Moments after Vere left.
Hidden behind a nigh imperceptible veil that fluctuated with a rainbow tint, it hid this sizable airborne structure in the expanse of the sky.
It was a zeppelin, the cold, metallic body offset by various festival paraphernalia adorning it. In the center of it was a square composed of refined glass tiles, which served as the main area for the zeppelin's inhabitants to gather.
The pleasant smell of lilies covered the nauseating stench wafting off the gnarled corpses.
Various people and even strange life forms were all bound to a shared gruesome fate. Their bodies were hung up, festooned by pennant banners. Smiley faces were drawn all over the walls, as well as various paintings.
Half of them were that deep shade of blue seen sprouting up all over Old Westwood.
Two women stood in the central area, the lights dim and the buzzing of the hazy panels looking over them.
One. A woman with pitch black, featureless skin and deep red eyes. Her luscious caramel brown hair falls in long, shaggy waves that she keeps around her back. She has similarly colored soft and graceful brows.
She had no mouth. At least, not one of her own that served the expected purpose. Lips opened from the black, smooth flesh at random, sometimes four mouths appearing at one time upon her face. All were fixed into a smile. Four might have seemed to be a lot, but she could form much more.
She was tall, standing at 6 ft. Her comely physique is soft and ample, plush like a fertility goddess.
Underneath the kind vibe she might give off was a lurking undercurrent. It was no surprise to those who knew her that she had an extremely violent and murderous side.
She stood, hands crossed over her chest. Looking down at the spot the man left, her red eyes glowed as they narrowed.
Two. A woman with a meek yet gravitationally alluring beauty. She had delicate features that always seemed slightly afraid, enticing doe eyes, and straight, somewhat thin brows. Her eyelashes were thick in abundance and slender in shape.
She had plush, buxom lips—the bottom of which are slightly thicker than the top lip. Her cheeks are cushiony and surprisingly pliable despite their slenderness.
Her eyes and hair were copper in color and had a slightly metallic luster to them. Red blotches replaced her hair color from the rightmost corner of her bangs and upwards into a round, splashed-looking splotch. Sometimes, red liquid flowed down from the spot of her hair and stained her brows.
Her hair was quite long and wavy, with long layered waves that slightly curl up at the ends, falling down to the middle of her chest, and a low, long pulled-out dutch braid that falls down and ends somewhat above her rear.
She stood at 5'3 (and a half, she would remind you) with pale bisque skin and had ample curves all the way around. She is quite plump in her proportions and has broad hips and thighs and a full portly rear.
She kneeled on the back of her heels, shivering underneath the brutal ambiance of the zeppelin. Her own copper eyes stared at the same place the other woman did, a mixture of hope and infatuation blatantly filling her lenses.
Both were wearing peak lapel suits, the suits having to pitch black bodies with black buttons and white cuffs. The white undershirt was only faintly visible, and neither of the two in the room wore ties.
The most prominent part of this suit was the symbol that started from the shoulder and the patterns that stemmed from it.
The symbol was three pennant banners stacked over each other in oblique angles with the words "Pursuit of Happiness" atop a sailor's cross and surrounded by three garlands along the bottom. The garlands look like smiling teeth.
Additional, smaller pennant banners spread from the central symbol to the upper part of the back and left chest. Finally, on the right side of the back of it was a set of nine black chevrons pointing upwards.
Of the nine chevrons, the first woman had only the top in a deep red color. The second woman had only the last in a copper-ish tint.
Silence dominated the space between the two for a moment before the taller woman's eyes began to widen. Then, finally, the mouths disappeared, her eyes smiling in place of them.
'I like him. He reminds me of the very happiness I want to chase…I want him. But…we already have nine members. I can't just ruin the number…!'
Tap. Tap.
She began to impatiently tap her foot along the ground and pace as she ran her hands through her hair. The other woman was clearly not bothered by this movement in particular—or at least that was the message her body language conveyed.
She was, however, extremely pensive.
'Oh great…that lunatic is going to go insane over something she can't have again! Please, please, please don't let her figure out that she could just kill off one of her members….' She rolled her eyes while inwardly clasping her hands, sending a prayer to whatever deity would listen.
Or entity. It didn't matter as long as she could find a way to get out of this mess…ugh.
Plop.
A red liquid fell down from her splotched hair, the faint scent of plums and peonies rising from it. Her eyes drifted back to the view framed by the clear square floor.
'I'd really like to get out of here…hehehe. Okay, maybe I could stay if I had some company that wasn't frothing at the mouth to go on a murder spree!! But, I'm so tired…and lonely…hm. What can I do to get out of this?
Think, Penny, think! You didn't survive, oh who knows how many years just to get killed a second time…! That man felt really familiar…maybe I can look for him? But like, won't he kill me since I'm a Suspect? Uuuuu…'
She sat down fully, hugging her knees to her chest while thinking to herself. A couple furtive glances at the distracted woman elicited a sigh to escape her anxious body.
Creaaakk.
A door opened as a man with red-orange rimless shades entered the room. With a mug in his hand, he placed it in the pacing woman's grasping palms instead.
"Felicidad, have a drink. You're not you when you're thirsty. And little Bloody Penny, what are you looking at?"
Bloody Penny reluctantly looked over at the man while grimacing, trying her best to quell her fear and force a confident smile. She failed, but the man disregarded it anyways.
Suspects were typically weird anyways. An odd facial expression wasn't enough for one to just go about making wild conjectures. At least if they retained some of their sanity.
He was a grizzly yet a handsome man with a mature charm. Unfortunately, he had a bad case of a five o clock shadow, and his silver-blonde curly locks were arranged into a beach bun hairstyle. His sharp features betray his gentle-looking brows, and his mouth is always slightly downturned as if he's grumbling.
Standing at 5'9 with a calm and yet rough demeanor, his own peak lapel was a little loose yet couldn't hide his firm, expressive musculature. The white tie he wore was stained with ginger splotches, the same shade as the tint of his sunglasses.
His middle and index finger pushed at the bridge of the shades, cloaking his eyes in that same ginger transparency.
"I can get you a coffee too if you want it, little Penny." His gruff downturned lips squirmed at the end—his weak attempt at a smile. Bloody Penny shook her head side to side, her hair fluttering about with her refusal.
"It's okay, Sancre. Uhhh…hey, you used to be a Warden, right?" She fiddled with her fingers while fixing her eyes on the helipad down below. Felicidad stopped pacing for a bit, propping her head to the side as she listened.
"Yeah…why? Is there something you…need?" Displeasure caused his tone to slightly waver, ending with a disquieting undertone.
He had a lot of bad memories about his past, it seemed. Bloody Penny was no stranger to this, knowing the spine-chilling origin of this very man in particular.
She bit her lips, reminiscing a bit to herself…