Snippet #1434245

"Yeah, like I didn't bloody figure that out when I entered the bloody house," Soren snapped out an obligatory, acerbic response, as it probably would have pained him to go without doing otherwise. "Tell Lyra she looked especially ugly this evening and that I won't be seeking her hospitality again. Come on, James." Not even bothering to mask his frustration at this point, Soren pulled on his jacket, which had dried by this point, and left the mansion while slamming the door for good measure.

For once in his life, Soren held his bitter tongue for the entire carriage ride. Maybe it was because he was clenching his teeth shut to keep them from chattering- he could sense a cold coming on. But despite that, he was also lost in thought. What happened to Lyra? There was a time when she would have given him anything he asked for, providing he asked nicely. But then again, he wouldn't have asked in the first place, if they were really to go back in time. That was a long time ago. Before anything happened. Back when Soren was an angel-faced little toddler who looked up to Friedrich and thought Lyra was a goddess who was worth staring at for hours on end. Staring at the crackling thunder in the distance, Soren chuckled softly at the memory of his idiotic younger self.

Although...admittedly, life had been nice then. But there was always a tradeoff between knowledge and happiness. And Soren would rather know what he did now, know the truth behind the man he called a brother. But he didn't want to dwell on it. He just wanted to get home. And into warm clothes.

He woke up with a raging fever. Cursing and mumbling, he fumbled around on the bedside until he found his pocket-watch. The following stream of curses would have made a sailor blush.

"Eight? Eight, James? I was supposed to meet with the Earl at eight! Why the hell am I still in my- oh God, my head hurts..." Soren never got sick. But with the unhealthy combination of drugs and running about in thunderstorms, it probably couldn't have been avoided. Being sick was not something that Soren was accustomed to. As it was, it felt like he was dying. Which he probably wasn't, but still. "James, make my fever go away..." Probably impossible, but then one never knew what James was capable of.