Closed Twin Daisies Dance

[Matthew]

Spring, Day 15, 511AV Matthew set off through the streets, blue eyes shimmering with purpose, footsteps quickly and firmly stepping upon the cobblestone on route to the tavern. A quick glance at the horizon told him he was to be right on time, a small and polite gesture that he prided himself on. A few passing nods and polite smiles were given to other people he passed, mostly business-owners shutting down for the night. There were one or two people in rather nice outfits; people he assumed were going to be at the dance as well. While he wasn't much for these sort of social events, he did actually like where this one was going to be held. It was a change of pace, and he did enjoy a nice change of pace. A quick detour to a nearby Florist allowed him to snag a two yellow daisies before the owner closed, one of which went into his coat pocket. Matthew was dressed quite nicely, hair styled and the scent of some sort of musky perfume light in the air around him. A black button-up jacket held his slim frame comfortably, the jacket extending all the way down to his knees. Black shoes had been shined for the event, and the edges of black trousers extended down to his ankles. All in all he looked sharp, though he usually tried to look sharp on a day-to-day basis, not just for special events. Even though the air was warm, there was a certain chill in the sudden breezes that would randomly assault the young man, so he had wrapped a white and black-speckled scarf loosely around his neck. The tavern came into view and Matthew quietly entered, a soft smile and a polite nod given to the occupants. A quick scan of the room showed that Oriah wasn't to be found there, so he quickly turned towards the staircase she had led him up last time. He moved confidently and gracefully, blue eyes glittering in the dim light. Soon he was at their door, and a soft knock was given. He stood patiently, yellow daisy in one hand, other arm folded behind his back. He could look the part of a young noble if he wanted to, that much was apparent. It just felt so stiff and uncomfortable. He glanced down at the daisy in his hand, running his eyes over the various petals. He had thought matching daisies would be a nice touch. It would make them seem more like a matching couple. Hopefully their dancing would give off the same impression. He had practiced every single night since Oriah had first taught him a few simple steps.

[Oriah]

Oriah stood nervously in front of her mirror, fists clenching and unclenching as she warred between waiting for Matthew's inevitable arrival and packing all her things to make a run for the docks. What had she been thinking? Why would she agree to such a thing? She was a desert bred, Tent dwelling, moppy-haired thing of a girl, without even the gift of learning tongues to ease the heaviness of her accent. Would people know her as a fraud? Would they judge her, scorn her?

Then she remembered whom she was about to accompany, and her fears lessened. She owed no one in this city anything, other than the kindly innkeepers and Matthew. He had explicitly emphasized that he chose her for this very reason: that she was different, and therefore interesting. If he was pleased with how the evening progressed, that was all that mattered.

Unruly hair piled atop her head with borrowed pins and eyes adorned with just a hint of shadow and kohl, the Benshira almost couldn't recognize herself. Granted, she hadn't looked into a proper mirror for the entire season she spent at sea, but it was strange to say the least, seeing herself so gussied up.

Serra, the young proprietor of World's End, had been responsible for the touch of cosmetics and a gentle reprimand for all of her complaints. "We're not overdoing it. If anything, we're underdoing it. Now, stop fussing and let me pin up your hair."

It was unnerving, walking around in such finery and pain staking preparation. Nonetheless, she was grateful beyond measure for Serra's help, not wanting to look a fool at such a prestigious event. At the very least, her dress was something of a marvel in the Benshira's eyes. All black silk that ran floor length, with a rather scandalous parting on the side for easier movement and a back cut so low Oriah was half afraid it would fall off when she began to dance.

A few trial runs, however, proved her worries unfounded. If anything, the dress as almost as accommodating as her regular dance wear and far, far more elegant. She spun once before the mirror, unable to help but sigh at how graceful the skirts complemented movement. Matthew, as always, had made the perfect choice.

A series of sharp taps broke the dreamlike silence, almost as if on cue. Oriah jumped, despite the softness with which her partner knocked. Taking a breath to steady her nerves, she smoothed down the front of her dress and went to open the door.

