Grace in Delusion
Quote from Adriana on July 5, 2024, 12:44 pmMy apartment still had that new place smell.
I came into the short foyer with an armful of bags, inhaling the scent of freshly laid wood with all of the oils and minerals on it. The marble counters smelled strangely cool. there was the small of finely ground coffee beans from the morning, and the espresso I had made with them.
There was no odor of mildew or rot, no rats in the ceiling to keep me company, and I hadn't shed quite enough fur on the leather furniture yet to be satisfied.
All in good time.
I locked the door behind me - a formality, really. The foyer had a little coat closet, and a long, narrow marble table where I put down my keys and billfold and slipped off my shoes. Directly ahead of me and to my left; the living room with it's oversized coffee table, a U shaped couch that could fit more people than I would ever host, and a faux fireplace with a television over it on the white walls.
There were pieces of art scattered tastefully about, paintings and statues, and on one wall was my record player and collection of albums.
To my right and with nothing dividing the rooms except a cold, black table with low-hanging light fixtures over the center of it, was the kitchen with it's large island and stainless steel appliances. A hall in the corner of the kitchen went down into the only bedroom, and a separate office space.
The walls of the living room and outer walls of the hallway leading to the bedroom were all glass windows--top to bottom--spaced by structural, but well integrated round, white pillars. All of the windows were equipped with heavy blackout curtains currently keeping out the night skyline of Pinerich.
After I set down the paper bags, I opened up the curtains to see the little lights scattered throughout the city; the checkered lights from the skyscrapers (all of them owned by one faction or the other). There were the lights of street lamps and shops. Cars with their headlights went by on the road below, coming in and out of downtown, or just passing through. Even now, at eleven in the evening, it was a busy area. But if you looked out to the freeways, curving around the edge of the city and going out towards Middlecrest and Reknab, you would only see an occasional car or eighteen wheeler.
Here in the city, all of the lights served to blot out the stars above my head, and only the moon in her majesty would be seen on a clear night.
After I'd opened up the curtains to let in the artificial lights I'd come to know so well, I went back to the counter and began unpacking the paper bags. Tonight was a comfort food, Cacio e Pepe, and a whopping pound of river salmon I'd decided to bake with fresh tomato, basil, lemon and garlic.
In Pinerich, we had the advantage of being able to source produce from local farmers nearby, as well as fish from the mountain rivers. It was coming to the end of the season, but raw or cooked, there was no contest; fresh food was a privilege I greedily indulged in.
Anyway, if I was going to be healthy, and had to give up smoking, I needed to do it properly, and - according to experts - Chinese takeout every day is not considered healthy.
My eyes went to the invitation, still sitting on the island, still carrying Baltronan's scent and the scent of the tea I drank and the wine that he drank. Speaking of wine, and being healthy...
I pulled out a bottle of the forbidden drink from a third, smaller bag. It was expensive-$599.99. There was no price tag on the bottle or the glass case that protected it, but that's the price I was told.
It had a French name I couldn't pronounce, printed in fancy title on a black and gold embellished label. It was a champagne, and a very good one "on a budget", as the wine salesperson had condescendingly told me. Well, pal, Papa Baltronan probably owns your little wine store and all of the sources for it, so, chew on that.
Is what I wanted to say, but I just nodded and said "that will be fine".
My apartment still had that new place smell.
I came into the short foyer with an armful of bags, inhaling the scent of freshly laid wood with all of the oils and minerals on it. The marble counters smelled strangely cool. there was the small of finely ground coffee beans from the morning, and the espresso I had made with them.
There was no odor of mildew or rot, no rats in the ceiling to keep me company, and I hadn't shed quite enough fur on the leather furniture yet to be satisfied.
All in good time.
I locked the door behind me - a formality, really. The foyer had a little coat closet, and a long, narrow marble table where I put down my keys and billfold and slipped off my shoes. Directly ahead of me and to my left; the living room with it's oversized coffee table, a U shaped couch that could fit more people than I would ever host, and a faux fireplace with a television over it on the white walls.
There were pieces of art scattered tastefully about, paintings and statues, and on one wall was my record player and collection of albums.
To my right and with nothing dividing the rooms except a cold, black table with low-hanging light fixtures over the center of it, was the kitchen with it's large island and stainless steel appliances. A hall in the corner of the kitchen went down into the only bedroom, and a separate office space.
