Unlit Candles

[Elizabeth Bell]

22^nd of Undecimber
Year LV
5.40

Many of the prized Bell cattle had been slaughtered a fortnight prior, a gory task to be completed by Mr. Bell and his only son as the weather began to freeze the toes at night. John Bell claimed that he could tell when the time to slaughter had come by the precise colour of purple his toes exhibited come morning. Many autumns ago, at the same time of year, Elizabeth recalled him saying so to her as she milked a cow; she had ever since had the impression that come autumn, the cows seemed to be begging her with their eyes that she might knit exceptionally warm socks for her father that year.

She did, but apparently John Bell's toes could sense the cold regardless. Now meat had been salted or sold to the butcher and the tallow had been used to make fine candles. The Bell insignia had been gracefully carved into the base of each by the eldest Bell child, and now it was her task to deliver them. Her father was somewhere in the village, supposedly discussing salt prices (and likely doing so at the Nine Wands).

Elizabeth Bell was making her way up the shallow incline that formed the base of Hallow Hill, making her way past the stone Meeting Hall and passing the first graves with reverence. It was nearly Samhain, the day of death, and she almost anticipated a cry of festive jolly from the hollow earth as she passed it, headed for Cleaver's smithy. It was still too early for the sun to show his face, but stars were beginning to blink out and a brighter tinge of blue was creeping into the sky. She shivered and pulled her thick shawl closer around her shoulders, concentrating on the crunching of dry leaves beneath her boots to take her mind from the chill that tinged her cheeks and the tip of her nose pink.

Finally she reached the smithy, and she unfurled one pale hand from her shawl to lay the palm against the cold wooden door. They were wide doors that could be thrown open, much like a barn, but from her experience they were more often closed than open. She hesitated to push her way through, knowing that although it was a place of business, it also served as the home of a young man. After a few moments of quick deliberation, Elizabeth curled her achy fingers into a fist and rapped lightly upon the massive doors. After a moment, she lifted her fist again, ready to knock once more (for the first time had been admittedly very quiet). At the same time, she sought to adjust the bundle of candlesticks that she cradled in her right arm.

Silently, she cursed the darkness and the chill for causing her so much unnecessary worry.

Russian Lullaby - Ella Fitzgerald

[Benjamin Benson]

The darkness was still overwhelming in the early morning hours. The sun had yet to rise and the danger had yet to truly pass…at least that is what Benjamin Benson kept telling himself as he stood at the small window in the loft. The chilled air was filling every part of his body as his eyes watched the far trees. Always searching, always ready. From where he stood he could almost see the place where his father had died…the place where that wolf had sprung out of the trees and killed him. It had been fifteen years since that had happened…nearly sixteen now. It was only two days prior to his day of birth as well as the day of the dead. A shiver seemed to run up his spine at the thought. Even as a man he did not like the idea of sharing his birth neither with a day that worshiped the dead, nor with the day his mother had died. Leaning his head against the cool wooden boards he closed his eyes. How long had it been since he had thought about her? A day? A fortnight? A year? It always seemed he forgot about her…his father was always there, in the back of his mind telling him what to do, feeding his hunger for revenge, but his mother? He had never known her…had never even seen her face. Sure his father used to tell him that her eyes were blue just like his and that she had dark hair, but that had never really helped Benjamin visualize her. She was simply a legend…a thing of myth to Benjamin.

A thumping noise startled Benjamin from his reverie and his wild blue eyes bolted back to the tree line. Where had that noise come from? It was close was it not? He waited…his hand moving over to grab the pistol he’d made especially for the wolf that killed his father. It was the perfect gun, or so he felt it was. The first successful gun he had made, one in which even Gareth Cleaver expressed his praise. As he watched the trees wildly, straining to catch any movements he realized that there was no way he could hear that thumping from the trees. They were too far away for sound to travel that far…at least not that soft thumping noise. It had to have been closer. Benjamin turned on his heels, the pistol still in his hand. If one of those curse’d cats had gotten into the smithy he was going to make sure it never did so again. They were not typical cats…they were far stranger and definitely not of the earth.

