daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

I imagine not.

[Oh boy he has to hear about this conversation.]

Do tell.

There isn't all that much to tell. He was incredulous anyone would want to work for Retrospec, I said I could certainly imagine wanting to work there, as what they're doing is a fascinating social experiment. He said it was amoral and horrid, and I said, yes, it is, but that doesn't mean it doesn't provide interesting results.

I imagine he was very stubborn about it, too? Was this over text? There were probably a lot of exclamation points involved.

[Casually dragging Fynn, no biggie.]

Things were bolded as well. He was very emphatic.

[He scoffs a little, but at least it's fond.]

That sounds like him. As you might be able to imagine, we're opposites in many ways. He has a penchant for screaming and I... have a penchant for ignoring him.

[Which is mostly just his way of prodding at Fynn, even if he's not here. Such is the way of brothers.]

This is the brother who lives here? That must make ignoring him rather difficult. I admire your dedication.

It is. And it's not as difficult as you think. When you grow up refining the art of "how to ignore your siblings", it actually becomes quite easy.

Thank god my mother only ever had me.

[Not . . . entirely by choice, Rosalind was certainly the last attempt, and god knows her mother had reminded her of that time and again, but that's neither here nor there.]

All I ever had to do to ignore her was to climb a tree.

[He tries to imagine a young Rosalind climbing a tree to escape her mother. That makes him grin.]

Out of sight, out of mind, or so they say. Did you really climb trees to ignore the commands of your mother?

Of course I did. She caught on quickly, but our estate was large enough that she never knew which tree, so I usually was given a bit of peace.

You would too, if you had my mother.

[Now Ardyn is imagining many a square foot of green outdoors, dotted with trees, and little Rosalind hiding up in one of them.]

What she particularly... ah, overbearing?

[She smiles wryly, which invites laughter, but there's something in her eyes that suggests this isn't quite as amusing as she'd want it to be.]

My parents would have preferred a son, but, given they only had me, my mother set out on the quest to make me the perfect daughter. The remnants of her lessons stick: I can still paint, play piano and speak French, and to my great disappointment, my posture is excellent.

But she's never forgiven me for not getting married when I was in my twenties, never mind the sin of not continuing her lineage. If it was up to her, I'd still be in England, sitting in my husband's mansion, watching the maids take care of the children while I . . . oh, god only knows. Sewed, I suppose.

So yes, overbearing is a way to put it. She hated my learning science, and so I often ran and hid where she couldn't catch me for a few hours.

[A beat, and then:]

I broke my arm once that way. She was furious.

[And so the image twists and turns again, though this time requiring a substantially less amount of amusement on Ardyn's part. Case in point: his grin becomes far more subdued, to the point where it fades completely. Ardyn knows that being burdened with too many expectations, especially those that you have no desire in upholding, is one of the worst ways to live.]

You broke your arm, trying to escape these pressures, and yet she remained oblivious to how much you didn't want to live up to them?

I wouldn't say oblivious.

[Oh, dear. This is getting more into it than she'd intended, but . . . on the other hand, it's rather nice to vent all of this.]

My mother is not an unkind woman, Ardyn. She simply has one idea of how a person can be happy, and that involves living up to all the traditional expectations placed upon them. Deviate from that, and you'll only end up ruining yourself, or so she told me. I suspect she thinks sooner or later I'll give up my silly dreams and realize what will truly make me happy, which is bowing to her ideals and whims.

College was an indulgence. You can imagine the fights we had when I wanted to get my PhD.

[Of course Ardyn will gladly put an end to this conversation if she ever gets uncomfortable talking about any of this. But as Rosalind continues to humor him with talk that she's never shared before with him yet, he will continue to ask out of curiosity. And a slowly growing sense of actual sympathy.]

You come from a wealthy family, don't you? I think in that case it's always one or the other. Adhere exactly to expectations set for you, or do whatever you want at all, because your family certainly doesn't care. Never anything in-between.

[She looks at him for a few seconds, studying his expression. He comes from wealth, doesn't he? Yes, he'd spoken about it before, making idle references to Fynn not knowing how to budget his money. And yet she's never heard him speak of his parents before-- or at least, not in any great detail. Politics, he'd once said vaguely, but she'd never heard much beyond that.]

Which were you?

[Perhaps it's both. Perhaps they meant for him to fill a role, and ignored him and his life in all other capacities.]

Edited (Just edits all our threads tonight nbd ) 2017-08-02 07:37 (UTC)

Me? I wonder.

[Idle words, a mere half a second buffer to provide his mind time to know how to reply.]

I would say the former, unfortunate middle child that I was. Though it wasn't the same across the board, where my other siblings were concerned.

[Less a blessing that it was, and instead a terrible sort of pressure, though Ardyn always possessed the kind of personality to not let it show, other than in the tiredness of his eyes.]

But that changed at some point. You didn't always live up to their expectations.

[She wonders, too, about Fynn, and if it was the latter for him.]

[Well, yes, she's right about that.]

I didn't want to. And that didn't please them. I suppose if I must credit something to my parents, it's my inherited stubbornness.

[Despite herself, she smiles wryly.]

Look at that: we've something in common.

[A beat, and then:]

Do you still speak to them?

No.

[It would be almost comical how quickly that answer comes.]

I’ve no desire to. Any important developments that might take place within the family circle, I trust Fynn to keep me up to date with.

[Mm. She can't say as she's at that point with her own family yet, but she certainly can appreciate being that exhausted with them. Although it does make it odd, doesn't it, that he's still in contact with the twins-- surely Fynn isn't their father, and yet the boys regard Arydn with a great deal of friendliness.

Mm. A minor mystery, she supposes, but she doesn't need to know all the gritty details.]

I'm sorry to hear that.

[She is, too.]

[Ardyn is not sure an apology is exactly what he wishes to hear. He waves a hand a bit dismissively as a result.]

Don't be. It was a decision that I made, and one that I do not regret. There are simply times in which one must be detached from certain... branches of their family tree, for both of their sakes. I interact with the ones that matter, if it's any consolation.

I hardly need consoling.

[She's just a little saddened for his sake. But if he doesn't feel bad, or doesn't want to appear as though he feels bad, Rosalind will hardly demand a show of grief.]

Well. If nothing else, at least I know I've someone who understands fully what I mean when I complain about my parents.

Very much so. Let us commiserate together when the mood strikes us.

[He uses "commiserate" strictly because she said she doesn't need consoling. He's teasing, as if either of them would ever lose sleep over any of it.]

Kindred spirits that we are.

RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject