Mute

[3] Castiel and Thora

[3] Castiel and Thora

    Father’s words instantly strip me of my false confidence. The very thought leaves me cold and exposed. With one last look of utter disgust and disappointment, Father strides out of the room, his personal army of Officials lapping at his heels. One breaks away from the crowd and lingers by the door towards the stage. He fiddles with the brim of his white washed helmet and nervously clears his throat before exclaiming, "W-we should get going."

     The sound of his quivering tone brings a small smile to my face. Once I'm finished changing back into my mundane, plaid gown, the Official shakily reaches for my arm and opens the door to the far too familiar white hallway.

     Fathers that love their daughters would congratulate them and perhaps take them to a dinner of some sorts. Fathers that love their daughters would tell them such a thing.

     My father is sending me to my own personal prison.

     And yet somewhere in the deep corners of the heart in my chest there is still a shred of love and respect.  Perhaps it was all a part of MUTE, an undeniable loyalty to the sole man that is responsible for all of Syrus. On the other hand, maybe Nature is responsible for the fragile thread that connects us both.

     I push the thought aside and mentally scold myself. Father is a brilliant man and brilliance comes with a price. I was convinced years ago that love was an emotion he could never bring himself to experience, no matter how hard I tried to impress him or make him proud.

     I nearly laugh out loud at myself. Love and many other things were stolen from me a year ago.

     "That was a luh-luh-ovely speech Miss Draco," stammers the Official, his gaze still focused ahead of him. His statement catches me off guard and I look up at him with a cloud of suspicion. A few moments later, when an awkward silence has settled between us, I scrounge up the courage to say thank you.

     "Y-You're mighty welcome, Miss." The Official lifts his shaded visor from his eyes and smiles. "The name's, Issac."

      I have the sudden urge to pinch myself to make sure I'm still awake. Never in a million lifetimes would an Official reveal their identity, it is an unspoken law. He looks down at me with warm, brown eyes and faint smear of a smile on his lips.

     "Put your visor back on," I whisper, tearing myself away from his gaze with a burning sensation on my cheeks. "You'll  find yourself in loads of trouble if you don't."

     Issac reluctantly complies and shields his eyes. The only reasonable explanation I can conjure is that Issac must have just finished his training and has not adjusted to what it truly means to be an Official. My first instinct is to alert a higher ranking officer as soon as we reach the Incubation Center, but his brief, public expression of sincerity sends fiery tingles down my arms as we walk throughout the underground tunnels of Syrus. 

     When I was younger, Father once told me the tunnels were alive. Each one of them was unique. Each one of them knew what you were doing at all times. Looking back on it now, I finally understand the ominous aura the tunnels hold.

     The same voice that sings sweet lullabies in the Incubator returns slyly in the back of my head, spewing out letters. "C-U-R-I-O-U-S-I-T-Y."

     Subconsciously, I stretch my hand out to my fingers graze against one of the white tiles. The tile convulses under my touch and disperses into a raging sea of pixels. A sharp jolt shoots up my hand and stabs my chest. Instantly, I pull back and stare at Issac in horror.