Closing In

72nd of Zi'da 716

Seated on the shores of Lake Lovalus, Rharne serves as the home of the Lighting Knights, the Thunder Priestesses, and the Merchant's guild. This beautiful trade city is filled with a happy and contented people who rarely need an excuse to party.

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Faith Augustin Champion
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They'd walked back to their room at the Order of the Adunih from the guard house where they had undertaken the first stage of a murder investigation, both of them wrapped up against the cold and wind, although she needed it less. She'd checked if he wanted to stop at a street vendor and get something to eat, or if there was anything he needed to pick up at the market before they got on with the next stage but, other than that she was content to just be there, walking with him until they got back to the room they were sharing and had been for a couple of trials at this point. When they got back, she cleared off the desk in their room and started to put out the samples and so on that they had collected. As she was with everything, she was meticulous and ordered, each of the samples was labelled and she brought out the notes she had made in the room when she had examined the body.

"There were so many of them there, but she wasn't, as far as I can tell," it had been hard to concentrate in there. "I think she's passed over, thankfully. She hadn't eaten for a few trials, I think he didn't feed her, there was no sign of him trying to force food on her but her not taking it." Had that situation occurred, she explained, there would be bruising around the mouth and lips, maybe damage to teeth or gums. "I'd say that she was restrained, there were bruises on her wrists and ankles. Metal. The manacles were metal. It leaves a different kind of mark," she smiled, gave the slightest of shrugs and held up her hand, well aware that she might have just hit a nerve with him and so determined to lighten it. "I would show you, but I am mostly without scars these trials." They would soon, at this rate, be completely gone and Faith could not express her delight in words, even in the midst of such a sombre conversation.

Looking down at the doctor's notes, Faith concentrated quietly for a while, thinking about what she had seen as he set up his equipment. "It was an easy mistake to make. It takes a strong hand to throttle. They're small, though, and he's large. But, he's hesitant too, I think. The way he does this, it's almost passive. Like, he doesn't feed them and that weakens them. He restrains them, but doesn't physically harm them until just before he kills them. By which time they'll be weak and terrified. It's about power and control, but I think he feels out of control." Faith's silver eyes were serious as she looked at him. "We have to stop him. We have to. He's just going to keep going. The dye on her hair worries me, too. It opens up possibilities for him, for more women." So, she explained, as far as she could tell they were looking for someone frustrated, unhappy with his life. Strong. The scarf and the perfume were both significant, definitely.

"They burn their dead, on a funeral pyre pushed out on to a lake. They don't have graves or markers, which is a shame. At a graveside, I can, with concentration, see the person. Who they were, that kind of thing. But with no grave marker, I can't do that. It's possible, though, that they haven't moved on. I'd like to go to their homes and where the authorities believe they were taken from, just in case." If one of them was there, she explained, then they might be able to try and communicate with her. Maybe. Faith was struggling with understanding the enormity of this power she had, but she was coming to grips with it and she had to try. Still, there were questions to be asked first.

"So, what did you find and what do we need to do next?"
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Padraig
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Padriag knew that ever since that visit from Famula back in Andaris, she didn't require all the wrappings of winter that others did. The cold didn't cut through her in the same way. Warm on the outside, warm on the inside. The bed at night was remarkably warmer in the night, due to her proximity. But to go out and about in public without bundling up would have resulted in glances and stares from the most polite of passersby, and outright inquiries from the more outspoken ones.

Not him though. The frigid temperatures had the same effect on him they'd always had, and here in Rharne, out in the open he was grateful for the hat, the gloves and the scarf she'd made him. What he needed to test the samples they'd gathered, he had back in their room, stored away with his chemistry equipment. As for sustenance, a street vendor obliged and he'd carried back a bundle, warmed from the half a roasted chicken tied up inside it.

"I guess if he intended to kill her, there was no logical reason to feed her," he remarked with a thoughtful frown while setting up his equipment and setting out a couple of vials and beakers, filled with just water in a case or two, but an added drop or three of oil in others.

"On the other hand he appears to have a type, and a similar way of treating each one. Which seems to suggest that it's more than just personal preference." Why would the man have dyed the most recent victim's hair after all? "Brown is a common hair color. More common than blonde?" he wondered. In addition, the women had been average looking, all three of them.

