Welcome to Gaia! ::

There was no reply, but the next day Taym would find himself walking down a hall when another hunter drew abreast with him and didn't pass by. Jane gave him a polite smile, "What extra information do you need?" Other hunters walked by and waved at her but none showed any particular interest in the woman, eyes sliding over her and focusing on Taym instead.

She nodded, "I'll forward you some cheat sheets that should help, but keep up the more in-depth research into the region. Hunting Famine is often like finding the Hidden Indians and figuring out what's wrong with the picture."

The comment on offices made her smile, "This is preferable." No other explanation or reasoning was offered. "Was that all you needed?"

"Not the current actives, no." She paused, considering for a moment before continuing, "However, there's three from the previous group who can be found on the island. I can't guarantee their cooperation or the value of their advice, though."

"Hunters are already unstable individuals prior to recruitment. Many of the traits that make them easy to control also make them.difficult to work with on a peer to peer basis." Jane's tone had a gentle lecturing quality, like something out of a children's program. "The most reliably socialized hunters end up in the cooperative divisions: Sun, Moon, and the public section of Mist. As individuals, Death hunters are, rightfully, considered unreliable and rarely willing to freely share information."

"We could blame nepotism, or the fallout of an unstable weapon passed down to unskilled hands. But you'll find that it comes down to power." Still that friendly lecturing tone. "The downside is obvious during peer interactions. The upside would be that Death has the fewest casualties of any division."

"If you think power is about respect, then perhaps this is not the correct division for you, Mr. Thompson," she responded, still calmly reasonable. "I'll forward their names and locations this evening with the rest. Have a nice day." She was veering away, merging smoothly with a small group that made room for her but didn't offer any greetings beyond a small nod or two.

Two extremely similar names, one room number. Two phone numbers, though.

Taym had not seen a pair of conjoined twins walking around the campus and was fairly certain he would have remembered if he had. Deus being Deus, he assumed the worst.

There was nothing for it. He was going to talk to as many people as he could. Might as well get it out of the way, just in case it was something truly horrific and not a couple who'd had a charming story about the coincidence of their names to tell at their wedding. Please don't be someone with MPD. Please don't be creepy incestuous twins. Please don't be--well, anything strange.

Never one to suffer through a phone call when a visit would do, he braved the basement, nose wrinkling at the lingering stink of water damaged carpet and carboard in some of the more abandoned corridors, and made his way all the way down to the isolated corner where the Tavishes--or Tavish, as the case may be--were housed.

He was aware that most of the basement rooms did not have doors, per se. He made a point of arriving audibly, and tentatively lifted his voice a few rooms down: "Is there a uh--a Tavish down here?"