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 Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 7:32 pm
In the other room, he can hear the sound of Tolliver playing the guitar.
Tolliver's fingers are long and narrow, just like his brother's. But where Fritz uses his fingers to paint, to create art and beauty, Tolliver uses his fingers to make music, to create works of art through nothing but sound and a few simple strings made of wire.
Fritz has never mastered the guitar. He was given lessons as a child, just as Tolliver had, but unlike his twin, he never fully got the hang of it. He gave it up a year later, but Tolliver had continued, and has been playing ever since. It is his release, his catharsis.
When Fritz goes to paint, Tolliver goes to play.
He does not favor the loud, energetic music of the current day and age. Tolliver does not follow fads, nor does he follow trends or cliques of what is "popular." What he plays could be considered as merely classical. He does not sing to accompany his playing, at least not when he is around other people. Tolliver has a low voice that is a smooth baritone, with the kind of gravely tone to it that makes for beautifully rough compositions when paired with the light plucking of the guitar strings.
Tolliver does not play for audiences, just as Fritz does not paint for audiences. They neither of them have a desire to for fame or fortune, but work with their respective mediums for the pleasure themselves, the way it makes them feel.
Sometimes Fritz wishes he could play the guitar as well as Tolliver, but other times he does not, and is satisfied with what he has because playing the guitar is one thing. Listening is something else entirely, and Fritz would much rather listen than play. Sometimes Tolliver plays when he thinks no one is listening, not even Fritz, and this is when he can hear Tolliver sing, because Tolliver sings for no one but himself, let alone his brother. It is a private moment, and Fritz does not intrude upon them, but he lets himself listen and hear the soft voice and the soft chords and somehow they soothe his soul.
He hides from Tolliver to listen, just as he is hiding from him now to do what he is doing.
He is running, but he is going in circles.
He is screaming out loud, but no one can hear him but his own thoughts, his own mind.
He does not know what it is that he wants from life, but in the small and simple moments of listening to his brother play the guitar, he feels safe and at home. It is a small piece of what has once been that he keeps with him. It is something that cannot ever be taken from him.
Fritz remembers the music and he lets thoughts fade away.
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 8:19 pm
He takes a job - his first since attending HITS, since the events on the Surrounding, since he has learned of what he truly is. Fritz has held jobs, of course, but art jobs are more specific. They are a case-by-case basis, and he is wary of taking these, if only because messing them up can cause drastic consequences. But this time he figures why not? He could use the extra money, and perhaps this is what will get his inspiration back to what it was.
The client is tough. She is specific. She wants things a certain way (most clients do). But Fritz takes the job anyway.
He hopes it will take his mind off of everything that has been filling it as of late.
The request is relatively simple. The client, a middle-aged woman who lives in a high class loft in the middle of downtown, would like to have a wall-sized mural for her young daughter's bedroom. The theme is fairy tales.
Fritz laughs cheerily about this, but when he gets back home, he stands in front of his paints and stares as though he does not see them.
Fritz does not believe in fairy tales.
The job will take a week to complete. The wall is not very big - perhaps about seven feet in length, which to Fritz, who has worked on canvases of this size before, is not intimidated by. All of his supplies are paid for by the client, who insists upon a job well done. She is a working mother, with high class expectations and a daughter who gets what she wants, but not what she needs.
The first day he spends laying down the base sketch. This is the very basic of painting. He cannot start without at least having something to go off of. In most cases, Fritz does not believe in mistakes, and works around them, working them into his paintings, but he cannot do that here. This is for a client. It is a professional job, with professional standards and professional payment.
He will do what is necessary to meet her requirements. He draws a forest of thorns, a dragon, a princess, a beautiful sunny sky, a prince coming to rescue his fair maiden.
The second day is spent laying down the base coats. Emerald green for the dragon, pink for the princess' dress, blonde for her hair, a wide white smile on the face of the prince, brandishing a silver sword to vanquish the dragon.
The third day he starts the shading. This is the process that takes the longest, and Fritz must spend several hours at the wall, moving quickly so that the paint does not dry too fast and ruin his methods.
He finishes at nearly eleven. The dragon and the princess are both finished, and the prince is half done. The thorns are still flat, without any shading, as they will take the longest and he must spend a very long time so that they are just right.
He is pleased that the client seems satisfied with his progress so far.
The fourth and fifth days are spent finishing the prince and the rest of the details, such as the sparkle to the princess' hair, or the gleam in the dragon's eye. Fritz will spend all of the next day working on the thorny vines.
He has not spent this long on a painting in years.
The sixth day he finishes the vines.
The seventh day he is completely done.
The client gives him a fat paycheck for his work and pronounces it "marvelous" and "breathtaking" and uses phrases like "like I've never seen before" and "simply divine." It is all very fake and very static. She clearly does not care for the painting at all, and has no interest in it, but because her daughter wanted it, she got it for her.
