almost_knightly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
almost_knightly) wrote2011-07-13 02:42 am
almost_knightly) wrote2011-07-13 02:42 am
Entry tags:
Photo album spread out on my bedroom floor...
There was nothing remarkable about the day when Break got up this morning. There was nothing remarkable lying in wait in his bathroom, and nothing remarkable between himself and the kitchen, and nothing remarkable between the kitchen and the library.
The library, however, held something new today. It was lurking on the bottom shelf, easily missed but for Break's habit of crawling around on the floor -- a large binder, sedate red leather and several inches wide.
Break knows that binder.
Fingers shaking, he snatches it up out of the shelf. He fumbles it, and it falls open, and the first thing he sees is Faneuil Hall at Christmas, covered in snow. Below that is a photograph of Shelly, his own Shelly, dressed in winter clothes and laughing with Sharon when she was still small, and there's his ponytail in the photograph next to it because no one could ever get him to look at the camera that first year and he's seen these pictures a thousand times --
He slams the book shut, suddenly unable to look. A cruel gift, in a way; there are days that he wonders if he'll ever see this place and these people again. But on the other hand, now -- now he can show people, he can let them see things he's only described. It's as precious as it is mean.
Gathering the photo album up close to his chest and clutching it as though he's afraid it'll vanish, Break leaves the library, in search of some of the people he trusts most.
[ooc: Locked to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hadengineered, retraced, of_murder, standstilltime, smallkindnesses, info_barma]
The library, however, held something new today. It was lurking on the bottom shelf, easily missed but for Break's habit of crawling around on the floor -- a large binder, sedate red leather and several inches wide.
Break knows that binder.
Fingers shaking, he snatches it up out of the shelf. He fumbles it, and it falls open, and the first thing he sees is Faneuil Hall at Christmas, covered in snow. Below that is a photograph of Shelly, his own Shelly, dressed in winter clothes and laughing with Sharon when she was still small, and there's his ponytail in the photograph next to it because no one could ever get him to look at the camera that first year and he's seen these pictures a thousand times --
He slams the book shut, suddenly unable to look. A cruel gift, in a way; there are days that he wonders if he'll ever see this place and these people again. But on the other hand, now -- now he can show people, he can let them see things he's only described. It's as precious as it is mean.
Gathering the photo album up close to his chest and clutching it as though he's afraid it'll vanish, Break leaves the library, in search of some of the people he trusts most.
[ooc: Locked to
hadengineered, retraced, of_murder, standstilltime, smallkindnesses, info_barma]
1/3 I am so (unsure) about this tag
*the hardness has slipped out of his voice a bit, and he slumps down just a little where he's sitting, head leaning back. For a moment, he closes his useless eye.*
You've been here for months; you've seen what sorts of lives we lead. Our world isn't... like yours. Gilbert is--
*a moment of silence again.*
...He spent a decade not knowing whether the most important person in his life was lost to him forever, believing himself a worthless failure as a servant, certainly as a human being. He's blocked out all memories of his childhood, confronting anything related to it can send him into fits. He has a great deal of blood on his hands, quite against his own will, and he hates himself for every death he's caused. He was forced to live with a family that largely hated him; and then he got attached anyway -- and they've been murdered to a man. His brother by blood is an enemy to our organization, a murderer, and constantly dashing off into harm's way. His beloved master is in daily danger of dying or kidnapping or being dragged into the Abyss. He barely sleeps or looks after himself and I'm quite convinced he has never in his life learned how to do something for fun. Madness and death are no more than two steps behind him at any time...