✳ 004 ✳ [video] // [action] for Phancyhive residents.
[The view isn't from directly overhead, but it's almost there and it's steady, displaying a mahogany table top and a pair of white-gloved hands busily manipulating crochet needles. Mingled with and leading away from the needles is a line of gold wire, gleaming in the light--it's being pulled into looped stitches like regular yarn would be. Off to the side is more wire in spools, prevalently gold, some silver, surrounded by a smattering of various jewels like rubies and pearls. There's also a smallish collection of finished jewelry: hair combs, barrettes, earrings, etc.
And Claude's voice is low and quiet, inflection stirring:] If you could bring me the-- [It's indistinct for off-screen speak, and his head turns one way, dark hair rustling like ribbons.] Yes, that. Thank you.
[A grey cockatiel scoots into frame, nudging a medium-sized white pearl in front of it with its beak. The pearl rolls into Claude's fingers; he picks it up, studies its curvature, and then weaves it amidst the gold wire.]
I have a few questions today, if I may, [he says, much louder, addressing the audience. He glances up at the NV, which must be suspended by something above the table. Although the clues are minimal, anyone familiar enough will recognize that Claude is inside the game room in the basement of the Phantomhive Manor. He's sitting at a long table covered in lit candelabras, beside the old-fashioned bar and liquor cabinets.]
What is your most prized possession? Did you wish for it before you acquired it? [Picking up an almost-completed hair comb, he attaches the wire-and-pearl ornament to the handle, matching several more like it.] Was it given to you by someone else, and is that why you prize it so?
[There's a pause, then, a heavy and still one, once he is finished. Something about these questions is very somber-sounding, like he's giving a eulogy in different words.]
If you received it belatedly, such as a late birthday gift, did its meaning diminish at all?
[Because Hannah Anafeloz is gone, of course, and Claude doesn't know if she's ever going to return. But he's finished it--the perfect piece of jewelry for her, Claude finished it, finally, after working on it for weeks. It took a lot of thought to determine what would look nicest on her, what suited her eyes and hair and skin, what thanked her properly for everything. She disappeared over a week ago, but he kept working at the jewelry, feverishly working, industrious as a spider, trying to figure out and construct the perfect piece as soon as possible because it's the thought that counts or so humans say.
He's curious about that, so he's asking. That's all. He can't give it to her even though he wants to. His chest really hurts.]
It's too late for this one, [he murmurs, rubbing his thumb gently over the pearls. It's a beautiful hair comb, crocheted all together, altogether interlinked. Its components won't fall apart. It'd look nice in her hair. It's done. I'm done, he thinks.] I do not know what to do with it.
[He reaches upward, and the feed cuts off.]
And Claude's voice is low and quiet, inflection stirring:] If you could bring me the-- [It's indistinct for off-screen speak, and his head turns one way, dark hair rustling like ribbons.] Yes, that. Thank you.
[A grey cockatiel scoots into frame, nudging a medium-sized white pearl in front of it with its beak. The pearl rolls into Claude's fingers; he picks it up, studies its curvature, and then weaves it amidst the gold wire.]
I have a few questions today, if I may, [he says, much louder, addressing the audience. He glances up at the NV, which must be suspended by something above the table. Although the clues are minimal, anyone familiar enough will recognize that Claude is inside the game room in the basement of the Phantomhive Manor. He's sitting at a long table covered in lit candelabras, beside the old-fashioned bar and liquor cabinets.]
What is your most prized possession? Did you wish for it before you acquired it? [Picking up an almost-completed hair comb, he attaches the wire-and-pearl ornament to the handle, matching several more like it.] Was it given to you by someone else, and is that why you prize it so?
[There's a pause, then, a heavy and still one, once he is finished. Something about these questions is very somber-sounding, like he's giving a eulogy in different words.]
If you received it belatedly, such as a late birthday gift, did its meaning diminish at all?
[Because Hannah Anafeloz is gone, of course, and Claude doesn't know if she's ever going to return. But he's finished it--the perfect piece of jewelry for her, Claude finished it, finally, after working on it for weeks. It took a lot of thought to determine what would look nicest on her, what suited her eyes and hair and skin, what thanked her properly for everything. She disappeared over a week ago, but he kept working at the jewelry, feverishly working, industrious as a spider, trying to figure out and construct the perfect piece as soon as possible because it's the thought that counts or so humans say.
He's curious about that, so he's asking. That's all. He can't give it to her even though he wants to. His chest really hurts.]
It's too late for this one, [he murmurs, rubbing his thumb gently over the pearls. It's a beautiful hair comb, crocheted all together, altogether interlinked. Its components won't fall apart. It'd look nice in her hair. It's done. I'm done, he thinks.] I do not know what to do with it.
[He reaches upward, and the feed cuts off.]