Dorian Montoir
January 04, 2020 8:17 PM
Let us eat cake (tag friends and family) by Dorian Montoir
The first of October dawned, bright and with a hint of warmth in the air, the season not quite having turned yet, though the Irish weather made it a coin toss as to whether it would be stormy or sunny. This year, it looked like a good one.Dorian blinked open lazy teenage eyes, appreciative of the extra sleep the weekend brought, and found a large pair of orange eyes staring back down at him from his bedside table. He startled slightly. He was, of course, used to owls, but not necessarily them being in his face when he woke up. He sat up, finding that there were streamers hanging from his bed and a banner across the wall. No, two, three, four banners around the room, reading ‘Happy Birthday’ in English, highly accurate Russian and French, and a very, very good stab at the Chinese. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that the characters were intelligible because of the pinyin inscribed underneath them, but it seemed mean to think that when such a lot of effort had been made. Vlad had clearly woken up some time before him and headed out already, but had not forgotten what day it was.
“Accio owl treats,” he cast, the bag going slightly wide of his grasp as he shook off the last of his morning sleepiness but still falling within easy reach. He held out the treat tentatively, and the owl took it gently, chomping happily whilst Dorian untied the parcel.
“One moment?” he requested, also summoning some parchment, and scribbling some notes to let his friends know that he was awake and that they should be prepared to pay attention to him in approximately thirty minutes. He gave these to the owl, which headed out, leaving him with a box with a very familiar logo stamped on the top. It was the bakery where he’d bought Jean-Loup’s cupcakes for their date. He opened it, finding four cupcakes with peaks of creamy golden icing and little chocolate maple leaves.
“Merci, mon beau,” he grinned at the photograph which was now pinned to his wall, blowing it a kiss. From the wall, Jean-Loup smiled and waved. Dorian considered staying in bed and eating cupcakes, and pretending that counted as being with his boyfriend on his birthday, but it sounded like a poor substitute, and he thought he’d enjoy sharing them with his friends more.
He got up and dressed himself smartly. He was usually fairly formal, tending to always be in slacks and a shirt, even on weekends. Occasionally, he left a top button undone if he was feeling particularly casual. Today, he thought extra effort was warranted. His parents had let him unwrap his main present at home, so that they could see him open it. Not that it was exactly a surprise - there was a tradition around seventeenth birthdays after all - but he had not worn it at all in advance of the day itself. The heavy gold watch felt like it demanded dressing up for. On the outside, it was depressingly similar to Matthieu’s, though of course he had not expected much else. The Montoir family crest lay at the centre, surrounded by swirling foliage. The only difference was DXM stamped across the bottom instead of MQM. He clicked it open. Inside, it was a different story. Watches were a Western tradition, more part of his Canadian heritage, but his mother’s hand showed on the inside. The hands were topped by a moon, a star, and a little rabbit, stretching itself as if leaping.
He dressed in a powder blue shirt, his favourite colour on himself, pairing it with a waistcoat. On the one hand, he felt a little like he was overdoing it but birthdays warranted looking nice, and where was he supposed to put a pocket watch if he lacked pockets? He clipped the chain on, and dropped it in, feeling the weight of it.
“D’accord?” he checked, showing the outfit to the picture on the wall.
Picking up the box, he headed for Cascade Hall. He would have liked to spend his birthday with everyone he loved, but that was currently an impossibility. Instead, he was counting his blessings about the number of people who would make up the party. Professor Brooding’s words kept coming back to him, about how she had made her own family out of the people who loved her. She had included him. It pulled strongly at odds with the notions he’d been raised with, of blood and filial piety. But he knew what she meant. Tatya had been his sister for years. He shared a room with Vlad. Professor Brooding was always guiding him… So, even if he was apart from one family, at least he had another. Although Jean-Loup definitely counted as a member of the second one. Still, Dorian thought, holding onto the box of cupcakes, he would be here in spirit. He also had plenty of friends throughout the school too, who he would be happy to celebrate with. As he took a seat in the Cascade Hall, another owl swooped in bearing a box. When he opened it, he found a large chocolate cake decorated with strawberries, and a note with love from his parents. Plenty of cake to go around then. He did not have to sit by himself for very long before he found someone approaching.
“I am a legal adult, and I will be having cake for breakfast,” he declared with a grin. “Do you wish to join me?”
13
Dorian Montoir
Let us eat cake (tag friends and family)
1401
1
5
Tatiana Vorontsova
January 05, 2020 12:57 PM
And have good fortune all around! by Tatiana Vorontsova
Hoo-hoo. Hoo-hooAt first, Tatiana thought the noise was part of the dream she was having, despite the fact that it did not make sense as part of the scene in her head - that was, after all, fairly normal for dreams she had early in the morning, when she was close enough to awake to realize she was dreaming, but still far enough under that the dream dominated her attention. As it persisted, however, she found herself increasingly focusing on the noise rather than on the events going on between neurons.
Hoo-hoo. Hoo-hoo.
