She walked silently into the large, empty house. The door made a soft creak as she closed it behind her, shutting out the bitter wind of the early morning. She blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Not a flicker of light was present and she made sure to be extra quiet in the hallway, for once not tripping over anything and causing a flood of screams to sound from the portrait on the wall. She wondered how the house was still standing now that he was gone…
His sadness seemed to linger inside the walls, in the cracks in the floors. The fragrance of it in the crushing air was almost unbearable. She stopped at the foot of the staircase and closed her fingers around the old banister. Could his spirit be here? But she shook her head. Death was the last thing he would back away from. Since he could not find peace in life he found it in the last place anyone had expected.
Nevertheless, it was partially because of her mistake.
Her eyes became fixed on the top of the stairs leading into the shadows.
She spoke minimus astrum and a small star appeared to guide her with a dim light. The nymph sighed. It was time to face the wolf.
...
He was floating, but he couldn't tell where. Or when, for that matter. What happened? he wondered. But his wondering was vague—something to be brushed off because none of it truly mattered anymore.
It wasn't how or what time, or ever after that he cared for. It was why.
Why was he here?
There were voices in his ears and at first the sounds frightened him, only a bit. But did he have ears? Of course he should have because there were noises all around him like a swarm of birds or wind. None of the babble made sense, and frankly, it was irritating.
He decided to stretch out what might have been his hand and felt a cool nothingness, and for being nothing he thought it was rather gentle.
Whenever he understood nothingness in the past there was always some sort of cruelty involved. Then his nothingness would turn into something, and we all know somethings can be quite destructive.
Attempting to learn the language of the voices would be the best choice for now. Perhaps they could release him. So he began to listen intently with the ears he desperately hoped he still had.
At least, he probably had ears before all this. Whatever this was. He decided to name it 'blue colored' because it seemed…blue. If 'blue' even made sense.
He heard a word that was familiar to him.
Sirius.
Sirius…why would a voice be calling for a star? Stars.
Hm. That was a mystery. But it sounded so individual. So…like him.
Maybe that was his label. Because he kept hearing it as…what was it called. A name.
Sirius.
Sirius!
'Sirius! It is you! What are doing here so early?'
He opened his mouth. It was absolutely what he needed to talk with. He was nervous, which was strange—he usually wasn't nervous talking to things. Well, sometimes.
'A…A…I...'
'Oh. That's alright. Usually no one can talk when they first get here. I mean…after they inevitably arrive.' He conceived an air of pity from the thing who was speaking. 'Poor little creature...he's so lost.'
...
The man looked out the window. The glass was cold against his fingers as he fiddled with the latch on the pane. He had heard the front door open and close all the way downstairs but he cared so little he actually found it humorous. If a person wanted to find him, he or she would just have to search the entire house.
He rested his head against the window and leaned against the sill. The icicles were melting slowly in the rising sun and he noticed how the light appeared to stop when it reached the glass. Maybe it was just his imagination; he considered this and falsely hoped everything at this moment was a product of his mind. A choking sensation began to rise in his throat. He clenched his eyes shut.
The man took several deeps breaths and counted backwards from twenty, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. The choking was stinging worse than ever and it was all he could do to contain himself. Shaking, he placed his hand on the latch and tried to open the tall window. Unfortunately it was stuck. He shoved at it again. Again. Nothing was working. He was going to open this window if it was the last thing he did—otherwise he would face the reality that was so clearly closing in around him.
Why so serious, Remus? aww...Sirius sounds like No Face before he gets evil. Sorry about the lack of dialogue. It will appear. Any reviews are very much appreciated.