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After a few months of working in the Manheeg, it suddenly struck Gwyneth after the evenings prep work was done, that she had not yet gone very far in her quest and eagerness to see justice returned to her sister's wrongful execution, and that realization struck her to her core. The whole reason Gwyneth now worked for the very family she believed she hated was to avenge her sister, so how could she just be merrily working along and not be aiming for her goal? The brunette blamed it on the stress of life, for ever since she started, there had just been so much tasks on top of returning home for her father every fortnight, that she could barely remember to breathe.
But now that she did, she intended to do something about it.
Finishing her evening chores quickly, Gwyneth usually would retire to her quarters. She stayed on the Manheeg in the servant's quarters, small but serviceable, because she usually had to be up before the household to ensure all was prepared before the family woke up. Rather then travel the half hour it would take, she instead chose to remain unless she had an offday, whereby she would return home for her father.
Instead of returning to the servant's quarters however, Gwyneth took the way to the family's living quarters, intending to somehow find a way to prove her sister's innocence. Ayala had been accused of thievery, a crime she was certain her sister was incapable of doing. Ayala may be stubborn and proud, but Gwyneth firmly believed her sister would not stoop to stealing, even if they had greatly needed the money, and she hated her sister's name smeared that way.
Slowly sliding the door to the study, the room the men of the house used most when they conducted business, it was the place Gwyneth suspected she would find the most proof. Still dressed in her servant's rags of serviceable brown dress and an apron tied around her waist, Gwyneth's brown hair was tied up and covered in a cloth, and tucked in her waist was a rag she used to wipe the surfaces of the household, alibi for her should she be found out, a precautionary step as she nibly stepped in.
It was already dusk, that light was sparse, but even the conditions, Gwyneth did not bring a candle, not eager to bring attention to herself. Instead, the girl quickly padded over to the table where papers were usually perused, and despite not knowing words as someone educated would, she started rifling through them, looking for something - anything - that could aid her cause.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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She had a goal, and she intended to fulfill it.
After a few months of working in the Manheeg, it suddenly struck Gwyneth after the evenings prep work was done, that she had not yet gone very far in her quest and eagerness to see justice returned to her sister's wrongful execution, and that realization struck her to her core. The whole reason Gwyneth now worked for the very family she believed she hated was to avenge her sister, so how could she just be merrily working along and not be aiming for her goal? The brunette blamed it on the stress of life, for ever since she started, there had just been so much tasks on top of returning home for her father every fortnight, that she could barely remember to breathe.
But now that she did, she intended to do something about it.
Finishing her evening chores quickly, Gwyneth usually would retire to her quarters. She stayed on the Manheeg in the servant's quarters, small but serviceable, because she usually had to be up before the household to ensure all was prepared before the family woke up. Rather then travel the half hour it would take, she instead chose to remain unless she had an offday, whereby she would return home for her father.
Instead of returning to the servant's quarters however, Gwyneth took the way to the family's living quarters, intending to somehow find a way to prove her sister's innocence. Ayala had been accused of thievery, a crime she was certain her sister was incapable of doing. Ayala may be stubborn and proud, but Gwyneth firmly believed her sister would not stoop to stealing, even if they had greatly needed the money, and she hated her sister's name smeared that way.
Slowly sliding the door to the study, the room the men of the house used most when they conducted business, it was the place Gwyneth suspected she would find the most proof. Still dressed in her servant's rags of serviceable brown dress and an apron tied around her waist, Gwyneth's brown hair was tied up and covered in a cloth, and tucked in her waist was a rag she used to wipe the surfaces of the household, alibi for her should she be found out, a precautionary step as she nibly stepped in.
It was already dusk, that light was sparse, but even the conditions, Gwyneth did not bring a candle, not eager to bring attention to herself. Instead, the girl quickly padded over to the table where papers were usually perused, and despite not knowing words as someone educated would, she started rifling through them, looking for something - anything - that could aid her cause.
She had a goal, and she intended to fulfill it.