Fritz leaves feeling not fulfilled, as he should be, but hollow inside.
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 8:31 pm
Fritz cannot stop thinking about the client.
A part of him wonders what it is like, to be so shallow. To care nothing for what is really there, to put on a facade as though you are in control of a situation that you know nothing about. She is an accomplished woman who puts her job before her family, someone who is in love with material goods and yet does not understand why it is important to be there for your child's dance recital. He did not meet the daughter, understanding that she was a child in her early years, perhaps six or seven, but he wonders what it was that she really thinks of the mural. He knows she wanted it, and so she got it, but does she love it the way her mother says that she will, with confidence and disregard all in one, as though passing over the paycheck signified the end of the event as a whole.
His mother was not like that, but a part of him wonders what he would be like if she had been.
Fritz does not care much for physical materials, for things of the world, for fancy television sets and iPhones and tablets and other similar objects. He likes them, certainly, and he wouldn't mind having them, but he does not yearn for them or desire them the way many of his friends have. Fritz is content with the things he does have, such as his art, his brother, his loft. He is content with his surroundings.
Just not with himself.
The unsettled feeling that has plagued him for weeks now has not gone away. He cannot seem to figure out what it is that he is searching for, what he has lost, what he has gained. He knows how important it is that he continues with his duties as Squire of Chronos. Fritz knows that he is a decent human being with decent morals and a penchant for caring too much. He does not easily reveal his feelings, and he does not want to impose on people what they do not want to bear. He keeps everything bottled up inside of him, and lets it all out in a painting, or a sketch, something concrete and visible and in front of him, something that he can refer back to without making anyone else uncomfortable.
His mind goes to Anna, his ex-girlfriend still back in Leeds, and then back to his duties as Squire of Chronos.
He knows it is important, and he knows it is easier before he had that in his life. Which leaves the question of what makes it easier. Why was it easier? He did not have to worry about the things he worries about now, of course, but that does not entirely answer the question.
It seems he is always left with more questions than answers these days.
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 8:41 pm
He sits on the rooftop and wonders if he should go.
He sits on the rooftop and wonders if he should stay.
Frederick St. James has never been indecisive before, but now, it seems, he cannot make up his own mind. He is convoluted, he is twisted, he is confused, he is frustrated, he is everything and anything and he does not know which way to turn. Ordinarily he would make for his brother's room, push open the door, sit curled in the chair beside Tolliver's bed and explain what it was that was bothering him. And then the two of them would wrack their brains, Tolliver would console him (in his own awkward way) and they would come up with a solution or an answer to whatever problem it was.
This is a problem that Tolliver cannot fix.
This is a question that Tolliver St. James cannot answer.
This is a question that Frederick St. James cannot ask.
He wishes more than anything that he could tell Tolliver what it is that he does at night, why he gets all these bruises, what is happening to him in his life. But he cannot. Fritz knows the risks are too great. And who knows, perhaps Tolliver is actually a Negaverse agent in disguise.
The thought makes him shudder in disgust. No, Tolliver's heart is too good for that. He is not the type to be drawn in by pretty words and promises of power and wealth. He does not care for things the way those of the Negaverse do. And yet still Fritz worries.
He worries for Tolliver.
He worries for Anna.
He worries for everyone he has once known and everyone he knows now. His eyes have been opened to what is truly going on in the world, and it makes him wonder how many people he has known that are aware of this secret, of this enormous, life-changing secret that is set within the ground, the air, in every establishment.
Once he has seen what the world is, he cannot pretend that it is anything else. He wishes he could. It would be easier to explain that it was all just a dream, that he has been imagining everything up until this point because it is an easy solution, an easy answer to all of his many unanswered questions.
But he cannot do that, and he knows it. He knows he cannot turn away from what has been opened up to him, to shy away from what he has already sworn to do, from what he has given his oath towards. Fritz has made a solemn vow, and he will uphold it. To not do so would cause an irreversible guilt, and he knows he cannot bear that should it happen. He is not the type of person to shy away from his duties, from his promises.
Question them? Perhaps. But he cannot stray away from what he knows to be right.
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 8:51 pm
He calls Anna.
"...Fritz. I didn't expect to hear from you."
Her voice is flat, unyielding. This was a bad idea, Fritz decides, and he almost hangs up, but then changes his mind at the last second. He sits on the edge of his windowsill, his feet resting on the black tile of the rooftop of the apartment complex and holds the phone up to his ear.
"Hey, love."
A small pause.
"Fritz, don't call me that anymore. Please."
He closes his eyes. This was a really bad idea. He knows now how much he has hurt her. How hard it was for her for him to just get up and leave, without even considering her beforehand, without even telling her, or including her in his decision.
"Hey, Anna."
Another pause.
"...hey, Fritz." Her voice is softer now, but has not quite lost the edge to it. "What's up?"
