Oscar hummed gently as he descended the stairs. The matron had called him down. He had smelled it prior to the call and it smelled divine.

He entered the downstairs hallway and politely stopped in front of the lounge. The master of the house was sitting in his chair while two young girls, a few years younger than Oscar sat on the sofa in a prim and proper way, in a sort of tense way a child sits when they are tense when there are unfamiliar visitors.

Theodore, the father of the girls nodded at Oscar and motioned him to enter. “Ah, Oscar. I hope the attic is to your liking.” He greeted, “Girls this is Oscar who will be renting the attic. Oscar these are my daughters Elis.” He continued and motioned at the older girl with black hair who stood up and curtsied, “..And Hannah.” He gestured at the other girl with dark brown hair who curtsied as well.

“And that is my blunderbuss.” He finally gestured at a fireplace behind him with a displayed blunderbuss in question with a slight smirk. “Loaded with rock salt and my wrath to unleash upon potential suitors of my twin rays of sun.”

Oscar laughed before bowing to the two girls and uttering a ‘it’s a pleasure’ to them before looking at the firearm on display. “While they are lovely, I’m far more enamored with the suitor deterrent.” He said with twinkling eyes.

“Boys will be boys it seems” Came a laugh from a room leading into a dining room as the matriarch of the family entered while wiping her hands. “Our son has a similar interest to the point I’m surprised he’s married now.”

The girls smirked behind their hands at their mothers’ words while looking at the new house member's reserved curiosity.

The husband grunted in agreement with a smile before standing up with his cane and swaggering up to the fireplace before motioning Oscar to join him, who eagerly skipped over.

Oscar never really came in contact with firearms beyond from afar and from stories, so he eagerly looked at the contraption of metal with a wooden finish around its metal insides. The oddly delicate wood details on the shoulder and hand guard and their smooth finish and how the wood glistened due to the lacquer.

“Beautiful.” Oscar nodded in appreciation and Theodore nodded along. He took the blunderbuss down and handed it to the unexpecting hands of Oscar.

‘Heavy’ Was the first impression as his hands carried it in its arms. He quickly handed it back, fearing the gun might accidentally go off in his inexperienced hands, much to the mirth of the older gentleman who received it. He delicately returned the blunderbuss back on to its display before gently gliding his hand over the wood.

“Served me well over the years.” He muttered. “Good gun.”

Suddenly hands descended upon Oscar's shoulders from behind, “The greying coot I call a husband used to be an outrider in the army before he got old and promoted.” The matron said as Oscar turned towards her, “But enough of that, dinner is served and the guest of honor is expected at the table.” She added before dragging Oscar towards the dining room.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

It was a simple room with large cupboards next to a wall and a large wooden table in the center, covered with a tablecloth and, most importantly food.

A large pot of stew was the center point of the dinner with smaller casseroles and bowls of side dishes.

The matron plopped Oscar down to the seat of honor and took the right-side seat while the husband joined her. The girls were seated to the left with the opposite seat to Oscar remaining empty.

The dinner was informal and the family got to know the young man who would share a roof with them from now. The well likable man grew quickly to the family and the initial awkwardness began to dissipate, albeit it would take time for everyone to acclimatize to the change in their life.

After dinner, the family retired to the lounge with Oscar who regaled them with stories of his mainland travels while sitting with the daughters on the sofa, a respectful distance between them.

The matron, who finally remembered to introduce herself as Isabel had made herself comfortable in the lap of her husband while she knitted and listened to the conversation, and occasionally joining them. She enjoyed crass humor and snickered at it like an old sailor, now that the atmosphere was less formal. Isabel had been prior to their marriage the sole daughter of the only butcher in the slums and enjoyed the absolute respect and fear of their generation, due to.. Fiery personality before mellowing after marriage and having kids. The cleaver princess still had infamy due to stories told of her acts to this day. Despite the infamy she was well-liked as despite the errors of her fiery youth she had been a charitable soul since young.

After taking a schnapps after dinner the husband, the taciturn man Theodore had opened up more and was joking and laughing along while enjoying his pipe in good humor. He was apparently a long-time soldier and before his injury before getting discharged due to injury had been a senior quartermaster in one of the garrisons surrounding the town.

His pension was smaller due to not serving his career till retirement and this was the reason the family had decided to seek out a tenant to pad their finances. He did have the wish to return working but his shattered shin made it a difficult prospect.

The daughters had inherited the family’s laidback and informal way of life despite knowing their way around formal etiquette due to their education, hence their hesitance in the interaction in the beginning. But reflecting their parents, Elis took after their father with a quieter countenance while Hannah had taken great strides to be like their mother, albeit far more controlled than the mother in her younger days. But in general, both strong-willed and determined.

In retrospect, the family was laid back and down to earth.

After finally returning to his quarters and closing the door Oscar sighed and slumped his shoulders and let his face relax. He walked over to the small window and looked out of the window, looking at the creeping darkness, held back by the light from the houses and further towards the center, lamps.

He looked at the stars, the only source of light in the darkness beyond the artificial lights.

He brought out the seashell and once more placed it next to his ear.

He welcomed the vertigo it brought with its whispers. Momentarily his eyesight turned completely black before the world inverted and the dark became light. Dark city spanned the white world with small white suns blanketing the sky. Some of them noticed his gaze but his existence was far too insignificant to the great blazing presences in the inverted night sky to hold their notice.

Neither was the world of any significance, merely a passing of their piercing gazes. A momentary glance before moving on.

In this radiant divinity forsaken darkness, the young man seeked.

Equipped with a tongue in a seashell from an artist who had cut it off in his madness, the nautilus seashell echoed its whispering delirium about things not visible. Or perhaps they were always visible but too foreign to notice. Always watching, always there.

The glancing looks reminded Oscar of his fathers, cold and callous. He instinctively wished for their attention, their notice of his existence. He seeked their approval.

That was his madness.

His inferiority fuelled delirium to seek the alien and unknown.

To gaze at the abyss and for the abyss to notice and accept him.