Thread: The Butcher's Bill (Prince x LeatrixSage)

While Ethan spoke, Elisa kept her head down, listening intently without really reacting. His stress on the fact that the killer could be female made her nervous, but she had nothing to hide in that area. She had never killed more than flies. And beyond that, she had been home. Anyone in the house could speak for her. Her heart skipped a beat. If he knew about the lines, and that she could use them, would he assume she had just made them all think she had been home? The idea had panic threatening to overwhelm her. It squeezed around her heart and made her dizzy. She was jerked back from the edge in a harsh startle at Ethan's sudden movement. She stared up at him for a moment, her hand resting over her heart as she let out a slow breath. Yes, yes.. of course, My Lord. Elisa glanced around the room as if lost, collecting her scattered thoughts before she offered him a weak smile. If you'll just follow me, then. Cursing herself, Elisa swept from the room at a quick pass, uncaring if the Lord Colton was left behind or not. She was beginning to decide she loathed the man. The sooner he was gone, the better. We have a private sitting room, just here, she began with the room across from the parlor, opening one door and pressing her back against the cool oak. It helped center her mind, and it afforded Ethan a limited view without being obvious about it. We rarely take guests anywhere other than the parlor. This room is simply for the girls. When he leaned forward to get a better look, Elisa pulled the door close. Of course, this meant standing toe to toe with the man. Oh, sorry, as she looked up, she realized how tall he was. She was not a short woman, and the top of her head barely reached his chin. For a moment, her intentions backfired. She felt trapped. Elisa's pulse quickened and she felt her cheeks warm along with her blood... Excuse me, she wiggled away from him quickly, shocked at herself. No one had ever affected her like that before. She glanced over her shoulder at him as she walked down the hall. Why was she afraid of him? 'He's just a man.' Our music room, this time she stood beside an already open set of french doors and waited. Those of us that already know how to play the harp or piano teach the other girls. A couple know other instruments, but we don't have much of a budget anymore. It's a shame, really. She watched him move about, the way he seemed to examine the dust particles one the wall with his inspection, and began to wonder just what exactly he was looking for. If that thing could let him see lines, what else could he see. Auras, the stain of use, intent, will, emotions... what were the limits? Curious, she decided to find out, and she wouldn't even need a line to do it. Normally, her aura was bright blue. The typical color of a healer, a listener, the type of person that supports the weight of the lives of those around them. It was outlined with a haze of red, marking her as someone that had come close to death. Not in the essence of seeing it, but having nearly died. With a little focus, she could change it. A small trick used to make her more acceptable to different types of people. She had learned it as a child, and it had served her well. She thought for a moment, and then smiled as he turned back around, willing her aura to shine the brilliant yellow of a creative, passionate mind. Further down the hall here is the dining room and the kitchens. Up stairs are the girls' rooms. But, as I am sure you can understand, those are off limits to men... any men, My Lord. She motioned for him to come along as she turned to go back to the parlor, but paused after a step to look back at him. Her aura melted back to his normal coloration as if it had been nothing more than a brief, creative flair caused by her enjoyment of music. Oh, and, there is Mrs. Cromley's office, would you like to see it?