The room was cooler. Seth opened his eyes. There was no fire and there was no Victor. He was aching throughout his body, sitting in a chair with a full course meal on display, some familiar foods such as chicken and potatoes, mostly unfamiliar dishes, no silverware, or utensils. Seth’s hunger out weighted his etiquette. He tore the meat off the bone, chewing as little as necessary to swallow then chewed on larger pieces of bones and sucking out the cartilage from the bits of carcass he couldn’t eat. He scooped up the mash and veggies and let everything slide into his mouth. Did the same for the smaller plates, of what he found out later were called kopabi (a bitter, slimy leafy dish), aniyamit (a random array of peppered sliced steamed regional peppers and fruits), and a large half a salted soliez fruit. When he ate every crumb, he could find he drank the large bowl of water to his right then wiped his face and body down with the damp towel.

Seth was more refresh, but he was still hungry and naked. Bored and exhausted he took several naps to digest. Paced around the table in each interval. Although knowingly futile he tried opening the two no handle doors to no avail in different positions, maybe there was a trick to the doors. He tried listing with his ear against them, but he could tell the doors was heavily reinforced. He wasn’t leaving unless allowed out. Even the fireplace was too high to climb out.

He spent a vast amount of time staring at the paintings. Aside from the only thing with color in the space, they felt familiar and warm like remembering a distant memory. At least the one of the family of animals did. They were all different, but they could share a blanket and smile. He imagined the armadillo and roly-poly getting in trouble for rough housing by rolling into one another or racing each other. The kitten sitting on its paws in a high location looking down at the two making mental bets and when it got tired of that it would take the little brother, the roly-poly and play with it like a ball of yarn until it got sick or cried. The quokka would make funny faces at the youngest brother until it forgot the tears away. The butterfly was busy gazing at itself in the river to ever notice anyone else, but before bed it would land on each of their nose and give them a kiss. Seth smiled. Through pain and plays they were still family. Love could still be felt. Did he have anyone like that?

The flames in the fireplace stretched and howled awake. Warming up the room at the sign of the closest door to it opening. Seth swiftly shot his head in the same direction, watching in awe as the flame circled Victor after he as he entered the space like a hyperactive child glad that papa is home. It made five spacious circles, shot up then refilled the fireplace covering the room in a calming blue’s and purple. Victor took his regular seat. Instead of lounging he was upright, fingers interlaced, ready for a business meeting much like how he was at the Fangaria Dinner and the topic was Seth. He stared at Seth but not looking at him. He was looking at the painting with a strange emotion that could only be classified as grief. Seth looked back the painting. Was it not a painting for children?

“Good Morning, tit (teht) Jjomáce Zviera (Joe mah tae ace vear) “

Morning! Seth grab the meager piece of information about his surroundings and held it tight. This is what morning was. He almost forgot the feeling of day, of feeling like a . . . man. His chest expanded and depleted, all buried anxiety and anger melted away. “Good Morning, “he responded.

Three distinct knock that marked the appearance of Marcus. speckles of rustic that was nearly unnoticeable on his peachy skin adorned his cheek and bridge matching his hair and growing facial hair. Seth could not help trying to count each dot before catching himself and appeared to be still engrossed in the limited decor. He had never seen anyone like Marcus before.

“I think it likes you. “Victor chuckled.

“NZri, breakfast has arrived. “Marcus ignored him as he continued to push the cart of various dishes inside. Seth wondered if every meal was a feast or was this his last one. Marcus set the table for three, then cleared the old dishes. “Let me, “Seth attempted to help, but was received with a glare that amused Victor. “Sit, Tit Jjomáce Zviera. Let him do what he must. “Victor motioned to the chair below where Seth spent many unknown hours, days, or weeks. Will he know soon?

Seth sat down. There were no silverware, again. He suppose it was customary to eat with your hands here. Or perhaps they viewed him as so much of a threat that a spoon would be too deadly in his presence. Seth wanted to consume all the mystery scents until the memories was gone. He couldn’t remember his last meal, only that it wasn’t enough. Victor hadn’t moved to eat, content with studying Seth and the man named Marcus hasn’t returned.

