Tweak

InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I declare"

fond_affections (fond_affections) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-01-02 16:28:00

Current mood:	curious
Entry tags:	beauty

Who: Ed and Ella
Where: 905
When: Right about now.
Warnings:None. Really now--they're just meeting!

He smoothed his slacks as he rose from the floor. His laptop was temporarily living on top of box of books near the only power outlet that wasn't buried behind other boxes. After running his fingers through his hair and pulling on his shoes, he grabbed his overcoat and wallet. This was a neighborly visit, after all, and it wouldn't be appropriate to turn up without a token gift. He eyed the elevator with suspicion for a moment and then decided to take the stairs--loping down them with the easy stride of an active, but not athletic man.

Since he didn't actually know Ella he couldn't shop with any specificity--but he dashed out to a bakery two blocks down and emerged minutes later with a selection of treats tied up in the requisite pink box-with-string style that was all the style among bakers these days. Back up the stairs he went--this time keeping to a slower pace so as not to arrive at the door of #905 out of breath. Another quick run of fingers through his hair and he knocked rapidly and firmly on the door. Rap. Rap. Rap.

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bookshelved
2010-01-03 03:04 am UTC (link)

She saw the quick cringe, and it drew her attention back to his hand, to his face, and back again. When his hand dropped into his lap, she reached for it gently, the expression on her face kind and curious. "What is it?" she asked, the remote controls and the batteries almost forgotten in the need to know what she'd done or said to cause the reaction.

"The blanket welcomes familiar behavior by interesting people," she offered, trusting and without hesitation.

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fond_affections
2010-01-03 03:13 am UTC (link)

"Oh..." he was startled to find his hand being reached for. He was used to being approached. Touched. Even pawed. But no one ever reached for his hand in such an...innocent...way. It took him a second to recover his bearings. He held the hand out toward her, uncurling the fingers into as relaxed a posture as he could. "Nothing...really. Just an old injury that sometimes causes a bit of pain..." He smiled then almost managing his usual confident, charming smile. He waited for her to inspect the hand, sipping his coffee and watching her over the rim of the cup.

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	bookshelved 2010-01-03 03:57 am UTC (link)
	She slid her hand over his palm, then she took his coffee cup and she put it aside along with her own. A swift movement found her on her feet, and she took his other hand, his uninjured hand, and she pulled him toward the arboretum. "What do you take for it?" she asked, even as she pushed the door to the room open and revealed a room full of damp greenery. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

fond_affections
2010-01-03 04:05 am UTC (link)

He gave up his cup and let himself be pulled to his feet.

"Take for it?" He was momentarily bemused since he rarely discussed his hand. "Oh...well just OTC pain pills mostly. But I have prescriptions for anti-inflammatories, muscle relaxers, the works..." He shrugged. "I don't like taking that stuff...it makes everything grey and dull..."

When the door swung open onto a room full of plants he smiled a surprised, pleased smile. "You are full of surprises...I bet you could find those batteries...!"

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bookshelved
2010-01-03 04:21 am UTC (link)

She laughed, and she led him to the chair in the center of the room, encouraging him to sit. She walked over to the shelves beside the herb garden, where possets and ointments lived in the cool care of closed wooden doors. They squeaked when she opened them, the scent of dried things and medicine joining the spell of green in the room.

She looked at one vial, then replaced it, deciding on a small glass pot, which she opened and dragged her fingers through. She returned to him, and she held out her hand for his injured one. The salve on her fingers smelled of beeswax and arnica and olive oil, and it was laced with something indefinably sweet.

"I can't grow anything to find batteries, I'm afraid. Are you very disappointed? she asked, waiting for him to offer his hand for her minstrations.

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fond_affections
2010-01-03 04:30 am UTC (link)

He was so busy looking around that he hardly noticed being led to a chair. Even as he sat down he was looking around, breathing the cool air and mingled, unfamiliar scents.

When she came back over to him he held out his hand without thinking. "This is an amazing room...really amazing..." he murmured, thinking out loud more than anything.

"Disappointed? Not at all...batteries are replaceable, after all. But this?..." he gestured with his right hand, "is something you don't see everyday!"

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bookshelved
2010-01-03 04:37 am UTC (link)

She rubbed the ointment over his palm, fingers warm and sure against his skin. The ointment felt warm and soothing, and it included a touch of spark that felt like magic and otherworldly things. "It won't fix it, but it'll help so I won't feel guilty about making you unpack boxes," she explained, her hair tumbling over her shoulder as she leaned over his hand, turned it over, slipped fingers and ointment to the tips of his own fingers and back to his palm.

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fond_affections
2010-01-03 04:54 am UTC (link)

He closed his eyes as her fingers worked over his hand. He swallowed back a purring hum and focused on relaxing. Warmth soothed the dull ache that never quite faded and he didn't want to think about where the warmth was coming from.

