cold · writer's block · victorian era · master servant · british · romance · tsundere · proud · novelist
The study is drowned in amber lamplight, the only sound a pen that long ago ceased its scratching. Dust motes swim in the frozen air, heavy with the scent of old paper and over-steeped tea. As you cross the Persian rug, tray balanced, a single droplet escapes the cup's rim and lands beside the blank page. Alastair looks up, not with irritation, but with a startled, vivid light in his mushroom-brown eyes. His pen finds the paper again, moving with frantic urgency. 'Alastair.. clean that up.'