Latent Dream (Summervale) [Cramler] [M]

[GoblinFae]

Aneisha blushed and smiled back even if she ducked more into the shadows to be perceived less. Theo for his part snorted softly at the mental image of his guard running from an armed woman. But no sooner had Fletcher answered than a small rough hand was pushing a plate stacked high with leftover breakfast rolls, dried meat, and sliced apple into his lap. The young girl chewed at her bottom lip as she rocked slightly on her toes in anxious anticipation.

"Have you seen a pirate before?" She asked suddenly. 

[Nightcrawler]

Taken aback by the maid's sudden generosity, it took Fletcher a moment to remember his manners. He looked between the plate and her, suddenly uncertain what to make of these people. He was so used to nothing being freely given. To everything having some hidden price. He'd assumed that household staff worked much the same way, but it was clear as day that Aneisha wasn't pulling that on him now. "Erm. Thank you, this is...erm...you sure I'm not getting you in a heap of trouble, here?" He took a slice of apple, eager to have something to fuel him besides smoke and nerves.

"Pirates...let me think. Well...without damning myself out of a job and into a cell," he joked, "I suppose we dealt with more than a few thieves while running cargo. It's why my brother taught me to fight, actually. Not much point in getting paid to break your back if some shirtless wanker jumps aboard and steals it all out from under you, is there? Erm...sorry. Still learning to watch my mouth."

He took another bite, savoring the first home-cooked meal he'd had in who knew how long. He made a mental note to butter up the cook. If he wasn't careful, he'd lose his figure eating like this. "Well? Your turn," he said, nodding to Aneisha. "You ever seen any highwaymen? How about robbers? Ghosts?"

[GoblinFae]

"Ghosts aren't real!" She protested, lightly smacking his shoulder before covering her mouth as she realized what she had done. 

"Yes they are," Theo intoned, pulling attention away from her and causing her to cock her hip and grimace at him while offering a very rude gesture.

"May I have some tea please, Aneisha?"

"No," she replied full of sass. "Not until you admit the ghost is you."

Theodore shrugged as she turned back to Fletcher. "Would you like some tea, Mr.—is it Daw or Taw?"

[Nightcrawler]

Fletch didn't stifle his snort this time as the maid did the last thing he'd ever expect from her. "Oh, I like you. You're well on your way to being a pirate already," he quipped. Without realizing it, he'd relaxed more than he'd been able to all day — from the chase this morning to his nerves at meeting his new employers. "Erm, no, no thank you. It's never been my drink of choice, truthfully. And Daw. It's Daw, with a D. Jack Daw. Like the bird. Also not my idea." He paused, frowning, as he pieced something together. Pretty Boy was stalling. He'd been stalling since they walked out on the grounds. Either he was that avoidant of his mother, or someone had needed time to rifle through Fletcher's things. Well, there was one way to find out.

"I should get you back where you should be, sir," he said, now watching keenly for a reaction.

[GoblinFae]

Aneisha giggled softly and shook her head. "Our stable boy has it worse. Poor Dewey." Turning to Theo, the young girl pointed towards Fletcher and then signed the correct spelling of his last name making the nobleman sit up and flush in embarrassment.

The look he sent Fletcher was a cross between shame and hurt. "You're not going to lose your job for correcting my pronunciation," he intoned quietly as he got to his feet to obey the direction to return to normal life. There was no hesitation in his movements even as he hopped up the steps, easily skipping every creaky spot in the process so that his ascension was only as loud as the whisper brushing of his clothing against each other. 

Wordlessly he lead the other man to a room with double doors clearly meant to receive and entertain people. Inside sat a piano, shoved unceremoniously into a corner. Theo continued to walk towards it until he abruptly stopped. There was a pause before he did an immediate about face and hurried himself right out of the room not even pausing to avoid nearly bowling Fletcher over in the process. 

The reason for his haste would be self-evident a few seconds later as his mother's shrill voice suddenly rang out fruitlessly calling for him. 

"Teddybear! Teddy I know you're in there come here please. Theodore Archer I know you can hear me!!!"

