D
Daniella_Belli
Guest
Original poster
Hellinka Ambryline Darknau saw the order in chaos, method in madness where most could not fathom either logic to negative circumstances. She felt tranquility begin to bloom in her, conjured by the sound of steady trickling. Most would find the same in hearing the pattering of rain against rooftops and windows, but she was unfazed by what others considered normalcy. Upon obtaining entry to this particular room, she saw that one of the walls was awash in blood, the carcass slumped awkwardly against it. It was evident that a flintlock had been used, someone would find upon examination that however primitive a gun one may be, it still produced an effective result. This man had a rendezvous with death caused not by her hand, but his own.
She eyed him warily, her lips birthing a grimace not because of the nature of the scene, but those whom resigned themselves from the world were no longer fodder for those whom had a penchant for murder. She felt it was purposeless of them to do so, since she aspired to be the main cause of the eradication of the peoples in London, and thus took a grievous offense to them robbing her of such an opportunity of ending their lives for them. The church spoke of suicide as a damnable trespass, so she felt a strange solace in knowing that they would face steep consequences of their actions. She then retired to the room which she paid to occupy for the night, but rest would never find her. Hellinka paced the floorboards for the duration of a few hours, her mind brewing with thoughts of Jorge Anthony D, and those he associated with.
Who was this man, really? He seemed to possess a great prowess in the art of deduction, his sleuthing techniques unrivaled by that of his fellow cops. Perhaps it was because he knew the inner workings of a murderous mind on a more intimate level than most, their modus operandi. Perhaps he was just quite learned in such topics, or maybe it was because he wrestled with demons of his own, which would supply him with a bounty of knowledge at the price of tainting his conscience. If the truth was the latter choice of her two theories, he seemed to govern enough control over his will that they were forced into a dormant state. She was an unscrupulous woman, so she suffered naught a perdition of a guilt riddled mind.
The four walls of the poorly furnished room seemed to be closing in on her, she needed to make a break for the outside world. Inactivity didn't sit well with her, idle hands wouldn't further the fruition of her goals. Hellinka's oceanic gaze fluttered toward the room she intruded upon earlier that evening, she realized that if one were to find evidence of her presence there, that it would attach her to the crime. She lived in an age of underdeveloped brainpower, elementary technologies, and a crude understanding of Forensics worked as things in her favor, rather than being hindersome. She was grateful of London's such inadequacies, it made her work with ease. The only troublesome factor in it all was the involvement of Jorge. She had no qualms of placing her trust into this man, but there were obvious risks of doing so. The call of his duty could be something detrimental to what she wished to achieve, his mission counteractive to her own. Her darker thoughts finally subdued, they became a series of abstract, nonsensical notions.
Fragments of an anecdote told of a drunken woman, the story lost to the follies of slurred sentence structure, and obnoxious guffaws. It seemed to pertain to her burgandy lace tea hat blowing away in the breeze. Perhaps if she were to spy it on one of her outings, Hellinka would have a valid excuse to visit this woman with the intent to return it to her dead body. For now, she simply looked to her robust figure with repugnance before stepping out of the tavern. "He fancies the trollops, doesn't he?" Blatantly spoken of a run down harridan to her companion, whom seemed in need of consolation. "Aye, haven't seen 'im for a fortnight now, says he was going North on business." The more brazen of the two added a 'hurrumph' to the tail end of the conversation, and they headed into the tavern as to lighten the situation with spirits. Hellinka soon stumbled into the congregation of several more harried housewives, this time communicating their views of a more grave subject.
"What sort of deviltries have plagued our fair city? There are many speculations to the real identity of the Whitechapel Butcher, whom coined himself Jack the Ripper. His letter was published just a few weeks ago, and the public was made privy to this information just this morning. I suppose they figured that ignorance would somehow allay fear, but it only intensifies it. If we continue to dabble in the unfamiliar, unenlightened to the danger that stalks the streets, lives will continue to be lost to this horrible man!" Hellinka uttered a growl under her breath. They stood unknowingly in the midst of one which in her short career had disposed of more souls than this 'Ripper,' and in varying ways as opposed to his tired, albeit signature method. This mysterious individual was gaining notoriety whereas she seemed to slip further into obscurity. Perhaps it was because the populace wished to close their eyes to the possibility that other homicidal maniacs roamed London, and none had entertained the thought that at least one of them could be of the female persuasion. Especially not one as comely as Hellinka. She was an equal opportunist in the ways of murder, whereas the others seemed focused on gender or some particular trait of their victims. She took the lives of men and women, young and old.