"Evening, Matthew," she beamed. Looking down, she saw the lovely little daisy in his upheld hand. Her smile widened. "For me?"

oocahh, daisies, so clever ^_^

[Matthew]

A nod confirmed her suspicions. "It is. I thought it would help link us together as a pair." He lifted a hand slowly to gently slide it into her hair, Oriah willing, and paused a moment as he took in her hair. He hadn't been part of the process that Serra had happily decided she would partake in, so this was the first time he had been exposed to her work. He peered up at the construct, a bit impressed that it was all holding together. It certainly looked nice, it just looked complicated. He would have to take to Serra at some point and see if she could teach him how to do that. A few ticks more and his hand finished its path, gently slipping the daisy into a place it would easily show itself off. With that, he took a step back, blue eyes slipping down her figure. He certainly wasn't shy. The harlot took his time with his examination, intense stare soaking her in from head to toe. First there was the make-up, which easily brought out her round eyes. Good choice. The dress was an excellent choice as well, easily Matthew's favorite of her entire formal persona. The side slit showed off one of her best assets, her legs, and the cut brought attention to both her toned back and the fit rear of a dancer. He wanted wandering eyes to find her, and the dress was just sultry enough to be considered both classy and attractive all at once. His stare took all of this in very patiently and slowly, looking over her body in an oddly professional manner. He certainly wasn't leering, and would happily look away if she so asked it of him. He did have one minor worry, though. "Will you be able to dance in that dress, with the hair? They both look quite lovely, I just have never experienced either of them myself. Are they sturdy and secure?" He peered back and forth at each, but had a pleased look in his eye. She had been a perfect choice. Quickly unbuttoning his jacket, he revealed a snugly fitted white button-up shirt, with a nice black jacket pulled over it and unbuttoned, something of a semi-formal suit that looked sharp and showed off the fitness of his figure. A red bow tie was a quirky addition, adding a bit of playfulness to the suit, giving the business-like appearance a bit of playfulness. Opening his jacket, he extended it towards Oriah, silently offering to drape it over her shoulders so she could keep warm on the way to the dance. It wasn't horribly bad outside, but the gesture was instinctive. If she didn't want it, it would just be draped over his shoulder. Sensing that there was a bit of nervousness in the air around the Benshira, Matthew tilted his head. "How are you feeling?" Offering her an arm, she would soon be escorted out into the streets and in the direction of the University.

[Oriah]

Oriah smiled at Matthew's answer. Always thinking, planning, two steps ahead of everyone else. The Benshira had never met anyone quite as efficient as the dashing young man now proffering up a golden flower. Daisies--hosts for an array of meanings that included purity, loyalty, and beauty. Such a clever thing it was, choosing this one over all others. Just as he had chosen her dress.

Just as he had chosen her.

Her eyes widened as he slid the flower into her hair and she cast her gaze down, heart fluttering a little as his gentle fingers brushed against her hair and skin. Then he took a step back to admire his handiwork. All of it, with not a detail to be overlooked, as was his custom.

Over the past handful of days, she had grown more accustomed to Matthew's analytical, purely objective brashness. It helped to know that everything he did, he did to better understand. The young man didn't seem the kind of person to over-indulge or succumb to darker depravities; he went as far as he needed, no more and no less. Perhaps this was why she felt neither danger nor conflict within his presence. In a sense, his actions were as pure in thought as hers. Purer, even, perhaps.

Still, it was difficult to stand still beneath his unrelenting scrutiny. If Oriah's traditional dance wear wasn't already as revealing as it was, she might have attempted to make herself seem smaller. But the girl was no amateur and no coward, so she stood stock straight as he assessed her overall assemblage, quelling her anxiety with sheer will.

At last he seemed satisfied. Pleased, even, though he did address the issue of her hair and dress should they begin to dance. "I believe they are," she replied in relief, "I tested a few of our moves and nothing slipped out of place."

Matthew drew yet another surprised look from the Benshira as he unbuttoned his outer jacket and offered to drape it over her bare shoulders. She happily accepted, being as cold intolerant as she was, and could not help but feel a giddy rush of excitement. Never in her life had she ever been dressed so finely or treated to grandly. Oriah felt like one of those fabled princesses of enchanting fairytales in the common tongue. It was surreal, and it was marvelous.

"How are you feeling?" Matthew inquired as he offered her his arm, which she took graciously. With a quick lock of her door the couple made their way down the stairs like a pair of luminescent, black swans. It was an odd situation at best, she mused for the dozenth time, a devout follower of Yahal accompanying an aspiring harlot to a prestigious, formal dance. But Oriah had long since learned to trust her instincts, and the only thing they were signaling to her now was a dream like sort of wonderment and awe.

