AN: Hello my fellow fanfictioners! Here is a small story I have began, that I've been longing to share with you. I absolutely love all the fanfics I have read on here and have caught the bug! :) I encourage all opinions as they are the building blocks of growth and make us who we are. That being said, please have some compassion as this is my first story. I hope you enjoy the first taste.
Steam rose softly from the warm red mug next to the thick white tome in the young lady's lap. Her bright hazel eyes poured over the passages with rapt enjoyment. A sharp knock began at her door. She groaned, setting her big red cup down along with her white book, as she got up. Her black velvet dress swayed softly at her knees as she went to the door.
"You'll never guess!" a black haired young man burst through the first crack of her door. "I've found it! The way to make a window into the past! A virtual binocular to the middle ages!"
"Good." she dead-panned as he turned to her, arms full of books and viles of liquid. "Now go experiment and mess things up in YOUR apartment."
"Oh, Isabella, please!" he whined as she crossed her arms.
He dumped all his items onto the floor, and rushed to her. Clasping his hands together and putting on his best pitiful pout he let his eyes shine at her.
"Fine! But if my books are burnt, torn asunder, or damaged even with a hairs breath, I will bite you to death!"
He smiled and moved her couch back.
"You don't think I can do it?" he asked.
"It's not that necessarily." she stated, swiftly grabbing her books up off the coffee table, before he slammed a big black pot on top of them. "You know I have only a little difficulty believing in what I can't touch for myself, but the main thing is...I just think if you keep dabbling in this stuff, something bad may happen."
He paused, vial in hand. "Nah, nothing bad'll happen!"
He pulled out a pair of silver scissors, and snipped off a lock of his hair, and tossed it into the pot. She grabbed his wrist as the liquid boiled.
"You know not what you're dealing with."
"Do you want to see or not?" he stared at her seriously.
She stiffened while her grip on his wrist loosened. He stroked a stray red curl that had fallen out of her freshly washed bun, hanging by her bangs.
"Yes."
With a quick snip of finality, he cut off her curl as soon as she had exhaled her answer and tossed it into the pot. He recited a few words and the liquid bubbled up more rapidly, before settling to a cold stillness, much like a glass mirror. The two gazed in wonder at the sight before them.