“Good evening, Messenger. You're out late.” The Traveler said, sidling up alongside the Messenger.

The Messenger didn't slow down. “Of course. The mail doesn’t rest. And neither do you, it seems. How long have you been trying to talk to me?”

“Too long.” The Traveler gave an easy smile. “You made it very difficult. Clever, though, the way you used the Dreamlands.”

“Yes, well, you have to be clever when avoiding an omniscient being.” The Messenger said, wings fluttering.

The Traveler gave a frustrated sigh. “I'm not omniscient. Everyone thinks that, but I'm not.”

“Yes you are. You tell yourself that you're not because it makes you feel more human, but you are. You say you aren't just because you don't know everything all at once, but that's not how knowing works. I know everything that I've done today, but I don't go around with that knowledge in my head at all times. I have to call on it. It's called recall for a reason.” The Messenger pointed a finger at the Traveler. “You have to look for knowledge, sure, but be honest with me, Traveler, when was the last time you looked away?”

The Traveler seemed genuinely stunned. “What's your point?”

“My point? Hm, good question.” The Messenger ran a finger through one of his feathers. “I suppose what I mean to say is that you're not the all reliable narrator you think you are.”

“What?” The Traveler gave an incredulous scoff. “I never claimed-”

“You don't say it, of course. It would sound too… conceited. Too impolite for your persona. But it's true. You don't have to be a Traveler. You don't have to wander around taking notes on people, showing them who they really are, whatever. You choose to do that. And your intentions may be good, sure, but you also get it in your head that because you can know whatever you like, because you always have the upper hand in every conversation, you're somehow beyond bias. But all that knowledge is still interpreted by you.”

“I- I don't-” The Traveler tried to keep up his quickly failing smile.

“I guess in the end I'm saying that the guy who spent most of his adult life lying isn't exactly a trustworthy source.” The Messenger shrugged. “But hey, I'm not the omniscient one. What do I know?”

“A lot, apparently.” The Traveler said, suddenly sour.

“Why is it you wanted to see me so bad, by the way?” The Messenger asked. “And please, tell me the truth.”

The Traveler made a frustrated noise. “I can't pin you down. You move so fast it's like- you're a blur on the edge of my vision. I wanted to meet you in person to finally get something concrete.”

“You wanted to shed light on your little blind spot.” The Messenger said. “That's understandable. It must be annoying, not knowing who I am.”

“Not as annoying as you turned out to be.” The Traveler mumbled.

“My apologies, Traveler. I didn't mean to annoy you. I just figured, you like holding mirrors to others so much, maybe you'd like to know what it's like.”

“How do you know so much about me?” The Traveler demanded.

The Messenger’s wings parted just enough that Jonathan could see his smile. “I read your mail.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“I'm the Messenger! Hermes! The Minuteman! A simple soldier! A godslayer! I am a member of the Watch! And would you look at the time? I have to go.” The Messenger saluted. “Good luck on your journey, Jonathan Orne. I hope you find something you like.”

With a flurry of feathers, the Messenger was gone, leaving a gust of cold air in his wake.