finalflight | psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

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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.

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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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[Simon proves to be a good buffer, yet again, allowing Ian to start to relax and reach out to scratch the hound behind his ears. He looks at James in the meanwhile, finally looking him in the eye. The boy still has the remains of childishness in his face, but it's one that will grow up to be quite handsome give some time. He looks more like his father, but there's a seriousness that reflects his mother's side. It's his eyes that give off a deeply piercing look, exuding solemn judgment that wasn't just exclusive to James.]

... I like your dog.

[Well, it's a start.]

[Simon is absolutely loving all this attention, and accepts the ear-scratches happily. James, on the other hand, can feel the piercing stare of the nine year-old; a sentence he never thought he'd experience in his lifetime.

James smiles in response, slightly lopsided.]

And I think he likes you too. His name's Simon.

[Ian isn't sure what to make of James Aubel.

On the one hand, he looks 100% human. Like one of those guy models in magazines Devon and Mom would read sometimes. But the lingering sensation in his veins continues to flow throughout, silently telling him that something is amiss. Yes, James had everything a successful human being could be. He's too young to comprehend what was out of place though.

Ian's no stranger to this sensation, the feeling that certain people and certain places and things were off. The world was not a straight-forward reality as a lot of people are lead to believe and it does frustrate the child who had to learn early on that there were only a few people he could trust with his secret. Devon and Grandpa were the only ones who listened to him seriously. Dad, sometimes. For the most part, Ian's been pretty good about being cautious, using his sharp senses to stay away from danger of all types.

He looks at Simon and back at James.

This is different.]

I thought you weren't going to be here.

[He heard that James worked a lot and didn't see Devon all the time. What kind of man is he?? Dad always came home after work. That's how it should be right?]

Edited 2016-12-08 05:44 (UTC)

[For a moment, James looks confused. Not be here? Why wouldn't he be here to greet them?

And then he realizes that the boy probably means in general, referencing his time here only on the weekends. James tries not to frown.]

I'm almost always here on the weekends. [He'll even be here during the winter now that Devon is living here; a season where he usually did not return at all.] Weekdays, I work in the city. But the holidays will give me more time to take extended visits here. Christmas and New Years, and all that.

Hey, squirt.

[Devon gently interjects, rustling Ian's curly hair.]

Go inside with Mom and Dad to warm up. There's hot cocoa and cookies.

[That seems to get Ian to perk up a bit. It's been a long trip after all and there's no kid that would say no to those sweet treats. He gives Simon one last scratch behind the ears before trotting inside after Aaron and Christine. He glances back, giving one last look at James before going inside. Devon stands up, chuckling.]

Intense for a 9 year old huh? How's it feel, being cross-examined by your brother-in-law?

[He watches him leave, then looks at Devon a little wryly.]

I feel like he was judging every single word I uttered.

[Which might not have been far from the truth. Still, he gives her a grin.]

Not that I can blame him. I'm sure he has no clue what to think about me right now. As far as he's concerned, I'm just some bloody Brit who stole away his sister.

He's judging you more than our dad.

[Hell, it's true. Aaron had greeted James with a firm handshake and a friendly smile, happy to see that his future son-in-law was greeting him properly and that his daughter was healthy and in high spirits.]

Mom might come in a close second for judgement though, even though she doesn't show it.

But see, that I expected. [Parents are always more judgmental when it comes to their children's significant other.] Though don't tell me your mother already doesn't like me?

Well, in her words.

[She clears her throats and speaks in a rather precise and nearly flawless British accent.]

"I've known men likes James Aubel in my youth. They all spell bad news with egos like puffed up balloons that you need to destroy with a bloody nuclear warhead."

[w o w

He scoffs, in half-amusement.]

Men like me? There are no men like me. [He jokes ~~and also proves her point a little~~.] But I hope I can give her less to worry about in the coming days.

I really hope there wouldn't be.

[She gives him a playful and light shove of the elbow.]

Then I wouldn't nearly have as much fun if my fiance wasn't a novelty.

[He feigns offense to that, putting a hand to his chest.]

What? A novelty? Is that what I am to you? A curious plaything?

Oh, how the tables have turned.

C'mon, let's head inside. I can use some of that cocoa myself.

[He drops the act, then nods at her, looking amiable to the idea.]

Fine. How can I say no to that?

[He'll guide her in, hand at the small of her back as they enter the estate.]

