battle_scarred (battle_scarred) wrote in v_nocturne_rpg, @ 2009-09-22 13:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | joachim zahavi, npc |
Brotherly Love?
Although it was his custom to rise early, Joachim found himself comfortable enough in his father's apartment to at least try lounging about in the mornings. He'd brought a fair portion of his books with him, and he would usually eat breakfast and then read if he didn't have anything pressing to tend to before afternoon. Besides, his leg made it difficult to get around, so if he should be indolent enough to stay in until noon, so be it.
The officer was in shirtsleeves, having just finished shaving, and he wiped the last of the foam from behind his left ear before putting the razor and strop away. Breakfast had been fruit and sausage, and he buttoned the third button of his white shirt while looking himself over in the mirror. His was not an unpleasant face, the dark circles under his eyes notwithstanding. If he had time later, he would step out to a bookshop. Convalescence meant time for reading, and his mind was hungry for stimulation.
The cane made noises on the hardwood floor as he made his way into the living room, then eased himself down on the couch. The damned leg was a bother, but he could tell it was healing. Not fast enough for his taste, though. He wanted to be whole again.
Duncan St. John let himself in with a key. His father's apartment was dim and quiet, and he felt relief wash over him. Too many hours spent bending over bank ledgers had knotted his shoulders and given him migraines. He tucked his spectacles in a pocket and went to the living room, pinching the bridge of his nose. He would pour himself a drink and sit for a while in his father's oasis, which was closer to the bank than his home. He would return to the books in the afternoon.
On his way to the scotch, he noticed the fuzzy outline of his half-brother. Duncan jerked. The only reason he recognized him at all was the propped leg and dark coloring. "Joachim," he acknowledged. "I heard you were in town." At the sideboard, he hesitated before pouring himself a glass and cut an eye at the younger man.
"Hello, Duncan."
Joachim had been startled to hear the key in the door, and he cursed silently when the fairer-haired man stepped inside. The sound of the decanter being opened and the scotch being poured was the only noise in the room in the wake of the mutual greetings, and the major put his book aside. Ms. Wollstonecraft-Shelley's tale of terror could wait. There was a different sort of fear to be dealt with at the moment
"Forgive me if I don't get up to greet you." He should have perhaps anticipated this, and that he was surprised by it instead was an irritation to him. "I am indisposed at the moment."
"It's fine." With his back turned to his brother, Duncan sipped at the scotch. His wife would have insisted he drink water for his headache, particularly at such an early hour, but Sarah wasn't there. He put the decanter back in its place and stood with his back to the window. The midday sun lit dust motes in the air. "Have you settled in here, then?" If Joachim was to make a lengthy stay of it, Duncan thought, he ought to find another afternoon haven, unless of course his brother intended to settle permanently in London. In that case, he assumed Joachim would find a piece of property of his own. Not knowing the arrangements made with his father, he felt incredibly out of the loop, which did not settle well with him.
"Frederick has generously allowed me the use of this address while I seek the care of a physician," Joachim answered, shifting on the well-padded sofa. "It is...comfortable here, but I would not go so far as to call it settled in. I am still unused to the city."
He felt at a disadvantage, and if he'd been able to reach his cane without fumbling around like a fool, he'd have done so and gotten up. He made himself settle back against the cushioned arm of the couch, scratched idly at the side of his neck. "Would you mind pouring me one of those?"
Duncan took another glass. He breathed out while he poured the scotch and rubbed his forehead. At least he wouldn't be forced to drink alone and endure any quiet judgment for it. He wondered if his half-brother's leg ailed him, and if that was the reason he wanted one, too. The floorboards creaked as he made his way around the couch and handed off the tumbler. "Here you are." He looked around for a seat and chose a wing-back chair. An old copy of the newspaper was tucked beside the cushion. He unrolled it and skimmed the headlines, frowning when he realized his spectacles were in his pocket. "How is your recovery progressing?" Duncan unfolded them and glanced at the younger man's knee.
"I have seen a physician who appears competent. He provided me with a brace, which I wear when I'm attending to business in the city. All things considered, I am lucky to still have the limb. A less able doctor would have suggested amputation."
Joachim held the glass carefully, looking at the way the lamplight shone through the scotch before taking a drink. Duncan was gaining weight, long hours behind a desk adding pounds to his already bulky frame. The only way one would have known they were related was a certain resemblance around the eyes, that and their identically straight bearing. Children of a military man did not slouch. "You and Sarah are well? Frederick says your employers have promoted you."
"Indeed." Duncan nodded and sipped his scotch. He skimmed the front of the newspaper, seeing all the print and comprehending little of it. He started to say more: That it was a curious thing to have a talent for a profession and absolutely no passion for it. To want another -- namely, his younger brother's -- and be deemed physically ill-suited for it. But his pride kept him from voicing aloud his disappointment in his circumstances, or admitting that a shameful emotion had made Duncan feel relief when Joachim was injured and could climb no higher.
