glowing. || julian devorak

part seven.

"Mazelinka!" Asra called, ducking through the low doorframe into the house, careful to make sure that Faust's head didn't knock against the wood. "Muriel found some goldenseal growing near the river, I figured you might be running low!"

He tucked the woven basket under his arm as he made his way into the small kitchen. "Mazelinka?" he called, a bit louder this time. "Are you home?" He twisted his body to avoid knocking over any of the precariously-stacked pots and pans on the counters, carefully setting the basket on a bit of empty space beside the sink. He walked further into the house, pausing in the living room to call out Mazelinka's name once more.

Bird!

Hearing the quiet rustling of Faust raising her head, Asra turned his eyes up to the low rafters.

"Oh, hello," he said, watching the large raven peer down at them. Malak stared back, black eye shining as he repositioned his wings. "Is Mazelinka here?" The raven watched him for a long moment before shaking his head, his feathers ruffling. "Strange. Is Ilya here?"

Malak gave a low croak and turned to look down the short hallway. Asra understood, nodding his thanks and going down the dimly-lit hall. The door at the end was wood, dented and scraped at the hinges, a deep J carved into the center. Asra thought back fondly to when a curtain hung here — nights where he'd stay too late and have to spend the night in the Hole, mornings helping Mazelinka in the garden while Julian made breakfast. Asra shook his head and brushed away the memory, reaching out to try the handle, and the door swung open easily. The room was dark, heavy curtains blocking the small window, with a large threadbare rug covering the dusty floor. Stacks of books cluttered a small desk in the corner, quills and half-empty inkwells littering the shelves on the wall. The room was chaotic and well-lived, and Asra thought it was sweet how comfortable Julian was here, how welcome he must be to have his own room.

"Someone should be home soon," he told Faust, taking a seat on the edge of the sagging mattress. "We might as well wait."

He let his body slump back against the bed, feet planted on the ground. Asra closed his eyes and enjoyed the peaceful darkness, listening to the faint sound of Faust slithering agains the sheets. Dozing, he recognized the notes of black coffee and bourbon — Julian's scent, he knew — and he thought to himself just how comfortable the bed was. A light tapping against his cheek broke him from his daydream, and he sat up to watch Faust slink off his chest and into the sheets, asking him to follow. Obliging, Asra pulled back the sheet, uncovering the python coiled in a pile of pink petals.

Ouch!

At Faust's exclamation, Asra darted to pick her up, examining her scales as she curled back up around his neck. Bobbing her head once more to the flowers, she said it again — Ouch!

Picking up a petal gingerly between two fingers, Asra noted the thin sheen of red over the violet and gold of the flower. "Well, this is... not good."