After a few months of working in the Manheeg, it suddenly struck Gwyneth after the evenings prep work was done, that she had not yet gone very far in her quest and eagerness to see justice returned to her sister's wrongful execution, and that realization struck her to her core. The whole reason Gwyneth now worked for the very family she believed she hated was to avenge her sister, so how could she just be merrily working along and not be aiming for her goal? The brunette blamed it on the stress of life, for ever since she started, there had just been so much tasks on top of returning home for her father every fortnight, that she could barely remember to breathe.
But now that she did, she intended to do something about it.
Finishing her evening chores quickly, Gwyneth usually would retire to her quarters. She stayed on the Manheeg in the servant's quarters, small but serviceable, because she usually had to be up before the household to ensure all was prepared before the family woke up. Rather then travel the half hour it would take, she instead chose to remain unless she had an offday, whereby she would return home for her father.
Instead of returning to the servant's quarters however, Gwyneth took the way to the family's living quarters, intending to somehow find a way to prove her sister's innocence. Ayala had been accused of thievery, a crime she was certain her sister was incapable of doing. Ayala may be stubborn and proud, but Gwyneth firmly believed her sister would not stoop to stealing, even if they had greatly needed the money, and she hated her sister's name smeared that way.
Slowly sliding the door to the study, the room the men of the house used most when they conducted business, it was the place Gwyneth suspected she would find the most proof. Still dressed in her servant's rags of serviceable brown dress and an apron tied around her waist, Gwyneth's brown hair was tied up and covered in a cloth, and tucked in her waist was a rag she used to wipe the surfaces of the household, alibi for her should she be found out, a precautionary step as she nibly stepped in.
It was already dusk, that light was sparse, but even the conditions, Gwyneth did not bring a candle, not eager to bring attention to herself. Instead, the girl quickly padded over to the table where papers were usually perused, and despite not knowing words as someone educated would, she started rifling through them, looking for something - anything - that could aid her cause.
Amiti had not been home for the majority of the day. At the temple, and then the university, he’d spent his morning there, had lunch at another councilman’s house, and then he was at the gates of the city, speaking to the captain of the city guard there about trivial matters. The dust and dirt of the day had to be cleaned away before he could properly enjoy his evening with his father and brothers, however and so Amiti hadn’t even been to his study once he came home. Darting up to his room, he’d bathed and changed into clean clothes. He was only just ready once supper was laid. Even that was a quick affair. His father had some mild indigestion and had retired early. Thaddeus and Shiloh started a game of snakes and dogs, and that left Amiti to his own devices. Normally, he’d join his brothers, but they’d chosen a game that only allowed for two.
Taking a candle, Amiti decided to read for the night up in his room. He moved up the stairs, candle flickering on its wick, and crossed the short hallway to his room, only to remember, the book he wanted wasn’t in this room. With a long suffering sigh, Amiti let his eyes flutter closed, then opened them again and trudged back downstairs. He did not want to go all the way back down and back up again. It wasn’t that it took a lot of effort as it felt like a waste of time, when he should have remembered where the book was in the first place. He was never forgiving of mistakes, including his own.
Moving on bare feet, which was common in Judean households, his steps were nearly silent on the stone floor. He had to stop moving quite so fast and cup his hand around the sputtering candle. His gaze trailed to the closed door of his study. It was a room he loved. Quiet and peaceful, in the mornings and afternoons, it held the sun with such a degree of light, that he never had to use a candle until evening, by which point, he was ready to leave the study anyway and join his family. Having such an affinity for a room that he didn’t really have for other people wasn’t as troubling as it might be for someone else. After all, a room was inanimate. It couldn’t betray him. It would always be right where he’d left it.
Turning the handle, he entered the room and looked around, trying to spot the book.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Amiti had not been home for the majority of the day. At the temple, and then the university, he’d spent his morning there, had lunch at another councilman’s house, and then he was at the gates of the city, speaking to the captain of the city guard there about trivial matters. The dust and dirt of the day had to be cleaned away before he could properly enjoy his evening with his father and brothers, however and so Amiti hadn’t even been to his study once he came home. Darting up to his room, he’d bathed and changed into clean clothes. He was only just ready once supper was laid. Even that was a quick affair. His father had some mild indigestion and had retired early. Thaddeus and Shiloh started a game of snakes and dogs, and that left Amiti to his own devices. Normally, he’d join his brothers, but they’d chosen a game that only allowed for two.
