61st Spring
It was a quiet day in the Silk Palace, one which featured a bored Amelia currently sitting at her desk, inspecting her nails.
Is that a piece of dirt?
Leaning closer to her hand, which was splayed upon the tabletop, Amelia glared at the dark speck in question. With scientific precision and a grimace, she flicked the speck from her otherwise flawless skin and gave a great, exhausted sigh.
I am so bored.
The sound of the front door opening and closing sparked an explosive action in Amelia. She jumped to her feet, hurried over to the main storefront of the shop, and just had enough time to sweep a golden strand of hair from her eyes before she greeted the customer. “Welcome to the Silk Palace. I’m Amelia, one of the seamstresses here. Is there anythi-ing—” Amelia’s voice caught in her throat as she finally took notice of the male standing in front of her.
He was incredibly attractive. His skin was dark and rich, his eyes the colour of treacle. But though his natural features were impressive, it was the subtler details that Amelia truly appreciated; his long eyelashes, the faint line of kohl that framed his eyes, the smoothness of his complexion.
She was both attracted to him and envious of him.
His four additional arms were not noticed by Amelia until a tick later, and even then she barely registered them. I have to learn his skin care routine…
“I need a new shirt.”
Even his accent was to die for! The words were twisted, lilted in a way Amelia had never met before. His eyes flickered from her face to the store and materials around them both. For once in her life, Amelia found herself gazing at someone who was significantly higher on the social ladder than she. Every one of his actions had the slowness of a man who was always waited for, who had never been in a rush once in his life. His stance was proud, commanding.
“You’ve come to the right place!” Amelia said enthusiastically, almost drunk on his class and elegance. Then, realising that she had sounded far too excited and eager, she added more casually: “I’d be happy to help you. Please, come this way.”
He grunted a reply, but unlike all the other men Amelia had met in her life, the wordlessness of the sound did not sound lazy or piggish. He sounded refined even in silence: I do not need to speak, and so I will not.
She led him to the rear of the store, where she was pleased to see no other customers lingered. Gesturing to a luxurious chair, Amelia watched her enticing client sit down before perching on the other seat beside his. “Tell me what you want from this shirt. Colour, material, occasion. The more details, the better.”
He watched her with his dark eyes, his expression frustratingly neutral. Amelia squirmed under his gaze, not used to being on the other side of such a steely critique. Eventually, after what seemed like bells but more likely were ticks, he seemed to deem her acceptable. But Amelia’s question was ignored. “My name Rashat re Ahnatep. I am visiting Lhavit to extend my business clientele. I am a jeweller, you see.”
Amelia almost melted just by listening to him. That accent! That name! That profession!
A jeweller! He worked with jewels! He worked with pretty, beautiful things much like Amelia did. She blinked, realising that Rashat was waiting for her to reply.
“I see.” She slurred, altering her posture to straighten her spine and show her own high upbringing. “I hope you have found Lhavit a pleasurable and beautiful place to visit.”
“It is. Beautiful, indeed.” His stare was unblinking and intoxicating.
Was he talking to Amelia, or about her?
It was a quiet day in the Silk Palace, one which featured a bored Amelia currently sitting at her desk, inspecting her nails.
Is that a piece of dirt?
Leaning closer to her hand, which was splayed upon the tabletop, Amelia glared at the dark speck in question. With scientific precision and a grimace, she flicked the speck from her otherwise flawless skin and gave a great, exhausted sigh.
I am so bored.
The sound of the front door opening and closing sparked an explosive action in Amelia. She jumped to her feet, hurried over to the main storefront of the shop, and just had enough time to sweep a golden strand of hair from her eyes before she greeted the customer. “Welcome to the Silk Palace. I’m Amelia, one of the seamstresses here. Is there anythi-ing—” Amelia’s voice caught in her throat as she finally took notice of the male standing in front of her.
He was incredibly attractive. His skin was dark and rich, his eyes the colour of treacle. But though his natural features were impressive, it was the subtler details that Amelia truly appreciated; his long eyelashes, the faint line of kohl that framed his eyes, the smoothness of his complexion.
She was both attracted to him and envious of him.
His four additional arms were not noticed by Amelia until a tick later, and even then she barely registered them. I have to learn his skin care routine…
“I need a new shirt.”
Even his accent was to die for! The words were twisted, lilted in a way Amelia had never met before. His eyes flickered from her face to the store and materials around them both. For once in her life, Amelia found herself gazing at someone who was significantly higher on the social ladder than she. Every one of his actions had the slowness of a man who was always waited for, who had never been in a rush once in his life. His stance was proud, commanding.
“You’ve come to the right place!” Amelia said enthusiastically, almost drunk on his class and elegance. Then, realising that she had sounded far too excited and eager, she added more casually: “I’d be happy to help you. Please, come this way.”
He grunted a reply, but unlike all the other men Amelia had met in her life, the wordlessness of the sound did not sound lazy or piggish. He sounded refined even in silence: I do not need to speak, and so I will not.
She led him to the rear of the store, where she was pleased to see no other customers lingered. Gesturing to a luxurious chair, Amelia watched her enticing client sit down before perching on the other seat beside his. “Tell me what you want from this shirt. Colour, material, occasion. The more details, the better.”
He watched her with his dark eyes, his expression frustratingly neutral. Amelia squirmed under his gaze, not used to being on the other side of such a steely critique. Eventually, after what seemed like bells but more likely were ticks, he seemed to deem her acceptable. But Amelia’s question was ignored. “My name Rashat re Ahnatep. I am visiting Lhavit to extend my business clientele. I am a jeweller, you see.”
Amelia almost melted just by listening to him. That accent! That name! That profession!
A jeweller! He worked with jewels! He worked with pretty, beautiful things much like Amelia did. She blinked, realising that Rashat was waiting for her to reply.
“I see.” She slurred, altering her posture to straighten her spine and show her own high upbringing. “I hope you have found Lhavit a pleasurable and beautiful place to visit.”
“It is. Beautiful, indeed.” His stare was unblinking and intoxicating.
Was he talking to Amelia, or about her?