The Cursed Night
Murray remains silent for a moment almost as if he were reflecting:
"So Do you want me to tell you about the tragedy of the forgotten gods? What does a god do when all his followers are slaughtered, enslaved and their millenary culture lost forever?"
Your mental partner stays silent, probably an equivalent to staring at the ceiling. You can feel his emotions inside you, the stabbing loss of his life and his follower's clan during millennia; He is only one of the hundreds of broken cultures, tainted in less than a decade.
Murray finally whispers again: "Most simply fade away without people who empower and anchor the earth. Others like me are powerful enough to retreat to their sacred totem and wait as in a nightmare there."
You interrupt him excitedly: "Buy for five dollars of a gambling debt, a box of supposed Indian magic material on the steamer from Boston to California was a long sea voyage and that drunk almost lost his hat playing poker."
Your laughing laugh remembering how obsessed the guy was with your neckline could have hidden an elephant in your sleeve without those old men noticing.
Murray replies grumpily: "An invaluable Indian god and treasures ended up in the hands of old green and an easy saleswoman serpent oil. So low I have fallen."
To that, you reply angrily: "Your old times of honour and warrior codes have gone to hell. The only thing that matters is power and money. If you want revenge or whatever, I don't give a damn whenever I get the power of it.
"You are a jackal!" Murray expresses with all the hatred and contempt he can generate against you.
You are disdainful of her naive behaviour: "I am a survivor, just like you. The time of the knights in white armour has passed forever. Welcome to the Wild West! Eat or let yourself eat. There are no innocents or codes. You should already know."
"So Do you want me to tell you about the tragedy of the forgotten gods? What does a god do when all his followers are slaughtered, enslaved and their millenary culture lost forever?"
Your mental partner stays silent, probably an equivalent to staring at the ceiling. You can feel his emotions inside you, the stabbing loss of his life and his follower's clan during millennia; He is only one of the hundreds of broken cultures, tainted in less than a decade.
Murray finally whispers again: "Most simply fade away without people who empower and anchor the earth. Others like me are powerful enough to retreat to their sacred totem and wait as in a nightmare there."
You interrupt him excitedly: "Buy for five dollars of a gambling debt, a box of supposed Indian magic material on the steamer from Boston to California was a long sea voyage and that drunk almost lost his hat playing poker."
Your laughing laugh remembering how obsessed the guy was with your neckline could have hidden an elephant in your sleeve without those old men noticing.
Murray replies grumpily: "An invaluable Indian god and treasures ended up in the hands of old green and an easy saleswoman serpent oil. So low I have fallen."
To that, you reply angrily: "Your old times of honour and warrior codes have gone to hell. The only thing that matters is power and money. If you want revenge or whatever, I don't give a damn whenever I get the power of it.
"You are a jackal!" Murray expresses with all the hatred and contempt he can generate against you.
You are disdainful of her naive behaviour: "I am a survivor, just like you. The time of the knights in white armour has passed forever. Welcome to the Wild West! Eat or let yourself eat. There are no innocents or codes. You should already know."