Contrive all reconciliation to suffer one amidst another’s impossibilities: By which derangement shall this elapse? Two strangers stand opposite a frame laid due of notion to grant mutual overture, when by the dwelling of either force or substance in matter commences upon self-sacrifices necessitated, accumulated, propounding withal, however forcibly wrought and never to cease answering reconciliations prior — suppose one of these figures assumes a query and a request for the other to follow upon a given object by a martyr’s great dedication in eve, that per course of charm a sympathizer acts both the flare and fire, another object is derived, two more are now hurled, replicated again, conceits in the aftermath are never truncated, warning that tyranny, tyranny, tyranny shall dare be bolstered with such an object nebulous and the latter’s response endeavours this dichotomy? Here may you find our paradox! Tangles of variables and more and more to administer a decision by passage: come herald for previous experiences with assault; faith once embedded, now stolen, trodden towards a mire; then a greater cruelty than these in the rejection of all rights; and for us, should you speak again, a furtive hypocritical brace of errors lies where gathered heaps of tangles traipse forward by the hand coaxing boundless unto chambers deep below. Whither she demarcate remembrance of voice amidst supplicants nary yearned for company, lest a scream chimes its weeping far across dusks long faltered by the medium unto collection she knew well to thread with paranoia, whispering, would that her companionship bless a threnody for greater violence — how is it, then, a decision could ever amount? A voluptuary of belief would bloody the heads of those she deems to sacrifice along the continuous ransacking of her own character, and yet—! This acknowledgement remains a precious constant! What a lovely embellishment we may outline; we have understood it thus from the moment of first interaction: the resplendence in crafting a whole to be kept embraced, how terribly life-giving the result, without concern, not for rank, even spiteful, however the agony marred and our belligerents would molest more by right, that dread be held in raiment so wilfully torn upon the distaff high on weaving a strung brilliance she might perhaps surge wondrous to discover herself hurtling down with strength of throat; care for your blood, madam, ere operants ignited as you observe hereafter the heap accrued. Paradoxes piled atop paradoxes abound in cogitation, sundered here, thrown thence to the waysides, so ruminous as to each tremble together in a frail mass of recklessness — thus is the cycle revolved with blisters and sutured in anew. How fiercely they find us, oh, how desperately they grasp! The cacophony beckons — to renounce hereafter would this conflict be lost of all anchors, reference, malleability per flesh soever stroked and licked by casts of wrought delicate fingers; an additional factor contends alongside: the individual compelled in her entirety to extremes, that lust might steal contempt, and they would ravish one another. Should these bulwarks, kept so dear to us, proffer our indulgence, yet are altogether relinquished, what of the beauty to be sourced from those dream-deep planes? Idolize a heart and its ordnance and a droplet’s surging ecstasy to make crude our relations, diffuse even a name in memory, smother the faces away, so comes the tally of man’s provenance to hold nearer and nearer beside a laughing gouged womb, none ablated by the value of cornerstone and mete alike— there remains only to shield close these ideals from those of assailants. No, no: Be rid of reconciliation, moreover, for our times crown the clash of flesh-flaying and gunfire. Forsake yourself now upon losses through unto any lack of meaning you must hold lest you collapse again as a newfound wailer whom all would abuse at a truant soldier’s instant; forget every fear in lieu of much the restless, forget hope! Here is a new world unbeknownst to you, my good madam! How many of these universes have we come across in our young lives? To what ends will we fight one another and save one another? A statistic of strangers lies before each one of us; a decrepit lot we shall be to drown oneself, to harm skin and flesh, or ornament our hands in embrace abound so strangely where might another grandeur sew it thus; here is brought the waxing of our apparatus. How wonderful everything is! The warmth beats and aches anxious to peer across the fields and imagine a wisp might run endlessly across its sunburned breadth, twirling through those other wild marching spectres; all of them, all of them caught in a glimpse upon their own trails at innumerable encounters along the theatre. Samantha was she called. There had she woken: Samantha Halley, a young woman of twenty, standing now across another young woman who had met with her minutes ago.
	Samantha had found herself that evening in a large room lit only by a fireplace and moonlight, where few furnishings were visible from the rest of the dark. She had never before seen this room nor its surroundings outside the windows, though what puzzlement there had prior fallen was since displaced by the unexpected arrival of the other woman, who had not provided her name. She had failed to provide much at all, underlining instead each of her attempts to deliver some curt and detached reassurance to Samantha for her present circumstances. The woman seemed an assistant of sorts for the building they were in — naught else could be gleaned about her status, but what was immediately peculiar about her was not her disposition, but her black attire in tandem: she was draped by an intricately trimmed veil circling her forehead and obscuring her face entirely, curving along her temples while similar material fashioned the rest of her long, impressive dress, covering up to her wrist. Her hands were gloved, while her neck was also covered in cloth. The figure could have struck as off-putting, yet even in stance before Samantha nonetheless assuaged her own confusion soever by proxy of familiarity, however vague or fleeting an assistant in mere ostensible imagery, for what had been taking place reasoned further and further into immense hysteria, that she could not recall the very wrack of her scrutiny issued whence, neither still any word taken astride this notice, not for a trice, and by an inward lurch in the swells of her breath grasped unto no desire to listen to her any further, would refuse her own slightest thought of movement or separation or escape for the uncontrollable shudders that had seized her limbs; cautioned against the woman herself, who was withheld from the hearth and facing back unmoved behind that dark veil as her speech had hooked and torn and plucked upon the throbs of Samantha’s head all the course plummeting to the rapid strains of her own throat: The woman had been speaking all this time in another language, yet Samantha was also able to hear her words in English. 
