Investigator of the Supernatural, Brewer of Tea (sedulus) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-10-31 11:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | bertie eden, caspian finn |
Who: Caspian Finn, Bertram Eden, and NPC James Percy
What: Love and other emotions
When: 31st October, 1888
Where: Hyde Park
Rating: PG (vague mention of adult themes)
“I love it here,” Bertie confessed, walking with Caspian beside the winding bank of the Serpentine. “It seems a place meant for poetry. And all of the speeches and rallies given here--there’s such passion for what matters most to people, here and now. I imagine what might have been heard in Speakers’ Corner ten, or fifteen, years ago, how different the speeches might have been for different causes. Or not,” he allowed, laughing a little. “I’m sure there are some that have been heard for years without any sign of change. That’s the world, I suppose.”
Almost entirely invisible in the slanting afternoon light, Jamie drifted along nearby, silent and unseen by all but Bertie, tethered by the locket around Bertie’s neck and hidden beneath his shirt. Bertie tried not to glance at him too often, lest Caspian grow suspicious or puzzled, and Jamie was obliging him by not addressing Bertie in conversation he could not easily explain.
“Do you go back very often?” Bertie asked, looking out over the water before glancing curiously back at Caspian. “To the water, I mean?”
Caspian listened to Bertie speak. The tone of his friend’s voice, the manner of words chosen, they weren’t unlike Bertie at all. There was something very creative that Bertie had, a gift that a creature like Caspian only dreamed of having. A lot of the things for the Review were based on ideas he’d picked up from others, or experiences in his life on the land. He couldn’t sing, and he lacked real creativity. What a poor creature he was.
“I can tell by the way you speak of it that this place warms your heart,” Caspian replied. He watched his friend, glad for the time spent together. He wasn’t up on the political words of man because he chose not to be. The less he got involved in the less risk he took. That and dealing with things at the Review was enough to keep his attention.
When the question was posed about the water, Caspian nodded and smirked, “Oh yes, quite often. We have to, you see, or we begin to shrivel up. Our skin is not made to be without water for too long.” He had his routine for going back to the water, one that not even Gabriel was part of in all of the things they shared together. Turning was horrible, the change itself was painful and bloody. He preferred not to be seen that way.
Bertie cast an incredulous sideways look at Caspian, sure the man must be jesting...but not so sure as to be certain of it. "You're joking. No. You are, aren't you? Are you not? I can't tell!" Bertie bent to tear up a handful of grass and toss it playfully at Caspian, along with a stray wildflower. "Does it really? Well, I suppose ours would as well, without water. That's what happens to mummies, you know, from Egypt? They're dried out and preserved, in the desert air and sand. I saw one unwrapped at the British Museum not long past."
Bertie gave an exaggerated shudder at the memory. "It was ghastly."
"It was not," Jamie's voice floated back.
"You weren't there," Bertie argued before he realized who had spoken, and then he tried to cover in flustered alarm. "I mean that I'm glad you weren't there, it was...to see a person like that, it was humbling. A meditation on mortality."
"I don't believe you even saw the mummy," Jamie continued, in spite of Bertie's attempt to ignore him. "All you talked of afterward was Mr Kessinger."
Bertie felt his face heat, and was glad that Caspian couldn't hear the third participant in their conversation. He'd rarely spoken of personal things with Jamie, considering Jamie's location at the Night Watch office, but these past weeks had given them a chance to know one another better. Bertie still would not, could not, speak of his...interests, but every so often Jamie would say something to make him wonder whether he'd given himself away somehow without knowing it.
Shaking his head, Caspian laughed softly. He wrinkled his nose with amusement as Bertie tossed blades of grass and a flower at him. “No joking, my friend. I’m afraid we have to soak more often than I’d prefer but you do what you have to do to maintain.” And then the talk of mummies and Egypt came and Caspian nodded and pretended to understand what Bertie was talking about.
And then Caspian blinked and tilted his head. “Excuse me?” His blue eyes cast about at the empty air that surrounded them. Bertie seemed to be talking to someone else? How strange.
Figuring it was nothing, Caspian waved away the strangeness and smiled at his friend again, “So, what other questions did you have, my friend?” They were getting to know each other, that was the whole point of spending time with Bertie, to be comfortable.
"Oh!" The question surprised Bertie, in part because he always had questions, about everything, but he hadn't meant to start an interrogation. He knew Caspian was giving him an invitation to ask more about merfolk, but Bertie had trespassed enough, and didn't want to seem as though he were using Caspian, for information or otherwise.
He decided to go in a different direction, and use the excuse to get to know Caspian better. That was why they were going on these strolls, after all, so it would be a question put to good purpose. "How did you end up in London? And with the Review?"
