One foot in front of the other (tag Tatya and Professor Brooding) on Potions

Dorian Montoir

February 27, 2020 6:49 AM

One foot in front of the other (tag Tatya and Professor Brooding) by Dorian Montoir

Professor Xavier did not have some secret life-fixing spell, nor – Dorian suspected – was he willing to make absolute decisions on Dorian’s part. Which meant that his life was not fixed, and nor did he have a solid plan of how to get it there. But he had one or two days mapped out, and the future use of the Floo up his sleeve should he need it. It had helped. And he hadn’t expected a magic solution. He hadn’t even been sure anything could get better right now. He was still sad, and a lot of things still felt incredibly broken, but he had added Professor Xavier to the list of very special people in the world, and that was one relationship that was whole and steady and where he knew where he stood, and that was something.

It was now time to test that with other people. He had spent a large part of yesterday evening in Professor Xavier’s office. Choux had shown up not much longer after he had, practically breaking the window with her beak, and nuzzling up to him the second she was let in. The letter she carried didn’t suggest any trouble for Jean-Loup so far, though it didn’t objectively rule it out. It had mostly been made up of desperately trying to establish how Dorian was, and apologising for all the wrong things. Pondering what or how to even reply had taken a lot of time and energy, and he suspected the feast was half way done by the time he retired to his room. He let Choux go, with a note that simply reported the facts – that Mama knew, that Émilie knew, that he hoped Jean-Loup had had no trouble as a result… And that he was back at school, and he did not know how to feel about anything. He had tried versions that had said more. He had tried versions that said less. He had tried versions that apologised for how they were unsatisfactory in their degree of responsiveness. There had been a hint of that, but on the whole… just the facts.

He’d lain back on the bed after dispatching the owl, planning to just compose himself. It had been exhausting, mentally and physically, crying himself out earlier in the day, and working out the letter had sapped what remained. It felt like drawing a firm line under the day, letting it go, and even though nothing felt any more resolved, and even though he was already anxious about the reply, he found he couldn’t stir himself to have many more thoughts. And so, a rest… Just a moment’s rest…

He had awoken the next morning, covered with a blanket. There was a cup of tea on his bedside table, kept hot with a shielding charm, and next to it an apple. He wasn’t sure whether he had the elves (and if so, whether or not under the direction of Professor Xavier) or Vlad to thank. But, as his roommate was out, he couldn’t resolve that for now. He had stirred a couple of times in the night, he had had some vivid dreams, but none of them enough to make him fully come to and get properly into bed. He hoped he had not disturbed Vlad too much, on top of whatever other thoughts he’d put into his head by being such a mess as to haven asleep still fully dressed. He should have been more embarrassed by that than he was. He wondered whether it was a lack of space for new emotions, or that it just seemed… silly. Yes, it was new territory to be caught sleeping in his clothes but… they had lived together for five and a half years, and Vlad had been woken by Dorian’s nightmares, seen him in pyjamas, heard him throw up… There didn’t feel like there were a lot of lines left to cross, or like it was a big deal any more when he accidentally added a new item to the list.
Besides, Vlad might have been expecting a mess. If he’d asked. That had been one of the preparations he had made with Professor Xavier – they had agreed what he would say if asked where Dorian was (in Teppenpaw, and as to why, he could play the confidentiality card, and assure them that they could ask Dorian themselves when they saw him – which they would do in class the next day. This struck the appropriate tone between not pretending everything was fine and giving them some kind of false expectation, but also hopefully, minimising their worry – they would see him in class – and at least not making it complicated or awkward for Professor Xavier). They’d also worked out what he wanted him to say to the rest of the staff (not a lot – that things were difficult for him right now, even though he supposed that would be obvious enough, but that they were being dealt with). By this, he hoped that the teachers would not draw attention to it if he was crying quietly in the back of class or if he excused himself for a few minutes. Those notes would have landed in front of them this morning.

