#project magic

*stumbles out of a dark room covered in blood*

between 2 worlds: Bright past and dark future

lore info: https://www.deviantart.com/limey23/art/1299303113?action=published

Here's a sketch:

part 28

———

Rogelio doesn’t watch the guy leave. He doesn’t even move for a long few minutes after his disastrous failure to do something as simple as defend himself. He can only sit there massaging his sprained shoulder, stewing in shame and wounded pride… and panic. Quickly rising to a level he has never felt before. It flutters unpleasantly in his heart- along with a multitude of emotions that certainly aren’t helping- like flies swarming for an exit and finding none.

He lost? He lost? He’s not allowed to lose! Everyone in Kaluss relies on him to stay reliable, in every circumstance! But he’d been too focused on working out the details of their new agreement, and too tired to stay vigilant for whatever might happen after that. He let down his guard and fucked up so badly and now…

Now, whatever happens next is his fault.

He takes his time standing up. As he does, the halfway stones catch his eye; he lingers on them despondently. Then he ventures back into town, not even bothering to dust himself off until he’s almost out of the cover of the forest.

—

It’s a bright, clear, and especially scorching day when, all too suddenly, the morning light gets blotted out by a swooping shape approaching on the horizon. A voice pierces the calm.

“Hello, neighbors!” the magic guy shouts with false cheerfulness to a scattered audience of shocked and dour faces. “What a sore sight you all are. I’m sure you’ve missed me equally as much as I’ve missed you- look, I even brought a gift!”

He hoists the large terracotta pot in his arms up over his head.

“But, admittedly, there is a catch…”

Meanwhile: Rogelio, who had gone out to patrol much earlier than usual in preparation for the guy’s arrival, stares up at him from the main road. He watches the dragon roam in wide circles around Kaluss. Out of habit, he notches an arrow and points it at the thing’s shiny underbelly. But he thinks twice about letting it loose. He might strike someone elsewhere if he misses.

As he hesitates, he notices the dragon changing course to dive down with tremendous speed- directly over his house. What is that guy about to-

“No more will I rot in stagnation for you! Let this be the drop that floods!”

He lets go.

The pot smashes against the roof and explodes into a thunderous flurry of clay and clouds, spewing up into the sky with so much force that even the dragon can’t quite escape it in time. Rogelio deems it safe enough then to take a few shots at its struggling, fleeing form, but his arrows just get swallowed up by the storm’s rapidly-spreading radius.

He turns to gawk at the mess that’s been left on his doorstep at the same time that the sun vanishes behind an expanse of billowing gray. The temperature drops in an instant. Cold winds and freezing rain come whipping out of the maelstrom- sideways at first, then from above as the clouds settle into their proper place.

And that’s their reality for the rest of the week: an unending torrent of water and woe. Much of Kaluss floods. Because their actual monsoon season is just on the horizon, many homes and fields are prepared for it; because life is unpredictable and people are busy, many aren’t. Rogelio works nonstop to help weatherproof buildings, displace excess water, and salvage crops. Unfortunately, they can’t work fast enough, and some things are lost.

At least they don’t have to count any lives among them.

Still, they’re fighting and losing a war against futility. But admitting defeat at any point would only result in greater loss, and Rogelio can’t stomach the thought. He’s already sunk low enough. So he channels every last ounce of guilt and strength into keeping Kaluss afloat, and tells himself he can’t stop until the rain does. The constant stress takes its toll on him.

Near the end of the week, he dreams of the well again. Overflowing endlessly. Soaking him to the bone. Carrying him away in its unstoppable current. Drowning everything for miles around.

He is standing on his waterlogged stoop the moment the storm runs dry and sunlight finally breaks through the clouds, almost exactly six days later. The water pouring down in streams from his ruined roof slows to a trickle, then a drip. He stares out at the forest’s tree line in the direction of that bastard’s tower as all the messy emotions he repressed to stay useful now slither out and curl tightly around his heart.

They’re due for their next meeting today.

Rogelio won’t be making this mistake twice.

—

This marks the end of chapter two. I’m very appreciative if you’ve read all the way through this far. As for chapter three… I guess we’ll find out together what 2023 permits me to accomplish 😅

———

part 27

———

What is he doing?

This is not at all the outcome the guy had anticipated at the start. He’d expected Rogelio to obstinately decline; he’d expected to go home having succeeded in frustrating Mr. Hero Complex, but nothing more. But then Rogelio did the last thing he ever expected: he compromised. For an unreasonable, impossible request.

