New York City.
It is a cancer, an irreversible rot of corruption, decay, and hopelessness. It’s also a beacon of hope, industry, and progress. It is like the crescent moon, both bright and swallowed in the coldness of the dusk. It is my home. It is my
domain.“You’ve been drinking too much again.”
Marlene’s voice is stern. Annoyed. She signed up for crazy, but not for stupid.
I can’t help but think she’s right, but for me it all helps. Khonshu has damned me with bleak, indiscerptible visions that point toward what must be done. Downing a few bottles of vodka is peace of mind.
“Can’t be helped. Makes the visions clearer.”
“Better or
easier?”
“Yeah.”
A quick conciliation. Alcohol doesn’t make the visions easier to
understand, it makes them easier to
cope with. My brain is already twisted and broken, there’s nothing the alcohol will do that’s worse than cosmic magic or processing the tongue of a being that’s beyond human comprehension and wills.
“I will try.”
“To?”
“Go easier with it.”
She sighs before clasping the two bottles in front of her and tossing them in the bin next to her. “Marc… you’ve got to keep a clear head or you’ll make a mistake and–”
“Khonshu might not bail me out again. I know.”