Standing tense and stiff for a moment Benjamin listened hard…his ears picking up shuffling outside the smithy. He moved quickly, sure that he was going to catch one of those cats shuffling around outside, snooping if you will. Climbing quickly down the ladder he dropped from the last few rungs and landed with a soft thud on the dirt floor of the smithy, blue eyes quickly revolving around the room before he moved to the door, his hand throwing open the door as the other pulled up the pistol. What he was met with was both surprising and confusing. The pistol dropped back to his side, as he stood looking at a girl…what she was holding he could hardly make out in the wee morning hours, but what he did know was that he had been unprepared for visitation, especially for a woman. All he wore were his trousers and his under tunic, which was certainly not appropriate for company. However, there was little he could do about it now as he immediately looked away from her face. “Apologies Miss Bell,” he half muttered to himself, more than to her. He had recognized her the minute he opened the door…one of the infamous Bells. Benjamin’s mouth seemed to have gone dry suddenly and he was having a hard time doing anything other than looking at his own feet. He had no idea why he would be called upon so early in the morning and yet he could not get himself to speak up and ask why either. He was at an impasse and probably would not do or say anything until she was gone from his sight.

[Elizabeth Bell]

The door was thrown open, and suddenly Elizabeth found herself staring down the barrel of a pistol. She gasped and her heart leapt into her throat, and her raised fist -- which had been poised to knock again just a moment before -- fluttered to cover her gaping mouth. For the seconds following she remained silent, frozen, her wide eyes staring into his over the barrel of the gun. She noticed for the first time that they were a shocking blue; usually, his eyes were averted. In them she saw a fierceness and intensity that she didn't expect in the quiet, solemn Mr. Benson. It frightened her more than a little... and intrigued her.

He lowered the pistol quickly, and with it his eyes. She let out the breath she had been holding, closing her eyes and breathing deep to recover the lost air. She nodded quickly to his murmured apology and dropped a quick curtsy, some of her candles clattering to the ground as she did. She knelt quickly, her hand shuffling about in the pale light of the moon to locate all of the lost goods, though it was shaking. She'd certainly never had a pistol pointed at her before. Maybe that would put the sensation into perspective; she the characters in her tales were always dealing with pistols, but they were much more brave when it came down to it.

"I... it should be my apology, it is early, perhaps I..." She looked up from where she knelt into his lowered eyes, and went silent. He was half dressed. A blush crept to her cheeks. Unsupervised in the darkness with a half-dressed young man. Weakly brandishing a candle (that had been broken in half, either from the fall or her gripping it too tightly), she managed to eek out, "Mr. Cleaver's candles."

Stairs - the Finding Neverland Soundtrack

[Benjamin Benson]

Benjamin shook his head, screaming at himself inside his own mind. Why couldn’t he just be a normal guy and not freak out the only girl he’d had an encounter with in weeks? It was starting to weigh on his conscious. The impenetrable walls he’d built for himself all those years ago were growing ever taller and thicker. There didn’t seem to be anything that could get through to him anymore, so as he stood there he didn’t even bother to look at the girl, let alone help her with the candles. It was like he knew what he should do, but his body was frozen in place at the moment. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to ever move again. It was a wonder the girl hadn’t screamed when she saw the gun pointed at her face.

Even though he couldn’t really move, it didn’t stop him from flickering his glance up and outside the doors every few moments though. Sure it had been Miss Bell at the door that he had heard, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything else out there. At this time of the morning he could almost be sure that there was something out there…just waiting to stalk it’s prey. If it was one of those wolves he’d be ready, but first he’d have to deal with the girl that was kneeling in front of him. From her eye level she could catch his gaze far more easily than any ever had…which made him uncomfortable as he shuffled his feet a bit, shifting his weight back and forth as she picked up the candles that she’d dropped. He would have been more polite and helped her pick them up, but he was just too on edge and the last thing he wanted to do was get any closer to the girl that was there. Especially when he was hardly wearing appropriate attire for the occasion. Again, had he known it was Miss Bell at the door he would have made himself more presentable to her. Not that it must much different than it was at the moment.

A hand came back up to his hair in a nervous manner. She was still on the ground and a part of him wanted to help her collect the candles and then have her leave. However he couldn’t seem to find the words to get rid of her. It wasn’t until he heard the howl from a wolf that he found himself moving and that was only to pull Miss Bell up from the ground. His movements were quick as he pulled her up and shut the door quickly behind her. “Shhh…” Benjamin said as he put a finger to his lips. He leaned his head against the door, his ear pressed to the cold wood as he tried to listen for any noise outside. Sure he knew that wolf’s howl could travel miles, but still it didn’t mean that he wasn’t prepared for anything that would happen. Benjamin believed in always being prepared, no matter what. Cracking the door he looked out, the shadows receding only slightly as the dawn approached, but there was no sign of any wolf. Another blunder on his part.

