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Myshuno! 2012 - piece 15
Title: Space
Prompt: "You remind me so much of your father." (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leilia)
Rating: U.
Spoiler rating: 8/10.
Summary: John and his son.
Notes: Only a quick little drabble this time. Again, I could polish this more, but I like the ideas I have going on in it.
Word Count: 651.
Henry Jacob Legacy was sitting outside the door to his bedroom, picking at the pile of the carpet and looking thoroughly miserable when his grandmother found him there. “Whatever is the matter Jacob?” she asked as she knelt down beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.
“It’s so unfair,” said Henry, turning large, misery-filled green eyes on her.
“What is my little man?”
“That I have to share my bedroom with Tilly. I want to play with my wooden horsie, but Mamma says Tilly is sleeping, and I cannot play in there because I might wake her with my playing, but I want to play.”
Dita looked at her grandson’s pouting face. “I’ll tell you what little man, why don’t I fetch your horse for you, and you can come and play with me downstairs in my sewing room. Would you like that?”
Henry nodded and Dita smiled and went to get his toy.
“Would you like a room of your own Henry?” The little boy jumped and tore his gaze from the ajar door of his room to look at his father. The sound of John opening the door to his study had been masked by Dita entering the bedroom.
“Yes Papa,” he said quietly.
“Well, if you are to have your own room, we would need a bigger house, would we not?” Henry furrowed his brow. Would they? He didn’t know, but he got the impression that his father was expecting him to agree, so he nodded.
“A nice big house, like the one that backs onto the common. Do you know it?”
Henry nodded. He did know it. Recently, whenever he, his mother and sister had come back from Simford on the omnibus, his mama would point out the building work that was going on there, and he would think how fun it looked to spend your days messing about with sand and building something. The last time they had passed it, he had asked his mama if he could build things when he was big. She had hugged him and told him he could do whatever he wanted when he was older, but that his father might not approve, and that if he really wanted to do it, he should do it regardless.
“Well, that house is the house where your grandfather was born and grew up. Would you like to grow up there?” continued John, cutting through his son’s thoughts.
Henry looked up at him, confused. “But we live here.”
“We do not have to live here forever.”
“But, does not someone already live there?”
“They might not live there forever either.”
Henry was saved from the conversation by the door at his back opening, and Dita coming out onto the landing. “Here you are darling,” she said, handing him his horse. “Go down stairs and I will be down to play in a minute.”
Henry took the toy gratefully, and scurried down the stairs, eager to get away from his father and his strange and confusing line of questioning.
Dita gave her son a level look. “You remind me so much of your father.”
John’s chest swelled with pride. “Thank you Mother.”
“It was not a compliment.” Dita turned to go down stairs.
John’s jaw muscles clenched. “You realise Mother, that there are times when you speak, when I wonder if you ever loved Father.”
Dita looked back at him, her hand on the newel of the bannister. “I loved the man he could be when he wasn’t obsessing about his brother, the man he should have been. I never loved the man who believed his lot in life should have been different or who tried to poison his sons against each other. I tried my hardest to mitigate his influence, but now I wonder how successful I was.” John watched her sweep down the stairs, a dark, ugly look on his face.
Prompt: "You remind me so much of your father." (
leilia)Rating: U.
Spoiler rating: 8/10.
Summary: John and his son.
Notes: Only a quick little drabble this time. Again, I could polish this more, but I like the ideas I have going on in it.
Word Count: 651.
Henry Jacob Legacy was sitting outside the door to his bedroom, picking at the pile of the carpet and looking thoroughly miserable when his grandmother found him there. “Whatever is the matter Jacob?” she asked as she knelt down beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.
“It’s so unfair,” said Henry, turning large, misery-filled green eyes on her.
“What is my little man?”
“That I have to share my bedroom with Tilly. I want to play with my wooden horsie, but Mamma says Tilly is sleeping, and I cannot play in there because I might wake her with my playing, but I want to play.”
Dita looked at her grandson’s pouting face. “I’ll tell you what little man, why don’t I fetch your horse for you, and you can come and play with me downstairs in my sewing room. Would you like that?”
Henry nodded and Dita smiled and went to get his toy.
“Would you like a room of your own Henry?” The little boy jumped and tore his gaze from the ajar door of his room to look at his father. The sound of John opening the door to his study had been masked by Dita entering the bedroom.
“Yes Papa,” he said quietly.
“Well, if you are to have your own room, we would need a bigger house, would we not?” Henry furrowed his brow. Would they? He didn’t know, but he got the impression that his father was expecting him to agree, so he nodded.
“A nice big house, like the one that backs onto the common. Do you know it?”
Henry nodded. He did know it. Recently, whenever he, his mother and sister had come back from Simford on the omnibus, his mama would point out the building work that was going on there, and he would think how fun it looked to spend your days messing about with sand and building something. The last time they had passed it, he had asked his mama if he could build things when he was big. She had hugged him and told him he could do whatever he wanted when he was older, but that his father might not approve, and that if he really wanted to do it, he should do it regardless.
“Well, that house is the house where your grandfather was born and grew up. Would you like to grow up there?” continued John, cutting through his son’s thoughts.
Henry looked up at him, confused. “But we live here.”
“We do not have to live here forever.”
“But, does not someone already live there?”
“They might not live there forever either.”
Henry was saved from the conversation by the door at his back opening, and Dita coming out onto the landing. “Here you are darling,” she said, handing him his horse. “Go down stairs and I will be down to play in a minute.”
Henry took the toy gratefully, and scurried down the stairs, eager to get away from his father and his strange and confusing line of questioning.
Dita gave her son a level look. “You remind me so much of your father.”
John’s chest swelled with pride. “Thank you Mother.”
“It was not a compliment.” Dita turned to go down stairs.
John’s jaw muscles clenched. “You realise Mother, that there are times when you speak, when I wonder if you ever loved Father.”
Dita looked back at him, her hand on the newel of the bannister. “I loved the man he could be when he wasn’t obsessing about his brother, the man he should have been. I never loved the man who believed his lot in life should have been different or who tried to poison his sons against each other. I tried my hardest to mitigate his influence, but now I wonder how successful I was.” John watched her sweep down the stairs, a dark, ugly look on his face.