His stomach begged for the food laid out Infront of him then it began to abuse and curse him, punching his inside as his hunger pain grew. Seth sat on his hands and sat up straight, matching Victor’s posture. Glancing from the food to Victor’s unblinking embers Seth reached out to grab what appeared to be grilled apple slices and onion quarters. It touched his lips before the flames rose high, draping the wall behind Victor in red and black like a disapproving mother forcing it slip out his hand. Seth licked his fingers then sat back on his hands, noticing the slight upturn of Victors mouth.

As the fire receded back into its home flickering orange, blues and white three knocks and enter Marcus with some cloths in his hand. Marcus stopped a comfortable distance from Victor. his ankles about a foot apart, cloths tucked under his left arm at his side then proceeded to take his right hand slightly limp around his head starting at his left shoulder, down to his heart pulling straight up to the middle of his temple then flicking out to Victor. Victor broke eye contact with his new plaything and directed it down towards Marcus by standing up, aiming his fingers at his chest pulling them up to his temple then flicking it out to Marcus. They both took their respectful seats.

Seth watched as Victor washed his hand in the large bowl of water it materialized next to Marcus and he did the same. Then it was Seth’s turned and he stared inside at his reflection. His hair had grown long all over, and he was thinner. Second mark of time, probably a couple of months. After Seth washed hands the other two began to eat.

“Not hungry, Tit Jjomáce Zviera. “Victor asked in between bites. Seth wondered if this was his new name. Was it slang for prisoner or dirty? Seth picked up the pieces he tried to eat moments ago, savored in the crunch, evenly blanked sweet and bitter.

“Are you going to kill me?” Seth broke the silence. The fire did not grow in length but in brightness as if it was also curious.

“Is that what you want?” Victor asked focused on breakfast. Marcus unfazed continued eat wiping his hands on a napkin before switching dishes.

“N-no. Of course not.”

“Then why do you not ask when can I live? When can I go home? Bed, clothes, or some entertainment. Why do not ask where you are or how to be free?”

“I’m a prisoner?”

“Are you? What is your sentence? When is your trail? Do you have your own thoughts, Tit Jjomáce Zviera?”

“I was bolted to the wall. Given to you. A peace offering-” The words caught in Seth’s throat. He coughed the next more violent than the last.

“Were you trapped?”

“Ye- “Seth throat was being burnt inside out; blood filled his mouth spilling on to his lap. “What is going on?”

“Lies.” Marcus wipe his face. “You cannot speak lies in this room.” He lifted his hands and the washing bowel returned to him. He washed his picking the food from underneath his nails. “NZri has concluded that you are simply a tool. Do you punish a sword for murder or the wilder? But sense you are a- hmm…somewhat sentient sword there will still a bit of punishment.”

“What is my punishment?”

“Your name.” the flame began to lengthen and brighten as if it too was curious. “What is your name?”

“Seth Gilbert Fangaria.”

“Azazel 8 What is your name?”

“Seth Gil-,” Seth began to drown in his own blood.

“NZri!”

“Now, that’s done.” Victor continued to eat. Seth continued to choke.

“NZri!!”

“Welcome to my home, Nzaaris. As you may remember I am- “

Choking

“I am Victoriaon Akkrim Vladamin the NZri. You will address me as such. Here in Nzaaris names and your way of life is earned.”

“NZri!!!” Marcus panicked. “Do you want it to die?” Marcus rushed to the side of the young man that had fallen to a puddle of its own thick blood in a coughing spasm its attempts were getting shallower and further in-between. The edges of his brown eyes turning green, his skin becoming plump. “NZri, look at this.”

Victor looked through Marcus eyes to see the minor changes, his skin was growing darker by the minute. The flame went out as if covering its eyes. Victor sighed. “Save him.” Then continued to eat.