	“Why are you facing me in that shitty way—? Why’s she talking like this; is that coming from her? What’s going on—? This— No, I don’t want— It’s so fucking awful, is she—? Is she here to hurt me— I can’t—! Who is she, who is she?” Samantha thought. The woman’s voice was overlaid upon itself in two separate dialogues: that of which had been spoken in English contained nary a difference from normal speech, yet by the same breath, to no understanding on Samantha’s own behalf, had also been conversing with vocalizations that echoed in her ears to some inexplicable range, from some endless empty space reaching across with clarity that would not abate in her very thoughts, and her head began to throb; all intonation rang out with clicks; what words the woman had to express coursed a sharp lancing sensation along her neck, undulated downwards, so caused her to tense as they sunk into a mess of shivers; there pained a heavy coil within her lungs against the writhing of her back as every lilt crooned through in trails. Samantha’s mouth strained upon broken sentences and she was not able to contour a proper response, for she found it difficult to even whisper. The voices had droned without reprieve, had beseeched her frightfully, repeated in drunkenness, was erst bestowed for each dissolute strike exhausting her flesh, then of a melody to beckon her reply back in peals that were subtle, plucks now quiet, and again, again, again per transition and to no true measure recklessly swept all notion of focus from her regard, that she was subject once more to its sounds and collisions and taunts as the cold shrieks rang out heavier upon her chest, twicefold her limbs; her own speech enshrouded and she was null of thought — the whispers twined horribly to embed themselves inside all her fragile skin — she had turned rigid throughout beset by an impulse to cry, “What’s she really saying, what does she want?” Samantha had already stepped away. “She hasn’t even promised me anything— Just lies, lies, lies that everything’s alright! Why’s this happened— Where are my wounds— Do I have any—? I’m kidnapped, I’ve been kidnapped—!” Each punctuated flair of the woman’s words she had dreaded to endure, “—what the fuck are you doing there just standing—? You’re speaking like you’re helping me—” She was pacing the area she had been confined within, anxious to keep the woman in sight as she crossed her arms— “—come off it, you slut — no, you’ve got to wait, you’ve got to, you know she’ll hurt me; they all will, again and again, whoever they are—” But Samantha was unable to do so, and she glanced about to reinforce for her own sake a single thought, that she cradled and caressed herself, and what focus she might have grasped was brandished high over by the blares of her reason, so in a flicker, caused her to stumble in haste: “—I need to talk— I have to talk and ask her. Shout, just shout anything, go on, go on—!” — there perceived her crashing steps could not drown out the room — “—I have to run—! Where the hell am I—?” —And the woman spoke on, and the harmonies continued—
	“Samantha, Samantha,” she was called with faint tempestuous breath, “you’re standing there with such beauty, Samantha. You have yet to act a bright, glowing screen — put down for us what you know, darling, trace again your passions; we would much like to see…” May exigency importune tempest and its mistress for courteous glance however intimated the fetters; in these matters ought not an audience bow a moment! Samantha would refrain now from that sanctified curtsey, of fright had her exposure been so convoked with nothing to her own arms after waking in a stranger’s room — but as came contrary her realization, prior still had the very divergence of this choice constructed a listener of such a rancid listener's filthy dregs as to deprive the benefices more damned in her own mania, propriety willing she covets greater in sentiment, places function she would otherwise simulate a courtship by solitary arabesque; for millions shall never be adventitious in facet where minutiae is distinguished only by display, even lesser upon knowledge prospering for these glories towards the displacement of writ, plundering conviction, falsehood withal, by measure lost of form that neither reason nor impulse retrieves whence any sole make. There had been cut a flaring of noise for her accord and not of music; where relief thence effused soon deteriorated, bitterly, and by this dissonance was Samantha beckoned to tear away as a newfound supplicant marked and merry however heeded adherents to those manifestations, naught in mind as regarded her reluctance while she sought these each tempered: all erst fleeting, spurned during conflict, fundaments nonetheless invigorated by the wielding of those cries unto a bewildered aimless quest — or perhaps this was never at all a quest and she was left to wander — no, it is fear, fear: Fearful questions to stifle a vicissitude and its ambiguity, now distinct at this very nanosecond, and a question here added that the woman might possibly assist in her concerns — “But never!” she told herself again, should repetition constitute faith: the woman would not help in however the fearful slightest, for what else could she be if not harm; and that harm would again befall Samantha herself, beyond any further degrees a superficiality is observed, now to be settled firm by belief as deigns assiduous imperative wield obfuscation for a bulwark, intending through and through to its multitudes until extant wont leaks the void of phantoms dragging her down the rot: all the rest of that dissonance! It shall empty her, tears bereft, for there would be no moment to cry and regress, naught more to capitulate; naught even to take her hands aloft in beatings of her own; but lest a maiden be sold as the diametric, upon all claims exhumed of husk components, what left is there to understand and take hold but the crux itself? Here are ruins in all manner of delirium, monolith townships stood high over the fields and the cities, disposed to tapestries, screens alight in