[Devon walks inside, quietly relishing James's touch. No matter what happens later on, she doesn't feel lonely anymore thanks to him.

* * *

A few hours after everyone's arrival, lunch, and a tour around the mansion, the family has gone to take a nap. All, except little Ian, who's standing in front of one of the windows, both hands against the pane, looking outside at the lightly frosted garden. He can see the hedge maze from here and it's fascinating... In a morbid way. He didn't have the vocabulary to describe how he felt when looking at it.

The estate was nicer than he imagined. Devon made a lot of paintings and that helped make the inside look more cheerful compared to the outside. The Christmas decorations helped for sure (although there was a soft sadness in Devon's studio, but that had lessened because of his sister's presence and her things).

Simon trots by Ian and then sits down next to him, expecting him to play. Ian looks at the greyhound and says quite seriously:]

I didn't think he'd be nice.

[Well who could he be talking about...]

Edited 2016-12-08 08:55 (UTC)

[Ian isn't as alone as he thinks he is. While James thinks that a nap would be absolutely delightful (he's always partial to naps -- and sleeping in general, if he can afford the time to), he isn't privy to one like the rest, being one of the hosts of the estate. And besides, some of the staff had come up to him with questions (confirming what was to be prepared as their dinner for the evening), and he's just coming back from talking to the chef when he spots Ian pressed against one of the windows. Simon sits next to him, tail wagging slowly.

I didn't think he'd be nice, says the boy, and James has to hold back a chuckle at the remark. Well, it was nice to know that he was making a positive first impression, one way or another.

The way he's going, he's going to pass Ian down the hall, so he might as well make his presence known. He clears his throat, and comes closer, in long strides.]

Looking out at the gardens? If it wasn't so cold out, that would have been part of the tour, but -- well, not much is going to grow to be anything impressive in this weather.

[Ian turns to face James silently regarding him once again. ]

... I'm looking at the maze.

... Does anyone ever get lost there?

[James purses his lips together, briefly, holding back a frown at the mention of the maze. He peers out the same window, to see the hedges in the distance, indeed frosted over by a thin layer of ice.]

...No one really goes in there, anymore. Some of the groundskeepers, I suppose, might forget where they are when they're tending to the hedges, but they usually find their way out. Eventually.

That sounds like that would suck.

[Ian nods seriously at the thought. ]

It looks cool, but I guess I don't know how to feel about it when I look at it. Kind of like the house. I think some parts are okay, but other parts are weird.

[He puts his hands in his pockets, looking down at Ian, trying to read what the boy is feeling. If Devon hadn't told him about the young man's "sensitivity", James would have been more surprised than he already is. It's unfortunate that the subject matter happens to be one he's not completely comfortable talking about.

Still, he offers:]

Oh? What do you mean, "weird"?

Dunno.

[The little boy shifts his feet obviously looking like he regrets mentioning his sharp senses. ]

I don't know how to say it.

[James pauses for a few seconds, but then shrugs, playing it off as nothing.]

It's an old estate, with a lot of history, from before I was even born. It there are... any emotions to be felt in this place, they will equal parts happiness and sadness. That's just how these things work, right?

[That's a better answer than Ian expected. It's not derisive so points to James.

He holds out his hand to him. A peace offering and proper greeting at the same time. ]

I'm Ian.

[He wasn't expecting that, especially from a nine year-old, but... again, he shouldn't be surprised. Ian was so serious, so intense, for a boy of his age. James finds it a bit amusing, but he can also respect it, in a weird way.

(He also has a soft spot for children; but he won't ever admit that to anyone, not unless they beat it out of him.)

James reaches out and gives Ian a handshake, just like he had done with the rest of the family.]

I'm James. Thanks for coming here; your sister has spoken a lot about you, you know.

[It's a man to man handshake... Dad always said these were important to do so you can start to get along with another person.

(And yet, there's something, something not entirely right, but because James is being okay so far, it conflicts with what Ian usually concludes about the unbalances he uncovers.) He puts his hand down at his side after shaking James's hand.]

I've been to England a LOT of times now. I'm an expert.

[Okay so this is... His second time... Ian does look pleased when he hears that Devon mentions him. That's why he will now present the witness at the stand with these pressing questions from the Little Brother/Brother-in-law jury.]

Does she make you cookies and grilled cheese sandwiches?

Edited 2016-12-08 15:18 (UTC)

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