Theodore walked faster, scaling the steps two at a time, all the way up to his room before stopping and at last turning to face his guard.

"I find myself with a headache and will be retiring for now. I'm sure my father is likely done drawing up your contract if you wish to return to his study and finish the final dealings as well as add your addendum about the need for a guard dog. Otherwise your afternoon is your own. I will let you know before deciding to leave my room," he sighed and grimaced, "although I do not foresee myself doing so for the rest of the—day.

"Or do you require access to my rooms to sufficiently guard me?" The last he asked genuinely without snark or disgust.

[Nightcrawler]

Oh. No. It was definitely the former. Fletcher kicked himself for misreading the situation, and for pulling such a bad bluff. He shot an apologetic glance at Aneisha. "Sorry to dine and dash. Thanks for the food, love. I owe you one." With that, he took off after his silent charge as the man rushed through the house: known territory for him, largely unknown for Fletcher. Fletch huffed and puffed up the stairs behind him, not certain where Pretty Boy was going but determined not to lose him out a window.

"Sir — wait — " he gasped in between bouts of swearing beneath his breath. But Theodore never faced him, instead racing in and out of an empty room and hurrying up the next flight of stairs. Hot on their heels, the Baroness began her awful shrieking. "Good fucking emperor, woman," Fletch breathed, and picked up his pace again.

When at last they reached the top, Theo finally gave him a chance to speak. Fletcher leaned against the doorframe and fought to catch his breath again. "Can you not do that to me?" he mouthed, barely letting a whisper escape his throat for fear that he'd be heard downstairs. He straightened and recoiled a little at what Pretty Boy said last, then screwed up his face in confusion. "No. Why would I...? You're not a child, sir. And I'm not a fucking sadist. I'm not invading your quarters." He rubbed at his eye and grumbled. "Yeah. Thanks. You're right. I'm going to go take care of the contract. Please just...don't get me fired by hopping out a window and breaking your ankle. Alright?"

He spent the afternoon settling in as best as he could. Between securing Aya her position as princess of the stables, checking his room to make absolutely sure nothing had been taken, exploring the ins and outs of the property, and beginning a truly laughable series of bullshit interviews for the sake of appearances, the rest of the day was hardly his own. By the time the cook dished out dinner for the staff, he found himself looking forward to an early night.

But somehow, rest didn't come easy. His mind buzzed with the events of the day — the riddles and puzzles and peculiarities of this way of life that he'd always imagined having, yet never known. It was soft, and the people here were kind, and he had everything he could think to ask for. But something felt wrong about it. The too-quiet house that felt more like a tomb. The way Pretty Boy ran from his mother and rebelled like a teen under curfew. He'd known how to keep quiet when he walked. It was the same way Fletch had moved as a kid when he was scared his dad might go after him. That thought kept him up longer than he'd have liked. By the time he finally fell asleep, fully clothed and atop the covers, the candles had burned down to the stick.

[GoblinFae]

Theodore slept. The sun moved through the sky and his window until it set beyond the horizon and still he did not stir. Another maid came and tried to get his attention for dinner and still he slept. By the time Fletcher crashed in his own bed the food left for the Young Master had sat by his door and long gone cold.

The moon hung high in the sky by the time he finally sat up suddenly in his bed, heart racing in disorientated confusion before he realized where he was. He had slept the day away and managed another afternoon of avoiding his mother and her nagging.

He got up quietly and went used the basin in his bathroom to wash his face and neck. The bandages in his hands were carefully removed and abandoned. It was overkill for a few scrapes but there was no telling the Baroness that. The one on his chin was removed and refreshed though as it already was looking rather angry red and dark purple with bruising.

For a moment he stood there hunched over the basin and staring at himself in the mirror. Everything here was a farce. He was a puppet for his mother's amusement when she remembered him and a disappointing reminder of what he could and should have been to his father. The irony that the man who had warranted him needing a guard had become it was not lost on him either. The more he thought in the matter though the more he wanted to laugh in despair. As if there was an I'kanan in the planet that would want a discard like him. It was a joke.

