The curtain was dark, a heavy red linen with streaks of black running through the weave to darken further. Light filtered in only through the edges where the gap between cloth and wall allowed it to stream in. The door to the closet was ajar, letting in another small pool of light on the entombed man. It was dark in the room and his weakening vision was not helping him to see in the heavy dark. It was as though someone had died. Hadn't they? he mused, leaning a tired head against the wall of his beautifully painted room. He could feel the paint against his face, cold and cool. He could feel the love in it, the affection his closest friend had put into her work. He could feel the love that was once in this room, swirling around him. He choked back a sob and put a bottle to his lips to stifle his sadness.
The bottle just touched his lips when he pulled it away again, none of the amber liquid flowing into his waiting gullet. His lavender eyes, murky, red, and a little yellow, peered at it in the dark. This was why he had nothing left, this drink. But nothing else soothed his broken soul. Everything burned in his heart and he was losing track of the days as they went. Silvano dropped him to serf, and Vigilante was silent. Something was going on outside the Hotel, outside his little portion of the pack. But he found no care in his heart. Ahiga had ended his own life and Strel knew he had failed. Oh, but he had tried. He had truly tried his very best. His heart broke when he found out his nephew was not coming home anymore, and the two of them could stay each others bastions. Now, where was his bastion? No where the tailor could be.
A knock? Strelein looked up with foggy eyes and scrambled off of his bed, remembering the warmth and love that was there once upon a time. Was it real? He shoved his thoughts away and walked to the door. Fumbling with the lock, he jerked the door open. Red eyes peered at the man standing before him, Trent right? Strel was disheveled and clearly unkempt. His normally pristine appearance was gone, and a ghost stood in his place. "Yes?" he asked softly, looking from his face to the meat in his hands.
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