The walls of the living room and outer walls of the hallway leading to the bedroom were all glass windows--top to bottom--spaced by structural, but well integrated round, white pillars. All of the windows were equipped with heavy blackout curtains currently keeping out the night skyline of Pinerich.
After I set down the paper bags, I opened up the curtains to see the little lights scattered throughout the city; the checkered lights from the skyscrapers (all of them owned by one faction or the other). There were the lights of street lamps and shops. Cars with their headlights went by on the road below, coming in and out of downtown, or just passing through. Even now, at eleven in the evening, it was a busy area. But if you looked out to the freeways, curving around the edge of the city and going out towards Middlecrest and Reknab, you would only see an occasional car or eighteen wheeler.
Here in the city, all of the lights served to blot out the stars above my head, and only the moon in her majesty would be seen on a clear night.
After I'd opened up the curtains to let in the artificial lights I'd come to know so well, I went back to the counter and began unpacking the paper bags. Tonight was a comfort food, Cacio e Pepe, and a whopping pound of river salmon I'd decided to bake with fresh tomato, basil, lemon and garlic.
In Pinerich, we had the advantage of being able to source produce from local farmers nearby, as well as fish from the mountain rivers. It was coming to the end of the season, but raw or cooked, there was no contest; fresh food was a privilege I greedily indulged in.
Anyway, if I was going to be healthy, and had to give up smoking, I needed to do it properly, and - according to experts - Chinese takeout every day is not considered healthy.
My eyes went to the invitation, still sitting on the island, still carrying Baltronan's scent and the scent of the tea I drank and the wine that he drank. Speaking of wine, and being healthy...
I pulled out a bottle of the forbidden drink from a third, smaller bag. It was expensive-$599.99. There was no price tag on the bottle or the glass case that protected it, but that's the price I was told.
It had a French name I couldn't pronounce, printed in fancy title on a black and gold embellished label. It was a champagne, and a very good one "on a budget", as the wine salesperson had condescendingly told me. Well, pal, Papa Baltronan probably owns your little wine store and all of the sources for it, so, chew on that.
Is what I wanted to say, but I just nodded and said "that will be fine".
Quote from Adriana on July 5, 2024, 12:52 pmPapa Baltronan. I ran a hand over my face as I went to the record player and put on a smooth jazz compilation album-lyric-less, with the volume on low. I put the wine bottle in a bucket that I filled with ice from the freezer, and let it chill while I prepared dinner.
That High Society Function was around the corner... and if I wanted to blend in, I'd need to have an appetite for alcohol, or at least be able to fake it. I didn't need to stand out anymore than I already did.
For whatever reason, Baltronan had kept my figuratively in the dark, and now, for all extensive purposes, was outing me-presenting me with what was essentially my first debut into their world. Our world.
The waiters words from my date with Diane were still fresh in my ears.
"Who is he?"
I was a shadow, a nobody, in the eyes of the other factions. If I were the main character, I'd be Baltronan's best-kept secret, an ace up his sleeve.
However, I was more inclined to believe that my loyalty was under scrutiny until recently, and that I'd passed whatever unspoken test he'd had laid out for me.
What would he think about Diane and I?
If I'd just gotten past the first trial, I had no doubt there were still walls of fire and thorns I'd have to go through to be worthy of her hand. Or maybe, he'd find out about our date, and it would be, "Goodnight, Silas".
Papa Baltronan. I ran a hand over my face as I went to the record player and put on a smooth jazz compilation album-lyric-less, with the volume on low. I put the wine bottle in a bucket that I filled with ice from the freezer, and let it chill while I prepared dinner.
That High Society Function was around the corner... and if I wanted to blend in, I'd need to have an appetite for alcohol, or at least be able to fake it. I didn't need to stand out anymore than I already did.
For whatever reason, Baltronan had kept my figuratively in the dark, and now, for all extensive purposes, was outing me-presenting me with what was essentially my first debut into their world. Our world.
The waiters words from my date with Diane were still fresh in my ears.
"Who is he?"
I was a shadow, a nobody, in the eyes of the other factions. If I were the main character, I'd be Baltronan's best-kept secret, an ace up his sleeve.
However, I was more inclined to believe that my loyalty was under scrutiny until recently, and that I'd passed whatever unspoken test he'd had laid out for me.
What would he think about Diane and I?
