Themis sat at her window with a book. Samuel entered trough the doorway and stood there for a moment, contemplating her image. She was at her vantage point, overseeing the stars and dark lands behind her and the pathways and spaces of her rooms before her.
Samuel drew closer until he stood right next to her. It was silent between them. He moved to touch a strand of her hair that had fallen out of her braid and obscured the sun-shaped earring she wore. While he listened to her, because she did have a few things to say to him, his hand settled very slowly on the back of her neck. He was examining the new reality in which that was a thing he could dare to do. "There is nothing to forgive," he repeated her words back to her.
"I sprung this on you and I don't regret that. But you have reason to feel vulnerable—you are daring, in receiving me as you did.", he said and he knew that he understated his fondness for her courage and his admiration of her depth. She did not say yes to him just for the sake of it. She had begun to know him and she saw the difficulties he would bring to her life.
He sat down next to her at her writing desk, quite close to her. In the past he had made it a habit not to dwell on her beauty. Like an open secret it was to be known, but not acknowledged. Now he could indulge in appreciating all he saw. He wanted to take her hand, but something cautioned him to move slowly.
Their dinner had been short and they had skirted around speaking of anything that moved below the surface.
"Even more so in inviting me here. After what I told you.", he added.
There it was, heavy in the air: his plans of taking leave of her, just after igniting the potential between them. It would be excruciating. Samuel thought about returning to his room on the morrow, undertaking his many trips to London and keeping away, not seeing her anymore, except for in the hallways. Insidious, self-inflicted torment awaited him and he could not let go of it, not until the next few weeks were behind him.
He had not meant to do it, but with his choice of timing he was committing an act of cruelty. They had apparently both denied themselves their desires, until they became manifest by his sudden decision to express to her how he felt. And instead of blissfully falling together, they would be apart. Was he doing the right thing? He did not know. But he would not chance it. The price to pay was too much to ask of him. He could not do that again.
Now he took her hand. If he did it to reassure her, or to anchor himself, he did not know. His thumb moved across her palm. He should explain himself. But how could he? There was so much she did not know about him. There were so many secrets he kept, and he was certain she had hers in place. It was difficult to see how they could even begin an attempt to be honest with each other. The only thing he felt free to do was to pour both of them a drink from the wine they had opened earlier.
The cold glittering stars waited behind the window. Once again they taunted him. No matter what he did, their fateful cycles repeated.
Samuel drew closer until he stood right next to her. It was silent between them. He moved to touch a strand of her hair that had fallen out of her braid and obscured the sun-shaped earring she wore. While he listened to her, because she did have a few things to say to him, his hand settled very slowly on the back of her neck. He was examining the new reality in which that was a thing he could dare to do. "There is nothing to forgive," he repeated her words back to her.
"I sprung this on you and I don't regret that. But you have reason to feel vulnerable—you are daring, in receiving me as you did.", he said and he knew that he understated his fondness for her courage and his admiration of her depth. She did not say yes to him just for the sake of it. She had begun to know him and she saw the difficulties he would bring to her life.
He sat down next to her at her writing desk, quite close to her. In the past he had made it a habit not to dwell on her beauty. Like an open secret it was to be known, but not acknowledged. Now he could indulge in appreciating all he saw. He wanted to take her hand, but something cautioned him to move slowly.
Their dinner had been short and they had skirted around speaking of anything that moved below the surface.
"Even more so in inviting me here. After what I told you.", he added.
There it was, heavy in the air: his plans of taking leave of her, just after igniting the potential between them. It would be excruciating. Samuel thought about returning to his room on the morrow, undertaking his many trips to London and keeping away, not seeing her anymore, except for in the hallways. Insidious, self-inflicted torment awaited him and he could not let go of it, not until the next few weeks were behind him.
He had not meant to do it, but with his choice of timing he was committing an act of cruelty. They had apparently both denied themselves their desires, until they became manifest by his sudden decision to express to her how he felt. And instead of blissfully falling together, they would be apart. Was he doing the right thing? He did not know. But he would not chance it. The price to pay was too much to ask of him. He could not do that again.
Now he took her hand. If he did it to reassure her, or to anchor himself, he did not know. His thumb moved across her palm. He should explain himself. But how could he? There was so much she did not know about him. There were so many secrets he kept, and he was certain she had hers in place. It was difficult to see how they could even begin an attempt to be honest with each other. The only thing he felt free to do was to pour both of them a drink from the wine they had opened earlier.
The cold glittering stars waited behind the window. Once again they taunted him. No matter what he did, their fateful cycles repeated.