desolate flickers projecting thricefold upon each frame and blinding conceit whither one’s rambling shall pierce the first of many endeavours: for the administration of a great notoriety, a donnybrook more, willed massacres, by initial speculative glance what care to proffer grand threads in the same method the woman before her composes, that they be reciprocated true to complement, yet equally so shall artifice be enclosed once for fraudulence and again for sincerity, grander, grander still for the bloodshot whereof an affidavit may unknown cunts proctor and dispatch and impugn and lie and tongue their comprisals — taken by a mass of filth unto curiosities made for untrusted curiosities and screaming terrors hither through crowds, for vandalism by one unrestrained; all the vileness an amalgamation would sublimate and a disgusting, ugly woman may be beaten on wondrous account, unceasingly, engulfing over and over per entirety of pleasure until contracted in whole to yet another beleaguered anonymous for establishment by proofs theoretical, proofs curated — all the same, proofs entrenched — and should perfidy grasp hold of another human, seek now to cast both far into that ever-aggrandizing disconnect before calculating a suicide: Therein lies the axiom of logic! There, there: Yes, she now understood herself poised, and her own two legs unwounded; terribly awake, terribly alive; able to speak back to that fucking woman, the raucous whore, saviour as she is, what shades of compassion upheld in a cold dance and erraticism to display, and all the while were these sensations true — perhaps it is cold because she is a whore; perhaps it is dark because she is a marionette, and she has been emptied and frantic; perhaps it is neither — the angel might take to Samantha’s arms as a companion, for that is the sensible path amidst horrors, and they would both conclude and continue upon a jaunt — this girl could simply be a girl — nonetheless one she may discard. There began the altercation: Her first question came as a demand, almost a screech: “What the fuck’s happening? What are you doing to me?” Samantha faced her with contempt. She refrained from asking if she was going to be hurt.  
	“This— Madam Halley, we’re helping you recover, I’m sorry—!”
	“No! No— What the fuck do I need to still need to be here for, what—? You— The lot of you— Taken me somewhere! Where are we, then? Tell me!”
	There passed a short lull before the woman’s response. “Along— We’re along the west of the river Rhône, madam, in France. I’m asking you not to worry, please, we’re— We’re three kilometres—”
	“Who the hell are you? Who are you with? Fucking nonsense—! Why did you take me?” She would not prevent herself from lashing out and wished the ferocity in her voice would cause the woman the same pain she was enduring. “Your voices—!”
	“M— Madam—”
	“And I can’t remember a fucking incident, stop— Fucking— Lying—! I’ve got no wounds or anything; let me out, just fucking let me out already— Who’s keeping me here?” Samantha gestured to the window and stepped forward.
	“You’ll have to understand me: your poisoning— You and everyone else have been poisoned; your case is mild— It is! Please, the others are still recovering! You’ll be able to leave here when… when things become safe… Please— You’ll have to believe us — the poison affects your hearing, so the voices— So much has happened, you lost consciousness, I’m promising!” she exclaimed desperately.
	“What could you possibly—!”
	“You were lying unconscious on the street because of the gas, that’s—! The doctor in this tower told us…” she spoke with a weakening tone, and Samantha fell silent, flagging the other as much an aberration as she was loathsome, horribly loathsome; and yet noticing this change in demeanour, beckoned to herself with frenzy and suddenly thought this woman’s desperate new countenance wondrous as well for her to indulge and suspend on high, caring little for what a portent her disposition seemed there despairing and strung against the darkest confines of the room. She no longer looked so rotten, naught but to lance Samantha’s own marshalled curiosity in throes and throes and throes that in this quandary did she wish to scream out her recollected memory even louder towards the girl. “Oh, a field, a field! Fuck— It’s all a damned field; to fight, to dance — fields and dregs—!”
	She took out her phone, as she had done multiple times throughout the night, thinking at that moment there somehow lay a sudden possibility to contact anyone she knew, but soon discovered it had already died prior. “No, when did— God, my— My phone, shit!” There was another flare of delirium and another swell of disgust for the girl across from her, but these intermingled hastily with a twitching of new insults she could not decide thence to yell aloud, more to scraping her palms and fingers with bloodthirsty nails, would have rummaged her very pace along the length of room entire — her own account had naught but a consistent wander and flitted forwards and backwards within all ranks of debasement; where she perceived that girl had been kept a figurehead hoisted in all her fragility higher than either tongue or prospect could reach; but her own ferocity had taken hold of a wider grandiose space, thrashed with frantic breath, scalded of tears, and thus in the rot of fatigue was reminded never to relent upon her own cautious theft; thither shall she be replenished in a charm to thrash anew — yet now: one ought not to bow, no! Now would she seek to foster some beloved poise of wherewithal, one of mark, come unto fettle, that ever lovely tarnish to make malice of an entity. “It’s all nonsense, it all should have been thrown off… I’m still safe, I’m not unhurt— Unhurt— Oh, to hell with it—! I’ll take it all to embrace! And steal it all away — I’m a fiend, fucking— Just all feral—! But this theft is mine, and it has to be a charming theft, not to wound any one of us with; a theft I ought to take pride in, and not to bury! Am I to disregard my efforts? How about the gir— How about her? I won’t denigrate myself.” 