He opened his eyes when she spoke and found himself smiling despite the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You would have had no reason to feel guilty--it's really not that much of a hindrance..." except for when it comes to... he couldn't even bring himself to finish the thought, much less speak it out loud. "But I do appreciate the treatment. It feels quite nice..." He pushed the moment aside. Pushed himself to ignore the gaping chasm of truth that was opening up around him. He focused on her face. She was beautiful. Yes. Beautiful and young and warm. And he knew how to do this.

"Nice. Very nice... thank you..." he said. His eyes not leaving her face.

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bookshelved
2010-01-03 05:08 am UTC (link)

Her fingers slid away from his hand, but the spell of the ointment lingered and permeated. She held his gaze for a moment, her own gaze sure and calm and oh, so intelligent. Maybe not Colonel Brandon, she decided. He was almost too sure for him, too direct. Maybe someone like Rochester, and she looked down with a secret, entertained smile as she wondered what secrets might be hiding in his attic.

She straightened, and she put the cap back on the pot of salve and locked it in the wooden closet on the shelf again, turning the key, but leaving it in place. She wiped her fingers on a cloth, as she turned back to him. "How does it feel?" she asked, a warm smile on her lips. "Good enough to work the morning through?"

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fond_affections
2010-01-03 05:24 am UTC (link)

He let the gaze drop, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth as he wondered what was going on inside her head. Somehow he thought it best not to ask her just yet.

He got up from the chair, flexing his fingers and rotating his arm--almost like he was warming up to pitch a major league ballgame. "Yes! Definitely good enough to work--just point me to the boxes! In fact, it feels so good I might have to hire myself out as your valet or something once the unpacking is done...I can do your chores and you can pay me with these secret treatments!" He walked toward the door that led back to the main room, holding his right arm out in the gesture of a man ushering a lady to pass in front of him; a gentlemanly motion that suggested rather than initiated a potential touch.

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bookshelved
2010-01-03 06:31 am UTC (link)

She moved past him, brushing near him, her hair smelling of jasmine and sweet things, and she waited for him to follow before she moved down the hall into the main room. She put her hands on her hips, and she looked over the piles of books and the prints and the mirror leaning against one empty shelf. "Shall we hang that first?" she asked, pointing to the mirror and indicating a blank spot high on the wall. "And tell me what you think of this landlord and his threats," she coaxed, finding a hammer and a nail and holding it, even as she tugged a ladder from the corner with one hand.

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fond_affections
2010-01-03 06:05 pm UTC (link)

HIs smile twitched as he caught the scent of her hair and he followed her closely into the other room. Whether it was intentional or just the luck of a smart young beauty who didn't know any better, he couldn't tell. Didn't care.

He quickly ran his left hand over the leg of his jeans to make sure there was no residual ointment that might damage her walls or mirror. "Your wish is my command..." he teased before going over to try and help her with the ladder.

Then he shrugged. "I don't know what to think about this place... The landlord's dramatics don't bother me so much as the fact that he said someone in the building tried to kill someone else? I mean...I don't plan to kill anyone, so I'm hoping that the landlord business will die down. But do you really think one of our neighbors is homicidal?"

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bookshelved
2010-01-03 06:24 pm UTC (link)

She let him open the ladder for her, and she handed him the hammer and nail, rather than asking him to climb the ladder himself. She climbed to the topmost rung of the short ladder, and she smiled down at him. "Hand me the mirror?" she asked with an easy smile.

The smile faded with the mention of murder. "I can't imagine someone actually attempted to do what he said. I can believe there was a scuffle and that he would like to avoid other such incidents in the future, but his explanation of what happened seemed too animalistic, too violent to be reality; as did his return suggestion than someone had died because of it."

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fond_affections
2010-01-03 06:53 pm UTC (link)

He stepped back as she climbed the ladder. He would have scratched his head in stereotypical confusion if he weren't holding hammer in one hand and the nail in the other. Chuckling he put the nail in his pocket, hung the hammer by it's claw through a beltloop, and picked up the mirror with both hands. He tried not to look too obviously at the slender figure she cut up on top of the ladder.

"Animalistic...that's a good way to describe it. Sociopathic might be another..." he quipped darkly. "If you're right then he might be more or less harmless. I mean, if no one really died and he's just spouting off to scare us..." his tone was uncertain, as if something told him that it wasn't that simple.

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bookshelved
2010-01-03 07:02 pm UTC (link)

She reached for the mirror, stubbornly insisting on lifting its weight, even though it would have been a job better suited for the man at the foot of the ladder. Ella wasn't about to admit that, even if she knew she should at this point. Luckily, she managed to lift it high enough to prop the bottom edge on a bookshelf ledge. She didn't look smug when she reached down for the hammer and nail; she looked proud of herself, with a touch of endearing triumph.

"He's the villain," she said, referring to the landlord. "He's trying to scare people into doing what he wants. I don't think we necessarily take him at face value, because people don't claw each other apart like he said. It's not a very effective way to kill anyone, even if this were a novel. What's important is to find out what motivates him. He has to do this for a reason, and that reason needs to be found to put a stop to his tyranny."