Taking a candle, Amiti decided to read for the night up in his room. He moved up the stairs, candle flickering on its wick, and crossed the short hallway to his room, only to remember, the book he wanted wasn’t in this room. With a long suffering sigh, Amiti let his eyes flutter closed, then opened them again and trudged back downstairs. He did not want to go all the way back down and back up again. It wasn’t that it took a lot of effort as it felt like a waste of time, when he should have remembered where the book was in the first place. He was never forgiving of mistakes, including his own.
Moving on bare feet, which was common in Judean households, his steps were nearly silent on the stone floor. He had to stop moving quite so fast and cup his hand around the sputtering candle. His gaze trailed to the closed door of his study. It was a room he loved. Quiet and peaceful, in the mornings and afternoons, it held the sun with such a degree of light, that he never had to use a candle until evening, by which point, he was ready to leave the study anyway and join his family. Having such an affinity for a room that he didn’t really have for other people wasn’t as troubling as it might be for someone else. After all, a room was inanimate. It couldn’t betray him. It would always be right where he’d left it.
Turning the handle, he entered the room and looked around, trying to spot the book.
Amiti had not been home for the majority of the day. At the temple, and then the university, he’d spent his morning there, had lunch at another councilman’s house, and then he was at the gates of the city, speaking to the captain of the city guard there about trivial matters. The dust and dirt of the day had to be cleaned away before he could properly enjoy his evening with his father and brothers, however and so Amiti hadn’t even been to his study once he came home. Darting up to his room, he’d bathed and changed into clean clothes. He was only just ready once supper was laid. Even that was a quick affair. His father had some mild indigestion and had retired early. Thaddeus and Shiloh started a game of snakes and dogs, and that left Amiti to his own devices. Normally, he’d join his brothers, but they’d chosen a game that only allowed for two.
Taking a candle, Amiti decided to read for the night up in his room. He moved up the stairs, candle flickering on its wick, and crossed the short hallway to his room, only to remember, the book he wanted wasn’t in this room. With a long suffering sigh, Amiti let his eyes flutter closed, then opened them again and trudged back downstairs. He did not want to go all the way back down and back up again. It wasn’t that it took a lot of effort as it felt like a waste of time, when he should have remembered where the book was in the first place. He was never forgiving of mistakes, including his own.
Moving on bare feet, which was common in Judean households, his steps were nearly silent on the stone floor. He had to stop moving quite so fast and cup his hand around the sputtering candle. His gaze trailed to the closed door of his study. It was a room he loved. Quiet and peaceful, in the mornings and afternoons, it held the sun with such a degree of light, that he never had to use a candle until evening, by which point, he was ready to leave the study anyway and join his family. Having such an affinity for a room that he didn’t really have for other people wasn’t as troubling as it might be for someone else. After all, a room was inanimate. It couldn’t betray him. It would always be right where he’d left it.
Turning the handle, he entered the room and looked around, trying to spot the book.
Intent as she was in rifling and searching for the records of her sister's accused transgressions, Gwyneth was fairly certain Amiti would not have allowed it to go unrecorded, with how anal he was in regards to information and follow up on information. While she was not able to read very well, she has tried to teach herself, and could pick out a few words here and there to the best of her ability. Besides, she only needed to recognize her sister's name.
Biting her bottom lip in a look of utter concentration, Gwyneth moved from one slot to another, careful to try and not move the items too much, but still trying to make sure she covered all her bases. She tried to keep an ear out for footsteps, so she could make sure to get herself out before anyone came along. Gwyneth was counting on creaking wooden boards of the house, but the girl was so caught up she did not realize until the handle turn - and she started and muffled a squeak as she shoved the files back in the cupboard and dived behind the study table.
A brief peek before she completely hid herself behind the table was enough to tell her who it was - but what was he doing here? Gwyneth had studied the family's patterns well enough to know that they usually retired to spend some time together after the evening meal of the day. Why would he be here at this hour?