How interesting.

It made him want to do something more than a little reckless himself. That must be why he’s currently launching himself at Rogelio with a half-formed plan in his head and frenzy in his eyes.

To Rogelio’s credit: despite being knee-deep in the boggy throes of sleep deprivation- a condition that the mage himself is no stranger to- he isn’t altogether hopelessly incompetent and instinctless. He steps back just in time to avoid the first attack and even manages to get his cudgel in hand before the guy’s next swing hits. But the next swing does hit.

The secret nature of the guy’s staff reveals itself: the wood creaks and crackles and curls unnaturally around Rogelio’s dominant hand on impact, forming a makeshift restraint. Rogelio gasps in shock, his own weapon more or less falling out of his grasp quite uncharacteristically. Must’ve pinched a nerve. Not wanting to give him a moment to react, the guy yanks the staff backward to pull Rogelio toward him and pivots around his flank to twist his entangled arm behind his back, forcing him into a wickedly uncomfortable hold.

“Fucking- owww!”

Rogelio attempts to untwist himself, but the guy moves with him and continues to apply constant pressure. He kicks the back of Rogelio’s knee- not quite hard enough to take him down, though. He only ends up giving Rogelio the idea of kicking back. Damn it.

Try as he might, the guy can’t restrain a man and protect his legs at the same time. But neither can he let go and risk allowing Rogelio to turn the surprise attack in his favor. So he settles on an unconventional idea: he wraps the other end of the staff around his own hand, shackling the two of them together, and uses his body weight to sling Rogelio face-first against a tree.

The angle and force combined also ends up wrenching Rogelio’s arm in a way it shouldn’t go.

Rogelio’s scream startles a pair of birds above them into taking flight.

The staff physically recoils from both of them in response; it crumples to the ground as a dead snake might. The guy tenses up similarly, eyes wide and dark, that pained shout paralyzing him for a brief moment like a cold shock to his senses. But he is quick and well-practiced in shaking off these particular lapses. He scrambles for his staff in a frantic blur to secure it around Rogelio’s ankle while he’s still busy clutching at his sprained arm.

“Just- surrender,” the guy insists, a little short of breath. “All you have to do is say the word. Or would you prefer to walk home with a limp as well?”

“Fuck off!!”

The spitting image of a snared and wounded animal, Rogelio thrashes even harder in defiance of his capture. Gradually, horrifically, the staff begins to yield and bend and loosen its hold on him in increasing acquiescence.

So, now the damn magic is taking sides today. That’s… utterly predictable, really. He’d already learned from experience and experiments to anticipate betrayal at any moment. But why the fuck did it have to be now? He might never get the chance to pull a stunt like this again. He doubts it would succeed on a more alert, well-rested Rogelio. And he almost had him! He almost-

“No!! You do what I tell you!” he roars, all the tension pent up in him exploding out unexpectedly.

The tremulous emotion is reciprocated by rough wood digging into his skin. Biting the hand of its maker. Meanwhile, Rogelio looks aghast at him, seeming surprised and unnerved by the outburst. Was the little hero expecting him, too, to crumple and fall before him like a dead snake? Is that why he deigned to accept the compromise at all? Arrogant faith- hanging his hat on the foregone conclusion that he would always win?

The worst part is that it isn’t even an erroneous assumption to make. Because he does always win.

Sweltering rage burns away the more reasonable parts of the mage’s mind. His palms sting, wanting to take much more than just victory; he holds on even tighter and pulls.

The staff goes taut. Rogelio’s leg goes with it, then the rest of him. He trips and lands square on his back with a consternated groan.

Every breath ragged and heavy with pain, the equally enraged Rogelio sits upright, using his uninjured arm for leverage, and scowls up at the guy- unwittingly presenting the perfect opening for him to hook Rogelio by the throat instead.

The urge to prove something pounds at the guy’s temples incessantly.

“Only you have the power to end this. You know what I’m waiting for. Say it.”

Rogelio spits on the guy’s shoe and tries to pry his throat free with brute force. But the staff doesn’t budge for him this time, not with magic guy’s possessive touch grappling it into submission. Relief and anticipation splash across the surface of the guy’s impregnable temper.

“Is this really the time and place to have an attitude with me, Rogelio? Are you so stubborn that you’d risk your own neck, even now?”

