milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Here is a Miniver. He's out of the infirmary, but one might say... not exactly looking spectacular.

He's sprawling more or less in a booth. Possibly he ended up here stopping to rest on his way to his room and forgot to move again. Or something.

There's a little enchanted model dragon skulking around the table and apparently trying to boil the glass of water a rat deposited on the table at some point, which is being ignored in favor of a book, which Miniver is sometimes reading, and sometimes staring off into space distractedly.

Come say hi to the recovering alcoholic.

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"Think of it as a get well present."

Roderick smiles as he points to the cover.

Canterbury Tales, of course!

And, if Miniver takes a look inside, he will see that it is a very old book.

Miniver pets it and opens the cover, his eyes wide.

"Oh. Oh my gosh. This is amazing." He grins up at Roderick. "Thanks, man. Hey. Sit with me? How are your arms?"

Roderick sits slowly, placing his mug of tea onto the table with the utmost care.

"Not bleeding anymore," he says, arms unbandaged and hidden under his black robe. "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit," Miniver replies with all honesty, "but I'm not really seeing things anymore. Stuff... out of the corner of my eye now and then, you know? And things seem a lot bigger and brighter and louder but it's not like before."

"I do know," Roderick says, expression sympathetic. "I want to thank you, though."

He pauses to take a sip of his tea, a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Speaking with you made me feel... better."

Miniver laughs. "Not hard to feel better when you're with someone worse?" he paraphrases. "But hey. It was nice having you around. Better. I don't remember a lot but it felt safer. So thanks."

This makes Roderick smile. "It's not that," he says softly. "I suppose it made me realize that I'm not the only one suffering here."

"You're not," Miniver says gently, "no matter where you are. What's wrong with you, anyway? I... don't really remember if you told me. I'm not sure half of what I remember really happened."

After some long moments of staring into his tea, Roderick speaks, voice extremely quiet -- almost a whisper.

"My sister and I were very, very sick. She far moreso than I -- she suffered from catalepsy. Have you heard of it?"

"Yeah. That's like when you go into these.. sort of sleep? But really not? Temporary paralysis, yeah?"

He's read things.

"The disease itself is a mockery of death," he explains solemnly, focusing on his tea once more.

"I -- when I began to fall extremely ill and Madeline's fits began to get worse, I called upon an old friend of mine to visit in the hope that he would lift my spirits. During his stay, I was certain Madeline had finally passed on."

The steam coming off of the liquid seems to be burning his eyes, as they are beginning to tear.

"She had not, and I, without so much as a second thought, had placed her living in our family tomb. The day after, I knew something felt wrong. I could hear her, but I thought it was only my grief playing tricks on my mind."

He sighs, breath pushing the steam in all directions.

"She made her way out of the tomb, eventually, and came in search of me. When I saw her I was sure I was looking upon a ghost, but as I felt her throw herself upon me, I knew what I had done. It killed me. Just before it all went black, I heard cracking -- the house was shaking, and -- I found myself here."

Miniver listens, and by the end, has realized something very important.

He knows this story.

He doesn't say so. But he knows it. It's beautiful. He wrote a poem about it once. He used to play that those stories were real. He was nine years old and took the book out of the library and was fascinated and terrified by what it held.

"Oh, man. That's... I'm sorry. Really, really sorry."

It takes some effort, but eventually Roderick is able to tear his gaze from the mug to look at Miniver, eyes wet.

"It's alright."

He'd like to think that she's finally passed on, but -- deep down inside, he knows something is very wrong.

Reaching for the napkin he brought with his tea, he dabs his eyes.

Miniver scoots a little closer and squeezes Roderick's shoulder.

"I never had any siblings," he says quietly. "I think it's better that way. I wouldn't have wanted them to go through what I did. You must have really loved her, huh?"

Roderick tenses out of habit, but reminds himself that this man is a friend, and sighs softly.

"More than the earth loves the sun it so depends upon."

"Maybe she'll show up here?" he offers, attempting to be helpful. "Lots of dead people..."

Roderick does not have much color to his cheeks as it is -- the pallid shade hs turns at Miniver's suggestion is at least twice as pale.

"I hope not," he says, voice almost trembling. "As glad as I would be to see her again, I -- I'm not sure that would be the best thing. She's been haunting me since I got here, I -- no, no."

"You know what, Roderick..." Miniver looks down at his hands. "Something I'm learning is that sometimes the best way to deal with ghosts is to face them." He bites his lip. "Like... I gotta do that now on my own. But with Draco, and Paul, and April, and people like that. If you got no one else... you got me."

"I've tried to face her, in my dreams, my visions, but they always turn so horrible --"

He begins to shake, just a little.

"But -- thank you, Miniver. It is a comforting thought to know that I finally have someone I can turn to."

"Not like I'm going anywhere yet," Miniver grins briefly. "But... I have bad dreams too. About my mom, mostly. And other things."

With a shaky hand, Roderick lifts the mug to his mouth and takes a few slow, soothing sips of the warm liquid.

"One dream left me so terrified I didn't leave my room for nearly two weeks."

"And no one came to check on you or anything?"

That's sad.

"I hadn't really spoken to anyone. I had conversations with some, but -- I suppose they weren't memorable enough?"

He says that with a small, almost rueful smirk.

"It is of no matter, though."

"Sure it is. People deserve to be taken care of. Anyway, I like you. I'd look for you. Well, a lot of people might but... I'd notice if you were gone."

Roderick can't help but smile.

"Thank you, Miniver. You're a true friend."

~~Not like that jerk he invited over! That coward! He ran. He didn't even stop to sort through the rubble! Bastard!~~

~~That was entirely the mun.~~