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Mad d'VanPissedOffenShire and the castle's lost king ][ a lo

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Mad d'VanPissedOffenShire and the castle's lost king ][ a log

Post by Guest on Sat Oct 17, 2009 8:27 pm

The last week, week and a half has been an absolute train wreck. Joy, and pain. Like sunshine, and rain. Huge highs followed up by absolutely world shattering lows. The emotional roller coaster was something Dominic barely was able to weather. When he left that morning, his bag of clothes slung over his shoulder, He said goodbye to Pris. And it almost killed him. Though he really didn't show it to her, his trek out of the Inn was a fight to contain himself. When he got in the car, though. The tears were quick to come as he drove. Along with some serious pounding abuse on the steering wheel. It had been only a few days, almost a week since he had left, but when that fourth day came and passed, Dominic had made up his mind on one important thing. Cue Friday morning. And a major surprise, when Pris came home. or woke up, whatever she ended up doing. The first thing to greet her would be a very familiar smell. Potatoes cooking. All throughout the two room place they had shared. A little note sat on the table in the kitchen. "Priscilla, breakfast is in the oven. Use the potholders, the plate is going to be hot. Juice is in the fridge." What was waiting in the oven? A plate loaded with the signature cheesy eggs and sausage, a load of hash browns, and two slices of toast, sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. A standard Prissy breakfast.

the first thing dommy would notice when he came into the apartment was that it was that he wasn't the only one that was a train wreck. the apartment was too. pris hadn't ever come back with donald to tell the furniture who was boss and staple it's wood feet to the floor. so the furniture was where she left it when donald had urged her to come over to his room, all shoved together in the center of the room besides the television. every single piece of kitchen and bedroom furniture. so the kitchen table was really in the living room! pris wasn't there when he came in. she was still staying in donald's room, and this week she'd only come back to this apartment to get clothes. every day, before school, pris came to get new clothes. and every day it was the same ritual. first, she turned the knob of the door and shoved it open, jumping back to the other side of the hall just in case the furniture had decided to ambush. when there was no ambush, pris in her stocking feet would tip toe slowly forward, pressing herself against the wall to the left of the open doorway and then leaning right just enough that her eyes could peep inside. once she was sure that the furniture and everything in the apartment was supposed to be where it was, she gave her regal address as the new king of the castle. "now listen. we are going to come inside and we are going to walk past you to get into our bedroom. we need clothes. and you need to stay put for the king of the castle or it's off with your wood - !" that's when pris noticed there was something different in the landscape. a note. she made a lemon face, squinting her eyes suspiciously at the collection of furniture as if she suspect it was trying to set a trap for her. hence the creeping cautious steps, and the sudden snatch of the note off the table and a shriek as if she thought the paper would burn her like acid would. when it didn't, she huffed quietly to herself and read the note. "hm." it was spoken with a sophisticated sniff, pris holding her chin high in the air. "hm." she sniffed again. sniffing the air, it was definitely food. "we are pleased, wood subjects. but i didn't tell you you could cook and bribes make jailbirds out of sofas!" yes, she thought the furniture was trying to cook for her now. it didn't stop her from heading over to the stove to see for herself. the yelp that followed was because she'd forgotten to use a potholder, and that's why the plate hit the counter kind of hard with a clatter. at least she hadn't dropped it enitrely!

And somewhere in the apartment? Dominic heard that sound. Well, it started with her address to her subjects. The shock of what this place had turned into in a few days had definitely brought him down. The poor girl... ahem. Hearing that Pris was here now, he got up from the edge of the bed, where he had been sitting. A deep breath, held, then released in a sigh. He wasn't sure how she would receive him... but unless he felt like going out the window, there was no way to back out now. Almost show time...

in the kitchen pris was having a minor panic attack. she'd overheated her most precious fingertips on her right hand, which is why she was currently running around in circles squealing and shaking that hand like she was trying to shake the heat off. pris was intensely sensitive about her hands, since that's where all her artmaking came from. but thankfully, the oven hadn't been that hot and so the same was true for the plate. she didn't burn herself badly, and after a few moments of her running, squealing and hand flapping said fingertips felt just fine besides a few after tingles. slowly, pris turned around to face the collection of furniture in the center of the living room area. eyes narrowed into slits, she raised her right index finger in an accusing point. like she thought the furniture had tried to burn her on purpose. after she turned back around to face the oven just as slowly, all odd behaviors dropped and she leaned in to the food for a closer sniff. if she wasn't as hungry as she was, she might have went through a whole routine to make sure the furniture wasn't trying to poison her, but her stomach was growling now and a forkful of potatoes was already in her face.