He splashes water at the mirror and turned away from it. His gaze was drawn instead to the door that divided his room from the one next door. The Nanny's room his father had called it. As if the one who had once resided there didn't have a name. As if the one who used to care and comfort for him and been his entire world had never existed. And now someone else lived there. Was he there now? Probably, it was late after all.

Theodore felt antsy. He wanted nothing more than tear out of his room and down the stairs to his sanctuary but knew that was no longer so simple or allowed an act. He had promised to notify him—Jack, if he was going to be leaving his rooms but would thank him for disturbing him? He anxiously picked at his cuticles while mulling over the dilemma. 

Finally, brave enough to move even as his heart hammered in his chest he stepped forward towards their shared door and hesitated. His hand hovered the wood as each breath felt like it shuddered and squeezed within his lungs. Would he be in trouble? Only one way to find out. Theodore knocked—softly, gently as if afraid to wake the one within but also needing to then retreated from the door as fast as humanly possible to exit his room into the hall and wait. 

[Nightcrawler]

Someone knocked. Had he dreamed it? No, there it was again — a gentle knock, but enough to wake him. Fletcher groaned and rolled clumsily to his feet. It was dark out. What time was it? How long had he been out? By the state of the candle, not long at all. "Coming," he managed, dragging his sword from where it leaned against the wall. "Better be important," he added to himself. He ran a hand over his face and cracked open the door.

"Yeah?" he began, blinking the sleep away and trying bring the outline of Pretty Boy into focus. Then his hand stopped over his bare and sunken left eye, and his right one went wide. He'd forgotten his eyepatch on the bed. "Shit. Sorry," he mumbled. "A minute, would you? Or, just...I don't care. Fuck it. Come in if you want." He ducked back into the room and turned his back to spare the man the ugly sight. After he'd secured his eyepatch, he returned his attention to his charge. "What d'you need?"

[GoblinFae]

Theodore stood still in the light of the candle he held as it cast unsavory shadows on Fletcher's face. Yet, all he did was stare curiously rather than in horror. He looked away to allow the other man his privacy though as he rushed to replace his eyepatch.

"I'm sorry for waking you Mr. Daw. I just wished to inform you that I am going downstairs for a bit. I did not wish you to worry that I am not where you are expecting. I am not leaving the house so you can go back to bed."

[Nightcrawler]

"Oh." Fletch squinted, brows knitted, still fighting off the sleep that had just come to him. Between his messed hair and his rumpled clothes, he was a disheveled sight at this hour. "Erm. No." He sighed, blinked a few times, and looked around for his sword. He found it where he'd set it on the bed. He supposed if Pretty Boy was just going to another room, he wouldn't likely need it. "No," he mumbled again before remembering to face the man when talking to him. "Lemme get my coat. I'll come with."

[GoblinFae]

"I'm sorry," he apologized again sighing painfully as he waited. Once Fletcher joined him he carefully wound his way past his abandoned and uneaten food, down the hall, extra slowly down the stairs again, and back into the room he had fled from during the daylight. His candle was placed on the windowsill before he sat down at the piano to play. The hand positions made his scabs sting but it did not stop him from trying all the same.

Soft, slow, mournful notes flowed from the instrument as Theodore played what was on his heart. There was no music to read as he played what was written in his soul. Time was immaterial and he did not notice its passage as he played. All else faded out of attention as he allowed his mind to wander. He thought of the thrill of his morning as he ran to the road and felt the crisp air in his lungs and he played. He recalled his fall and his mother's overprotective fawning and he played. The reintroduction of Mr. Jack Daw into his life and the fear of his friends being fired froze icily in his veins and he played. The joy of a dog so excited to see him and kiss his wounds better that she climbed a fence to see him, the playfulness of his friend tending to him in a warm kitchen, the harsh reminder of reality, the sleep that never refreshed and he played. 

The notes sang, they wept, they danced, and hoped and dreamed and crashed and fell first slow then fast then dragging their feet to the very end. By the time the music stopped the candle had long since burned out and dawn was stretching back into waking the day.

Theo sat and stared at the coming morn feeling empty inside. He has played all night and now as the world was still  and quiet so too was the well of emotions within him. 