Turning back to Miss Bell his eyes found the ground once again. “I apologize once more…I have been on edge,” he said softly as he bent down and picked up the few remaining candles that laid on the ground. “Thank you for the candles. I am sure Mister Cleaver will appreciate the promptness of your delivery.” He wasn’t quite ready to open the door and let her leave, afraid the wolves would get to another towns folk. So he moved around her taking the candles to lie on one of the clear countertops that lined the smithy. Mister Cleaver would certainly start putting them to use that very day, so no need in putting them away into a drawer that he might never find. “You are free to stay until the sun rises fully…I can make some tea if you like.”

[Elizabeth Bell]

Elizabeth ran her palm along the gravelly earth, searching for any candles that she had missed. Her pinky touched one and she moved to grab it, but she froze before she could do so. The howl of a wolf... her blood ran cold and she felt all of the muscles in her body begin to grow stiff. She gasped in fright and alarm as she was suddenly jerked upward, a strong arm coming down to grip her shoulders and scoop her off of the ground. She was swung into the smithy head first and stumbled, catching her balance with two hands set firmly on a very cold anvil. The doors slammed behind her.

She was going to swing about, nervousness knotting in her belly as she prepared to firmly reprimand Mr. Benson for manhandling her in such a way. But as she turned, she saw him leaning with his ear to the door, and her resolve disintegrated. He was worried about the wolf howl. She couldn't be angry at him for trying to protect her, could she? Even if the danger was probably quite far off. Then again, who was she to say that it was far off? He was the one that had looked the beast in the eyes and survived... he had lost everything, and at the moment in which he did he had seen what few other humans still breathing had. She wanted to ask him. No one had ever asked him. What did it look like?

Finally he cracked open the door a little and looked out. Apparently what he saw satisfied him, for he sighed and went out, picking up the remaining candles and coming back inside. He closed the door behind him and went about laying down the candles. She followed him to the table and laid out the ones that she had collected. At least two months' supply. Even though she directed her eyes to him, he would not raise his to look back at her. Such a curious, singular man. How could the shy, quiet Mr. Benson be the same man that had just fearlessly brandished a pistol, eyes blazing? Maybe there was more to him than everyone had supposed.

"I would like that. It is quite windy, and it carries a chill." She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders (it had come quite askew), adjusting it, as if to emphasise her point. "My father likes to be prompt." She said, thinking about the man in question drinking in the warmth of the Nine Wands without regard to the hour. Truthfully, he liked to escape his wife's scrutiny, and Olivia didn't have the energy for criticism until at least the eighth hour of the day. "Thank you, Mr. Benson."

Content that he would not raise his eyes to catch her, she openly stared, her face full of thought and curiosity, attention completely focused. He was old enough to go. He hadn't connected with anyone in the village as far as she knew, and though he was quite of an age to marry and her own father had expressed that even Mr. Cleaver was urging the boy to branch out and start his own family, she doubted he had any intention of doing so. So why stay? He would forever be feared, a man who held within him a closer knowledge of death than haunted any of the natives here. The unseen bane that tormented her family and neighbours, he had seen it. He had survived it. And this morning, she had seen something that said that he would gladly seek to survive it again. So how did that person connect with the shy, modest man offering her tea?

"How... how have you been, Mr. Benson? Are things well?" She asked, trying to politely instigate a conversation.

[Benjamin Benson]

Benjamin took note as Miss Bell drew her shawl in closer around her shoulders. She seemed to be chilled, that was at least one thing Benjamin could manage to fix. Moving past her his footsteps carried him to the smelter. Although the embers were still glowing, it wasn’t giving off quite enough heat to keep the cold at bay. Using the bellows he flared the fire to life a bit more, hoping to heat the room at a faster pace so the young woman wouldn’t freeze. Benjamin had forgotten how use to the cold he had gotten. In the beginning it was almost unbearable…the constant chill in his bones, now…well now it was just a numbness. The chill could no longer penetrate to his bones and that was all that mattered to him. Now the next thing to worry about was the tea. Slipping past Miss Bell once again he moved to grab a small misshapen boiling pot. It was used quite regularly and was dinged in more than a few places. As the apprentice to a smithy it became quite obvious how rough things could get over time. Setting it on the hook next to the smelter he added the water, waiting for it to warm so the tea could be brewed.

