Marcus Flint (cruel_hands) wrote in afic, @ 2011-05-16 21:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: isaac montague, character: marcus flint, player: deb, player: missy |
Who: Marcus & Isaac
When: Monday, 16 May
Where: the Solarium at Flint Manor
What: uncomfortable outings
Rating: TBD
Status: started in gdocs, continuing in thread
Marc had been growling most of the past week, ever since encountering Isaac in the pub. His stalking of Yomen had been interrupted by Isaac as well, and while Marcus had enjoyed dislocating Yomen’s shoulder, he’d ended up cranky and irritable. Enough so that Isolde had pushed him away this evening to go find some time to himself.
He’d gone into the solarium, fingers up, touching the plants in the hangers. Fronds curled around his fingers as he checked them for water. It centered him, and he realized he had missed this, avoiding it in everything that had been going on lately.
He tended to the plants first, adjusting moisture spells and temperature, making sure they were all set to receive the proper light through the windows at this time of year. He felt the pricking of his skin slough away, felt his breathing ease. These were the simple things in his life, and he had forgotten how he needed them to settle his mind at times like these.
Plants cared for, Marcus went to bring the spinning wheel out of the corner. He set it up in front of one of the two wing chairs that faced the windows. His chair. He left the other for Isolde, assuming she would be down with a glass of wine and her book later. He had a basket of carded wool waiting to be spun, still a rough grey like the sheep it had come from. He tested the wheel with his toe, finding his rhythm before he twisted the first thread and attached it to the bobbin. It took a deft hand and a light touch, one he’d developed over decades since he was a child and first did this at his mother’s feet. He found the right speed, the right twist to the nascent yarn as it spun from his fingertips, winding on the bobbin, and he lost himself in the rhythm and movement of it.
Isaac was freshly showered, his hair still damp from the time he had spent standing under the spray and contemplating the pathetic state of his life. He was living with his sister and brother in law to avoid his lonely flat and was becoming more anti-social as the days passed. Grumbling in annoyance at his own patheticness, he dressed in trousers and a half buttoned shirt as he left his room.
His goal was to avoid Marcus’s family as he searched for Isolde. He was friendly but wasn’t sure any of them liked him or just tolerated him for Isolde’s sake, which meant he went out of his way to avoid them when he could. It wasn’t his home and he didn’t want to cause any issues. Lost in his thoughts, he wandered the halls, wondering where his sister could be. Seeing a light under the door from the solarium, he paused. The door was normally locked and he found it turned easily as he jiggled it. Smiling he pushed it open and stepped inside.
Standing just inside of the door, he looked around. It was a pretty place, calm and inviting. He wondered why it was always locked and decided it must be his sisters private place. Taking a few hesitant steps into the large room, he called out Isolde’s name in a rather subdued manner.
Marcus ignored the sound of the door, the sound washing past his defenses as an expected one if Isolde were coming in. Yarn spun through his finger tips, the wheel making a sussurant sound as he worked it, hunched over. It made his back ache, but it was a pleasant burn, knowing he was constructing something that would be used later to clothe one of them. But at the call, he jerked roughly on the strands in his hand, separating wool from thread, the strands tangling as they bound up around the bobbin. “Fuck!”
The relaxed mood shattered as he pushed to his feet, glaring at his brother-in-law. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he grumbled.
Isaac stood silently, watching Marcus as he worked. His brow was furrowed and he tried to make sense of what he was doing. Spinning yarn? Isaac couldn’t say he had ever seen it done before and he was curious about it. He was just about to ask him about it when Marcus turned and growled at him about being in the solarium. Isaac scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I was looking for Isolde, what are you doing?” he asked oblivious to the fact that he had interrupted something private. He moved further into the room and dropped into the empty chair near where Marcus had been.
“You’re sitting in her chair. When she shows up, I’m sure she’ll ask you to move.” Not that there were more than the two chairs here. It wasn’t a space Marcus shared with Cordelia anymore, not since he was a boy, and not since Isolde had joined the household.
He ignored the question and instead started to move the spinning wheel. But the way the thread had snapped back, it had tangled, leaving him with a chunk of carded wool to be dropped back into the basket and a mess he had to untangle next time. “Fuck.” Another hiss of a swear as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He nudged the spinning wheel a little further away with his toe and dropped into his chair. Glancing over at Isaac, his gaze narrowed. “You could’ve brought something to drink if you were going to invade my privacy.”