3: The Flower Cave (II)

Miciah followed Icarus down the dark hallways. After his declaration, Miciah couldn't say anything. How could he even respond to that? Luckily for him, Icarus didn't seem to take his lack of response to heart, or even react to it at all. He just retracted his finger, turned around, and started walking.

"Where are we going?" Miciah asked finally, as Icarus led him downward towards the base of the mountain.

"Aren't you hungry? We're going to the kitchen."

"I'm not hungry."

Icarus turned and raised an eyebrow, "Really? You've been out cold for several days - are you not even a little hungry?"

Miciah didn't respond. Of course he was hungry, but he also felt like eating any food here would be the same as Persephone eating pomegranate seeds in the Underworld. As soon as he took a bite, he would have no way to escape.

As they walked further, a savory smell drifted down the hall. Miciah turned his head in the direction of it, and his stomach growled. Maybe I could eat some food here... it wouldn't be good if I starved, either.

"Here we are," Icarus stopped in front of a large wooden door. Miciah noted that, once again, the door had two indents at two different levels. Icarus slid the door aside, and then welcomed Miciah to the kitchen with an outstretched arm.

Miciah walked into the savory-smelling room, and couldn't help but stare.

The room had been designed to look like a warm, cozy kitchen. The furniture looked hand-carved, and consisted of a round wood table and several chairs, with cushions tied onto them. The table sat on a rug in the middle of the room, separating the door they had just entered from the door that led to the outside area.. Wide glass windows with curtains blowing on the sides, looked out into a vast forest. Sunlight streamed in through them, bleaching the wood floors that covered the kitchen. Everything was wood, except for the stone oven with a crackling fire. A cook watched over a pot that had been placed on the fire, occasionally stirring it. It should have been a tranquil scene, if not for the fact that everything was wrong.

The table was so centered that it looked like the distance had been measured out, but it was just slightly too big for the amount of chairs placed around it. It was too high up, too, so that the legs seemed disproportionate compared to the tabletop. The sunlight looking into the room was still, and Miciah couldn't see a single piece of dust floating through the air. The wood planks sitting in the sun weren't faded at all, looking exactly the same as the ones in the shadows. Miciah realized that the windows weren't open - the curtains were moving without any wind, and they were all moving in the same direction at the same time. There were no towels thrown on counters or crumbs on the ground, and the cook stirred the pot every two minutes, exactly. It was as if someone had a vague idea of what a family kitchen should look like, and reconstructed a warped version of it from memory.

"Take a seat," Icarus gestured to one of the chairs. He seemed excited: Miciah suspected that he had never had a guest before, and was eager to show off. After seeing everything, Miciah didn't have the heart to argue, and took a seat without a word. Icarus sat down in the chair next to him.

"Do you like soup?" Without waiting for an answer, Icarus waved over the cook. As he turned around, Miciah sucked in a deep breath.

The corpse's lips had been sewn shut with thick, red yarn, and it's eye sockets were empty. It's skin was completely grey. Perhaps by Icarus himself, an apron had been thrown over the corpse's shoulders. How long has this thing been dead?

It was at this moment that Miciah realized: Icarus Kaelen was completely insane.

The corpse opened a cabinet and pulled out two wood bowls, and then took out spoons from a drawer. It methodically poured soup into each bowl, and then came to the table.

As the corpse set the bowls down in front of them, Miciah looked at it's skin: despite the color, it was completely smooth. The skin wasn't decayed, and the body didn't smell. Icarus must have taken a lot of time to make sure that this corpse seemed as close to normal as he could get it.

"Why are it's lips shut?" Miciah asked.

"He kept making noises," Icarus shrugged and picked up a spoon, "So I sewed him up."

Icarus took a sip of the soup. Only after watching him chew and swallow did Miciah pick up his own spoon and eat.

"Hm," Miciah said, surprised. It might have been because he was hungry, but the soup was good. It had vegetables and bits of meat in it, and the broth had just the right amount of salt and spices.

"Is it good?" Icarus had propped his chin up by the back of his hand, and was watching Miciah intently.

"It is." Since coming there, Miciah had tried to keep a cold exterior, but he could feel the soup start to melt it.

Icarus broke into a smile, and then continued to eat. Miciah hadn't realized how hungry he was - he finished the entire bowl in a few minutes. Even though he hadn't said anything, the corpse came by and refilled the soup. Miciah ate that, too.

He didn't know Icarus's real intentions for bringing him here; he had suspected that it was more complicated than being lonely. However, seeing how happy Icarus was that Miciah enjoyed his soup, he wondered if there was a grain of truth in what he had said before.

Miciah set down his spoon, and was about to open his mouth, when the door that led outside slid open.

A small, dark skinned girl of about five or six stood in the doorway. She was Baician: her features looked exactly like the small children who played in the streets of his hometown. Her hair was up in two buns and she held a small stuffed bunny in her hands. She was dressed in the same clothes that Icarus was in, and she looked between the two of them.

"...Dad? Who is this person?"

"Ah," Icarus looked like he hadn't expected this turn of events. After shooting Miciah a furtive glance, before getting up from his seat and crouching down in front of the girl, patting her gently on the head. He spoke to her in a quiet voice.

"Flower, what are you doing here?"

"I smelled something good, so I came over..."

She looked at Miciah over Icarus's shoulder with innocent eyes. The room with the stone bars flashed into Miciah's head.

He set his spoon down, "Icarus Kaelen."

Icarus stood, and turned to face him. Miciah was looking straight at the little girl.

"Is this... your child?."