Autumn
Chapter 1
by almasy
My jade eyes slowly open to the sun's early rays, which force me to blink harshly as I struggle to accustom to the light. By estimation, I figure that it's probably about 6am. The sunrise is just fading; orange streaks mingling with the pure whiteness of the morning sky. I turn over onto my back and stare at the cracked ceiling above me as I muse. Was it all just a dream, then…?
It's strange to wake up alone. But hey, before I sound too much like Irvine Kinneas, I'll explain myself. In the wars, I was used to her presence; my Sorceress, Edea. Who controlled her, whether it was Adel, or Ultimecia, Hyne…even fucking Old MacDonald, that was irrelevant. I consider myself Edea's Knight. So did she. She proved it to me when I woke up with her. For all that she subjected me to at other times; pains, punishments, taunts and torture, at night she was as soft as Selphie. I remember so many, many times waking up in her arms. I'd have my head resting against her collarbone, her fingers curled into the rough tufts of my hair. Her other hand would be cradling mine as I found comfort in her body. There was something soothing in lying so close to her; my arms around her, hers around mine. It was so different from the catcalling and harsh instruction that I was dealt at all other times, but then…she was different.
I've heard so many crude jokes about her, about her fashion sense and the way she presented herself. Certainly, she liked flamboyance, she enjoyed spectacle and attention. But at night, or in the morning, she left all the show at the door. Au natural was her forte then, and holy Hyne, she was beautiful…
People believe it strange, I think, that we made love even though she was 'Matron'. I don't know. Perhaps it's the GFs that have dimmed my memories of her from back then. I have little recollection of her as a mother figure, as the woman who brought me up, guided me through the world. I've heard others mocking it as 'a near miss of incest', but I don't agree. She was never my mother, for a start; biologically or metaphorically. I don't remember ever regarding her as a mother, and besides, I don't know if it would have changed anything had I done so. If you love someone, does it matter who they are? I mean, I see the problems when there's reproduction involved, but I don't see the point in denying your love for somebody -wasting it-, just because they share some of the same DNA. It's a precious emotion, and it shouldn't be just washed out. It shouldn't be denied because of something so insignificant. It's not hurting anyone, after all, is it?
To me, she was my Sorceress. Far and above everything else, she was my Edea. She was the woman I believed I'd been born to serve. When she spread herself underneath me, weakening to my desires, she wasn't Matron. I ran my hands through her hair and I called her mine. Her wholehearted response was whispered against my lips, and I allowed myself to believe for a few brief moments that I had found my calling. My paradise. That she loved me unduly…
That she always would…
See. Some Knights really are romantics at heart. Another of our most prevalent traits? Delusion.
Once Edea and I left the bedroom, normal proceedings would continue. The dictating and the making me feel small would commence, and I would retake my position as her Knight. Her Servant. No longer her lover. It was not a change I liked by any means, but it was a position in which I believed I could not manoeuvre. All I could do was wait for night to fall, when she would speak softly to me, tell me she loved me, and hold me close. She'd look at me with those huge, vulnerable eyes, throw her head back so that her raven hair spread all out, and tell me how much I meant to her. Spin me more of her beautiful, wonderful lies. Long eyelashes fluttering. Fingers stroking my face. Sometimes I wonder if it's the same for Squall nowadays. Are all Sorceresses the same? He's with Rinoa, I imagine. In my mind, I can see him being lured into a similar plot; tricked by the promise of affection, the balming hands on his body as he attempted to annihilate the pain inside of him. The heady addiction of love, the stunning sound of whispered words of devotion. I'm sure Rinoa's capable of the same tricks. Does he fall for them, like I did?
Well, I'm never going to know, am I?
I do wonder, though. Whether he lies against his Sorceress in the morning as I did mine. Whether she wraps her arms around him as mine did me. Whether he leans over, breaks the gap between them with a soft kiss, as I did. Whether he's happy, as I was.
What's the point, though?
I drag strong fingers through my messy hair. It's growing too long for my liking, but I haven't the energy to do anything about it right now. Too much thinking to do, still staring at the ceiling.
Hyne, I've turned into Squall then, have I?
I don't recall sensing a similar devotion in Squall, where Knighthood was concerned. Perhaps it was my egotism, a dogged refusal to believe that anyone could be a more loving and more faithful Knight than I. Maybe I just couldn't bear the thought that he might have beaten me again. And in matters of the heart? No, that would never do. To be out-loved by a human icicle wasn't exactly on my list of 'Things I Must Experience by 30'. Hyne, even 50 years wouldn't be enough time for me to get used to the idea of his passion outgrowing mine. There are just some things that don't change, and Squall's unnerving coldness is one of them.
