Instruments of Murder

[Lacuna]

Lacuna's brow arches, as the Moros opens the field for questions. If she were someone else she would abuse that privilege. Instead she nods, "It looked like something out of a bad b-movie. More trappings of devil worship, then anything I'd think of as actual magic. The runes, if they were actual runes. I didn't get proper photos so I can't grab 'em for you. They were in blood. Actual blood, not red paint. It was human, not animal. Not my someone's but someone else's someone." she frowns that sentence felt awkward around her tongue.

"The room was 120 square feet. No windows. But it did have heavy drapes. Velvet or satin or something like that. Weren't any light fixtures. The Electrical was still running but nothing was put in. Candles, wax. The alternative I assume. Ritual daggers, bloodied and not well cared for." Lacuna lists off from memory, mechanically. With even less inflection then the taciturn women normally used.

She takes a breath before turn her attention to the opportunity Epitaph provided. "How do you know, specifically that you've been reincarnated? I know the Soul is real, it carried on a goes....somewhere, but for your certainty....how are you sure?"

[Epitaph]

Epitaph was silent for a moment, considering the information that she'd just gained. An idea hovered at the edge of her mind, though it was too terrible to speak aloud. At least for the moment. After all, it was quite a leap of intuition. Quite an inference to make on so little information.

"Is it possible," Epitaph asked after a long, grave pause, "that they were not Awakened? That, perhaps, they were simply creatures of the Fallen World? The reason why I ask is, well, that is not much iconography to go off of. Perhaps it connects to Pandemonium, but perhaps not. As for the Soul, well, there are two reasons."

Epitaph paused and stood up, walking over to the tiny sink that was shoved into the corner of the motel room. She took two mugs, filled one with water, and then walked back over to rejoin Lacuna.

"The Soul is who we really are. Our body simply houses it. Death is simply the transition of the soul from the vessel of the flesh." Epitaph poured the water from one mug to another. "This is proved by the fact that the soul can be ripped from the body. Without the Soul, the body will eventually die. The soul, however, is perfectly fine. That is the first piece of evidence. The second is this: I have seen my past lies. A fraction of them, at least. I've gone deep inside my soul and relived them. I was bitten by an asp in the Red Lands. I was burned at the stake in the Holy Roman Empire. I died in a gas chamber in 1939, and many more deaths besides. You...have to. All of the Awakened have."

[Lacuna]

She sighs gustily, looking deep within her coffee. Shoulders hunched. "I don't know." she admits. "I don't know. This was years before I Awoke. I...didn't handle my someone's...disappearance, and death...well. I joined a like minded group and we...well." she smiles, it's a horrific thing shadowed with hate and guilt and more. "They gave me an axe." she laughs, lowly, it's a shadow of her smile.

Her brow furrows, her eyes steady as she watches the white wraith chose the mugs, and pour the water.

"You've seen this? Watched it...lived it as you died?" over and over the wheel turns. "Did my daughter die to bring her one step closer to enlightenment? Awakening?" she murmurs not realizing she spoke out loud.

[Epitaph]

"It's possible," Epitaph replied softly, recognizing the shadow of grief that had settled upon her...settled upon Lacuna.

"Would you like me to go?" she inquired, rising and moving over to her case. "I can contact you when I acquire your axe."

[Lacuna]

She only realizes when Epitaph speaks, "Please." she says, chin jutting, jaw clenched. "I...apologize. I didn't want to-I. Please." she says standing, setting her coffee down on the end table already crowded by nicknacks and the old plastic corded phone resting there.

"Yes, that sounds...good. Um. Okay." she says, clearly herding the Moros out of her shitty motel room. "I'll talk to you later." she nods, makes sure that the Angel of Death had all that she brought with her before closing the door, and sliding the chain in place.