	“I fell asleep! I know— It was just after I left my room— I— Shit—! And how could I trust all this, then, how can I get rid of your voices? You’re lying again! You’re fucking mad, I’ll leave this room— I need to call someone—”
	“If— I’ll explain everything! Here, I’ll—” The woman pulled out from the cloth of her dress a document and so approached Samantha in a singular motion, who braced herself with alarm. They both paused, but with a great reluctant heft, Samantha soon grabbed the paper she held. It was a medical report, proving, indeed, she herself was there on verified terms due to gas poisoning, with diagnoses duly facilitated by a physician of the name Corsair. All specific details of her admission as an inpatient were transcribed as the woman had appealed, and the records of her own body truly were accurate.
	“What the fuck—! Well, why— Why on earth am I in here instead of a hospital? Are you trying to fucking scam me, get me into some awful shit, then?” she finally asked upon skimming the report a second time, but though she waved it in full view with a brusque flourish, crumpling it slightly and almost pointing to it with her other hand, a separate interest had slowly been supplanting all her current thought.
	“He outlined— This is for your logistics, Madam Halley. We haven’t harmed anybody; those— Those worse off than you have been brought somewhere else for medicine…”
	There was nothing in her statement she would believe, this Samantha resolved without hesitation, yet her own contempt had by now been easing to some manner of rectitude, and upon a lurch of pity, she began to observe the woman’s body in whole, almost scoffing as she did so, wishing to run across so violently that she might have clutched her long dark dress and torn it asunder, thrown it down, for the frailty of its make, stomping and retching on it afterwards with naught but a whim at the horrid sight of her — what reason she allotted for the woman in black thus trembled — every throb of her words and mouth and lips was hereby scathed upon Samantha’s memory; a proclamation of her fancy latching hither, that her nails would away from her own pleasures to abrade the skin of the woman’s neck: wherefore she would choke her with the veil she had worn, not to silence, but to admonish, for so brazenly had she uttered her lies. “But why,” Samantha thought, “does she have to tell me all this while she’s hiding so obstinately? She holds her weaknesses up around too fucking much, far too much!”
	“That you would use them, we have facilities. Please, please, we’re not hurting you, we won’t hurt anyone — some of them have already woken up. They’re out in the halls, I’m swearing on it.” Both her voices had begun to quaver, but she continued. “We gathered your belongings, too. And— And for your request for messaging people outside: I was told to ask who we must speak with to verify your safety. I… beseech you. Madam Halley…” Though these finals words retained a stumble of a tremor, the woman’s decorum plodded to strength, and she soon propped herself into a regard similar to that with which she had first entered, only now expectant for another remark from Samantha’s behalf, the latter herself had noticed, who then wished to exhibit her disgust with all she would charge for her own bearing. The two women stood wordlessly in the first true respite of their conversation. Samantha was first to cut this impasse.
	“So how on— What the hell happened, even?” She paused briefly before continuing. “What, did all of you come across us in the streets after this… fucking— Monoxide thing? Are you sure?” Every lull in speech grew slightly longer between her questions. “This paper — all it says is I’ve injured my head, so what the hell, is that why I took ages to wake up? Has my hearing been done in, then? I don’t even feel any pain, just when was this?”
	“We did find you, madam, only two days ago. One of our own — Maria is her name — she was the one who found you. We’re urging all of you to rest a bit more, if just for tonight. The symptoms will disappear only after a fair amount of time, so I’m pleading.”
	“But I can’t remember taking a trip to— What is it, France? I just don’t— Damn it—” Samantha attended this story with fashioned speech and prodded along with an affected cadence, where all notion remained to equal the same furtiveness the woman had already accrued — but now twice over had a thrill of roguery been enkindled in this new exchange, and she could scarce contain the haste in her voice.
	The woman stared at her. “It’s— Now all the same for your care, madam… The trauma to your head— Please, does anything hurt now? This institution will treat you well, we’ll help you in any way. Would that you may place faith in us.” She exhaled heavily. “Are there any concerns you have?”
	“Well, why the hell are you asking that? What, is there anything I should be worried about?”
	“I—! There’s nothing, no! There’s no reason for any of your worry, if that’s the case.” She gave a pause. “… We’re requiring you visit Doctor Corsair after I leave— After I depart.” 
	Samantha glared, unwilling to falter. “… And the fees, the medical fees, what about them? This isn’t a proper hospital or a clinic or something, yeah? It’s all independent— What, do I need to pay, still?”
	“No fees exist, madam, there’s nothing to pay. The emergency was an accident. So were its consequences. The representative of this land — ah, this institution — is supporting everyone in this crisis.”
	“…”
	“… You’re in our care, truly. We have medicine, stations for communication, food— Please, you’ll have to trust me.”
	“Gah, this is so stupid—” Samantha restrained her words. She looked down again at her phone and tapped on it with a fervent poke, frowning and craning her head down well enough that she considered the woman to have watched her thus with all commitment. “Well then, fine. Then could you at least tell me where you lot keep your phones? Or your chargers? Tell me where the other patients are, too. Or that doctor of yours. I’d like to ask them about all of this first — just something on that end. I need to know more, I just— All of this— It’s fucking confusing,” and pushing her hair away, she glanced up back at the woman, who had flinched somewhat in surprise. Samantha exhaled with a short silent laugh.
