The mechanisms of the latch and creaking of the doors followed by the clicking of them meeting together again announced Elliot’s entrance. Eden startled from where she was leaned against a bookcase caught up reading her own marginalia in a copy of Dead Souls in the original Russian. She had once been teaching herself the language and had stopped midway through her mastery. All that was left was vocabulary and a vague sense of the unique way verbs were conjugated.
She cleared her throat and shoved the book behind her back pushing it onto the shelf hoping he hadn’t noticed what she had been doing. “I found some things, Lord Wilder.” Her boot extended towards a pile of books nearby as her eyes tracked his course down the stairs.
Eden had started a neat little pile of books that could potentially be the tome Elliot was looking for. Books so old the covers had worn away such that the title was left a mystery. Books titles in characters she didn’t even recognize. Greek? Hebrew? Why she thought a book on Arthurian Transmutation could potentially be written in any symbols she wouldn’t recognize was beside the point. Eden was thorough and at least had a stack that proved her efforts on the task Lord Wilder had assigned. She had not yet caught on that he had sent her on a fool’s errand.
She bent and chose one of the mystery books and brought it to him, holding it out like an offering. Almost in open effort to thwart her, he’d taken to wearing half of the pajama set she’d laid out for him. Just half.
"The weather is changing," she warned in commentary on his bare torso, "You'll catch cold."
She imagined the silk top laying deliberately forgotten on his bed spread. He seemed almost intent upon remaining in a state of at least partial undress around her. As if he knew full well what it did to her. Close to him she could smell the scent of soap and the hints of the oils she had put in his bath. His skin was still slightly pink from the water and looked very soft.
She quickly reminded herself of his earlier behavior. Grave robbing. Essentially kidnapping a child. Treason. And dumped the mess on her. It policed her thoughts back to the request he'd made of her.
“Some of these desperately need restoring my Lord.” This was her explanation for failing his task. “The others are -” she waved her hand, “- in some unrecognizable script.” Her tail twitched at her feet. A gesture of annoyance that she couldn’t control at this particular moment in the face of admitting her failure to Elliot when she so wanted the upper hand.
Her eyes swept over his chest and down to the book he held. She hummed thoughtfully as she stared at the words wondering if he’d just plucked the title he'd been looking for from the shelf. She wondered whether he was playing some game with her. The thought thrilled her a little. Perhaps less than it normally would considering the events of the day and how it had ruined her escape from his employ.
“I thought you might take a nap. You really should rest. That would give me more time to look, sir.” She tested. It wasn’t the first time she’d suggested sleeping to him that day. She was nearly insisting on it. Dismissing the lord of the house to bed like a child. Her gaze lifted from his chest and she stared at him blankly.
She cleared her throat and shoved the book behind her back pushing it onto the shelf hoping he hadn’t noticed what she had been doing. “I found some things, Lord Wilder.” Her boot extended towards a pile of books nearby as her eyes tracked his course down the stairs.
Eden had started a neat little pile of books that could potentially be the tome Elliot was looking for. Books so old the covers had worn away such that the title was left a mystery. Books titles in characters she didn’t even recognize. Greek? Hebrew? Why she thought a book on Arthurian Transmutation could potentially be written in any symbols she wouldn’t recognize was beside the point. Eden was thorough and at least had a stack that proved her efforts on the task Lord Wilder had assigned. She had not yet caught on that he had sent her on a fool’s errand.
She bent and chose one of the mystery books and brought it to him, holding it out like an offering. Almost in open effort to thwart her, he’d taken to wearing half of the pajama set she’d laid out for him. Just half.
"The weather is changing," she warned in commentary on his bare torso, "You'll catch cold."
She imagined the silk top laying deliberately forgotten on his bed spread. He seemed almost intent upon remaining in a state of at least partial undress around her. As if he knew full well what it did to her. Close to him she could smell the scent of soap and the hints of the oils she had put in his bath. His skin was still slightly pink from the water and looked very soft.
She quickly reminded herself of his earlier behavior. Grave robbing. Essentially kidnapping a child. Treason. And dumped the mess on her. It policed her thoughts back to the request he'd made of her.
“Some of these desperately need restoring my Lord.” This was her explanation for failing his task. “The others are -” she waved her hand, “- in some unrecognizable script.” Her tail twitched at her feet. A gesture of annoyance that she couldn’t control at this particular moment in the face of admitting her failure to Elliot when she so wanted the upper hand.
Her eyes swept over his chest and down to the book he held. She hummed thoughtfully as she stared at the words wondering if he’d just plucked the title he'd been looking for from the shelf. She wondered whether he was playing some game with her. The thought thrilled her a little. Perhaps less than it normally would considering the events of the day and how it had ruined her escape from his employ.
“I thought you might take a nap. You really should rest. That would give me more time to look, sir.” She tested. It wasn’t the first time she’d suggested sleeping to him that day. She was nearly insisting on it. Dismissing the lord of the house to bed like a child. Her gaze lifted from his chest and she stared at him blankly.
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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