Cara's bed was at that perfect sweet spot between soft and firm, warm but not uncomfortably so, and she couldn't recall the sheets ever feeling more luxurious against her skin as she sprawled out along the mattress. Which of course was the problem, as there should have been far less sprawling and far more curling up against another warm body. Still half asleep, she patted along the empty half of the mattress, her frown deepening when she found it far too smooth and devoid of lingering body heat. She couldn't hear running water from the bathroom, or things being moved in the kitchen, and if she'd had to leave in a hurry, Surreal should at least have woken her first.
"Surreal?" she called out, just in case someone thought she was being funny again. As she sat up, her hand automatically fell on the agiel she kept within arms reach of the bed, its handle still and silent under her palm.
Fear curdled Cara's gut and ice ran up her spine as she stared down, her grip now white-knuckled, searching for any sign of the dark veins of magic that should have been spreading under and along her skin. Of the familiar pain that came with the agiel's touch, there wasn't even a dull, muffled echo, instead it was lifeless, just like when Richard had... "Surreal?"
[Open to anyone who might have any reason to be around]
