"You've been planning this, haven't you?"
Samantha paused in front of the closet, smiling to herself as she fumbled through clothes that obviously didn't suit her. "I simply don't know whatever you mean." she replied, practically hearing the other woman roll her eyes behind her.
"You left clothes in my closet," Geraldine pointed out just as Samantha's hand grasped the hanger she was looking for. "Makeup in my bathroom, and just enough bits and bobs for you to get ready in the morning…"
"What? Can't a girl want to spend the night at her lovely girlfriend's house?" the Westley innocently asked, finally turning around to face the other woman with a wide grin. "We used to have sleepovers all the time…"
"You know damn well what I'm talking about." her girlfriend said, her ordinarily pale and stoic face having changed into a bright red. She was sitting up in her own bed with the sheets strategically wrapped around her.
"I'm being serious, though. I only did it in case I was going to spend the night. There were no ulterior motives involved at all. Besides, you're acting like this is the first time-"
"Shut up. Just shut up right now!" Geraldine insisted, covering her own face with her hands. "And get dressed already! Don't you have class or something?"
"I'll be borrowing your bathroom, then."
Samantha had gotten up early so that she could take her sweet time getting ready. She brushed her teeth, showered, got dressed, styled her hair and did her makeup, all while Geraldine went back to sleep for another hour. Thank goodness the Midford had another bathroom in her flat, as by the time Samantha was finished, Geraldine was able to be ready for the day and have breakfast on the table.
It was a small, simple, round table with two chairs on either side. Even though she had gone through the effort to make a meal, the moment she sat still, she seemed to revert back to her sleepy state. Aimlessly, she scrolled on her phone with one hand and drank her coffee with the other, hoping that a hit of caffeine might help her a bit.
"Morning, Gerry." Samantha grinned, watching the other woman's face as her eyes began to droop.
"Mmh." the blonde grunted in response. "Morning…"
Stepping around Geraldine to the vacant seat, Samantha kissed her girlfriend's cheek, prompting her to take a deep breath and widen her eyes in an effort to wake up some more. The Westley sat down and joined her, daintily scooting her chair in upon sitting and picking up a knife and fork. "Breakfast looks good." She observed. "For a not-morning person, you're very good at making it. I feel sort of bad, though, since you do it every time I'm here."
"If I left until after you got done getting ready, we'd be eating breakfast at noon." Geraldine answered, smiling a bit as she watched the other woman's eyes roll. "Besides, I know Dan was the one to do the cooking."
"Oh, is that what you really think? Little miss 'please help me study for this exam, Sam, or else I might flunk?'"
"Hey, I'm juggling World Championships. Philosophy class can wait."
"Mm-hm. Is that why you're stalking Roberta's twitter?"
"Ugh…" Geraldine grimaced—a put on gesture that really didn't fool anyone. "I'm not 'stalking…'"
"'Research,' then?" teased the Westley with a light laugh.
"What is there to research? All she posts are selfies where she's doing that thing where she sticks her tongue out. It's always the same angle, too! She's gotta show off the lighting bolt, of course. It's so annoying..."
"You should just admit that you're friends already. No one would think less of you."
"We're not 'friends,' we're rivals. Besides, it's not her I'm worried about this competition. This isn't the juniour leagues anymore. The Italians don't worry me-no matter how obnoxious she is—it's the French and the Russians I need to look out for this time."
"I know. You've told me. A lot. I'm honestly a little bit surprised. How's training going?"
"Brutal. My callouses have callouses and I'm still not happy with my speed."
"How? I can barely see your sword!"
"Exactly. It's too slow if you can still see it."
"Athletes…" Samantha said with a roll of her eyes. Geraldine's standards were always impossibly high, but it the way she strove for perfection and the care she took not to damage herself in the process was admirable.
"Also, you're not going to like this: I need to stay late at the Midford gym tonight, so I won't be back until tomorrow."
"You're staying over?"
