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Surprisingly, there aren't many ways to pass the time in an insane asylum. You spend a lot of time pacing the long hallways as you wait for Anders to sleep off his injection, so much that the map of the hospital might as well be engraved on your memory. Time and time again, you find yourself drawn back to the painting of the wounded woman. Elle is often there, gazing up at the picture as if in a trance.
“We've got to stop meeting like this,” you remark as you pass her once again. She looks around and gives you a tired smile, then looks back to the painting. “I know, I know. It's a nice painting,” you add, “But it's not THAT nice.”
“Sorry. I'm just...” Elle replies, “We have a painting just like this one back at home. It always scared me a little. I'd have nightmares about this wild woman creeping about a forest and snatching away naughty children.”
Now that sounds familiar.
“Anyway, it's almost time,” the oracle continues, glancing at the setting sun gleaming through the window, “Do we have a plan yet?”
“Get Anders talking if we can, get him in front of an easel, then stick a paintbrush in his hand,” you answer, “Hopefully he'll give us something to work with. There's just one thing I need to do first...”
-
It takes no small amount of persuasion to get Darwin to agree to you carrying your sword into the hospital, but you can be persistent when you want to be. You're not sure what's going to happen, but you feel a lot safer with a weapon at your side. Resting one hand on the hilt of your sword, you slowly wander down the long hospital corridor. The other patients have been herded into their rooms and sealed in, leaving the hospital feeling utterly deserted.
With a heavyset guard gently guiding him along, Anders enters the treatment room and looks around in mild confusion. “I've been here before,” he says softly, “Haven't I?”
“Yes, Anders,” you tell him, “We're going to try some painting today. Paint whatever you like – the first thing that comes to mind.”
Anders stares into space for a moment as he thinks, then he slowly starts to move some of the easels around. Setting three of them up in front of a chair, he sits down and stares at the blank canvas. He stares for so long that you'd think he'd fallen asleep, if not for his open eyes.
“Do you like painting, Anders?” Elle asks softly, “I heard that you like that painting in the front hall. It's the wounded woman, isn't it?”
His eyes flick in her direction, but he doesn't say anything.
“Actually, I think people focus on the wounded woman too much,” the oracle continues, “The Nicean Prophecies mention a lot more signs than just her. Like the stars – the prophecies say that when God is coming, the night sky will be alive with dancing stars. That would be so beautiful, don't you think?”
Still silent, Anders reaches for a paintbrush.
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