Caspian knew that Bertie was a man with a million questions but he encouraged it anyway. It was better to get it all out now than wait until later, though he wasn’t quite sure if there would really ever be an end to the gathering of knowledge. That was the point of their agreement, questions back and forth between them.
“I wish the story was much more fantastic than what it really is,” Caspian chuckled. “I started out in the Caspian Sea,” he began, knowing Bertie would probably get the connection there. “Made a small life for myself on the land there, boarded a ship and ended up here after a long excursion.” It hadn’t’ happened that quickly, of course. There had been a fair amount of land travel between his first appearance and ending up in London. “I’d already begun to hone my abilities on land, you see, and did a bit with a group inland. The Review was in some need of guidance, the poor bloke who was struggling with it was on the way out so I stepped in, offered my assistance and the place began to blossom.”
"It's a marvel now," Bertie agreed. "You've done wonders. I've never been out as far as...well, I've never been out at all, past Europe. It must have been strange...both coming on land, and traveling to Europe. Do you miss it there? Are the...your people, are they very different from sea to sea, as men are on land? Are the people of your kind different in culture and custom?"
“Thank you,” Caspian replied. It’d taken a lot of hard work, and it still did take so much from him to ensure the success of the place. It was his life, in all purposes of the word, considering he was single and had no family he devoted what time he could to maintaining the place.
Caspian smiled warmly and nodded, “When anyone first approaches something new and unknown there is a certain degree of fear. But you learn to acclimate to your surroundings, to blend into the culture and society.” And then the Mer shook his head, “Not really. The water, yes, part of me does miss it but I frequent the sea so often I don’t miss it as badly. The rest of it….well, Mer aren’t like humans, Bertie. We don’t have traditions and customs like you might think. We don’t mate, for instance. That is one of the reasons I think some of us leave the water. There are things upon the land, experiences, that we can only dream about from beneath the water. People like you, Gabriel, Keira….you make the chore of changing and adapting worthwhile.” The change itself was not something enjoyable, it was excruciating and ugly.
"Oh!" Bertie's reaction this time was more akin to shock, for which he immediately felt chagrin. He knew better than to imagine all peoples had the same customs, the same habits...but the same desires...he hadn't realized that Caspian and others didn't feel them. He'd thought, in fact, that Caspian and Gabriel...
But did sex - mating, as Caspian called it - need to be involved, for love to flourish? Even romantic love? Did Caspian feel a yearning, and simply not have an ability? Or was he eunuch in temperament as well as form?
Bertie had more questions than he could keep up with, but he couldn't ask any of them aloud. Then he thought of kissing Caspian, and Caspian's gentle reassurance that he'd expected it, and he felt ashamed for his assumptions.
"I'm sorry," Bertie said, pink-cheeked and eyes downcast. "I didn't know. I hope I didn't...before...I hope I didn't upset you." He had, of course, but he'd thought it was the pulling away that had caused Caspian regret, not the initial kiss.
He was frantically replaying the evening in this new light, looking for his first misstep among so many, when he realized that anything Caspian said would be heard, without his knowledge, by someone besides Bertie. And while Bertie trusted Jamie with his life, he couldn't ask the same of Caspian without allowing him to make that choice. Ghosts were drifting in London now, passing along gossip and conversation...and there were others besides Bertie who could hear them.
He stopped dead along the path - a poor choice of words, and he winced after he'd thought it - and stared in dismay at Jamie.
"Oh, don't mind me," Jamie assured him. "This is all quite educational."
"Wait," Bertie said aloud, jerking his gaze to Caspian. "Don't say anything just yet."
"You'll have to tell him, if you don't want me hearing," Jamie said, and then his tone gentled. "I don't mind, Bertie."
"I know," Bertie said helplessly, his gaze darting between the two of them.
"It's too late now, anyway," Jamie said cheerfully. "Unless you convince him you're mad. You could go with that, I suppose."
Bertie groaned and put a hand over his face.
"That's not helping," Jamie informed him happily.
"I know," Bertie said again, and then, "I know." He took a breath, and turned away from Jamie to look at Caspian. "I'm sorry. There's...something I need to tell you, before we speak any more. Could we...would you mind if we sat? Perhaps on a bench, or...or we could rent out a rowboat, if you'd like." It would be more isolated on the water, although Bertie didn't know whether Caspian enjoyed boats. They seemed to Bertie to be too much in the water and yet apart from it, for someone who could manifest a fishtail and swim.
Perhaps the admission to not being able to understand human emotions would’ve helped Bertie with that internal struggle. Not that Mer’s couldn’t, Keira was a prime example, however Caspian had never really had to accept normal human emotions in situations in his life. He didn’t tempt jealousy, love, greed, selfishness...but he was learning more and more about what he was capable of with each day that passed being in such company of others. It wasn’t beyond his capacity of knowledge to know that others could bring out your best and worst traits.
