Passing the gates of Universalis, the Major had walked. He could have done anything during those two hours, even taken the aerobus to be ahead of Sihvan and waited for him on the steps of the museum. Instead he walked aimlessly through the gardens. With his stride, it wouldn’t take him long to reach the border of Helix even from deep within the gardens so the worry of wasting time didn’t catch up to him. It was the first time he was on his own in this part of the city. He looked outwards, stepping on the uneven terrain loathed by the Capitán. Unconsciously he was searching for fireflies, it was the only positive thing she had ever thought to mention about the Minnow Gardens. The Major didn’t find much luck along the path, the elusive phenomenon wouldn’t entertain his presence this time.
Before he could realize it, he had reached the limits of the city, where the grass started cracking beneath his feet and the landscape before him offered only dead and fallen trees. He had come to his senses early, barely reaching the first calcified tree, but how long could he have gone on for? The Major could feel his own core pulsing within his chest, he had never had the idea before of pushing it to its limits. He respected the concept of Volantis enough through osmosis from the Capitán to doubt his own capacity to survive for long outside of its embrace. To his right, he could discern the old train tracks leading out of Freeway, would she still be there? Behind him, to his left stood the Helix hill, the Major looked to the Sun and, confident in the time he had left, strode calmly towards the hill.
The Major crossed more people on his way once he got closer to Helix, the stares would always be similar enough but the Capitán’s absence had accentuated the speed at which people would step away or even flee from him. Even some he recognized, some who had at least crossed his path four or five times by pure happenstance, reacted as any other would, not taking any experience for granted. He paid them no mind. The district itself was warm and clean, connecting itself across the hill between joined courtyards which housed most of its activities. The streets were too narrow to allow for much frolicking and only welcomed some daylight by virtue of being arranged like a stairway up and down the hill. The Major had no business climbing it and was thankful for it, the narrowest of Helix’s streets demanded him to scrape his shoulders against the buildings in a way that inevitably left marks. Even if noone would ever think to complain, the Major would rather not revisit the places he’d unwillingly damaged.
To the sud of the district, he found the museum of Mythos easily. A large building, more wide than tall, built in the style of Byzance, curved brick pillars surrounding a chiseled exterior. The museum had stayed recognizable for him mostly thanks to its imposing engraved doors. The Sun had begun its descent but still lit the facade. Standing before the entrance, the Major stopped to inspect the details of the great doors. Sculpted in dark metal, hands into hands were joined into unrecognizable figures woven together in a seemingly infinite motion. Already the sight struck him, but these doors were part of one of the oldest building in the city, predating the Exodus, looking around the frame he couldn’t find a name. Brushing his hand against the material he could feel the weight of the metal, oxidized, cold. The Major wasn’t oblivious to the limits of his own analysis, he had come here for that reason. There was no text engraved alongside the sea of hands, in any language known to him or not. Could what the Capitán seek be all inscribed there, under layers the extent of his mind couldn’t grasp? His hand still on the metal, another unassuming door of average size opened to his right, letting Sihvan peek through.
“Oh there you are, right on time!”
Major looked between him and the massive unopened gates, the personal satisfaction of being on point with his schedule eluded him as he expected the more significant entrance to let him through.
“That one’s more for show,” sighed Sihvan, “It’s not locked or anything but I got tired of opening and closing it every day pretty fast. Even if you’re not thinking that far ahead, sore muscles are enough to sway your decisions.”
After a momentary silence, Sihvan finished, “Not like you would know, right?”
“Not like I would know,” the Major bowed, following Sihvan through the second door.
The Major hadn’t paid attention to it from the outside, mystified by the door, but the inside of the museum was pitch black, letting no trace of sunlight in. Every window was barred, not just shuttered, the lights that led them forward were dim, deliberately placed and wired to offer the least amount of visibility possible. The reasons escaped him but he didn’t question it for the moment, silently adjusting his lenses with a few blinks.
“No grand entrance, I apologize, the museum was rarely popular but I’m glad I get to show it off still.”
Was the museum itself an inheritance? The Old Man surely heavily influenced Sihvan’s life just from the virtue of his existence but the Major had barely seen it himself. Sihvan hadn’t welcomed him warmly when he had first started attending his classes, the Major would have found it truly odd if he did. It had taken a few weeks, enough probably to dispel any preconceptions the professor had about him. Any reasons Sihvan thought he had for being there inevitably faded away over time only to be left with the same earnest warmth he offered to everyone else that entered his amphitheater. After this, the specter of the Old Man dissipated, leaving only a teacher and his student.
