olden times for Tommy

[oohforeshadowing]

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."

Comments

[oohforeshadowing]

There's a small hatch between the coach interior and the front, to better allow the passengers to speak to the driver. Double has left it open only a crack for most of the journey, and only then for fresh air's sake. This is a momentous journey for Thomas and they don't want to distract him with their own idle prattle.

And they like to listen to him humming.

Now, though, they open it fully to better listen and be heard.

"Wonderful. We're heading to Spicer Lane, not far from the Bullring market - do you know it?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"If the roads haven't changed too much, I know it," he agrees. He turns the carriage that way at the next crossroads.

"Is that the apartment, or the theatre?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"The apartment. I'm not expected at the theatre until tomorrow, and it's just around the corner."

So they can walk, so if Thomas decides to bed in with his family while he's here, his absence won't matter on a practical level. They'll miss him, of course.

The streets become wider and busier as they travel, the traffic of other coaches and traps more noticeable. The smell of a city which mostly burns coal for fuel and uses horses for transport becomes inevitably apparent, but there are other scents too - bakeries, flower sellers, street vendors grilling meat and roasting nuts. It's all rather pleasantly chaotic. And-

"There are centaurs here?" At least three of them, in fact - a woman and two children, the woman in conversation with a human merchant, all of them dressed in the swathed robes their people tend to favour. "My god, I haven't seen any since I left Italy. I was wondering if there were any in this country at all."

[bleak_midwinter]

He loves this. The chaos around him, the smells, the sound, the sights. It's all so much. It's probably better for him to be somewhere where he can't get into trouble, but he was made for places like this. Troublesome places.

He looks over at where they're indicating the centaurs to be, though of course it's not hard to spot them. He lets out a surprised little grunt. "I didn't know either. Must have happened since I left - never seen any. Isn't that just a sight? Wonder what they think of us using the horses."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Nothing much," they supply, with a quiet laugh. "I did ask a neighbour in Sicily. He said it was just a coincidence that they look alike."

He'd also said something that had been, at the time, rather age-inappropriate about a stallion trying to 'romance' his wife, which she hadn't appreciated. Double elects not to pass this on.

[bleak_midwinter]

"I suppose humans and Fae look alike too," he says dryly. And look at how the Fae treat their lookalikes?

"I think this is it." He pulls the carriage up outside a nice home and gets off to open the door, hold out a hand to help them out.

[oohforeshadowing]

They take it and step out daintily - having dressed sensibly for the city, no long skirts to drag in the urban muck. Almost immediately, this prompts the appearance at the front door of a short, matronly blonde woman with slightly pointed ears and unusually bright eyes: half-elf, if Double was to guess. Children between Realmers and humans is very rare - in most cases, pregnancy simply doesn't occur, or last - but it does happen.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace," she chirps, bobbing a little curtsey.

Double smiles. "You must be our hostess. Miss...Spellman, was it?"

"Oh - yes, but please, call me Hilda. I'll have Ambrose bring in your luggage and take the coach around - please, follow me."

She guides them into the house, up a sweeping central staircase to the apartment that takes up the entirety of the first floor.

[bleak_midwinter]

She seems nice, at least, and Tommy's known a few halfers in his life. They don't have it easy, being almost literally stuck between worlds, and they usually either adjust to be very friendly or very aggressive. Seems like Hilda chose the former.

"Can you ask him to leave the horses to me?"

He doesn't introduce himself, he's obviously in charge of the horses. He doesn't like to leave them to strangers.

[oohforeshadowing]

"Oh - yes, of course," Hilda says, with a quick blink. "Do forgive me, I ought to have asked-"

"It's quite alright," Double says, before she goes into a spiral. "Mr. Shelby is quite particular, that's all. Please - see to the horses, and I'll see you back up here."

This last remark is made to Tommy, dismissing him back outside so he can find out about the stabling arrangements while Hilda continues the tour.

[bleak_midwinter]

Mister Shelby really does love his horses, in the end - for all that he's forced into this situation, he hasn't been working with them all this time for no reason. He turns on his heel and goes to help this Ambrose fellow with the carriage and the horses.

It seems like a pretty good place, all in all, to spend a few weeks, maybe months. A little chaotic, but clean and big enough.

[oohforeshadowing]

Ambrose is a pretty young man, human and flirtatious and easygoing, who surrenders responsibility for the horses without complaint. Instead, he brings up their luggage to the entrance of the apartment Double is still exploring when Tommy returns.

Alone again, they smile across at him as he closes the door.

"Are the stables alright?"

(They are. The Spellmans run a tight ship.)

[bleak_midwinter]

"Very much. I'll have to take them out sometimes for exercise, but they'll be happy in the stables. This looks good, too, eh?"

