Work Text:
The pages had never looked so quiet.
He looked at the books hesitantly, watching for the slightest sign from one of them. Usually, the differences were not observed, of course - they happened, he knew instantly, and it was up to him to pick the right book, open to the right page, and travel to the source of the conflict.
Rarely a day went by without several of these events occurring, sometimes even simultaneously. His life was like this, divided between the moments when he didn't know where to put his head and the brief moments of peace.
But this time, nothing.
Flat calm.
The reality of his thoughts seemed to strike the place, to make the branches in their jars quiver. The whole place shuddered for him; he usually avoided darkening his thoughts, to keep the room clear and calm his thoughts, but this time, things were different. He had had to take Lore where he couldn't go, and now he was without news. The calm in the pages should not have worried him, yet he would have liked to have been there, if something was going on with the boy.
He went to lean on the register table. He knew that the child had put his handwriting there, before leaving for the unknown. He also knew that Lore had taken the statuette with him for comfort, and despite his concern, Binder wanted to believe in him. The child had had the faith to go headlong to save Baron, and had trusted him. The old man could do little more than believe in him and stay alert.
Slowly, the colors that had faded came back to settle on the room, bringing back the vividness of the color of apples and books, giving him a new confidence. This was also why he tried to keep the room free of his bad thoughts; each darker hue darkened his mood even more, and it was an endless circle, which he had learned to avoid. For a moment, Binder looked at the clock, which had stopped on the time of the Artifact. If he had a role to play, he would have to wait for it.
He sighed and went to take care of the books.