House Rules Be Damned (tag Professor Xavier) on Teppenpaw Commons

Sylvia Mordue

November 04, 2019 6:07 AM

House Rules Be Damned (tag Professor Xavier) by Sylvia Mordue

(CW: implied suicidal references)

Damn you, Nate. This was the predominant thought echoing through Sylvia’s mind as she raced through the corridors towards Teppenpaw. Damn you, damn you, damn you.

She had been discreetly slipped the letter by Professor Skies when Caitlin was out. She had not asked at the time how long had passed since the Professor receiving it and passing it on. It had not seemed like that would be an important detail, until she opened it.

The initial lines had made her angry. The suggestion that she was somehow pretending, or that anger at him was different from suffering. He came so close to being under her skin, to knowing what was in her mind - she had wanted him to see and suffer - and yet so missed the point in not seeing how those two things were synonyms rather than different options. She was furious at him. And it hurt like hell.

But then there had been the rest. She knew Nate was miserable. Obviously he was miserable, this whole appalling fiasco was a tragic waste of all their lives. But it wasn’t supposed to be so literally. Even Aunt Cynthia wasn’t literally dead. She wondered how long it had been since he’d penned the letter. She wondered if he really meant it. Sylvia was not supposed to care. She was not supposed to be moved to defend him or to worry about him. She was definitely not supposed to be running as fast as she could through every corridor of the school without any plausible excuse, should anyone ask. But some things were more important. Family was. Nate was.

I’m sorry. I tried. I just want this to be over. I don’t blame you.

She burst through the door to Professor Xavier’s office without even knocking.

“I have to see Nate right now!” she demanded. Sylvia had always managed to maintain a veneer of civility to the staff, though it was very likely they knew that she was a spoilt little princess. Now, in her panic, it was gone. And there was every chance that, instead of the very frightened girl that she actually was right now, she was simply coming off as every inch the secret worst impression the staff had always harboured about her. Especially when she added, “House rules be damned, let me in!”

13 Sylvia Mordue House Rules Be Damned (tag Professor Xavier) 1413 1 5

Nathan Xavier

November 07, 2019 1:01 PM

Calm down. What’s wrong? by Nathan Xavier

Nathan had finished grading the intermediate essays. He was now working on the beginner unit exam. He could not comprehend how professors who didn’t have five days without classes kept up with all the grading. Herbology was only held on Tuesdays and Thursdays and he was only barely staying on top of it all.

His quill skittered across one student’s paper as he was startled by his door slamming open. He didn’t even have time to hope the unintended ink line stroked across the page would be attributed to Dora rather than himself before the new arrival was making demands.

“Miss Mordue,” he stated calmly, putting his quill down, and frowning at her language. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible.” Non-Teppenpaw students were not allowed into Teppenpaw and that was a rule that was not broken. “However, I can invite him to come here to see you.”

He wasn’t entirely sure Nathaniel would respond positively after the last time he’d been invited here, but neither did Nathan know that he wouldn’t. Lacking an owl for delivery, he started writing a quick note informing the fourth year that Sylvia was in his office wishing to see him, and would have charmed it off to Nathaniel’s room, adding a little chime to the spell so it would attract its recipient’s attention.

But Sylvia was yelling at him before he got that far.

OOC: Edited based on Sylvia’s post.

1 Nathan Xavier Calm down. What’s wrong? 28 0 5

Sylvia Mordue

November 08, 2019 6:36 PM

Calmness is not a reasonable response by Sylvia Mordue

(OOC I am going to read the above as being Nathan’s intended plan and you can decide how much of it he actually completed in light of what’s being yelled at him. CW as above).

Not possible. How dare he? Sylvia often had the compulsion to simply reach out and shake very irritating people who were placed in front of her but it had never been quite so strong as it was now. Did Professor Xavier not recognise an emergency when one came tearing into his room? She was breathless, she suspected somewhat red in the face - did all of this not speak of the situation being urgent? And instead of listening to her, he was determined to remind her of the rules. She wasn’t sure whether he had such a stick up his butt that he couldn’t be the singlest bit flexible (though that had always struck her more as Professor Wright’s personality than Professor Xavier’s) or whether he was just so powerless, meaningless and insignificant in this world that he found some sick pleasure in lording his miniscule authority over people whenever he could. That was not very Teppenpaw of him. Weren’t they all supposed to be fuzzy, cuddly push overs? He’d chosen a hell of a time to break suit.

