The door opens into a room furnished to look like an old fashioned library, time period ambiguous. Along the walls are mahogany glass-fronted book shelves atop dressers, the frosted glass windows look out over no discernible view, and in the centre of the room, the polished wooden floor is broken up by a huge, threadbare oval rug.
And almost a precise foot from the edge of the rug is another oval, of red velvet rope, lying flat on the floor in a perfect mirror of the rug's shape.
On the rug, dead centre to the concentric ovals and the room itself, is a desk, empty except for a leather blotter and a pen and inkwell. There is a chair on either side of the desk, and as Xie enters, Mina Westcott rises from one, coming around to offer a hand.
"Come on in, Mr. Zhao," she says. "Please step over the outer circle, if you please. It's there for both our safety."
She's brushed her hair in the short time since seeing him, and touched up her eyeliner. It must have been quick work, if she hadn't used magic to do it.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-02-03 03:20 pm (UTC)And almost a precise foot from the edge of the rug is another oval, of red velvet rope, lying flat on the floor in a perfect mirror of the rug's shape.
On the rug, dead centre to the concentric ovals and the room itself, is a desk, empty except for a leather blotter and a pen and inkwell. There is a chair on either side of the desk, and as Xie enters, Mina Westcott rises from one, coming around to offer a hand.
"Come on in, Mr. Zhao," she says. "Please step over the outer circle, if you please. It's there for both our safety."
She's brushed her hair in the short time since seeing him, and touched up her eyeliner. It must have been quick work, if she hadn't used magic to do it.