It's not that I don't miss him, exactly. He was the good boy to my evil guy, the hero thwarting my dastardly plans. The white to my black, as it were. Bit old, now. Just a tad pathetic. Still. We were always something more than that. Rivals, yes, but for a reason. Our natures clashed as much as our outfits did. We took opposing sides because our separate natures, our conflicting hearts and our divergent minds drew us each to them. There's always more to a rivalry than taunts and attire of contrasting colours, believe me. A true rivalry always contains a rift of a deeper kind. You're born into the role, in my opinion. You're created one way and you find your rival, and once you do, you can never remove him from your head. Even if you've beaten him more times than even an army could count, or even better, killed him, his eyes will still haunt you in your sleep. You'll dream of him. It's like an anti-soul mate. You were born for him, and even if you terminate his existence, he'll still pursue you like a long-lost love. That's just life, you know? You're born to be with one person. You're born to fight another. One of my most resilient beliefs? They should never be the same person.
We weren't like that, though, not me and Squall. Not like that. It crossed my mind a couple of times, of course. When I could see the adrenaline in his eyes and the passion engulfing him as he drew his blade back, I thought about kissing him. More than that. Brief fleeting moments occurred where I'd indulge a little in the idea, pondering about what it would be like to taste his skin. Watch him sleep. Usual romantic, corny Knight stuff. The thought occurred to him too, I reckon. Sometimes I'd think that the casual glances he'd throw at me during class weren't quite as careless as he made out. There was definitely something in his eyes a couple of times, as if his train of thought were headed in a most filthy direction. It was probably a good thing I never bought a ticket for the journey.
Oh, yeah. He was a living fantasy. Who wouldn't go there, given half a chance? But it wouldn't have worked out. It goes back to that rivalry thing again. He was an anti-soul mate, not a soul mate. A fighter, not a lover. You get the picture. I was born to battle him; to strike him, to kill him. Spill his blood, not his semen. Just don't go there. I could have killed him in the wartime. I was so close, with Ultimecia. How would that have worked out, if I'd been sleeping with him? If we'd been together? Complication overload. Could I have killed him? Given my mental state, I probably could have and then where would we have been afterwards? No. Give your rivals only hatred, if you can. Keep love and affection locked away. It's the only way you're going to make it through with your heart intact.
K'so, we weren't some big love affair. Jesus. It's not like I was some balcony-chick, calling out to him with a rose in my hand. Yes, I'd have fucked him. And in time, yes, I'd probably have fallen in love with him. But the part I really miss, the bit I really regret missing out on, is being his friend. I regret that we were rivals, in that it stopped us pursuing a friendship. Like I said, rivals and hatred go hand in bloody hand. No room for companionship. It's a shame, because I think we could have really been something. Going back over the opposing characters idea, it's my belief that, yeah, it makes the best enemies, but often…the best relationships, as well. It's like trading; you combine your opposing sides into one being, one entity, and from there, the two of you become whole. Me and Squall, we could have been like the Yin and Yang, balancing out strengths and flaws with ease. Trading qualities to hide our respective holes. I was the fire to thaw his ice, and he the humility to soothe my conceit. I was the noise to cover his silence, and he the patience to curb my impulsion. He the thinker, I the doer. He the brains, I the brawn. Kit the pair of us out with matching weaponry, and Hyne; we'd have been invincible.
Not only that, though. We'd have been inseparable. You don't need to complicate that scenario by putting us in the same bed, but I believe that we could have supported each other emotionally; far more than anything he'll be getting from Rinoa or the others. I may not seem to grasp much, but I understand Squall. I know what he needs. Hyne, I had to, always aiming to give him the exact opposite. But I can guarantee you; nobody back in Balamb has a wealthier resource of useful information on the Lion than I have. Rinoa may be holding him in her arms right now, for all I know, but she won't be doing it exactly right. After he's had a long day, when he's tired and angry at the world, he needs a strong hug. Arms right underneath his and as far around his back as you can reach. Pull him up towards you, get his head resting against your throat and his arms around your shoulders, and let him breathe. Silence. For as long as he needs. Not a word. But make sure you keep a firm hold on him, hold him tight against you. Squall gets scared, see. I don't think his irritation and tiredness is broodiness at all. I think its fear. I don't think he's moody, just…frightened. Of being left alone, of not being able to cope, of falling.