Cursing internally, Gwyneth found herself on her hands and knees as he entered, almost bringing blood to her lips as she silently tried to crawl away. She had no explanation as to why she was here. They usually cleaned the study in the morning, so there was technically no need for Gwyneth to even be in this room at this hour! Crawling to the other side of the table far from where she assumed Amiti would go, the girl pushed her hair out of her face, and desperately tried to look at the open door the man had just entered by. If only she could just get to the open door without him realizing. Surely it can't be that hard with the waning light, right?
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Intent as she was in rifling and searching for the records of her sister's accused transgressions, Gwyneth was fairly certain Amiti would not have allowed it to go unrecorded, with how anal he was in regards to information and follow up on information. While she was not able to read very well, she has tried to teach herself, and could pick out a few words here and there to the best of her ability. Besides, she only needed to recognize her sister's name.
Biting her bottom lip in a look of utter concentration, Gwyneth moved from one slot to another, careful to try and not move the items too much, but still trying to make sure she covered all her bases. She tried to keep an ear out for footsteps, so she could make sure to get herself out before anyone came along. Gwyneth was counting on creaking wooden boards of the house, but the girl was so caught up she did not realize until the handle turn - and she started and muffled a squeak as she shoved the files back in the cupboard and dived behind the study table.
A brief peek before she completely hid herself behind the table was enough to tell her who it was - but what was he doing here? Gwyneth had studied the family's patterns well enough to know that they usually retired to spend some time together after the evening meal of the day. Why would he be here at this hour?
Cursing internally, Gwyneth found herself on her hands and knees as he entered, almost bringing blood to her lips as she silently tried to crawl away. She had no explanation as to why she was here. They usually cleaned the study in the morning, so there was technically no need for Gwyneth to even be in this room at this hour! Crawling to the other side of the table far from where she assumed Amiti would go, the girl pushed her hair out of her face, and desperately tried to look at the open door the man had just entered by. If only she could just get to the open door without him realizing. Surely it can't be that hard with the waning light, right?
Intent as she was in rifling and searching for the records of her sister's accused transgressions, Gwyneth was fairly certain Amiti would not have allowed it to go unrecorded, with how anal he was in regards to information and follow up on information. While she was not able to read very well, she has tried to teach herself, and could pick out a few words here and there to the best of her ability. Besides, she only needed to recognize her sister's name.
Biting her bottom lip in a look of utter concentration, Gwyneth moved from one slot to another, careful to try and not move the items too much, but still trying to make sure she covered all her bases. She tried to keep an ear out for footsteps, so she could make sure to get herself out before anyone came along. Gwyneth was counting on creaking wooden boards of the house, but the girl was so caught up she did not realize until the handle turn - and she started and muffled a squeak as she shoved the files back in the cupboard and dived behind the study table.
A brief peek before she completely hid herself behind the table was enough to tell her who it was - but what was he doing here? Gwyneth had studied the family's patterns well enough to know that they usually retired to spend some time together after the evening meal of the day. Why would he be here at this hour?
Cursing internally, Gwyneth found herself on her hands and knees as he entered, almost bringing blood to her lips as she silently tried to crawl away. She had no explanation as to why she was here. They usually cleaned the study in the morning, so there was technically no need for Gwyneth to even be in this room at this hour! Crawling to the other side of the table far from where she assumed Amiti would go, the girl pushed her hair out of her face, and desperately tried to look at the open door the man had just entered by. If only she could just get to the open door without him realizing. Surely it can't be that hard with the waning light, right?
Amiti frowned to himself as he walked further into the study. It was a modest room and he liked it more than most of the other rooms in the house because of the plush carpet that dominated the center of the floor. It masked sound and extended under the desk, where, unknown to him, his treacherous servant was hiding. All he could hear was the soft whop, whop, whop of the flickering flame as he moved about the office.
“It was here,” he mumbled to himself in a low voice, striding across the floor. The shadows of the two chairs that sat in front of the desk leaped up onto the walls and slid around the room as Amiti moved to the bookshelves. They loomed like monsters, leering down at Gwyneth while Amiti’s back was turned. “I could have sworn,” he continued under his breath, heedless of the girl’s pounding heart or the calculated movements she was taking.
