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Joseph
"Good job, man," Joseph shot to Thaddeus and slammed the boy back into the wall.

"Next time you pull something like that, we won't be so friendly. You see, a little while ago, we came across... a bit of a conflict. Girl, around your age got cut up. Now, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, right?" He looked back at the boy, who was evidently afraid. Something felt... off. If this kid was the killer, then why would the only weapon he had be a letter opener? In fact, if he was as deliberate as Joseph believed, then he would know a letter opener wouldn't do much. They found the murder weapon at the crime scene, sure, but why would the killer not dispose of it? Why leave it where anyone could find it?

It wasn't any substantial evidence, but Joseph had reasonable doubt. Still, though, he thought he might as well milk the suspect for information as much as he could- the kid had the scarf, so he had to be at the crime scene at some point. Someone please play good cop, Someone PLEASE play good cop! I feel like an asshole right now.

As much as Joseph hated acting like this, especially to someone who might not be the right guy, he knew he had to play the part- after all, if he didn't play the big, dumb, brawny American, he knew he didn't offer much to the rest of the group.

Joseph continued his questions, but a little calmer. "I have three questions, and I want answers. Give me the answers I want and you'll have nothing to worry about. One- what's your name? Two- where have you been the past half hour? And three- you're paying attention, right? Three- why are you running?" He didn't know how much the runner would answer, but he planned on taking the kid to the authorities anyway. If he couldn't terrorize an answer out of the kid, they could anyways.

Joseph only wished that he could have stayed in the saloon a little longer- most of what they knew about the victim was conjecture. Had they waited a little, they could've gotten the fruits of Giselle's questioning, which would, at the very least, help with the interrogation. But time was of the essence, and know they were in the blue. He only hoped that they were doing better over there.


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Gabriel allowed himself another smile, quite pleased about the fact that his charisma wasn't entirely rusty. "Of course. Then let us make sure everything is in perfect order for tomorrow," he nodded. "By the way, would you mind telling me who the gentleman you mentioned was?" The question was asked in a light, conversational tone, although Gabriel was particularly eager to know that, because anyone who longed for the automaton enough to pay its likely sky-high price was a suspect. This exhibition sounded like a plan for tomorrow, especially if other masterpieces would also be on display. Perhaps some of them would show similiarities with the muse, or bear the same symbol... If not, he was still going to enjoy the hell out of it.

He was just about to insert himself back into the backstage area, when the door opened and one of the policemen appeared. Ushering them in, he informed that the Lady had requested his presence. That was a pleasant surprise for Gabriel, because the man could only be referring to Bryony Byng, which meant that regardless of the personal grudge she might have held against him, she had supported him in professional matters. Contrary to his earlier concerns, he was starting to believe they could actually work together, which felt... nice.

"....Both were killed after dark, though beyond the method of murder, the fact that they were both young women and the time of day, we can't find anything that links them," the coroner was saying just as they entered; the words almost made Gabriel drop Sir William. "There were two other victims with missing vocal chords??!!" he blurted out, the urgency in his voice almost making him seem too eager. There was a visible change in him as things suddenly fell into place in his mind, he hurriedly crossed the room to join up with Krishna, Bryony and the officials. "Listen, all of this is about the automaton."

How could he make it as obvious for them as it was for him? He took a deep breath, then another, attempting to slow his thinking. "When I opened the automaton," he began from the start, "I was half-expecting to simply be reproducing sound in a very elaborate way. But it appears to be, in fact, creating it. To invent something as groundbreaking... or merely to reproduce it..." He run a hand through his long hair, recollecting his own trials and errors. Sir William was the first half-mechanical animal, but definitely not the first one Gabriel had tried to create. Not by far. "You would need detailed knowledge of human anatomy, of a level that cannot be achieved by studying books. You would need to observe the actual organ - multiple times, if your first idea about how to recreate it has not worked out." A theory was developing as he spoke, perhaps as crazy as only he could come up with, but entirely plausible.

"Now imagine a scenario," he addressed his colleagues, "in which you are a passionate, if not very talented inventor, and suddenly Jacques Brunfeld, a previously unknown clockmaker, creates something you have strived to create for years, stealing your rightful fame. Perhaps it had even been you who initially gave him the idea, and he had perfected it. Stolen it. In an act of revenge, you murder him, but now there is nobody who knows the secret of the invention. But you still need to achieve your own breakthrough, and so you kill a random, poor woman in hopes that her vocal chords will help you crack the secret. They do not. Maybe she was too old. You take another, younger one, and when you are unsuccesful yet again, you still refuse to blame your own lack of skill. You grow bolder in your desperation, killing a singer - her voice is superior, surely you will succeed now. But..." he made a dramatical pause, "it might not end there. If you fail again, you might be in need of vocal chords that belong to the best singer in France. Or maybe the problem is that they are lifeless now. Maybe you need to kidnap a victim alive and try to open her throat so skillfully she doesn't immediately die and you can observe how the organ behaves as she tries to scream. We need a list of everyone in the city even remotely capable of creating an authomaton of this scale, particulary those who might have worked with Brunfeld or known him."

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The boy didn't struggle, but when he turned his face the lamplight illuminated shining tear tracks down his cheeks. He choked when Joseph mentioned the girl.
"I-I know her...I was there, but please believe me, I didn't kill her!...why would I kill Marie?"

Thaddeus slunk into the shadows and shifted into his human form unseen. He came back, brows knit, looking into the youth's face: he was struggling to keep tears in check, but he was losing that battle, still he spoke with a broken voice.
"My name is Mattieu. Mattieu Dubois, my family owns the boulangerie down the road...I was there. I went to visit Marie before her performance. Like I do every night, to wish her luck. She leaves the window open for me...but tonight, when I came to climb up, I saw a shadow pass in front of the window, and then a noise, like something hitting the floor. I pushed open the window...and I found Marie there, her throat was...Oh Dieu she is dead!"

The baker's son covered his face and couldn't say more, his grief finally taking over.
"I think he's telling the truth." Thaddeus said softly as the youth cried. The look on the boy's face was fearful, but empty, despairing. Thaddeus recognized that look, because he had worn something akin five years ago...

His heart went out to the boy, but they couldn't defy the law. He had been at the scene of the crime. He was a suspect.
"I..ran," Mattieu continued through tears, "because I knew, if they found me in the room, there would be no hope for me. No one would believe I did not kill her."
Thaddeus looked at Joseph, his eyes full of sympathy for the boy. They had to turn him in, but Thaddeus knew as well as he did, once the boy was in police custody, only irrefutable proof of innocence would get him out again.

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- Krishna -

It was difficult not to be cowed in the presence of a clearly timeless and powerful individual such as the woman now saturating the space in the room in which they stood. He hadn't even noticed her come in. It was as though one moment he'd been about to grill the coroner about the similar murders of other women around Paris when the subtle, fresh scent of lavender and rainfall whiffed by, and then she was there in all her noble glory. Immediately, she had a handle on the situation, and Krishna tried not to let the relief sag his shoulders. He had no worry that he would not be able to ascertain the information their team needed, but there was always that dull anxiety that he would miss something. Like leaving one's home and worrying they'd left behind their wallet.

