"Um sir.... Can I have a moment?" the normally casual man said timidly. Constantine did not need to be Fae to tell something was wrong....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The car ride to her apartment was blessedly short. Or maybe it was simply the fog he was experiencing that made it seem that way. Nothing felt real, not the latex gloves on his hands, nor the words being spoken to him by the good natured detective. It was like watching a movie out of focus and with the volume turned to low. Surely this was not the reality he lived in, not with that white sheet covering the shape he didn't want to see, not the words written in blood... Her blood; her apartment, her things surrounding him and the officers around him. He felt like a figure thrown by fate into a world that was not his.
In his world; she was still alive, still hating him for the harsh words he'd said to her that night at Siofra's. Still impassioned in her cause to show people the 'truth' about the vampires, still joking and chatting about how fame had made her weak yet strong in her own right.
But this world he conceived of didn't exist anymore. It was gone and so was she. He need only open his eyes to see it, the shimmer of her recently departed soul hovering over her corpse. Of course the nice detective asking him questions couldn't see it. No one else in the room could see it; human as they were. But he, so tied to death and the departed like he had been for the past six hundred or so years... could see her separated halves perfectly. The one cold and lifeless beneath the sheet and the bitter spirit who even now seemed to both curse him and long for him.
"When was the last time you saw her?" the detective asked.
"Two days ago at a friend's house, we had an argument," he said mechanically, his eyes looking not to the man questioning him but only into the misty substance that had once been a living being. Not just any being... One he'd known in life, someone he'd spoken with, shared moments with, the taste of whose lips still lingered with him as if she'd kissed his memory and not his lips.
"Did she seem depressed to you at all?"
"Yes, but not to this extent..."
"Well the famous have a flair for the dramatic.... She may not have even realized she was cutting herself that bad." The detective was trying to soften any guilt his coworker might be feeling... It wasn't helping.
"She wasn't like that.... And she wasn't stupid." His eyes; while dry, flashed a reflective orange, a hint of emotion in his otherwise blank expression.
"...I understand sir...Well, we're about done here... If you'd like a moment or two alone that's fine...Just don't remove anything from the scene please. Detective Maruin will let the medical examiner in and lock up once you're finished seeing as the ME's going to be late getting here....And Constantine?"
"Yes Detective?"
"We're sorry for your loss..."
"Thank you Detective..."
Those in uniform cleared out of the door, a few stragglers having to be curtly told to move it as they seemed more caught up in trying to see how the famous lived rather than doing their job. There wasn’t much for them to see, since moving to Lac Rouge the rock queen had lived humbly compared to what she was used to. The case would be ruled a suicide and closed provided the medical examiner didn't find anything suspicious. Constantine didn't know if Rosaline had had a will or not but to him it didn't much matter. The countless and possibly priceless things in her apartment were just clutter to him. Meaningless trinkets mocking him as he looked at her soul and the body below it.
He'd read the message she'd written in her own blood earlier... the text messages she’d sent in her final moments that he'd never gotten; lost somewhere in the spaces between connections. Maybe if he hadn't changed his phone number she'd still be alive...
The sluagh hung his head; his laughter bittersweet and low. If the others were to see him now they would have jeered and mocked him and been well within their right to do so. Who ever heard of a sluagh being affected by the death of a single human? It sounded ridiculous even to him as he stood there unmoving in the now silent apartment. Outside the windows the noisy nightlife in Lac Rouge moved on, unaffected for now by the events that had occurred in that apartment. As if time had moved and left those rooms to stand still forever in limbo and him with them.
His eyes finally turned away from the shimmering form hovering in the air and gazed about himself in the gloom. Along the wall a grandfather clock stood, its pendulum swinging as if to bring him back to reality with its steady tick tock. He walked to it with wooden steps and with a gentle touch stopped its hands from moving. Alone as he was now his glamor peeled away, falling like discarded tissue paper to dissipate in a wind that wasn't there. There wasn't any need to mask himself now he thought, and it seemed disrespectful to him that he should hide from her in death more than he had when she was alive.
With the diligence of the inhuman he moved to every mirror in the place, blacking out with glamor the ones he couldn't cover or turn towards the wall. Then his attention turned to the windows. He opened the one nearest to where her body laid, the humid Louisiana air ruffling the edge of the sheet that covered her as it spread through the room like a sigh.
He didn't know why he bothered with these motions... the traditional wake was a human convention not one performed by the fae... So what point was there to him going through the motions? Taking steps he only half remembered to do? It made him feel better. Lessening the shock and delaying the guilt he knew he would feel. He stood for a moment at the edge of the white sheet before kneeling down and reaching to pull it away from her pale face. The white cloth fluttered back and he lost the will to look but nothing could have made him turn away in that moment.
