44 New Friends?

It was soft and warm: absolutely lovely. He felt like he was in Heaven, perhaps he was… His memories caught up with him as he could see himself crawling up the mountain for hours, with no goal but to reach the top, which he found was completely barren when he got there…

A large part of him was happy, finally at comfort now he was dead. There was also a small part of him, a very small part, which cried at his loss of life, but Stanis didn't even recognise this part until he realised it was him before raiding the Zelts. That must mean the larger part, the part with stronger emotions and sharper memories must be him after the raid when he was locked up. So who was he right now?

His emotions were turbulent; the large part dominating the scene but still failing to kill off the little part. He instinctively opened his eyes, his vision clouded by a field of white. He could put in the effort to get up and look around, check where he was and what to do. But he didn't want to; he might not know where he was but he knew it was warm and comfy, a feeling he didn't want to ruin. And thus, Stanis eventually dozed back to sleep, a genuine smile, which was a tad rough around the edges, plastered over his face.

_______

Time passed and he awoke once more. This time he could feel his stomach demanding food, but he who had dealt with worse hunger and torture in the past week easily ignored it. He should have been restless after waking up once more, his drowsiness gone after a good night sleep. Instead, all he wanted to do was prolong this feeling, thus he lay still as time passed, letting it drift him off to sleep again.

As he slept, two voices talked over his body.

"You couldn't pick up a lazier one, could you?" asked a person. The voice was high-pitched with a sharp tone, giving a serious feeling.

"He made it up here and won me my bet. Anyone who helps me is a good man" responded the second person, the voice mellow and thus giving a warm, fruity feeling.

"Humph" grunted the first person.

The second person giggled back, donning a toothy smile at their partner.

________

Stanis awoke once more, for the first time feeling discomfort at his situation. It was strangely warmer than last time and his body had begun to sweat in response; no longer the ideal conditions for a lie in.

He pushed the white cloud in front of him, the cloud lifting under his all-mighty hands as he realised it was actually just a duvet. He looked around and found himself in a small but cosy room.

He himself was lying on a bed which was just as long and wide as his body. Next to it was a small, dulled mahogany table. The room itself was quite plain with creamy walls and no windows. Across the room, which was about 4 by 5 metres in size, was a bookshelf. It was a bit of a redundant addition to the room as it had no books on its shelves, but Stanis wasn't one to complain as he sank into the cosy atmosphere.

He lifted the covers up and examined his body. He was still naked as before but the new wounds he had made for himself during the fight and up the trek were beginning to heal. Most his little cuts and scratches had scabbed over, whereas the larger injuries such as his broken ankles had only just clotted over. He worried for a moment whether his saviour would be angry about him dirtying the sheets, but his worries were gone as he realised they probably knew about that when they brought him in. Besides, they couldn't do worse to him than the Zelts had already done, could they?

Could they?

In all truth, Stanis was also a bit unsettled by the situation he found him in. He wasn't used to getting help like this, not in his past life and not at all after the apocalypse. However, he guessed this wasn't the biggest reversal in his life either, after all, far more surprising things had happened, especially in the last month or so.

He slipped out of the bed and onto his feet. He didn't know where he was or who his saviour was, but the small part inside of him told him to thank this person for what they had done. The large part was silent, bewildered at how it was supposed to respond to generosity.

So he walked over to the doors. There were two doors in his room, and so he opened the first one, only to be revealed to a small bathroom. It was small but also clean, something that wasn't very common after the apocalypse. He then opened the second door, this time to be revealed to a large hall-like room. It had about five times his room's size but that wasn't what caught Stanis's eyes, not at all. Rather it was the woman sitting on a chair, across his door, which caught his eye.

She was tanned and had quite a toned body. More importantly, she had flowing red hair that went past her shoulders and deathly grey eyes, eyes that preyed on him. The rest of her face and body became a blur as he stumbled back, her eyes the only thing he could clearly see. They were so cold and sharp, almost as if they were tearing up his mind right now. In the next second, he was lying over his room's floor, her piercing eyes still present in his vision despite him now staring at ceiling…

"Yils! Why would you do that? You are such a sore loser." called out a mellow voice, the words breaking her eyes out of his vision. No longer was the world blurry, but he could feel cold sweat all over his back, despite the fact he had been only been out of balance for a second.

A hand caught his wrist and helped him back up. The hand was unbelievably soft and warm to touch, just like lying in the bed had been like. He was back on his feet and waddling across the hall-like room, a set of hands supporting him the whole way.

The red-haired woman looked back at him half-way through, although she was very quickly reprimanded.

"Yils, stop it. Stop scaring our guest!"

It seemed Yils was almost going to respond, before changing her mind and scoffing. She then went back to the book she had been reading before deciding to terrorise Stanis.

In all fairness, Stanis stood no chance from the beginning. He remembered the feeling of terror he had felt from Gahlnym's harrowing voice, but this lady's glare was far worse. Simply a bastard sword to a dagger.

The soft voice whispered to him:

"Sorry about Yils, she's not very modest. Although I guess neither are you, let's get you some clothes!" The whisper had turned into an exclamation mid-way through, earning another scoff from Yils and a giggle from the warm voice as it turned him around to walk in the opposite direction.

They were out of the large hallway and now into a sizeable room, furnished to a higher standard than Stanis's and with better decorations. The soft hands opened a wardrobe and helped Stanis to it.

"So which clothes do you want? Choose your pick!"

Stanis peered through the clothes, only to quickly realise every article of clothing was very casual. There were dulled t-shirts and shirts, as well as different types of shorts and a singular pair of trousers. The colours were all worn out but the clothes were still of decent quality. Stanis turned around to look at his benefactor for the first time.

It was a man Stanis's height with dark hair that contrasted his ghastly pale skin. He was slim with very little muscle definition, especially when compared to Yils, and looked very affable. His eyes were bright green and his face slim and sharp. Clearly this was his wardrobe as he was wearing a thin shirt and cotton shorts, both worn out. He looked older than Stanis would have looked prior to the apocalypse but now far younger as he didn't have any signs of exhaustion, lack of sleep or even any bristles of hair swamping his face like every man now had.

His benefactor gave him a toothy smile as Stanis looked, before asking:

"Do you want Yil's clothes? Although I don't know if she would let you wear any of hers. Let's go and ask!" said he, thoughtfully rubbing his jaw as he did so.

Stanis didn't know whether to laugh or cry as he realised this man was serious…