Warm Reunions [Closed] - Printable Version
+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Archives (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=72)
+--- Forum: Complete (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=84)
+--- Thread: Warm Reunions [Closed] (/showthread.php?tid=710)
+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Archives (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=72)
+--- Forum: Complete (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=84)
+--- Thread: Warm Reunions [Closed] (/showthread.php?tid=710)
Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-24-2017
It had been, technically speaking, more than four years. She had finished her undergrad degree with a little boost into a Masters in English, and was working on her Masters in Library Science at the same time. She had made $50,000 stretch. She had applied for more scholarships, and after the first two years of undergrad, finally nabbed one. Now that little cushion of money was paying for her grad degree, which let her work an unpaid internship at the library. And, though she was loathe to admit it, give her mom a little help as she went nights for a nursing degree.
Her mother was almost forty. As timelines for actually beginning to get along went, it wasn't great. They gave each other a very wide berth at night. Which was difficult, because sometimes things happened that a five pound dog was not equipped to deal with. But they made it work. Bree knew a thing or two about making bad decisions as a teenager now. It was just that hers had worked out very well and not with her being pregnant with a cursed dog-baby.
They were trying, anyway.
Bree always kept her ears to the ground for new used bookstores, or people dying and other people selling off their old shit, or various other things. She was very good at collecting books. Not always rare books, or good books, but books. She took them, read them, and then donated them to the library. It was a good system, one that had made her so well-liked by the staff that she'd been able to nab the internship. So when she heard of a new bookstore opening in Old Town, she was intrigued.
Not a great deal happened in Old Town. She did, mind. It was one of her favorite places to run, because the buildings were ancient and interesting and unique, and because there were hardly ever any vampires or werewolves or witches or miscellaneous.
She had a decent inkling as to why that might be.
Fortunately, having already faced the dragon, she wasn't afraid. Or. Well. She was unafraid enough to wander around everywhere but within a block radius of his house.
That was why, as she walked along Main Street, she quickly, and with great horror, realized where the map was taking her.
No fucking way.
No. Fucking. Way.
But, unfortunately, yes fucking way. She stood outside the house straight from her memories and some of her more unpleasant dreams. There was a sign now. The roses had been trimmed back.
...Had... had he died?
She could only hope.
But if he'd died, and someone was selling his old things...
Or worse, if he was alive, and he was selling his old things...
She... should go inside. Check. Make sure it was... it wasn't...
Kneeling on the ground, smaller then than she was now. That had to have been why he seemed so large. Book on her head, cane under her chin. "Mendier pour moi."
That last part definitely hadn't happened. She was pretty sure.
She had been standing outside for about ten minutes. She needed to either go in or leave.
...She'd just. Poke her head in. She was better dressed now. She wore glasses instead of contacts, no longer bothered to hide her one blue eye. He might not even recognize her. Or maybe not, since he'd been able to tell what she was on sight, the first time.
But she'd just... check. On her book. And maybe see what he was selling. If it was him. If it was someone selling his stuff, and he was dead she'd...
She'd fuckin' buy it all with his own rotten money and then find out where he was buried so she could kick his gravestone.
But she'd never know if she didn't go in.
It took her another two minutes to actually get herself up the stairs and to the door. She didn't want to knock. This was a shop. Arguably. She'd just walk right in.
She checked the knob. Unlocked. Now she just had to... open the door. Alright. Step complete. Now walk in. Walk the fuck in, Bree.
It looked exactly like she left it. Except for the desk. The desk was different.
There was where she'd knelt on the floor. That's where he'd stood.
She already wanted to go home.
Maybe he was dead.
There was no way he was dead.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 03-25-2017
Oversteeped tea and a hint of white pepper.
Customer? Potential customer.
Anxiety and fear and a vague sense of sexual confusion.
This was a familiar reaction to Jean, but she felt far too young to already know him, so that was puzzling. Maybe she just really liked books. People who really liked books tended to have an anxious way about them.
"Un moment, s'il vous plaît!" he called from the kitchen, through the door to the back hall. "I will be with you shortly!"