Dorian had showered, dressed in fresh clothes, and cut a slice from the apple, reasoning he should try to have something. It had been surprisingly possible to eat, and he had finished that, and the tea, and found the disappointing reflection staring back as he went to brush his teeth. He didn’t know what was missing, but he felt like he still resembled a poor impression of himself instead of the real thing. There was no way they weren’t going to ask…

He felt the apple twisting about in his stomach as he made his way to Potions. It was time to find out how well his excuses had done their job last night. And whether Professor Brooding felt betrayed by receiving a note from another teacher informing her how to look after Dorian. And whether everyone was going to end up mad- but not for a whole two hours. There was two hours of class to get through first. He knew he would not be able to avoid Tatya and Professor Brooding’s questions after class was over, and he didn’t entirely want to. They were going to have to know. But he wanted it to be after, and in privacy, rather than during.

He considered not even sitting with his friend, wondering if it would be easier to just shut down in a way that he suspected one of his less familiar classmates might be more willing to allow, or at least not pass off as strange. But his mind was already rehearsing the things he’d have to say later, and that made him have to pull over on his way to class, to blink and to breathe very firmly, and he knew he needed someone who had his back. He doubted he would have much of a choice anyway, and he wasn’t really sure whether it was Tatya coming to him, or his hand on her wrist steering them both, but they were soon seated together in the back row, Dorian nearest the door.

“Don’t,” he managed to shake his head slightly at Tatya. “Not now. Later.” He kept his eyes on his desk, not daring to meet Professor Brooding’s and see her seeing that he was not okay, and waited for class to begin.

13 Dorian Montoir One foot in front of the other (tag Tatya and Professor Brooding) 1401 1 5

Tatiana Vorontsova

March 02, 2020 12:52 PM

Chto? by Tatiana Vorontsova

Tatiana had returned to Sonora in a good mood, for the most part. Since Anya was very, very pregnant and could not travel, the family had gone to Russia to be with her instead. Tatiana had missed getting to spend much time in her own little home, but she had not minded the travel; it meant Tatiana had gotten to see a whole new place and meet whole new people, all in a place so far south of where Tatiana had ever spent a natural winter that it had seemed like another world. Her grandmother had also come up from St. Petersburg and taken Tatiana west, to the city where her mother had grown up, to buy perfume, and she had seen at once that one could likely live more in a week in St. Petersburg than in months in Volshebnaya Derevnya or in Taurida Oblast.

She had not, however, had liberty to stay for a week, but even two days had been an almighty whirl concluding in the purchase of a small cut-glass bottle with the discreet label L’Eau de Camélia. The scent was not really all that tea-like – she suspected it was supposed to evoke the flowers that grew on camellias, though there was definitely some jasmine in it – but it had amused her, thinking of telling Dorian that her grandmother had spent that much gold on a bottle of tea water. She had carefully prepared the joke in multiple languages, planning to tell him when they caught up before the Returning Feast.

But Dorian had never appeared.

Tatiana had looked for him in many of their usual haunts, and then in places that were not their usual haunts, but she had not found him anywhere. She had not become really worried, though, until she had gotten to the Feast and still seen no evidence that he had even returned to Sonora.

That, she had told herself, was silly. There was no reason why he should not do, and every reason why he should. Perhaps, she thought, he had just felt ill on the wagon. That could happen to some people. Or perhaps he had been affected by the time difference, and had gone to lie down and had slept through supper. That could also happen. He would, she had assured herself, be at breakfast.

He had not been at breakfast.

Tatiana was tight-lipped with anxiety, clutching her books to her chest, as she walked toward her first period Potions class, wondering if she ought to skip it to go find someone who could give her some answers. She was sure that if any of their friends knew, though, that they would have already told her, so what use was that?

It was only a few steps away from the room that a thought occurred to her – that adults sometimes had useful information, and that the one most likely to have some about Dorian was also the one in charge of the place where Tatiana was supposed to go. This thought did not, however, speed up her steps. Instead, it froze her for a moment, wondering if knowing could possibly be worse than not. Assertiveness, however, was in her nature, and so she had marched into the room ready to demand answers – only to find Dorian grabbing her wrist.

