remembered I didnt post my Scourge thingy!
Just a loose scene of her doing detective things >:)
The hotel room she has found herself in was filled with the odour of a corpse. She knows very well the police would swarm it in no time, but she doesn’t care for them. An anonymous tip she gave was simply to ensure the victim received proper burial, something she gives value. No use to think about the humans who will have to enter the scene. She will be long gone by the time, everything she needed will already be in her possession.
She manages to locate the body rather quickly, the unnatural stench being a rather trusty guide.
It’s... disgusting. She blinks away the tears in her eyes.
She reaches under her coat, blindly grasping a trinket. A stone triangle, with a hole carved in the inside.
A normal person would not be able to perceive remnants of the Void, nor see the soul (or its pieces). She is no normal person.
It's never the same. Sometimes she has to draw a circle in salt and invoke words, names, spells in languages she does not know. Sometimes she has to carve runes onto her body and sometimes closing her eyes and meditating is enough.
This sense is something she had to hone over the years, a remainder of her times of servitude that seemed to not have been torn away from her core like her other abilities. Shackled to being just an immortal human with some additional senses.
She follows her instinct, tracing the edges of the triangle trinket with the tips of her fingers, whispering words without meaning.
Nothing changes. The item glistens in the dark, catching stray rays of light coming from the partially covered window.
With an exhale she brings it to her left eye, closing the other.
“Oh hell on its name...” she curses under her breath.
The body was enveloped in Void's power, two black, oily tendrils slithering over it. After some turning around and squinting, she located the few remnants of the human's soul scattered around in the air. It glittered in the darkness, resembling a jellyfish in the depths of the ocean.
She grumbles. The Void tendrils were fat, lazy. They have obviously already consumed most of the soul, most possibly right after the man has died. She will have to extract it from them, in that case. She grabs two jars from a briefcase she brought, their insides laced with spells of old she learned ages ago. In one of them she captures the soul pieces, an easy task. Activity of soul matter is directly proportional to its size. Some intact souls may even still hold a consciousness – they are commonly known as ghosts. But this? This was nothing, like catching stray particles floating in water.
The void tendrils, however...
The soul jar safe in the brief, her stance changed. To her knowledge, the power of Void was currently trying to regurgitate the soul it has consumed, to no avail, of course. There are some base laws that always cause it to act in similar ways. Despite their laziness, they always resist being confined into her storage, slithering and fighting back. They are slightly dangerous, which means one should never underestimate them. Never forget where they come from.
She focused on remembering their exact positions and proceeded to lower the triangle trinket, hiding it in a pocket. She readied, jar designed for capturing Void powers in one hand, the other's palm outstretched, ready to intercept the powers.
She focuses and lets her own soul loose, removing the concealing aura she always carries with her. One of the tendrils falls right into her hand right after it lunged at her, craving to consume her as well. She quickly disposes of it into the jar, but the other one managed to cling onto her, trying to break through her soul as if it was an eggshell. She blindly grabs onto the place where she felt her soul being disturbed and pulled, as hard as she could. The tendril popped off her, causing her to lose her balance. She mashes it into the jar and seals it, breathing heavily.
She still has a little bit of time. After securing everything in her briefcase, she examines the body once again. A human, rather old. Judging by the fullness of the Void tendrils and the amount of the loose soul.... very slightly affected by Entropy, it seems. Could’ve been born… maybe three hundred years ago? She’s not that torn about his departure, then. But what was such an old man doing on Deimos, anyway?
The void tendrils must have spawned at most a few days ago. Her target might be still nearby. There’s no reason to dwell on the full-souled man’s circumstances, she decides, briefly glancing over the hotel room, not noticing anything of any worth to her cause.
Maybe this time… maybe she will capture the elusive being, maybe… maybe she can amend her mistake, this time.
The balcony opens with ease. She can hear the sirens in the distance, a mark of the incoming police. She can spare one more glance for the human before she swings her legs over the railing and drops two stories down to the ground. She meets it with a heavy thud, dust rising from the force of her impact. She has some hunting to do.
