alois trancy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
faking) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull2012-12-05 07:08 am
faking) wrote in sirenspull2012-12-05 07:08 am
Entry tags:
video.
[It's a bit early - maybe too early to be up if you haven't any pressing business for the day - and so Alois is still in his nightgown, cream-colored and lace-collared, sitting at a vanity with a cup of morning tea. It's still steaming. The bedroom around him is all in lavenders, and he's staring idly to the left of the camera at the flower-hued wallpaper. His cheek is in his hand, elbow on the dresser.]
When did you realize you'd never see home again? [he asks, and dips a spoon into his tea.] I mean, right, maybe we'll all go back, maybe something will happen, maybe maybe maybe, but while you're here, you'll never see it again. When did that hit you for real? When did it work its way through your teeth and tongue and up into your head? Or hasn't it yet...
[Clink, clink, goes his spoon.]
About a ten hour flight, and I could be there, you know. I looked it up and everything. I'm less than half a day away from my home, but people are touring it every day, walking through my gardens and all the things they rearranged in my rooms. Well, not every day. Wednesday through Sunday, eleven a.m. to four p.m. I looked it up on the website. They're even decorating for Christmas, though they're closed on the holiday...
[His face goes strange, a wrinkling of his nose and a tug of his lips. The spoon stills.] I can look at pictures, and look at everything they've done to it, but that's all, just pictures. I'm not even so far away, not really, but I can't ever go and see it. It was over a hundred years ago; it doesn't smell like me anymore, doesn't look like I lived there at all. Like it was never mine, just a bit of history, just like I wasn't actually there, no portraits or family crest, and doesn't that make sense, sort of? Because I'm here now.
—Comes with having a famous house, I suppose, but...
[Finally, he flicks his eyes up toward the camera, and reaches for it.]
They say, 'My home is my castle,' but where can we even hold court here? [The end.]
When did you realize you'd never see home again? [he asks, and dips a spoon into his tea.] I mean, right, maybe we'll all go back, maybe something will happen, maybe maybe maybe, but while you're here, you'll never see it again. When did that hit you for real? When did it work its way through your teeth and tongue and up into your head? Or hasn't it yet...
[Clink, clink, goes his spoon.]
About a ten hour flight, and I could be there, you know. I looked it up and everything. I'm less than half a day away from my home, but people are touring it every day, walking through my gardens and all the things they rearranged in my rooms. Well, not every day. Wednesday through Sunday, eleven a.m. to four p.m. I looked it up on the website. They're even decorating for Christmas, though they're closed on the holiday...
[His face goes strange, a wrinkling of his nose and a tug of his lips. The spoon stills.] I can look at pictures, and look at everything they've done to it, but that's all, just pictures. I'm not even so far away, not really, but I can't ever go and see it. It was over a hundred years ago; it doesn't smell like me anymore, doesn't look like I lived there at all. Like it was never mine, just a bit of history, just like I wasn't actually there, no portraits or family crest, and doesn't that make sense, sort of? Because I'm here now.
—Comes with having a famous house, I suppose, but...
[Finally, he flicks his eyes up toward the camera, and reaches for it.]
They say, 'My home is my castle,' but where can we even hold court here? [The end.]
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[And, like it's appropriate, he sticks his finger into Ciel's mouth.]
Not bad, not bad. You're definitely no fairy, though. Hmmm...
[Gently, with not too much force, he hooks his finger on Ciel's bottom row of teeth and pulls his jaw down a little, widening his mouth a little further. Ciel smells like tea.] Would you like a sugar cube? [Alois asks sweetly, and prods at one of Ciel's canines.]
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No. Don't do that! That's disgusting. Don't put your fingers in my mouth!
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I wanted to take you there.
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Let's not talk about that.
He wonders if Ciel would have been impressed.]
It was a good house, [he insists.] Full of art... lots of tapestries, too... All kinds of things.
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I bet she found it grand.
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