(Untitled)

[edgar_huntly]

Edgar has been sleeping poorly of late--he often wakes at noon to discover that he has undone all but one of the locks on his door, and that his things are not where he had left them in the evening. He seldom presents himself for meals, instead creeping into the kitchen afterward (as though he is ashamed) to take a plate of leftovers back to his

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[russet_goddess]

Zara watches him, standing in her heavy boots in snow past her ankles, the coarse cloth of her black dress blown against her. Her arms are folded, but after a moment she says,--

"Y'need a hand?"

[edgar_huntly]

He turns to her--recognizing her voice before he sees her face, and thinking that in this grey light, her angles are softened and made more beautiful. "I would be glad of it," he answers, and offers her a sanding block from the box by his feet.

[russet_goddess]

She takes it and chooses a place next to him to start sanding. Her thin hands are hard with work.

[edgar_huntly]

Edgar can't help but watch her thin, hard hands, particularly as the light begins to touch them--she's beautiful at dawn, as well, with the red sun caught in her hair.

But he was sanding. He turns away from her, focusing on smoothing out a curve he had carved until the entire arc of it is smooth.