[ How long has it been since the last time Klavier had left his house? Klavier had been plucking away at the strings of his guitar--courteously left against the side of his bed when he awoke in this strange small cottage one day. He glanced to the clock on his wall, feet up on the table as he leaned back in his chair.
Oh. Has it really been six hours already?
Like emerging from the dead, Klavier hopped out of the chair and with one suave, swift motion, threw on his leather jacket and proceeded out the door with guitar in hand. He probably needed groceries, but this new environment both relieved and stressed Klavier beyond anything else he'd ever experienced in his life. Ever.
Once reaching the marketplace, bustling with busy bodies as usual, Klavier picked a shady, out of the way corner to lean against a storefront and began strumming and humming a melancholy tune. ]
[ Though his thoughts and heart were constantly hoping the best for the tiny fire that had kept him burning, he couldn't help but worry about his brother, too. Was he able to escape in time, with his... situation? ]
