Grave (Work in Progress)

Chapter 3.2-Bastian-Change of Fate

(DISCLAIMER: Anything past this point is largely unedited and will probably stay so for a while. I'm trying to get bigger chunks done before I go into editing mode. Feel free to critique anyway!)

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The moment I got home, I collapsed into an empty chair. My bag slipped from my fingers onto the floor. With a deep sigh, I threw my head back to stare at the ceiling. Damn them. Damn them straight to the Abyss.

Well, not really. Most of student council was my friends, after all. It was Faustus who made our meetings difficult. Today, he talked about nothing but Kyrce Sirula this and Kyrce Sirula that. He even had the gall to propose that we halve our budget for the fall festival to set aside for pranks. Luckily, that idea got shot down, although he managed to gain a few supporters.

I couldn’t be too harsh on him. Faustus’s hatred wasn’t unfounded. So in the end, I had no one to blame but my ex-best friend. Typical.

I abandoned my seat to take a look out the window. On this side of the apartment, the wall was entirely glass. I used to think it was pretty cool when I was young. Like I was inside a giant fishbowl.

They say Lutetian sunsets are the loveliest in the world. It bathes the earth in all of its colors. The ocean shifts from blue to pink to red and night falls. I had to agree, although I had never seen another sunset to compare it to. Our apartment towered over a busy boardwalk. Below many people passed by. Merchants closed shop for the night. Some snake Animi slithered around collecting trash in mini-incendiaries strapped to their backs.

This was the same scene that played from my window. Every day of the year with a variation or two. The story of my life.

Someone’s reflection appeared beside me.

“Mother!” I exclaimed, turning to face her and not her reflection. “You’re out of bed.”

My mother looked too old for her age. The skin around her mouth sagged. Her white hair was in the process of falling out from her treatments at the hospital. Her wheelchair dwarfed her. She had managed to dress herself today, wearing her red senator robes. Small victories.

She smiled and waved at me to kneel so she could plant a kiss on my forehead. I obliged.

“How was your day, dearest?” she asked.

“It was fine.” A damn dirty lie. “How are you feeling?” I noticed that she was rubbing her shoulder.

“Oh, I’m all right. Nothing I can’t manage.” Looks like I’m not the only one who tells little white lies. I placed a gentle hand on the affected shoulder and let my magic do its work. A green light shimmered under my palm. She relaxed, the tension fleeing her body temporarily.

“Ahh, thank you,” she said. Then, she wheeled herself over to a table and grabbed the old photograph sitting there. It was an old one from when my father was still alive. I knew it well. The former great House of Carraway. It was our last trip to the beach together and my father wore that stupid striped bathing suit. I was nine years old, showing off a sand dollar I had found. A whole sand dollar!

“Bastian,” my mother said, setting the photograph down. “I had a vision this morning.”

“Really? What did it show you?” My mother could see the future in short glimpses, which made her valuable as a magician-senator. It allowed her to foresee the short term or long term effects of proposed bills. She had a pretty good accuracy rate. The doorbell rang before she could answer me.

“I’ll tell you later. It’s nothing too important,” she said as she opened the door. “Oh, Jullian, dear! Come in, come in!” Mother pulled Jullian inside. He clung to his newsboy cap. His thick glasses fell askew on his nose. Mother bombarded him with questions. How have you been? How’s your family? Does your father have any new inventions out? When is your brother getting back from Kamui? He answered them all sheepishly.