Not feelings I share, but I know how to cope with their onslaught. He needs to know that you're not going to abandon him. It's essential to give him the reassurance of your existence, of your continuing presence in his life. He needs strong arms around him and a shoulder he can rest his head on. And if I know Rinoa, she isn't going to meet the standard. She'll pat him on the head and go back to her dilly-dallying, without giving him a second thought. Perhaps if he's lucky, he might get a small cuddle, but nothing compared to the way I used to surround him with comfort. K'so, I do honestly think that mixing love and hate is dangerous, but you can afford to blur some lines when someone you care about is crying in your arms. You won't avoid a bit of heartache that way, but what's life without a bit of darkness, eh? I just wish I could have gotten more moments like that. Been there for him more. Maybe been his friend, instead of his enemy. He'd have been better by now…
But what do I know? Maybe I'm wrong about everything. Perhaps he's fine now, shacking up with Miss. Princess and enjoying sunny days filled with shoe shopping and hair styling. Maybe he doesn't like my type of hugs anymore, either. Maybe he's changed and I'm only hanging onto the image of the Squall I used to know. Maybe I'm as wrong about all of the Leonhart thang as I am about accepting my Sorceress back.
I roll over again as her name graces my lips. My Sorceress. She probably wouldn't be all that impressed at my musings about Squall, I guess. I don't think she liked him, much. He distracted me. Turned my attentions and affections elsewhere. And Hyne, if she couldn't command my protective instincts, she wanted them all stamped out, not diverted onto her opponent's shoulders. She never did seem to understand that my protective urges were with her all the time. All those nights I lay in her arms; I wanted to lie there and protect her until the day I died. I would have given up anything in a second if she'd asked. I nearly killed Squall for her, didn't I? Yes, my devotion to her often exceeded my care for him. More than often. She never knew that. She thought it was all about Squall.
Romantic Knight, I am…
My love of the lady will always slay the affection to the friend. Call me shallow, call me disloyal, but it's the way my heart takes me, and probably always will. One of the rare values I share with Leonhart. His feelings for Rinoa, for his goal, made him hit me as hard as I hit him. His passion for that girl will always be a superior master to whatever he feels for me. And that's just fine. We're both Knights, after all. We both understand the business.
I wish I could have made her understand, though, Edea. Maybe then she'd have taken me truly as hers, instead of keeping me as some halfway house between a scapegoat and a lover. Would she have left me in the morning, then…?
I'll remember that. It'll be one mistake I don't repeat. She'll know how much I love her, this time. How I'd die to keep her happy, how I'd slay any soul that strayed into her path, how I'd give anything for nothing in return…
Romantic Knight, I always will be…
Even if it means turning my back on Squall. Hyne, as if that hasn't already happened. I haven't heard from him, and I don't expect to. Torturing someone and trying to kill them and everyone they care for, it has that effect. No, I think our paths are now set; directed as far away from each other as possible until the time comes for our revival. Not yet rivals again, but it'll be a while before I get him out of my head. For her, though…I'd kill him in a shot. That's what she needs to know. For her, I've never heard of Squall Leonhart.
And for Rinoa, he's probably never heard of Seifer Almasy.
The first step, though, in removing him from my conscious mind, is to stop acting like him. Enough thinking for one morning. I haul myself out of the warm bundle of sheets and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Subjected cruelly to the early morning chill in the air, I shiver a little and stalk into the bathroom for a red-hot shower.
The floor is freezing on the soles of my feet, and I dart as quickly as I can into the thin corridor that adjoins the few rooms in the apartment. The hair on the back on my neck prickles in response to the cold, and I can't repress a shudder. Though my brain is fuzzy from sleep, -despite the prologned thought process I have undertaken since awaking-, I don't fail to notice the strange sensation of warmth against the sensitive skin of my feet. Looking down, I find a feather wafting gently over the linoleum floor, blackened-white and fragile looking. With a small shrug of confusion, I decide to ponder how exactly it ended up on my floor later on. For the time being, my only desire is to get both warmed up and clean, and without another thought, I pass by the foreign object and open the door to the tiny bathroom opposite my bedroom.
