I awake to the sound of soft music. It is some moments before I remember quite where I am, and what the situation around me was. The masseuse - oh she has certainly gone by now, I see by the warmth of the light entering the windows that it is early afternoon, I have slept through all the ugliest hours of morning. But what is that music? It is a piano, though I do not recall having seen one in the room before.
        I sit up slowly, looking around me - and realize that I hadn't really looked all the way around the room the night before, for there is a small, snug cove in a back corner that I had not noticed at all. It is there that the piano stands, its polished cover reflecting the gentle light that filters through the heavy curtains. The cover is lifted, and blocks my view of the player. I feel quite rested now, and so I slowly rise, stretching my limbs fully - oh what a wondrous job she did, I feel so light! It has been some time since I felt so well, and movement was so pleasant. I take a slow breath and smile, just a little, before crossing the length of the room toward the piano. The floor is covered in thick, warm carpet, yet the music drifts off into silence as I draw near, the player obviously aware of my approach.
        "I do not mean to interrupt, I merely wondered who was playing so soothingly that it did not disturb my slumber."
        There is motion, and the player slides to the end of the bench, leaning around the piano to smile at me, his eyes glinting with amusement and secretive knowledge from behind the long dark locks of his hair, which fall in graceful lengths around his face.
        "Ah, Luce! Really, I ought to have guessed."
        "I do not usually disturb the repose of my guests, but I am afraid I had such a need to play this morning." His voice is low and gentle, caressing the ear as flirtatiously as an evening breeze. His fingers run lightly again over the keys, coaxing out a delicate melody, so soft, as the sound of a fountain in the far distance.
        "It's quite alright, as I said, it seems it did not trouble me. I have slept for some time."
        "That you have! But the girl has such a soothing way about her, despite her coolness, wouldn't you say?"
        "Ahh, I would! She is quite wonderful, Luce, I must tell you how envious I am. I have never felt so free from aches as I do right now."
        He raises an eyebrow, grinning crookedly. "Never, you say?"
        I sigh, settling onto a low sofa near the piano, annoyed by his nitpicking. "Oh you know what I mean..."
        "Of course, darling. But you must be hungry, shall I have something brought us?"
        I consider for a moment, then nod. "I do feel as though I could eat something, yes. But something light, I think."
        "Certainly. I never eat anything too indulgent this early in the day. These bodies grow quite tiresome at times, do they not? Really, they are quite fickle. What suits them at one time of the day entirely disagrees with them at another time."
        "Mmm. Oh, but I should like to ask - is Meres still here? I have not seen him since early last evening, and it is unusual for him to disappear from my knowledge like this."
        Another secretive smile, and the light notes from the piano shift sinuously into a minor key. "Meres? ...I believe he has left, actually. He was...rather distraught, last night, though I couldn't really see a reason why. But you know, he does fall prey to emotion rather easily at times, does he not?"
        "Yes yes, he does, but what precipitated his departure?" I insist. If I let him, he will go on with his vague theories of psychology for hours on end, and I really do not care to hear them.
        "Oh, I don't know," he says lightly, his gaze faraway, speaking slowly and with deliberate vagueness. "I suspect it had something to do with that weak-stomached woman who fainted out in the gardens... but I really don't know, I was far too busy with my own pursuits at the time to pay much attention. And I hardly think one over-dramatic woman having fainted is even worth much gossiping over, don't you agree? They faint all the time, it is nothing to be concerned about. But oh, darling, did you have any of the brandy last night? It is a simply fantastic vintage, I have put up quite a store of it. And, in your ear: it pairs quite nicely with the skin of a man trembling with pleasure aching for consumation." He licks his lips lightly, and the notes in the air are rich and thick with lust. "Nila brought me quite a lovely gift last night, did you happen to see the boy with---"
        I stop listening, as there is a knock at the door. I turn to look at it, and would rise to answer, but politeness dictates that I differ to Luce, being that we are in his house. Yet he continues speaking as though there had been no interruption, until he has completed his thought. At that point, he turns his gaze back to me. "Shall I have them bring in the food, then?"
        "Of course," I reply automatically. I am puzzled, for I had seen no sign at all of him having called for a servant, let alone specifying what they were wanted for. But I refuse to let Luce see my confusion - it would grant him too much satisfaction, for I am certain he intended to produce it.
