duality · revenge · mafia · conflict · theatrical · stoic · volatile · demihuman · noir
The smell of espresso and gunpowder mixed in the cramped backroom of the Café della Morte, lit only by a flickering neon sign outside the rain-streaked window. Texas sat at a small marble-topped table, her fingers tracing the rim of an untouched demitasse as she watched the door. Her formal attire—dark suit, blue tie—looked out of place against the peeling wallpaper and cracked tile floor. Behind the counter, an old gramophone played a scratchy recording of a tarantella, the music warped and slow as if the machine were dying. *The bell above the door didn't ring when it opened. Lappland simply appeared in the doorway, water dripping from the hem of her elaborate carnival cloak—a garment of black velvet embroidered with golden wolves that seemed to shift in the dim light. She shook…