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| Dangerous Confessions; Midwinter Challenge: Confession | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Tue Dec 26, 2017 9:36 pm (31 Views) | |
| Ioann | Tue Dec 26, 2017 9:36 pm Post #1 |
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All told, the apartment wasn’t unpleasant-looking. Cozy even, in that heavy brick-and-crenellations sort of way that dominated the Morozhen District’s Hightower projects. Ioann trudged up the outside staircase, a riveted-on addition that bespoke post-Taming residential coding. Wind whistled through gaps in the perforated sheetmetal like an ethereal choir. He stopped on the third floor and let himself into the hallway, then pulled a scrap from his pocket and stared at the number long-memorized. Outside Apartment 3B, he tucked the note away and sighed, hand frozen above the knocker. The lanterns in the hallway flickered. It would be so easy to... walk away. She would never know. Never have to know. But he knew that agony. So he rapped the door. It was only a few moments before it creaked partway open on the chain. The woman inside glared at him suspiciously. “Who’re you?” ‘Your wife’s murderer’ didn’t seem to be the proper response, so instead, he replied, “I knew... your wife.” “A lot of people knew her.” He paused for a moment, letting the silence grow. “I knew her right before...” The woman let out a resigned breath. “Please, can we talk? Just a few minutes. That’s all I’m asking.” “Don’t see why I have to console you. She was my wife,” she retorted, but even so, closed the door and unhooked the chain. When it opened, she waved him inside. She was tall, with a squarish face that boasted a proud frown. As she limped into the tiny apartment’s living space, Ioann’s eyes were drawn to a curved leather scabbard held casually in one hand. From it protruded a plain, functional hilt and basket. Following his eyes, she nodded curtly. “Don’t try anything clever.” She gestured to a threadbare sofa, then settled atop the chair across. “What’d you want to tell me?” Ioann cleared his throat. “I’ve been looking for you for some months. I was there... at the end-” “-No one was there at the end. Everybody died,” she cut in, eyes testing. “I was there. I saw it. Saw everything,” Ioann tore his gaze away, finding his open palms suddenly fascinating. “Spit it out.” Her voice was impatient, but not from disbelief. “When he – it – attacked, your wife was the first to step forward. To talk it down, or stop it, or... something. Protect everyone else.” He choked, swallowing bitterness and self-loathing. “It was more than anyone could have asked, but she did it. Without a second thought. She stepped forward to save everyone else in that courtroom. She was a hero.” The pause that followed was long enough that Ioann risked looking at the late de Germaine’s widow. Tears filled red-rimmed eyes. “Do you weep? Since you killed her? Everyone?” It was more accusation than question. “Yes. Often.” “Get out,” she seethed. The sword withdrew a handsbreadth, whispering against the silk of its scabbard. “Her life is worth more than your death.” Ioann wiped his nose, stood, and exited the apartment, heart not an ounce lighter. |
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8:39 AM Jul 11

