Palo Santo
(n): holy wood
. . .
Rocio woke to the sound of a letter falling through the wall. The opening was a bashed in skull, some morbid decoration from the past when this room was used for housing expensive but disliked guests. The glass clinked against the wall as it rolled into a stop in the ceramic dish that Rocio had mounted just over the desk.
They stayed in bed for a few minutes, rubbing their eyes. The effects of yesterday hadn't completely gone away. Watching Angelica get attacked by rabid snakes took more of a toll on them than they'd anticipated. They needed a strong cup of coffee, the kind Abru made after long nights out.
Rocio rolled over. They should probably call Abru. It had been a while since they talked and Abru was always going on about how their youngest child would be the one to drive them to an early grave. Rocio knew it was just the usual Persian mom dramatics (their older brothers once crashed their motercycles off a cliff so if anyone was going to cause Abru to die, it wouldn't be Rocio).
In search of coffee, they padded over to the desk. The vial was a different shade then the usual carriers. Most were clear, some tinged with a pastel light. This was muddy glass, stamped all over with black skulls. Rocio snorted. If the effect was to be intimidating, it failed tremendously. The vial looked like a six year old's interpretation of something scary. Rocio popped the cork.
Instead of tumbling onto the desk, the paper slid, serpantine smooth as the snakes from yesterday. Rocio stepped back on reflex, snatching the Blamrey Pen from the desk. Rocio could have sworn they heard the pen vibrate with gratitude.
The paper unfolded itself, revealing sinisterly loopy handwriting in black ink. The font trembled, as though whoever was writing it hadn't written by hand in several years.
Glad to see you enjoyed my little surprise yesterday,
Rocio hissed on instinct, blood boiling at the mention of yesterday. Blamrey scowled, probably wondering why Rocio's first instinct was to act like a feral cat. Rocio ignored the pen.
It's about time. I've been patient long enough. You've been ignoring me and I don't like being ignored. Tonight, I'll be retrieving something from the library. It's in your best interest's that I'm not disturbed. I'll cause a small distraction, and you will then ensure that I can complete my task.
I wouldn't consider this as a request. I'm already doing you a favor. Don't dissappoint me.
"What the fuck?" Rocio ran a hand through their hair. Now Shahmaran was threatening them? Rocio briefly considered the idea that it was a prank and then dismissed it. No one knew what happened in the greenhouse yesterday. The only person Rocio told was Miriam. Rocio was willing to bet money that Benji knew, but he wouldn't do something like that.
Rocio jotted off a quick note to Angelica, moving the pins on the bottom of the vials into the correct configuration. They checked the time- it was early. Angelica would probably sleeping, but the spectre had been keeping odd hours lately, insisting on researching the day away. They sent the vial off and went downstairs in search of coffee.
The common room didn't have a kitchen, but it did have a coffee station. Some wonderful soul had already made a fresh pot of coffee. Rocio would have been willing to bet money it was Hoorain, the coffee as a nice treat for after their first morning prayer. Rocio poured a cup of coffee, scribbling a little heart on a post it note to stick on the coffeepot and headed back upstairs. Classes didn't start for another hour so they had time.
