Blood & Bone [Book Three of The City of Eternity Series] [✔]

3.14: Drown

My initial plan had been to make my way back to Central and strongarm my way through the gates; the men that stood behind the doors weren't exactly steel giants - they could be bent. While I wouldn't enjoy it, for Dhana, I could.

When that part was over I couldn't imagine it'd be all that difficult to find the cells, even if Malka at least implied they wouldn't make it easy for me. I'd been within the walls of Central countless times and on each visit, I'd explored enough of the area to ground myself with knowledge; the holding cells or 'dungeons' were only three hallways deep inside the main building and the people that 'guarded' them had little to no training. If I had to I knew I could get past, grab Dhana, and leave before anyone could get out a squeak.

Then, despite running through all the variables, rationality had crept back into the driver's seat; the calculated words of the Frece couple guiding it with warm hands. This is why I'd stopped short of the Central wall, my feet grinding into the Earth as I came to a halt. I allowed myself to release one singular scream with my clenched fist hitting the nearest tree before I made any decisions. The pain was just enough to wake me up from the haze, the hurt, grief and anger deciding to burrow down inside... at least for long enough that Adalwin wouldn't come marching back. As much as we didn't get along, he had let me go out of good faith, and I wanted to avoid trampling on.

It didn't surprise me when my limbs began to run off before my mind caught up with the movement. It wasn't until I was half frozen outside of the building I truly understood where I'd ended up. The blur of broken pathways, skeletal trees and torn-up rocks hadn't given much indication; it was only the door that had been mended by four different types of wood, and the chimney that'd slanted to the right side that gave me a fairly good idea.

My trembling body had managed to navigate to the one place that could give me at least a little solace, and at most, a few desperate answers; The Harkening. The zone 'pub' that had been made from the remnants of an abandoned house and gradually stocked with bottles of alcohol from around Western - eventually Central had intervened and agreed to provide us with the substances by the crate load once a month. At first, this had been a welcome gift, but now, if anything, it angered me that those deliveries were never hindered.

The pub itself was run down - the building a few storms away from collapsing. When we'd decided on this building we did our best to fill the cracks, post up beams and cram every corner with items that made the place a little more 'put together' - just enough to ignore the inevitable destruction. People had ransacked old, unsalvageable homes for artwork and statues, dotting them around the room as though they did much good. In the old black fireplace in the corner stood a decapitated bust of a woman that I distinctly remember seeing in the old library in the historical section.

The furniture wasn't much better either; each table a hit or two away from breaking apart, the nails breaking through the frame. Despite all this, it was nice to be here amongst people facing the same issues as you, pretending to enjoy pub quizzes and enjoying the same booze. I couldn't quite say the same thing tonight though, opting to choose a table in the corner of the room; half-covered with a shoddy red curtain that offered no just enough privacy for me to drown my sorrows without the fear of prying eyes. I needed to be completely alone to digest the news, completely alone to avoid the repercussions of it settling in.