It was very late at night, just a few moments before sunrise, when Skyler entered Jewell?s villa using the key she had given him.
He?d just returned to town from his little vacation, and his first stop was Jewell?s house. He hadn?t even gone home first. She had been on his mind a lot, and there was something he had to take care of.
Skyler crept through the dark house without making a sound. He was good at creeping. He was good at not wanting to be heard or seen when he didn?t want to be, despite his lack of any magic ability whatsoever.
He ghosted into Jewell?s bedroom and moved to the end of her bed, standing as still as a statue, a shadow among shadows. The only sign that he was standing there at all was the faintest reflection of moonlight on the whites of his eyes.
Skyler gazed down at Jewell. From the look on her face as she slept, Skyler could tell she wasn?t faring too well. She seemed stressed . . . troubled. Some of that might have had to do with him. He knew she was still mad at him. In fact he had no doubt of it. That was why his next little gesture had to be conducted anonymously. He would leave no sweet note, no calling card.
Clutched in his hand were two long-stemmed red roses. They hadn?t been too hard to come by, even though it was November ? thank goodness for florists. He silently plucked the petals off one of the roses, gathering them all into his hand. Then he held his hand above Jewell?s bed, opened it and blew at the pile of rose petals with a silent puff of breath. They took flight, fluttering briefly through the air, sprinkling down onto her sleeping form. The other rose he left intact, and laid it softly on the pillow across from her, so that when she opened her eyes, it would be the first thing she saw in the morning light.
Because he intentionally left no sign that the rose had been delivered by him, he knew this was no sort of apologetic gesture. No, they had much to discuss. She was undoubtedly furious with him, enough so that reconciliation may not even be possible. In fact he was praying that their next meeting would be vitriolic. He wanted her to be screaming mad at him, because he had a few things he wanted to get off his chest, too.
But that was all for later.
He still loved her, despite that she sometimes tried to control him, despite her constant dialogues with Alex, and despite the fact that he knew he was due a harsh tongue -- or maybe even fist -- thrashing for disrespecting one of her friends. The flowers were simply something he sensed Jewell needed, and because he cared for her, he would make this anonymous gesture. Nevermind that they were at odds at the moment. That didn't change the way he felt for her, deep down inside. She seemed so distraught. Flowers were not much, but hopefully they might garner a tiny smile when she awoke. If so, they had served their purpose.
He turned, slipped out of the room and exited the villa as silently as he had entered.
He?d just returned to town from his little vacation, and his first stop was Jewell?s house. He hadn?t even gone home first. She had been on his mind a lot, and there was something he had to take care of.
Skyler crept through the dark house without making a sound. He was good at creeping. He was good at not wanting to be heard or seen when he didn?t want to be, despite his lack of any magic ability whatsoever.
He ghosted into Jewell?s bedroom and moved to the end of her bed, standing as still as a statue, a shadow among shadows. The only sign that he was standing there at all was the faintest reflection of moonlight on the whites of his eyes.
Skyler gazed down at Jewell. From the look on her face as she slept, Skyler could tell she wasn?t faring too well. She seemed stressed . . . troubled. Some of that might have had to do with him. He knew she was still mad at him. In fact he had no doubt of it. That was why his next little gesture had to be conducted anonymously. He would leave no sweet note, no calling card.
Clutched in his hand were two long-stemmed red roses. They hadn?t been too hard to come by, even though it was November ? thank goodness for florists. He silently plucked the petals off one of the roses, gathering them all into his hand. Then he held his hand above Jewell?s bed, opened it and blew at the pile of rose petals with a silent puff of breath. They took flight, fluttering briefly through the air, sprinkling down onto her sleeping form. The other rose he left intact, and laid it softly on the pillow across from her, so that when she opened her eyes, it would be the first thing she saw in the morning light.
Because he intentionally left no sign that the rose had been delivered by him, he knew this was no sort of apologetic gesture. No, they had much to discuss. She was undoubtedly furious with him, enough so that reconciliation may not even be possible. In fact he was praying that their next meeting would be vitriolic. He wanted her to be screaming mad at him, because he had a few things he wanted to get off his chest, too.
But that was all for later.
He still loved her, despite that she sometimes tried to control him, despite her constant dialogues with Alex, and despite the fact that he knew he was due a harsh tongue -- or maybe even fist -- thrashing for disrespecting one of her friends. The flowers were simply something he sensed Jewell needed, and because he cared for her, he would make this anonymous gesture. Nevermind that they were at odds at the moment. That didn't change the way he felt for her, deep down inside. She seemed so distraught. Flowers were not much, but hopefully they might garner a tiny smile when she awoke. If so, they had served their purpose.
He turned, slipped out of the room and exited the villa as silently as he had entered.