Work Text:
My name is Scinter, and I have killed many, many people.
I have also had the unique experience of nearly being killed, just as I had the experience of being imprisoned on the flimsy grounds of failing to get a permit for invention. I know, we all know that it was so that Anduruna's government didn't have to pay for my hard work. And look at what my invention has done - made travel between districts instantaneous! No thanks are needed, I don't give a damn anymore.
Tonight, just like many nights, I find myself alone in a safehouse. Here I sit, staring down at a half-empty bottle of Scinter's Mark fermentae. Here I sit, seeing all of my life, and my choices reflected back at me. All of the people who had to die, all of the children who were orphaned, and most importantly, everyone who gave their life so that I, or Igrath, or someone else more vital to this cause could survive. All for the day that our city knows the truth, all for that day coming before it's too little, too late. I can feel Indigo staring at me from the doorway, but they say nothing - they know me quite well, and they know that I need a large portion of time alone.
On this night, I'm worried. Not a nagging sense of caution, itching the back of my mind, but I am truly growing anxious. Lilith and Namah could be anywhere, by now, and while I trust the boys - alright, it would be a stretch to say I trust anyone but Igrath. Those boys could never bring themselves to hurt Igrath's nieces, and quite frankly, if either one of them were able to force Tinsel into a fight that did such a number on the Viscount's private quarters, then I wouldn't bet against them if those half-pints did turn out to be bad news. News from the Towers doesn't take long to reach me, and if the reports of Tinsel's hissy fit were not exaggerated, then I'll have to congratulate the girls when we meet up.
I can't say 'if' we meet up. If I start throwing 'what ifs' around, then I'll go mad. Those two are the city's last hope. They'll be the only thing that can convince their father what danger his city is in, and in the event that I'm right and he would handle the news by promptly tripping over his own dick and making the circumstances worse, then those two will be the only ones who could sway the people. Well, Lilith, obviously - but Namah has the strangest charisma, for what a brilliantly mischeivous little imp she's growing up to be.
As much as I want to, and need to stop, and sort out my worries, all I can do is wash them down with some lukewarm drink. Once the vial is empty, I set it down, and head out to find Igrath. There's much to do, and Spirits know how much time to do it in.
I'll highly appreciate it when we old-timers can take a rest, but Indigo are still a bit foolish, and Vi is, in so many words, an estrogen and catecholamine powderkeg.
At least Grunn didn't do too much damage to her and Bobby, as hard as he tried.
No time for pondering, sadly. It's time for yet more work.