“I am quite well, thank you,” Benjamin said…though it was quite obvious he was anything but well. There was nervousness to his motions, tenseness to his muscles, and he held himself rigid almost at all times. It was obvious, but Benjamin would never have noticed. He was not the type to pick up on body cues…partly because he had hardly ever looked at someone long enough to know what bodily cues were. Though the way a person shifted in their shoes was something that he did notice…the more one shifted the more nervous they were. It was something he had learned at a young age. Most villagers shifted in their boots around him. They did not trust him, even now, and he did not trust them. The one villager that had never, at any time, shifted uncomfortably in their boots was Master Cleaver and for that Benjamin had been grateful.

During this time he hardly glanced at Miss Bell. He did not know what to say to her, did not quite know how to react. It was very inappropriate to have a lady in the smithy alone, especially at this time of night…with him. There was definitely going to be talk of this…if anyone saw her leave it would be all over the village in the matter of seconds. Things spread like wildfire around the town and the last thing he needed was more animosity and curiosity sent his way. He could do without the rumors. Wiping his hands off on his pants, he finally spoke. “If you wait here I shall return. I am hardly decent and can only be making you uncomfortable for not being more clothed. As such I will return as soon as I have put on something more appropriate for company,” he said in a soft voice, his head bowing to Miss Bell…well as much bowing as he could do with his eyes already looking at the ground. He just knew he needed to put on his clothes. He was not properly dressed and if she was going to stay until sunrise he had better find himself in at least semi-proper dress. Not only was she probably uncomfortable being around him in his undergarments, but also he was uncomfortable standing around in them.

Moving to the ladder, he quickly ascended, not looking back down to where Miss Bell was probably still standing. Once free of her gaze and her presence he took a deep breath, his eyes glancing to the window in the loft. The sun was still hiding behind the hills and the quiet morning air was slowly waking up. It’d be at least another twenty minutes or so before the sun would even be peeking over the ridge, which meant he had to entertain a stranger that long. It was all too much for him, but he would have to put that behind him. There were more important things to do at the moment. One was to get dressed. The other would be to deal with the lady below him.

It was hardly a few minutes before Benjamin began descending the ladder back to the main shop of the smithy. His blue eyes finding the ground almost immediately, instead of seeing if Miss Bell was even still there. “I apologize for my appearance earlier,” he said as he moved to the pan near the smelter. The water was boiling freely now and he quickly moved to grab a couple teacups…worn and dirty, but teacups nonetheless, from a nearby counter. The tealeaves were already scattered in the bottom of the cups so he simply added some water with a ladle before moving back to Miss Bell. “Tea Miss Bell? You are welcome to take a seat…though it might soil your pretty dress.” It was probably the first time Benjamin had ever complimented anyone and he noticed almost immediately. Which meant his already nervous behavior got about ten times worse, so when he reached back to grab his own cup, it tumbled sideways off the counter, scalding his hand with the water.

[Elizabeth Bell]

Elizabeth continued to watch him, absolutely convinced that he was unaware of her staring. She was partly glad of it, but also a bit frustrated. She wanted to see his eyes. Maybe he hid them because that stony look was always there. At the same time she obviously didn't want him to know that she was staring. So perhaps it was better that he didn't look up. She sunk onto a stool beside the table, watching mutely as he ascended the ladder. He was quite a handsome man. She had just seen a handsome man in his undergarments. A blush crept onto her cheeks, but she smiled secretly. Ah, the accidental scandals of youth.

Trying not to remember that he was dressing in a non-separated area just above her, barely out of sight, she turned her back to the ladder and stood, beginning to walk around slowly, taking in the view of the smithy, occasionally reaching out with tentative fingers to stroke over a tool she didn't recognise. When he came down she turned, her hands drawing together in front of her. He still would not look at her.

She followed him to reach past, gripping her own cup in satisfaction. She removed her gloves quickly, stuffing them into an apron pocket, so that she could enjoy the feel of the warm cup in her hands. As she was doing so he complimented her dress, and she smiled, ready to keep politely silent, but then his hand shot out and the scalding water went over his hand. She yelped and reached around, gripping his warm hand in her cold ones to cool it, reaching back to locate a cloth. She sighed in exasperation, trying not to squeeze his wounded hand as she tossed aside one soiled cloth to get to a slightly whiter one.

