Without Reason

OOC: First time making a topic so I have no idea if this is even a good idea? Timeline: takes place right before Réne enters 'Lost Answers'

IC:

Réne sat quietly on a small, grey boulder close to a stream. His hair appeared more red than brown under the mid-day sun. He gazed quietly across the stream, watching a twig drift down the rapidly moving water. It was nice having a day off. After all... everyone deserves a break. He stood, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets, the pressed cuffs on his sleeves brushing upward slightly. Réne decided to make his way towards town and maybe use his dwindling allowance to buy himself a nice loaf of bread from a bakery owner that he knew. Smiling at the thought and knowing he had a small amount of jam left he mad his way down the gradual hill and to the town with steel spires in the distance.

The sun glimmered off the glass window-panes set snuggly between the freshly painted wooden frames. He passed a friend of a friend and stopped to chat for a few minutes, his reading glasses thumping against his chest from the abrupt manner of the conversation. They chatted about the weather and how was whos' family and if the titans may be advancing. Réne bid him goodbye and assured him that the military would take care of it if need be. Réne rounded the corner and managed to secure a spot in line for the bakery. A like conversation was held between him and the baker. A constant nagging question burned in the back of his head. 'Why are the interior citizens so concerned about what will happen to them when they are deep within the walls?' He shrugged off that thought. Everyone was concerned. That's just how it was. No changing that.

As he exited the bakery building and rounded the corner, a crow cawed overhead, it's beak glistening wet. He chuckled, must've found something good. He focused his view back to the cobbles and the bread fell to the ground. There was a trail of already drying blood splayed from nearby a door. heart-rate quickening, Réne hastened to the door, managing to hide the bread for later on his way. He shakily pressed his ear to the door, rough-hewn wood scratching away at the tender surface of his flesh. Hearing nothing... he tried the door handle and made his way into the building. There were stairs leading to an upstairs apartment and two corridors on either side. The trail of blood was leading to upstairs. He followed it, being careful to try his best that the stairs would not creak. Being successful until he sixth step, he froze, looking about frantically. No one. Continue. Making his way to the second floor, he followed the trail to it's source, stilling when he finally heard hushed voices from behind a door. 'Could those be the possible killers? Is this person even killed? What if I've just gone into someone's home and those are doctors?' Panicking and not knowing when the owners of those voices would emerge, he hid himself behind an open door and waited.