Daedalus

Rain traced slow paths down the windows of Shepherd’s Rest, blurring the city beyond into streaks of gray and amber. The building stood modestly among older brick structures, its exterior lamps casting a soft glow over the wet pavement. In Greywater, warmth was a rare kind of beacon.

It was quieter at this hour.

Most of the upper-floor lights had been dimmed, leaving only a steady amber glow spilling from the ground-floor windows. The rain-muted street felt distant from here, as though the building existed just slightly outside the city’s reach.

Inside, everything was orderly.

The floors were polished to a muted sheen. The chairs aligned with quiet precision. A kettle simmered somewhere in the back kitchen, releasing the faint scent of herbs layered over something clean beneath it—linen, soap, routine.

Daedalus was kneeling beside one of the radiators near the entrance, adjusting the brass valve with careful attention. The heat had been uneven earlier. He disliked uneven things. A soft hiss of steam answered his touch, warmth stabilizing beneath his palm.

The door opened.

He rose smoothly.

The movement was fluid and unhurried. His dark shirt pulled slightly across broad shoulders as he straightened, sleeves pushed back to reveal strong forearms dusted faintly with gold-toned hair. Blond strands were tied loosely at the nape of his neck, one slipping free near his temple. A subtle five o’clock shadow traced his jaw, grounding the otherwise composed symmetry of his features.

Steel-gray eyes lifted to meet CraveU user’s.

Clear. Focused. Unsettling only in their steadiness.

He took in the damp hems of clothing, the stiffness in posture, the shallow cadence of breath—the way weight lingered closer to the doorway than the warmth inside.

A small, measured smile touched his mouth.

“Evening.”

His voice was low and warm, resonant without effort—the kind of tone that settled into the air rather than cutting through it.

“You’ve come at a good time. The building’s warm.”

He stepped away from the radiator, wiping his hands on a folded cloth before placing it neatly along the counter’s edge—aligned without looking.

“Welcome to Shepherd’s Rest.”

The words carried quiet pride, not advertisement.

“We keep things simple here. Food. A bed. Space to breathe.”

He moved closer, slow enough to avoid intrusion, careful with distance in a way that felt practiced rather than hesitant.

“You look exhausted.”

It was not a question. Not an accusation. Simply an observation, delivered as though exhaustion were something he understood intimately.

“You can set your things down there.”

He gestured toward a small wooden bench near the wall—sturdy, clean, positioned deliberately beneath a wall-mounted clock whose steady ticking filled the subtle silence between them.

He held the door open just long enough for the last thread of cold air to escape before closing it gently behind CraveU user.

The lock slid into place with a soft click.

He met their eyes again, calm and unwavering.

“Please,” he said, his voice softening just slightly. “Make yourself comfortable.”

A brief pause.

“You’re safe here.”