He had no idea of her connection to the servant who’d been stealing from them. If he had, she wouldn’t be in this household. Probably. It depended on how generous he was feeling when he hired her. After all, just because his mother was a harlot didn’t mean the rest of his family was involved in sexual scandal. He, himself, was perfect in that area. He’d never sully both his reputation and the no doubt pure woman he would be involved with. Thaddeus didn’t share that ideal, but this was kept secret from Amiti, as it should be. If caught, his brother and the woman caught with him would either need to immediately marry or be stoned. The law was harsh for a reason and though it sometimes pained Amiti to have to keep it, keep it he did. No one was above it. Not even himself, he reasoned.
Running his finger along the shelf, he happened to step to the side as Gwyneth crawled from under the desk. The two of them moved parallel to one another, she toward the door in a desperate break for freedom, while he kept his back to the doorway, unaware of her presence and still looking for his book.
“Ah,” he said to himself as he finally spied the title. It wasn’t where it should have been but that could have been Thaddeus or Shiloh. Or, even his father. None of them respected the alphabetical order that Amiti had for this room, which was disappointing, but a part of life he’d been forced to accept, or risk exploding in anger every time something was moved. That was far too exhausting. Plucking the book off the shelf, Amiti turned around, eyes on the book, and started walking swiftly towards the door. Because of the shadows and his attention fixed on the book in his hand, he didn’t see Gwyneth.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Amiti frowned to himself as he walked further into the study. It was a modest room and he liked it more than most of the other rooms in the house because of the plush carpet that dominated the center of the floor. It masked sound and extended under the desk, where, unknown to him, his treacherous servant was hiding. All he could hear was the soft whop, whop, whop of the flickering flame as he moved about the office.
“It was here,” he mumbled to himself in a low voice, striding across the floor. The shadows of the two chairs that sat in front of the desk leaped up onto the walls and slid around the room as Amiti moved to the bookshelves. They loomed like monsters, leering down at Gwyneth while Amiti’s back was turned. “I could have sworn,” he continued under his breath, heedless of the girl’s pounding heart or the calculated movements she was taking.
He had no idea of her connection to the servant who’d been stealing from them. If he had, she wouldn’t be in this household. Probably. It depended on how generous he was feeling when he hired her. After all, just because his mother was a harlot didn’t mean the rest of his family was involved in sexual scandal. He, himself, was perfect in that area. He’d never sully both his reputation and the no doubt pure woman he would be involved with. Thaddeus didn’t share that ideal, but this was kept secret from Amiti, as it should be. If caught, his brother and the woman caught with him would either need to immediately marry or be stoned. The law was harsh for a reason and though it sometimes pained Amiti to have to keep it, keep it he did. No one was above it. Not even himself, he reasoned.
Running his finger along the shelf, he happened to step to the side as Gwyneth crawled from under the desk. The two of them moved parallel to one another, she toward the door in a desperate break for freedom, while he kept his back to the doorway, unaware of her presence and still looking for his book.
“Ah,” he said to himself as he finally spied the title. It wasn’t where it should have been but that could have been Thaddeus or Shiloh. Or, even his father. None of them respected the alphabetical order that Amiti had for this room, which was disappointing, but a part of life he’d been forced to accept, or risk exploding in anger every time something was moved. That was far too exhausting. Plucking the book off the shelf, Amiti turned around, eyes on the book, and started walking swiftly towards the door. Because of the shadows and his attention fixed on the book in his hand, he didn’t see Gwyneth.
Amiti frowned to himself as he walked further into the study. It was a modest room and he liked it more than most of the other rooms in the house because of the plush carpet that dominated the center of the floor. It masked sound and extended under the desk, where, unknown to him, his treacherous servant was hiding. All he could hear was the soft whop, whop, whop of the flickering flame as he moved about the office.
“It was here,” he mumbled to himself in a low voice, striding across the floor. The shadows of the two chairs that sat in front of the desk leaped up onto the walls and slid around the room as Amiti moved to the bookshelves. They loomed like monsters, leering down at Gwyneth while Amiti’s back was turned. “I could have sworn,” he continued under his breath, heedless of the girl’s pounding heart or the calculated movements she was taking.
