"What do you mean?" Green's expression flickered for only a moment. By the time the hay's firelight fell across his face, the furrow between his brows had already smoothed away.
He pulled a chair over from the desk and set it beside the Holy Emblem, then sat down, using his body to shield the object enshrined below. He pointed to another chair, indicating that his visitor should get comfortable before they continued.
The visitor did not refuse. He braced his hands on the armrests and settled into the chair. As he moved, water kept seeping from his trouser cuffs and dripping onto the floor. It squeezed through the split seams of his shoes and pooled beneath his feet.
In response to the Priest's question, he said nothing. He merely maintained that faint, stiff smile. The muscles in his upper lip twitched slightly, held taut by constant tension, as his pupils met the Priest's across the narrow slits of his eyes.
In their duel of stares, Green was the first to back down. Not because he felt pressured. There was nothing in those eyes that should have been there—not curiosity, intimidation, or understanding.
Looking into them was like facing a solid wall, or one corner of some enormous thing. It was hard to make out the rich emotions one would expect from an individual. Through the windows of the soul, all he could see was something vast drifting past, blotting out everything else.
Pain stirred in his head, but it wasn't real. It was a reflection of past experiences, dredged up by some inexplicable force.
Green felt that he hadn't fully escaped the dream—or that something had come out with him, like a parasite clinging to his bones, and taken up residence in his soul, stirring whenever it was touched.
"..."