Chapter 3

Chapter: 3

The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion.

Sunlight filtered through my closed eyes, and I found myself awake in a strange bed. Initial panic set in, and I had to control my breath, as memories of yesterday filtered in. “you okay?” calls Erik’s voice from downstairs. “I’m making bacon”

I was downstairs mere seconds later

We both made breakfast. Erik tended the bacon as I made pancakes. Both of us helped on the omelets. Teets settled down in a corner with a large plate of pancakes. Erik and I ate In front of the television. Things decay when maintenance isn't active, so most of the satellites were pretty funky. Erik flipped through a few channels before giving up. He cursed his satellite to the fiery depths of Satan’s heart, and then turned on the DVD player. “You like war stories?” he asked, holding Flyboys in his hands.

“Never seen it”

“Wanna watch it?”

“I don’t know my schedule is really busy. Lets begin it, and then I’ll see if I have time”

Chuckling, Erik put the DVD in. we sat back in the leather in between satin pillows and cashmere sheets, eating pancakes, getting maple syrup everywhere. The movie was decent; I wasn't really sure what was happening. Most of the time, we would watch in awe as planes swooped past, and massive fireballs filled the screen. “After lunch, let’s go into town” Erik said, his mouth filled with popcorn. “Your too big for anything I have here” I had to agree. Erik was a small guy, very slim, but strong. I realized I didn't know what I looked like. How bizarre. To know so much about the world you’re in, but to not know what you look like. “Hey Erik” I said “do you have a mirror” he pointed upstairs, his eyes riveted to the screen. A blimp had just been destroyed, and the music blared through dozens of speakers. I went upstairs, using a rope ladder that lead to a hole in the ceiling.

On the second floor, there was a bathroom with full wall mirror. I went over and took a look at Matthew. I can’t consider him me yet until I know more about him. For all I know, he could be a serial killer, or a terrorist. I looked into the reflection, and was met with a teen aged boy, about 15 or 16. He had brown curly hair, sort of long. His face was pale; it looked like he hadn't seen sunlight for a while. The cheeks were hollow, and he had a prominent jaw line. His skin was white, making him Caucasian, but it looked as though somewhere along the lines, he might have been Asian, perhaps Arabian. His eyebrows were simple lines, but the scariest thing was the eyes. They were deep green, flecked with gray. As he looked closer, it seemed as though these eyes told a story. A dark story.