“Well, this is certainly a strange set of circumstances.”, Thought Viola as he returned to leaning back on his chair, slipping a now lit pipe between his lips, giving the thing a soft puff, the sweet smell of the smoke misting lazily around his nose.
Flipping the papers he had been toying with around between his hands he mentally ran through his set; the songs and stories in the repertoire coming back easily to him. This show would certainly go off without a hitch… Yet, he still felt uneasy. This feeling had been gnawing at him since the swamp. He couldn’t quite place it, but it, frankly, pissed him off. Put him on edge.
That fucking Dragosai hadn’t exactly helped.
He sighed. The man certainly had the best intentions at heart, but Viola despised the big man’s utter persistence and air of superiority. He had no right to presume upon him. This freedom that he had worked so hard for- There was no way in all of the nine hells he would willingly give it away.
But, why was he so bothered?
Dragosai hadn’t caused this feeling, merely, inflamed it more or less. What could it be?
Viola adjusted the pipe between his lips and slowly began to sip a drink between puffs, gently dabbing his quill in ink before getting to jotting down little words, loose, unincorporated with any sort of cogent thought.
Perhaps, it was this mercenary work. Viola wasn’t one for fighting and, frankly, the whole kill-kill-bang-bang feel of this work bothered him. That, and that Mira girl. That… That little demon is one to be watched. Elowynn seemed to eat the woman’s words with a side of toast. He wondered why? Is she truly that in love with the idea of gold to set all cares to the wind? Surely she must’ve considered what she could be planning. The lady is planning on using us as a spear against the Verdonias. Is she really that eager to fight? Perhaps, she is underestimating the reach and drive of the woman? Overconfidence isn’t an uncommon trait. No… No, perhaps he just underestimated her.
He truly thought someone that wise would not have been quite that openly naïve.
Oh well, he’d give her the benefit of the doubt for the time being. “Besides, I won’t know her for that much longer anyhow as far as I’m concerned.”
Viola took another long drag on the pipe, looking at the web of buzz words he had written down.
“disappointment”, “pacifist”, “serpent”, “catharsis”, “liberation”, “bird-man”, “blue-sky”, “blue-sea”, “family”, “green meadow”, “gentle breeze”, “cowardice”, “hummingbird”, “drunk”.
He paused, looked at the page and casually scratched out a choice word, before his eyes widened at a few of the words he had scrawled towards the end of the thought.
“Monster”, “Gore”, “Vomit”.
He quickly scratched those out amid a little shot of adrenaline, his eyes testily looking about the room.
Those_ things_. Those disgusting_ things_. Zuccio had spoken of the bastards in a ghost story, so, naturally, it was one hundred and fifty thousand percent his fault for that horrible jinx. Viola had never seen that many corpses in his-
He stopped biting his lip as he blocked the mental image. Losing his lunch was certainly not a priority at the moment.
He hadn’t signed up for that. Fuck that. No thank you.
These thoughts certainly didn’t belong in his head right now. Certainly, not now. And this little exercise certainly had not helped him make the feeling go away.
Viola casually stood making the choice to take a long walk before returning to the tavern. The remainder weren’t due back for awhile anyhow. He did feel a bit of inspiration for a song perhaps.
Sauntering out of the tavern he began to hum a little tune.
He had no idea what exactly he was humming, but it felt like something right.
Something that struck chords.
It was soft.
Like, an adventure, but, also like remorse. Pity.
It had certainly taken a dark turn, but, perhaps he’d write it down-
Right in the centre of the road he stopped, taking a sharp inhale.
“I am never working in this business again.”
He said, as he pushed the ritual song of Istus, Goddess of Fate, from his skull.