"Yeah, so you won't be able to without, y'know, parental interferance. Sorry…"
"Nah, it's alright. I do have a dorm that I pay for, so I should probably stay in it sometimes. Besides, one of my teachers found something that looks promising, so I've been meaning to stay behind and see if I can get a look at it."
"Really? What is it?" Geraldine asked, spreading a bit of jam onto her toast.
"An old book." her girlfriend replied, giving Geraldine the opportunity to roll her eyes, too.
"Wow? An old book at a university? I'm shocked."
"It's not just any old book, though! I'm thinking it could be the genuine article; something supernatural! I can't quite explain it yet, though—just call it a gut feeling."
"Alright, alright, I don't know enough about it to argue." Geraldine conceded. "Where is it? Is there a display somewhere?"
"Well… Not exactly…"
"Sam…"
"It's in one of the labs, alright? I was just going to ask Professor Keaton if I could take a peek."
"And if he says no?"
"Sneak in." answered the Westley with a bit of a smirk on her face. She came by her mischief honestly, as did her brother before her. "The only problem is that the door has one of those locks where you have to punch in a passcode in order to get in. Figuring out that might be hard, since that's not exactly my area of expertise…"
"Please don't. You of all people don't need to get expelled. The world would be worse for it."
"You're right… Dan could have probably gotten away with it, but then again, when a rich, white, boy breaks and enters, it's just 'mischief,' isn't it?" Sinking into her seat somewhat, Samantha let out a heavy sigh. Absentmindedly, she pressed her fork against her lips and furrowed her brow in thought. "Still, it's too good to miss out on… It's a lot of risk for something that might just be a smelly old book, but I really do have a good feeling about it… It's hard to explain."
"Is there something that's different about it?"
"Well, it's bound in leather made of human skin, so…"
"Yep, that's definitely cursed." Geraldine nodded. "If I had the right connections, I might be able to arrange something, but I don't really know anyone who knows anyone at the university."
"The Phantomhives could probably do it, but I'd feel bad about calling on them for something like this."
"I can mention it in passing next time I talk to Ciel, if you want."
"You're the best." Setting her utensils down on her now empty plate, she stood and took it over to the sink. When she returned, she kissed her girlfriend's cheek.
"I know I am. You leaving?"
"Yeah, it's sad, but true." shrugged the Westley, picking up her bag. "I'll talk to you later."
"I'll text you tonight." the Midford replied before picking up her own plate. "Lov-"
Abruptly, she cut herself off. A look of horror materialised on her bright red face as the woman simply froze where she stood—as if that would somehow keep Samantha from having heard that. Unfortunately for her, her girlfriend was not a resident of Jurassic Park and very much did hear her. The wide, giddy, yet terrible grin that spread across the Westley woman's face made Geraldine's heart feel like it was both stopping and skipping a beat all at once.
"What was that?" Samantha questioned, turning her head and cupping her ear with her hand. "You what? I didn't quite catch that."
"I-" stammered the blonde. It felt like gears were grinding in her brain as she struggled to think of an excuse. She had nothing. Unable to weasel her way out of it, the Midford's fighter instincts kicked in. "Just go, already!" Her tone was aggressive, but it only made Samantha laugh.
It was unusual to see Geraldine losing her cool, but it seemed like she had been doing it a lot lately—not that Samantha was complaining. It was always fun to see how red her girlfriend's face could get while trying to maintain a stoic demeanor. It was cute. Samantha found it endearing to see her like this. It was a side of her that she let slip on occasion before their relationship changed, but now it was like Samantha got a special peek at her that no one else could see. Needless to say, it was a bit of a treat.
The Westley held out her hands toward the other woman and stepped forward, closing the gap between them and making Geraldine's eyes go wide. "Oh, Gerry…" she cooed, cupping her girlfriend's face with one hand while placing the other on the blonde's hip.
She was able to make Geraldine's artificial fury dissolve with a kiss. It distracted her, making her simply forget that she was supposed to be telling Samantha to leave. The blonde was only broken from this trance when her cutlery loudly clattered to the floor, having slid off of the plate in her hand. She looked away briefly from Samantha to assess the damage, only to realise that her act was ruined.
