Re: Island: Janus/Atticus
Janus shook his head and smiled. There wasn't anything wrong with Atticus' hand right now because they weren't really anywhere, not physically. It was all in the mind, and in his mind Atticus was unvarnished and unscratched. When they woke up he might feel differently about the scar, but in this case time didn't matter. If Janus was going to try some old fashioned witchcraft on a scar, whether he tried it tonight or ten years from now wouldn't matter. It was a decision for another day.
There it was. Janus' jaw tightened, but he answered. "I was in a POW camp, and I wanted out. Fucking fish in a barrel, really." His tone was contemptuous.
"It's like a war," Janus repeated. "There's a hierarchy for both. Except you don't win battles by killing each other, you win them with mortals. It's complicated. But you report up. Like an army..." he trailed off, his attention scanning the crowds, the shadows of souls that had been through this place. He'd done a good job with this trick; he'd have to remember it for future bargains. He could take a soul to a place that didn't exist anymore, like Babylon, things like that. All without fucking with the current world. Very valuable.
Janus settled back into his chair, tipping his head to look into his book. "No, never read it. Heard of it." Published too late for anything like Janus' schooling. He opened it, but over the next however-long, he spent more time watching Atticus than trying to make out the script and the twisting pictures.