[ hmmm. standing in the door, observing this very tiny room. his face is passive, but the end of his tail is twitching and he's rapping his nails against the doorframe. ]
[ He has his bag over his shoulder with all the stuff he picked up from the locker. Finally, he's back in his default outfit instead of the awful bodysuit.
Watching that tail twitch and wondering if he should read that like cats or dogs. ]
[ probably not a dog. lucien is also no longer in the bodysuit, back in a fairly simple outfit of a loose linen shirt and black coat. the prevailing theme is black. ]
[ he's got his bag here too, but it's all still packed, the 2nd outfit (what appears to be thick, winter clothes - a fur-lined coat, gloves and heavy boots with snow tread) thrown over it like he's planning on carting it around with him. ]
[ for clarity, he has not slept in the room these past two nights, so who knows where he's doing that - but he is in here this morning. changing his clothes out and shoving his things into his closet. ]
[ kicking his stuff into the closet casually. apparently this guy is not a neat roommate. the emotion ............. is bad. a thrumming undercurrent of paranoia, and an exhaustion strong enough to make the walls move. ]
[ he will never be in that kitchen, ever. no incarnation of anyone in this body has ever been inclined towards cooking, and he doesn't plan to start now. ]
So, no concern about where the food you're putting in your mouth is coming from? Even with the addition of our blood now being tainted through mysterious means?
[ he's coming into the room to change clothes for a while, swap out whatever cigarette smoke-clogged shirt he has for something different for a short time - but he stops dead in his tracks at even just the thought mention of that. if anything, there's a beat of ... fear? ]
i think he sees nero, in this little lord fauntelroy outfit and sprouting catkin ears, enjoying snow, and he just turns on his heel to walk the other direction muttering something about `the dumbest hat I've ever seen` ]
As you open your eyes, you see Lucien - your brother, not much older than you. A year or so older than your 10 summers.
It’s dark, but that’s not exactly a problem with your infernal heritage - everything is clear in shades of gray. You’ve been curled into your corner of the caravan, with Miss Queenie, a doll Elric had made from scraps of the last year’s costumes for you. You can hear your mother and father asleep in their bunk. Your father snores, especially when he’s been drinking. Sock Brother sits up where you last saw him, staring off into the space in front of him, mouth slack. He doesn’t seem to react to the two of you. At least, not yet. Your father's lute is leaned against the caravan wall between you all, a few of the costumes hung from wire across the roof.
Lucien looks impatient - he’s been getting taller, his horns starting to curl larger, and one of his eyes is halfway swollen shut - he’d stumbled earlier, hauling water up from the loch - but still burning with an insistent impatience. Like always. He’s wearing a small pack, bursting at the seams.
[ Nero doesn't clock the darkvision as strange, but he does get up. How early is it? He doesn't know.
He does get up, taking a look at their parents before getting up. If he has the option, he's not making any more noise. The doll is taken as he gets out of his corner. ]
[ the black eye nothing you're not used to seeing on his face. At least lately. Without Elric there to take the brunt of it, Lucien has been on the receiving end more than not, lately. What remains of Elric breathes steadily from it's place, slumped against the wall of the caravan.
The doll comes along. Lucien doesn't remember whether it was taken or not, so its fate is really up to Nero. ]
We're going. I've got a plan. Please just be quiet.
[ he's packing without waiting for an answer - whatever clothes he can hold in his arms and putting them in nero's. aldreda's. And then he's pulling her along, out the door and into the woods. they are always together. they're the younger two of the three. Elric is - well, was - a good five years older. always more responsible, watching out for them. but lucien was always willful, always acting more than his years, and lately he's had to do more of that - Sock Brother is obedient but only to exacting degrees. He can listen to commands, but is listless otherwise. As if he's not even there anymore. The witch-woman had a penchant for puppets, but not life.
there's a few wildflowers, less so, as they move in deeper - but the woods here have always been strange. magic-warped. he doesn't go very far, but once he think they're out of earshot he pushes him down by the shoulder to sit in the hollow of a tree. ]
Just. Stay here. Please. I'll be back as quick as I can, aye?
[ without waiting more than that, he lets go of her hand and takes off back towards the caravan. you can stay here, in the dark and the silence and the creaking of the trees. or if you're quiet you could follow.
If he does ...
he'll smell it before he sees it. smoke. and then hear it - crackling, the sound of wood starting to break. and burn.
as he pushes through the branches, through the trees, it's obvious. the heat and light - a fire. enormous. the caravan in flames - reaching higher than the trees. the kind of fire that can only be made, certainly not an accident. that much seems obvious if she looks, under the caravan has been stuffed with dry grass and branches, bits of paper and anything else that seems likely to burn. a piece of wood shoved across the door to lock it into place.
in front of it, silhouetted, is lucien - a burning stick in his hand, watching the fire as if enthralled.
[ He doesn't stay where he's told, he follows Lucien, watches him burn this place down.
And he thinks.... "That's brave."