A look of concern crossed his face for a moment... she hadn't used the potholder, had she? That look deepened as her wailing and yelping carried on for a bit. But once she stopped, a little smiel couldn't help but creep up on his face. If he knew her, she was probably going right for her hash browns... she did have an unhealthy fixation for potatoes... but no matter. Dominic would give it another five minutes, let her eat her food, before steeling himself up for this. This was it. A glance taken at the mirror, one last look... before he turned toward the door. Putting on his... hat...

potatoes are very healthy things. they had to be, considering at least half of pris' diet consisted of them and she was still alive and looked healthy enough! so dommy's suspicion was correct. while she liked all the things that were on the plate of food, her fork was dipping back into the potatoes after every mouthful. it hadn't even occurred to her that maybe she should take the plate of food and go sit down with it [probably because pris didn't trust the furniture at the moment] and she hadn't even given any thought to the juice that the note said was in the fridge. eating potatoes over the stove was just fine with her. maybe she was even rushing a little bit because it was friday and friday meant school in an hour if she was going to be good and go. since she was coming over here to get some clothes that meant she was unshowered and in her pajamas. her mostly black but also green and orange streaked hair in a really messy bun sort of thing with strands sticking out all over the place, green and yellow striped stockings, and an oversized shirt that was obviously donald's and said, 'Property of the Avengers' on it.

".... okay." One last reassurance given to himself, before he slipped out of the bedroom, and into the hallway. Walking slowly down the hall... and into the entryway that led into the living room and kitchen. He could see her already, grinding through her potatoes. Walking slowly up behind, until he was just inside the living room, and in plain sight once she turned around. And, to make sure she did? "Ahem." And when she turned around... she saw...... a guy who looked vaguely like Dommy... but dressed in a way she would never have expected. His hands rested on the hilt of a sheathed cutlass. The feather on the big, flamboyant hat he wore stood straight up, drooping just a bit near the very tip. And his clothing... well... everything... made it very plain and obvious what he was. If not? "If you will permit me, beautiful, I must tell you. You would have to be the prettiest little thing these eyes have even been lucky enough to gaze upon. Please, I must know, what can I do to earn your favor, milady?" Dipping down into a bow, the goofy hat swept off his head as he did so, to be held to his side and under his chest, once his arm crossed under it.

when the amen came from behind her, pris nearly choked on the newest mouthful of potatoes, this one actually having some egg in it two as she was finally branching out to eat the rest of her surprise breakfast. was the furniture trying to talk to her? did it sneak up behind her? what if it was a stick-up, what would she do? lumie was downstairs still and donnie duck had the early shift so he was already gone and even the special necklace that poof had given pris was in the other room in her bag. the poor girl didn't have a whole lot of options, but she did remember what she saw people on television when they were on a show where there was a hold-up. she dropped her fork, which clattered loudly on the stove top, as she put each of her hands up in the air. of course when she turned around, it wasn't angry armed furniture that she saw. it was a swashbuckler who was now talking to her with antique words, and somewhere under all those clothes was....dommy. pris' mouth dropped open, and all the unchewed potatoes and eggs just right on out and all over the floor. which...probably wasn't the reaction he was going for? but she wasn't trying to punch him, so maybe he could see the bright side?