If I'd just gotten past the first trial, I had no doubt there were still walls of fire and thorns I'd have to go through to be worthy of her hand. Or maybe, he'd find out about our date, and it would be, "Goodnight, Silas".
Quote from Adriana on July 5, 2024, 1:01 pm"I have never had more faith in your potential with us. It was your fate to fall in with lesser men, but those who sent you to us did not know they were doing us a favor. They were returning one of our own, and have payed dearly for their manner of delivery. You have always belonged with us. And one day, when you speak of Svalnaglas blood, you will realize you are speaking of your own kin."
I had been dropped off at Baltronan's "welcome mat" like a perfectly packaged, bloodied lamb for the slaughter. A bullet would have been a mercy, but you could have done the job just as easily with a feather, and I'd no sooner have resembled the poor creature depicted in the invitation.
I'd pondered the meaning of it too many times and too often, so much so that the reason had become more vague over time. Questions like why the last members of Leonum Rubrum, branding me like sold cattle, used me as a statement piece. What message were they trying to leave in their wake, and why the Svalnaglas didn't finish what they'd started. Maybe if I had the mind to ask questions earlier, I would have gotten answers-or maybe not asking questions is what got me this far.
"I have never had more faith in your potential with us. It was your fate to fall in with lesser men, but those who sent you to us did not know they were doing us a favor. They were returning one of our own, and have payed dearly for their manner of delivery. You have always belonged with us. And one day, when you speak of Svalnaglas blood, you will realize you are speaking of your own kin."
I had been dropped off at Baltronan's "welcome mat" like a perfectly packaged, bloodied lamb for the slaughter. A bullet would have been a mercy, but you could have done the job just as easily with a feather, and I'd no sooner have resembled the poor creature depicted in the invitation.
I'd pondered the meaning of it too many times and too often, so much so that the reason had become more vague over time. Questions like why the last members of Leonum Rubrum, branding me like sold cattle, used me as a statement piece. What message were they trying to leave in their wake, and why the Svalnaglas didn't finish what they'd started. Maybe if I had the mind to ask questions earlier, I would have gotten answers-or maybe not asking questions is what got me this far.
Quote from Adriana on July 6, 2024, 12:43 amNonna didn't cook. But we had an army of cooks who were probably grandmothers. I remember finding a stool to watch them at the stove, or on the countertop, hand rolling shell pastas one by one. They never used measuring spoons or cups, but everything always came out immaculate.
I hope my family paid them well. They may have been slaves. Nonetheless, they made the food with passion anyway, because to do anything less was a crime that would forever stain their family names. Like the boxed pasta I was boiling would have tainted mine, if I hadn't forsaken my heritage.
I did, however, remember to salt my water finché non avrà il sapore dell'oceano.
Nonna didn't cook. But we had an army of cooks who were probably grandmothers. I remember finding a stool to watch them at the stove, or on the countertop, hand rolling shell pastas one by one. They never used measuring spoons or cups, but everything always came out immaculate.
I hope my family paid them well. They may have been slaves. Nonetheless, they made the food with passion anyway, because to do anything less was a crime that would forever stain their family names. Like the boxed pasta I was boiling would have tainted mine, if I hadn't forsaken my heritage.
I did, however, remember to salt my water finché non avrà il sapore dell'oceano.
Quote from Adriana on July 6, 2024, 12:57 amI enjoyed being doted over by the Kitchen Grandmas, who would seat me at the wood table by the kitchen window and feed me.
As the salmon baked and the cheese melted into the sauce for my pasta, I contemplated my heritage.
My family was influential back home and in the North Eastern states. I had thrown away the names, accents and associations to it when I came overseas, but blood is thick. It might have been a roadblock in my growth, if there were any questions about it..
I enjoyed being doted over by the Kitchen Grandmas, who would seat me at the wood table by the kitchen window and feed me.
As the salmon baked and the cheese melted into the sauce for my pasta, I contemplated my heritage.
My family was influential back home and in the North Eastern states. I had thrown away the names, accents and associations to it when I came overseas, but blood is thick. It might have been a roadblock in my growth, if there were any questions about it..
Quote from Adriana on July 6, 2024, 9:32 pmDinner was made-one AM, two AM-when the city is awake all night, what difference did it make? It was my third meal, and so it was dinner. The night was young, and there was a particular subject that I'd been wanting to delve into.