She opened her eyes and squinted blearly at an owl, which dropped a note on her forehead and then flew away. Groggy still, she rubbed her eyes with one hand and pulled the note down with the other, only to discover that she could not make sense of it straightaway. Her brain could actually read English very well now, after all these years, but it stubbornly refused to do so when she first opened her eyes; her dreams even included English and French sometimes now, but the written language remained elusive until she was properly awake. Since her room did not include a samovar and the school had yet to provide her with a maid to bring her a glass of tea to wake up with, though, she made an intense effort, struggled, and started trying to decipher it, only to sit up abruptly when she gathered some of the sense of it.
Dorya's birthday!
This occasion had not caught her off-guard, of course. She had been preparing for some time, in fact. Nevertheless, her room erupted into as chaotic a flurry of activity as a room in which only one person resided could be said to do as she struggled to get ready and get all his presents together for him.
Up went her hair with the pin he had given her for her birthday. On went a dress in light blue - a color she knew Dorian liked - trimmed in sunny Teppenpawish yellow. She looked with longing at her sapphires, sparkling in their neatly sub-divided box inside her jewelry box, but she stuck to her resolution and instead adorned herself entirely in pieces of jewelry which Dorian had given her over the years, delicate things in enamels, with the bracelet he had bought her for her birthday taking pride of place on her right wrist. Then came the checking over the presents, each neatly wrapped in colored tissue papers, five times to make sure she hadn't forgotten one before she bounded out of the Pecari dorms, clutching the little parcels to her chest.
The gifts were a motley assortment. One parcel held an elaborately decorated metal tin of Krasnodar tea and a jar of dark golden honey. Another, intended to go with it, was a delicate, hand-painted cobalt net cup and saucer, like the ones they had used at her ball. That set and the smallest of the parcels - a tiny box about the length of a finger - had exhausted most of the budget Tatiana had had to buy gifts with; the box contained a French-made gold straight pin, intended to be worn on the lapel. When fastened, the part that showed was a small gold rabbit set with a tiny ruby eye. She was particularly proud of that gift; not only did it involve his totem, as it were, but it also allowed her to blend bits of both of their cultures: red was good luck in his, and in hers, pinning a French pin inside one's clothes was a good way to protect oneself from the Evil Eye. She had also sewn and embroidered him a small money bag (while she derived no joy whatsoever from it, she had learned her stitches along with her sisters, under protest; she had not practiced in so long that the project had probably taken twice as long as it should have, but she had done it) and slipped a galleon and a sickle into it, so that his future would contain both silver and gold.
She found him straightaway in the Cascade Hall and bounced over with a broad smile on her face. It widened yet further when he joked about being an adult who could eat cake for breakfast. What else, after all, was the point of being a grown-up? "Da!" she said enthusiastically, dropping into the seat next to his and pushing the things in her arms onto the table so she could use them instead to take her friend by the shoulders and kiss him on each cheek. "S Dnem rozhden'ya tebya!" she exclaimed. Happy birthday to you!
16
Tatiana Vorontsova
And have good fortune all around!
1396
0
5
Dorian Montoir
January 07, 2020 4:40 PM
Here's hoping by Dorian Montoir
“Spasibo,” Dorian grinned, returning Tatya’s kisses and giving her a hug. The first thing he noticed- well, okay, truthfully the first thing he noticed was several parcels that one could only assume were for him had been deposited on the table. His eyes had followed them, though been drawn back to Tatya when she offered greetings and kisses. She seemed less decorated than usual, which surprised him, because Tatya usually went all out for special occasions. Heck, Tatya could often be considered all out for class. Maybe it was something to do with not trying to overshadow the birthday boy? She was only wearing two bracelets, a record low - just the enamel and the jade ones that he had given her. He had already half noted the hairpin from him/his mother, as it tied into the theme of coming of age. And now he looked properly, he counted the combs, that he had give her. And a quick check of every other piece she was wearing…“You are wearing my jewellery,” he stated with a smile, appreciating the gesture.
“For cake, we have this one, from my parents,” he gestured to the strawberry and chocolate confection which was already open, “Or small maple syrup cupcakes from Jean-Loup. Or you can have both - the point is that you get a special one,” he added, opening the other box to show her the neat little cakes.
“I think I will start with parent cake and save this for later,” he added.
13
Dorian Montoir
Here's hoping
1401
0
5
Tatiana Vorontsova
January 10, 2020 9:03 PM
*crosses fingers* by Tatiana Vorontsova
"Oui," said Tatiana, smiling, when Dorian noticed her jewelry. "I thought you like this maybe," she added.She looked over the chocolate and strawberry cake, duly impressed that his parents had made this happen for him, and then over the cupcakes Jean-Loup had sent. She appreciated the gesture, adding this to her list of reasons to cautiously assume Dorya's boyfriend was okay. She would prefer to meet him in some fashion, just so she could explain how very inside-out several of his major joints would be if he hurt Dorya, but who knew how that could ever happen - the whole thing was a secret from Dorya's mama, and Tatiana could not even exactly just write to introduce herself. She had actually started writing a letter before she had realized that it was a bit odd - that a strange person should just send him a letter he might find barely comprehensible, given that he wasn't accustomed to her language, and about something which was secret. So she had torn it up and was leaving the issue for now.
His joints would all definitely become inside-out if he hurt her Dorya, though.
