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tamingthemuseTitle : Mahogany
Fandom : original work
Prompt 401 Alter Ego
Warnings : dead people ahead, first draft of a work in progress
Rating : PG13
Summary : it was a case like many others. Except it wasn't.
A/N : that would totally need to be reworked, if only because the continuity is a little bit deficient. Follows the part written for prompt 400 Mahogany.
She led us to some sort of drawing-room, furnished in the cowboy style that was seen so often in ranches over here. Alexander and I took place in a two-place leather couch, while she sat in a velvety armchair.
"Would you like a cup of coffee ?", she offered kindly. We both agreed, the tiredness of our early rise weighting on our eyelids. She made a sign, and a teenage boy, who must have appeared at the door shortly after our entrance, retreated back, probably toward the kitchen.
"I understand something's happened to Agnes, hasn't it ?", she said then, her smile dropping a little.
"Her body has been found earlier today at the Jungle. It appeared she has been murdered", I said gravely.
Her face took a sad expression, but, she didn't look surprised. Most people, upon learning one of their loved ones has been murdered, show surprise in addition to grief. Most people can't figure outright why someone would want to kill their friend or family. Even when presented with a murder and a mobile, they mostly still can't understand why to go so far. The woman in front of us didn't show any sign of surprise ; she had known right away that Agnes' murder was a possibility. She had known a reason for it.
"May I ask you the nature of your relationship to the victim ?", Alexander asked softly. Repressing a sob, the woman replied :
"We've both lived in this community for a few years. I'm Roslyn Massey, and I'm what you can call the intendant of the ranch. You can say Agnes and I were friends, maybe not the closest, but we both shared a mutual respect." She stayed silent for a few seconds, staring sadly at her hands. She looked up when the boy came back with three coffee cup on a plate. He carefully set the plate down on the coffee table, then turned to go out.
"Tobias", Roslyn called. The boy looked over his shoulder.
"Yeah, Rose ?"
"Would you be kind enough to ask Lupita to come over here ? Tell her it's about Agnes."
The boy nodded, then went out of the room. Roslyn looked back at us.
"Lupita Lawson in the owner of this place. I guess you could say she is the head of our community. I think you should talk to her about Agnes. She might be more able to help you than myself."
I nodded, taking one of the cup in my hands. Those were fine cups, the kind you could see in the movies about Regency England. I felt out of place, drinking coffee in fine china in the middle of a southern ranch.
"Tell us about Agnes", I said after having taken a sip. "We've learned she worked at the local gym, but did she have any kind of hobby ?"
"Well, she was really involved in the local zen association. She didn't work for the gym per se. The association merely rented space there for yoga classes and other meditation seances. She also gave tai-chi lessons in the park during summer. Other than that, she mostly kept to the ranch. She is – was – one of those who use the painting studio in the old grange. She liked to party, though. She didn't go out very often, but she enjoyed the occasional night out. That's why she was at the Jungle yesterday. She had had a stressing week, and she wanted to relax a bit."
Roslyn lowered her eyes on her cup, her expression reflecting the sadness she felt by reminiscing the habits of her now-deceased friend. The room became silent for a few seconds. Neither of us wanted to rush the woman in front of us. That's a part of the job that I really don't like: sometimes you have to hurry grieving people in order to get information, even if you know you're hurting them further. Today, though, we hadn't had to, when the boy came back in the room, with a tall woman of Latin ethnicity. We both knew who she was, since she was quite known in town, but she introduced herself nonetheless with the sharp assurance of someone used to be in charge.
"I'm Lupita Lawson, the head of the community. I've understood you're here to talk about Agnes ?"
Alexander and I stood up when she entered, and each of us shook her hand when she offered it, introducing ourselves too. We then sat down, and Lupita took an another armchair, next to Roslyn's. She exchanged a look with her. Some infomations seemed to be passing between the two, something we weren't privy about. It only lasted for a few second before Lupita put her attention back on us.
"Has something happened to Agnes ?", she asked again.
"Yes. I'm afraid she had been killed last night", Alexander replied gravely.
Lupita didn't flinch. Her steady gaze never faltered.
"How did it happen?", she asked, her voice soft, but firm.
"She's been stabbed in the bathroom", Alexander continued. "It looks like it was premeditated."
Lupita took the time to process the information. Roslyn casted her a look. I could have swear I saw fear flickered in her eyes for a second or two.
"Can you tell me if she had any ennemies ?", I asked.
"None that I know of", Lupita replied. "Agnes was a nice woman. She had a lot of friends in the community, and she was well integrated in the town social life. Everybody liked her."
That's what most people said when one of their loved ones die. And yet, people keep being killed by other people, even when "everybody liked them". Sometimes it's because their relatives don't dare to tell us everything, orsimply don't think about it. Sometimes, it's because even their closest friends didn't know everything about them. It's always surprising to see how many "normal" people have a darker alter ego that only their death could reveal.
A few questions after, we were out of the ranch. Lupita and Roslyn had been perfectly civil with us, but I had that nagging feeling they weren't telling us the whole truth. There was something in Roslyn's behaviour that told me she knew what had happened. Lupita had stayed strong, but I could tell from her looks that she knew Roslyn was giving something away unwillingly.
