curiously | open rp post

[ eyes narrow as eyes shift towards the unsheathed knife, a hand slipping into the leather bag before pulling out a fully charged recorder with the mic bulb attached already.

had anyone known she'd be going here — no one does — they would probably tell her that meeting the ghost face is a terrible, terrible idea. on the other hand, meeting terrible people is part of her career when she strives for the truth.

can she really trust the man in front of her for at least five minutes? ]

Got plans for it or are you keeping it like how I'm holding onto your knife?

[ zarina holds the recorder out with the base pointing towards the killer. ]

[ He takes the recorder and trades it for the knife. He'd be tempted to keep it for himself, if he didn't know that would mean he'd have to dig up another knife. It's a simple device, a lot smaller and sleeker than he remembers using. ]

Unless you want to record this conversation for reference later, I wasn't planning on it. [ She's undoubtedly already removed anything that might be useful on it. Regardless, he turns it over in his hand, figuring it out. ] I just wanted to make sure you give the knife back. Properly.

[ After a few seconds of reviewing it, he looks up at Zarina, eyes fixed on her through the mask. ]

Love the outfit, by the way.

Thank the Entity for making us play dress up half the time. You wore a Halloween costume once, right?

[ the simple black cloak that she remembers during a trial before, but time is no one's friend in this world so she loses count how long ago it's been. the sun and moon refuse to move from their spots in the sky, the constant rain in the forests, the never-ending fog that she learns how to navigate after a time — not even the watch she gains in the strange greek-inspired clothing works.

once the blade's in her hand, zarina takes a step back with her eyes on ghost face before looking towards the weapon. already recalling the way it sinks into her back before a flash of light prior to finally dying, she wonders — ]

What made you want to start killing people?

[ zarina takes a seat on the hood of a car close by. ]

Sure. It was something I picked up back in the world, though.

[ The costume that might have done okay for keeping him hidden but was way to cumbersome and prone to getting caught on things for more than one or two uses. Still, it made the headlines even more than usual.

When Zarina sits, he stays standing, completely still aside from the very faint hints that he's breathing and the straps off his coat that perpetually float behind him. Their movements, for the moment, are as idle and silent as ever. He watches her, listens to her, smiles to himself a little and turns the recorder over in his hand again. ]

Does there have to be a reason? I know it makes things easier to process, but that's not always going to be the case.

What, did you just decide to stab someone out of the blue when you were a child?

[ does she expect a straight answer from him with her questions? not at all. not with what she knows of the man she's met during their numerous trials. on the other hand, she's fresh blood in comparison to the likes of bill or meg.

they always give such interesting stories.

palm wrapped around the handle of the knife, she holds onto it in mid-air and turns it around to see if there are any interesting markings on it. perhaps anything personal she can note. ]

It's a possibility.

[ Vague, as always, just because he can be. He's not going to give that much of a straight answer yet; why he kills isn't a huge secret to him, but it's always worth trying to wring some information out of someone first before he tells them, or make them really dig for it.

The knife is a standrd tactical knife. No custom adjustments made to it, no personalized engravings. Black and silver, the blade a little scratched but the razor edge as finely-honed as ever. The grip is a little worn down in the places where he grips it, but not enough to be so noticeable unless someone's really looking - like Zarina is.

There was never any point to leaving something unique to himself on it, even fingerprints. That way, if he ever lost it, the police would have to search every store that sold knives in the country to find a lead on whose it was. He watches her look it over, just slightly smug. ]

Like it? There's really something to be said for a weapon like that. It doesn't have the reach, but it's just as effective as anyone else's.

[ a soft, disappointed sigh; of course he doesn't give a definitive answer. the ghost face wears a mask and long enough clothing to hide his whole identity and not leave any significant marks.

it's aged, looking at the handle of the knife while getting a feel of it at the same time. this is already his go-to weapon — something he's had for quite a long time, zarina assumes. was it with him since his first kill? a replacement earlier on? or maybe it belongs to someone else who's used it many times over?

once again, like with the cowboy, various questions form in her mind as the tip of her nails tap against cold steel as she listens to what else the ghost face has to say: anything but himself. ]

I don't know. Being shot by a harpoon is plenty painful. [ the way she dies upon her first time arriving... hard to forget. ] Admittedly more professional than a kitchen knife or what the Legion uses.

