Let Him Rest

Chapter 1

Calm.

He hasn't felt calm since he was a child - the centre of attention in his new home. A delicate glow bathed his face in a soft golden colour; it streamed in from the large, open window that stood tall in front of him, it's glass stained grey obscuring the view outside, cracked open, letting in a small, chill gust of air.

Soft rainbows danced serenely on the dark wooden walls of the weirdly familiar room in which he had awoke; intricate designs were carved smoothly into the well cut planks and the gleam of the floor indicating that it had been cleaned recently. Large paintings hung carefully on the walls and a seemingly untouched bed lay behind him as he scanned the room for anything that would be of use.

Small flowers were situated comfortably in pots beside the bed and on the windowsill, an allium  sat carefully on the left side of the bed and a wither rose stood on the windowsill proud and tall in its position looking out on the world that lay before it. A lone chair sat in a corner with a desk in front of it made of dark oak wood with papers scattered about seemingly randomly overlapping each other with a few having fallen on the floor underneath the dark wood.

He stopped.

A stretch of blood red fabric hung in tranquility on an ornate hook by the closed spruce door, the silk-like material flowed regally like it was swaying to a delicate tune as a small breeze was put forth by the opening in the window. Slowly and carefully, he walked towards the long cloak, his footsteps silent - a skill he acquired years ago. As he grew closer more details of the sanguine coloured clothing item grew apparent.

Bloodstains in the expensive fabric were barely visible due to the similarity in colour between them and the red of the cloak and the soft white interior was well taken care of and soft to the touch. A golden trim outlined the crimson material, shining in the morning light. The brisk cold of the room directly contrasted the temperature of the fabric and he wondered whether he should put it on.

'Eh, what harm could it do'

He slipped it cautiously off of its bronze hook and over his thin frame; the fur interior was comforting and made warmth rush through his body like it would with a hot chocolate on a cold winters day back when everything was fine. The crisp air was hardly noticeable now as it combed through his hair and his eyes began to wander the room once again.

Mere meters away lay a blackened fireplace set fittingly into the wooden wall surrounded by a layer of thick stone bricks to ensure the elaborately decorated planks stayed away from any embers. Small sparks trickled slowly out of the singed logs underneath the ornate hearth as he contemplated lighting it. The extra protection against the cold of the arctic wind wouldn't be unwelcome and it didn't seem like the crackling of the splintering wood would bother any residents if he could go this long unnoticed in this house.

Walking faster than he did before - though his footsteps were quiet as ever - he made his way over to the charred logs and picked up a flint and steel that had been left on the mantle. Striking it with strange precision, the flames lit almost immediately and grew until heat had spread throughout the entire room, the breeze that had been growing ever more present before, now a whisper in the back of his mind. The soft crackling of the logs in the fire was comforting as he sat on the carpet that was placed perfectly in front of the warmth radiating from the blaze.

Yellow and red bathed his face as though he was glowing bright as the sun, the warm colours complemented his features nicely, the scars and bruises faded yet still present in the gentle light. He seemed content. His eyes closed airily and a small smile on his chapped lips. The smell of smoke and ash lulling him into an air of peace as he slowly lay down further onto the woollen rug beneath him.

Calm.

He was calm.