The Archivist has sat here for so long, hours blending into days, into years in centuries and he is still here, trapped and exhausted and alone.
He's lost track of how long it has been since he last saw someone. There have been people, attendants and scholars, but their faces have merged into each other over the years. They never did much to distinguish themselves. Avoided him as much as they could until his hunger overwhelmed him. And then the cycle would repeat.
He looks up when the door opens, unsure if this is an Audience with some rich man, or one of the priests here to gawk at the monster and gloat over how well their ancestors had restrained it, or some new attendant wanting to peek at their charge before they lock him back up again for as long as possible.
What he isn't expecting is a greeting. He blinks at the man, tilts his head, the first threads of curiosity coming alive in him. More than he has had in a long time.
no subject
He's lost track of how long it has been since he last saw someone. There have been people, attendants and scholars, but their faces have merged into each other over the years. They never did much to distinguish themselves. Avoided him as much as they could until his hunger overwhelmed him. And then the cycle would repeat.
He looks up when the door opens, unsure if this is an Audience with some rich man, or one of the priests here to gawk at the monster and gloat over how well their ancestors had restrained it, or some new attendant wanting to peek at their charge before they lock him back up again for as long as possible.
What he isn't expecting is a greeting. He blinks at the man, tilts his head, the first threads of curiosity coming alive in him. More than he has had in a long time.