“He sent a suicide note - DO SOMETHING OTHER THAN WRITING HIM A GODDAMN LETTER!” she screamed as the Professor picked up a quill proposing they invite Nate down to come and have a nice little chat. This was not about nice little chats, this was life and death, and - and she could see the door, and Professor Xavier had about three seconds to get his overweight backside out of his seat and through it before Sylvia started trying to tear it open herself, almost certain that whatever magic prevented non-Teppenpaws from entering was no match for how desperately she wanted to get through it, even if she was supposed to be older and more in control of her magic now. There were some things that would override that.

13 Sylvia Mordue Calmness is not a reasonable response 1413 0 5

Nathan Xavier

November 13, 2019 1:54 PM

Best to check, just in case by Nathan Xavier

He had gotten as far as writing Nathaniel’s name before Sylvia’s scream startled him badly enough to scrape his pen across the parchment even more violently than her initial appearance created a stroke across his grading. He visibly flinched at the curse word and stole a glance toward the door leading to his quarters to make sure Dora wasn’t listening, but the rest of what was saying registered and his attention swiftly jerked back to Sylvia.

He’d just talked to Nathaniel yesterday. He’d been upset obviously. He’d vented some things that needed venting. Nathan had laid down some hard truths. He’d been unhappy about those, obviously, but seemed more rational. Tired, exhausted even, but he’d started that way.

Nathan thought maybe he’d finally get some sleep. He hadn’t thought he was suicidal.

He’d know if one of his kids was suicidal. Wouldn’t he?

Best to check, just in case. “Wait here,” he instructed. He got up and made his way to Nathaniel’s room, not running, but definitely at a more hurried pace than was his norm.

He knocked twice in quick succession, calling, “Nathaniel? It’s Professor Xavier.” He tried not to let any urgency or anxiety show in his voice. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d personally knocked on a door instead of sending a note, so it was already potentially alarming but he didn’t want to make it more so. “Are you all right in there?”

1 Nathan Xavier Best to check, just in case 28 0 5

Nathaniel Mordue

November 13, 2019 4:13 PM

Wasn't it a long way down? by Nathaniel Mordue

What did I do? What did I do?

Nathaniel had felt unnaturally calm when he had gone to visit Professor Skies. After he had left her, he had no longer felt that way - instead, he had actually felt something vaguely positive. He wouldn't call it happiness, because he could not imagine ever truly being happy again, but it had definitely been an improvement over the alternating waves of rage, black despair, and blind panic which had been his whole life since that horrible day in December. She had agreed to help him. She had agreed to allow him to speak - after a fashion - to his brother and to Sylvia at least one last time - though he assumed Sylvia knew what he had gone to such pains to make clear to Jeremy, which was that either of them could choose to speak to him again at any time, that he wasn't going to hold this against them. Finally, just one thing had gone right. One person had actually helped him. It wasn't enough to improve his opinion of the human race - given the option, he'd cheerfully remove humanity from the face of the planet at one blow - but it was, at least, a rare relief.

It had all seemed strangely clear to him then. He had to go home this summer, and in the meantime, he had to devise a plan. There had to be some way to ensure that Elphwick couldn't get his hands on Nathaniel and Jeremy's inheritance - some way to ensure their financial future. He knew that even if he split it half and half with Jeremy when his brother was inevitably thrown out of Alexander's house, he would still have enough to take care of Sylvia, if she ever needed it - he'd split his half of the money and treasures half-and-half with her. He would have loved to give her more, but he didn't have the right to dip into Jeremy's half, and he, unlike other people, was not a liar or a thief. With any luck, he would also have enough to figure out how to make Alexander Mordue and Franklin Elphwick both wish that Nathaniel was dead as much as Nathaniel did. They had managed to reduce him to this state, after all, without spending a galleon. With enough galleons, he could definitely figure out some way to return the favor. Especially if they hurt Sylvia or Jeremy. If they did that, he'd make them feel worse than he did. Somehow.

Those thoughts, they had felt good. He had felt physically lighter while he was having them. After he had returned to his room, though, and the hours had begun slipping away, he had looked at the same walls he had been surrounded by all these weeks upon endless weeks of misery, and the panic had begun to set in.

What did I do?

The money could all be gone. He could have just effectively ended his own life for no good reason. Could he have done more for his family in some other way? Could he have pretended to go to Uncle Alexander somehow? Should he have taken Uncle Alexander up on his challenge to turn his wand against his mother? Would Alexander have protected him just to avoid the scandal? What had he done? How had he let it get this far? Was there a point to any of this?

