Dr. Parnard is insane.
He’s also the genius who bought me more time, and hopefully discouraged Leon from assaulting me.
Best prof ever.
Chapter 17
Vivian’s Point of View
Rule seventeen:Always be on the lookout for the appropriate stabby time.
There’s something wrong with Nymara.
Like… wrong-wrong.
She’s watching me, unblinking from the other side of the sitting room. There’s a Stepford wife smile plastered on her face. It’s the same one that’s been there for the last two and a half days.
Unsurprisingly, Leon left couples therapy with zero intention of following the homework or continuing with further sessions. He insisted that while therapy may help ignorant mortals, he was already so far above them that he required no improvement.
Thankfully, he magnanimously offered to give me some space, since I so clearly require self-improvement.
The space has yet to amount to any progress on my end, namely because Nymara has clearly suffered a mental break.
I lean forward, pouring myself yet another cup of tea. It’s hibiscus-flavored today.
At first, I thought her shift in personality might be because her mother punished her. Especially since every time I ask if we can explore, she answers robotically that “it isn’t appropriate for our newest Creator to be poking around the castle like some rodent. As the embodiment of light, you must busy yourself with appropriate tasks.”
The words sound so much like something Need would say that I’m positive she found out about our little art tour a few days ago.
A pang of guilt unfurls in me at the possibility that I made her life worse.
The silence stretches on, and I frown at Nymara’s perma-smile.
It doesn’t falter. If anything, she looks more manic.
I could have ignored the whole ‘acting like an emotionless robot’ thing if it weren’t for the… gifts.
They started yesterday morning. First, she brought me some books, explaining she thought they would be most enlightening for me.
Excited, I immediately flipped through them. I was sure this was her way of slipping me a secret note, but no. There was nothing other than a few doodled flowers in the margins.
They’re currently sitting in the back of my wardrobe. While I appreciate the gesture, I’m currently a bit preoccupied with trying to avoid the apocalypse.
Then this morning, I entered the sitting room, only to find it overflowing with poppies. Even now, they cover every flat surface, spilling over onto some of the lounges and chairs.
When I asked her why she brought me the flowers, she shrugged and claimed they were ‘for ambience’ – like that explained everything.
She then spent at least an hour slowly walking around the room, tugging on every wall sconce. Every time she pulled on one, she turned and stared at me.
She’s definitelynotokay.
Not that I’m in much better shape. The depressive haze is thicker than ever, and it presses in on me, choking me, until it feels like I’m trying to breathe through wet wool.
Nymara’s comment about unwarded parts of the castle has been haunting me. Even if I find Irena, what good would it do? I can’t even open my magically locked bedroom door. How am I supposed to break wards strong enough to hold a Destroyer?
The problem certainly hasn’t helped with my renewed depression. But that doesn’t mean I’ve given up.
If anything, I think the depression is making memorecreative.
