Ghastly stiffened at the question. No, not so much the question as the fact that he couldn't pretend he hadn't heard it, didn't have anything else to focus on, and had no choice but to answer it.
To think about an answer.
"Yes." That part, at least, was easy. Ghastly let the word hang in the air for a moment, and then went to go stand next to Solomon by the wall. The door into the staff room Anton used was closed; Ghastly imagined either Erskine or Dexter had closed it when they realised the 'walk-and-blow-off-steam' was really turning into more of a 'sit-and-fume.'
"You never fought him during the war, did you?" Ghastly asked. "He reanimated the people he killed. Most people know that, but not many actually saw it. His reanimations weren't shuffling zombies. They were people. He reanimated my mother, and fighting her wasn't any different from the duels she used to challenge me to. Except that she was trying to kill me."
The memory was blurred by enough time that Ghastly could tell the story now without the slightest tremor in his voice. His anger at Vile for the murder had long since grown cold. It was easy to hate someone who was pure evil, and hatred sprouted far more easily and solidly from cold anger than from hot. Still, force of habit made the story easy to relate.
It was after that. The rest of Solomon's question. Ghastly sank down the wall to a sitting position on the floor and stared off into space.
"I don't," he finally decided. "I don't accept it, and I don't accept him. Most days, I can't even think about it. Seeing him almost change in the church like that..." Ghastly smiled grimly. "It left its mark. That's not ever going to go away."
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To think about an answer.
"Yes." That part, at least, was easy. Ghastly let the word hang in the air for a moment, and then went to go stand next to Solomon by the wall. The door into the staff room Anton used was closed; Ghastly imagined either Erskine or Dexter had closed it when they realised the 'walk-and-blow-off-steam' was really turning into more of a 'sit-and-fume.'
"You never fought him during the war, did you?" Ghastly asked. "He reanimated the people he killed. Most people know that, but not many actually saw it. His reanimations weren't shuffling zombies. They were people. He reanimated my mother, and fighting her wasn't any different from the duels she used to challenge me to. Except that she was trying to kill me."
The memory was blurred by enough time that Ghastly could tell the story now without the slightest tremor in his voice. His anger at Vile for the murder had long since grown cold. It was easy to hate someone who was pure evil, and hatred sprouted far more easily and solidly from cold anger than from hot. Still, force of habit made the story easy to relate.
It was after that. The rest of Solomon's question. Ghastly sank down the wall to a sitting position on the floor and stared off into space.
"I don't," he finally decided. "I don't accept it, and I don't accept him. Most days, I can't even think about it. Seeing him almost change in the church like that..." Ghastly smiled grimly. "It left its mark. That's not ever going to go away."