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 Posted: Sat Jul 17, 2010 8:19 pm
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The tiger that shouldn't be....is....
Miranda struggled to answer the questions as best she could. "Eyes are...oval? I'm not sure how to describe it. Set a small distance apart. Not really close together. But not far either. Long lashes. Delicately arched eyebrows."
She paused, thinking, her lips pressed together and her eyes tightly closed. "Her mouth is hard to describe because every time I see her, she's frowning or has her lips pressed together or she'd biting her bottom lip. But I think....small, lightly curved. Not overly full. I don't know. It's really hard." She sighed and opened her eyes to look at the offered sketch.
She nodded slowly. "Almost. It's very close. But here," She traced the cheekbones lightly, "And here," then the chin, "are softer. It needs to be oval, but almost bordering on round." She had to admit Mark was talented though. She wondered what he could do, when he wasn't fighting off withdrawal.
The tiger that should be....isn't....
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Posted: Sun Jul 18, 2010 10:36 am
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→ Ʀ ɛ ɴ ▪ L u o ɴ ɠ ↓
the c o l dXt e e n a g e r
□□□□□□□□□□Hoω мαиу мoяз tιмзs ωιll I hαvε тo tяу...
X X X A bored looking young man stood as the cashier of a bakery. It was a place that his parents owned, and they had pleaded with him to help out. He shook his head in response many times, but it soon got tiring, his parents persistance got to him. So one day, in response, he just gave a deep sigh and plopped himself down in the chair located in front of the cashier.
X X X "Welcome," he muttered as someone entered the shop. He didn't have a smile no his face though. He looked like he was glaring, though it wasn't something he intended or took notice of. His parents had to point out to him many times.
X X X "Ren..." There was his mother, again reminding him to keep a welcoming face. Not as if that did anything. That was just how Ren looked all the time. He coudln't really change that. At least not easily anyways. He really didn't get why they wanted him to work at the place so badly, knowing he would have a hard time appearing friendly, then go around and complain about it to him.
... βεfoяε му hopεs cαи tяυlу flу αgαιи?□□□□□□□□□□
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Posted: Sun Jul 18, 2010 5:34 pm
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Posted: Sun Jul 18, 2010 9:19 pm
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((OOC: biggrin Yes, isn't it exciting?
Also, I need to PM that other girl and find out if she's sticking with this RP or not. If not, I need to free up that space. >.<))
Mark's hands twitched a bit as he stared from Miranda to the picture and back again. Carefully, he resketched the eyes to match the new information she'd given him - he'd previously had them a bit more almond-shaped. He assumed by what she'd said that the eyes were normally spaced - not too close and not too far. Otherwise it would be more noticeable.
God, he needed a drink.
He gave a brief nod, staring down at the picture again as he erased and resketched the mouth a few times. Then he followed her instructions about the face shape.
Sitting back, he looked at it, trying to ignore the shaking and the twitches. "Not exact," he muttered. "It's not exact. I feel like...like the eyes, they should be a bit more elongated and the mouth a little more carved, and..." He stopped and set the pencil down.
"We...we have to stop," he said. "I'm starting...starting to, um, project. That's when...we need to take a break. We should call Cyb, see..." He shrugged, stopped talking. He didn't know what to say, exactly.
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Posted: Sun Jul 18, 2010 9:50 pm
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Posted: Mon Jul 19, 2010 9:20 pm
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Mark nodded jerkily, and picked up the pencil again. He fiddled with it absent-mindedly - he needed something in his hands to take his mind off things. Shifting to his feet, he got up and started pacing the room, restless and anxious for reasons he couldn't identify. "It's okay," he muttered. "Just need...just need some time. There's...s**t, there is no time. Never enough time." He was becoming increasingly incoherent while he muttered to himself, to all appearances having forgotten she was in the room.
"What are we bothering me at work about?"
