Moure was still trying to process everything that had happened. One of the professors, albeit not one he actually had knew personally, had died in front of him, in an effort to protect them from those murderous Hunters. He'd been shot at, fought with Hunters, generally just tried to survive. He'd been accused of dating Roch by one of the little 'boos' at the House, which was quite possibly the most unfortunate thing a creature had ever accused him of during a battle. He had met an ancient legend, someone who had enveloped him and his friends in comfort, had made them feel like he'd belonged somewhere for once.
And then there was Edel.
The Runner had discovered, during that battle in the back-yard of the Haunted House, how much he actually cared for Edel. Getting to talk with her in the front-yard had been one of the high-lights of that entire ordeal. Silently, Moure moved a hand to his throat, feeling Edel's pendant around it. He'd forgotten to return it to her while they had been resting, and had not yet had a chance to see her again since then. Gibralter, feeling the slight movement of his owner, looked to Moure's face, pressing one claw-paw against the arm he was under, his large minipet eyes staring imploringly at Moure. The boogeymon was concerned for the patchwork, and it showed. They had gone through so much together, Gib didn't know what he would ever do if something really happened to Moure. Moure opened his eyes again to look down at the boogeymon beside him. He gave the fur-cloaked reptilian minipet a gentle stroke on the head. "It's okay, Gibralter. I'm okay. I promise."
The boogeymon stared at him for a moment longer, as if trying to detect if the patchwork was lying. Finally, he turned and simply pushed his face against Moure's shoulder lovingly, accepting the words for what they were. Straye simply blinked at Moure until the Runner pet him too on the head. Content, the pup rolled off of Moure and took a seat on the other side of the bed, tail wagging at Moure.
Gibralter took another moment to nuzzle the patchwork's shoulder, but then paused, ears tipping to react to being alerted to something. His head swung around, and Gibralter jumped from the bed, quickly lumbering over to the door. The boogeymon jumped to the desk's chair, then the desk, and finally to the door. Gib gripped the handle just enough to open the door slightly, then darted out. Moure watched all this with a curious eye on his boogeymon. Straye's ears perked up too, and then looked to the door.
Moments later, Gibralter was passing back through the doorway, taking a moment to shove it closed. His jaw was closed around something, an envelope of some kind, and Moure sat up on his bed, his eyes wider than they'd been before. A sharp anxiety and wary curiousity grew within him.
No one ever sent Moure letters.
If the school needed to contact him, they wouldn't have written him, would they? And no one from his past really knew his contact information. Well, no one but--
"Cphira." He said, his eyes widening in horror. Gibralter glanced down at the letter, as if to see if he recognized the sender, and gave Moure a sad look. The boogeymon quietly deposited the letter in Moure's hand, nuzzling the stitched up limb as he did so, as if that would give Moure additional support to face whatever was coming next. The front of the letter was written in stylish calligraphy, addressing one "Moure 'Koure'", from an estate Moure could never forget.
Moure quietly opened it the letter with a pointless gulp.
- - - - - - - -
Dearest Moure~
How've you been doing at school? You never write to me...One might even think that you're ignoring me. Of course, I know that my dear little Runner would never do such a thing. It's not of your nature to do such a thing. I would know after all, I did make you.
Anyway, have you failed yet? Or did you fail and you just can't stand to tell me? You know I won't think any worse of you if you do. And I can't let you forget our deal, little Runner~
I do so miss having you around the estate. No one can do the chores around the house like you do. It takes so long to get a simply Errand completed around here with you gone. Oh, and I've had to promote another of my boys to the Head Lab Assistant for now, until you return home.
Speaking of home, dear Rifter lost an arm recently due to an unfortunate incident involving the incinerator. Poor thing got his seam stuck to the grate, and truth be told, I didn't get to him in time. Ah, such a waste of a nice Part. Anyway, he wishes you good luck at school. We all know you need it.
Ah yes, the real reason I was writing was to tell you that I've heard the most horrible rumors concerning your school. Such a pity you hadn't picked a better place to attend, hmm? In any case, I think it might be better if you came home for some time. You know, just until things settle down, or until the faculty is replaced. If those dreadful teachers did anything to hurt you, anything at all, I will not hesitate in coming to your school and removing you myself.
After all, you're my property, and I will not stand for having anyone but me break my things.
~Doctor Roxanna Cphira.
- - - - - - - -
Moure set the letter down on his desk, his stitched up hand shaking. From rage due to Cphira's harshness about Professor Red, or fear that Cphira might actually carry out her threats, Moure couldn't tell. He knew that cloying way she wrote, trying to drip sweetness in her words, as if that would disguise the poison within it. The entire letter was one huge venomous smile, kind in appearance but deathly in reality. Her true self had come forth at the end of the letter, when she'd spoken of the field-trip. The bit about Rifter...Moure didn't even want to imagine what the other patchworks were going through back at home. Rifter had always been the one who looked out for Moure the most, and Cphira was obviously pressing the older patchwork harder than before as a form of revenge for Moure leaving them. Moure was nearly positive that the so-called 'incident' that had burned off Rifter's arm had been anything but an accident.
Gibralter nuzzled Moure on the knee, his gaze asking Moure what had happened. The Runner looked from the letter to his pet, picking the boogeymon up as he did so and giving him a stroke on the head. Gibralter knew Cphira nearly as well as Moure did, and feared her just as much. Moure nodded at the letter shakily, then said quietly to the boogeymon, "Cphira wants us to come back."
He shook his head as the boogeymon's eyes widened and a whimper came from the minipet. Considering Gibralter's relationship with Cphira, no one could blame the boogeymon for the sound. Moure shook his head again though, his gaze taking on a more firm, determined look.
"Don't worry. We're not going anywhere. We're not going back there."
After all, Moure knew that if he went 'home' now, he would never get out of there again.
