(Untitled)

[fidespunica]

WHO: Adam (fidespunica) and OPEN!
WHAT: Making the next move
WHERE: All over Rivelata
WHEN: In the lull in the rain, just after the boat departs.

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[crazy4pwr]

Sylar emerged from the water, dripping a mixture of water and blood. After a minute of coughing, he got all the fluid out of his lungs and could actually breath again. Removing all the splinters and shards of wood lodged all over his body took a bit longer, but eventually he got them all.

Now he could finally wander into town to try to get yet another new set of clothing, and that's when he saw the marks on the doors. Of course he had to examine them to see if they were really what they looked to be, but a quick examination proved them to not be blood. When you've killed as many people as Sylar had, you knew what it was like.

Still, all this brought a smile to Sylar's face because he only knew one person who would put this much effort into such an action that would seem so pointless at a first glance.

"Shepherd!" He called out into the streets, "are you still around here somewhere?"

It had been far too long since he had heard from the man.

[fidespunica]

Adam had been out in another area of the city, though by then was looking for Sylar. He had a message to deliver.

He moved to walk past him, still cloaked by a spell, and let the note fall on the road below. A moment later it appeared visible, the same writing as before.

I trust you've had your share of fun, these past days? I've made it easier for you, as it were. You've many people to choose from. I'll trust you to choose wisely. The city has been too quiet for too long.

Cordially yours,
The Shepherd

[crazy4pwr]

The note appeared, and like always the Shepherd was nowhere to be seen. One day he'd slip up, and then Sylar would see who it was that had been helping him along this whole time. He still wasn't sure what he'd do when he found out the Shepherd's identity.

Well in the meantime, there was another note. As soon as he finished reading it, Sylar understood what the red was all about. The man had shown him the houses of potential prey.

He should probably find Grell... after he had gotten some new clothes.

[chainsaw_juliet]

Oh my. The last time doors were splattered red was over a millennium ago to ward off the wrath of Heaven- and that was a tale only their Superior could tell for even Grell was too young to remember.

The Reaper giggled, touching a finger to the red slash of paint now inching down his door. Whilst others frantically scrubbed at the incriminating markers, the Reaper was happy to let his remain. After all, the bloodlike colour was a stark reminder that Death was never too far from the citizens of Rivelata.

Making his way inside, Grell decided to make a batch of scones so on went the frilly red apron and atop the counter flour was soon spread.

[fidespunica]

Adam patiently, slowly, moved into Grell's home. It was a new place, but Grell had been a potential alley for some time. He was strange, even for an off-worlder.

He was invisible with his spell, moving quietly with years of practice. He dropped the note right on a nearby counter Grell would surely see. Adam didn't waste time in quickly, but smoothly, climbing out of the house. He did pause with his head peering inside, however, to see how his message was received.

Another moment, and the note itself became visible.

I can no longer ignore you, Grell. You have talent I feel could help us both, with patience and time. I can assure you the rewards will be great.

I've taken it upon myself to make it easier for you. There's quite a selection for you to do with as you please. I will put the who and what in your capable hands. I trust, in the future, our partnership will be beneficial to us both.

Cordially,
The Shepherd

[chainsaw_juliet]

The redhead suddenly drew his hand back whilst reaching for the cup of milk. A note? Picking it up, it took him a moment to read it before he was overcome with a fit of excited giggling. He pressed the note to his heart like a lovestruck adolescent, sighing as a smile played on his lips.

Someone knew of his glorious work! The Shepherd- that fancy title always cropped up in the journals when Sylar was concerned. Anyone on Sylar's side automatically proved interesting to the Reaper.

"Are you watching me?" Grell called softly, looking around himself. "I want to play with you~"

[fidespunica]

It seemed Adam was correct in his prediction- the man would follow the plan he set. Grell seemed unpredictable, in some ways, though it would prove interesting to deal with.

Grell's brand of craziness was something Adam could use to his advantage.

He remained silent at the question, of course, merely slipping away from the window and out through the city.

[fox_shuuichi]

Unlike some of the others Kurama could see panicking in the streets, it took him only a moment to discern that the streak on his door was not blood - the smell of paint was too thick on his fingers when he pulled them away, red and wet.

Rubbing his fingers together thoughtfully, he took another look down the street - there weren't many residences here, and most of the shops were native-run, but that just made the pattern more obvious: this was the work of someone with a grudge against Offworlders.

His eyes narrowed as he watched many of those marked attempt to scrub the paint off their doors. He doubted it was coincidental, this display in conjunction with the departure of the ships. In fact, unless he was quite mistaken, many of those who he knew to be fighters (one might go so far as to venture to call them vigilantes) had embarked upon this journey for who-knew-how-long.

So it seemed something had to be done here. And perhaps it would bear watching, to see just how far this went, until drastic action was taken.

But still, he

[atwistedfancy]

Oh, well. Wasn't that interesting? The sight of so much disconcertion among the off-worlders was as pleasing as disconcertion among any large, generally undeserving group. Jam had taken an umbrella to ward off the rain, because there was certainly no way he was missing this spectacle.

He could be found strolling the streets, looking just about as smug as a cat with canary feathers littered about his feet. It wasn't his doing, but oh how he applauded whomever was responsible. An excellent idea, the paint. Any other color simply would not have done.

Jam stopped before one door in particular, admired the cross there for a few seconds. It had dripped down the black wood eerily, and Jam grinned to think of the owner's reaction upon discovery. He looked forward to whatever the perpetrator had planned next.