He didn't see the falling out of partially chewed breakfast actually fall out of her mouth. Which, probably was a good thing. The laughter which would have ensued would have ended up ruining the moment. After a couple of seconds of silence, his head would tilt up a bit, so he could get his eyes upon... a stunned and slack jawed Pris. A charming, winning smile came to his lips. "What ails you, milady?" Resuming his upright position, once again positioning that ridiculous hat on his head again. "My humblest apologies, dearie. Seems my manners have escaped me1 My name, is Dominic" ... pronounced Doh-ME-nic... "d'Hyatt." ... and this one, de HY-ott... really? "It is my truest pleasure to meet you. Might I be so graced, as to have the name of the beauty before me?"

slack-jawed stunned pris was also statue still! her eccentric little brain had entirely stalled and left her with nothing but static and being stuck. what was she supposed to do? it was a swashbuckler and swashbucklers were good but it was also dommy and dommy was bad. she was very very upset at dommy the last time they saw each other and then he'd left to go take his stupid far-away job and she got even more upset after he was gone. and there was her poor mind trying to come back to life like an engine turning over but stalling before the nice healthy vrooom sound came. when pris moved, finally, when her brain kicked back into gear and she knew what she wanted to do, it was her arms that she dropped first. folding them across her chest and squinting her eyes at him just as suspiciously as she'd studied the furniture. only after she had her arms nestled as nice and tight as she wanted them to be did she answer his question. "MAD," she answered. "Mad d'VanPissedOffenShire." yup. that was her name all right. for the moment, at least. but on the plus side, she did answer him! and still hadn't hit him yet....

He had assumed as much. He didn't assume she wold be utterly pleased to see him, and would drop everything she was doing to throw her arms around him and giggle. The last day was bad. He knew he had a long road ahead of him, to earn her forgiveness. But the fact he was here proved how intent he was on making that reality. His head bowed once again at her answer, as unpleasant as it was. "Yes. I thought such a greeting would be forthcoming." Wow, when did he learn to talk like this? "And for that, I cannot lay blame upon anyone but myself, it is true. Nonetheless," His eyes lifting to her again, and this time the somberness behind them shone through, despite his eloquent words. "I am prepared to weather the venom within your words, to beseech your forgiveness. I do not expect such to come easily... if it were even a possibilty. Still, as remote as the chances of redemption may be, I shall do all that is within my power, and your permission, to make amends." Okay, enough with the show. The hat was again taken from his head, and there was Dommy, looking at her. "Can we talk?"

antique words, as pris called them, were trickster words. they way they sat next to each other they were little nets that plotted with the nets next to them and as you listened and thought the words mean one thing SNATCH the words really meant another thing and you were caught in them and it was too late. it was probably why pris was staring at him like that, with a squint so severe one had to wonder if she could even actually see him through her lashes. she was trying to listen to his words hard enough that she could maybe 'hear' the net before she got trapped in it. it turned out she didn't have to listen so hard though, because he dropped the antique words and the net showed itself at the very end - he wanted to talk. pris huffed, shifting her weight from one foot to another with a grumble-mumble under her breath that really wasn't anything intelligible even to her. picking her chin up and holding it high-and-mighty in the air, she reached behind her and picked up one of the triangles of toast. looking straight at him, she held it up to her shoulder height and then dropped it on the floor. just over a month away from seventeen, and the girl just demonstrated how ragingly immature she could be. but she answered him, finally. "the furniture hates me." if they were going to talk, she was going to try and make them talk about what she was willing to talk about. donald had fallen for getting lost in the world of hateful furniture, or at least humored her. so she was going to try it again. to avoid talking about feelings or hard things.

Dominic had a month short of seventeen years of experience getting around her very circular way of thinking and talking. Her slickness of manipulating the situation with this strategy was about to meet a very versed foe. But first, he watched her take the cinnamon toast he had prepared, and drop it to the floor. Fair enough. The food was the last of his concerns. it relayed her mental state and current thoughts and mood, but it would not derail him. "The furniture does not hate you, Pris." Prissy would not be used. Not in this situation. Prissy was only for when there was happiness and comfort. There was neither here. "If it did, it never would have let you move it from where it was to where you wanted it to be." Dominic was actually walking toward her. Well, into the kitchen. And, rather than go to her, he was crouching down carefully - he was wearing a sword... - to pick up the dropped toast from the floor. "If it let you move it, without a fight, then there is no hate." Tossing the toast on the counter for now... the garbage was in the other room.

