Call it an inkling, but I knew some thing was wrong.
It was not irregular for him to be away for long stretches of time – I had come to expect it, even, and grown accustom to extended stays at whatever half-baked hovel he could find to drop me at while he was on an “assignment.” It was the nature of his work – I had come to understand that. It was thankless work: “a job best done alone without distractions or sentiment.” And so I waited, patiently, meditating and training my mind to replicate the same biasless continence he embodied.
His tutorly tone echoed in my mind – a persistant earworm nagging my every action: “a gut feeling is only enough to get you, or someone else, killed.”
So I went to the Council for an explaination for the dread I was feeling. They offered little, even refused to see me time and time over. My curiosity turned to fear and that fear to anger. On the thirteenth night I demanded and audience the Council begrudingly saw.
By that point I was practically quivering with anger, completely fed up with their thumb twiddling bureacrap. My inquires had become blatant commands.
“Just tell me where you sent him!”
“Outbursts won’t get you any answers here, Ally.” Magnus Grey stated, her tone primed to quell rather than command.
“We ain’t friends, so don’t go callin’ me like we are!” I spat back. To me, then, she was no better then them.
Magnus Grey turned down her brow and opened her mouth to reply but was cut short by Centermass who stood up from his seat, commanding attention. The other four council members turned their eye to him.
He peered down at me, daring to be further challenged. “Alheart, The Council hears your inquiry into Moth-Hound’s whereabouts and while we recognize your concern, his assignment is a fragile one which you are incapable of assisting.” He paused long enough for me to huff and open my mouth again before he intejects, “you would only further endanger him with your presence. Trust that we are fully aware of the situation and -”
I turned my back on them at that very moment, fuming.
“You are forbidden to pursue him, Ally.” It was Magnus Grey again, almost pleading. “You will be excommunicated.”
I did not turn and only threw up a single finger over my shoulder. The Rail be damned; I was not going to lose family to appease an ideal.
Daily Prompt: Inkling
Word of the Day: earworm