He’s been working mostly in secret in his weaving room. The doors closed, not even a hint of music playing to keep him occupied. He told me this morning that he had a big project in mind and that it would require his attention without interruptions. I’ve had days like this, I understood him without a problem and I saw no issue with that. We shared breakfast and then he went into his room and he closed the doors, he opened it again moments later and carefully booted Astra out. I had no idea how she might have made it into his room since he always keeps the door closed, I figured she sneaked in somehow.

I kept myself occupied. I played with the cats for a while, then I went up to the garden to clear up the area, to make it as pretty as I can at this time of the year. Despite the lamps and the temperature the whole place is kept in, the effects of autumn are visible in some of the plants but only in very few. The twins had asked about bringing their friends here for a visit and things just had tumbled out of their control, it hadn’t happened yet. I didn’t want them to bring him in if the colours couldn’t be properly appreciated. Not that I don’t always go out of my way to care for the garden as a whole.

When lunch came around and he didn’t come out of his room, I left him be. I understood the working process behind a big project. I didn’t want to be bothered during mine and I paused when hunger really reared its head. So I prepared him some food, wrapped it up and left it in a spot that was visible for him. I knew that if he really did get hungry, he’d come out of his room and come eat.

I could only assume that weaving was not unlike drawing art when you can’t bring yourself to stop in the middle of it because it looks off and you can’t be sure of where to start in again when you get back to it. I’m that way with my books, I hate stopping in the middle of a paragraph, even if it’s the end of the page so I have to at least finish that particular section.

He didn’t come out for lunch or during the afternoon. I wanted to believe he might have had some snacks with him in his room else he was going to wolf down whatever food I would be preparing for dinner and that is less than healthy.

By the time late afternoon rolled about, I heard the telltale click of his door being opened. The first sound I then heard as he stepped out was his stomach reminding him loudly that he most likely had not eaten in too many hours and I let him be. He walked towards the kitchen, unwrapped the food I had left out for him and he sat down to eat.

I looked in on him a moment and, noticing me, he smiled at me, offering a nod that I took as an invitation. I’ve never been around him while he weaved so I don’t know how he gets or how he might react to disturbances so I made it something of a job to let him have all the room he might just need. That’s how I go about these things.

I sat down next to me and he flexed his fingers lightly, carefully. I know that for a weaver, the fingers and hands are more than likely the most important thing they have so I know he’s careful with them and I do my best to be careful about them too whenever they’re near me.

“I’m almost done.” I nodded, mostly to myself, letting him decide what he felt like telling me or not. “If I continue to work on it, it will more than likely take me all night so I’ll pause. The main piece is done and complete, I just have the layers left to do and those will be easier but they take more focus.”

When he had mentioned big project, I hadn’t really expected for it to take more than one day, then again, it’s the first time he’s really done something like this so I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised.

“Do you want to see?” his question startled me. I hadn’t expected him to want me to see any of it until he was completely done. I wasn’t sure what to think. Would I be able to tell him what I thought of the piece so far or was it better that I keep all thoughts to myself? I frowned, letting myself drift off into my thoughts for a few moments. He nudged my shoulder and I blinked at him, surprised, as if I’d forgotten he was there and in a way I think I had.

“I’d love to but I’m just not sure if I should. I mean, do you want me to look at it and tell you what I think or are you just showing me to show me?” He tilted his head to the side, seeming to be studying those words as if to really make sure of the answer he was about to give me. He shrugged, chuckling softly.

“I don’t mind showing you so that you can tell me what you think about it, Yael. It’s a work in progress, I might not be happy if I have to start it all over and I might not start it all over but I can take criticism if that’s what it is.” That was as good an answer as any. I still didn’t know if I wanted to see whatever he was working on before he was done with it though.

Eventually, I did not and he smiled, oh he smiled and it could have lit the whole room. I’d picked the right answer. With his plate emptied, he pushed it away and I told myself to wash it up and put it away when we were done. He walked me to his weaving room and he told me to close my eyes. I stepped inside carefully, letting him lead me where he was wanting me. He made sure there were no cats inside and told me to open my eyes, so I did.

I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. There was a lot of it is all I could really see. It was sheer, a soft silvery tone though it had a sort of green shimmer to it. I didn’t dare to reach out and touch it, as if my touch would destroy the beauty of what I was seeing.

“Quentin that’s absolutely gorgeous.” It was, I still didn’t know what it was but it was absolutely gorgeous, it was grand. “I wish I had your talent for this. I bet if I tried to learn to weave, I’d be way down at the bottom of the ladder in a beginner’s class and you wouldn’t even be in advanced, you’d probably be teaching it. You’re the weaving master.”

He blinked at me before he was rolling his eyes though the motion was born of a need to fight the blush that was settling to his cheeks. I was glad to know I could still manage to get him to blush. “I got the idea from Eoghan’s bedroom. The have this sort of curtain all around their bed and we have the four poles on ours but nothing to really set on them. So I thought this would do. There are going to be a few different layers and it’ll be mostly just draped. My only worry is about the cats but we’ll take care of that when we get there.”

I was still awed, settled in silence, staring at the shimmering beauty of the cloth carefully settled there. I really had no words.


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