"There shouldn't be any shortage of available victims. It makes me wonder if he's growing more desperate, or just sloppy." Come to that, he asked, "Do we know what the elapsed time was between the first and second victims. And then the third? Is the timing random, is it regular, or is it speeding up?"

The mention of manacles bothered him. Hit a sensitive spot. But not nearly so much as it might have previously. Distance by location, distance by time. "Would they have fit snugly, or loosely?" he asked. "Physically strong. But the idea that he needs them weak and frightened, in order to feel powerful, implies a weak mind. A childhood or past of feeling...emasculated?" Padraig wondered. By a woman, most probably.

The tests he conducted on the samples were simple ones. He'd taken small patches from the sleeves of the dresses, and dropped them into a solution of water and what would act as a cleaning solution, then heated it. The oil that eventually rose to the surface was easy to isolate and examine. "Not fish oil," he said. "More like the oils used to treat leather, and the grime that comes from using them. He wasn't wearing gloves when he grabbed them. The oil would have soaked into the leather unless it was fresh. My guess is it was his bare, unwashed hands."

As for what he'd believed would be old, dried manure on the clothing around the hems and the knees, that's exactly what he concluded it was. "I'd say they were kept somewhere, where there'd been horses kept at one time. Maybe in an unused part of a stable where they're still kept." As for what next, well, as she mentioned they might visit the victim's homes, or the areas they were taken from if those two things weren't one and the same. "Did the guards supply that information?" Padraig asked.
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"Maybe that's true," she responded, of him having no logical need to feed his victim. "But I think it's born out of emotion, not logic. He wanted to dehumanise her, maybe. Not see her as a person. Or it was done to weaken her, I suppose. But I don't think he's operating from logic, not at all." If he was, she considered, it was a sick kind of logic which really wasn't logic at all. She nodded when he queried the hair colour and frowned. "Necessity, maybe, or.. more than personal preference yes. I don't know, let me look." She rummaged in the notes and frowned, slightly. "The first one was on the 61st, then the 65th, the 70th and now to-trial." That didn't really help, four trials, five trials then two trials. What it did, though, was put something very clearly in Faith's mind. "It's only, at most, been five trials, at least it was two. That's really not a lot of time even in a best case scenario." They had to find this man, and as soon as they could.

"In a way, it's hard to tell that," snug or loose manacles, she meant. Certainly, she explained, they hadn't cut off circulation, but they had rubbed on the edges of the manacle. "My instinct would be that they were loose. Was I rude to the doctor? I didn't mean to be, but I needed to do it right. Perhaps I should apologise to him. It unnerves you, too, I know. As long as you don't think I'm too morbid to put up with," she smiled at him and got back to studying the notes. But a childhood or past of feeling out of control made perfect sense. "One of the books I took out of the library in Andaris before I met you, if you can imagine such a time, was about the psychological impact of childhood trauma, or perceived trauma," Tristan had ordered her to pity him for his childhood, she recalled, and she could not manage it. So, she'd taken out a book to try and make herself realise that if he felt it was a trauma, then it was. She'd never managed it. "He might be playing out a fantasy, something denied to him. Maybe he was rejected by a woman? Or it might be about issues with his mother? Less likely, though, I think. Maybe a combination."

His tests, though, they told them a lot more and put more pieces into the puzzle. "Yes, we've got the information on them here. We just have to work out where they are in relation to here. Immortals, we're such tourists, have you got that map?" There was a map which the Order provided with the room. Unfortunately, Faith appeared to be physically unable to read maps and looked at it in utter confusion. "Look, we're here. But which way are we pointing?" The very limited ability to work out where they were in relation to the map involved her moving to face the direction which they would be walking in, and moving the map so that this direction was always pointing up. It was not efficient and after a few moments, Faith could not help the grin which broke out on her face. "I am sorry, I know this is very serious, but how do you work these things? I think our map is broken," solemnly, she handed him the map and read out the address.