"A little nervous," she answered, noting how the rest of the tavern stared at them as though they were a pair of walking, talking gemstones gliding past their stupefied expressions.

She beamed as she looked up at her handsome partner. "But I've never felt more thrilled in my life!"

[Matthew]

The girl seemed to be approaching a certain level of excitement, the taste of that overpowering the sensation of nervousness in the air. He wasn't so sure if it was the flower, his presence, or if she had used something else to change her mood. Whatever the case, he was glad that she had settled down in a way. Most women were at their most vibrant in their natural state, and Oriah was no different. A soft and polite smile was given to the girl as she beamed up at him, Matthew giving her a little nod in return. "I am glad you are excited. I was hoping you would enjoy yourself. It would be rude of me to drag you along for personal benefit, and you not to get anything in return. I have things I could offer, but I have found that a lot of people don't take that well to the idea of them." The things that the young man was talking about were probably obvious, and by the look of his face and the tone of his voice, he was dead serious. He would offer it as a bartering chip, and he was confused when people took strangely to his offer. The sun dipped below the horizon, and more and more formally-dressed people took to the streets. They all were heading in the same direction, towards the looming University in the distance. A few of them seemed to know Matthew, tossing him smiles and waves. He returned their smiles with a dazzling one of his own, a far cry from the reserved expression she normally saw on his face. Quite a few took notice of Oriah, waving at her and calling out delighted compliments for her outfit, while more than a few boys took a different sort of notice. A few flirtatious smiles were sent her way, and perhaps in a surprising show, that is when something of a transformation took place in Matthew. It was a far cry from his normal self, but it was something he had practiced and honed. Hopefully Oriah would remember his warning from before, and wouldn't instantly slap him across the face. Long fingers dropped from her own suddenly, slipping down the curves of her side and taking a gentle but firm hold on the slope of her hip. He lightly tugged her, closer into him, his body suddenly seeming to loom an inch or two taller. It was a very subtle change in appearance, though it would seem major to the two of them with how close they were tucked together. The effect or purpose wouldn't seem incredibly obvious until another boy glanced admiringly at Oriah. He would see her, but then his eyes would slide to Matthew, taking the young man into consideration and then realizing that Oriah was claimed. That was the entire purpose. With a small change in the way he held himself and the way he held her, suddenly he projected an aura of ownership. Not in such a way that she became an object of his, but in a way that claimed her as more than a friend. She was his to look at, and the rest of them were merely priviliged. Matthew knew it was a minor adjustment, but from what he could tell it had a major effect. They took their first steps into the University, where more and more people were combining to walk down a particular stone hall. It was an old and majestic place, but this particular dance was to be in a very specific part of the school. Glancing down to Oriah to see how she was doing, he gave her hip a slight squeeze to draw her attention. "Any questions, before I expose you to the masses?"

[Oriah]

Money. That was the first thing that came to Oriah's mind when Matthew spoke of things he could offer but more often than not were rejected. She supposed that made sense; after all, he lived amongst the elite. It would not be very worthwhile to trade for mizas when you already had plenty of it.

Or was it something else?

Perhaps it was his company, the Benshira mused. He was certainly placing great thought and care into their arrangements and how she was treated, and he was good at it, like everything else he exercised. Oriah imagined there wasn't a woman in all of Zeltiva with a drop of femininity in her blood who wouldn't enjoy being treated this way for a night.

Wait a tick...night...Matthew...harlot...

The girl had to keep from smacking her own forehead as she added up the words to the sum of the most obvious truth. He had meant that kind of offer. Why hadn't she realized sooner?

Oriah hunched just a fraction beneath Matthew's jacket, feeling the fabric touch against her back and neck. She knew the answer to her own question. It was marked in the earth brown ink and splayed, elaborate wings of Yahal's favor, stretching across her shoulders like a protective embrace. Unmistakable, and eventually, without the cover of the harlot-to-be's warm clothing, unobscurable.

She didn't assume an offer of that nature because she wasn't supposed to. Or, in this case, was she? It was a tricky business, having to stand at a moral crossroads every few steps of her spiritual journey and choose the right path to tread. But then again, if she didn't face these questions, her quest would be meaningless.

