Re: log; misha and adrian
It had only taken him a half a moment of thought for Adrian to conjure something that would make him feel like tearing open a hole for the obscurus. When the bedroom disappeared into white nothing again, and the world around them filled with a warm, soothing balm, all he wanted to do was sit in it. He wanted to soak it in, until he felt a complete calm that penetrated to his core. He wanted complete peace.
Thinking of something good to fill the space with, that took longer than a moment. He calmed visibly as the bad feeling leeched from the air, and he skated across his memory for something unequivocally good.
New and old, many of the moments that had once comforted him were tainted now. He tried to think of a time when he had been happy without any complicating emotion, but then, that wasn't what was called for. He just needed a moment of pleasant quiet to lean on.
In the end, the place that made him calm was a small living room. The floor was polished hardwood, and the whitewashed walls were covered in art - small paintings, large prints, silver and black and gold frames. There was a fragment of old blue wallpaper over the fireplace in the back wall, and the furniture was more comfortable than fashionable. It had the odd angles all old houses seemed to share, and Adrian sat in a bay window overlooking the street. Cars passed by below, and the window showed a row of neat townhouses, studded with leafy green trees. It was summer, and the room was balmy with warmth and Misha's comforting glow. The windowseat was plush with old cushions, and Adrian drew up his legs. He looked over at Misha, and he patted the cushion across from him. He managed a small smile, though words were still a little beyond him. There was room enough for two.