The staff cinches tighter around Rogelio’s neck reflexively. Not enough to hurt, but certainly to be felt. It’s amusing to watch his eyes go wide and the color drain from his face.

“O-Okay, okay! Don’t- ah, shit,” Rogelio stammers, his tone shifting from indignant to frightful and resigned in an instant. His gaze sinks to the ground; he swallows dryly. “I… I surrender.”

There couldn’t be a sweeter taste than Rogelio’s defeat at his hands- or, at least, there shouldn’t be. Right? It’s what the guy has lived for these many long years, isn’t it? As he often tells himself.

But… this tastes of nothing. Sates nothing within him. The explosive exhilaration he felt initially at having gotten one over on him has already fizzled out. Only stinging, acrid char remains.

“Didn’t you hear me?? I’m not saying it again!”

The next urge swallows him wholly as he blinks down at Rogelio, who is finally in his clutches instead of the other way around: he wants fervently to be anywhere but here with him.

“No need. That will suffice,” he mutters, and releases Rogelio unceremoniously.

Despite how his mind begs for him to hurry back to the relative safety of home, he cannot help himself: he cannot resist stepping closer to Rogelio- towering over him- and kneeling at his side to look him dead in the eyes. Quite without any sensible, conscious reason for doing so.

He ought to gloat, he thinks. Or do really anything besides stare in bewildering silence. But he has no notion of what he’s going to say until his mouth is already partially open.

“Tomorrow, at sunrise.”

At last, his body allows him to flee as quickly as he can without outright running. Not once does he spare a glance backwards to see Rogelio’s reaction. He doesn’t want to see, even after all that he did to be the cause of it. He has the staff coil around his shoulders so he can shove his hands broodingly into his pockets- and his fingers graze a small object within.

The fishing lure. How did he forget…? Nevermind.

He flicks it onto the forest floor without breaking his stride.

———

part 26

———

“…Is this offer genuine?” the guy asks him warily. “You certainly don’t seem all that convinced, and they’re your own words. Careful not to make a promise more ambitious than yourself.”

Damn, he’s sharp. Rogelio wasn’t expecting an immediate call-out.

“It- It’s real enough. At least until I can come up with a better one. So… is that a ‘yes’?”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

What a confusing question. Why would he care? Or is this some kind of reverse psychology? Is he trying to trick Rogelio into backing out?

“I don’t know, man. It’s better than the alternative.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“Well, you haven’t given me an answer either! Why are you dodging the question?”

The guy balks like a spooked deer.

“I’m not,” he says in a petulant tone. “My answer is- that an hour is a pathetic reward.”

“That’s what you were stuck on??” Rogelio scoffs. “Whatever. An hour is the most I’m willing to give you. Because you’re you. Besides, that’s a long time for people who spend it suffering.”

“Hm. I suppose that’s true. Then in the interest of fairness, I’m reducing your reward as well- to just one question.”

“What?? No follow-ups? No, no, no, that makes it too easy for you to cheat me out of an actual answer!”

“In which case, you’ll just thrash me a second time, I presume. Don’t forget that we’re both taking risks with this. Anything can go catastrophically wrong at any moment. Does that change if I swear on my very life to give you a satisfactory answer every time?”

“…It would make me feel a lot better about it,” Rogelio says flatly.

“It’s not my responsibility to make you feel better,” the guy responds in kind.

Rogelio grinds his teeth as he thinks about it. Both of them fall silent, unsure if there’s anything more to say here on the cusp of agreement. But, until a decision has been made, it’s nothing more than a hypothetical. Imaginary promises held together with imaginary trust. He sighs.

“I can live with that. And if I can’t, we’ll just do this again. Are we doing this?”

“So it seems. But you tell me.”

Another deflection. What an awfully cagey attitude, considering he’s the guy who brought up the whole idea in the first place! But he’s apparently determined to make Rogelio be the one to either take it or leave it.

“Okay…? I- I guess we are. We’ve talked plenty; it would be a waste of an afternoon to not go through with it now. So. Yeah.”

Magic guy has a complex tangle of reactions all competing for residence on his face as he nods.

“…Shall we review the new terms one more time, for clarity’s sake?”

“Ah. Good idea.”

“Alright then. Here is what we have established: the old contract and all it entailed is expired. Atop its bones, we build anew…“

He dives right into a highly articulate and excruciatingly detailed summary of everything they’ve discussed up to this point.

One: Each week, they’ll meet…

“…where, exactly?” The guy interrupts himself. “Will it be here again, or…?”

