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Cale sat on the chair across the empty one, the wood seeming as if it would snap any moment under him. His fingers drummed nervously against the smooth surface of the desk, he could feel them tingling from nerves, a small but annoying ache in his fingertips where they had touched down. He tried to will away the feeling, his hands trembling slightly from the exertion of keeping still as he waited for anything to happen. His soft, delicate and fragile palms were a little red and raw now from where the skin on his hands had rubbed too hard against the table. His knuckles looked bruised now.
His soft lips tugged downwards into an expression of discomfort, as if he disliked the thought of the pain that was coming from his fingertips that were already stained pink and red from the friction.
The Candle burning brightly on his desk cast warm orange light over the room, casting shadows of its flames and flickering around the small office, making a small space appear almost cozy. The light also made his dark curls seem even darker and gave him a sort of ethereal look, giving him the appearance of being a ghost from another world. The candlelight cast an otherworldly glow over the boy's face, making him seem all too real at that moment. Cale’s dark eyes seemed darker with emotion and his pale skin glowed like porcelain, even more so then usual because of the faint reddish hue that seemed to be permanently painted over his features. His hair was messy with strands falling out of place and framing his face beautifully. His lips were pursed together tightly into a thin line, showing off his straight white teeth as his lips remained pressed together. They trembled ever so slightly and he couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh.
The sounds of the clock ticking and clicking away on the wall echoed through the silence of the room, the clock sounding like a heartbeat as it ticked loudly in the small room Cale had stayed at. There were bookshelves lining up along the walls of the room, filled to the brim with countless old books that no one would ever read. The books were dusty and unread, their spines cracked from years and age. A few chairs littered the floor around the room, some chairs pulled into the corner where they were practically hidden away from view. A couple of lamps hung low by the window, illuminating the room. All in all, it didn't look like someone lived there at all, yet everything looked neat enough to be considered homely. Not too shabby and not overly luxurious either, the kind of home you have when you spend most of your life in such a setting.
Upon everything, the fireplace still crackled with fire, casting its orange glow onto the walls. It looked like a warm golden light from within, and Cale liked that about it. When he came here he always felt cold, like the air outside had frozen solid around him. And even though the warmth did come from the fire, it felt good. It felt welcoming.
His fragile and thin figure appeared to stand suddenly from the chair he previously sat on. For a second Cale stood still, and then he took a step forward, his feet barely leaving the ground. The chair he had been sitting in had tipped over, sending its contents crashing to the floor. The clatter sounded very loud in the quietness of the room as a whole. It was a sound that was completely lost on Cale, however as he hadn't reacted in fear of the noise. He merely continued walking towards the fireplace, not stopping until he reached its glowing depths.
The cracking of the wood echoes each step he takes, as if a piece of himself is going back into the darkness from which he came. The cracks are slow and cautious, like a child stepping on something sharp that might break. Cale carefully reaches out to hold the logs of wood, his hand hovering just above the pile of burning logs in front of him. As soon as he lays his finger gently upon the log, a burst of orange sparks erupt outwards, engulfing him with the sudden heat that emanates from the wood. Cale doesn’t flinch, nor does his gaze waver from the fire. His eyes remain steady and calm as the fire stops consuming him.
Instead, he simply stands motionless before the blazing heat, his arms crossed loosely.
He looks peaceful. Like he's waiting for something.
knock, knock.
Suddenly, the sound of knocking resounds throughout the house. The loud noise seems like thunder and yet, it isn't as loud as it should have been. There shouldn't have been a single thump or scrape from what sounded like a pair of a rough hand on wood.
Cale stayed there Emotionlessly,
letting the sounds echo through the house,
his fingers gripping the edge of the mantelpiece. The only movement coming from him were the faintest movements that were caused by the slight wind that was blowing through the open window. His long red locks danced with the gentle breeze, his red bangs shifting lightly with every movement. The boy had an air of mystery about him, of being shrouded from sight yet seemingly able to see clearly through his own mysterious veil of darkness.
The knocking stopped and a figure appeared in the doorway to the room. A tall brown haired man, looking around as if assessing the situation in the room.
Cale turned to look at him, a calm and collected expression painted upon his face. He was silent and the man was in both shock and surprise. The older man stared at the young man for a while, his mouth slightly agape. "You're alive?" He whispered finally, not really expecting an answer, not believing that Cale Henituse was alive after how he died all those months ago.
" No. "
That simple answer made the heart of the man race, his breathing hitched, his chest tightening in fear of whatever was happening. The words came out slowly but surely, sounding almost robotic in how lifeless they sounded.
"Father." Cale voiced, capturing the voice of Deruth.
"Yes...? "
" Why did you not save me? "