No different than when I was five, I sat alone at the table and cleaned my plates in near silence. Well, aside from the Bentley's upstairs. They stayed up late going to parties, and when they got home, they'd have the same drunk argument; she was flirting--no, she wasn't flirting--he was being paranoid--but then why'd she take a drink from the stranger across the bar? And why did they even go out if he was always going to ruin it? They didn't need this strain on their marriage. Good question-it costed too much money anyway, and they should just stop. Except they wouldn't, and next Friday night, it'd be the same song and dance.
In the end, they'd make up, and I would wish they'd go back to fighting.
With my hands clasped and my elbows on the ebony table, I stared out over the empty plates; the ribs of the salmon, the remnants of what was a Caprese salad, and a plate that had held entirely too much pasta-nearly licked clean. I was at the end of the table opposite the grand window and met my reflection in his cold, blue eyes. I could almost see him opening his mouth to taunt me, although I'm not sure what he would have said.
My eyes went back to the champagne in the bucket, sitting on the counter with a threatening countenance.
"Drink me," it taunted, like the little potion that sent Alice further and further into Wonderland.
Back home, fancy parties were a weekly occurrence. Every Sunday, it seemed, was a reason to celebrate. But marriages, babies, Baptisms, confirmations, business "deals", and nice weather, were also all valid reasons to celebrate. On the outside, we were the generous aristocrats. We donated to hospitals, and made pledges to work alongside the community to create jobs and cure everything from homelessness to cancer. We held meaningful fundraisers-auctions, and dances, and other high class soirees.
Among the attendees, there would be bishops, priests, politicians, gangsters… sometimes, all of them at the same table. Always with glasses of fine wine in every gold-and-silver clad hand, and tobacco in the other, until the room reeked of smoke, until the bodies felt unusually large around me. The more alcohol the drank, the more they wanted, the more they smoked. The people became louder, and the rooms felt smaller-like they were shrinking in on me. Everyone armed, with steel and tooth and claw, and a constant, looming threat that someone might say the wrong thing, or brush against someone else's wife with a little too much intention, and the facade would come crumbling apart.
Dinner was made-one AM, two AM-when the city is awake all night, what difference did it make? It was my third meal, and so it was dinner. The night was young, and there was a particular subject that I'd been wanting to delve into.
No different than when I was five, I sat alone at the table and cleaned my plates in near silence. Well, aside from the Bentley's upstairs. They stayed up late going to parties, and when they got home, they'd have the same drunk argument; she was flirting--no, she wasn't flirting--he was being paranoid--but then why'd she take a drink from the stranger across the bar? And why did they even go out if he was always going to ruin it? They didn't need this strain on their marriage. Good question-it costed too much money anyway, and they should just stop. Except they wouldn't, and next Friday night, it'd be the same song and dance.
In the end, they'd make up, and I would wish they'd go back to fighting.
With my hands clasped and my elbows on the ebony table, I stared out over the empty plates; the ribs of the salmon, the remnants of what was a Caprese salad, and a plate that had held entirely too much pasta-nearly licked clean. I was at the end of the table opposite the grand window and met my reflection in his cold, blue eyes. I could almost see him opening his mouth to taunt me, although I'm not sure what he would have said.
My eyes went back to the champagne in the bucket, sitting on the counter with a threatening countenance.
"Drink me," it taunted, like the little potion that sent Alice further and further into Wonderland.
Back home, fancy parties were a weekly occurrence. Every Sunday, it seemed, was a reason to celebrate. But marriages, babies, Baptisms, confirmations, business "deals", and nice weather, were also all valid reasons to celebrate. On the outside, we were the generous aristocrats. We donated to hospitals, and made pledges to work alongside the community to create jobs and cure everything from homelessness to cancer. We held meaningful fundraisers-auctions, and dances, and other high class soirees.
Among the attendees, there would be bishops, priests, politicians, gangsters… sometimes, all of them at the same table. Always with glasses of fine wine in every gold-and-silver clad hand, and tobacco in the other, until the room reeked of smoke, until the bodies felt unusually large around me. The more alcohol the drank, the more they wanted, the more they smoked. The people became louder, and the rooms felt smaller-like they were shrinking in on me. Everyone armed, with steel and tooth and claw, and a constant, looming threat that someone might say the wrong thing, or brush against someone else's wife with a little too much intention, and the facade would come crumbling apart.
