The headache was a symphony.
It wasn't pain. It was data. A relentless, low-grade feed of information about the structural integrity of everything around me.
I walked out of the castle, into the sunset light on Castle Square. The tourists weren't just people. They were clusters of shimmering, fragile strings, desires, anxieties, brief connections. The historic buildings glowed with a steady, deep bronze light. Foundation of history/national identity. A street vendor's stall flickered with a weak, greedy yellow.
Foundation of desperation/short-term gain.
DeVille's "gift." Foundational Perception.
It was passive. Constant. Exhausting.
I focused on damping it down, like squinting. The visual noise receded to a background hum, but the knowledge remained. I could feel the relative "weight" and "authenticity" of things.