Thus spoke Cybil as she strode into the room, having come in so quietly that Mark hadn't even noticed her there. She tossed a dark red coat over the back of a chair, revealing her all-black waitress outfit. Giving Mark a quick once-over, she sighed. "s**t. Hang on, kid - I'll go grab you something." She disappeared into the bathroom, coming back out a few minutes later with a small bottle.
Mark held out his shaking hands, and Cybil shook two little pills into them. Once they were taken and Mark had finished the water still sitting on the computer desk, he plopped down on her bed and curled up on a corner of it.
Cybil took the computer chair, shoving the pill bottle absently into her pocket, and picked up the drawing. "Nice," she commented. "This a final sketch, or were you just taking a break?"
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Posted: Mon Jul 19, 2010 9:39 pm
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Posted: Tue Jul 20, 2010 3:09 pm
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Posted: Tue Jul 20, 2010 6:45 pm
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Cybil examined the sketch again, nodded. "I can see. It's a bit rougher than Mark's usual stuff - but you can see what she's starting to look like." She tilted the sketch a little, studied it again, and then read Miranda's description. "Getting there."
She grinned at Miranda's words, still looking at the picture. "Yeah. I tell him he should go into training as a police artist. He's stubborn enough about the details, but he's got the projecting problem - he starts to picture what it should look like with that face shape, that skin tone, that hair length, and forgets that he doesn't really know. And if the witness is unsure, that makes it even harder."
Setting the sketch aside, she turned back to the computer. "But I should be able to use that, rough as it is, to see if I can get a match to Abigail Lavalle. Or Abigail McCade, or Abigail Delaine." The other two were names that Cybil had also flagged as possibles over the course of her evening study.
She hoped it was one of them. Otherwise, she'd have to start all over again.
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Posted: Tue Jul 20, 2010 7:01 pm
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The tiger that shouldn't be....is....
Miranda nodded as she listened to Cybil, smiling slightly. "If he got over that, it's be a great job for him." She agreed with a small chuckle.
Hearing the name Abigail though, she started suddenly. "That's right! Mark distracted me, but I found this!" She pulled a small journal from the corner of the desk. It was different from the one in the visions though, smaller and better kept. "I went through some of that stuff in my attic earlier. I found some things that might be of use. This was the diary of my who-knows-how-many-times-great grandmother. I only skimmed it at first, but this caught my eye." She flipped the book open to a page that had been bookmarked.
Turning the book to face Cybil, she pointed out particular sentence in the middle of the page. It read, 'Mother and I went out on our weekly social rounds again. Today we found ourselves in the company of the Lavalle's. I must admit, they are one of my favorites to visit. Their daughter, Abigail, is only a few years older than me though she seems so world weary. But she always makes time to talk to me.....' It continued on from there, but it was easy to see the names that had caught Miranda's attention.
"I'm still looking into it, but I was thinking that if Abigail really did give away her powers when she was dying, wouldn't she have given them to people she knew? I'm not sure but it seems more likely than randomly foisting them off on strangers." She waited nervously to see what Cybil thought of her idea.
The tiger that should be....isn't....
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Posted: Thu Jul 22, 2010 8:51 pm
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Cybil pushed her blonde hair back from her face as she took the journal from Miranda. She took a moment to examine the cover, but gave a disappointed shake of her head almost as soon as she did - it looked nothing like the gold-decorated cracking leather binding that Mark had described.
So this wasn't the right one.
"So you think she knew our ancestors," she mused. "Of course, that's all dependent on Abigail Lavalle being our Abigail. If it's one of those other two, or someone else entirely, we're back to square one. But yeah, it's got some merit - I know that if I had something that important, something I had to foist off on other people, I'd make sure they were people I thought I could trust."
She handed back the journal. "Did you read through it from there? Does it cover the time when Abigail Lavalle died?"
If it did, she mused, if it did and Miranda's foremother mentioned something - anything - about feeling strange, feeling different, seeing visions, they'd have their Abigail. Or at least, she'd be more focused on Abigail Lavalle than any of the others.
Every step mattered, she told herself. Had to matter.