In fact, Krishna had been in the process of swiftly checking his pockets for his identification issued by The Order when the coroner stated his identification would not be required. He somehow knew who they were. A connection with The Order, perhaps? Krishna decided not to waste time over-analyzing. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, in his firm but whispery voice, "this is the second time you've seen this machine? When and where have you seen it before? When you first discovered the inventor?"

A search around his pockets resumed, and after a few moments he produced a notebook of paper and a graphite pencil, with which he proceeded to take very swift notes. He annotated what his companions had said about the murder scene, and his own speculations.
Outside, he could vaguely hear the remnants of the conversation between the man--he caught his name was Mr. Gabriel Gladstone--and the theatre manager; Mr. Gladstone was certainly doing a convincing job of landing himself out of hot water, and soon after, as per the Lady's request, Mr. Gladstone was brought back into the room to join them. Krishna was swift in taking down the brilliant observations made by the somewhat quirky inventor.

After a few more quick notes, Krishna nodded to the Lady, then knelt next to the body again and continued his interrogation of the coroner.
"Do you mean to tell me that the mother and the laundress both had such neat incisions into their neck which allowed the killer access to remove their vocal cords? There were no other witnesses to these murders?" He delicately picked up the victim's wrist and examined her nails for any signs of self-defense, then very, very carefully felt to the back of her head for any other signs of violence. Mercifully, his thick black gloves came away clean.
He lifted his head to face the coroner once more. "You said that there have been four murders of this nature, but we only know of three. Was the first the inventor? Or is there another victim?" He slowly rose to his feet, producing a kerchief from his suit and wiping down his gloves, the choking smell of blood like molasses in his throat. "And if they were not killed in the same manner, how can you be certain they are connected to these particular murders?"

His eyes flashed to Gabriel as he said, "Perhaps we might also request a list of some of the more renowned singers in Paris. I'm sure Miss Laurent will be the expert in that category."

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Margaret Bowles
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Location Away from salon
CompanySuspect chase, group (Tad, Michael, Lilith, Clem, Joseph)
Tags SilverFlight SilverFlight ADarkAndStormyNight ADarkAndStormyNight
So the chase was on. She was thankful for Thaddeus catching the scent, and remaining on it. The streets were not familiar to Margaret, and between the others, she wasn't sure if they would be able to navigate if not for the wolf.

Finally catching the boy, the wolf managed to snag the kid by his wrist and Joseph came in swift to press him against the wall. Margaret took in his sight, her eye glancing on the scarf, and then to the cloth in her hand. He was no doubt the one from the window, but there was no blood on him-- as far as she could tell. She bit her lip, trying to put the pieces together. Was it a dead-end, pursuing him? Would he know anything?

She glanced down to the letter opener on the ground, frowning. She looked back up at the boy. A wimpish thing, no way capable of the severity to the girl's body.

The boy explained his name, Mattieu Dubois, and some semblance of an explanation. He saw a shadow by the window, and fled. Although he did not commit the murder, he did have an alarming sight that no one else at the scene would. His time was valuable, although it was right to turn him to the police. Margaret could only sigh, adjusting her skirts. "Thank you Mr. Lassiter, I do believe you've shaken him up enough." She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to back away from the boy. His severity could only be explained as American, of course. It was a bold sight to see, and well, it got the job done.

"Do not worry Mr. Dubois, We believe you did not kill her," Maggie said, bending a sympathetic head. He was not terribly young, but the motherly heart in her turned at the genuine quality of his tears. That, and she had known what it was like to lose someone close. She knew those around her did as well.

"Though, if you can entertain me just a moment longer, we'll take you back with no trouble, and will fight for your innocence. This shadow you saw, Mattieu. Did you hear anything? Smell anything? I need you to go back, to remember if you saw anything else. Even if it was before you came to the window. If there was anything, even something small, out of place, we need to know."
 

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Michael O'Sullivan

The cat ran through the streets with the others chasing after their suspect. He found the entire ordeal irritating, and when they cornered the poor boy he only sat nearby in the shadows to watch the others. He was pressed against a wall by one of the others. One of the humans... he shivered, disliking being so close to so many of their kind. At least, without the joy of being able to cause them misfortune and mischief anyway.

The werebeast almost made his night more enjoyable and the thought of watching him tear into the frightened boy almost made him smile. Almost. Unfortunately it was not to be, for his bestial instincts were reigned in just in time, after he nearly laughed at the boys foolish attempt to try and assault one of them with a letter opener of all things. It would have ended poorly, and he almost wished he had gotten the chance to see it. He leaped up onto a nearby crate, his tail twitching in annoyance as the others continued their interrogation. Quickly they realized that he really was just some foolish boy, not at all the person they were after. That particular bit of information was the most irritating. It meant he had tagged along on this nonsense for absolutely no reason aside from not having to deal with mortal authorities. Issuing several unhappy cat noises, he dropped from the crate and stretched , waiting nearby for the others to finish their task.

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Mattieu regarded the woman with slightly less fear than he had Joseph or Thaddeus. He tried to think back.
"I...heard...a clicking sound, I did not recognize it, coming from the room. There was no one else in the alley...The shadow...it did not look big, at first I thought it could have been Marie."

Thaddeus thought back: "The weapon very likely came from a place like a kitchen, perhaps the salon's very own, it was intricate, inlaid with silver, and likely very expensive. This youth, a baker's son, would not be able to afford such a knife, and if he is believed, he was not in the building until after it all happened. If our murderer had used the window, Mattieu would have seen them, which would mean the killer must have been in the building already."

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The coroner listened to Gabriel intently.
"That is quite a lot to take in." Still, he summoned one of the officers and bade him make the list requested, all the inventors that could rival Brunfeld currently in Paris.

To Krishna the coroner nodded. "Both the other women had cuts precisely like these, in the same place, done in the same way. There is hardly a millimeter different in placement. The first murder was indeed the inventor, but he was not killed with cuts to the throat, he was strangled I believe. There were no lacerations."
The coroner thought about Krishna's last question.
"I can't be certain." He admitted, "but the inventor's workshop was where his body was found, and where the muse was standing, just before they brought it here. I don't think it is a coincidence that one of the singers of this establishment was attacked, and the MO links the other two cases too. It is just a feeling."
At the request of the list of prominent singers, the coroner added that to the tasks.
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((I will move the story along tomorrow))
 
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"I believe we will need to see the workshop tomorrow. Not only because of the murder. His notes can give us some clues about who he might have been working with, and about the development of this invention," Gabriel said, calmer now that he had made his point. Naturally, part of him was excited to visit the workshop for purely selfish reasons. He still wished to understand how could a mere clockmaker suddenly come up with a breakthrough as amazing as the Muse. Would he be able to track his progress from what was left in the workshop, or would he discover something sudden, alarming and entirely unexpected? Perhaps there would even be first drafts of other, similar machines that the inventor didn't have time to complete...

Mindful of his promise to fix everything, Gabriel moved back to the automaton and began to fasten the neck panel, easily tightening the tiny screws. It wasn't even a little bent around the edges. But as he was about to put the other, larger piece of metal back where it belonged, he paused for a moment. If the automaton was given such a precise voice box and lungs, could it be possible that the rest of its internal workings was given a similar attention? "There is one more thing I would like to check," he informed everyone in the room before carefully removing another panel on the automaton's back, which would enable him to see into its stomach. As he did so, his eyes fell again on the hem of the dress, spattered with blood. Of course, he had noticed it before, but inspecting the voice box seemed more urgent than wondering about blood stains.

