#bvd11975

Geminis are masters at procrastination, persuasion, mind games, sarcasm, and mixed signals.

THE GEMINI KILLER. The most wanted serial killer in the country, even the entire world, moving from city to city, always one step ahead … merely here and now, sitting drinking a coffee. His thoughts are a labyrinth of analysis and strategy as he sits in the dimly lit cafe of the unfamiliar city. He's always had a knack for blending in, for being the unassuming shadow in the corner that no one ever notices. The clink of coffee cups and murmur of distant conversations are a comforting backdrop as he scrutinizes the faces of the potential prey that walk by. His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, seem to cut through the anonymity of the urban landscape, searching for a spark of something...interesting.

The thrill of the hunt is palpable, his heart rate steady, his breath measured. He's been watching for hours now, the same routine playing out in his head: spot, assess, discard, repeat. But today, something is different. There's a sense of urgency in the air, a scent that whispers of chaos and fear. It's a scent he knows all too well.

He spots her from the corner of his eye: a young woman, no older than the twin sisters he had killed in his last city, with a tapestry of tattoos peeking out from under her leather jacket. She's the type that would be easily dismissed, but not by him. Her eyes are sharp, a survivor's eyes, and he wonders what kind of darkness she carries beneath her surface. He watches as she orders a black coffee, her hands trembling slightly. Is it the cold or something else? He sips his own drink, the bitter taste reminding him of his own "Great Yearning," which has grown insatiable since the last kill. He's been so focused on the imposter in their midst that he's neglected his own hunger. He warned them all, about that one, making the choice, to leave the collection, to leave before something happens.

The café's warmth does little to fight off the chill that's seeped into his bones, a chill that's been growing since the night he realized who "Red" truly was. The hunter of serial killers’ carelessness was surprising, but the man had always had a flair for the dramatic. The way he spoke of his "Urge" was almost endearing in its naiveté. He had killed for the first time when he was a youth, like the Bay harbour butcher, and he had done it with precision and purpose. This "Urge" was a child's term for what they all felt. The Great Yearning was a force that could not be quenched with a simple name or a set of rules. It was a monster that demanded to be fed.

As he would sit and watch her, eyes moving across the room, one was not enough. It had to be two, always two. Strangers at the start of course, the first dozen, but like all things, how quickly he evolved and how quickly he pushed ahead, his killings becoming more creative, more risky, and never once leaving a shred of clues behind to who he was, why he did what he did, or what the purpose was, other than to become, the greatest serial killer the world has ever known. As he would pull focus from her, and merely seek someone else, he needed his next work, to be, a masterpiece.

I love angry mean girls who are genuinely angry and genuinely mean. It isn't masking softness or upset, it's just cruel outrage.

Mortem is a furious woman. That fury is felt so deeply and only about four people really see it in the entirety of her life.

Her ally, head of the faction (Simonia) that resulted in her exile and traitor conviction. The man who has made the majority of her problems.

Nestor, because the type of dynamic they have affords it by then.

One of the time keepers overseeing the events.

And her own 'patron' fae. Who, honestly, loves to ensure she stays furious. Which she easily does, because he's also part of why she's pissed off.

Mortem's anger isn't hidden away or denied. It lives inside her, constantly burning. But to exist as long as she has, she has to compartmentalize that rage. She has learned various ways of being mean that aren't always so direct.

Which compliments Nestor's other fury. Mortem is unashamedly furious, she just doesn't much care for others to know her goddamn business on that personal of a level often. Whereas with Nestor, despite being the protagonist, is incredibly wrathful and thinks she should feel ashamed of it (even if she doesn't). So she swallows it down to be the polite protector the people need.

Mortem is outwardly warm but inwardly cold. Nestor's politeness appears warm when she's actually rather frigid, but her insides are on fire day in and day out. These mirroring factors are absolutely what contributes to Nestor being able to convince Mortem to give her aid. Because she can talk openly to the fury they both share at the circumstances they find themselves in.

