🌹 certified 20 lorenz hellman gloucester 🌹 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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dumbshow2024-01-05 02:03 pm
hotproblems) wrote in dumbshow2024-01-05 02:03 pm
the nobles au for armwriostle
[It has been a long winter. Lorenz enjoys a diplomatic visit, really, he does, he thrives at that kind of thing - but the winter has been long, and the weather has delayed his return to his own home, and the diplomacy has turned to awkward meals taken with these fellow nobility he doesn't quite know beyond reputation (and if he's being honest, he doesn't quite like, but Father's every letter stresses how polite and neutral he must appear), and it's getting... frustrating.
He misses his own house, his family's territory, not being a guest forced to idle in sitting rooms and listen to someone else's local politics. He loves idling in sitting rooms... like, sometimes. Not daily. He would like to go home and get back to taking care of his own people, but: the winter, the weather, the visit. He's still here.
Even his Father's not-so-subtle sub-mission, to keep an eye on the Duke's illegitimate Crest-bearing son, has... waned, significantly. The man keeps to himself, from Lorenz's brief observations; once they were introduced he saw very little of him for a long time, save for a few glimpses here and there. It makes sense to him, an illegitimate son is naturally not as involved in the proceedings of... local management, as it were, unless his noble father is lacking in heirs, which this man's - Wriothesley's - is not. So. It makes sense.
But it is off-putting, the way said heirs speak of their half-brother. Lorenz sips his tea through it and makes no comment; first he had listened intently, following Father's orders to determine if anything was afoot here, but it doesn't seem like that at all. No, it seems like Wriothesley's half-siblings are... cruel.
Lorenz doesn't know what to do about that. It's not his place to say, and in the parlance of noble public relations, not saying anything could just as easily be taken as tacit approval as not, so - that's uncomfortable.
But he is supposed to keep an eye on the man, at Father's behest, and so... he tries. It's more difficult than he expects, it's like trying to keep track of a gust of wind, and soon Father is admonishing him in his letters for turning up no useful information. Lorenz is tired of it, and tired physically by staying up into the night to pen a reply, and so he puts down his papers and sets about finding himself some tea in the dead of night. The staff are asleep, but he's capable, he can brew a cup—]
Oh! [—but startling is the presence of the wind himself, Wriothesley-who-is-never-around-the-house, here in the kitchens, seemingly popping out of the darkness to reach for the same tea leaves Lorenz has just reached for. He steps back - it is... wildly embarrassing to be caught wandering the house in which he is a guest, for starters - and then it occurs to him that this is the first time he's seen this man in actual days, and it's-]
It's the middle of the night.
[Like yeah, he's here too, but this is Wriothesley's house...]
I, aha— I should not be wandering.
He misses his own house, his family's territory, not being a guest forced to idle in sitting rooms and listen to someone else's local politics. He loves idling in sitting rooms... like, sometimes. Not daily. He would like to go home and get back to taking care of his own people, but: the winter, the weather, the visit. He's still here.
Even his Father's not-so-subtle sub-mission, to keep an eye on the Duke's illegitimate Crest-bearing son, has... waned, significantly. The man keeps to himself, from Lorenz's brief observations; once they were introduced he saw very little of him for a long time, save for a few glimpses here and there. It makes sense to him, an illegitimate son is naturally not as involved in the proceedings of... local management, as it were, unless his noble father is lacking in heirs, which this man's - Wriothesley's - is not. So. It makes sense.
But it is off-putting, the way said heirs speak of their half-brother. Lorenz sips his tea through it and makes no comment; first he had listened intently, following Father's orders to determine if anything was afoot here, but it doesn't seem like that at all. No, it seems like Wriothesley's half-siblings are... cruel.
Lorenz doesn't know what to do about that. It's not his place to say, and in the parlance of noble public relations, not saying anything could just as easily be taken as tacit approval as not, so - that's uncomfortable.
