Wisteriaa
eunoia
"๐๐ก๐๐ซ๐ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐ง ๐๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ข๐จ๐ง -- ๐ข๐ญ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐ ๐๐จ๐จ๐ ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ฏ๐ข๐ฅ"
Lillian Moore | 32 | Detective
Lillian had a happy childhood. Two supportive parents. A tight-knit group of friends. She was an ambitious young girl and always strived to do her best. She graduated from high school with top marks and hopes to discover the world. She went to university for a bachelorโs degree in criminology and soon joined the cityโs law enforcement agency. She was eager to prove herself in the agency, already having struck up an excellent reputation as an astute detective. Alas, the word of a bright rookie detective must have made certain people unhappy. When Lillian came home one night, a bloody note was tacked onto her door. More notes followed full of threats. She didnโt take them seriously, deeming them ignorant jokes. It was a mistake that she would continue to regret for the rest of her life. She could remember the exact date of when it happened. December 18th. 9:37 pm. Woodsrow St. She had gone to visit her parents for the holidays. Two unmoving bodies on the floor. Blood spattered everywhere. A taunting message written in unruly handwriting on the wall. It was still imprinted in the back of Lillianโs mind every day. A simmering rage grew inside of her ever since that day. She swore to herself that she would catch who murdered her parents. She didnโt care how long it would take. No more mistakes. It had been two years since the murder. She hasnโt stopped searching. Alongside her other cases, a special portion of her evidence board is reserved for her own personal investigation. For her parentsโ murderer.
Lillian had a happy childhood. Two supportive parents. A tight-knit group of friends. She was an ambitious young girl and always strived to do her best. She graduated from high school with top marks and hopes to discover the world. She went to university for a bachelorโs degree in criminology and soon joined the cityโs law enforcement agency. She was eager to prove herself in the agency, already having struck up an excellent reputation as an astute detective. Alas, the word of a bright rookie detective must have made certain people unhappy. When Lillian came home one night, a bloody note was tacked onto her door. More notes followed full of threats. She didnโt take them seriously, deeming them ignorant jokes. It was a mistake that she would continue to regret for the rest of her life. She could remember the exact date of when it happened. December 18th. 9:37 pm. Woodsrow St. She had gone to visit her parents for the holidays. Two unmoving bodies on the floor. Blood spattered everywhere. A taunting message written in unruly handwriting on the wall. It was still imprinted in the back of Lillianโs mind every day. A simmering rage grew inside of her ever since that day. She swore to herself that she would catch who murdered her parents. She didnโt care how long it would take. No more mistakes. It had been two years since the murder. She hasnโt stopped searching. Alongside her other cases, a special portion of her evidence board is reserved for her own personal investigation. For her parentsโ murderer.
Lillian had grown to
hate the evidence board in her office. It jeered at her, mocking her for her inability to connect the scattered dots and solve this wretched case. The photos, the newspaper articles, the interview transcripts, they all laughed at her. She placed her wire-rimmed glasses gently down on her desk, massaging her eyelids. She didnโt know how much time had passed since she had stared at her board, manifesting something to spark in her mind. A connection. A sudden lead. Anything. The case was frustrating, to say the least. The criminal was smart, knowing not to leave much evidence behind. It aggravated her that she was getting stumped. It seemed like whenever she had caught onto something, they were just one step ahead of her. As one of the most well-respected detectives in the agency, she hated the feeling of being useless. She placed her glasses back on her nose, clenching her fists tightly against her sides. There must be something she had overlooked. Some piece of evidence. She just needed to find something she could latch onto. Something to motivate her to keep on going. Her calculating, cold eyes scanned the board, trailing down her notes and scribbles.There. She stood up from her spot on top of her desk and approached her board, her hands shakily taking down one of the small notes she had tacked onto it. She had dismissed its information, deeming it irrelevant. In small handwriting, she had printed โThe Aquila. Well known nightclub. Suspicious activity.โ It seemed like such a small detail. Who knew if the criminal she had been tracking down for several months knew about it. How insane was she to head to this nightclub because of its โsuspicious activityโ? โAll in the name of justiceโ she scoffed slightly. She was ready to take her chances. Something was better than nothing.
โ
Lillian regretted not bringing a weapon with her as soon as she entered the nightclub. She hated feeling vulnerable but knew that if she wanted to keep up her image as a regular party goer, her usual office wear would not be suitable and more prone to suspicion. She smoothed out the short navy blue dress she adorned, glancing around the room. The music booming from the speakers gave her a headache. There was a flurry of colors and people. No sort of organization. Pure chaos. She hated it already. Striking her position away from the horde of people in the center, she leaned against the wall, eyes carefully watching the other clubbers. Nothing seemed weird so far. It seemed like any normal nightclub, filled with tipsy people dancing, the occasional make-out in the corner, and a roar coming from a group of people playing some sort of drinking game. She bit her lip in frustration, her patience waning thin. Her fingers nervously played with some of her loose strands of dark brown hair anxiously.
