[ The life she led usually had her be the one doing the killing, as opposed to investigating one. Purely out of necessity; the alternative was the end of her own life. War does not take kindly to hesitation. Neither does the ruin of a country. There's no complicated motive behind two opposing forces, no elaborate plan behind a soldier's death on the battlefield. It either happens, or it doesn't.
But the skills are transferable, she realized at some point. Reading the flow of battle means she has to watch how the environment changes after a strike from a weapon. How many villages had she walked through before she started connecting the bandits to the raids? ( If someone told her she'd be in a barbershop investigating a murder on a completely different world back then, she would have been convinced they'd gone mad. )
She doesn't know much about motives or the message that's being sent or the why as a whole, but she doesn't need it to understand the what. Her eyes trace the path of both the victim and the assailant ( one? Perhaps two— ) before the final blow was struck. Notes the way the blood has splattered, to see if someone used something that wasn't a bowling ball. None of it is a perfect science, but it's information nonetheless.
There's another sip from her coffee, as her gaze finally returns to meet Marc's. Takes a second to reorient her perspective based on what he's saying — Emmeryn's death was a message as well; an exhibition of power to show how far Gangrel was willing to go. The thought nets her a deep furrow of her brows, the muscles in her jaw tensing. ]
And the reports would announce their ... resolve. To whoever the message was intended for. [ Suddenly, she can't help but wonder if the identity of Billy Yrix even mattered in all of this. The next exhale through her nose is harsh.
Lucina glances back towards the mirrors, eyes narrowing at the splatters of blood that made it that far. There's a tilt of her head towards it, in case Marc hasn't caught it himself. At the same time— ]
The Runners that were supposedly behind all of this — do you have something similar where you're from?
no subject
But the skills are transferable, she realized at some point. Reading the flow of battle means she has to watch how the environment changes after a strike from a weapon. How many villages had she walked through before she started connecting the bandits to the raids? ( If someone told her she'd be in a barbershop investigating a murder on a completely different world back then, she would have been convinced they'd gone mad. )
She doesn't know much about motives or the message that's being sent or the why as a whole, but she doesn't need it to understand the what. Her eyes trace the path of both the victim and the assailant ( one? Perhaps two— ) before the final blow was struck. Notes the way the blood has splattered, to see if someone used something that wasn't a bowling ball. None of it is a perfect science, but it's information nonetheless.
There's another sip from her coffee, as her gaze finally returns to meet Marc's. Takes a second to reorient her perspective based on what he's saying — Emmeryn's death was a message as well; an exhibition of power to show how far Gangrel was willing to go. The thought nets her a deep furrow of her brows, the muscles in her jaw tensing. ]
And the reports would announce their ... resolve. To whoever the message was intended for. [ Suddenly, she can't help but wonder if the identity of Billy Yrix even mattered in all of this. The next exhale through her nose is harsh.
Lucina glances back towards the mirrors, eyes narrowing at the splatters of blood that made it that far. There's a tilt of her head towards it, in case Marc hasn't caught it himself. At the same time— ]
The Runners that were supposedly behind all of this — do you have something similar where you're from?