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"Beautiful, is it not?"
Campbell startled at the voice. Whipping his head around, who else should he find but the impertinent journalist he spent his days trying to avoid. He rolled his eyes, proceeding to ignore her—so much for a moment of peace in this damn mansion.
His attention returned to the view in front of him: the mountain surrounding the estate from afar, a rock formation sharp and angular and in all ways uninviting, but alluring all the same. Despite his gripes with the woman, he had to agree—it was beautiful. And it also used to be his, since none of the other guests seemed to know of this veranda.
So much for that too.
Not ever one to be deterred by his standoffishness, the journalist made her way towards the railing to stand by his side. In retrospect, of course Ms. Nosy would know about the place—she seemed to have an uncanny ability to navigate the entire mansion, he had noticed.
"How marvelous it is that something as seemingly permanent as the Earth itself can still be changed." If she had taken the hint he wanted to be alone, she had decided to actively ignore it. He should have been used to that by then, too.
"It's still permanent," he tried adding as much finality to it, even with little hope that would abort her snooping.
She turned to him, eyes slightly narrowed in that way which threw him back to the interrogation room. "How can it be permanent if it can be changed?"
"That mountain won't change in your lifetime, or in your children's lifetime, and it's damn likely your bloodline will end before it even chips in a way that is noticeable," his answer was sharp like the rocks they both admired, his opinion just as unchanging. He crossed his arms over the railing, wondering why her stupid prying was getting to him more than usual this time around.
Quiet veiled the two at last, but he knew it would be short-lived. She was watching the mountain in thought, and he realized with endless frustration that even her silence was loud.
She spoke up less than a minute later like he knew she would. "Is the fact it takes a long time enough to warrant dubbing it permanent?"
"Warrants not expecting it, if ya don't wanna be disappointed," was his grumbled response.
Campbell could feel her eyes on him. His own, he kept fixed ahead, intent on ignoring her existence as he had tried to many times before, but he could see her from his peripherals. That same look from before adorned her face; it felt…different somehow, though, like she had finally found something.
"It requires a multitude of time and work." Her gaze relinquished its hold on him. "But," she gestured ahead, a smile painting her lips, "is it not worth it?"
Her eyes danced over the mountaintop but his found it fitting to dance over her face. Only when he found that smile directed at him did he notice his own staring. He looked away, and her smile widened.
"What?" he rasped.
"I just wonder what would happen if it were true. If mountains refused to change—refused to be changed. What a loss, don't you think, Mr. Campbell?"
"How nosy of ya, Miss."
"Well, is it not the job of a miner to do just that?" Her eyes laughed louder than her mouth ever did, but it was infuriating all the same.
Water and wind had to cut through millennia worth of residue and build-up, and a miner pried open the scars of the Earth, drilled through its past, all to perhaps find something worthwhile at the center.
Rock was solid. Uncaring. Cold.
Falling around him in a cave-in, insulating hot smoke as his skin burned, burned. Wrapping around his chest, his skin, his very soul as he changed into something unrecognizable, encasing anything of value he ever had and would never see again because rock was solid.
"I've transitioned careers, in case ya haven't noticed. But since you consider me an expert, here's my assessment: it ain't worth it."
"As a journalist, I am sure you know I cannot agree with you."
"Who's your mountain, Miss?" He scowled at her, giving up on hiding his frustration for the sake of detachment. "What are ya hoping to find?"
"I don't know, Mr. Campbell," voice even, eyes unclouded, lips curled ever so softly. He wondered what it had taken to become that unbothered. "What are you hiding?"
"None of your damn business." And he pushed away from the railing to stomp his way through the doors back inside.
"I am not so patient, Mr. Campbell," she said before he could. "But for a mountain as beautiful as this, I could wait. I am nothing if not persistent."
He huffed, "Don't I know it," and slammed the door behind him.