Zafkiel stood in the doorway for a moment, just soaking up the atmosphere that the old house exuded. Raziel clattered up the stairs, calling something over his shoulder, but the words were lost to Zafkiel; he was too busy just feeling the house.

He walked slowly through the entrance hall, past one open door -- he noted a fireplace, and wondered idly what Mikael would think -- and another, till he reached a back room. Long, wide windows let the afternoon sunlight in, painting the floor in golden rectangles and making the whole room glow. For a moment, Zafkiel could almost see Rafariel standing there, holding his violin, bow pressed against the strings. He smiled to himself.

The kitchen was less inviting than the other rooms, but Zafkiel refused to be bothered by such things as broken linoleum or lack of bench or cupboard space. These were little things, things he could deal with; what he wanted, what he'd been looking for in every house he'd entered and so far never found, was a house that spoke to him. A house that said "be mine."

He found himself at the base of the stairs, just as Raziel reached the top of them. Sunlight was streaming into the upstairs too, lighting Raziel from behind with a halo effect as he stood with his booted feet planted apart, his hands on his hips.

"Zafkiel, there's an attic bedroom!" He was laughing with excitement. "I've always wanted an attic bedroom! Please, can it be mine and Gavrael's? Please?"

Zafkiel found himself laughing too.

"Of course. Show me." He scrambled up the stairs after Raziel, and followed him around the upstairs hall, glancing into each of the empty bedrooms as he passed them. He wondered which room would house which member of their 'family', and how each of them would make it his own. But he was certain, already, that they would. This was the house he wanted, for himself, and for all of them. This was going to be their home: a real home, at last.