“I’m trying to play it professionally but I’m really excited,” Sihvan continued, “When I came back I met another person that wanted a tour, some kind of coincidence, right? I don’t remember the last time I had two people here at the same time!”
The Major’s attention shifted, there would be another. Without noticing, he had been actively looking forward to a curated lesson that he could interject in whenever he wanted. Something truly different from the silence he had been accustomed to keeping in the amphitheater, unwilling to get in the way of the other attendees. Actualization. Introspection. The situation could still be salvaged. Whoever else decided to come to the Museum of Mythos at such a specific moment should definitely have a strong desire that would, if not equate, keep up with his own.
Sihvan opened a set of black glass doors that led back outside, in a silent cloister brushed by a calm wind. Every other window on the ground and the two floors above were barred as well, making for a truly secluded retreat. In the center of the cloister, a tall sculpture of marble reached to the first floor, mimicking a tree. Beneath that sculpture, the other visitor sat on the gravel, seemingly entranced in the work, arms wrapped around their legs. Sihvan hopped happily towards them, the Major a step behind.
“Sorry for the wait, I intercepted my student, we can begin!”
The human sitting looked behind, their facial expression turning to terror in real time. Even under the light of the Sun, the Major could see colors fading from their cheeks as they quickly rose to their feet, straightening their back probably more than what they were comfortable with. They still stood far shorter than him, exercising their neck meet his eyes. The Major recalled their face as one he recognized more than most, one he had spied from the corner of his eyes, all over the city. Their frightened gaze unable to look away from him superposed with the twenty-seven amount of times they accidentally crossed paths in the last decade. Everytime it had been fleeting, but he could remember. In the corner of a street, from the window of an aerobus, in the shadows of a storefront. A wanderer like Dove, that would inevitably show up again as he moved around the city following the Capitán’s directions. But the Major had never seen this fear reflected in their eyes, always shuffling between the crowd or ignoring him. The shivering horror he could see was fresh, the wanderer was stuck in front of him, separated from any obvious escape.
“I can! Come back another day,” the wanderer started frantically speaking while maintaining eye contact, as if the Major would close in on them if they blinked, “It’s your student after all, sir I would be so unbelievably devastated if you, I mean I, compromised the Cors in any way by just being in the way. I will come back later, when you have the time, alone, I promise!”
Sihvan squinted and looked up at the Major.
“You have quite the reputation, hm?”
The Major looked down at him, if exasperation could show on his face it would be overtly apparent. He whistled from his neck, startling the wanderer.
“I will be the one making my leave. Thank you for your time professor Sihvan.”
It was a severe miscalculation, they had no time to waste, she had made it abundantly clear. But going on like this would prove a hindrance. Letting the wanderer leave would undermine Sihvan’s motivation, even if he would try to hide it. He could come another day, he could keep attending classes, the Capitán could have more tasks for him. In this moment, the Major wanted nothing more than to leave this cloister behind. However, Sihvan didn’t seem convinced.
“Look around for a minute you two, go on,” Sihvan waved his hands over his head.
After looking at each other silently, the Major and the wanderer obliged.
“You hear anything?”
The Major could, he doubted the wanderer had the auditory faculties to pick up on the conversations that flowed down to them from the first steps of Helix. Yet it was still faint for him, and neither of them responded.
“You’re not in Last Kunlun right now, you’re not in the Hull,” Sihvan continued, as serious as the Major had seen him when fully absorbed in his classes, “You’re in my museum, the Museum of Mythos. Both of you came here with questions, a purpose or even just pure curiosity and I want you to bring only that when we go back inside. Everything else, you won’t need here, you leave it outside. And I mean everything, got it?”
The Major didn’t know what to do with his ongoing train of thought, he looked down at the wanderer who was visibly pondering, lips puckered and squinting. They still looked shaken, uncomfortable, but there was a resolve somewhere in their mind that was willing to deal with fear if it meant staying in the museum. Could he entertain that idea as well? He visualized the Capitán, looking from the other side of the black glass doors, silently waving at him and disappearing into the darkness, not waiting for him to respond.
“Well,” Sihvan asked, hands on his hips, “What do you think?”
The wanderer loudly inhaled and exhaled their response, their voice cracking halfway, “That can work.”
Sweat still pearled on their neck as the words came out of their mouth, they looked back at him, tentatively. The wanderer was still unsure after all, it had taken days for Sihvan to simply get used to him being there. The Major didn’t seek anything from this one, if the fear he instilled in them proved useful, they will not actively stand in his way.
“That can work,” the Major echoed.
“Perfect! Now that’s out of the way, the Major meets Raime and Raime meets the Major.”