Love was still a fairly new thing to him. He was better with it and without it, but now that he was truly feeling it and actually understood enough to place a name to that feeling he found he didn’t mind it. Sex was normal for humans and land-dwelling Mer alike, it was one of the reasons Merfolk left the sea, those rumors of physical activity told as fantasy stories to those that remained below.
“What are you apologizing for, my friend?” Caspian inquired, utterly confused. Bertie was probably the most confusing person he knew, but it was almost charming in a way. He adored it, the way Bertie’s cheeks flushed and he stumbled over his thoughts and words. If there were questions asked that Caspian didn’t feel comfortable answering he wouldn’t, and Bertie would know right away.
And then Caspian blinked for the second or third time that night at the reaction from his friend. Curious, and oh-so confused the Mer said nothing. His posture straightened a touch and his blue eyes widened. Caspian watched Bertie’s gaze shift to the air and then back. Turning to look, as well, he saw nothing but empty space. Was he supposed to notice something there? Was something awry?
Finally Cas glanced back at his friend just as Bertie looked back at him. At the admission the Mer nodded slowly. “Are you alright?” He inquired, hoping that Bertie was. “I wouldn’t mind but I will say that I am a little bit confused.” Caspian preferred boats to horses, and being anywhere near the water was fine with him. “Whatever suits you, dear.” Caspian replied, leaving it up to Bertie to choose. His brain was struggling to make sense of the last few minutes.
"I know, I'm so sorry," Bertie repeated unhappily. "Can you travel in a boat?" he asked Jamie, who rolled his eyes, obliging floating along the path as Bertie set into motion again, heading toward the bank.
"I don't see why it would make any difference. I'm not going to sink or anything," Jamie replied. "And stop talking to me, you still sound like a madman."
Bertie hastened his steps, feeling a little guilty for the way poor Caspian was left perplexed in his wake, and sought distraction in the form of arranging for a rowboat with one of the vendors on the bank.
"Can you actually row?" Jamie asked dubiously, as Bertie took up the oars that were nearly his height and wrestled them into his grasp.
"If I'm not meant to talk to you, Jamie, then you shouldn't ask me questions," Bertie muttered, and Jamie's laugh drifted over him like a breeze as Bertie stroked them out onto the water.
He could row, and had before, though he didn't have any great strength for it. It hardly mattered, when all he needed was to get them out onto the water, where he could set the oars down in their locks and let the boat drift.
"I'm sorry. I know this must seem confusing, and I...it's something I haven't trusted you with, but not because I don't trust you, it's simply that I don't tell anyone, really. Or hardly anyone. But you deserve to know, especially if we discuss things of a...of a personal nature," he finished awkwardly, and heard Jamie laugh again. Bertie's cheeks flamed, and once again he wondered what Jamie knew, or thought he knew.
Bertie drew in a breath. "You know I'm Night Watch," he said, because that much had come to light, the night he'd run to Caspian in the alley. "And that I'm human." Which ordinarily would mean Bertie was a witch, and was likely what Caspian assumed, although that wasn't the case. More carefully, he explained, "I was recruited because I have an...unusual ability. I can communicate with the spirits of the dead."
Jamie's silence was almost a sound itself, heavy and pregnant. Bertie hadn't had to explain this in his presence before. They didn't speak often of Jamie's...unusual state.
"I have a very dear friend who has recently become...attached, I suppose, to a physical object, and as he wishes to see the sunlight and experience the world again, I've been bringing him with me. But it isn't right...I should never have put you in a position to discuss your personal matters in the company of another, when you weren't aware. I most humbly beg your pardon for that. Had I known the conversation would take such a turn, I would have come alone."
Another breath, nerves tightly strung, and Bertie gave Caspian a brief, formal bow from the waist up. "Mr Caspian Finn, may I introduce my friend James Percy. Jamie, this is Caspian."
"How do you do?" Jamie said politely, amused, and Bertie exhaled and repeated, "He says how do you do?"
Now to see whether Caspian believed him, or jumped overboard and swam for shore to get away from the raving lunatic.
The journey to the bank of the Serpentine was quiet on his end. Caspian continue to process what exactly had occurred that allowed the moment to slip so suddenly past them. One minute they’d been talking about a few things and the next Bertie was talking to the air and apologizing. He didn’t answer any more questions, not yet, because he wasn’t sure if Bertie was even talking to him still. Humans were confusing creatures.
Getting into the boat, a touch uneasily, Caspian sat and allowed Bertie to row them out onto the water. The sway of the boat did offer some comfort, the sound of the water called to him but not the way the sea did.
