Requiem - Austin
I sit at my desk, pulling out the familiar box and begin my nightly ritual. I see my choices laid out before me, some simply being, others hinting at choices and opportunities that lay beyond them.
Many of the choices lie with Simon. The choice to continue on as a soldier, to perfect my form, and to surpass him one day. Or perhaps the choice to take up the pen, to train as a Judex, and again to surpass him one day.
Or does the choice lie with Lorenzo and the Golden Lily? Politically, perhaps it might be the better move, do I need to worry about politics or do I need to worry about Austin? I don't wish to be a harpy, but more so, I don't wish to be a clone.
I am Austin William McCullough. I am an individual. I have a way of acting, a way of talking, a way of being. And I cannot give that up, even for the First Estate. Because when that is gone, what do I have left?
I was a paper doll for them once, long ago. But I stopped when I realized people refused to look beyond the suit to see the true me. At the end of the day, what is more valuable to the Estate? Me. . .or my clothing.
Didn't you have these questions Simon? Nona? Lorenzo? Were you once not 28? How have you forgotten what it's like so easily?
My mind is drawn back to reality by the continued tapping of metal on glass. The action has become almost routine now, but like so many things, it's my routine. I push the coke into lines and smile slightly.
Everything's a choice. Even this.
I leaned down and snorted the lines, sitting back in my chair, eyes closed, and letting the choices wait for just a bit longer.