"I will do the same," she said when he announced he would start with parent cake. "And yes - these for you," she added, pointing to his presents in case it was not obvious. She suspected it was but it seemed polite to make the statement. "You may have them when you want them," she said, knowing she always got impatient for presents.
16
Tatiana Vorontsova
*crosses fingers*
1396
0
5
Dorian Montoir
January 11, 2020 5:24 AM
Off to a good start by Dorian Montoir
“I do,” he confirmed with a smile, when Tatya suggested she had thought he might like seeing her wear the jewellery she had got him over the years, “Though I notice some spaces. Make some ideas for other presents,” he teased.“This was my hope,” he grinned, when she gestured to the presents and announced they were for him, “Here, I shall cut us cake and you can decide the order which is best for me to open them in,” he suggested.
He cut off two medium sized pieces of the cake - not too big, seeing as he both intended to share it with whoever wanted any and have room for one of the cupcakes, but not small slices either because it was his birthday and Tatya was his best friend and it wouldn’t do to have piffling little non-slices. If you were going to start the day with cake, you really ought to commit to that move. He passed her her piece and a fork with a smile, and took a small bite of his before turning his attention to the present she had deemed to be first. As he opened it, it seemed they were off to a flying start, as it would be very hard to go wrong in giving Dorian teaware, and this particular piece was exquisite. He also recognised it as the pattern that had been used at Tatya’s own birthday, and that made it an even more perfect souvenir of their both coming of age. Most of this tumbled out in excited praise of the present, amid holding it up to admire and giving her hugs. The thing he did not say, because he did not want to bring the mood of the occasion down, was that it would be nice to have some reminder of her when they could no longer take tea together every day. That made him sad in some ways, but these days there was also a tantalising hint of a fully formed adult life in his mind; he did not want to leave his friends and his second home here at Sonora, but the thought of waking up with a tousled blond head on the pillow next to his was awfully enticing…
“I shall use it for my next drink of tea,” he assured her. He had, naturally, had both a pot of tea and a cup of it for himself poured out before Tatya had even sat down, though it would probably not be too long before he finished that. The next present turned that plan upside down though, as it proved to be something that might compliment the cup very well.
“Or perhaps I have to save the cup for when I make this,” he amended, taking care to admire the craftsmanship of the tin (he did love a pretty tea tin! He had filled so many of them with treasure as a child, once the original treasure that came in them was gone, and had several which housed refills of all his regular blends) and to open it up and inhale, commenting on the notes of the tea which smelt sweet and dark.
The following present surprised him slightly, as it seemed less related to their friendship than tea. He suspected there might be some kind of tradition behind it for it to have ranked above tea in the line up, although that as much as the present itself made him smile - him and Tatya, the well known sticklers for tradition.
“This is very lovely also,” he smiled, “You endanger my vocabulary. I shall run out of good adjectives," he beamed.
That just left the very smallest of the parcels. Good things come in small packages, was one piece of wisdom he'd picked up from his Montoir grandmother, although he suspected that advice applied more to girls, who were likely to get pretty jewels in small boxes. Although, given the giver of this gift... He raised his eyebrows quizzically at Tatya as he meticulously unfastened the wrapping paper, taking care not to tear, both because it seemed wasteful and destructive, and because it spun out the enjoyment a little longer.
When he finally got into the box, his breath caught for a second. It was jewellery, for him. Clearly for him.
"C'est parfait," he beamed, "Lái, xiao tùzi," he stated softly, picking it up to look closer, "Spasibo," he added, remembering that he had fully intended to thank her properly in Russian for everything, but deciding that it was perhaps more fitting that a mess of languages had tumbled naturally from his mouth instead - he was not sure he knew how to say 'perfect' in Russian, and telling little bunnies to come here just had to be in Chinese.
"You are good at presents," he smiled, folding her into yet another hug before sitting back to set the pin in its place. "Eto vyglyadit khorosho?" he checked. Does it look good?
13
Dorian Montoir
Off to a good start
1401
0
5
Tatiana Vorontsova
January 12, 2020 9:11 AM
Ochen' khorosho. by Tatiana Vorontsova
Tatiana had not really thought about the proper order for Dorian to open his presents in. She knew that she often went at her own presents willy-nilly, picking whatever was closest to hand or had a pretty wrapper, unless someone actually stopped her and told her to open one thing or another first. She knew Dorian was a more orderly person than herself, though, so she supposed she should have thought about it for him. Luckily, cake cutting gave her plenty of time to make up for it.She put the cup first, and his response was so enthusiastic that by the time she got a word in edgewise, she was smiling so broadly that it slightly hurt her cheeks. She didn't stop for that, though. "I am glad you like," she laughed. "You have China-tea thing for your China-family, France-tea thing for Quebec family - now you have tea-thing from Russkaya sem'ya," she explained.
"You use when you want," she urged him when he said he might save the cup for use with the accompanying tea. "But is Krasnodar tea - what we had at my party. You like?" He had seemed happy enough to drink it then, so she hoped she had hit the mark there.
"You have mnogo slov'," she teased when he said she might make him run out of adjectives. "Is not bad when is you," she added. "It is for...den'gi. Look inside," she added, too impatient to try to remember the word in another language if Dorian didn't know it - they did not, after all, have a lot of occasions to discuss money. Why would they? "Is bad luck to give it empty - this way, you have good fortune now that you are muzhchina," she explained.