“Or wherever. That’s the kind of thing you figure out as you go, I think.”

“…Sure. We will endeavor to meet somewhere- to be determined spontaneously- every week, to duel for the respective privileges of our choosing.”

Two: Once there’s a clear winner, the loser must honor these privileges. If Rogelio wins, he gets a week of peace and the right to ask magic guy a single question about whatever he wants. If the magic guy wins, he gets an hour to do whatever he wants in Kaluss. Within reason.

“And I get to try to stop you. That part’s non-negotiable.”

“…Naturally. I’m fine with a bit of a challenge, so, I have no qualms with that.”

“Wouldn’t make a difference if you did. Well, that covers everything, doesn’t it?”

“Not quite.”

Three: Enforcement of the rules is up to the two of them. And they can re-negotiate at any time, if necessary.

“I feel it’s wise to set the precedent of not expecting it to last.”

Rogelio’s lips quirk into a half-smile, half-grimace.

“Fair enough.”

“I have one final point to resolve: this new agreement will take effect immediately, is that correct?”

“Huh? I don’t see why it wouldn’t.”

“Perfect. Now we have covered everything.”

The magic guy grins suddenly, the wide, overly cheerful expression frighteningly devoid of the friendliness it’s supposed to evoke. With that as his only warning, he rushes right at Rogelio, changing his grip on his staff to hold it more like a club and swinging it in a wide arc in front of him.

Everything else scatters to the wind as Rogelio’s instincts take over.

———

part 25

———

In hindsight, Rogelio can’t believe he didn’t see this coming. This guy clearly has audacity in spades- no, in wheelbarrows, left completely unchecked for too long. And whatever’s in there now is something foul and stagnant.

“I can see that you’re not convinced, so allow me to expand on the idea,” the guy continues, as if he’s pitching a business proposition and not talking about terrorizing hundreds of people. “As I see it, this could be a very simple exchange. You desire knowledge. I miss my fun. Indulge me my fun again, and in return, I’ll teach you anything at all that you wish to know about magic.”

Rogelio’s fully taking the bait, and he knows it, but he can’t stop himself from asking in disbelief:

“…Anything?”

The guy dips his head in an exaggerated nod.

“Nothing will be off-limits. You need only ask the right questions.”

“No. No! Why did I even ask that? The answer is obviously no. Next idea.”

“Next idea? There is no ‘next idea’. You asked me what I wanted; you have my answer.“

“D’you think I’m stupid?? I’m trying to protect Kaluss from you, not sell it out to you!”

“Which is why I have offered the generous gift of my time and knowledge as part of the exchange. I thought you wanted my help?”

“Not if it means endangering anyone in any way.”

“That’s unrealistic, Rogelio, expecting yourself to protect everyone perfectly. Besides, won’t it be worth it for the benefit and- well, eventual safety of all?”

“Stop! Just shut up! This isn’t working on me!”

He does stop. He stops cold, like he’s just remembered something important. The playfulness slips away and the stony, unreadable expression that he brought with him at the start fully returns.

“I can’t help but to notice that there isn’t much negotiating happening in this negotiation,” the guy mutters. “If you aren’t going to try making a counteroffer of some kind, then it appears we’re at an impasse- and on step one, no less. Damn, I’ve been defeated yet again. Can I leave now?”

Rogelio doesn’t even hear that last part because he’s stuck on what came before it: we’re at an impasse. In other words: nothing will change between them, and all this effort will have been for nothing.

He cannot go back with nothing. He can’t. He can’t.

“Just- just me, then. I’ll be Kaluss’ representative. Any problem you have with any of them, you can take it up with m-“

“Ugh, your loyalty is sickening. I refuse to hear any more self-sacrificial drivel.”

“You know I won’t willingly sacrifice anyone but myself.”

“Yes, I know. But it’s not very enticing as an offer. So, are we done here? I’d very much like to be done.”

The guy awaits Rogelio’s decision intently; his stare feels like both a challenge and an appeal. One in each eyeball. Rogelio can’t focus on one or the other and ends up making himself a little nauseous as his vision darts back and forth.

He pinches his eyes shut for a moment.

He’s being played with. Obviously. What’s more, he was getting steered toward a choice of two dead-end roads and he didn’t even notice.

