We returned to the living room, where the soft glow of the fireplace cast flickering shadows on the walls. I settled back into the comfortable armchair while Xier gracefully lowered herself onto the couch across from me, folding her legs beneath her with practiced ease. Her amber eyes still held that quiet intensity, as though she were constantly evaluating, weighing every word spoken.
For a moment, silence stretched between us, though it didn't feel awkward. It was more like the stillness before a story truly begins. I cleared my throat, feeling the need to break the quiet.
"So… this place is incredible," I offered sincerely. "You've done a fantastic job keeping it so organized—and creative."
Her lips curled into a faint smile, though something about it seemed… guarded. "Thank you. I like keeping things… balanced."
I nodded slowly, still curious about the workshop filled with artistic creations. "You're obviously talented. Do you… make a living through art?"
Her expression softened, as if I'd touched on something familiar, perhaps even personal. "In a way." She gestured toward the shelves filled with books and journals. "I'm a writer… mostly."
"A writer?" I echoed, intrigued. "What kind of stories do you write?"
"Fantasy and botanical fiction," she replied smoothly, her voice carrying an almost melodic rhythm. "I like giving life to things most people overlook—plants, flowers… even forgotten places."
I leaned forward, genuinely fascinated. "That's… unique. Sounds like your stories must be beautiful."
Her eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "I try."
I hesitated for a moment before asking, "And the workshop? It looked like more than just storage."
Her gaze lingered on me, thoughtful but unreadable. "It's… a creative space," she admitted. "Sometimes words aren't enough."
There was something about the way she said it that stirred my curiosity even more. Before I could press further, she gracefully rose from the couch.
"Would you like some tea?" she offered, her voice as light as the wind rustling through leaves. "We can continue this… conversation."
I nodded, still trying to piece together the puzzle that was Xier. As she disappeared into the kitchen, her presence lingered like the delicate scent of lavender that perfumed the air.
...
Curiosity tugged at me as Xier disappeared into the kitchen, her soft steps fading into the quiet hum of the house. Something about her intrigued me—her calm, measured tone, the way her eyes seemed to see more than what was in front of her. And then there was the workshop. Those delicate wooden carvings and intricate art pieces… she was clearly more than just a writer.
Before I could think better of it, my feet moved on their own. I stood, hesitating for a moment before silently following her toward the kitchen. Maybe I just wanted to see more of the house—or maybe I wanted to understand her a little better.
The warm glow from the kitchen spilled into the hallway, drawing me forward. I stepped closer, the faint scent of lavender mingling with something herbal and earthy, almost like fresh-cut flowers. The air was warmer here, cozier.
As I approached, I heard the gentle clink of porcelain. She must've been preparing the tea she'd offered earlier. The familiarity of the sound grounded me, making the moment feel less intrusive. At least, that's what I told myself.
Peeking around the corner, I saw her standing by a vintage kettle on the stove. Her back was to me, her long, flowing hair cascading down her shoulders like molten gold in the soft kitchen light. She moved with a practiced grace, reaching for a glass jar filled with dried herbs. There was something mesmerizing about the precision of her movements—calm, deliberate, and almost ritualistic.
Before I could stop myself, I stepped into the kitchen.
The soft creak of the wooden floor betrayed me.
She froze, her shoulders tensing for the briefest moment before she spun around, her eyes wide with surprise.
I raised my hands instinctively, palms up in surrender. "I—I'm sorry! I didn't mean to… sneak up on you."
Her expression shifted from shock to something unreadable, though the intensity in her amber eyes remained. "You… startled me," she said slowly, her voice still calm but guarded now.
"I was just… curious," I admitted awkwardly. "The house is… well, amazing. I couldn't help but… look around."
She regarded me carefully, as though deciding whether to be amused or annoyed. After a beat, her lips quirked into a faint, almost reluctant smile.
"You could've just waited," she said, voice softening ever so slightly. "The tea's almost ready."
I nodded sheepishly, stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets. "I guess… I'm not used to being a guest."
For a moment, something flickered in her gaze—something deeper, more thoughtful—but she turned back to the kettle without a word, resuming her delicate preparations.
I lingered by the kitchen entrance, still feeling the lingering heat of her gaze even though she was no longer looking at me.
...
We sat across from each other at the small wooden kitchen table, a delicate porcelain teapot resting between us. The scent of lavender and chamomile drifted from the steaming cups she'd placed in front of me. I wrapped my hands around the warm cup, letting the soothing heat calm my still-racing nerves.
Xier moved with fluid grace, settling into her chair with effortless elegance. Her amber eyes met mine, calm but still unreadable, as though she were assessing not just my words but something deeper within me.
"So," she began, her voice smooth as silk, "you're looking for a place long-term?"
I nodded, still holding the warm cup between my hands. "Yes… at least a year, if possible."
She tilted her head slightly, her long hair catching the soft kitchen light. "And you're… a carpenter, right? That's what your email said."
"Yes," I confirmed. "I build custom furniture, mostly. I'm taking an advanced woodworking course in the city… that's why I'm here."
Her expression softened just a little, as though something about my answer satisfied her. "That's… practical. And creative."
"Thanks," I replied with a sheepish smile. "It's more than a job—it's kind of a passion."
She nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the edge of her cup thoughtfully. After a brief pause, she set her tea down, her gaze locking onto mine.
"The rent," she said carefully, "would be… $150 per week."
My eyes widened slightly. It was well within my budget—and honestly, lower than I'd expected for a place this beautiful. "That's… more than fair. Are you sure?"
A faint, knowing smile played at the corners of her lips. "I'm sure."
I hesitated, still unsure if there was some hidden catch. "And… utilities?"
"Included," she answered smoothly. "As long as you respect the house and… maintain certain boundaries."
"Boundaries?" I echoed cautiously.
Her eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "We'll… discuss details later, if you choose to stay."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Her gaze remained steady but unreadable, leaving me both intrigued and a little wary. Despite the mystery surrounding her, I couldn't deny how much I wanted this place—a chance to start fresh, surrounded by inspiration and… perhaps something more.
"I think… I'd like to stay," I said, my voice steady.
Her smile widened ever so slightly. "Good."