The morning light seeped through the curtains of the small room, casting warm, golden hues across the walls. Alastor woke up feeling more energized than he had in a long time. The bed, though simple, had provided a level of comfort that was foreign to him in recent memory.
Stretching leisurely, he took a moment to gather his thoughts and plan his next move. Firstly though, he checked his body. The illusion is still there and so is the binding spell that is slowly deteriorating. He calculated that it would be a few more days before it was completely worn out, letting him use magic again.
The faint sounds of footsteps in the house caught his attention. It seems Grace was already awake. The soft clinking of metal suggested she was preparing breakfast. Alastor sat up, running a hand through his hair before stepping out of the room.
As he entered the modest kitchen, the aroma of freshly cooked meat and eggs along with a scent of brewed tea greeted him. Grace stood by the stove, her figure illuminated by the morning sunlight streaming through the window. She turned to him with a cheerful smile. "Good morning, Mr. Alastor. Did you sleep well?"
He returned her smile, masking the darker thoughts swirling beneath the surface. "Very well, thank you, Sister Grace. Your hospitality is beyond compare."
"I'm glad to hear that. Please, sit down. Breakfast is almost ready," She said, her tone warm and inviting.
Alastor complied, taking a seat at the small wooden table. His eyes wandered over the room again, noting the small, personal touches that made the strange house feel so alive.
"Do you always go out of your way for strangers, Sister Grace?" He asked, his tone curious, surely she wasn't this inviting to every stranger was she?
Grace turned to him with a thoughtful look as she placed a plate of bacon and eggs on the table. "I suppose I do. It's what I was taught - to see everyone as a neighbor in need of some kindness. The world can be harsh enough as it is to others."
Alastor picked up a piece of bacon with a fork provided and took a bite of the delicious dish as he considered her words. "Would somebody eventually take advantage of that kindness?" He asked, trying to probe her reaction.
Grace paused, her expression faltering for a fraction of a second before she smiled again. "I like to believe that most people, deep down, have good intentions. Even if they don't always show it."
"How noble," Alastor said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "But surely not everyone is deserving of such kindness."
Grace sat across from him, folding her hands in her lap. "Perhaps not, but giving kindness is not dependent on a person's worthiness. It's about helping them no matter who they are."
Her conviction was fascinating to Alastor. She was so unwavering, so rooted in her beliefs. It would make corrupting her all the more satisfying.
The sound of a loud bell chiming in the distance interrupted their conversation. Grace glanced toward the window.
"Oh, that's the church bell. I have to go attend morning prayers," She said, rising from her seat. "You're welcome to join me if you'd like."
Alastor raised an eyebrow, feigning polite interest. "And what happens during these prayers?"
"Nothing too elaborate," She explained. "Just a gathering of the community to give thanks and seek guidance for the day ahead. It's a peaceful way to start the morning."
"I think I'll pass for today," Alastor said smoothly. "But thank you for the invitation."
Grace nodded, not pressing further. "You're welcome to stay here while I'm gone. I'll be back before midday. Oh and you can use the shower, it's just next to my room."
As she gathered her things and left the house, Alastor, after finishing his breakfast, leaned back in his chair. The house was quiet now.
Deciding to do something instead of nothing, he went to the 'shower room' to clean himself up.
Upon entering, his mind was once again confused by what he was seeing. It certainly wasn't the normal washhouse that he was used to. Oh well, guess he just had to learn how to use these strange things.
Taking off his clothes, he was suddenly aware of how smelly he was. The smell emanating from him almost makes him want to throw up. How Grace managed to not comment on his smell let alone let him sleep on her beds was a miracle.
Standing where he supposed where he should be, he contemplated for a moment on how to use it. There was a metal pipe right above him along with a two smaller metal right below it.
He puts his hand on the thing and, after pulling it wasn't working, rotates it which surprisingly it did.
With a hiss, water flowed from the metal above him in a steady stream, cascading down onto him. Alastor jerked back instinctively at first, the sensation of cold water catching him off guard. But as he adjusted the other metal handle, the temperature shifted, and warmth replaced the chill.
"Fascinating," He murmured to himself, running his fingers through the water. His hand glided over the intricate metalwork of the fixture, marveling at the ingenuity of its design. This was unlike any bathing system he had encountered before in his long life.
The water washed away layers of grime, sweat, and blood. Alastor watched the murky water swirl down the hole at the bottom of his feet.
He reached for the strange bottles lined neatly on a shelf, inspecting their contents. They bore unfamiliar symbols, but their floral and herbal scents were unmistakable.
He picked one at random, a viscous, fragrant liquid. Pouring some into his palm, he spread it across his skin and hair, marveling at how it foamed. The experience was... indulgent, almost soothing. For a fleeting moment, he could almost forget the binding spell sapping his strength.
After thoroughly cleaning himself, Alastor stepped out of the shower, his skin and hair smelling of lavender and honey. He grab a towel hanging on a metal rail. It was probably provided by Grace, and he found himself appreciating her foresight in leaving it for him.
Dressed in fresh clothes that was probably also provided by Grace, Alastor stood before the modest mirror hanging on the wall. He scrutinized his reflection, his fake black eyes glinting as he brushed a strand of damp hair away from his face. He smirked, satisfied.
"Well, Sister Grace," He murmured, "your kindness will be your undoing."