The sight that greets me shocks me senseless. Stalled at the door, I grasp its frame for support as my eyes pass over the unbelievable scene before me. Everywhere. They're everywhere. Sprawled across the floor…
Piles of them…
Soft white feathers…
---
Chapter 1
by almasy
My jade eyes slowly open to the sun's early rays, which force me to blink harshly as I struggle to accustom to the light. By estimation, I figure that it's probably about 6am. The sunrise is just fading; orange streaks mingling with the pure whiteness of the morning sky. I turn over onto my back and stare at the cracked ceiling above me as I muse. Was it all just a dream, then…?
It's strange to wake up alone. But hey, before I sound too much like Irvine Kinneas, I'll explain myself. In the wars, I was used to her presence; my Sorceress, Edea. Who controlled her, whether it was Adel, or Ultimecia, Hyne…even fucking Old MacDonald, that was irrelevant. I consider myself Edea's Knight. So did she. She proved it to me when I woke up with her. For all that she subjected me to at other times; pains, punishments, taunts and torture, at night she was as soft as Selphie. I remember so many, many times waking up in her arms. I'd have my head resting against her collarbone, her fingers curled into the rough tufts of my hair. Her other hand would be cradling mine as I found comfort in her body. There was something soothing in lying so close to her; my arms around her, hers around mine. It was so different from the catcalling and harsh instruction that I was dealt at all other times, but then…she was different.
I've heard so many crude jokes about her, about her fashion sense and the way she presented herself. Certainly, she liked flamboyance, she enjoyed spectacle and attention. But at night, or in the morning, she left all the show at the door. Au natural was her forte then, and holy Hyne, she was beautiful…
People believe it strange, I think, that we made love even though she was 'Matron'. I don't know. Perhaps it's the GFs that have dimmed my memories of her from back then. I have little recollection of her as a mother figure, as the woman who brought me up, guided me through the world. I've heard others mocking it as 'a near miss of incest', but I don't agree. She was never my mother, for a start; biologically or metaphorically. I don't remember ever regarding her as a mother, and besides, I don't know if it would have changed anything had I done so. If you love someone, does it matter who they are? I mean, I see the problems when there's reproduction involved, but I don't see the point in denying your love for somebody -wasting it-, just because they share some of the same DNA. It's a precious emotion, and it shouldn't be just washed out. It shouldn't be denied because of something so insignificant. It's not hurting anyone, after all, is it?
To me, she was my Sorceress. Far and above everything else, she was my Edea. She was the woman I believed I'd been born to serve. When she spread herself underneath me, weakening to my desires, she wasn't Matron. I ran my hands through her hair and I called her mine. Her wholehearted response was whispered against my lips, and I allowed myself to believe for a few brief moments that I had found my calling. My paradise. That she loved me unduly…
That she always would…
See. Some Knights really are romantics at heart. Another of our most prevalent traits? Delusion.
Once Edea and I left the bedroom, normal proceedings would continue. The dictating and the making me feel small would commence, and I would retake my position as her Knight. Her Servant. No longer her lover. It was not a change I liked by any means, but it was a position in which I believed I could not manoeuvre. All I could do was wait for night to fall, when she would speak softly to me, tell me she loved me, and hold me close. She'd look at me with those huge, vulnerable eyes, throw her head back so that her raven hair spread all out, and tell me how much I meant to her. Spin me more of her beautiful, wonderful lies. Long eyelashes fluttering. Fingers stroking my face. Sometimes I wonder if it's the same for Squall nowadays. Are all Sorceresses the same? He's with Rinoa, I imagine. In my mind, I can see him being lured into a similar plot; tricked by the promise of affection, the balming hands on his body as he attempted to annihilate the pain inside of him. The heady addiction of love, the stunning sound of whispered words of devotion. I'm sure Rinoa's capable of the same tricks. Does he fall for them, like I did?
Well, I'm never going to know, am I?
I do wonder, though. Whether he lies against his Sorceress in the morning as I did mine. Whether she wraps her arms around him as mine did me. Whether he leans over, breaks the gap between them with a soft kiss, as I did. Whether he's happy, as I was.
What's the point, though?
I drag strong fingers through my messy hair. It's growing too long for my liking, but I haven't the energy to do anything about it right now. Too much thinking to do, still staring at the ceiling.
Hyne, I've turned into Squall then, have I?
I don't recall sensing a similar devotion in Squall, where Knighthood was concerned. Perhaps it was my egotism, a dogged refusal to believe that anyone could be a more loving and more faithful Knight than I. Maybe I just couldn't bear the thought that he might have beaten me again. And in matters of the heart? No, that would never do. To be out-loved by a human icicle wasn't exactly on my list of 'Things I Must Experience by 30'. Hyne, even 50 years wouldn't be enough time for me to get used to the idea of his passion outgrowing mine. There are just some things that don't change, and Squall's unnerving coldness is one of them.
