[ s...upposedly. look, let's not ruin this magical moment by getting into weird things like red number four or artificially flavored. he starts them back towards the sand, so they can enjoy their popsicles by the water.
and so they can easily wash off any accidents, should they happen. ]
Be careful of brainfreeze. That's what happens when you eat something too cold too quickly — it's like someone with ice powers reached right into your head and — zap!
[so quick! Linneus is barely through the red section of his, though he's enjoying it - even if he's chasing away drips.]
I do. As a child, yes, but even as an adult, truthfully. Though most would say a man shouldn't distract himself with things like that...
[but then, Linneus has long since accepted that he isn't like most other men - he has never dressed like one, never acted like one, why should he think like one? Even if he is older and jaded, now, and doesn't really believe in fairytale princes or in magic, that doesn't mean the stories don't still capture his imagination.
A moment while he tries to get through a little more of his popsicle]
Perhaps there are other similarities, if our worlds shared the same story.
[ lance cannot help but make a little face at that. ]
That's weird... Stories are great. They used to be my favorite part of bedtime, when I was a kid!
[ especially when his mom or dad would make the stories about heroes named lance... heh.
in any case, he doesn't really fit into the standard mold of "a man" either, what with his nightly skincare routines, and propensity for flair and theatrics. ]
But, yeah, maybe you're right. What's your world like?
I had no bedtime stories, but my master's son would read to me. Later he helped teach me my letters...
[his lips press together a moment - partly in thought, but more to remove the smarting cold from them a little. He's made some progress on the popsicle though.]
I can't say my world was quieter than this one... I think they're both loud in their way. We had none of the technology, though, so that has been an adjustment.
Well, not exactly. More odd jobs here and there - I was such a small child they weren't always sure what to do with me! But if the word 'butler' helps you picture it, then yes.
[ he laughs a little nervously, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, which feels a little warm (along with his cheeks and ears) in his embarrassment. ]
Sorry, was that prying? It's not really a term I hear that often anymore, so I got kinda curious...
[growing up the nature of his work changed. And he came to understand that the Teahouse was a cage - albeit a gilded one, and one he couldn't bring himself to leave.]
...I didn't understand my position for a very long time. I was given to the house in rags, but they gave me good clothes.
[and food, and shoes that that he all too often forgot to wear...!]
And truthfully, I was terribly doted on, being the only child below stairs. So it was home, for me.
Things changed. But some things never did - I just came to understand them properly.
[and he's hesitant, as he tries to find a way to explain without telling too much.]
...I can't presume to comprehend the decisions that were made about me in my childhood by people I barely knew, but my father gave me away for a reason. My master took me for a reason. So far as I've heard, my father owed debts, and I know my master would have never forgiven debts if there wasn't a way I could be used to pay them, or if there wasn't some gain for him.
But I didn't understand this, and so for a long while I thought I belonged there.
[ it isn't often lance finds himself regretting things; he's often of the mindset that things happen for a reason (as his mother likes to say) and even if they suck at the moment, later, in time, he'll come to find it was necessary. so he doesn't get into the habit of regret, not if he can help it, but in this moment he finds himself wishing he hadn't pried as much as he had, for the pure and honest reason that he does not know how to proceed. doesn't know how to make it better. he pushed open a door to a room he cannot quite make sense of, and now he fumbles for a proper response, worried to leave it messier and more cluttered than he had found it. ]
...Sorry. [ it is such a generic thing to say, despite his earnestness, and he seems to realize it in how he winces right after. ]
You can start over here, can't you? Live the life you wanna lead... not the one you think you were supposed to.
[it is. Everyone has their own past and circumstances. Linn is sure there are those who have had it worse than he.
A light bump of the boy's shoulder makes up for the fact that the silence will spin out a bit, while he tries to get on top of his Popsicle Situation. Miraculously it isn't melting down his hands, but it is uncomfortably close to doing so and he doesn't speak again until it's safe.
No brain freeze yet. But perhaps today is a day for miracles.]
I can - or they said I could. The struggle is in recognising my chances to do so and taking them.
Well, there's no rush in that either, you know? [ lance's popsicle is finished off with one last bite, and he fiddles with the stick for a bit after. ]
Everyone goes at their own pace and junk. You'll find out what works for you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ s...upposedly. look, let's not ruin this magical moment by getting into weird things like red number four or artificially flavored. he starts them back towards the sand, so they can enjoy their popsicles by the water.
and so they can easily wash off any accidents, should they happen. ]
Be careful of brainfreeze. That's what happens when you eat something too cold too quickly — it's like someone with ice powers reached right into your head and — zap!