He goes to touch their arm before stepping out to see.

[oohforeshadowing]

"Very much."

It's not as baroque as some of the places they've stayed, but it's clearly of exceptional quality, and spotlessly clean to boot.

They reach out to take his hand.

"...Thomas, I'm sure you're champing at the bit, so to speak. If you want to go out right now and check the old haunts, you should."

[bleak_midwinter]

"I - "

No, he's not going to protest. He squeezes their hand and goes to give them a soft kiss.

"Thank you. I feel almost sick with nerves. I don't know when I'll be back."

[oohforeshadowing]

"That's alright. I'll be in and out myself. Just - every other day or so, can you come by and leave me a note with the date? You don't have to tell me anything else. Just so I know you're alright."

It would feel overly paranoid if Tommy's family didn't at least have criminal elements, but. The reality is what it is.

[bleak_midwinter]

"I will. I'll endeavor to see you, and make sure you hear from me if I can't."

Another kiss, a nervous exhale, and a nod.

"Alright. You be careful too, yeah? I'll see you."

[oohforeshadowing]

They kiss his brow, then his lips, then take a step back to look him up and down.

"I'll see you soon, darling. I'll be hoping for the best for you."

And if there's a problem with his family that money or Realmer influence can solve, they can provide both, but they don't want to spell that out just yet.

[bleak_midwinter]

"Thank you."

He means this very sincerely. He steps back, then, and leaves.

He sees them a few days later. They're in the apartment at the same time, and he gets to tell them about his family's surprise, his happiness to see them, the losses the family has had, the gains. He's an uncle several times over, he got to meet the children. They ate and drank together. He tells them all this, and then he tumbles them into bed. For the first time they lie together while looking at each other, Tommy thrusting inside them, Double with their nails in his back while they kiss.

Even Tommy knows: this is what making love probably feels like. Afterwards he listens to their stories about the theater. They talk about the other Realmers in the city, how vibrant it is, how varied.

He kisses them goodbye in the evening, and says he'll see them again soon.

Two days pass. Three, then four. No message waiting for them. No sign that he's been close. Hilda doesn't know anything either.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double doesn't ask about Tommy's family, but is surprised and delighted to simply be told. For all that's gone awry, there seems to have been much to celebrate too, and they're delighted on his behalf. It feels alien to have such a large family, but Tommy is clearly happy about it.

And then he stops returning. On the third day they tell themself not to worry, that he must just be distracted, or out on the canals - but then the fourth day comes, and by sundown there's still no sign of him.

Double does something they don't much like themself for, which is to say that they approach Hilda and lightly bribe/bully her into helping them. The place has the undefinable feel of somewhere maintained by a magic user, and her elven ancestry is of clear help to that end. After a great deal of fretting, she takes some of Tommy's worn clothes and uses them to charm a ring that will tug the wearer in the right direction. It gets less accurate the closer you get, she warns, but it should get them to the right street.

It's not Double who heads out into the evening, but a young human man who looks very much like any other, clothes rough and cap pulled down low.

[bleak_midwinter]

The closer they get, the grimier the city becomes. Houses are built closer together, with washlines with laundry that barely looks clean obstructing the view of the next few homes. Children run around on bare feet, people are openly quarreling and even brawling. They've come out in the late afternoon and many are already drunk.

The charm stops being accurate, sending them down one alley after the next. They'll have to ask someone.

[oohforeshadowing]

No matter. They'd anticipated this, and step into a little pub that's barely more than a single large room. A few heads swivel in their direction, but their chosen avatar looks appropriately grimy and miserable and so nobody seems to care overmuch.

They approach the bar; the barman asks what he can get them. They set down a couple of coins on the slightly sticky wood.

"Just a bit of information," they say, Black Country accent in force. "The Shelby family?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"What do you want them for?" The barman looks dismayed, but he's already pocketing the coins.

"Best off staying away from those tinkers, lad."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Sounds like good advice," Double says, tilting their head. "So in the interest of doin' that, where have I got to stay away from?"

He took the money, so surely there's business to be done.

[bleak_midwinter]

The man rolls his eyes and puts away the glass hed been cursorily drying.

"Watery Lane. But you can't escape 'em once you get to the Garrison Pub. Go there if you want your arse kicked. Not that you'll take my advice."

[oohforeshadowing]

"You're right," Double says, without apology, and slides another coin across the bar. "Thanks."

They head back out into an increasingly dark, foreboding sort of evening.

Watery Lane - they're almost sure they passed the end of that street, saw the sign on their way to the pub. The name rings a bell. Indeed, retracing their steps takes them to the right street, and only a couple more minutes' walk takes them into the Garrison.