You knew this was coming. RNG said 10 because it is unhelpful. Changeling 'verse.itsnotacurseJanuary 19 2013, 00:31:11 UTC
Before Aubrey had come up with the bright idea to bring David back to Faerie, he'd had nightmares so consistently that even now, when he only had them about half the nights, he was afraid to sleep. It didn't matter how pleased he was in the morning when he woke up having slept peacefully; he never wanted to go to bed.
He pretended, though. He would go through the motions until it was time to sleep, then he would just... leave the house and sit outside until he was too tired to move. He would go over the stars Aubrey had taught him, practice telling hallucination from reality, and eventually he would sleep.
4...but with a side of 3 in the midnight kitchen?manipemotionsJanuary 20 2013, 02:02:25 UTC
James pads silently through the darkened apartment, feet bare and in somewhat tatty plaid pyjama pants and a worn soft t-shirt. He isn't entirely sure what woke him, though it doesn't really matter, since it seems something does most nights anymore. A mug of tea generally helps settle his nerves enough to get to sleep for the rest of the night, though, so he flips the light on over the stove and goes about the soothing ritual of filling up the kettle and pulling down a mug, picking a loose leaf Darjeeling, then propping himself against the counter in the middle of the night quiet to watch the kettle and wait.
sounds perfect!ofthefolkJanuary 20 2013, 02:13:14 UTC
Aubrey, being a creature that is rather at home in the dark - and happens to have fairly exceptional night vision to boot - has taken to, when he has difficulty sleeping, retiring to the balcony to enjoy a smoke and to think.
He is just heading back inside when he notices that he isn't alone, inclines his head to listen before hazarding: "Aren't you up past your bedtime, darling?"
exxxxcellentmanipemotionsJanuary 20 2013, 02:32:59 UTC
James looks up from the not quite steaming kettle, startled to find he's not alone. "I did outgrow bedtimes rather a while ago," he answers quietly, looking in the general direction of Aubrey's voice in the darkness. His night vision is nothing more than human average, and standing as he is in the small pool of light from the stove's lamp he can't even see a shadow. "Would you care for tea?"
i am intrigued by these two. so far they've got off to a fine start. ^^ofthefolkJanuary 20 2013, 02:37:49 UTC
"I wouldn't say no to a cup," he says, moving into the light and then perching on the corner of the counter. He is wearing flannel pyjama bottoms - navy blue with what looks like a pink and blue sheep print - and a weathered looking T-shirt probably liberated from Victor's remaining closet.
His long legs swing idly as he scrutinizes James for a moment. "Everything all right?"
They have indeed! Though I just realized I've no clue if Jame's knows Aubrey's a fae or notmanipemotionsJanuary 20 2013, 03:18:46 UTC
He gives Aubrey's sheep an amused look before pulling down another mug. "Yes. Fine. I mean... well enough. New night noises in a new place to get used to, I expect." He shrugs. Because, really, nothing's particularly all right, is it? His life's been turned on its head and he's no idea how much damage he's actually left in his wake. But there really isn't anything to be done about that, just try to make sure it doesn't happen again.
"Is Darjeeling all right?" he asks, hand pausing over the tin.
I suspect he'll know he's different, at the very least, being largely immune to both brothers.ofthefolkJanuary 20 2013, 14:04:11 UTC
"It's always difficult the first few nights," he says, long legs swinging idly. "Far from home, in a strange bed. But you'll get used to it eventually; and having your brother here should help."
And, for all his quirks Victor seemed to be doing his best to ensure that the transition ran as smoothly as possible. If not out in the open, where James could see it, then behind the scenes - where it really mattered.
"Yes. And then, the time zone change didn't much help, even with sleeping the entire flight away." Drugged senseless for everyone's safety and comfort, of course, but the flight had still been scheduled to try and help with the jet lag. He considers for a moment then brings out a teapot and prepares that, instead of simply a second mug. Giving it a quick rinse with hot water before adding the proper amount of loose leaf, glad he'd over-filled the kettle.
"I do appreciate it, you know. The two of you letting me disrupt your life so."
"We're both of us used to it," he says with a half-shrug. "And, as I said, you are family. It'll do him good, having you here, even if he doesn't realize it yet."
"Will it, really?" He's not at all sure how, but the thought that it might is vaguely reassuring. That he might not just be an obligation, which is a thought he's not used to having in the first place, given how... easy everything in his life has been up until now. And finding out exactly why that's likely been. "I hope so." He's finished preparing the tea on autopilot, a familiar ritual in any surroundings, and pours it into the mugs before passing one across to Aubrey. There's enough in the pot still for more.
"He's become rather isolated in his old age; hazard of the job, I expect. But he's not as hard as he likes to pretend. You simply have to get past all the prickle."
He accepts the mug, blows on the surface before taking a sip.
"He... hasn't seemed particularly hard or prickly," James admits. "Maybe a bit at a loss sometimes." Which is only fair, since James feels much the same with some regularity.
"I suppose neither of us much knows what to do with a sibling, do we? All these years-" He shrugs. "I almost expected he'd look just the same as he had at my sixteenth, the last time he came home. I wonder if he was expecting a callow, gangly teenager still."
Aubrey shrugs. To be honest, the first he'd heard of James had been little over a month ago. At the time, he'd thought nothing of it, they were still... negotiating things; though it wouldn't surprise him if that proved to be the case.
Sometimes it was difficult, letting go of things, particularly where family was concerned. He takes another sip: "I have to admit, I'm at something of a disadvantage with all this."
James looks down at his mug, fiddling a bit nervously with it, and the wash of emotions that accompany it are tangled and anxious and, honestly, vaguely guilty and jealous. "I can't even offer you embarrassing childhood stories to compensate, seeing as I don't know any."
Pointing out that James really needn't be jealous, considering their earlier history -- wherein they'd spent the better part of four years actively trying to kill each other -- probably wouldn't have the desired effect. That being said, Aubrey pauses, inclining his head as if listening to a sound far off: "I'll survive."
Another sip: "They'll treat you well, I expect; they're rather good about that sort of thing, generally."
A pause: "Though, I suppose that's precisely the sort of thing one is expected to say in these situations. Not that it makes it any less true."
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He pretended, though. He would go through the motions until it was time to sleep, then he would just... leave the house and sit outside until he was too tired to move. He would go over the stars Aubrey had taught him, practice telling hallucination from reality, and eventually he would sleep.
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He is just heading back inside when he notices that he isn't alone, inclines his head to listen before hazarding: "Aren't you up past your bedtime, darling?"
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His long legs swing idly as he scrutinizes James for a moment. "Everything all right?"
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"Is Darjeeling all right?" he asks, hand pausing over the tin.
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And, for all his quirks Victor seemed to be doing his best to ensure that the transition ran as smoothly as possible. If not out in the open, where James could see it, then behind the scenes - where it really mattered.
"Darjeeling would be lovely, thank you."
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"I do appreciate it, you know. The two of you letting me disrupt your life so."
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He accepts the mug, blows on the surface before taking a sip.
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"I suppose neither of us much knows what to do with a sibling, do we? All these years-" He shrugs. "I almost expected he'd look just the same as he had at my sixteenth, the last time he came home. I wonder if he was expecting a callow, gangly teenager still."
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Sometimes it was difficult, letting go of things, particularly where family was concerned. He takes another sip: "I have to admit, I'm at something of a disadvantage with all this."
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Another sip: "They'll treat you well, I expect; they're rather good about that sort of thing, generally."
A pause: "Though, I suppose that's precisely the sort of thing one is expected to say in these situations. Not that it makes it any less true."
Reply
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