It's not that I don't miss him, exactly. He was the good boy to my evil guy, the hero thwarting my dastardly plans. The white to my black, as it were. Bit old, now. Just a tad pathetic. Still. We were always something more than that. Rivals, yes, but for a reason. Our natures clashed as much as our outfits did. We took opposing sides because our separate natures, our conflicting hearts and our divergent minds drew us each to them. There's always more to a rivalry than taunts and attire of contrasting colours, believe me. A true rivalry always contains a rift of a deeper kind. You're born into the role, in my opinion. You're created one way and you find your rival, and once you do, you can never remove him from your head. Even if you've beaten him more times than even an army could count, or even better, killed him, his eyes will still haunt you in your sleep. You'll dream of him. It's like an anti-soul mate. You were born for him, and even if you terminate his existence, he'll still pursue you like a long-lost love. That's just life, you know? You're born to be with one person. You're born to fight another. One of my most resilient beliefs? They should never be the same person.
We weren't like that, though, not me and Squall. Not like that. It crossed my mind a couple of times, of course. When I could see the adrenaline in his eyes and the passion engulfing him as he drew his blade back, I thought about kissing him. More than that. Brief fleeting moments occurred where I'd indulge a little in the idea, pondering about what it would be like to taste his skin. Watch him sleep. Usual romantic, corny Knight stuff. The thought occurred to him too, I reckon. Sometimes I'd think that the casual glances he'd throw at me during class weren't quite as careless as he made out. There was definitely something in his eyes a couple of times, as if his train of thought were headed in a most filthy direction. It was probably a good thing I never bought a ticket for the journey.
Oh, yeah. He was a living fantasy. Who wouldn't go there, given half a chance? But it wouldn't have worked out. It goes back to that rivalry thing again. He was an anti-soul mate, not a soul mate. A fighter, not a lover. You get the picture. I was born to battle him; to strike him, to kill him. Spill his blood, not his semen. Just don't go there. I could have killed him in the wartime. I was so close, with Ultimecia. How would that have worked out, if I'd been sleeping with him? If we'd been together? Complication overload. Could I have killed him? Given my mental state, I probably could have and then where would we have been afterwards? No. Give your rivals only hatred, if you can. Keep love and affection locked away. It's the only way you're going to make it through with your heart intact.
K'so, we weren't some big love affair. Jesus. It's not like I was some balcony-chick, calling out to him with a rose in my hand. Yes, I'd have fucked him. And in time, yes, I'd probably have fallen in love with him. But the part I really miss, the bit I really regret missing out on, is being his friend. I regret that we were rivals, in that it stopped us pursuing a friendship. Like I said, rivals and hatred go hand in bloody hand. No room for companionship. It's a shame, because I think we could have really been something. Going back over the opposing characters idea, it's my belief that, yeah, it makes the best enemies, but often…the best relationships, as well. It's like trading; you combine your opposing sides into one being, one entity, and from there, the two of you become whole. Me and Squall, we could have been like the Yin and Yang, balancing out strengths and flaws with ease. Trading qualities to hide our respective holes. I was the fire to thaw his ice, and he the humility to soothe my conceit. I was the noise to cover his silence, and he the patience to curb my impulsion. He the thinker, I the doer. He the brains, I the brawn. Kit the pair of us out with matching weaponry, and Hyne; we'd have been invincible.
Not only that, though. We'd have been inseparable. You don't need to complicate that scenario by putting us in the same bed, but I believe that we could have supported each other emotionally; far more than anything he'll be getting from Rinoa or the others. I may not seem to grasp much, but I understand Squall. I know what he needs. Hyne, I had to, always aiming to give him the exact opposite. But I can guarantee you; nobody back in Balamb has a wealthier resource of useful information on the Lion than I have. Rinoa may be holding him in her arms right now, for all I know, but she won't be doing it exactly right. After he's had a long day, when he's tired and angry at the world, he needs a strong hug. Arms right underneath his and as far around his back as you can reach. Pull him up towards you, get his head resting against your throat and his arms around your shoulders, and let him breathe. Silence. For as long as he needs. Not a word. But make sure you keep a firm hold on him, hold him tight against you. Squall gets scared, see. I don't think his irritation and tiredness is broodiness at all. I think its fear. I don't think he's moody, just…frightened. Of being left alone, of not being able to cope, of falling.
