Killing Butterflies - Empires SMP

Seventeen - Pearls

They were startled by the sound of the doorbell ringing, this time much clearer than it was before. They jerked away from Scott, feathers poofing and wings attempting to yank themselves open. The buzzing sounded almost like an alarm, commanding them to snap out of the sluggish state they had been in and properly focus.

Xornoth was fairly certain that about now would be the time that Scott would get up and answer the door, but they didn't hear him move at all. Their head cocked around, examining the now slight grimace that was spread across his face.

"Something wrong?" They forced a sickly sweet edge onto their tone. Their ruined voice made them sound like they were choking death.

"No." He said slowly. "Nothing's wrong."

They hummed, shifting and leaning forward, eyes darting around to make sure he hadn't produced some kind of knife when they weren't paying attention. "Really?"

"Well I have a hunch about who it is." Scott sighed.

"Then clearly-" the doorbell rang again. They talked over it, "-you should open the door and let them in. I hear it's getting colder in Rivendell."

He was halfway in the middle of pushing himself up, one arm steadied against the sofa when they said that, and he froze. "What?"

"There's… more snow outside?" They blinked. "And I'm pretty sure it's winter?"

He rolled his eyes, the cold sheer of panic melting off his face. "Amazing observations." He raised one finger, jabbing it right at him. "Don't- try not to cause a fuss. I don't want to drag Gem over again because somebodies given you  another concussion."

Their mouth opened to respond, and to that, he was gone. The door shut behind him in something that wasn't really a slam, but not something quiet either. Sure, go ahead and not let them say anything back before leaving, stupid bitch.

Immediately, Xornoth got up from the sofa. Now that he wasn't in the room, it was the perfect time to look around and see if he had anything they could steal - and really, if he hadn't wanted them too, then maybe he should have considered making them sit still. And the room had so many more details than they'd originally noticed - like the scattering of old, white feathers underneath the sofa, brushed under and forgotten about. Clearly the room must be used as a preening station, although why he'd do it in his living room and not in his bedroom was beyond them.

The sofa itself had more than a few feathers scattered over it, providing them a solid basis that yes, Scott did preen their wings, no, they hadn't hallucinated the entire thing. They tilted their head in mild curiosity, wondering why he'd left them out if he expected guests, before tossing a few around to make it messier. Then they kicked a few of the feathers out from underneath the sofa as well.

There was a bin pressed against a wall and some kind of cupboard, a piece of wood carved in the old Mythic style, and they crouched down next to it and peered in. There were a couple scraps of paper, a broken pencil, some tissues, feathers, and most curiously of all, feathers that were lined with a faint sheen of frost.

Well they knew fuck all about science, but they were fairly certain that the frost should have melted. They also cared fuck all about these feathers, and they gave them one last look of unbothered interest before getting to their feet and examining the cupboard next to them.

Was cupboard the right word? They didn't feel like it was. A cabinet would suit the thing better - a large, antique of stained wood with glass panels on each of the door, allowing a clear view into a pristine display of seemingly random things - some well polished chunks of crystals, a small arrangement of pearls, a spyglass, china plates painted with elaborate patterns that were just so tempting to throw and smash, and just clumps of stuff. Not too much to feel overly cluttered, but enough that there was no shortage of things for them to stare at.