#rootkill

❝ no way, ❞  tentative step close.  the scrape of a canvas sole against a wooden floorboard ━━ covered in dust, charged in mold.  ( you could drag a whole foot across the entire floor & it'd hardly scratch the surface of greenery, overgrowth. )  ❝ no fucking way. ❞  she almost fails to recognize her voice in the moment; there's an edge to it, a tinge of ━ surprise.  anticipation.  excitement.  she's got a good feeling about this.  a really, really good feeling.  she reaches out, & her hands brush on something smooth, something of a material she can't put to an exact name; it's a book of some kind, she knows that much,  IAN'S CARDS - DON'T TOUCH!  scrawled messily at its front.

huh.  someone took their cards seriously.

   They needed to speak to her. 

   There was information they needed from the sole occupant in the brig, information vital to the ensuing mission, and so far as Aella could tell, no one had been able to draw the truth from her lips. Her lieutenants returned frustrated, cloudy-eyed, hands wrapped into fists with lungs full of shallow, shaking breaths. 

   It was not long at all until they asked the empath for help and, as ever, she accepted, quietly, lips sealed, head inclined. It was rather early in the morning when she stepped through the doors of the brig -- nodded to a guard officer, who moved to take a stance outside the door. 

( sms ) are you kidding i can’t list it all in one text  ( sms ) why don’t you come over and find out ? 

                                    “ Don’t you want to? It won’t take long. Help me. ”

   Indulgence in homicide wasn’t something he found himself enjoying. Though the thrill of a hunt was riveting in the moment he didn’t crave killing for the particular reason. He killed to feed his hunger. It was an behavior that had attracted attention to him, attention from authorities. The risk of being institutionalized was great and frightening, driving him to seek help from the only person he knew could help. 

❝   yo ,   y’ever   see   those ,   like -   nature   documentaries ?   fuckin’   gnarly ,   man ,   there   was   this   one   time   i   saw   a   tiger ,   like -   rip   through   a   fuckin’   ribcage ,   it   was   crazy !   ❞

he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be another plaything or a victim of poor circumstance but it doesn’t matter. hands are stuffed into pockets as a sharp right takes him down through a dark alley; the perfect place for whatever dark deeds were planned to take place. he stops in the middle of the alley. frozen like a statue.