I can't help but think one of us would've noticed.
[ If they were neighbours. But it's a funny thought: the vampire living down the street from the sorcerer. Maybe somewhere, somewhen. There are enough universes to choose from. ]
I think I have you. It's been a while since I've tested it long-distance.
[ Recollections of a far-flung future long since past. Minds drifting through his consciousness as clutches of unfiltered neural activity while he scrolls through invoices on a computer stored in his own head, each mind scratching up against his awareness like the feet of a colony of clueless ants while he searches for the ones he knows with half his focus, confirms outgoing payments with the rest. ]
[ It's not surprising that Stephen's mind is a locked door. Armand doesn't bother testing it, though he listens at the cracks, hearing the creak of dark and dangerous things beyond. It reminds him again of John, that deep black pit. He'd like to know more, but they have important work to do. ]
He's here.
[ Not so much directions as an awareness, knowledge where knowledge didn't used to be. An attic that shouldn't exist, not accessible from within, the windows only visible from certain angles outside the house like an optical illusion. Inside: old dust and feathers twisting in shafts of light. A rattling of wings. ]
[ It's strange to be on the receiving end like this. But he adjusts quickly, accepts new knowledge as it comes, rekindles it to know it more thoroughly. ]
[ Another slice of awareness/memory: a view, from above, of the two hunters searching the grounds. From the distance, one might assume the viewer is either on the roof or in the air somewhere above them, undetected. For the moment. ]
no subject
[ If they were neighbours. But it's a funny thought: the vampire living down the street from the sorcerer. Maybe somewhere, somewhen. There are enough universes to choose from. ]
I think I have you. It's been a while since I've tested it long-distance.
[ Recollections of a far-flung future long since past. Minds drifting through his consciousness as clutches of unfiltered neural activity while he scrolls through invoices on a computer stored in his own head, each mind scratching up against his awareness like the feet of a colony of clueless ants while he searches for the ones he knows with half his focus, confirms outgoing payments with the rest. ]
no subject
He's here.
[ Not so much directions as an awareness, knowledge where knowledge didn't used to be. An attic that shouldn't exist, not accessible from within, the windows only visible from certain angles outside the house like an optical illusion. Inside: old dust and feathers twisting in shafts of light. A rattling of wings. ]
Be wary of the hunters. They want to end him.
no subject
Who hunts him? Do you have faces?
no subject
They seem to know what they're doing.
no subject
Thanks. Keep an eye if you can. I'm going to see him now.