[color=598527]"You've been quiet, Kid. Relatively speaking, what's rattling in that head of yours?"[/color]

[color=darkorange]"Not much at the moment, just reflecting on some rather fond memories."[/color] Titus responded warmly to the voidsman, a cheery smile wide on his lips. The boy took another long sip of his coffee, [color=darkorange]"Say Stukov, you don't suppose this is to fatten us up before we're thrown to the wolves do you?"[/color] the scribe chuckled lightly at his own joke as he emptied his glass. From what Titus could tell, Stukov was the closest thing here to a 'normal' person among the retinue, and was likely the only one other than the Celestian herself that the young scribe would feel comfortable trusting. Overall, the rest of the facility seemed both well-equipped and lavish. Though the decorations were a bit over-the-top for Titus' tastes, it was certainly a welcome change to the drab uniformity of the voidship's many halls. [i][color=darkorange]"If I didn't know any better, I'd assume this was the residence of a rogue trader!"[/color][/i] Titus quietly remarked to himself as the group entered a large corridor lined with strange artworks of exquisite quality. Despite the clear level of craftsmanship and artistry put into each work, some of these creations made the young scribe uneasy. They reminded him things best left forgotten and buried beneath the fog of time's passage and intentional repression.

[color=f49ac2]"I think they look kind of nice. The artists had quite some creative souls."[/color]

For the briefest of moments, Titus heard a voice within his mind, its heinously sweet voice sending shivers of ecstasy down his spine. Yet as the sensation passed, the entity's hunger lingered a bit longer before fading into nothingness. The void left by the passing of these invasive sensations was promptly filled by Titus' own sense of overwhelming dread. 

It had been months since he'd heard the whispers last. Disciplined management of his null collar was [i]supposed[/i] to have negated them entirely. But even before the collar the whispers had never been this [i]clear[/i], this [i]pronounced[/i]. Bile rose in his throat as the paranoia built, the walls seemingly closing in; every shadow a whisper of conspiracy-- something was [b]here[/b], and it was [b]close[/b].  Cold sweat built on the boy's brow as he felt the world constricting around him. His head pivoted fearfully, franticly searching for where this abomination was hiding. Teeth grit, his heart pounded, his blood ran cold.

And then... Nothing.

The moment the retinue passed into the the room containing the statue of Saint Celestine, it was as if a colossal weight had been lifted from Titus's shoulders. Snapping back to reality, he immediately moved to adjust his collar, but stopping his hand midway to his neck. The last time he'd publicly adjusted his collar, Andromedai had scolded him heavily; and the last thing he wanted was to incur the sister's wrath atop this terrible omen. Rather, he opted to fidget with his sleeve instead; a hopeless attempt at distracting himself from his own fear.  He payed little attention to the rest of the tour, his mind overtaken by the prospect of a malevolent entity having already invaded their foothold. 

The moment the retinue was released to do as they pleased, the scribe opted to instead immediately retire to his room and lock the door behind him. When it was time to reconvene, Titus was the second of the retinue to arrive for the meeting. Whatever the young man had been doing; he now reeked of holy incense; his eyes red with exposure to the fumes. He took his place on one of the available couches, wordlessly staring at the floor as he awaited the meeting's start.