Aspen hemmed and hawed before giving in. He kept his voice low as if to not disturb River – who was listening anyway – and as if he didn’t want to be overheard by too many others.
“Just… had a bad run-in with Acorn just now.”
“Acorn?” The woman’s voice rose and quickly fell again. “That’s surprising…”
“Right? I don’t know what I did to him.” Aspen crossed his arms and half hid his face inside. His voice became further muffled, so the woman leaned in even closer. It attracted the attention of others, who weren’t used to being kept out of the loop. “We were worried about Logan, but the doctor didn’t let us inside and Acorn acted like we did something bad…”
Well, this certainly wasn’t a lie.
“Maybe you misinterpreted his words?” Still, Acorn was popular. The woman didn’t immediately believe something was up.
“But he said-” Aspen’s voice rose a notch, his head jerking up. He stopped himself in the middle of the sentence, his face going through a variety of emotions before settling on resignation. Once more he hid himself in his arms, the muffled voice downcast and uncomfortable. “…Nevermind.”
No matter how closely knit a group, no matter how much people liked each other…
No one could resist the temptation of gossip.
It was even more so when the people involved were widely known or even popular.
The reasons for gossiping were numerous, but River had the strong suspicion that especially in here, one motivation was hidden boredom and the desire to rise in societal hierarchy above others.
Gossip was scarily useful.
River had to hide a smile behind the motion of leaning on his hand to read. Next to him, the woman started to subtly try to prod Aspen for more information, a process in which she subconsciously started to take his side. Bonding over gossip was a thing, after all.
And she was becoming part of a secret.
The effect was actually visible in the way people around them began to fidget, hesitate, pass by more often and seemingly attempt to find a reason to join the hushed conversation.
Aspen made sure to never lie – he didn’t act like Acorn said something he hadn’t said. He simply put the focus on the aggression of the teenagers and the way Acorn had talked, as well as his companion’s triumphant smile.
“Oh, I know those girls. Have been unsettled all day already”, the woman humpfed, annoyed about their behavior. “To call you creepy… They have no respect for their seniors!”
“They even said I was the one to hurt Logan…”
Puppy eyes. Whiny voice.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“Oh, don’t take it to heart!” The woman was just short of cooing and calling Aspen darling or sweetie. “We know you’d never hurt Logan or anyone else. Ignore those girls. If they’re rude again, just come to me and I’ll talk to them.”
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Dinner was when things started to crack.
Acorn entered the room with the three young teenagers in tow. They had no idea about the undercurrents and saw no reason to hide their feelings, so they expressed their disdain clearly when passing by Aspen, who pointedly ignored them.
Some people had already joined his “group”, and they didn’t miss the interaction. One of them cursed under his breath. “Rude brats.”
The girls heard it. Their faces flushed red, and their leader tugged at Acorn’s sleeve to ask for support.
“Excuse me, did these kids do something wrong?”
Acorn’s words could have sounded condescending, but it was his good-natured face that made it sound nice enough that none of the teenagers took offense. Instead, they were pleased he was standing up for them.
“They’re just glaring at people for no reason”, someone else spoke up. “If that’s not rude, what is?”
“We weren’t glaring”, the teenaged leader girl defended herself. “What, am I not allowed to look at someone anymore?”
“You know best if you were glaring.”
“I do know best, and I wasn’t.” She crossed her arms.
Acorn chuckled uncomfortably, moving between the two opposing sides. “Sorry. They’re very tense right now, so they’re…”
He didn’t finish the sentence but moved his hand in a loose gesture. As an adult, the woman was now expected to take a step back, as otherwise she’d be facing a couple of “grumpy teenagers” way too seriously.
But she realized it, and it didn’t make her happy. Her eyebrows drew tighter together, even more so after the teenagers grinned triumphantly.
Conflict was an easy thing to cultivate. It was like heating up a pot, slowly and steadily, until bubbles appeared. There’d be only a few at first. Tiny little bubbles, rising to the surface with the slightest sound, here and there. They’d gather together, increase in size, until every single one of them…
…would burst open with an audible pop.
Maybe it was some subconscious thought or a feeling, but River’s attention jumped away from the petty little squabble to somewhere else.
A table further to the side.
The old man was sitting there, conversing with others surrounding him, but once in a while his gaze would lift – over to them, watching, observing, but with no intention of intervening at all…
What exactly were his thoughts?
Miles did not mention the squabble at all during his evening session. He talked about all kinds of things, just like the day before, and River was wrecking his brains to find any sort of underlying message or subtle hints.
There was nothing.
He never mentioned money. He didn’t seem racist, seemed open about everything, seemed to want to understand people.
That didn’t mean that he was a saint – Miles very openly admitted his own mistakes and surprises as he told his stories.
He was very much not the type you’d expect to see in a cult. Yet, the way he hadn’t cared about the beginning rift was something that matched the workings of one.
River half listened, half thought about what he had read in the afternoon.
Ritual was a very broad term. With what they were expected to work towards – a religious type of ritual – there were some things to watch out for.
Speech patterns, which could be found here mostly in a handful of sayings, but not overly much.
Traditions or rites, which appeared completely absent if not for the daily schedule. It lacked any sense of religion, however.
Invariance, rules, symbolism and performance…
Was there something like that here?
There was.
But was it religious? Was it fanatic?
Was it a base for cutting off someone’s tongue?
Was there one cult? Were there two? More?
Individuals that acted? Or a group?
…Or was it all a hoax, a trick of the Gamblers, and the ritual had nothing to do with all of this, nothing to do with whether there was something going on here or not?
I want to know.
River swallowed heavily. He curled and uncurled his fingers on his lap, feeling all of his skin prickle.
I want to know.
He was giddy. All of these possibilities, all these people, all of it.
I want to know.
I want to know so, so bad.
His eyes never left Miles, who finished up his session for the evening and said his goodbyes to people.
He stared.
Miles lifted his head, meeting his gaze.
I want to find out.
The old man smiled.
I want to know too !!!! Thanks for the chapter 🙂