[ she adds: ]

Ever used another weapon or tactic to kill before?

[ Survivors aren't going to compliment a killer to their face, obviously, and Danny was expecting her to brush him off. It's pretty much the standard procedure around here. Zarina's words don't surprise him, but he does tilt his head a little when she calls it professional, because he'll take praise where he finds it. Not that his ego's ever needed the boost.

Of course, it comes after a little dismissal in comparison to Caleb, but then again, the two of them showed up at the same time; the first death is always going to leave the deepest mark. ]

Thank you. [ There's only a hint of a sardonic edge there. ] He designed that spear to hurt, not really to kill, so that's where the difference lies.

[ The question makes him watch her, still turning her recorder in his fingers. The buttons give a little under his thumb, and he tries to feel out which are which through the leather of his glove. ]

Weapon, occasionally. But it was always a knife in the same vein. Tactic? Not really. Once I found what worked best, there was no reason to deviate. People almost never caught on, and they weren't subtle when they did.

Almost? [ a brow raises as eyes shift towards the ghost face. there's the slightest tilt of her head to the side. ] So you were caught before?

[ the devil is in the details, right? every choice of word mentioned is important for zarina. if not caught before, then almost means that he was that close to being caught as the knife-wielding murderer that becomes an urban legend by her time. there's no memory of him ever disappearing, but she's certain there's not been news of his capture as well.

though it's impossible to read the man's face, zarina makes sure to note down body language the same way she interviews everyone else while the camera rolls. ]

How?

[ A part of him is offended that she'd even consider he might be captured, but then again, most of them were. Either caught alive and rotted in jail, or caught dead, preferring their own way out rather than risk prison time. He never really thought about which way he'd take, primarily because he knew he'd never be caught.

The only outward sign of any displeasure is the way her recorder stops moving in his hand, suddenly gripped a little tighter. ]

I was never caught. People caught on. [ He watches the way she's holding his knife, just in case she decides there's worth in risking a stab. Or running like hell. ] Little details, being unavailable at a time I should have been around, knowing a little too much ... but as soon as people started connecting the dots, I'd leave. There was never any solid evidence I didn't leave by choice.

[ Not that he always left when he was ready, but there's no point in letting Zarina know that. ]

[ "Little details, being unavailable at a time I should have been around, knowing a little too much..." she hears him say, and already zarina wishes she was the one with the recorder turned on. they're little details given that she both makes sure to remember to write down later, and to remember that he may be lying with every word that comes out of his mouth. notes to remember later and cross reference with anything else in the future, find out if the ghost face slips, find out if anyone else knows certain things about him that conflict or correlate.

it's basically her work all over again; an intrigued hum leaves her throat. ]

What exactly was your day job before you had to leave it?

[ a door to door salesman? no. from what it sounds like, it's a job that has him go to the office everyday with growing familiarity among co-workers. more guessing in her mind as she holds onto the knife with one hand, her thumb controlling how it rotates with her other hand holding the blunt end of the weapon not-so-tightly. ]

[ Her attention keeps his attitude level for the moment; still interested in her and what she's asking, thanks to her interest in him and what he's saying. Will she remember every word? He's pretty sure. Even without the record, which slowly moves in his hand again as the flicker of offense fades.

The question makes him tilt his head. He debates giving her the answer, but why let her know so easily? Zarina's the inquisitive type; she'll dig, he bets, until she hits paydirt. ]

Why don't you try to guess? I'll tell you if you're getting warm.

[ As if he's given her much to work with. But when was the last time he played nice? ]

There was only ever the one, no matter where I went. It's a job you could find anywhere in the world, if you were good enough.