yes, dommy had more practice than anyone else in pris' life, considering pris' mother had opted to leave her life and that had only increased the amount of time that the brother and sister spent together. that meant dommy was probably the only one who knew most of pris' games backwards and forwards. was that why he contradicted her? because he knew it might draw her out to speak closer to the root of the issue? even if that wasn't his intention, it was what happened. as soon as he said the furniture didn't hate her she put her hands on her hips and leaned as far forward as she could without falling over to spit back at him, "how would you know if it let me? you. weren't.here. AND," she said that transitional word very loudly, so he would know just how important her next point was as she pointed accusingly at the mess of furniture piled together, "that is not where i want them because they creep on their wood feet when i'm not looking." now she was emphasizing all sorts of words, and it built up to a bold move. her foot. landing on his shoulder and pushing with a defiant little shoving motion with her leg. he said if things let you move them without a fight there was no hate....was he really going to let her spill him backwards on the floor to prove his point? testing. that was another pris game. testing people's words with actions.

Was it his intention? No. He was no psychiatrist. He had no idea how to manipulate her with words or whatever to turn things around. What he did know, was that by taking her circular logic, and disproving it with with a bit of his own logic, it was usually enough to derail the flow of what she was saying. Just like a parent would! "I know because -" He was not able to finish it right away, because she had done something that really did surprise him. They had play fought plenty of times - they were siblings, it's what they did - but what she did was certainly NOT play. The shove was not overpowering, but it was unexpected. Enough so that she did indeed knock him from his crouch and put him on his butt. He sat there for a second, just looking up at her, before he finished his thought. "because no one else would have helped you to push everything into the middle of the room. Except maybe Donald." Again, not using the name she referred to him as. "Anyone else would have told you that it was ridiculous and that the furniture wasn't capable of hate, or creeping, because it's not alive. But, even so?" Once again, he would try to get back to his feet as he answered. "If the furniture saw you recruiting Donald to help you move it, he would be seen as the enemy too, and their hate would go to him too, making it just as hard for him to do it as it would be for you."

it was during his pause where she was really really staring at him. big green eyes fixed on him like a hawk. if dommy wanted to put up a fight or unknowingly give a clue that he'd wanted to, it would have happened in between the start and finish of his thought. but pris didn't see anything. which made her eyes squint again, like she didn't believe that she didn't see anything, and then she sniffed a puff of air out through her nostrils like a little nasal huff. he'd proven his point. and she didn't know how she felt about that, because right now she wanted to do a lot of yelling and say a lot of words that her daddy would have washed her mouth out for yelling under his roof if he were still alive. but her oddly compulsive brain wouldn't let her do it unless it was right. the patterns were right. if dommy had reacted differently, it might have been right. but as it was there was no yelling and no cussing from her. just a reply. "duck moved the sofa fine. and he laid on it to make sure it wouldn't go anywhere i didn't want it to." she refused to acknowledge that the furniture wasn't alive. refused. it felt very alive to her this week. because she was projecting all of her frustration and upset feelings on to it in order to deal with them. but pris was no doctor. she didn't know that was why the furniture felt so alive to her.

His point had been made. And enforced by her very words. Donald had moved the couch. Not that he had doubted very much that she could have done it herself. But it just seemed more logical for Donald to appease her by doing it. "So if Donald had moved it just fine, then there was no hate for him, which means there was no hate for you." The big, flamboyant hat was set on the counter, right before he turned to lean back against it, while still keeping his gaze upon her. "And, if the furniture's wooden feet were creeping when you weren't looking... I don't know." He offered a little bit of a shrug. Hey, he didn't have all the answers? "Maybe it was just trying to get your attention? Give you something else to focus on. You know, have Pris back, instead of Mad d'VanPissedOffenShire?" HIs hands remained down at his sides, not crossed over her chest, or up in any kind of dominant or defensive posture. He was completely calm, and submissive to her anger. Let her get it out. "It doesn't want to see you upset, pris. And, neither do I."

