Of a Better World

First This, Then That

Horror felt like an intruder in his own home the moment he stepped foot through the entrance of Lust's bedroom.

It was like crossing a line, breaking a barrier. It was as if the creaking of the door was some sort of break-in alarm and if he lingered just a bit too long then the police would be on his heels. But he had knocked first at least— he had made sure of that. Three curt knocks before he stuck his nose somewhere that screamed he wasn't welcome. Who said criminals didn't have manners?

In the dark room he could just barely make out the tuft of white fur that has perched itself on top of the bed with eyes that were watchful and wary of him. It was a poor excuse of a watchdog as it growled and yipped and huffed at him from it's seat, but made no move to show Horror the bite behind it's bark. Lust, tangled in his covers and sound asleep, had no reaction to the intrudance. Horror tried not to think about how many boundaries he was breaking, wandering into his room in the middle of the night.

He shuffled in as quietly as he was capable of, to surprising success.

Having shed his jacket in the livingroom it was marginally easier to manurve around without rustling, now sporting only his threadbare T-shirt. It was agonzingly quiet. As if the room was possessed by a kind of calm only Lust could bring.

Downstairs, he could hear his brother move about.

Horror rounded the room, making it to the other side of the bed where, next to it, a nightstand sat. It was a small, wooden thing. It's legs were creaky and there were chips and waterstains on the wood.  Lust's possessions covered most of its surface, trickets strewn  about.

Horror cleared a space on the small, cramped nightstand, swiping pens and  charms out of the way. Satisfied with the small area of space he'd freed, he sorted through the bag at his side. Out of it he took the biggest book; it was large and thick and had something to do with physics he believed, but no one could really know without reading it due to its missing cover. It was set down slowly and silently before Horror began to rummage through the bag again. The next biggest book was taken out this time, and it was about the ocean. There was a good chance it was a book meant for children— as anyone could quickly figure out from it's cover. It had a cartoonish illustration of a coral reef on the front of it and a diagram of some type of deep sea fish on the back. But he thought Lust would like it still.

Horror emptied the entire bag that way; slowly removing each book and examining it for quality before he set it atop of the growing stack. He was content to think that Lust would be pleased when he finally woke up to find them.

Right now, it was time for him to go.

Still, without his permission, his traitorous eyes drifted to Lust's sleeping face.

It was the nicest he'd seen Lust's face in a while, so much prettier without the flighty eyes he'd grown used to Lust wearing around him. His face was slack with a small puddle of drool forming beneath his chin. He was as carefree in sleep as he had once been around Horror only weeks ago. 

The room was dark and he looked etheral as a bit of pale and weak light slipped in through the curtins. He looked kind and unbothered. Horror just wished it was a look Lust carried with him into the waking world.

Eager to put a damper on Horror's temporaily improved mood, the dog bounced across then bed and settled itself in front of Lust, blocking his face from veiw. A loyal sheriff come to ruin the fun.

A snarl quietly worked its way up Horror's throat, and, as if it believed itself to be a hundred times bigger than it actually was, the dog challenged him with a muted growl of its own. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it just cared about its owner that much. Stars knew Horror did.