is complete and utter shit. 

These are the nights she needs her brother more than anything. But he isn’t there and she’s forced to settle for lesser company and cheap alcohol. At least it would take her mind off of the joke that the meeting had been. Letty still couldn’t believe the complete lack of any progress they’d made. That alone had made her want a strong drink. And now with this feeling of chaotic frailty that seemed to be her default now made the drink a necessity. 

More and more she finds herself journeying towards the bar on nights when she considered herself ‘off’ of work. And with the police investigating the group for murder, all of her nights had been off. She almost hates the way she’s expected there, as though she’s become little more than a predictable mess of a girl. She slid into the empty stool next to the woman whom she had almost known was going to be here. It seemed she isn’t the only predictable one. A glass of whisky is slid her way as she settles into the seat. She flashes a grin towards the bartender before turning towards her neighbor. “Fancy seeing you here,” she drawls out, sarcasm heavy in her voice. 

They make for odd bedfellows, the daring wolf from the wrong side of the tracks and the greedy dragon hoarding jewels. Hardly two peas in a pod. If anything, they should be enemies - a class war tearing them apart. Perhaps, outside these four walls, they are. But Valerie has never tested the theory - it isn’t as if they dwell in the same places. Other than here, the only time she glimpsed her was the night Eric died. I wonder if that means something. No sooner than the thought appears, she brushes it away. Drinking and puzzle solving are hardly complimentary.

“Well, you know what they say.” Valerie swirls the liquid in her glass, her tone a sarcastic drawl. “Those who murder together drink together.” A shrewd smile dances across her lips, denying her companion - and any idle eavesdroppers - the pleasure of understand whether she’s being serious or not. Such topics are not usually discussed so casually. Valerie drains her glass, sliding it across the counter, in search of a second. It’s already been a long night - and the sun has scarcely set.

Here, at least, they are on familiar ground. We share two things now, Valerie thinks, a favourite bar and a hidden secret. It is the latter of those two things that makes them far more similar than anyone else in the room. A second glass in her hand, she takes her time, savouring its taste. She’d raise a glass to Eric’s demise - but those are dangerous words. Besides, she’s already done that from the comfort of her own home. “You must be thirsty after that meeting.” Valerie’s words are more than courtesies, sparked by intense curiosity - eager to look into the mind of a Stray. Wise words float back to her. Know thy enemy. And Letty isn’t any enemy - not in here, anyway - but the question hangs behind her words all the same.

It was stupid of him, the way he trusted Valerie so easily. But then again, Carter always was one to go with his instincts rather than his mind; a fault in his mechanics. He should’ve been intimidated by her, felt threatened in the slightest, but he felt the direct opposite. The vice mayor often held herself in such a way that people would scuttle, make way for her. The venom, the cut-throat honesty, to her words should prove to be too much.

But that was the thing: Carter preferred people like her over Eric ( if she was just as devious as he, well, he had yet yo know ). 

“Only human.” He scoffed, acid dripping off the word human. “It feels too forgiving to call him that. Though I suppose.. you knew him better than most of us, huh?” Lips pursed, he narrowed his eyes in what was close to concern. After all, it seemed a nightmare to spend so much time with the man. Speaking of which – she no longer had to; he was knocked off his reign. Literally. “There’s an open throne now, though, at least.” Even if it is bloodied. “If you ask me, I always had a feeling that the king,” he jeered, making it sound like an insult if anything, “would be robbed of his crown some day.”

Carter doesn’t bother to conceal his hatred, allowing it to fester like a heat simmering off his skin. She supposes there’s something admirable about that - wearing your emotions on your sleeve for the world to see, a sort of honesty, if you will. But it’s also incredibly idiotic. When the fingers start pointing, they will surely turn to him. Means, motive...he would make a straightforward killer. One day, perhaps. This assassination required something a little more deft, artistry in its work. Besides, if he presents himself as a killer, she may have no choice but to throw a bus on top of him - and that would surely ruin the good situation they have going on. The way she feels is a strange, antiqued fondness - and she has no intentions of letting it wilt anytime soon.

“How well can you ever know a politician?” She jests, a note of amusement running along her tongue. In the end, it had turned out she had scarcely known him at all. She had taken a master for a puppet, a charismatic fool for a sharpened sword. It had been a bitter lesson to learn - one she had few intentions of repeating. “Is it really that open?” Valerie asks, eyebrows furrowed as she watches him curiously. “As far as I can tell...it’s already been claimed.” There’s no question about who is doing the snatching. She only has to look in the mirror to see that. “I never took you for a prophet.” Again, a joke. Two in one day - how jovial she must be feeling. “Still, it’s nice to know those eyes are working. You’ll need them in this new era we’re entering. Fable City, I suspect, is about to be remade. Only the best will survive.” Dramatically, Valerie sighs. “I guess Darwin was right.”

Life is, after all, a battle. It’s time to go to war - and if she has her way, he will be on her side, channeling that fury. Unpredictable weapons always did make for the most dangerous.

