Jul 22, 2019
@gildedmercy
hey! don't think we've met, names Demi.
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@gildedmercy
hey! don't think we've met, names Demi.
gildedmercy replied to your post: I’m thirsty, and the only thing that can sustain...
It’s a potion!
Oh well, bottoms up.
Finally, my bookshelves that I’ve worked so hard to regain have come into the admiration they deserve. And not just from myself!
Comet!
What’s your big dream?
well i am not exactly what youd call a dreamer but i do wanna help people with things, thats my dream
gildedmercy replied to your post: Lawless isn’t… Moralless? Without morals.
Amoral?
Yeah! There we go.
Ah, but I am old.
gildedmercy replied to your post “gildedgreen replied to your post “gildedgreen replied to your post: ...”
And here I was thinking you got yourself a nice haircut or something along those lines. Well! I’m glad to see you were safe, mister stoic mystery keeper! And that you did, in fact, have fun.
You really think I would have fun getting a haircut?
Thud.
Archie startles slightly at the sound, having been quite submerged in a book beforehand. A candle burns on the small table beside their chair, illuminating the room in a soft light, and they look over to where Mary-Beth is sitting across from them in a chair of her own: quilt over her lap and head tilted against her shoulder. She’s fallen asleep, the book held carefully in her hands having finally slipped from her hold.
They can’t help but smile at the sight for a moment, her gentle features highlighted by the warm glow of their candle, her hair tousled from her evening walk with Oliver. She looks peaceful.
But they stand soon after, setting their own book aside quietly, and try to be as silent as possible while coming nearer to her. As gently as they can, they scoop her up from the chair, one arm behind her back, and the other under her knees to cradle her comfortably against their chest. It’s a little difficult to maneuver her with the quilt still folded a little awkwardly over her lap, but they do their best, and manage to lay her down in bed without disturbing her too much. They shift the quilts over her, tucking her in, and leaning down to kiss her forehead sweetly before they leave, but keeping the door open a crack for Oliver to come and go as he pleases from his usual spots.
Returning to the parlour room, they crouch to pick up her book, splayed pages-down against the floor. They hope that it was lucky enough to fall at her last place in the story, and chew at their lip a little before wandering to their desk in the corner. They take a pen and a small scrap of paper, and write her a little note of their own, placing it between the pages with a little peeking out at the top to mark her place, and setting the book back into her chair for the next day.
It reads, “From now on, always. xo”