She woke slowly and with great exertion, but then she caught on to something he seemed to communicate without wanting to. Samuel felt like he got caught in a secret he did not want to be known. He noticed that his heart was racing so he forced himself to focus and slowed his breath, limited it to his nose and used it to tie himself down to reality. This passageway felt too narrow to sustain him, his body seemed to want to jump out of itself, but it worked. His pulse slowed. He shook it off and took her hand. "I'm alright," he said. "We fell asleep. It is Monday. The day at the castle starts in a few hours."
His first class would not begin until tomorrow, but her schedule was much busier, he knew that. She needed to go. He needed her to go so he could collect himself and return to a semblance of rationality. For a moment he could not even recall what day it was — it was December 7th. That left him three weeks to figure it out. It left 15 days until December 22nd, whatever that meant. Three weeks to get it done. Perhaps then this weight would lift from him and the debt accrued would be worth it.
He needed to go down to the basement and collect their abandoned creation from the circle it was born in. He needed to undo the mess of the bed and wash the blood out of his sleeves, that would stubbornly resist a common cleaning spell; sticky, dirty, chaotic magic. In the grey morning it lost it's shine. He had forgotten how much the chaos was exacerbated when someone else got involved in it. Someone whose access to his heart was scarcely restricted. He had long abandoned his most important safeguarding principle.
With dread, he remembered that he needed to take care of the issue with Don Juan, who would be holed up somewhere, suffering through withdrawals. Surely, Samuel would treat him terribly today.
A movement across the bed called him back to reality and to the knowledge that despite his need to be alone, parting from her would hurt. He kissed her and then he got up from the bed to get dressed.
His first class would not begin until tomorrow, but her schedule was much busier, he knew that. She needed to go. He needed her to go so he could collect himself and return to a semblance of rationality. For a moment he could not even recall what day it was — it was December 7th. That left him three weeks to figure it out. It left 15 days until December 22nd, whatever that meant. Three weeks to get it done. Perhaps then this weight would lift from him and the debt accrued would be worth it.
He needed to go down to the basement and collect their abandoned creation from the circle it was born in. He needed to undo the mess of the bed and wash the blood out of his sleeves, that would stubbornly resist a common cleaning spell; sticky, dirty, chaotic magic. In the grey morning it lost it's shine. He had forgotten how much the chaos was exacerbated when someone else got involved in it. Someone whose access to his heart was scarcely restricted. He had long abandoned his most important safeguarding principle.
With dread, he remembered that he needed to take care of the issue with Don Juan, who would be holed up somewhere, suffering through withdrawals. Surely, Samuel would treat him terribly today.
A movement across the bed called him back to reality and to the knowledge that despite his need to be alone, parting from her would hurt. He kissed her and then he got up from the bed to get dressed.
