The ancient typewriter clacked as Arianta pounded each key with a forceful strike. Had it not been for the need to press down hard on each letter, she would have made much more progress before supper. Her fingers moved with lightning speed when caressing a laptop, but with the Underwood, she relied solely on her index fingers, painstakingly typing out every single word.
Most of what she scribbled down in her notebook that afternoon were vivid descriptions of the setting. Katherine had spent the majority of the morning discussing the character sketches and plot setup while Arianta jotted down notes. She had hoped for a rough storyline to work with before commencing with the typewriter, but Katherine was not one for spoiling the ending. Although she may have the entire plot mapped out in her mind, Katherine remained tight-lipped on anything past the upcoming day's work.
All that she knew for certain was that she would be ghost-writing the next book in a running series, where the protagonist from the previous books was on the run from the law and had established a hideaway in a country town, much like their current location. The protagonist had assumed a new identity to blend in with the locals but had an ominous secret. She enticed unsuspecting women from the local village to the farm, where she seduced them before devouring them for dinner. No further knowledge beyond that. She had no idea whether or not the protagonist would be captured by the authorities, making it the final installment of the series, or if she was supposed to set up for a cliffhanger. Despite her repeated inquiries throughout the day, all of Arianta's questions about the plot remained unanswered.
The deliberate strikes of the keys caused Arianta to lose track of time, each letter requiring herculean effort. It was a vastly different method of creation than her usual, where she was often lost in a stream of consciousness with words flowing effortlessly through her fingers.
Suddenly, the door behind Arianta creaked open. She glanced over her shoulder to find Katherine entering the room, sauntering toward her and the desk. As Katherine approached, Arianta's eyes darted to the desk beside her, where a few sheets of paper lay completed next to the typewriter. Another sheet was still inserted in the machine, bearing evidence of her work. Katherine's presence was both apprehensive and hopeful. On one hand, she knew that the author had a wealth of knowledge and experience to offer; that her feedback and criticism could help shape Arianta's work into something truly exceptional. On the other, she also knew that Katherine would likely be harsh and unforgiving in her criticism, and that her high standards would not easily be met.
The paper in the machine read T h e o p p r e
As Katherine leaned in close, her breath warm on Arianta's neck, she read from the page with a hint of curiosity in her voice. “The oppressive...?” she questioned the unfinished word. The sheer closeness of Katherine's proximity caused her heart to race in a way that it hadn't in a long while. Her eyes fixed on the plumpness of the her lips as they formed each word. In a moment of instinctive mimicry, Arianta found herself subtly opening her own mouth as if to catch the next word on her own tongue.
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