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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The first picture makes him smile and nearly laugh out loud. Those sorts of sweets would be common in a fancier bakery at home, and commonplace during events for the noble houses, but it's clear that Break is impressed by them in the photo. His own Break would probably be glad for the variety, not excited to see such elegant food.

"Catholic? It's a religion?"

Obviously, if ever a city or something should pop up, Gilbert should spend a day following Break around while he scours out all the tasty, tasty food shops. It is bound to be entertaining.

"Yeah. His whole family follows it, but he's quiet about it. He'll be able to explain it to you better than I could, if he ever shows up -- ahhh, but here's why we were in Italy that time of year; I wanted to see the Carnevale in Venice."

Break flips another page, and the next two pages are crammed full of people in beautiful costumes and masks. There are even pictures of mask shops, and Break is clearly enamored.

"This is a Catholic festival, actually. They've got a fing called Lent, where you -- you fast and pray and consider your sins and blah blah, and the day right before Lent is the day you go crazy wiv parties and amazing food so you can get it all out of your system before that. Carnevale happens in the couple weeks leading up to that."

The costumes and masks actually...sort of look familiar. Perhaps a bit brighter and more gaudy than the ones at home, but it's a familiar enough tradition within nobility to hold masquerades. Seeing Break impressed by them, though, is strange.

"Your sins..." he repeats, lowly. "I see. Strange...."

"What those are exactly depends entirely on who you ask," Break says dryly. "That's why I can't take much stock in organized religion. Liam's one of the best people I know, and there's people who'd say he's going to Hell just for being wiv me."

Gently, he runs one finger over the edge of one of the shop photos, cluttered with masks of all sizes and shapes. He loves these glorious, fancy old things that Europe is so full of. Now that he's definitely all better, maybe he and Liam should go on another trip.

"I'd think that Hell would be a place that would require something a lot worse than that to gain entry to," he mumbles, looking extremely exhausted and depressed all of a sudden. They'd thought the same thing about the Abyss too, and yet only hours after discussing it, Oz plummeted into it for absolutely no reason at all.

He clears his throat and turns back to look at the photo again, trying to take his mind off of that horrible memory.

"That's what I fink, and that's what Liam finks," Break agrees. "But people will believe the most awful stuff...you alright?"

He feels safer being open to the elder Gils than he does the younger. Even so, they're all still Gils. Now and again they remind him that he'll never really know for sure what is and isn't going to upset them.

"...A bad memory," he admits, though it's clear that he's not going to breakdown or feel any pain because of it. It's just one that reminds him of everything that he stands to lose if he ever fails again.

"An old one. I'm okay."

"Ah."

Break has plenty of those himself. He's not about to push it.

His hands linger on the edge of the page for a moment, thoughtfully. Then he turns to some photos of the winter holiday season; the very first image is one of some street or other in Beacon Hill, lovingly decorated for Christmas.

"What sorts of fings do you do for Christmas here? Yuletide, was it?"

The question, as well as the photo, make him smile. These memories, for the most part, are happy ones. Even if Oz's father was never there Master Oscar had always made the winter season a fun one for all of them to the best of his ability. The Nightray house itself was generally nothing more than an obligation and a hassle, but seeing Ernest get escorted from at least one ball in the past for being too drunk was worth the wasted evening.

And of course, the last two that he spent here were for the most part pleasant enough. There was no shortage of people that he cared about close by, at least.

"There's usually a big feast, exchanging of gifts and well wishes for the new year. Family games."

"So you do give gifts here," he murmurs. Time to go ahead and start considering his own, then; in a place like this, he'll have to make everything, and there's a whole lot of people he likes in the mansion. At the very least, all the children should get something.

"What sorts of games?"

"Children usually made up their own games," he answers, remembering back to the games that Ada and Oz would construct for themselves.

"Claude once challenged Vincent to a game of chess after the holiday dinner, but when Vince beat him, Ernest flipped the board off of the table..."

