Lonesome Solitude
Prelude
He sat in the chair by the fire, nursing a hot cup of a greenish liquid substance. A thin blanket was thrown over his skinny form, and he was looking out the window into the dark winter world outside.
He let out a low sigh; his eyes fluttering close as he took another sip. 'It's always winter here.' He thought, the tone in his heads voice a little sad, but the sweetness of the drink helped the slight pressure that had built on his heart from that thought.
It wasn't that he didn't like winter; it was an incredible season when the harsh cold wind wasn't blowing and the sun was up, sharing its light, but not its warmth, over the land. It was just that he missed the other seasons as well…
He placed the nearly empty cup onto the small side table and with a graceful wave of his hand the temperature of the fire rose greatly. With yet another sigh, this time a contented one, as the heat of the fire washed over him, he drew the blanket further up his torso.
His eyelids grew heavy as sleep began to take over his body. He glanced over at the cup with a slight frown. While he had mixed a sleeping spell in with the mixture, it should have been a small one, but it was working too fast.
He kicked his legs up onto the chair knowing that he wouldn't be able to make it to his bedroom. He though back to when he'd make the drink, and realized that the spell had been a lot stronger then he had intended it to be.
That meant that he'd be sleeping for the next day or so.
But that was fine by him. He didn't have anywhere to go, or anything to do anyway. So it made no difference to him how long he slept.
His eyes slipped closed as sleep finally claimed him, lulling him into a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.