Post by Tawny Vokes on Nov 10, 2022 12:18:53 GMT -5
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throw away your letters and numbers
and make sure to cover your tracks
[attr="class","taw2taggy"]tag: Cass Harlow
[attr="class","taw2boxy"][break]The days following Halloween were always busy days for the Sector. Busy days for Tawny, especially. Papers piled on her desk. Her phone was constantly buzzing. Always there was something they needed her for. It seemed anytime she closed herself in her office and plopped down in her chair, finally able to breathe, she was beckoned for once more. It had been exhausting. A week had passed, filled with strangers' memories of spooky, drunken nights made bizarre and wild by Gifted happenings. Unexplainable, supernatural shenanigans that she was tasked with making more ordinary and mundane. Morphing shapeshifters into men and women in shitty costumes. Outfitting boastful wizards with noticeable mirrors and strings, making their feats less impressive and more acceptable. Humans were brought to her, gibbering excitedly (or fearfully) about what they'd witnessed and, by the time they left, they could only look back and wonder why they'd been so impressed (or frightened) at all. [break][break]
But the aftermath of Halloween was finally winding down. Tawny had almost had a normal, relatively-peaceful day, able to return to her actual therapy work without distraction. But then, just before lunchtime, her handler had called her to his floor with yet another assignment and it'd been non-stop since then. He'd given her minimal information — a woman showing off her powers in the streets like some gypsy performer. Such occurrences seemed to be more common now than they had been when Tawny first started her work with the Sector. She suspected Blackstorm footed part of the blame; them and their inspiration and encouragement, making Gifted hope and believe in a future where they show off and do as they pleased. [break][break]
The Sector had brought in the woman's small group of wowed spectators under the guise of providing a witness report. The bulk of Tawny's afternoon became talking to them, taking their report and amending it as she tweaked their recollection — until the report eventually became spectacularly ordinary instead of strange and peculiar. Her handler had provided minimal information and that had worked well enough for Tawny — by the time she'd sat with the second person brought to her and taken numerous dives through their head, she'd witnessed the spectacle enough times to be able to recreate it herself. [break][break]
The woman, small and youthful, likely no older than twenty, had juggled balls of flame, occasionally shooting them in the air above her with dramatic exclamations. Shot tongues of flame. Skipped and danced along the sidewalk, her footfalls trailing images of fire on the concrete behind her. Beaming wide and laughing loud, quick to appease the more shocked and scrutinous of her spectators with more concentrated, demonstrative parlor tricks. She was talented — Tawny suspected a performer by trade. Perhaps a dancer or an actress. Unfortunately, she'd concealed half of her face in costume and bolted at the first sign of the Sector's approach. Tawny, though remarkably less so than her supervisors, would have liked to known who she was. Maybe even take a glimpse into her memories and see if Blackstom had put her up to the task. [break][break]
Only one more witness remained — one more time she would have to sift over the details of the woman's performance and dress them down. Tawny excused herself for a moment to take a break, whisking herself to the building's restrooms and observing herself in its spotty mirror. Leaning over the sink, she drew her hands down her face with a resigned sigh, then tried to poke away the tiredness that lingered at the corners of her eyes. Her stomach growled and she gave it a consoling pat. "Almost done, fella. Then lunch. Then... maybe a nap?" Nodding to herself assuredly, she straightened and smoothed down her blouse, then whisked herself out of the bathroom and made her way back to the small room where she'd been taking the statements. [break][break]
It wasn't unlike an interrogation room in a police station, but there had been efforts made to make it less intimidating and more casual — comfy chairs, wall decorations and potted plants, a small, rounded oak table with only a couple of chairs — providing just enough space, but not too much that the other person could make themselves unreachable from her. There were windows that opened into the main hall, too, with the blinds only half-drawn — attempts to make the person inside feel like they were there more voluntarily than mandatorily. That they could leave if they wanted, even if the Sector would eventually be forceful with them when pleasantries didn't work. [break][break]
Tawny stepped to the door and opened it, then cast her gaze around the hall and the mostly empty chairs that dotted its wall. "Cassidy?" Tawny called, having taken a preemptive look at the single name remaining before taking her break. She smiled affably when her eyes fell upon him, tipping her head toward the open door. "You're up." Her fingers twitched, ready to outstretch into a handshake — always a handshake, it was the first and easiest way to take her first glimpse. A freebie. "Everyone before you gave a pretty good, thorough report on what you all saw, so this shouldn't take long. I'm Tawny." She offered her hand, smile curling, becoming more genuinely warm.