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[echoing, a thoughtful lick of his popsicle while he comes up with an equivalent]
Like the Snow Queen? Do you have that story, where you come from?
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Do you like stories?
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I do. As a child, yes, but even as an adult, truthfully. Though most would say a man shouldn't distract himself with things like that...
[but then, Linneus has long since accepted that he isn't like most other men - he has never dressed like one, never acted like one, why should he think like one? Even if he is older and jaded, now, and doesn't really believe in fairytale princes or in magic, that doesn't mean the stories don't still capture his imagination.
A moment while he tries to get through a little more of his popsicle]
Perhaps there are other similarities, if our worlds shared the same story.
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That's weird... Stories are great. They used to be my favorite part of bedtime, when I was a kid!
[ especially when his mom or dad would make the stories about heroes named lance... heh.
in any case, he doesn't really fit into the standard mold of "a man" either, what with his nightly skincare routines, and propensity for flair and theatrics. ]
But, yeah, maybe you're right. What's your world like?
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I had no bedtime stories, but my master's son would read to me. Later he helped teach me my letters...
[his lips press together a moment - partly in thought, but more to remove the smarting cold from them a little. He's made some progress on the popsicle though.]
I can't say my world was quieter than this one... I think they're both loud in their way. We had none of the technology, though, so that has been an adjustment.
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...Master?
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[...oh, he said something strange.]
I have been-- I was in service. Since I was a child.
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startling. ]
Like... a butler?
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Well, not exactly. More odd jobs here and there - I was such a small child they weren't always sure what to do with me! But if the word 'butler' helps you picture it, then yes.
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Sorry, was that prying? It's not really a term I hear that often anymore, so I got kinda curious...
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[normally he would just try to divert their talk away from those topics. But it's fairer to be up front, perhaps, than to just shut things down]
I will let you know if you get too close to them. I take it it's not to common to go into service where you are from, then?
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Uh, I mean it depends, I guess... They're usually called "employers" now, though. And people in service get paid.
Or — should get paid.
[ "master" kind of... denotes something bad. ]
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But my masters were both the masters of their house...
[Xanthe and Master Atros before him. Yes, they were the masters of the servants, too, but... "employer" doesn't sound quite right]
Oh we... I wasn't paid...
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Yeah... Yeah, that isn't really allowed anymore where I'm from.
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[so much for similarities, then. Just as well he's holding back - Lance is probably not going to take so well to the rest.]
Where I'm from it's very common...
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[ unintentionally, he echoes linneus' quiet voice.
it sounds a little upsetting, but honestly who is he to judge... everyone's worlds are different... ]
Were you happy?
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[growing up the nature of his work changed. And he came to understand that the Teahouse was a cage - albeit a gilded one, and one he couldn't bring himself to leave.]
...I didn't understand my position for a very long time. I was given to the house in rags, but they gave me good clothes.
[and food, and shoes that that he all too often forgot to wear...!]
And truthfully, I was terribly doted on, being the only child below stairs. So it was home, for me.
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[and he's hesitant, as he tries to find a way to explain without telling too much.]
...I can't presume to comprehend the decisions that were made about me in my childhood by people I barely knew, but my father gave me away for a reason. My master took me for a reason. So far as I've heard, my father owed debts, and I know my master would have never forgiven debts if there wasn't a way I could be used to pay them, or if there wasn't some gain for him.
But I didn't understand this, and so for a long while I thought I belonged there.
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...Sorry. [ it is such a generic thing to say, despite his earnestness, and he seems to realize it in how he winces right after. ]
You can start over here, can't you? Live the life you wanna lead... not the one you think you were supposed to.
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[it is. Everyone has their own past and circumstances. Linn is sure there are those who have had it worse than he.
A light bump of the boy's shoulder makes up for the fact that the silence will spin out a bit, while he tries to get on top of his Popsicle Situation. Miraculously it isn't melting down his hands, but it is uncomfortably close to doing so and he doesn't speak again until it's safe.
No brain freeze yet. But perhaps today is a day for miracles.]
I can - or they said I could. The struggle is in recognising my chances to do so and taking them.
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Everyone goes at their own pace and junk. You'll find out what works for you.
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[the strangeness of the new, and the strangeness of being free. But certainly one more than the other.]
It will take some time, I'm sure. But I will get there.
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[ .. he hopes that's a common saying that they share.. ]
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