If he remains unwavering in his position, he doubts their precarious agreement will survive the strain- not after they both just agreed it was too weak to hold its weight. But if he agrees to give it up, he’ll be directly endorsing whatever flavor of mayhem the guy decides he wants a taste of next. Either way, the guy gets what he wants; either way, Rogelio and Kaluss are screwed.

It really is inevitable with this guy, isn’t it? Pointless violence. He craves nothing else, and Rogelio can’t think of any alternative that might satisfy him. As slow as the wheels in his mind are turning, he also feels them slipping and sliding dangerously out of his control.

That’s exactly what he needs: control. Some kind of contrivance that he can use to maneuver things more in his favor. Anything, as long as it keeps them moving forward.

Dani makes an appearance just then- if only in his memory:

“He gave you some good info last time, didn’t he?”

“Sure, after he made me fight for it.”

“Then fight for it.”

He feels his brain come to a sharp- albeit painful and throbbing- focus for the first time since last evening, when he thought the source was about to be revealed to him. It’s the same sensation, the same rush of things falling into place, only he’s much less enthused about what will be waiting for him at the end of this road. But he’d promised that he was trying. So he’s gotta try.

“You want fun so badly? Alright. What if… we turn it into a game? Settle things with combat? Let’s say if I win, you have to answer my questions and promise to leave Kaluss alone for the entire week. And if you win, I… I’ll indulge you.”

The magic guy’s eyebrows shoot all the way up.

“…You would really gamble the fate of Kaluss, weekly, indefinitely?”

“First of all, it’s not a gamble. I know I can kick your ass. Secondly, if it ever comes to this: whatever you do has gotta be within reason. You can’t just burn buildings down for seven days straight. You get one day- no, one hour- to do what you’re gonna do. And I won’t just watch it happen, either. The second you start your bullshit, I’ll be there to fix the mess. But yeah. There’s the counteroffer.”

Dawning curiosity overtakes the guy’s bland and careful mask once more. It makes Rogelio’s skin crawl; he can’t shake the feeling that he’s being studied for science or something. Between this and cold neutrality, it’s hard to decide which is worse to be the target of. And, even though he’s turned the conversation in his favor again, he still feels an undeniable and imminent threat of danger lurking on this path he’s chosen.

This is a really bad idea, isn’t it?

———

part 24

———

“Wait!”

Rogelio automatically takes a step forward- but he stops himself. What is he gonna do, go after the guy? Follow him all the way back just to get the door slammed in his face? Kick it open anyway?

That’s never worked the way Rogelio wanted it to even a single time, and it never will.

This is foolish. It reeks of desperation. But he’ll forever blame himself if he lets things end without a better resolution than the two of them are known for. So with enormous effort, Rogelio forces the muddied wheels in his brain to change direction.

“Don’t leave yet. I- I want to understand, believe me. But how can I, when every time we meet like this, it becomes a fight? I’m trying something different here. Just try it with me. Please.”

Shockingly, as Rogelio pleads for him to stay, the guy lurches to a halt. His body language screams tension. For a moment, the only part of him that moves is his head, sagging from some imaginary weight. Then he pivots on his heel like his own feet are betraying him and stares at Rogelio, eyes bugging out like he’s trying so hard to blink but his eyelids chose this very moment to revolt against him.

At least those eyes are on him again.

That shouldn’t have worked, Rogelio’s brain tells him. Don’t ruin it, he tells his brain.

“Look, I think it’s fine to be angry and- and to want some kind of acknowledgment for the ways you’ve been wronged. That’s not the issue. But there’s no way you’re using whatever happened to rationalize everything you’ve put this town through. You have to know that some of the things you do are just… evil, right?”

For a while, the sound of nature grows louder around them, rushing in to fill the absence. The guy finally forces his eyelids back into submission.

“I do.” The guy’s voice is far too soft for how hard it hits Rogelio. “I’m playing my part, just as you play yours.”

“I’m not playing with you, dammit! I’m trying to get you to care about the consequences of your ‘fun’! Would you still be acting like this if you’d killed someone with one of your stupid schemes?”

“I haven’t, though, have I?”

Another splash of fury coats Rogelio’s brain; he gnaws the insides of his cheeks so hard they start stinging. Don’t ruin it! The pain helps to temper him, but truly nothing would be more satisfying than to grab the guy by his dumb oversized collar and shake him around until a few things up top get knocked back into place. That wouldn’t be very diplomatic of him, however. So instead he bites his tongue, having had enough of the taste of his own cheek.

“No. But you could. And what about all the people who’ve never done a fucking thing to you, who are caught in the middle? Doesn’t that bother you even a little bit?”