Not feelings I share, but I know how to cope with their onslaught. He needs to know that you're not going to abandon him. It's essential to give him the reassurance of your existence, of your continuing presence in his life. He needs strong arms around him and a shoulder he can rest his head on. And if I know Rinoa, she isn't going to meet the standard. She'll pat him on the head and go back to her dilly-dallying, without giving him a second thought. Perhaps if he's lucky, he might get a small cuddle, but nothing compared to the way I used to surround him with comfort. K'so, I do honestly think that mixing love and hate is dangerous, but you can afford to blur some lines when someone you care about is crying in your arms. You won't avoid a bit of heartache that way, but what's life without a bit of darkness, eh? I just wish I could have gotten more moments like that. Been there for him more. Maybe been his friend, instead of his enemy. He'd have been better by now…
But what do I know? Maybe I'm wrong about everything. Perhaps he's fine now, shacking up with Miss. Princess and enjoying sunny days filled with shoe shopping and hair styling. Maybe he doesn't like my type of hugs anymore, either. Maybe he's changed and I'm only hanging onto the image of the Squall I used to know. Maybe I'm as wrong about all of the Leonhart thang as I am about accepting my Sorceress back.
I roll over again as her name graces my lips. My Sorceress. She probably wouldn't be all that impressed at my musings about Squall, I guess. I don't think she liked him, much. He distracted me. Turned my attentions and affections elsewhere. And Hyne, if she couldn't command my protective instincts, she wanted them all stamped out, not diverted onto her opponent's shoulders. She never did seem to understand that my protective urges were with her all the time. All those nights I lay in her arms; I wanted to lie there and protect her until the day I died. I would have given up anything in a second if she'd asked. I nearly killed Squall for her, didn't I? Yes, my devotion to her often exceeded my care for him. More than often. She never knew that. She thought it was all about Squall.
Romantic Knight, I am…
My love of the lady will always slay the affection to the friend. Call me shallow, call me disloyal, but it's the way my heart takes me, and probably always will. One of the rare values I share with Leonhart. His feelings for Rinoa, for his goal, made him hit me as hard as I hit him. His passion for that girl will always be a superior master to whatever he feels for me. And that's just fine. We're both Knights, after all. We both understand the business.
I wish I could have made her understand, though, Edea. Maybe then she'd have taken me truly as hers, instead of keeping me as some halfway house between a scapegoat and a lover. Would she have left me in the morning, then…?
I'll remember that. It'll be one mistake I don't repeat. She'll know how much I love her, this time. How I'd die to keep her happy, how I'd slay any soul that strayed into her path, how I'd give anything for nothing in return…
Romantic Knight, I always will be…
Even if it means turning my back on Squall. Hyne, as if that hasn't already happened. I haven't heard from him, and I don't expect to. Torturing someone and trying to kill them and everyone they care for, it has that effect. No, I think our paths are now set; directed as far away from each other as possible until the time comes for our revival. Not yet rivals again, but it'll be a while before I get him out of my head. For her, though…I'd kill him in a shot. That's what she needs to know. For her, I've never heard of Squall Leonhart.
And for Rinoa, he's probably never heard of Seifer Almasy.
The first step, though, in removing him from my conscious mind, is to stop acting like him. Enough thinking for one morning. I haul myself out of the warm bundle of sheets and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Subjected cruelly to the early morning chill in the air, I shiver a little and stalk into the bathroom for a red-hot shower.
The floor is freezing on the soles of my feet, and I dart as quickly as I can into the thin corridor that adjoins the few rooms in the apartment. The hair on the back on my neck prickles in response to the cold, and I can't repress a shudder. Though my brain is fuzzy from sleep, -despite the prologned thought process I have undertaken since awaking-, I don't fail to notice the strange sensation of warmth against the sensitive skin of my feet. Looking down, I find a feather wafting gently over the linoleum floor, blackened-white and fragile looking. With a small shrug of confusion, I decide to ponder how exactly it ended up on my floor later on. For the time being, my only desire is to get both warmed up and clean, and without another thought, I pass by the foreign object and open the door to the tiny bathroom opposite my bedroom.
The sight that greets me shocks me senseless. Stalled at the door, I grasp its frame for support as my eyes pass over the unbelievable scene before me. Everywhere. They're everywhere. Sprawled across the floor…
Piles of them…
Soft white feathers…
---