(Part four.)

Kalinka Red in "It Came Clear, Upon Midnight"

"That scarf was his!"

"Marr is dead!"

"Whatever killed him is coming to get us next!"

"This is the worst Christmas ever!"

It became clear to me that this had ceased to be a Christmas party and had now become simply a gathering of a totally irrational mob. I seriously wanted to kill each one of them. But, because it was Christmas, I held back from doing so. I didn't want to upset anyone. And besides, I thought to myself with grim realisation, there may already have been enough death tonight for one Christmas.
I wasn't going to kill them. But I had to do something to shut everyone up. The scarf sat in the middle of the living room floor with everyone standing around it. Each held a worried frown on their face. I, on the other hand, refused to feel bad for a piece of cloth.
I tried to imagine what sort of monster would have killed Marr Vell on a night like this. It must have been someone who had a really personal grudge against him. The scarf was torn with such ferocity too, but pieces were left as if to preserve it as a monument to this nameless person's final triumph over their most hated adversary. I can imagine they were probably very excited to know that they made him breathe his final breath. That part I could understand. But why Marr?
It just didn't seem to make sense.
Also, added to this was the fact that absolutely everyone we knew was at this party. And none of them really could have wanted to kill Marr. Sure, Joneus and Marr had their differences - but they were friends first and nothing could change that. Jesse hated some men, sure - but didn't she look up to Marr like a father? And surely Trevirn and Kylaia were not capable of something so savage, yet meticulous.
I continued to scan the room. The group had stopped yelling now and simply stared at each other with downcast, mournful gazes. None of them could have done this. But why was I even thinking about this at all? What made me think that it couldn't have been a random act of violence? What if a wild animal had killed him?
I didn't think that because I didn't believe that this was an accident. A wild animal would have dragged the scarf away. A randomly violent person would have stolen it.
Savage....meticulous. The two phrases repeated themselves in my head, sounding like a wooden block falling harshly down the stairs.
Savage. Metliculous. Why was I still thinking about this? I should forget about it and try to get everyone to calm down. Savage. No. There was something else here, wasn't there? Meticulous. There had to be. Why did I think that? I need order I guess. There is order in death, always.
I looked around the room again. Savage. Meticulous.
Savage. Meticulous.
At that moment, my hands trembled. I shivered with terror as I figured out precisely why those two words bothered me so much and how they related to that scarf, lying listless and torn on the ground.