"We're not going to die," Martin says it automatically, the second half of a call and response that's been going on since they found out they were bound for the Archive. In another life, in another place, Martin would have thrilled at the sight of endless rooms full of knowledge available to them. Now it comes with a climbing sense of dread.
How much will they see before they monster they're meant to attend decides that they're better suited to feed its appetite?
The keys are heavy in his hand and it's so tempting to suggest they hide and hope that maybe the world will forget about them. But that's not an option. They are scholars and even if this isn't their home they have a legacy to protect. The door to the Archivist is heavy and elaborate in a way that makes it hard to look away. Martin is sure that even if they went into their rooms and closed the door he'd find himself gravitating towards it unconsciously.
The only thing worse than death would be dying as a coward. He grips the keys tightly and forces a smile. "I'll go in first, see what it might want." The guard seemed to think a month was possible and Martin didn't want to risk those odds by sending Tim into that room when they were both so raw from the loss of everything they ever knew. Martin, at least, didn't channel his pain into anger as easily.
Before Tim can stop him he's making for the door, the right key falling into his hand like it was meant to be there. A bit unsettling but he doesn't stop, doesn't give Tim a chance to try and pull him away and knock some sense into him. The doors swing open easily and Martin steps inside and stops in his tracks as he takes in the sight of the being sat on the throne in the center of the room and realizes he's being seen in turn.
"H... hello. I'm... I'm one of your new scholars. Martin Blackwood." And silently, Martin prays he's not about to die because he doesn't know how to greet something that isn't quite human.
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How much will they see before they monster they're meant to attend decides that they're better suited to feed its appetite?
The keys are heavy in his hand and it's so tempting to suggest they hide and hope that maybe the world will forget about them. But that's not an option. They are scholars and even if this isn't their home they have a legacy to protect. The door to the Archivist is heavy and elaborate in a way that makes it hard to look away. Martin is sure that even if they went into their rooms and closed the door he'd find himself gravitating towards it unconsciously.
The only thing worse than death would be dying as a coward. He grips the keys tightly and forces a smile. "I'll go in first, see what it might want." The guard seemed to think a month was possible and Martin didn't want to risk those odds by sending Tim into that room when they were both so raw from the loss of everything they ever knew. Martin, at least, didn't channel his pain into anger as easily.
Before Tim can stop him he's making for the door, the right key falling into his hand like it was meant to be there. A bit unsettling but he doesn't stop, doesn't give Tim a chance to try and pull him away and knock some sense into him. The doors swing open easily and Martin steps inside and stops in his tracks as he takes in the sight of the being sat on the throne in the center of the room and realizes he's being seen in turn.
"H... hello. I'm... I'm one of your new scholars. Martin Blackwood." And silently, Martin prays he's not about to die because he doesn't know how to greet something that isn't quite human.