Those whom remained unscathed were children, because they were the future. The reaping of lives was much like that of agricultural stock. If the crops were to be harvested before given time to mature and propagate, it would ensure the the loss of said crops in generations to come. The main woman continued to preach to her comrades, drawing the attention of passersby as well. Hellinka fidgeted as the crowd grew in number, and she became boxed in by bodies. She wriggled her departure from the group of women, only to collide with something unyielding upon her first two steps of freedom. Her gaze darting to the source of the obstruction in her path seemed to provoke the woman's rant."Aye! You be the one....YOU be the one!" She took a step away, her back connecting with an unrelenting wall of people, which turned about to better observe the commotion. "You seem to be quite mistaken...." Hellinka replied in monotone, wishing to divert from the group once and for all. "Nay, YOU be the one! Caught the eye of my husband, with your flaunting and wiles!" The accused shook her head. "I assure you that I am not the culprit in this matter, but surely part of the blame should instead fall upon yourself. I am quite vexed with the incessant droll I hear from women about their men straying. I have my priorities, and cavorting with men is not one of them." At this, she tore away from the angry individual, traveling the direction from whence she came.
It was then that she was apprehended by a man whom emerged from the shadows too swiftly for her to notice, she attempted to peel away from his grasp on her arm, even if the appendage would become harmed in the process. It wasn't until his voice struck her ear that she forfeited the struggle, relaxing some. "The priest? What of him, admiring my handiwork?" She tried her hand at being flirtatious, batting her eyes coquettishly as she tossed a glance back to him. Her efforts seemed wasted as her face met the unforgiving wall. "What's the matter, was there a disagreement between you and Tanner? Or did you not sleep well? You know that if I didn't fancy you, that I could cause a whole lot of trouble for you, Jorge." She shrugged, her arm straining against his vice like grip. "I could become quite loose-lipped to your superiors that you seem to get your thrills from roughing up women."
Perhaps spoken too brashly, the words seemed to linger upon the echoes of the alley as to taunt her. She imagined his retort, that enough proof had been gathered to pin several murders on her, then she would become a resident of Scotland Yard until release upon her execution. So what was he after? Simply to tease her, to assure her that he was ever vigilant to her deeds? Did he wish to blackmail her, extorting monetary compensation, or other favors to ensure his silence? Perhaps that was just the nature of the game. "So, what do you require to make this little issue simply disappear?"
She eyed him warily, her lips birthing a grimace not because of the nature of the scene, but those whom resigned themselves from the world were no longer fodder for those whom had a penchant for murder. She felt it was purposeless of them to do so, since she aspired to be the main cause of the eradication of the peoples in London, and thus took a grievous offense to them robbing her of such an opportunity of ending their lives for them. The church spoke of suicide as a damnable trespass, so she felt a strange solace in knowing that they would face steep consequences of their actions. She then retired to the room which she paid to occupy for the night, but rest would never find her. Hellinka paced the floorboards for the duration of a few hours, her mind brewing with thoughts of Jorge Anthony D, and those he associated with.
Who was this man, really? He seemed to possess a great prowess in the art of deduction, his sleuthing techniques unrivaled by that of his fellow cops. Perhaps it was because he knew the inner workings of a murderous mind on a more intimate level than most, their modus operandi. Perhaps he was just quite learned in such topics, or maybe it was because he wrestled with demons of his own, which would supply him with a bounty of knowledge at the price of tainting his conscience. If the truth was the latter choice of her two theories, he seemed to govern enough control over his will that they were forced into a dormant state. She was an unscrupulous woman, so she suffered naught a perdition of a guilt riddled mind.
The four walls of the poorly furnished room seemed to be closing in on her, she needed to make a break for the outside world. Inactivity didn't sit well with her, idle hands wouldn't further the fruition of her goals. Hellinka's oceanic gaze fluttered toward the room she intruded upon earlier that evening, she realized that if one were to find evidence of her presence there, that it would attach her to the crime. She lived in an age of underdeveloped brainpower, elementary technologies, and a crude understanding of Forensics worked as things in her favor, rather than being hindersome. She was grateful of London's such inadequacies, it made her work with ease. The only troublesome factor in it all was the involvement of Jorge. She had no qualms of placing her trust into this man, but there were obvious risks of doing so. The call of his duty could be something detrimental to what she wished to achieve, his mission counteractive to her own. Her darker thoughts finally subdued, they became a series of abstract, nonsensical notions.
