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It's the dying end of 1962 and Mona Lisa King, Project Lumen, has sequestered herself away inside of the library in the west wing. It's the closest she can get to being alone anymore. It's pin-drop silent, smothered in the scent of the soft decay of old paper goods. Quiet, it seems, is in short supply at Candlewood.
It's half past lunchtime when one of the massive oak doors is opened by a very familiar face.
“Mona.”
“Niel? What in God’s name are you doing here?”
Her parents had refused to believe their son would have fled Magnus, but Mona had begged to differ. She knew very well how little sense her brother had, but even an idiot would know to leave the city. Staying on the islands was a sure fire way to get thrown in a jail cell by the draft authority.
“I was called by Dr. Everett.”
She glared at him in a way she’s sure intimidates other people, but has never had an effect on him.
“Are you dense, or are you just an idiot?”
“He offered me a job, Mona, you know full well that no one wants to hire me.”
“Yes, because you were a deserter and a draft dodger Nielton. Yet you join up at the drop of a hat to this cause?”
“You’re misconstruing things on purpose, Mona Lisa.”
“Mr. Everett is a fraud. His harpy of a wife is a control freak. His brother - a criminal and a charlatan. And that strange little Doctor is a modern-day attempt at Frankenstein. Why are you here."
It's evident, in the venomous light of her voice, that Mona doesn't mean that she's surprised he would stoop so low, rather that she's surprised he had the initiative in the first place.
“I’m to be a part of this place’s staff, I’m being paid a pretty penny to look after Project Animus, apparently he’s going to find more of us.”
“Us?” She says with an accusatory tone.
“Yes, thus far he's sniffed out a little girl who can make it rain with her mind, and me. Guess now you’re not the only black sheep Mona.”
If looks could kill, by god, hers would.
“You’re a coward and a fool Nielton.”
There is no greater distrust, it's sure, than the distrust Mona King had for her brother at 15. For Nielton had walked willingly into the arms of Candlewood. He would be the first - and the last - to do so.
“If my blood is the blood of fools, then so is yours. Maybe one day you’ll see that the future we have here is far better than that which we would have found anywhere else.”
•-•-•-•-•
As the years passed her by, Mona would often find herself dwelling on her brother's words. Ruminating on her life's decisions.
Later, much later, perhaps described as too late, or at least it would have been had she not left as early as she did, She came to her own conclusion; Candlewood is cursed, the only future, a true, good future that you may have, is one without it.
In 1962, Mona had called her brother a coward for running from a war he wanted nothing to do with. In the early days of 1966, Mona was, in her own mind, a hypocrite, as she fled the walls of the Institute, and never, ever, looked back. This seemed quite the good decision, in retrospect, as with the beginning of 1966 came the Institute's own dying years. Lady Death entered stage right and came with heady breath and gentle hand for the children of Candlewood, for the Cuckoos.