"Sarah expects another baby before Christmas," he said. It was easier to turn the conversation to his family. The newspaper fluttered as Duncan turned the page. "Father is just as excited as she."
He would be, the younger man thought. Why shouldn't he? Another babe to carry on the St. John name, allowing the lineage to continue. He wondered what his father - their father - would say when he himself decided to marry. He had always found Sarah welcome company, a cheerful girl even in dour circumstances, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a well-meaning attempt at a smile.
"I congratulate you," he said formally, lifting the glass in a toast before putting it down without sampling the contents again. He always felt as if he were under scrutiny when he was with his father's other family, as if they gauged every move for the slightest flaw. He and Duncan had always been careful with one another, observing a precarious balance between their father's 'legitimate' life and his other engagements. In his darker moods, Joachim wondered if the other man didn't wish him far away. If he were entirely honest with himself, he was guilty of much the same, if it were the case. "This will be the third? Or the fourth? I have been away for a while."
"Fourth," Duncan said and folded the paper. Reading was a poor choice of activity when holding a conversation, or nursing a headache. "Melissa was born a year ago, June." He set the news aside and surveyed what was left of his drink. He downed it quickly enough and rubbed his thumb on the rim of the glass. "You should find a wife and settle down," he said. "To have a family of one's own is of great comfort." He meant no harm, and his face was guileless, but it was volatile territory. He realized it a moment too late and busied himself with a thread on the seam of his trousers.
Joachim's face stilled for a moment, and he let himself look for the insult. Thoughtless. Like Father. The smile was a bit sharper at the corners when it returned, and he said, "Yes, children are a great blessing, are they not? Even in less than advantageous circumstances." The remark was unworthy of him and he knew it, but he was nettled. He might be half lame, but his wits were not dulled by his trauma.
"Not that your circumstances are anything to complain of, I'm sure," he added, tossing back the rest of his drink. "The respect of other men in your field is something to be thought of highly. Do you intend to become president of your bank's office one day?"
Duncan could think of nothing more bleak. "We will see." He smiled tightly and stared at the empty tumbler. He recognized the rancor with which Joachim offered the words. He had not intended to insult the man. God's honest truth, it was bloody difficult to walk on eggshells around him, as if Joachim's illegitimacy were Duncan's own doing. No one walked soft when it was discovered that his eyesight was too poor for the military, and that he would be a desk man, unable to follow in his father's footsteps.
He looked up and raised the glass to his brother. "Perhaps we will have a Colonel in the family before long." Unlikely and we both know it, he thought. He stood up and returned the glass to the sideboard.
Joachim let out an almost silent breath, pushed his hand through his hair. He had no wish to be Duncan's enemy, and yet to be alone with him in almost any circumstance was to feel as if sandpaper was being dragged over his nerve endings. Their mothers had insisted on civility when the two of them were children, but now that they were men they'd been left to their own devices. It boded ill for the relationship. He looked at the older man's profile, noted how heavily the years seemed to weigh on him. Brother.
"You should count yourself fortunate." With an effort he sat up and grasped the handle of his cane, then clumsily levered himself to his feet. "You should not like to hobble like an old man, I would expect. Behind a desk might be a dull way to make a living, but there are few safer professions."
"Ah." He smiled. In an attempt to reel himself in, Duncan sucked air through his teeth and thumbed his eyebrow. He was grateful that his back was to Joachim. So like him to underestimate the troubles of others. It was no easy feat to have a dream taken away and watch another live it. At least his brother had a chance before his leg was injured.
"I only hope you'll heed your own advice, Joachim," he gestured at the man's leg, "If you are relegated to shuffling papers behind a desk." It was best to leave before either of them said things that made the next meeting impossibly awkward. "I must return to the office. Don't worry about intrusions in the future. I will find another place to take midday meals."
It was the best thing, really, and yet the younger man wished it could be different. Were either of them less stiff-necked, they'd have learned a way around the impasse at this point in their lives. The major poured himself a fresh drink. "I am pleased that you are well, Duncan," he said formally. "Give Sarah my congratulations. I'm sure she looks forward to the next few months." The glass in his hand seemed very heavy.
He eased himself towards the door, wanting to at least see the other man out. "I shall tell Fredrick you were here. Doubtless he'll want to see you later."
"Thank you." Duncan made his way to the door, strangely thankful that his headache slowed his gait. Otherwise, there would have been another reason to worry about upsetting his half-brother. "It was good to see you." He opened the door and walked out. The desk full of papers awaited him, and for once, it was not such a bad thing.
Joachim watched Duncan leave, closed the door behind him. Then locked it. He rested his brow against the wooden surface for a moment, then returned to the couch and his book. And his drink.
So much for family.
NPC Duncan was written by Kate