13 Camping On Trixs Doorstep (1/2)

The sleeping quarter's double oak wood doors slammed behind us as we power walked across the balcony's red carpet.

We ambled down a staircase of full dark wood bal.u.s.trades and floral carpet steps. It gently curved to the lower floor that was subtlety lit by light from iron scones along the paisley blue and maroon coloured wallpapered walls.

”This place.” I pointed to the large-sized sitting area with a quaint arrangement of dark leather or plush lounges and single chairs beyond the floor's main archway.

”Oh, well this room does hold a relaxing feel.” Death nodded his head.

We gingerly moved to a set of dark brown leather two-seat and three-seat lounges furthest from view of the main archway. A coolness could be felt from the tall window panes showing more of the mansion's lush green trees and pastel coloured floral gardens.

I studied the catches around the lift-up window frames next to the lounge I had dumped my bedding on. I unlatched the lock and carefully lifted up the window to let in the cool night breeze.

_”Ooh Freend. It smells nice outside.”_ Small Cap said as he crawled out of the belt pouch and to my shoulder.

He looked at me with earnest eyes.

”Am I your boss? Have fun.” I gave Small Cap the go to explore the grounds.

I locked the window slightly open, so Small Cap could come and go as he pleased.

Death had already claimed his lounge, being a s.p.a.cious three-seater, and made his bed. He was shaking out my blankets to make mine.

”Do you think it weird we're camping out in a drawing room?”

”Like we have a choice. Whilst that mad bird is in that room, I'm not going to sleep in it.” Death justified as he puffed out my pillows and smoothed down my blankets.

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”Yeah, but that git has my other clothes.” I groaned.

Death provided an answer when he showed me his bag. He pulled out a pair of boxers and an under s.h.i.+rt I could wear.

”Um, I mind as well go naked.” I grumbled.

”Well go naked.” Death scoffed, putting the clothes back into his bag.

”Go naked Famine. I'd like to see that.” A c.o.c.ky deep voice intruded on our conversation.

We turned and faced Trix who was leaning against the archway with his arms crossed. He was still in his uniform of a patchwork overcoat, navy-blue vest, pants and worn down black leather boots. His short crop of mousy-brown hair was a mess with strands plastered to his forehead, and his complexion was slightly poorly and pale. The expression from blue eyes was cloudy and unreadable.

”Trix!” My heart beat with relief at seeing him. ”You're okay?”

Trix responded with a slight wobble and momentary look of disorientation.

”You're not okay, are you.” Death sternly observed him.

”That's right, you're Death.” Trix soberly changed the subject and met his eyes.

”I am.” Death soberly replied.

”Thanks to my special abilities, I was able to heal,” Trix explained. ”Enough for me to escape the medical unit before Forneas had noticed. If I stayed there any longer, I'd smash a wall.”