“Chto?” she asked blankly, confused: what?

When he reached where he wanted them to go, the things he said did not make things any clearer. Tatiana stared at him, bewildered and also not feeling any better than she had at first. “Chto?” she repeated, more softly. What in the world was going on?

16 Tatiana Vorontsova Chto? 1396 0 5

Dorian Montoir

March 02, 2020 7:12 PM

Pas maintenant by Dorian Montoir

Tatya seemed mostly… Confused. She was asking ‘what?’ but less ‘What’s wrong?’ and more ‘What’s going on?’ Had it been egotistical of him, he wondered, to assume that his absence had been noted and worried about? That everyone would have sat thinking about him and concluding that something might be wrong? Tatya certainly didn’t seem to understand what she shouldn’t be talking about.

But it was going to serve as a good ground rule. He was not sure he could maintain normality for two hours. Perhaps Tatya would have been the last to see it, had he not pointed it out. She wasn’t always the most observant. But he knew he was going to falter so badly that even she would notice. It was a good thing to establish, therefore. Even if she was confused, even if she didn’t know she’d need it yet.

“We’re in class,” he pointed out, knowing he was probably furthering her confusion because that was such a statement of the obvious. “While we’re in class, I just want to talk about class things. Other things… we can talk later,” he explained in an undertone. He couldn’t meet Tatya’s eyes as he said it. He couldn’t look at her and find that she understood, or she didn’t. He just led by example, gluing his eyes firmly to the board several inches to side of Professor Brooding’s head. And Tatya would have a chance, if she was studying him, to find the subtext to his remarks, because even coming this close, referencing the pain that was going to have to be dealt with later, was enough that there were tears swimming in the bottoms of his eyes.

He knew she would want to comfort him. And he wanted to be able to let her, but not out loud. Not attracting everyone’s attention. He reached for her hand under the desk. They were in the back row anyway, so it wasn’t like anyone would see and make assumptions or call him out to Professor Brooding, force him to vigorously defend himself against allegations of heterosexuality. He considered whether it would matter anymore – whether he’d just scream the truth across the room, because what else did he have to lose? He rested his spare hand against his cheek, his cuff pulled up around his fingers, so that the tear that had made a bid for freedom could quickly be absorbed before anyone could see it and count it as crying, and blinked the rest of them back into submission.

13 Dorian Montoir Pas maintenant 1401 0 5

Tatiana Vorontsova

March 03, 2020 5:21 PM

no ya ne ponimayu chto ne tak. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Dorian spoke...and did not help Tatiana figure out what was going on in the slightest. He did, however, make her even more alarmed.

There were reasonable enough reasons why he might have missed the Feast. There were reasonable reasons why he might have missed breakfast. There were...fewer reasons to miss both, but she was sure some existed, and while she had thought to scold him a bit for hiding until class time when she had not seen him for two weeks, she had mostly just been relieved to find him at all, until he had startled her. She thought she could have recovered from being startled, though, had he not cut her off first and made her move into being outright afraid.

It was...well, she didn't think that Dorian would normally lie to her, but if he said everything was fine now, she was not going to believe him, because he was not acting like Dorya at all. He was all wrong. He was not supposed to act like this, but here he was, acting like this. Either he was ill or something very bad had happened or both, and either way, she was quite confident that she was not going to like it one bit, and had to make an effort to push aside the thought that she might not be able to help too many bits when she figured out what was going on.

She squeezed his hand, perhaps a bit too hard, when he reached for hers. "Mais, Dorya..." she whispered. "Je suis...maintenant, j'ai peur. Chto ne tak? Pour...Pourquoi tu comme ça adjourd'hui?" But Dorya - I am...now I am afraid. What's wrong? Why you like this today?

OOC: Title translates to "but I don't understand what's wrong."

