almost_knightly | Photo album spread out on my bedroom floor...

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[phdr]

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

hadengineered,

retraced,

of_murder,

standstilltime,

smallkindnesses,

info_barma]

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[It's been -- well, rather a glorious week-ish, really, for the elder Break in question. The mansion has finally produced his Liam, and Liam is the same as Liam always is, and has forgiven and even encouraged some of the questionable shenanigans he's been getting up to. Liam is already meeting people, the cats like him, the David Bowie bat-Chain who lives in the bathroom likes him, that diva of an iris likes him. Break has been catching up on all the sleep he hasn't been getting since he arrived, and he hasn't woken up alone once this week, and he's just -- ah! He feels like a lovesick teenager. He's pretty cheerfully disgusted with himself, actually.

Obviously he should go inflict himself on some poor fool. How about Stuffy? Stuffy probably isn't unhappy with him at the moment; he should help get things back to normal.

He never did get to show him the pictures from home, and he'd wanted to very much, so he leaves Liam napping himself and saunters out, armwarmers off so all the world can see his ring. The one on his hand, that is; he still has the other one round his neck. The photo album and an orange kitten are clasped close to his chest; Mordred latched on to his pant leg when he tried to leave, so when Break tracks his younger counterpart down -- oh! There he is -- looks like he gets to meet a kitten, too.]

Oi oi, Stuffy-Xerk! Are we busy~?

[Look, he's even compromising on the name. The cat tacks on a meow right at the end of his greeting. ~~You're not fooling anybody, Stuffy, you know that.~~]

*have a long-suffering pout in return, Dork. You make it so hard to be happy to see you :|*

I suppose I can suffer just Xerx, if you insist. *pausing for emphasis* Just. Xerx.

*sitting up a bit more properly on the couch then, setting down his polishing cloth and reaching over for where he's left the swordcane's sheath. His voice turns rather dry* And if you're about to ask whether I am in the mood to adopt a cat, the answer is no.

Noooooo, no no. This is kitten number two; Gillie brought her to me. Her name is Mordred. [Once the sword is out of the way, he lets the kitten plop onto the couch, and she immediately trundles over to investigate this strange almost-Xerxes and his flapping sleeves omg.] She's a bit of a handful. Didn't want to be left behind when I went out today, I s'pose~

[He makes no comment about the name thing; he will handle that when it comes up again next. This is what you were very much not secretly waiting to interact with today, right? .D ]

I don't believe I've met kitten number one... *faintly he can hear the little feet scrabbling at the upholstery, and then feel the slightest tug on one of his sleeves. For now, he leaves that arm lying limp on the couch with a somewhat tolerant sigh. Speaking dryly*

Well then, what is it that I can do for you today, and are you sure you wouldn't rather ask Liam? I find myself a smidge surprised to see you unglued from his side. *there's no malice to the words, only fairly-good natured teasing. He assumes other-Break is unglued, anyway -- there doesn't seem much chance that that particular Liam would have walked into the room without making himself heard.

~~also please note he is not going to admit he isn't busy until he hears what it is you have in store exactly. :|~~*

Kitten number one is Galahad; Elly gave her to me for me birfday. She doesn't really care much about anyfing so long as she gets food and snuggles -- Mordie, fumbs are not for chewing. [Break plops down next to his counterpart and retrieves the kitten before she manages to sink her teeth into other-Break's flesh, but it takes him a moment to work her tiny claws out of his sleeve when she clings.] You're worse than Xerxie, I swear.

Anyway Liam's napping and he's such an awful insomniac, you know, I never want to disturb him when he does sleep, though he does get ravver hysterically dumb when he goes a few days wivout -- regardless I've got somefin'-a show you. I wanted to a long time ago but I fink you were off sulking somewhere.

[Beeeeam.]

You're sure I wasn't off being deceased? *pout.

"Showing" things, though. Hmm. If other-Break isn't kind enough to give him a few auditory clues, this may well prove to be a problem. And considering the other man specifically sought him out like this, even if he weaseled out of whatever-this-is right now, his older self would probably just come find him again later...

He shakes out his slightly-abused sleeve again, scooting over to make room on the couch with a resigned look.*

I dunno, it can be hard to tell wiv you.

[Pause while Break plays with the kitten for a moment and talks to it in falsetto, asking, "How did so much brat get into such a tiny ball of kitteeeeh~" This is obviously yet another shining example of how elder-Break is not a pansy.]

Right, anyway. [There's a thud as Break smacks something flat with his open palm; the photo album is in his lap.] This is my Shelly's book, and it's got all her favorite photographs from home in it. Now you can see where I come from.

[He sounds immensely pleased.]

*---...oh.

His eye widens a little and automatically, he turns his gaze down toward the noise, staring at a photo album that he very much wishes he could see.

