Noontide Gate

Fortitude - 1:00

The room was quiet, save for the idle 'tick-tick-tick' from the clock on the wall. No words, not even the idle tapping of a claw on the plastic desk two parties sat at. On one end, a tall, firm woman, her expression unwavering from the usual unamused glare. She was clad in a grey blazer with a ruby red collared shirt beneath, and a white tie. There was a nametag pinned to the tie, as a bar across it, reading  'F O R T I T U D E' on one line, in large font that called attention to it, and 'Terakawa Iwao' on the bottom line, in a small font that was only legible should one actively look at it.

 She had a file folder ahead of her, turning it open to a page bearing a photo of a gruesome scene. An unlucky delivery girl had met her fate with a monster, by the look of it. Claw marks and limbs torn asunder, as well as small paw prints coated in blood dancing around the corpse, almost as if the beast was pacing. There was white fur caught in the machinery nearby, also coated with blood and some even corroded. The victim had put up a fight, even drew blood from whatever attacked her, but she had lost the fight.

"Explain this."

Her tone was simple, her words a direct order to the other. A plane of glass separated them, with a little drawer in the centre of the desk. It was meant for this kind of thing, passing items back and forth. She places the photo in the drawer, before sliding it under the glass to the suspect.

He was a slender creature with pale skin and hunter green hair that tapered to white at the edges. Unlike the norm, his face didn't fade to a muzzle, but kept a human-like shape. Hybrids like him were always hit or miss with their appearance; Some may be indistinguishable from their parents, others may be a perfect blend, yet others may be an abomination. His thick tail swayed behind him as he sat with his legs tucked just beneath him. Being behind the glass was nothing unusual to him.

"Looks like somebody was pissed," His attention turns to the fur caught in the gears, before he shakes his head. "Teo, uh, kind of messy." 

The woman inhales as she keeps her eyes on him, her eyes tearing apart each movement he made in attempts to pin him on something. It was firm in her mind that he must have done it. Hybrids were believed to be much more violent, and he did nothing to help that stereotype. She flips to another page, this time. It was an overview of his criminal record, complete with a mugshot of his visage. A table on the page held multiple occurrences where he had been in this same situation, though his usual offence being nothing more than disorderly conduct.

"You aren't clean, Neztica. You know why you're in here." There was still no emotion to her words, dry as a bone. "Do you know anything about this girl, or about this factory."

Neztica. It was a name his parents gave, but he couldn't remember the meaning. Terakawa, however, knew it well. Ixeol names like his always influenced the bearer, as a sick form of self-fulfilling prophesy. 'Life smothered ashes', and that was another reason she had immediately thought he had done it.

"I'm in here because that door is locked, and you so kindly dragged me here," Neztica rubs his wrists, grumbling low. They were still adorned with pressure marks from the handcuffs, being put too tight before he was yanked around and back into the interrogation chamber. They were difficult to see over the already existing pale stripes that covered his lower arms. Like any Ixeol, he had his own little decoration, with tabby-like stripes all over. "I know her, and I know she's got some people she's crossed. Some of those people aren't exactly good with words." He looks at the picture again, his lip curling in vague disgust and exposing his fangs. "Some of them even work at the factory. Check Tlahilo, I know they just had a bad breakup."

With their direction anew, Terakawa stood from the desk, taking the photo back from the drawer after he slid it through. In her mind, though, he was still a person of interest, and somebody to watch. Thus, she turned on her heel, neglecting to open the door despite his muffled protests. He had even moved to have one two-toed foot on the desk, reaching the glass to knock at it rapidly as she closed the exit door behind her without so much as a thank you.

"Oh my god. Hold on, Nez..."

The second voice that came into the room belonged to Terakawa's immediate underling. She had a red vest with a white polo, and on the back of her clothes, in bold, black letters- 'Soaph Cambrian'. She was a welcome sight to the hybrid, his scowl widening to a small smirk as he slunk off of the desk. Soaph had an addiction to his type, and Neztica knew this. 

As she unlocked the door to his half of the room, he slithered out, his movements fluid and calculated. He stood upright whereas most with his lineage would slouch, and he made it a point to keep his pure white overcoat clean. He had a simple tee under, though it was cropped to expose his midsection and the sensitive gills on his sides. His pants matched in hue, and like many, he damned the concept of shoes.

"Awh, baby, I knew you'd come for me." His words leaked with alluring venom, his expression softening to lull her into a sense of safety near him. He knew it was good to have friends on the inside, even if in any other case, he would sooner make her meal than take her to one. "Any reason Fortitude's got her eyes on me in that? Catlacatl Terakawa nech ticmatima tlama toca Neztica..." His sentence faded into a low utterance, sarcasm laced in. 

'Oh-so-noble Terakawa should know how I hunt.'

Taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his, Soaph began to escort him out of the room, shrugging at his words. Working in this department, hearing that language was normal, and it was essential to at least have a basic knowledge of it. Plenty of Ixeol, hybrids or pure lines, were resident in 12th Landing, so much so that Ixeotol was an official language- granted, Neztica didn't speak official Ixeotol, instead a creole founded from both English and Ixeotol. "Nah, she knows... That's, kind of why you got here. You're kind of scary when you eat, but this one was too extreme for you to have done it..." Soaph's voice was slow, lolling behind each syllable. "That, and I've never heard of you hunting a person."

"Bingo, niuh. I told Fortitude that I knew her, but uh, I prefer to not have to fight just to get dinner. It's easier to just go out and buy something, or walk to the zoo." As he stepped outside onto the sidewalk, he pulled his hand back from Soaph, digging it into his coat pockets. "I hate to cut this short, Soaphie-cochi, but I should get back home soon. They take attendance every few hours, you know how it is." 

 'friend'
'babe' (casual) 

There it was. Neztica didn't really have his freedom as many others did. Specifically, those like him were often kept under surveillance (moreso than most of 12th Landing). Some weren't violent at all. Others, however, would dismember something just to pass the time. He was of the latter camp.

The term had brought a blush to her cheeks, shaking it away as she takes out her phone to scroll rapidly through emails and updates, more to divert her attention from the Ixeol. "Yeah, yeah... Run along before they send out a catcher or something." It was in her own interest as well as his to get him away as soon as possible. She certainly didn't want to witness some cocky employee try to wrangle him into a car while losing half of their face or a rib, then have to deal with the consequence of having him around in the first place. She takes a breath, before turning back towards the building, the door sliding open as she got near. Waving her goodbyes, she returns her attention to her phone, typing out a message: Ta-ra, noqui <3 Soaphine tlaz te.

 'See you later, babe <3 love you'

During a meeting, when Soaph was too occupied with her job, that a lone echo of a text tone went unheard, with a response from the other: cama, cochi! - followed by a simple emoji of a simplified Ixeol holding a box of chocolates. It was plump and pale, with little rosette spots all over He loved those little touches, moreso than he cared for her. 

'thanks, babe!'

He was lying in the comfort of his nest, a hammock above the ground that he could easily jump onto. It was lined with luxurious fiber that was slightly damp, easy on his skin and gills. It was in these moments where he forsakes the idea of wearing his shirt or coat, instead relaxing with his dinner of fresh meat and fish chunks on his middle. Putting his phone on the hanging table beside him, he sets it on its side, tapping a playlist of his favourite videos, soon dozing into a deep sleep, without so much as a second thought to the events of the day.