Fragments of an anecdote told of a drunken woman, the story lost to the follies of slurred sentence structure, and obnoxious guffaws. It seemed to pertain to her burgandy lace tea hat blowing away in the breeze. Perhaps if she were to spy it on one of her outings, Hellinka would have a valid excuse to visit this woman with the intent to return it to her dead body. For now, she simply looked to her robust figure with repugnance before stepping out of the tavern. "He fancies the trollops, doesn't he?" Blatantly spoken of a run down harridan to her companion, whom seemed in need of consolation. "Aye, haven't seen 'im for a fortnight now, says he was going North on business." The more brazen of the two added a 'hurrumph' to the tail end of the conversation, and they headed into the tavern as to lighten the situation with spirits. Hellinka soon stumbled into the congregation of several more harried housewives, this time communicating their views of a more grave subject.
"What sort of deviltries have plagued our fair city? There are many speculations to the real identity of the Whitechapel Butcher, whom coined himself Jack the Ripper. His letter was published just a few weeks ago, and the public was made privy to this information just this morning. I suppose they figured that ignorance would somehow allay fear, but it only intensifies it. If we continue to dabble in the unfamiliar, unenlightened to the danger that stalks the streets, lives will continue to be lost to this horrible man!" Hellinka uttered a growl under her breath. They stood unknowingly in the midst of one which in her short career had disposed of more souls than this 'Ripper,' and in varying ways as opposed to his tired, albeit signature method. This mysterious individual was gaining notoriety whereas she seemed to slip further into obscurity. Perhaps it was because the populace wished to close their eyes to the possibility that other homicidal maniacs roamed London, and none had entertained the thought that at least one of them could be of the female persuasion. Especially not one as comely as Hellinka. She was an equal opportunist in the ways of murder, whereas the others seemed focused on gender or some particular trait of their victims. She took the lives of men and women, young and old.
Those whom remained unscathed were children, because they were the future. The reaping of lives was much like that of agricultural stock. If the crops were to be harvested before given time to mature and propagate, it would ensure the the loss of said crops in generations to come. The main woman continued to preach to her comrades, drawing the attention of passersby as well. Hellinka fidgeted as the crowd grew in number, and she became boxed in by bodies. She wriggled her departure from the group of women, only to collide with something unyielding upon her first two steps of freedom. Her gaze darting to the source of the obstruction in her path seemed to provoke the woman's rant."Aye! You be the one....YOU be the one!" She took a step away, her back connecting with an unrelenting wall of people, which turned about to better observe the commotion. "You seem to be quite mistaken...." Hellinka replied in monotone, wishing to divert from the group once and for all. "Nay, YOU be the one! Caught the eye of my husband, with your flaunting and wiles!" The accused shook her head. "I assure you that I am not the culprit in this matter, but surely part of the blame should instead fall upon yourself. I am quite vexed with the incessant droll I hear from women about their men straying. I have my priorities, and cavorting with men is not one of them." At this, she tore away from the angry individual, traveling the direction from whence she came.
It was then that she was apprehended by a man whom emerged from the shadows too swiftly for her to notice, she attempted to peel away from his grasp on her arm, even if the appendage would become harmed in the process. It wasn't until his voice struck her ear that she forfeited the struggle, relaxing some. "The priest? What of him, admiring my handiwork?" She tried her hand at being flirtatious, batting her eyes coquettishly as she tossed a glance back to him. Her efforts seemed wasted as her face met the unforgiving wall. "What's the matter, was there a disagreement between you and Tanner? Or did you not sleep well? You know that if I didn't fancy you, that I could cause a whole lot of trouble for you, Jorge." She shrugged, her arm straining against his vice like grip. "I could become quite loose-lipped to your superiors that you seem to get your thrills from roughing up women."
Perhaps spoken too brashly, the words seemed to linger upon the echoes of the alley as to taunt her. She imagined his retort, that enough proof had been gathered to pin several murders on her, then she would become a resident of Scotland Yard until release upon her execution. So what was he after? Simply to tease her, to assure her that he was ever vigilant to her deeds? Did he wish to blackmail her, extorting monetary compensation, or other favors to ensure his silence? Perhaps that was just the nature of the game. "So, what do you require to make this little issue simply disappear?"
Last edited by a moderator: