Fourteen. [It's how the feed starts, with the simple statement of the number, the view being of Ciel with a cup of tea and a scone that hasn't been touched yet.] While it may not seem old at all to some, fourteen is incredibly old to me personally. To think I've been in this city long enough to now see two birthdays pass is, if anything, almost
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[Whoa, someone around Serrure's age. This one, though, seemed older than his years, perhaps in the phrasing of his words or the cadence with which he spoke. Or the way he held his teacup]
How do you pay back time?
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I don't know. I suppose it'd depend on where the time is borrowed from. [If it's a demon, the price is your soul, after all.]
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[Those vague dreams, he doesn't borrow, never borrows. He deals, he twists, he binds, he breaks and in waking hours those dreams, those memories scatter and are banished to the darkest parts of Serrure's mind. Maybe a demon price is no different in the end.]
Demons don't always win at the end of those. At least in legends, and there has to be some bite of truth to that.
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No, I wouldn't think that would repay the debt. If the Core sees this as an even exchange, days, weeks or years more than we would have, then there must be something else it takes besides our splendid company.
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But I do have an interest in finding out.
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So long as it does not send me home, I'll be content.
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Why don't you want to go home?
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Doesn't it bother you, though? Not being able to leave this island for the rest of your life, if you do stay?
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It doesn't bother me, no.
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