Quote from Adriana on July 6, 2024, 9:44 pmWhen I returned my eyes to the reflection, I might have heard him laugh; my skin had paled, and my heart was racing in my chest. I pulled the loose tie over my head and tossed it on the couch, unbuttoning the first three buttons of my shirt, before giving up on it altogether. The shirt, too, was tossed on the back of the couch, and I felt like how a snake must have after they'd crawled out of an itchy old skin.
Then, I got up and did what I should have done a long time ago; I popped the cork from the champagne bottle, and poured every drop down the sink. I ran the tap until the smell was tolerable, and considered that a few sewer rats were about to have a very luxurious date night.
I didn't want to keep up with appearances. I'd watched my family do it growing up, with plastered on smiles and their eyes held up in glee with duct tape at the corners. How they used alcohol and expensive cigars like fishing bait, with a delusional fool at the end of every line.
If Baltronan insisted, I might have no choice, but so long as he let me choose my chamomile tea, I'd take the tea.
When I returned my eyes to the reflection, I might have heard him laugh; my skin had paled, and my heart was racing in my chest. I pulled the loose tie over my head and tossed it on the couch, unbuttoning the first three buttons of my shirt, before giving up on it altogether. The shirt, too, was tossed on the back of the couch, and I felt like how a snake must have after they'd crawled out of an itchy old skin.
Then, I got up and did what I should have done a long time ago; I popped the cork from the champagne bottle, and poured every drop down the sink. I ran the tap until the smell was tolerable, and considered that a few sewer rats were about to have a very luxurious date night.
I didn't want to keep up with appearances. I'd watched my family do it growing up, with plastered on smiles and their eyes held up in glee with duct tape at the corners. How they used alcohol and expensive cigars like fishing bait, with a delusional fool at the end of every line.
If Baltronan insisted, I might have no choice, but so long as he let me choose my chamomile tea, I'd take the tea.
Quote from Adriana on July 8, 2024, 12:00 pmThe office space had no windows. Artificial light poured down over my books. Books on botany, and biology; theoretical books, scientific publications, articles.
My own journals were hand written, but not in English, or Italian. The only thing discernible were the sketches, and without context, they too, were meaningless.
The trouble with not existing, in any official capacity, was that everything that was done in the progression of our knowledge and understanding of our very own biology had to be done in the shadows. Collaboration was difficult. There was no funding. There were no, or very, very few, previous texts to reference; the ones that existed were likewise coded.
Not for lack of want, but because they could not exist. For the safety of the entire race, there were no publications beyond fables, legends and Hollywood. Little kernels of truth occasionally came forth from them, but nobody would see the bigger picture looming behind them.
If I died, the knowledge would die with me.
I'd taken my research to trial; very rarely do you have success on the first attempt, and yet even in the early stages it accomplished what I'd intended.
There would need to be more trials, because a test, unrepeated, would be written off as a fluke just as easily as one that had not succeeded at all. Long term effects had yet to be observed, and the literally named Accelerātus Lupus was still in it's infancy. It might be a decade or several before I came to a definitive conclusion regarding it's nature.
The next steps in the research--although far off--would be to accomplish the opposite effect. A serum that could delay, or altogether prevent the transformation in our race...
The office space had no windows. Artificial light poured down over my books. Books on botany, and biology; theoretical books, scientific publications, articles.
My own journals were hand written, but not in English, or Italian. The only thing discernible were the sketches, and without context, they too, were meaningless.
The trouble with not existing, in any official capacity, was that everything that was done in the progression of our knowledge and understanding of our very own biology had to be done in the shadows. Collaboration was difficult. There was no funding. There were no, or very, very few, previous texts to reference; the ones that existed were likewise coded.
Not for lack of want, but because they could not exist. For the safety of the entire race, there were no publications beyond fables, legends and Hollywood. Little kernels of truth occasionally came forth from them, but nobody would see the bigger picture looming behind them.
If I died, the knowledge would die with me.
I'd taken my research to trial; very rarely do you have success on the first attempt, and yet even in the early stages it accomplished what I'd intended.
There would need to be more trials, because a test, unrepeated, would be written off as a fluke just as easily as one that had not succeeded at all. Long term effects had yet to be observed, and the literally named Accelerātus Lupus was still in it's infancy. It might be a decade or several before I came to a definitive conclusion regarding it's nature.