Once Padraig had worked out how to get there, she smiled good naturedly at him, but her eyes were serious. "This, if successful, isn't likely to be pleasant," there was no doubting it, in fact. For her, it was Famula's work and this investigation, all of it was done in the name of the Immortal that she worshipped, but he did not share her devotion. "But if they are trapped, then we can send them where they need to go. Or do our best," slipping her hand into his, she squeezed gently and searched his face. "When we've solved this, shall we go to a party? Or go and sit on the roof of the Lightning Cathedral? Maybe a midnight picnic or a romantic candlelit dinner and a room in an expensive Inn for the night?" It really wasn't much of a vacation for him, she considered. "But we've got to solve it first, haven't we? And if we're going to do that, well, you're going to have to get us there because I can get lost in the room, it seems."
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"If he needs to dehumanize them before killing them," Padraig countered. "then in spite of his actions he must have a conscience. Such as it is." A madman's conscience, maybe. But wasn't anyone who'd do this sort of thing, by very definition, mad?

So, there seemed to be no real meaning in the timing of the murders. But there remained one thing they could agree on. Time was of the essence. They had no reason to think he wouldn't kill again. And keep killing until...What? "Do you think the women are a surrogate for someone else?" Someone either living or dead? If that person was among the living, she wouldn't be safe so long as the killer was on the loose.

"I don't think you were rude, though I can't speak for him," he said, smiling at the memory of how she'd taken over the doctor's personal domain. "I think he was taken aback at first, but once it was done he didn't strike me as being offended. And it unnerves me a little," Padraig admitted. "But I'll adjust, and the rest, well," he added with a grin. "I've developed a knack for not thinking about it."

Emasculated, rejected, unresolved issues with a parent. All were possibilities though Padraig agreed there might be a mix of any or all in play. A map though, that he had and he handed it to her so she could spread it out on the table. Watching her try to figure the thing out was a source of amusement, though only once did he grin, reach down and turn the thing around. "Upside down," he explained. Up was north, to the right on the map was east, west to the left and south to the bottom. "and I've a compass if we need it."

"The address is west of where we are now," he said when she showed him the address, and he referenced it by searching the map. So they'd head off to where the women had lived then, and discover if she could sense or see any hints of their lingering presence. Afterwards, after all of this business. He laughed and shook his head. "I'm not to sure about sitting around on the top of any building named after lightening. At least not during any kind of storm."

But enough of the levity. If she was ready, then they'd gather what they needed and head out in search of the address they'd been given. It wasn't far, not based on the map at least. But once they arrived, it was for Faith in particular to discover any trace of a lingering presence. Or on the other hand, the lack thereof.
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"A conscience? Maybe. Or maybe he's angry at them because they aren't her, whoever she is. Yes, a surrogate, I'd say. For someone who hurt him or slighted him, maybe. I don't know Padraig, I worry for her safety. I wonder if she has any idea that it might be to do with her. How horrid." If the woman did know, though, why wouldn't she go to the Lightning Knights? It made sense that the woman had no idea. Either option was equally chilling, really, Faith considered and her heart went out to the woman in question, if she existed.

She smiled back at him, though, stopping what she was doing and turning her attention from the notes to his face as he admitted that her tendency to see spirits, worship the Immortal of souls, servitude, blood and resurrection and her experience with dead bodies unnerved him. Putting the notes down, just to one side, she took hold of his hand and nodded. "It appears morbid, I know. Heal the sick and tend to the dead, I know how I must seem sometimes. But they are people who, because of what they are, are treated like objects and seen as less important, or ignored completely" Her expression left no doubt as to how passionate she felt about what she was saying.

"They're just people, that's all, in a different situation to us. I have to help them," she smiled at him, knowing that she wasn't explaining it as well as she could. "I used to be someone defined by one thing. That's what the sick and injured and all the trapped souls are. They just need people that can see beyond that and help them. Their equivalent of someone that doesn't see the brands, or the victory curls," it was a simple, clear and very genuine analogy for her.

The map, however, was a mystery and she shot him a glance, but an amused one; she couldn't hide her relief when he took it back and she mumbled her thanks. As he finished with that and got their bearings for them, she suggested a romantic evening when this was done, and he laughed. Without saying anything to him, Faith stepped over to where their coats were, pulled hers on and threw his scarf at him rather than to him, but she grinned as she did so, "I was just suggesting that we might have a romantic evening. Without being struck by lightning, granted," but she hadn't really thought that the lack of possible death needed mentioning; if a storm was brewing, maybe scratch the idea of a roof top anywhere. He was right, though, that levity ended as they left the room. Faith slipped her arm into his and just focused on what she was going to do, potentially. She tried to keep herself calm and she prayed quietly to Famula that she might see what she needed to see, do what she needed to do, as Famula wished it.