Roland openly scoffed at her small outburst, waving his hand as if to say go away, I know how to handle this. Of course he didn’t want to deal with the strays - he didn’t doubt that it was one of them, and that they’d all show up today to wreak havoc. But shutting them out altogether wasn’t the answer - at least not in his eyes, and at least not now.

“And you think that we should leave the strays out even though it’s public knowledge they were there, too? You know how that would look in the papers? Valerie, you’ve got such a gorgeous head on you, please remember to use it or it’ll rot.” He wondered momentarily if Valerie was just as shaken up about the mayor’s death as he was - another part of him wondered if she had something to hide. After all, he’d somewhat assumed that she’d be happy to see him gone, but this? It’d be stupid of him to not be suspicious, but he didn’t ask (it wasn’t time, yet), simply holding his hand out in question, silently offering to fill her glass.

“I keep telling you that I just want to find Eric’s killer. For his sake and ours.” The more they spent time on Eric and speculating his death, the more they’d dig into the people around them - the point was to get them to focus on Eric’s murder and not Eric himself, lest the arrowhead turn and end up pointed at him instead. If they couldn’t figure out the killer with this meeting, he would find someone who could take the blame - it didn’t matter who was found guilty as long as it wasn’t him or anyone he was involved with. “I don’t know what it is you’re suggesting,” he lied, “but you really don’t want to say anything stupid and make an enemy out of me. I promise you that.”

“I think that the time has come to close ranks - to decide who is one of us and who is one of them.” Around the city, the Strays grew brasher, emboldened by the death of Eric and the Woodlanders subsequent collapse into chaos. “Either we follow Eric into the grave...or we rise from the ashes.” By her tone, Valerie made it clear she didn’t see Roland fit for purpose - or a figurehead who could lead them out of the flames. If only he wasn’t so damn wealthy. At his point about the media, she shrugged. “So buy them. Isn’t that what money is for?” In this world, power was determined by a chequing account. No point letting it go to waste.

And some things were richer, worth more than gold.

“For his sake? Let’s not pretend to get sentimental.” He knew her secret, but she knew his too. Schemers allied together, they were protected by mutually assured destruction. Neither could make a move without toppling themselves. And if there was anything they loved more than they were beginning to detest each other, it was their status. “Yes, his death was needless. But he would have fallen either way.” As relieved as she was to have him cast out of her life, she only could have wished to have seen his face when she finally won. In defeat, he would have crumbled. And in defeat, the God would have been humbled. But, perhaps it was a mercy he died. What place in the world was there for fallen idols and cast aside immortals?

“Enemy?” She asked, in mock surprise and false innocence, sizing him up the whole time. “Why would I turn such a useful ally into an enemy? There’s no logic in that.” Unless you’re the killer. In which case, your downfall will be the centre jewel in my crown. “Don’t be so defensive Ro Ro, it doesn’t give off a good impression. People’s minds might start to wonder...and then nothing, not me or your bank account, can save you.”

In fact, I’ll give you a push.

Mina’s nodding. She knows her part. To play the sad but strong ‘widow’ character. She’s not a widow, but she has to act like one. Simply because she was with Eric. It makes her stomach twist and turn to be in this role, and it makes her feel even sicker at the fact that she’s being tested. At least she wasn’t alone in thinking it. Valerie agreed with her, which makes her feel a little better. She just wished that she had someone in a role of comfort beside her. But she can’t even really have that.

Not real comfort at least. Not here, when she needs it the most. She’ll only get the fake comfort. At least Val is here to ease everything. A familiar face, one who she actually likes, makes her feel better. 

“I hope so…” she’s murmuring. She’s so sick of the reporters, of the constant pictures being taken, of people trying to get her feelings on everything. She especially hates the ones who hound her, questioning if she really did it. She hasn’t even bothered looking online anymore. She can’t even bare to see what people think of her anymore.

She leans into Valerie, eyes soft and full of trust. She can be herself around her, she doesn’t have to worry. “I have everything to fear. My life, my reputation, everything, Val…” she sighs. “And I’m just so tired of being tested. I’ve been tested ever since I got with Eric. It’s been nothing but test after test and I just… stupidly wanted to be with him. I would’ve done anything… and now look where that got me.” Tears well up in her eyes and she’s blinking them away, pulling away from Val. She’s ducking her head, feeling embarrassed about wanting to cry. She has to be strong again. She can’t do this.

“If you feel that way then you should do something.” It’s a dare. She is the devil and Mina is the Angel - where Valerie longs to watch her fall. It’s a trap. She is the spider and Mina is the butterfly - a creature of gentle beauty, blind to the web it is about to flutter into. It’s a game. Done because of boredom, because she enjoys messing with Mina’s little head - and longs to watch how she will respond. She expects that Mina will shake her head, protest her innocence and inhale sharply - summoning strength. But it never hurts to try.

