((OOC: Seeing as your character has camped out on Cytherea’s doorstep. And, for us both; especially me., not to get confused. Let’s say she never saw him when she had come home. Maybe he was on the other side of the cottage, maybe? ))
Cytherea heard something outside her doorstep and with all the paranoia going around in her head she took a breathe and closed her eyes. She would not open her door tonight, not even if the one on the other side was as innocent as Daniel. The trickery of keeping her hands busy to ease her brain was failing. Her mind was wondering.
To frame someone, one must be sure the plot goes as plan and so far this was going as close to perfect as it could be.
The creature took the wooden spike covered in Jessup’s blood far to the corner of Cytherea’s home. He placed it under her pile of dirty laundry soiling the white sheets that were left in the wooden bucket; with blood as he did this, he quickly left without being seen. But if seen they would never see a man. They would see a monster.
Kathleen was getting worried pacing about the Majesty’s front door like a impatient customer. Her husband should have been home by now. And he should have been waiting for her before he went to the cattle yard. But she had Dominick the run down the road and fetch the Blacksmith’s son to see if her husband was at the cattle yard. There was no sign of him. She was scared and worried. She knew he had gone to see Cytherea to bring her the meat that was promised for her. So without a second thought she took off down the bridge only to bump into Johnson swaying side to side in his drunk stupor. In all honesty she should of just let him fall over. But her being the one who serves his ale to him. She felt some what sorry for his predicament. “Johnson, you going to kill your self one of these days. You haven’t seen Jessup back there anywhere have you?”
Johnson looked at her smiling. No I haven’t my dear. You think the witch bewitched him? I saw him come in…never seen him leave. *Hiccup* He stayed steadied by her hands on his forearms. She was a small lady.
Kathleen wanted to slap him sober. Of all the things he would suggest. But still she needed to be looking for her husband and not scolding the town’s drunk. She set him free and ran into the forest. The moon lighting the way hopefully it was enough to see. He may still be there in Cytherea’s home. But not for what that fool suggests. She ran and could see the light of Cytherea’s home still burning. *Thud* was the only noise around when Kathleen tripped over something oddly hard and yet soft. It was wet and it was sticky and it smelt like blood. Did she trip over and animal? She rose feeling her way in shadowed light. Then realized that this was not an animal after all. This was a human being. This was her Jessup. She gave a loud “NOOOOoooo!!!..Why?
” She pulled at her dead husband’s shirt sobbing loudly.