Rescuing Libby -- Because He Has To
WHO: Mozenrath, ghosts, Libby eventually
WHERE: The Lower Levels
WHEN: After her cell stopped filling up with water.
WHAT: Mozenrath is in the lower levels, alone, searching for Libby, because he's a stubborn fuck like that.
If Mozenrath knew anything, he knew dead things. Especially the unquiet dead, and while this was doubly troublesome on account of him having no powers and no preternatural senses, and while he had never encountered spirits quite like these before, he seemed oddly brave to be wandering around the labrynthine lower levels with naught but his journal to light the way. If Xerxes were there, that would have been something. He could smell Libby out. But no, the most he really had to go on were the rather stupid clues his journal kept giving him -- mainly fuzzy images of 'landmarks' that he could barely make out and never even saw correctly unless he turned himself at the right angle.
He'd found a nurse's station -- not that he really knew what that was -- and allowed that there might be something useful in it. He even found a locked box -- easily broken -- with a key rack inside.
With...absolutely no keys in it.
All right. Not so helpful. He had to hold up his journal and tilt it somewhat to see if any had fallen in the bottom, and -- no, still not enough light. He sighed and reached in to feel around. Finally a smaller piece of metal scraped across the bottom, and he shifted his fingers to catch and lift it out.
It was a key, all right. And rather than go over the ridiculousness that was probability, and the likelihood that this would even open a door he needed open, he chose to pocket it anyway and hope serendipity was on his side. He was technically doing a good deed, right? Returning to the hallway, he paused to wonder whether there might have been a number on the key, and he retrieved it from his pocket again. To inspect it in the dim light.
The screen on his journal flickered.
WHERE: The Lower Levels
WHEN: After her cell stopped filling up with water.
WHAT: Mozenrath is in the lower levels, alone, searching for Libby, because he's a stubborn fuck like that.
If Mozenrath knew anything, he knew dead things. Especially the unquiet dead, and while this was doubly troublesome on account of him having no powers and no preternatural senses, and while he had never encountered spirits quite like these before, he seemed oddly brave to be wandering around the labrynthine lower levels with naught but his journal to light the way. If Xerxes were there, that would have been something. He could smell Libby out. But no, the most he really had to go on were the rather stupid clues his journal kept giving him -- mainly fuzzy images of 'landmarks' that he could barely make out and never even saw correctly unless he turned himself at the right angle.
He'd found a nurse's station -- not that he really knew what that was -- and allowed that there might be something useful in it. He even found a locked box -- easily broken -- with a key rack inside.
With...absolutely no keys in it.
All right. Not so helpful. He had to hold up his journal and tilt it somewhat to see if any had fallen in the bottom, and -- no, still not enough light. He sighed and reached in to feel around. Finally a smaller piece of metal scraped across the bottom, and he shifted his fingers to catch and lift it out.
It was a key, all right. And rather than go over the ridiculousness that was probability, and the likelihood that this would even open a door he needed open, he chose to pocket it anyway and hope serendipity was on his side. He was technically doing a good deed, right? Returning to the hallway, he paused to wonder whether there might have been a number on the key, and he retrieved it from his pocket again. To inspect it in the dim light.
The screen on his journal flickered.