Beautiful Disaster

Beautiful Disaster Chapter 10

Chapter 10

                I place the tray of Avala’s breakfast onto a stand next to her bed, poor a cup of orange juice, and lay a handwritten note underneath. She lies soundlessly in a heap of pillows all tangled up in blankets. Gently I sit on the edge of the bed and brush away strays of hair casted aimlessly against her pink cheeks. When she awakens she’ll be upset that I won’t be here. Even worse that I left a note that tells her nothing of where I’m traveling to.     

                But she does have every right to be.

                Poppy slumbers awkwardly with half of her body hanging off from the end of the bed’s edge. There are books and thrown pillows scattered all over the room. Izzy lies in the middle of the floor curled up in a pillow with a blanket wrapped around her body. Bags of chips, empty glasses, and heaps of Avala’s new clothes litter everywhere. The flat screen T.V., which had been hidden behind a painting, has been revealed along with its collection of dozens of Avala’s favorites.

 Last night I had heard the girls throwing some kind of party with blaring music and food to last the night. Cole ended up muting his hearing so he could rest while I decided to move half way across the house. Dean, however, later on accompanied me onto a couch next to mine. After many hours of work he drifted off the moment his head hit the pillow.

                Kissing Avala’s forehead, I quickly leave before she awakens and calls me out to give me another good one. Before shutting the door to a close, I catch Izzy eyeing me suspiciously. She opens her mouth about to say something when—.  

                “Cum on, Troy she’ll be gran’. Toro is waitin’ for us.” Cole drawls the door to a close.     

                Cole and I make haste through the house winding through the corridors and doorways down into the basement.

We pass through the maze of priceless artifacts and furniture collected over the years in ages of ravenous beauty. The memories that lie beneath some of these pieces have a whole new meaning of adventurous times. Cole and I have experienced a few of our own. Talk about battling twelve demons to two.          

                I pull out a set of keys as we round to my own private office. Which can’t be found with the naked eye.

                “Toro better ‘av me breakfast ready.” 

                Quickly unlocking the door we veer around my desk and towards a large painting of a battle that has once taken place hundreds of years ago. A time where blood was blood and nothing else mattered besides the death of others for priceless artifacts. The Otherworld, a place of beauty and magic had been murdered by war. Tainted by own selfishness and barley salvaging for the hope of one day becoming what we once were.       

                “I think after what you did when he hadn’t he knows better now to have yours specially made.”

                “Aye! A man need ter ayte!”

                “And never let anyone forget it too.”

                Cole laughs by stepping in front of me and placing his palm on the front of the painting. Just like every other time magic is pursed without the presence of wings, his entire body orchestrates a web of veins that carry out tiny orbs of blue light that travel through the body’s intricate maze. As the magic gives a very faint luminosity to Cole, tiny bits of blue orbs emits from his fingertips and onto the portrait underneath. After a few more moments the painting begins to ‘breath’ or ‘awaken’ to life. The brutal battle of bloodshed begins to fade away to only be repainted as our destination. Every detail is masterfully recreated as it melts away and soon finishes as a place I should visit more often.