Jewel Monster (House Beasts #2)

Finwer's Laboratory

The archways stretched out in front of him, golden and white, heavy with blooming glycine. On one side were the water gardens, where two of his siblings, Carthem and Idena, were currently lounging, and on the other was the kitchen garden. But he didn't look to either side, except when Idena called his name and waved at him. He smiled at her and waved back but didn't stop. There was an important meeting he needed to attend.

At the end of the archways was a garden, isolated from the rest by short hedges, and a house of modest size - by fairy nobility standards. But what it lacked in size, it made up for it in care: it was a blend of romantic and luxurious, with large windows to let in a lot of light and a small decorative watchtower at the top. He rang the golden bell hanging under the porch and waited.

A housekeeper, carrying the blue and gold uniform of their house, opened the door for him.

"Master Finwer is expecting you," she said. "Please step in, he'll be with you in a moment."

He followed her as she introduced him to a comfortable drawing-room. One could most certainly use it and find it up to the fairy standards, yet it didn't feel lived in; the cloth on the furniture felt too new, the glass covering of the low wooden table was too immaculate, the cushions placed too perfectly. This was the sort of space that his mother loved and that he hated.

He flopped down on the couch, the excess of cloth he wore covering most of it, then tossed a cushion on one of the armchairs just to ruin the symmetry. There. It could be better, but this was most certainly an improvement. At least Finwer wasn't above cheating: upon closer inspection, the single rose on the low table revealed itself to be fake.

He didn't wait much longer before he heard footsteps behind him. And although they had not seen in each for a full two days, the first thing Finwer did when he saw him was sigh.

"Don't tell me you intend to work like that," he said, gesturing to Dimor's clothes.

"I know." answered Dimor. He gave his brother an apologetic smile. "I was sort of hoping you would lend me something? I might have... accidentally... burned... my old labratory clothes. Just a little. And then now I can't find them."

Something about Dimor's mannerism made Finwer cover his face with both of his hands, but not in exasperation. In fact, as he stood there, his shoulders started to shake imperceptively. And then he rubbed the under of his eye, as if wiping a tear, while breathing deeply. But Dimor was not fooled. His brother was trying not to laugh.

"You never change," said Finwer. "And you're lucky I got apprentice that are more forgetful than you are. Come, we'll get you dressed in an extra until you can get something tailor-made. Right this way."

He turned around and Dimor followed. After a short hallway, he opened a walk-in clothet in which there was rows and rows of lab coats, leather gloves, and other protective wear. Finwer skimmed through them before throwing and outfit he had chosen to his brother.

"There you go," he said. "There is a room you can close behind you, go change."

Dimor did as he was told. Once out of sight, he took off his cloak, folded it neatly, and left it on a chair before he dressed in the white overcoat. The protection it offered extended further than what the naked eye could see but, again, the products that they worked with also damaged further than what the naked eyes could see. One could never be too careful.

"How do I look?" said Dimor, posing when he stepped out.

"This isn't a fashion display."

"Gee. Who pooped in your cereals?"