#insufficients

[a-drabble-a-dray]

She'd fallen to her knees. Her ability to perceive the inside of the House was always faint, but she couldn't ignore the feeling of four individuals stomping inside.

She looked up. Her captor aimed at her, but didn't fire.

"...You saw it."

She shifted the weight of the gun. "...I did. The others-"

"They were unworthy. They couldn't see it."

Cold wind blew through the valley.

"You understand there is more to this. You could-"

"You don't understand anything." She snapped, lowering the gun. "There's only one way we get our world back. You either accept it, or doom humanity."

[a-drabble-a-dray]

"...How much do you know?"

"Whatever they felt was worth writing down." He answered, facing towards the window. "Probably not enough."

"...No." She stared down at her feet. "You know what I've done. It's enough."

"What, got a couple people killed?"

"That-"

"And you're okay with murdering a couple dozen because of that?"

"Shut your mouth."

"I wonder how many of them had siblings."

"You don't understand-"

"-What, the fake difference you tell yourself about?"

She shot over the couch.

Her sword was at his throat.

He sighed, disappointed.

"There you go."

"What?" She growled.

"You're hesitating. Like a person."

[a-drabble-a-dray]

She took a sip of coffee, and grimaced. Next time, for sure.

She'd been pacing, and kept pausing at the same spot. The heavy wooden door added a knot to her stomach each go around.

"...Fine." She muttered. "Once more."

She bit her lip, and reached down to the steel doorknob. She twisted, and heard the mechanism inside groan. The door unlatched once, twice.

Thrice.

She let go.

The door swung open. She saw the stairway to the basement, lanterns flickering.

"...Stowaway? Idiot?"

She paused.

"Quince!"

"...What?" He replied, groggily, from the other room.

"Earn your stay, for once!"

[a-drabble-a-dray]

He knocked on the door.

A minute later, she carefully opened it.

"...Hey-"

She immediately slammed it shut.

"Hey, what the hell?"

"You're a nuisance! Leave!"

"I need to return your books!"

The door opened a crack. She stuck her hand through, expectantly.

He huffed, and forced the door open. "What bit you today?"

"Leave. I'm busy. There's been... A development."

"...Development."

"Magicite lit up. Another magical site still exists, I-"

He frowned. "No, it doesn't."

"What...?"

"...That was me."

"You... Oh."

He didn't realize she was crying, tearless as it was, until the sobbing began.

"...I should have known."

[a-drabble-a-dray]

She froze in place, slowly turning to face him.

"...Laika?"

"Quince."

"Uh..." He backed away. "Something wrong?"

"Quince."

"Y-Yeah?"

"Where are my books?"

"...Oh." He blinked. "...Borrowed?"

"Where?"

"I— I don't know! Out West!"

"You don't know."

"I don't know where her house is!"

She paused.

"Or, uh..."

"'Her house'." She ruminated. "A house, huh."

"...Yeah."

"Out in No Man's Land?"

"Yeah, that's..."

"...About as weird as everything else you've done the past week."

"...Yeah. I think you understand."

"So." She sat on the couch's armrest. "Are you going back there?"

"I should."

"Good luck. Bring my goddamn books back."

[a-drabble-a-dray]

Hey.

"Yeah?"

What if it isn't true?

"Hehe, what if what isn't true?"

I'm serious! The whole... The promise. Father Gregor said it was going to be us. It was our generation's responsibility, or something.

"Then we're going to do it!"

And... What if we can't?

"Then it's gonna be our fault, duh."

Our fault...

"No."

Huh?

"You don't get to say that."

...I know. I'm sorry, Lily.

"Then say it right."

It's my fault.

"What is?"

Everything. It's all my fault.

"Why?"

Because I—

His eyes shot open. The heart monitor beeped frantically.

She sat at his bedside, waiting.

[a-drabble-a-dray]

She awoke in the middle of the night. It had become alarmingly common.

She wandered up to the library— Just in time to hear the security system's warning.

She rushed over, and opened the camera feed outside.

A young woman, dressed in rags, stood outside the door. Hanging from her shoulder, bloodied and unconscious, was her idiot protege.

"Who...?"

The girl perked up, glancing around. "Oh— You can hear me?"

"...Yes."

"Good, I..." She looked up at the speakers, seemingly unaware of the camera connected to the keypad. "...He told me to say that he needed to find a book."

[a-drabble-a-dray]

He had found an appreciation for the homeliness of a wooden cottage, versus the cold gray of a concrete bunker.

That appreciation had been wearing thin by the second as he used the last few ounces of water to carve a way through the blaze.

In the end, only about a dozen books survived the fire. Because he'd been late. The path to the library had long since vanished.

He coughed out whatever soot he could, but didn't allow himself to collapse. The frostbite had been replaced by burn marks. He'd have to use the extra energy.

"Stella. It's time."