"In your own time." Samantha continued, her smile softening as she spoke. With that, however, she released the other woman and swung the strap of her bag over her shoulder. She headed toward the door, prompting Geraldine to follow after her with her eyes.
"Love you, Ger-bear~! Talk to you tonight, okay?" she waved as she opened the door.
"Uhm… Yeah… O-okay." Geraldine awkwardly waved back. With one more giggle from Samantha, the blonde was left alone, suddenly very much unable to think about fencing at all.
The Westley, on the other hand, was giddy just hearing Geraldine so close to saying it, even if they wouldn't be seeing each other that evening. It would be back to the dorms for Samantha, but that was alright. Fencing was incredibly important to Geraldine and she was actually rather stressed about this upcoming competition, even if it didn't look it on the outside. Samantha would leave her to her work for now.
It was a shame, but the Westley needed to dedicate herself to showing up to class on time and paying attention to the lectures that ensued. Normally, it wouldn't have put a damper on her mood like this, but her morning was so good, that the rest of the day just seemed a bit lackluster overall. She perked up a bit when it was time for Professor Keaton's course. She hoped that he would mention the book, although it was unlikely for him to do so. Perhaps if she asked him a few questions directly, she would be forthcoming, but she was still far out of her league in terms of academic prestige. If she was a graduate student, maybe, but as a lowly freshman, she doubted that he would allow her to see it.
"Happy Monday, everyone." the man said as he entered the room, setting his books down on the podium at the front of the room. Professor Keaton was a well dressed and well groomed man, with light brown hair, a bear, and thick, round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He always wore a suit, sometimes with a tie and sometimes with a bowtie. Covering his mouth with his hand, he let out a yawn. "Hoo, it is Monday, isn't it? Anyway, lets get to it, shall we? Does anybody have anything they want to go over before we start?"
"Yes, sir. I have one." Samantha stated, raising her hand slightly out of habit.
"Does it have to do with last weeks lecture, or is it about the book, Miss Westley?" questioned the professor.
"Nevermind, sir, I don't have a question…" somewhat bashfully replied the woman, lowering her hand again. She read the room and decided that perhaps now was not the time. Still, her instructor seemed to be in a good mood about it.
"It's an interesting artifact. It's morbid, mysterious, and just overall strange. If you want an update, there's really not much to report, I'm afraid. We're still not able to get the book open. The lock is complicated and if we brute force it, we might damage it." he said. "We'd like to get a look at the inside of the lock, but a scan is unfortunately impossible. The machine doesn't like metal, unfortunately…" With that, he yawned again. "It may seem silly, but it keeps me up at night, even though we have no idea what's inside or what it is. It could be blank for all we know."
"Still, not a lot of people would choose to use human skin to bind a book." Samantha offered, happy for the news, even if it isn't news she wanted. "It's a lot of trouble and hard to come by, so it's got to be something important."
"True, and with a lock like that, it's so important that nobody wants us to see it." Professor Keaton smiled while crossing his arms. "I'll keep you updated if anything big happens. I'm glad you're interested in it. It's a shame you're not able to participate in the research, honestly."
"Yeah, tell me about it…" is what the woman wanted to say, but since everyone else was waiting on her, she didn't and allowed the brief conversation to die out.
It was an agonisng class, having to sit there and listen to a lecture that was not about some mysterious and possibly cursed book. All Samantha could think about was what could possibly be inside. Was it something like the Neconomicon? Or perhaps something actually based in reality like The Book of Akeldama? Samantha never liked Lovecraft, anyway. Or perhaps it was a history book about some ancient civilization of supernaturals? Or humans—humans would be fine, she supposed, but the prior would have been more conducive to her own purposes.
And like that, the class ended. People scurried out, eager to leave this place and seek respite from the tedious droning of some nerd with a doctorate. Samantha wasn't, however. She was fixated on that book. Professor Keaton was as well, it seemed, as he fled the scene rather quickly as well. Quickly, the woman followed after him for a ways, only to realise that it was admittedly a bit creepy to be following her teacher through campus like some half-rate stalker.
