The Beginning: Singing Plot
Apr. 15th, 2018 08:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Thomas smiled when Greta walked through the door. "Flip the sign, would you?"
He'd given Rowan a break, sent him off on lunch. But now that Greta was here, he supposed it wouldn't be too untoward to take a little break himself. It wasn't unusual for the shop to close for lunch - he had so few staff members that it just had to be that way, most of the time. But more than that, it seemed oddly civil.
"There's something in the back I want to show you. I'd thought to just bring it over later, but this is perfect."
He liked that she dropped in to visit him, whenever she had time or whenever it occurred to her.
He'd given Rowan a break, sent him off on lunch. But now that Greta was here, he supposed it wouldn't be too untoward to take a little break himself. It wasn't unusual for the shop to close for lunch - he had so few staff members that it just had to be that way, most of the time. But more than that, it seemed oddly civil.
"There's something in the back I want to show you. I'd thought to just bring it over later, but this is perfect."
He liked that she dropped in to visit him, whenever she had time or whenever it occurred to her.
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Date: 2018-04-16 01:59 am (UTC)But it's getting on towards lunch, anyway, and Thomas seems more pleased than usual to see her. And with no one else here, there's no one to mind if they disappear for a little while.
"Are you working on a new design?" she asks, eyes alight with curiosity as she crosses over to him. He doesn't typically bring his experiments to her, but it might be something Saoirse would like, too.
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Date: 2018-04-21 01:32 am (UTC)"I found something and I-- it made him think of you. I'm embarrassed to say that I couldn't even say why," he confessed as he picked up a small box, long and narrow, and almost shyly offered it to Greta. Normally if he were to give a gift like this, it would be because something about the present made him think of its intended recipient. But this... he just felt Greta should have it.
He offered her the box with a small, tender smile.
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Date: 2018-04-21 03:42 am (UTC)The explanation -- such as it is -- leaves her desperately curious, but when he offers her the box, she finds herself unable to do much more than blink at it for a moment or two. That's--is this jewelry? She can just about guess by the shape of the box, and the weight of it when she reaches for it, automatic and unthinking, and takes it from him. It's still quite a guess, though, because she hasn't been gifted jewelry since her wedding. They never had the means for such things, back home; most gifts served some practical function, and most finery was inherited. Even if someone could afford such things, they would never be bought on a whim.
"Thomas," she starts, shooting him a glance that's more stunned and incredulous than pleased. She's not quite sure where to go with it, though. 'You shouldn't have' only applies when you can fully believe someone's done something in the first place. But the box isn't imagined, and neither is the sweet sincerity in his expression. A giddy little smile graces her features as she looks back down at the box, and then gamely cracks it open.
It's a necklace: a smooth gemstone (goodness knows what sort, though it has a warm, amber color to it) set in silver. The design takes her a moment to parse: a figure with something -- a lyre? -- tucked into the crook of his arm, and a rather grim, skull-like countenance. Or perhaps it's meant to be wearing a helm of some sort.
It ought to be an odd choice. There really isn't anything about the look of the necklace that she finds especially noteworthy, no element of the design that speaks to her. Yet there is something about it... some vague affinity she can't quite place, as if it's an old family heirloom she only saw once, as a child, and then promptly forgot.
"I..." She doesn't know what to say, and she can't seem to tear her eyes away from the necklace. But she knows she doesn't want Thomas to think he's bungled it, and she shifts over to tuck herself against his side as she continues to examine it. "It's..." she huffs out a bewildered little laugh. "It's lovely. But I--I think I see what you mean, about it being... hm."
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Date: 2018-04-27 08:47 pm (UTC)It was a lovely piece, even if the figure on it was a little odd. The lyre was fitting, he thought. He knew Greta came from a world where people just... sang. And he knew that she felt sort of lost without those sort of cues here.
"I don't know, I won't be offended if you decided not to wear it often," he promised her, still smiling as he leaned to kiss her cheek. "But it's yours, and that feels right."
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Date: 2018-04-27 11:42 pm (UTC)And then Thomas presses a kiss to her cheek, breaking her out of her reverie. She leans into the gesture, lips quirking into a smile, then turns to face him, arms winding around his waist, the necklace dangling from her fingers.
"It might be too easy a target for everyday wear," she agrees with a rueful smile. "I wouldn't want one of the smaller children yanking it off." The impulse to draw her hand back so she can look at it again niggles at her, but she resolutely shoves it aside. She's comfortable just as she is, thank you.
Still, she can't resist asking, "Where on earth did you find it?"
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Date: 2018-04-29 01:06 am (UTC)He smiled at her, feeling a bit shy about the whole thing, but Greta seemed pleased. "No, of course. I'd hate for the chain to break or for it to get lost somehow because little hands wanted to grab at it."
Thomas could repair a broken chain, but he couldn't find something that was lost. Or, God forbid, a child found the charm and managed to swallow it or something.
"You like it, though? Truly?"
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Date: 2018-04-29 03:12 am (UTC)His question prompts a brief flare of mortification. Between her surprise and curiosity, she hasn't even thanked him, has she? And though he hardly seems annoyed, she can't help but think he must notice those little faux pas. A Lady would have got out a 'thank you' by now, surely.
"Truly," she's quick to reassure him, though not so quick that it sounds like a lie. "Thank you." She pushes herself up onto her toes to kiss him, sweet and lingering, before dropping back onto her heels. "I'm just not used to being gifted jewelry," she adds. There's some playful exaggeration to her tone -- as if the gift is just horribly decadent -- but there's no masking the plain truth of it.
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Date: 2018-05-02 03:10 am (UTC)"And you are dating a baronet, I think jewelry and fancy parties are just things you'll have to get used to," he teased her. Not that he had a bruising social calendar these days; no social season to attend to. His title and lineage meant nothing here.
But if she was going to tease, he was going to give as good as he got. He liked teasing Greta.
"At this rate you'll have a ridiculously large sapphire or something before the summer is out."
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Date: 2018-05-03 03:39 am (UTC)"One of the dogs would probably swallow it," she declares with a rueful air, as if it couldn't be helped. "And then where would we be?"
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Date: 2018-05-07 03:21 am (UTC)As if something terrible might come flying out of his past to take her away, or drive her from him, or worse, destroy her. But he couldn't go do that dark road now.
Instead, he brushed his thumb fondly across her cheek. "Perhaps no sapphires, then. We always were a bit of an austere family."
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Date: 2018-05-07 03:55 am (UTC)There ought to be music. The more she grows to care for him, the more keenly she feels its absence. It's not that none of this feels real, without it; they've spoken too much, and too honestly, for her to doubt him. But it... god, it almost puts her in mind of adopting Saoirse: of waiting impatiently for some bewildering bureaucracy to officialize something that was already true. Except for the part where Darrow at least provides a bureaucracy, but heaven forbid it give them a tune.
She just wants this to be real. And she doesn't know how to make it feel that way without music. She doesn't know how to tell him she loves him, as if it wouldn't sound trite and hollow without a melody to fill it out.
In that moment, her thumb idly smoothing over the jewel on her new necklace as Thomas's brushes against her cheek, she wishes there could just be music.
But she knows better. And this, as it is, is still rather wonderful. "I admire your restraint," she says, mock-serious, catching his hand with her own and pressing a kiss to his palm. Some methods of communication, at least, don't require words at all.