"Monsieurs," he asked curiously, addressing primarily the coroner and the police members, "would you say that the skirt of this automaton could have gotten stained if it had been in this exact position at the time of murder, or would it have needed to be closer?" Gabriel himself wasn't sure where he was aiming with that, but something about it bothered him.

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Joseph
Joseph was more than happy to release the boy as he felt Margaret's hand on his shoulder- and he flashed her a solemn smile, stepping away from the boy, leaving her to get information from him. His only contribution at the moment was to offer the young boy a hankerchief, that he could use to wipe away his tears.

He also noticed that bastard demon acting up and about- if he had not taken the form of a cat, Joseph would try to kick it. Asshole has it coming regardless. I still don't know why we're even letting demons in. It's not like he's done anything yet... except piss me off. It was quite obvious to anyone who could see inside Joseph's head that he was now at the point in his baseless and unreasonable dislike for someone where he'll pick any small thing that person does, and use it as an excuse to further this hate. That is, in fact, incredibly unhealthy, but Joseph hadn't quite caught on to that yet. At least everyone else is nice.

In all honesty, Joseph felt awful for the boy- who's fear certainly had to be increased by the aggression shot his way. What the kid said was right- he would be the number one suspect. Hell, they thought he was guilty until minutes ago. He wasn't a fan of the police at all, and here in France, he knew the kid might not stand a chance against the cruelty of law. He looked back at the kid.

"We're not exactly police, but something a little close- we'll do everything we can to catch whoever killed Marie. You need to trust us- the best way we can prove your innocence is to get as complete as possible story from you. Everything- from when you left your house, to when we caught you. You can take as long as you'd like, but it'll help us out immensely. But let me get a quick sidebar with my party first, so you have time to collect yourself."

Joseph motioned to his other party members, requesting them to step out of view- to a place shadowy enough they could potentially transform or speak, without arising suspician and fear from the boy.

"After all of this, there's still the question of whether to give him to the authorities. I'm not willing to, I honestly don't trust policemen all too much, and I think he'll be more help outside of bars- he is the only witness after all. But I'm leaving it up to you all."

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The coroner turned to examine the automaton.
"I am not an expert, I am afraid I cannot answer that, but we will have our blood spatter analyst in tomorrow, I can get you an answer by then."
He turned to the group, and, with a respectful bow of his head to Lady Byng, he addressed them.
"If you have quite finished, I have work to do, monsieurs, madame et madmoiselles, a good evening to you."
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Thaddeus agreed wholeheartedly with Joseph, but he was frowning deeply.
"Letting him go would be against the Order's code...we have to abide by the laws of this country...however, if we can convince them that the boy is key to our own investigation, we might be able to take him back to the Order headquarters near the center of the city. It will take administration at least 24 hours to process the paperwork that would release him to the police."
It was purchased time, but it was time he would not have to spend in a holding cell, the Order was secure, he would be in a locked room, but it would be a furnished room, away from undesirables that may wish an innocent youth harm.
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~*~*~

The end of the evening saw the team back together. Mattieu had put up no resistance, and it took all of Thaddeus' charm and skills of persuasion to get the police to release the boy into their custody while they filed a formal request of transfer with the Order's supervisors. For once, bureaucracy was on their side.

The Order Paris HQ was actually a series of buildings, scattered throughout the centreville: Currently, their lodgings had been granted in a small chateau just on the outskirts of the Jardins de Tuilleries. This place had previously been a stable and coach house for the palace, but was now converted into quite and elegant living space for at least 80 odd people. It was only two floors, and the building surrounded a large open courtyard in the center, with a lush garden. The great palace at the front of the massive royal garden was dim, standing as a ghostly remnant of recently dead glory. It was said the Napoleon had plans for the palace and the royal garden, but for now, the tiny chateau had escaped most of the chaos (likely thanks in no small part to some of the Order's spectral members) due to a distinct air of malevolence. In actual fact it was a ward, and a glamour woven in too, the chateau looked empty from any view on the street or from the garden, but within the barrier, there were lights and laughter, good food and most important: safety.

The courtyard's garden was in full leaf and spring flowers were just coming into bloom. Cherry trees littered the white stone pathways with blushing petals and candles illuminated the walkways alongside dancing blue fairy lights, a gift from the Fae Court in the area.
In the open workshop to one side someone was experimenting with ghost fire under the supervision of the wispy apparition of an old roman scholar. The kitchen was just beside that, where a large stone bread oven glowed hot through the window and brought with it the most wonderful smell of baking bread. To Thaddeus' surprise, the baker was actually a domovoy. How a slavic house spirit had wound up baking for the Order in Paris was a story he desperately wanted to hear, but for now, there were more urgent matters.

The team had been asked to gather in the garden to discuss what they had learned.
Thaddeus came to them with two trays of tea, pots, cups and a few pastries from the kitchen.
He began to serve them diligently.
"Let's go over what we have learned so far." He offered as he poured out cups for them.

The boy had been given one of the rooms on the second floor and was under guard. Thaddeus knew he was going to be reprimanded for bringing the youth, memory erasure potions were costly to make, but the look of gratitude on Mattieu's face had been worth it.

Thaddeus had been much more timid than usual since they had run down the youth. His near mistake in biting the lad had clearly rattled him, and he nearly dropped the teapot on one occasion, getting hot tea on his coat. He set the pot down and withdrew a dark green handkerchief to try and dry the spot carefully.

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Gabriel was fully prepared to start judging the French HQ the minute they entered the premises, but his initial scepticism quickly turned into awe. The lovely chateu was completely protected from outsiders, yet full of life in all its shapes and forms, and it looked incredibly bright and welcoming - much like everything in Paris he'd seen so far. Most of his fellow Englishmen considered the French incredibly snotty, which seemed quite funny, considering that their own HQ in London could be best described as an exceedingly strict boarding school from the Tudor times... or a cloister. Neither mental image evoked a cheerful atmosphere, but here in France, the overall impression was that everyone was taking joy in their cooperation and the alchymistic, magical and scientific discoveries they were working on. The one thing that surprised him, though, was the number of present ghosts and other apparitions; he had yet to meet any that could be conversed with rather than banished. After all, life after death was another thing science had great interest in and couldn't quite crack.

To his disappointment, their team was confined to the garden; surely in some circles, that would be considered rude? But, he supposed, it was as good a place to sit as any, and the weather wasn't too cold. As soon as Taddeaus emerged with refreshments, Gabriel swiftly scored a croissant and something with fruit on top that was entirely new to him, frowing at the tea. "Don't they have wine?" he inquired, longingly thinking of the champaigne they had left behind in the salon. "I am certain they must have some wine. This is France!" Too bad that Thaddeus had been the one to communicate with the locals; he seemed way too timid to ask for alcohol - even though he actually looked like he would benefit from a glass or two. Or ten. Gabriel had to wonder whether something had happened during the night hunt, or whether this was the man's natural state. That would be truly unfortunate, a shy werewolf.

