Charlia wrote:Charlotte heard that, and the small smile that had briefly crossed her face when the new voice had been heard vanished.
She stared at him, her eyes fading from dark blue, to purple, and then into a blazing red, demonic hatred burning into him.
Merlin is dead, and all you can do is fawn over Void? If only my fire could burn you...
Don't fall into that trap, Charlotte.
In response to Charlotte's evil glare, Quartz straightened. However, instead of returning his own dagger stare, he frowned at Everton. "Do you now see why runesmiths don't get out, Everton? Every single move I make upsets somebody. Every single question, curiosity about the world, about the state of events, results in social hatred. I didn't come out here to be the subject of hate and to be reminded of my own very introverted nature. I am now very clearly disliked me, and I have no clear method of rectifying it. I have no remorse to give, the only knowledge of Merlin I have was the single time he and Charlotte came to the workshop. No memories to share. Why exactly am I here, Everton?"
Everton ran his hands through his hair and groaned. His fuse had finally blown, one overloaded and blown to shit by all the events of the last twenty four hours. "Come on, Quartz! I'm tired of hearing the same damn thing over and fucking over," he growled, "I haven't said this for the five or so years we've known each other, but I'll say it now because I can't fucking take it anymore!" His face flushed red as he stood up, causing Kiri to slump backwards into the soft fabric of the couch, and walked over to Quartz. "You come out of your little workshop because you're a Watcher, Quartz. Not just for emergencies, not just for me, or Kiri, but every damn time we're called!"
Quartz remained impassive, looking up at his slightly taller friend with his arms resolutely folded. "Says the Watcher who skipped out on hunting the Headless Horseman, for no other reason than I was working on your Hat that day." He scoffed and smirked. "That's no reason for me to fulfill my 'Watcherly duties. If it was, wouldn't Matthew have come out and knocked on my door with another of his ridiculous orders, an ultimatum? Even if he did, I'd still shut myself away in the workshop. I'm not listening to directives only a fool would follow."
His friend scowled at him. "Fine. I regret that day, if that's what you want to hear, Master Runesmith. Especially with how useless Hats are. But that doesn't change how none of us have seen you appear for a single meeting in all the time I've been in the Watchers. Not one time have you shown up to give us aid, Quartz. Not one fucking time have you helped us. You call yourself a Watcher, don’t you?”
The runesmith barely reacted to the tirade. His eyes had taken on a certain glint, a spark of supreme frustration welling deep within him. “No, Everton. I call myself a Master Runesmith, everyone else is the one that stupidly choses to call me one of the all-benevolent and all-seeing Watchers. You should know by now that the only reason that I’m in the Watchers is because it’s a long-running tradition within my family, and because once you join you can’t quit.”
He turned away from Everton and walked over to a small bookshelf. Only a few dusty old books deemed suitable for aesthetics sat inside it, the rest were a little too precious to be kept out in the ‘open’. Grabbing a thick, leather bound tome embroidered with the words “The History of the Watchers’ he spun back around and waved it around. “You know why I don’t call myself a Watcher, Everton? I don’t because of that fucking idiot Matthew!” He threw his hands up in the air. “The latest in a long line of bumbling fools that take the position of Chief Watcher and thoroughly screw up everything. I only have respect for one of the Watcher lineage, Everton, and that’s the man that created this lovely group. Even then, he should have been able to see what he made would have turned into.”
The little rose seemed to twitch imperceptibly. It’s real owner’s attention had been fully drawn to this rather unsavoury altercation. The white of the petals intensified, creating a gloriously pure colour devoid of spoils. Inside Quartz’s head, a slightly worrisome voice spoke.
Quartz Ernst, what are you doing?
Its question went unanswered, Quartz was far too invested in the battle of words to acknowledge it, never mind answering it. He continued, unperturbed. “I don’t call myself a Watcher, lest I be thought just as much of an idiot as our most supreme and awesome leader! The Supernaturals call the Watchers a fan club fawning over the Watcher family that those who hold the Watcher name let their followers pretend they’re powerful, or anywhere near equal to them. The whispers come round, Everton. They say that the Watcher lineage isn’t as powerful as they say they are, and I wholeheartedly agree with them!”
I implore you to stop this.
Everton’s hand twitched, and the deafening crack of a gunshot rang out. Smoke rose from the .44 Magnum revolver’s barrel, and from the holes in both the book in Quartz’s hand and the wall behind it. It held a strange tinge, perhaps stemming from the runes that coated the gun’s metallic surface. Quartz involuntarily flinched.
“Jesus, man,” Everton said, an inner anger leeching its way into his tone, “I admire your ability to say things like that, especially in the same damn building that the subject of your little speech works in. But Jesus, Quartz, I thought you were smart.” He flicked out the revolver’s cylinder and flicked away the empty bullet casing. “Smart, not fucking stupid, Quartz. You really have to say that, when you know what joining the Watchers did for me? You ever think you’re just as cold and insensitive as Seren sometimes?”
Do you understand what you are doing, Quartz Ernst? Stop this, I plead of you!
Quartz didn’t even reduce the cockiness that was rapidly making itself known. In fact, he increased it. “Really, Everton? Resorting to using your gun? That’s rather childish, isn't it? I’m sure you agree with everything I said, don’t you? Anyway, what’s Matthew going to do? Come reprimand me? Take my Hat and Cane? If he’s going to do the latter, he’s going to have to deal with quite a lot of dust. And that pretend sociopath Seren? Don’t compare me to her and her pathetic family feud.”
I’m disappointed, Quartz Ernst. I thought you were wise enough to deal with the situation. Where is that wisdom, the diplomacy you so often show? I am afraid I must intervene, much more strongly as you appear not to be listening…
Hidden behind the little lapel pocket, the rose stem and thorns twisted and grew, puncturing silently through the material of the trench coat and the clothes underneath. The spikes dug into the fabric, before spreading out along the skin and piercing it. The frustrated spark within Quartz’s eyes rapidly disappeared at the onslaught of sudden pain, and he fought the urge to gasp. A tiny rivulet of blood fell down unseen.
I am sorry that I must pain you in this way, Quartz Ernst, but your stubbornness makes this necessary.
His mind mellowed incredibly, and all the stored insults and other tidbits to throw like mud quickly disappeared.
Forgive me, Makkathran.
I do, Quartz Ernst, I always do. Please do not force me to intervene in this way again.
Quartz sighed in relief as the rose’s thorns retreated, and the tiny holes in his skin and clothes closed up. He looked up at Everton, who was in the middle of a response to the runesmith’s latest transgression. Everton quickly stopped talking as Quartz strode towards him and put a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Everton,” the old man whispered, “That was stupid. I hope you can forgive me. For now, I’m going to go cool off.” He raised his voice to something apologetic and spoke to everyone, “I apologise for my outburst, and for my remarks.”
The runesmith walked away into the bowels of Watcher HQ, leaving a confused and bemused Everton wondering had really just happened.
