Annie Leonhart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lyingheart) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2014-06-22 10:49 am
lyingheart) wrote in maskormenacelogs2014-06-22 10:49 am
Entry tags:
[ closed ] and if i swallow anything evil
WHO: Annie Leonhart & Will Graham (& Gunther, but no Sunshine Girls)
WHERE: Bait Shop.
WHEN: Prior to the Paintball Game, probably a weekend or two earlier.
WHAT: Annie and Will meet for the first time for doggie play dates (can you do that with just one dog) and swim tips.
WARNINGS: Potential spoilers, dark imagery, horrible puns, look just turn away abandon faith ye who enter here.
Annie checked the name of the street sign pointed down a crooked street, looking back down to the physical map she had in hand. She knew there were maps in the communicator, but knowing was different than making use of that same technology. A paper map in hand is luxury enough. Glancing up at the address on the building she stood across from, she turned left, walking on.
A bait shop. There were all sorts of indelicate subject matters to tackle, following what she'd read on network over the last few weeks, and how she parsed what'd been happening. Murders. Murderer. No one from Will's world has come recommended, highly or otherwise. She'd been warned against Gideon and Chilton most obviously, including by both men, seeking to insult the other; now a different woman, recognizing Will, decrying him and securing his place among the worst elements of the scum people didn't recognize as humanity. The monsters. The ones you didn't forgive.
There was a hook there, and Annie felt its barbs with careful fingers, knowing to believe something fully either way was to skewer herself prematurely. She won't bite until she knows more about the shape of things. She'd nibble, testing the waters, seeing how much play there was on the line.
Have fun. This is Gunther. Murderer. One good stroke.
Snippets of conversations, written and spoken, that flit through her mind, categorized and tucked away for later examination. Annie was fully aware and observant as she made her quiet way forward, pausing outside when she found the place, squinting as she took in the surroundings.
I wonder how long it takes to drown.
Tucking her map away, Annie stepped forward, crossing the road. Her entrance is quiet, unremarkable, much like her attire. She was simply there at the threshold, viewing a screen, looking through to the heart of one man's alleged darkness.
A bait shop. Bait and switch? It doesn't feel likely, but she's forever suspicious of what things may come. She's needed to be that way for so long, she wasn't sure how to stop. It reminded her of a children's story she heard at the library in Nonah, kids seated in a semi-circle around an older woman who'd changed her voice for every character in the tale. Three little pigs, one big bad wolf. Houses made of anything less than brick and mortar and stone collapsing under pressure. Being eaten whole, just like that. The third pig who outlives them all.
She raised her hand to knock on the outside frame.
"Will?" Little pig, little pig, let me come in. "Are you there?"
Not by the hairs of my chinny-chin-chin.
WHERE: Bait Shop.
WHEN: Prior to the Paintball Game, probably a weekend or two earlier.
WHAT: Annie and Will meet for the first time for doggie play dates (can you do that with just one dog) and swim tips.
WARNINGS: Potential spoilers, dark imagery, horrible puns, look just turn away abandon faith ye who enter here.
Annie checked the name of the street sign pointed down a crooked street, looking back down to the physical map she had in hand. She knew there were maps in the communicator, but knowing was different than making use of that same technology. A paper map in hand is luxury enough. Glancing up at the address on the building she stood across from, she turned left, walking on.
A bait shop. There were all sorts of indelicate subject matters to tackle, following what she'd read on network over the last few weeks, and how she parsed what'd been happening. Murders. Murderer. No one from Will's world has come recommended, highly or otherwise. She'd been warned against Gideon and Chilton most obviously, including by both men, seeking to insult the other; now a different woman, recognizing Will, decrying him and securing his place among the worst elements of the scum people didn't recognize as humanity. The monsters. The ones you didn't forgive.
There was a hook there, and Annie felt its barbs with careful fingers, knowing to believe something fully either way was to skewer herself prematurely. She won't bite until she knows more about the shape of things. She'd nibble, testing the waters, seeing how much play there was on the line.
Have fun. This is Gunther. Murderer. One good stroke.
Snippets of conversations, written and spoken, that flit through her mind, categorized and tucked away for later examination. Annie was fully aware and observant as she made her quiet way forward, pausing outside when she found the place, squinting as she took in the surroundings.
I wonder how long it takes to drown.
Tucking her map away, Annie stepped forward, crossing the road. Her entrance is quiet, unremarkable, much like her attire. She was simply there at the threshold, viewing a screen, looking through to the heart of one man's alleged darkness.
A bait shop. Bait and switch? It doesn't feel likely, but she's forever suspicious of what things may come. She's needed to be that way for so long, she wasn't sure how to stop. It reminded her of a children's story she heard at the library in Nonah, kids seated in a semi-circle around an older woman who'd changed her voice for every character in the tale. Three little pigs, one big bad wolf. Houses made of anything less than brick and mortar and stone collapsing under pressure. Being eaten whole, just like that. The third pig who outlives them all.
She raised her hand to knock on the outside frame.
"Will?" Little pig, little pig, let me come in. "Are you there?"
Not by the hairs of my chinny-chin-chin.