[ Because that narrows it down. ]

[ ah, another dangerous mean equals another game. on one hand, she's the one with the weapon. on the other, this is just a conversation where she prospects for nuggets of gold. with a smile on her face: ]

Mailman?

[ a joke, of course, with how she lets out a soft chuckle. it's for two reasons: 1) to see his reaction, and; 2) for a better sense of relaxation. ]

[ There's a second of silence, and then he laughs. It's partly real, and sounds real enough. It's not a bad guess, and from her smile she probably didn't mean it seriously. The recorder keeps moving in his hand. ]

Wouldn't have been a bad pick, but I was never really cut out for government work. Besides, they track their employees a little too closely. All that felony mail tampering probably would have gotten me caught.

[ He leans back on his heels a little, watching the way she handles his knife. ]

Next guess?

[ another hum leaves her throat, once again tapping her nails on the blade as she thinks — what other careers give him enough freedom to have a desk, connecting with people, and being able to murder people for a certain amount of time? already she traces back through past memories of their trials together.

the ghost face, in zarina's experience, is: a stalker that studies his enemies to the point of being able to take them down with a single, precise strike. ]

You enjoy people watching. [ hmm. ] A job that's everywhere in the world. You own a camera. And the way you wanted my recorder...

[ many jobs require a recorder and a camera, but both at the same time? ]

Photographer? [ wait. ] Journalist?

[ Danny's silent as she works her way through the options, listening to her appraisal. His ego won't let him interrupt her - she's not being insulting, after all, which means why shouldn't he let her talk? There's no danger in letting her work some of his life out here. The consequences are virtually nonexistent.

Under the mask, a thin smile grows into a smirk as she lands on the hobby and then the job, pulling the right answer out easily. Then again, they're in similar lines of work, aren't they? She didn't have far to jump. ]

Exactly. Photography was a hobby, but journalism was ... well. I'm not going to say a passion, but it was definitely a talent, and why not do what I'm good at?

[ Killing being the real passion and the real talent. His posture shifts, more casual now, almost relaxed, if he was ever really relaxed. The straps on his coat drift lazily, curling behind his back. ]

Every newspaper that hired me was so glad to have me on board. And in the end, I'm not sure they all regretted it. I was good at boosting sales.

[ a journalist that gets to write his own stories for whatever city he currently resides at. or wherever he travels — "Every newspaper that hired me" — to find a new target. maybe if she researched about the ghost face when she was younger then she would have found a trail of where he goes. that is, of course, if she had the same skill set she had at present.

there's only one murderer she had her eyes set on the first time before finding out about hellshire's secrets. the ghost face hadn't been on her list before. still isn't, but that doesn't mean she isn't interested in learning more about him especially when she has an audience.

so far so good. ]

Depends on what kind of person your bosses were. Good people who want the truth out, or greedy people who only fishes for headlines in the end no matter what the cost — where did you work at the longest?

[ a location is always a good start. ]

And ever worked on pieces that weren't about you?

[ What does she know, he wonders? Did she hear anything growing up? He knows that he's out of time from the rest of them - though that's the case for nearly every killer - so they're distant enough, but most of the survivors should have at least been alive when he was active. And some of them had to have heard about his activities, even if he wasn't Ghost Face back then.

Zarina likes her murderers, or at least she likes to learn about them. She must know something ... or maybe this is her one opportunity to learn all about one from the best source there is. ]

They were running a newspaper. The bottom line was the bottom line. [ He pauses at her question, tilts his head a little as he considers it. ] I can't say there was anywhere that lasted significantly longer than the others. A year tended to be the longest I stayed in any one place. Philadelphia had the longest time I was active, though.

[ Big cities have better cops, but so many more places to hide - and so many more newspapers. ]

As for the work, of course. You don't start out at a place picking up the headlines. I'd do whatever they needed me for. Made a reputation for myself as diligent and timely. That's when they hand you the reins to the murders.

