Post by Liessel on Mar 28, 2024 15:28:37 GMT -5
The day after Esteban
“What in the hell--?”
Jonathan Bellarde stood blinking at the bottom of the steps that came down from the kitchen of the townhouse he had been sharing with Andre Fellore. The basement was all a mess. Their research was scattered everywhere, bookshelves unended and books on alchemy strewn about like they were pebbles that had been tossed up into the air and let to land where they willed. There was broken glass everywhere -- the doors to The Chamber had been shattered completely.
But how?
From the office next to The Chamber, Andre stirred with a hand to the side of his head. The sound drew Bellarde’s attention, and he began carefully picking his way across the room toward where the other man was just picking himself up from against the desk.
“Andre,” He asked, his French not nearly as perfect due to his American accent, “What happened down here?”
“I -- I don’t know,” Andre answered back, his French far more fluid, far more natural. It was his native tongue after all. His hand dropped away from his head as he looked to focus on Jonhathan and then took a look around the basement, as if realizing only then the state that it was in.
If the room was in this bad a shape, and if his head felt like it was splitting apart what of -- “Brigit --” Andre was up and out of his seat in a flash, fighting back a wave of dizziness and battling off John as Bellarde reached to keep Andre from rushing around the debris.
“She’s not here --” John told Andre, just barely missing Andre’s arm as Andre headed for the glassless Chamber.
“--Where--?” Sure enough, Andre saw it for himself. The room in which she had slept was empty, the glass walls nothing but pieces and sharps surrounding and tossed out into the room.
His heart sank, and he stared for a moment more before he turned to look at Bellarde from over his shoulder.
“She’s not here.” Bellarde said again, growling the words out as he turned and made quick work of making his way back to the stairs.
“But how?!” Andre was following after him, not so carefully picking his way across the debris, “This should not be possible! We made sure that --”
“I know.” Came John’s grim response. He had paused on the stairs just as he reached the top. He turned back halfway, just enough to see Fellore from where he stood, “We’ll get this mess cleaned up later. Right now I think we need to focus on finding her.”
“What in the hell--?”
Jonathan Bellarde stood blinking at the bottom of the steps that came down from the kitchen of the townhouse he had been sharing with Andre Fellore. The basement was all a mess. Their research was scattered everywhere, bookshelves unended and books on alchemy strewn about like they were pebbles that had been tossed up into the air and let to land where they willed. There was broken glass everywhere -- the doors to The Chamber had been shattered completely.
But how?
From the office next to The Chamber, Andre stirred with a hand to the side of his head. The sound drew Bellarde’s attention, and he began carefully picking his way across the room toward where the other man was just picking himself up from against the desk.
“Andre,” He asked, his French not nearly as perfect due to his American accent, “What happened down here?”
“I -- I don’t know,” Andre answered back, his French far more fluid, far more natural. It was his native tongue after all. His hand dropped away from his head as he looked to focus on Jonhathan and then took a look around the basement, as if realizing only then the state that it was in.
If the room was in this bad a shape, and if his head felt like it was splitting apart what of -- “Brigit --” Andre was up and out of his seat in a flash, fighting back a wave of dizziness and battling off John as Bellarde reached to keep Andre from rushing around the debris.
“She’s not here --” John told Andre, just barely missing Andre’s arm as Andre headed for the glassless Chamber.
“--Where--?” Sure enough, Andre saw it for himself. The room in which she had slept was empty, the glass walls nothing but pieces and sharps surrounding and tossed out into the room.
His heart sank, and he stared for a moment more before he turned to look at Bellarde from over his shoulder.
“She’s not here.” Bellarde said again, growling the words out as he turned and made quick work of making his way back to the stairs.
“But how?!” Andre was following after him, not so carefully picking his way across the debris, “This should not be possible! We made sure that --”
“I know.” Came John’s grim response. He had paused on the stairs just as he reached the top. He turned back halfway, just enough to see Fellore from where he stood, “We’ll get this mess cleaned up later. Right now I think we need to focus on finding her.”