Lord Liverchester

Untitled Part 23

I woke up the next morning understanding that I really had nothing to fear. Sure, the world was this great big place and anything was possible. It was always going to be a given that my nature was to be inherently scared of any and all things. I thought that as long as I felt protected, I would be okay. That being said, I wasn't ready to be by myself yet. I tried, wandering out of the room before Dorian was awake. The warm air of the hallway smelled like toast and coffee, the scent wafting from the kitchen. I was on a mission to find Artois. Telling him about Dorian's gifts was the first thing on my mind the minute I opened my eyes. I hadn't even bothered to wake Dorian, as he was turned away from me and deep in sleep. I had learned that he was a deep sleeper and he didn't take well to being shaken or stirred. I crept down the hallway and checked a few rooms to see what they held. Most were locked. They were likely just bedrooms that hadn't been slept in or touched in decades. The things I could see were nice and innocent, just the same red or black wallpaper with picture frames and artwork hung up. I knew the difference between Dorian's style and the original furnishings of the house. He liked warm lighting and open curtains that let in sunlight. The unlocked rooms all had that in common, plus a desk or big leather chairs. One or two were arranged differently, with open floor plans, darkness, and everything set up symmetrically. The former were more inviting, pleasant to walk into. Often, the scent of Dorian's cologne would breeze past as I opened the doors. Some of the others just smelled dusty and forgotten. I smiled to myself when that little bit of Dorian would rush past me, because then I knew he had been there to bless the place. I wasn't so scared of walking around the first floor of the house that morning. In fact, I was happy to be there. It was now mine should anything happen to him, and living there wouldn't be so bad. It was such a beautiful house, despite all the spiders I knew were lurking in the corners. Keeping in mind that Dorian wasn't far away if I needed him, I ventured in further.

It wasn't so easy to get lost. I previously thought that one wrong turn would disorient me, but all the hallways were connected and the big wide open rooms at the end of each one were dead ends. The center of the house branched off in many directions with one main hallway connecting everything together. It was so easy to find it again, and then to explore the other wings. I got bored of trying to open locked doors so I walked the perimeter of the bigger rooms, those without doors. They were bare of most furniture, most just housing a clock or empty cabinets. I found a piano or two, making the current count for pianos Dorian owned an impressive five. These rooms had many windows and were almost all painted bright colors. Some were white, one was pink and another was yellow. I liked the pink one most because it was a muted shade, a dusty rose. The window looked out toward the forest, the tall grass in the yard disappearing once the trees could take over. The sky above was blue, the morning sun shining through a patch of clouds. I thought about everything that was out there beyond where I stood. I could trace my steps from that blue painted hardwood floor with its dust covered boards all the way out of Devonbury. I knew my way home from there, I was certain. The room I stood in reminded me so much of home. I hatched a plan to take Dorian there today, mostly to prove to myself that I remembered the way back. I daydreamed about someday making the journey by myself, but I hoped there would be no need for a long time. Getting to Edincastle alone was a different story, an adventure for another day. I figured I should get back to Dorian soon before he wondered where I had gone. Lately the morning light had been waking him up before I got a chance. I loved watching him sleep because he looked so peaceful, almost innocent. With everything stripped back, he wasn't really this great big man that scared me. Sometimes he was like a father to me, a new incarnation of Bennett. I used to wait for him to wake up too, sitting at the foot of his bed. Every weekend I would go into town with the Stainthorpes. I stayed with them in their quarters at the institute and once Bennett and Marie were awake, the whole place would erupt in noise and joy. Those mornings were almost like Christmas. Another memory was restored now. My heart would leap every day at some point between sunrise and near noon when Dorian's eyes opened. Sometimes it was the change in his breathing, always signaling that he was waking up. He would lift his head to look at me, his hair messy and in his eyes. I'd paw at him gently, telling him he couldn't go back to sleep. It was getting easier for him to be present now, no longer hungover or fearing the sun. A few times he pretended to be ready to get up but he'd go right back to lying down, warm and curled up with me in his arms. I loved his smile, waking up to see his face close to me. He was a beautiful beast, his strong chest barely covered by the thin blanket on our bed. If I looked down I could see the outline of his rounded belly, a soft place where I could keep my hands warm. It was interesting how he could let his guard down so much but still be the protector. If anything disturbed him, he would spring to life instantly. Until then, he was just a sleeping, peaceful creature.