(Deutsche Version hier: .de/s/4ccedcce0000ae3206a00fa0 )
The Chapters will grow larger, don´t you worry. ;D
I´m afraid that my English fails me sometimes, and I cannot really depend on my magically disappearing and reappearing dictionary. It seems to like the washing machine, though _
Either way, I have to thank dragonsarefriends1 for explaining me who to use all this stuff here. Feel hugged, my friend!
This can also be found on my deviantArt-account Open-your-Heart.
Anyway, feel free to read on, but please note that I´m working slower due to translating-issues. D:
"The answer, however, is quite simple."
Silence. No person dared to say anything.
Especially the ones from the past hold their breath. It was about their return to their time period after all. A London, which was unharmed. The ones from the future narrowed their eyes.
"Ms. Anderson, you have claimed that was mere luck that the most powerful man in London fell for you when you needed one to guide you. What, if I claim it to be a planned event?"
The lady he spoke to jumped to her feet.
"You all claim to be looking for the last Southerns, but you are not all. The last three are in this room, too. Flora, may I?"
Flora stepped forward, her gaze shyly locked on the ground.
"You said you saw them. And your description matches with three people in this room - if we only take the future. If we put people of my timeline in the same case, it makes a total of six - twice the number you´ve mentioned, Ellen."
"Professor, what…?"
"Stay calm, Clive. You´ll get it any second now. In this future I have not been able to make out anyone who looks the same as me. If this really has to display the future, why is there nobody who tries to take my role? This was one of the biggest holes in Clive´s and Dimitri´s plan - people were displayed wrong or were simply forgotten."
The young man´s eyes widened and he shrank back.
"Clive, Flora and… Luke. You are the Southerns."
"Whaat?"
"Professor, why…?"
"Hmpf. And how on earth should we do that when we were on your side the whole time, you…"
The Professor showed a warm smile. He closed his eyes and brought his glasses back to their usual position. He slowly tilted his head. His assistant gasped with reassurance, his daughter´s eyes widened and the murderer rolled his.
"You three are indeed the last Southerns. But we´ll have to take you future-selves to get an answer. Those three are in here, did I mention that? It really is a lot easier if you look close enough, you all."
"Professor, who?" This confused cry came from the opera singer, who had her hand on her daughter´s shoulder just a few seconds ago. Now she used them both to cover her mouth.
"The Southerns… are different than all of you expect."
The Professor opened his eyes and turned around swiftly. His gaze was locked on three young people, who all shrank back.
"Was I right, you three?"
The oldest of them bared his teeth and looked more like his counterpart than ever before.
"You don´t understand us, you cheap excuse for a professor! What you´re doing here destroys London even more! You can only answer violence with violence, as sad as it sounds!"
"Interestingly enough, those words were yelled at me before, my friend."