And finally Bertie began to speak again. This time Caspian felt as if the man was actually addressing him and so he offered his friend his full, and yet so confused, attention. The admission that something was there, something he couldn’t see or hear that was listening in on their conversation was both fascinating and strange. He’d never heard of such a thing being real. The talk of ghosts was like listening to the wind blow, people had their speculations, but actual things weren’t meant to exist. Right?
“Communicate with spirits of the dead,” Caspian repeated. The words tasted odd on his tongue but he chalked it up to lack of experience of such things. Love had tasted that way too, once.
“I would say you are a good friend, Bertie, however I don’t quite understand the plight. I do get that you’re more than you seem, that perhaps you have some ability to communicate with those lost souls, but I haven’t the experience with such things. I’m afraid I don’t know how to respond. Of course, other than to say Hello to your friend Jamie. Otherwise….” He didn’t want to seem rude, but how did you formally introduce yourself to someone you couldn’t see?
Clearing his throat, Caspian sighed, “I trust you, Bertie. You know that. We don’t have ghosts where I’m from...our dead don’t have souls that rise like humans do. This isn’t a subject that I know much about other than what I’ve heard in passing from speculation.”
"Oh," Bertie said stupidly, yet again caught by surprise. He rallied more quickly this time, and with an apologetic glance first for Jamie, then for Caspian, he offered delicately, "I just wanted to apologize, for...for my actions the other night. And it didn't seem right to divulge anything so personal about...about you, as you were saying...I mean, about...when you said your people didn't..."
Jamie's silence was proof enough that he had chosen to respect this as a private moment, so Bertie set himself and plunged on ahead. "I didn't mean to take any liberties to which you are unaccustomed, or which you found unpleasant. I didn't realize that your people didn't...indulge in such habits."
He was beginning to understand what Bertie was getting at, at least presently. “I do feel as if I’ve mislead you concerning Merfolk knowledge, my friend. Please let me reiterate,” he replied, offering Bertie a small smile. “Mer Don’t mate with each other, the females of the species lay eggs and the men swim over them to fertilize. There is not a physical act. However when we change we do acquire the necessary parts associated with human coupling. We have the same desire you do for physical attraction, it’s a perk of being on land.” He hoped that was clearer, “We like having sex, it’s fantastic.” That part was said at a lower volume just in case the ghost was listening.
“You think I found your advance unpleasant?” Caspian smirked, “Have you met anyone so charming and confusing before? I adore you, Bertie.”
It seemed there would be no end to how dumbfounded Bertie was today. He felt flushed and off-balance and had no idea what to say, and he didn't want to divert his attention from Caspian but he also felt too inhibited to say anything in front of Jamie, although when he glanced briefly in the direction Jamie had been, Jamie's voice floated back, "Don't look at me, I'm trying to let you pretend I'm not here."
Bertie ducked his head, embarrassed, but found his tongue after a moment. "I can't imagine what I've done to deserve such an honour, but I'm glad I haven't given you offense. I'd thought...you and Gabriel..."
He bit his tongue too late, realizing he'd given up yet another secret that wasn't his to tell. It was too easy to think of Jamie as only his, as an extension almost of himself, since for so long Jamie hadn't spoken with anyone else. Things had changed now, and Bertie couldn't expect to keep any secrets for too long when Jamie was with him for moments like these.
Sighing inwardly, Bertie bit his lip and asked somewhat ruefully, "You and Gabriel?"
Caspian watched the way Bertie’s eyes diverted to that..whatever it was presently with them. The ghost. That strange thing he knew nothing about that he was suddenly sharing a one-sided conversation with.
When Gabriel was mentioned, Caspian nodded, “I thought you knew from the way you spoke about him and myself. We most certainly get together, if that’s what you mean. I love him as much as I understand love, Bertie, and we do...well, that…” He said, hoping to spare him from the additional company. “But we aren’t exclusive to each other. He is with others, I know that and I’m quite alright with it. I don’t put myself in such things unless the other person is worth my time. Perhaps I’m a touch vain, but I have my reasons. I like to enjoy what I feel, and knowing the other person on all levels seems appropriate to me.” He didn’t want Bertie to feel bad, to not want to move forward with their friendship or to get hung up on something non-existent because of a misunderstanding.
“What exactly did you think we did?” He inquired, amused.
Bertie's cheeks were properly aflame now, but something about Caspian's practical, simple statements kept him from stammering like a fool as he normally might. "That," he admitted, unable to bring himself to name any more descriptive acts. "I...I believed you lovers, from how he spoke of you. I was only...I misunderstood, when you said...I'd thought then you could not...ah..."
So much for not stammering like a fool. Grasping at another conversational thread, his curiosity undimmed, Bertie asked, "What...what do you mean, as much as you understand love? You don't have to answer," he added at once, "if it's too personal."