Even in death she still held that semblance of brilliance like she had had the day they had met. But it was just the expression she had worn when she died that gave him that illusion, her blue eyes were dull now that the life had faded from them. The pale skin that had shown so brightly in the stage lights now lay grey against the raven black of her hair as it framed her face.
He'd seen many dead before, some fae, some mortal but this was the first time he'd seen someone who had claimed to love him. Hell, the concept of someone even wanting to love him had been completely unheard of prior to his arriving in Lac Rouge. And now the moment was novel to him but not in any way that felt pleasant. More like an experience you wonder about but hope you never have to live through.
He took the gloves off his hands, they had been pointless anyways as the talons on each of his fingers had punctured the thin latex the moment he'd put them on. His blackened fingers brushed the hair from her face softly. The irony that this same hand had played a part in her demise, his hand of life that was now useless against the shroud of death she wore. Constantine caressed her cheek once more before slipping his fingers around to the back of her neck to unfastening the chain clasped there. He took care not to pull her hair as he lifted the bat pendant she wore from her neck despite the fact she wouldn't have felt it if he had.
He stood then, going over to her vanity and taking one of the countless other necklaces he'd seen there the night she had invited him upstairs with her. With a bit of glamour it looked like an exact copy of the necklace he'd just removed, and it would stay that way until well after she was buried. He placed the glamored piece around her neck and pocketed the real one before laying the sheet gently over her face again.
Everything about him seemed to grind against the emotions he was feeling, he looked as much a part of her death as the blade she’d used to cut her wrists. The color of his hair mirroring the crimson of that liquid. Ah but he was projecting again, the blood around her had dried to a sticky brown; even the places where it had stained her porcelain colored skin now lost the luster fresh blood naturally had. The ragged wounds she’d inflicted were hidden from sight but the scent of death would cling to him for days. That neck ruffling scent of old blood would be there as a reminder even though his clothes and hands showed not a drop of the blood he believed they had been stained with.
"I'm sorry Rosaline... This is not how it was supposed to happen..." he said and even to his own pointed ears his words sounded hollow and meaningless.
Only part of his glamor was back in place as he passed Detective Maruin and the ME at the door. The two had the good sense enough not to make a mention of his odd appearance, the look in his eyes having silenced them both the moment he'd emerged from the stair well. As he left off down the street they just started after him, neither had ever seen a live fae before let alone found out they worked with one on a regular basis.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day as he stared at the paper in front of him Constantine sat listlessly. A pen in one hand, the other rubbing his right temple as he tried to force himself to commit his jumbled thoughts to the page. Beside him sat countless other attempts... All crumpled and discarded as each failed to even come close to what needed to be said. Finally ink began to flow over paper, trailing the motions of his left hand as he wrote.
"
Sunday proved to be more sorrowful than originally thought as it is with heavy hearts that we are informed the former lead singer of the popular alternative rock group 'Dark Embrace'; Miss Rosaline Gray has passed away. Miss Gray had recently moved to Lac Rouge after splitting from the other members of Dark Embrace over contract disagreements according to her previous manager and self-proclaimed lifelong friend Bert Reece.
Her family has requested to be left alone in peace for now in this time of sorrow as they mourn her passing. A vigil is set up outside of the apartment Miss Gray passed away in, with flowers, candles and CD’s being brought by fans to mark the passing of the British vocalist.
While police have not released the exact details of Miss Gray's death, they have said that drugs do not appear to have been involved. Though it is believed that Miss Gray took her own life. Information that has shocked her fans worldwide and has left many of them wondering why.
In light of this tragedy Mr. Reece has set up the Gray Foundation, an organization dedicated to helping prevent suicide and the sorrow it brings to the families left behind. There is no word yet as to when or where funeral services will be held. Those dates and locations will be posted at a later time when they become known to the media.
"
It didn't even begin to cover what he wanted to say... But there was no use in trying to write in the newspaper what was truly going through his head. He'd have to get a hold of Lulu and ask a favor of her though. Even if he had to go to the Duchess herself to get it run he would see it done. It was the very least he could do to even begin to make up for his actions. Though as he took the bat pendant that had once been hers from his pocket and stared at its glinting surface, he doubted she'd care what he did at this point.
I come when summoned
= Quote for response.
"Let me ask you a question."
Always looking for role play, group or 1x1's; no guilds though.
