Morrigan's Return

Returning to the manor to relax after a bite to eat, Morrigan felt renewed and invigorated. Although skilled enough to not allow a drop of blood on her in her feeding, she felt a bath and fresh set of clothes were in order. Morrigan ensured her doors were properly locked before venturing into the bedroom and stripping each layer of silk off of her body. Her naked figure gleaming in the moonlight, she padded her way into the bathroom and began running the water into her silver jacuzzi tub.

As she waited for the tub to fill, the fiery beauty sat delicately at her vanity and took down her hair letting it fall around her shoulders and down over her breasts and back. As radiant as she was with her hair up in her tightly wound bun, she was even more a sight to behold with it wrapping around her like a Venus. She stroked her deep ruby mane with a brush to smooth it out as much as it was possible for all of its waves.

Sensing a change in pitch in the rising water, Morrigan closed the water spout and dropped a small bit of bergamot oil into the filled vessel. Slowly she submerged her body into the steamy water and switched on the jets. The feeling was like bathing in a hot spring and felt more natural to her than any shower would.

Closing her eyes, she flipped through several pages in her mind. Centuries she had followed a broken trail searching for answers to a question plaguing her since the horrible tragedy 300 years ago. Emma, the former leader of the Night and one of her more trusted counterparts, murdered. Instincts told her whoever was behind this did it for personal gain. The evidence pointing to Evenhet was too obvious - she knew right away it had to have been set up to make it appear plausible on the surface. Alfarinn may have parted ways with the clan, but she knew enough of him in his time as Anantya to know this was not within his nature and that he had cared for Emma deeply just as many others had. No, this villain would have to be found in the shadows.

Morrigan knew Emma had worn her maker's ring on her fateful trip - a ring that had not been found when the scene had been surveyed and her quarters searched. Such a prized possession would not have been misplaced. The turning of Thaddeus Grey in the whirlwind of the events would lead one to believe she had given the ring to him and yet he did not carry it with him when he joined the clan in the manor. This important piece of Emma was the keystone in this bridge of treachery. Finding the one who had possessed the ring would lead her to the traitor.

Yes, a traitor. Only one with intimate knowledge of Emma and the clan could have orchestrated her death. And the person within clan who had the most to gain from Emma's disappearance was none other than Morrigan's most despised enemy - Sorin.

How she had ached and burned to see Sorin dead for the last two thousand years. His leave from the Roman capital and change of name did not hide him completely from her. Any human would have assumed him dead when he faded from the spotlight, but a vampire knew better. And then he suddenly appeared on the clan's doorstep, although she had not realized immediately that it was he and no other. Careful digging traced his roots back to Rome and then the plotting began. Two thousand years seemed long to plan revenge, but all a vampire truly has is time. Her ascension to elder slowed this process and she had to sit back on her haunches like a cat ready to strike until the golden opportunity presented itself and Sorin reared his evil head.

And now, here it was. Morrigan was so sure Sorin had plotted Emma's death she could feel the knowledge coursing through her vampire blood, but no matter how much she believed in this conclusion she first needed proof to present to Mai. The leader of the Hunt followed only logic and certainties - Morrigan knew she could not go to Mai with gut feelings and obscure clues and expect anything more than a philosophical statement and a curious look. She could not go around appearing fanatical and obsessed: she needed proof.

Her trails lead her to different things. She knew Mai's detour from her and Emma's destination resulted in nothing and someone had to have known the information was faulty. Sorin's taking up quarters outside of the manor was suspicious - not in the act itself as it was not all that uncommon within the clan, but the timing just before Emma's death held her attention. Most of all was the letter to Alfarrin which Morrigan had still not yet seen. Somehow she believed this would strengthen her case. And of course, the location of the ring.

Morrigan blinked and took in her surroundings. She had been so lost in thought she had not realized her bathwater had dropped in temperature. Stepping out of the tub and unstopping the drain, she stretched a porcelain hand out to a hook on the wall and took down a towel. She patted herself dry and tossed the towel into a bin on her way back into the bedroom.

The closet was nearly a room in itself, opening from the bedroom through two arches into a large rectangle lined with clothes and shoes and housing a low leather bench in the center. Glimpsing her pale figure in the full-length mirror, Morrigan slipped into a slightly sheer deep maroon silk sleeveless top with a draped neck and curve-skimming black pants. She stepped in front of the mirror again to assess her appearance and was pleased at how the top delicately caressed and hinted at her bare breasts. The lithe woman stepped into a pair of black stilettos and stopped briefly in the bathroom to apply a light coating of lip balm. She decided to leave her hair down for a bit and give her head a rest.

Feeling fully refreshed and clean, Morrigan sat down at the desk in her office and began reviewing her files on Emma's case once more as she had done so many times before.

Morrigan Kinsey 18 years ago
Leaning over her papers, Morrigan flashed through the facts in her mind's eye. Something seemed unclear and she couldn't find the answer in her notes. Completely absorbed in her work, Morrigan resolved to head to the library without notice that her hair was still down. She rushed out of the office and through her quarters to the foyer. Flicking off the lights, she stepped put into the hall, ensured the door was secure, and rushed through the manor.

((ooc: Morrigan out))