So many hours in a day are lost to sleep for mortals. Much more was accomplished at night than during the day for Antonio Di Bacci. The woods around his small woodworking shop were silent and dark. A cool breeze rose from the lake that rested down the hill. He could see the reflection of moonlight off the trees when he emerged from the workshop into the night.<br/><br/>The sun would rise soon, he could see. It was always a pity when his time of freedom came to an end and he was unable to emerge from his shop. He made his way to the shed beside his workshop. The shed was, in fact, quite large. A pair of massive doors swung outward to reveal an area of divided rooms. Each room was well built, tightly walled, with a single door allowing entrance. Inside each room, though out of sight, piles of wood were carefully stacked so as to keep them level and perfectly flat.<br/><br/>The milling had been expertly done. Each board was flat and free of divets or blemishes. Each of the rooms inside the shed designated the state of drying the wood was in. For this particular work he needed a pliable, relatively green bit of mahogany. He lit no lamp as he entered the perfect blackness of the room. Even if he couldn't see in the dark, he would know just where every board was. He took up the selection he needed without having to search for it and left, shutting the door behind him.<br/><br/>Inside the workshop, the darkness was as thick as it had been in the shed. He made no pretense of lighting a lamp to see as he placed his selection on the sawhorses, laying it flat. It would be the perfect work for the boy who would be arriving in a few hours.<br/><br/>Antonio left the job set up and waiting, heading to the back of his shop where a massive mahogany knurl sat clamped in place at a table. The shape of the knot was warped and twisted. It was the largest knurl he'd ever come across, and had been working to shape it slowly and meticulously for weeks. It was his deepest joy. He set to work on the knurl, shaving and chiseling with expert precision.<br/><br/>It felt like only minutes later. It couldn't possibly be morning yet. He was in no way emotionally prepared for the noise, confusion and chaos that always accompanied his apprentice. The boy meant well, it was true, but he was awkward and clumsy at best and Antonio had little patience for it. The sting of sunlight announce the opening of the door, but the boy knew to shut it quickly.<br/><br/>"Master Di Bacci," the boy spoke softly behind him, nervous that he would disturb the master craftsman.<br/><br/>"Good morning, Jacob," Antonio spoke in a thick french accent, a product of his youth that he had no interest in losing, but the words were clearly understood, "You've a chair to begin today. You'll start with the curved rails, as they will need to dry for a week. You remember what I told you?"<br/><br/>"Of course, Master," the boy likely nodded, though Antonio did not turn around to look.<br/><br/>"Then set to it, boy..."<br/><br/>There was a sound of shuffling, loud enough to ring in his ears after the peaceful silence of the night, and the boy rushed off to begin clamping and treating the wood for the rails of a rocking chair. He sniffed the air, smelling resin, and nodded slightly; he'd chosen the right bottle. He could hear the sound of the clamp and brush he was using, the sound of the rustling strokes as he began.<br/><br/>"No no no... long strokes, boy. You are not sloshing gruel for the swine. Have a care for your work."<br/><br/>There was a laugh from behind him, accompanied by another sudden burn as the door was opened, and his entire body tightened. She was back. The laugh was impossible to mistake. The Lady Whinston had returned for another attempt to seduce him. He had neither the patience, the control, nor any interest at all in such a thing. Yet time and again, she tried.<br/><br/>"But you didn't even look... how do you know what his strokes were like?"<br/><br/>"I've ears, do I not?" his tone was clipped, but only slightly. He was nothing if not proper. She was, after all, a lady.<br/><br/>"My but you are remarkable, Master Di Bacci."<br/><br/>She shuffled closer. He heard the sound of her dress brushing the wood shavings on the floor. As she came closer, he could smell her. She wore the same pungent rose oil as before, and he found it just as irresistable as before. He set the chisel down gently, careful not to show his sudden tension. He could almost hear the thick, heavy sloshing of blood in her veins. He could feel the warmth of her living body behind him. She was standing very close. The smell of her own scent, beautifully underlying the rose oil she wore, always effected him this way.<br/><br/>Bracing himself, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, knowing they would be turning darker as his blood lust rose. His lips tingled, a sharp point of pressure on the inside of his lips telling him his fangs had extended.<br/><br/>He spoke carefully to mask as much of the lisp as possible. With his fangs extended, speech had always been more of a challenge, "Is there something I can do for you, my Lady?"<br/><br/>He turned around to face her for the first time, careful to keep his fangs from sight. She'd remembered to close the door as she came in, this time. The light of the lamp the boy had lit shone behind her in an aura of warmth and he had to rise and walk away. She had already gone wide-eyed as her gaze met his. She blinked slowly, leaning toward him as if she couldn't help it. He had no personal interest in this bothersome busybody, but if she kept at her attempts with him, she would not like the result. Passing by her, he headed over to check on the boy. He heard her moan softly as he came so near, only to move away. This always happened when he was around people.<br/><br/>"I came to bring you an invitation, Master Di Bacci..." her voice was throaty now.<br/><br/>He halted in his tracks, turning to look at her, resisting a glare. He couldn't speak for fear of showing his fangs, so he simply quirked an eyebrow at her. In response, she moved closer. Too close. Much too close. She extended a pale, slender hand to present a scroll, sealed with wax.<br/><br/>"There is to be a grand masquerade at Marlborough. The master craftsmen in the surrounding lands have planned an exposition for the week prior. First thing tomorrow, we'll be setting off to go and set up shop. You're required as one of the prominent craftsmen in the land. You are certainly the best carpenter I have ever seen. It is time you stop hiding in your shop and make an appearance."<br/><br/>As the lady of the land, her word was law, and he had no choice. He could always pack up and move, but he liked his shop, his lake, his woods. He couldn't leave all of this behind. If he wanted to maintain his position here, and continue to be allowed the freedoms he enjoyed, he had no other option. He took the scroll from her hands with a glower.<br/><br/>She didn't even notice the scroll was gone. Her eyes had locked on his and her expression had gone slack. He sighed. Focusing, he fixed his gaze on hers and began speaking in a soft tone. The boy ignored them, or at least pretended to.<br/><br/>"Thank you, Milady. I shall see to it that I am present for this exposition. You look ill and weary, milady. You needn't have troubled yourself on my account. Pehaps you would be more comfortable if you retired home to rest. After all... you are so very... very tired. Your eyes are heavy, are they not? You want so badly to sleep..."<br/><br/>She blinked heavily, suddenly swaying where she stood, and the spell was broken. He blinked and looked away.<br/><br/>"I... thank you, Master Di Bacci... I'll trust you to make the arrangements in time. We leave in two days." she yawned widely, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.<br/><br/>"Good day, My lady."<br/><br/>She only mumbled as she made her way back to the door. He stepped behind a post to block the sunlight as she left. He glowered and returned to his carving.