#here's another excerpt from my Pathologic fanfic: Day Thirteen

[go-go-devil]

✏️

Clara awoke in her bedroom with three figures standing over her. The initial grogginess of her vision could at first only parse one giant, dark mass kneeling next to her and two others standing close together a short distance away. Quickly the strong scent of leather stirred the rest of her senses back to consciousness, and as she blinked the blur out of her eyes the figures of Stanislav Rubin, Alexander Sanburov, and Katarina Saburova became clear.

Rubin was the one who stirred her awake, judging from how his gloved hand rested on her shoulder. He spoke something to her, though Clara couldn’t quite hear what as she pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, her head still consumed with the perplexing dream she’d had. 

She was on the far end of the stage in the theater, unable to move a muscle. Only the sound of footsteps could be heard walking across and off the stage as she sat there, completely paralyzed and leaning against… something, until the creek of an opening door ended the dream. Perhaps it was another prophecy, but now was not the time to analyze it. There were far more important matters at hand.

All manner of words were exchanged among the four. Words of debriefing from the doctor to ensure she knew exactly how their blood was going to be administered to the sick. Words of stern affirmation from the former governor that she will succeed in saving the Town with her wondrous powers and become a worthy heir to his family’s legacy. Words of intense assurance from the fallen mistress that she will not stumble into the same traps that ensnared herself, along with subtle hints of what might be concern from the trembling in her voice.

And, of course, words from their savior that gave them all the answers they wanted to hear.