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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*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.~~*

[~~You know you love him somewhere deep down in that emo-tastic heart of yours, Stuffy.~~]

Mm, when my Shelly makes them she cuts leaves out of the dough and puts sugar on them and bakes them separate, and then puts 'em on top to make the pie pretty. [He turns to the next page; there's a photograph of Shelly finishing up one of those pies. The kitchen is a bit of a mess in the next few photographs, all the Rainsworths laughing and Break himself, hair short, sitting on the kitchen counter with flour all over his black t-shirt -- then ducking out of the way and holding up a hand to defend himself as Sharon approaches from outside the frame to get him again.] Hmm, we had a bit of a flour fight while she was baking that year. We didn't manage a picture of him, but Barma was over just then, and Shelly got a bunch of it in his hair. I wish you could have seen his face. Liam actually fled upstairs and wouldn't come back down till dinner.

[Break taps on the last photo of the page on his double's side, chuckling warmly.] If I recall correctly, in this one Liam was having a fit because Shelly used to let me have pie for breakfast and it made him crazy. But we never could get him to explain what was so wrong wiv pumpkin pie as the first meal of the day~

*flour fights and bothering not-a-Duke Hair and Liam having a fit on camera... It all sounds-- very nice, actually. The smile on Break's face is distinctly wistful as he stares down toward the page.

He's not sure whether his own Shelly knows how to bake a pie or not, although... now that other-Break has said it, he can picture her standing over a flour-covered counter, pressing doughy leaves into her pie crust with loving care. (Certainly his own Lady rarely sees the inside of a kitchen anymore, though, considering how sickly she's been...)

--but that's just his mind's eye. Mere fantasy, pure imagination. No matter how diligently he conjures up the image of Liam fleeing up a staircase laughing and covered in flour, it still won't be the reality---

He's tried very hard to be perfectly fine with not having his sight anymore, but... sometimes.

Just sometimes, once in a while, he can't help-- feeling decidedly bitter about it.

He wishes he could at least see this life that he and his will never get to have.*

*a second or two passes before he realizes he hasn't said anything; he sits back a bit from the album again, reaching up to adjust his cravat.*

Mm, Milady is quite the charismatic debater... I can scarcely imagine why Liam would even bother trying to argue with her. *grin*

[If it were anyone else, the way other-Break is staring at the photos would be as good an indication as any that his suspicion is wrong. But he's a Break, and he knows how well the other doubles in the mansion -- the ones who can't see -- have hidden their disability. He also knows full well why none of them want the information to be common knowledge.

Still.

The kitten worms its way out of his vest and prances back over to his counterpart, intent on investigating the cravat.]

He might have been a bit jealous that she was spoiling me rotten. I've accused him of it before, but he's never once admitted it. [Rather aware of his own heartbeat suddenly, Break turns the page again, revealing photos he'd shown to Gilbert, earlier, and he waits for a reaction.] Do you do costumes, too...?

*Younger-Break can feel a little body squirming around in his lap again, and reaches down to ruffle the kitten's fur. At the noise of the page turn he cocks his head a bit, affecting raised brows and an interested expression as he looks downward; but he says nothing as yet -- because well, he can't exactly, now can he?*

For All-Hallows? Mm, not when I was a boy, but I believe we acquired that custom at some point. *chin-scratch* I have heard tell of people throwing the occasional masque...

Mm. [He can't help a sigh, but he keeps his tone light as he leans back on the couch, tapping on the image of himself in the blue coat and top hat.] Gilbert was a bit startled by this photo in particular, when I showed it to him.

*he hears that sigh. And then the way the other man goes on, suddenly starting to leave out all the colorful details that he was only too happy to chatter on about before--*

Was he? And so the list of things that Gilbert finds startling grows ever longer. *spoken dryly as he pauses, carefully picking up the kitten in his lap with both hands. There's another moment's hesitation with his gaze still turned down; maybe this could still just be--

....No. No, his other self is fullly as intelligent and perceptive as he is, and Break knows himself well enough to know that he'd be wondering too.

Which is why he carefully reaches over to set the tiny cat atop the shadow he knows to be other-Break's head. Smiling cheerily and inscrutably:*

We're playing a game at this point, aren't we?

Edited 2011-08-08 01:48 (UTC)

[Break puts up one hand to steady the kitten, but he's content to leave her there. It's not like she doesn't crawl all over his person when allowed as it is.]

You woke up like this, didn't you? [Dryyyly.] Did you have to use Hatter when the Chain attacked you? Is that why it took so long?

*shrugging a little, expression decidedly bland now as he reaches over for his teacup. He's been found out anyway, so he doesn't bother being careful about it, fingers tracing the tabletop until they bump against his saucer.

It's a moment or three before he speaks again, terse and still very carefully nonchalant:*

I went home.

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