And so, for nearly three breaks, they went from place to place where the women had worked and lived. Their places of work were different, they all lived in the Earth quarter, but that was unsurprising considering their clothing. Faith frowned and shook her head, as they stood outside the last house. "Nothing. It's good, Padraig, it means that they've moved on and haven't been held here by what happened to them," she hoped. Unless, she considered, they were anchored where he'd killed them. If they were, then she should still be able to help them cross, in Famula's name. Exhaling, she watched her outbreath misting in front of her; it was cold and getting colder, and they'd spent the better part of the afternoon walking around. Faith didn't need to admit it, she suspected he knew, she was completely lost. "So. We are getting no more information than that from this source. I suppose we have three options now, or leads to follow. The scarves, the perfume and the horses. But you had a light lunch and we've been walking in the cold for breaks now. The shops are going to be closed or closing. We could look at a few shops, if we are quick, or we could go to an Inn and get something warm to eat and drink and try and work out some kind of pattern on this map? See where the central point is from where they lived, worked, disappeared or were dumped?"
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"Who knows?" Padraig responded when Faith wonder, did the woman in question know she was in danger. "The authorities have made no secret of the murders. If such a woman exists, then she'd know about them. And if she has no reason to think it's anything to do with her?"

There were just too many questions unanswered to know for sure. "Assuming for a moment that she exists, and the victims are surrogates, then he's either saving her for last, or he still has feelings for her that are preventing him from targeting her more directly. Maybe she's slighted him, or maybe she hurt him in some other way." It wouldn't do any good he thought to linger too long over questions they couldn't possibly answer just yet.

As for whether or not he viewed what Faith did as somewhat morbid, well, his sense of that related more to the Immortal herself than the particular follower that he loved. "Healing the sick makes perfect sense. I may need more time with the tending of the dead," he admitted as they went over their notes. "But for both, it takes a great deal of compassion and caring. And that's not the least bit morbid. It's part of what I love about you."

Fate, and Immortals, seemed to have a way of interrupting most of their plans...Their romantic ones anyway. His expression said it all as they headed out into the city. He'd believe it when he saw it. And while, after three breaks of looking, he'd agree that it was fortunate, for the spirits of the victims at least, that they'd seemed to move on, it also meant that an additional avenue of finding answers was closed off. Not that he'd wish for the spirits to remain trapped. Not at all. But if they'd still been around, they might have supplied more than enough information to identify their killer.

"Something's been bothering me," he admitted, once they'd exhausted their list of homes and workplaces. "Judging by the dried on manure on the clothes, we can assume he's keeping all of his victims at the same location before killing them. But that's not where their bodies were found," he pointed out. "He knows they'll be found, but it seems to imply that he wants them to be. Just not in a place that seems connected to him. As if it's on private property."

"So if he's keeping and killing them in one place, but leaving their bodies in another, there's the question of how he moves them without being seen. Probably at night, but still, carry a body through the city and someone's going to notice. And if he's moving them alone, even more difficult. Maybe a carriage?" he suggested. That, combined with the perfume and the scarves, made him think that the killer was probably someone of means.

Whichever the case, Padraig was inclined to suggest they call it a trial and return to their room for the night. There they could take another look at the map, all of their clues and evidence, and try to establish a better pattern than they had thus far. On the morrow, he suggested, they might also try to locate the shop that had sold the scarves, and maybe a shop that sold fine perfumes.
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"Well, being so accepting of what must seem quite morbid is part of what I love about you. That works well, doesn't it?" Faith looked up at his face and she smiled at his expression. "A romantic evening, just you and I. No lightening, no murder or weirdness. We can manage that, can't we?", slipping her arm into his she looked up at him and her smile broadened as she realised the simple truth of what she said next. "And if we can't manage that, it will be our unique brand of romance and that, as far as I am concerned, is the perfect kind. So it will be a romantic evening, even if someone tries to strangle one of us, or we witness a murder. Even if we walked in somewhere and there were entrails everywhere, it would still be....", there was a slight pause as she realised just what she was saying and she wondered if she could salvage it. "Romantic entrails? You know, I read that some cultures believe that you can tell someone's fortune by... no, actually, not that either. Well, at the very least, it will be less painful than this conversation, yes? Could you stop me when I start using sentences with the words romance and entrails both in there? Please?" How she had been so lucky as to find this man, she did not know, but Faith was thankful to Famula for the life that she had lived, and still did. However, it was Vri that she prayed her thanks to for the deep and abiding love that she felt.