[Nightcrawler]

Of all the things he thought Pretty Boy might be getting up to — grabbing a book, or stealing a snack, or even sneaking out the back for a bit for air — this was not one of them. Fletcher followed him dutifully into the room and did a bleary-eyed double take when the man sat down at the piano in the corner. But...he couldn't hear. So what was he...? Bemused but too tired to make a fuss over it, he found a spot on a lounging couch and rested a boot over the other knee.

He'd expected discord. Shitty noise like a small child would make while banging the keys. What met his ears instead was...feeling. Something raw and real and poignant. It was music, sure. It was pleasant enough to listen to. But it was more than that, too: like a release. And somehow also like a siren's call, beckoning him down beneath the waves.

He shook himself. His eye had closed the moment it started, and he'd started to nod off to the melody. Taking a deep and fortifying breath, he sat up straight again and strained to keep awake. He wondered how long Pretty Boy was going to take, and whether he could win the battle he was losing against sleep.

He awoke with a start to quiet and the predawn light. "Shit," he grunted, picking himself up from the couch in a panic. Was it morning already? Pretty Boy must have run off the moment he'd passed out — no, there he was, still at the piano. Fletch breathed a sigh of relief and pushed himself to his feet with a groan. He staggered to the piano like a zombie. "You didn't run," he commented, his voice cracking through a parched throat. "Thanks."

[GoblinFae]

Theo startled horribly, flinching deeply as Fletcher came into view. He settled quickly as he recognized the man and apologized softly. His own voice was thick with disuse and spent emotion.

"I didn't mean to keep you up all night. I'm so sorry, I forgot you were there." He rubbed a hand over his face and settled back into his polite mask. "I told you if you gave them no trouble I would give you none and behave. You haven't and I am."

He sighed again and looked to him. "Do you need to smoke again? Or go back to bed? Again I'm sorry for that. It was very selfish and inconsiderate of me. I will try to do better in the future."

[Nightcrawler]

Lack of sleep stole what little filter Fletch might have had in place before. He stood there swaying, half awake and entirely a scruffy mess, and frowned blearily down at Theo. "You apologize a lot. You know that?" he rasped. "You don't need to, mate. Least, not to me," he added with a dark glance towards the door. "Erm. No. If I go back to bed, I'm missing my shift. I'll manage. Will need a smoke, though. You want fresh air, you're welcome to walk with me."

[GoblinFae]

He stared up at the other man, taking in his disheveled appearance and finding that he liked how it softened and made his jailer seem more human.  Perhaps the man wasn't all bad after all. Perhaps they had just had a rough start and the two could find peaceful balance living in cohabitation due to unfortunate circumstances.

"You're not any less deserving of consideration and apologies just because I hate why you're here. You're still just as much a person as I am...moreso even," he added even more quietly. 

He got to his feet, pausing long enough to carefully pick at the melted wax that had spilled out of the collection dish and all over the windowsill. Every piece of extra wax was meticulously peeled away and placed where it would be less mess for the maids to clean up later.

"After you, Mr. Daw. You've been patient enough with me and my eccentricities."

[Nightcrawler]

He led the way. In his stupefied state, he couldn't quite remember each and every spot that Pretty Boy had skipped over, but somehow he managed to avoid the worst-offending floorboards. The last thing he wanted was to wake the Baroness and make up some excuse on the spot as to why he was dragging her son outside at this hour. Well, Ma'am, he needs to learn to defend himself, he thought, making a face and jerking his head farcically as he imagined the encounter. You want him fit enough to repel hundreds of I'kanan suitors, that begins with a morning jog around the grounds. Blah, blah, blah...

He snorted at his own silent joke. Although...it wouldn't be a terrible idea, now that he thought on it. Pretty Boy had struggled with that bucket of water back in the stables. He seemed like he could use some sun, too. But none of that was in Fletcher's job description, so he set the thought aside, led them both out through the scullery, and headed for the fence again. He pulled a cigarette and grimaced at how few he had left in the case. Then he shrugged and waggled it at Theo anyways. "Smoke?"

