DORGIO and BENN
...
Brock Marsh Runoff wrote:BOARDING HOUSE
“No,” he says quickly, “of course, we won’t hurt you.”Her lips quiver.
She whispers,
"Please, no...don't hurt me."
For just a moment, his eyes flick to mirror on the dead woman’s dresser. Remi and others stare back, yet only Dorgio can see them. He doesn’t know if they are some trick of mind, or if he is seeing their ghosts in truth—he never does. Some of the faces glare balefully at him, knowing what he is about to do and disapproving. Others give him looks of pity. Two of the younger faces seem on the verge of horror, as if the years of unlife have done nothing to inure them from the shock of it.
And Remi grins back at the priest, as toothy and eager as a goblyn.
He believes he steps outside of his god’s whenever he uses this magic. And as the woman begins to speak, the blood on her makes him think of The Morninglord, and the drop of blood said to hang from the corner of the sun god’s mouth. Perhaps even The Morninglord sometimes stepped outside of his own domain, as well.
No time for philosophy though. “Annabelle, you do not know me,” he says, “but I am a friend. Forgive my disturbing you, but I must ask a few things of you.”
The corpse that was once Annabelle stirs and stretches, and Dorgio tries not to look at the shifting wounds .
“First,” Dorgio says, “do you know the person who slew you?”
Annabelle mumbles something indistinct. “…who?”
“The man you met tonight,” he says, careful not to use up another question so soon.
“Yes,” she says, almost groggy sounding. He had hair like mine…he said he liked my hair.” And at the mention of her own tresses, she seems to waken to Dorgio’s questions.
"This man, was he younger than me?"
"He said the beast was ancient. And so strong. The beast that whispers in the dark, the voice echoing in his skull. It came to him first in Mordent."
Of course…of course. Dorgio feels something cold in his stomach, a confirmation of what he’d been hoping wasn’t true.
“Did the man give his name?”
“Yes. Jonathan Maytr.”
So there it is. By all the damned heads of all the damned gods. No denying it anymore .
And now a final question: “This Jonathan Maytr. How did he come to slay you?”
Annabelle seems not to understand at first, and instead gives a mischievous giggle. "The sheets? Like a rope? I never...alright.” And then her expressions turns distraught. “Ouch. That's too tight, love.”
And here the look of concern turns to pure terror. “What...what is the knife for? Just loosen with--ahhh!" The woman gives a ghastly shriek, which is quickly stifled before trailing off into a low moan. And then the dead woman falls back onto the bed, cold as the clay and red as sundown.
“Gods…she didn’t know she was dead until the very end. Until my last question, and then she felt it all over again.”
He looks to his friend Benn, and the priest of the Morninglord’s green eyes tighten in the guttering candlelight.
“Maytr must die.”