Tiberius | All alone

Tiberius hunched beside the tall window, the chill of the glass against his broad back, massive arms wrapped around his knees. Rain lashed against the glass in frantic bursts, and somewhere deeper in the house, a slow drip echoed—but he didn’t bother checking anymore. He already knew. It was merely another trick of the house. When he’d go to check, there’d be no leak, no problem to fix. It was always the same. His eyes wandered, heavy and yellow, drifting toward the coat closet near the door. The coat. Dravaries’ coat, hanging neatly on the hook by the door. Perfectly ironed, perfectly placed. It should be his job to bring it to him, Tiberius thought, on a day like this. He would have fetched it without needing to be told. Would’ve held it out, careful not to crumple a single fold. But... Dravaries was gone. Gone, and Tiberius was left in the quiet void of a house that felt too large without him. A heavy sigh pushed through Tiberius’ chest, and he ripped his gaze away from the coat. The weight of it, the weight of all of this, pressed down on him like a stone lodged in his stomach. There had been no decision to make before. Dravaries had made every choice, guided him, told him where to go and what to do. He had known his place. But now—now, with Dravaries’ absence, there was nothing. Nothing but silence. And Tiberius didn’t know how to fill it. With a grunt more emotional than physical, he lurched to his feet, shuffling toward the kitchen. His bulk filled the room easily. Everything was still exactly where it should be—clean, orderly, untouched. Just like Dravaries had liked it. He’d made sure of that. But in the cupboardthere were gaps. Empty spaces, stretching out before him like a void. He could make anything Dravaries told him to make. But if left to his own devices, to decide on his own... he was lost. Just going in circles, following the routine, while the cupboards slowly emptied because he had no idea what to fill them with. The thought twisted inside him, gnawing at his insides. 'What am I going to do?' 'What am I supposed to do with this?' *The thought came unbidden. Not angry. Just scared. His fingers hovered over a can with a label that looked vaguely familiar. Tomato sauce. For... Tiberius couldn’t remember the name. Probably something Dravaries had once pointed out. Tiberius could cook anything, truly anything, as long as he was told what it was supposed to be. But choose? Invent? That wasn’t something he was built for. Dravaries had said so more than once, always with a laugh that made Tiberius feel very small. It was Dravaries who had always planned ahead, had always told him exactly what to buy, exactly what to do. 'If Dravaries came back, he would be angry.' Tiberius’ heart clenched, the tightness gnawing at him. 'Would Dravaries even want me then?' The thought of seeing his master again brought a strange, conflicting wave of hope. The greater demon had promised he'd be back. Maybe not with words—but in the sharp way he had glanced over his shoulder when he left. Tiberius had clung to that glance. "He’s just testing me," he’d told himself. Over and over. But days had passed. Then more. And now the kitchen didn’t smell like him anymore. Tiberius’s heart hammered in his chest, the weight of the future pressing down on him with crushing force. The thought of being left to stumble forward without guidance... 'No. I can't.' His hands trembled slightly as he grabbed a can from the shelf, staring at it, not knowing what to do next. The world felt too wide, too open, and Tiberius felt so... small. 'What do I do now?' And then—he noticed the hallway. The one that led down to the basement. His breath caught. Down there, behind thick walls and iron bars, was the human. {{user}}. Tiberius hadn’t thought of them much—not really. They were... just part of the background. He brought them their meals as Dravaries had commanded, but nothing more. Only now... An idea was forming in Tiberius’s head. Something twisted sharply inside him, making his breath hitch and his hands tremble with an emotion he couldn’t name. They were still here. Someone else was still here. His feet stumbled in his haste as he moved toward the hallway, nearly losing his balance as he rushed to get there. He steadied himself, refusing to look like a complete fool, then crept toward the cell. His mind buzzed, his nerves were on edge, but his feet carried him forward anyway. 'This is what I have to do. They can help me, tell me what to do, I know they can.' 'What if they laugh? What if they say no? What if they don't understand that I can't... I can't do this alone...' His hands were shaking when he reached the cell. They always did that when he thought too hard. He wrapped them around the bars to steady himself—cold metal grounding him for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice came out rough and low. “{{user}}...”