Meaning of Normal

Meaning of Normal; Chapter 2

She stared into the bottomless well, the foul liquid swirling flashing various colours before returning to translucent darkness. Removing a scythe from the wall beside her she sliced her hand open, letting the blood pour into the water. Bright colours splashed and blossomed as the blood made contact. Slowly an image appeared, a view of the lower class settlements, or the slums as the lesser intellects called them. She saw crowds of half breeds, part elf or spirit, all part human but no pure and distinct species. Filthy, they were, like mongrel dogs, begging food off the great Empire, an infection which refused to be wiped out. She turned away, disgusted. The Council, her puppets, were proving more and more useless, recruiting utter morons with no experience, fresh from the Academy thinking they knew everything. All was crumbling beneath her, and she did not want to fall. It was time to beat her slaves back into submission.

Elantra backed away, a scream nearly escaping through her lips before a hand clamped over her mouth. Dalarth leapt to his feet, his pistol suddenly appearing in his hands. He moved slightly to see who was holding her, and his face flashed with shock before a scowl appeared on his face.

"You can't shoot her, Dalarth," Emrose said from behind Elantra, pointing her own gun at him.

"Emrose, you were a traitor after all. I should have realised. Give me the dragon mage," he said fiercely.

"I was never a traitor. I always sided with you, but your council has taken it too far. I will not let you harm an innocent child,"

"Enough! If you give her over now, no-one will find out about this, but if you continue to behave so recklessly, thoughtlessly I should add, I will be forced to imprison you," 

Emrose searched the room with her peripheral vision, looking for something to use to escape from the eerily silent yet deadly situation. After spotting her escape, she fired three shots, one missing, another hitting him square in the chest. The third pellet of bright light ignited the expired cleaning liquids. A great cloud of flames engulfed most of the room, including Dalarth. She pulled Elantra into an old fridge with her and slammed the door shut. After a few minutes, Emrose stepped out. The sprinklers on the ceiling had done their job, and the fire was put out. She beckoned to Elantra to follow and walked out of the spare room, locking the door behind her. She walked into her office without a backward glance. As Elantra closed the door, she smiled.

"How are you?" she asked.

"You killed an elf? Are you mad?"

"Yes. very much so. But aren't we all?"

"I don't want any part in this. I'll run. You have to let me go,"

"And then the officials will know somethings up and they'll investigate. Do you want everyone you know to be tortured for information you wouldn't give them in the first place? There will be a time to run, but it is not now. Relax. It may not seem like it, but I have everything under control. Have an apple," Emrose said in such a state of calm it was terrifying.

Elantra caught the fruit tossed to her, and bit off a large chunk. Tears started streaming down her cheeks, taking some of the soot from the explosion off her face. She took a crumpled handkerchief from her apron pocket and wiped the tears away, smudging black everywhere.

"You may leave now. Take the rest of the day off, get cleaned. I'll meet you tonight, after the customers have left. Don't leave the building," Emrose said, standing up to open the door for her. As she walked out Meilyn stood at the door with a shocked expression at seeing her friend in such a state. Elantra burst into tears again and barged past, disappearing into the steam.

_____

Dalarth lay still, trying to ignore the searing pain in his skin. He'd just lie here for a while, wait until things had calmed down, and quietly escape. If the council found out about this they would bring in a small army to try and crush Emrose and everyone around her to the ground. But they would not succeed. She was a slippery thing, always escaping. No, he would deal with her himself.

Looking down at his hands, he saw the skin flowing and folding back over his wounds, ending the pain. It climbed up his arm and spread throughout the rest of his body, leaving no trace of the explosion on him.

He should have know. After all, she was a filthy human. The dragon mage would have to be removed quietly, with a cover story. No need to spark more fear. The people of the slums were like rats, running until they could run more, then attacking together in a frenzy, using any means of escape.

So, the games begin. This sounds…

Fun.