	“Yes— The other patients— But, would— Would you allow— Would you want our help contacting—”
	“No, no, there’s no need, I’ll be able to do it on my own,” Samantha took some steps forward. 
	“… Of course, madam. Could you then come this way—?” With a faint gesture of her palm, they both started for the door; Samantha almost bounding along, eager at once to leave. There was nothing more for her here, and as she came to affix her very movements with the swift jaunt of each vague idea, query, all imposition that crowned upon the principalities of her vigour, even spun around peremptory to observe the woman in black, and she angled her arms to urge her aside as well as she could implore with the subtleties of each obvious motion; though it lent only to another foremost roil, and in this discernment did she perceive an impulse to take her away upon the designs of her own night. When they neared one another, Samantha was caught unaware of how truly diminutive she had been all this while, in both stature and composition. Her physique was unimpressive, and her dress was rather obviously discordant with how she carried herself, conducted as she was with reserved airs; it was a combination of due professionalism accoutred with some personal shyness — more than likely was it that accuracy lay greater per contra, Samantha thought. The woman moved to give her passage, but having Samantha cross her way, started once more in another surprised jolt, tripping slightly, and hurried her walking pace, fussing with small awkward movements in anticipation of the door, perhaps unknowing if its lock was still fixed in place, or if there was even a handle remaining at all. Heading towards the entrance, they had both not walked five more paces before she turned abruptly, with a clumsy swivel, almost bumping Samantha. 
	“Oh—! I apologize—!” She had stepped forward to appease some anticipation of aid, then stepped back with equal haste. Samantha stared again at her, and now with an updated view of the woman’s constitution, thought her even more amusing than had she first realized — wondering thence how she would perhaps react should she reach up high and yank her veil directly downwards. As she grew slightly more curious, the woman faced her and asked a question of her own, “Should now I ask… If— If you’d like, Madam Halley,” she turned her head to the door as she continued, “we’re holding a dinner— A banquet some days later—”
	“What the fuck, are you for real?”
	She took a sudden firm step towards Samantha. “Oh, yes— The institution’s planned for it. It’s for when you and the others were recovered well enough. It’s something for all our morale, and to be sure you’re all properly healed. It’ll also help while we resolve things for discharging everyone later on. Even Corsair agrees it’s going to be helpful. Would you— I’m sorry, earlier I should’ve asked you: Would you like to join us? I’m requesting you only to keep yourself to assigned rooms before the date.”
	With every remark given about the institution, the named doctor, and a decidedly matching inquisitiveness for this gathering, Samantha’s intrigue burgeoned upon each brisk heft she and the woman took to reach the door — at once, she felt hungry, replying no sooner than they had approached it, “Are you serious, then? Yeah, I guess I could pop by, why not? At least for a little bit. Just not until I can get a hold of someone in my contacts.” Stepping out into a rather dim corridor, she pondered about her. “So, for phoning, where’s the area? I’ll go there first.”
	The woman fumbled through her dress once more, taking out a slightly thick set of papers. She gave it to Samantha. “Yes, of course— A map— The design for this establishment is laid out here, madam. I’m sorry, again. I can’t join you for much time because of our schedules. I’m hoping this will suffice you. If you have any later questions, ask Maria, my superior, when she’s available. A black dress she would wear, just like me. When you’re sure she’s nearby, call out to her.”
	“Well, it’s— That’s fine, I guess. Thanks— Thank you.” Samantha took it from her, and guessing it most prudent to ask at that moment, continued, “And where’s everyone else—? No, actually: Whatever in the world’s your name?”
	She stood unspeaking for a longer time than Samantha had expected, enough to stifle what choice measure of familiarity she had procured with her, as drifting that measure had been. Though wrought aface, she stared off elsewhere — it seemed to Samantha apparent even with her veil. 
	“My— My name is Evdokija, madam. There are others—”
	“And what are you— What do you do here?”
	“… I’m under service to this establishment. You’ll encounter the others if you walk along the path to our communication areas. Of that, I’m sure. But I’ll ask again now,” she set her entire figure firm, directly towards Samantha, “that you don’t behave unnecessarily. For you to not wander inside any of the map’s unmarked areas. Don’t you disturb anything or anyone. It’s for everyone’s safety. When you’re able, please go to Corsair. I will try and meet you and him in his clinic. If this doesn’t proceed, instead, I’ll send for Maria.” Bowing with pointed elegance, the woman Evdokija locked the door, turned, and left on her way down the hall. Samantha started off towards the opposite direction in quiet mirth.
