Faolan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reticence) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-12-10 09:05 am
reticence) wrote in undergrounds2016-12-10 09:05 am
Entry tags:
DECEMBER OPEN POST
1. COFFEE SHOP
It starts in the cafe that morning. It's a Saturday and he's got the day off from Hillingdon and Guardian work alike, and with two weeks until the holidays, he realizes that he's running out of time to do his shopping. He's got no idea what his plans are -- last year Lancelot had invited him over for the whole stretch of the holiday, will he be doing that again? Now that they're... Whatever they are. Whatever this is between them. He feels as if he's walking around with a bubble inside of himself, something that fills him up with joy at the thought of it, but fragile too. It's too fresh to be safe and solid yet, and he knows he's thinking about it too much, too hard, dwelling, but that's the nature of his mind and his emotions.
Maybe three days to spend together is too many, at this point, he contemplates to himself, as he shuffles forward in line at the shop. Should he bring a bag, just in case? Should he ask? He doesn't want to sound too disappointed if the answer is no. It's Lancelot's flat, it's his right to make these decisions. He should know before though, so he can bring what he needs if he should. He doesn't want to have to go back out. What if the other man would change his mind then?
It's while these thoughts are spinning around his head, while his guard is lowered and vulnerable, that it sneaks in. The music, quietly piped in around them, as it is in all coffee shops world-wide at this time of year. Christmas songs. He'd been avoiding them so far this year, but he'd been so caught up in his thoughts he'd forgotten. He can tune the music out so long as it's popular and new, but as he approaches the counter, as he places his order and then waits for his drink to be prepared, one of the older, more wholesome, traditional tunes comes in. A song that works its way in through your ears and settles down in your gut for the long haul.
Worst of all, it's too cold to sit outside and escape it. Faolan finds a seat with his coffee and his pastry and the seasonal music and proceeds to eat and drink, growing progressively moodier with each changing of the tracks.
2. SHOPPING
At least there are so many people milling about at the shops that the holiday music starts to blend in with the background noise of the place. Small blessings, Faolan thinks to himself, as he walks through yet another shop and just stares at the items on display there. He has no idea what he's getting for Lancelot. Something for his dog, of course. Maybe something silly, highlighting the man's oddly high affection for the dog. But this time he wants to get him something nice too. Something... Thoughtful.
He's not really sure what this is between them, but he wants to let him know that he appreciates it. He appreciates him. That he... Well, there's another holiday coming up that will have higher expectations as far as emotion is concerned, but he wants him to know that he does care. In his own way.
Lancelot is so easy-going he'd like anything. But what would he like, that's the real question for Faolan to answer. What do you get to impress a man who's already said he doesn't need to be impressed?
Standing staring at the window display and lost in his own thought, Faolan starts to hum the earlier Christmas song underneath his breath. He keeps a tight leash on his past, on his music, on the talent there and the life he might have led. But it has its ways of creeping in through the cracks despite himself. Suddenly realizing what he's doing, he stops, and quickly casts a glance about to check if anyone had caught him at it.
3. HILLINGDON [closed to those with a reason to be at Hillingdon House]
He hadn't really needed to come back to Hillingdon House, but Faolan finds himself making his way back there anyway. After all, there were things here he didn't have back at his flat. Like sellotape. And a fully stocked kitchen. A man can't live on takeaway alone, nor can he continuously mooch off of Lancelot's hospitality, for that matter. Anyway, he's got things to preoccupy himself with upstairs in his office once he's done, instead of sitting alone in his flat with his thoughts rattling around in his head.
He's making himself a cheese sandwich and soup. It's not very complicated, but it's probably somewhere on the far edge of Faolan's capabilities as they stand right now. Wondering if he's made the right decisions as far as his gifts are concerned -- he certainly hopes so, at least. Still wondering whether he should text Lancelot to ask him about his holiday plans.
It's while his mind is so preoccupied, while he's heating soup on the stove and letting his mind wander around in circles again that the song comes back. It's been a long day, and Faolan's guard is so lowered, the words just slip out, his voice low and slightly rough without any warm-up, but the melody is obviously there, and so is his talent. All of those years in training, he can't just forget them simply because he wants to.
"Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light
Next year all our troubles will be out of sight..."
