This is something completely novel ( Read more... )

Diogenes is pacing in the library, a sense of urgency, perhaps nervousness, in his steps. There is something nagging at him, a voice which says to him that he has not completed his ultimate crime yet, that time is running short, that-- He stops and grabs a random book from the shelves, flipping to a random page, hoping that it will distract him ( Read more... )

Diogenes has laid out an assortment of objects on the table in the living room.

First, there is a Rondel dagger, shining softly on a red cloth.

Second, there is a book -- T.S. Eliot's Wasteland, to be specific -- open to a certain page.

And third, there is a small amount of a white powder, sitting on a sheet of paper ( Read more... )

Diogenes sits at a table with tea things that are set for two, drumming his fingers on the tabletop in a nervous fashion. It should be noted that the table is in a very public area, and within easy access of three different doorways. Just in case, of course.

His entire manner is that of utter tension, unlike how he usually is ( Read more... )

*sits at a table out in public, in somewhat of a challenge to his brother, reading Tarot cards*

*shuffles them, and picks one -- the Chariot, reversed*

*frowns over it*