[ despite not being completely assured that everything the ghost face says is the truth, it's interesting with what he could think of if they are several lies delicately sewn together. if it is the truth however... well, it's still interesting. the way he seems to get away from his previous work places before people find him to be suspicious, zarina thinks to herself while imagining the way he worked.

the man in front of her is a journalist who publishes his crimes in the newspaper. starting small until reaching his own works (and others, right?) with a certain amount of detail. he's done this in several cities, she assumes — killing is what he loves to do after all. working on articles about himself can be both damage control and earning a moment in the spotlight.

zarina's career gives her the opportunity to meet various people in life. politicians, criminals, citizens who have troubling experiences — and everyone is a unique individual. that includes the survivors she meets at the campfire after every trial, and the killers who hide behind their weapon of choice.

some hide behind anger and hatred. others hide behind a mystery. it's the reason she says: ]

What name did you go with when your articles get published? [ her forefinger and thumb pinch the flat side of the blade between her fingers. ] And did you have a favorite article out of all of them? Did you make "friends" at work?

[ the way she says friends is as though the word itself is a joke. ghost face, with actual friends? impossible. ]

[ The questions come at him without much in the way of a response to his other replies, and while some part of him relishes the attention, the curiosity, the focus, the rest of him is a little more wary. Danny watches Zarina, the way her eyes are fixed on him and her fingers keep fiddling with his knife, and considers whether he should answer or not.

He's silent a few long seconds before he speaks, a little curiosity bordering his own tone. ]

That's a lot of questions all at once. Been a while since you've had an interview, hasn't it? [ Not quite sarcastic, but maybe a little sardonic. ] And a little bit prying, too. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself first, and then we can get back to laying out all my crimes in fine detail?

[ A trade. Something he's gotten into the habit of around here. There's no harm in handing out details of his life as a killer, and occasionally something about him personally, as long as he's going to get something worthwhile in return. He can't exactly rifle through their lives here. They don't have homes; he's barred from the campfire; their conversations are often distant, muted, and cut short, especially in a trial.

There's only so many ways to learn about them, but if they're willing to tell him themselves, he'll take as much as he can get. And Zarina, the documentarian and seeker of truth and justice, is fascinating in her own right. ]

[ a soft sigh leaves past her lips, eyebrows knitting together; her mistake realized as eyes shift to the side with thoughts in mind before they return back to the masked murderer. it's been a long, long while since she's interviewed anyone outside the entity's realm. traversing from new york to nevada gives her people to speak to, but not a genuine one on one interview. even the interview she does obtain in the entity's realm gets readjusted into a talk between people.

like what my favorite color is? comes to mind briefly, but already zarina knows that isn't the kind of details he would want. not when she understands the desire to know the truth, to look beneath pebbles for missed out information that can be the answer to a thousand questions she has in the back of her mind.

it takes exactly six seconds for her to answer back. ]

I used to go into part time photography, but my main work is film. [ the very camera she uses during that time is back in the campfire, after all. ] Didn't work at any publication, just myself. I started my own site and gained a following over a couple of years.

[ they're not exactly details, but then the ghost face never asked for anything specific in the first place. now she wonders if he'll demand more or answer her questions. ]

Edited 2021-02-09 12:44 (UTC)

[ Zarina hesitates before speaking. He hears her sigh, sees the look that flits across her face, and knows she's not happy about having to give up anything to hear about him ... but she does it, because she's an intelligent woman who knows you can't get something for nothing.

He was expecting an agreement and then an opportunity to ask a question; instead she hands over information of her own will. Nothing particularly interesting, but valuable all the same. Anything is valuable to him. Anything can lead to a vital weakness, a place to slip a metaphorical (or physical) knife. That being said, she's a photographer too, is she? ]

So we have a few more things in common. [ Said in almost a friendly way, to better get under her skin if he can. After all, nobody likes having things in common with a murderer, much less him. ] It's always a nice way to spend time, isn't it? Finding the right angle, the right lighting, the right subject matter ... getting a perfect shot.