	The hallway she had entered was lengthy, and appeared old. It was almost silent. Each open window affixed on its right was outfitted with thin flowing curtains, all fluttering at her side as she continued along. Though in slow pace, she scarcely observed the fabric and the outside views alike, settling down first upon the nearest furnishing to remain as long as her advance would allow before heading off towards the next window. Though well she would have breathed in this new chill, she strayed neither to enjoy each curtain’s fluctuations in the wind, nor to note the full extent of the landscapes outside the building: She was instead preoccupied by Evdokija’s departure, her final accompanying recommendations, more to the medical account with which she had attempted to reconcile with Samantha herself; the very facets of her demeanour upheld unto their meeting; her frail voices with every stammer to what details she chose to relinquish however much her slight frame crossed and cast on over in the strange sheer black of her garments stood amidst all the rest of the building’s curiosities. Samantha peered behind: Evdokija could no longer be seen. The same white curtains were the sole features in proper view even to the farthest ends of the hallway. Though no source of light been installed thither, within its larger indistinct spaces could she outline similar architecture as of her initial room. The scenery outside remained of no clarity, and when she had expended some fleeting effort to come close, push aside a curtain and peer out at angles previously unobservable in the room, she could not discover anything of distinction but the evening dark. Fair moonlight had graced the pales of the trees and grasses beyond, further to trail some dancing flickers of light upon a vast blackness distanced away — she guessed thence these were shining across water, perhaps, as Evdokija had insisted, truly of a river. She leaned a hand upon a window and had scarce bent her head before realizing there was no method to fit herself past; and remembered that even if she were able, the current floor was too aboveground for safety. As Samantha raised and examined the first of the papers she had been given, her attention fell fixed not upon her current mapped whereabouts, but upon areas she did not initially intend to latch her focus by, snapping her eyes here to corners, there now to spaces far removed from any mark, beset by various perplexities of some seeming patchwork, and a throb of urgency took hold in her confusion for the details provided: whatever she had been presented with was undoubtedly a map, and though she could identify her location and destination, every drawn passage, each outline and graphic had altogether congested the entire page with messes and crossings and junctions, shapes and symbols, sometimes overlapping one another, in certain areas merging: a path that curved about in one instance before it was severed by odd grids, a large rectangle filled with indecipherable visuals, areas cutting off sporadically with neither cause nor remark written elsewhere as notes. Her initial bewilderment was turning more and more distressed as she skimmed through the pages, reaching the end before simply flipping the entire collation over and deducing how truly and terribly replete it was with errors. She grunted aloud, with a stifled sob. The map proved to be of even further hindrance, was thus stuffed back without care inside her pocket as her pace so quickened; there remained only for Samantha a convulsion to rush down the hallway. By each advance of scrutiny in stride, she grew faintly more accustomed to the ambient moonlight and realized the hall was even structured of such simple linearity that would have scarce amounted to its superfluous representation on the map — she grunted once more with disdain and did not bear to acknowledge many of these new inscrutable elements, that the very breadth of each their purpose had delved no more as to befall her, over and over, for the greater lengths of this past hour and innumerable strikes to come. Each empty hall had lured along her steps to turn at once and follow as she trudged by their adjacent entranceways, but Samantha rejected these, could only straighten her map and peer back down upon her current route, yet cursed, with a sudden half-sprint, in her own rightful echoes was inclined to scour the map for hope of anything useful however regardless of her faith in its reliability. Samantha had begun to ruminate, was incised of a theory, ruminated again, thinking to do so should unearth even the slightest assistance and would account towards a strategy from hereon, therewith the aimless, cursory turn of a gaze towards the premises outside, beheld the night for her memory. 
	She had woken before a hearth and her immediate bearing was to cradle her arms near in the lingering cold. Her breath came shallow, and she drew her coat even closer for what graces of warmth she felt from the nearby flames to be carried even more as she rested — yet in the next instant curtailed this and cried aloud, wrenched away her clothing to pull at her own limbs in sudden pain, but saw no wounds. The room was wrought down next upon her as shadows crept across towards the very couch on which she was laid cowering, and Samantha shifted her focus on nigh towards the bordering windows and sills, the silhouettes of trees beyond, a single table in proximity atop a wide empty rug beside shelves of books towering high, more and more of these in endless count far off away into dim areas that as she tilted her head upwards, she wished no longer to observe anything, not even her very hands, and every bitterness due sight and sensation caused ill to gash raw her throat and seize her stomach and thieve of what blind numbing aid she might have screamed for, but night had come quaking from some force outside in a seeming downpour to clamour with taps and rattles, then crashing, here a barrage, would that rain caring naught for glass tear apart her cherished darling flora now tendered black, and winds roil convolved unto the frequencies of a dark dying stronghold she proclaimed unknown; before its stature had since she yielded in a particulate’s notice, whence each new sorrowful supplication replaced the one prior with ferocity and she was unable to consider recourse for a movement than interrupt her very minor self wherefore in watch of the fires, there contained, within the hearth, all by her side— And so clutched herself more, kept erstwhile and blinking erratically, naught for court to the matter, nor