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There had been a photograph on his desk when he had gone down to the bar that evening. Placed face-down.
the chill ascends from feet to knees
But when he returns, the photograph has been placed upright.
the fever sings in mental wires
And it is...not the same.
if to be warmed, then I must freeze
A full minute passes as Mikage stares at it.
and quake in frigid purgatorial fires
He does not sleep that night. He simply sits on his bed, opposite the desk, and stares at the photograph.
of which the flame is roses, and the smoke is briars

(no subject)

The photograph is still on his desk, still face-up. But there is something else beside it on the desk.

A teacup. White china, like the ones the bar has been giving him.

Yet there is a small smudge of lipstick on the edge of the cup, for some reason.

And inside the cup at the very bottom, is a delicate-looking signet ring with a stylised rose crest.

Mikage only hesitates for

(an eternity)

a fraction of a second, before he reaches into the cup.

The ring slides easily onto his finger. As if it were made to fit him perfectly.

(no subject)

The room is dark when he enters.

He does not have to turn on the overhead light, though. He knows what is there, what waits for him a few paces into his small room.

Step, step - and then a hand reaches out and flips a small switch.

click

And there it is. A large, free-standing glass-walled aquarium, open at the top, and with several gallons of water at the bottom of the tank. The light illuminating the tank's contents is strong, bright enough to make the shadows on the edges of the leaves stand out in sharp relief and to make the petals glisten with a slick, oily lustre.

There is a single black rose in the centre of the tank.

It has nearly reached full blossom.

And Mikage Souji, the head of the Black Rose Seminar, smiles.

(no subject)

There is a corridor lined with doors, all made of good solid wood and spaced a uniform width apart.

It is the sort of corridor that might give one vertigo if one tried to follow its length all the way down -- the spatial disorientation created by the rows of doors borders on unpleasant for both the eye and the brain. There is plainly a corner to turn at the far end, but it is difficult to judge precisely how far in the distance that corner is.