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THE CIGARETTE GANGLED almost forgotten between her lips, like a small child left behind by its mother at the playground, as she swayed her head back and forth to the music the orchestra was passively playing in her head. Her eyes closed for a moment, hoping to get away from it all.
Alethea didn't even believe she could understand her own thoughts.
The smoke seeped into her lungs like a thought, giving her the sensation of relaxation for the few seconds her insides were filled with it. Her eyes reopened to the chaos on her desk, which had made so much sense during creation, now overwhelming her.
Alethea tapped the ash from her cigarette over the saucer that served as an ashtray and gazed at the open book before her, trying to make sense of the words. Perhaps she was just ill, unable to use her mind.
"Do you know what I've been thinking about?" Alethea asked Érebos quietly, turning away from her schoolwork for a few seconds, ignoring the clock approaching four and the accompanying realisation that she wouldn't get any sleep tonight.
Her cat lay on the sill of the wide open window by her desk, staring at the moon with such longing that even Alethea felt a tug inside her just from watching him, before he turned to her. "These visions I have... none of them show me the future, but rather..." She fell silent, looking into her cat's golden eyes, admiring the way his fur glistened in the candlelight. "Rather the thoughts that I will have in this situation..."
She took another drag from her cigarette, the smoke swirling in a cloud through the window and disappearing into the night as Alethea closed her eyes, exhausted. She wasn't getting anywhere. She walked in circles, always and forever looking at the same picture etched into the hedges of her labyrinth, always and forever convinced that it was a new picture.
It was as if she wanted to forget that she already knew the picture. Why couldn't she think?
"I've found nothing in all the books I've read. Or rather: I've found hundreds of things in books and legends, but I can't connect the dots..." she murmured quietly, letting her head fall on the table.
She took another drag from her cigarette, the smoke swirling in a cloud through the window and disappearing into the night as Alethea closed her eyes, exhausted. She wasn't getting anywhere. She walked in circles, always and forever looking at the same picture etched into the hedges of her labyrinth, always and forever convinced that it was a new picture.
It was as if she wanted to forget that she already knew the picture. Why couldn't she think?
"I've found nothing in all the books I've read. Or rather: I've found hundreds of things in books and legends, but I can't connect the dots..." she murmured quietly, letting her head fall on the table.
"Let's summarise: We have a group of masked murderers with unclear motives. I have visions whose origin I don't know and generally don't understand. I have a professor who may or may not be good. I've basically sold my soul to said professor in exchange for him not revealing anything about my magic, which I know nothing about. And on top of that, I have my autumn exams, which are now being held in winter because of events that supposedly didn't even happen."