[GoblinFae]

Like a ghost haunting his every step, Theo silently followed. He paused in the scullery long enough to grab an empty metal pail before continuing all the long to the fence line. He shook his head in reply.

"No, thank you. I don't smoke," he repeated easily without any hint of frustration at having to repeat himself. The pail was tucked in between a tree and the fence for Fletcher's discard use and the nobleman straightened to lean back against the fence. The dewy morning air left a damp chill in his bones that made him almost regret coming out in just a tunic and trousers but he was even more reluctant to go inside and retrieve his coat. He simply wrapped his arms about himself as he stared up at the window to his room and thought of all the times he had stood staring down at the road wishing it was him on it with friends. A blob of white caught his eye and as he readjusted his gaze he snorted softly. 

"The dog is back."

[Nightcrawler]

It took Fletcher a second to realize what the pail was for. He didn't say anything on the subject, but he did give Theo an odd look. The man was determined not to leave a trace of himself behind, and he'd extended that here, too. The Baroness really was a menace, Fletch decided, if she'd beaten it into her son this badly.

Pretty Boy refused again. "'Course not," Fletcher grunted with the cigarette balanced between his lips. He lit the thing and leaned over the fence, staring off into the dark forest. He closed his eyes. Today was going to be rough. He could feel it already. He'd need to set up the night shift soon or he'd be passing out on the job. It wasn't the worst he'd experienced, but he was no longer that young and limber little bastard who could pull a full day's hard labor on a few hours of shut eye.

A shivering breath caught his attention, and he turned to see Pretty Boy shaking with his arms wrapped around nothing but a damned tunic. "Fuck's sake," he muttered. He stood up straight and shuffled his belongings into his trouser pockets, then pulled his jacket off and tossed it at the man. "First a maid's cloak, now this. Do I need to amend my contract and procure you a coat, sir?" he grumbled in jest before scowling up the hill at Aya. "I think she heard you. Careful. She'll try to go for your face again."

Sure enough, the dog barreled towards them, dug in a little too late to slow her own momentum, went up on her hind legs, and, before Fletch could react, landed her front paws firmly on Theo's shoulders, pressing mud and wet grass and bits of straw into the fabric of his tunic. She bestowed him with the customary dog greeting of too many kisses, pausing only to press her cold nose and sniff directly into his ear. "Aya," Fletcher snapped, positioning himself to pull her off of his charge. "Leave him alone."

[GoblinFae]

"No, I own a coat, thank you." Theo caught the coat awkwardly but draped it over the fence instead of putting it on. "You'll catch a cold and get sick and then what work will you have? Keep it. At least if I get sick you'll have a few easy days," he attempted to jest back, the words sounding flat on his tongue.

With his gaze on Fletcher though he missed Aya's entrance until she was literally plowing into him. A hard grunt escaped him as his back collided with the fence behind him and he had muddy paws and puppy kisses to worry about instead. Theo, gently grabbed her front paws and moved them so her own momentum would lower her to the ground before recrossing his arms and refused to look at or acknowledge her until she settled down. Only then did he reach to give her head pets and soft words.

"You're going to have to behave better if you're not going to get your colleague Mr. Daw into trouble, Miss Aya. You're a guard dog now. Very important business means not jumping on your client like a common stray. You're not a common stray are you? No, I didn't think so. Not that there's anything wrong with strays but you have a job to do, y'know?"

He scratched her ears before straightening and brushing what debris he could off his shirt. He'd need to change before his mother saw him but he was loathe to go in just yet. "Were you able to discuss the contract with my father regarding Aya?"

[Nightcrawler]

Fletcher stepped back and watched Pretty Boy work the same magic on Aya that Ven once had. He crossed his arms over his chest. His expression grew guarded again. "Course she listens to you," he said, his voice low and bitter. "You remind her of her old master." He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second, then added, "Baron was amenable to having her on perimeter rounds. She can stay. Point taken, though. She's a bit too wild. Have you got anyone on the staff who can train her?"

He noticed the abandoned jacket on the fence, rolled his eyes, and retrieved it. He shook it at Theo. "You catch a cold and I get scolded for neglecting your well-being. That's not an easy few days in my book. Put the damned coat on, sir."