40,024 / 50,000
Awww yeah, 40k bitches!
He resisted the urge to savour his return to carpeting. There would be plenty of time to enjoy the thick softness once he was settled in.
The first door on his left took him too a small bedroom, with two regular sized windows in the far wall, and a closet taking up nearly the entire side of the wall to his left. The walls were painted in a light blue colour, and the carpeting, which was pulled up in one corner of the room, and looked as if it had been chewed on, was a dark brown.
He thought this would be a good room to store books in, maybe his computer. Brendan wasn't expecting many guests, so having a room set aside for them wouldn't be very necessary.
Next, he passed a door not quite directly across the hall from the small bedroom, that lead to the main bathroom, with all the usual fixings. The walls and floor were tiled in pink. They creeped up the walls until just about they were level with his vision, and there was a band of dark maroon tiles seperating the rest from the wall, which had been left untiled, and painted white. Except for inside the alcove for the large bathtub and shower fixtures, where the tiles continued to the ceiling, resuming the pink after the lone band of darker ones. A few of the tiles were missing, some of those clearly fallen and shattered into a powdery mess on the floor.
Brendan gave the toilet an experimental flush, and it made a loud whoosh noise as expected, confirming the plumbing was working. While he was in an experimental mood, he also flicked one of the switches just inside the doorway, and the lights overhead blinked on and off in time with his switching. So far, so good on the basics. Brendan had not been looking forward to trying to read by the light of a silvery sphere until the power got turned on.
He had tried that as an experiment while in the hospital wing. It was easy enough to see that his constructs glowed while they existed, and he wanted to see just how much that glow could vary, for whatever purposes he needed. Could it be possible to use them as light sources, should the power fail on a mission, without flashlights? And if it was dark, could he still use them to attack someone, and not give away his position?
In a dark room, he could easily make something that through off enough light to read by, and illuminate the local area, in a radius of about five to ten feet. With his ability to move the constructs anywhere around him, and create multiples at the same time, it was easy to see most of the room at once, or just certain points of interest, piece by piece.
Dimming the glowing objects he found to be quite more difficult. It was easier to make the light flow into the creations, rather than take it from them. He could also feel that when he tried to make the light pull away from them, the objects became weaker, and more susceptible to being broken, or dissipating beyond his control. Perhaps with practice, he could manage it better, but for now the name of the project that had created him was becoming quite appropriate.
Moving on from the bathroom, he passed through the final door, at the very end of the hall, taking up what would have been the entire wall.
Beyond the door was the large master bedroom. The carpeting was pure black, and covered every inch of the floor. Windows dotted each forest green wall, except for the far right, which contained the closet space.
On the same wall as the door he had just passed through, but nearer to the closets, was a door into a small bathroom, with just a toilet, sink, and shower stall with a glass door that had a frosted, mosaic pattern. It was large enough to serve as a private bathroom, and not disturb any guests in the middle of the night. The floor was tiled in white, and the walls were painted the same colour, unlike the other bathroom with its tiled walls. The only tiled space was inside the shower, still matching the white of the rest of the tiny space.
Over the sink, and reflecting back into the master bedroom, was a large, heaxgonal mirror. Brendan had escaped the mirrors in the other bathroom, having only taken a cursory look into the room, but the mirror sitting there was impossible for him to look into the room and not get a good look at his new self.
When he first saw that gorgeous blonde-covered face staring back at him, he thought someone had somehow snuck into his new home. It had been several days, and Brendan was nowhere near close to being used to seeing some beautiful woman where his own face should be. Over time, he suspected that reaction would lessen, and he would see her in the mirror, and just accept it as his own face, but for now, it still made him jump in surprise. It made it easier to accept his fate when he was always confronted with it, whether just walking around, or seeing it up close in a mirror. It still hurt, having lost his old self, but it was easier to accept when all he had told him of his new existence, making it inescapable.
Brendan made the only escape he could from those piercing blue eyes, his own eyes, staring back at him, and turned back to his new bedroom.
In the center of the room were the results of three requests Brendan had made before they moved him out of the lab's hospital wing, and into this place.