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fond_affections
2010-01-03 07:14 pm UTC (link)

He was impressed when she got the mirror hefted into a resting place. Something about the look on her face when she reached for the hammer and nail told him not to suggest that they trade places. He did however, move around so he could reach up and help steady the mirror during the actual nailing process. The view was just as nice from the front side of the ladder, he watched her face as she spoke. At the mention of villains and novels he quirked an eyebrow.

"A villain, huh? Well, I guess every novel and every building has to have at least one..." he paused, waiting to see how she proceeded with the mirror. "If this were a novel, his motivations would unfold as a matter of course. I'm not so sure we'll be that lucky--unless we think our landlord is going to help us out by dropping hints..."

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bookshelved
2010-01-03 07:22 pm UTC (link)

Ella wasn't unaware of Ed's perusal. She hadn't led a protected or guarded life, and while she wasn't showy or flashy, she'd found that men liked something about her; it meant that she was sure of herself, without being vain or a flirt, and that she was comfortable with appreciation, when given. It didn't mean she always acted on such appreciation; she knew that sort of appraisal led to bed, and she wasn't a silly heroine in a novel that thought men could be kept with flesh and moans.

She leaned forward precariously, and she nailed the nail into place, the ladder tottering a touch, which she ignored in her desire to triumph over her task. She needed his help to lift the mirror into place, but she knew he'd offer the push to the bottom required, so she proceeded.

"No, the protagonists have to find his secret. If not, the novel is too passive and he has too much control."

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fond_affections
2010-01-03 08:01 pm UTC (link)

He forced himself not to flinch as she leaned forward. He put one hand on the ladder to steady it and put the other hand on the base of the mirror. She was determined, that he could tell and he couldn't decide whether he was amused or just really impressed.

"Ah, but in a novel the only real control is with the author... In our building, we have no author--that I know about. So, control is going to be a complicated issue--what if our landlord already has more than we like to think?"

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	bookshelved 2010-01-03 08:03 pm UTC (link)
	She hung the mirror, and she looked down at him with a smile. "Giving up when you've only just begun?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	fond_affections 2010-01-03 08:06 pm UTC (link)
	He looked up at her with a gleaming smile and all but purred, "Darling, one thing you really ought to know about me is that I very rarely give up..." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

bookshelved
2010-01-03 08:11 pm UTC (link)

Definitely Rochester, she decided. "I'll be glad to see you put your mind to it then," she said, climbing down from the ladder as if she hadn't noticed the gleaming smile or the accompanying almost-purr. "Are you tormented?" she asked with carefully planned abruptness, and she moved over to a stack of books and started placing them on a shelf. They were already piled according to subject and author, and she was curious to see if he'd decipher the pattern and put them in the right place without guidance - or if he did something altogether different.

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fond_affections
2010-01-03 08:19 pm UTC (link)

"As I said before...I'm at your service! Is there anything else I should be putting my mind to while I'm at it?" He teased with the almost-pur lingering just in the back of his throat.

He barely paused to blink before moving over to a stack of books. Rather than busy himself with putting them away, he stood in place fingering the spines and slipping through pages to search out signs of use...were they dog eared? thumb worn? His own fingers ran over the soft paper of the pages and for a moment it seemed he might not answer her question.

Then he spoke, without looking up from the book he was currently carressing. "Aren't we all?"

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bookshelved
2010-01-03 08:24 pm UTC (link)

The wear on the books varied. Some were so thumb worn that the pages were thin almost-nothings, others had clearly been read in the tub, and their edges were water stained and bloated, while others still were perfect and pristine, as if their spines had never been cracked. "You should be putting your mind to shelving," she said with a smile that was warm, even as it chastised.

When he did answer, she considered. "I hope not. You're a pessimist by nature, Ed?"

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fond_affections
2010-01-03 08:31 pm UTC (link)

He seemed unembarrassed by being caught more or less fondling her books. He grinned boyishly and shrugged, "Tactile, remember?" Then he got to work, following the apparent organizational structure of subject and author. But exercising some discretion when it came to organization within smaller groupings. He hummed a barely audible melody under his breath as he applied himself to his task for a moment.

"I like to think I'm realistic...while I, too, hope that I'm wrong I strongly suspect that I'm not..." He paused to thumb through a book that had apparently been read repoeatedly, showing the patina that comes from being well-used with care. "To answer your first question more directly. Yes, Ella, I would have to say that I am tormented."

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bookshelved
2010-01-03 08:39 pm UTC (link)

The book he was holding was Faulkner's As I Lay Dying, and she laughed a little, because what would he think of that, if he'd read it? Most people, she'd learned, disliked Faulkner. And that particular novel was at the top of the list of disdain. "My books feel violated," she said, but it was clear she didn't mean it, and she stopped to page through a book or two as she shelved as well.

"What torments you?" she asked, because he had to be tormented to be Rochester. There was no way around that.

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