Gerald sat at the Last Life bar, where at one time, seemed like a great place for family and friends to drink and spend time. However now, it felt lonesome without his own family. The few patrons that were in the bar were hushed and kept to themselves. Gerald ran a hand over the old tome on the counter.
Vinarei left him the complete Solvuud, an ancient vrykul tome of soul magic that they worked on completing when he first joined them. That was back when Lewes Point was intact, when everything was intact. He threw back his drink. A figure walked in, but Gerald payed her no attention. “Excuse me, you work for the house, right?”
Gerald side-eyed the woman. “Yeah, but tonight’s not the night for that, I’m having a pretty shit day. Not exactly the great talking partner.”
She bought him a drink as an apology, introducing herself as Octavia Blackthorn. They started talking, slowly at first. “Yeah, my family moved onto greener pastures. I don’t know if I’ll be going with them, especially with Vinarei dead now.”
She furrowed her brow, “Vinarei is dead? I’m sorry to hear that. I remember hearing her name, but I never met her.”
He nodded, “She left me this tome, and a letter addressed to me but I can’t get myself to open it yet.” He stated solemnly, peering at the closed book, the letter sticking out of it.
“I’ll stay with you if you want to read it. You should, you know. She’d want you to.”
He pursed his lips, “Alright, yeah that would be nice.”
They walked over to the table, where he read the letter aloud for her to hear. A tear ran down his cheek as he finished. Octavia stretched out a handkerchief for him to take. “It seems like she knew it was coming.”
Gerald wiped his eyes. “Yeah, seems like she did. She never willingly gave up on anything. It must have been inevitable. She was sharing a soul with another named Verlai. She somehow went back to her old body. I wonder if she has something to do with this.”
Octavia cocked her head, “Don’t rule anything out.”
Gerald tsked, “She wouldn’t let it be known. I should see what Atticus and Kota heard, they always know more than me when it came to Vin. She trusted those two till the very end.” He paused, “This last paragraph though, about The Solvuud, she never talked about giving it to me before. Hell, she never even mentioned it to me after the completion. Why’d she want me to have it?”
The woman leaned back in her seat, “Study it, I’m guessing. It’s about soul magic right, she just wants you to further your skills?” A shrug followed.
Gerald shook his head, “Something is here, something buried.” His head shot up, looking her in the eyes, “Thank you, Miss Blackthorn. I know what I must do.”
Gerald read over the letter early Sunday morning. He had not heard from Vinarei for a few days now, never mind Atticus and Kota. He opened the letter, the small smile on his face dropping as he read through the lines. His cousin...dead? The letter read on and on about Atticus’ feelings on the matter. Gerald’s fists clenched around the sides in anger. “How did she die? How did she -die!?-”
The page said nothing in return to his question. A tear ran down his cheek and he pulled the letter away from his face. The funeral was that very night. How could they not tell him sooner? This must mean that Verlai perished as well, they were sharing the same body, right? He walked through the dead Easterly streets, not saying a word to the birds that cried up above. He couldn’t go back to his apartment, not in this state.
He went to the coast, walking for what seemed like eternity. It was only then he let himself break down. He sat on the beach, the waves lapping at his feet, as if trying to console him. He lost too much family already, he promised himself he wouldn’t let anything else happen to them.
Yet he failed again.
Could he have done something? Maybe, but losing someone like Vinarei made his chest cave in upon itself. He looked back down at the letter, written in the familiar hand of Vinarei’s nephew. The closest thing the woman had to a son. He knew Atticus was hurting far more than he was. He understood his torment, he had been through it time after time after time. He found forgiveness.
The question though still pervaded every thought. “How did it happen?” He mumbled to himself. I suppose if he wanted to find out, he’d have to go to the source.
Verath paused mid ale-sip when the picture came to the table. He just assumed someone had sent him some nonsensical threat. One blonde brow slowly lofted and a little bit of ale dribbled into his beard. “Well then Miss Verlai, the armor does you no justice.” He mused, flicking the photo with a finger and a devilish crinkling of his eyes.
Traysk on the other hand took the photo into the nearest bathroom.
*Hanna tilts her head at this, looking to Verlai as she was referenced as a whore, "I disagree with that statement, you do have many whores.. but they are weak. I do not see Verlai as weak but instead as having potential.. I care not if she fucks things, as long as she does so with power."*