The guy nods in a mocking sort of way, to show that he heard the question but has no intention of engaging with it.

“So. Your talk of ‘understanding’ was only to lure me into yet another lecture over my moral failings. If you’re quite finished, then, stop wasting your time and mine-“

“Okay, okay,” Rogelio blurts out before the other guy can so much as twitch in the ‘away’ direction. “I’ll back off. That’s… not what I came here for.“

“Yes, remember yourself, Rogelio: you came for information.” The guy takes a few swaggering steps towards him. “I’m deeply curious how you imagine you’re going to bait it out of me now.”

Rogelio is curious about that himself. Despite the promising start, all they’ve done since is argue with each other. It’s all they ever do. He knew from the beginning that this was a shot in the dark- while simultaneously drunk and blindfolded- but he doesn’t care how low the odds are. He needs to figure this guy out, and soon, because this… this is unbearable.

Trying to inspire sympathy clearly isn’t going to work. Time to change tactics.

Think about it. What are his weak points? What does he react to? What does he want?

…What does he want?

“What do you want?”

The guy looks at him like he’s sprouted a second head.

“…Huh?”

“I told you I was willing to negotiate. So let’s do it. Seriously! What would it take for you to- play nice?”

He studies his opponent through tired, bleary eyes, enjoying the show of mental gymnastics on the guy’s face even if he has no idea what’s going on in there. At least now they’re both struggling, and the field of battle is more or less even. But all too soon does that flustered expression on the guy’s face shift into something more devious.

“To start, I’d like for us to acknowledge the futility our current arrangement.”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean it has reached the end of its road, don’t you think? It’s far too tiresome to dutifully maintain, and we’ve both already strayed from it anyway.”

“No, I was only reacting to you-”

“Let’s not have this argument again! Regardless of who did what first, the fact remains that neither of us managed to keep those promises. In the end, this silly little partition meant nothing. Or is this what you consider to be ‘leaving each other alone’?”

Rogelio looks around at where they are; he heaves out a breath. The guy is right. He did choose to go looking for trouble in the middle of a tentative peace, and now here he is, doing it again. Even if his reasons are different, even if he’s been extra careful not to cross any lines this time, he sure is getting real cozy next to it.

“Okay, fine. I acknowledge that our agreement completely fell apart when it mattered,” he shoots back. “It didn’t stop you… and I guess it didn’t stop me either. But what else was I supposed to do? Sit around and pretend like I’m not constantly worried something bad is about to happen? What about you? Didn’t you want your stuff back? Should I have waited for you to steal it again?”

“Why are you asking me? Those are your decisions to make, not mine. So, by all means, say whatever you need to to convince yourself that your actions were justified.”

“Fuck you,” Rogelio says, but his heart isn’t in it. “I just… I did my best to make sure everyone got what they wanted. You could have- left, you could have started over somewhere else! I don’t know why you didn’t! It’s like we’re incapable of staying out of each other’s business.”

The guy has the gall to laugh at that- or at him. But it’s not a big showy thing; not flavored with evil, malice, or mockery. The noise simply comes out of him: a bitter chuckle that could almost be mistaken for something comfortable, companionable. Or maybe the strong afternoon sun is to blame, baking false warmth into a frigid man.

“What?”

“No need to be tetchy. I actually agree with you, for once. Personally, I don’t think your actions indicate a failure on your part; rather, it was the rules that failed you. They were too ill-fitting, too restrictive. They could only succeed in a world where everything exists to accommodate your every hope- a world we do not inhabit. Therefore, I propose we do our part to build that better world in ours by making a few adjustments to our design. Then more, and more, until what envelops us is as close to perfection as we can dream. That is what you idealistic types desire, is it not?”

Cool monologue, Rogelio thinks to himself. Did he steal it from a poet, or pace around practicing it to himself all morning- like Rogelio had practiced his?

“…Unless you’d rather drop all pretense of promises entirely…?”

Rogelio realizes then that he’d gotten lost in his thoughts again and failed to respond.

“Oh- absolutely not.”

“I thought not. Then it’s decided! And here is my humble suggestion: if your visitations are going to be a weekly occurrence, as they have become, I think it’s only fair that I should be afforded the same liberty.”

He stares dumbly at the guy.

“You… want to visit me?”

“Yes. Not just you, actually.” His voice takes on a playful, and sinister, tone. “Everyone.”

———