Murder Most Foul part II
Kiiryon grimaced, food was not something that was currently on his mind and nor was it a necessity for him. That being said, Casey was another factor, and one that made the creature feel that every being of his existence was currently made to suffer for every sin he committed against man. The human was hungry and he required food. Food that was particular of eggs and bacon sandwiched between bread--this was fine. However, the detective opted to accompany the food with that disgusting tar; coffee was utterly terrible and bane to his presence. And damned be mother nature with her follies in finding humor that wherever Kiiryon decided to step, be it before and after Casey’s canter--that toxic sludge of roasted beans pelted his senses!
A grating sigh seeped from the thick woolen scarf of grey, puffing into the air as he made sure to keep his steps brisk. The elf wanted to waste no time getting to the bar and away from the human who fancied himself watered down asphalt for drink. Dressed once more in the fashions of Casey’s grandfather, Kiiryon was suddenly grateful for the manner in which the attire was tailored. Fabrics of navy and caramel surrounded the elf in a style reminiscent of an era in which the romance of fashion died into modernism. Still stuck in a time long ago, but pleasant enough to keep eyes from being too fixated on the duo; except for the red heads fast step. Finally they approached the bar… With a final glance back to the human, Kiiryon did a quick once over to see if the man was well. Casey had to be well enough to have consumed that, ‘drink’. Walking in and nodding to the bar keep, the duo would settle in comfortably to the warmth of the establishment. Walls did shield them from the wind, but still, there was a thickness in the air of dread, and it all seemed to permeate from the mousy tender. Quick greetings were traded and all too soon did the bartender rush to the pair with eyes wide and posture jittery. He knew his mistake, the bar keep did wrong to dump the body in water and now more than ever, he was becoming a suspect in a murder he had little to do with.
Seething under his breath, the elf brushed away those bony hands and wrinkled his nose from the onslaught of alcohol; the man had been drinking. “I-I didn’t do nothing! I swear!”
“Whether you did or not, we don’t care.” assured Kiiryon, though the bite to his tone held little patience from having been touched.
“Look! I don’t know what’s going on--I don’t know what I s-saw! But Jeremy knew something! “ So the victim had a name. Though, off the tip of his tongue, Kiiryon could not recall having a contract with someone of that name. Another sigh would spill, the elf still had nothing to offer or share. More and more, it seemed it was another work of Miles. A disturbing notion to the elf and one that made him much too quiet. Of course, whenever things seemed to point in the direction of the blonde haired Welshman, Kiiryon always shrunk back. His breath softer, almost as if he breathed no more. Posture stiff and eyes narrowed in slightest; though his mind was always wild and rampant with memories crashing him and process of what the man had been up to. Casey has too caught on, but the important matter was what this ‘something’ was and so pressed on the detective to the barkeep.
“H-he would always talk about needing more of something, that it made him feel like he was in control of his life-- u-unstoppable. He said the downside was that, he felt he was always being watched. O-or followed! Eessh’ I-imagine that--a life of being invinc’ble but chased y’know?”
