Day 3
Morana's eyes flew open at the sound of gentle chimes. She had isolated herself in her room, only opting to get a quick snack during the night, hoping to wait out the sandstorm. No such luck, and as the second night approached she decided to allow herself a few hours of sleep. Sleep deprivation, after all, could leave one just as vulnerable as the cleverest of poisons.
The Tundra barely registered
Bog's announcement--something about a surprise from anonymous benefactors--as the second she awoke, the unmistakeable smell of blood flooded her senses. It was overwhelming to the point a metallic taste slowly started seeping into her mouth.
Adrenaline flooded her veins as she instinctively prepared herself for a battle--hurtling a sleepy Charon off of her fur in the process--but quickly realised the source couldn't possibly be close to her; her occupation made her a very light sleeper. Several parts of Bog's speech abruptly came back to her--dining hall, surprise, his unwillingness to reveal the 'gift-givers'... No, certainly not?
She had forgotten the location of the dining hall the moment she left it, but Morana didn't need directions when she could simply follow her nose--and, eventually, the noise.
The scene there confirmed what she'd dreaded. The
bodies of a Veilspun and Imperial, displayed next to each other as if to mock their difference in size--or to make a point. On her shoulder, Charon's tongue had flitted out of his mouth, and just as swiftly retracted, the small Amphithere scrunching up his face in distaste. Morana agreed with the sentiment; she was more than used to the smell of blood, but that was the sickly-sweet kind, fresh and red and satisfying, not the reeking amateuristic mess that surrounded the gashes and bites on their corpses.
"How undignified," she mumbled under her breath, slowly approaching the small group that had started to gather. Two of them were in an utter state, and the Tundra couldn't help but narrow her eyes at them, trying to discern if it was artifice.
An Obelisk seemed almost nonplussed by the ordeal, making her suspect he didn't quite realise their circumstances yet.
The Fae she recalled snacking on crickets when they had first arrived seemed to be doing his utmost best to stay calm, and was the first to ask the eerily perky
Bog for information.
Morana made a note of him--he could be a useful ally. Because what Bog said next was obvious: if there was no way in nor out of the house, the culprit must be amongst them. That
was, however, an
if. All they had to go on was Bog's word, and the Spiral seemed almost happy with the two dead guests lying in front of them.
Guests
he had invited.
She sniffed in annoyance, then remembered why that was a bad idea. Even more frustrating was the fact that under ordinary circumstances, she would likely have been able to smell traces of blood on the culprit, but with the scene being so messy,
everyone smelled the same.
The Tundra was unsure as to what personality she should take on. Would someone closer to her actual self, rational and calm during a crisis, be more effective, or would it be better to play the part of a distraught dragon, and perhaps lure the culprit in by presenting herself as an easy target?
She was still mulling it over when
the Fae started flailing over the insult to his size, smacked into the
still screaming
Snapper--Mather, if he didn't stop soon, she would
make him--and flopped inelegantly to the floor.
With a sigh and a nudge of her paw, she helped him upright. "Don't lose your cool. You can't think in that state of mind," she said, and because she hadn't yet decided whether she wanted to sound reassuring or stern, it came out as an odd mix of both. "Whoever did this wants us to panic, and stop thinking. Don't let them win."
Morana trotted up to
Bog--and, thus, the corpses. There was no mistaking it: they were definitely dead. She knew the smell of death, and there was no type of spell or potion that could replicate it.
"Why should
we play detective? We know there is at least one murderer amongst us. The safest course of action is to barricade ourselves in one of the large halls with enough food to last until help arrives, and have a group rotation of dragons keeping watch during the night." She stared into Bog's face, curious about his answer. Whether or not he would agree with her, and his justifications for why not if so, would tell her a lot about him.
This whole situation stank.
---
@
Farore
@
RBG @
GremlinSlug @
gn0me mentions~
@
Magmish what do we have here... 
Day Three
