OOM: A Ritual Repeated

[herr_bookman]

After Autor's dramatic reentry into the bar, he hid from everyone in his room, wrapped up in a cocoon of denial. Pride goes before a fall, and Autor had indeed fallen, though he refused to acknowledge it.

He thinks in if only statements. If only the oak tree had talked to him. If only he were chosen, and not Fakir. If only he'd been born with Drosselmeyer's blood. If only he'd never been born.

It's not that he wanted to die, necessarily, just that he didn't want to be there right now. He was overwhelmed, and clearly couldn't handle everything coming his way at the moment. Autor tried not to dwell on his desire to run away, tried to focus on what he could do. What he should do.

He also thinks in what ifs. What if the Bookmen are wrong? he thinks desperately, pacing. Fakir can't be the only Spinner. I worked too hard for this. What if the whole thing's just a nightmare? He snorts at the ridiculous notion, glaring at the floor. But what if... I did the rituals wrong? And I could still prove myself?

Well, he could test that. Autor drinks a glass of water, and washes his face. He digs his toes into the wood, facing the door, and prepares to clear his mind.

Three days later, he's still standing there.

Comments

[sunbaked_baker]

Rae had been expecting to see Autor sometime after he returned to the bar - preferably when he'd had some time to calm down and rest - but she hadn't seen him, not in the bar, not in the library, not outside... Sunshine knew Autor could take care of himself in most situations, but she was beginning to get worried, all the same. He had been so very upset when he had come in; he might need someone to talk to, but may not want to seek anyone out.

There is one last place Rae hadn't checked, however. So there is a quiet knock at Autor's door in the evening of the third day, Sunshine rapping her knuckles against the wood while her other hand and hip balance the tray carrying a pot of citrus-lavender-sage herbal tea and two cups.