He shrugs, remembers she can't see that, and says, "Not much." He swings his legs out, lifting his hand and splaying his fingers so that he can see the bright, golden sunlight streaming between them. "You?"
"Not much here, either."
There is a moment in which neither of them speak. The silence is both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time and Fritz can almost feel the tension, as tangible as something to be touched.
"Fritz, why did you call?"
He does not know the answer to that question. It goes into the mental file in his mind, along with countless others.
He attempts to sound casual. "Just to...see how you were doing."
Anna draws breath, then exhales it, the sound clearly audible, even from thousands of miles away. He knows that sound - it is the sigh she makes when she does not how to answer, when she is frustrated.
"Fritz. You can't do this?"
He is starting to regret calling. "Why not?"
"Because." Her voice is slightly pained. "Fritz, I can't...I mean, I don't...about you, I don't love you anymore."
"You don't...love me anymore," he repeats, in a flat sort of voice, and she says, "Like, romantically. I don't love you romantically."
"But you love me...not-romantically?"
Now her voice is very soft. "Of course I do. You know that. But Fritz, I'm moving on with my life. I'm moving forward. I'm getting over you, finally."
He's not sure whether to feel glad or sad by this unexpected news.
"I have a boyfriend now. He's really great, you'd like him. But Fritz, please, just..."
Anna's voice trails off. Fritz waits, not saying anything, not needing to or even wanting to. He just wants to hear what it is she has to say to him.
"Fritz, be safe. And be happy."
The sound of the dialtone is loud in his hears.
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Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 9:01 pm
On the morning of Tolliver's accident, he awakes to find his brother's room empty.
"Ollie?"
Only he can get away with calling him that, and even then Tolliver usually makes a stink about it. This time, however, all he gets is silence, and when he peeks into his twin's bedroom, he can see that the bed is neatly made with its navy blue and orange sheets and Tolliver's black and green backpack is gone, along with his tan colored satchel that he usually carries several notebooks and pens with.
When he goes out into the living area, Fritz finds what he is looking for. There is a note on the kitchen table that says Gone to grab some food - be back in an hour.
Tolliver's keys are also missing, which means he's taken his motorcycle. Fritz isn't a fan of the bike, but Tolliver loves it, and Fritz has no objections as long as he wears the helmet and the proper clothing when riding. He sits on the couch and waits for his brother to return.
An hour passes.
Two hours pass.
Fritz is starting to get a little concerned. It's not like Tolliver to not answer his mobile, and Fritz has called him four times in the past ten minutes trying to reach him. He's sent a few texts too, but the lack of response is unnerving, and Fritz wills himself not to panic, not to jump to conclusions. Tolliver is easily distracted. He's lost track of time. He's not paying attention to what's going on around him. A thousand easy, non-life-threatening situations run through his mind and Fritz idly twists his own mobile around in his hands, resisting the urge to call a fifth time.
By the fourth hour, Fritz is starting to panic. Still no answer from Tolliver, and Fritz has already scoped out his brother's favorite places to eat, but with no luck as to where he is or what has happened to him. He tries the grocers, the bookstores, the sports shops, the bike shop down the road where Tolliver gets his repairs done. No one seems to have either seen or heard from Tolliver St. James in days.
Fritz is now extremely worried.
The flat feels oddly empty without his brother. Fritz hasn't the slightest idea of where to start looking now, since he's already visited all of Tolliver's favorite haunts and even the places he doesn't like but might still be at anyway, such as DCU and his workplace at the bookstore.
No one seems to know what has happened.
The fifth hour, Fritz gets a phone call.
"Your brother's been in a motorcycle accident. He's alive, but he's in critical condition down at Philman's General Hospital..."
Fritz does not wait to hear the rest of the message.
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Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 6:11 am
▨ There and Back Again // Celsus + Pippin
In which Celsus meets a cat and it's not H ebe or Zirconia.
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Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 6:12 am
▨ So We Meet Again // Celsus + Benitoite
In which Celsus really doesn't want to get his arse kicked (but probably will).
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Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 6:13 am
▨ Common Ground // Celsus + Aventine
In which Celsus happily meets a new Page.
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2013 8:35 am
▨ Turning the Pages With My Feet // Celsus + H ebe
In which Celsus takes a certain cat to his Wonder.
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2013 8:37 am
Shipping // Fritz / Esme
In which Fritz meets a fan of his work and learns about ships.
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2013 8:40 am
A Golden Romance // Fritz / Aurora
In which Celsus discovers not all Dark Mirrors are mean.
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2013 8:41 am
Hot Under the Collar // Celsus / Natron
In which Celsus meets someone with a bit of a temper.
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2013 8:43 am
Take Flight // Celsus / Chariklo
In which Celsus goes head to head with another DMS.
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2013 8:45 am
Bros Before Hos // Fritz / Axel
In which Fritz learns about being a bro and more brostuff.
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