Caspian chuckled. “We are. Gabriel and I, I mean.” He had no shame, why should he? Obviously it was public knowledge already.
And then the next question came, as expected. “As we emerge from the water we are similar to very small humans, babies as they’re called. We don’t feel things for each other down below, but on land we have actual feelings. Of course we don’t know what these things are….Love, for instance. We aren’t able to understand. The experience makes us wiser. Human emotion is foreign to us.”
"Oh." Bertie's answer was soft, hardly more than a breath. He took a moment to replay Caspian's words, not wanting to misinterpret again. "But...you feel love now? And other emotions? You learn them, as you grow?"
It was a strange idea, although Bertie supposed he must have felt everything for a first time, at one point in his life or another. There were always new emotions--it was simply a matter of recognizing and sorting them out.
"It must be so different here," Bertie murmured. "You must find us so strange."
“I am learning,” Caspian replied. “For a long time I didn’t allow myself to learn. I was selfish, my wandering left me more carefree to human nature. I was apt to find trouble. I’m much wiser now than I was then and yes, now I’m able to place a word to the feeling. Love.” He felt love for Gabriel.
“I don’t find you strange, dear,” Caspian laughed. “I find you intriguing. I like you, Bertie. I’m glad we are friends and if we have more I shall welcome it. If not, I am still glad to be in your life.”
Bertie considered his own feelings on that as they drifted, looking hesitantly at Caspian through his lashes until he settled on a response. "I think I must be all emotion, sometimes. I feel everything so strongly, and allow that to guide my actions, where others think in practical terms. And I act impulsively, based on those feelings." Bertie blushed a little to say so, but Caspian had been so honest, Bertie tried to offer him the same. "It's all the poetry, perhaps. Passions and matters of the heart. I suppose it's easy to get...swept up."
Their boat knocked against something--Bertie looked up in minor alarm and found it was only a branch, but that they'd drifted nearly to the bank. He twisted around to look behind him, and got so far as, "Oh no," before he had to duck beneath another branch as trailing fronds of willow slithered over his back. Bertie yelped, but he was laughing almost in the same instant, filled with chagrin at his poor boating skills. Jamie'd had good reason to question him, after all.
"Sorry, so sorry," Bertie laughed, reaching for the oars only to have them knocked out of his hands again as the boat bumped repeatedly into branches and roots, and they became entangled in the fronds. "I make a poor captain." He gave up on the oars and met Caspian's eyes with a grin, saying simply, "I like you as well, and I'm very glad to get to know you better."
“Emotions, Love, they can be tricky things, Bertie,” Caspian replied, “Even the strongest swimmers are apt to become swept up in the riptide.” It was something he was learning. They were quite the unique pair, he and Bertie. A man that felt too little and a man that felt too much.
The Mer had looked up in time to see where the rowboat was taking them and he was not all disappointed. Ducking down easily, Caspian avoided any low hanging branches. When he was sitting upright again he smiled warmly at Bertie, “You don’t have to apologize, my friend. You’ve done nothing wrong. I suspect we aren’t the first to become caught in such a predicament and between the pair of us we will come up with a solution.”
Such low hanging fronds and branches offered a seclusion that they’d not get any other public places. “I shall help your boating and you can help me come up with new ideas for The Review,” he teased.
Bertie shook his head. "I'd be terrible. You come up with such marvelous creations...I think in such small terms, compared to that. Glimpses of life, and a small life at that."
Now that they were properly nestled within the willow, Bertie found he didn't mind it either--it afforded them a quiet place for conversation, and here they wouldn't run into any other boaters. A small movement caught his eye and his mouth dropped open at the sight of Jamie, barely a shimmer even in the shade of the tree, almost entirely encompassed within the willow.
"Oh, Jamie," he blurted in mingled laughter and horror.
"Don't mind me," Jamie replied invisibly from the branches somewhere just above them. "Go on talking about how complicated love is, I'll just be here in this tree."
Bertie couldn't stop the bubbling laughter, but he did use an oar to push them off the bank a little ways, angling the boat just enough that Jamie wasn't thoroughly decorated by willow fronds.
"Sorry," Bertie said yet again, returning his attention to Caspian once Jamie had been freed. He sighed, his mind returning to their conversation. "A riptide, yes...it can feel like that, can't it? Shocking and sudden, and suddenly you're in over your head, and in so very deep."
There was a note of wistfulness he couldn't keep from his voice, and he felt a little guilty, as well, that he didn't feel that for Gabriel, when Gabriel was a better friend than Bertie could have asked for, and a more proficient lover than he'd imagined.
