Next update of this should be Sunday the 16th of September. Feel free to submit ideas if you have any or want it to keep going because after two or three more chapters I'm planning to write I think I'll be quite happy to let it lie.
The room seems dark, extending so far upwards that the darkness up there seems to compress the visible parts of the room down in their circles of candlelight. It is dry and warm though, a relief after their latest trip, with a crackling log fire breaking the silence and scattering more warm light around the hearth.
Books stretch upwards on towering bookshelves, several wheeled ladders hooked up at points around the room to reach the higher up ones. The first balcony overlooking the reading area is just about visible by squinting up into the gloom.
On a chaise lounge in a worn and faded red velvet edged with fraying gold trim the Mistress lies, at odds with the surroundings in a grey t-shirt and black jeans, her arms extended above her head as she reads. The Time Lady's hair is still damp from washing.
Wednesday tilts her head as she steps inside, water from her replaited hair soaking into the thick carpet.
"Mistress." She says evenly, as much a greeting as a question.
Missy just tilts her head to face the girl, softly closing the book and laying it on her chest.
"Yes?" The Time Lady asks, then;
"I thought you would take longer to bathe. You know being my companion doesn't mean you have to follow me around." She says with no heat to it.
Wednesday walks with the hush of the carpet under her bare feet and sits in the chair closest to the fire, picking up a book on the side table with a thick black leather cover. She sits straight-backed with legs parallel, book splayed open evenly over them near the beginning. On the soft vellum pages black scratches of writing detail the diagrams beside them, also done in violent streaks of black ink.
The Mistress watches her walk and settle down in the high-backed chair, thrown into shadow from the silhouette of itself thrown forwards by the fire behind it. A chink of light passes across the left side of her face from a candle, contrasting her unhealthy palness with the depth of the shadows the human seems to blend with.
Then the Time Lady turns back to her book, saying nothing.
The two of them sit in silence aside from the gentle turning of pages, the muted crackling of the fire and the occasional quiet spit of a candle's momentary spark.
Wednesday looks over the Mistress with almost curiosity, watching the calmness on her face and the relaxedness of her position.
It would seem at odds for most to see her like this, in complete contrast to the storm of madness which seems to billow around her normally, unpredictably tearing up those who come near and the constant tension as if a predator permanently with prey in sight.
Wednesday tilts her head, smiling the barest amount as she regards the older woman with affection.
"What?" Missy asks. She doesn't turn even an eye from her book but a single eyebrow quirks up.
"You don't normally wear clothes like that." The girl states, not looking away.
"Oh." The Time Lady says in a way which Wednesday can tell signifies that her focus has already drifted further from her, "I needed a break after being drenched in mud, slime and various bodily fluids." She comments drily, turning to the next page in the book she has likely read hundreds of times at least if the faint increase of wear along the edges of the cover compared to near the spine is to be believed.
There's a pause between them, indeliberate and almost unnoticable. It's just enough time to keep the pacing of their almost conversation.
"It was dreadful." Wednesday agrees, eyes going back down to her book.
The Mistress snorts, rolling her eyes.
"Thought you would say that." She murmurs although it's perfectly audible in their well lit part of the library.
"The feeling of mud trying to pull you ever closer to a choking claustrophobic death, its dried cling and the crack as it flakes away only to be replaced. The clammy fingers of slime dragging across skin, sending shivers as it pulls away heat and drying tight only to pull sharply at sudden movements. The heat of blood as it runs, sticky and thick over skin before coagulating and staining like ink, a tattoo of death." Wednesday says in one tone, smile growing a little as she speaks.
"It was truly awful." She finishes after a pause.
The Mistress sighs, turning onto her side to properly look at the human with both eyebrows raised this time.
"Anyone ever told you that you're creepy?" She asks, book hanging from her left hand, thumb keeping her place as it grazes the floor.
Wednesday smirks.
"Thank you."