this conversation was quickly becoming about something other than hateful furniture. the more dommy talked the more pris screwed her face up in dislike and her cheeks grew red with the feelings boiling inside of her. pris was really bad at dealing with feelings, upset feelings in particular. but that was no secret. by the time dommy'd said he didn't want to see her upset, pris let out her opinion on the subject in her own way. a single hard stamp of her stocking foot on the floor. but that single stamp wasn't enough, so it was quickly followed by a few more stamps on the floor each one harder than the next. the last stamp made her knee sting, but she ignored the pinching hurt. "The furniture has a reason...Mad d'VanPissedOffenShire has a reason...the king of the castle left and the castle went all crooked and wrong."

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Re: Mad d'VanPissedOffenShire and the castle's lost king ][ a lo

Post by Guest on Wed Oct 21, 2009 12:21 am

There we go. This was where he wanted to steer things. Eventually, he knew he would find the right trigger to get her past the talk of the furniture, and to get them to the topic that needed to be discussed, just as much as her mistrust for the furnishings of the room. He didn't pitch a fuss over her stomping, or the rise in her voice. Just as he hadn't with anything else she had said or done this morning. He didn't come back to tell her how to act, or make her do anything. He waited for a little bit after she finished speaking to respond. She was the one in charge of the conversation this time, not him. "Pris. After what happened, I really didn't think you wanted me here, honestly. You wouldn't speak to me, look to me, even acknowledge me when I tried to talk to you. What was I going to do, grab you and make you listen? No. I'm not your father. I'm not your parent. I'm your brother. And whether or not I agree with the things you do or say, it isn't my place to tell you what to do, or make you do anything. Me being here seemed to only make you more upset and unhappy, so the option that made the most sense, was to take myself out of the position that was making you that way." Something he didn't think he would ever have to do. Or, even be able to do really.

as he was saying things, there she went doing them. not on purpose, not out of spite, it just happened that way. he was using his logic tone, and she was feeling anything but full of matter-of-facts, which is why she looked away from him and at the floor. and then he started listing. her arms folded up over her chest like a flower closing up it's petals for the night, and she pressed her lips together like she'd just spread a layer of glue between them. after she did those things, through the rest of this talking pris just started to squirm. like there was a line of ants crawling up her leg, up her back, around her shoulders...it was her discomfort pinching at her and making it hard for her to stay still. she was quiet even after dommy was done speaking. her lower lip was thrust forward slightly, enough that it presented itself as a pout. "you're not daddy." she mumbled that finally. the one point she agreed with that he said, with god knows what other thoughts in her head following silently after she spoke it. her dad was a delicate subject. and that...was it. all she said for now.

He was not her daddy. Her father was a subject he really did not broach too often. She had very strong feelings about the man, and knew better than than to make mention of him all that often. He ntoiced the way she had gone and got all sour faced, but it really didn't matter. The only way he could have explained all of this was to use logic, because logic was a place he was entrenched in. A hint of a frown touched his lips when he saw the shift? But he couldn't do a lot about it right now. "All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy, Pris. And for a long time, I know that meant having me here to keep you full of potatoes and to keep you safe, and not be alone. And lately, that's gotten harder and harder for me to do." Now playing with the triangle of toast she had dropped, pshing it around the counter with a finger randomly. trying to distract himself from his own emotions. "And when it felt like I didn't make you happy, and was only making you upset. I don't know... I guess it's what I thought would make things easier for you, Pris? Maybe I was wrong... but I did it only thinking about you, Pris. It wasn't what I wanted." The little sigh that came next helped speak that idea.

all those little physicalities remained, including her not looking directly at him. the more he talked the more her lip pushed its way protestingly forward as she kept her morose eyes focused on the floor. "i liked you better when you were protecting the dock from pirates." that's when everything seemed to change according to her, after the night where dommy left his dock job to come save her from poof and then take her out for dinner and cemetery dancing to make up for the fact she couldn't go to the ball. after he stopped going to that job, everything felt different. and it had probably been bothering pris this entire time, bottled up in one of her brain-corners where she tried not to think about it and certainly never said anything about it, the fact she was bothered at all probably only coming out in her drawings, sometimes, if one knew how to correctly interpret them. she was giving him one sentence at a time on purpose for two reasons. one, she didn't have to talk about herself for very long if she only spoke one sentence, and two...it made him have to talk.