He can only imagine what marvels they might be, these photographs of his other self's. He's been told a little about all the strange technologies of older-Break's home -- most likely, they've built a better camera by now too, surely? Maybe Shelly's book is filled with images captured in color like tiny paintings. Maybe they even move somehow. He wouldn't put anything past the weird world that this one comes from--

But he'll never really know.*

Goodness... where in the world did you find this?

*he raises an eyebrow down toward the book with his best "genuinely interested" expression pasted on his face -- being Xerxes Break, his best is very good indeed -- and resigns himself to somehow trying to bluff his way through this. Because...

Because he can't just tell the truth, of course.

The people here don't know. He doesn't... he doesn't want to do that to anyone else.*

It was in the library one day, just waiting there. On a bottom shelf, even; I could have easily missed it. I got to show Gilbert, and Shelly, and Knave...

[Still utterly oblivious, Break takes right off, opening the book to a random page and sliding it over so that one side is on his own lap and the other is on his counterpart's. The kitten escapes into the younger Break's lap as well, and appears to be contemplating whether his cravat is dangly enough to take a swipe at.]

Ah -- this is in the Boston Common. In the wintertime, they put these strings of lights -- they're electric, right, they run on the same energy the icebox here does -- they put them up in the trees like this. It's one of my favorite parts of the holidays.

*Electric lights... he's seen them before, even if they're far from common. He remembers what the strings of lights in the manor's garden looked like, on that cold St. Bridget's day earlier this year, when he and Gilbert had stood there in the hedge maze together.*

...They're quite nice. *well, that's not a lie. The ones he saw were beautiful. He's sure his counterpart's beloved lights must be the same.*

You go to see them every year...?

*one hand briefly brushes across the page on his side, touching the smooth edges of what he assumes is a photograph; the other reaches down to absently scratch the little cat's head. He seems quiet, a little thoughtful.*

...well. Not anymore, I'm afraid. I can't really -- breave cold air very well, since I was sick. I mean, I can, but once it's cold enough for snow it starts to hurt a bit. I suppose it's just as well there's not much here to go out for, right?

[That last positive statement doesn't really keep the hint of sadness out of his own voice. But it is telling, perhaps, that Break seems to assume he's going to be here for the winter now, still a whole season-and-a-half away; and that, at least, doesn't seem to bother him much.

One finger taps the page next to the photograph his counterpart touched, as he assumes it holds particular interest for him out of the others on the page.]

That's from a play we went to see -- it's called A Christmas Carol, one of our most common holiday stories. That guy there wiv the holly on his head, he's the Ghost of Christmas Present. This story is Shelly's favorite, but I confess, I like How the Grinch Stole Christmas better.

*momentary blink. He hears that note in the other's voice, of course, and his next words are offered in something not quite a tone of reassurance.*

--No, not a great deal that I can recall. Our Yule party was held indoors, of course...

*quiet chuckle* ...And I'm fairly sure I've not heard of either one. Perhaps I shall have to scour the library and see if something miraculously turns up for me. *pausing, scratching his chin a little* --And whatever is a Grinch?

Ohhh, Liam will be so pleased if there's a party and all that. That whole season is his favorite. He takes me home wiv him to see his family every year.

[Break pauses to rescue his younger self from the cat, who has taken it into her little kitten head to attempt to crawl inside one of his overlarge sleeves.]

I'm sure the Grinch will show up at least; anovver book by the same aufor's already here. Basically it's about this crotchety green fuzzy bloke who hates Christmas 'cause it's all obnoxious and noisy, so one year, on the night before he goes around stealing everyone's presents and decorations and all that so they can't have Christmas. But then the Whos -- the villagers he stole it from -- come outside and start singing the same as always even though all their trimmings and trappings are gone. And then he realizes that the holiday means more than just the stuff and the noise, and he gives it all back and joins in on the celebration.

*dryly* I am safe to assume that the existence of crotchety green fuzzy folk in your world is fiction, yes?

*shaking out his sleeve a bit, still pretending to look intently at the pictures. There must be photographs of other-Break's people in here too, mustn't there? Perhaps he's even looking down at one right now, and will just never have a way to know---*

[Chortle.] It's a kids' story, yeah. But I kind of like those best.

[Stuffing the kitten into his vest with a firm order to stay in there, Break flips a few pages, looking for something.]

Ah! Here we go. This is Liam's family. I don't know that your Liam's family is the same, but ah, you'd love my Liam's mum. Every year she meets me at the door and tells me I'm too skinny and hands over this giant plate of cookies right out from the oven. Every year. I don't know how she times it.

*...blink.*

Do you know... I don't believe I have the faintest whether Liam even has his mother anymore. *stroking his chin a little, back to looking thoughtful* Certainly I've never met her.