16 Tatiana Vorontsova no ya ne ponimayu chto ne tak. 1396 0 5

Dorian Montoir

March 03, 2020 8:08 PM

Everything. by Dorian Montoir

Crack.

Now Tatya was frightened. That was another bad thing that was happening. Another negative emotion out there in the world because of this. And Dorian wondered… was he right to drag her into this? He knew, deep down, that his friends did want to know the bad things, so that they could support him, but the bad things were going to upset them too. Should he have just plastered a fake smile on until the end of class? It might have been enough to fool Tatya. But he didn’t like to lie. So, instead, he had made her frightened.

Fear was familiar to him, right now. He was afraid his mother was never going to understand him. He was afraid he had put his faith and his love in the wrong person. He was not sure when he would get the answers to those things, and it was the not knowing that made it all the worse. He supposed, in that sense, it was easier for Tatya. She would only need to be afraid for a short while. She was afraid that something was wrong, and she could have her answer soon. It was. But then… then what would it be? Fear of what he meant by that. There was no way to answer briefly, which was why he didn’t want to answer at all. And once he’d assuaged all her fears, what was going to follow? Anger? Anger at Matthieu, which didn’t matter, but also anger at Mama and Jean-Loup? Crack, crack, crack…
“Class starts,” he pointed out. He squeezed her hand back firmly, trying to convey some sort of comfort before disengaging so they could both take notes if they needed to. Half of his brain was spinning over how he could give Tatya a succinct enough version to stop her questioning him. The other half was concentrating so hard that he wasn’t even listening. They were making Elixir to Induce Euphoria. He caught that much. It was painfully ironic enough to hit him like a sack of bricks. At least it wasn’t love potions. But Professor Brooding’s tips on how to manage the ingredients or the brewing process went over his head.

The lecture concluded, and he felt slightly cornered, almost certain there was no way they weren’t talking about this.

“Everyone knows everything,” he said quietly, forcing himself to keep his voice steady so that the pitch and the volume didn’t slip up and surprise him. “At home,” he clarified. “And-“ he paused. He had been going to say it was bad, or something to that effect, but he wasn’t sure he could hold his composure if he did. Tatya was just going to have to make that much inference for herself. “And we have class,” he gestured at the blackboard, “We are doing this,” he stated desperately. And it wasn’t like he cared about the Potion, he just needed to get through the remaining one hour fifty five minutes, and he realised Tatya might not, even after all this time, be realising the problem. “There are other people here,” he pointed out, gesturing at their classmates, and finally looking her in the eye, staring with all the intensity that the point made him feel. “Please. Can we just-“ he gestured at the books and the potions supplies.

13 Dorian Montoir Everything. 1401 0 5

Tatiana Vorontsova

March 07, 2020 7:28 PM

O nyet. by Tatiana Vorontsova

”Class starts.”

If they had even been in the corridor, Tatiana would have expressed her opinion on the importance of this in Russian, then translated the polite bits as she dragged Dorian away to sit down and tell her what was wrong and why he had been invisible and what she could do to make things better. Perhaps if they had been closer to the door, she would have dragged him out of the room as well, without regard for whichever teacher was in front of the room or what that teacher was about to do. From where they were, though…

She squeezed his hand back and tried to concentrate on the lecture. She needed to pay attention in class, she knew. She needed every possible scrap of information in every possible format possible if she was going to somehow survive her RATS. However, when the professor stopped talking, Tatiana noticed that she had not taken a single note in any language. She did not care, though. If she failed a test, she failed a test. She needed to know what was going on.

”Everyone knows everything.”

Tatiana blinked. Everyone knew…everything? At home. Everything…

Oh.

Oh no.

This was not good.

She could not, of course, prove this. Everyone knowing everything might not be so bad. Given how anxious Dorian had been about the possibility, though, and the way he was acting today – hiding, seeming stressed, avoiding questions…all that indicated that the fact everyone at home knew everything was not good at all.

People were here, though. People who did not know everything and did not need to. Public versus private. In private, Tatiana could take her hair down and really talk. In public, though, there were rules to follow. She nodded slowly.

