Mickey Doyle (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
byanyname) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kingdomsofrain2016-12-01 03:31 am
byanyname) wrote in kingdomsofrain2016-12-01 03:31 am
tfln open post
***
either leave a message (or set of muses) for one of my assholes, or request a message from one of them. choose messages from the classic source, from your own skull, or whatever you may please.
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Finally, she settles on: ]
I would speak to you.
You needn't keep your distance. If you have nowhere else to go, perhaps you could be at home here, for a time.
You might even, perhaps, find some good in me.
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[ ... ]
You're going to get rid of me.[ ... ]
You don't want that.
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Of course I want you to feel at home here.
And yes, to find some good in me.
Or at least to greet me in daylight hours. I would like that very much.
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[ ... ]
[ ... ]
[ ... ... ... ... ... ]
I don't care for this rug.
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Very well.
I'll have it removed tomorrow.
1/3
WiSK it away, I suppose!! As if itll help this hideousad excuse for a 'stud'y!
2/3
He doesn't like this, an uncertainty threatening to overwhelm the evening and cut through his wine-born haze.
He doesn't like the way this feels, the space in the wake of her message, the unease gnawing his chest. ]
WellWellWell.
Thank you.
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[ Of...? He doesn't remember. Having the rug? Getting rid of the rug? Talking. Something about talking, maybe. Something about him, and the avoidance he affords her, the avoidance he employs to shield himself. ]
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That this abrupt change of conversation from her effort to offer him friendship once more is a slap away, a refusal to discuss it further.
He doesn't want her company. He wants to complain about the study.
Well. ]
Redecorate it as you see fit, then.
Burn it down if you likeI'll [...] communicate with Wallace about the particulars. So you needn't trouble yourself.
1/3
No I
SAID thank you' I
Ostinate woman!
[ ... ]
WALLACE is SLEEPING!No. HAVE your rug i don't want it!!
[ He means to delete that last line, too.
He manages to send it, instead. ]
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yYou didin't know abohut the
daylight
I
3/4 ooops
Everybody knowsb your' not
YOU are not
NOT good!
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1/2
His messages come rapidly, disjointed and mostly-incoherent, save for the first. She tries to imagine what he might be doing -
Texting with one hand while drinking with the other?
No, they're far too fast.
So, in haste because he's...
...Panicking?
Is he panicking?
She can't imagine what might have him worried, however. She...Oh, none of this makes sense.
(You are not NOT good? Or does he mean emphasis on the 'not'? Or is she only succumbing to wishful thinking, reading sense in drunken ramblings?) ]
Treavor, I truly am only trying to do as you like.
Take the rug, leave the rug. Avoid me, don't avoid me. Please, I only want [...]
2/2
It's late, and you are clearly ill at ease.
Would you like to retire for the night? Shall I fetch Wallace for you?
1/2
[ Just ask anyone. Anyone who knows him. All those familiar bastards far off in Manhattan. They all know. ]
I am always I am ill. Ha.
[ Everybody knows that, too! ]
Well you must know this.
2/2
hM no matter
i am already also asleeping.
no wonders.
alrea dy don
no subject
[ I don't like anything, he said.
She never realized -
Yes, certainly, she comprehended his hatred for his situation, and his aversion to this place.
But it never occurred to her that he might not like her.
Now that the thought is in her head, she can't escape it. Past encounters rearrange themselves from cold courtesy to outright disdain. ]
[...]
Do you dislike me, Treavor?
[ But if he does, why does he text her?
...If he doesn't, why does he avoid her?
Oh. ]
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He?
....What?
He doesn't like the flicker of worry. Prefers the impulse to snort, as if it were a joke. It isn't. He didn't. Why shouldn't she...? ]
Are you a THING??
Ithink not.
non appliable.
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Of course, it wouldn't apply.
[ Still.
Well. Perhaps she shouldn't pester him with this particular nagging fear. This discomfort that remains in spite of his limited assurance.
...But what if he dislikes her? What if he has, all along? She fidgets, playing with her nails, plucking at her dress.
It bothers her that it bothers her. Why should she care if he dislikes her? In a handful of years, when this feud with the Van Brunts is forgotten, he'll go away, and never think on her or this miserable marriage again.
Several minutes go by before she adds: ]
Anyhow, you hardly know me. How could you possibly know whether you like me or not?
[...]
I suppose it wouldn't matter if it did apply.
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What does it matter, that... something... it?... doesn't matter?
Fuck's sake, he can't muddle through all this.
He tries, and he tries, and then in a moment's stroke of genius, sends— ]
Please im' SLEEPING.
1/3
Instead, it aggravates her: this sudden concern for whether he might like her, his drunkenness, his avoidance of her, and now these absurd messages. She knows she ought to let it be, and maintain her course of kindness with him.
It isn't fair to be angry with drunk men.
But it isn't fair that he never speaks to her otherwise, is it? ]
Very well. Sleep, then.
[...]
I hardly care.
2/3
3/3
You're being difficult.
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