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Authors: M.P. Reeves
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it?” A small red bird flitted by the window.
“Nothing like I’ve ever seen.” Carrick leaned back in, turning to face his uncle. Erik looked as he had remembered along the beach, his long sleeveless cloak almost brushing on the floor as he walked towards him. “How high up are we?”
“What you call three stories or so.” Erik stopped in the center of the space, leaning on a wooden carved cane that stabbed into the animal skin rug under his feet. With his left hand he pointed towards the armoire in the corner of the room. A brushed red chest inlaid with angled decorative lines. “There are clothes that should fit you in there. I’ll give you a moment to freshen up while mid meal finishes.”
“What happened to my old clothes?”
“I removed those filthy rags from you before the sweats started and burned them.”
“You didn’t have to burn them.” His mother had bought him that outfit before his freshman year of high school.
“I did, do you know what disgusting chemicals were lurking in that fabric? Humans use everything; Formaldehyde, caustic soda, sulfuric acid, urea resins, sulfonamides, halogens, and bromines. All without a care as to how it impacts the body. Neurological disorders, sudden infant death syndrome cases from antimony, skin conditions, all manner of self-inflicted aliments.”
“Oh.” Gross.
“Come. Get dressed. We will talk over our meal.” With that Erik left him alone, closing the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, Carrick slowly walked over to the armoire feeling slightly awkward that he was strolling about this surreal place in the nude, clutching a blanket. On top of that his stride was off, each foot fall feeling lighter than usual. His senses sharper, as though life had just switched from standard definition to HD.
Pulling the iron handle on the cabinet, the contents honestly did not surprise him. Linens that looked hand-woven, furs and cloaks lined in intricate stitching. Everything smelled of pine and cedar, probably from the cabinet itself rather than the soaps used to wash the garments.
After some debate he chose an off white linen tunic, lightweight and long sleeved. He wasn’t about to put on one of those floor length robe things, they just seemed too Halloween costume for his taste. Rummaging through the folded clothes he found a long tailored jacket with a mandarin type collar. It was a forest green shade that hit at the hip. The edging in gold piping, while the sides of the coat were embroidered with runes that looked like long vine tendrils. In the drawer below was an ample array of socks, but no underwear. Great, looked like he was going to have to go commando. Sifting in the bottom drawer there was a pair of dark gray slacks and brown ones. He went with the gray. A pair of boots had been placed for him on the ground next to the wardrobe. They were a perfect fit, meaning someone had been eyeballing his feet or bothered to learn his size. It certainly couldn’t have been ascertained off his old sneakers, since they were too worn to even make out the original brand name. Carrick couldn’t bring himself to button the jacket all the way, it felt too tight on his throat, and instead he buttoned it up to just under his collar bone and left it at that.
There was a mirror by the door, an object that seemed so out of place compared to all the other earthen elements. It was an antique mirror in a tarnished silver frame. In its view he saw his reflection, in the clothing provided by his uncle he looked like an ambassador for the forest. A great speaker for the leaves or some kind of elf from a roleplaying game. His first reaction was to feel embarrassed, yet he did not. If he was going to have to walk about in magical forest land he may as well look the part, least these clothes were in good repair. With a nod at his reflection, he left the confines of the room he’d been given. Eager to
“Nothing like I’ve ever seen.” Carrick leaned back in, turning to face his uncle. Erik looked as he had remembered along the beach, his long sleeveless cloak almost brushing on the floor as he walked towards him. “How high up are we?”
“What you call three stories or so.” Erik stopped in the center of the space, leaning on a wooden carved cane that stabbed into the animal skin rug under his feet. With his left hand he pointed towards the armoire in the corner of the room. A brushed red chest inlaid with angled decorative lines. “There are clothes that should fit you in there. I’ll give you a moment to freshen up while mid meal finishes.”
“What happened to my old clothes?”
“I removed those filthy rags from you before the sweats started and burned them.”
“You didn’t have to burn them.” His mother had bought him that outfit before his freshman year of high school.
“I did, do you know what disgusting chemicals were lurking in that fabric? Humans use everything; Formaldehyde, caustic soda, sulfuric acid, urea resins, sulfonamides, halogens, and bromines. All without a care as to how it impacts the body. Neurological disorders, sudden infant death syndrome cases from antimony, skin conditions, all manner of self-inflicted aliments.”
“Oh.” Gross.
“Come. Get dressed. We will talk over our meal.” With that Erik left him alone, closing the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, Carrick slowly walked over to the armoire feeling slightly awkward that he was strolling about this surreal place in the nude, clutching a blanket. On top of that his stride was off, each foot fall feeling lighter than usual. His senses sharper, as though life had just switched from standard definition to HD.
Pulling the iron handle on the cabinet, the contents honestly did not surprise him. Linens that looked hand-woven, furs and cloaks lined in intricate stitching. Everything smelled of pine and cedar, probably from the cabinet itself rather than the soaps used to wash the garments.
After some debate he chose an off white linen tunic, lightweight and long sleeved. He wasn’t about to put on one of those floor length robe things, they just seemed too Halloween costume for his taste. Rummaging through the folded clothes he found a long tailored jacket with a mandarin type collar. It was a forest green shade that hit at the hip. The edging in gold piping, while the sides of the coat were embroidered with runes that looked like long vine tendrils. In the drawer below was an ample array of socks, but no underwear. Great, looked like he was going to have to go commando. Sifting in the bottom drawer there was a pair of dark gray slacks and brown ones. He went with the gray. A pair of boots had been placed for him on the ground next to the wardrobe. They were a perfect fit, meaning someone had been eyeballing his feet or bothered to learn his size. It certainly couldn’t have been ascertained off his old sneakers, since they were too worn to even make out the original brand name. Carrick couldn’t bring himself to button the jacket all the way, it felt too tight on his throat, and instead he buttoned it up to just under his collar bone and left it at that.
There was a mirror by the door, an object that seemed so out of place compared to all the other earthen elements. It was an antique mirror in a tarnished silver frame. In its view he saw his reflection, in the clothing provided by his uncle he looked like an ambassador for the forest. A great speaker for the leaves or some kind of elf from a roleplaying game. His first reaction was to feel embarrassed, yet he did not. If he was going to have to walk about in magical forest land he may as well look the part, least these clothes were in good repair. With a nod at his reflection, he left the confines of the room he’d been given. Eager to
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