Inhuman Places Breed Human Monsters

Chapter two

Perhaps it was simply due to the nerves of it being the first night in a still largely unfamiliar location, or simply because the near excessively large room they had decided to occupy that evening, but his voice boomed loud and full of life as he spoke the well crafted words of another.

The two, curled up happily on the lounge, a lounge of such a size they had joked they could each lie across it and not reach the other, were each wrapped in a wonderfully cosy blanket. It felt much like the height of luxury, and Edmund had found it easy to see the appeal for the guests to come all the way up there to the middle of nowhere for a holiday. Beauty, comfort, and grandiose elegance seemed a difficult mix and yet the hotel was perfectly accommodating in all regards. He'd have tipped a figurative hat to the person that had designed the place, but given its age he was sure that the person had long since took up residence six feet down in the dirt.

For one that was usually quite contained in his movements, at that very moment he was marvelously animated in the most theatrical sense. Stretching out his arm, reaching, gesturing, grasping and clasping as the words seemed fit, his tone wavering with intensity and pitch as the lines flowed from page to even the furthest corners of the room. There was a smile upon Mina's face as she watch him, feeling almost as if she was watching a theater production rather than being simply read to. He, in turn fed off her reactions, hamming it up, giving pause for her to respond, be it laughter, shock or scandal, before he carried on. There was a light in his eyes, a smile upon his face, and a cheeriness to his disposition, and it suited him.

When, at last, he fell silent, the book he was reading put to the side, his breath was coming fast, seeming more like he'd run a marathon than had been reading. His hair, normally quite orderly, fell about as an almost wild mess, though he hadn't bothered to brush it aside, rather turning his attention over to his beloved, a warmth shining within his dark brown eyes. The delight upon her face at having been read to matched his own delight at having read to her in its intensity.

The familiarity in this, amongst the unfamiliarity of the world they had fallen so willingly into, made all the more needed, as well as appreciated. It was as if they had claimed this place in the world and made it their own.

A few days, nearing a week, passed by uneventfully. The wind had yet to sour unbearable, and things were beginning to form a routine as the days carried on.

On a wander of the halls, one of a distracted sort that Edmund had chosen to allow his legs to dictate his path while his mind wandered to other places, caring not where he would end up as it was a destinationless walk. He still had duties to do before the snow came, and neither appeared less daunting than the other. He'd never reshingled anything in his entire life, and yet he was expected to replace a decent amount of shingles on the roof. Likewise, he'd never properly gone about sheering plants, and yet he was expected to trim the topiary and prevent it from losing its shape before the snow came and stunted its growth. Edmund knew that he had agreed to all this, signed the contract that meant he had no choice but to do his duties, but that didn't mean he had to want like them. At least these were things he would only have to do once or twice, unlike, say, dumping the boiler which had to be done twice daily. He doubted that he'd ever find himself comfortable in the boiler room, as it was hot and stuffy, cramped and crowded, dirty and clearly rarely tended to.

Stopping his aimless meandering of the halls, he found himself a tad curious of a room that had been boasted about on the tour but not properly shown to them. It was this curiosity, he could assume, that had landed him in front of the room in question, the Colorado Lounge. Slipping through the doors, he had expected there to have been at least some exaggeration towards the place, but even a brief glance about when it had been dismantled for the winter he couldn't deny it was impressive. The rug, usually spread out across the floor, was rolled up nice and safe, stored out of the way in the far corner to protect it from fading, dirt, and other mishaps that could easily befall a carpet that was left in a practically empty building. Chairs had been placed up high on the tables for an ease of cleaning, giving a brief impression of young girls squealing and clutching at their petticoats as they hid on the table after catching sight of a mouse passing by. Adorned by art and extravagant decor, there was a timeless impression to the area, making him feel almost as if he about to step out into another time altogether when he finally left. With a chuckle, Edmund felt a little under-dressed standing in there in a heavy grey sweater and simple jeans, but the thought of this had simply brought a faint chuckle into the silence of the room.

The room was quiet. He hadn't really noticed until he had made sound, but it was almost disconcertingly quiet. It was a room designed for noise and life, so it was in a sad state to have these taken away from it.

Shaking his head, his curiosity satisfied, he turned to move back out again. This was as short lived retreat, however, as his eyes strayed off and landed on a wee table he had missed on first glance. Resting almost smugly upon it was a phonograph, its mouth silent but glittered invitingly in the gloom. It looked as though it very much wanted him to play it, and he was almost inclined to listen to it right there and then.

That evening Edmund invited Mina to accompany him back to the Colorado Lounge. He'd expected the records to skip and be uncooperative, as would be just his luck, but no, with not even the slightest hindrance, the music flowed out of the machine. It was a song he couldn't name, but it felt right as it washed away the silence with its melody.
He stretched out a hand, inviting, patient, and she took it. Together they danced in the empty building hidden away in the mountains. Danced as if they were the only two in the whole entire world, for it felt like they were. Even as they danced he was restrained, as if he was doing his hardest to hold himself back. Not that she cared, for as they twirled and delighted in each others presence, she couldn't be happier. It may have been a sloppy, mistimed almost waltz, but they were happy and enjoying themselves, and there was nothing better than that in the whole world.