[sylvanSpider]

Benjamin groaned tilting his head back and sighing. Really? People come here and abandon me in the same blasted breath? He began pacing in the newly cleaned living room, grateful, at the very least, that they left the fire going. But then, what good did it serve him? None. He couldn't feel its warmth. The light it provided was useless as well without pages to gaze at, at least any that he could get to. He took his post at the door to wait for Beauty and Man-friend (as he so lovingly dubbed them) and waited.

Since his death, there were good days and bad days. Some days, he could even go so far as moving something, more often than not opting for a book or two on the shelf, should it chance to fall open, he would have a bit of reading material. Those were the days that if he chanced to see himself in the mirror the blood was gone, his lively hazel eyes would have a glint, the dark circles would be gone.

The other days, though, were the opposite. Should he desire a bit of the written word his hands would pass directly through the book as if he wasn't there. Those days, should he see himself he would have to blink back the blood from his eyes. He could reach to the back of his head and look at bloodied fingertips, viscera leaking down his neck, chunks of hair where the ax hit falling down with a noticeable splat on the floor.

The latter he hadn't had for a few weeks. Things were looking up now that there was an inhabitant. He...he hoped that things were looking up.