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finalflight2016-11-30 10:45 pm
hedgemaze) wrote in finalflight2016-11-30 10:45 pm
Entry tags:
psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]
THE AUBEL ESTATE is located in Derbyshire, England, a stately old home reminiscent of centuries long past. Long ago, it had fallen into disrepair and abandoned until previous generations of the Aubel family purchased the land for themselves, having found their fortunes in matters of real estate. Since that time, the outside has been restored and the inside has been renovated at least three times. Four, if you ask the uncle who remembers the one summer where the chandelier fell from the dining hall, taking a large portion of the ceiling with it. How embarrassing, if such a thing is true.
In its present state, it straddles the line between the old and new. The large, prominent rooms are ostentatious as they are filled to the brim with austere English culture; the smaller quarters, traditionally used by the servants and staff, are far more modest, and over time have allowed the tendrils of modernity to creep in as a result. Regardless, the home is impressive no matter how you look at it, and there are few who do not cast an envious glance at the estate as they pass by Derbyshire on their way to town, or perhaps northwest to Manchester, if they've even farther to go.
PHILIP AND JAMES AUBEL, father and son respectively, are the owners of the home, though only the father remains for any extended period of time. And even then, he only stays perhaps one or two seasons at a time, until he returns to his home in London, spending one or two seasons there, before returning again, living out his life of retirement to the fullest. James visits nearly every week (driving in from Manchester, and back) in the Spring, until the first freeze of Winter, when nothing will grow. Though they have a staff of two dozen -- give or take, depending upon the time of year -- taking care of the estate and its grounds, James is more diligent about keeping up appearances of the house, showing a special interest in maintaining the complex hedge maze on the land directly behind them. Only he keeps access to its center, a literal walled garden of seasonal flora.
AS RECENT DEVELOPMENTS WOULD HAVE IT, James has been drawn into an arranged marriage by his father and an old business acquaintance. She is scheduled for an extended visit soon, and the staff have done a meticulous job of preparing the hall for her arrival -- and the rest of the rooms, as well, if she is expected to make her living here permanent, one day. Today, the weather is clear and the help is eager to aid her in unpacking. The grounds are green and the family dog, an old greyhound with cataracts in one eye, bounds up to her with a slow wagging tail. The father will greet her, of course, with all the usual formalities, and though he doesn't know her all that well at all, she at least seems nice enough. He disappears soon after, leaving her to her own devices as she sees fit. James himself is nowhere to be found.
Somewhere, sooner rather than later, a collision course of first impressions will take place.
D I R E C T O R Y;
➤ shitpost.
➤ first impressions.
➤ diamonds.
➤ text her, texter.
➤ saviour.
➤ flirt.
➤ closer.
➤ cross-examine.
➤ PARTY CRASHERS.
✶ elle + devon
✶ elle + corvus
✶ ian + james + corvus
✶ devon + james
➤ alien abduction.
➤ sleep now.
➤ bathe.
➤ remember.
➤ drink.
➤ welcome home.
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[He glances over to see what she was referring to and--
Oh.]
...Ah. Old family album, yes. I had forgotten that was there.
[He's frowning.]
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Devon holds the album in front of her chest uncertainly.]
...
...
So can I look inside it or am I going to be cursed?
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Of course you can look inside. I've no secrets to keep in there.
[He sets his jaw after saying that, swallowing. (What a bald-faced lie that is, screams a tiny voice in his head. He tells it to be quiet.)
James looks into the quietly crackling fire.]
Just embarrassing baby photos and the like. [But he knows it's a bit more than that. He knows she surely knows it, too.]
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[And with that, Devon carefully take her tea in one hand, album in the other and seats herself at the foot of James' chair, putting her tea next to her and the book on her lap.]
Grandpa has a ton of baby pictures of all of us in the family, so if you think yours are embarrassing, his collection might a well be a serial killer's.
[Ah, Devon. So reassuring and loving of your family, and yet audacious in your commentary of them.]
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He leans into the arm of the chair with one elbow, looking down so he can see her flip through the pages. If he remembers correctly, they'll start out as most do; a young mother and father (when they still looked happy together, smiling in each photo), wedding pictures (so grand, undoubtedly so very expensive), baby photos (from a time... before-- no, he didn't need to think of it that way. They were one and the same, now--), and a young James (eventually pictures with the mother in them stop), a teenaged James (some in his school uniform; a handful of Eton pictures here and there), and a few of him as a handsome young adult. (There were decidedly less of those. After reaching a certain point, it would be as if the pictures just... stop.)
Still, he'll watch quietly. He has no reason to not show her, as uncomfortable as some of them may end up being.]
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Devon pauses when she nears the end where the pictures eventually stop. She flips back and forth among the pages of him being a child, a teenager, and then a young adult. Sometimes she glances back at his mother and father, searching for the similarities in their features.
When one pages lands on an image of him between high school and a young adult, she finally wonders aloud.]
Looking at these... Kind of makes me wonder what it'd be like if we met when we were younger. Silly, I know, but...
[Her mind goes towards those places very often. The what-ifs, the how-would-it happen, the millions and millions of possibilities of them having very different lives apart from each other or if they had met even earlier on.]
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When she makes the remark about meeting when they were younger, he leans back in his chair and huffs out a laugh.]
Please don't phrase it like that. We're not old.
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But, c'mon, work with me here. [She lifts her head upwards so that she can look up at James and gestures with her hands as she dishes out her imagined scenario.]
What if a 15 year old Devon Winters, on her second trip to England, happened to meet up with the handsome older boy, James Aubel? [Yes, she's saying that in a teasing way.]