A softer smile than usual played around her mouth as Dorian beamed at his pin and greeted it in Chinese. Of course he would speak to it - it was a bunny, even if it was also just a small thing of shaped gold. That was just how Dorya was, and one of the reasons he was such a dear creature, one who needed protecting from the big world, however much he might act like a lion when he thought someone else had wronged one of his friends. He was, she thought, more like her brother Grisha than either of them might suspect; they liked different things, and they expressed themselves differently when things were going well, perhaps, and of course Grisha had never had anything bad really happen to him as Dorya had with Matthieu, but her brother, too, was kind when he was happy and fierce in any notion to protect his family.
"Merci beaucoup," she said when he told her she was good at presents, hugging him back. "Et bon anniversaire." She watched him put the pin on and clapped her hands in delight. "Ochen' khorosho," she praised its appearance. "And it is made in France - French pin protect from evil eye," she explained. "Or they say this in Russia. I do not know. But I thought you must have it," she explained. "Opal is better for Oktyabr', but red is good luck, so I give you red. But do not write names in it," she added virtuously.
16
Tatiana Vorontsova
Ochen' khorosho.
1396
0
5
Dorian Montoir
January 12, 2020 5:09 PM
Let's bring more to the table by Dorian Montoir
"I like," he confirmed of the tea. The symbolism, layers and layers of it, of each of Tatya's presents was perfect. She could seem rash and hasty - okay, she was rash and hasty, but one thing she didn't do by half measures was love her friends. She might not have been quite so good at going deep in conversations about books or philosophy, but she clearly had as much depth as any of them when it came to other areas."Very good," he smiled approvingly as she gave her notes on the colour red. "I think I shall be very lucky, well protected muzhchina," he smiled, surveying her gifts once more, "I think I already am. And not thirsy also," he added with a grin, his fingers tracing the teacup's box.
He was just returning his attention to his cake when two more visitors arrived. The first was perhaps more by coincidence - he had not sent a note to Professor Brooding, and perhaps she had come searching for coffee or a snack rather than him. Still, he waved her over cheerfully. At the same time, a dark owl covered in a dusting of white spots, landed gracefully on the table.
"Salut Choux-Choux," he grinned, eagerly untying the letter and parcel from her feet.
"Hello," he beamed at Professor Brooding, glad it was the weekend. He wasn't sure he would have waved her over on a weekday, but all the arrangements felt more casual today. He wasn't sure whether she would want to sit with them, though he would certainly not object. "You would like some cake?" he offered, "We have from my parents, and also from Jean-Loup," he gestured at each box. Choux let out an approving hoot at the latter.
" Et pour toi, une croûte de bacon? Tu préfères ça, non?" he asked the owl, who fluttered up to settle on his shoulder. They'd been getting pretty well acquainted since the start of term. Dorian grabbed a slice of streaky bacon from a nearby serving dish and cut the fat off, holding it up to Choux, who happily grabbed it.
13
Dorian Montoir
Let's bring more to the table
1401
0
5
Mary Brooding-Hawthorne
January 12, 2020 7:29 PM
I'm glad I'm not the only one. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne
Mary was tired because Tabitha was tired. Ailuros was probably the only one of them getting any decent sleep right now, and it didn't help to the time they were meant to be laying in bed was often broken up by either Mary or Tabitha remembering something they needed to check on, grade, or make note of, and flicking their wand light on to write something down before returning to bed. Mary had long since kept a notebook on her bedside table, but she was starting to think it would be better to let the ideas drift away than to keep getting up to write them down. She was training her brain that it was okay to keep thinking about everything and anything. And she was training Tabitha to think that that was normal. She didn't want Tabitha to be stressed or scared or sad and she couldn't exactly identify whatever it was that her wife was actually feeling.So coffee. It was a weekend, but that hadn't meant sleeping in for quite some time. This morning, Mary had awoken, kissed Tabitha on the forehead - at least the DADA professor was getting a few more minutes of rest - and made her way to her office, where she'd been brewing a potion for an upcoming lesson. She'd realized the night before that she needed to add a few more carapaces. She'd done that and then been caught in the stack of papers that needed grading, and the box of potions that needed testing, and the empty days on the calendar that needed feeling with curriculum plans. Before she knew it, it was no longer early morning, but she was far too tired for the rest of the day just the same.
So coffee.
As she made her way into Cascade Hall, Mary saw Dorian and Tatiana speaking happily to each other, and an array of items in front of the Dorian. It was his birthday, she knew, and she'd actually brought his gift with her just in case she ran into him over breakfast. It was well she had remembered it considering her hazy, foggy brain this meaning. The wooden box was only about a foot long, and half as much wide. The lid was carved with a cherry blossom sprig and slid into grooves in the sides of the box, keeping it securely in place. Inside, paper fibers were tucked into sections divided by removable and adjustable wooden pieces, and in each section, a small bottle of potion was tucked into the paper nesting. There were ten potions in all, of varying sizes, and a silk pouch with which to collect ingredients for further potions. Two empty vials rounded the whole thing off to twelve.