"Anyhow, as for our investigation," he continued, because no one else seemed eager to take the first bite of the cake, "the local authorities informed us that today's murder was in fact the third of its kind. Two other young women have been killed in the same manner recently, their vocal chords removed with the same precision. A young mother and a laundress, probably a random choice. Today's victim, apparently, was a star singer of the salon. This seems to be in direct connection with the automaton, since I was able to inspect it's inner mechanisms and can confirm it is equipped with a very detailed replica of a human voice box that requires thorough knowledge of anatomy. According to the coroner, the inventor was strangled and found in his workshop, which we can visit tomorrow. Also, the automaton has been since purchased by someone else, who intends to display it with other inventions in the Opera tomorrow and I wish to be there for it." Almost as an afterthought, he reached into his pocket and presented a small business card, on the backside of which he'd drawn the swallow he'd seen on the automaton's key. "Oh, and I've been meaning to ask, does this symbol mean anything to any of you?"

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Michael O'Sullivan

Well, at least it has less humans in it.

That was about the extent of the praise that Michael could lay upon their destination. Sure, he supposed it was fun having all this hidden away from prying eyes but he would much prefer it if he were the only one here to enjoy and explore. But, unfortunately their higher ups had seen fit to place them here together, or at least their team. A garden. He could call it enchanting, or beautiful, if he had the inclination and the feelings required to do so. As it was, he simply took it in, frowning in annoyance as was his nearly permanent expression. He took a seat some distance away from the others, close enough to hear and be heard but far enough away to be at least somewhat more comfortable. He took in their words, storing the important bits away for later use just in case it was needed. Gabriel was the one speaking at present, and though in any other circumstance he might consider it a rather pretentious name choice, but since he himself had chosen the name of an Archangel for the ironic hilarity that only humans and those in the know would understand, he couldn't really judge much. Even if he really wanted to.

Sighing deeply, he reiterated what he had discovered and informed their 'leader' of before.

"Who ever it is, they are most likely human. There was enough silver in the handle of the blade to cause excruciating pain to most everything else. So what you're looking for is most probably a human, likely a doctor or veterinarian to have that much skill in making clean incisions and so thoroughly butchering their targets. It's actually rather impressive the way they can cut someone up like that, respectable for both their skill and the things they choose to practice that skill upon."

He quieted down again, fiddling with a strand of grass and starting to twist it around. Adding more, he idly spent his time shaping dozens of blades of grass into a single, small item. A very tiny knife, constructed entirely out of grass that had been twisted together in knots and loops. He tossed it over his shoulder into a nearby bush, bored again already.


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- Krishna -

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The warm May evening brought with it the damp, sweet smells of a promising summer, dew clinging to the grass on either side of the pathway Krishna tread.
It had been a harrowing evening, and not an encounter conducive to establishing secure and trustworthy connections. If anything, a murder put Krishna more on edge with the group. To top things off, he'd really only spent a short amount of time with everyone on their team before the situation had forced them to split.
He would welcome the upcoming opportunity to chat with his fellow Order members and deem for himself precisely who these people were and how the group would work as a whole.

The glowing blue fae lights were a surprise to Krishna, having only encountered maybe one or two of the magical species in his time training with The Order. Mostly, he had been in seclusion, and that year of starvation....well, he hadn't paid attention to much of anything that year.
The gravel and stones crunched wetly under his heel, and he passed his hat back and forth between his glove-clad hands.
Ghosts occasionally wandered by, as well as creatures he had never before even heard of.
No monsters from the tales he was told as a child in India, however. Or at least none that crossed his path.

Krishna came to a halt just under an elegantly pitched cream canopy, set about with winking fae lights and scattered with a few chairs and some chaises longues, a neat carpet decorating the center of a semi-circle of furniture. A low wooden table perched in the middle of the rug.
The tented space seemed to be enchanted, allowing only a gentle, dreamy breeze to pass through, and no chill or dampness touched any part of the interior.
Krishna settled himself on the edge of an ivory fauteuil and crossed his left ankle over his opposite knee, his top hat going to rest on his elevated leg.
He pulled at the tip of each finger to remove his gloves, then tucked them into his coat.

They began.

Krishna nodded along with Gabriel's succinct and accurate recount, throwing in an odd detail or two here and there. He poured himself a dainty cup of tea, taking a moment to admire the fine China and tiny, detailed painted flowers, before adding a little sugar. The tea pot and sugar cup seemed to be magicked in some way, given that they refilled what he took right away.

Michael's thesis had him more sceptical.
"While it does seem likely that the killer was--is--human, we cannot discredit that they may have been supernatural in nature. Though it may take much out of me, even I can hold silver briefly, as long as I am wearing gloves."
He produced his notepad from an inner pocket and flipped through a few pages, a hank of dark hair coming loose from its upsweep to fall into his eyes.
"Mr. Gladstone suspects that the killer may be a competitor on the verge of creating a similar invention as the automaton. He has requested a list from the authorities of inventors who may fit that bill."
Still examining his notes, Krishna reached forward and picked up his teacup to take a small sip, then placed it back onto his saucer, using his pinky as a cushion to minimise the clatter.
"I believe this murderer is growing increasingly frustrated with the specimens of vocal cords he is extracting. Starting with, perhaps, a mother who sings lullabies to her baby, moving on to a laundress who sings while she works, and bringing us to tonight--a professional performer. I believe they will try again...with an even more talented target. Any guesses as to who might be next?"
Krishna finally glanced up at the group, gaze flicking between them.

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Margaret Bowles
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Location Paris HQ
CompanyEveryone
Tags Cashi Cashi MechanicalSnake MechanicalSnake Naberius Naberius
She was grateful that Mattieu had gone with them without any fighting-- she was already beginning to feel exhausted from the night's events. Dashing into the darkness to follow the scent of a potential killer had taken most of the wind from the woman, as well as witnessing a murder post-haste. Maggie had nerves of steel when she chose to, but socially she was quite the recluse. Being in the Order had managed to build her tolerance a bit, but every so often-- and especially after a couple of flutes of champagne-- she was quick to grow weary. Yet, upon regrouping with the rest of their little team, she couldn't help but feel a second wave of energy hit her. This investigation was proving to be curiouser and curiouser... and she already had a few theories whirling in her mind.

The Paris HQ was lovely, and Maggie wouldn't bat around the bush to announce it. She was one to adore scenery, and architecture, as she found the background often more interesting than the foreground. Following the others, she gave her typical far-away gaze as she silently gawked and admired. Nighttime seemed to bathe the place in an otherworldly glow, more so with the presence of actual ghosts roaming about. Although she was used to it, her hands still balled up at her sides to combat the slow-growing pounding to her head. Once they found a seat, she would reapply her oil. She'd need all of her mental abilities to be focused. Now more than ever, no doubt.

The little canopy they huddled under made her think of some enchanted story she'd have read to her daughter once upon a time. All of it was decorated so immaculately, and with the buzzing headache coming around, the lights blurred almost dreamily. She found herself a seat, gladly, next to her cousin. Ripping off her gloves, rather rudely, she unceremoniously rubbed the oil on her fingers and around her temples and forehead. Welcoming the cup of tea as well, the medium listened in to the others.

She nearly choked learning that there had been two other women murdered, and with Krishna's addition, could only cement that there had to be some connection with the vocal chords. Whoever was taking them was doing so with a purpose. Perhaps Gabriel was right in his idea that it was some relation to the automaton as well. That energy spike that she'd felt was one of two things, and as the evidence began to pile up, she began to doubt it was the 'least likely' of the circumstances.