[Benjamin Benson]

When Benjamin is not making a complete fool out of himself, he is actually quite poised…as long as there isn’t another human being within sight of him. The clumsiness of his own hands astounded him, as did the pain that flared through the skin. It wasn’t the first time he’d burnt himself before and probably not the worst. He had a nice scar on his upper arm from his first attempt in using the smelter, that had been vastly more painful and a far worse burn. However, that didn’t mean the pain wasn’t enough to make him force himself to hold his tongue. All that came to mind were the worst curse words he’d ever heard, but never said. It was hard for him to keep his tongue behind his teeth, even harder for him not to pull his hand back as Miss Bell wrapped her cool hands around it. It wasn’t just the pain that made him want to recoil, but it was the touch. It’d been years since someone had touched him, especially in such a kind manner. Not since he was still a boy.

“I am fine,” he said softly as she reached for a cleaner cloth. It wasn’t all that important to him, the wound would heal one way or another, and it wasn’t as if it wouldn’t. The way she was holding his hand though was making him far more than uncomfortable. Benjamin was a closed off person for a reason. After what had happened to his father, he just didn’t trust people or things. Last thing he wanted was to get close to someone and have him or her die as well. So standing there…so close to someone, and not just anyone, a female for that matter, he had a hard time thinking intelligently. The way her smooth fingers touched his skin was something he’d never experienced before and he was sure that she’d never touched anything that soiled her hands like his did.

Slowly Benjamin brought his gaze up from his hand, catching her eyes. Deep blue eyes were intense and full of something quite unreadable. He wasn’t even sure what it was. It was an odd moment for him. Like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Did he take his hand away and turn away? Did he let her do what she was doing? What was the proper thing to do? Benjamin’s eyes dropped finally from hers, the intensity he’d had in them slowly diminishing. “Thank you…Miss Bell,” he said as he carefully pulled his hand from hers, turning back to pick up the pieces of the cup that had fallen to the ground. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” Once his back was to her he wrapped his good hand around the burnt one, just letting the pain numb his whole hand. He was at a loss now. With his nervous behavior everything was dangerous to him, he was hardly able to stand still anymore. The sun needed to rise…and fast.

[Elizabeth Bell]

Elizabeth dropped the cloth she had grasped onto and made a hissing sound as she drew breath through her teeth. Gods! As she turned back to reassure him, she found that he was already holding a clean cloth, and her eyes met his once again. She froze, overwhelmed -- there it was again. Like a creature was living in his eyes, a phoenix burning it's way back into being after being cruelly smothered. She imagined having such a thing happen inside of a person must be painful. She mouthed a few words, unable to break his gaze, until he himself broke it. His hand slipped out of hers and she felt bereft, unsure. She wanted to know; it was like seeing magic for the first time, ultimately mysterious and... dangerous. It intrigued her.

Still, as he moved away, she made no move to follow him. She could tell from the lack of light that it was still not yet sunrise. She turned away from him again, fumbling about in search of more cups. She found one and looked in the bottom, seeing tea leaves, and not immediately detecting dust. So she blew into it quickly just for measure, using the ladle to pour more water over it. She turned back to him, carefully holding it out.

"No, thank you, I am quite well."

She sighed, trying to fill the awkward silence. What to talk about? "I have become employed." She said, for it was all that her family wanted to talk about. Somehow, she doubted he'd be as interested... but it was something to say, nonetheless. "I am soon to take up residence as housekeeper to Mr. Bray, at Elencastel. I..." She found herself choking on her own words, nervousness knotting her throat. My, my, how awkward it was to converse with a man who would not look at you! "I feel that I will miss the open space of the valley. Elencastel is much closed in, and very dark, but it is quite beautiful inside. Very grand." Was she chattering? Yes. She snapped her mouth shut, sighing in frustration.

