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We make our way to Mirin, the small witch sitting happily off to the side, clutching her favorite brew and watching the argument as if she were watching some soap opera.
“What’s happening?” questions Isaac, his eyes narrowed toward the two raising their voices.
“Not sure…but it’s entertainment, I can’t complain,” she answers, completely engrossed in the scene before us.
The first aggressor is a brunette woman with a tight ballerina bun. She wears a white suit jacket and matching pencil skirt, now decorated with small blood stains and frayed edges from the attack.
The man opposite her was clearly a hybrid, maybe part elf with forest green tones running through his hair. He looked the younger of the two, but with supes, you can never really tell.He wears an embroidered ivory and green waistcoat and a white silk shirt underneath. The left sleeve of the shirt is ripped apart, blood trickling down his arm from whatever battle he fought in the attack.He clutches his injured arm as he looks at the woman standing across from him, a furious glare in his eyes.
If I can gather anything from the irate look on his face, they’re not talking about happy memories.
“We have to go back and protect the Records! The Third Sector holds all the Records from the North-West Regions. Dolph, the Third Sector Librarian, Mr. Ellonz is still there!” Her face stiffens as those words settle on her.
“Webarelymade it out alive.” The young elf grits through his teeth.
“Our Librarian Mateo is seriously injured after risking his life to get everyone he could safely to our Vault for protection.”He looks at the unconscious man that Cole carried earlier.
Tears filling his eyes, he furrows his brows, anger beginning to rise once again.
“Andyouwant us to goback? Are you insane?!” he roars.
“We need to be getting help for Mateo and contact the Council,anythingbut wasting our time talking about going back todie!” He glares at her, his face twisted in anger.
The woman inches closer to the elf, her face unreadable as she raises her hand to the young man. Before it reaches him, a large hand catches it, stopping it in place.
“No fighting.” Cole steps forward and between the two.His grip gentle as he quickly releases her hand. Looking them both straight in the eyes, he states, “There’s been enough blood shed today.” His expression somber but firm.
”Callyn,” he turns to the elf before flickering his eyes to the unconscious man, “Mateo's strong. He’ll be fine.”
The elf’s shoulders slump, a slight nod to his head as he looks at Cole.
“But we have to go back,” cries the woman, her hands trembling as she becomes more flustered and frantic.
“Dolph and the Records are still there…with them.” Her voice grows weak, almost like a whisper, emotion seeping through with each soft word.
“What if…What if they kill him?” She looks to the eyes around her, hoping for some reassurance, but met with none. She breaks down, tears now rolling down her face, as her worry and fear consume her over the anguish for her Librarian.
So this is the real reason.
Clutching her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably, her voice cracked and broken as her emotion gives way. The other supes around her are hesitant or unwilling to help comfort her.
I sigh, turning to Mirin. “You take the injured elf and get him patched up. We can’t have him dripping blood all over the floor.”
She gives me an annoyed look.
“Or would you prefer the crying one?” I gesture toward the broken woman. Mirin blanches, a repulsed look across her petite features.
“That’ll be a hard pass.” She moves past me quickly before I can change my mind and heads toward the injured elf, a slight tilt to her lips as she helps him up and over to the reception desk for treatment. She was nothing if not a prodigy when it came to healing and health potions, so a few cuts and bruises should be nothing to the genius witch.
I grimace, turning toward the crying woman. What do you do to comfort someone like this?
I slowly approach her like I would an animal in the wild, with soft movements and quiet sounds. I hesitate, gently moving closer as I reach a hand out to pat her back.
Her wailing becomes louder.
I look for any other person to help me, seeking refuge in the familiar eyes of Isaac. I plead with him with my eyes to aid me, but he shakes his head, a weary look plastered across his face.He shudders while looking at the woman. He’s not a people person, either. That's why we get along so well.
Giving up any hope of help, I try to pacify the woman.