Maggie nodded at the prospect that the murderer could not be a Tainted, as the murder weapon was inlaid with silver. Again, Krishna's comment about gloves was interesting as well. If there were any kind of fingerprints smudged in blood, they would probably be unrecognizable. Gloves did have that terrible addition of masking identity.

Apparently it was Mr. Gladstone who suggested that the murderer was some competitive inventor. She frowned, however. Was this the inventor's killer, or the killer of the girls. What if there were two?

"Well," she added, taking a quick sip of her tea and giving a nod to Krishna. "If the automaton is to be displayed at the Opera, no doubt the primadonna would be the next target. I would hope we intervene before... however, I would like to enlighten the group that I don't think that the killer of the inventor is the same as the killer of these women. If he is, he has quite the vendetta. If he isn't, then someone else is killing the women." She took a deep breath, hoping to brace the group with a dramatic pause before going into a mad woman's rant. At least she could rely on Clem to not shun her immediately, if it were the case.

"Call me mad, and I challenge any of you to dare to do so--" Maggie cut with a glare around the group. "--But I suspect that the automaton is to blame for our recent murder. I cannot confirm if it is to blame for the other murders, but this one, this Marie... I believe she was killed by the machine. The boy said he heard clicking, and saw a shadow no bigger than our victim. I don't recall the automaton being any larger than a regular girl-- and in fact, one that could be mistaken for a girl. The energy I felt was malevolent, and it may be due to the murder itself but... something tells me otherwise. If I am wrong, then we carry on. But if I am right, and that machine is going to be wheeled right back into a slaughtering ground, then someone is going to die. Again."
 
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Bryony was content enough to join her team as they assembled in the garden. While the lodgings weren't up to her usual standard, what was? Still, a certain discomfort for her lingered as she gazed at the blue fairy lights twinkling beside the candle lit pathways. Here, in the heart of the Order in France, much that was not human felt free to show itself thus. And it was no surprise that those humans who'd learned otherworldly powers were keen to practice and display them. Bryony was introspective for one of the Fairy Courts, which was to say she wasn't terribly self-reflective at all. But it didn't take any great knowledge or mastery of self to understand that a part of her still chafed at the restrictions she'd agreed to.

She sat and was served and even favored Thaddeus with a sympathetic smile. In every inch of her, she was the Viscountess Enfield, a Victorian Lady, and only the embers of her grey eyes put a lie to the semblance of humanity she wore.

MechanicalSnake MechanicalSnake
Gabriel's wish for wine met a single arched eyebrow in his direction. The judgement was unspoken but equally unmistakable.

To his description, Bryony added, "There was a fourth victim this week but their death is likely unrelated. They did not die the way these women did." The young man's suggestion of being present at the Mechanical Muse's presentation tomorrow met with an appreciative nod, offsetting her earlier disapproval. She had her station and its requisite dignity but a good idea was a good idea regardless of its source.

Naberius Naberius
When the demon spoke up, Bryony favored him with a slight frown but an attentive ear. She found herself nodding along to his points. "Yes, the coroner mentioned the exactitude of the wounds; similar to within a tenth of an inch or thereabouts. Remarkable steadiness of hand."

Cashi Cashi
The vampire's rebuttal brought a reflexive smile to the Fairy's lips before she quelled it beneath the weight of expected decorum. "It's true the killer may have supernatural qualities. But given the prevalence of other metals, it's curious they chose to employ this. And then to leave the weapon behind? There are elements of this case that suggest profound premeditation. Fetching a silver kitchen carving knife is at odds with that suggestion, unless the choice is ceremonial or significant in some way. But then, if so, why leave the blade behind? Answering that question might well lead us to the killer's answer, I suspect."

The request for candidates led the Fairy to smile faintly and say, "A word to the Académie Impériale de Musique wouldn't be amiss, I expect."

BELIAL. BELIAL.
Maggie was a curious one. A woman given to intense scrutiny of her surroundings but seemingly little passion for people. Then again, with her abilities, perhaps attachment was a hazard for her burgeoning powers.

The tidbits of information she offered were delicious and added greatly to the bouquet of tonight's investigation. "Agreed, Mrs. Bowles. I also suspect the machine, although it begs the question of how it carried off the other two murders. Certainly the precision of the wounds, so similarly precise in their measurements, suggests mechanical efficiency. And the surviving witness heard a clicking? The Muse was quite insensate when we came upon it. Perhaps deliberately so."

"This malevolent energy you speak of is particularly interesting. Mortal artifice and the supernatural do not make easy bosom companions. Unless of course the supernatural element in question was originally human. Might the ghost of the inventor have possessed his machine? But if so, to what end? Murdering innocent girls seems...out of character given the man's reputation. And begs the question who killed the inventor. No, I suspect Mr. Gladstone's on to something. A rival. Perhaps a dead rival using the work of his enemy's hand to finish their plan. Humans can be obsessive enough to spend the whole of their life mastering an art. It doesn't beg the imagination that one might spend the whole of their death similarly engaged."

"The question is: How do we find it? Or do we follow Mr. Gladstone's suggestion and put ourselves where the killer is mostly likely to strike next?"
 
"As much as I am far from calling anyone mad," Gabriel intervened, his raised eyebrow and the sarcastic tone of his voice indicating he was in fact quite close to it, "I have serious doubts about this theory. I can assure you that the automaton is merely a machine, incapable of thought process. There are no punch cards elaborate enough to make it select, pursue and kill a victim in exactly the right moment. Moreover, I am not certain if it would be even physically able of performing such precise cuts. While its voice box is a unique piece of work, everything else is on par with current developments in the field, which makes its hands skilled enough to, say, serve a tray of cupcakes, not pursue a degree in surgery."

With a shrug of his shoulders, he leaned back into his chair and took a sip from his cup, which, sadly, was still not filled with wine. Although, no one sane would drink wine from a cup. It had better materialize with matching glasses... soon. "Now, even if we were to disregard that and entertain the idea of posession, however unlikely, we are still left with many unanswered questions. First of all, it would make little sense to believe that someone else had killed the two other women in the exact same manner and removed their vocal chords. That means the automaton would have had to be wandering the streets of Paris at least twice, completely unnoticed, which appears odd to me, even at night time. More importantly, the vocal chords removed in this most recent murder are evidently missing, and as the automaton hasn't left the crime scene, someone else must have taken them. Which means that there definitely is an actual living person we should be looking for."

"That said..." he sighed, leaving a small space for doubt, because refusing to give parallel theories at least a little merit could be dangerous. "It did seem a little odd to me that the hem of the automaton's skirt was smudged with blood, with no other splatters to be found, and I mentioned it to the officers. They said an expert would be able to look at it tomorrow and tell where exactly the automaton most likely was during the murder, which will either rule out or confirm your suspicion, I presume." Without even realizing it, his eyes wandered to Bryony as if checking for approval, since she had given him credit before. "If I may suggest a course of action, aside of going to the workshop, I do think we definitely shouldn't leave the primadonna alone. However, if we want to catch the killer in the act, we should also make it look like she is, in fact, alone. I believe leaving one or our shapeshifting colleagues with her should do the job. A cat would be perfect." He beamed at Michael; in the short time they have known each other, which was little to no time, he had already realized the demon hated having to do anything extra. Or... anything, really.