It was made even more confusing when she noticed a growing number of finely dressed people taking to the streets as well, shooting twinkling looks or compliments their way before whispering amongst themselves. When Oriah glanced up at Matthew to gauge his reaction, she was surprised to see him smiling back at acquaintances and admirers alike with unprecedented cheer. It was rather dazzling, and she had to blink a few times to rid the stars from her eyes.

So that was the power of a true socialite.

The Benshira attempted a few good natured smiles of her own, but she was starting to feel uncharacteristically shy amongst so many well dressed, well mannered people. Especially when a few flirtatious gazes or comments were aimed in her direction, from men and women alike. Her mark tingled and she found herself at a loss for how to react. They were neither lewd nor corrupt, but that didn't mean she could allow the attention to get to her head. She had to remain humble and earnest, without the trappings of conceit.

But what if that made her seem stiff and unlikable to the others? What if they were merely being kind and she rebutted their good will with her own ignorance? What should she do? How should she react? The people, the gaiety, the very air around her sang of joyous promises, but the Benshira sensed the discordance of her instincts and her logic waging a furious battle, leaving her floundering in the middle.

In that moment, Oriah did something she almost never allowed herself to fall prey to

She panicked.

Just when it felt as though her composure was about to unravel at the seams, something pulled it all back. Matthew's arm had left her grasp and was now slipping down to hold her at the waist, tucking her close to his side. And while, within any other context and if he were anyone other than Matthew, she might have stuck a Tamo in the offender's kidneys, Oriah felt miraculously comforted by this simple yet telling gesture. For, now that they were in much closer proximity, the flirtatious attention all but disappeared.

A wave of relief washed over her. Perhaps it was because there was a familiarity in his protective pose, not unlike Yahal's own possessive nature. Or perhaps there was simply comfort in feeling the warmth of someone she trusted. Either way, Oriah felt the grip of panic ease around her chest, allowing her to breathe a little easier.

As Matthew gave her a slight squeeze to draw her attention and asked if she had any questions before their debut, the Benshira made up her mind. So long as she stayed by her partner's side and kept his well being on par with her own, there would be nothing she needed to fret over.

"Yes," Oriah answered breathlessly as they stepped into the magnificent structure of the University. It was the grandest thing she'd ever seen and she held nothing back as she oggled every inch of the place, hardly noticing when an attendant whisked away Matthew's jacket to store somewhere safe.

She tore her eyes away from the magnificent scene to ask in earnest, "Will there be food?"

[Matthew]

He had briefly felt Oriah's discomfort, and it had made him question his choice in partners for just a moment. She had originally seemed confident and bubbly, or at least outgoing enough to dive headfirst into something even if she wasn't confident about it. She had seemed to swell in nervousness when walking through the streets though, so much so that Matthew was almost positive he had seen her face go one shade closer to being white. Fortunately enough, the woman seemed to have taken some sort of comfort in his hold. He nearly asked what had just occurred, but just as quickly decided that he probably wouldn't understand at all. By the time they were in the University, she felt like she had when he had first met her. His face turned curious at her question, and he gave a quick nod. "Yes. Are you hungry?" He turned, his hand slipping to the small of her back to guide her along with him, feeling that she may need a bit of direction and gentle nudging to stop her from running into a wall while she stared around. He understanded her marvel, though. The building was gorgeous, and he still felt just a bit of awe at it bubbling deep within his soul each time he came to visit. They moved through the various people that were there, Matthew pausing every now and then to earnestly introduce Oriah to someone new. With each different person he seemed to easily shift into a polite but cheery sort of fellow. Oriah was aware of what he was though, and she might be able to see through him a bit better than others. It was all little subtle things, like the split moment of confusion in his eye when a joke was told, and the way he waited for someone else to laugh before he immediately joined in. He struggled to socialize, and his mind blurred as he tried to take social cues from everyone around him. Humorously enough, they encountered one more pair of admiring eyes, lecherously aimed at the more ample parts of Oriah's form. Matthew was like a hawk spotting prey though, and a cruel one at that. The minute he had seen someone eyeing his date, he immediately acted. He was very well aware of the best way to act in that sort of situation, so acted it out eagerly. The look of admiration on the fellow's face had turned to one of horror as Matthew had directed Oriah and himself straight toward the young man, and then had turned to one of absolute shock and embrassment as Matthew earnestly introduced Oriah and thanked the fellow for noticing how beautiful she looked on this particular night. The man had stammered out some sort of response, but Matthew had already swept Oriah away. Soon they approached a great pair of double doors, held wide open to display the library within. It was a two-tiered beat of a room, gorgeous golden shelves lining the walls, desks and statues dispersed here and there. Glittering strands of sanded and dulled glass had been strung and hung from the edge of the second-floor balcony, spinning in the air and casting lights all around. A band with a variety of instruments had been set up at one end of the simply-decorated library, and quite a few couples milled about as the musicians played a lazy tune. At the entry to the library, there were a couple of well-dressed servants holding trays high. The trays were stacked with cheeses, small bits of sausage and fruits, and little glasses of water and wine. Matthew led her over to the smattering of delicacies, eyeballing them for a moment before glancing over at her. "Feel free to indulge. We can't bring food or drink into the library, but it is fine to nibble and social right here for a little while."