But he is supposed to keep an eye on the man, at Father's behest, and so... he tries. It's more difficult than he expects, it's like trying to keep track of a gust of wind, and soon Father is admonishing him in his letters for turning up no useful information. Lorenz is tired of it, and tired physically by staying up into the night to pen a reply, and so he puts down his papers and sets about finding himself some tea in the dead of night. The staff are asleep, but he's capable, he can brew a cup—]
Oh! [—but startling is the presence of the wind himself, Wriothesley-who-is-never-around-the-house, here in the kitchens, seemingly popping out of the darkness to reach for the same tea leaves Lorenz has just reached for. He steps back - it is... wildly embarrassing to be caught wandering the house in which he is a guest, for starters - and then it occurs to him that this is the first time he's seen this man in actual days, and it's-]
It's the middle of the night.
[Like yeah, he's here too, but this is Wriothesley's house...]
I, aha— I should not be wandering.
no subject
Not the way a man of his standing, legitimate or not, should be expected to behave. Not the way a son should be treated by his father, all manner of Crests and noble lineage aside.
Lorenz shakes his head just slightly, for Wriothesley's sake; no, he isn't offended.
Drumming his fingers on the side of the tin, he says-] Then— let us retire to your... "work space."
[So there, he's bold enough to just invite himself, does that count? Besides, they were never here, so wandering off to the work space of the man specifically instructed to avoid him is absolutely fine.]
no subject
Still, it seems the other has no qualms associating with him (not that it matters with it being in the middle of the night), so he gestures tue other to follow him.
Instead of him leading the other up to what should be a grandiose room, Wriothesley actually leads the other down to the basement. The air is chilly and damp, but he seems unbothered as he leads him to his work space.
The room is spacious and really it seems to be a room for the man to work. There’s a large wooden table in the center covered in tools and mechanical parts. A pair of large, metal gauntlets sit there, partially taken apart. The walls are lined with bookshelves that are filled with countless books. A small table and chairs are put into the corner and a cart is set next to it. On top there is a well-loved porcelain tea set.
He kicks the door closed and holds his hand out for the other to give him the tin.] I can brew it. Make yourself comfortable.
no subject
My apologies for being under-dressed.
[He hasn't even put on nightclothes, he's just removed his jacket and waistcoat, but still. It's not appropriate visiting wear, and it's a bit cold...
In the goddamn basement. Even as he looks around at the books and the space for tinkering with interest, his ire for the Duke slowly climbs up a few notches. The basement! The gall!]
Oh—yes. Here you are.
[He passes over the tea with a brief and strained little smile, then gestures like, well! He's going to... do that thing! Become comfortable!
And then he moseys over to the bookshelves, actually, to see what's there. The literal basement, a duke banishing his own son to the actual basement—!! Hm! Books!]
no subject
[He was only overtly polite because he wasn’t about to get in trouble because he was just a little too casual. He could play the game for the sake of being a little more comfortable in this hellish life.
He takes the tin and goes over to where a burner is sitting with a kettle perched atop. It isn’t a stove so much as something rigged together to replicate a stove. It was obviously just there so he can boil water.
Once he gets water started though he disappears from the room for a moment leaving the other alone. The shelves are filled with a plethora of different books. There wasn’t a topic that seemed to be lacking. Wriothesley was obviously very well read.
It isn’t long that he returns though to drape a warm, wool blanket over Lorenz’ shoulders.] Here. You’re probably cold down here. The chill can really sink in your bones if you aren’t used to it.
no subject
Well, he's going to look at some books now, and ruminate. He listens with one ear to the other fiddling with the "stove" and then leaving the room, or so it sounds like-- He's squinting at a book on an upper shelf that's caught his eye when the blanket is draped over him, which - well, he does startle again, if only because the books distracted him. Ah-
With a nod, he tugs the blanket around himself, feeling only slightly ridiculous to be wearing a blanket around like a cape. Already this trip to the literal basement! has taken him by surprise a couple times over. What ever will he write to Father about this.]
Thank you. [A beat; he gestures at the shelf.] May I?
[He'd comment about the decor if this were someone's sitting room and not, again, The Basement What The Hell, but: basement. So it's the books, instead, because he is curious about this whole surprise collection.]
