Orpheus thought she would be averse to the next part as he began to twine string around the centre of the leg bone of a bird so it could dangle down, but she didn’t hesitate at all to reach into the jar and do the same.
He was pleased that she didn’t flinch when he reached over to take it from her, nodding his head as he inspected her work.
“Perfect, this will do just as good as my own.”
The sharp angles of her eyes softened while the edges of her lips curled just a little.
“Well, you’re a good teacher, I guess.” She wiped her hands on her dress. “You must have shown your other offerings many times.”
He twisted his head. “Not at all. You are the first who has wanted to learn.”
“What, really?” Her eyes grew wide before they shot down to what she had made. “It looked so easy to do, though.”
Orpheus refused to answer.
His other offerings had remained in the bedroom he’d shown her the previous day, generally refusing to leave it unless it was to be bathed or to eat. He thought if they had lived long enough, they may have ventured the house or its surrounding yard, but there had never been enough time.
For reasons unknown to him, whenever they came to Veil and saw his home, their fear had always grown. Either he’d react to it, and they never made it inside, or they’d suppress it enough and find a way to escape. He’d boarded the window in her room for that reason alone after the second time one of them had climbed through it and ran away.
He also didn’t react well when they refused to leave their bedroom, growing angrier and angrier by the day. He brought them here to ease his loneliness, not deepen it, and it always created an ache in him to know there was something there that obviously hated him.
They’d offered themselves to him, but they must not have understood the reality of it until they came here with him.
Reia, however, was the first to be this relaxed even only after a few days of being with him. Was the first he’d taken outside while he carved his salt circle, was the first that had allowed him to carry her here, was the first to ask to learn how to make the protection trinkets.
She is the first to smile at me.
Will she be different? Not much made Orpheus afraid, but he feared becoming attached to her.
He was tired of growing attached to his offerings for them to only leave him one way or another.
When he didn’t answer, she shrugged and went over to the cooking hearth to stab a knife into the vegetables. Happy with them, she took the pot away from the fire and began to do something inside it, perhaps crush some of the softer vegetables, but he wasn’t sure from his placement.
Orpheus grabbed the trinket she’d made and stared at it with a swirl of emotion weighing heavily in his chest. He didn’t want to use it. He wanted to keep it as a token from her.
She made me something.
He closed his hand around it before gently pushing it into his pocket, planning on finding a way to preserve it well enough that it didn’t decay completely, and he could hang it in his private room. He’d make another when she was asleep to replace it.
Reia used a wooden ladle to scoop her liquid meal into a bowl and then placed it onto the table. She had to climb the chair because it was elevated enough to be able to reach the table, and she had to kneel in it so she could eat comfortably.
“You are going to eat here?”
She paused as she was blowing away the steam from a spoonful of food as a frown creased her brows.
“Where else would I eat?”
His head turned in the direction of her sleeping room, used to most of those in past taking their food to it rather than sit here with him. Not all, but most, and those that did usually looked uncomfortable whereas her shoulders lacked any tension.
“Would you prefer if I eat somewhere else?”
“No.” He shook his head, nearly wincing when it rattled since he knew the humans were uncomfortable of the sound. She didn’t seem to care. “You are welcome to eat your meals wherever you like.”
“Even outside?” Her voice turned higher pitched, almost hopeful.
“Why would you want to eat outside?”
The forest was gloomy. He didn’t understand why she’d want to look at it for a long period of time.
“I didn’t think the sun ever reached the ground in the Veil, but I saw that it would wash over the garden throughout midday.”
“You are correct.”
“Well, I thought it might be nice if I could sit in it each day then.” Her lips turned pouty as she grumbled, “But I’ll miss having eggs for breakfast, though.”