He was pacing up and down feverishly, thoughts chasing themselves around his head, when he heard the knock at his door. He flinched and stopped, trying to catch his breath - he had been walking faster and longer than he thought. McLeod again, no doubt....

...Or not.

Irritation flared. Xavier had done his duty. He had shown Nathaniel the letter. He had taken away the last hope Nathaniel had. What else did he want? Blood? Nathaniel opened the door.

"Yes, Professor?" he said - still pale except for the dark circles under his eyes, but conscious and only slightly audibly impatient. "Do you need something?" The same thing he had said to Kir, he thought. The politest thing he could really manage. At least this was a distraction.

16 Nathaniel Mordue Wasn't it a long way down? 1412 0 5

Nathan Xavier

November 13, 2019 8:32 PM

Oh, good, you’re alive by Nathan Xavier

The door opened and there was Nathaniel. He was still pale, still clearly in need of rest, and by no means ‘well’ but he seemed more irritated at having been bothered than in any kind of immediate danger to himself. Nathan felt relief that it seemed Sylvia has misread the situation more than he had.

“Your cousin is my office,” he stated, a dry sort of humor emerging in the face of Nathaniel’s relative well-being. “She is under the impression you wrote her a suicide note and demands proof of life.”

He stepped back, making room for Nathaniel to leave his room if he so desired. Nathan would probably need to have the elves keep a closer eye on him over the next few days, on the chance Sylvia was right and he just hadn’t gotten around to it yet, but for now it was Nathaniel’s choice in whether he wanted to deal with this personally or not.

“You may use my office to talk privately if you like. I’ll stay out in the common room until you’re done. Or I can send her away. It’s your choice. She does seem very worried about you, though.” He paused a moment, then added, because he thought Nathaniel might need the reminder that people loved him right now. “She even cursed at me when I tried to just send you a note.”

1 Nathan Xavier Oh, good, you’re alive 28 0 5

Nathaniel Mordue

November 13, 2019 9:13 PM

Unfortunately, yes. by Nathaniel Mordue

"My cousin?" Nathaniel repeated blankly.

For some reason, he thought surely the professor meant Simon. That Simon had...what? Come to make a production of throwing him out of the family? Come to shout at him for trying to communicate with Sylvia and Jeremy - as if it was any of his business who they communicated with, especially when it came to Nathaniel's own brother? Come, just maybe, to say that something had changed....

She demanded proof of life. She. His world shook. Sylvia.

"She did?" he said quietly, sounding as stunned as he was. Sylvia was, after all, flawless. She did not make mistakes. She definitely did not curse at teachers, and she especially would never do that over a disgraced wreck of a simple-minded idiot like him. Except now, Professor Xavier was saying that she had. She was worried about him. She'd come here even though she wasn't supposed to.

To his horror, he realized there were tears in his eyes all of a sudden. "Thank you," he croaked, hastily turning his head and dragging his hand across his upper face. It didn't help the situation much. "I have to go - I'm sorry - " He didn't even know what he was apologizing for, but didn't care enough to try to sort it out. Instead, with barely a pretense at a nod, he hurried past the professor and, ignoring the terrifying thought that it might be some kind of trick, that she might not really be there at all, he hurried across the common room to the office door, only to freeze up again with his hand on the knob.

It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.

He got what he wanted - some small part of it, anyway - and he was as agitated as he had been when he had been faced with the prospect of having nothing at all. Dear Merlin, he really was going mad. He needed sleep. Nerve potions. Something. But - just possibly - he had Sylvia. The one person who it seemed might not have lied to him. More or less. She could no longer say she had always been there for him - but he could have tried to force her to speak to him, too, before this. He hadn't been here for her much lately either, except for telling her not to blame herself. But they were both here now. In terms of promise-keeping, Sylvia was doing better than anyone else, now. He would take it. He opened the door.

"Sylvia?" he said.

16 Nathaniel Mordue Unfortunately, yes. 1412 0 5

Sylvia Mordue

November 14, 2019 3:49 AM

Stop that at once! by Sylvia Mordue

It took all of Sylvia’s restraint not to bolt through the door after, or even ahead of Professor Xavier, who was still moving infuriatingly slowly. She had enough self-preservation, however, that running through Teppenpaw only to be most likely rudely rebuffed by the boys’ staircase held her in place.

“Please hurry,” she urged instead, something near her usual level of politeness, or at least composure, plastered on over the fact that she still clearly wanted to burst into tears. If panic hadn’t moved him, maybe that might.