"Have you learnt or heard about Vri? He is the Immortal of death, Famula of souls. They rather go hand in hand, in many ways. But when I fall asleep at night, I thank him for you, because he is also the Immortal of love. I'm sorry I'm so shoddy at saying it that I talk about entrails and dates when I just want to tell you I love you. And that I'm so bad at managing romance that entrails border on likely, but I swear by Vri and all he represents, I love you better than I ever manage to say." Faith couldn't have managed to say that even a few trials before, certainly when they were in Andaris, her ability to be free, even with her feelings, was much more limited there but was growing every trial here.

But after three breaks of fruitlessly traipsing around the city, Faith looked at Padraig with a frown; she nodded her head in consideration as he spoke about how the Strangler was moving the body. "I hadn't thought about that, but you're right. However, if he works with horses, like we think, he might have access to that sort of equipment quite easily?" Back to the room was fine, but she glanced up at him with a slight frown. "You should eat," for all the progress she had made, and continued to, Faith didn't really do forceful well. "I worry. A quick stop on the way home, not long, but you could eat something. It will do us good not to talk about this for a half break, too." Faith wondered if she should consider promising not to talk about entrails or death, but decided against saying it and resolved to just do it. But, at the end of it, it was his decision and whether they stopped for something to eat or not, when they were back at their room, Faith was quick to lay out the map and mark the places with pieces of parchment. Strangely, she was more than capable of using the map as a theoretical tool, it was just when it came to using it for directions that she fell apart.

"Look, there is a sort of pattern, don't you think?" Faith had lain the map on the floor at the foot of the bed and why became apparent as she kicked off the red slippers she had brought with her from Andaris and climbed onto the bed, standing there. It gave her the amount of height she needed to see it properly, to discern patterns. "They are all centered around the Glass Quarter, I think?" Totally oblivious to any consideration that standing on the bed might seem odd, serious silver eyes regarded him. "So, tomorrow, we go to the clothing shops and perfume shops there? Or there first? Do you think?"

She didn't recognise that it had, somewhere along the line, become an unconscious thing, but she reached out and took his hand to step down; again, not something she would have done before they stepped on to that boat. Her expression, though, was grim as she looked at the map, even from the unimpressive height of just standing on the floor. "Can you see anything else that we should take into account?"
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Entrails? Padraig managed to peer down the bridge of his nose at her, narrow his eyes a little and lift a brow all at once before grinning. "You should probably stop while you're ahead," he teased. "I've heard of Vri," he said. "But not much more than that."

He couldn't help but wonder though how an Immortal came to rule over both death and love together. Were these things assigned by the One, where spares were handed out randomly resulting in seemingly mismatched combinations? Or did the Immortals themselves choose, and thinking that death alone was a little on the morbid side, Vri opted to lighten his countenance with love? Both were reasonable possibilities, he thought. Whichever the case, he loved her and he said it again, though he'd never manage to say it quite enough, he thought.

And maybe, he thought. Their strangler might have access to equipment, a carriage or wagon in particular that he didn't own himself. But the quality of the perfume and the scarves made him more inclined to believe the man was of some sort of means. "You know, it's occurred to me too, that he'd only need one bottle of perfume. But the scarves. What if he's not purchasing them himself? What if he has access to a supply of them already. Scarves belonging to someone in particularly, who'd purchased the things themselves. A source that for some reason would give them some sort of special meaning?"

More conjecture really. But if they managed to locate the shop where the scarves had been sewn, they might be able to identify when the things had been purchased. And by whom. Similar maybe, when it came to the perfume. But he'd eat, and was happy to stop and grab something on the way back to their room. Where she confounded him by laying out the map and then standing on the bed. The Glass Quarter however. There was a certain pattern emerging, once she marked the locations on the map.

