'I have fed you poison, by scruple and grain. Now comes the larger dose.'

[poison_pearl]

When I was younger, by several years-before I had but the outline of what my life was to be; when I had held the book of it, observed the bindings and smelled the dry parchment, but not yet seen what words would lie upon the page-the first of my lessons consisted of copying pages of text, from antique volumes, into a leather-bound book. Once

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[octavia_minor]

Octavia's reasoning in going to the doorway, however faulty it may have been, was that anyone in her position would have done the same, upon seeing a building like this where there wasn't previously one. Still, she was cautious as she pushed the door open, calling out "Hello?" as she peered around the edge.

She was fairly certain that the last thing she was expecting was to see Maud sitting at a desk inside, looking what Octavia would describe as distressed. It only took a few seconds for her to hurry inside, not even bothering to glance around at the books that lined the walls as she made her way to the other woman's side. "Maud," she breathed, concern etched on her face. "Maud, what's happened? Are you all right?"

[poison_pearl]

"Do not-" I start, even going so far as to begin to stand, but she is across the finger before I can say aught more, as if there is no line, at all; as if the oppressive, tense atmosphere in the room does not push her back.

As it would not, I suppose, for one who does not know what hangs in the air of this room.

She questions me, and I begin to speak; the words come forth as if I have been stabbed, and they are my blood. "I have never been all right; I have never been given the opportunity nor the capacity to be so. What has happened? What has happened is my past has returned to swallow me up."

[octavia_minor]

The warning hardly even caught Octavia's attention, but as she stood a few feet away listening, the frown on her face only deepened. "I don't understand," she confessed finally, exhaling slowly. "I - I'm sure I've never heard you speak like this before, and -" She had to cut herself off, not even realizing what she was saying until she'd said it, and she took another deep breath, her gaze still fixed on Maud. "They're only books, are they not?"

[poison_pearl]

I laugh, at that; I laugh, and there is some scorn in it, because I am fed up with crying. "They are most certainly more than that. My uncle, whose library this is, he called them poisons, and bred me to the task of tending them, so that I might be immune. Only books, you say? You would do better to ask what kind of books they be."

I stand, in a flurry of skirts, and cross to a shelf. "Let us see. Justine, that seems innocent enough, does it not? Experimental Lecture, perhaps a psychological treatise. The Festival of the Passions or, Voluptuous Miscellany. The Lustful Turk. Now, perhaps, you begin to understand...?"

[1000_cranes]

It was a room, a room all of it's own, and though Charlie had been told all her life not to go prying into other people's business, but it was a room on its own and the door was standing open. With her hair still hanging around her face in damp curls after her swim, she pushed the door open and stuck her head into the room. And saw her friend, saw Maud. She blinked.

She was pretty sure that the blush in her cheeks was going to stay permanent.

"Honey?"

[poison_pearl]

Of course it should be her; who else should it be? Must fate insist on having her witness to my every moment of weakness, as if to make me quite aware of how twisted the course of my life has been?

I speak first to warn her, even now, or perhaps I am simply trying to save myself; I have ever tended to one, more than the other. "You mustn't step over the finger," I say, and swallow, and know not how I will react if she does.

[1000_cranes]

Charlie Andrews had been a good girl all her life, and she stopped on the line, as instructed, her bare toes curling against the brass inset into the floor. She stared at Maud, read the tension in her.

"Okay, darlin', but I wish you wouldn't. What's going on?"

Jesus Christ, her and her damn mouth.

[poison_pearl]

"My past has come back, to haunt me.-No, more than that, it has come back alive, and whole," I say; it is more than I had intended to say, and I do not stop there. "This room, in it are collected poisons; that is why I do not wish you to step over the line. Do so, and you will know what sort of books are these; and in so doing, you will know, too, what sort of creature am I."

I cannot seem to stop the words. It is as if all my capacity for pretense has been stripped from me, leaving me as bare to the world as my hands.-One of which I lift, almost to my mouth, as if the touch of bare flesh will stop my wayward tongue.

A sentence which runs contrary to everything this library contains, of course.

[guardiaknight]

Glenn knew he would have noticed such a structure had it been there prior. It was nothing the building crew would have been able to build, and it was that alone that led him to peek inside, albeit a bit cautiously. What he found was a familiar face staring back at him. While he did not know Maud well, her expression was enough to make him at least feel some concern.

"Lady Maud," he said. "Does something trouble ye?"

[poison_pearl]

"My life troubles me." The words seem to tumble out, as if they had a mind of their own, and that mind was inclined to throw themselves to the world, heedless of what damage they may cause. "My past, troubles me. The fact that though you name me such, circumstance has made of me no kind of lady at all, this troubles me."

[guardiaknight]

The candidacy surprised him, enough he was unsure what to say that would lead her to get more upset.

"Is there perhaps something I can do to aid ye?" he inquired, carefully.

[poison_pearl]

"Can you erase a building from this world?" I ask, frowning and shaking my head, already dismissing the possibility there is the slightest thing I could require of him. "Can you erase it from a woman's past, and thus alter the course of her destiny? You are generous to offer-and surely expecting that my gratitude would be reward in itself, ha!-but unless you can do this, and more besides, then I very much doubt that there is."

[loveasthouwilt]

The building was one I'd never seen before, and so strange to look at from the outside - so small, the windows opaqued by something from the inside, mayhap paint, I couldn't tell - and coupled with its flat roof, the entirety of it made of rich dark wood I was sure had not come from the island, I knew it was not someone's house. What it was I'd not a clue, but in the spirit of my lord Delaunay I thought it bore further investigation. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside and gasped softly, for what I saw was a library not much different from the one I'd spent my adolescent years studying in. A girl stood before the shelves, and I paused in my tracks instantly. "Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude," I said, preparing to back out the way I'd come.

[poison_pearl]

At her current position, her eyes cannot resolve the titles; not lest she has preternatural vision, beyond the knowledge of the oculists my uncle consulted, when he began his grand work.

The knowledge makes me strangely reckless; a mere step or two would carry her past the finger and within the room, but still, I am reckless.

"What did you mean, then?" I ask, my voice sharp-edged with gaiety. "What purpose, beyond intrusion, is there in pushing open a closed door-ajar, admittedly, in this instance; save to step beyond?"

My mouth offers the correction unbidden, on the status of the door; it is a peculiar thing, as if my peculiar resolve has stripped every untruth from my tongue.

[loveasthouwilt]

"I was curious," I said plainly, stung by her accusatory tone but knowing I deserved it. "I had never seen this structure here before, and not thinking it to be someone's home, thought a closer look would do no harm."

I stood still where I was, my trained eyes marking the features of my surroundings; the paint on the windows, the shelves of books just too far away for me to read anything of what they might contain; and most strangely, the finger on the floor not two handspans from my feet. It seemed to beckon, or mayhap to warn; or mayhap both.

"Please forgive me," I said, my eyes cast down, the rapid beat of my pulse calling up the impulse to kneel, to put myself at her feet, abeyante. I quashed it, and folded my hands before me instead.

[poison_pearl]

My reflex is to simply to say that I do not; something in her demeanour seems to pluck at a merciless thread within me. But the thought occurs that in reality there is not overmuch to forgive. This would not normally still my tongue, but I find myself unable to shape the word; that peculiar inability to command my own tongue, again.

I choose another course, instead. "Has no one ever warned you of the perils of curiousity? This room is counted dangerous, by some."

I meant to say, what if this room had been dangerous but my tongue-again, my treachorous tongue-reshapes the words, instills in them honesty.