"They say the first love is the hardest," Bertie offered, playing again with the oar in the water. "I don't...I'm afraid I don't have another to compare, yet, but I could well believe it true."
“Life is only as small as you allow it to be,” Caspian said with a smile. “For someone like me a small, simple life is all I need.”
And then came the name of the ghost, Caspian had forgotten all about that in their travels into the willow. He delighted in hearing Bertie laugh, though he still didn’t understand why.
As if the conversation hadn’t missed a beat the Mer beamed brightly, “Mm, a lot of things can feel that way. Emotions of all types are overwhelming.”
“Is that what they say?” He inquired. There was some truth to that though he felt as if it could be worse. Gabriel was fairly easy to be with, he wasn’t demanding or monopolizing. “Have you been in love, Bertie?” It didn’t seem that way but he couldn’t help but ask to be entirely sure.
Bertie's smile faded into an expression of sad regret. "Once. I..." He stopped, unable to help the flicker of his gaze. Jamie didn't speak, but neither could Bertie, it seemed, so long as Jamie was there, listening.
After the silence stretched, there was finally a sigh, carried on a nonexistent breeze. "Oh, go on," Jamie's voice murmured. "You'd tell me if I asked, wouldn't you?"
Bertie weighed that, and decided he would risk it, though his heart was in his throat. If Jamie thought less of him for this...if it tore their friendship...Bertie didn't know what he would do. Jamie had been a touchstone of his life since he'd first joined the Night Watch.
"I fell deeply in love at Cambridge," he admitted quietly, looking down at his hands vaguely as he remembered that time. "We were together...until..." Bertie took a breath, then forged on. "...until he joined the military. And then after, when he came home again, although he...he became engaged, and we broke it off again." He didn't know that he could bear to speak of the possibility of a third time, but the story seemed incomplete without it. "He recently...the young lady broke the engagement, and we spoke again, and he...he asked, but I couldn't...not for a third time. Not to be...to be left again. Selfish of me, but I'd tired of being left for something better on the horizon."
Bertie cleared his throat and glanced up nervously at Caspian, then away again, then back. "And you...you said you had? Or..." A delicate pause, though Bertie thought he knew the answer. "You are?"
Caspian listened to the tale. He frowned as it was told; his mind was able to sort of imagine what that must be like, to have and to lose and to have again only to lose. He couldn’t fathom what it was like due to lack of experience, not really, but he could understand the stress.
“How is protecting your heart a selfish thing in consideration with the weight of what you’ve been through?” Caspian asked in a quiet voice, contemplating the idea. “Taking care of yourself is not a selfish thing, that should be your primary focus. You cannot love someone as deeply as you think if you do not love yourself first and foremost.” That he was sure of. He’d seen plenty of men fall, plenty of women become swept up in what they thought was romance. He didn’t understand most of it but it didn’t change the experience.
“Before Gabriel I cannot say I’ve ever felt love for anyone or anything,” Caspian explained. “Love isn’t something my kind generally feel, especially not for each other. But being on land teaches you things. I want to say that the feelings have always been there, love for example, I just never understood what exactly it was nor what to call it.”
He sat back some, looking patiently at his friend, “For example, how can you realize that you are doing something to bother someone else if you’ve never been told that they’re bothered by it? My rationale tells me that being in Love is along that same premise. I’ve had this feeling before but didn’t understand that it was called love, or really what it was for. Not until Gabriel. He opened my eyes to what it actually was, not just my perception of it. If that makes any sense to you.” Then Caspian laughed, “I wish I could tell you it’s easier for me to understand feelings, emotions, but they’re confusing. And there are so many. I do know what I like and what I don’t, those are easier to decipher through because those things are tangible often times. Love isn’t.”
"You're right, of course," Bertie agreed, a little surprised by Caspian's reasonable perspective. "I've never heard it put quite that way, but of course if you harm yourself in loving, it's no favor to the one who loves you. It's...it's more complicated, with..." Bertie sighed, looking down again at the gently-lapping water. "He was a werewolf, the person I mentioned...or is still, rather...and when he became engaged, I lost not only him, but the pack as well. That was, perhaps...it was harder than I expected. I think I was...I am...half-in love with all of them, as well. But that's a different kind of love."
Hoping to brighten Caspian's somber expression once again, Bertie offered, "I think Gabriel would be...must be, rather...an easy person to love. You're both of you very lucky, to feel as you do. You said..." Bertie's voice turned tentative now, not wanting to trespass on a situation he knew nothing about. "You said you weren't the only one whose heart he held. But that doesn't mean those others hold his heart, in turn. It must be an exchange of hearts, to matter so."