It was agony waiting. It felt like he was gone forever, and she had no idea what that meant. Was she going to sit here in his office, forgotten whilst he called the medic? Her mind conjured pictures of Nate slumped across the floor, unresponsive or- worse. And she should be there. He needed her and she was trapped behind this stupid forcefield and-

She jumped at the sound of the door opening. And then a familiar voice uttering her name.

“Nate!” she cried, barely letting him get inside and close the door before she had thrown herself at him, squeezing him so hard that there was every chance that mortal peril wasn’t completely off the cards just yet. There were a few moments of her hands running through his hair, murmured reassurances to one or other or both of them that he was safe, he was okay. The blind panic of the emergency subsided somewhat, making space for other feelings. Had he not put her through enough already without frightening her so badly? Fear and confusion and hurt mingled in her chest because everything about the world outside this room was still awful, and she had no idea how she was supposed to navigate it as half a person. “How dare you!” she managed, her tone something closer to how angry she ought to be. She pulled back, glaring at him furiously, her hands sliding down from his neck to ball into fists against his chest. “How could you?” she asked, “If you kill yourself, I-I -I’ll never speak to you again!” she managed, not caring how little sense that made. “How could you think about abandoning me twice?”

13 Sylvia Mordue Stop that at once! 1413 0 5

Nathaniel Mordue

November 14, 2019 9:47 AM

Stop being alive? by Nathaniel Mordue

Sylvia was squeezing him so tightly it hurt, and Nathaniel didn't care at all, hugging her back just as fiercely. Never, he swore to himself, would he ever take hugs for granted again. He hadn't even realized how much he had missed hugs - at Sonora, after all, it had only ever been Sylvia who hugged him. Was a lack of hugs what he had done wrong with Jeremy? He'd just assumed Jeremy would hit him if he tried most of the time, and supposed he'd had his own need for human touch satisfied, and hadn't tried hard enough....

Failure. Another failure.

He pushed that thought aside. He'd make it right. Someday. Somehow. Sylvia pushed back a little, but Nathaniel kept his hands on her shoulders, unwilling to let go completely.

"I'm sorry," he managed. "I'm sorry - I didn't realize you'd think it sounded like that." Would he, he wondered, have still done it if he had known it would have this result? He hated to think of scaring her like that, but...she was here. Maybe things could get better now. He decided not to mention any of these thoughts to her, though, and also to refrain from pointing out that it might not exactly be up to her to stop talking to him if he killed himself. He would not do or say anything, knowingly anyway, which he thought might make her reconsider the implied inverse - the idea that if he refrained from killing himself, she would talk to him again. "I told you I knew it wasn't a very good letter. I was just - so - so - I couldn't stand it anymore, Sylvia." The blackness tried to overwhelm him again at the thought that, of course, he had to keep standing it. He would have to stand it for years and years, probably. He squeezed her shoulders reassuringly, to reassure himself as much as her. "But I can't do that. No matter how much I might want to. I couldn't do that to you."

16 Nathaniel Mordue Stop being alive? 1412 0 5

Sylvia Mordue

November 15, 2019 3:59 AM

No, calling it 'unfortunate' by Sylvia Mordue

I’m sorry. The words were like a balm. Maybe he wasn’t apologising for all of of it, but he was, finally, trying to close the distance between them. And he hadn’t meant the letter to sound that way. Sylvia let out a sigh of relief, although it certainly didn’t seem the topic was entirely off the cards yet. He was saying he wanted to, but that he couldn’t and that was close enough to be unbearable.

“Not now, not ever. Promise?” she demanded. He could stand there and say he’d never do that to her, but she would never have believed he would turn his back on her as he had done. It made her wonder how much a promise now was going to mean, but she wasn’t sure what else she had. She could scarcely have him make an Unbreakable Vow not to kill himself. After all, there was a rather convenient get out should he change his mind on that. She would just have to take his word. Nate’s word had always meant something, after all.

She considered what else to say. She wanted to ask him why. Demand to know if he’d changed his mind. But if he had, wouldn’t he have just come back to them? Instead, he had said goodbye. Or seemed to. She wasn’t sure any more what to make of his letter. She couldn’t remember anything except the fear it had struck in her. She wasn’t sure she’d formed any other coherent impression of its words.