He had no idea of her connection to the servant who’d been stealing from them. If he had, she wouldn’t be in this household. Probably. It depended on how generous he was feeling when he hired her. After all, just because his mother was a harlot didn’t mean the rest of his family was involved in sexual scandal. He, himself, was perfect in that area. He’d never sully both his reputation and the no doubt pure woman he would be involved with. Thaddeus didn’t share that ideal, but this was kept secret from Amiti, as it should be. If caught, his brother and the woman caught with him would either need to immediately marry or be stoned. The law was harsh for a reason and though it sometimes pained Amiti to have to keep it, keep it he did. No one was above it. Not even himself, he reasoned.
Running his finger along the shelf, he happened to step to the side as Gwyneth crawled from under the desk. The two of them moved parallel to one another, she toward the door in a desperate break for freedom, while he kept his back to the doorway, unaware of her presence and still looking for his book.
“Ah,” he said to himself as he finally spied the title. It wasn’t where it should have been but that could have been Thaddeus or Shiloh. Or, even his father. None of them respected the alphabetical order that Amiti had for this room, which was disappointing, but a part of life he’d been forced to accept, or risk exploding in anger every time something was moved. That was far too exhausting. Plucking the book off the shelf, Amiti turned around, eyes on the book, and started walking swiftly towards the door. Because of the shadows and his attention fixed on the book in his hand, he didn’t see Gwyneth.
Gwyneth's mind was just a running repetition of "Oh no oh no oh no!" as she scrambled for her next hiding spot, the shadows playing havoc with her heart rate. Erratic and wild under her ribcage, the girl felt as if it was going to explode out of her chest at any given moment, as the shadows looming over her grew larger as he approached the desk. Would he be able to see her as he searched for what he needed from the other side of the desk? Was he going to come over to where she was crouched down in the darkness?
Throwing a quick prayer up to Yahweh, she crawled as quietly as she could over to another cupboard, ducking behind it just as he paused at the shelf. Could she make it to the doors?
A quick, panicked gaze was thrown at Amiti's way, before she made a quick break for the door before he turned towards the door, rolling on the ground as she failed to land properly in her hurried actions to at least get out of the room. In Gwyneth's head, if she got out of the room, she did not have to explain why she was in there to begin with. The study was located in the middle of the household's layout. It's location meant it was easy for anyone who wanted to fetch something, but it also gave Gwyneth a way to cobble up a halfway believable explanation - as long as she wasn't found in the room.
As she hurriedly got to her feet just as Amiti got to the doorway, Gwyneth dusted off her skirts and the sand off her palms, but failed to adjust her headscarf knocked askew in time, quickly curtsying and bending her knee as the man who was her supposed boss appeared at the doorway. "Good evening, Master Amiti." She internally thanked Yahweh she was able to keep her breathlessness away from her speech by keeping the words short and her head bent dutifully, appearing as if she was a submissive servant - when really, she was just hiding the flush to her cheeks, hoping that the crazy beat of her heart was not at all audible as she remained silent and out of Amiti's way.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Gwyneth's mind was just a running repetition of "Oh no oh no oh no!" as she scrambled for her next hiding spot, the shadows playing havoc with her heart rate. Erratic and wild under her ribcage, the girl felt as if it was going to explode out of her chest at any given moment, as the shadows looming over her grew larger as he approached the desk. Would he be able to see her as he searched for what he needed from the other side of the desk? Was he going to come over to where she was crouched down in the darkness?
Throwing a quick prayer up to Yahweh, she crawled as quietly as she could over to another cupboard, ducking behind it just as he paused at the shelf. Could she make it to the doors?
A quick, panicked gaze was thrown at Amiti's way, before she made a quick break for the door before he turned towards the door, rolling on the ground as she failed to land properly in her hurried actions to at least get out of the room. In Gwyneth's head, if she got out of the room, she did not have to explain why she was in there to begin with. The study was located in the middle of the household's layout. It's location meant it was easy for anyone who wanted to fetch something, but it also gave Gwyneth a way to cobble up a halfway believable explanation - as long as she wasn't found in the room.