relief in breath, nor a single act of shock, anger, fright; sat opposite those great dancing fires, repeated to herself she must sit still; and she gazed on, and on, and on; Samantha uttered not a sound. This embrace remained for some time, and the faintest gasp found no stir, off into the crackles and sparks. Her eyelids fell, with gentleness. The flames stilled for only a moment. It took no prudence of time when she noticed nearby a folded blanket, stood, and made replete of her blood a deep winding sough, with a stumble to her legs as she took the cloth and wrapped it about. There had fluttered in her chest a simple ease to smile, for however brief a moment, but this was soon beset: a slight swaying crept again through her poise; a bout of dizziness had come and gone to encumber her vision anew. Samantha kept tight grasp of the blanket. She raised a foot slightly, and though her first stride had attempted to brace herself thus, she pressed it down with sudden brutish force that her very balance was ill-taken and she almost fell of her own accord, yet with a shout, retained this manner aloft her boots to such disjoints of exertion; her knees, her ankles, bones and limbs still would not abate their trembling; she cursed to herself, and by the brunt of her words, leaned on this leg with a heft for every heavy exhale interrupted, thinking all had been exhausted already of stimulus thereto pain, encroaching on numbness — she waited until her shudders had subsided before persisting in another step, continued as such before waiting once more, feeling less cold, breathing terribly, repeating this over, back and forth in front of the flames, there assumed a steady pace around. Most of the area inside had no light. Samantha had approached the door a fair distance removed, and with a soft push of the handle, prepared to leave, but could not open it. After attempting once and twice more, it had remained locked — the ease of her fingers lingered in place, touching it ever lightly unto the very final moments of her inclination as she broke away, for she had already begun to turn her figure back towards the hearth and seats set aside, the twirling firelight glow opposite the farthest reaches of her view deeper past the shelves, and perhaps some better means to keep away from the cold along with her blanket, thus returned instead to the room’s foremost arrangement. On the table was laid a simple note with the words Please wait! written down, of which she now presumed to be Evdokija’s handiwork. Heavier curtains than those in the hall had been hung by the windows, and they seemed to Samantha of antique make. As she peered towards the left extension from where she had been sleeping, her gaze was cast once more across the lines and lines of wooden bookshelves occupying the room’s darkest unlit areas. She could see neither the opposite side nor any large window placed there, as had structured the left side of the hearth’s own wall. The room itself overlooked a thick forest constantly headed by cold winds, and behind, the unmistakeable glimmer of light held across obscured plains; farther out could she outline tall silhouettes of buildings and a few number of lit windows strewn across the horizon. It was a city set deep into the night; and as was proven consistent by all these endless hours, Samantha had wondered as to her true location. Her phone could not connect to any given signal — its battery had already been teetering then to complete outage, and elapsed completely during her meeting with Evdokija — resorting instead to photograph her surroundings from the room outwards. The moon at that hour was considerably bright and lit up streaks across from the windows, striking out casts of firelight therewith in its space. It was welcome lambency, and after she ensured she had optioned all feasible in her confinement, that naught else could be done but follow the instructions on the sole paper provided, only then did she pick out a book from the shelves and begin to read. It had not taken long, however, for her to encounter a dilemma: the language of the novel was unlike anything she had encountered, and taking to the shelves once more, she singled out another, only for it to result likewise. “How old are these?” she pondered, for each page had harkened to artefacts incomparable with any writing she had come across before. Another and another of these books had been chosen, and of the ten she took, only two were written in languages seemingly familiar, but of which she still failed to wholly understand, even with whatever images and illustrations she had seen while turning their pages — she assumed these both to have been written in a bygone form of English. To the remaining eight, she was quite confused, almost astonished with their inclusions to the shelves, more so with the conceivable rarity of their texts and the accessibility of the lot in such a place, and resolved instead to adhere interest to the two English books at hand until the door were to open. Her mind wandered off to more closely inspect the features of the room. It was indecipherably old: a cross of a foyer and a reading area with that grand fireplace flaring bright before her, lined and set with cut stone. This was supported on top by an arch of intricate carved wood; a castle came to mind when she had first taken notice of its details. As Samantha looked nearer below the table upon the rug, she almost laughed, for it was fashioned with such especial charm and intricacy, she believed no other decoration could have been bestowed to the room than the flower stylizations of very fabric itself. The room’s entire layout had been embellished with similar antique flair, robust and weighty, as of the curtains — yet altogether cold. She attempted to move her initial upholstered seat closer by the fire, but it had been too heavy. For compensation, she rose up and dragged aloft the centrepiece carpet, but to her surprise, once she had managed to lift it up from the floor, found some second cloth had also been laid out underneath: a silk, frayed somewhat, seeming at first a damask, but with effusive visual soon sprawled by gradient in embroidered designs and patterns and crowded scenes she could neither place nor name; but of which she considered to surpass of even more beauty, and with it so chose instead to drape herself, atop the first blanket, embracing her dear legs close as she brought her elbows in alongside, sit down regardless, and simply forge on. It was then Evdokija had opened the door and entered, and Samantha clambered up to face her.