He was in the middle of making scones. Making his house smell like delicious baked goods was good salesmanship. But it also meant he was barely fit to be seen. He'd tied his hair back with a white ribbon into a loose ponytail, and stray locks in wide curls escaped here and there. He stuck his bowl of batter back into the fridge to deal with later, grabbing his gloves to put them back on. Thin black leather, they hid the sharp nails of his left hand. He fixed his sleeves and threw his suit's jacket back on, but did not think it would be prudent to take the time to find his tie.
He could be less put-together. It was a bookstore, not a party. It was fine.
Old habits, was all.
He emerged back into the shop with cane in hand, looking only marginally rumpled. He was black and white and sharp angles and dark blue eyes, and he was probably posing, but only because he was always posing.
"My apologies," he said, softly as he could while still being heard. His gaze swept over her in the briefest possible assessment. "I was, ah. Indisposed." He cocked his head to the side. "How may I serve you? If I may."
Customer? Potential customer.
Anxiety and fear and a vague sense of sexual confusion.
This was a familiar reaction to Jean, but she felt far too young to already know him, so that was puzzling. Maybe she just really liked books. People who really liked books tended to have an anxious way about them.
"Un moment, s'il vous plaît!" he called from the kitchen, through the door to the back hall. "I will be with you shortly!"
He was in the middle of making scones. Making his house smell like delicious baked goods was good salesmanship. But it also meant he was barely fit to be seen. He'd tied his hair back with a white ribbon into a loose ponytail, and stray locks in wide curls escaped here and there. He stuck his bowl of batter back into the fridge to deal with later, grabbing his gloves to put them back on. Thin black leather, they hid the sharp nails of his left hand. He fixed his sleeves and threw his suit's jacket back on, but did not think it would be prudent to take the time to find his tie.
He could be less put-together. It was a bookstore, not a party. It was fine.
Old habits, was all.
He emerged back into the shop with cane in hand, looking only marginally rumpled. He was black and white and sharp angles and dark blue eyes, and he was probably posing, but only because he was always posing.
"My apologies," he said, softly as he could while still being heard. His gaze swept over her in the briefest possible assessment. "I was, ah. Indisposed." He cocked his head to the side. "How may I serve you? If I may."
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-25-2017
"Un moment, s'il vous plaît!" The voice sent a bolt of pure fear straight through her. Lifted straight out of her memories, four years past and yet she recognized it instantly.
"Répétez, s'il vous plaît: merci, monsieur." She could hear it like it was yesterday. This had been a terrible idea. Why was she here? She needed to leave.
And yet she was frozen to the spot, remembering sharp blue eyes and a wicked shark's grin.
...She had to make sure he wasn't selling her book. Or if he was, buy it herself. She didn't know the whims of things like him--it was very possible he'd bought it just to enjoy the suffering it had caused her, then thrown it in a corner--or away--the second she was out the door. She had thought about that a lot over the last four years, and told herself it didn't matter. What became of her book. It was out of her reach now; she might as well have thrown it in an incinerator.
But if there was a chance...
The man who came out into the entryway--and she knew it to be an entryway, not a shop, not a parlor, it would always be fixed thusly in her mind--was both too similar to be anyone else, and too different to match up well in her head.
He was much more put together now than when she'd first seen him. His beard had been trimmed down to what was probably carefully maintained stubble. His hair had definitely had a few whores comb through it since they'd spoken last--fortunately her mother had not been one of them--and he had it pulled back away from his face with a white ribbon. He was wearing gloves, maybe to hide the way his nails were more like claws. She wished he wasn't, because they looked very good on him.
His eyes were dark. His manner was very different. For a few confused moments, she thought perhaps it was actually his twin brother, or perhaps his son, the identical-seeming features a trick of immortality or eternal youth or whatever. But the cane...
He didn't seem to recognize her. That... that was arguably good, yes? She looked very different. She'd been a ratty sort of teenager then, no glasses, eyes the same color thanks to contacts. Her hair was longer now, pulled back in a ponytail that helped it look somewhat more kept. She was dressed professionally. She was taller. Four years of life experience and enough money to buy clothes for herself and her mother that fit them.
He didn't need to recognize her right away. It was good that he didn't. It meant she'd changed.
"I think you may," she replied, wondering vaguely at his game. Why a shut in would suddenly open a bookshop, why he was pretending to be all charming and debonair when she knew damn well he was a sadistic prick who liked to make teenagers kneel on the ground and beg.
No need for introductions; that would surely give her away.
