Chapter Text
Like every other day, Norton Campbell hoisted himself out of bed before the sun rose to prepare himself for another day of restless work. For 12 years, he has followed two schedules. The man awakes before dawn, works until dusk, and scrapes up small change for a scanty (or humble, as he liked to call it) meal. On occasion he would end his work an hour earlier to pay a visit to Benny, his informal uncle. Aside from the instructions he received from his father to take care of the old miner, he also took part in these visits because it granted him a slightly better meal. This was how he conducted his life for years, each day essentially the same.
Finally, unexpectedly, something disturbed the loop. Campbell was on his way to work one humid morning in the middle months of 1898. The short, meek girl who worked behind the counter in the visitor and business office hurried after him, struggling to keep up. She called after him, finally catching his attention after the third or fourth call. He was trying to ignore her, but it was clear she wasn't going to let up. He stopped suddenly and turned around to look at her, uttering an audibly annoyed "What?". This seemed to affect the woman's confidence.
"Well, there's a visitor here for you, sir." She fidgeted her fingers as she spoke.
"Tell them I'm not coming."
"I tried, sir. He said he'd wait. He seems important." she said this softly, like you would to a scared or angry animal so they don't become further provoked. The man scoffed and waved a hand, turning back around.
"I'll come after work." he stated blankly as he walked away. The woman scurried on back to the office, satisfied with the answer. What a nuisance. He'd have to skip his supper for some pest who thinks he has the right.
He thought about it all day. "He seems important" she said. He's seen how important people treat people like him. They come to ogle at them, snicker as they describe their reality. Nothing makes him angrier. 14 hours of hard work later, he leaves the mine, the world gently lit by pinks and oranges and purples. He didn't bother cleaning himself to be more presentable. Perhaps to put on a show, play up the poor, dirty laborer image he's given, or perhaps to indirectly tell his visitor how constricted his time is.
He silently enters the office, approaching the front desk. "Ah, Mr. Campbell." the woman at the desk said in a loud, friendly chirp to signal his arrival to the visitor. Across the room, a young man looks up from a book he is writing in. The nicely-dressed man stands up easily out of the chair and strides over to Norton. The man is shorter than Norton, reaching about up to his lips in height. His pristine, pale skin and shiny brown hair styled casually starkly contrasted the miner's current appearance. Dirty skin and hair, raggedy clothing, an unamused look on his face. Nevertheless, the other man extended a slender hand, introducing himself as Orpheus. Norton remembered a few books on Benny's shelf with that name on it. "Norton Campbell. It seems like you already knew that, though." He chose not to remove his dirty glove before grasping Orpheus's hand and giving it a few strong shakes. The author's expression was unchanged. "Listen, I'm busy." Norton said sternly. "Make it quick. I have things to do. Please." The last word was insincerely tossed on the end.
"Mr. Campbell. I waited all day to speak to you. I've been wanting to meet you for a little while now. Spare me some courtesy." Orpheus's sharp eyes made each of his expressions have an undertone of cynicism. Despite his rejection of Norton's discouragement, his tone remained formal and sweet. "I'd like to have a look into your life." Just who did this guy think he was? Norton looked him up and down quizzically.
"Don't bother." The miner nodded to the receptionist and turned to leave.
"I hope to speak to you again, sir," Orpheus spoke confidently, "I'll find a way to crack that shell of yours." Norton told himself that he hoped the opposite.