Along dusk, the shape of Ripper's black-draped form can be seen moving in the woods outside the road. Delving deeper into the forest she treads carefully, eyes alert, as is expecting an ambush at any moment. Finally, her wolfish eyes graze the half-collapsed, overgrown ruin of what had once been a macabre museum. Her head bows, placing two fingers over the spot where her heart fails to beat.
"Forgive the intrusion Papa, I won't tarry long."
Her wings fold carefully against her back, staying clear of the way as the vampire sweeps aside overgrowth in the doorway. Even now the place reeks of gore, the smell of iron stings her throat and makes her stomach boil. She keeps her eyes focused, ignoring the way that every shift of debris causes a rain of deep red flakes to fall from the walls and ceiling. Eventually, she locates her goal, a bookshelf half-hidden beneath fallen long-dessicated bodies. At least she knows what she's looking for.
"Please be legible..."
Pale fingers search the spines, ignoring those books so steeped in vitae or gore as to be ruined. She nearly misses her mark, but a shudder reminds her that this leather is much thinner than the rest. Peeling the book from the rest, she first makes as if to lift it toward her mouth but in second thought opts to swipe her skirt across it instead. Unable to see clearly in the half-light she relies on her fingers, nails tracing relief shapes and matching them to memories. With a grim but satisfied nod she stands, navigating slowly back outside to stare, enthralled, at the blood-red gleam of moonlight off human leather.
"Whereever we go in death, Papa, rest easy knowing that my soul is thoroughly compromised. My motives always under my own scrutiny. You were a brilliant, beautiful, monster."
It's odd to see the vampire startled, not since becoming an adult, but for an instant she resembles a cat whose tail has been trod upon, eyes big, wings straight up, and pupils slitted. In one movement she slides the book to the crook of her elbow and against herself, while turning to size up the surrounding area. Her eyes glow faintly, the colour trailing in the dim light as if they were a pair of flames.[Perceive Hidden]
She gives her head a quick shake, as if attempting to dislodge something, and then quickly starts the trudge back to Jastrey proper. Hoping, strangely enough, that the voice was some form of psychosis. Madness was a far more optimistic outlook than Rizzik's return.
"HOW SWEET! THANK YOU SO MUCH, MY DEAR!" Rizzik's maddened voice echoes in the air all around Thorne, obliterating the quiet of the ruined museum then fading back to eerie silence as quickly as it rose up.