Liz ain’t taking none of that
"Where are we going now, Mr. B?"
Finished my Murder of Crows cosplay ;D
Painted the mask and finished the feather-collar c:
Gonna do a photoshoot for it tomorrow with an Elizabeth
"So drown me…if you can.
Or we could just have conversation.
And I fall, and fall, and falter.
But I’ll find you before I drift away.”
Her words sounded neutral, if anything. She was gauging him still, bright blue eyes fixed upon him. She didn’t know what to make of him, as she had said earlier. She was distant, observant, and above all cold to him. This peculiar young woman, strolling into his office with a confidence that matched her entrance… She knew him, that much was clear to him. How else would she have found him? His detective business was dwindling with the countless cases of the missing girls that he could not find: he was not a detective that would be recommended by others at this point in his life. And yet, Miss Elizabeth had found him and asked him for his help. No no. Not asking. She demanded it. Forcing him to keep looking for a girl who was dead. Dear little Sally. Whoever this woman was: Booker had to find out just what her connection to Sally was. What did this woman want with a dead girl? Or rather: ‘lost’, as she put it. Perhaps she was related to Sally somehow, not willing to share much of her identity for whatever reason, only providing him with a first name. One way or another: Booker did not trust her one bit as he opened the door of his office to go after her.
With reluctance he had followed her, his nagging curiosity and the promise of money getting the better of him. And because of that decision they had ended up in the abandoned part of Rapture, sunk even further down than the main city. Wandering through the cold humid hallways. Moldy wood, cracking fake marble and broken pipes. All gone glory. A fate that, unbeknownst to Booker, was also intended for the rest of Rapture.
"About as exact as bashin’ in a door instead of unlocking it, but it works." Booker replied dryly as he ran a hand through his dark hair. He glanced down at the unconscious man at his feet. Not one of he splicers they had encountered down here. Someone who’d still been sane, trying to get by in this damp harsh environment. One of Atlas’ men, as the man had confessed in his fear. He’d been forced to give more information as Booker’s fist repeatedly struck the defenseless man. And so, after Booker’s aggressive interrogation the man told the duo where he’d last seen a blond little girl skittering by. But was it Sally? Who knew. He’d knocked the man out with one last punch, adrenaline surging through his body. The longer Miss Elizabeth and he continued their search, the more Booker started to consider the possibility of Sally being alive. Lost. Not dead. He had hope, and that in itself made him a far more dangerous man. "Let’s see if he spoke the truth."
Both gloves for the Murder of Crows cosplay are finished, gonna start working on the collar now c:
I hope I have enough feathers left ;D
"To live." Was his matter-of-fact answer as he settled down besides her. "You learn from it." He continued as he leaned back, finally catching a break. "You make sure that whatever it was that was hurting you can’t do it a second time." Booker glanced around the area, not completely letting his guard down. "It’s important to remember, because once you forget the things that hurt you, well…You’ll simply get hurt again. It’s all about survival, in the end." He spoke, scratching the side of his stubbled cheek lightly. He was silent for a while before his monologue continued, urged on by Elizabeth’s own silence. "…Some things are best left forgotten, but you never truly forget. You just learn to live with it." He concluded.
Something snapped inside of Booker as he heard those words, his heart racing in anger. How dare he! How dare he say that!? To him, out of all people!
"You’re sick!" Booker spat at the man, teeth grit. He aggressively tugged at the tight rope around his wrists, trying to wriggle free but as it turned out; he was bound firmly to the chair. He couldn’t have made those knots any better himself. This man in front of him…He’d seen him before. He would never forget that face. That goddamned face. The face of the man who robbed his daughter from him. Tugging at her in a way Booker now pulled at the ropes. A fatal tug-o-war, which had cost him the life of his only daughter.
And this man…declared a skewed confession of love? No, he wasn’t mentally stable, he was merely toying with him. That much was certain. Or perhaps… Perhaps it’s wasn’t quite a declaration of love. He loved him as much as he could, he had said. But was this man capable of love at all? Booker personally didn’t think so. This man had killed his daughter. Beheaded her. Stole her life. Loving Booker as much as he could, would mean no love for Booker at all from this heartless man. Of course, of course… “I love you as much as I can, too.” Booker replied, completely void of love for this monster in front of him.