[Benjamin Benson]

Meeting her eyes was like watching the harvest moon rise; an awe striking beauty and something that Benjamin knew he should not do. It was too personable and it seemed to frighten her. He wasn’t good with people and he definitely wasn’t good with women. Not that he’d really ever gotten a chance to be this close to one. It’d been a long time since he’d been around a woman on his own; probably since he was a kid and back then he’d been ten times more likely to converse with one. Now, he just wished to be alone…waiting for the day he could destroy the creature that killed his father. Perhaps the reason he preferred to be alone was due to the fact that his mind seemed clouded around women…they always invoked a primal part in him. A part that wished to have a family and to put aside his loneliness. That, however, was impossible. He could never give in to that feeling, the moment he did would be the moment that the creature would return to destroy everything he’d come to love…it was a given, because deep down he knew he was cursed and would be until the creature was dead.

When he’d finally broken eye contact with Miss Bell he felt he could do nothing else but stare into the fire, his back to her for a moment. It was the only way to get a hold of himself. His mind was starting to do things that were neither right, nor appropriate. Benjamin could only hope that the sun would rise faster than it was now. Flexing his burnt hand he felt the flesh pull in certain places, but it wasn’t damaged too much. He’d still be able to work. That was all that mattered to him. Turning at her words, he found her holding out a teacup to him. Taking it from her carefully, with his good hand, he sipped at the tea. The tealeaves were a little older than they should have been, but it was always hard to figure out which bag had the older leaves in it and which one had the newer. Master Cleaver had a habit of not even caring which bag they pulled the leaves from so Benjamin was used to either.

“Thank you,” he said as he sat the cup down on the table, hoping he didn’t make a fool of himself again by dumping this one. He just stood there…staring down at his hand now as the awkward silence filled the air around them. There wasn’t anything he cared to speak about, not really. Yet at the same time he wasn’t quite sure he wanted her to leave. There was a certain comfort in having company even if it was mildly against their will it was still nice. Finally she spoke up, talking about her new employment. It was an odd thing for a woman to be seeking employment…especially for such a mysterious man. Mr. Bray was an odd fellow and one that Benjamin didn’t know very well, but anyone who could live where he did wasn’t quite right. Elencastel was a place of impossible riches and a part of Benjamin was sure it was riches that belonged to other people before being plundered by Bray himself. Okay so maybe that really just the envy in Benjamin to think such a thing. It would be nice not having to worry about having a roof over your head or food in your belly.

Suddenly a thought dawned on Benjamin. “Residence? You will be permanently living with Mr. Bray at Elencastel, then? You will not be returning?” Benjamin asked, his eyes coming up to meet hers again. Why he asked the question he was unsure of, but maybe a part of it was because he’d never had someone try so hard to talk with him…to make him feel apart of the village and it’s people. It was refreshing to say the least, even though he preferred being alone…it was nice to see at least one person not cringe as he walked back, to not take those few steps back if he met their eyes. He was still an outsider to much of the village. Master Cleaver had been the only one to treat him as if he belonged all along, like he had been born here. Except now there was this girl…Miss Bell, a rather beautiful woman who didn’t seem to be afraid of him in the least. “The road between Elencastel and the village is dangerous…he can not expect you to travel it alone? I could escort you when needed.” Benjamin hadn’t really been thinking when he spoke so brashly. There was obviously more than just one reason he wanted to escort her, but he would never tell her that. It was odd for him to speak so though in any manner. He wasn’t one to volunteer himself to escort women anywhere, but he just couldn’t bear to see Miss Bell meet the same fate as his own father had, not when he could help prevent that danger.

[Elizabeth Bell]

Elizabeth sipped at her tea, thinking about the tea at Elencastel. It was divine. This tea was older and not of as fine a quality, but it was familiar. It was the tea of the village, made from local herbs and mixed as it had been for centuries. The comparison was a stark one. The grand, unfamiliar experiences to be had at the castle and the comfortable, common delights of home. Between it all lay the woods, a dark and tangible possibility that each of these experiences may be her last.

He seemed to suddenly jar, and his attention became more focused. She tensed, unsure of what to expect from him. Oddly enough, when he spoke it seemed to be the last thing she was expecting. He said more than she had ever heard him say, and much more confidently. A small smile made its way to her lips; she would have to decline, of course. Mr. Bray had made the offer himself, and though she was absolutely sure that he would only follow through for a few days at the most, she had to respect her acceptance.