[ Danny'd never bothered with publishing any of his photography either, even the more socially acceptable pictures. It was a hobby, after all. Just something to while away the time between work, sleep, and murder. He thinks back over her questions, debates answers with himself for a few seconds before replying. ]

I don't know about favorite, but my big reveal in Roseville was a top-notch piece of work. Informative and terrifying. The security camera picture I got for it was better quality than I expected, too. [ Leave it to him to list his own article as a favorite. ] Work friends are work friends. Casual acquaintances at best. But, yes, they did consider me enough of a friend sometimes. Did you make many friends dragging up ugly truths with your documentaries?

[ Notably, he ignores the question about his publication name. Even fake as it was, it's staying under wraps - until he can trade it for something really useful. ]

[ red lips purse together for three seconds at the thought of having anything in common with the ghost face. though he's not the first one from the other side that zarina finds out that she certain similarities and experiences with, he's most certainly the one she wanted the least with — not with what she views as sadism with the way the life fades from her body upon being blinded by the flash of a camera.

a journalist who uncovers details with both their words and actions, one where they work and work and work until their article is published and viewed by the world — goddamn it. a description not only for ghost face, but for zarina word to word.

as if she would say it out loud. ]

I've made friends with other filmmakers. [ a slight shrug. it's not a lie, but certainly an answer to his question. ] And I got to meet plenty of other people from various places because of my work. Not exactly close friends, but it's the same as you: Casual acquaintances at best.

[ now, because she knows when a question doesn't get answered through much experience: ]

What name did you go by before?

Edited 2021-02-11 15:33 (UTC)

[ The comparisons annoy her, he can tell. He can only hope they do more than annoy in the long run - that they appall, offend, disgust, because that'll be something he can use against her later on, whether they're in a trial or not. It's not such a negative thing for him; her work was probably fine. Just not on par with his, and with very different perspectives, even if the subject matter was similar.

She's almost as good as he is at deflecting, he thinks, and also knows when an unanswered question was deliberately not answered. Possibly she can't take a hint, though in fairness he didn't really hint at anything. He looks at her, head tilted slightly, the straps on his coat floating idly in the air behind him. ]

That's a loaded question, don't you think? [ Loaded with implications, suggestions, questions within questions. She's asking for a name that won't lead back to him directly, but it is still him. And he'd like to keep that hidden for as long as he can. Until he can wring something really worthwhile out of her, or at least build a false trust between them. ] People did start attaching blame to that name, after all. Once they started putting the puzzle pieces together. If you ever got out of here, you might even be able to follow my path.

[ He's silent for a second, fingers resting on her digital recorder lightly. ]

If you want a name, Zarina, you're going to have to give me a very good reason to hand it over.

[ "A very good reason" — already she supposes general curiosity isn't the answer to it. on one hand, the man wears a mask for a reason — a complete attire that covers every inch of him without revealing anything human beneath dark leather. of course he wants to remain a mystery, even here in a world where fame doesn't matter like death at this point. the closest thing to fame, she believes, is the way survivors would talk about how frustrating certain killers are or how frightening they can be.

the hag, for example, is one who never fails to have everyone's hearts running when she appears with a scream or from out of nowhere. zarina learns how to use a flashlight proper after several trials with the witch. there's also the oni — the only killer where her healing touch benefits both the survivor and the killer, she realizes after her first trial.

and then there are the likes of the hillbilly and the twins that makes her wonder what hurt them to end up the way they are. a sentiment she doesn't think of when the ghost face comes to mind.

what comes up first is, "What's wrong with him?"

zarina lets the back of a well-manicured nail run against the smooth, blunt end of the tactical knife in hand. ]

You know mine. I don't know yours yet. [ yet is the important word. ] It's fair that way — unless you don't mind me calling you something like John or Brad. Maybe Nigel.

[ or joe? she thinks to herself for a moment. ]

What's the price of a name?

Edited 2021-02-18 16:42 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sorry for the delay!

no problem!

bless :*

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject