[James Aubel won’t show to greet his new fiance until a good half-hour later.
It wasn’t as if he was unaware of her arrival; in fact, it would be impossible not to be. He had been told of the exact day and time she would arrive (more than once, his father made certain he wouldn’t forget), but beyond that, he could… feel the presence of another, far away, but present. It was like a small stone had been dropped into a still lake, and James could feel the ripples cascading towards him. He had frowned, reaching out a bit further with his mind, feeling what it was she felt — apprehension, stress. A decided want to not be here.
He shifts his weight from where he sits — a small, white gazebo somewhere on the western grounds, big enough for three people at the most — and stretches his legs out, settling his head back and closing his eyes. If she didn’t want to see him, he was fine by that. He’d rather stay here, soak up the sun, enjoy a nap. Let the sun sink into his bones, and let her, the new stranger he was supposed to marry, take in that big, empty estate. Why should he impress upon her his presence, when it was clear that he was likely the last thing she wanted to see? It worked out for both parties, in the end.
And so half an hour passes before James is pulled out of his shallow slumber by the approaching of another presence. One far more familiar, one that radiated an unwavering confidence, though tinged at the edges with a keen guilt that could not be ignored. The young man frowns a little, but resists opening his eyes. Resists moving. Maybe the presence would leave.
Get up, James. What on earth are you doing out here? Your fiancé’s arrived, and you should be in there saying hello. Show her around!
James cannot help but grunt a little at his failure to be left alone. His father either didn’t care that he had been “sleeping”, or knew that he had merely been pretending to. He turns his head to look at him, still lazily slouched in his seat, as if a hammock would be the next best thing to napping in a gazebo, if he could have his way.]
She doesn’t want to see me right now. Let her get used to the house. She has Simon to keep her company.
[His father scoffed. Yes, let the dog be the host for the day. Are you mental? Get up. Now.]
Fine. [James hesitates only for a second before standing, this time allowing himself a stretch. Philip Aubel continued to say something along the lines of, And you need to shave. Make sure you take care of that before you leave.] Fine, I will. [James tried to wave his father away, even as he began walking back to the house.] Don’t worry so much about me — I’ll show our new guest the upmost hospitality.
[His father didn’t follow after that point, nor did James expect him to. He walked across the grounds, green blades of grass crunching underneath each step, and only when he was close enough did he call out:]
Simon!
[The old greyhound would hear him, undoubtedly, and if his fiancé was with him, then the dog would not fail to lead her to James. He would bet money on it.
Within the manor, Simon’s head turns, floppy ears perking up. While the attentions of a new person was all well and good, one of his owners was calling him, and he was eager to oblige. He barks, then bounds off towards one of the exits to the outside. He stops, pawing at a closed door, whining.]
no subject
It wasn’t as if he was unaware of her arrival; in fact, it would be impossible not to be. He had been told of the exact day and time she would arrive (more than once, his father made certain he wouldn’t forget), but beyond that, he could… feel the presence of another, far away, but present. It was like a small stone had been dropped into a still lake, and James could feel the ripples cascading towards him. He had frowned, reaching out a bit further with his mind, feeling what it was she felt — apprehension, stress. A decided want to not be here.
He shifts his weight from where he sits — a small, white gazebo somewhere on the western grounds, big enough for three people at the most — and stretches his legs out, settling his head back and closing his eyes. If she didn’t want to see him, he was fine by that. He’d rather stay here, soak up the sun, enjoy a nap. Let the sun sink into his bones, and let her, the new stranger he was supposed to marry, take in that big, empty estate. Why should he impress upon her his presence, when it was clear that he was likely the last thing she wanted to see? It worked out for both parties, in the end.
And so half an hour passes before James is pulled out of his shallow slumber by the approaching of another presence. One far more familiar, one that radiated an unwavering confidence, though tinged at the edges with a keen guilt that could not be ignored. The young man frowns a little, but resists opening his eyes. Resists moving. Maybe the presence would leave.
Get up, James. What on earth are you doing out here? Your fiancé’s arrived, and you should be in there saying hello. Show her around!
James cannot help but grunt a little at his failure to be left alone. His father either didn’t care that he had been “sleeping”, or knew that he had merely been pretending to. He turns his head to look at him, still lazily slouched in his seat, as if a hammock would be the next best thing to napping in a gazebo, if he could have his way.]
She doesn’t want to see me right now. Let her get used to the house. She has Simon to keep her company.
[His father scoffed. Yes, let the dog be the host for the day. Are you mental? Get up. Now.]
Fine. [James hesitates only for a second before standing, this time allowing himself a stretch. Philip Aubel continued to say something along the lines of, And you need to shave. Make sure you take care of that before you leave.] Fine, I will. [James tried to wave his father away, even as he began walking back to the house.] Don’t worry so much about me — I’ll show our new guest the upmost hospitality.
[His father didn’t follow after that point, nor did James expect him to. He walked across the grounds, green blades of grass crunching underneath each step, and only when he was close enough did he call out:]
Simon!
[The old greyhound would hear him, undoubtedly, and if his fiancé was with him, then the dog would not fail to lead her to James. He would bet money on it.
Within the manor, Simon’s head turns, floppy ears perking up. While the attentions of a new person was all well and good, one of his owners was calling him, and he was eager to oblige. He barks, then bounds off towards one of the exits to the outside. He stops, pawing at a closed door, whining.]