Tig was never into mystery novels; she'd get so impatient she'd have to skip straight to the end. So she doesn't really think of what she knows as clues, or like it's a puzzle to unravel. All she knows is sulfur, and the open window, and she didn't hear a thing.

Like any member of her generation, she starts with Google.

Sulfur smell: dangerous to ( Read more... )

Tig's real name is a mouthful-- Antigone Jocasta Resker-- and from earliest childhood, she despised it. She also despised the nickname "Tigger," bequeathed once it became clear that she was shy, somber, and surly by disposition. Attempts to generate a more palatable nickname yielded Jo, Annie, Resker (in an Eton-boy phase), briefly Antigone again ( Read more... )

It is difficult to remember anything in this place ( Read more... )

It's quiet here ( Read more... )

It isn't very often that Antigone has a truly beautiful dream. But when she does, they always seem to mean something.

This has to be one of those times, doesn't it ( Read more... )

Antigone's footsteps fall softly in the empty halls.

It's the palace at Thebes, though it doesn't look anything like it did while she was alive, and she is very young; hardly more than a little girl.

She has a feeling that she'd like to go outside to see the garden.

The difference between sleeping and waking is unclear to her; it used to be that either she was asleep or she was awake or sometimes she was only tired, but now the edges are blurred and she is walking somewhere (at least she thinks she is), but she doesn't know where she means to end up until she gets there ( Read more... )

Night fell in the blink of an eye-- or, if it was any slower, she didn't see it coming.

Antigone shifts a little on the ground. It's better to have been out here, she thinks, alone amongst the grass and the flowers and the weeds, than to have tried to stay indoors, stifled in her room.

(Where *is* she?)She can at least breathe out here, when ( Read more... )

She doesn't remember how she got here-- or, for a moment, where she is ( Read more... )

Antigone wanders down the hall (barefoot yet again, she doesn't much care to wear her boots these days), counting down the numbers on the doors.

156, 154 ... 148 ...

She couldn't find Coyote today. She must have gone back home.

Probably a good thing, given what she did.

136 ...

134.Here it is-- or here's the number Lilly gave, at any rate ( Read more... )