AN: The next main chapter will likely be the end of the X Of Empire interlude arc. I might write some more lore posts and omakes/slice of life stuff soon too. Following the end of The Scholar's Tale's main plotline, I plan to begin writing the sequel to both it and Strigoi Soul. While I have more things I want to write that happened before "then", I can do so without affecting any of the stories' plotlines, and work in references and/or flashbacks as needed.
* * *
I was scrolling on my phone, looking over baby turtle pictures, when I got the message.
My plans to prevent as many newborn and infant deaths weren't only intended for humans. That would've been bigoted, and I couldn't say I felt more for my former species than any other, besides. But while we could take care of issues like space and resources through various paranormal means, most animals weren't so fortunate.
Which meant watching their young die. Hearing it, too, sensing it in every way; every death was mine, and felt like that. I couldn't do my job properly unless I shared such things.
So, "brooding over dead baby animals" was not a good mood for Szabo's bullshit to find me in.
[From: Loric Szabo
My august brother in death, I am certain this message finds you in the fullness of your power and faculties.]
(Yeah, he texted like a professional scammer.)
[I can only hope so, because the request I come requires both your wits and your might.]
Now, despite the phrasing and what followed, Szabo wasn't into anything dubious. Not with me, or any other man, in any case. He just didn't think things through, sometimes.
[If my arms were broken, would you give me a hand???????]
That last part, for example, was meant to convey pathos, not that Szabo was entering his kawaii phase. Existence wasn't prepared for that.
I replied with great eloquence and restraint.
[Szabo, what the fuck? Why do you even have my number anymore, I told you to erase it.
No, I wouldn't give you a hand, what the hell? And what's with that those emojis at the end??? I haven't seen anything this cursed since I last went to Giza, ugh.]
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
He responded quickly.
[I see there is no brotherly sentiment in your heart, David. Knowing me bereft of support and unable to seek pleasure, you would leave me by the wayside and walk past. Shame.]
[Oh my God-why don't you beat it, as in leave, huh?]
I blocked his number before he could post a wagging finger gif or something. He could talk to me through his damn powers.
* * *
A while later, I was texting my girlfriend. Eerily, she had a similar question to the strigoi.
[Hey hon, if my arms were broken, would you help me out???]
[Of course baby girl??]
And in came he again, with a steel chair.
[Aha! So you would help her out but not me, huh you misandrist??]
While Mia was going "Huh?", I responded with-
[Szabo, how the hell are you in this conversation and why? I told you to knock this weird brotherly bullshit off, I'm not into that. And she's my girlfriend, you dumb arsehole. Of fucking course I'd help her.]
[Plausible.]
I blocked him again.
* * *
Szabo scowled thunderously down at his phone, and turned to behold his grandson with a grim countenance. 'It is no use, Csaba,' he declared. 'David Silva is a bigoted maniac who believes only women deserve help with their art. I will endeavour to add beauty to the clothes you make, with my own hands. Even if it cripples me.'
The younger man asked, 'But did you even get to that part? Did you tell him you were asking for a relative? You know I'd have done so myself, but you're closer to them-'
'It is of no consequence. I can smell the closemindedness from here.' He sniffed, to illustrate his point. Frowned. 'No, wait. That's the lidérc skull I crushed last mission.' As he purposefully strode past his grandson, he muttered to himself, 'Knew I should've buried it deeper...'
Csaba stared, sighed, and sat down. 'Time to call some clothier, I guess.'
