“Actually,” Zorlond said, “There is somewhere to go, Harry, and it’s where your daughter was headed, remember?” As Harry nodded, Zorlond once again indicated the sword stand. “And you’d better be able to reach it alive. So, if you would, please.” As Harry crossed the room, Zorlond leaned over to whisper to DJ. “It’d be best not to mention whatever that was. I’m not sure he was meant to remember it. Sometimes, my dear, it’s best to just play a… long…”
Zorlond trailed off as his face emptied of expression, and the world around them seemed to shimmer in and out, bits of dream-whorl scuttling along the edges. Nothing about DJ or the ghostly Zorlond changed, but all the rest… The Japanese décor seemed to be trying to become a dingy storeroom, shelves stacked with bits of artwork, paintings leaning against the wall, forgotten. But there were matches. There was a sword stand there, too, a single sheathed katana resting upon it. But most alarming of all was what was going on with Harry.
He placed his hand on the scabbard, then she picked it up, turning it over, placing her other hand on the handle, and then he drew it slowly free. Bringing the blade up to his face, he took a stance, then she swung it through a few simple maneuvers. Nodding to herself, he straightened up and turned back to the pair by the door. “It’ll do, I guess…” Noting their expressions, her brow furrowed. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He gripped the katana more firmly, as the flickerings slowed, then stopped altogether.
Harry still looked like he had before, now. But that other shape, a teenage girl with dyed-blonde hair, short and styled in somewhat pixie-ish fashion, wearing an orange jacket over a short green skirt… She and Harry had moved in exactly the same fashion, started and finished each other’s sentences, and yet both seemed completely unaware of anything unusual.
Zorlond shook his head, his face coming back under a focused will. “Nothing. Nothing important, anyways. We’d better get moving, the school’s still a long walk from here.” Not waiting for more, he turned and walked out of the room.
Outwardly, DJ shrugged to Harry and turned to follow. What, DJ asked inwardly, …was that all about?
Memories… Even in dreams, if there’s a strong enough connection, they’ll echo each other…
A connection? Who was that girl?
She’s not important. The forced casualness of the dismissal was clear as day to DJ. We’re here to deal with my avatar, right? With a side order of finding the others.
DJ frowned, her own mind turning things over as Zorlond led them through the house to a door, firmly locked with three heavy deadbolts, each clearly requiring a key. Zorlond stuck his head through it for a short bit, then leaned back. “Coast looks clear. Harry…” He made a pointed gesture towards the door.
Stepping forward, Harry fished three keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door, cautiously opening it and glancing about himself before stepping through. Without much other choice, DJ followed him…
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Thu Oct 07 02:56:55 2004
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