Break chortles at that image. Then, lacing his fingers together, he sits back a bit. His head tilts to one side as he thinks.

"My brovver never wanted to play wiv me much. We never liked the same sorts of games, or stories. But the family would go out to see the tree in Trafalgar Square every year, and we'd visit my grandparents. Granddad would sit us down and read us stories to keep us out of the way while Mum and Gram cooked."

That was how Break had learned to do voices while reading aloud, in fact -- listening to his grandfather. He often thinks back on it while he reads to the kids here.

"The Nightray family had enough servants to cook for them that the Duchess never had to be involved in it. I don't think she knew how to cook at all, actually," he mumbles, scratching at the side of his head.

"But at the Vessalius house, I'd help prepare the meal every year. I was so scared that Oz wouldn't like it..."

"You were working on whole meals that early? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

After another moment's thought, Break flips back towards the beginning of the album to show him the house his own Rainsworths live in.

"We never had anyfing like that at all," Break says. "Servants, I mean. Even at Rainsworth. The house has four bedrooms and a little room sectioned off in the attic that I got to live in, when Shelly took me in. Just big enough for the Rainsworths and Liam and me."

The house is smaller than he thought it would be. But then, he's used to only seeing Sharon and Break living in estates or on Pandora's grounds; the thought that they could live in such a small space feels odd to him, even though he himself is happier in his little one bedroom apartment back home.

He still smiles, though. Despite his knee-jerk feelings towards it, it's a lovely looking house, and they all sound like they were happy there. That's the part that matters the most.

"It's nice. I...have no idea how many rooms the Nightray house had. Too many to count."

"I can't imagine having free run of that much space," Break says, shaking his head. It may be what his counterparts are used to, but the idea actually makes him feel a little uncomfortable -- there's a reason he still seeks out small spaces like windows and the undersides of tables, after all. "Even here, it's more like an apartment building, like Liam and I live in at home. There's enough people to make it feel like that. So it's okay."

Really, the mansion is more like a university dormitory -- multiple individual bedrooms with communal rooms for everyone to use -- but Break doesn't really have that experience to compare it to, never having gone to college himself. Thoughtfully, he flips to the pages that show he and Liam moving into their own apartment, which are followed by photographs of the apartment itself, all set up. The one in the bottom right corner shows Break cuddling a tiny white kitten, its head peeping curiously out of the towel he's got it wrapped up in; Gil can just ignore that one.

"I'm more comfortable in my apartment in Reveil," he replies with a small shrug. The space at the Nightray house had been intimidating, of course, but he'd learned to navigate the empty room and confusing, long hallways in the Vessalius house easily enough. The Nightray estate was always just...creepier, somehow. Maybe because the light that he'd always wanted to stay so close to didn't exist there, even if the hallways looked nearly identical.

He tries to comment on the photo of the apartment, comparing a piece of furniture to one that he owned back home, but the photo of the kitten startles him, and all he can let out is a sharp, "Eep!"

"Easy, Gilbert. That's just Reggie. This was taken right after I found her crying out in the rain and brought her home."

He pauses to smile a little nostalgically down at the kitten. It's been years since she was that little.

"You can't just leave fings alone when they're crying in the rain, you know," he adds, not quite teasing -- referring back to Gil's story about meeting the other Break. It's easy to say that his counterpart had only approached Gilbert because he needed something from him, wanted to use him. But, well. Maybe.

He gets the reference the minute that the words have left Break's mouth and instantly goes red. At least it colors in the paleness that his face took on when he saw the photo of the cat, though.

"Shut up..."

"Make me," Break says fondly. "Anyway, she's a wonderful cat. I've got one here, now, but I miss her."

He skips ahead, looking for pages without the cat.

And he'll just sit here with one hand covering the side of his face until Break has settled on a cat-less page, grumbling under his breath about how there are too many cats in this damned mansion.

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Photo album spread out on my bedroom floor...

sorry I'm too busy drooling over that picture

Infuriating, isn't it?

ALL MY RAGE

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