Keeper of the Lost Cities: Elysian

Chapter 43

Sophie was utterly oblivious to her surroundings when Mr. Forkle's voice spoke next to her ear. "May I sit here?"

She jumped up in alarm, nearly scattering the contents of her bowl on the floor if Mr. Forkle hadn't caught it. But there wasn't much inside, so it wouldn't have made a mess anyway.

"Jumpy, aren't you?" Mr. Forkle remarked.

She was back in reality. She realized who she was staring at.

"May I sit here?" Mr. Forkle asked again, gesturing to the chair next to the one she had been sitting in.

Not wanting to be impolite, she nodded.

Mr. Forkle wanted to talk to her.

She would just have to do it. Getting it over quickly would be better... Right?

"How has it been?" Mr. Forkle asked. She was momentarily taken back by the lack of faked optimism in his voice.

After so many people...

Uselessly pretending.

What could she say?

That it was traumatic? Overwhelming?

Those weren't enough. Words weren't enough. 

No terms could adequately express how it had been.

So she just looked back at him. She poured her emotions into the force of her gaze.

Instead of telling him, she showed him.

She thought about everything that had happened.

Moments swept by.

The good and the bad. 

There was so much good and so much bad.

But good and bad didn't balance themselves out. 

It wasn't like positive and negative in math.

Good and bad were two separate things.

Out came grief, bitterness, rage, and joy. 

Joy for the happy moments. When she and her friends were together. Joy for Elysian's kindness. 

Grief for Iggy and Keefe... 

Bitterness for the destruction that had yet to be cleaned up. Caused by a few power-hungry people who wouldn't stop. 

Rage for Biana and Flori.

The moments and the emotions came and left like clouds in the wind.

He was silent for a long minute.

A messy minute.

"I see," Mr. Forkle said quietly.

What had he seen?

Sophie didn't answer.

She wanted to stand up and bring her bowl to the kitchen. But she knew that Mr. Forkle had more to say.

His eyes met hers.

She responded to the intensity of his gaze, and it was almost as if energy was sparking between them.

But he frowned, and Sophie felt a strange prickly feeling in her head.

"Are you trying to enter my mind?" Sophie guessed. She saw the truth flicker in his eyes. 

"I was just trying," he answered sheepishly.

"Why?" Sophie demanded. She withdrew to her mind and sensed his consciousness nearby. "I know you've probably gotten used to being able to pry whenever you wanted, but you could've just asked."