Bertie felt that same twisting sense of guilt, of being fundamentally lacking, to have not fallen in love with Gabriel, who was indeed more than worthy of it. But knowing something and feeling it were quite different things, and his heart had not followed where his mind and body led. He wondered if it was due to being older and wiser, now - if only a little - or that his heart was still tied up with Black Park.
It had to be an exchange of hearts, though. He'd just said as much. And Black Park's heart was not tied up with him.
It ached, but he let it.
Caspian listened to the tale about the pack. He didn’t know much about werewolves or packs, his circle of supernatural friends was slight. “That sounds difficult. As if maybe you lost a family when you lost your heart.” He didn’t have a real family, he felt no remorse or empathy for Bertie. He didn’t know what that was like.
When Bertie spoke to his and Gabriel’s fortune Caspian smiled wide and nodded, “I suppose you could put it that way. I never expected Gabriel,” he admitted. “He sort of took me by surprise and it all started from there.” And then Caspian laughed softly, “Ah, but therein lies the challenge of love. In my situation with Gabriel I am sure he holds many hearts, and yes, as you say to the point very few truly hold his own. I share his heart with another, another Mer actually. It is similar a bond to what he and I share and I find myself flailing to keep afloat with it. This Mer is female, and though I don’t believe she’d be able to coax Gabriel away...well, they’d be more appropriate for society. I’m in quite the predicament, you see.”
A family. Yes, Bertie thought that very well may have been what he'd lost. A different kind of love, indeed.
He didn't know how to offer comfort on the subject of Gabriel, though his own heart ached with sympathy, knowing very well the situation Caspian was in. "I understand," he said slowly. "I sometimes feel as if it's foolish to hope for love at all, with...with someone not appropriate in the eyes of the law, when I know marriage must be in my future, to someone suitable and well-matched."
Bertie stopped himself there--it would not help Caspian to dwell on that, when he faced such heartache. "If it helps," Bertie offered, tentative but honest, "Gabriel has spoken to me of his frustrations with society, and expectations. I know he chafes at them, and...I feel it must be at least partly for your sake that he wishes things to be differently. I know that cannot help much, with your fears, but...have you spoken with him? I know it...it cannot be easy, but I believe he would want to know, if in any way your arrangement with him causes you pain."
“The only thing in your future is what you want and what you seek, my friend. If marriage is on the horizon then I can say that I am happy for you. Otherwise be who you are, do what makes you happy and everything else shall fall into place the way it should.” Perhaps experience had made him a touch wiser. Marriage had been something he’d thought about for the same reasons - it was a societal thing, appropriate for a man to settle down and have a family, but after trying to walk down that path he’d discovered that by reaching the destination anything he left behind would be gone and ruined. His relationship with Gabriel would change and not for the better. He couldn’t give up Gabriel, not now or ever.
“Mm, we’ve spoken of it. He always has my blessing to take whatever comes his way, he knows my thoughts on things. You have to understand when I tell you I don’t feel jealousy or regret. I don’t keep a watchful eye on him, I can’t. I don’t want to. I trust him and I know that at the end of the day, when he wanders into my apartment unbidden and worn down that he’s mine completely. There is no obstacle we can’t overcome together.” He mused for a moment, then spoke again, “My life is short in comparison to his, he shall outlive me ages and shall fall in love again.” What time they did have Caspian would cherish.
There was a thoughtful, companionable silence, if silence it could be called while others talked and shouted in the park and oars splashed elsewhere on the water. When Bertie spoke, it was to muse, "I believe I should rather leave, in the end, than to be the one left behind."
Caspian's heartfelt sorrow made Bertie twist with guilt again, and he spoke up reluctantly, "You know he and I...though it's not what you have, simply friendship and companionship, but we do..." He trailed off unhappily, feeling terribly as though he were betraying both of them at once. "I am sorry for it, if I contribute to causing you pain. That would never have been my intention."
The silence was welcomed. It helped make the moment a bit more. The subject they’d been discussing was weighing heavily upon them both and the serenity of the atmosphere beneath the willow was comforting to him.
“I am not yet ready to leave, but I can see why you would say such a thing.” He didn’t want to die, he wasn’t ready to go even if that wasn’t entirely up to him.
And then the admission had his attention. Caspian smirked, amused at Bertie’s words. “Do you think that surprises me, my friend? I would be much more surprised if you and he hadn’t been together, you’re very much the type.” Young, inquisitive, easy on the eyes...oh yes, Caspian could see the draw. “I harbor no feelings of illwill against you. Either of you. I have no feelings of pain or sorrow for sharing with you. If that’s what he wants and what you wants, who am I to stop you?” He smiled, “Dear Bertie, my situation is easy and complex. What Gabriel does with his time spent out of my company is between him and that other person. You aren’t the first, or the last. I cannot say that my own list of bedmates is quite as expansive. I like to keep mine short and sweet. I’m very particular.”