The next steps in the research--although far off--would be to accomplish the opposite effect. A serum that could delay, or altogether prevent the transformation in our race...
Quote from Adriana on July 8, 2024, 12:33 pmWhen I first saw Logan in Middlecrest, I had recognized a certain familiarity in her disposition and mannerisms. I also knew Jodecai had taken leave from the Svalnaglas earlier in his career, which was a curious prospect in and of itself.
We acquired a valuable piece of information regarding the presence of a Svalnaglas in Reknab, and were deployed to investigate it. Evidently, the members of this so called pack were careless, and there were indications of their presence scattered throughout the little farming town they closely bordered.
It was no wonder that hunters had managed to seize two of their members; and in fact, it was a wonder they had not managed to pick off the assembly of loners and rogues earlier, as they are uncoordinated, and clumsy in their behavior.
When mapping that cursed mountain, and the inhabitants of it, I was presented with the opportunity to begin my experiment, which was three parts.
When I first saw Logan in Middlecrest, I had recognized a certain familiarity in her disposition and mannerisms. I also knew Jodecai had taken leave from the Svalnaglas earlier in his career, which was a curious prospect in and of itself.
We acquired a valuable piece of information regarding the presence of a Svalnaglas in Reknab, and were deployed to investigate it. Evidently, the members of this so called pack were careless, and there were indications of their presence scattered throughout the little farming town they closely bordered.
It was no wonder that hunters had managed to seize two of their members; and in fact, it was a wonder they had not managed to pick off the assembly of loners and rogues earlier, as they are uncoordinated, and clumsy in their behavior.
When mapping that cursed mountain, and the inhabitants of it, I was presented with the opportunity to begin my experiment, which was three parts.
Quote from Adriana on July 8, 2024, 12:44 pmJodecai revealed what I had meant to uncover, but had caused the situation to move with more rapidity than I had wanted. Truth be told, I didn't know if Logan would die, and the "antidote" I gave was a a tranquilizer, not a means to reverse the first dose. I needed to observe her, to gather as much biochemical feedback as I could remember.
"I surrender", I said, and was rapidly admonished. It was expected, as my plan had failed, and my intentions were not clearly communicated. As it was, I needed to buy time, seconds, if I could-to see the after effects if the drug. Ulric bought into my feigned anxiety, and although he could have retaliated, he hesitated. It showed weakness; I knew in that moment he wasn't suited to replace the Alpha.
Then chaos ensued, and our bought time was shortly spent. My study came to an end.
Maybe if we had left at that moment, or a few moments earlier, Diane might have been spared her suffering. It was my biggest regret, that in the pursuit of knowledge, I put her life in danger. The ripple effect was still in play...
Josh was nearly killed, Eva disappeared that night, I was shot--which later affected my performance in the mines--and any trust established between myself and Jodecai was effectively dissolved. He vanished, but later resurfaced to report to Beta Baltronan, and I can't help but wonder if that night, he had planned to finish what the hunters started, and put necessary distance between him and myself to keep from doing just that.
Jodecai revealed what I had meant to uncover, but had caused the situation to move with more rapidity than I had wanted. Truth be told, I didn't know if Logan would die, and the "antidote" I gave was a a tranquilizer, not a means to reverse the first dose. I needed to observe her, to gather as much biochemical feedback as I could remember.
"I surrender", I said, and was rapidly admonished. It was expected, as my plan had failed, and my intentions were not clearly communicated. As it was, I needed to buy time, seconds, if I could-to see the after effects if the drug. Ulric bought into my feigned anxiety, and although he could have retaliated, he hesitated. It showed weakness; I knew in that moment he wasn't suited to replace the Alpha.
Then chaos ensued, and our bought time was shortly spent. My study came to an end.
Maybe if we had left at that moment, or a few moments earlier, Diane might have been spared her suffering. It was my biggest regret, that in the pursuit of knowledge, I put her life in danger. The ripple effect was still in play...
Josh was nearly killed, Eva disappeared that night, I was shot--which later affected my performance in the mines--and any trust established between myself and Jodecai was effectively dissolved. He vanished, but later resurfaced to report to Beta Baltronan, and I can't help but wonder if that night, he had planned to finish what the hunters started, and put necessary distance between him and myself to keep from doing just that.