*pausing with a smirk, then* --But I take it the cookies are good. So you get on well with them, then...?

*hopefully the talking will distract from any oddities his counterpart might otherwise notice as Break glances slowly back and forth, doing his best to look like he's examining both pages.

...Liam's family, hmm. His own Liam has never really talked about them, save for the rare mention of his older brother, who only seems to get brought up when someone else declares Liam not-good-enough in comparison. Break has always gotten the impression that life at the Lunettes household was probably not particularly happy.

This Liam, though--

Hmm.

It really is such a different world, where this Break comes from.*

No? Ohhhh. [Break sounds honestly sad at this; he doesn't even try to hide it.] I can't -- I can't even imagine not knowing Liam's mum, anymore. She's sort of like -- well, you know how cheerful Shelly is when she's got a bit tipsy? Miss Gracie is pretty much like that all the time. She laughs and she knits and she feeds people and she lets me call her "mum". I s'pose you've got to have that sort of personality if you're gonna raise five boys wivout going mad, though.

[That probably answers the question as to whether or not they get on well, but Break smiles and continues all the same, tapping on various photographs around the page to show who is who.

His Liam's household is happy -- and loud and chaotic and beautiful -- and more and more lately, Break would love to recreate that for him.]

Dylan's a bit of a twerp, but he's finally growing out of it now. And Harris has always had a bit of a stick up his arse; Liam used to fight wiv 'im constantly. But even he's getting better now. His girls -- Liam's nieces, here -- they've been good for him. Ovver than them, everybody's brilliant. His dad's so easy-going he liked me from the start just 'cause I speak good French.

*...okay, he has to sit back a little then, pressing a sleeve to his face with a very genuine chuckle*

Pardon me a moment while I try and fail to picture Liam Lunettes as an uncle, my goodness... They sound quite the lovely bunch.

*he remembers what it was like to have a big family, and while thinking back on that time of his life might be painful for a number of other reasons, he still wouldn't give up those memories for the world. He can't help but wish that he could give his own Liam a family like this.

Really, he can't help but feel the same way about a lot of things in his older self's world.*

Oh, mine's fantastic wiv kids. He knows so much random trivia he can keep 'em occupied for hours. He'd be an excellent teacher if he wasn't a programmer, I fink.

[To say nothing of the fact that those kids are the only reason Break ever had any idea he was even the slightest bit adept at handling children at all. But they like him a lot, God knows why.]

They're really great girls, too. The older one couldn't pronounce his name when she was little and still calls him "Uncle Reim" -- EEEEEEEHHH ohmigod! [Break suddenly claps his hands to his cheeks.] The nephew should have been born a few months ago! Ohmigod I have to ask him how they're doing. I've been so busy telling him about this place he hasn't caught me up at home yet~

*don't mind that slight jump as he's startled by the unexpected high-pitched squeal---*

................

*....other self.

You're sitting here carrying around a kitten and squealing about babies.

This face.*

You're making that face like you're wondering how I'm still alive again.

[Said kitten reaches up from his vest, then, and takes a swipe at the ring where it rests on a chain around his neck. It jingles against the chain the watch hangs on.] Mordie, leave that be. [...come to think of it. Why hasn't his counterpart noticed it, yet? Surely he'd still recognize it, even now.]

*he can't guess the jingling is something significant to him at this juncture, so for now he ignores it. If he realized what was on that chain, he'd hope his other self would interpret the lack of mention as a desire not to bring up anything about their failed-not-marriage right at the moment... since he is, in fact, rather sincerely enjoying this conversation.

Save for the current tangent, in which he peeeers over toward where the other's face should be, then shakes his head as he glances away again, slapping a sleeve across his own face.*

Nevermind that... really, I should be long since used to you being yourself by now... *siiiigh* Shall we turn the page?...

Well, if I wasn't meself, I'd prob'ly be you.

[He will let it go, for now -- the ring, anyway. But he suddenly has a suspicion that he doesn't like at all, not one little bit.

This is the second time he's worn this ring in the other's presence, after all, with no reaction on his part. Not even when they were alone together before, and they had spoken of...things, then.

Instead of moving forward in the book, he moves backward, bringing up pictures of pumpkin patches and hanging bats and a whole table full of candied apples.]

My favorite holiday is Halloween; Gillyweed said you've got somefing a bit like it here. [He keeps his tone as cheerful as it was previously, and taps on a photograph of that year's jack-o'-lanterns, lit from the inside.] D'you do these here? These pumpkins wiv the faces carved in?

We do, in fact. I'm rather fond of them, given that they always seem to lead to so much pumpkin pie afterward... *beam. ~~He'd crack some snide comment about the merits of being other-Break versus being himself, but frankly, even he can't think of a way to make that funny.~~*

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