Bertie's list had also been short - if one didn't count Cambridge-days prostitutes, which he didn't - but of late it had seemed to blossom in both extent and complication. He felt he either hardly knew where he stood with someone or that he was standing in altogether the wrong place, with no way of easily shifting.
Here, for instance...he was adrift in more than just the rowboat. And Caspian's selectivity, given that he'd actively encouraged Bertie's affections, could only be taken as a compliment Bertie felt he didn't deserve. His comments about Bertie not being the first or last of Gabriel's side-affairs...it was hardly anything Bertie didn't know, but that didn't mean it rested comfortably with him, to be so easily waved away as a passing fancy, one of many that wouldn't last.
"I'm honoured, then," Bertie answered softly, addressing the easier sentiment of the two. "Though I don't know what I've done to earn your admiration. And I don't need to know," he added after only a beat, realizing such words could be taken as fishing for a compliment. "Only know that I'm glad of it, and of your company and goodwill. I hope I shall do everything in my power to keep it."
Caspian was glad to hear that Bertie wasn’t opposed to being considered for that small wading pool he kept.
“You are you, my friend. If only you could see the way you are through my eyes I think you would surprise yourself.” He adored Bertie for so many reasons and he felt as if he stated his case or argued the point any more firmly than he was already that he’d send Bertie into a state of reclusiveness. “Surely you don’t think your adventures beyond closed doors is because you’re unworthy of company or attention?” That made no sense at all. He didn’t understand insecurity.
“It takes a lot to turn me off,” Caspian explained, amused. “Honestly I do think you’re the only person ever to see me in such a state of distress when you happened upon my thrall. It’s very rare I get upset or perturbed by things. You’d have to struggle hard to get out of my net, though I will respect any boundaries that you set because I do value you and your friendship. You mean a lot to me. I don’t keep much company, as I’ve stated, so those I do enjoy I try my best to keep satisfied.”
Bertie blinked at the reminder of that night, and took the conversational turn gladly. He didn't know yet what to do about any of the rest, and was uncomfortable with the praise Caspian believed him worth offering, when Bertie himself felt inadequate. "I was poor comfort that night," he remembered, frowning. "I'm sorry. You...I wasn't a very good friend then, though I hope to be better now. Have you recovered from it? Are there any...ill effects, after? Or is it the unhappiness of having to do so to others, and the knowledge of what they've done to provoke it that disturbs you?"
A moment only passed before Bertie added, "If it distresses you to speak of it, we can talk of other things. I don't mean to trespass."
Caspian considered the questions. “We all have our faults. Who am I to judge you? Like anyone I have a sense of what’s right versus what’s wrong and I do feel as if the toll of the happenings around the city had been catching up to me. I think I was fed up with the shroud of darkness.”
“I don’t have any after-effects, it’s part of what I am. I don’t use it because it’s dangerous, as you experienced. That, and I’ve been told the very sound is awful. I have to weigh my options in situations like that.”
He shifted some in his seat, the hard plank beneath him was beginning to cause strain in his backside from sitting upon it for so long. “That’s by my first foray into dangerous groups. Weeks ago I was caught up in a group and ended up bloodier for it. Those devils would’ve put me out of commission for a good while had Gabriel not been there in the nick of time. I didn’t use the thrall then. I could’ve but I didn’t.”
"How terrible," Bertie said, wide-eyed and heartfelt. "Were you set on for some reason, or was it simply ill luck? Did you report the villains to a constable? It has been bloody in London, of late. The murders make everyone afraid, and the feeling...the magic, it's something else."
Bertie rubbed his arms, though it wasn't so cold out, even on the water. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jamie's form grow brighter and stronger, as if drawn in by the conversation now that talk had turned to investigations. Bertie belatedly realized that Caspian had been shifting in discomfort, and reached for the oars again. "Here, shall I take us to shore? Have we had enough of being tangled in tree roots?"
“Ah, I was tempted by the wrong siren. She was quite lovely, Bertie. A vision, hair pale and blonde, ah..and I paid dearly for even acknowledging her existence.” He smiled and shook his head, “Gabriel whisked me away before I had a chance, and I probably wouldn’t have anyway.”
At mention of the murders, Caspian frowned. “Mm, and I try to lighten the mood as best I can with the Review. The attendance has been less, but who can blame them?”
“Are you tired of talking with me about such things privately?” Caspian inquired, almost playful, blue eyes shimmering with delight. “If you’d like to return to shore I shall not object, though I do like sharing these small moments with you.”
Bertie hesitated a moment longer, then dropped the oars and leaned back to make himself as comfortable as possible in the small rowboat. "In that case," he said with a small smile, "I think we can tarry a few minutes more."