Fenris was silent until he was addressed by the girl. He perked his ears up and turned his head to look at her fully. "I was sent by the lord of the underworld, death himself, to investigate the disturbance in the mortal world that was, in turn, causing a disturbance in the underworld. People are dying before they are fated to die, and it's causing an overflow at the Gates." He ducked his head and closed his working eye to itch his ear. "I'm the least likely to add to that body count, and he can trust me to stay on task with an unbiased mind."
Emmy took in the information way better than Hino, who looked absolutely unconvinced and honestly about to voice those thoughts, before Emmy cut him off again. "Somebody's messing things up." She said, looking to one of the windows in the room. "So, you're hunting this thing down?" This time, she was asking a question. One would have to be dense to not notice the spark of something like plotting, an idea, in her oddly colored eyes as she spoke, and Hino's groan made it obvious he hadn't failed to notice it.
Fenris shook his head after he was done itching, which rattled the hidden chain around his neck. He focused back onto the girl. "Yes. I'm hunting down whoever or whatever is doing this." He sniffed and tossed a bored look out a window, where he could see the half-moon hidden behind racing clouds. "As easy as it would be to chalk it up to one of them, a Hellhound is not a suspect." He had been hoping that it was Grius, the assassin and now fellow Hellhound that had been responsible for Fenris's death, but alas, it wasn't. Grius was covered with chains to keep him under control, and his handiwork wasn't so calculated like this.
"I want to help." "Absolutely not-" "I can't just sit here, knowing that it's still out there and doing this to other people." Emmy said, the conviction in her voice strong enough to make Hino seem doubtful about his own insistences that she not try and find the thing. She really didn't look like much, not physically, but something about her bespoke the power under the surface of her petite appearance and fairly innocent demeanor. And if Fenris didn't help her, that wouldn't stop her from hunting down the thing that had killed her father on her own. It just meant she'd be on her own, minus the ghosts that couldn't offer too much help.
Fenris tipped his head to the side, ears flopping over with the motion. His silver eye surveyed her up and down, sizing her up and mentally going over the pros and cons of taking her along. She was certainly determined, that he couldn't deny, but how far would that determination take her? This would be a bloody and dangerous mission for them both. Fenris was well acquainted with blood and danger, so he wouldn't have a problem, but this girl might bail the moment things got too much for her to handle. She might be more of a liability than help. But, there was also the possibility of her going off on her own and getting herself killed without him there to protect her.
Emmy kept her mouth shut, lips pressed into a firm line, as she met the Hellhound's gaze and kept it. She knew speaking would be essentially useless right now, and her best bet was to let him decide. There was a art of her that wanted to leave now, to get started on tracking this thing down, with or without help. But with the state of her father's body, and the images fresh in her mind, that wouldn't be her smartest idea. Please.
"Very well," Fenris decided, standing up on all fours with a sigh. "But you are not to cause trouble, or I will lock you up somewhere until the culprit is vanquished. Understood?" He fixed his uneven gaze on the girl, his silver eye showing just how much he meant his words. He would lock her up if she was more trouble than she was worth, but he knew he would make sure she had plenty to keep her comfortable for the time being. He wasn't that cruel.
"You can try." That was about the closest thing to an agreement on that as he would get, though the emotion that flashed in Emmy's eyes was something like gratefulness, not anger. "But I'll avoid trouble. Causing it's not my goal, anyway."
Hino groaned, shaking his head and dragging a hand down his face. His blank-white eyes focused on the Hellhound, the rest of his face showing his displeasure. "I'm tagging along. She dies, and I'll make your life hell for as long as I possibly can."
Fenris nodded at Emmy, then turned to the ghost. "You can try. I'm already dead, just like you." He turned away, leaving his blindside facing Hino. "I already live in Hell." And with that, he forced himself through the doorframe once again, heading through the house to try and pick up some more clues as to who the killer might be. He didn't care if the ghost tagged along—ghosts were practically harmless compared to the type of undead Fenris was.
He paused in his search when he remembered something. "My name's Fenris, by the way."
Emmy followed the Hellhound out into the hall, slipping ahead of him to head for the kitchen. If there was any hint as to what had happened, it would most likely be there. That was her father's favorite room after all. She wasn't panicking any more, but she almost seemed too calm again. Hopefully, she wouldn't have any sort of breakdown for a while.
When the Hellhound spoke again, giving her his name, she looked back over her shoulder, one foot in the doorway to the kitchen. "Emmy. Er-Emilia Voxx."
Fenris nodded in acknowledgment, then continued on with his search through the hallway. There wasn't much he could figure out. He might have to find other scenes to find some sort of pattern. "This will not be easy," he murmured to himself, then sighed and padded over to the kitchen where Emilia was. At this point, he was simply looking for something out of place, and he'd need Emilia's insight for that to be accomplished. He came up behind her, towering over her as he looked over her shoulder and head to get a look at the kitchen.
Something about the kitchen felt wrong, though Emmy couldn't quite place it. She felt Fenris's presence behind her and took that as a sign to step forward, into the kitchen that she'd spent countless hours in, sitting on a barstool at the counter and catching up on absolutely nothing with her father while he baked or cooked or cleaned the dishes from dinner. They had always been good at that, talking about nothing, and it was something Caleb always teased them about. "You've been doing that forever. Put the two of you in a room together, and you'll never leave, but you'll never say anything important, either."
But everything they talked about was important, because it was more than they'd talked in over five years at all. Focus, Emmy. She shook her head slightly, her eyes scanning the cluttered kitchen for anything not normal, anything that stood out against the familiarity she'd come to know in the kitchen. But even if nothing stood out yet, it still felt different. The walls were still that pretty blue her father loved, and the table didn't match the chairs surrounding it, nor did the chairs match each other. There were still recipes and cookbooks lying around, and papers scattered over the counters and table from the various projects Caleb was doing for his job and Emmy's research into anything and everything occult-related, but it felt off. The question was, why did it feel off. Still scanning the room, she made her way towards the counter with a mixing bowl of cookie dough on it, until something on the fridge caught her eye. Or rather, the lack of something.
