The Vial

SIX

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"What a surprise! You're here already, son!" His hoarse voice echoed along the walls of the overly-sized living room. It has a high ceiling lit by thousands of sparkly pearls in a grand chandelier located at the center of the room. He stood near the window that overlooks the night view outside the house, holding up a wine goblet.

"Classy joke. Don't you ever call me son, Clement. Your son is dead long time ago."

"Why, can't you be my son, too? You've been with me for, eh—how long now?" Clement frowned, as if trying to count the years that passed. He was staggering on his feet when he walked to the small wooden table that was enrgaved with such intricate swirls of vines and small roses. There is one bottle of wine that has been emptied earlier before he arrived.

He poured in a crimson liquid in his goblet, emptying the bottle to the last drop. "Hmm?"

"How will I know?" He smirked at him. "You should have left me something to drink with that kind of antique, atleast."

Clement raised his already half-filled wine goblet to a slightly open wooden door. It has the same engravings like the small table, just that it has bigger roses carved in relief style.

"Go, help yourself. I got a lot of wine sorts of—wha-ev'r—" he mumbled and leaned back to the couch like he has done a week of work in one day, already seemingly dying of being somber and a dose of loneliness at the same time.

He just shook his head disapproving of Clement's being drunk again tonight and sighed. He often see him drunk nowadays than before.

"You even have the looks of him right now."

"Don't be too harsh with the wine, Clement." He said calmly, leaving him while he strode upstairs and started to unbutton the first top black buttons of his grey longsleeves. "—drinking will not help you see your son, either." He thought.

"And lessen your traveling addiction, kid. You make me even lonelier here, you know," Clement tried getting up, but his head was all fuzzy and swirling that getting up is that hard. Then, he gave up and remained leaning in the couch.

As he went inside his room silently, he suddenly stopped in the middle.

Do I look like him, now?

He thought of what had Clement said:
"You even have the looks of him right now."

That can't be, Clement.

He went to his wholebody-sized mirror and examined his physical features.

Heh. Poor old drunken Elite. He's fond of making fun of people sometimes.

Sigh.

He snapped his fingers, then, his backpack reappeared. His right hand has been holding it all along ever since he got home.

"Ah... It is such a tiring day," he walked to his bed and let his body, face down, fall on the soft grey cotton & silk sheets of his bed that is too big for one person.

He moved his left hand up, thought of the elaborately engraved door locking, and swayed his hand.

The door knob turns and made a click sound, which signifies that it's just been locked.

Clement doesn't have to know this yet.

Not yet.

He doesn't have to know that it is already showing and changing him.

Else, He will be sent back to England.

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©2015 by ellejaune

A/N:
Thanks for reading, voting & commenting! x

Elle