“You could make them move on.” Valerie doesn’t care about Mina - not one ounce. That girl could have followed her beloved into the grave and she scarcely would have blinked. Hell, she would have chucked her body in with Eric’s and saved the cost of two burials. But Mina doesn’t know that. She can see only the supporter and cheerleader, urging her to be strong. There’s a fine line between strength and stupidity - and at her urging, she might just cross it. “You said it yourself - you deserve better than this. You should be happy...Eric would want that.” She has no idea whether he would or not, never caring to probe into the specifics of their relationship. But it seems like a convincing line.

“You’re not guilty. So why should you live as if you are?” Valerie’s hungry eyes search Mina’s, looking for something - anything. She longs to see a blink, a hesitation, a flash of guilt...something of anything. Because whilst her personality might scream innocence, Valerie knows better than anyone else that appearances can be deceptive - and that sometimes, the most obvious suspect is the right one. Love can make you do crazy things. Recognising that her voice had began to harden, she relaxes her body - softening. It’s all about the facade. Mina cannot be allowed to see the truth. “I just want the best for you. It’s not fair you have to suffer through this.”

Meetings. God, what a nightmare. He’d always hated these things at the orphanage. Assemblies, school plays, family gatherings, anything that meant you had to just sit still and be quiet for a while. Not that they had been very quiet in that meeting. On the contrary, woodlander and stray had all been just as ready to rip one another’s throats out, to bicker and squabble. They were all slaves to suspicion, each of them looking to protect themselves and only themselves. You didn’t find many people in Fable City who would readily put someone before themselves.

Jack might have been one of those people once. If he’d had the chance to be raised a bit differently. Even on his cons with Cole, it had all been about making life better in their part of town. There was profit in it, sure, but that had been because the city trod them down and stopped them profiting any other way. At least that was how Henry had put it. What else was Jack supposed to do, the twice orphaned boy with no education? He’d barely scraped his GED through Henry’s home schooling. There was no high paying corporate job waiting for him. There were no kickbacks.

He wrapped his hoodie around him, using his battered winter jacket as a windbreaker in spite of the fact there wasn’t much wind at all. His spark lit the darkness, and out of it, he heard the voice. Can I get a light. Jack shrugged, stepping around the corner and immediately regretting it as soon as he realized who the voice belonged to.

“Trade you for it?” Jack offered, arching a brow, somewhere between playful and serious as he watched Valerie Drake weigh him up. Finally, he broke into a grin. “Just kidding.” The last name Drake was pretty fitting, since when he looked at her, he practically saw a dragon. Stepping forward, he lifted the lighter toward her with his slender 5'8" frame. With her heels, she was probably taller than him easily. Or perhaps she just felt that way. “Wouldn’t ask for a favor for something as simple as a light. We’ve all been there. Nothing worse than having a cigarette with no lighter.” He wore a layer of confidence he didn’t truly feel, and it hid his fear and suspicion. In truth, she hadn’t especially done anything to earn it. It was just how he looked at everyone with her position, her authority, her wealth. With a lack of trust. They had earned that in each other. “How’d you reckon that meeting went then? Hope someone was taking minutes.”

Power, although people might try to argue otherwise, was a tangible thing. You could possess it, shape it and nurture it. Similarly, you could lose it - a fate that befell many. She did not intend to be in the ranks. Likewise, it came in many dimensions. Some found it through swinging their fists, others in the sharpness of their intellect. Valerie leaned towards the latter - the power of knowing. And although she had little interest in the intimate lives of many around her, she made it her mission to acquire knowledge about them - to please, to threaten, to blackmail. This figure, however, was something of an unknown entity. It took her a moment to even place his name, searching for familiarity in his tousled locks and cheeky expressions. Jack the lad, she thought - only then making the connection to his actual name.

That, however, was where her beacon of knowledge stopped. Perhaps it was on account of his unimportance. Or previous unimportance, she corrected, making the connection to his presence at the meeting. If he was a suspect, that made him a person of interest - both in her eyes and those of the law. It meant she couldn’t turn her back on him. And judging by his attempt to make conversation, he understood that too. Smart. Most people would have offered the light and moved along, she chief among them.

Taking the lighter, she nodded in acknowledgement - the closest thing to a thanks he would ever receive from the likes of her. Sparking it, she inhaled in deeply on the cylinder, smoke drawn into her lungs. With even the first nicotine hit, a little of the tension in her muscles began to subside. Only then could she focus. Holding out the lighter for him to take back, she exhaled sharply, smoke circling in the air. Valerie didn’t bother to offer him a cigarette - even false generosity was sinful to her. “I hope that’s sarcasm.” She replied at his suggestion of minutes, her tone cool. Sounds like evidence. With anyone else, she might have been able to detect the sincerity behind his suggestion. But he was a question mark - and all his manners had yet to be understood. “Sounds like a sure way to get us all locked up.” Even if the Police are on the list. Inhaling again, Valerie flicked dead ashes into the air, considering her judgement on its outcome - and instead deciding to pose a question of her own. “Didn’t we all agree to keep hush hush? That’s a success by most measures. Unless you feel differently?” Her eyes flashed, warning of danger.