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“I’m pretty sure Dessin maimed her during their last encounter.”
My smile deepens. “Is that right?”
The muscular mortal’s voice blurs together in a string of garbled syllables. My sight falters, and I suddenly am unable to follow the conversation. I’m a ship drifting away from the dock of this present moment.
~
Absinthe
Introject Persecutor
Dirty. Disgusting. Street rats.
“What happened to this one?” I point to the girl lying on the floor smelling like vomit and pathetic excuses.
The filthy young adults around me exchange looks as if I’m not asking them a question. As if I’m not looking them in the eye, gritting my teeth, and sneering at the dirt in their pores.
“We have to help them,” a thick-boned, red-headed woman mutters, still not answering my question. Who let her walk around carrying this extra weight? Doesn’t she realize Demechnef will have her thrown into the asylum for eating like a pig? Doesn’t she care?
“How much do you weigh, girl?” I clip in her direction.
“Hey!” A young man with sunshine hair and doe eyes shifts in front of her. “That’s enough.”
“Absinthe.” A husky, baritone voice snaps my attention away from the two disgraceful children sitting before me. “I think it’s time you leave.”
I ball my fist in front of him. “Talk to me again like that, boy, and I’ll bloody that pretty nose of yours.”
“What do we do to stop this?” the golden boy asks.
I scoff in his direction. How pitiful of him to ask. How sad and emasculating.
“Dessin told me once about a gatekeeper. It’s an alter that controls when they switch.”
I rev my hand back to hit the stupid boy, but a dominating presence collides with my position in the front. Overly confident. Strong minded. Ancient. My head throbs like a gushing wound at the chaos going on around the other alters. They need to stay still, leave this to me. I’m going to have to teach them a lesson when I return to the inner world.
That’s enough, old woman. A mountainous voice takes over my thoughts.
Kalidus.
~
Kalidus
God of Storms
Fictive Introject Alter
I’m assisted with a memory download from a memory holder.
I take note of who fronted before me. Absinthe. How she got out of the prison we locked her in, I’m not sure yet. But these small humans look at me in a slight panic. Perhaps more alters have switched? Perhaps we’re having some sort of a meltdown?
“Be calm, humans. I will make certain Absinthe returns to her cell. My sincerest apologies.”
This body is quivering, sweating, aching in several places. The migraine, the lack of sleep, it crunches down on our bones like a cancer.
“What has happened to this body to throw us into chaos?” I ask the mortal men and women around me.
I recognize Warrose as he runs a hand through his hair.