He would do all the talking. It didn't bother him. He had a lot on his mind as it were, so it most likely would be him talking the most. "So did I, Pris." A very true, very honest answer, which was about to be elaborated upon. "After I lost that job, I lost control of everything. Because that's when we decided to actually come here to live. And that was the mistake I made." A little laugh, as he looked around a little bit. "I don't belong here, Pris. This kind of place was never meant for me. The surroundings, the people.... everything about this place is totally wrong for me." Whether she was looking or not, his eyes would again land on the side of her face. "But I knew how much you liked this place. It was one of the places you actually seemed to find friends, and people you liked. I can't see why, for some of them..." Wonder who he was talking about? "But,... you're a big girl. I'm here to look after you and take care of you, not make your decisions. And because this place seemed to be the place you wanted to be, away from the city and everything? I brought you here. It didn't matter what I wanted. If it made you happy, then I was happy." So very true, too. He was a city boy, he was meant to be in the traffic and filth and sprawl of millions of people. All it did for Pris was further frustrate her. "I liked myself a lot better then too... I actually made you happy back then. And I'm sorry that I ever got to a point where I didn't, sis."

"mistake?" her voice was shrill. "mistake mistake mis-take?" was repeated hotly as he kept talking, her mind obviously taking that word and fixating on it. it was the word which became the lens for seeing everything else he was saying, and it was why pris started to pace rather quickly back and forth, unfolding her arms so that she could tightly wring her hands. hand-wringing was something she did when she was in great distress, out of nerves. she thought she knew why he was here now. to take her away. "mistake duck a mistake lumie a mistake here a mistake there are people here when you're away pushing your papers around that talk to me and feed me potatoes and make sure i don't have nightmares instead of me sitting alone yelling at my numbers not to fall of the page," she was talking about her math homework, always her biggest nightly problem, "and having to wash my own ears and close my eyes and pretend pillows are people next to me so i can fall asleep, here and people is a mistake?" pris was shaking her head now, back and forth and back and forth as she concluded emphatically. "i. have friends here." something pris didn't have many ever since she'd gotten sick.

He really did seem quite taken off guard by her reaction to what he was saying... was she interpreting something different than what he was saying? He would let her finish though, before giving response. "Which is why this place is good for you, Pris. You have friends here. People you like. And that made me happy. Because for once I could see you genuinely happy, and in a place you liked being. You never liked the old place..." Shaking his head a little bit. "That place was for me. So you could go to school, so I was close to work so I wasn't ever very far away from you. Ididn't need to be okay, though, you were the one who needed it. So when I saw you liked being here, I brought you here. To make you happy. Now? ..." A little shrug came to his shoulders. "It's a role reversal. This place is for you. So you can be content and happy. I'm the one that doesn't fit in here." Now he was nodding his head a little bit, eyes falling to the floor, thinking things over in his head. After a bit of silence, he was looking back up at her. "And, that's okay. I can handle being the black sheep, if being here is what it takes to make you happy." He definitely was not here to take her away. Not when this place made her happy, and he didn't. "I promised our mom I would take care of you... and for the last six months, I haven't done a very good job of that. And I'm sorry. But, I want to, Pris. I want to take care of you, and make sure you wash your ears, and eat your potatoes, and keep the numbers on the page for you. I liked you better as Prissy, a lot better than Mad d'VanPissedOffenShire. And I want to bring Prissy back. If you'll let me."