And there were so many things that had built up in her chest, that she had been so afraid she wouldn’t get to say to him, and even if this wasn’t what she had thought it was, there was still so very much danger, so much risk that he was going to be plucked out of her reach forever.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she stated, leaning her head against his chest. “I don’t want you to go.” That much, surely, was obvious? Surely he’d known that all along? He had to. She felt any last reserve of composure she’d had crumble away into pure misery, because the second she let Nate out of her arms and out of this office, she wasn’t sure what was going to happen. She was not sure how she had pushed it all back down inside, behind enough walls not to show it to the rest of Sonora. Some combination of necessity and disbelief had made her do so though. But now Nate was here and real again, and that was the one thing that could break her down completely and also complete her again. And she wasn’t sure that positively sobbing onto his chest was going to make a blind bit of difference because it had failed once already and she didn’t understand why, when she had never let him down or done anything but love him more than anyone else in the whole wide world. It was all she had, and it possibly wasn’t enough to make him care about her the way she did about him. She didn’t know what he wanted, if it wasn’t to tell her that he was done fighting. But she knew what she wanted. Him. “Don’t leave me, Nate,” she sobbed.

13 Sylvia Mordue No, calling it 'unfortunate' 1413 0 5

Nathaniel Mordue

November 15, 2019 10:00 AM

You're right, I'm sorry. by Nathaniel Mordue

Nathaniel didn't want to promise anyone anything anymore. If he hadn't blithely made so many promises before, when he had thought he knew the worst things could get, he wouldn't have -

Well, that wasn't fair. He would have still been in a horrific position. Seeing Sylvia now, though, and comparing her to the way his mother had treated him - it was only those promises which kept him from throwing pride and self-preservation both out of the window and swearing to anything, anything at all, any humiliation Uncle Alexander might want to visit on him, rather than take the slightest chance that Sylvia might take her dedication to upholding social traditions - cruel, pointless ones as much as any others - as seriously as he usually took his word.

What made up his mind, though, wasn't any determination to live. It was the obvious distress the very thought of a really permanent separation was causing her. She wasn't supposed to be here, wasn't supposed to care, but she did. "I promise," he said, hugging her again. "Promise you won't go away this long again?"

It sounded pathetic even to his ears. They had, after all, been in the same building all this time. She hadn't gone anywhere. He hadn't gone anywhere, except possibly mad. His uncle, though, had forced Sylvia to pretend. He had done this to them. Alexander Mordue and Cynthia Braun and Franklin Elphwick. None of them gave a damn about anyone but themselves.

But I'll make it right. Somehow. Don't worry, Sylvia. I'll make Mama sorry for her part in this, and I'm going to take both of those bastards down.

He didn't say it out loud, though, because he didn't want to shock her - there were ideas that ladies just weren't accustomed to, and language that just shouldn't be used in front of one - and because she probably was still too confused to understand the necessity of punishing Uncle Alexander along with the others. The worst moment of his life, after all, had probably been the moment in this very office when it had really sunk home for him that their parents didn't actually love them. He barely wished that moment on Elphwick, even, and the man was taking advantage of a mental incompetent in one of the most disgusting ways imaginable!

He forgot about that, though, as Sylvia began crying. He squeezed her tighter again, hoping to soothe her and to keep himself from being torn to pieces by warring emotions - relief that she was here, anger that she hadn't been for all this time, guilt and self-loathing for not fixing that earlier because he had doubted her - had thought she had chosen to reject him just like the others, rather than ever thinking that she might really think he didn't want her anymore. "I'm so sorry," he said into her hair. "It's okay. I'm here. I love you. I'm here."

When he thought she was a little calmer, he took a deep breath. "Will you let me say something?" he said. "Let me say it and finish what I'm saying all the way through before you say anything back?"

16 Nathaniel Mordue You're right, I'm sorry. 1412 0 5

Sylvia Mordue

November 23, 2019 6:40 PM

Keep saying that by Sylvia Mordue

“I didn’t go anywhere!” Sylvia protested. “You. Left. Me,” she protested, still crying into Nate’s chest. And he was still going to. Nothing he had said indicated that he had changed his mind. He was still planning to turn his back on her, and act like the door was still open when that very action slammed it in all their faces. And she wanted to protest about how he’d been out of reach. That what he wanted was and always had been impossible. That he was pushing the responsibility to choose onto her. And how could he say that she had been gone, when she had just risked her reputation running through the school to get to him? When she was still willing to risk things for Nate when it didn’t feel like he was willing to do the same for her. None of that was fair. But it felt like they’d been over it a dozen times in her father’s office. And this was also the first time she had really let herself cry about it since and she wasn’t sure she could get any more words out between the tears. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to say anything that might stop Nate from holding her and stroking her hair and telling her sweet little lies. Or maybe not lies… just, insubstantial and insufficient truths. I love you. - just not enough. I’m here - but I can’t stay.

