[THREAD] the MUTATIONS of LIFE
Who: Seras [ lamiaunderlaw ] & Vargret [ ardeinae ] & OPEN to police personnel
Where: Abyss ; warehouse Revalkan 6
When: Shotly after [ this ]
Summary: Investigation and such.
Rating: R for gristly descriptions.
Other: mmmm blood -- I mean what
Blood, everywhere. Oh, there were people, too, of course. Officers and forensics researchers mulling around, but, for the most part, there was just blood. Staining every surface, every person, every bit of skin, tainting the air and hanging think with a famliar coppery scent that had the tendency to sink in deep and never leave.
It even made his cigarette taste foul, and Vargret frowned, crushing the half-smoked butt under a boot as he surveyed the scene. It was truly disgusting, what people were capable of -- making a bunch of kids slaughter each other. What the fuck was wrong with these psychopaths? This sort of case left a bad aftertaste in his mouth, and he was restless, fingers tapping at the handlebars of his motorcycles as he oversaw the investigation of the area.
(I should have been able to stop this.) Tch, a train of thought that meant nothing, now -- not use dwelling over what was already done -- and he scanned the area, searching for clues, for people, counting to make sure all his men were present. There was Johnson, there was Dane with the forensics team, there was O'Brien, and so on and so forth.
People wallowing in this warehouse, drowning in the scent of blood. It was foul.
Where: Abyss ; warehouse Revalkan 6
When: Shotly after [ this ]
Summary: Investigation and such.
Rating: R for gristly descriptions.
Other: mmmm blood -- I mean what
Blood, everywhere. Oh, there were people, too, of course. Officers and forensics researchers mulling around, but, for the most part, there was just blood. Staining every surface, every person, every bit of skin, tainting the air and hanging think with a famliar coppery scent that had the tendency to sink in deep and never leave.
It even made his cigarette taste foul, and Vargret frowned, crushing the half-smoked butt under a boot as he surveyed the scene. It was truly disgusting, what people were capable of -- making a bunch of kids slaughter each other. What the fuck was wrong with these psychopaths? This sort of case left a bad aftertaste in his mouth, and he was restless, fingers tapping at the handlebars of his motorcycles as he oversaw the investigation of the area.
(I should have been able to stop this.) Tch, a train of thought that meant nothing, now -- not use dwelling over what was already done -- and he scanned the area, searching for clues, for people, counting to make sure all his men were present. There was Johnson, there was Dane with the forensics team, there was O'Brien, and so on and so forth.
People wallowing in this warehouse, drowning in the scent of blood. It was foul.