[yeko holds up her phone as ptolemais approaches, screen reflecting light like she's using morse code.]
A joke? [she steps forward to meet her halfway, a playful smile on her lips.] I'm easy to spot because I'm pretty. You ready to go look at bodies? They're starting to smell, so we should hurry. I'll text Embry.
[on the way to the scene of the first crime, yeko is chatty. she has an air of easy confidence, and she's a fast walker. if she notices she's a few steps ahead of her new company, she pauses with a glance over her shoulder.]
(Ptolemais's eyebrows raise but she doesn't dispute this claim — or the harsh juxtaposition of it to the follow up question.) No, (she says honestly.) I hope I never am ready to go look at dead bodies. C'mon.
(Where Yeko likes to fill the silence Ptolemais is stiffer, more awkward, her arms across her chest — but she's listening, following the entire time. Nodding, even though Yeko can't see her when she's stepped ahead.
A break in the chat allows her to supply,) After. Just after, I — woke up and it was on fire.
[easy for her to say when she was an animal first and instincts linger at the forefront of her mind before her sentimental side begins to creep in. yeko is selectively sentimental, but she can't deny that with age, she's had more fun with connections than without.]
This is big for you then, isn't it? [they reach the scene of paul first. she gives some pause, holds her arm out in front of ptolemais to stop her.] Try not to touch anything with your sticky fingers.
[a grin, a tiny joke as she tiptoes around the scene.]
(Ptolemais has tried to look at bodies like she once looked at dead cows or sheep but it's harder for her. Trying to detach the person from the meat doesn't work like it did when she had a knife in her hand and the Reverend's instruction in her ear.
Now, for example, when she sees Paul she freezes up for just a moment, a quick stall out before she pushes through and comes closer by careful steps—
She presses her nose into her elbow. They are starting to smell.)
Fuck that. (Dying like this, that is. Muffled,) Do you want me to do anything or just — moral support.
[yeko came more prepared, reaching into her pocket to grab a handkerchief to press to her nose and mouth as she leans in closer to paul's body.]
Moral support? [she shoots a glare in ptolemais' direction, then makes a vague motion to the rest of the scene.] Look for anything that looks similar. One killer for all of this? I doubt, but it's possible.
Maybe they don't attack individually. Maybe they do it in the pack. (She's still got her nose jammed into the crook of her arm but she starts to look, squinting her eyes for a moment, trying to blur out the body, turn it into something else so it's easier to examine.
Her verdict?) This is insane. None of us are forensic scientists. Do any of us know what the fuck we're doing?
Edited (do you ever forget for a second your character literally despises true crime anything) 2025-10-16 00:40 (UTC)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
A joke? [she steps forward to meet her halfway, a playful smile on her lips.] I'm easy to spot because I'm pretty. You ready to go look at bodies? They're starting to smell, so we should hurry. I'll text Embry.
[on the way to the scene of the first crime, yeko is chatty. she has an air of easy confidence, and she's a fast walker. if she notices she's a few steps ahead of her new company, she pauses with a glance over her shoulder.]
Were you here before the house burned, or after?
no subject
(Where Yeko likes to fill the silence Ptolemais is stiffer, more awkward, her arms across her chest — but she's listening, following the entire time. Nodding, even though Yeko can't see her when she's stepped ahead.
A break in the chat allows her to supply,) After. Just after, I — woke up and it was on fire.
no subject
[easy for her to say when she was an animal first and instincts linger at the forefront of her mind before her sentimental side begins to creep in. yeko is selectively sentimental, but she can't deny that with age, she's had more fun with connections than without.]
This is big for you then, isn't it? [they reach the scene of paul first. she gives some pause, holds her arm out in front of ptolemais to stop her.] Try not to touch anything with your sticky fingers.
[a grin, a tiny joke as she tiptoes around the scene.]
no subject
(Ptolemais has tried to look at bodies like she once looked at dead cows or sheep but it's harder for her. Trying to detach the person from the meat doesn't work like it did when she had a knife in her hand and the Reverend's instruction in her ear.
Now, for example, when she sees Paul she freezes up for just a moment, a quick stall out before she pushes through and comes closer by careful steps—
She presses her nose into her elbow. They are starting to smell.)
Fuck that. (Dying like this, that is. Muffled,) Do you want me to do anything or just — moral support.
no subject
Moral support? [she shoots a glare in ptolemais' direction, then makes a vague motion to the rest of the scene.] Look for anything that looks similar. One killer for all of this? I doubt, but it's possible.
no subject
Maybe they don't attack individually. Maybe they do it in the pack. (She's still got her nose jammed into the crook of her arm but she starts to look, squinting her eyes for a moment, trying to blur out the body, turn it into something else so it's easier to examine.
Her verdict?) This is insane. None of us are forensic scientists. Do any of us know what the fuck we're doing?