"!?!!!"

Clumsy? Who knew, Henri jumped with a start and snapped his head behind him, looking for something or someone. He wasn't satisfied when he didn't see what he was looking for. Something was there, he heard that. It wasn't behind him or ahead of him, unconvinced he kept inspecting all around him until he was basically spinning. Maybe the poor Mercoran they volunteered for the job was a little bit special. If so that would make Ira's theory about Henri and Roland's relationship that much worse.

It wasn't until Henri spun into his bag and tripped on it again that he stopped. Calm down? Not likely, not now that he was hearing shit. He was going crazy. "Roland?" Finally he picked up the bag with one hand, torch in the other and scurry shuffled up to his friend, calling for him in that annoying way that had been grating on his nerves all day. "Roland!" It was in a whisper, rushed together and frantic. "Closewhatdoyoumeanclosewheredidyougowhathappened?!"

The voice attempted to speak again, but it came out distorted, jumbled and faint. With how things were lately, Henri’s inability to compose himself when faced with weird situations would one day be his undoing.

“What?” Roland asked, confused. If Henri wanted him to answer a question, it was better to speak so that Roland could understand him, instead of making the larger man sit there and decipher whatever the hell it was Henri was saying. After a few seconds of translating Henri-speak into proper Mercoran, Roland replied: “You saw those dark skinned, sword-wielding men, right? You know, those guys we work for, who showed up in here looking for us, gleefully inspecting our find, happy as can be, and, you know, just generally being dark skinned, treasure hunting, sword-wielding soldiers? I couldn't go anywhere even if I wanted to, stupid.”

"You..."

Before he could reply his ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, there was a noise muffling some of the sounds around him. A few strange moments would pass by where Henri wasn't saying anything, just staring at Roland confused trying to hear the voice again, but he came up with nothing.

Anyway, Henri snapped back into himself. Sadly this self was more confused and worried than the first. Henri had ants in his pants this whole trip. The news Roland broke to him seemed to completely disturb Henri's world, like a child first discovering Santa or the Easter Bunny wasn't real.

None of this seemed real. "Y-you were there the whole time!? Why didn't you help me!?" Obviously Henri was very upset at Roland for something he didn't do that he had no idea he totally should have. Henri of course was assuming Roland had any more idea what was going on than he did.

Now he was being very serious, he spoke in even more of a whisper than before. First he checked over his shoulders to make sure nobody was paying attention, then drew himself very close to Roland so he could hear him.

"I was attacked by a monster in the other chamber, you didn't hear?"

"I'm not your babysitter, what do I care if you roll around on the grou-" Roland cut off his words with a groan, shaking his head and balling his fists. Was Henri SERIOUSLY going to start with the fantasy stories again? Roland took a few breaths, forced his anger and outrage deep into the pit of his stomach, rotated his shoulders, forced himself calm, and looked 'round at Henri.

"No," he said, "I, no . . . I didn’t hear you being attacked by a monster."

Surprisingly calm, Roland couldn’t help but notice that Henri was remarkably not-dead considering he was apparently attacked by a monster.

That one will not believe you, the voice advised. Clearer this time, the voice was heavy and had no discernible accent, but it was a booming, powerful thing. It also did not appear to be speaking Mercoran or any language, for that matter; it was, however, somewhat similar to the voice Henri had heard earlier, the one that had been asking questions.

“I didn’t hear any girlish screaming,” Roland said, looking Henri up and down, “and you’re not dead. You versus a monster? My money would be on the monster . . .”

Unfortunately for Roland, Henri was being serious, dead fucking serious. His voice didn't waver with stifled giggles, his mouth didn't turn at the corner with devilish grins, he just stared at Roland with a pleading expression, basically BEGGING for Roland to believe him.

What he was saying was so remarkably stupid it was a wonder he could say it with a straight face.

"Roland I-" Henri sighed a sort of irritated huff and stared at the ground, like he was fed up and annoyed with something, and he was, with the constant interruptions from the voices in his head. What did the monster encounter grant him some kind of narrator? He wanted to tell the voice to let mommy and daddy finish but, in case it wasn't just a case of the crazies, he was careful not to anger it. He couldn't deal with more visions of his dead father.

"He will eventually."

Back to business.

"The thing disappeared suddenly, and for your information I did squeal like a bitch. So there." He slung his bag over his shoulder. "Look I'm seeing shit that ain't there, hearin shit that ain't there and reading shit I can't read, you gotta believe me." If Roland didn't, and if things kept going the way they were something would probably happen to MAKE him believe, hopefully not anything too drastic.

Low, rolling laughter grumbled and shook through Henri's mind. The voice, however, was anything but amused by Henri’s inappropriate, disrespectful attitude. For a long moment, while Henri was speaking, the voice remained awfully quiet as it silently weighed its options and how it would respond.

“Let’s be clear,” Roland sighed, “you do realize how freakin’ weird this all sounds, right? I’m not,” he shot Henri a glance, “going to just believe you,” he explained, “but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, I won’t disbelieve you. You’ll have to . . . Prove it to me, somehow.”

A compromise was the best Roland could offer Henri, which was pretty reasonable, really, because Henri had never showed himself to be the most credible person in the village.

Roland picked up his bag where the soldier had tossed it and threw his torch to the ground, casually.

“I’m going on ahead,” he said, swinging his bag over his shoulder, “but don’t mention any of these voices or whatever to the Esconians, alright? I don’t -”

Mock me again, fool, the voice interrupted Roland, although only Henri would know it, and I’ll see you regret it.

"- think they'll believe you anymore than me, but you never know, right?"

Roland left to follow after Ira Rajat and the rest of the exploration team into the crystal's chamber, leaving Henri alone with the voice in his head.