	That had all now appeared before her a distant comfort. Should the door have never been locked in their departure, Samantha assayed to spin about immediately and return — with a hand waving through a nearby curtain, felt she was leaving something behind, there in the room before the fires, and gave out a sudden gasp to the empty of the hallway breached through by the gentleness of her steps, for anyone who might have heard, yet had become incredulous along the lift of every procession and accrued the adorning route for a farewell — still believed with all resolve she might have remained for longer in the warmth. She had been fond of the silk. She had naught to sensation in its wrapping, nothing more but a soft chill to her limbs and legs, that she had sought every seldom moment in a giggle to rub herself for a little fever. She would have been coupled with books and her phone until she were to acquiesce deep in fatigue, of an unruly sort; and thereafter, removed from embers, shall loom echoes in the intricacy and flourish of their very collapse, beyond the bodiless cold where whispers dwindle far delved past dusk whither they might have once galvanized the forefront — to this could she enswathe herself opposite the hearth and laugh to herself attended amidst erratic apparitions. There was no relief from distress, however, and when the other woman had unlocked the room, all charm of melancholy and of vehemence was thus surmounted. “Fuck it all — I could’ve just tried to brace the door with the fucking seat! With all my strength! Oh, wasn’t it— Was it not so wondrous to have stayed inside? I could’ve walked bare upon the cold of that room to discover what lay across, I would’ve retreated back to the fire in druggy jovial pursuits, that I’d be— That I would be entrapped! How many shelves were there? I could not tell. The dark steeped endlessly. What simplicity was presented, with straits barring me likewise from passing — that woman Evdokija… At least one of us was able to succeed! Damn, it was almost diegetic: a fireplace at night… But here lies a greater object! Think of it now, Sam: we were not to remain in there for long. It’s a dreadful concept — so says all our recorded — and each measure of such caprice must be dashed away lest we are stolen in kind. I am to proclaim thus: Where shall I find a comrade, one as lamentable as I have been tonight? Oh, brave man, blood of bloods; oh, kind woman, heart of hearts! Would you remain repose to some moon-touched lamplight; would you choose instead to make merry inside these labyrinths evermore? Or would you follow me, and me alone? I might grant you leave, if you would acknowledge yourself thus as yet another charmer amongst the grounds — and well, should you fail, I shall simply assume charm for us both!” And interweaved through the halls were her hands afforded to the catching and clasp of stars, and past the mantle shone a stab-mark of light — Samantha felt in her very soul she would surely be able to attend the banquet, wherever she be brought, with whoever might caress, and all in its aftermath she had resolved to uphold with her remains, in dearest wishes for each her fissure kissed, encapsulated from one unto the other a gift forged of adversity upon its absolution, ameliorants thereon, reconnaissance, structures piled aloft beyond by calamity’s advent — but alas! That adversity! A body above shall heave itself aground by institution wayward to engrave another gathering further and onwards upon bombardment withal; so exudes the foxhole citizenry and their madcap brave and all units and burdens in courtship wherefore a firework crests the wreathe of every arousal, heaped unto downpours, later a storm, had a proselyte been erstwhile vilified would see her creatures capsulate by this dignity among sovereign rampage, conquests for conquests more for wretchedness, would accomplish great ventures through hearts of hollows soever morose by comitative mainstay hence: come perennity, whither embellished of grand siren dispersion — enrapture us not with these little myths, these little embers alone; fragments amidst ashen mend beckon these remnants unfurl their fantasy upon the night; now tasks pendent a woman with resounding billows to charge solitary down causeways as would those cursed cold rains inscribe unceasingly — there it began, oh, how she knew it would amount—! Reproach such a curse! Reproach that inundation, with all its rot, for this commensurate act renders exultance in her march against the onslaught, from mutinous ardour to the ballasts and their tumult and their grievances; a worldly warring to all complementary! She is paraded an outsider in this storm; even the bell-heaved have infiltrated these halls — the whole aggregate condemning her foreign — and they are condemned alike and apart apportioned to a grandiose spiral of cycles and cycling of dances, where suitors come prospect by the swaying of ghosts there in the fog to line the hallway for her response; all is burning with the moon. She leapt across and strode down with ecstasy tumultuous in her display, exponentially, terrifyingly so, having gashed herself in the shattering of isolated legions yet scourging forward nonetheless: for how is one to be enticed if the remaining paths do not wound more? Coursed are her steps bare upon glass ere a shard bleeds minor flesh of care, must ratify injurious cadence across the stones and dimensions as pursuit is inlaid, in this traipse now culling nerve, for seeping heat, all faculty swelled ablaze, exhorts no palliative to reason but murder and omen by surrender within world’s infinity, and there she hoisted them conjoined, high over her head, less and less to reciprocate by accord of her trembles and sobs and throbbing sinew but pain in ever-greater infusion — unravelling, as they should — and if temptation abides surrender, her progress degrades unto naught: From where protrudes her bones but a holding array amounted and set with due pride, once an abyss, the deployment of adversity in dilettante arenas hence, by choice prior of make? She runs and carries on with her legs, does she not? Sweet adornment, admit her voice a singularity coalesced, however yet another brandishing of frays unto form; it is ceaseless, ceaseless, ceaseless—! She shall suffer herself for the sake of her beloved self: The donnybrook guffaws as one, and resumes a two-stepped dance; the storm-girl arrays herself with the sundress of a million fireworks — an arm emerges from her tongue and bears down striking her own body into particles more.“Oh, what joy, what joy!” she expressed, and there was a wild happiness upon Samantha’s face. She pirouetted and bounded and sprinted through the hallways, passing by paintings and statues, entrances to other corridors, upholstery and drapes and doors and doors and doors and doors, and when she had fancied to turn down right at that very moment at the end of that very hall, she did so without the slightest unwillingness — and, indeed, her commitment proved valuable!
	She ran around the corner to find another long hallway, but occupying the midpoint was something new: There was a table set with a small lamp, and around it were seated two women.