Cursed - God's Tears The small dark carriage rattled across the cobblestone road, causing the raven haired, young man inside to stir from his rest. His left eye fluttered open as the coach rode over a particularly large curvature in the path. Slowly, he tilted his head upward to gaze out the little window, on which he had been leaning against. The fine glass glistened with rain. It wasn’t pouring on the dreary streets of London that night, but there was still a consistent spatter of falling droplets. ​ Josiah Tabbris Warren used to hate the rain, but over time he had come to love the gray clouds and the booming sound of distant thunder. Slowly, he raised a gloved hand and pressed his fingers against the cool glass. “God’s tears.” Had been what his mother had called the rain. As a child it had seemed like such a terrible thought, but as he grew older he clung to those words. For the tears that were shed down upon the world were the only sign to him that God might just care for those who lived on it. ​ The man sighed softly, pushing himself off the window into an upright position, causing a start of surprise from the occupant on the opposite seat of the carriage. “Oh, Master Warren!” The bespectacled man exclaimed. “I had not realized you had awoken. If you would like I could speak with the coachman about riding a little easier.” ​ Warren waved the man to be still. “It is just as well.” Then he stifled a small yawn. ​ The man’s eyes crinkled in concern and he shook his head, his small brown braid swing back and forth. “But Master Warren, you need your rest. Considering everything with the Council meetings, the MB Rights movement conferences, and…” He faded off as his young charge gave him a look. ​“Cedric,” Began Warren calmly. “I can manage myself quite well, and besides this is important. There is no time to be fatigued. I will find the rest I need when the time presents itself, but now is not that time. This night I am finally taking the first step to find all the missing answers.” ​ Cedric nodded eyes downcast. “Of course, Master.” Then he added quietly to himself. “I just wish it did not require us traveling to a filthy peasant bar.” ​Though Cedric’s words had been soft, Warren still heard him. “Speaking of the lowly pub, how close are we?” ​ Cedric glanced up, eyes wide. “I am terribly sorry for my rudeness, sir, but such a place… well it rather disgusts me. A small grueling place filled with drunk, violent men, completely and utterly uncivilized.” Cedric shivered. Warren gave the smallest of smiles. “No need to apologize, Cedric. I am not particularly overjoyed of visiting a filthy tavern filled with vile men either, but the one thing they do have is connections and information throughout the underworld.”