BELIAL. BELIAL. Cashi Cashi Epiphany Epiphany SilverFlight SilverFlight Naberius Naberius idalie idalie laceanddoodles laceanddoodles ADarkAndStormyNight ADarkAndStormyNight Dominaiscna Dominaiscna
 
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- Krishna -

A very small, almost fond smile hinted at Krishna's mouth as Maggie recounted her theories on the automaton.
"I very much doubt anyone here would even contemplate calling you mad." He sobered vaguely, whispery voice dropping to a decible that, if he dropped his chin, might make his voice difficult to hear.
"However, Mr. Gladstone does present some very good points. While we cannot discount the fact that the automaton perhaps was responsible through some," and here he hesitated, searching his English vocabulary for an alternative word and coming up short in the brief pause he had, "supernatural means, I would agree with Mr. Gladstone that the culprit is likely living." He though about that sentence. "Or, rather, is made of flesh and--no, no, because that discounts ghosts..." Krishna trailed off, a look of deep introspection crossing his face.
After a few moments of silence, he caught himself, head coming up to address the group again.
"I have to say, I also concur with, ahh..." Krishna fumbled, looking to Bryony like a deer caught in a sudden lamplight in the woods.
"Do forgive me, I haven't had the pleasure of learning your name and title. However, I also concur with our Esteemed Lady that these murders are premeditated, and that the choice of murder weapon, preciseness of the incisions, and the decision to leave the knife behind--because I do believe it was a decision--denote a level of sociopathy that I confess even I am at a loss to decipher."
He brought a hand to his face, running the pads of his fingers over the light shadow across his cheeks and chin that had grown from his shave that morning.
"Who might the killer be...I wonder, did our inventor friend have any close family?" This posed to the group in general.
 
Lilith Beaumont

The vampire had been around the Order's Paris Headquarters throughout the week, partly to watch over her fellow vampire Krishna in his training, but that aside, she had done very little exploring of the grounds. The setup was very lovely, and Lilith enjoyed looking over the environment in the free time they had before all of their group members arrived. There was a slight sheen of water on the grass, all that was left of the light shower from earlier. Though this made her uneasy, she distracted herself with the beautiful scene around them, while carefully mulling over the details of the investigation in her head. They had discovered much information... but they still had many questions and not enough answers. Fortunately, the case was turning out to be exceptionally interesting and the vampire was quite excited to dig further into the investigation at hand.
As each person pitched in their own portion on the investigation, Lilith quietly approached Thaddeus. She had been sitting at one of the provided seats, looking over the group as they gathered in the garden, and had noted how visibly shaken he looked. As the werewolf dabbed away at his coat, Lilith tapped a gentle hand on his upped arm to get his attention. "Please do take a seat, Mr. Grey," she said in a lowered voice, so as to not distract from the others as they spoke. "You have worked hard today and do deserve to rest for a bit." The vampire offered him a warm smile, carefully studying him with her dark eyes.

Once the werewolf was seated, Lilith took over pouring tea for a bit. Her gaze flickered from lowered eyes lashes to each person, carefully listening to the others speak on the case.

"While there is unfortunately nothing to confirm or discount any theory completely, I am of the opinion that there was most definitely some supernatural play at hand," Lilith piped up, as she offered to top up her fellow vampire's cup. Her voice was lowered and tentative, as she turned over each piece of information in her head. "It comes to me as odd that whoever committed the crime has all but vanished into thin air. Our only potential link to the murderer is the bloody knife, and the only sentient beings who were found on site were the young boy, Mattieu Dubois, and the young girl who discovered the murder - both of whom are most likely not the murderer. The other object of significance would be the automaton."
The vampire paused for a moment, before continuing. "That being said, I am hesitant to propose that the automaton was somehow possessed or controlled into murdering the young woman. As Mr Gladstone graciously pointed out, the automaton is not physically capable of committing the crime. However, this does not discredit the possibility that it was, in some way or form, involved in the murder. As it is not likely the automaton was wheeled around or somehow present at all the other related murders, it may have only been involved in this specific case."

"This is a but a hypothesis, but could the murderer be the inventor himself?"
the vampire suggested at Krishna's inquiry. "Or be closely related to his death, not as HIS murderer, but maybe as his ghost, or the manifestation of some malice or hatred, specifically directed at women with singing abilities? Mr. Gladstone noted that the automaton possessed an almost perfect replica of the human voice box, so the inventor himself must be incredibly knowledgeable on the human anatomy, almost questionably so."

To conclude, Lilith added, "Perhaps a visit to the inventor's workshop and scene of his death, will prove to be very useful to our investigation. Likewise, we should not leave the prima donna unguarded at the exhibition tomorrow, lest something happen to her. It does appear that she may be the next victim. What say you all?"

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Mentions: MechanicalSnake MechanicalSnake



 
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Giselle
The Paris headquarters had become a second home to Giselle, these past months. And being in them still felt surreal, after years of petitioning and fighting for a chance. She was the girl who'd annoyed The Order into letting her join. An amusing honor, if not a slightly humiliating one. But at least she'd received training-- that's what she had wanted, in the first place, for somebody to teach her how to defend herself and others.

Because it will keep happening, she had told them. It will keep happening and I won't be a damsel in distress any longer.

The problem was, most of the time, she still felt just as weak and as frightened as she had, then. There were certainly people within the Parisian chapter who believed it was a mistake in giving in and allowing her to join. Those who believed that she didn't really add anything, that she was just a foolish little trifle, and a burden on Order resources. Giselle had often found herself wondering what they were like, in their first six months, but supposed the answers would only serve to make her feel worse. She knew she wasn't made for this-- she'd been bred for the ballroom floor, not secret organizations and supernatural beings.

There was a moment, last night, where she felt truly useful. Talking to the witness, calming her down and getting a statement. She had something to offer, she had something to give. Unfortunately, all the girl had been able to offer was confirmation that the young lover was most likely not the killer.

Giselle felt like a deer in the headlights. Several times, she had been about to open her mouth and say something, only for somebody else to beat her to it. That was fine. She had always been a vivacious and outspoken girl, but she was learning to find some small contentment in keeping quiet. She didn't want to say something that wasn't well thought out or intelligent, and sound like... well, sound like a spoiled child. She clutched her cup of tea, glancing around the group. Her eyes lingered on Thaddeus, and she gave him a small smile. At least someone was as nervous as she was.

Finally, she stepped forward.

"It... occurs to me that we probably would not have been brought in, if the higher ups did not suspect supernatural involvement, in some capacity."

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Michael O'Sullivan

He listened quietly as the others discussed things. At one point, he actually moved slightly closer. He had been thinking to himself about things and had come to terms with the fact that the more he cooperated, the sooner this whole fiasco would be other with, and the sooner he would be away from this group and hopefully on to one that was more tolerable. He looked over Gabriel when he mentioned the shape shifting idea, and the cat.

"See, the thing about that is I know you're playing me. But you're right. And I hate admitting that so kudos to you for that one, champ."

Each word was dripping with blatantly false praise, extreme sarcasm, but also just a touch of sincerity. Which was most likely the rarest commodity he had to offer.

