*Your mind is troubled,* the voice softly declared in Hiroko's ear.
He scoffed. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but in all honesty, he was still unsettled. It was still unfortunate; even with more people around him now, he couldn't discuss the sight he saw with anyone other than the voice in his head. He could try Rocky, but he was a blockhead.
Hiroko sighed as he turned a corner, more golden walls giving way to more golden walls.
"What was that? You said we were seeing each other's true forms? What's up with that?"
He'd thought Saka's bizarre silhouette was unsettling. Still, the thought of Safatore's smile through that fire left him with a complicated feeling in the pit of his stomach, an uncomfortable feeling of dread mixed with caution and a confusing dosage of ease. Which was hilarious—one does not simply feel uncomfortable and relaxed at seeing a person like that!
The voice in his head hummed softly before responding.
*Did you notice the difference between that group and the army elves before? I'm sure you did. It's quite obvious they're a different breed of elves.*
Hiroko raised an eyebrow. Different breed? In his years of drowning in fantasy and listening to storytime back in Brooklyn—led by April and a few of those other creative kids in San Adelle—Hiroko had learned about the different types of elves from the astronomically themed ones like the Sun and Moon Elves, the habitation themed ones like Snow Elves, Mountain Elves, Forest Elves, Sea Elves and the lot.
Despite feeling like a geek for remembering all that, Hiroko also recalled that these were called "races" or "species". Despite his fleeting attention during storytime, he had never heard April or all the other art nerds call any elf classification a "breed".
*Yes, they're a breed, a unique and new specification in the elven race,* the female voice replied.
Hiroko had to stop himself from reacting too strongly and remembered the voice had access to his thoughts and memories.
...Not that he was okay with that.
"How do you know all this, anyway?" He asked, pausing at a cross-intersection in the hallway, blinking at the identical walls. He was lost.
He heard a sickeningly sweet chuckle in the back of his left ear. The voice was amused by something. If that was going to be the order of things from then on, Hiroko was sure he would catch some sort of mental disorder from the blue.
He was still waiting for a response, facing forward. What he didn't see behind was the figure of a pale elf blurring into view, glomping a hand over a dark-skinned elf before she could scream and blurred out of view again.
Five years of instinctual survival in Modest made him glance over his shoulder nonetheless. He didn't see anything and proceeded to take the hallway on the left.
"You know a lot for a smokey figure I found at the bottom of a lifeless dimension," Hiroko muttered.
The voice laughed again. This was how she avoided questions—laughter?
"Who and what are you anyway?"
*My name is Kurobara. I am an entity that possesses and grants hurt and broken women power.* The voice softly replied.
Hiroko's steps faltered. He stopped in the hallway and glanced aside. Had he heard that right? There was no way he heard that right. There was no way.
"What?" He asked, raising his eyes to the golden ceilings.
*Yes,* the reply simply came.
But Hiroko was still confused.
"You said you possess women," he threw his gaze around, hoping no one was privy to that absurd conversation.
*Yes,* Kurobara affirmed.
"Women," the young man pressed, and received the same affirmation. "But I'm not a girl!" He huffed.
Kurobara took a few seconds to respond to that.
*...Your name is Hiroko.*
Hiroko's eyes slightly widened at such a blatant and honest answer. His jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth. A warm flush crept up from the back of his neck. Damned be his father's nonchalance!
"I resent that," he muttered and resumed walking.
He tried to find his way around, but more and more identical corridors made themselves apparent to him.
"This place is a maze!" He exclaimed.
*You're lost,* Kurobara told him.
"Thank you for your helpful comment," Hiroko gritted through his teeth as he turned around and took a different corridor.
*Ask for directions,* Kurobara scoffed.
"From whom, lady?" Hiroko crowed.
The corridors were completely devoid of elves, Hiroko's voice and footsteps being his only company.
(∩｀-´)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ. ε=ε=(っ* ´□` )っ
Safatore stepped through the folding doors, flanked by Eref and Irstte, stepping in from the golden opulence of the hallways and into the dull, cold, and serious, gray interior of the courtroom.
As usual, the Elven High Council of Elders were perched up on their high pedestals, looking down with such pronounced and clinical detachment that one would feel that they could see one's thoughts.
Safatore crossed the floor and stood in the center, centering himself from them, and the door. Present was he, his escort, the eight elders, and three artificers.
"Quite the procession," he quipped dryly, looking up at the youthful elders.
"Welcome, young Kraufford," Councilwoman Zera nodded smoothly in what she considered a greeting.
The artificers moved closer to Safatore, who narrowed his eyes at the eight figureheads in mild suspicion. That was the warmest he had ever heard any of the council members address him, least of all Zera. He met her crimson eyes as she gestured vaguely.
"Please, sit and eat."
All three artificers flicked their hands and a section of the floor to Safatore's right parted, a large, marble table rising up, marble grinding against marble. It was decorated with lovely assortments of breakfast foods, from steaming porridges to breads.
Safatore looked and almost, almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the table lined with food. He looked at it and back up to the council members with mild irritation.
"I've already had breakfast, thank you."
"Ah. Then what about lunch?" Zera wore a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
The artificers flicked their wrists at her subtle command and the breakfast table turned into a lunch table. Steaming rice, vegetables, and soups sat invitingly on the marble table, beckoning anyone near over.
But the look on Safatore's face was not hunger. More of a mix between horror and disgust.
"It's not lunchtime yet." He responded.
"But could you make an exception?" Zera tried, her tone still even and unhurried.
"No," Safatore flatly refused outright, pinching the bridge of his nose before chuckling in frustration, his shoulders slumping as he crossed his arms. "I don't want your food."
"That's right, you don't," Councilwoman Zera shot back calmly, leaning down over the pedestal with a derisive sneer. "After all...you don't eat real food."
Safatore's perpetual grin twitched as he looked up to the council members.
"Please, just say whatever you want to say already. We've been playing this game for ninety years."