It had been almost thirty-six hours since his encounter with Heisenberg, & in that time, much had happened. While observing the grounds beyond the castle walls Connor had stumbled upon a secretive meeting place, within what appeared to be the crumbling remains of an old church. There had been scaffolding left erected but abandoned against the damaged walls, for no repair work had been performed in some time - the structures were caked in dust. But it was not the location itself which had piqued the spy’s interests, rather the event taking place therein; an assemblage of the changeling witch & her coven. The Four Lords, those Mother Miranda claimed as her adoptive children.
What a farce. The so called children appeared to be just as dysfunctional as she, their disturbances laid out clearly in the candlelight of the once sacred place. From one of the many holes in the decaying building, Connor had listened silently, curious as to the agenda of these delusional beings & their black goddess. While he learned much by that which was spoken, it was the silence which conveyed far more to him.
Dimitrescu sat in a giant chair which must have been fashioned specifically for her. She was cross legged & enjoying a cigarette affixed into an antique holder, appearing quite elegant as she did. She was trying her best to hold in her disgust, the utter boredom which looked in her bright eyes. Beneviento sat mute as always, the high-pitched voice of her most precious doll echoing through the old brick structure. She made little reference to anything expressly coherent, more interested in aggravating the others. Moreau did not sit, but instead hung closely to Miranda. He had little to say. Heisenberg took his place upon a pew, resting back casually as discussions continued. He was riled on occasion, though most often by the giantess.
A curious family dynamic. It held a place within his musings as Connor found himself out beneath the stars for the third night in a row. This evening he had chosen to climb upwards towards a lookout at the top of the trail which led into the village, as it felt like the best spot to observe for the night. Lycans sometimes wandered the elevated grounds, but he wasn’t worried about them. They weren’t very bright, but they were quick. His trigger finger was quicker.
As dusk had approached & painted the sky a gentle, quiet black, Connor had settled in at the base of a thin tree. His jacket was zipped up tightly around him, insulated gloves kept his lean hands warm. Eventually the fires inside of the little houses were stoked & candles were lit, torches lighting darkened paths. Like this, the village of shadows appeared to be a sleepy little place in the mountains of Romania, not the hellish cult’s haven it truly was. Connor knew he had to remain objective here, focus on the mission. But being along like this, beneath nightfall & the blanket of twinkling starlight, he became a little nostalgic.
His mind drifted to the Iron Lord again & the conversation they had had not more than a day ago. If one could call it a conversation. It was more of something akin to a cat & mouse game, one in which neither appeared the victor yet neither felt they had lost. The pretty spy was still alive & functional, a fact that would have had him bewildered had he not believed he’d impressed upon Heisenberg some kind of intrigue. He expected it was a rare few that did not look upon him in fear, even less challenged him without the want to dominate him. There was no need, no desire to. They two stood upon an equal playing field & it had been recognized.
Connor would have been lying if he claimed he had not considered the mans invitation, though he wasn’t naïve enough not to know better than to accept. Though the Iron Lord appeared genuine in the moment, & Connor was confident in his ability to detect falsehoods & differentiate from truth, it wouldn’t have been impossible to deceive him. Highly unlikely, but not impossible.
Why am I thinking about this?
Why, indeed. There was no reason to attempt another encounter directly in order to obtain information. & if Heisenberg wanted his attention so much, then–
That thought ended abruptly as the youthful spy suddenly felt the distinct sensation of eyes upon him, a change in the air. It was faint, but his ears noted the absence of sound where sound once was; the gentle serenade of nature in evening, the breeze through the brush. A whiff of something danced briefly upon his senses, lost in the tepid wind a moment later. Musk, aged cloth. Leather. Someone was standing off to the side of him. His eyes drifted towards the unseen one in the pitch darkness, hands moving silently towards his belt. One hand upon the flashlight, the other to his side arm.
Quick as lightning Connor turned, his slender frame moving from a seated position to one knee as he aimed. His flashlight was perched beneath the gun, wrists in a crossed pose, illuminating the darkness. Connors visage was stern, eyes forward & hardened. Steely. Until his brain fully registered the target that had found himself in his crosshairs. After that, his body relaxed, though with exasperation. The firearm was lowered & a huffed sigh left the spy’s frowning lips. Heisenberg. ❝ ...Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to sneak up on people? ❞ he questioned. There was an edge to his dusky tone, but no fire. He wasn’t angry, just tired. His gun was shoved back into it's holster as he moved to sit in one fluid motion. The flashlight was switched off with a soft but audible click, & returned to it’s place. He didn’t need it. There was no danger here.
@macabremachinations
