Perhaps it wasn't Murielle's finest moment when accidentally mispronouncing a spell had an unconscious Original landing slap-bang in the middle of her home. Though at first this mistake may have seemed horrible, it leads to a whirlwind of a life tha...
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Quicker than she would've thought, a month passed. A month of living with Finn Elliot was surprisingly harmonious. Murielle would easily admit that she'd gotten used to having him around.
He was a swift learner and soon became proficient in the housework, rarely having to bother her about it, despite how foreign some of the modern equipment should be to him. Her days became less hard work with less work to do, and she could take more time to relax. To sit down and quietly read a book.
A pastime that Finn would now join her in. Rather than stay holed up in his room reading, he would travel down to the living room and sit on the opposite sofa to her. He would always smile at her sprawled-out form on the couch with a book held above her, though she suspected he didn't expect nor wish for her to notice this. Hours were passed quietly in this way, with the only sounds being him occasionally asking her about a foreign word or the context clue he required for a passage.
But by the 22nd of March, he had become so fluent in the language that sometimes it was her who sought him out as a walking-talking dictionary.
Life with him felt so... domestic.
Sure, he could be a grump in the mornings and often refused to get up early, but she enjoyed his company. He made her laugh at his commentary on a book he was reading or a film he'd watched; he made her smile at how considerate he could be, like offering to take on all of the work for a day when she was riddled with the worst headache; his reactions were always the sweetest; he never seemed to expect her to do something nice for him, so when she did, his awed surprise was endearing and incredibly cute.
They were in the aforementioned reading situation, where she was contemplating all that had happened in ten days.
His voice broke her out of her reverie, however: "Do you not like the book? I can get you another one if you want; perhaps Lord of the Rings."
She smiled to herself. Those were her favourite books, and he had no doubt seen her pick up the books to reread them often. "Hmmm? Why're you saying that?"
"You've been reading the same sentence for the past fifteen minutes." He smirked at her as she widened her eyes and realised she was still reading about the same step in making eclairs.
Murielle smiled bashfully. "No, I'm just lost in thought, is all."
Her eyes drifted over to the right, away from him, letting Finn know that she was being sucked back in by her mind. "About?"
Snapping back to him, she raised her eyes back to him. Their books both lay down, long since forgotten. "You." She answered honestly.
He raised a teasing eyebrow. "Me? Should I be worried?"
"Yes, very much so. I'm thinking about how you'd make the perfect sacrifice to the Holly King." She deadpanned at him but he didn't grow offended by the obvious playful banter. It was now that he could see how comfortable she had grown around him—once afraid for her life, now actively joking about killing him. It made him ecstatic.