"bitch," that was pris' usual reflex reaction whenever their mother was mentioned, even when pris herself mentioned her. she always, always called her mother a bitch because it was a way for her to deal with her hurt and anger over the whole situation without having to think about it or talk about it in depth. she very much liked words like that. once that you could use all by themselves and even though they were only one word you and anyone who heard you knew just what the whole situation was. and right now, pris wished there was another single word that could sum up what she was feeling right now about dommy and this inn and everything in between. but as she stood there pouting and stewing, still folded up like a flower at nighttime, she couldn't think of one. which is why she screwed her face up into her bitter lemon face, to show her discontent with the current moment. "Mad d'VanPissedOffenShire has not washed her ears all week. Out of protest." Said with a slight emphatic lean forward as she set her eyes right on his for the first time in a few minutes. he said he wanted to take care of her and watch over her again, well....she wanted to see what he said to that. "is dock-dommy going to come back?" asked with a lifted chin. little chin of challenge!

Her question was what he fixed upon, at first. Because it was the most important one to answer. And the one with the most uncertainty. Quiet for a second, he shrugged again slowly, and shook his head a little. "I don't know, Pris. I don't know if Dock-Dommy will come back. A lot of things have changed. I've changed a lot... and you've changed a lot, too. Can things be like they used to be? Maybe. I don't know. But I'm going to try. I'm going to try to be the way you want me to be. I love you, Pris. I'll try to be anything you want me to be."

her eyes narrowed. he was making her a very big offer. it wasn't an offer with a guarantee, but it was still a big offer. he would be what she wanted him to be. that meant he would play whatever part she wanted from him, whether it was dock-dommy or someone else. but as she scrutinized him, her odd little mind with its unconventional connections made her remember something poof had said to her once - 'would you like me to be like everyone else?" and his other, "i cannot be anything but what i am." she'd asked benjamin pleadly to be her swashbuckler that day because she felt that was what she needed, but...it was only a few short months later and what she'd found she actually needed from benjamin was very very different than her begging that day. was she doing the same thing with dommy? demanding one thing from him when she didn't even know what she really needed? "not fair," she grumble grumbled under her breath. both to him, and to her. this whole thing was unfair. "you'd just be a false portrait." if he tried to act like how she wanted.

"Then... I'll just be me. Whatever that ends up being." Shrugging just a ittle bit again. "I do know, though, that I'll have the time to make be me, and to make sure whenever you're in here with me, I can take care of you. I don't want you to be alone." .... a little pause. "And neither do I." Dominic's big brother persona was fading quick.

pris nodded. he was going to be who he was and she was going to be who she was. that made sense to her. for the first time since she'd dropped the piece of toast on the floor she turned her back completely to him, facing that half uneaten and probably cold plate of food. her fingers picked at one of the few hashbrowns left on the plate. the hashbrowns were the same. they tasted the same as they always did when he made them, and that meant something right? to pris little details no matter how unimportant they were to other people meant something to her. her nail squished into the cold potato, smushing in under the green painted nail. "you better not end up dommy dunderhead. mad d'vanpissedoffenshire would be real angry about that." had she ever called him dommy dunderhead to his face before? her grumble name for him.

Her grumble name. Ha. Bad sister! Dommy didn't have a grumble name for her. Well, maybe Priscilla. Her full name was usally only used in that context. Or when he needed a neutral stance. But the use of his grumble name... a name he had never heard before, actually kind of made him smile a little. "I'm not going to try to be, Pris. I'm just going to do what I've always tried to do." His eyes again fell, looking over the floor again for a few seconds, before he spoke again. "I quit."

pris had a grumble name for nearly everyone, practically. sometimes they were alliterated named like 'dommy dunderhead,' and other times they were as simple as 'bad duck'. she flicked the squished potato off of her green fingernail, turning around to look at him. she seemed surprised. "quit being dommy dunerhead?" no wonder she was surprised. she didn't know that a person could quit being their grumble name! which is probably why she was making a sulking face. she didn't know what she was supposed to do about that, what if she needed to call him dunderhead again someday?

.... now she actually saw him smile. He couldn't help it. Shaking his head a bit as he spoke. "No, pris. Not being Dommy Dunderhead. Though, I'm going to try not to be Dommy Dunderhead very often..." Another little pause. "I mean, I quit my job."

