Ryn, as instructed, got the bug-out bag and tracked Katarina down to where she's giving her 'performance'. She's not bothered by the partial nudity, clothes are a practicality more than they are a requirement for her. But the topless man and the attention? That does fill her with a confusing mixture of emotions and a strange kind of hurt. That should have been her dancing with Katarina. She still doesn't really understand this 'image' thing but she does trust the Siren. And she upset her too. By being too... Ryn. Making a spectacle out of things.
But that's the point, isn't it? She'd never really dwelled on 'purpose' like gods do, much less bend to how humans saw her and be warped by worship. Mortals still noticed their work and seen a deterrent. Consequences. Not born from this purpose but fulfilling it none the less. The Fates are probably having a good laugh about that, wherever they are. In the end it means Ryn's acts have a message, whether she intends to or not but to the humans it's useless if they don't know. And in this new and confusing world a man sandwiched between a car and a safe is a passing curiosity to most.
Sitting on a building overlooking the club Katarina is performing her own image-work in she looks at the black book she'd recovered. She could hunt every single monster in it and others would take their place. Katarina had explained this to her in so many words but it only now begins to sink in. Tonight hasn't been a success because it only caused problems and removed one branch of many. Of a tree whose trunk or roots Ryn couldn't possibly reach anymore. Ripping out the cancerous growths still matters, this she will not concede. Justice
has been done tonight. But it's no longer enough. She could ask Katarina but she doesn't want to hand this burden to her. She's done enough of that tonight.
It takes her an embarrassingly long time to come up with an idea. If she'd listened better at the Agency, cared to build even a rudimentary understanding of the modern world, maybe she'd gotten there faster. In the end she scrawls a hastily written note on a piece of paper, wraps it and the little black book up in a neat package and makes her way across town to
one particular building. She remembers it mainly because it's facade is easy to climb and has plenty of recessed windows, alcoves and general nooks and crannies, but she's dimly aware that it's a hub of paper-words being spread all over town. And, at least compared to much of this town, the air around it smells nicer. Cleaner. It's that scent of truth she dials in on as she breaks in through a window no one would bother to secure because no human would be able to reach it from the outside. The inside has that same annoying sameyness to it the Agency did but more cluttered. And smelling of stale cigarette smoke. It almost makes it easier to find the desk that smells the best to her and place the package in the 'In' box. That concept she's familiar with on account of pointedly ignoring hers back at the Agency. Whoever this desk belongs to seems to be more diligent, judging by the relatively small stack of paper-words already in it.
She leaves as quietly as she came, easily dodging around the walkman-wearing cleaning-person making their way through the building.
By the time she makes it back to their apartment, Katarina is already asleep and Ryn curls up next to her. Unlike before she does occasionally need
some sleep these days, though she spends more time than necessary in bed, awake and just enjoying Katarina's quiet breathing.