[break][break]
But the aftermath of Halloween was finally winding down. Tawny had almost had a normal, relatively-peaceful day, able to return to her actual therapy work without distraction. But then, just before lunchtime, her handler had called her to his floor with yet another assignment and it'd been non-stop since then. He'd given her minimal information — a woman showing off her powers in the streets like some gypsy performer. Such occurrences seemed to be more common now than they had been when Tawny first started her work with the Sector. She suspected Blackstorm footed part of the blame; them and their inspiration and encouragement, making Gifted hope and believe in a future where they show off and do as they pleased. [break][break]
The Sector had brought in the woman's small group of wowed spectators under the guise of providing a witness report. The bulk of Tawny's afternoon became talking to them, taking their report and amending it as she tweaked their recollection — until the report eventually became spectacularly ordinary instead of strange and peculiar. Her handler had provided minimal information and that had worked well enough for Tawny — by the time she'd sat with the second person brought to her and taken numerous dives through their head, she'd witnessed the spectacle enough times to be able to recreate it herself. [break][break]
The woman, small and youthful, likely no older than twenty, had juggled balls of flame, occasionally shooting them in the air above her with dramatic exclamations. Shot tongues of flame. Skipped and danced along the sidewalk, her footfalls trailing images of fire on the concrete behind her. Beaming wide and laughing loud, quick to appease the more shocked and scrutinous of her spectators with more concentrated, demonstrative parlor tricks. She was talented — Tawny suspected a performer by trade. Perhaps a dancer or an actress. Unfortunately, she'd concealed half of her face in costume and bolted at the first sign of the Sector's approach. Tawny, though remarkably less so than her supervisors, would have liked to known who she was. Maybe even take a glimpse into her memories and see if Blackstom had put her up to the task. [break][break]
Only one more witness remained — one more time she would have to sift over the details of the woman's performance and dress them down. Tawny excused herself for a moment to take a break, whisking herself to the building's restrooms and observing herself in its spotty mirror. Leaning over the sink, she drew her hands down her face with a resigned sigh, then tried to poke away the tiredness that lingered at the corners of her eyes. Her stomach growled and she gave it a consoling pat. "Almost done, fella. Then lunch. Then... maybe a nap?" Nodding to herself assuredly, she straightened and smoothed down her blouse, then whisked herself out of the bathroom and made her way back to the small room where she'd been taking the statements. [break][break]
It wasn't unlike an interrogation room in a police station, but there had been efforts made to make it less intimidating and more casual — comfy chairs, wall decorations and potted plants, a small, rounded oak table with only a couple of chairs — providing just enough space, but not too much that the other person could make themselves unreachable from her. There were windows that opened into the main hall, too, with the blinds only half-drawn — attempts to make the person inside feel like they were there more voluntarily than mandatorily. That they could leave if they wanted, even if the Sector would eventually be forceful with them when pleasantries didn't work. [break][break]
Tawny stepped to the door and opened it, then cast her gaze around the hall and the mostly empty chairs that dotted its wall. "Cassidy?" Tawny called, having taken a preemptive look at the single name remaining before taking her break. She smiled affably when her eyes fell upon him, tipping her head toward the open door. "You're up." Her fingers twitched, ready to outstretch into a handshake — always a handshake, it was the first and easiest way to take her first glimpse. A freebie. "Everyone before you gave a pretty good, thorough report on what you all saw, so this shouldn't take long. I'm Tawny." She offered her hand, smile curling, becoming more genuinely warm.
[break][break]
[break]
NOTES: Here we go! If you don't like anything about this set-up, just let me know and I can tweak! Also, if maybe we can brainstorm some memories (besides the whole fire-lady-spectacle) that Tawny might accidentally witness from him? I can always try and wing it, but if you have something specific or any snippets or a small list of things she might see, that'd be just awesome!! Also, I tried a template — if you don't like templates, I'll happily revert to plain BBC, just say the word!
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