He’d finally returned to Kallisti to shower and change his clothes. The hot water soothed his muscles, which seemed to have been aching for days now, but any relief he felt was utterly transient. His head still felt like cotton clouds. The dull ache in his chest was also unchanged, but he refused to dwell. Tears pricked his eyes every time he did, burning until everything blurred, but under the deluge of cascading water they never fell. Carmen had caught him on the way out of the club, hair curling gold about his ears, skin still damp under the shirt he dragged on. Something about a new girl and a message she’d received from Nox. But as soon as she saw the tight lines of his face she frowned and let him go. Usually Raffe would have soothed her concern, but today he just wanted out. Emotion swamped him the moment her fingers relaxed away from his tense arm, threatening to drown him. Even her expression was too much to weather. As he burst out the door he heard the muffled call of his name from behind. Raffe didn’t stop.
Kallisti and the girls would find out eventually. But it didn’t have to be today. It didn’t have to be now.
His travels took him to an unfamiliar part of the city. Sweeping skyscrapers and grand, luxuriously fronted buildings towered like he’d stumbled into a city of the gods. Even the pavements were wider and cleaner. When Raffe reached his destination he paused, wondering if they’d throw him out before he’d fully passed the threshold. His jacket was shabby. An old wool scarf wound about the scar on his neck. He didn’t look anything like the few pedestrians passing on the street.
He ran his fingers over the edges of the appointment card Ekeziel had given him for a long while before he headed up the manicured walkways that led to the impressive glass-fronted building. It felt blindingly clean inside, all sinuous modern lines and highly polished white details. The company’s logo and slogan revolved everywhere like a glossy promise: PARAGON: Build a Better You. Raffe’s gut clenched for how out of place he felt. No wonder they called Ekeziel the Angel of the Undercity. How on earth did he have contacts like this?
There was a holobank offering tours of tech and services, but a living breathing person behind a pristine, chest-height desk. Raffe stuck his hands in his pockets, afraid to touch anything. On his way to the desk he passed an artificial hand sat in a glass case, sleek and futuristic. The plaque said something about Africa.
It only reminded him of Nox, and he blinked away, jaw hard.
The receptionist gave him an appraising but not entirely unkind look, like he might be lost. As soon as he gave his name, though, her demeanour changed. She smiled warmly. “Ah, Mr. Janssen, please come this way. Welcome to Paragon.”
[[I have updated the wiki to include some more info on the building, and will probably update further as the story progresses. Paragon's page can be found here]]
Kallisti and the girls would find out eventually. But it didn’t have to be today. It didn’t have to be now.
His travels took him to an unfamiliar part of the city. Sweeping skyscrapers and grand, luxuriously fronted buildings towered like he’d stumbled into a city of the gods. Even the pavements were wider and cleaner. When Raffe reached his destination he paused, wondering if they’d throw him out before he’d fully passed the threshold. His jacket was shabby. An old wool scarf wound about the scar on his neck. He didn’t look anything like the few pedestrians passing on the street.
He ran his fingers over the edges of the appointment card Ekeziel had given him for a long while before he headed up the manicured walkways that led to the impressive glass-fronted building. It felt blindingly clean inside, all sinuous modern lines and highly polished white details. The company’s logo and slogan revolved everywhere like a glossy promise: PARAGON: Build a Better You. Raffe’s gut clenched for how out of place he felt. No wonder they called Ekeziel the Angel of the Undercity. How on earth did he have contacts like this?
There was a holobank offering tours of tech and services, but a living breathing person behind a pristine, chest-height desk. Raffe stuck his hands in his pockets, afraid to touch anything. On his way to the desk he passed an artificial hand sat in a glass case, sleek and futuristic. The plaque said something about Africa.
It only reminded him of Nox, and he blinked away, jaw hard.
The receptionist gave him an appraising but not entirely unkind look, like he might be lost. As soon as he gave his name, though, her demeanour changed. She smiled warmly. “Ah, Mr. Janssen, please come this way. Welcome to Paragon.”
[[I have updated the wiki to include some more info on the building, and will probably update further as the story progresses. Paragon's page can be found here]]
![[Image: Raffe-banner--scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/Raffe-banner--scaled.jpg)