First, up against the far wall from the doors, and inbetween the two large windows, with criss-crossing white dividers over the panes, sat a large, king sized bed. It had a large black headboard, and the matress looked solid enough. Brendan took a seat on the edge of the bed, and bounced up and down on it a few times, trying his best to ignore the jiggling of his new aquisitions as he did so. Even if it was a little harder than he liked, it would be better than the hospital bed he had spent the last week in, part of that unconcious. His neck felt as if the crick it had aquired while he was out of it would never go away.
The bed met Brendan's approval, and he moved on to the rest of his requested items.
Secondly, opposite the closet, to the right of Brendan now as he sat upon the bed, facing the door out to the hallway, amd between another two windows, and underneath part of their windowsills, was a long chest of drawers. It was also black, and the gold filigree touches indicated it was a match, or close to it, for the bed he now had.
Brendan certainly could not fault those tasked for fulfilling his requests for being so thorough. He would have accepted any old pieces of furniture to toss his clothes in, and his body atop of. The things they had found though, were top notch, quality pieces of furniture.
He grabbed the gold, fake gold most likely, handle of one of the drawers and slid it open, listening to the wood and metal sliding against each other with a satisfactory whoosh. The drawer didn't stick at all, or slip to one side, it just slid straight back. Brendan pushed it in and out a few times, and checked the others. As expected, the drawers were all empty, and would give him plenty of space to store his stuff.
Finally, that brought Brendan's attention to the final items. Two boxes, one larger than the other, and each labelled with a large, black marker. The larger of the two boxes had the words, "new stuff," written in tall, capital letters along the top flaps, whereas the other box had, "old stuff," scrawled in the same place.
Aside from the large boxes sitting on the floor, and that the blue mattress wasn't covered in anything, the room actually looked like someone might live there. With a few paintings on the walls, Brendan thought it could be a very normal room.
Brendan grabbed the smaller of the two boxes and pulled it towards the bed, his bed for now, and had a seat as he pulled open the top that had been folded in upon itself to hold it shut. The flaps popped free with a snap, and Brendan saw familiar items. On the top were a few folded shirts, and sweaters, which likely would not fit him, but he wanted anyways. They were his favourite t-shirts, and such, that gave him a sense of familiarity and comfort, even if he wouldn't be wearing them any time soon. He might luck out and one or two, the larger of the shirts, might actually fit over his new chest.
Underneath the shirts were a number of books, ranging from fiction, the latest from Stephen King, and some texts he had been reading to try and find out things they could try with the energy to get it to work. Now however, he wanted to have the books to try and learn more about what had happened to him.
Tucked away beside the books, and Brendan had nearly missed their being there, until he had run his hand, his smaller hand which was able to squeeze where his old hands never would have, finding a small case.
Brendan popped open the case, and found a pair of mostly round wire-frame glasses with thin lenses inside. He plucked the shiny golden coloured frames from their soft home and pulled out the wings. Normally, Brendan wore contacts, and around the labs only Alphonse knew Brendan needed corrective lenses.
He slipped the thin wings over his ears, surprised to find that they still fit fairly well, despite the slightly changed dimensions of his skull and face. However, when he slid the glasses up and settled them over the bridge of his nose where they barely sat snugly, and constantly threatened to slide down his thinner nose, the expected effect of making everything clearer was not what happened. Instead, everything became more fuzzy. In fact, with the glasses on, the world almost looked just like it did without them before his transformation.
Standing, he moved back towards the small bathroom and had a look in the mirror, as he moved the thin, round glasses on and off his nose, watching his new face become clear and blurry repeatedly. He came to the clear conclusion that the transformation had even fixed his eyes. Brendan had not really considered it during the busy few days since his change, but it was obvious now.
He sat the glasses further down on his nose so he could see clearly over the frames, and looked at the young woman, now with a pair of small glasses that somehow made her look even more attractive, bringing an element of cuteness to her usually just plain beautiful face.
Yanking the glasses from his face, and took a step back into the bedroom, and tossed the glasses with a clatter atop the dresser, and followed them with the case he scooped up from the bed and tossed underhanded to land beside the item it usually held within.
It was nice to no longer need glasses, or contacts, but Brendan was hoping for a bit of normalcy in this new, strange existance of his, and that had been taken from him. Brendan tried to keep his mind focused on the bright side, however, and not let it get to him.
With a bit of a heavy sigh, he moved on to the final box awaiting his attention. The box's top opened up just as easily as the smaller version of it, and with a similar pop.