It was time to go to class anyway, so she left him to his devices, forlorn and dejected that she could not even sneak a glimpse at the mysterious book he held. He carried on to the laboratory, casually punching in the five digit code on the lock to be let inside. Once there, he set down his things, donned his protective gear and greeted his coworkers—all specialists in their own respective fields.
"Sorry, everyone. Class ran a bit long. Any updates?" Professor Keaton questioned, glancing over at the notes that his college was writing down.
"Oh, I dunno… Just confirmation that the leather binding the book is indeed human." a woman answered, nudging her glasses so that they sat on the bridge of her nose. Looking to the side of her, she rummaged through a stack of papers and haphazardly handed them to Professor Keaton, only for him to wrinkle his nose.
"I'm not that kind of scientist. I can't read this scientific jargon."
"Your loss. It's very interesting."
"Just explain what you found, Emily."
Suddenly, the woman adopted a bit of a spacey expression. The muscles in her face went slack and she stared at nothing. "Who? Who's that?" she asked, putting her hand to her ear. With a roll of his eyes, Professor Keaton clarified.
"Doctor Pearson." he said, overemphasising the word.
"That's right." the woman laughed.
"Surely that's got to get old at some point, right?"
"Never. Not as long as people keep acting like my husband's the doctor at conferences."
"I take it that's how your weekend went?"
"The whole. Damn. Conference." Doctor Pearson sighed, only to finally regain her sense of professionalism. "Anyway; the book. So, in order to test it, we cut off a small piece of the cover—as small as possible in order to not completely damage the book, of course—which you can see here in this image." Rummaging through her stack again, the scientist pulled out a photo and slid it across the table to Professor Keaton. "Sorry about the quality on this; I didn't plan on needing this, so I had to have this part blown up. But do you see the piece missing?"
"Barely, but… I think so. What about it? Did something happen?"
"I think so, unless I'm going absolutely crazy." Once more, Doctor Pearson repeated the gesture, placing yet another imagine before the man. "Now look at this!"
Blinking, the professor's brows furrowed, his eyes straining to find what she was talking about. "That rough patch?" he asked. "So you tried to restore it? Are you going to somehow… sand it down later?"
"No!" the woman grinned, still looking at him as though she expected him to see. "Look again. Doesn't that look like… a scab?"
Standing upright, Professor Keaton scoffed. "Now you're just being silly."
"I'm serious! Look at it! Doesn't it look like it?"
"Are you alright, Doctor?" the man questioned, tilting his head. "Have you been sleeping alright?"
"I know how it sounds, but I believe in empirical evidence. That, is a scab, Robert." the woman said, stabbing the image with her finger. "If it can be observed, it's science."
"It's a book." Professor Keaton insisted. "Books don't heal on their own. Next time if you want to fix something, leave it to the restorers. They're pros at it."
"Fine. Just be that way, I suppose…" Doctor Pearson answered, standing up from her seat. Casually, she began gathering her belongings. "My part is done, anyway. I still think it's a wasted opportunity. Don't you dare steal credit when you figure out I'm right, either."
The man turned his head, following her with his gaze as she left the room. "Alright." he chuckled with a small shrug. He hoped that he didn't come across as demeaning but it was a ludicrous suggestion, wasn't it? The woman had proven to be a valuable asset thus far but for the first time, Professor Keaton thought he might have seen why her colleagues sometimes refer to her as a "mad scientist." Now, he was no expert in the field, but he felt as though he had owned enough leather items to know better. Wallets, belts, and other bound books—none of them repaired themselves when damaged.
