[027] OOM - Meet the Parents
As every good traveler knows, there must be a destination for which to head towards - otherwise, there is aimless wandering which makes for wasted time, wasted resources, and a more or less miserable time
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Or, rather, she didn't look terribly miserable. Not that she does now - not precisely - it's more the look of someone who has realized something rather astonishing. Say, for instance, they have left the gas on at home - or, hypothetically, that their partner in crime has a family and they themselves have a somewhat limited and altogether rather terrible level of social skills.
It takes a second or two, but she does manage to swallow and echo out a, "What do I think?"
Just to - to clarify, of course.
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"Yes," he says, stopping to pause as he stands before her. "What do you think?"
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Oh hell, he has that whole earnest grinning at her thing going on again and she hasn't the slightest idea as to how - it hadn't exactly crossed her mind that - she doesn't have an instruction manual for this!
"I do not precisely think that I turn back, you know. After," she blinks upward, lips twitching upward uncertainly. "I mean, granted, I will likely be a lot more interesting - and safe - to show off when I am quiet and fit in your pocket, but I still do not think that I turn back. Excellent impression or not."
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He had actually thought this out a little bit while they were going along their way.
"Yes, see, I thought that perhaps I could bring my family into Faerie for the afternoon, perhaps by the fairgrounds. That way you will be able to meet them without ... being a lump of rock."
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Due to the magical characteristics of narrative and time, the rest of the day - and the following morning - is spent traveling. The two companions find themselves drawing nearer to the wall.
Tristran can even see it from where they are, and by the looks of it, the gap in the wall is still (thankfully) there.
"I did not think for a moment that I could be nervous," he admits while walking, "but I am. Just a little bit."
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That really couldn't have been a day or so - it didn't feel like a day or so. Unless someone was really skimping in the 'or so' department. (And they shouldn't do that. It's not nice.)
"Not helping," she chimes, voice sing-songing and wispy, frayed and beginning to waver again. That vague, horrified feeling is attempting to claw its way back up her throat again to strangle her from the inside.
Which, all things considered, might be a blessing.
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"Sorry," he utters. "The wall's up ahead. I wonder how long we have been gone. After our 'vacation' at Milliways, my sense of time is a little skewed."
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She can't. So he really shouldn't ask.
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He remembers playing here, or walking along here to get to school. And he remembers the time - in this spot right here - when he'd had his ears boxed by his father for behaving badly.
Good times, really.
Tristran climbs up the small stony pathway that leads over a short hill and towards the familiar Thorn farm, where he hopes his family will be when he arrives.
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"-- already married, Daddy. Married. And you still won't even let me go out on a date."
Well, to be entirely honest, only one of the voices is doing any real rising - but it's doing an impressive job of it nonetheless.
"I am going to wind up an old maid and it is going to be all your fault."
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Well, it is obvious enough that his family are at home.
He raises his hand to knock on the door.
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Footsteps now - quiet at first, but slowly louder.
"And as you can tell," another voice replies, lower and hiding it's amusement much less successfully than it likely intends to. "I'm utterly devastated for you, dear - but, the door."
A frustrated huff, one that would very nearly be a shriek if that wasn't entirely unladylike and even more likely to lose her argument for her before she's even able to properly plead her case.
"But Daddy!"
The low voice is laughing outright now. "Door, Louisa."
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Daisy listens, smiling and adding a soft word of praise from time to time, and overall the picture of the Thorns is a lovely one.
"G'day, Mr Thorn," Mr Robinson greets as they pass.
Dunstan nods.
"Goin' somewhere?"
"A walk, Robert," he returns. "A walk with the family."
"Ah, very nice."
Tristran glances at the man - Bobby's father. Louisa could do so much better than the Robinsons.
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(Her most charming smile is reserved for Bobby himself - and for getting out of trouble.)
He rolls his eyes as they continue walking.
"I am hoping that it's the same guard that let you in, Tristran," he says. "I should hate to have to get into an argument - not exactly the best impression to make on your girl, I'd imagine."
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"I hope so too," he says. But it doesn't matter too much about what Yvaine might think; she's pretty much seen him in every situation possible, after all.
He smiles to himself as they near the gap with the guard-towers. This is it!
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The tall man laughs, loud and deep, smile curving upward pleasantly and head bowing in a gesture of thanks.
He knows the drill.
"I had a feeling that the little mouse over there was waiting for you," he grins, clapping the other man on the shoulder when he's close enough. "So much trouble, Mister Thorn."
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Very firmly closed. And locked from the inside.
The chair propped up under the doorknob as a makeshift barricade might be a bit much, but it's more of a silent statement than a real means of defense against the outside world.
Dinner was long.
Dinner was long and she was expected to actually eat it. Which was fine in and of itself, but then there were the questions - during which there were attempted explanations of things that neither of them really had answers for and further concerns about how she was far too skinny and did she want some more chicken - and then there came the whole nonsense of Tristran's Mother still being alive. (The woman somehow manages to cause trouble even when she isn't present to do so.)
And yet, somehow - Mother knows how, quite frankly - she's fairly certain that they were invited to visit again soon. Whenever they'd like. She's also fairly certain that Tristran's father had called her 'simply divine,' but that one she's managed to write off as some sort of vivid hallucination ( ... )
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Even now, after all of his rambling and awkward pauses, and questions that continuously streamed from his family's mouths like the food that seemed to appear out of no where (which he enjoyed immensely, if anyone asks), he isn't sure just how much they now know.
Tristran begins to take his jacket off, flinging it to the foot of the bed.
"Well," he starts, settling at the edge of the bed to pull his boots off for the moment, "...no. Not really, I suppose."
He turns to look over his shoulder at her. "I only got up to telling them about you when they wanted to see you. I didn't exactly have much time."
Plus there was the whole pathetic can't-wait-to-see-her-again feeling, while he was away.
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She makes some vague sort of attempt to glare over at him, one very blue eye narrowing in a nearly threatening manner. (Not that it makes terribly much of a difference whether or not the glare is impressive, seeing as his back is to her - but it's the thought that counts.)
"That's hardly the point, dear," she replies, flicking his arm. "They're - well, they're - how shall I put this delicately? They are very good at interrogation."
Plenty diplomatic, she thinks. Much better than 'utterly terrifying when determined to get answers.'
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He starts to laugh a bit. "Yes, that is one way of putting it," he says with an easy shrug. "When you've got a daughter like Louisa, I suppose it all comes rather naturally. And nothing really surprises my mum and dad, either."
After all, look at their history. Mucking about with magical beings, raising half-Faerie boys, and generally being odd quirky - it isn't any wonder they've more or less made Yvaine part of their family already. (And the two haven't even hinted at marriage.)
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