Mary's mind was not on the Pepperup Potion, Liquid Luck (with an attached scroll outlining when it was illegal to use the potion and how exactly Mary would know whether he'd cheated on his examinations), Draft of Peace, Hiccupping Potion, Skele-Gro, or any of the other potions in the box, nor was it on the coffee she'd been so desperate for a moment ago. There were two reasons for this:
Dorian was offering her cake. Uh, yes?
Dorian was talking about Jean-Loup in front of someone who was not her.
She was in the middle of forming a vehement agreement - because she always wanted cake and because sugar was as good a pick-me-up as coffee in most cases - when Dorian finished his comment and Mary flicked her eyes quickly between Dorian and Tatiana. She grinned, but said nothing on the matter. Dorian had mentioned that he'd been coming out to some of his friends, but actually seeing it in real life just made Mary's heart feel all warm and squishy. She couldn't help grinning in times like these! They could assume it was because she loved cake or they could assume it was because she was so proud of this little boy who had grown so much and was not a little boy at all and he was just so precious and so grown up and when did he grow up and he had such good friends and Tatiana was so brave and strong and lovely and kind and Dorian was so happy and ---
Even her train of thought ran out of breath. "I would love cake," she said, still grinning. "But only if you're sure you have enough. Birthday bo-- men, have total rights to eat as many cakes as they want!" Men. He was a young man. Gosh, just rip her heart out, Dorian.
She set Dorian's gift down beside him, near enough that he could see the small card with his name written on the outside, and accepted the cake she was offered. She wasn't entirely sure whether gifting one student something for their birthday in front of a student that she definitely didn't know well enough to get a gift for would be awkward, or whether Dorian would be embarrassed, or any other such thing. It was for that reason that her card outlined both how proud she was of him and how honored she was to have been part of his journey to adulthood, and also what the potions were; he could open it now or later or never.
"Have you had a good day so far?" she asked, looking also to Tatiana to include her in the question.
22
Mary Brooding-Hawthorne
I'm glad I'm not the only one.
1424
0
5
Tatiana Vorontsova
January 12, 2020 8:56 PM
It is a good day. by Tatiana Vorontsova
"It so," said Tatiana, mock-gravely, when Dorian said he would not be thirsty as an adult. "Is not good to have thirst."She glanced up when he waved someone over, expecting to see one of their friends, and her expression smoothed into neutrality at once when she realized he was instead waving to Professor Brooding. On one hand, Professor Brooding was his friend. On the other hand, Professor Brooding was an adult - a real adult, not an adult in the technical sense she and Dorian were adults now - and their teacher, which made it seem very odd to her that it was even possible for Dorian to be friends with Professor Brooding. Plus, it was a bit disconcerting, learning how very close he seemed to be with Professor Brooding, that he had told her his secrets before he had told Tatiana. She still wasn't entirely sure what to do with that information, and so nodded gravely when the professor joined them.
"Good morning Professor," she said, in her accented English, and was glad to be almost instantly distracted by the arrival of an owl.
Choux-Choux. At first, Tatiana thought he said Shoe-Shoe, and was confused why he was talking about footwear before she realized this must be the owl's name. Well, owls had odd names, plus he was possibly speaking French. Probably speaking French, actually, and just using a word which Tatiana didn't know. "Privet, sova," she said, nodding to the owl, too - hello owl.
Professor Brooding was offered cake, and accepted it. She put a present down on the table for Dorian, which caused Tatiana to nod yet again, this time with more approval than before. "I have a good day," she said, copying the teacher's grammar. "It is the birthday of Dorian. This is always...one good thing one day can be," she concluded.
16
Tatiana Vorontsova
It is a good day.
1396
0
5
Dorian Montoir
January 13, 2020 4:14 AM
It is! by Dorian Montoir
Dorian noticed the way Tatya stiffened slightly, becoming a more formal version of herself as Professor Brooding joined them. He supposed that was somewhat natural - he couldn’t imagine that he would have remained quite as casual and relaxed had it been any of their other teachers - heck, he tended to bring his smiles and his whole personality down a notch or two for many of their peers. Or had done. He was getting better at assuming that his unfiltered self was not a reason, in and of itself, for someone to want to punch him. He had sort of forgotten in the moment that Tatya had no reason to be casual or informal with their professor, but hoped he’d be forgiven - it was his birthday after all. She seemed relaxed enough to not mind making small talk, which was a good sign.“I have plenty,” he assured Professor Brooding regarding cake. It felt very strange to hear her call him a man, even if he was sure she must partially be joking. He did not feel much like an adult, and expected that to take a good few years to kick in. He wasn’t sure he particularly looked like one either, although he suspected he wasn’t going to get much more in the height department. He also still didn’t need to shave - he didn’t exactly want to have facial hair as he was quite sure he’d look sort of stupid with it, but it might have been nice to know that his body was adult enough and masculine enough to be capable of producing it. Apparently, currently, it was not. And so, being an ‘adult’ felt very much like an ‘on paper’ thing - legally, technically… Except he couldn’t exactly say he felt like a little kid any more either… He had a boyfriend. He was sort of on the edge - the edge of it all becoming real. The edge of whatever being grown up was going to look like...
