Comments | scorched_logs: [closed] Na-chaered palan-díriel

lumenrelegandus in scorched_logs

[closed] Na-chaered palan-díriel

Oct 13, 2011 00:15

Who: supercilious and lumenrelegandus
When: Nowadays
Where: Circuitous route to Duncan's pub, stopping at the Memorial Tree
Format: Prose, then…?
What: Bye, Shirley.
Warnings: Men dealing with grief. (Like watching a whale knit. …No, no, these are sensitive new age guys. Maybe.)

( silivren penna míriel )

remus lupin, arthur pendragon

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supercilious October 13 2011, 11:19:19 UTC

Here is a short list of the ways to regret:

One: fiercely, hurting. Everything clenched tight and eyes burning and something sharp and brittle caught at the back of your throat, unspoken.

Two: with distance. Looking nostalgically back across the echoing chasm of the years, to patchy memories that are more a collection of still pictures than a reel of video. From there, you can reach, gently, after ghosts, turn what ifs over like smooth stones in the palm, well-worn and easy, slightly warm from the heat of your own body ( ... )

lumenrelegandus October 13 2011, 17:48:49 UTC

It's a familiar situation with Arthur of feeling improbably comfortable. The improbable being an important part of the comfort. As Lupin winds his way to the table, he's a little out of phase; overthinking, not uncharacteristic, but mismatched, as if he's about to meet someone new. He's not much of a drinker. Historically he's preferred to blend into a sobriety continuum. In such cases, need about two other people in the gathering to balance it properly. But here's his version of abandon: let's not compare or try to plan anything.

"To what," says Lupin, grabbing a glass en route and keeping it held toward Arthur as he takes a seat, "are we drinking?"

(Redundant, rhetorical, or seeking simpler articulation.)

supercilious October 13 2011, 22:59:18 UTC

"To women," Arthur raises the glass, slanted but not spilling. That toast alone could almost be enough, when Shirley was so much woman in Arthur's eyes: mother, maiden, crone. But he continues. "Who take a piece of one's heart, or are given such... and then leave."

He drinks. The sound of the stem on the table as he puts the glass down is softer than the restrained violence of his movements would suggest. Not totally drunk, not yet. But getting there.

JUST LEAVING THIS FOR YOU HERE WITH NO EXPECTATION OF CONTINUATION, A MONTH LATE! We'll talk!! lumenrelegandus November 6 2011, 13:28:11 UTC

Murmurs as follows, "Women," and drinks. Though Arthur's phrasing makes Lupin's toast about Io.

Maybe that's some reason why he dives headfirst rather than hazarding the customary toe. But need there be a reason?

"I lived under the same roof as Shirley for months. But I don't think I ever lived in quite the same world. I wasn't even aware you two knew each other until recently."

supercilious November 6 2011, 22:16:27 UTC

Arthur gives a quiet, deprecatory snort ( ... )

lumenrelegandus November 12 2011, 16:38:21 UTC

'Proposed' prompts Lupin to splutter a bit into his cup and come up smiling. "Don't suppose a forge caught that?" he asked drily. (…Metaphorically dry. As he reaches for a napkin.) Not that Lupin would have wanted his own teenage interactions recorded for posterity. Nor really intrude on anyone else's. But clearly, this piece of information doesn't seem even slightly inconsequential, or silly, or to be embarrassed about; makes perfect sense for him and clicks everything else into shape ( ... )

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