The angel stood stiffly beside the foreign bed and Light blinked her eyes again to clear her fuzzy vision. She slowly sat up and looked around the room. It was wide, with flowing white curtains and a spectacular view of the forest. There were dark oak dressers facing the window on the right side of the room and the carpet was a rich burgundy. Light let her gaze roam and then it locked onto the angel.
"What...where...I..." She got the words out forcibly, her voice hoarse. She was trying to remember, trying to form a rational thought.
"May I ask whom you are?" The angel said in his velvet voice.
Light rose up and put her feet over the side of the queen-sized bed, holding the scarlet comforter against her naked breasts, and put her head in her heads, trying to focus past the pounding in her head.
"I will give you a moment of peace miss, although we desperately need to talk." he murmured in a rough tone, and turned his way to the door, then pausing for a moment at the entrance. "You may address me as Dante, there are some clothes in the wardrobe you may wear. When you feel well enough, come downstairs and all will be revealed." And with that final word, the mysterious angel left.
Light stood on shaky legs and walked to the wardrobe. Something was wrong, and she tried to pinpoint the difference. She didn't feel the same as usual, it was as if everything was magnified, she could hear a light thumping and smell rust and salt.
She leaned against the wardrobe as she arrived there, letting it support her entire length and weight, resting her pounding head against the cool surface. Time seemed to blend together. Raising her hand up, she put it on her neck and ran her hand across the expanse of it. She was surprised to find something unfamiliar, a small indention about the size and width of a full-sized egg. It had very thin skin on it, like it was healing, and it was tender. She raised both hands up and cupped her neck, trying futilely to remember, just a glimmer of something. But all she remembered was pain. A blinding and overwhelming pain that melted everything else.
Light groaned and gripped the knobs that kept the dresser closed, and pulled. It was an effort on her part, she felt like shit. There were many kinds of clothes in the wide expanse of the closet, of all different shapes and sizes. From faded woman's jeans and clean t-shirts, to sequined dresses. None of the shoes there would fit her, but she managed to find a comfortable pair of pants and a thin, faded shirt. She couldn't find a bra. After she was finished dressing, there was a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. Light just plopped on the floor and caught her breath. Every movement of her ribs seemed to be exhausting. She leaned the back of her blond head against the dresser, listening to the thumping.
"Are you alright, miss?" a masculine voice said from the door, it wasn't the angel though, instead there was a bronze-haired man standing at the door. He wasn't as muscular as the angel, but he looked strong, and he had a slight smile on his features. He looked friendly, and his dark eyes were open, but it didn't mean she trusted the angel or him. Light backed her way into the corner, until she felt her back muscles aching, he must of taken that as conformation that she wasn't alright because his mouth tightened and he stepped forward. She simply closed her eyes, and tried to tune everything out.
"Chaos." she heard from the doorway and leaned farther back into the corner. "Leave now, this isn't the time." she knew that voice from anywhere, it was the angel, and to her surprise he sounded slightly aggravated.
The man named Chaos sighed and she opened her eyes, looking forward. He was about a foot away from her, and the angel was standing in the doorway. Chaos abruptly turned on his feet and left the room, nodding at the angel as he passed. Light shook her head. No. He wasn't an angel, he said his name was Dante, she needed to remember that.
"I'm terribly sorry, Chaos isn't really that much of a people person." The man named Dante said to her conversationally, and she noticed that he had brought a tray of something up. "You didn't come down for so long, that some of them were beginning to worry." he said grudgingly and set the platter down.
"I see." she said, and was surprised at how her voice sounded. She didn't even recognize it, it sounded so rough and strangled. She looked curiously at the platter that sat on her bed. There wasn't anything there except for a large, clear glass filled with a red liquid. "I don't have an appetite, I'm feeling funny." she said and was surprised when the corners of his mouth turned up.
"Drink anyway." he murmured and grabbed the glass off of the tray, shoving it towards her. It was the same smell that had tainted her nostrils earlier, salt and iron. He looked at her curiously as she examined the liquid, eyeing it reproachfully.