"A scab." he thought, chuckling to himself as he examined the object in front of him. "Ridiculous…"
He brushed the book's spine with his fingertips, feeling it through his thin latex gloves. Chills-Absolute chills. This wasn't like any book he had ever handled before. Oh, how he wished he could touch it with his bare hands, yet at the same time, he was glad he couldn't. This was once a person—a living, breathing, person; with thoughts, feelings, passions, and those who cared about them and whom they cared for as well. It was a person, just like he was, just standing in this room while going about his business. Just the knowledge of that alone was riveting. Lord only knew what a book like that had to say.
What was so important that it needed to be housed in such a way? Surely there were any number of animals available to bind with, or any number of materials apart from leather to use. Why not cloth? Why leather-Human leather? Why go through all of the trouble of murdering someone just so one could use their skin to bind a book with?
Suddenly, the Professor shook his head. No, that wasn't necessarily true. He didn't know that murder was involved for certain. Any good surveyor of history knew better than to just assume—even if it was unfortunately common practise. No, there could be any number of ways one could acquire human skin. Maybe it was part of some elaborate burial practise and this was a biography of the person's life? There was William Burke, a murderer who had the same treatment; or perhaps execution was still too in tandem with murder? Perhaps it was an important family member or ruler that died of natural causes. That was a definite possibility, yet still, the professor couldn't quite seem to shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach. It gnawed at him quietly and without much fanfare or urgency, but it was still present enough to keep him wandering back to the thought.
For the time being, the only thing in his way was the lock that sealed it. It was far more complicated than expected and subsequently, he and his people were having trouble finding someone able to pick it without simply destroying it. Certainly, after that, they would have to hope that they could find someone able to translate the contents and that the pages were in good enough condition to read, but before that; the seal.
There didn't seem to be any sort of hole for a key. It was flat with a few decorative flourishes. For something so important, whoever made it didn't seem to want anyone to be able to open it. He supposed that was the point of a lock, but still, it was immensely frustrating. All he had to go on was the outside of the book and while that spoke volumes, it was still only the surface. For now, the professor could only imagine what sort of secrets the book had hidden away in its pages.
Tracing his fingers over the embellishments, the man sighed, wishing that there was some way to make this work. Without much thought, he turned it over, wondering if the back side of the book would render a clue, despite knowing rationally that this was unlikely.
Unsurprisingly, he found nothing but the back to the metal latch. They didn't even know what kind of metal it was. How sad. Doctor Pearson would probably be back to take some scrapings from it. Hopefully she didn't damage it too greatly. Robert didn't think that she had much appreciation for such things, somehow. The sample she took from the leather seemed rather large.
Come to think of it, where was the spot she took it from? The photograph indicated that it was taken from the back. Blinking, the professor furrowed his brow in confusion. He rubbed the spot with his thumb in order to confirm it wasn't just his imagination. Somehow, despite all odds or explanation, the entire back was smooth.
A/N: Hello, everyone. I am, in fact, alive and well! Guess who's just moved into her apartment and gotten her internet set up~? Honestly, I probably could've still written this without internet, but I've been busy with other things... Like recovering from carrying heavy boxes up stairs. So many boxes... Why the fuck do I have so many damn books?! Why are book boxes so fucking heavy?! I ended up not carrying a lot and laying down on the floor. Speaking of floors, I would very much like to not have to eat on them anymore when people come over. I only have the desk to eat at, right now, and I had ordered bar stools, but when I opened them up today, one was split down the middle! I need to send them back and get another set... This whole moving business kinda sucks, but it's nice having my own place...
Except at night. I had to quit reading the true crime book I was reading. I'm still not used to the sounds the apartment makes...
Anyway, what about that there chapter? Eh? Eh? Honestly, I wanted to go more into it, but I already transitioned through several scenes and I feel like it would be better to start fresh. Some of you who follow me on tumblr might remember me mentioning this book eons ago, so if you do because you remember the shit I prattle on about better than I do, you're ahead. And know what's coming. I don't know if that's better or worse... Sorry for the unintentional spoilers!
Anyway, it's late and I should consider going to bed soon since I have, like, adult responsibilities and shit I've taken on for whatever deranged reason.
Until the next chapter, my duckies~!