"Clothing shops and perfume shops, yes," he agreed. "And look there, and there," he added after a trill or three more of studying the map. "These aren't just alleyways or common dirt streets between locations. Good streets, suitable for carriages and the sort of places they discourage supply wagons from driving." But whether that meant something or it didn't, at least they'd a plan for next trial. But first, a good night's rest was his suggestion, and they could start out fresh in the morning.
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Faith


Knowledge:

Investigation: Always keep your samples organized and labeled.
Investigation: The victim was not force fed due to lack of mouth damage.
Investigation: The type of bruises left by metal manacles.
Investigation: Loose manacles vs tight.
Investigation: The victims may be surrogates for someone else.
Investigation: Murderer likely deals with horses.
Investigation: Murders centred around the Glass Quarter.
Leadership: Forming a plan for a murder investigation.
Mathematics: Determining the average rate of murder.
Navigation: Determining where you are on a map.
Navigation: North is always up, the right is east.
Psychology: When a murders actions are about control.
Psychology: Murder’s born from emotion not logic
Psychology: Living out a fantasy, rejection, mother issues or all of the above.
The dead: They’re people too
Romantic Entrails (just for fun)
Location Rharne: Burn their dead on a funeral pyre pushed out to sea
Location Rharne: Refuse to have graves or markers to Honour the dead
Location The Lightning Cathedral of Rharne: Might be romantic if you don’t get struck by lightning.


Loot: 
N/A
Injuries: 
N/A
Fame:
General good deed +1 (for the ongoing investigation of a murder) ( would have given you two points for solving the mystery but its not completed in this thread)
Magic:
These points can NOT be used for Domain Magic
Devotion:
Honour the Dead (+1 to Famula), Preform a service for someone without paid recompense (+1 to Famula) Pray to Famula (+1 to Famula) Praying to Vri (+1 to Vri) Confessing your love to someone (+ to Vri)

Story: 
5/5
Funny, interesting, cute, morbid and awesome. Loved this romantic CSI thread. :P
Collaboration:
5/5
I ship you too.
Structure:
5/5
I didn’t see any noticeable mistakes


Padraig


Knowledge:

Faith: Gives off more body head since getting her Mark from Famula
Chemistry: drawing oils from clothing
Investigation: No need to feed someone your going to kill
Investigation: Finding patterns in a culprits actions.
Investigation: seeing signs of desperation in a murderers actions.
Investigation: Identifying patterns in the rate of murders.
Investigation: Using chemistry to determine if someone grabbed someone with their bare hands or not.
Investigation: Murderer wants the bodies to be found.
Investigation: Murders likely taken place on private property.
Investigation: The victims may be surrogates for someone else.
Investigation: Culprit may be using a Carriage to move the bodies.
Investigation: The scarves may have a special meaning to the killer
Navigation: North is always up, the right is east.
Navigation: The address is west
Psychology: Preying on the weak to feel powerful implies a weak mind.
Psychology: Murder likely had a childhood of feeling Emasculated by a women.
Psychology: The need to Dehumanize a victim is the sign of a mad mans with conscience.
Psychology: Murder ether saving his surrogate for last or feelings are getting in the way.
The dead: They’re people too
Romantic Entrails (just for fun)
Location Rharne: Burn their dead on a funeral pyre pushed out to sea

Location Rharne: Refuse to have graves or markers to Honour the dead
Location The Lightning Cathedral of Rharne: Might be romantic if you don’t get struck by lightning.
Vri: Immortal of love and death
Famula: Immortal of Souls



Loot: 
N/A
Injuries: 
N/A
Fame:
General good deed +1 (for the ongoing investigation of a murder) ( would have given you two points for solving the mystery but its not completed in this thread)
Magic:
These points can NOT be used for Domain Magic
Devotion:
N/A

Story: 
5/5
Funny, interesting, cute, morbid and awesome. Loved this romantic CSI thread. :P
Collaboration:
5/5
I ship you too.
Structure:
5/5
I didn’t see any noticeable mistakes.




Art credit to Yoshitaka Amano
word count: 617
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