|| The Harbinger's Guest ||

|| Part 3 ||

The sun eventually lowered behind the mountains outside. Since Tartaglia had left, only a brief sentence had broken the silence between them.

"Don't touch that box."

Scaramouche sat by the fireplace, as if guarding what he warned Aether of. Sitting on top of the mantelpiece was a small, wooden box. Aether hadn't payed the object any attention to begin with, but Scaramouche would know that he was curious at heart, and would eventually discover it. Still, Scaramouche's words only made him more drawn towards it, but there seemed to be no way the Balladeer would even let him near it. Scaramouche was so still, Aether almost mistook him for a statue.

To pass the time, Aether had decided to search every other crevice and corner of the room. He looked through the tall wardrobe, which was mostly empty. He found a few woollen scarves, but other than that, it seemed to serve no purpose. After asking Scaramouche, he learned that someone would come and leave Aether some clothes to wear. He checked the drawers of the beside tables next to his bed. Nothing. Scaramouche didn't bother to tell him what was empty and what wasn't. He probably enjoyed seeing him run around cluelessly.

Aether opened the door on the other side of the room, discovering the bathroom. He left the door open as he walked inside to investigate. Marble floors, tall ceiling (just like every other room), and a fancy bathtub. It was made of porcelain, with rustic gold accents and a set of candles sitting on the side. Aether raised his eyebrows at the elaborate effort put into it's appearance. Along with that, there was everything else a bathroom needs: a lavatory (Aether was glad to finally find it) a round porcelain sink and a mirror fixed above it with a golden rim.

"You should use it," was Scaramouche's subtle way of telling the Traveler that he was in desperate need of a bath.

It felt so strange having him so close by, but he considered it. He hadn't washed himself in... well, a long time. He walked back over to the door, shutting it and locking it.

He turned his head to look around the room again. Was there anything he missed? He walked over to the sink, staring into the mirror. His eyes were more sunken. There were light pink scratches along his cheeks, and he new he had worse injuries on him that needed cleaning. He frowned at his reflection.

He opened the drawers below the sink, finding some towels, along with other items. He took a towel and a hairbrush from the bottom shelf and placed them next to the sink as he took another look at himself. He began unbraiding his hair. He picked up the hairbrush, and made contact with his scalp.

"Aether, what did you do to make it so knotty?" a familiar voice asked, a memory echoing in his mind.

"You have no idea how much travelling can mess up long hair, Lumine."

"You should cut your hair like mine," that voice replied.

"Then no one will tell us apart."

"Oh, of course. It's not like we have other identifiable features."

"That's exactly what I mean."

The two of them had laughed then. Aether felt an ongoing pit somehow go deeper in his chest. He looked at the door again. He looked back at the window and took a deep breathe, starting to brush his hair. He felt a lump form in his throat. He forced himself to keep his eyes open.

Aether finished with his hair and walked over to the bathtub, twisting the valve until water ran. It warmed up quickly, and as Aether added some soap into the water, bubbles began to rise. He smiled to himself, running his hand through it. He picked up a small handful of bubbles and blew into them, causing them to spray across the room. He chuckled to himself, and then began stripping away his clothes, discarding them to the side. He stepped into the bath, and sat down in the steaming water. He scrubbed away at his body— dried blood, cuts, the built up grime. He began to wash his hair, and once it was all done he sat in the soapy, lukewarm water, not wanting to get out just yet.