November 22nd, 1894 — Professor Griffith's office
Samuel half sat and half leaned on the table of stone in the middle of his office and looked towards the window; more precisely, he looked at the woman standing in front of the glass panes. Themis held a binder in her hand that contained a row of equations, magic represented in runes and numbers. She had just added an annotation and said something and it had made him smile. It was afternoon and the sun would set soon. The daylight coming through the window gathered to the things around him, to the smooth surface of the table and the silvery lines of the circle; it gathered to her hair and to the drying ink on the paper.
Samuel shifted his weight slightly and his hands gripped the edge of the table. He did not avert his gaze from her. His dark eyes appeared as opaque and still as ever, but he felt suddenly and with finality a change in himself.
He was ready. There was not much active thought involved in coming to this conclusion, it was knowledge that resided entirely in the now and needed no explanation or rationale. The seed, of course, had been planted a while ago. Samuel had left it unattended and looked the other way, perhaps hoping that nothing much would come of it; or thinking that his heart over the course of his unsteady life had become infertile ground for affection of enough depth and consequence to sustain itself in absence of being tended to.
Now he averted his gaze and looked away. The relaxed posture of his shoulders hardened and he felt an increase in tension in his body and an awareness that he was changing gears entirely. His prior course of caution and avoidance appeared suddenly no longer acceptable. Could he expect himself to pretend indefinitely that there was nothing more to their bond than regard between colleagues and friends, to avoid risking the plans he had for their collaboration?
There was much to lose, certainly. They might be on the precipice of achieving the most important breakthrough of his career as an Alchemist. But every further meeting with Themis had reiterated to Samuel that there was a great reward in sight indeed, that had little to do with his scientific ambitions, if he dared to cross the distance. She would not be the one to do it. And he would not be the one to wait forever. Besides, he thought himself to have reason to hope that this was not a one-sided issue, although he could not be certain of her at all.
Themis had said something but her exact words had not registered with him.
Samuel turned his head to look at her. Standing up to join her at the window seemed quite impossible. He might as well be frozen to this table. So he extended his hands towards her, palm-sides up. "Themis," he heard himself say, and his voice sounded calm. "Will you come here for a moment?"
She would put her hands in his and accept this first part of his bid, he felt sure of it. Hands were established between them, they were safe territory. Uncharted was what would come next.
Samuel shifted his weight slightly and his hands gripped the edge of the table. He did not avert his gaze from her. His dark eyes appeared as opaque and still as ever, but he felt suddenly and with finality a change in himself.
He was ready. There was not much active thought involved in coming to this conclusion, it was knowledge that resided entirely in the now and needed no explanation or rationale. The seed, of course, had been planted a while ago. Samuel had left it unattended and looked the other way, perhaps hoping that nothing much would come of it; or thinking that his heart over the course of his unsteady life had become infertile ground for affection of enough depth and consequence to sustain itself in absence of being tended to.
Now he averted his gaze and looked away. The relaxed posture of his shoulders hardened and he felt an increase in tension in his body and an awareness that he was changing gears entirely. His prior course of caution and avoidance appeared suddenly no longer acceptable. Could he expect himself to pretend indefinitely that there was nothing more to their bond than regard between colleagues and friends, to avoid risking the plans he had for their collaboration?
There was much to lose, certainly. They might be on the precipice of achieving the most important breakthrough of his career as an Alchemist. But every further meeting with Themis had reiterated to Samuel that there was a great reward in sight indeed, that had little to do with his scientific ambitions, if he dared to cross the distance. She would not be the one to do it. And he would not be the one to wait forever. Besides, he thought himself to have reason to hope that this was not a one-sided issue, although he could not be certain of her at all.
Themis had said something but her exact words had not registered with him.
Samuel turned his head to look at her. Standing up to join her at the window seemed quite impossible. He might as well be frozen to this table. So he extended his hands towards her, palm-sides up. "Themis," he heard himself say, and his voice sounded calm. "Will you come here for a moment?"
She would put her hands in his and accept this first part of his bid, he felt sure of it. Hands were established between them, they were safe territory. Uncharted was what would come next.