"As for everything else, I know no one quite gives a damn about the opinions of a demon, I mean I certainly don't care about your opinions. But if we're going to entertain the idea that supernatural forces are involved, which again I hate admitting one of you has a good point but the red head has a point, then perhaps it is as a few of you have claimed. Or at least a version of it. Perhaps it is a joint effort, it would not be the first time individuals from the stranger side of life worked hand in hand with mortals to accomplish a common goal. Why am I suddenly being so forth coming and helpful, you may find yourself asking. Simple. I want away from you as soon as possible, so let's just get this over with and be done.

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Clémentine d'Avignon
Clémentine pressed the cup against her lip as if about to take a sip and let her eyes glaze over amid the conversation. The initial warmth spread into a burning sensation, forcing the young woman to return it to the saucer hurriedly, sloshing tea onto the porcelain plate. Her face flushed as she resurfaced from the sea of thought she’d been swept up by, her skull plastered with the image of that poor girl. Death was never as sweet and peaceful as the world imagined. She had been told stories of the dead from boys barely older than she and witnessed their bleached bones rising and falling with desert tombs. It should not have been so strange, so uncanny to recall it.

Yet, perhaps it lingered on her mind with the young man in their custody. Mattieu, wasn’t it? She wasn’t the only one who found sympathy for the boy. At least he was being kept under lock and key in the headquarters, especially having learned that their killer had struck before. The only respite was in the fact they were all women, if that was anything one should be relaxed by.

Returning to HQ after spending so much time in her personal Paris townhouse felt odd although reinvigorating to be amongst the hubbub again. The flavour to the air was always one of adventure, whether it was the scholars in residence or the recruits - it’s heady scent was similar to wearing a neatly pressed uniform. You never did look much past the reflection of things to come. Intoxicatingly expendable and the allure was maddening. But that was the tale spun from a girl who froze when puzzles revealed too many moving pieces at once - her forte was, as ever, the strange outdoors and it’s bloodthirsty beasts. The sort that you could skin.

Clem glanced at her hands, “It sounds strange to think something could be inside that clockwork woman, what do you call it again?” A hand came to rest against her temple, massaging into it before sighing. “Nevermind that, but the primadonna? Perhaps it would be good to have another one of us with her as a friendly face? Just as a companion for entertainment. I might not have magic but gunpowder and steel are… similar?” She flashed a small smile, head tipping slightly.

SilverFlight SilverFlight BELIAL. BELIAL. Cashi Cashi laceanddoodles laceanddoodles MechanicalSnake MechanicalSnake ADarkAndStormyNight ADarkAndStormyNight Dominaiscna Dominaiscna Naberius Naberius Epiphany Epiphany
 
Joseph
Joseph was filled with a great deal of joy when he heard Maggie tell his party something quite similar to the living machine concept he had conceived after hearing the muse play, though he was slightly off with his assumption at the saloon. However, it had been a long night, and at Gabriel's mention of wine, Joseph was filled with an undeniable craving. He may or may not have slipped off, searching to hunt down either a waiter or a cabinet.

The Paris HQ was nice, but unfortunately, the night was such a blur that he couldn't really take it in. In fact, everything seemed like a dream- something was off the whole night. Maybe it was the sudden shift from a nice evening in a saloon to chasing down and harassing suspects, or maybe it was just how late it was, but something made him seem off.

When he returned, with a big bottle of nice red wine, and a few wineglasses, he overheard Giselle talking to the group. He looked around. I didn't miss THAT much, he thought, and returned himself to his seat, hoping no one saw him slip off. He poured himself a glass of the fruity ruby wine, and brought it to his lips. It was one of the finest wines he ever had. For a while, Joseph never understood the obsession with wine, but this glass was a strong enough thesis, argument, and evidence to convince anyone to lose their stubborn stance, and become one with the wine. Even it's aroma was something incredible to behold. I might have to pocket a bottle, he thought, taking another sip of the blood-red drink.

He left the bottle at the center of the table for anyone who'd want some, and leaned back in his chair, his brain running with thoughts. Unfortunately these thoughts were interrupted when a certain demon Joseph was so fond of decided to interject.

"Listen, man, I'd be more than happy if you just decided to piss right off, so I'm a real big fan of the 'finish things quickly' idea. Oh, and by the way Micheal-" Joseph said, standing up, and immediately almost collapsing to the floor from drunkenness, "you're much better to deal with when you're a cat." He braced himself on his chair and looked around. He wanted to say more, get really in the demons face, but he knew that he was drunk, tired, exhausted, and angry- never a good combo. Besides, he liked knowing that Michael in no way could harm him.

"If the 'spirit' you presume inhabited the automaton does happen to be the inventor, why wouldn't he go after whoever first killed him. I have to agree with Gabe. I say we investigate everything a bit more, split up into groups. One with the automaton, one at the workshops, one talking to the music hall... place, and one interviewing people close to the inventor," he said, before deciding to collapse in his chair.

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"Oh, if we were to discuss what motivation a spirit of a dead inventor might have for comitting such atrocious acts, I can think of at least two right off the top of my head..." Gabriel smirked, allowing his fantasy to run free. This, again, was his area of expertise; the mind of a mad scientist, even a dead one, was something he could easily place himself in. "One, he strives to keep perfecting his work even after his death. Two, his mind has completely derailed and he has set out on the path of removing any competition the automaton's singing might have. But I am willing to bet my hat on him being merely a victim in this case. After all, the vanishing of the murderer can be easily explained: he quickly slipped out of the backstage area and mingled among the guests. It is very possible we have briefly met him on our way there, without knowing we should be looking for him."

It wasn't like Gabriel had only one hat, but he was confident he wouldn't have to start wearing his less favored options any time soon. "As for his family, I happen to know he was of Swiss origin, so most of his family members might not be anywhere around, but it is worth a try. I am not certain how long he has lived in France." While he was talking, Gabriel inconspicuously moved to the table where Joseph had left the open bottle and poured himself a generous glass, instantly happier. He felt like he was going to like the American. Joseph honesty was rather refreshing, if somewhat rude, and his lack of manners made Gabriel's own non-standard behaviour less apparent. Many upstanding citizens would have enormous issues with being called "Gabe", but Gabriel could definitely appreciate someone who didn't subscribe to the stiff societal rules most people couldn't imagine their lives without.

"And, Miss D'Avignon," he adressed the lady who had just spoken, "while having more firepower would certainly be a good thing, if the singer got attacked, I believe your presence in the same room would prevent any attack from happening. It appears that so far, every victim was alone at the time when they were murdered." Naturally, it was a bit risky to trust Michael. A demon wouldn't go out of his way, if another chase through the street of Paris was to take place. "We can, of course, have someone else hidden nearby, close enough to storm in at any point."
 