“Thank you,” he smiled, as she placed a box bearing his name onto the table. “These arrived first, so I think I should do in order?” he suggested, gesturing to the things he had untied from Choux. That was one good, solid reason. Another was that he really wanted to see what was in them. He opened the envelope first, and tipped out three items. One flat envelope, which looked obviously card shaped, which he opened to reveal a card with a fancy black and white outline of a multi-tiered birthday cake. There were small bunnies woven into the design not quite subtly or artfully enough not to belie that they had been added later by hand. Inside, apart from all the traditional appellations and birthday greetings and love, was the message that it was very hard to find adult birthday cards with rabbits on. There were also two folded and sealed pieces of parchment. One labelled Si une boîte a été livrée, ouvrez ce the other Si vous êtes seul, ouvrez ce.
“If a box has been delivered, open this,” he translated, tucking the other parchment, which instructed him to open it if alone, into his pocket. He unfurled the letter.
“It is for us all,” he informed them. “Dear Dorian (and friends),” he began, slowly making his way down the page, parsing a sentence at a time and working out how to translate it. The spikes of the messy handwriting, though challenging to read, brought a fond smile to his face. “If you are reading this, you already have cakes from me (or you disobeyed instructions, but this seems unlikely). I am sure you are spending your birthday with some of the many people who think you are special. They have good taste, and are definitely correct. Sorry that this one is missing to you. I will like to be there… ‘in spirit’?” he questioned, giving the phrase quote marks to show he was translating literally. He was not sure the idea was expressed the same way in English and he did not want to give the impression that Jean-Loup was attempting to haunt his party, “I send one cake for you, and one each for the people who know me. Now that they know I exist, I am sure they want also to know that I treat you properly. You have good friends, who think you deserve the best things to happen to you. They are right. I am not sure that I am the best, but hopefully they can be… he can buy you by giving cake?” he suggested, struggling for the word ‘bribe’ in Englsih, “And I hope your birthday is perfect.”
Whilst the line about bribing them with cake had drawn a slight laugh from him, there was a different shake to his voice by the time he finished, and his eyes were slightly damp.
“He sends presents too,” he added enthusiastically trying to distract himself and everybody else from the fact that he was almost crying. They were labelled 1er and 2eme, so he followed this instruction. The first was a very good quality bottle of maple syrup, which Dorian wasted no time in dripping on the leftover bacon on his plate and consuming. The second opened to reveal a silver bookmark with small moving clock faces at the top. Inscribed down its length was ‘Le temps passe plus vite avec un bon livre. Time goes faster with a good book. A small note folded inside instructed Dorian to turn the hands on the biggest clock face to 6.07 (and, P.S. work out why). He spun them round to the instructed time (still puzzling out why that number in particular) and the message in the middle faded, the perfect swirling calligraphy of the engraved font being replaced by Jean-Loup’s writing ’J'ai hâte de te revoir’ I can’t wait to see you.
“I’m not crying,” he promised, whilst wiping his eyes. Choux did not speak much English though, and was therefore more reliant on reading body language. She gave a concerned hoot and nuzzled in. Dorian nuzzled back.
13
Dorian Montoir
It is!
1401
0
5
Mary Brooding-Hawthorne
January 13, 2020 2:09 PM
One of the best days. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne
Mary smiled warmly at Tatiana and surprised a pang of guilt over not having gotten to know her, or any of her other students, as well as she knew Dorian. She knew she couldn't force such relationships on her students, and she knew that not all of them would have wanted to be as close to her as Dorian was, but it was still a little sad. Sonora was full of legitimately cool people who, by accident of fate and birth years, Mary would probably never get to be friends with. She was happy that Dorian had a friend like Tatiana though, and of course she was glad for anybody who got to have a friend like Dorian."Indeed," Mary agreed wholeheartedly on the goodness of Dorian's birthday. "It is a very good one."
She wasn't exactly sure how long she should linger, but having a slice of cake was a good finite action, so she figured she'd just leave after that and let Dorian enjoy his birthday with his peers. But then he said he'd open the other gifts first - which was just as well - and Mary wondered if that meant she should linger a little longer. These were the sorts of odd dynamics she had been glad to leave in her school days, and now she only needed to worry about them in terms of appropriateness and making other people comfortable. It was nice not to have to worry about what people thought of her so much, although she doubted that urge would ever fully go away. Luckily, the cake was delicious and Jean-Loup's letters and gifts were very sweet, which gave Mary something to focus on.
She nodded, understanding Dorian's impromptu translation, and regretting again that she had not yet learned other languages. She'd need to get on that as soon as possible. The whole thing was a roller coaster for Dorian, and thus for Mary, and she tried not to look so affected. The last thing any teenager would want on his day of manhood (hyperbolically speaking of course) was an older woman cooing over him with any semblance of maternal affection. Instead, she settled on pressing her lips together in a warm smile, her eyes shining, as she finished her cake and set down the plate.
"Sounds like he knows you very well. You can tell him that his bribe worked," she added, supplying the word and accepting the conditions. "That was delicious cake, and you seem happy; that's what counts."
22
Mary Brooding-Hawthorne
One of the best days.