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"oh. oh. oh." but the third time she said 'oh' it really sank in. the job that had made her so cranky because it kept taking him away, sometimes for days at a time, he'd left it. this new bit of information made her blink her sourness out of her eyes so that she could see him better. what he was wearing had new meaning to her now, and that was about to become obviously. "you got a job as a swashbuckler! just like you said you would!" was that the hint of joyful sparkle in her eyes? and the touch of thrilled hope in her color and tugging at the corner of her lips in what could develop to be a smile? dommy had said months ago he'd work as a swashbuckler but that had never happened, the other job did instead. so to pris, who was probably making bad assumptions again, this was very good news. enough to make her clap her hands together and bounce.

There was a little hint of the smile he loved to see. As rare and special as they were. Looking off to the side, he reached out. He had set the hat down on the counter, so now he was taking it back in hand. And setting it back on his head. So he could be Dominic d'Hyatt again. Just in look though. His voice stayed Dommy. "That was the plan, Pris. So... maybe Dock Dommy can come back."

pris was learning that jobs were very important things because when she stared at someone their job was all over them sometimes like gunk. getting into their drawing. and she'd started to notice because of dommy and his jobs what coming home for a job did to people. it made donnie duck tired. it make benjamin always talk in his important person voice and make everyone always think he was just teeth. she noticed. so the fact that dommy had quit the job that made him a dunderhead made her happy, happy, happy. after clapping her hands she squeezed them together tightly with one of her high-pitched squeals. this one was a good squeal, not a whining squeal. "yes," she said importantly, as if that one word decided everything in the world about right now. "yes yes yes." because dommy had been waiting for a yes, right? even if he hadn't come out and asked her for one?

Had he been looking for a yes? Sort of. Because he had been looking for a chance to make everything better between them. So that yes was what he was looking for. but then again... he didn't know if it was directed toward that, or just the idea of him quitting his job. But she definitely looked happy now. And that was a very good step in the right direction for him! Her happiness made him start to feel better. So, once again, Doh-MI-nic came back. "Then, fair beauty, does this mean I have your blessing to once again bring good fortune and cheer into your life?" And off came the hat, and off he went into another deep, aggrandized sweeping bow.

when he made the bow pris moved from her spot. far away from the stove and the cold breakfast her feet hopped on the floor like she was playing at being a rabbit. and she hopped right up onto his back. "high ho silver!" okay. he was supposed to be the swashbucker, not the horse, but....well he'd just have to deal with her calling him the horse because she didn't know how else to call him. "Mad d'VanPissedOffenShire will leave this kingdom and the pieces of mind of the furniture can be restored-eth." that was pris giving him an antique talk answer the best she could. patting him on one shoulder. in a very 'do-something' sort of nudge.

... this might have been the official sign he was looking for. Pris doesn't do things like this when she wasn't happy. And she wasn't punching him or anything... so this was a very good thing. Pris jumping on his back alomost knocked him over, but he managed to stay upright. Once she was secure, and gave him that little nudge, he sat back upright. Almost like he was rearing back on his hind legs like the winner's steed would when they were leaving victorious. Looking back at her then, with a little grin. "Then, where shall I bring you, milady?" And the final touch. He reached up with his hant holding hand, and did his best to set it atop her head.

no this time it wasn't pris trying to knock him over even if she almost did. and when he wobbled she yowled with protest and he probably got her nails dug into him because she didn't want to fall off. but once she was secure, she stopped clinging to him like that. her arms crossing around his neck instead as he stood up, and her legs were around his waist for the same reason. dommy down had a pris suction-cupped to his back, and that was more like the normal days. when pris needed as much constant attention as she did, even very loving and caring big brothers could get tired. maybe deep down pris understood that and that's why they made up. "to the sleeping room!" she announced with teenage demanding as she pushed the hat down onto her head. with any luck, she could get dommy to tuck her into bed without him remembering that it was only friday and she had school. with dommy home again, a day away from school would make this very bad week into a much better week.

[end]

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