Thaddeus could only meet the eyes of Lady Byng for a moment, before feeling like he had overstepped his station. Her presence was more than a little intimidating, but he felt a certain sense of comfort too, perhaps in the wisdom of her words and the regal nature of her bearing.
Lillith's voice drew his attention with a snap his his eyes, he almost recoiled from the touch. He wasn't used to contact, or vampires, and the way they just seemed surreal in grace. Thaddeus sat obediently with a weak smile, nodding a thank you to her.
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The theories began to fly:
Thaddeus considered the drawing of the bird that Gabriel offered to the group.
"Curious."
Michael spoke next and he listened carefully.
"Mr. Jameson is right, not all tainted are affected by silver." He said quietly. "Though it would be a strange choice for something affected by the metal to choose that weapon. If one isn't careful, it could leave traceable marks on the skin for several days...The precision of those cuts though, very odd."
Then Krishna mentioned a link between three of the victims and Thaddeus pointed to him excitedly. "That's it! That's the connection." He looked to the group. "What does a mother do when her child is crying? Or a laundress when she is washing clothes? A singer in her dressing room before she is about to go on stage. They were all singing!" But the complex voice box in the automaton, the cut throats of the women, and the inventor who was strangled...they were still missing pieces.

Maggie had an interesting theory.
"Living in a world with ghosts and demons, that concept is not an unbelievable one." Thaddeus supported her. "But we can't make assumptions. There has to be a method...and a reason."

The murder weapon came up again and Thaddeus put his mind on that. "It is possible it was brought...but it may also have been taken out of convenience. It was a kitchen knife. The salon has kitchens, it may have come from there."

The idea of a rival came next. It was a good one. "But why would a rival kill women to improve the design of his competitor? Or if the rival slew Brunfeld, what is the link with the other victims...or the Mechanical Muse?"

Gabriel made good points about the muse.
"The automaton looks human." Thaddeus mentioned. "If it could move on it's own, in the dark, it would be hard not to mistake it for a real young lady...if something was controlling the automaton, there would be evidence. A ghost would need a reason to stay in the living world, and most do not have the power to commit murders without intentional augmentation, and a demon would have to be physically bound by a seal. Mr. Gladstone to my knowledge found no seal on the automaton's frame. That being said I agree wholeheartedly with what Lady Laurent and others have said. There must be some supernatural element to this case."

Thaddeus was pleasantly impressed by the group's meticulous attention to detail, and when two of their party began to decline due to distinct inebriation, Thaddeus nodded.
"By tomorrow we shall have a list of the inventors and a list of the most famous singers performing in Paris, until then, I think the best thing to do would be to rest."
It was late, that they would be no use if they were too tired to think tomorrow. Thaddeus was sure that whatever awaited them at the workshop would reveal a good deal more of the puzzle.
"There are no performances at the opera tonight, so, for tonight at least, I believe the murderer will not strike again."

Thaddeus started to clean up. He could have left it to the attendants, for there were several of them hovering close to the table with empty trays, but five years traveling the world alone had removed his comfort in being waited on. He would leave the people of their team now, each to their own devices, do wander, rest or do whatever it was they pleased. They only needed to reconvene the next day for their trip to the inventor's home.

"I will be in the kitchens if anyone needs me."

Epiphany Epiphany Naberius Naberius Cashi Cashi MechanicalSnake MechanicalSnake BELIAL. BELIAL. laceanddoodles laceanddoodles Dominaiscna Dominaiscna idalie idalie ADarkAndStormyNight ADarkAndStormyNight

((I'll let people do their own thing for a few posts, and then I'll skip to tomorrow))

~*~*~

The kitchens were warm from a day's use, and the smell of bread baking for tomorrow's breakfast wafted through the air. Thaddeus was hungry. He had kept it to himself as he usually did, but being a werewolf gave one an extraordinary appetite.
"Cooking another late night meal?"
The domovoy grinned at him with pointed teeth. It had a mane of shaggy red hair, and ears so pointed it would make a cat jealous, other than those features, the domovoy looked like a squat gnome.
Thaddeus only nodded and smiled politely, and the fairy gave one loud laugh. He brought out a basket of fresh courgette.
"First market day today, there are mushrooms too. Left meat all over the kitchen today they did! I told them, I said 'The Wolf comes to cook at night, he doesn't want to smell meat,' I said. 'Meat makes him more of a wolf'." The domovoy pointed at his temple. "Up here...They didn't listen, so I cleaned it all up."
Thaddeus was surprised at the little man's care.
"Thank you." He was genuinely touched.
The domovoy pursed his lips and nodded. "I like you. You cook good."
Before long the kitchen was alive with the mouth-watering aromas of a fresh meal. Thaddeus, before serving himself, plated out a small portion for the domovoy and stood back happily as the creature devoured it. He knew enough about them to know that offerings made them stronger, and he had made enough for a small table anyway.

((@ anyone who wants to cook with Tad.))
 
Margaret Bowles
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Location Paris HQ
CompanyEveryone
Tags Cashi Cashi idalie idalie ADarkAndStormyNight ADarkAndStormyNight -everyone
She was thankful that at least the majority of the group could entertain her theory that the automaton had some connection the murder, rather it be indirectly or directly, and that there was some element of supernatural forces at work. Although Mr. Gladstone was unceremonious in his striking down of her theory, favoring practicality, she could only sip her tea quietly and mask her glare with a steely gaze in his direction. The idea that everyone could have some aspect right, they were all smart enough to be on this team anyway, lingered in her mind for a moment. There was still too many unanswered questions, however, to truly gather any true deductions or inductions.

She was thankful to the vampire, Krishna, for being kind in his dismissal of her being mad. She hadn't quite expected it, nor the softness in his tone, even if he leaned more toward Gabriel's practicality. There was some tact in that, and she was grateful-- again. The vampire had a way of dismissing her fears, as she had a baseline aversion to vampires. Based, of course, on traumatic history.

Everyone seemed to be brimming with ideas, completing each other's thought processes, and it was quite the sight to see. Even the American, who had somehow managed to drink himself under in only a couple glasses of wine, made sense. Although he made quick work of marking his aggression to the demon, which made Maggie's eyebrow quirk up, he at least managed to reduce himself back to the chair he started in.

Making some headway, even if it was stagnated by the events of the night happening so quickly, thrilled the woman. She was one for the chase, the research, and even the titillating debates. As exhausted as she was, it managed to invigorate her for the rest of the night.

However, as Thaddeus pointed out, they could clearly do no more for the night. No concerts, no lists... rest, as it were. Maggie could hardly entertain the thought, her brain whirring with excitement. As per the usual for a woman of her nature, she would do good to tinker with her hands to dispel the energy. She and her cousin would no doubt spend the night at HQ, or if Clem would argue against it Maggie would make the argument for it. They were beginning to get elbow deep in the investigation, and ever the dedicated creature, Maggie needed to be in the front row seats.

"I bid you goodnight then, Mr. Grey. Clem, my dear," Maggie said as she stood up. She gave one look to Joseph in the chair and could only wince. "Do you mind helping our compatriot to his room?" She gave her cousin a look, one of a mother clearly worried but not willing to dirty her own hands in the attempt. Maggie, would, of course help if Clem declared she needed it-- but otherwise, she was feeling restless. Anxious, almost, and far from sleep. She remembered there was an alchemy lab, and the idea of mingling with a few chemicals and metals (perhaps to help with the investigation) seemed to be sufficient material for the woman. She was used to a lack of sleep anyway, bad dreams and restless nights common for Maggie. If it wasn't nightmares about her family, and her late husband, it was some spirit influences that would unintentionally wreak havoc on her ability to drift away to sleep.

"I shall be in the lab," she told the others, though she hoped no one would follow her. It felt respectful to not simply walk away and groan. "If anyone is to need me."
 

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