A Near Miss
Karen heard the tread of his shoes (boots, likely) as he walked away, but did not truly register it. Instead she was busy cataloging books with her eyes, leaping from spine to spine. Trying to decide which she would prefer to start reading first. It turned out that decision was made for her.
As she looked, she noticed a thick volume - huge, really - bound in graying leather, seemed to be...sliding out from the shelf. She drew closer and as she did the book moved out even further, so much so that she was obliged to grab it before it slid to the ground. She flipped the cover open to read the title page, which stated Three Books of Occult Philosophy, along with an author's information and where the book was sold. Flipping a few pages further, the first book was titled Natural Magic.
I could...just read this, I guess? I mean, I'm in a magical house that wants me to read this so I probably should...?
She glanced back towards the double doors, still wide-open, and thought of the man (man, though? or monster?) who had just left. It was not wise to trust him with this knowledge, she suspected. He may or may not think kindly of magic considering his...condition. But later, later she could read it. That thought firmly lodged in her head, she slid the book back into its place on the shelf, and though she felt a bit foolish doing so she leaned in and whispered, "I'll be back for you later." Neither the room nor the books themselves gave any indication that they had heard her, but she felt better all the same.
Humming softly to herself, she bent down to remove her shoes (better to climb with them off) and left them neatly side-by-side. Screwing a determined look onto her face, she wrapped a hand around the nearest shelf-branch that would lead her to her prize, a red-cloth bound copy of The Arabian Nights' Entertainment that she could see some few feet up.
She began moving quite easily upwards through well-placed hand and footholds, eventually coming to where she could nearly reach the book. There was some noise behind her, she was faintly aware, but all her thoughts were focused on inching out along a branch (surely enough to support my weight) to the very edge, reaching out until just the tips of her fingers brushed against the book's spine.
I just need a little more...
The strain in her arm caused it to shake a bit as she took a swipe, two, three - each attempt getting her a little bit closer to pulling the book out from the shelf. It's not surprising, then, that the following events occurred in rapid succession:
1) Frank said, "What are you doing up there?" and
2) His voice was so close that she was startled and
3) She flinched and twisted, instinctively, and
4) She took flight - only for a moment - and
5) She was no longer flying, she was falling, and
As she scrambled for purchase at something, anything to slow her fall her hands closed around the red spine of The Arabian Nights' Entertainment which of course chose that moment to slide neatly from the shelf. Clutching it, she curled up to brace for the impact when...nothing.
Well, something.
Specifically, the something of landing on - or rather, being caught by - Frank. She had never considered herself delicate, or particularly fragile, but the breath was knocked from her as those big - terribly strong - hands kept her from dashing herself against the floor. As his luck would have it, and probably hers as well, she'd twisted in such a way that he'd caught her like an apple from a tree (apron stretched out, she'd often caught nuts and fruit like that when someone was shaking a tree from above - he must have been a tree shaker at one point, surely).
Karen's arms went around his neck, instinctively clinging before she really realized what she was doing. By the time that thought had a chance to process she was already holding on to him for dear life - with her free hand, anyway.
Like a familiar smell - that green scent that happened just after the first rain in a long dry period, like that - did she know him?
It's possible that she flexed her hand tighter against the bare expanse of his neck, that her nails dug into him a little. He reacted as though that were the case, visibly flinching and quickly extracting himself from her grasp while setting her back down on the floor.
"Oh! I'm sorry! That is, thank you. You startled me!"
Several reactions occurred all at once - apologetic, grateful, angry - and her mouth stumbled around a few different phrases that didn't quite go together. Frank tilted his head to one side and squinted slightly, as though he were having trouble deciding which part of her comments to respond to.
"I got it!"
Get a grip! Don't be weird. Don't be weird.
"The book, I got the book. I'm sorry if I scratched you but thank you for catching me."
She paused for breath, not long enough for him to really respond even if he had a mind to.
"Have you ever read it? It's, ahh...not always appropriate I suppose. But I love how clever Shahrazad is, and it is always so fascinating to read of magic."
Frank smiled and shook his head, slightly, and chuckled.
"I think, yeah, that the one with the crazy king and all the stories - Les Mille et Une Nuits, Contes Arabes? I liked it."
Now it was Karen's turn to cock her head at Frank, as though seeing something bewildering for the first time.
"You speak French?"
A full laugh from him this time.
"Sorta. Not for a while now, but I used to be pretty good. I could probably get around a restaurant in Paris, S'il vous plaît, ne me servent pas des escargots* and that."
I never would have guessed - but that's my fault, isn't it? Judging by appearances.
Karen felt acutely embarrassed, which probably showed on her face (can't so much as blink without my skin getting red, UGH), which in turn led her to blush harder. She bent down to retrieve her shoes, trying to give herself a moment to recover. Standing back up, she noticed that Frank had retrieved a bowl of stew and a piece of bread from wherever he'd set it down and was casting around as if looking for a place to sit. There was a set of massive chairs in one corner, all carved wood and plush fabric, and she gestured towards them with her shoes.
"We could - that is, I could read you a story? You kept me from cracking my skull against the ground, I owe you at least a story."
Frank narrowed his eyes, looking more...appraising? than confused this time. But he shrugged, nodded.
"Sure."
In a few minutes they were both seated (these chairs are so nice, I hope I don't get them too dirty), her shoes back on the floor as she curled her legs under her and began to read aloud.
"In the chronicles of the ancient dynasty of the Sassanidæ, who reigned for about four hundred years..."