AN: Of all the passages I'm not happy with this is the big one. Value III/IV When you live as I do, being brought into Metamor Keep makes you feel like a passage falcon. Or a passage lizard in my case. In many stories I have read and rejected, once the main character undergoes the big shock he is changed and there are no lasting impacts. Except that's not what happens in real life. After the big shock comes the little shocks, the constant reminders that your life has changed. The moments when you behave irrationally as you grapple for direction. ' Now how were they supposed to know you were nobility James?' I kept walking, mumbling curses under my breath. 'Even if they did know, why would they care that you were nobility from a different town?' I winged over back in doors. In doors of the Keep but where in the Keep was I? That is the question. "He should have known what I was by the way I carried myself." True because only nobles can carry themselves with that air of arrogance. I turned down a hallway, light coming from somewhere in it. Torches? Windows? Arrow slots? I can't quite remember. "I am not arrogant." I mumbled. "I am the victim here. The victim of a world that does not care enough about the poor crushed people like myself." Was I always a whiny eyas? I stopped in the hallway and looked around. "Wait...where am I?" The hall had narrow windows and carpeting. So at least it wasn't cold on my nightmare feet. Unfortunately that was all I could say about it. I'm not the only one who has this way about them, ending up in places you never want to be by accident. "No wait..." I glanced back. The corridor curved to the left and from there went to another place. Or was it a different place? I turned back around. "Okay if I go from here where will I be?" You might know that if you hadn't spent the last week holed up in your mews. I could go back or foreword but not both, so foreword. Metamor Keep is odd. That goes without saying. It is simultaneously stuffed to the point of rupture with living beings, yet filled with empty hallways. I ran my fingers along the cold stone as I walked along. The cold on my scales was a series of jolts, each shooting into my skull. For some reason I couldn't quite turn around. I wanted too, a voice in the back of my head told me to do so. Yet foreword I marched, indefatigable. My walking brought me too another bend. As I approached it another set of footsteps came up behind me. "Who are you?" I froze. ' The Watch is going to arrest me.' And I wouldn't meet her for another few days. "Haven't done anything." I mumbled. I turned around to face the speaker. "I've not done anything wrong. Uh...what are you?" The speaker was a lizard like I refused to admit I was becoming. He was primarily green, with circular scales covering his head. From his face was a U-shaped ridge that framed the top of his head and flowed above his eyes. He wore a white surplice and carried with him a small basket with a red cloth covering the top of it. He held it in the crook of his right arm. On the surplice was an emblem I didn't yet recognize in gold. What I most noticed about this man were the eyes. While my eyes had changed color (and changed field of movement), they hadn't changed shape. Not so with this strange reptile. His eyes were two bulbs both focusing on me. His irises were pricks of black surrounded on all sides by green and focused on me. He's a chameleon. He's boring into my soul. "I don't recognized you." He said. His eyes (moving independently of each other, scanned the few exposed scales I allowed. "You have yet to finish changing." "How do you know that?" I asked. "You can't prove I'm not done changing. I could be done!" "You still have hair." Point taken. I frowned and focused in on the basket he was carrying. "What's in there?" "I am bringing the Host for those who can't leave." The chameleon said. He smiled. "My name is Patrick." His voice was strong but carried a hiss with it when he spoke. Mine has since done the same, though less of a hiss. "Good for you." I said. "What's the Host?" "You're not a Follower are you?" "I'm not much of anything." His left eye turned to look at my skirt. "Hey! Both eyes up here! That is really creepy." "Is there a particular reason you are wearing a skirt?" Patrick asked. "It's a sarong." I snapped. "And I can wear whatever I damn well like." He returned both eyes to my face. His smile became pained. "What is it?" "How did you find this hallway?" Patrick asked me. "Do you know where you are? Or where you are about to be?" "I uh-" I laughed. "Uh funny thing. I was out walking and someone who hated my nobility insulted me so I stormed off. Except I then got lost and, well here I am. Where am I?" "You don't seem terribly noble to me." Patric said. "I am a noble!" "I don't see it." He said. "You ended up here by accident then? Interesting." Patric cocked his head. "I wonder what you're becoming. Reptile of course." "Yeah well not turning into one of you." I said. "No not a chameleon, the eyes are wrong." He smiled. "Your scales remind me of Tabitha's." "Who?" "It's someone I know. Someone you would enjoy meeting." Patrick said. "After you are fully changed of course." I wouldn't meet Tabitha for thirty-five days after today. "Actually I believe there is an entire group you would like to meet." "I don't think so." I said. Oh but there are people you should meet. If you would stop being such a sniveling idiot you might be happy. Even if you can't see it. Around the bend was what I couldn't see, a set of massive double doors. Inside was the Fellowship of the Egg, a place for those of feather and scale in need. And I was desperately in need. But I wouldn't enter those doors until May 1st, still a ways away. More on that later. "Are you okay?" The chameleon asked. "I think you are hurting." His tone was gentle, even the way he carried his body was relaxed. By comparison I remained stiff enough that you could balance objects on my shoulders. "What do you care?" I asked. "I'm fine anyway. This place isn't worth me getting upset over." "Tell yourself that." Patrick said. "I have time if you would like to talk. Do you believe you're okay?" "Of course." I said. "I'm