W.I.D., part 20: The Pencils Have Come

I can’t believe I’m already at part 2o! You might want to check out Joseph’s blog to see what Jason’s been doing this whole time.

Whatever I Draw

by Eliza May

When Tullier came to, it took him a moment to remember everything that had happened–his parents’ murder, all of the new information that had completely collapsed his world. He had no idea what would happen next, if he would be killed, or if the Pens had some purpose for him. He didn’t know what such a purpose would be though, for they already had the pencil. Jason had taken it from him and given it to the Grandmaster. Without it, Tullier felt a vulnerability he had not experienced in years.

Knowing that speculations of the uncertain future would drive him crazy, he tried not to think about anything, and instead studied his cell. It was about eight feet long, eight feet wide, and eight feet high–a perfect cube. The walls were white. Along one wall, there was a cot, and beside it, a toilet. Set in the opposite wall there was a door, or rather, a hairline crack that formed a large rectangle. There was no handle or window; Tullier wasn’t sure how it would open–if it would open. He then began to wonder where the light was coming from that enabled him to see all of this. After a few minutes of puzzling, he determined that it was the ceiling itself that was giving off a rather warm, yellowish glow. And that was it.

As anyone trapped in such a situation would do, Tullier tried to figure out an escape, but the room seemed completely secure. There was no getting out unless he had an accomplice on the outside. That thought instantly brought to mind his companions. Kirk, Stefania, Luger. No, not Luger. He was a traitor, and maybe Stefania, too. That left Kirk. Could he be trusted? Tullier had no choice but to hope that he was still loyal. Then his mind turned to Jason, and his thoughts were clouded with a black hate. The force of the emotion shocked him, terrified him, as if it were something else–something far more powerful–that was hating through him. However, it also strengthened him, steeled his mind. For a long time–he had no way of telling how long–Tullier sustained himself by feeding that hate, and imagining all the things he would do to Jason if ever he had the opportunity.

His thoughts were cut short as the door to his cell exploded with a flash of light. Jumping to his feet in surprise, Tullier looked towards the hole in the wall where the door had once stood. Kirk stood in the opening.

“What?” Tullier asked, after a moment of stunned silence. “What’s going on?”

“I’m rescuing you, that’s what,” Kirk replied, grinning at Tullier’s expression of surprise.

“How did you-?” Tullier broke of the question, not even knowing where to start.

“It’s a long story, but here’s what I can tell you for now. A group of Pencils followed us here, and are busting us out. They gave me a small bomb to open your door with.” Tullier’s blank expression showed that the answer was unsatisfactory to him. “You’ll get a better explanation later, don’t worry. For now, come on!”

Shrugging, Tullier stepped through the hole in the door and followed Kirk, who was jogging through the corridors, guided by some sort of map. After several minutes, they arrived at a familiar door. It was the entrance to the hall where Tullier’s parents had been executed. Involuntarily, Tullier began breathing heavily and he clenched and unclenched his sweaty hands.

Kirk pushed the door open, and Tullier’s mouth dropped open. The once-magnificent hall was in disarray. Bodies covered the floor, and the walls were dirtied with blood. A few skirmishes were still taking place in various corners.

“What… happened?” Tullier asked slowly.

Well, whaddya think?

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