Would she have actually fallen for him immediately unlike now? Would he just tease her and she would pretend to hate it? Or maybe she'd just tease him back, just like she does now.
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Even so, the question she poses is an amusing one.]
No way to know for certain, is there? If you were fifteen, I would have been eighteen. I probably would have teased you -- a little older, and I would have flirted with you.
[did u know age of consent is only 16 in the UK, Devon]
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That would have been a completely different ballgame, wouldn't it? So many mistakes would have been made.
[She reaches up to lightly stroke his arm before putting her hand down to flip through another page, looking a picture of him as a young adult.]
... But I'm glad I met you the way I was a few months ago. The "what-ifs" are fun to ponder and daydream about, but I already have you here. Can't get any better than that.
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Certainly not on my part.
[But his quip melts into a soft grin, and a hand reaches over to squeeze lightly at the hand on his arm.]
Naturally, I became more handsome the older I got. It only makes sense you'd prefer me now, as opposed to then.
[The pictures of him as a young adult sport mostly the same kind of expression -- a confident, if slightly smug, smile. His thoughts difficult to read, but his manner easy enough. Perhaps not all that different to those who know him well, now. Though in some ways, at least around Devon, he's not quite exactly the same any more.]
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[Although, now that she thinks about it, Devon hasn't been sleepwalking in the past week or so. She still keeps her door locked, but the heavy feeling she has when dreading the anticipation of sleep, has faded significantly.]
When I saw your pictures last year before everything changed, I definitely said, "Is this for real?"
[Devon had more than a little disbelief at the image of a handsome magazine-model like man being shown to her by a then enthusiastic Lucy.]
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Instead, he responds only to her latter comment.]
And here I thought you wouldn't be so eager to stroke my overinflated ego.
[Ah, but James has been living for many years with people telling him he was handsome. Tellingly, it's lost its surprise with him.]
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Trust me, I'll bring you back down to earth any day, overinflated self and all.
[Even if he IS handsome, that and his attitude back then deterred her from speaking with him meaningfully. Now? She loves every part, but she'll still give him lip.]
... You know, you let me look at your pictures... Give me a sec. [Devon pulls out her phone from her back pocket.]
I should have some family pictures uploaded and some old ones of me from my mom and dad's online albums. You might enjoy those.
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He leans forward, looking over her shoulder as she flips through her phone.]
So I get to indulge myself in embarrassing baby photos of a tiny Devon, too?
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Well, it's only fair. Ah, there we go.
[Devon sets the album slides on automatic so it can transition slowly enough for James to look at.
The Winters definitely have a ton of photos. There's Aaron and Christine, arms around each others waist while they're in Las Vegas on an extended date and a small, but crowded church ceremony where a bouquet being thrown into the air is stopped by time because of the image. There's no image of baby Devon in the hospital, but then pictures of her being held by her parents and relatives on Aaron's side are numerous. Her hair was curlier back then. There's one where she sits in a child-sized toy car, with Aaron holding up a STOP sign in front of her.
Toddler Devon is shown with messy hands, covered in paint, with a whole tool shed in the backyard as her canvas, giving a toothy grin at the camera. Her first day of preschool, it's her back shown, with a large pink backpack and hair neatly made. She really WAS tiny.
The pictures go on, showing early childhood to middle childhood Devon. Building sandcastles at the beach. Fourth of July. Getting her elementary school diploma. First day of junior high and then high school. She's gotten taller, past her petite stage, and her hair has softened into waves. Her smile is as bright as ever. There's pictures of her and Lucy together, both grinning as they pose together, cheek to cheek. There's a triumphant pose of her in front of Big Ben, during one of her trips to England. At around 18 years old, there's pictures of her and baby Ian, looking like the proudest sibling in the world. There's a completely separate album of just her and her brother, so she opts to skip that. There's plenty of time to see that one on another lazy afternoon.
Photos of her in college are irregular, but she's mostly shown with a mixed group of friends, moving into her dorms, candid images of her in the studio classrooms, lost in thought.
And then...]
... Look. Our engagement party.
[Aaron had taken these. One of them, is Devon in her shimmering dress, smiling up at James as if he's the only one she sees in the room. It's the most recent and beautiful memory that's been added.]
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Her family kept far more varied photos than his, he realizes. Within the Aubel family album, their own photos were sleek and often professionally done, appointments being made to create such memories; there were a few impulsive shots, of course, but they were not like Devon’s. They were vibrant in her own way, but the photos she was showing him practically radiated energy. Personality. A closer peek into a more intimate life that his own didn’t always afford.
Two different family lines, two different sorts of priorities, he muses.
And then he sees the engagement party photos. He’s silent as she goes through those, the memory still recent, still held close to his own heart. She looks so beautiful in them, it’s almost surreal. And his own smile is more candid, caught mid-laughter at something funny Aaron had said at the time.]
I think you stole the spotlight in that one.
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And yet, all I'm looking at is you in this photo.
... It won't stop here you know.
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What do you mean?
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[She grins at him, brushing her hair behind her ear.]
And I'm not talking about professional wedding pictures although those count. I mean, we'll have enough pictures to make an album of our own. It can take place nearly anywhere, anytime, when the moment is right. Whaddya say?
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He even casts his gaze to the side, vaguely embarrassed by how caught off guard he is. Like a flustered schoolboy, he tells himself.]
How... can I possibly say "no" to that? An entire album, filled to the brim with pictures of you and I.
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[CALLING HIM OUT.]
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He looks at her, and his first reaction is always to go:]
Of course not.
[liar]
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[She makes an over dramatic fist pump in the air for her theoretical victory.]
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It's hardly a competition.
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