just fine." I clenched my skirt in my hand. "Just fine. Why are you carrying the basket of...what is it?" "It's the Host. Not all worshipers may receive it in person. I have the honor of bringing it to them." His dark eyes lit up at this. "I'm blessed you see. Not everyone can serve Eli in such a simple but purposeful way." "The guy my father had on the payroll never talked like you." I said. "He was a Follower priest also." "On the pay roll?" "My father believed in having the right priest for the religion of whoever we were doing business with." I said. "He knew how to not offend someone because of their superstitions." "A trait you have not picked up." Patrick said, smile never leaving his face. "You're damn right! I don't care what they think." I said, completely oblivious. "We had money, we had a port, they should want to do business with us no matter what they believe." "From your accent...Sathmore. Where are you from?" "I am from Isenport." I said. "I am James of House Dorothea, servant of the Empire and future Lord of Isenport." How did I so easily say that word salad without tripping up? I wonder. "I've never been to Isenport." Patrick said, walking over to the side of the hall. I moved with him. "Is it nice?" "Way better than this place." I said. "The streets are wide and clean," When you're in the noble quarter, "The markets are filled with goods," many of them illegal, "We have more businesses than Metamor Keep," like brothels, casinos and drug dens, "You guys need to be more like Isenport." "Us guys? You don't say." He shifted the basket to his other arm. "It sounds like a wonderful place. Where do you live in it?" "In the manor house." I said. "We...well Isenport had a Keep, sort of. A little one but it's old and crumbling. My grandfather built the manor house for us to live in." I smiled. "Everything in there is warm, all the floors are carpeted. In the grand hall, that's where we meet people, it has this massive fireplace made of marble. "I...I loved it." I sighed. "I loved living there with my mother and...even my father." "You've mentioned your father." Patrick said. "What about your mother?" I swallowed. "She's....uh not around. My father remarried....why am I telling you this?" "We were just talking." Patrick said. "You seemed like you could use someone to talk to. I'm willing to listen." He smiled. "Are you liking Metamor Keep?" I don't know. I want to hate it so bad don't I? "Not at all." I whispered. "I-uh I don't like it." I stepped back from the chameleon. "I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here but my father left me here so I'm stuck." My hands shaking, I had to brace the wall not to fall over. "That's terrible." Patrick said. "I'm so sorry for you." He smiled. "It's not all bad being here though." "I'm turning into a lizard monster." I said, "I'm not seeing how it isn't crappy. Who would want to be like this? I mean, who could live like this? You're trapped in this city and if you leave you die. Everyone outside of it thinks you're dangerous monsters." "I've been called worse." Patrick said. "I haven't and I don't want to be." I said. "I'm supposed to be groomed to lead a city, to be important in the Sathmore Empire. Instead I'm stuck in a keep that wouldn't qualify as a stain on a map!" "I'm not sure what that means." Neither am I. When I get mad I tend to babble. "You don't see a positive I see though." "What?" I asked. "What could you possibly see?" "Now you don't have to lead a city." Patrick said. "Excuse me?" "As you've told me, you were groomed from birth to have one job." Patrick said. "Did you have much say so in this decision?" "Of course not." I said. "I obeyed my father like I was supposed to..." I dug my clawed feet into the carpeted floor, again to keep myself from falling over. "I was a good little boy. Ha!" "Now you can decide what you want to do." Patrick said. "You no longer have the weight of an entire city on your shoulders. You're free!" I frowned. "Free? In what way is this freedom?" "Did you want to lead a city?" Patrick asked. "Be completely honest now." I laughed at this. "Of course. Why uh, why..." I swallowed. "I don't know." "Well now you can find out." Patrick said. "You've got a new form and a new life. You can meet people you never would have. I've enjoyed speaking to you." The chameleon seemed sincere. I couldn't for the life of me understand why. "Well I haven't." I said. "Now go away. Get back to whatever it was you're doing." "If you would like to talk more you can- "I do not care!" I interrupted. Patrick ignored me and told me where to find him anyway. "Damn it why aren't you listening to me?" "Because you yell a lot without saying anything." He said. "If you want to speak to a friend, come and find me." I leaned against the wall. I don't want friends in this place. I want out of here. I looked down at the basket he had again. "What's in there?" "I already said; I am bringing the Host to the faithful. It's-" I made a grab for the basket. "Excuse me, what are you doing?" "I wanna see so let me see." I grabbed again, this time pulling the cloth off. "That's it?" "Do you know what you're looking at?" Patrick asked. Yes I did, little circular things sitting in a basket. "You're bringing people crackers?" I asked. "They're going to still be hungry, you better have a lot." The chameleon shook his head. "It's not that simple." He said. "I'd love to explain it to you though if you have the time. You can come to see me whenever you'd like." "I don't want to see you again!" I snapped. Eli forgive me for what I was about to do. "Get out of here and take your stupid fucking crackers." I again made a grab but this time to pull the basket free and dump them on the floor. "Take your- "You insolent brat!" Patrick screamed. He then froze. "I'm terribly sorry but what you did was wrong." "It's just fucking crackers." I snapped. "And I'm leaving." I left and made a point to stomp on one as I left. "I'm sorry also for what's hurting you." Patrick said as I walked off. I paused for a moment. ' He's forgiving. He means what he says.' I walked out. AN: Any thoughts always appreciated.
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