“Yes. We do – this.” She glanced at her nearly empty note page and at the things around them. “For now," she added.

16 Tatiana Vorontsova O nyet. 1396 0 5

Dorian Montoir

March 07, 2020 8:05 PM

Facing the Inquiries by Dorian Montoir

Tatya agreed, and Dorian let out a breath he’d been holding, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the immediate threat of being pushed into an uncomfortable situation was removed. He nodded, both silent appreciation, but also acknowledgement that it was ‘for now’ only, and pulled his textbook towards him.

They survived the lesson. Dorian would not say the rather orangey and thin substance swimming in their cauldron at the end of the lesson was ‘good’ but he had done nothing to draw everyone’s attention - be it burst into tears or accidentally fill the room with smoke due to lax concentration - nor make Tatya break her promise of not asking. There had been a couple of touch and go moments. Like when they’d just had to let it brew, and needed to fill the silence. Like when he’d been asking Tatya to pass him the buttercup roots, and his voice had shaken as if this was the most heartbreaking thing in the world.

As class drew to a close, he realised another danger. The thought of staying in his seat whilst everyone filed out looking at him. It wasn’t unusual, of course, for him to stay and talk to Professor Brooding, but he didn’t think he could withstand that evaluation - not today, not when there was, potentially, something to see.

“I will tidy,” he muttered, grabbing a couple of random ingredients from the table, and then remembering that it worked better when he didn’t leave Tatya to work out subtext, he added, “I don’t want them all staring as they walk out.” Because the last thing he needed was her ‘helpfully’ calling out that the ingredients he’d just scooped off their desk hadn’t even come from the potions cupboard in the first place. He made his way to the back wall, opening the doors and- and was of course faced with a wall of Chinese. It was immediately identifiable as Professor Brooding’s child-like and unbalanced attempts. It generally reminded him more of her kindness than of home, because the writing was so unique to her. But still, right now, it was enough to hurt.

He rummaged pointlessly amongst the bottles, grateful for the heavy wooden door that stood open, making a shield between him and the rest of the world, as silence fell in the room. The shuffling of feet finished. He heard the classroom door click closed. He stopped pretending to do anything with the ingredients. He stopped breathing too. He knew that if he turned around, he was going to find them both, worried and waiting. And he felt frozen, and almost wanted to just stay staring at the shelf in front of him because… because that was what he was doing right now. And he wasn’t crying. And he knew that when he turned and started having to face them and talk, that was going to shatter.

With a huge force of will, he pulled his body around, so he was facing the room again. He didn’t lean heavily against the door of the cabinet, because he wasn’t sure it would withstand it, but he could feel it, lightly touching his back and that was reassuring. There was something solid.

“Everyone knows…” he managed again, to try to bring Professor Brooding up to speed with where Tatya was. She, of course, had been informed by a note that he could not be expected to be his usual self. He wondered what scenarios had run through her mind at that, and whether he was about to confirm her worst fears, or even hit lower than she was expecting… He crossed his arms over his chest, and pressed his lips together, examining the ceiling instead of their faces as he tried to keep his tears back, unsure where to go from there.

13 Dorian Montoir Facing the Inquiries 1401 0 5

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

March 08, 2020 12:54 PM

Who do I need to hex? by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Dorian wasn't okay.

Dorian wasn't at the feast, or at breakfast, and a note from Professor Xavier meant that Dorian was very not okay. It wasn't the first time the return to Sonora was marked with a bad experience over the break, but it was the first time that Dorian hadn't been the one to tell her about it himself. Whether that meant Dorian physically couldn't tell her, or emotionally couldn't handle it, Mary was just glad that Professor Xavier was there for him.

Dorian wasn't okay. But he was in class, and he was with Tatiana, which was good. Mary had a class to teach and she'd never felt so grateful to a teenager before as she did when she saw Tatiana working quietly with Dorian. His eyes were impossibly dark. But Mary had a class to teach, and it was in the best interest of all her students that she do so well. If she hadn't already learned how to put her personal concerns aside for the sake of her students, she might not have been able to do so today. Of course, it didn't help that Dorian was one of the students about whom she was concerned.

