Double Trouble (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oohforeshadowing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wondrousplace2023-03-22 07:25 pm
oohforeshadowing) wrote in wondrousplace2023-03-22 07:25 pm
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."
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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"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.
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"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.
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"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.
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"Really? How - did you get kicked?"
Rule Number One he taught them, of course. Never walk behind a horse.
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They shake their head.
"It stepped on my tail. I panicked, ah, rather loudly. It reared, caught me in the shoulder. Several fractures."
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"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?"
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"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.
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"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."
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"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."
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"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."
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"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?"
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"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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"Your secrets are safe with me," they promise, and kiss him quickly before getting up and going to the tray of supplies they prepared earlier. Damp cloths to clean up as needed, salve for any cuts and welts, and a box of little cubes of fudge.
They set down the tray on the nightstand.
"Would you like some help rolling over?"
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He shakes his head - he's got it, he's feeling less wobbly. He shifts to lie on his front, head pillowed on folded arms.
"I like this part, you know that? It's not often I'm tended to."
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"I guessed as much, early on," they tell him. "I like it as well. Not just because I feel responsible for you right now - though I do."
They start with the cloth first, carefully cleaning away a few faint streaks of dried blood, careful not to start any bleeding afresh. Peeling away from the sheets has done that anyway, in a couple of places, but it's nothing they didn't anticipate.
It's...sometimes I feel like people around me think I'm helpless? My maid was surprised that I prefer to lace my own boots, of all things. I like that you trust me to take care of you."
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"I have to. I can't reach it, I can't see the damage. And I know that if I don't, I'll be looking for the bottle tomorrow."
Not that he's a teetotaller now, but he doesn't drink himself into a stupor.
"I like not having to appear self-sufficient and unaffected by everything around me."
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"Well, darling. I do very much enjoy affecting you," they chuckle.
Content that he's clean enough to work on further, they reach for the salve.
"This will sting in places, but only for a moment. I'm going to start with the worst first so that it's done with."
And so they do, applying a thin coat of the cream to a particularly nasty spot on his shoulder.
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"I don't know if you recall, but you whipped me into this state. A sting's alright."
In fact, he quite likes it. It's like the aftertaste of the pain, softened but in the same place.
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They laugh softly.
"Alright, alright, darling. I just wanted you to know."
Pain is one thing; unanticipated pain is another. They continue to work.
"Can you tell me something about your home?"
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"Birmingham?"
He shrugs, then winces when it pulls on his skin.
"I don't know what to tell you. It's a small town that's grown bigger since the Fae came and settled nearby. There's a lot of trade. A lot of people coming to live there to work in the workshops."
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Double hums their understanding.
"A lot of craftsmen? People coming from far and wide? I know it's well-connected."
The connection by canal to most other parts of the country are both a reason for Birmingham's expansion and a consequence of it; they feed one another.
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"Hmm. Craftsmen, some trade, specialty products. It's easy to get to. I've got a lot of family that have river boats."
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"Is that what they do for a living?" they wonder, determined not to ask anything more invasive, but permitting themself this slight curiosity. "Trade by river?"
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"Most of them, yes. But I come from a long line of fortune tellers and horse thieves, so it's all sorts. Hm - they used to run a betting shop. My grandfather did, at least. I don't know if they still do."
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"You'll find out," they promise. "Hmm. Stay like this for a while, let the salve do its work. I don't think I've done enough damage to scar, but you might be feeling some of these for a couple of weeks."
They reach for the little box, to feed him a sweet.
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