Logs:Fairytales

Fairytales
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Matt, Flèche
In Absentia Damien, Ryan	2024-06-23 "Parley?"
Location <NYC> Le Bonne Entente - Astoria - Queens
This hotel is the reincarnation of a condemned neoclassical cathedral, drastically yet skillfully renovated such that its majesty feels distinctly sacred but agnostic of any particular creed. The annexes and exterior redesigns harmonize stunningly with the original architecture, even moving the bell tower to the western end of the structure. By day plentiful sunlight streams in through tall stained glass windows. At night the white marble exterior is lit from below to faintly ethereal effect. The grounds are not extensive, but meticulously landscaped, with tables and seating arranged within a circular colonnade and benches scattered along paths through the surrounding gardens. It is not yet noon and even here, far from the solar ovens of the business districts, with a steady breeze drawing off the East River, the day is already blazing hot. There are still a few brave souls obstinately out enjoying Astoria Park, or wilting on Le Sanctuaire's patio. Matt is sitting on a bench in the shade of an oak tree in front of L'Entente, in a pale pink tee shirt with the graphic of a black anatomical heart sliced open to bleed in rainbow, gray cargo shorts, and black athletic sandals. He has a book propped open in one hand and the other resting on slender gray thermos on the bench beside him, not evidently very fussed about the heat. Lucien hasn't been out for all that long, but he looks like he's already plenty fussed about the heat, his green henley clinging to him and his hair wilty. Not nearly as wilty as the pup on a leash at his side; probably when they started out Flèche was eager but after even just a short walk she is dragging, slow and mopey. She manages to speed up just a little as they're nearing the hotel, and at first Lucien lets her pull eager at the end of the leash. When he sees the particular bench she is heading for, though, he gestures firm to the dog, calling her reluctantly back to a heel. She's obedient but prancing antsily, now, and just in case he wraps the leash a few times around his knuckles. His path isn't slowing, nor deviating from heading toward the door. He doesn't speak until he's neared the hotel, not actually turning but easing his grip on the leash. "{You oughtn't be here.}" Matt is closing his book before he looks up at Lucien's approach, but when he does he sucks in a short breath. "{Flèche! Oh, but I wondered where she'd got off to.}" He stands up, and might have followed except that he dropped the book that had been in his lap and stoops to pick it up. When he straightens again Lucien and Flèche have swept past and he hesitates. "{So I was informed, but please hear me out.}" He draws a deep breath, summons up a crooked smile, and ventures a slightly uncertain, "Parley?" "{The shelter called about her,}" Lucien replies with a mild exasperation, "{and were told you all did not want her back.}" He's stopped, at least, and started to turn and look at his brother, but this uncertain overture shutters his expression. The hard swallow before he speaks betrays him enough, even if his voice is quite even. "{A parley requires two hostile parties.}" He's turning back for the door, though he has to tug -- gentle and then more insistent -- at Flèche's lead when she tries to go the other way. "{Wha--}" Matt sounds just as exasperated with a touch of indignity. "{I heard nothing of this.}" He starts toward the door himself, when Lucien turns back toward it, but drops the book again. This time when he rises he shoves it firmly into his Aperture Science satchel. He opens his mouth and hesitates again. Then, just when he's about to just let the breath back out he blurts, all in a rush, "{I think I might have made a pact with a fairy and I need your advice.}" He has to take another breath before adding, "{I pray you.}" Lucien stops short. Several beats pass in silence. When he turns it's slow, one eyebrow hitched up. "{Points, I suppose, for creativity. Hardly a situation I have experienced before, though. I've no idea what advice you expect me to offer this absurdity.}" Matt isn't bothering to smile anymore, but his expression isn't blank, either--not quite. There's the barest hint of tension in his jaw. "{There's more to the story, and it does involve you.}" He rotates the thermos slowly between his hands. "{I'm not making this up. You can ask Ryan, he was there.}" "{How on earth does it --}" Lucien bites off the rest of this question, head shaking and one hand lifting palm-out. "{You know, I don't want to know. You ended my involvement in your life quite precipitously, if you recall. You cannot just...}" His hand lifts the rest of the way, rubbing slow and tired at the hollows of his eyes. "{If you want my advice, it is to keep your promises. You shouldn't need to invent some outlandish story just to hear that I dearly wish you had some integrity.}" "{I didn't--}" Matt shuts his mouth, then tries again. "{You don't have to believe me, I just thought you ought to know because the fairy--the man who probably is not actually a fairy also claimed to be your--}" There's concern written in his features now, and he lowers his voice. "{He thinks he's your father.}" "{My father,}" Lucien echoes this very slowly, his hand dropping, "{is a fairy.}" He's fixed his eyes unblinking on Matt. "{It's 2024, darling, we know what autism is. You can simply call me a disappointment without pretending your real brother was spirited away for a changeling.}" "{I somewhat doubt he is either, but he claims to be both, and he has been looking for you.}" Matt peels one hand away from the thermos to scrub at his face. "{I didn't want you to come upon him unprepared, though in retrospect this is probably much worse. In any event, if he is what he alleges, that would make you a half-fairy with autism, not a changeling.}" His teeth grind hard enough to hear. "{Also, I fucked him. Ryan, also. Before he told us he was your father.}" Lucien's expression is very blank, here. He starts to lift his hand again -- halfway toward Matt, this time -- but drops it again. His breath rushes out with it, sharp. "Matthieu..." he begins, heavy and tired. At his side the dog whines softly, and his jaw tightens hard. "{Please get some help.}" He turns and this time does not look back as he slips away into the hotel. The crisp waft of the air conditioning spills out in his wake, just barely sensible as a flutter of cool comfort by the time it reaches Matt.