[ It's well after midnight. The camera feed is a mess of black and grey, the Forge screen the only illumination. It turns Arthur's face sickly, throws unusual shadows across it. His voice is low. ]
Tell me a story.
[ There aren't many left familiar with the way he demands this in bored, petulant tones. ]
About someone you lost.
[ An
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Are you all right?
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[Will. Freya. Balinor. Even if Arthur didn't know the exact details of each loss at the time.]
I've almost lost a few people. Might make a better story. The ending's certainly happier.
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But... I wouldn't force anyone. I just wanted...
[ Someone to talk to? A reason for his heavy mood? ]
It's selfish of me, I suppose.
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Most of those I've lost I met here, actually.
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I take it back, then.
I never thanked you.
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Why do you want to hear about something like that? [ Also she has no stories you'd want to hear. Most of them were a direct, or indirect cause of her being there. What with either hunting as the bastet, or...well. ]
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...was it Zack?
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It was.
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