"I work at the local library," she explained instead. "We're always in the market for more books, obviously. And I can see you have plenty available." Her eyes glanced over the piles of books. She wondered, idly, if the stack that had fallen on her had been moved in four years. She'd seen a very nice looking copy of Peter Pan when it had fallen on her face. "In particular, I happen to be looking for children's books."
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 03-25-2017
Recognition, confusion. What had she expected, and why?
His gaze went to her hat, and lingered only briefly.
Heterochromia. How charming.
"A librarian," he said, the corner of his mouth curling, a smile without teeth. "How lovely. I do love a library." He stepped a little closer, the slightest limp accompanied by his cane.
His leg bothered him more when he hadn't been eating. He still could have covered the limp, but he had no interest in doing so. It made him look harmless. Harmless was good. He was harmless.
In theory.
Anyway, it made things easier to overlook, since no one wanted to be so rude as to stare at an old man with a cane. Even if he looked for all the world like a man in his thirties, and had for longer than the United States had existed.
"I think that I may have something for you," he said, considering the shelves. The organization was not intended to make sense to anyone but him, books arranged entirely to create a flavor profile he could tolerate. Books that had been owned by children and young teenagers nonetheless often ended up together, having similar tastes due to evoking similar emotions in similar people. "They are not all in the best shape," he apologized in advance, because the books he owned were typically the ones best loved and more battered.
She really did seem like she was looking for something. Expected something.
"Was there something in particular you had in mind, mademoiselle?" he asked as he stepped between narrow shelves, skimmed over titles.
His gaze went to her hat, and lingered only briefly.
Heterochromia. How charming.
"A librarian," he said, the corner of his mouth curling, a smile without teeth. "How lovely. I do love a library." He stepped a little closer, the slightest limp accompanied by his cane.
His leg bothered him more when he hadn't been eating. He still could have covered the limp, but he had no interest in doing so. It made him look harmless. Harmless was good. He was harmless.
In theory.
Anyway, it made things easier to overlook, since no one wanted to be so rude as to stare at an old man with a cane. Even if he looked for all the world like a man in his thirties, and had for longer than the United States had existed.
"I think that I may have something for you," he said, considering the shelves. The organization was not intended to make sense to anyone but him, books arranged entirely to create a flavor profile he could tolerate. Books that had been owned by children and young teenagers nonetheless often ended up together, having similar tastes due to evoking similar emotions in similar people. "They are not all in the best shape," he apologized in advance, because the books he owned were typically the ones best loved and more battered.
She really did seem like she was looking for something. Expected something.
"Was there something in particular you had in mind, mademoiselle?" he asked as he stepped between narrow shelves, skimmed over titles.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-25-2017
He smiled. Without showing his teeth. Nothing anyone else would probably notice, but to her, damning behavior. His charm and general outrageous good looks were also similarly irritating to her. Who did he think he was fooling? Everyone, probably. Well, not her! She knew this asshole. Intimately. Not that intimately! Just. Well. She knew him well. Because he'd menaced her, humiliated her. "That's fine," she replied, not stepping closer despite the fact she would have liked to look at the titles as well. She was fairly certain the only direction she could have walked was away from him, at any given time. "We have a rebinding and restoration system for old books that still have value but have been well-loved over the years." She knew this, because she'd donated $5000 of very hard earned money to kick-starting it, a year ago.
"So the condition doesn't matter," she continued. "It could be falling apart; so long as the contents are something interesting." She forced a thin smile. "Old storybooks and the like. It's good for children to have access to pieces of the past in forms they can understand and enjoy. Do you have anything like that?"
She wondered, idly, if she could actually locate and purchase her book without him realizing it was her. That would be... something. That would really well offset any annoyance at not being recognized, if she could slip back away into the city with her dignity reacquired. Not that he'd purchased her dignity. He'd purchased a book. And, if she was being particularly self-aware, her peace of mind and a large chunk of her self-image. She didn't miss the self-image too much, but she felt the absence of her peace of mind keenly and regularly.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 03-25-2017
What a tangle of emotions she was. She couldn't possible already know him. Could she? Far too young. Not just the look of her, but the taste. These were not emotions that had been given significant time to mature.
It didn't seem like she was just irritated with herself for being attracted to a stranger. He considered himself very familiar with that particular mix.
Hm.
