So she had gone to search for him, this time, she ensured to check every room on his floor. Most were locked and she hoped he wasn't in one of the locked rooms. She hoped she would find him here and not have to go to the floor above, the place that contained all of Eli's precious memories about his family, the place that had been termed forbidden for anyone to go to but her.
Still, she would try her best to avoid the place. He had seemed very displeased when he discovered someone, who was unknown to him, her, had been there without his knowledge.
She wondered if he was still searching for the person or maybe he had already found out it was her and decided to keep quiet about it.
Sometimes, Eli was hard to figure out but he mostly would unravel himself to her if only she could just ask.
That was it.
She was scared to ask, not because she feared that he would do anything to harm her, she knew he wouldn't. She was scared that revealing that might lead to more and more questions that might put their relationship at risk. Even now, she was finding it hard to remember some of the things she had done that day, it kept fading and fading away.
It must be that unimportant, she didn't have to bring it up.
For now, all she had to do, was look for him and sort out the little friction they were having right now. She needless brings in more problems between them.
Losing hope already, Belladonna pressed down the knob of the last room's door.
The first thing she observed was that it wasn't locked, and the second being the dim yellow light that emitted from the room.
Then there was the feathery heat of the lit candles.
The room was in use then.
She pushed the door further and slid into the room.
Eli had his back turned to the door, and the sleeves of his thin red silk nightrobe were rolled back. He had a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, as he swiped it against the canvas on a stand in front of him, painting something she couldn't see from here because his huge body was standing in the way.
The silk was thin to the point that it was almost transparent. If she focused enough, she could see his muscles flex beneath his cloth and she had observed that when she stepped in, his muscles had gone stiff and he had continued his painting with a sort of gentle stiffness.
She shut the door behind her.
Going further into the room, there were canvas everywhere on wooden stands, but it was hard to see what was on any, they were all covered with black cloth, ones that weren't transparent to see through them no matter how hard she focused.
It was so quiet she could hear the dry-wet swipe of the paintbrush against the canvas, as he continued painting.
Moments passed, she tapped her fingers on her thigh, fingering her gown, while she tried hard to come up with smart things to say and lay this uncomfortable tension to an eternal rest.
She could feel its presence between them, straining and taking over the room, the silence not helping their situation.
Her heart raced the more she dived into her thoughts, and she started thinking about anything else but him to calm down.
The floor, it was, well, the floor.
Little paints that stained the floor but there were no build-ups, Eli must be big on cleaning.
Then there was a desk at one side of the room. It had a huge bundle of scrolls all piled up. Maybe it was more of his drawings and her dress, it was one from her sewing crew, they had given it to her as a gift for the ceremony that had just been recently done.
It was a simple off shoulder, knee-length, green gown with silver designs around the waistline.
By Ignas, she couldn't keep doing this!
She came here for a reason, she had to confront him already.
"I am sorry for bringing Lytio up during breakfast."
His stiffness increased and she bit her lips. She wasn't really good at this, most of the time, he was the one apologizing and he had done it smoothly on those occasions. Most of her apologies to him have been made in the moment, fast, quick, but not after having a moment to reflect and not when the thing in focus had nothing to do with 'violating him'.
This was completely different.
She felt at a loss for the way to go about it.
"I don't love him."
He was tense and she wasn't sure if her words were making it better.
"I just felt bad for him, that is all."
He withdrew his brush from the canvas and placed it on the palette, collecting paint, then he started drawing again.
She took a step closer, walking around a stand that was in her way.
"Eli---" she paused, she knew what she wanted to do, but the words to say to convey her thoughts, just weren't coming to her.
He turned and she sucked in a deep breath.
Her mind had been so wrapped up in the apology that she hadn't observed, from his side profile, that he didn't have his mask on. His scales seem to glow under the candlelight, it called to her like a spell and she felt her hand tingle with the need to touch him. He looked back at her with a collected gaze.
He was calm. Very.
The way he was keeping it together made her on edge, but not with fear, she was certain, but of something that she wouldn't usually feel. It wasn't a negative feeling, neither was it particularly pleasant.
"I am sorry." She finally said and she hoped he would understand everything she didn't say from it. But no. She should just blurt it out. She couldn't stay in silence and hope that he would understand, wasn't that what had brought them here in the first place?
"I assure you that my pity does not redeem Lytio, and I would never be able to love another when I already completely love you. I promise not to do anything that will make you doubt it again. I hate to see you hurt."
That was a lot of words, most she didn't think through.
Did he pick it out?
Her reassurance.
Was he feeling better now, at ease?
"Eli?"
Her heart felt tight with suspense.
Could he just speak to her already? Even if it was one of his many words that he used in expressing his emotions. She would take it.
His brows furrowed.
"I have done a lot of thinking."
About what?
Them?
Was he rethinking what they were?
Did he want to get rid of her?
Has he convinced himself that he didn't love her?
"I am not sorry about having the boy's hand severed."
She stared at him and blinked before laughter bubbled from her throat.
That wasn't funny, not the words or what they meant.
But maybe it was how he had said it, or the fact that he had said it.
It was hilarious.
Then he stepped closer and her laughter trailed off, her gaze fixed on him the closer he got, the feeling her anxiousness had suppressed, flooding to the surface. Goosebumps laced her skin and her heart raced. She forced her gaze to remain on his face but her mind was betraying her and replaying all the times she had ever seen his body, the heat, the closeness, and the way she longed for him.
She was overcome with lust, the lust she hoped her eyes weren't betraying her and telling him.
She was pretty certain they weren't. Her control on her emotions was a tight grip and she was sure she wasn't failing in keeping it together.
"I like the way you are looking at me."
Her eyes were betraying her.