RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Hilarity Ensues

I pictured mansions, pools and shining cities on hills, not affordable apartments and offices that are clean and professional enough, but altogether numbingly bland. While Will's giving his statement I decide to wander around. I know, I know...I would never tolerate Will walking away, but there's a difference: if I wander off, Will can catch up to me in seconds. I could never catch up to Will.

As I'm walking I start wondering why we had to file seperate reports. Maybe they think we'll fudge the details otherwise, or something. Or maybe it's just easier to place us under the microscope for further scrutiny one at a time. A few days ago I would have vehemently disagreed with Will on this subject, but now I'm starting to get why he thinks there's too much formality in what we do.

Corridors upon corridors don't lead me anywhere interesting, so I walk down a flight of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs is--surprise!--another corridor. Since I already made it down here, I figure I might as well do some more exploring. This hallway is a lot more narrow than the one upstairs, and whoever designed this floor apparently didn't believe in windows. There's just enough light to always see right in front of you, but not much further.

The path leads to an enormous glass case holding what appears to be a treasure trove of mementos from a wide range of warriors and metas, such as a cape, a pair of boots(the Swift's?) and, amazingly, a Meteor Hammer. Unfortunately, not every item is clearly labeled, and of those that are many are in languages I don't recognize. As I study everything here I feel as if this trophy case could be a history lesson in adventuring. What eventually catches my eye and holds my attention is a beautifully forged, pristine flame-bladed sword. I can't look away from it...I wonder--

"Twelfth century." I jump at the voice. Either a very tall man just materialized right next to me, or I really, really wasn't being very alert. He's wearing a blood red cloak that seems to have absorbed him, and even though he's keeping to the shadows(not hard to do on this floor, mind you) he seems about middle-aged, with salt-and-pepper hair.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" Even though I asked because I'm trying to be friendly, for some reason I'm getting this overwhelming sense of...dread in the pit of my stomach. I must be jumpy, he surprised me, that's all.

"Lucky guess," he says. "You seem to be a student of the past, like myself. That's a good quality to have, in your line of work. A rare one, too." He's choosing his words carefully, perhaps because he realized he startled the Hell out of me. "I'm Christopher Trinity." I heard the name before, but this time it sends a chill down my spine. I hope he didn't notice, I'd hate to be seen as rude.

"I'm Alfhild," I extend my hand to him. He reluctantly shakes it, briefly. I've been called frigid before, but this guy I think takes coldness to a whole new level. He's not even trying to be intimidating, either--he just is. "You're our emergency contact, right?"

"I'm everybody's emergency contact at the moment," Trinity says, then quickly changes the subject. "You chose to study an interesting weapon, Miss Alfhild. There was a great and powerful nobleman who met his end at the edge of this very sword."

"Are you sure?" I ask. "This thing doesn't look like it's been used once. No scuffs or signs of alteration or anything."

"There are other ways to use swords, my dear," he says as if a little disappointed that I didn't know better.

I'm not sure what he's getting at but I'll bite. "What, you mean like, symbolically or something?"

He smiles calmly and points toward the flame-blade again. "Take a closer look and you may see what I mean."

I take another step to the glass to see the sword better. I noticed before that the blade was shimmering in the light, but that can't be what he--wait. It's not just lighting effects, it's...moving? I peer closer. Maybe it's not moving, per se, but it looks like it's in the process of rearranging...must be a light trick. Or maybe....Lord it's beautiful. The blade is like...little specks of light dancing on the surface of the sea, only beckoning for somebody to jump in and join them. No, not beckoning somebody...beckoning me. I gently reach out, even though I don't use swords I'd like to just hold this one--

"Aww, Alfie's made a new friend!" Will's voice snaps me out of whatever spell I was just in for a moment there. I blink a couple times and look back at him.

"Report went okay?" He looks disappointed that I didn't give a more defensive reaction, but I guess that shows how much has changed since we lost our first fight and won our second. A couple days ago, I probably would have exploded, but now...I'm not prepared to say that we've become friends, but at least we seem to be real partners. We even stayed up last night talking about everything that we did, and what we could have done differently. I finally confided the true extent of my abilities to him, although I think he already figured most of it out.

"The guy interviewing me was a bit of a knob but otherwise fine," he says.

Oh, yeah, I should introduce these two. "Will, this is--" I turn and suddenly Mr. Red Cloak is no longer there. I should have noticed when the weird dread I was feeling disappeared. "Wait, where'd he go?" I ask.

Will looks at me funny. "Where'd who go?"

"Christopher--" I stop and look back at him. Didn't he just see him? "What do you mean who? Didn't you just say I made a 'new friend'?"

"I was referring to this bad boy," and Will points to a statuette of a bluish-purple creature resembling something straight out of a Riley Martin drug trip. It looks out of place here, since nothing else in the case is even remotely sci-fi. "Who did you think was here?"

"I didn't think, he actually was here," I insist. "It was Christopher Trinity, our emergency contact. He must have drifted away while I was looking at the sword." I remember the other thing that was on my mind now. I point to the boots. "Those your dad's?"

Will steps up and looks them over. He slowly shakes his head. "Not his colors." Then he shrugs a little. "Then again, who knows? He could have had dozens of costumes that he ultimately rejected. Anyways, as much fun as staring at moldy old boots and children's toys sounds, I'm starving. Let's get going."

I slowly nod and agree. As we're walking away, one thought keeps nagging at me: how the fuck did Trinity walk out without Will passing him by on his way in?