Yet... the thought of walking in the woods as early in the day as this, when darkness was still prevalent, was a frightening one. She bit her lower lip, working it between her teeth as she lifted her eyes to the rafters of the smithy. A pale light had begun to settle there; it was dawn, finally. She didn't know if she wanted to go. Being in Mr. Benson's presence was unnerving and awkward, but it was thrilling nonetheless. He was mysterious and exciting, and whatever lurked beneath his shy, distant demeanour was a secret that something deep inside her, tugging insistently, longed to discover.

She finished her tea quickly and set it down upon the counter, so gently that it hardly made a sound. "I should like to accept that offer," She said, her voice just a whisper, though however hard she tried she could not smile. How real the danger was! Her blood seemed to run cold with the possibility of a fresh terror. As if coming from a trance, she lifted her head again and tugged her shawl about her shoulders.

"I should get going. It is light. Thank you very much for the tea, Mr. Benson." She smiled wanly and then, after only a moment's hesitation, headed for the door.

[Benjamin Benson]

A thrill exploded in Benjamin’s chest as she accepted his offer to escort her to Elencastle whenever she needed it. It was the first really brash thing he’d ever done and a part of him was thrilled by it. It was like dropping into a bath after the water chilled itself. It both woke you up and yet made you just want to laugh. This could be Benjamin’s chance to take revenge and to protect the townsfolk. Sure there were lots of wolves in the woods…more so than Benjamin could really count, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and keep them at bay…that he wasn’t going to try to pick them off one by one. It was an extermination to him. He wanted them all gone and he’d do anything in his power to get rid of them, whether that meant traveling into the deepest parts of the woods on his own or escorting a beautiful young woman back and forth through the woods themselves, just praying for one to try to attack them.

Just as his mind truly began to take off into the future and how this offer could help him Miss Bell brought him back from his musings. Her words seemed to take him off guard a little as his eyes flitted upward to the windows that were now showing a warm amber light. The sun was most assuredly rising and the moment was now coming to an end. The morning had been strange to say the least and now it was quickly drawing to an end. At first he thought he should be relieved, but as Miss Bell turned and headed for the door without so much as another word Benjamin found himself wishing he’d been more hospitable, that he had made her want to stay longer. He knew that was impossible…knew that is was more than just inappropriate, but who cared about what was appropriate anymore? Not when there were creatures out there murdering town folk.

“Wait!” Benjamin called quickly before he could lose his nerve. He didn’t move from where he stood, but he caught her gaze. “I have yet to pay you for the candles.” It was probably the worst excuse he could come up with to keep her there for a little while longer. There could have been any number of reasons to call on her, but no he had to come up with the simple excuse of payment. Something that he couldn’t even solve if Master Cleaver hadn’t paid the Bell’s in advance. He just didn’t want to see her go so soon…not when he’d finally found someone that could stand being in the same room with him without fearing him. It was refreshing and it made Benjamin feel just a little more at home with Benevolence, but that didn’t mean there was anything more to his feelings as his gaze dropped once again as the steam that rolled of his tea became far more fascinating than it had been.

[Elizabeth Bell]

Bess turned abruptly as he called out, unsure of what to think. Her gaze met his once more and she recognised the wildness. A thrill shot through her blood. His explanation was swift and half-hearted, and as soon as he had said what he had wanted to, his eyes were again averted. She knew why everyone was afraid of him. She even understood. She was half afraid of him, herself. Yet how could she resist such an enigma? Every time she caught his gaze, her being shuddered as if she were receiving a touch.

"Mr. Cleaver has paid my father already, at the start of the month." Despite the fact that she had nothing more to say, she still hovered unmoving at the door, her eyes moving swiftly over what part of his face was not hidden from her. The silence drew out as long as the morning shadows; the light was all but pouring in now, part golden and part pink. It was fascinating, how quickly the sun could rise when it finally showed a sliver. As if it were impatient, and had waited long enough. Her father would come barrelling in soon, and that would do neither of them any good.

"I will come by on Mercday, then." She said gently, not raising her voice above a hushed murmur. She didn't want to disturb the quiet and stillness that surrounded him. She turned again, pulling open the heavyset door, and took one step out. As an afterthought she turned, and displayed the brightest smile of which she was capable.

"It has been a pleasure talking with you, Mr. Benson. Really. Thank you."

With that she eased her way out of the doorway, closing it quietly behind her. With a heavy sigh she leaned against the closed door, throwing the back of one hand over her eyes. To avoid her tumultuous thoughts, Bess then pressed onward down the road toward the inn to find her father.