"What a marvelous service," he said, a little absently. "I am sure those who make use of you appreciate it enormously."
She was fishing for something, but he couldn't figure out what. It annoyed him, as it so often did when he knew just enough to be useless. "Old storybooks," he murmured. Books that still had value. None of these beaten-up thin paperbacks with the technicolor spines, then. Those had never had value. The older ones, the hardcovers on a higher shelf.
"Are these the sorts of books you mean?" he wondered, gesturing to a row of shelves above his head. "I can of course retrieve a stepladder, if you would like a closer look, but do tell me if I am, ah. Misunderstanding your desire?"
If she looked, there were plenty of Tolkien books, alongside other battered old hardcovers about adventures in faraway lands and the struggle between good and evil. Many of them clearly loved, some of them old enough to be valuable.
None of them hers.
It didn't seem like she was just irritated with herself for being attracted to a stranger. He considered himself very familiar with that particular mix.
Hm.
"What a marvelous service," he said, a little absently. "I am sure those who make use of you appreciate it enormously."
She was fishing for something, but he couldn't figure out what. It annoyed him, as it so often did when he knew just enough to be useless. "Old storybooks," he murmured. Books that still had value. None of these beaten-up thin paperbacks with the technicolor spines, then. Those had never had value. The older ones, the hardcovers on a higher shelf.
"Are these the sorts of books you mean?" he wondered, gesturing to a row of shelves above his head. "I can of course retrieve a stepladder, if you would like a closer look, but do tell me if I am, ah. Misunderstanding your desire?"
If she looked, there were plenty of Tolkien books, alongside other battered old hardcovers about adventures in faraway lands and the struggle between good and evil. Many of them clearly loved, some of them old enough to be valuable.
None of them hers.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-25-2017
She could no longer tell if he was being underhanded or if she was being paranoid. "Make use of you?" Ugh. But she couldn't detect a hint of maliciousness, let alone the sort of understated sadistic pleasure he'd been clearly getting out of her humiliation four years ago. Like she was pleasuring him, somehow, just by being there and being unable to stop him or leave. Ugh.
She was going to have nightmares again, for weeks. But it would be worth it if she could just... get her book back. Or even be sure he wasn't selling it. He might have thrown it away, she reminded herself. Or it might have just come apart. Four years was a long time for a book that worn, and he didn't take very good care of his things.
But she had to be sure.
She took nervous steps closer. It wasn't as though he'd recognize her if he got a whiff or something. And he was clearly playing this "harmless book salesman" thing for all it was worth. She wish she knew why. It didn't make sense, at all, from the limited amount she knew about him.
The books were quite gorgeous, actually, in their way, and she instantly wanted all of them. Well, there was nothing saying she had to only buy her book. If anything, that would be very suspicious. She should buy plenty, let it be lost in a mix of similar books.
"Yes, exactly," she said, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look. A step stool would probably be necessary if she wished to get close enough to read more than the largest text on the spines. She wasn't short, but the highest shelves were above his head, and his head was about a foot above hers. But she didn't need to have a close look to know her book wasn't on that shelf. "Are these all such books you have for sale?"
Could be destroyed, she reminded herself. Which made her chest hurt, but a familiar hurt. Lost was lost was lost. If it was gone, it was gone. So long as it was out of her reach, she could forgive herself if she started giving this section of city a two block berth instead of just one.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 03-25-2017
Confused and still frightened and little bit angry, pepper jelly and butter on sourdough toast.
Until she saw the books. Then, desire. But something else, too. Disappointment. Regret?
"I believe that these are all the books of this nature I have for sale," he said, apologetic once more. Then he leaned a little closer to her, resting his weight on his cane.
"I do not mean to pry, mademoiselle, as it is the business of no one but yourself – but is it possible that you have a specific book in mind?"
She absolutely did. Perhaps something obscure, hoping that he'd have it and not know the value of it, allowing her to snatch it up without paying what it was worth. But when it came to books, it was impossible to say.
Bookworms could be, and often were, completely goddamn bizarre. He wouldn't have ended up with so many books if they weren't.
"If you could give me a title, I might be of more use to you," he suggested. "I can do no worse than disappoint you, loathe though I would be to do it."
Until she saw the books. Then, desire. But something else, too. Disappointment. Regret?