[Oriah]

A tiny cramp was beginning to form in her neck as she soaked in the grandeur all around her like a sponge. It was fortunate Matthew was there to guide her, else she would have surely ended up flat on her face at the foot of the first set of stairs.

"Yes," she replied to his question, trying to restrain the eagerness in her voice. A gurgling of her belly, however, completely undermined her efforts.

It was difficult, tearing her eyes away from the opulence and sheer size of the University, but there were places to go and people to meet. Matthew introduced her to several acquaintances, who all responded with flawless tact, some more so than others. No longer feeling anxious, Oriah greeted them with ample good will. A few raised their eyebrows at her noticeable accent, but everyone seemed unperturbed by her foreignness. It seemed being associated with one of the elite granted her immunity, for a time. She wasn't entirely sure how their demeanors might change once their backs were turned, though, as she had heard her fair share of gossip since arriving in the city.

It wasn't something she wished to dwell on, so the Benshira paid it no more mind. Everything was still laying fresh layers of wonder over her experience. She would not mar it by wasting time on petty affairs.

Seeing Matthew exercise his social prowess was something of a treat, though she noticed on occasion slight hiccups in his mannerisms. Or, perhaps she was just imagining them. Either way, Oriah made an effort to learn from him, complementing his mood and behavior as best she could. Whenever someone's eyes lit at seeing their matching daisies, she would tilt her head a little closer to him and smile just enough to acknowledge the intentional pairing. It was very much like performing, only on a more nuanced, microscopic level. Enjoyable, to an extent, but her hunger was starting to distract her.

One moment, they were bowing out of a brief conversation with an older couple, as graceful as though they moved with one mind. The next, her partner was directing them straight towards a young man who stood with a look of growing horror plastered on his beardless face. A friend? A foe? Oriah hardly had a chance to guess before Matthew introduced her, thanked the man for noticing her beauty, and then waltzed her away to other engagements.

The girl shot a "you kind of deserved it" look at the stammering fellow before grinning toothily at Matthew. "Justice swiftly served. You're good at this."

When they arrived at the renowned Memorial Library, Oriah would have recommenced her gaping and oggling, had the scent and sight of food not stolen all of her attention. It took every ounce of discipline she possessed to wait for Matthew to finish speaking before she nodded her head and practically pounced on the servants. A testament to their own discipline and professionalism that none of them so much as blinked at her predatory gaze.

Cheese of every color, shape and size. Fruits she had never seen before. Little sausages! How delightful. Oohh, and wine. It must be the good kind, in a place like this.

There weren't too many people around, so Oriah snatched up a plate and began slowly but surely piling a small mountain of food. Curses, she paused, the plates are too tiny. The girl looked down the front of her dress. Not a single viable method to store any leftovers.

Oriah stared at her heaping plate in consternation. She couldn't gorge herself now; they still had to dance. But she had gotten too much to politely eat in one sitting and she loathed wasting good food. Ah hah! The Benshira turned to Matthew and beamed. "Shall we share?"

At that moment, a strange sound brushed against her ears. It sounded almost...like a sigh. Oriah turned her head, but there was no one behind them. Only more servants, luxurious carpeting, and the finely carved rails of stairs.

Absently, she chewed on a bit of sausage. Mm, delicious! Her mind returned to the plate in her hands in an instant, strange occurrence entirely forgotten.

Time to try the wine!