As she hurriedly got to her feet just as Amiti got to the doorway, Gwyneth dusted off her skirts and the sand off her palms, but failed to adjust her headscarf knocked askew in time, quickly curtsying and bending her knee as the man who was her supposed boss appeared at the doorway. "Good evening, Master Amiti." She internally thanked Yahweh she was able to keep her breathlessness away from her speech by keeping the words short and her head bent dutifully, appearing as if she was a submissive servant - when really, she was just hiding the flush to her cheeks, hoping that the crazy beat of her heart was not at all audible as she remained silent and out of Amiti's way.
Gwyneth's mind was just a running repetition of "Oh no oh no oh no!" as she scrambled for her next hiding spot, the shadows playing havoc with her heart rate. Erratic and wild under her ribcage, the girl felt as if it was going to explode out of her chest at any given moment, as the shadows looming over her grew larger as he approached the desk. Would he be able to see her as he searched for what he needed from the other side of the desk? Was he going to come over to where she was crouched down in the darkness?
Throwing a quick prayer up to Yahweh, she crawled as quietly as she could over to another cupboard, ducking behind it just as he paused at the shelf. Could she make it to the doors?
A quick, panicked gaze was thrown at Amiti's way, before she made a quick break for the door before he turned towards the door, rolling on the ground as she failed to land properly in her hurried actions to at least get out of the room. In Gwyneth's head, if she got out of the room, she did not have to explain why she was in there to begin with. The study was located in the middle of the household's layout. It's location meant it was easy for anyone who wanted to fetch something, but it also gave Gwyneth a way to cobble up a halfway believable explanation - as long as she wasn't found in the room.
As she hurriedly got to her feet just as Amiti got to the doorway, Gwyneth dusted off her skirts and the sand off her palms, but failed to adjust her headscarf knocked askew in time, quickly curtsying and bending her knee as the man who was her supposed boss appeared at the doorway. "Good evening, Master Amiti." She internally thanked Yahweh she was able to keep her breathlessness away from her speech by keeping the words short and her head bent dutifully, appearing as if she was a submissive servant - when really, she was just hiding the flush to her cheeks, hoping that the crazy beat of her heart was not at all audible as she remained silent and out of Amiti's way.
Now that he had the book in his hand, his mind wandered to the book’s subject. It wasn’t an especially thick book. It was only a little larger than his hand and bound with the cheap sheepskin leather. The cover hadn’t even been dyed. Its title was pressed in manually and painted with white lead paint, but that was all. Even so, the book was worth quite a bit. Every book was precious, in fact, because they all had to be made by hand. He was probably the only person in the city who had this particular book. Possibly the only person in the next two cities. It wasn’t a terribly obscure work; they studied it in the university, but the university’s copy was housed there and not permitted to be taken home. If students wanted portions to memorize, they had to write it out themselves. He’d liked the philosophy of this book so much, that he’d paid a scribe to make a copy of the whole thing, though he had not paid for decoration of any kind. That was simply out of the question and a waste of funds.
Muttering to himself as he moved in a slow, dreamlike fashion toward the door, he looked up when he heard a soft bump, and found Gwyn dusting her palms and skirts. Amiti stared at her, frowning. “Did you fall?” he asked, trying to account for the sound and the fact that her headscarf was completely askew on her head. He could not imagine that she’d go around looking like an idiot on purpose. She better not, at any rate. He snapped the book shut and tucked it under his arm as she dipped down into a curtsey. Had she come to find him? Why was she facing the doorway? Amiti glanced behind him into the study but he couldn’t think of a single thing that she would need in there that she hadn’t already seen to this morning. Unless she was wanting to read?
"Good evening, Master Amiti."
“Good evening, Gwyneth,” he responded, eyes still narrowed, waiting for some kind of reason for her to be staring at him like she wanted something. Then her head bent and she looked as though she’d rather be somewhere else. Amiti blinked. What a strange woman. “Do be careful, Gwyneth,” he said, returning to the idea that she’d fallen. “If you rush about, accidents happen. Be sure to move in a seemly manner from now on.” With that, Amiti reached back and shut the door of his study. “Good night, Gwyneth,” he said, by way of dismissing her back to the servant’s quarters. Then he stepped around her, opened the book back up, and moved in his distracted way back upstairs to read.
