Reaper's Word

Clair knew that the hell hounds were down in the caves. She'd heard him mention something to the one named Beta about taking things down there. The hell hounds had eaten everything left in the kitchen now that they had no humans to snack on. Clair was glad for her small stash that she had.

She moved toward the left wing where she hadn't explored much. Here she found many more bedrooms than actual rooms of use. This was why he stayed toward the right side of the house. Not a lot on this side it would seem.

Clair went down a short set of stone steps and a stretch here had only windows. She looked out at the day and touched the glass. Snow was coming down. It wasn't sticking to the ground yet but it was so soft and pretty. It made her feel a kind of bubble inflate in her chest. Today wasn't such a bad day, she just needed to keep Isaiah ignorant of her being alive. It wasn't so bad then.

She found a kind of greenhouse as she opened a glass door at the end of the stone hallway. Clair had on a tighter fitting turtleneck that she had found. It was a dark red color and made her hair appear almost black. She still wore the pair of jeans that fit her as well. She was hoping to find a better bra though. This one wasn't doing the job all that well anymore. It was hard to run and do physical activities when you had a larger chest. Not that she was huge, but she had enough there.

She looked at the plants growing in here. They were all different shades of green with some reds and purples, one plant was hot pink. Flowers of every color were in here, and she instantly wanted to draw it. She looked at the hot pink plant with its spade shaped leaves and the dark red veins that it had.

"Beautiful." She didn't touch it, probably poisonous.

Clair moved on though and felt the temperature drop as she left the green house. Along with the humidity. She went down the hall here looking for anything that might be an art room. She went down a flight of stairs and was growing discouraged until she opened the second to last door at the end of the short hall.

The room was large and square with a huge table in the center and stools. There were easels against the wall and what looked like closets. Along with large filing cabinets and drawers built into the walls.

She stepped into it and was in awe of the supplies here. Anything she could possibly want to work with was here. Once again she wondered at this place. She went to the cabinets in the wall to see what was in there. Three were drawers with different types of drawing paper. Special types of other paper for different media.

She moved to the next set of cabinets and opened the top drawer. All different types of pencils, depending on hardness or softness. They were covered by a sheet of glass that popped up when pressed. There were also colored pencils here and from lead to charcoal. The next drawer down held contie crayons, compressed charcoal, and oil crayons. She looked down the next three drawers and was amazed at the things in here. It reminded her of her case, but on a bigger scale. She thought about this, there was no denying magic ran through the house. Could it create things once it made contact with them? Refresh them or make a room with them? The one thing she noticed didn’t regenerate was food. This place was wild.

No way that someone just thought to stock something like this. Not to mention the shape that they were in. Perfect like no one had ever touched them. If she were going to have a studio it would be this one. She grabbed an easel and stool and then pulled a little cart to her to grab what she wanted. Before sitting, Clair checked the hall and locked the greenhouse door. All was silent.

Heading back to the room she looked at it. She was going to draw, it kept her mentally sound. Today it would be charcoal and some white contie crayon. With nothing else to do, and no where to really go she pulled up a seat. She felt pretty safe, this part seemed very neglected.

stared up at the ceiling feeling a tear try to escape. “Let me just have this one moment. This one space.” She looked back at the items she picked. She sighed, and for a moment

worked for a good amount of time. She was coated in charcoal by the time she felt that she was finished and set the picture aside. It looked excellent, one of her best she thought. It was the

She was inspired now and wanted to do a second one. While it was going to be a bit darker she still wanted to

where she was. Still she felt that this part of the house was extremely neglected and unused. So it gave her a bit of security.

or adding a bit

as she figured he must be the thing from the three nights. In the picture were

to triumph. But the picture was dark and gave a feeling of helplessness as

fixative and thought perhaps she shouldn't use it as it smelled a bit. She shrugged, why not? She sprayed the two pictures and then put them in the empty

and crawled over the blankets and grabbed her pillow falling asleep as the first rays of

lose herself in drawing. This was her escape.

plug for it and it was in her smaller bag of art supplies. She

with different separating layers. Every time she

it grief. She felt safe down here, and she

They were nearly solid black now. She thought that perhaps she should hold off going down to the room but she just couldn't help it, she kept going. She

bite of her granola bar and took a drink of the water looking at the hell hound

subdued. His was a side profile with his head down as if he found something very interesting on the ground before him. He was simply moving

Hers was a side profile as well, but the hair on her back was raised slightly and her head was low and looking at the viewer. A great deal of work had been put into the eyes. To make them intense,

last, he had a regal air about him. The way that he sat there a three quarters view. His head turned toward the viewer but not so focused as she'd made Zeta's. His gaze was more general as if he was taking in the viewer and all that was

the hell hounds had rather nondescript backgrounds too. When looking at it, it felt as if they were nowhere, but somewhere at the same time. Just where they should be. Her last hanging there was Isaiah. They were after all her main subjects in the house besides the

a window and his front was easily illuminated. She had caught the casual look of how he wore his clothes, the way that he stood. At first glance there was a rather thoughtful expression on his