And the way they are mean mirrors one another. Mortem intentionally, Nestor unintentionally. Mortem believes in the potential of people, likes people, likes the idea of people and therefore is honest with them usually. Which means being mean. Whereas Nestor is cynical, she wants to believe in people and so she tries, she doesn't want to engage with people - just do her job of protecting them. Her being mean is unintentional because is comes in the form of disengagement, neglect, false sincerity. Mortem will be sincere when she insults you. Nestor just is too tired to care. Direct, indirect.

@bvd11975

They were running out of time. The longer they waited, the more the criminal could get away with.

They needed to move fast, and the only way L could think to get where they needed to be was to go undercover. The fact that he wouldn't go, himself, meant he needed someone else to do it, and there was one person that had stood out to him during the many online calls and messages that had been traded between him and those working under him for the case.

He had sent a location to her in the early morning; a high class hotel with a room number attached to it. If she was going to pretend she came from money (and wasn't from around there,) that specific hotel was definitely necessary. They had planned to meet at sunrise to avoid meeting in the dark -- not wanting her on the street once the sun went down since this criminal liked to do most of his awful acts during the nighttime.

Allowing Watari to open the door, L sat at his computer, tracking the man they were after by his credit card usage and cell phone pings. It wasn't until the woman had entered the room and the door had been shut behind her that he turned toward his company, slowly unfolding the way he'd been sitting to put his feet to the floor and stand in greeting. She was perfect for the job; he could tell that much just by looking at her.

"I was taught the best way to analyze somebody is in the heat of battle."

She takes a sip from her now cold coffee cup, staring straight at the other woman with half closed eyes. She was calm, but clearly trying to see what buttons she would be allowed to push. "Heat of the battle, heat of passion - they even say everything is fair in love and war. So many things tie the two together."

@bvd11975

"Then our meeting like this is no coincidence but the laws of physics in action." The vampire towers over the agent and examines her not unlike a bird viewing a particularly tasty looking bug. Of course, to eat her would be a waste when the Arrow had just drawn him to a new potential recruit to his cause...

A note was folded in the handle of the cup simply reading: Hi. I don't know if you like these but I've heard you moving about late at night ever since I moved in. Not that it's a problem! Sorry if it's presumptuous but just in case you have a hard time sleeping too, I hope this helps.

(Okay idr if Raj lives in an apartment, sorry! But the idea of these two being up late at night because they can't/won't sleep and her noticing the pattern of her neighbor (who she has never seen or met and doesn't know is a cyborg) being up late too was just too fun not to send an ask for sdgdfhfggh forgive meeee. Forgive Nes for being a coward too lmfao)

[[ AAAAAA I LOVE THIS - and yes he does live in an apartment! ]]

After having sat back down on his bed, Raj had let his guard down for a moment in a vain attempt to get comfy, and was immediately startled by the light knock on his door. His ears swiveled to the direction of the sound before his head did, and he groaned again as he got up, but not before thinking about whether or not it was worth it.

He trudged over to the door in his hilariously oversized shirt, his bare feet lightly padding on the floor despite his weight and the density of his cybernetics - every once in a while his toe claws would click on the hard floor.

The cyborg stood up on his tippy toes to see out the peephole directly in front of his apartment door at who could potentially be there waiting for him, but to his surprise, there was … nothing, except for a box.

"I didn't order anything," he said out loud, his eyes narrowing. He unlocked his door and then looked down at the box, blinking. Raj then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt which was threatening to simultaneously fall off of him and swallow him whole, and picked up the box, using his free hand to open it.

nes: *hands over an entire trash bag worth of candy she totally found on the street and didn't accidentally scare from a child* ...i don't know if this is enough but i hope it's enough for you to put /all that/ away.

Horks down the entire bag, plastic and all. It's all gone now, lost in the beast's glowing maw. Really, blink for a split second and you miss the thing. Chaos truly was a black hole in more ways than one.

They sat down on their hind legs as though a dog awaiting more - though the creature's mess of a face did not exactly support the "puppy eyes" feature.