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Now that he had the book in his hand, his mind wandered to the book’s subject. It wasn’t an especially thick book. It was only a little larger than his hand and bound with the cheap sheepskin leather. The cover hadn’t even been dyed. Its title was pressed in manually and painted with white lead paint, but that was all. Even so, the book was worth quite a bit. Every book was precious, in fact, because they all had to be made by hand. He was probably the only person in the city who had this particular book. Possibly the only person in the next two cities. It wasn’t a terribly obscure work; they studied it in the university, but the university’s copy was housed there and not permitted to be taken home. If students wanted portions to memorize, they had to write it out themselves. He’d liked the philosophy of this book so much, that he’d paid a scribe to make a copy of the whole thing, though he had not paid for decoration of any kind. That was simply out of the question and a waste of funds.
Muttering to himself as he moved in a slow, dreamlike fashion toward the door, he looked up when he heard a soft bump, and found Gwyn dusting her palms and skirts. Amiti stared at her, frowning. “Did you fall?” he asked, trying to account for the sound and the fact that her headscarf was completely askew on her head. He could not imagine that she’d go around looking like an idiot on purpose. She better not, at any rate. He snapped the book shut and tucked it under his arm as she dipped down into a curtsey. Had she come to find him? Why was she facing the doorway? Amiti glanced behind him into the study but he couldn’t think of a single thing that she would need in there that she hadn’t already seen to this morning. Unless she was wanting to read?
"Good evening, Master Amiti."
“Good evening, Gwyneth,” he responded, eyes still narrowed, waiting for some kind of reason for her to be staring at him like she wanted something. Then her head bent and she looked as though she’d rather be somewhere else. Amiti blinked. What a strange woman. “Do be careful, Gwyneth,” he said, returning to the idea that she’d fallen. “If you rush about, accidents happen. Be sure to move in a seemly manner from now on.” With that, Amiti reached back and shut the door of his study. “Good night, Gwyneth,” he said, by way of dismissing her back to the servant’s quarters. Then he stepped around her, opened the book back up, and moved in his distracted way back upstairs to read.
Now that he had the book in his hand, his mind wandered to the book’s subject. It wasn’t an especially thick book. It was only a little larger than his hand and bound with the cheap sheepskin leather. The cover hadn’t even been dyed. Its title was pressed in manually and painted with white lead paint, but that was all. Even so, the book was worth quite a bit. Every book was precious, in fact, because they all had to be made by hand. He was probably the only person in the city who had this particular book. Possibly the only person in the next two cities. It wasn’t a terribly obscure work; they studied it in the university, but the university’s copy was housed there and not permitted to be taken home. If students wanted portions to memorize, they had to write it out themselves. He’d liked the philosophy of this book so much, that he’d paid a scribe to make a copy of the whole thing, though he had not paid for decoration of any kind. That was simply out of the question and a waste of funds.
Muttering to himself as he moved in a slow, dreamlike fashion toward the door, he looked up when he heard a soft bump, and found Gwyn dusting her palms and skirts. Amiti stared at her, frowning. “Did you fall?” he asked, trying to account for the sound and the fact that her headscarf was completely askew on her head. He could not imagine that she’d go around looking like an idiot on purpose. She better not, at any rate. He snapped the book shut and tucked it under his arm as she dipped down into a curtsey. Had she come to find him? Why was she facing the doorway? Amiti glanced behind him into the study but he couldn’t think of a single thing that she would need in there that she hadn’t already seen to this morning. Unless she was wanting to read?
"Good evening, Master Amiti."
“Good evening, Gwyneth,” he responded, eyes still narrowed, waiting for some kind of reason for her to be staring at him like she wanted something. Then her head bent and she looked as though she’d rather be somewhere else. Amiti blinked. What a strange woman. “Do be careful, Gwyneth,” he said, returning to the idea that she’d fallen. “If you rush about, accidents happen. Be sure to move in a seemly manner from now on.” With that, Amiti reached back and shut the door of his study. “Good night, Gwyneth,” he said, by way of dismissing her back to the servant’s quarters. Then he stepped around her, opened the book back up, and moved in his distracted way back upstairs to read.