wondrousplace | olden times for Tommy

olden times for Tommy

The great country pile isn't their speed, really.

Double had their lovely house in London, bought and paid for by their adoptive father - a High Fae of some high regard, who'd been fretting about their lands and accounts falling into strangers' hands when he passed on. It was a heartrending story, of course, and Double was...well, positively delighted to be anything the old man wanted them to be. For the right price.

Shapeshifters have long since had a bad reputation for sliding into the upper echelons this way. They hadn't been in penury to begin with, by any means, but 'lovely house in London' money and 'vast estates with mining wealth and hundreds of rate-paying tenants' money is not the same by some order of magnitude.

The old man died peacefully in his bed, well over a century old, and left the manor house and everything that went with it to their sole heir. Who is going to sell it all, eventually, but it feels tasteless not to even let their 'father's' body grow cold.

They move in after the last of their furniture has been transported, and lets the housekeeper give them the tour. They cut quite the figure: long blond hair pinned up in curls, a jacket and blouse tailored tightly to a corseted waist, the snug high-waisted breeches favoured by most males. Their tail is the most exposed part of them and the woman they're following keeps eyeing it like she's not sure if it's obscene or not.

"...show you the stables, your grace," she says, as she walks ahead to the outbuildings.

"Ah. I suppose we ought."

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"It can't be the land, since I've traveled before, for the horses. Maybe you're right. Maybe."

He shifts now, and though his skin pulls painfully when he does it's worth it to look them in the eye.

"I won't try to talk you out of this. It means too much to me - you know, right? How important this is?"

"...I don't think I can know," they say, in the interests of honesty. "To know, I would need to be able to empathise, and...well, I had a smaller family and our relationships were...fraught. But I trust you when you say it. I can hear in your voice what it means to you."

"If I could see them again, show them I'm even alive, and in good health, and see them..."

He drops back down, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"I haven't considered the option in years. I did the first few years I was here, but I haven't for so long. It would mean everything to me."

"Then I'll rent an apartment and spend a little while there. A month or two. And I'll...look into a more permanent solution."

Which carries a risk to them, if such a solution exists, that Thomas will simply decamp back to his hometown and they'll never really see him again - but that's something they can only accept.

"Double."

He sits up again, this time fully, so he can really look at them. "That's not - you shouldn't. You've got the estate to run, you can't..."

"Don't be absurd, darling. When I first arrived, I'd been planning to just look the place up and down and then return to London. Leave all this in Mr. Lancer's hands until I could sell up. This place can manage without me for a while."

They close their eyes and smile.

"Birmingham has theatres, hasn't it? I could fund a show. Patronage of the arts."

He takes a deep breath and takes their hand in his own. If he'd planned it like this it couldn't have gone any better, but he didn't plan it like this. Somehow it just happened.

"It has theatres. Museums. All those things you enjoy."

"Wonderful. I can bask in the culture, and if you happen to enjoy some fringe benefits, well."

They squeeze his hand.

"I've become accustomed to country life, after all. I'll need my own driver."

He picks their hand up and presses his mouth to it, then his forehead.

"Thank you. You have done more for me tonight than I can express to you, and I didn't even ask. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, truly."

They lean in close to kiss his lips gently.

"...And as curious as I am, I will entirely avoid your household. You're entitled to your privacy."

Explaining why on earth they have any interest would take some doing, after all.

"...I think it's for the best," he agrees, somewhat regretfully. He kisses them back, and slowly (carefully) makes his way back down to them.

"It's been so long. I can't even imagine seeing them on me own, let alone together." He'd like the privacy.

"And for once, I don't want to be a distraction," they promise. "You can leave me to my silly Realmer pastimes and be with your kin."

If anything, they're a little envious Tommy has family he loves enough to miss so keenly - but they can't begrudge him that. They can admire it, from a distance.

"For two months, Your Grace?"

He smiles and keeps hold of their hand, absolutely unwilling to let go.

"I can drive you around. Pay a visit."

"Well, being driven around occasionally would help to explain why I brought you," they concede. "I might even smuggle you into the theatre at some point."

That, they say entirely on impulse, but they don't take it back. They'd like to share something they love so much.

"See if you can't get me to enjoy some culture? I have taught you to ride. Don't know that you enjoy it, but you can do it, at least."

Tit for tat.

"I enjoy it a great deal," Double says, "much more than I thought I would, in fact. I was, ah...quite badly hurt by a horse when I was younger."

For all they were reluctant to talk about it, at first, it emerges easily now.

"Really? How - did you get kicked?"

Rule Number One he taught them, of course. Never walk behind a horse.

They shake their head.

"It stepped on my tail. I panicked, ah, rather loudly. It reared, caught me in the shoulder. Several fractures."

"Fucking hell." He grimaces and runs his fingers over the now-okay shoulder. "No wonder you weren't too happy around horses. How old were you?"

"Twelve. I remember the horse as being this absolutely gigantic, monstrous thing, but - well, I was a small child, the horse was probably quite average," they admit, smiling crookedly.

"They're gigantic when you're that small," he recalls. "We were always taught not to fear them, but definitely to be very, very careful."

"So was I. But, I didn't know anyone else with a tail, nobody reminded me to keep it to myself, and - the rest is history."

They touch a point of their tail about ten inches from the tip.

"I had a little kink, right here, for years."

"Poor thing." He runs his fingers over a part of their tail he can reach, and kisses them. "I know plenty of people who were hurt by horses even though they were around them all their lives. Danger of working with animals, unfortunately."

"Indeed. I liked watching you work with them, before I...approached you," they admit. "You were always confident, sure of yourself, but...gentle, as well. Kind."

They kiss him once more.

"Are you ready for me to take a look at your back?"

"Not I side I like to show," he points out, sternly. Keep it to yourself, please, he has a reputation to uphold.

"Yes, please. And something to eat, after that."

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