Saturday, 9 June 2012
Richer Blood: In Which Wanda Reflects On Her Learnings
She looked back at the body she had searched and thought about the bizarre print of a leaf. She had stuffed that piece of paper into a pocket, on the off chance that it might be useful. Was there some sort of hierarchy here? Some of them had paper prints, whilst others had a copper image which they wore?
Her mind wandered further still. She could still feel the dull flesh of the body in her fingertips. The extreme weight of its arms. How stubborn the joints had been. Once she had overcome the shock of the scene, she had been quite clinical in her thinking - she had carefully investigated the ragged stab wounds. She looked under its eyelids and at the disgusting pips that appeared to be its teeth. The whole thing was disgusting, but she had to admit - it was a great way to learn. Where else would she have the ability to see a dead man? To touch a dead man?
Her reverie broken, she looked up. Malmir materialised from the darkness, wasting no time in explaining the situation in the room he had just come from.
"...and someone has removed the thing's arm," he finished. "Anyway, I wanted to know if you sensed any magic with Oldenhaller's little box? Because if it's mundane..." he trailed off. "If it's mundane, I question the future of this enterprise."
Her hand covered her mouth as she looked up at the elf in shock. She was getting used to the idea of being surrounded by dead bodies - it was the lack of emotion with which the elf spoke that surprised her. He spoke of the body in the same fashion as one might speak of a broken shoe. It was almost as if the implications of the find were inconvenient for him, as opposed to downright horrific. And he was more concerned with the box, it seemed.
There must be method in his madness, she reasoned.
Please, she begged any god that would listen.