It took Ersine less than a nanosecond after Anton didn't confirm the joke to realise that there was no joke. Anton didn't joke about things like this, and he didn't exaggerate. Those were facts so solid in the Elemental's mind that he actually found the truth of the comments to be a lot more believable than the idea that Anton was joking.
Well. It explained a lot.
But at the same time, nothing. It just didn't make any sense.
He sank back down onto the couch, all the strength suddenly gone from his limbs, and tried to pick apart the words Anton spoke. It didn't work. Half of it was difficult enough without...
... ah. Literal Hell, then.
Why, Erskine wondered as a cold flush of anger threatened to overtake him, didn't Corrival tell me about this himself?
Oh, yes. Very funny. Anger the powerful Adept, and then send Erskine Ravel to try and fix the mistake.
What was he supposed to say? They'd all seen what Lord Vile did during the war. They'd all helped Ghastly back from the brink, when he strayed too far after the loss of his best friend and his mother in such quick succession. They'd spent months planning a suicide mission, before Vile vanished and left the point a very hazy and worrying kind of moot.
Most people assumed Vile had died. Consumed by his own power, or something ridiculous like that. Erskine always wanted to believe them, but he never really had.
Ghastly didn't know. Ghastly couldn't know, or Erskine would have heard about all this a lot sooner, because Skulduggery would be down for the count. Vile would be - no. Skulduggery. No.
"He's a murderer and a traitor, and an Archangel still saw fit to rescue him from Hell."
It was like the plot to some really corny romantic film. Romantic-action. Was there even a word for that? Romaction? Actionce? No, romaction sounded better. A romaction comedy that wouldn't be any fun, because there wouldn't be any more intimate scenes, because how would the logistics for that even work? They wouldn't. One partner was dead, and the other partner was... not. And never would be. Actually, technically, neither of them would ever be. An eternal relationship. Sort of a kind of necrophilia in its most pure form ever.
It was a good thing Erskine caught the note of despair in Anton's voice, however belatedly, because otherwise he suspected he'd have kept on going and watched his thoughts slowly getting sillier and sillier with each passing minute. Instead, he snapped to attention on the couch, all traces of his earlier humour gone.
no subject
Well. It explained a lot.
But at the same time, nothing. It just didn't make any sense.
He sank back down onto the couch, all the strength suddenly gone from his limbs, and tried to pick apart the words Anton spoke. It didn't work. Half of it was difficult enough without...
... ah. Literal Hell, then.
Why, Erskine wondered as a cold flush of anger threatened to overtake him, didn't Corrival tell me about this himself?
Oh, yes. Very funny. Anger the powerful Adept, and then send Erskine Ravel to try and fix the mistake.
What was he supposed to say? They'd all seen what Lord Vile did during the war. They'd all helped Ghastly back from the brink, when he strayed too far after the loss of his best friend and his mother in such quick succession. They'd spent months planning a suicide mission, before Vile vanished and left the point a very hazy and worrying kind of moot.
Most people assumed Vile had died. Consumed by his own power, or something ridiculous like that. Erskine always wanted to believe them, but he never really had.
Ghastly didn't know. Ghastly couldn't know, or Erskine would have heard about all this a lot sooner, because Skulduggery would be down for the count. Vile would be - no. Skulduggery. No.
"He's a murderer and a traitor, and an Archangel still saw fit to rescue him from Hell."
It was like the plot to some really corny romantic film. Romantic-action. Was there even a word for that? Romaction? Actionce? No, romaction sounded better. A romaction comedy that wouldn't be any fun, because there wouldn't be any more intimate scenes, because how would the logistics for that even work? They wouldn't. One partner was dead, and the other partner was... not. And never would be. Actually, technically, neither of them would ever be. An eternal relationship. Sort of a kind of necrophilia in its most pure form ever.
It was a good thing Erskine caught the note of despair in Anton's voice, however belatedly, because otherwise he suspected he'd have kept on going and watched his thoughts slowly getting sillier and sillier with each passing minute. Instead, he snapped to attention on the couch, all traces of his earlier humour gone.
"Anton. Snap out of it."