Finally, the period was up and the students left. Except Dorian and Tatiana. That was reassuring inasmuch as it at least seemed that Dorian was wanting to talk. At least, the fact that he was cleaning up ingredients that did not belong in the ingredients cupboard and then making his way to the cupboard seemed to suggest that. The classroom door closed and Dorian turned around a moment later.

He looked worse than Mary had ever seen him, she thought. She surprised herself with the intensity of a fierce, burning anger that erupted in her stomach. She made a conscious choice to fold her hands, wanting to avoid the instinct to grab her wand and Apparate to wherever Dorian said she should.

Everyone knows.

Mary was Dorian's age when her family died, and they hadn't known, but they had met her first girlfriend. She was a friend from town, not from Sonora, and they all loved her. They'd talked about whether to tell Mary's family and decided they would wait another year. But then, of course, that year meant Mary would never get to tell them. But if she had, would she have looked the way Dorian looked now? He hadn't said he'd told anyone though, just that they knew. Did that mean . . ? Oh no.

She moved slowly, not wanting to spark any reaction in either Dorian or Tatiana, and reached for her wand now, waving it at a chair to pull it up near enough to Dorian that he could choose to sit if he wanted. She thought to summon tea, but suspected that Dorian wouldn't be able to stomach it. Any number of helpful potions came to mind, but that didn't seem like a good first choice, either, and Jean-Loup was interested in medicine, right? It didn't sound like Dorian wanted to be reminded of his boyfriend right now. Or was that part of the problem?

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mary asked him, speaking quietly. She took her cue from his expression and made a point of looking down at student desks and tidying them up - really just fluttering around uselessly since her students knew they needed to clean up after themselves - and otherwise avoiding Dorian's face. She wanted to search it for information but that wasn't going to be helpful. She did, however, look up at Tatiana. She wanted to get the offer out for them both, even if she doubted Dorian would take her up on it. Perhaps if she offered it to his friend and she accepted, then he'd be more comfortable. "If you'd like to have a seat, or something to eat, just let me know," she said to Tatiana. "I can summon something."

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne Who do I need to hex? 1424 0 5

Tatiana Vorontsova

March 10, 2020 6:59 AM

I think we're past the mere hexing stage now. by Tatiana Vorontsova

"Eh?"

It was all Tatiana could think to say at first when Professor Brooding looked at her and said something. The words translated - seat, eat; they were very close together, but they were common enough words that she understood them about as readily as their Russian equivalents and was not confused on that level - but she didn't know why the professor said them. Why was she asking Tatiana about sitting down and eating foods? Did she not realize they had a much more serious problem on hand?

"I not need help," she said, more openly impatiently than she normally would with a teacher. "I want stul, I get." She was, after all, quite capable of working a summoning charm herself, not to mention walking over to any of the numerous seats in the room...

She put the matter aside. She had never quite understood what it was with Dorian and Professor Brooding, but she had gathered it was probably because Dorian had such a small family. At home, Tatiana and her brothers and sisters were encouraged to rely on each other, or else on their nurse; it would have been improper to talk to Anton Petrovich about something like this, a waste of the time he was being paid to use teaching them, and of course they could speak to Mama or Papa with a real concern, or if Mama and Papa had one about them (Tatiana had a whole collection of notes and letters from Mama, stretching back for years before she had ever come to Sonora, reminding her to be ladylike and about the beauty of self-control), but with six of them, it was not really practical to rely too much on any one adult. Papa and Mama had many other responsibilities, and Nadezhda had enough on her hands just taking care of them, especially when they all got sick at once, as had often happened when they were younger, but perhaps if there had only been three of them, then....

Well, she didn't understand it, and at the moment, that didn't matter. Slowly, almost cautiously, she walked over to Dorian and laid a beringed hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," she said, as gently as she knew how. "Hey. Dorya. Eto sourette. Parles avec menya, pozhaluista," she pleaded. "What happened?"

