Winter work: preparation
The little AU: Winter Work: Preparation
slashfairy
G
~~~
Orlando drops down the Western Hemisphere to Argentina, ostensibly to visit friends, hang with his cousin, but really to see what he can of where Viggo was young- was little, really, but something in Viggo has never felt little, and Orlando feels he needs to understand that a little better. He goes shopping, is seen at restaurants, but also makes side trips, exploring. It's the first time he's ever gone to find part of Viggo's life without Viggo along: he feels a little bit like a detective, or an anthropologist, or archaeologist, as he lets the language and colours and everything wash over him.
Viggo goes back to London from Spain, wincing when he sees Nikolai in the photos from the Goya awards. He misses home, misses the opportunity to be just himself in the house at the end of the bluff road; at the same time he's closer now, with Nikolai living in him, to understanding that in himself that could become cold, heartless, driven by practicalities instead of compassion. He doesn't much like that part, but he figures he should know it intimately. Have compassion for others and ourselves; he'd said something like that not long ago. Everyone's got a monster, two, three in them: the question is, does the monster rule them from time to time, because they don't know it's there? Or do they rule the monster, because there's nowhere it can hide?
Karl and Hunter enjoy the last few days of Hunter's break doing little things: walking the dogs. Building sand castles. They try to fly a kite, but the wind is in the wrong direction and not strong enough, so instead they build a fort of driftwood and use the kite for its flag, the dogs circling round the building site sniffing the freshly upturned sand, dragging smaller pieces of wood off to play with. Eventually it comes down to the end of the day; over bacon sarnies and cocoa they talk about nothing, and everything, little conversations that soften the edges of the end of this visit.
Henry hunkers down to his second term. He's made some friends, learned how different it is in university from either his high school or home-schooling. Now he has to concentrate, has to actually study and work and play and grow and change. He's had to make so many, many new habits- not that that's not what he's done all his life, but before it's always been with the idea that things would be changing again soon. Now he plans to stay in one place for four, maybe five years; these habits will have to hold up, have to be useful, for a long time. He's grateful that he's learned to attend to the practicalities. A decent place to stay, one that doesn't irritate him too much; good enough roommates. Someplace to buy the food that as a California hippie kid he's grown to enjoy: fresh vegetables and fruit, whole-grain breads, hormone-free meat. He's found places to go walking, hiking, get out of the city and into quieter environments where the challenge is to his body, not his mind. He wants time in uni to get the kind of tools his dad has to make understanding about the world he lives in: a clean, clear grasp of history, politics, and how people live; a broader, deeper appreciation for other ways of living and thinking than his own automatic habits; and a range of skills in different subjects, so that no one thing intimidates him so much by its complexity, its mystery, that he's afraid to try it out.
twelve
slashfairy
G
~~~
Orlando drops down the Western Hemisphere to Argentina, ostensibly to visit friends, hang with his cousin, but really to see what he can of where Viggo was young- was little, really, but something in Viggo has never felt little, and Orlando feels he needs to understand that a little better. He goes shopping, is seen at restaurants, but also makes side trips, exploring. It's the first time he's ever gone to find part of Viggo's life without Viggo along: he feels a little bit like a detective, or an anthropologist, or archaeologist, as he lets the language and colours and everything wash over him.
Viggo goes back to London from Spain, wincing when he sees Nikolai in the photos from the Goya awards. He misses home, misses the opportunity to be just himself in the house at the end of the bluff road; at the same time he's closer now, with Nikolai living in him, to understanding that in himself that could become cold, heartless, driven by practicalities instead of compassion. He doesn't much like that part, but he figures he should know it intimately. Have compassion for others and ourselves; he'd said something like that not long ago. Everyone's got a monster, two, three in them: the question is, does the monster rule them from time to time, because they don't know it's there? Or do they rule the monster, because there's nowhere it can hide?
Karl and Hunter enjoy the last few days of Hunter's break doing little things: walking the dogs. Building sand castles. They try to fly a kite, but the wind is in the wrong direction and not strong enough, so instead they build a fort of driftwood and use the kite for its flag, the dogs circling round the building site sniffing the freshly upturned sand, dragging smaller pieces of wood off to play with. Eventually it comes down to the end of the day; over bacon sarnies and cocoa they talk about nothing, and everything, little conversations that soften the edges of the end of this visit.
Henry hunkers down to his second term. He's made some friends, learned how different it is in university from either his high school or home-schooling. Now he has to concentrate, has to actually study and work and play and grow and change. He's had to make so many, many new habits- not that that's not what he's done all his life, but before it's always been with the idea that things would be changing again soon. Now he plans to stay in one place for four, maybe five years; these habits will have to hold up, have to be useful, for a long time. He's grateful that he's learned to attend to the practicalities. A decent place to stay, one that doesn't irritate him too much; good enough roommates. Someplace to buy the food that as a California hippie kid he's grown to enjoy: fresh vegetables and fruit, whole-grain breads, hormone-free meat. He's found places to go walking, hiking, get out of the city and into quieter environments where the challenge is to his body, not his mind. He wants time in uni to get the kind of tools his dad has to make understanding about the world he lives in: a clean, clear grasp of history, politics, and how people live; a broader, deeper appreciation for other ways of living and thinking than his own automatic habits; and a range of skills in different subjects, so that no one thing intimidates him so much by its complexity, its mystery, that he's afraid to try it out.
twelve