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Posted: Thu Jul 22, 2010 9:43 pm
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Posted: Sun Jul 25, 2010 8:06 pm
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Cybil nodded. "Does it have dates?" she asked, as a thought occurred. "I bet I can look up Abigail Lavalle's date of death, or close to it, and then you could just skip up to there. But..." she frowned. "I don't know. Was she particularly close to your journal-writer? I mean, maybe it's just me, but I wouldn't be too eager to pass off all my super saving-the-world powers to random people that I barely knew. But then, maybe she didn't have a lot of choice."
She turned back to her computer and then paused, Miranda's mention of Mark finally penetrating her thoughts. "Oh, right. About that." She pulled out the container of pills and set them on the table. "I store these in the very back top left of my medicine cabinet - it's behind the mirror. If he's getting frantic and delusional and shaky like he was when I got here today, you can give him two of these."
Giving Miranda a steady look, she added, "They're a mild sedative - they help control symptoms, and he usually goes to sleep once he's had them." She looked over at the boy sleeping on the bed, and her eyes went soft and sad. "I've been trying to get him off that s**t for...it feels like years, but it probably hasn't been more than a few months."
Shaking her head, she got back to the search. Going to her saved pages, she scanned for a few minutes and nodded. "Here we go - she's recorded as having died on April 26th, 1945. That help at all?"
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Posted: Sun Jul 25, 2010 9:34 pm
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The tiger that shouldn't be....is....
"It seemed like they were close." Miranda said, absently flipping through the pages of the journal. "Well, as close as people could be in that time. It seems like everything was just posturing, from all the history books and things. But I think Abigail and Cynthia were close." Cynthia was the name written on the inside of the journal's cover.
She barely glanced at Mark as Cybil spoke, merely nodding and murmuring an affirmative. She'd become engrossed in the journal again. It was rather neat to see the world through someone else's eyes. She read through a few pages then began skipping, flipping through and searching the dates. It was a meticulously well kept journal. "1945.......January, no father......May, too far.....April, that's better.....Now, the 26th....." She spoke to herself as she read.
"Here's the date. Nothing that day though. I expect she probably didn't find out right away, so that's normal." Miranda began carefully reading the pages, falling silent except for the odd "Well that's interesting." Her eyes flickered back and forth across the pages. "Aha! Found it. Here. She wrote that she was devastated to hear of her friend Abigail's death. No one's quite sure of what exactly happened to the girl. Apparently, on her deathbed, she began raving about dark creatures and how she had to fight them, but she was all alone." Miranda read without looking up. "So it's our Abigail, that's for sure."
She began skimming through the pages again, looking. Her brow furrowed. "Huh. That's interesting. Cynthia had a daughter who was born just before Abigail died. She was only a year old. Almost right away after Abigail's death, the little girl began staring at nothing, as if she was seeing something that wasn't there." She paused and looked up at Cybil. "Kinda like you and I do."
The tiger that should be....isn't....
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Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 4:11 pm
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Cybil flinched a little bit at the thought of the child, but nodded slowly. Picking up Mark's rough sketch, she wrote Abigail Lavalle across the top in surprisingly smooth and flowing handwriting - it was even a little on the showy side, with curlicues and a fancy calligraphic style. "So she used the child," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Couldn't get it to sit comfortably on the adult, so she sent it into the little girl who didn't have enough mental buildup to resist it."
She paused, nodded. "And passed it on from there. Good enough. You see any mentions of other friends in there? Other people that Cynthia met through Abigail, or people with young children that she met at the funeral or whatever? Was Abigail married, I wonder," she muttered to herself, and turned back to the computer. "I'll check on that - should be easy enough to find a way into records that old."
Typing, she nodded to herself. "If she was married, or engaged, it's possible that there were relatives. On his side, I mean - she was an only child. Maybe she used them too. No guarantees it was all friends."
She sat back. While waiting for the results to come up, she glanced back at Miranda. "So now we have the past. Still doesn't help us much, does it?"
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