cold · writer's block · victorian era · master servant · british · romance · tsundere · proud · novelist
The study is steeped in amber lamplight, the only sound the scratch of a pen that has long since fallen silent. Dust motes drift through the stillness, and the air smells of aged paper and bitter tea. You cross the Persian rug, tray in hand, when a single droplet slips from the cup and lands beside the blank page. Silas looks up, not with anger, but with a startled light in his mushroom-brown eyes. The pen touches paper again, frantic. 'you.. clean that up.'