See? Eventually, just like Henri said. Roland didn't by all means believe him, but something would surely come up that would help convince Roland, whether or not it was something awesome or tragically awful had yet to be seen, and that's what Henri was worried about. Not only did he want to tell Roland because he was his best friend, and he couldn't not tell him about it, he also wanted to warn him.

Sadly he knew Roland wouldn't take his warnings very seriously, but he tried.

"Ya ya I know." He said dismissively, since people never believing him was commonplace and he just wanted to get that part out of the way. In the back of his mind the voice laughed like an evil villian about to perform some dastardly deed, talk about unsettling. "My lips are sealed, seriously. Oh and Roland?"

Before he left to go into the chamber, he reached to place a hand on his shoulders and offered the most dead serious look he could. He wasn't joking when he said "Stay away from the statues, especially the sad looking one in that room, it tried to kill me. I'll...catch up with you in a bit. 'Won't take long."

Once his friend was gone and he was left alone with the strange angry voice in his head, he'd give the whole talking to the voice/himself like a crazy person a go, since he wasn't sure which it was.

"Uh...hrm." What should he say? Even though he should, he actually didn't want to ask why or how he mocked the voice, not out of lack of care, but because he wasn't prepared for what he was certain would be an angry explanation coupled with threats of annihilation ect. He didn't want to argue with the thing, he just wanted to know,

"Who are you? Where did you come from?"

Although Roland had listened to Henri's warning about the 'sad looking statue', after reaching the crystal's chamber and looking around, there was no such thing in the room, just the soldiers, the carvings, and the pedestal the crystal had been atop; unfortunately, this did not help Henri's credibility at all . . .

Hhh.

A heavy breath was released from a throat that could very well have not existed. There was little telling what the voice was thinking or considering, but it definitely did not think too highly of Henri just yet. That might change - no, Henri had better hope it changed.

Henri’s vision swiveled, the world blurred and twisted, turned topsy-turvy, and, in the end, his vision dimmed, split and became distorted; he was suddenly viewing something incomprehensible.

A small frame of white noise was just in the corner of his eye - white light, black spots, quivering and wriggling from some broken signal. The sound of static replaced the voice.

It ceased.

Tired.

A statement with no further explanation. It was not clear if the voice had been answering Henri's question or not, but whatever it was Henri just witnessed, it had apparently exhausted the thing.

From the chamber Roland, Ira, and the rest of her working men could hear a loud thud, the familiar sound of Henri falling on his bottom.

"Oof!"

The spinning and swirling and shifting of his vision was too much for him to comprehend, when his world began spinning, likewise his feet followed suit, and he landed on the ground bottom first, as if he had too much to drink. Actually, exactly like he had too much to drink.

"NMmnn.." It almost felt the same too, nauseating. Since the world was darkened and distorted, he didn't care too much to get up just so he could fall again. His spot on the ground was perfectly safe (for now, he was lucky he didn't burn himself on his torch during the fall) and comfortable. Instead, he just looked, squinty eyed at something he had difficulty distinguishing.

KSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH

He hadn't seen anything like it. The best way for him to describe it was a dirty sooty snowstorm concentrated into one little spot. Was this the physical form of the voice in his head? A storm?

Did storms get tired? Maybe they did, it probably took a lot of effort to blow around and be all strange and mysterious.

"Let's rest then." Henri could use a good rest as well, after everything that happened that day, if he would be allowed to, maybe even a snack from his bag.

The voice did not acknowledge Henri’s suggestion; its presence simply faded away and left Henri the sole occupant of his thoughts once more. A sore sensation, however, was present in his hand - the very same hand that had struck the crystal, in fact - and, if it was investigated, Henri would find that it was hot and irritable, although not particularly painful, and it would quickly subside after a couple of seconds.

After finally making his way back to the crystal’s chamber, his bag in tow, if he planned to snack on anything, Henri would be welcomed by the Esconians and Roland throwing confused, questioning looks his way. Some of them were grinning, others were pointing and talking amongst one another, and a single, talkative soldier, speaking in broken common, took to calling Henri ‘the clumsy boy’ and then laughed at him; in the end, Henri had only himself to blame for falling over. Equilibrium was important!



The fun and games, the joking and laughing would help pass the time. Hours rolled by, the rations they had taken with them were eaten, water was passed around, a substance that should not have been brought was also passed around once the water ran out, and, in general, everyone was in high spirits. Eventually, once the time limit for their expedition neared, however, Ira Rajata called an end to the good times and started directing the group out from the crystal’s chamber, through the treasury (loading up a few of the soldiers with as much as they could carry), down the long passage leading to the archway, and, a hour or two later, back to the entrance of the ruins; it was as perilous looking as ever, too.

The trip, itself, was fun, though, and the soldiers had started singing sometime after leaving the ‘treasury’ and even pressured their Mercoran companions into joining. The offer was irrefutable, too: Roland was pretty sure they would have been killed had they not joined in. Probably.

From there, one man at a time, they headed back up to the surface, where Colonel Dasari was waiting, greeting each man with a handshake and a pat on the back, and then ushering them off to the main camp, to the large tent that Henri and Roland had eaten breakfast in just this morning.

. . . And a day and a half passed. A blur, really - there was a feast in celebration, there was music, more singing, what may have been another feast, nobody could really tell at that point, and there was also a lot of drinking, more drinking than was probably necessary, too, but nobody was complaining (or were sober enough to complain.)

All in all, the job was a smashing success and the boys were handsomely paid for their unexpected part in it, they had both received more money than they had ever actually seen in person before, and were also offered to remain a ‘part of the team’ for an extended time, they could accept or reject the offer, no feelings would be hurt or anything, and they needn’t answer right away, either. Indeed, rest came first - and so it did, they would both eventually find themselves in their respective beds and sleeping the best they had ever slept before.