There was something fishy with that ranch, after all.
Fandom : original work
Prompt 401 Alter Ego
Warnings : dead people ahead, first draft of a work in progress
Rating : PG13
Summary : it was a case like many others. Except it wasn't.
A/N : that would totally need to be reworked, if only because the continuity is a little bit deficient. Follows the part written for prompt 400 Mahogany.
She led us to some sort of drawing-room, furnished in the cowboy style that was seen so often in ranches over here. Alexander and I took place in a two-place leather couch, while she sat in a velvety armchair.
"Would you like a cup of coffee ?", she offered kindly. We both agreed, the tiredness of our early rise weighting on our eyelids. She made a sign, and a teenage boy, who must have appeared at the door shortly after our entrance, retreated back, probably toward the kitchen.
"I understand something's happened to Agnes, hasn't it ?", she said then, her smile dropping a little.
"Her body has been found earlier today at the Jungle. It appeared she has been murdered", I said gravely.
Her face took a sad expression, but, she didn't look surprised. Most people, upon learning one of their loved ones has been murdered, show surprise in addition to grief. Most people can't figure outright why someone would want to kill their friend or family. Even when presented with a murder and a mobile, they mostly still can't understand why to go so far. The woman in front of us didn't show any sign of surprise ; she had known right away that Agnes' murder was a possibility. She had known a reason for it.
"May I ask you the nature of your relationship to the victim ?", Alexander asked softly. Repressing a sob, the woman replied :
"We've both lived in this community for a few years. I'm Roslyn Massey, and I'm what you can call the intendant of the ranch. You can say Agnes and I were friends, maybe not the closest, but we both shared a mutual respect." She stayed silent for a few seconds, staring sadly at her hands. She looked up when the boy came back with three coffee cup on a plate. He carefully set the plate down on the coffee table, then turned to go out.
"Tobias", Roslyn called. The boy looked over his shoulder.
"Yeah, Rose ?"
"Would you be kind enough to ask Lupita to come over here ? Tell her it's about Agnes."
The boy nodded, then went out of the room. Roslyn looked back at us.
"Lupita Lawson in the owner of this place. I guess you could say she is the head of our community. I think you should talk to her about Agnes. She might be more able to help you than myself."
I nodded, taking one of the cup in my hands. Those were fine cups, the kind you could see in the movies about Regency England. I felt out of place, drinking coffee in fine china in the middle of a southern ranch.
"Tell us about Agnes", I said after having taken a sip. "We've learned she worked at the local gym, but did she have any kind of hobby ?"
"Well, she was really involved in the local zen association. She didn't work for the gym per se. The association merely rented space there for yoga classes and other meditation seances. She also gave tai-chi lessons in the park during summer. Other than that, she mostly kept to the ranch. She is – was – one of those who use the painting studio in the old grange. She liked to party, though. She didn't go out very often, but she enjoyed the occasional night out. That's why she was at the Jungle yesterday. She had had a stressing week, and she wanted to relax a bit."
Roslyn lowered her eyes on her cup, her expression reflecting the sadness she felt by reminiscing the habits of her now-deceased friend. The room became silent for a few seconds. Neither of us wanted to rush the woman in front of us. That's a part of the job that I really don't like: sometimes you have to hurry grieving people in order to get information, even if you know you're hurting them further. Today, though, we hadn't had to, when the boy came back in the room, with a tall woman of Latin ethnicity. We both knew who she was, since she was quite known in town, but she introduced herself nonetheless with the sharp assurance of someone used to be in charge.
"I'm Lupita Lawson, the head of the community. I've understood you're here to talk about Agnes ?"
Alexander and I stood up when she entered, and each of us shook her hand when she offered it, introducing ourselves too. We then sat down, and Lupita took an another armchair, next to Roslyn's. She exchanged a look with her. Some infomations seemed to be passing between the two, something we weren't privy about. It only lasted for a few second before Lupita put her attention back on us.
"Has something happened to Agnes ?", she asked again.
"Yes. I'm afraid she had been killed last night", Alexander replied gravely.
Lupita didn't flinch. Her steady gaze never faltered.
"How did it happen?", she asked, her voice soft, but firm.
"She's been stabbed in the bathroom", Alexander continued. "It looks like it was premeditated."
Lupita took the time to process the information. Roslyn casted her a look. I could have swear I saw fear flickered in her eyes for a second or two.
"Can you tell me if she had any ennemies ?", I asked.
"None that I know of", Lupita replied. "Agnes was a nice woman. She had a lot of friends in the community, and she was well integrated in the town social life. Everybody liked her."
That's what most people said when one of their loved ones die. And yet, people keep being killed by other people, even when "everybody liked them". Sometimes it's because their relatives don't dare to tell us everything, orsimply don't think about it. Sometimes, it's because even their closest friends didn't know everything about them. It's always surprising to see how many "normal" people have a darker alter ego that only their death could reveal.
A few questions after, we were out of the ranch. Lupita and Roslyn had been perfectly civil with us, but I had that nagging feeling they weren't telling us the whole truth. There was something in Roslyn's behaviour that told me she knew what had happened. Lupita had stayed strong, but I could tell from her looks that she knew Roslyn was giving something away unwillingly.
There was something fishy with that ranch, after all.
