Before the Storm

Chapter 29: To Chase... Fate

Jerome is at his wits end trying to talk to Vulcannus as memory isn't the only thing that is causing trouble

And when an accident happens with an unexpected guest, all hope seems lost of ever recovering the information he holds... But only for a moment

Author's note: making use of another cover that I had drawn a while ago for a change XD

another c h o n k y chapter that was probably the hardest to illustrate because I was limited with *who* I could draw in order to keep the chapter's effect. so we went with someone who has had the short straw with being drawn effectively - and I'd just like to add... Mobillium effects are a bitch to draw. here's to hoping I did alright XD

brace yourselves. this isn't gonna end well

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Ataraxia was quiet. It was as though no one any longer dwelled in the mountainous city, when in reality, it was no different from before; merely that there was one less guardian watching the elevated walkways and bridges, one less occupant supplying the needs and know-all for the others. It was tricky to establish a relative norm when it felt anything but. Even Merlin had taken an uncharacteristic vow of silence, and simply perched in his usual spot on the third branch of the tree behind the workshop. He didn't preen profusely, nor did he tut and mutter about the other avian creatures that flew past him, even if their wing formation was sloppy, or their feathers were cattywampus, askew, or otherwise misaligned.

He always had something to say on the matter. Yet, he did not so much as sigh loudly. Instead, he gazed into the remains of the workshop where Jerome and Vulcannus were stationed as they tried to talk through the events of the Nether since Vulcannus' escape. While the Knights were headed towards Mt Velgrin on a possible lead in their investigation on the whereabouts of the unknown Ardoni, Jerome stayed behind to pick up where Galleous had left off on his investigation on the identity of the unknown Ardoni.

The Knights could attack on sight if they wanted; but Jerome had his doubts. If they attacked and killed the unknown Ardoni prior to knowledge of their identity, only to find that something could have otherwise been done to avoid such an outcome – such as understanding the needs or desires of someone whom they may just know or know of – then there would be the potential for far more consequences than simply another added weight of guilt or remorse. He didn't want that for them.

He didn't want it for Senn. Not again. No more guilt. No more remorse.

It had been almost two days since the Knights left for Mt Velgrin with some of the Felina in tow. Some had remained to ensure that a diversion was not the play, and thus they guarded Ataraxia; although after the last intrusion, none were confident in their abilities to combat the unknown Ardoni. Most were merely hoping that the brewing storm was coming to a head.

But inside the workshop, Vulcannus sat perched on the broken workbench with his legs half dangling over the edge. He was just tall enough to reach the floor below, but he had sat hovered above one of the many holes that had been blasted into the stone – these were not so repairable. Jerome remained beside him, although that would either consist of pacing left and right in front of the Netheran, or impatiently tapping the stone behind him, perhaps even leaning into him to brush his heated tension over him in the hopes of inducing enough pressure inside the creature to spark a memory.

Anything, he would gladly have at this stage. Too many wasteful days were spent on this mindless Netheran for there to be much more left in the older Voltaris – albeit Vulcannus was much less mindless now than before. He had at least spoken sense and no longer shouted incoherently. For the moment, it was just his memory... and his train of thought.

Many a time had there been while Jerome was talking to the Netheran that Vulcannus would be spewing a tale of his Nethermite days with his brother – of whom Jerome had to remind was dead – and the old travels he had with his father – of whom Jerome had to remind was dead – where he would forget what he was saying and stare into space, or he would start a new story before he finished the first one. At one point, Jerome could recall Vulcannus telling him of a dream he had recently and described a blue Ardoni that made him feel cold inside, "like he had frozen my inner workings," he had said.