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The silence draws out, longer and longer with each passing second. In some strange way, it would have been better if Lucian had been trying to insult you. That way, you could’ve written it off as spite and thought nothing more of it. But this…
“Okay, I’m done here. I’m leaving,” you decide, scowling at Lucian one last time, “Good luck with writing your last will and testament, or whatever it is you plan on doing.”
Not the best parting words you’ve ever come up with, but they’ll have to do under the circumstances.
-
You’re still not sure what to think, what to feel, as you leave Lucian’s tent. Your thoughts keep coming back to the strange urge for self-destruction he mentioned. The more you think about it, the more it seems to make sense. You think of Professor Hodgson, swept away to some dire fate in the course of his research. Then you think of your father, staining his soul with bloody, foreign rites in search of something greater than himself. Death and madness may be the price for intruding upon the divine, but it’s a price that many seem willing to pay.
“Hey!” Misty calls out, waving to you from the edge of the dig site, “Heeeeeeey!”
Against your better judgement, you find yourself approaching to sit beside her. You don’t say anything for a while, and neither does she. You just gaze at the white stone statue instead. It seems somehow diminished now, an object of sadness rather than dread. You’ll still be much happier once it’s underground again, but it feels like less of a pressing priority.
“What a day, huh?” Misty remarks after a while. Her voice is softer than normal, or at least not nearly so grating.
“I’ve had worse,” you reply, feigning an indifferent shrug, “This isn’t even in my top five.”
“Not that you’re bragging or anything,” she agrees, stretching out and covering up a yawn, “You’ve got to remember, Isambard, that not everyone lives such an exciting life. Back when I was at the Choir, the only excitement we had was from gossiping about each other.”
“Call me naive, but I never thought you’d have much interesting gossip in the Choir,” you wonder aloud, “I thought it would all be very peaceful and boring.”
Misty laughs. “Oh, you are SO wrong!” she jeers, “Take a bunch of teenage girls, and lock them up in a school for a few years with nothing to distract them. It gets WILD. Some of the stories I could tell you… Well, I’m not sure if I really should. I don’t want to ruin your innocent little mind.”
“Damn,” you drawl, “And I was just getting curious too.”
She laughs again, but it doesn’t last long. “I’m glad you were here,” she admits after a lingering silence, “I think… I think things might have gone awfully wrong if you hadn’t been here.”
“Maybe they went wrong because I WAS here,” you point out, “You know, considering my reputation.”
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