Alaric Storm, strangely enough, had slept well throughout last night, his body feeling oddly refreshed. With his sharp nose, he picked up Violet's scent saturating the room. It was soothing, like warm velvet wrapping around him, and it was no wonder he stretched out like a satisfied cat, turning to the other side of the bed, ready to drift back into sweet sleep.
Suddenly, there was a low groaning from above. But Alaric didn't think much of it. Or rather, he ignored it, assuming it was nothing.
And that was when the crash happened.
A whole chunk of plaster, complete with crumbling beams and a suspiciously heavy wooden plank, detached itself from the rafters and made a beeline for his regal face.
WHUMP!
Alaric jolted awake, instantly buried in white dust and what looked like the ghost of ceiling past. Paint flakes fluttered around him like snowflakes, the dust clogging his nose and making his eyes water.
