Cassiopeia Black (cassilblack) wrote in onewaythreads, @ 2017-07-30 21:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, arcturus black, cassiopeia black |
Who: Cassiopeia and Arcturus Black
What: A meeting of distant relations
When: Sunday afternoon
Where: Cassi’s house
Status: Closed, complete narrative
It had to happen eventually, Cassiopeia told herself. She couldn’t shirk her duty to her family, not even here, and looking after the younger ones had always been part of that. Never mind that Arcturus was, they had discovered, the younger brother of Cassi’s great-grandfather. In Preya, he wasn’t any older than her niece and nephews, and that meant that she had to make the effort to approach him, to see that he wasn’t left alone. He hadn’t been reluctant to meet her; on the contrary he had seemed almost overjoyed to learn that he had a relative in town. It was, at first, difficult to reconcile the enthusiastic youngster she’d written to over the network with the solemn, carefully polite and deferential child he had seemed when he first arrived at her house.
It wasn’t long, however, before she realised that this was what he thought she expected of him, and after a firm assurance that he was to make himself comfortable, and that of course he might call her just Cassiopeia, because weren’t they cousins, even if of a distant sort – he seemed to relax a little. For her part, Cassi couldn’t help but fuss over him a little, and have Kizzy bring him cakes and sweets, and ask what he needed. He’d been living in a boarding-house with muggles – that wouldn’t do, she thought – and had a determined sort of independence about him. She had asked him about school, about friends, about his family, and this had been the right thing, because he was now happily chattering about his brother and his cousins.
And his father. Arcturus was still holding to a strong, heartfelt conviction that his father would be arriving any day now in Preya, and would take him home. Although Cassiopeia herself didn’t truly think that their stay would be permanent, she knew very well that his optimism was hopelessly misplaced. It would have been a cruelty, though, to tell him so. She was watching him closely, she saw that slight shaking in his shoulders when he spoke of home, the way his eyes flickered downwards. Boys his age would never admit to homesickness, she supposed, but that was what it was, all the same. He had to be allowed to accept the truth in his own time, and she had to make sure that when he did, she was there for him.
He reminded her of nothing more than one of the children from the old family portraits at home, the ones she had liked to stand and converse with as a girl. She didn’t recall his face, though, and she was glad of that. It had dawned on her only far later that the children in the portraits, to be children still, must never have grown any older. Arcturus, although he may be very far from where he wants to be, is still very much alive.
‘Arcturus,’ she says, leaning towards him, ‘I know that you mean to go home, but until you do, why not stay here, with me? We’re family, after all.’
Arcturus fidgets a little in his chair, and then pulls on his shirt-collar to straighten it. ‘I don’t want to be a bother to you, Miss Cassiopeia,’ he says. He knows he’d be a bother. He’s not an infant, he can tell. She’s been kind to him, but nobody wants to take in someone they don’t know, distant cousin or not. ‘I’m managing well at the boarding-house. Thank you.’
The truth is that he doesn’t fully trust her. She says she’s family, but she’s from a hundred years too late, and her dress is all wrong, and she’s got the kindness of his Aunt Alexia coupled with the overbearingness of his Aunt Phoebe and that isn’t a good combination. The boarding-house is a step down from what he is accustomed to, but perhaps it’s better than having a woman fuss over his manners and his appearance and likely try to forbid him from going out in the evenings and teasing muggles and having any sort of amusement at all. Some of these modern people try to treat him as much younger than he is, and he doesn’t care for it.
‘It isn’t a bother,’ she responds softly, no more than expected. But her argument is one he didn’t anticipate. ‘I know that you can manage very well by yourself, but there are muggles at that boarding-house, and what would your father say about me if he thought that I’d left you there?’
He frowns, uncomfortable. His father wouldn’t like the idea. His father wouldn’t like him talking to muggles at all, let alone living among them. Cassiopeia’s household is a magical one, she has house-elves, and even if she is peculiar and modern, she knows far too much to be lying about being related to him. No, when his father arrives, he’ll expect Arcturus to have done his best to uphold their standards and traditions. That’s how things are. He’ll expect Arcturus to have looked out for Cassiopeia, because it’s not right for a lady to be all on her own. She has things backwards.
To give himself time to think, he takes a great gulp from his glass of orange juice. One thing that he can say for this part of Preya is that the food is good. Cassiopeia told him that she has most of hers fresh from the market. There’s only so long that he can delay, though, and in the end he has to shake his head. ‘I shall visit you every day, if you’d care for it,’ he offers, ‘and I’d like to get to know you, but I mean to stay where I am for the present.’
Aunt Phoebe would have told him that he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Cassiopeia doesn’t, and that’s a point in her favour as far as he is concerned, but she does give him that awfully disappointed look. He doesn’t see why. Isn’t she relieved?
‘Arcturus,’ she tries again, ‘how are you paying for your lodgings?’
He smiles broadly, because that’s a question he can answer. ‘Papa gives me an allowance for school. When I arrived here, my trunk was here already, and the money was inside the pocket of my winter over-robe. It’s supposed to last all term, and it usually does, unless Carrow cheats at cards, but I always notice and-’
‘The money is different here,’ she cuts in, before he can get too carried away in changing the subject.
‘They still take silver sickles.’
‘Yes, but you ought to keep those safe for when you need them. If you are going to live there, then you need to learn how to make muggle money.’
He’s immediately, predictably indignant. ‘I am not going to work for muggles, Miss Cassiopeia!’
Her smile upon hearing this is indulgent in a way that irritates him, but she soon makes up for it when she explains her meaning. ‘No, of course you aren’t. You are going to learn how to make their money.’
It will take some time before Cassiopeia knows if her decision was the right one. Another person, in her situation, might have waited until Arcturus’ little allowance ran out, and then suggested again that it might be better if he stayed with her. But they might both be here for a long time, and she doesn’t want him utterly dependent on her and resentful of it. It must be a horrible position to be in, she can well imagine. It seems better to her that she gain his trust. More responsible, or at least fairer. Besides, they’re stuck here, so she does want to get to know him properly.
He appears to have an enjoyable afternoon telling her stories from his century - and learning counterfeiting-by-transfiguration. It’s only paper money, after all.