Bereft: Demise

40 | Of Thoughts Waiting to End

The bells were ringing. Deep and resonant, the bells within the university's dated tower were tolling the late hour. Sethan listened to the sound, feeling each clang vibrate through the floor beneath his plastic chair as he sat and watched the swarm navigate the cafeteria. He thought about the bells and about the sun shining down upon such a rank, perfidious world.

The swarm of humans was noxious at best. Their voices rang like the bells in the narrow confines of the hall, their laughter and joy rambunctious. Metal table legs screeched across the linoleum and not a single person aside from Sethan noticed the gouges left behind. No one else noticed how the fluorescents flickered in their death throes. No else noticed the rank stench of something rotten waiting in the kitchens behind the portly cafeteria worker.

Sethan fought the urge to scream. It was difficult to handle the stimuli surrounding him, but the crush of mortal voices temporarily drowned out the voice within his head. The Sin of Wrath savored that inner silence and sighed, sipping the swill the mortal at the counter had called 'coffee.'

The Sin straightened, tracing a finger along the inside of his collar to loosen its stifling hold. He wasn't here to marvel at mankind's boorish regard for each other and their world; he was here to find a new host. His prior host had met his pathetic end the night before. Sethan knew he had less than a day to find a new one before the inexorable pull of his Seat within the Realm yanked him out of Terrestria.

He needed a new host. The grounds for this university had proven bountiful in the recent past, so Sethan was here yet again, prowling the gathering places for his newest prospective.

He watched the humans closely once the bells faded, paying particular attention to the men. Over the years, Sethan had found it distinctly easier to discover hosts among men than among women. He had never been sure why exactly, perhaps because they were naturally inclined to be more suspicious of strangers—especially of strange men, such as himself. Their intuition had always impressed the immortal creature as much as it had vexed him.

From the corner of his eye, Sethan studied a stringy-haired youth who'd been staring into his cup of ramen for twenty minutes without taking a bite. His eyes were glassy and his movements furtive. Sethan wagered the boy was withdrawing from amphetamines. Judging by his less than stellar lunch choice, it was plausible he'd ran out of funds. Sethan could promise the mortal a supply in exchange for his soul.

A second possibility presented itself in the form of a swollen jock riling a small crowd at his overburdened table. The endless, nauseating stream of popular culture Sethan had been force to imbibe led him believe the man was exceedingly stereotypical. His blond girlfriend was bubbly and wearing some form of cheer uniform. He was handsome, well-groomed, and well-muscled—but, judging by the slight bruising on his arms and the general wear on his face, the jock was an average football player at best. Sethan could promise him a spot in a national team in exchange for his soul. Of course, the mortal would never see the field again, but the Sin wouldn't tell him that.

The final option was a woman, despite Sethan's misgivings. There was a large stack of documents in front of her and another large stack visible in her briefcase, meaning she was most likely an instructor. The cheap quality of her pantsuit and the exhaustion in her face said she was un-tenured. Sethan mused that he could convince her to part with her soul if he promised to push her research to the next level and make her invaluable to the university. Of his three choices, she would be the most difficult to hunt.

The Sin swiveled his Styrofoam cup between his hands, bored and hungry, wishing he could resume the original task given to him Balthier. He wished to move on—but he required a new host before his plans were set into motion.

Even so, Sethan felt hunting was too easy now. He remembered how, in years long since passed, grooming a host took finesse and careful planning. They had once been forced to gain the trust of their next human while working with a current host, planning in advance for maximum continuity. Building the perfect contract could take weeks or months of coercion and study, of picking and pulling at a mortal's mind until they broke and sold their very soul to a Sin.