ᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ || ᴄʏɴᴏ + ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴛᴡᴏ | ꜰɪʀᴇʟɪɢʜᴛ

Warm...

That was the first thought you had upon regaining some semblance of consciousness. You were warm. It was a pleasant, bone-deep feeling, like you were finally indoors after a big snowball fight, sitting in front of a crackling fire. It was warm like you hadn't been warm in a while. You took the feeling in, in your semi-conscious state, eyes closed to keep you locked into that velvet darkness of the halfway point between sleep and dream. It was the best you'd felt in a while, maybe ever.

Then, as quickly as that overwhelming comfort came, it was gone, and everything hurt.

You felt like you'd been trampled by stampeding horses. Every inch of your body was riddled with aches, and you knew you were alive, because you doubted that dead people felt pain. Your brain was foggy, your memories from before flickering behind your eyelids like damaged film in an old movie projector. Your head was pounding, worse than it ever had before, and it hurt to breathe, like you were drawing shards of glass into your lungs with every inhale.

You could hear sounds around you as your senses began to awaken. There was a fire crackling, not far from you, the source of the aforementioned heat. A radio was somewhere in your vicinity, the sound of some alternative radio station playing a song you vaguely recognized at a low volume. The room smelled of lemongrass and sandalwood, as well as some other mix of incense. As for what you could feel, there was a cool, damp cloth on your forehead, and your body was layered with several blankets. You scrounged together whatever cohesive thoughts you could to figure out where you were, but came up blank.

Finally, you opened your eyes.

The sudden burst of light, though dim, made your headache even worse, forcing you to shut your eyes again. You took a few moments to brace yourself before slowly peeking through your lashes.

You were in a living room. You'd been laid out on a wide, worn leather sofa and tucked into to cushions with a number of knitted blankets. A broad fireplace made up of smooth grey river rock was situated against the wall parallel to the sofa, the hearth alive with dancing flames. The wallpaper was a deep periwinkle, with dark wainscoting, shabby in a few places, but well kept. In front of the sofa sat a dark wooden coffee table, and beneath that, a plush rug colored with coppery tones. The mantle of the fireplace was decorated with what looked like antique relics, but from which time periods they were from, you were unsure. You did recognize the heavy-looking Egyptian Ankh that was propped against the wall, beside what appeared to be a wooden mask carved to look like the head of Anubis. Above the relics hung a flat screen television, switched off.

The coffee table was strewn with a collection of unusual objects. There was a book lying open, a wooden crucifix nestled in the inner hinge between the pages to keep them apart. It was written in a language you didn't recognize. There was a mortar and pedestal, empty, beside the book, as well as a small rectangular case made of polished wood and a little red velvet drawstring bag. There was also a rosary, made up of dark beads, laying alongside the book.

You couldn't see over the back of the couch from your current position, and you were too tired to try and prop yourself up to look around the rest of the room. It was then that you noticed what was on the small side table beside the sofa.

There was a glass of water, as well as a plate with a salami sandwich. Your stomach rumbled at the sight of it.

Wait.

You paused before you reached up to snatch the food, your brain kicking into logical thought. Where exactly where you? Your memories were foggy, but you didn't remember coming here, wherever here was. You remembered feeling pain, hearing prayers, and—