○ the narrative returns to our protagonist's point of view. ◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜ / july 30, 2131 - avior viator / time passed by entirely too quickly, avior had decided. he once again found himself facing another session at xiphoid, with only two weeks left before he once again had to pack the suitcase and return to camp. he had had the most dreadfully boring of summers. two more private tutors had been hired (really, where was his mother finding all of them?), and subsequently, two more private tutors had quit. "he is a little bit daft," the first had said. "i cannot abide another moment spent with that boy!" the second had said. it seemed as though his parents were indeed considering making him the backup heir. there was a small part of avior that hoped they would go through with it. imagine the power he would have with all that money and influence in his hands! well, archer would have to drop dead in order for that to happen, and unfortunately, it seemed as though he was recovering from his illness. ugh. stupid brothers. avior had, when not enduring another torturous hour with a tutor or arguing with his parents, locked himself in his bedroom for the majority of the summer. there was nothing better to do, anyway. he had grown even paler as a result, which only made the inkiness of his hair and the shadows beneath his eyes more pronounced than ever. he did not mind. perhaps marcus would be intimidated by him. it was all in the name of avoiding confrontation, of course. the less time he spent around his family, the less time he spent digging himself deeper and deeper into his own grave. this came with some downsides. he was terribly lonely. however, after the possessed crow, alfonso had begun visiting regularly in the bodies of assorted small animals, providing a small comfort and company to avior during the time he spent in his bedroom. alfonso operated on a rigid schedule. every week and three days (precisely that!) around five o'clock in the afternoon, avior could expect to look out his window and see a mangy squirrel sitting on the sill, or perhaps another crow pecking at the glass, and one memorable time, a vulture that had circled overhead for an hour and barreled into the room the moment he opened the window, knocking over the lamp on his desk and scattering his belongings on the floor. alfonso was due to arrive any moment now, avior realized when he glanced at the clock that hung above his bed. the clock was an old thing, elegantly crafted and once finely polished to a radiant shine, but time had taken its toll on it, and now it sluggishly ticked away the minutes, the weight of age hanging heavy above its spindly hands. a frenetic tapping against the window assaulted his ears, and he looked over the see a swarm of insects bashing themselves against the glass. he shuddered. bugs were disgusting and awful. he slid open the window with some hesitation, and to his relief, only one of the bugs entered the room. it was a large, round, shiny green beetle, and with it it carried a small, crumpled ball of paper. "hello!" the beetle said. "hi, alfonso," avior replied. he picked up the ball of paper and examined it. "what's this?" "why don't you find out?" alfonso said merrily. avior uncrumpled the ball, careful to avoid tearing it. his heart sank when he saw that it was a page filled with words. "oh," he said, "it's... writing," "yes, yes, now give it to me so i can tell you what it says!" the beetle said impatiently. avior set the paper down in front of the beetle. of course alfonso knew about the reading thing. "it's upside down," alfonso said. "sorry about that," avior turned the paper the other way. "right, then, let's see..." alfonso scuttled to the top of the page and examined it closely. "this is all crossed out, ah, here we go: it says 'hello, avior whatever your middle name is viator', and then bits of it have been crossed out again.." "just get on with it, will you?" avior snapped, folding his arms. "then it says 'there are a bajillion things i want to say to you, and they're all about the scant'. oh, poor choice in wording, i say! 'why did you do that to me? why did you try to kill me? what did i ever do to you?'. what's this i hear about attempted murder, boy?" "don't want to talk about it," avior mumbled. "well, our letter-writer seems to keep rethinking things! there's another part that's crossed out! then 'you've hated me since the day we met each other. why? i hate you too. i don't think i could ever like you now. especially after what you did to me...' what in the world *did* you do, then?" "just keep reading it," "our friend goes on to call you a 'nasty, hateful person' and a plethora of other things. it is signed: 'hatefully, marcus gill," oh. what? "where did you find that?" avior asked quietly. "i have my ways," alfonso replied. well. there was the truth. laid out in writing avior could not read.
"shall i destroy it?" alfonso asked. avior nodded. there was a sharp popping sound, and then the letter went up in a blaze of violet flames. with a hiss akin to the air being let out of a tire, the flames shrank and vanished, leaving nothing in their wake, not even a pile of ash. no evidence. good. "now that we've gotten that done," alfonso said, "let's make small talk! how have you been? enjoying your summer?" that was unusual. alfonso never stuck around; he was there and gone, leaving behind a bit of cryptic advice or a tiny piece of magic. there was something a bit unsettling about the fact that he wanted to have an actual conversation. "summer's been fine, i guess," avior paused. "i'm fine," "excellent, nice visiting you, goodbye!" the beetle launched itself out the window and joined its swarm of comrades, vanishing at once among the horde. that was more like alfonso. he measured his days in moments, brief snatches of time that were gone as abruptly as they came. "bye," avior whispered as the swarm faded to a speck on the horizon. and then he was alone again, with naught but the ticking of the clock above his bed for company.
