Summary: The quiet was telling, even though he spoke not a word. The silence was deafening, even though no whisper was heard.
Featured Character: Oromis; Averin; The Twins
~XI.~
The house was silent when he unlocked the door, which made him pause for only a moment before he ascended the stairs toward the nursery.
"Avy," he called softly. If she was with the twins and they were asleep, he didn't want to wake them. He listened then, but still he couldn't hear a sound.
Something wrong tickled the back of his mind, but Oromis pressed it down; he didn't want him to break out while he was with Averin and the twins. That'd be disastrous at the least. But as he ascended the stairs, that faint feeling grew hot with terror and Oromis, though quiet, began to panic internally.
When he came to the nursery door, he hesitated, his limbs almost frozen with trepidation; he quickly opened the door and entered before he could decide not to.
Once Oromis stood inside, he wished that he'd never even entered the house at all.
In the large rosewood cradle, the twins were sleeping peacefully up next to each other, unaware of the world around them. Unaware of what lay between them and their horrified uncle.
Averin, on her stomach and with a hand stretched toward the cradle, was surrounded in a pool of her own blood. Her green eyes were forever locked in the direction of her children in glassy desperation.
Oromis didn't even have the strength to scream.