Downstairs, near the proverbial base of the staircase, crouching down, was a girl holding her hair so it would not get wet. With her other hand holding a bottle with dragonhide globes, she slowly allowed the water to fill in. She kind of liked the sight, the decay the place evoked with its stillness, its dark and passionate colours contrasting to the abyss before her, the moving staircase unmoving in an askew angle disappearing further into the dark waters. It was beautiful really.

Standing up, she screwed the bottle shut, cleaned the exterior of it and dispossed on the tissue. It was a larger bottle from a harmless drink she picked up and washed throughoutfully. Afterwards, she went up the stairs to get back to the ground floor.