in The Dungeons
Rurik walked into the empty house, his footsteps echoing around the otherwise silent hallway.
“Just... looking,” he muttered to himself. “Not going to stay long.” He gently caressed the walls as he walked past, memories filling his mind, not all of them pleasant. He quietly opened the door to his parent’s old room. It was pristine, like they had never left. There, on the bedside table, stood a small photograph from two years ago. He knew if he looked at it, he’d get pretty emotional, which he hated and craved at the same time. It’d been so long since he’d seen them...
“Just... one tiny peek.” He picked the picture frame up, and immediately his eyes filled with tears.
The photo showed him, his younger brother, Palette, and his parents, Ink and Dream. It had been taken just before Rurik left to fight in the war. Just before all hell broke loose.
He’d come back a year later to find Palette a tear-stained mess. Ink had left them, and Dream was dying of a terrible sickness which had almost killed Palette as well. Then, a few weeks later, just when Rurik thought things couldn’t get any worse, Palette disappeared mysteriously. Rurik, ever the protective older brother, asked everyone where he was, but no one would answer him. He’d left, then, to go back to the war, now more cold and emotionless than ever.
He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
“There’s no time for crying now, idiot...” He threw the picture onto the floor, then walked out of the room, his boots stomping loudly on the floor. For a moment, he half expected Ink to come and shout at him for being so loud, then he remembered. “...right. Fuck, I hate this place.” He walked briskly back through the hallways and slammed the door after him.
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