1424
0
5
Tatiana Vorontsova
January 13, 2020 7:54 PM
I agree. by Tatiana Vorontsova
Tatiana chuckled when she heard that the maple cake was intended to be shared with her, and that this was The Boyfriend's attempt to buy them all. "Smart," she said. "Good...price?" She couldn't quite articulate the thought as well as she would have liked in English, but that was the common language of the conversation, so she felt compelled to stick to English out of courtesy toward Professor Brooding. She had learned from her parents that Professor Brooding had greeted them in Russian when they had visited the school, but Tatiana had concluded afterward that the professor did not actually speak Russian to any degree. She did appreciate the courtesy shown to her family, though, and relaxed a bit further, her expression softening toward the Professor.She nodded approvingly at the maple syrup and then the bookmark, at least until she saw Dorian's expression. He said he wasn't crying, but was wiping his eyes...and snuggling with Shoe-Shoe. Tatiana reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze.
"Ne plach'," she said - don't cry. It was an echo of what she had said when he had broken down while telling her about the situation, but this time was said with far less urgency, affectionately. "Is den' rozhdeniya." She glanced at Professor Brooding, remembered that she had tried to speak Russian, and came to a decision. "I sorry," she added to the woman. "I say - no cry. Is his birth-day," she translated. "I teach Dorya to say Russkii, he teach me things." She looked back to her friend. "It is very beautiful present," she added warmly. She couldn't quite read French fast enough to sort it out, especially given handwritings and fonts, but she would ask about that later, as her curiosity was not quite the thing and Professor Brooding looked enough like a mama to remind her to behave herself at such close proximity.
16
Tatiana Vorontsova
I agree.
1396
0
5
Dorian Montoir
January 14, 2020 2:14 AM
How many owls does it take to unmake a party? by Dorian Montoir
Bribe. Dorian filed the unfamiliar word, appreciative of Professor Brooding's ability to supply him with it so casually. He was not sure he would have much use for this, but learning new words was always a good thing. They both also seemed to approve of the cake and its sender, which made him feel happy. He could imagine putting them all in a room together and it going okay, in exactly the way he couldn't with his Montoir family."Ya ne. Ya v poryadke," he assured Tatya, before she started translating and he remembered that they were supposed to stick to English. Even though they were at an English-speaking school, it sometimes slipped his mind not to switch, especially when Tatya was nearby. "And I say I am fine," he supplied, though he suspected the remark was evident from context.
"So, next may I...?" he began, looking to Professor Brooding's present, unsure if it was for now or for later. But before they could discuss that much, a new owl joined the festivities. One he was less than thrilled to see. Chasseur hooted loudly and pointedly, fussing about the parcel tied to his feet.
"One moment," Dorian told his human company. He flicked Chasseur an owl treat first to keep his beak busy and then turned his attention to the parcel tied to the owl's feet. On his shoulder, he could feel Choux rustling her feathers and clicking her beak in pre-emptive annoyance. He drew his wand, casting a releasing charm at the tight knot of string but it didn't budge. He doubted it was weak charm work on his part and suspected spell-proof string. This was confirmed when a very close range and careful severing charm yielded no results. Suppressing a sigh, he reached in, working the knot by hand but withdrawing sharply as Chasseur finished his owl treat and took a nip at Dorian's fingers. From his shoulder, Choux let out an indignant screech. Much like his owner, it was hard to tell whether Chasseur was really going to strike or whether he just enjoyed seeing him flinch. He also liked baiting Dorian into playing the game. If he tried ignoring the delivery, which was undoubtedly not worth the stress, Chasseur would just, as his name suggested, pursue him until he tried again. Dorian chucked the owl another treat but the creature let it fall to the table, eyeing up Dorian's fingers. Dorian tentaively reached for the string again, wondering if it was unethical to stun an owl if it was being such a- He cut that thought off, as there were ladies present. Chasseur waited, eyeing his fingers but not yet snapping, clearly enjoying teasing him. On his shoulder, Choux had gone still and quiet, though Dorian could feel that she had tensed. Chasseur took another swipe but, whilst he was preoccupied with doing so, Choux launched, talons out grabbing him around the body, pressing the nearest wing to her against his side and bowling him over so that the other one was pressed against the table.
"Protego!" Dorian cast, aiming at broadly everything that wasn't a struggling a owl, though thankfully both his cakes and his presents were on the opposite side to where they had landed, though he motioned Tatya to scoop the teacup to a place of safety, just in case. A milk jug had already been overturned in the initial strike, and there had been the clang of cutlery falling to the floor. There was not, however, much of a stuggle going on. Chasseur twisted, trying to snap at Choux, and attempted to flap his wings to shake her off - Choux spread her own, flapping to help drive her weight down as well intimidate him - but she had timed her strike well, and the other owl could do little about it.
"Choux, pas de violence, s'il te plaît. Ne te baisse pas à son niveau," Dorian cautioned, even though Choux seemed, much like her owner, to prefer the defence to the offence. She rotated her head steadily to look at him, blinking sedately and showing that she was a calm and composed post owl, and was not, as Dorian had said, going to sink to Chasseur's level. Although she gave the other bird a firm squeeze, and turned back to him clicking angrily to convey that there was a definite clause of unless you make me attached to that.
