Moonlight Sonata


griffin_icon.gif kaylee2_icon.gif

Scene Title Moonlight Sonata
Synopsis Backed into a corner, Griffin does the only thing he can to prevent the Ferrymen's resident telepath from discovering his true allegiance.
Date December 13, 2011

Pollepel Island, Bannerman's Castle

She is absolutely exhausted.

It was evident, by the way that the telepath pressed fingers to her temple rubbing it gently, eyes pinched at the corners; while a stress headache throbs insistently behind her eyes. A harsh reminder of what happens when you push too hard. She feels it with each step of sneakered feet, grimacing with the sharpest of pains. Thankfully, the evening hours also mean the halls are much darker, giving her some relief - only enough soft light to show people the way.
Kaylee has been pushing it lately, today especially.

It felt like she was running out of time, the council was starting to get worried, and she was desperate to show them results. However, people were no longer lined up for her, she had to hunt down each one. The protest wore on her already fragile nerves, but she hid it as best she could. Her notebook was filled with page after page of notes. Protective of what it contained, the telepath held it tight against her chest, the soften wool of her sweater pressing against her skin. Her thin cross glinting softly in the low light of the hallway, fingers seek it out, worrying at it thoughtfully. Almost all the names within it were cleared, but… there was one.

Thinking about it made her stomach twist, leaving a heavy knot in Kaylee’s stomach, at the memory of her session with Rue. The telepath didn’t really believe that it could be possible; but, that was not for her to decide. The council would have to make the decision. All that Kaylee – reluctantly – could do was bring them her notes and they could make the next move.

Whatever decision they made, it would be on her head. She had to get this right.

There was still hope for a different outcome.

Rue wasn’t the final person on her list. There were still a few handfuls of folks that needed to be check out and cleared before she would hand over her notebook to Joseph and the rest of the council.

But first…. Kaylee needed to rest.

Especially, if she didn’t want Joseph to get huffy at her, with his hands perched on his hips. This meant that her path was directed to the room that she shared with the pastor and a few others, crammed as the castle was with refugees. Of course, that meant no real privacy or true rest. Though with as tired as she it, it probably wouldn’t matter this time. It might also be why she misses a lurking mind in the darkness.

Behind Kaylee, a guard walks slowly. He’s just a young man who has been on his feet all day, and his steps suggest that he is pretty fatigued himself — and possibly not nearly as alert as he really should be. He’ll be changing shifts soon, though, once he gets Kaylee safely to her room, so his thoughts are happily drifting toward his bed rather than the task at hand.


If Griffin is caught, then this is all over. He’ll never see his little girl, his son, or his wife-to be again. And they may very well be summarily executed by Heller, a posthumous punishment for his failure to carry out his half of the bargain. Best case scenario if he gets caught, he dies and Nadira and his children have to live with this horrible war for their entire lives…and all of this will have been for nothing. His family will have to live their days out ostracized, forever branded by his name, by his blood — by the blood on his hands.

That can’t happen.

Fortunately, none of these thoughts ripple to the surface. Instead, gentle piano music reverberates through his mind, a trick he gained from some unknown source. It serves multiple purposes, really — it keeps him calm, playing his piano in his mind, and it keeps those frantic thoughts nicely obscured from a certain overworked telepath. She doesn’t have many people left to prod at, and if he waits too long, then the list of possible suspects will only shrink.

He hates that it’s Kaylee. He hates that it has come to this. He hates that he has to do this with her. She’s always been so kind to him. They’ve cooked dinners together, and she never hesitated to use him and his ability to her advantage when helping out around the castle. He knows this one, and he is fond of her.

But he’s always been a family man.

He will always put his family first.

And Kaylee, unfortunately, is not family.

The balaclava is pulled down snugly over his face, his glowing white eyes the only visible feature on his face — and those are obscured behind a pair of girl’s heart shaped glasses with pink lenses, mostly to change the color of those glowing eyes. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and his feet hover a few inches above the ground, assisted by the tentacle-like telekinetic appendages that originate in the middle of his back. A wickedly sharp knife hovers in the air behind him, as well as an outfit, clothing stolen from Rue’s room. The clothing floats along behind him as if some invisible person were wearing them.

Then, it begins. A brick, taken from one of the less well maintained parts of the castle, suddenly flies through the air, catching Kaylee’s would-be protector square in the back of the head. The young man crumples to the ground as the brick clatters down next to him, immediately knocked out by the rather brutal smack to the skull. He never even knew what hit him.

There’s no going back now.


It took a few moments, but it finally seems to reach Kaylee’s tired mind. The winding of mental notes finally draw her out of her thoughts, sharpening the telepath’s awareness of her situation. He’ll know she spotted him — well, at least mentally — as her steps slow, her mind turned inward. However, her ability is already strained to its breaking point and just the surface brush — it brings a fresh blossoming of pain. It is enough to make her teeth clench and a soft hiss of pain escaping. All she will have for her troubles is more music.

Unable to push further into the melodic mindscape, she stops.

The cascade of blonde curls, shifts to one side as the young woman hazards a glance over her shoulder. Clearly, she sees something, because she pivots just in time to see her guard fall — and then seeing what is behind her, looming over her protector. What she finds, sends a sudden chilling realization sliding through her at the sight of what is behind her. Eyes sliding over the form, noting the obscured and hidden face… especially that.

