2001
Tenor hummed under his breath as he crossed the streets of Dublin. The night was clear but cold, which he was used to. After all he spent 50 years in Russian exile and those temperatures didn't even compete.
Today he actually cared to look presentable… at least for mortal standards. His long curly hair was lazily tied back and he had picked out a dark blue hoodie, black jeans and sturdy shoes. Or at least he was told the hoodie was navy blue. He couldn't see colours; everything looked grey to him, just different nuances. Above, he wore a wide leather jacket, and hidden inside it was his trusty revolver and a flip-knife.
To be fair his attire was far from someone religious, but he had to blend in with the crowd. The means were necessary.
Tonight the streets were more crowded than usual, mortals over mortals passing through the streets, shoving each other and overall just being a nuisance in his eyes. Mortals were nothing more than weak-minded individuals, too young to even grasp the concept of anything remotely long-lasting.
his mind stretched far beyond the mortals he passed. The ones closest to him often lifted their hand to their head due to a sudden pain or numbness. His magic had that effect on people, he tried to suppress it as well as it was possible but mortals just had a mind too fragile to be unaffected. Not that he cared for those rats.
Just like Valthren had said it, mortals were a temporary nuisance, sorcerers were above them to judge their nothingness. And above all stood the faceless gods, their judgement above all living and above all dead.
Tenor’s mind hung on one person specifically. One second too long. “Hab dich.” he whispered under his breath, his annoyance from before erased just like that as he followed the person at an distance.
There were lots of things to dislike about being a medium. Telling the future, in forms of nightmares and visions was one of them. He hated it. Hated doing something normal and then suddenly experiencing a world-wnding scenario behind his eyes in such clarity it made his pulse hammer in his chest.
On the good side of being a medium were the mind-reading and the mind-roaming in general. He had learned to slide into peoples thoughts so seemlesly, they never noticed. Mortals were easy to trick, even for low mediums. But other sorcerers? They were a challenge.
Mediums rarely chose their magic discipline, just like teleporter’s this line of magic was a talent some had and others didn’t.
Tenor was one of the rare kind. He easily read through the man's mind, learned where he planned to be in the future just as easily as he learned to pick a lock.
The apartment was in central Dublin, expensive area of the town too. He didnt have to wait long for the man to arrive. It was the usual begging and pleading but just like every time it didnt alter his way of thinking.
The man was dead within minutes. It took longer to make the scene look like it was self-inflicted, but he certainly didn’t want the Sanctuary coming after him.. Especially their detective.
Tenor slumbled together in his car about 40 minutes later, already reaching for the pack of cigarettes in the passenger department. He didnt care if his car smelled like smoke or drugs.