As she managed to reign in her tears, he proposed a speech. He wanted to say something, and be allowed to say it all the way. Sylvia was skeptical of such a proposition. If it was any kind of solution to their problems, it was clearly going to be another completely crazy idea that she could never go along with. If it was a goodbye, she didn’t really want to hear it. But they hadn’t talked for so long. And she had never shut Nate down, or told him he couldn’t talk to her. He could tell her everything.

She drew back a little, to better survey his face, trying to work out which of those was the most likely to come out of his mouth.

“Go on,” she stated, although her tone of voice made it clear that this had better be good, and that she hadn’t completely ruled out throwing a few hexes at him for what he’d put her through.

13 Sylvia Mordue Keep saying that 1413 0 5

Nathaniel Mordue

November 23, 2019 7:50 PM

I want to. by Nathaniel Mordue

She was willing to hear him out. Or said she was. Nathaniel's heart was pounding so hard he was sure it must be audible to her, as it was nearly deafening him. He had one shot at this. One wrong word, and -

Think, Nathaniel. Don't feel. Think. Think!

It was harder than it should have been. Part of that was the state he had gradually fallen into, where he was not even sure he remembered what being really happy or even just pleasantly neutral was like anymore, and where he knew he didn't remember what feeling well-rested was like, but part of it was just that it was Sylvia. He had never had to be careful like this with her before. He had always been able to tell Sylvia anything, with little to no filter. With her, he had always been able to let his guard down, been able to stop being strong, stop thinking about his duty to be a good example to his brother and a perfect son to his mother....

"You're right, that this is - at least some of my fault," he began. "I could have tried to talk to you before, I - I'm sorry. I kept hanging around wherever I could hoping you'd talk to me, and when you didn't, I thought - I thought you didn't want me anymore." He grimaced. "I know that's stupid," he admitted. "I see that now, I just - you have no idea how this feels," he said. "I've been half out of my mind - can you imagine it, Sylvia? If Uncle just disappeared, and then Aunt Avery did - did this to you? I..." he shook his head. "I've been asking myself for five years if there was something I could have done to stop what happened with Father. Or to make Jeremy better. And now this. And then..."

He took a breath and said it out loud for the first time. "And then last night...right before I wrote you that letter, I realized...Mother doesn't give any more of a damn about me than Father did. All either of them ever cared about was themselves. And I thought about just - a lot of things. Including just crawling back to Uncle. But if I do that, then the half-blood will rob her blind, and what are Jeremy and I supposed to do then? Or if she just disinherits us both?

"Just listen!" he interrupted himself, afraid he was losing her, or that she would, perhaps rightfully, slap him for seeming to lapse into banalities. He started to speak more rapidly. "Just for another minute. I don't care about the money for itself - it's just for you, for us and Jeremy. As soon as I'm seventeen, I'll at least have my trust fund, and whatever else I can save from her and that half-blood, and then we'll both be old enough to go wherever we want, so they won't be able to keep us apart then. I don't care about society and things." If anything, he'd be glad not to have to deal with that. "The only thing I care about is making sure I can take care of you, if anyone ever puts you or Jeremy in a situation like this, and nobody will be able to stop me - because I don't care what you do. After this - after you came here like this - there's nothing you could do that would ever make me cut you off." He looked at her, his eyes even more pleading than his tone. "Nothing."

"Just pretend that I'm at home alone this summer," he improvised. "She's dead, right? My mother is dead. She doesn't exist anymore. It's just me there. Maybe we can't see each other much this summer, but we'll be at school all year together - we'll probably be prefects together - we can make it work, and if you don't talk to me then, I'll just follow you around talking at you until you either talk to me or hex me!" he finished in a stubborn rush. She had come back. She loved him - and was quite possibly the only person in the world who did so. He would follow her around till he died and then come back and haunt her, if that was how long it took to get what he was saying through her head, now. There was something here to save, and even becoming a dead body would not stop him from trying to save it now. "And then I'll start talking at you again as soon as my jaw works right again," he added, with the closest thing to humor he thought he had experienced in months.

