His room was straightened, cleaned and dust free. The strix’s crescent moon smile turned upside down, a more common occurrence since the events with the Horsemen. He’d expanded just slightly, an emotional balance had shifted in subtlest of ways and the young monster was starting to absorb some things from the world around him. He tilted his head at the pristine sheets, pulled taught and embroidered gold. He grabbed them in a taloned hand and tugged them out. He hopped into a crouch in the center of the mattress and pulled the blanket around him in a circle. Thrumming ‘hoos’ of contemplation vibrated from his throat as he made his blankets into a circle nest on top of the bed.

He was home now. It was only for a few weeks but he was home and his father was strangely interested in him all of a sudden. The strix, with a pop of bones and sinew, soon took his natural form and snuggled into the blanket nest. He didn’t often set aside time to think but he was doing more of it lately. He’d learned of true friendship and he’d learned of sacrifice. He’d discovered how nice it could be to craft something with his own hands and learned that he was not half bad when it came to physical battles. The strix’s wide eyes looked at the room around him and he felt like the pristine hotel-like quality didn’t feel like his home at all.

He shuffled in a circle, turning his body to face the opposite direction. His large bed was in the center of the perfectly square bedroom. He could see out the balcony doors at the vastness of his father’s grounds. Every detail of them was engraved into his memory from his years here. Others would have said he was a prisoner but Ulmuka didn’t have a single bad memory. His father was just particular. He was protective. Others knew that Knobwalker (Senior they called him, marking him further with his moniker and claims to be the most fertile demon in Halloween) was really only interested in protecting his own reputation. Every one of his children was a demon. Slime demons, sloth demons, dozens of incubi and succubae. There was even a mess of a mud demon but never, ever, before Ulmuka had there been a monster. The boy left on the doorstep as soon as he was able to eat solids. He had his father’s flawless grey skin (not all of his children were so lucky) and Senior was no strange to babes on his steps. Usually he reveled in it. Ulmuka’s childhood revolved around this house. Learning, lessons, manners and etiquette. At some point it became more important to learn about social graces. He was unnerving apparently. His gaze was disturbing and his giggling scared the ghouls at parties he was allowed to attend.

Until Amityville.

Ulmuka was no longer bound to only the acres behind the house. He met every race and species and it turned out that the ghouls were not as afraid of his laugh grin as he was led to believe. He’d seen horrific things and wonderful ones. He’d experienced Insanity… JOY…

The large owl closed his eyes, head dipping and beak sinking into his mass of feathers. His room, pristine and organized, had been put into place just like his father. He straightened every tie, picked every stray hair and threw out any of Muka’s shoes with a scratch or a scrape. The room had been polished and swept and waxed until all the little marks of individuality had been buffed away. But did the strix even notice? He felt like, maybe, he was starting to notice something.

His stomach growled suddenly. So hungry. He’d been so hungry lately.

Ulmuka hopped off of his bed, stretching his legs. He’d felt different in a lot of ways, some of them physical. He flapped a short distance to his luggage, feathers swirling around him. He believed this was what they called molting. The boil giggled a bit. What if he changed a lot? His colors? Would his friends be surprised? Muka already wanted to be back at school. But perhaps this was a good thing. Perhaps now that his father wanted to spend time with him he’d enjoy that too!

Perhaps.

A talon hooked a zipper and yanked it, almost tearing free of the suitcase. Ulmuka began hooking clothes, tossing them around the room. He wasn’t even messy as a general rule but something about the room, redone since he’d left, made him want to mess it up. He wasn’t sure why. It was too quiet for one. No chirpings of minipets except for the snores of Plungie, the only one he was allowed to bring home. No wailing in the halls, no echoing footsteps, no death screams. Not even a bawdy gnome to kick.

He continued to throw things until the bag was empty. His talons clicked loudly on the polished floors and he tapped them again, taking notice. With a vicious grin he dug the talon into the wood grain and scratched. The pristine flooring yielded easily to the wicked claw. He didn’t even draw anything or write anything, just gouged it and giggled. The butler would be so annoyed, his father… would his father admonish him? Ever since the family had been put in the public eye when he’d entered the trials, his father had been nice to him. Mostly. He surely wanted the strix to behave. Would he be upset?

The strix giggled again and set toward the window. He was unbearably hungry now. He wanted to fill up before the inevitable talking to he would receive. Ulmuka swung the balcony doors open and leapt onto the rail; he perched smoothly and closed his eyes just to enjoy the subtle dry must that drifted on the air. It was a smell that he did enjoy. The smell triggered any nostalgia he possessed and another hooting giggle vibrated in his neck. As he took wing he found the prospect of being in trouble to be an interestingly fun one. He already envisioned his father’s mustache twitching in anger.

But first, food.