With Chasseur thus subdued, Dorian managed to work free the knots. And then faced the predicament of where they went from there. Choux seemed to be looking to him for confirmation. Casting a pre-emptive protection spell across the nearest items, he nodded to Choux. She released her grip on Chasseur, keeping her wings spread and talons out. He snipped at her but seemed to decide the two of then were not worth the effort and swooped away, cutting in as close to Dorian as he could manage, and 'accidentally' brushing a wing across his face, causing Choux to hop, shriek and send a couple more forks clattering to the floor.
"Ey, ey, c'est d'accord," he reassured the owl, holding out his arm for her, which she jumped onto, hooting and inspecting him anxiously. "Je vais bien," he promised, stroking her feathers, as she rubbed her head against his chest "Et il est parti. Calme-toi." His brain turned over the issues as he stroked the owl. It was rude to speak a language that not everyone in the conversation spoke. But no one seemed to mind him chattering away to the owls in French. And his mother was going to be very, very disappointed in him for this behaviour, but it was necessary. "Et sourette," he said, as clearly as he could, whilst keeping his eyes and his tone directed to the owl, "Laoshi ne sait pas de mon frère. Ne dis rien," substituting out the French word for the Chinese where he thought it would give him away.
"Okay...?" he checked, looking up at both people. And it was an English word that covered a multitude of scenarios... Is everyone okay? and Shall we move on? And, as his eyes moved between them, and met Tatya's, he was also checking for Message receieved and understood?
13
Dorian Montoir
How many owls does it take to unmake a party?
1401
0
5
Mary Brooding-Hawthorne
January 18, 2020 6:02 PM
No one can unmake this party. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne
Mary did not ask, and did not raise an eyebrow, and did not search Dorian's and Tatiana's faces for information, and did not demand to know what was going on. She also didn't hex the owl's beak off, which might've taken more self-control than any of the aforementioned tasks. The owl's behavior was unusual, which made Mary think that something was wrong. At the same time, there wasn't much to give her an idea of what that something wrong might be. Dorian was speaking to the owl for a lot longer than he'd done previously, but that wasn't necessarily that unusual. Even if it were, without any cause to think he was directly under threat of harm, Mary had no business pursuing that topic anyway.However close of friends they might have been, they were also, first and foremostly, student and teacher. That was a distance that hurt more than it maybe should've and Mary made a firm mental note to begin letting go of the young man who had meant so much to her. That wasn't to say she'd ever let all the way go unless he wanted her to, and certainly she'd be happy to continue a relationship after his graduation, but her job was to teach him and love him until he grew up with all the skills to do so for himself. That was her primary reason for existing - other than to remind Tabitha how beautiful she was everyday - and it was a task she was committed wholeheartedly to.
Mary had stepped forward during the confrontation with the stupid little birdbrain, but she returned to a more relaxed posture once things were settled and by the time Dorian asked whether everyone was okay, she was ready to answer resolutely that it was. "Professor Hawthorne would have been pleased with that Shield Charm," she added, smiling. Her eyes shone with amusement at all the things she wouldn't say out loud about that. "And yes, you may," she said, gesturing back to the present he'd left when more urgent things arose.
22
Mary Brooding-Hawthorne
No one can unmake this party.
1424
0
5
Tatiana Vorontsova
January 18, 2020 6:36 PM
The show must go on. by Tatiana Vorontsova
Something is wrong.Tatiana was not an expert on owl behavior by any means, but she felt she was well enough informed on the topic to tell that something was wrong, just looking between Shoe-Shoe and the new owl, whose package seemed unnaturally resistant to being removed from its carrier. Then the owl tried to snap at Dorian, and Tatiana nearly echoed Shoe-Shoe's screech, glaring at the strange owl and reached toward her wand, just before everything seemed to explode.
Shoe-Shoe launched at the other owl, pinning it, while Dorian pulled his wand and cast a shied charm. Tatiana's hands fluttered pointlessly as he gestured for her to do something until she realized he meant his new cup, and she swept it away to safety, though the worst of the drama seemed to be winding down. Shoe-Shoe was apparently the superior fighter compared to...whoever, and Dorian began speaking French to Shoe-Shoe, most of which Tatiana understood - though it came as a surprise when she suddenly heard Dorian's pet name for her in the flow of language addressed to the owl. Surely, snuggly and good owl though Shoe-Shoe seemed to be, he was not also calling Shoe-Shoe 'la soeurette'? And then he continued, and there were words in Chinese...
"Okay," said Tatiana in English, echoing him. "Et je vois," she added, going with the least English-sounding way to say that which she could think of to express the concept. She also looked at the owl. "Et merci beaucoup, Shoe-Shoe," she said. "Tu es bon - sova," she said, not sure she knew the word for 'owl' in French, at least not while she was rattled after all that had just happened.
Professor Brooding gave Dorian permission to proceed with the present she had given him, and Tatiana suppressed the desire to lose her temper and possibly blast the package from Matthieu into a thousand tiny pieces. It was very unlikely to contain anything Dorya would want, after all, and might even be something that might harm him. Instead, though, she tried to remember spells from Defense Against the Dark Arts for checking the parcel for hexes or curses, with the aim of checking for that later if Dorian chose not to bother further with the parcel at the table, and looked on as he unwrapped whatever it was Professor Brooding had bought him.
16
Tatiana Vorontsova
The show must go on.
1396
0
5