Oh God…

In that moment, Kaylee realized her mistake. She had let down her guard, foolishly in her desperate search for answers… and now he found her, defenseless.

And she knew it.

“No…” Kaylee whispers out, fingers flying to her mouth and the book clutched that much tighter to her. Fear washed through her, quickening her heart, filling her with the only survival instinct her terrorfied mind would allow.

Without a thought to her actions…

Kaylee turns and runs.

The piano music playing through Griffin’s head changes to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata as Kaylee notices her inevitable fate.

A fitting song for such an occasion.

Perhaps he should have made his move when she was still unaware. Perhaps he should have done this when she didn’t know it was coming. Because now she’s scared, and now he feels all the worse for what he is about to do. Not that it matters that he feels bad about this — that’s something he’s going to have to come to terms with and live with until the day he dies.

His frown concealed by the balaclava, Griffin reaches out with those tendrils of his. Kaylee doesn’t have the chance to run far — suddenly, her hands and feet are bound by some invisible force, and she is slammed rather hard against the wall. The man floats silently, drifting over the prone form of the unconscious guard as he makes his way toward Kaylee, glowing eyes narrowed.

The knife gleams in what little light is available as it draws closer, the man’s hands remaining in his pockets. In turn, those terrifyingly floating clothes float around, blocking the man’s own black clothing from the mess that is sure to come.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, a single tear rolling down his cheek to be soaked up by the balaclava.

And then, the knife finds its mark.

A few quick stabs, intended to wound but not kill, are delivered to Kaylee’s body. One to the solar plexus. One to her right lung — sorry, Kaylee, you’re going to have breathing troubles for a while after this. One to the gut, just above her navel.

And then, that invisible grip that pushes her against the wall is gone. The clothing, spattered red with the marks of Griffin’s handiwork, folds in on itself, and is summarily wrapped around the knife.

“I’m so sorry…”

All Kaylee will know is that she was grabbed; the sudden stop is rewarded with a cry of surprise – cut off when she is slammed into the wall, her skull thumping heavily against the stone. At the impact, her world erupts into bright pain — bringing instant tears to her eyes. “Stop!” She wants to shout it, but she only groan out her agony. Her head slides to the side and drops forward to hang, the motion leaves a small smear of blood along the stone. Blonde locks start to slowly turn red. That can’t be good. Luckily for her, the world starts to narrow; but, sadly — the darkness doesn’t claim her quick enough.

She feels it.


She gasps out in surprise…


There is a choking noise, a wet breath…


There is only a whimper…

Each time the knife slides into her body, she feels the impact with a small weak noise. She can’t believe this is happening. Head spinning, the telepath doesn’t register the pain; yet, but she knows it happens. Tears sliding down her cheeks, her clothing turning black with her blood.

When he lets go, Kaylee doesn’t have the energy and her body is like a ragdoll, crumpling to the hard floor. Blood almost immediately pooling around her, spreading out lazily. When he leaves, her attacker will know she is still alive. A gasp from the blond woman on the floor – a desperate attempt for more air — and a cough, leaving dark red thick on her lips, a lazy line left sliding down her chin.

A trembling arm curls around her middle, as she continues to struggle to breath; her whole being is focused on that one life giving action. Blood drooling from her lips and chin, as she coughs up more blood with each attempt at an exhale.

A cigarette butt, stained with lipstick in a subtle shade of Mauve, finds its way out of Griffin’s pocket, and onto the ground near Kaylee as the man with the glowing pink eyes gazes upon his work. A guard with a possible concussion, blood starting to ooze from the wound inflicted by the brick. And then Kaylee, a woman he considered a friend once, laying there in a pool of her own blood.

She won’t die, assuming she gets the help she needs in the next hour or two. The night guard, waiting at Kaylee’s door, will come to investigate the route when they don’t arrive on time — likely within about five to ten minutes from now. Griffin made sure of that much — that she would survive this awful experience.

Griffin, for just a moment, simply stands there, tears soaking in the balaclava as he drinks in this scene. Kaylee deserves for him to remember this moment for the rest of his life — to remember how far he is willing to fall to protect his family and give them a happy life. He promised Nadira that he would do anything he needed to do to come back to her…and that’s a promise he intends to keep.

Then, the floating man shakes his head, turning and fleeing as fast as the tendrils of his ability will carry him. Outside he goes, telekinetic hands burrowing a shallow hole into the ground, where he places the bloody knife wrapped in bloody clothes stolen from Rue’s room. This is buried, but not hidden very well — anyone searching the grounds will notice the disturbed soil, bulging over the newly buried parcel.

And then, it will be time for him to join the rest, to pretend that he’s not the one sentencing all of these people to the horrors and death that wait for them outside of the force field.

The cool stone feels good against, Kaylee’s cheek as she lays there, eyes unable to focus on anything; but the rattling in her chest and the hitch of her breath. It barely registers in her mind when there are feet fast approaching; and someone takes a knee by her head. Unfortunately, she is unable to keep her eyes open to see who.


Even as her name is called in horrified shock, the telepath’s mind is already adrift in the darkening seas of her own mind.


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