𝙎𝙒𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙒𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 | Will Graham

S1. Ep.01 | Fugacious Ecstasy

"IT IS A MESS"

"It's not a mess." Her fingers scanned down the floor, searching for the small colored puzzle pieces displayed before her. "It might look like it, but that doesn't mean it can't become something."

"A bigger mess"

She sighed, rolling her doll eyes as the TV continued to broadcast in the background. Outside, it was a like any other, silent, cold, and the chilly air in her veins only made her more determined to reach her goal.

"It's a matter of perspective." Teresa leaned a bit down, as she grabbed a small piece with two spaces on its' sides, a corner, she concluded. "Everything is a matter of perspective." She found the perfect pair for it, creating some sort of mountain in the horizon. "See?"

The dark skinned woman across her chrotled, her wrinkles on the corner of her lips showed little sign of aging, but Aunt Delilah was still just as beautiful as any modern supermodel nowadays. "You overthink just like your mother used to." She teased, taking the remote control and increasing the volume of the TV.

"I like to say that I'm just attentive to details" she corrected, overhearing the TV talk about some missing girls. "What's all that fuzz about?"

"Eight girls taken from their campuses in Minnesota in the past 8 months." Delilah spoke trying to hide her horror at the images, covering her mouth a little with her hands. "What kind of monster would do this?"

"You just said the word..." Teresa whispered as she started to build the bigger picture while hearing the deaths across the buzzing screen "...a monster."

▫️

"What's with the lack of whiskey?"

"Sorry, all we got for today."

She rolled her doll eyes. "Fine, just fill me in with tequila then." She sighed.

Baltimore, nighttime, bar next to her new workplace she'd start tomorrow. It looked more like a countey club than an average one. Her vision scanned the people, tired workers trying to get rid of the stress on their shoulders.

The low lights gave evidence to the smoking outside and frustrated dance of some forbidden affair of middle aged men on the dance floor. In the meantime, her fingertips played with the reliquary around her neck, the golden already snudged and worn out by the weather, sweat and years.

It was hard for Teresa to admit she was nervous, it was hard to tell her aunt that beginning in that new era was much more than just a job for her, it was hard for her to explain the real motives that led her until that moment. So she'd simply not tell, instead, she'd let all her frustrations drown in the whiskey- actually, tequila this time.

She was taken out of her thoughts when the smell of woods entered her lungs. It had some scent of pine, roustic fireplace and a small hint of washes dogs in a rainy day. Her eyes lingered at the dishelved man by her side. His face was shaped as a greek god's, with a sprinkled beard across the massive diamond shapes features and the curly hair strands that fell in front of his olive eyes.

But his silhoutte wasn't worth the characteristics, it was rather shy, curled up, as a small scared enemy against fire "They're out of whiskey." She said before he opened his mouth, finally making the stranger face her with a rather amused and bothered expression. "Excuse me" she called the bartender "another dose of tequila for my friend here, please."

She could feel the olive eyes against her bare shoulders, counting down the freckles on her neck and lower, almost memorizing and criticizing each one of them. "Thanks." Was all the stranger mumbled in return, not showing any sign of grattitude whatsoever.