"I believe that these are all the books of this nature I have for sale," he said, apologetic once more. Then he leaned a little closer to her, resting his weight on his cane.
"I do not mean to pry, mademoiselle, as it is the business of no one but yourself – but is it possible that you have a specific book in mind?"
She absolutely did. Perhaps something obscure, hoping that he'd have it and not know the value of it, allowing her to snatch it up without paying what it was worth. But when it came to books, it was impossible to say.
Bookworms could be, and often were, completely goddamn bizarre. He wouldn't have ended up with so many books if they weren't.
"If you could give me a title, I might be of more use to you," he suggested. "I can do no worse than disappoint you, loathe though I would be to do it."
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-25-2017
If these were all he had... then it wasn't for sale, at least. What that meant was a mystery. It could be destroyed. It could be forgotten. It could be being kept as a prized treasure. He could have already sold it. This was so stupid. She shouldn't have even come in.
And he kept acting so nice and friendly and it made her want to throttle him. How dare he be anything but an absolute monster.
She didn't even know how to lead into asking about her book in particular with absolutely giving away who she was. How would she even know he had it? Couldn't it just be enough, knowing it was still out of her reach?
"In this case, I don't think a name would be of any help," she said finally. "It was simply 'Storytime,' and as I'm sure you know, there are any number of collections with that sort of title." She drummed her fingers on her own crossed arm, irritated. Where was that sadistic fucker? She hated this pretentious act. She hated have to act polite right back, as if she didn't know exactly what he was. "My hobby hunts aside, I'm sure the library can make use of some of what you have here," she said, gesturing towards the shelf. And it was true. She'd hate to leave without that copy of The Hobbit, in particular. She'd buy it for herself, but anything that used to belong to him would probably bring her absolutely no pleasure to read.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 03-26-2017
This was… peculiar. To say the least. She was getting angrier by the minute, and he could not imagine why. What could he possibly be doing, or fail to be doing, that could garner such a reaction from her?
Usually when he elicited a strong emotional response in someone, it was deliberate. He couldn't possibly be this out of practice after so short a while.
"You may be correct," he said. "How unfortunate, to think that I cannot please you in this matter." He sighed.
Or at all. Because she absolutely was not being honest with him. A librarian, yes, this part was true, and many of the other things she said were also true. The crux of the matter was her intent in coming here, which had been obfuscated from the very start and which he could not determine without making it obvious that he knew things he should not.
How irritating.
"Alas, that I cannot simply retrieve them for you – if you will give me but a moment, I will return with a stepladder. Yes?"
Because the space between the shelves was so narrow, it was necessary that he step closer to her – though to navigate around her would require that they press themselves very close indeed.
Usually when he elicited a strong emotional response in someone, it was deliberate. He couldn't possibly be this out of practice after so short a while.
"You may be correct," he said. "How unfortunate, to think that I cannot please you in this matter." He sighed.
Or at all. Because she absolutely was not being honest with him. A librarian, yes, this part was true, and many of the other things she said were also true. The crux of the matter was her intent in coming here, which had been obfuscated from the very start and which he could not determine without making it obvious that he knew things he should not.
How irritating.
"Alas, that I cannot simply retrieve them for you – if you will give me but a moment, I will return with a stepladder. Yes?"
Because the space between the shelves was so narrow, it was necessary that he step closer to her – though to navigate around her would require that they press themselves very close indeed.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-26-2017
He really needed to stop talking like that! She'd love to tell him the myriad ways he could please her--starting with getting down on his knees and apologizing. She bet that would make Mr. Sadistic Fucker come right back out again, because he was fooling exactly no one with this stupid oh-look-at-me-I'm-French-and-sexy-and-harmless-with-my-cane-and-limp act! Of course, then he had to step closer. She stepped backwards quickly, her back thumping into another bookshelf. "Oh, um..." She quickly side-stepped, trying near-desperately to back away from him. "Er, yes, thank you, Mr. Lestrange, let me just... get out of the way." Quickly, and immediately, and in whatever way necessary, because if he got as close as he'd have to to squeeze by in this narrow space, she'd probably have a heart attack.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 03-26-2017
She scrambled away in a panic more like a rabbit than any dog he'd ever known. He watched books teeter over her head, though fortunately none fell.
