#caeruxa

SEND ME ONE FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION

          Tonight is a peaceful night. 

     It’s late; the air is cold outside and becoming more bitter by day. Rooms are silence by now. Everyone’s usually gone to bed or left altogether. G.’s one of the stragglers tonight; he spent too much time leafing through paperwork after the sun has set and got lost in himself when he went outside for some fresh air ( and a smoke or two ). The cold air eventually got to his bones, bit his fingers and nose, and sent him inside---but G. had every intention of continuing his work. It’s only a little while later that he’s dragged himself inside and wandered the halls to get a cup of tea ( the taste is growing on him honestly ). 

          Tonight was a peaceful night.

     The calming silence of the night was broken all too suddenly. A scream so piteous, so alarming, had caused the storm to drop his cup. It shattered on the floor, but G. paid it no mind. He was already peeking out the door to check the hall for any signs of life. 

                                            One---two---three

    He counted to himself, held his breath and waited. No movement, no more screaming, no lights or gun shots. There’s a moment where he begins the thought that maybe, just maybe he’s not getting enough sleep and must’ve imagined it--but it resounds again. Once more. Another scream echoes the halls and he’s hit with a familiarity. The storm is out and into the hall before he knows it, pace quick despite the long stride and soft steps. Another piteous sound that grips at his heart, and G. realizes why the sound it familiar. 

     Giotto’s voice is unlike he’s ever heard it. Spurs the storm into running down the halls to reach his boss’s room. He all but throws open the door, not bothering with formalities. Formalities are for a boss and his right hand. He’s not that right now, he’s not. G.’s nothing but a man who’s concerned for his friend. 

It is a bit late, but that doesn’t make it even less precious. He still wonders from time to time, since when he has people who actually remembers his birthday? ---He’s blessed, he thinks.