It starts in the cafe that morning. It's a Saturday and he's got the day off from Hillingdon and Guardian work alike, and with two weeks until the holidays, he realizes that he's running out of time to do his shopping. He's got no idea what his plans are -- last year Lancelot had invited him over for the whole stretch of the holiday, will he be doing that again? Now that they're... Whatever they are. Whatever this is between them. He feels as if he's walking around with a bubble inside of himself, something that fills him up with joy at the thought of it, but fragile too. It's too fresh to be safe and solid yet, and he knows he's thinking about it too much, too hard, dwelling, but that's the nature of his mind and his emotions.
Maybe three days to spend together is too many, at this point, he contemplates to himself, as he shuffles forward in line at the shop. Should he bring a bag, just in case? Should he ask? He doesn't want to sound too disappointed if the answer is no. It's Lancelot's flat, it's his right to make these decisions. He should know before though, so he can bring what he needs if he should. He doesn't want to have to go back out. What if the other man would change his mind then?
It's while these thoughts are spinning around his head, while his guard is lowered and vulnerable, that it sneaks in. The music, quietly piped in around them, as it is in all coffee shops world-wide at this time of year. Christmas songs. He'd been avoiding them so far this year, but he'd been so caught up in his thoughts he'd forgotten. He can tune the music out so long as it's popular and new, but as he approaches the counter, as he places his order and then waits for his drink to be prepared, one of the older, more wholesome, traditional tunes comes in. A song that works its way in through your ears and settles down in your gut for the long haul.
Worst of all, it's too cold to sit outside and escape it. Faolan finds a seat with his coffee and his pastry and the seasonal music and proceeds to eat and drink, growing progressively moodier with each changing of the tracks.
2. SHOPPING
At least there are so many people milling about at the shops that the holiday music starts to blend in with the background noise of the place. Small blessings, Faolan thinks to himself, as he walks through yet another shop and just stares at the items on display there. He has no idea what he's getting for Lancelot. Something for his dog, of course. Maybe something silly, highlighting the man's oddly high affection for the dog. But this time he wants to get him something nice too. Something... Thoughtful.
He's not really sure what this is between them, but he wants to let him know that he appreciates it. He appreciates him. That he... Well, there's another holiday coming up that will have higher expectations as far as emotion is concerned, but he wants him to know that he does care. In his own way.
Lancelot is so easy-going he'd like anything. But what would he like, that's the real question for Faolan to answer. What do you get to impress a man who's already said he doesn't need to be impressed?
Standing staring at the window display and lost in his own thought, Faolan starts to hum the earlier Christmas song underneath his breath. He keeps a tight leash on his past, on his music, on the talent there and the life he might have led. But it has its ways of creeping in through the cracks despite himself. Suddenly realizing what he's doing, he stops, and quickly casts a glance about to check if anyone had caught him at it.
3. HILLINGDON [closed to those with a reason to be at Hillingdon House]
He hadn't really needed to come back to Hillingdon House, but Faolan finds himself making his way back there anyway. After all, there were things here he didn't have back at his flat. Like sellotape. And a fully stocked kitchen. A man can't live on takeaway alone, nor can he continuously mooch off of Lancelot's hospitality, for that matter. Anyway, he's got things to preoccupy himself with upstairs in his office once he's done, instead of sitting alone in his flat with his thoughts rattling around in his head.
He's making himself a cheese sandwich and soup. It's not very complicated, but it's probably somewhere on the far edge of Faolan's capabilities as they stand right now. Wondering if he's made the right decisions as far as his gifts are concerned -- he certainly hopes so, at least. Still wondering whether he should text Lancelot to ask him about his holiday plans.
It's while his mind is so preoccupied, while he's heating soup on the stove and letting his mind wander around in circles again that the song comes back. It's been a long day, and Faolan's guard is so lowered, the words just slip out, his voice low and slightly rough without any warm-up, but the melody is obviously there, and so is his talent. All of those years in training, he can't just forget them simply because he wants to.
Next year all our troubles will be out of sight..."
no subject
She frowns. "Or maybe there's some special place the two of you went? Or an inside joke?"
no subject
Faolan hums under his breath slightly as he thinks about her suggestions before shaking his head.
"I think I'd rather stay away from anything involving humor," he admits. "Not that we don't have anything but. I'm pretty sure most of it would be coming at my expense..." He's pretty positive it would, for that matter.
no subject