Coruscation

Unwanted Visitor

'I hate this,' was all the homesick hedgehog could think at the moment, not voicing his complaints to not wake up the other two.

Wachowski couldn't keep his eyes closed for more than two minutes without thinking another person was in the room with them. It didn't help when every now and again he thought he could see a shadow of something or someone in a random corner of the room whenever the lantern's candle flame would flicker. The candle within was probably going to go out soon, its wick slowly getting closer to drowning within its own wax.

While there was a window it was small, and very much covered by one of the darker fabrics being used as a curtain. The light bouncing off of the moon just barely seeped through the cover. He couldn't tell for the life of him how long it had been since Lancelot had fallen asleep. Creating his personal purgatory as he waited for something, anything, to happen in the silent room.

Sleep escaped him, no matter how tired he was getting. The feeling of something pressing against the back of his head, that he knew wasn't the soft pillows, and was now at a painfully slow and constant build-up.

The blue hedgehog tried to get comfortable but each shift and movement he made had Lancelot grab onto him out of reflex, and no matter how much Wachowski would love to have a hug right now; it wasn't the appropriate time. His constant shifts would also make Galahad grumble in his sleep and twist and turn closer to the edge of the bed.

So, he was stuck.

The Master Emerald had dimmed its light before Lancelot was asleep, but it hadn't lighted back up until hours later; it had been only half an hour. Wachowski let out a quiet sigh of relief as the room was lit up to a comfortable amount. All corners of the room were now visible, but he could still feel the eyes of whatever dark beings were stuck in 'The Tear'.

He felt a tug on his chest and looked over to the Master Emerald, its glow now acting like a heartbeat, slowly pulsating in and out, allowing the room to go back into darkness whenever the light died out before returning. Thankfully the shadow didn't come back as the large gemstone did its little light show telling him to come over. Wachowski slowly pushed himself back into the pillows, so that when he sat up he wouldn't pull the covers off of the other two sleeping hedgehogs. He stared at the pulsing emerald for a second before another soft tug on the coil convinced him to get out of bed.

But that was easier said than done. When he pushed the blankets off of his legs Lancelot had nearly gotten a fist to the face -out of surprise, not malice- when he grabbed onto the blue hog. Wachowski slowly pushed the knight's hand off of his leg before he could continue crawling to the end of the bed. He made sure not to touch Galahad's legs too much so that he wouldn't unconsciously roll himself off. When Wachowski finally got to the bottom edge of the bed, he slid off, carefully not dragging the fur pelt off with him.

Soft thuds filled the room, sounding louder than they really were, the silence amplifying the noise. Wachowski's ears flattened to his head as he winced. He slowly looked over the bed to the sleeping father and son. Neither of them moved much, other than Lance's hands twitching every second or so, wondering where the warmth they had grown accustomed to went. He let out a sigh of relief.

Wachowski turned to the Master Emerald, it tugged on the coil again. He walked over to it, careful to not make a sound on the wooden boards that covered the raw stone that made up the foundations of the castle underneath. Looking at the writer's desk, there weren't any papers but there was a dried-up, glass inkwell, and a feathered pen. Wachowski grabbed them, and when closer to the light from the candle he could see that the ink inside was thick and chunky, with the pen's tip stuck inside. He looked over the quill, the feather's color was a starch white, and its size and shape told him that it was a swan's primary feather. Not a goose's primary like he assumed.