𝕻𝖔𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖘 - (Wilbur)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒

Like a spider web accumulating water, there was always a limit. Games would eventually end and there wasn't always room for fun. Not even for nymphs and naiads who didn't hold human responsibilities, they too had to stop the fun eventually.

Throughout the next few weeks, Inka was caught in a rift. She'd talk to men (with the help of Apollyon who promised to keep her safe), and Wilbur would pull her away. She didn't mind. It was almost flattering. Inka enjoyed the feeling of being worth something to someone, though Apollyon delivered in all different shapes and sizes. He would sometimes appear as a half-blood, sometimes sickly pale and other times the healthiest dark complexion Inka had seen. He'd look like a school boy, an extremely handsome peasant, performer and sometimes like other boys in the village. He helped Inka mingle to find out more: get access to the library, so on, so forth. And every time, Wilbur would pull her away. He'd drag her back to the castle and hold a grudge. And sure, Inka felt bad, but she knew it felt better than Wilbur pushing her to the side to talk to the frequent guest that was Celeste. Which was the other 30% of his time, another 30% was spent with his family and the final 10% was left to his own. That was said lightly, as Inka would soon be pushed off so Wilbur could focus more on Celeste.

Inka was talking to a group of villagers, Apollyon behind her dressed as a tall, tanned man with black hair, wearing rags to show he was a mere homeless man in the warming days of later spring. When she spoke to the group of noblemen and women alike, she was quick to support Apollyon - going under the name Micheal.

He had gifted her a dress after all, she owed it to him. So she approached the group with "Micheal" behind her, "h-hello! I hate to be such a bother but... do you know the directions to the museum of history?" Inka asked, sweetly smiling at a group of what looked to be pupils after a day of school. They looked at her and smiled,

"Of course! We can join you if you'd like. Why'd you need to go?" A girl asked, offering her hand which Inka didn't take.

"A project I'm working on... about daemons and the Fates..." she rambled and played with a bit of her red hair from under the hood Apollyon had given.

"Perfect! Because this wonderful girl right here is studying the same!" She cheered and put forth an adorable girl, narrow eyes and sleek, black hair. She was only just taller than Inka and she blushed at the sudden attention her way.

"Can we trust a random hooded girl?" A boy chimed in, and fair enough, "with a street rat following her?" He added.

"What are they gonna do? Burn the museum down?" The girl chimed in and snickered,

"Plus, the museum is open to everyone; even travellers and the peasants." Another boy explained. Apollyon behind Inka scoffed and muttered something, realistically, Inka imagined it was him regretting the choice of looking so unclassed.

"Well sure! We can take you, or you can go alone." A boy offered, short and with a mole under his lip. He grinned and offered a hand to the friendly nymph, which she took and was pulled along. Apollyon followed behind, feeling slightly humiliated by the ignorance of the people. Him: mortality itself, the reason these people had the ability to die, he was being treated like a shadow. Artenos would have laughed had she not been a child in Fable's arms. Then again, she wouldn't have let Apollyon communicate so much with Inka as it was.

They went to the museum where Inka looked around at the statues and the old scriptures put up. She couldn't understand it for a moment; a lot of it being Mycenaean Greek she was getting her studies off of. Though she wished she turned more to other cultures, the Greeks wrote so much, she felt they were a better influence than any other culture.

She hadn't the slightest idea and neither did any of those who accompanied her, but Apollyon knew, and took it upon himself to just tell Inka what she wanted to know. He was slightly annoyed by her scepticism at what he was saying, she took a lot of it with a grain of salt when she wrote it down. But she also defended herself in hushed whispers, "why would I trust everything you say, you're the mystery I'm trying to figure out and you're quite literally my reminder of death," she hissed to the side where no one else could hear her but Apollyon.