[Matthew]

Matthew's face momentarilly warped into an expression of surprise, which was quite a feat considering who he was. Where had the woman found a plate? He was going to interject and let her know that the offered treats were finger-foods, but noticed the look of absolute joy on the young woman's face. Pausing for a short moment as he watched her stack the tray high with meats and cheeses, he eventually made up his mind and swept up beside of her. A peek at the servants revealed that their self control was much higher than his own, not a moment of surprise flashing across their pristine faces. Turning to Oriah, he noticed that she was glancing back and forth between her plate and the dress. Was she thinking what he thought she was thinking? That was not going to be okay. Thankfully, Oriah turned to Matthew and offered him some of the food. He was almost amused by how he seemed to be an afterthought in the process. She had seriously been considering just eating the entire plate herself, had she? He gave a silent and polite nod of acceptance, peering over her selection of food, absentmindedly missing the odd and out-of-place turn of her head. Picking off a few pieces of cheese, he slowly started to nibble, choosing foods that he hoped wouldn't affect his breath. He patiently waited as she ate, making sure not to stare when she put food in her mouth, but did keep an eye on how much wine the young woman consumed. He had a sneaking suspicion that too much of the ruby red liquid would spell bad news for their combined efforts. Something brushed his earlobe and he lifted a hand, scratching at the odd itch. His fingertips brushed something that almost seemed solid, and he turned his head slightly, expecting to see one of the more mischevious young men trying to play some sort of infantile prank on him. Nothing was there. A tad confused, he turned back to Oriah, scratching his ear a few more times before nibbling a bit more at his selection of cheeses. He continued to pick and choose little pieces and things from her tray of nibbles, though completely avoided drinking any of the wine. "Would you like to get right to the dancing, or do you think you would enjoy a tour around the library first? It is a rather large sort of place." His offer come out a bit randomly, but he tried to time it for when she didn't have a mouthful of food. It had been hard to get that timing down. She was inhaling the snacks at a speed that was making some of the patient butlers start to break face. He wondered how she was doing it. Being able to keep your mouth that full without choking was probably a skill he could afford to learn, but he knew just enough about social graces to know he couldn't actually phrase the question that way. He'd have to think of some better way to put it.

[Oriah]

Oriah wolfed down the tasty morsels of food with as much decorum as she could muster. It wasn't much, but it did at least prevent nearby guests from getting up from their seats in outright shock and disgust. Matthew seemed not to mind her behavior too much and nibbled in companionable silence as she ate, maintaining enough outward politeness for both of them. He avoided the wine, though Oriah hardly noticed. It was a sweet red with just enough bite to warm her belly, but not enough to make the room spin. Excellent. Everything was excellent!

The Benshira popped the last half of a fig into her mouth with one hand, empty plate resting in the other. Without hesitance, a servant came by, bowed slightly at the waist, and then whisked her plate away. Gliding around the conspicuous couple, he picked up a napkin to clean off the plate and set it back under one of the wine bottles. A grim little frown formed on his otherwise stony face as some of the other servants smirked behind his back. He, who had been in charge of overseeing the wines, and who had somehow let a foreign woman snatch up one of his flawless china to use as a cheese plate. He was never going to hear the end of it.

At Matthew's sudden question, Oriah washed down the rest of the fig with another sip of delicious wine. She almost smacked her lips in enthusiastic appreciation, but caught herself and sucked them inward instead as another couple drifted by.

"I would enjoy a tour very much," she managed to respond once the others were out of earshot. "And perhaps to walk off some of this food before we dance."

The library was nothing short of breath taking. Oriah had never in her life seen so many books in her life; books of every shape, size, and color lined up within shelves so finely crafted she had ti resist reaching a hand to feel their textures. Her fingers had, after all, only recently touched food.

"Have you been here before?" the girl asked. It was a silly question, she knew, since Matthew was both wealthy and scholarly enough to make such a place his second home. But she was curious to know his relationship with it. What kinds of things did an aspiring harlot enjoy reading in a library such as this?

As they strolled in easy companionship, the library became emptier and emptier. Soon, all the clinks and laughter of the party were muffled by shelf after shelf of dense books. Oriah felt herself shiver and regretted having allowed the servant earlier to whisk away Matthew's warm jacket. But how could it be so chilly indoors? Perhaps a window had been left open?

One of the candles illuminating a wooden reading desk snuffed out.