16 Nathaniel Mordue I want to. 1412 0 5

Sylvia Mordue

November 26, 2019 3:45 AM

And say you won't leave by Sylvia Mordue

The first thing to nearly stir Sylvia from her vow of silence was Nate’s concern over whether he could have done something. The questions that had preceded it were, she presumed, entirely rhetorical, as obviously the whole point was no, she could not imagine her parents doing such a thing - they never would. But the idea that he could have done something different- her breath was halfway drawn to assure Nate that it was not and never had been his fault before she remembered she wasn’t supposed to. She tried to convey it with her eyes, and a small sad shake of her head instead. He couldn’t think like that. No wonder he was falling apart. Everything that was happening was hideous enough, but how could he possibly cope with taking it upon himself in that way? The answer, haggard with dark circles under his eyes, stood before her; he could not.

She was glad at having let him speak though, because the next line was the first thing in months that had given her a true ray of hope. She had assumed he was torn because he loved them both, or because he was somehow blind to how unreasonable or selfish his mother was being. But he was starting to see the light! And his concerns… Well, trust Nate, dear sweet Nate, to be thinking so responsibly but it was all in vain. And if she could just get him to see that, that what he needed was to come home with them instead - he already seemed one step closer to admitting that anyway.

“Nate, darling,” she smiled softly, pulling his hand slightly. “Let’s sit down?” she suggested. “And now, I suppose, it’s your turn to let me finish,” she mused, whilst she tucked herself into one of the seats in the office, taking a moment to compose her thoughts.

“It’s never your fault. It never has been. Like you said yourself, your parents made bad decisions and no right thinking person would ever hold you responsible. No one does,” she assured him. That, she thought, was imperative. To make him know that no one in their family thought less of him for his parents’ actions or had expected better of him. “You’ve always been someone we can be proud of.

“You’re taking far too much responsibility here. The money, all of it… we would take care of you. I know you’re angry at father, and I don’t like the position we’re all in, but he really intends to look after you. I know he means that. And, on a practical level, have you considered that running off might be the worst possible way of protecting your assets? I don’t exactly think families are keen to allow their ex-members a share of their money. That’s what disinherited means. If Nathaniel Mordue ceases to exist, then all assets in his name can become null and void. I know you have your Braun money from your mother, but… well, you don’t trust her to look after it or to treat you fairly right now.

“And I don’t need you in years to come, with a trust fund to come and rescue me. I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. But Nate, I need you now. I need you not to disappear,” she said, tears coming back to her eyes because this, beyond all else, was the thing that scared her most and it still seemed like Nate could barely grasp that. “Stop planning for an imaginary crisis that we’re not having yet, and deal with this one,” she begged him. Was that it? Was that the reason he was doing all this? Not because he really thought it practical but because he knew he couldn’t fix this. And thus, he had to come up with some imagined problem, for years down the line, that he could deal with instead. “I’m never going to stop wanting you to be part of my life. But you know I won’t be able to visit you - you know it doesn’t work like that. You can’t walk away, slam every door that was ever open between us and then say I’ve chosen not to talk to you. If you realise now that she doesn’t give a damn, why aren’t you choosing me when I still so clearly do?”

13 Sylvia Mordue And say you won't leave 1413 0 5

Nathaniel Mordue

November 26, 2019 8:12 AM

I want to. by Nathaniel Mordue

Nathaniel was grateful for the suggestion that they sit down, as he was feeling shakier by the minute.

What, he thought as he sank into a chair, still clinging to her hand, was wrong with him? How had it come to this? How was he so changed? He spoke half a dozen words and his heart was pounding as though he had been running, his chest tight and painful. It was pathetic. If he could just get away somehow, somewhere - just go back to their treehouse, just a few minutes - maybe he could be himself again, and think clearly. But that was weakness in and of itself. Only cowards ran away....

It was a relief, at least, to hear that Sylvia no longer seemed to expect him not to be angry with his uncle. She had come around that far, at least - he would have thought, if he had been asked before today, that she would have been angry with Uncle Alexander, too, for his part in reducing Nathaniel to this, but he had learned not to expect too much from people. Besides, he had to take responsibility for himself. He couldn't rely on other people. He knew that. He should have always known that, but...he couldn't think about that, it threw his blood right back into a tumult. He couldn't think at all.

As she went on, though, he bitterly regretted promising Sylvia he wouldn't take the only direct route out of this already. How was he supposed to get through this? Especially alone, with everything and everyone he knew and loved either gone or hopelessly distorted?

She would always want him in her life - but wouldn't lift a finger to make it happen. Didn't want to do this to him - but would. Part of him had to sort of admire her, as always. That was what he had been taught was becoming to a man - never to compromise, never to surrender. Sylvia should have been a man - she was the best of them all. Cato casting his vote while injured and unguarded and abandoned by all...except she wasn't abandoned by all, was she?

