[ OF COURSE IT DOES!!!! He picks up the dagger, and assuming nothing buckwild happens when he does so, pockets it. If this is Charon's blood, then in some morbid way he's getting the impression it will be good to have. ]
you're holding your bleeding hands over the bowl, breathing slow and deliberate, trying to ignore the pain you're unaccustomed to, the smell of smoke and burning flesh coming in through the walls, the distant screams, the queasiness of your own stomach and conscience. you need as much blood as you can get, right now in the time of the summoning, to give the ones you absolutely don't want him to touch.
'if he comes,' Julian Silverberg's centuries-old instructions had said. you know, with certainty and a measure of arrogance, that the demon will come to you, if he came to your grandfather. whether you can sufficiently protect and leash him is another matter, but you're going to have to.
stout heart, quail not. you're committed to the course now.
the door brings him out into…a hallway. he recognizes it under the lack of colour. it’s the same one everyone started in within Charon’s subconscious, where all the windows on one side are curtained heavily and the other side of the hall is lined with bedroom doors.
at one end is the way to the rest of the mansion.
he may recollect that there was another door on the other end.]
[it's random splatter and not deliberate symbols, so almost certainly trauma blood.
but! inside is a child's bedroom of sorts, a little spare and without much decor, but otherwise fitting with the rest of the mansion's fancy build.
there is a five-year-old redheaded child sprawled on his stomach on the bed, reading a book. unlike the rest of this place, he's in full colour. he glances up when the door opens.]
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you're holding your bleeding hands over the bowl, breathing slow and deliberate, trying to ignore the pain you're unaccustomed to, the smell of smoke and burning flesh coming in through the walls, the distant screams, the queasiness of your own stomach and conscience. you need as much blood as you can get, right now in the time of the summoning, to give the ones you absolutely don't want him to touch.
'if he comes,' Julian
Silverberg's centuries-old instructions had said. you know, with certainty and a measure of arrogance, that the demon will come to you, if he came to your grandfather. whether you can sufficiently protect and leash him is another matter, but you're going to have to.stout heart, quail not. you're committed to the course now.
-- but he can pocket the knife afterwards.]
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He pauses there for a moment to get his "fuck this shitty goblin demon" feelings under control before heading for the other door. ]
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the door brings him out into…a hallway. he recognizes it under the lack of colour. it’s the same one everyone started in within Charon’s subconscious, where all the windows on one side are curtained heavily and the other side of the hall is lined with bedroom doors.
at one end is the way to the rest of the mansion.
he may recollect that there was another door on the other end.]
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Well, a dream is a slightly different thing, he figures.
Eyeing the bedroom doors first -- are the doorframes still beat to all hell? ]
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Cautiously pushes the cracked door open and peers inside. ]
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but! inside is a child's bedroom of sorts, a little spare and without much decor, but otherwise fitting with the rest of the mansion's fancy build.
there is a five-year-old redheaded child sprawled on his stomach on the bed, reading a book. unlike the rest of this place, he's in full colour. he glances up when the door opens.]
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Ok calm down Minuet. It might be the brother just wait a second. ]
Oh...
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Who are you?
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[ HOW DOES HE EXPLAIN ]
Nobody special. [ nailed it ] Just a drifter who got himself a little lost, it looks like!
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You don't 'get lost' in somebody's house.
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No? Well I'm really in a pickle, then.
[ anyway ]
What're you reading?
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...something Grandfather wrote. Why?
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[ Drops cross-legged in the middle of the floor ]
What was your grandfather writing about?
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[mumbles]
Th'war.
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Whole lotta kids your age wouldn't bother with history lessons.
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I'm not most kids. I'm a Silverberg.
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What's it mean to be a Silverberg?
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It means...being the smartest. And winning the wars. And...having secrets.
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Having secrets is a requirement, huh.
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The most. Um..."knowledge is power."
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It can certainly be an advantage, if you want to win a war. Are you planning to follow in your grandfather's footsteps?
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