Scheherazade has been --- happy. In a good mood, and it's only because she's stimulated by Muraki's teaching, she swears.
But of course, it's not.
And should Henry wander into the library, though it's late, he'll find a young Persian scholar pouring over the contemporary history of Japan, for no good reason, she insists. She found some books in contemporary farsi, and with some efforts, she can decipher it, though it's a long and slow process. She's quite focused on what she's doing.
Henry was hoping to focus his mind and try to clear it. With a book. Unfortunately, the library isn't empty, and in fact, he can smell her from here. From the entrance. Hear her heartbeat.
Henry's eyes drift closed, just listening, almost feeling her pulse, each beat driving new blood through her body, fresh, rich, living.
He needs.
Henry moves more swiftly, making his way through the stacks, following her scent, blood and spice that his keen nose picks up.
Scheherazade can't hear a thing, but she is very focused on what she is reading - and murmurs it to herself, a litany that is barely audible, and because it is not meant for another, not translatable.
The Pahlavi, muttered to herself, probably sounds incredibly arcane.
It does, it really does - and Henry is moving very quietly anyway. He pauses, looking at her, at the nape of her neck, her pulse thudding in his ears twice as fast as his own.
He takes a step toward her, quietly, and says, persuasion woven into his voice, "Lady...look at me."
Comments 67
But of course, it's not.
And should Henry wander into the library, though it's late, he'll find a young Persian scholar pouring over the contemporary history of Japan, for no good reason, she insists. She found some books in contemporary farsi, and with some efforts, she can decipher it, though it's a long and slow process. She's quite focused on what she's doing.
Reply
Henry's eyes drift closed, just listening, almost feeling her pulse, each beat driving new blood through her body, fresh, rich, living.
He needs.
Henry moves more swiftly, making his way through the stacks, following her scent, blood and spice that his keen nose picks up.
Reply
The Pahlavi, muttered to herself, probably sounds incredibly arcane.
Reply
He takes a step toward her, quietly, and says, persuasion woven into his voice, "Lady...look at me."
Reply
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