The thing is that this isn't entirely unfamiliar to him. It's not the first time he's run away from a family that treated him poorly. He was never as brave as this, Nero didn't even try to get anybody else out, he didn't burn down the place he was hurt- he just ran.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
W0 - SATURDAY
You can take the bedroom. I don't need it.
no subject
Watching that tail twitch and wondering if he should read that like cats or dogs. ]
You don't need to sleep or anything?
no subject
No. I don't. It's a waste of time.
no subject
Okay...? You don't even want a place to get away from other people?
no subject
So you don't want the bed?
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
W0 - MONDAY
no subject
Welcome back?
no subject
Are you the one leaving the food around?
no subject
Hm... It has the same kind of feeling that he imagines his teacher would give off. Nero decides not to pry into any of that. ]
Just the desserts. I don't know who's making the full meals.
no subject
So, no concern about where the food you're putting in your mouth is coming from? Even with the addition of our blood now being tainted through mysterious means?
no subject
Do you not eat either?
(no subject)
(no subject)
Week 0: Sunday
Sorry about the room vibes.
Puppeteer? ]
no subject
What did you say?
no subject
... I was thinking about what Scien said.
no subject
Don't bother. A madman's thoughts and musings.
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
W2: Monday
This may have been the happiest Nero's ever looked. ]
no subject
i think he sees nero, in this little lord fauntelroy outfit and sprouting catkin ears, enjoying snow, and he just turns on his heel to walk the other direction muttering something about `the dumbest hat I've ever seen` ]
no subject
Some of us are unfortunately blizzard people. ]
W3 - MONDAY
“Aldreda. Dreda. Get up.”
As you open your eyes, you see Lucien - your brother, not much older than you. A year or so older than your 10 summers.
It’s dark, but that’s not exactly a problem with your infernal heritage - everything is clear in shades of gray. You’ve been curled into your corner of the caravan, with Miss Queenie, a doll Elric had made from scraps of the last year’s costumes for you. You can hear your mother and father asleep in their bunk. Your father snores, especially when he’s been drinking. Sock Brother sits up where you last saw him, staring off into the space in front of him, mouth slack. He doesn’t seem to react to the two of you. At least, not yet. Your father's lute is leaned against the caravan wall between you all, a few of the costumes hung from wire across the roof.
Lucien looks impatient - he’s been getting taller, his horns starting to curl larger, and one of his eyes is halfway swollen shut - he’d stumbled earlier, hauling water up from the loch - but still burning with an insistent impatience. Like always. He’s wearing a small pack, bursting at the seams.
“Come on already.” ]
no subject
He does get up, taking a look at their parents before getting up. If he has the option, he's not making any more noise. The doll is taken as he gets out of his corner. ]
IM SO SORRY DW ATE MY NOTIF SO BAD
The doll comes along. Lucien doesn't remember whether it was taken or not, so its fate is really up to Nero. ]
We're going. I've got a plan. Please just be quiet.
[ he's packing without waiting for an answer - whatever clothes he can hold in his arms and putting them in nero's. aldreda's. And then he's pulling her along, out the door and into the woods. they are always together. they're the younger two of the three. Elric is - well, was - a good five years older. always more responsible, watching out for them. but lucien was always willful, always acting more than his years, and lately he's had to do more of that - Sock Brother is obedient but only to exacting degrees. He can listen to commands, but is listless otherwise. As if he's not even there anymore. The witch-woman had a penchant for puppets, but not life.
there's a few wildflowers, less so, as they move in deeper - but the woods here have always been strange. magic-warped. he doesn't go very far, but once he think they're out of earshot he pushes him down by the shoulder to sit in the hollow of a tree. ]
Just. Stay here. Please. I'll be back as quick as I can, aye?
[ without waiting more than that, he lets go of her hand and takes off back towards the caravan. you can stay here, in the dark and the silence and the creaking of the trees. or if you're quiet you could follow.
If he does ...
he'll smell it before he sees it. smoke. and then hear it - crackling, the sound of wood starting to break. and burn.
as he pushes through the branches, through the trees, it's obvious. the heat and light - a fire. enormous. the caravan in flames - reaching higher than the trees. the kind of fire that can only be made, certainly not an accident. that much seems obvious if she looks, under the caravan has been stuffed with dry grass and branches, bits of paper and anything else that seems likely to burn. a piece of wood shoved across the door to lock it into place.
in front of it, silhouetted, is lucien - a burning stick in his hand, watching the fire as if enthralled.
no more little songs. no more farces.
as lucien turns to look back into the woods--
the memory ends. you're back. ]
IT'S OK
And he thinks.... "That's brave."
The thing is that this isn't entirely unfamiliar to him. It's not the first time he's run away from a family that treated him poorly. He was never as brave as this, Nero didn't even try to get anybody else out, he didn't burn down the place he was hurt- he just ran.
What he says, coming out of the memory is- ]
Sorry, I saw that.
no subject
... It's fine. No worse than any of the others.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)