So skittish, this girl. It did not suit her build, he thought, or the rest of her temperament. And he had not, despite stereotypes, ever met a meek librarian in his life.
He paused. "Pardon?" He lowered the tip of his cane back to the floor, brought his feet back together in a clear sign he would be advancing no further.
Surely he had misheard? Else this whole strange affair had grown simultaneously less and more confusing.
"Mister…? Répétez, s'il vous plaît?"
So skittish, this girl. It did not suit her build, he thought, or the rest of her temperament. And he had not, despite stereotypes, ever met a meek librarian in his life.
He paused. "Pardon?" He lowered the tip of his cane back to the floor, brought his feet back together in a clear sign he would be advancing no further.
Surely he had misheard? Else this whole strange affair had grown simultaneously less and more confusing.
"Mister…? Répétez, s'il vous plaît?"
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-26-2017
He stopped advancing, but she kept seeking ways to back up, desperate for more distance between them. More desperate still when he spoke, and her heart stopped in her chest entirely. Fuck.
This was probably what being struck by an avalanche felt like, as she was simultaneously struck by a very uncomfortably vivid flashback and all the confusing emotions attached to it. "Répétez, s'il vous plaît: merci, monsieur." Cane on her chin tilting her face upwards until her eyes met palest blue. Humiliation and anger and a lot of things she had been working very hard on not processing for four years.
And on top of that, fear. Pure, mortal terror.
Because she'd fucked up.
"Mr... Lestrange," she repeated numbly, fully aware he'd never given her his name. But... He'd never given it to her the first time, either! She'd gotten it from a friend. Salvation? "Am I saying it wrong?" she said, forcing a smile as best she could under the circumstances. Even she could tell it felt fake. "If so, I fully blame the friend who gave it to me."
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 03-26-2017
Goodness. He'd triggered something. But who'd put it there in the first place, whatever it was she recalled so vividly and with such a particular flood of feeling?
It couldn't possibly have been him. She called him by his old name, but that… she was too young to have known him then, when he'd had no need of a cane or so many stacks of paper. He was absolutely certain. That certainty only confused the matter further.
His eyes were sapphire again.
She was lying outright.
"I think you have me confused with someone else, mademoiselle," he said, slow and careful, still unmoving. From further away, the shadows between the shelves looked darker on his face, exaggerated the sharpness of his cheekbones and the aquiline crook of his nose. "I am not this man of whom you speak." He cocked his head a little. "I wonder who it was that could have told you such a thing?"
And what had they told her, to terrify her so. If he concentrated, if he focused, if he ignored all the other tastes of her which had so distracted him – underneath that hint of white pepper that suggested what hid beneath her hat–
Snakeskin. Just a little. The faintest possible whiff of witchcraft on her.
Hm.
It couldn't possibly have been him. She called him by his old name, but that… she was too young to have known him then, when he'd had no need of a cane or so many stacks of paper. He was absolutely certain. That certainty only confused the matter further.
His eyes were sapphire again.
She was lying outright.
"I think you have me confused with someone else, mademoiselle," he said, slow and careful, still unmoving. From further away, the shadows between the shelves looked darker on his face, exaggerated the sharpness of his cheekbones and the aquiline crook of his nose. "I am not this man of whom you speak." He cocked his head a little. "I wonder who it was that could have told you such a thing?"
And what had they told her, to terrify her so. If he concentrated, if he focused, if he ignored all the other tastes of her which had so distracted him – underneath that hint of white pepper that suggested what hid beneath her hat–
Snakeskin. Just a little. The faintest possible whiff of witchcraft on her.
Hm.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 03-26-2017
"O-oh..." Shit. Shit. Who had given her that name? A schoolmate, yes? One she'd been determined to give a few lumps for the hassle, but had wound up never speaking to again. Just like how she'd gotten rid of most of her books from her time, just like she'd thrown out the clothing and burned the hat and wished to forget. "My apologies, then, Mr...? I was told of your shop by a library patron; they must have simply given me the wrong name." Lies, absolute lies, but hopefully ones that would get her out with her cover intact. She could swear his eyes were getting more blue, but she hadn't the faintest idea what that might mean. She only knew they'd been very dark when she'd first arrived, and very pale blue when he'd been tormenting her four years ago. One thing was certain: he was looking very scary there, partway into the shadows.
Between her and the door.