Snippet #2692419

Cruor raised one brow when the man addressed his simulacra like a person. A hollow thing of dust and animate force shaped by what once was. Then when the suit changed his marionette felt different. A gauntlet he wore that now turned so much lighter by far. He smelled the woman's old blood on her somewhere which was something that dried ages ago. A faint whine from somewhere indistinct caused him to rub at the temples. Cruor wasn't sure what the man had done but it was so very interesting. Under the table he rubbed the fabric of trousers no longer ashen. A nice pressed cloth of good heft. What good funeral clothes for you, my dear. The whine persisted in his ear but nothing he couldn't ignore.

'Let's see if you still do what still I need of you, little image', he wondered to himself. It bore a little play to see. Cruor flexed the hands rubbing one thumb and forefinger together. There was a latent edge to it though like the hand wanted to do something else. It still did what he needed it to however the nagging adrenaline of someone nearby in a panic left him having to focus on counting lest the warmness of someone's suffering embarrass his party-goer. He eyed the woman absently searching it for the movement twitching under his skin. Strings of thought pulled as they should to fake a drink of wine while he pondered,'We can't have that, now can we dear? There were security around here recently, there might be a murder yet!'

There definitely was something fundamentally changed but he couldn't put his finger on it quite yet. It was like the muscle that tensed to keep the simulacra existing no longer did so. Now odd ticks remained where it was not used. The woman stood up and led the way as Cruor padded on behind her. His scales flowed as he moved a matte backdrop to the black and red suited woman with a faint slit-eyed gleam. A good sense of where there might be blood might lead him into danger but he wouldn't get to see someone murdered sitting at a party listening to some musician. It took some doing to find somewhere near to where the angry fellow had gone off to. He picked something interesting and had the woman faking sips at her drink while he looked around to see where prince had gone off to. He kept thinking he heard someone familiar crying about something or other but not in his direction. Not quite who he'd gone looking for anyway.