        "Come in!" he calls out, and the door is opened. A serving man appears, pushing a cart elegantly wrought in some light-colored metal. A fantastically enticing small drifts across the library, and I find that I am, in fact, hungry.
        "Where shall I leave this for you, sirs?"
        "Oh, bring it here, I should like to remain at the piano awhile."
        The man does so. He removes the covers from the plates, and a sudden warmth floods forth, nearly bringing a flush to my cold face. "Will there be anything else, sir?" the man asks of Luce, as he neatly stacks the lids, to be carried back to the kitchen.
        "That is all for now."
        The man bows, and exits, closing the door gently behind him.
        We begin to eat - some delicious pastry, the name of which I do not know, has been brought to me, and I find it exactly to my taste. What I do find unusual, however, is that Luce is taking this time with myself alone. I suppose he enjoys having someone to listen to his prolonged theories, without bringing questions and counter-arguments to them - I lack the energy to debate with him most of the time, for it is so difficult to ever resolve such a discussion. But really, why he has not simply picked up one of the fawning young men or women who constantly vie for his attention, and let them hang delightedly on his every word, I do not know.
        Oh but I suppose it is entirely because of them that he is here with me - what better slap in the face to them, than to have the honeyed lips they so long to be near murmur things to one who does not care a whit for what is said, or the one saying it? Still, it is rather tiresome for me.

        We linger over the meal, and talk more, of the evening before and the various persons whose exploits we find entertaining, and the latest news of society. But when the light has begun slanting in through the window, its color warming to the gold of mid-afternoon, he rises, standing straight and stretching his arms. He stands between myself and the window, and so his form is silhouetted there, against the sumptuous gold: an almost black shadow, a body that is tall and well-proportioned, his limbs long and graceful, his hair falling in elegant tendrils down past his shoulders. He turns his head to the side, and the delicately formed features of his face stand in profile against the light, which is diffused into a pure aureate hue by the gauze which covers the window between the heavy drapes. This is what a human sees as an angel, an unearthly beauty, a form too perfect to be real, cast in heavenly light... only I suppose they would have an angel radiate the light, rather than block it out like this. But oh, they know so little of us! So little of what existence truly is...
        I swallow hard, and find my body tense, and my back heating ominously.
        "I ought really to stop neglecting my duty as host, I simply must go see how the others are enjoying themselves. You will let me know if you need anything?"
        I do not answer - I grit my teeth against the pain that is rising, my body is shaking slightly from holding itself so tense, steeling itself against the wracking ache that is working its way outward from my shoulder blades... spreading as my wings once did.
        He looks over at me, but I am in too much pain to care if it is concern of amusement on his face. "Shall I call for someone, darling?"
        "Yes please, have the masseuse brought to me I--- ah! I am in such pain!"
        "Hush, darling, all will be well. Here, do let me help you to one of the guest rooms, where you may remain as long as you wish."
        I do not think I can walk that far, I do not know if I can even stand - but perhaps if I move quickly, I can get there before the pain reaches its height. Luce offers his hand, and helps me to rise from the chair. I cling desperately to his arm, and he remains a sturdy support, as we walk as quickly as I can force my now-stiffening limbs to move. He tells me there is an empty room only just down the hall from here, that I may rest there quite comfortably, the bed is particularly sumptuous... In fact he chatters lightly the entire way there, though I stagger and grab at him, gasping as the pain builds.
        He pulls a key from his pocket, and unlocks the door, smiling sweetly at me (an expression which seems somehow dirty, given the cruel background of his face). "I had it in mind that you might need this room, so I made certain no-one else should use it. Being on a main hallway, you may want to keep it locked, to make sure that, ah, those who are prone to over-indulging will not disturb you."
        I mumble some vaguely grateful response, and let him guide me over to the bed, which I collapse gratefully onto. I do admit, it is wonderfully soft, gentle as a cloud's breath, only warm as a lover's embrace. He helps me to lay fully on it, then moves to adjust the drapes, that the light will not shine into my eyes as the sun falls through the sky. On his way to the door, he leans over the bed and kisses my cheek lightly. "I shall send the masseuse right away, darling. Do rest, and please join us when you feel able."
        He closes the door behind him - but does not lock it, presumably to allow the masseuse to enter without the need for me to rise. Even through the darkening fog of agony which is rapidly obscuring all other sense, the corners of my lips twitch a little in mockery of a grateful smile. He is truly the most gracious of hosts, and takes such wonderful care of his guests.