I do apologize for imposing at this hour, but I... [mmph. you know what, he's already here,] could not bear the thought of only taking tea while forced to listen to the Duke's atrocious politics.
[And the other stuff, but, well. Whew.]
no subject
Go ahead. I have no reason to deny you. Just be careful. Some of the books are old and the dampness down here isn’t well suited for books.
[He either has to toss them eventually and replace with new ones so the shelf is always ever changing.
He blinks a little owlishly at Lorenz’ words, taken aback by the brashness. It’s then that Wriothesley barks out a laugh. It’s something genuine.]
Well, I have no interest in boring you with the politics of this area. I’m sure you’ve become well acquainted with the subject if that is all the Duke has filled your time with. I much rather talk about pleasant things. Interests. Not politics. [He smiles before busying himself with preparing the tea as soon as the kettle starts whistling.]
no subject
Either way - points to himself for making Wriothesley laugh, something that is equally as surprising as the blanket, but merely makes Lorenz smirk briefly down at the book. That one sentence alone could get him politely banned from this house for years - he knows, he's heard people say such things to Father and then been summarily uninvited from every party for a small eternity - but, well.
Truly, the Duke is political hazard. And a bad father, it does seem!!]
I am visiting to discuss political arrangements, more or less... [So that is all, it's just been awful. Ugh.] Why not tell me about your collection, here? I must say, these titles are an eclectic bunch.
no subject
He leans against the large table in the middle of the room and folds his arms over his chest.] They're books from the bookstore that they were planning to throw out. Once in awhile I help there, so they just give them to me since they would be disposed of anyways. I just replace books every so often when it's obvious that they can't be taken care of any longer.
[He walks over and pulls one of the books out. It might be the volume of poetry that Lorenz had been looking at.] I read all of them at least once. It's a learning experience, even if I don't end up enjoying it.
no subject
So there's that. Shopping is enjoyable.]
It seems like a waste to dispose of them all due to lack of proper care—and so disheartening. [THE BASEMENT--he's fine] Perhaps if there were more interest in literacy among the people, the shop could house them elsewhere...
[Lorenz, about to invent the public library because this dank basement makes him sad--
He eyes the book of poetry, like, super casually. So casually. He's very normal.]
Did you enjoy that one? When you read it the first time.
no subject
Shelf space is limited. Eventually, things that aren't selling or have become too old has to be tossed. The environment here also expedites their decay. [Which is something he laments over a bit. There are a few books that he wish he could have held onto, but the pages were molding and the book was falling apart at the seams.
He smiles a little and holds it out to Lorenz.] I am fond of this one. A lot of the poems are about love. Here. You can read it while we have tea. It should be ready.
no subject
Regrettable. He hums, shrugging lightly; it's disappointing to hear, but there's nothing he can do about that, it seems.
As for this book,]
It's— mm. [He takes it with an odd expression, brow knitted just slightly. Without consulting the table of contents he flips through the pages to a particular piece and lets the book fall open to it.
After looking at it fondly for a moment, he holds the book back out to Wriothesley. Please, he knows poetry.]
This one is my favorite. Particularly the second verse, regarding likening the vast and ravenous nature of the sea to the depth of one's love...
[Tea now, please.]
no subject
You're fond of poetry then. [He doesn't mention out loud how Lorenz already knew the poem he wanted to show and the page it was on. If Lorenz were to deny his fondness, then Wriothesley gave him space to do so.
After all, the other seemed to be a little hesitant to grab the book in the first place.] That one is quite good. You're correct.
[He moves to lift the tray and bring it over from the cart to the large table. He goes to the shelves to grab a few tins. A tin that had sugar cubes and another tin with biscuits. Both were rather sparse, but he obviously had no intention not to serve what he had with a guest next to him. He takes two cubes of sugar to add it to his cup and stirs it in.] I can't offer anything extravagant. I hope it isn't a bother.
[The son of the Duke and a Crest Bearer and he lives like a peasant.]