His mood abruptly shifted, without hesitation or his intention. She, he thought, had a whole family around her. He was the one alone. So she was Cato's brother-in-law, admitting this was awful, this was wrong, but going to barricade herself in the house where it was safe, and he was trying to do what was right and being set upon in the street for that - except, was he doing what was right? They were supposed to have standards. Supposed to sacrifice even the people and things they most loved if they threatened the social order. Which his mother had done. So was he taking a bribe, essentially - since he was almost certain there were no assets belonging presently to Nathaniel Mordue, and that his mother's money was the only kind he had a remote chance of access to - to betray a good principle?

"I don't know. I don't know," he groaned, covering his face. "Except I still give a damn - I love you all - and I don't know what's right and wrong anymore. It doesn't make any sense. I can tell myself a hundred things either way, it's not supposed to be like this. If even we can come to this - what's the point of living?" He scrubbed his hands through his hair, hunching his shoulders again, allowing his elbows to rest on his knees as he struggled to arrange his ideas.

After a moment, he managed to look up again. "I need to think," he said, more calmly, though his voice still shook. "I can't think straight - it seems like it's been years since I slept properly. I have to get some sleep." He reached for her hand again, more instinctively than by design. "I don't know what to do, and I can't think straight. Xavier said yesterday I could go to the hospital wing, sleep it off for a few days. I think I'm going to have to do that. Can you let me do that?"

16 Nathaniel Mordue I want to. 1412 0 5

Sylvia Mordue

November 27, 2019 4:15 AM

But how much? by Sylvia Mordue

Nate was, she had to assume, being melodramatic when he asked what the point of living was. He had promised. He had said he never even meant that in the first place. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the wrecked creature that sat before her. She would, had she been pushed, have asserted that she was the stronger of the two of them – of all of them, really. She was not sure why women got the reputation for being hysterical and men for being calm and decisive. Men were idiots, taunted by their emotions or their urges into behaving like catastrophes. Some women were scarcely better, of course, and Ex Aunt Cynthia was one who sprung to mind as the whining or crying type. Maybe it was just people in general… Still, she wasn’t used to lumping Nate in with the rest of humanity. Admittedly, she herself had just been crying but in her defence, it had been with good reason. She thought she could have brought herself under control had it been required. It simply hadn’t been.

The idea of not thinking straight was about the most lucid point Nate had made during this discussion. Sylvia felt inclined to agree, even if the idea of him retiring to the hospital wing for bedrest unnerved her. Looking at him, she could see that he needed it, but it was so feminine. And so like his mother. She didn’t want Nate to be this fragile, to need pandering to and soothing. She wanted him to snap out of it and be her Nate again.

“Yes,” she agreed, because she wanted him to be better, for his own sake, and because he was dangling the promise of giving rational thought to the problem on the other side of this. “You try feeling better first,” she agreed. The unspoken ‘but’ hung in the air though. But then you are going to have to make a decision.

13 Sylvia Mordue But how much? 1413 0 5

Nathaniel Mordue

November 27, 2019 1:40 PM

Enough that it's come to this... by Nathaniel Mordue

"I don't think feeling better is an option," said Nathaniel, not even thinking of lying. Not to Sylvia. "But at least maybe I can put one thought in front of the next one in order."

He had doubted her, after all. He clearly was not thinking clearly. But then, how could he, after everything that had happened? You had to have sleep. Trying to think without sleeping was like expecting a burn to stop hurting without balm.

He couldn't control everything. He couldn't control anything, really, except himself, and sleep didn't count as self-control. He could not help the fact that he could barely fall asleep and didn't stay asleep when he did. It was like being ill, he supposed. So it had to be all right to ask for medicine to fix the problem. He had always applied that logic to his mother and her headache potions and her nerve potions. Except that looped him back around to thinking she was ill, that she was being taken advantage of...and then to the thought that there was no way he could help her, under present conditions, other than killing someone. Which was a very wrong thing to do even if he had known how to do it without getting caught. If Elphwick fell over dead, after all, he and Uncle Alexander would be the immediate obvious suspects, and his uncle had a better chance of framing him than he did of framing his uncle. Because he had no control over anything. Except himself. Except in which promises he chose to break.

"I'm so sorry I've put you through this," he said, more steadily now. "I didn't think I had any choice - I thought I could fix it all. I tried. But I couldn't. I'm sorry. You're okay?" he asked, searching her face anxiously. "You're not - in any state like this?"

16 Nathaniel Mordue Enough that it's come to this... 1412 0 5