OOC: Tatiana's French-Russian hybrid sentences are intended to convey the meaning 'it is sourette. You talk with me, please."

16 Tatiana Vorontsova I think we're past the mere hexing stage now. 1396 0 5

Dorian Montoir

March 10, 2020 10:18 PM

No, no, no by Dorian Montoir

Dorian took the chair Professor Brooding summoned for him, sliding into it both gratefully and obediently. He watched as she busied herself around the classroom. She had asked if he wanted to talk, so he knew, really, that she wasn’t ignoring him. That she was giving him space. Maybe? And then she tried to be polite to Tatya, and Tatya snapped at her, and he drew his knees up, looking anxiously between them. Was there more to Professor Brooding’s paper gathering than giving him space? Did she and Tatya not want to sit down to talk together? Had there been some sort of disagreement already between them when he hadn’t arrived at the feast? Tatya could be impatient, but she normally wasn’t so much with teachers - with English, with homework, with textbooks, she vented her frustrations on these objects, the bastions of the confusing English language. She was supposed to be polite to teachers.

Or maybe Professor Brooding didn’t actually want to talk to him. Hearing about problems made people upset. He tried to push that thought aside because he trusted her. But he had trusted other people too-

Tatya came over, petting him and speaking more softly than he’d ever heard her talk to anything, including the pygymy puff they’d had to co-parent in Care of Magical Creatures. She had the manner of someone attending the deathly ill, and he felt bad, sure he was worrying her.

“Da, ya znayu,” he assured her, leaning his cheek against the hand she’d placed on his shoulder. “I remember you,” he added, trying to offer her a smile to show this was a joke, and that things were not as bad all that. Even though maybe they were. She had also demanded, very specifically, that he told her what was wrong, while Professor Brooding continued to move around the periphery.

“I want to talk,” he answered both of them, his eyes flitting between them anxiously. “To both of you… Together. Is that… Can that happen? Are you mad at each other?” he checked. “Are you mad at me?” he added, before he could help himself. It was stupid. It wasn’t true and he shouldn’t have asked. Over the years, he thought he had got rid of that question, but it turned out he had just put it away somewhere, with a good strong lid on top, and now it had come loose, and they probably hadn’t been mad but now maybe they would be because he’d asked that either with him, or Tatya would get mad at Professor Brooding because she would think she’d upset him and- “Everyone’s mad at everyone else at home,” he tried to explain, “and I don’t want anyone else to be in a fight. Please? Say you won’t get mad about things?”

13 Dorian Montoir No, no, no 1401 0 5

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

March 13, 2020 9:04 AM

If you say so. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Mary folded her hands in front of her and smiled softly - and a little sadly - at Dorian and Tatiana. She hadn't realized before how much it might hurt to have to be his professor sometimes. In general, their large age gap was not something she forgot, nor was the inherent power dynamic between a professor and student. It wasn't something at the forefront of her mind though, either. Now, seeing Tatiana there, caring for Dorian, Mary could feel her directive changing a little to include his friend. Her goal was always to encourage healthy, independent adulthood - and successful potion-making skills - in her students, but she realized then that she needed to do more towards encouraging Tatiana's health if she wanted to do the same for Dorian. They were good for each other and a close friendship like that was hard to come by.

Tatiana was also a little bit dense. That was alright; so was Tabitha. But it did make Mary wonder how much of her more nuanced points had gone over the Pecari's head the past few years. She made a mental note to consider that further at another time.

"I'm not mad at either of you," she assured Dorian. "Sometimes people don't like to be looked at too closely when they're sad. I was trying to give you space if you needed it."

She still wanted to hex someone, but her instinct was more leaning towards taking care of Dorian by doting on him instead, and that was probably the healthier of the two options. "You can say as little or as much as you want, and we will be here for you," she promised. Then she considered Tatiana again. "I shouldn't speak on your behalf," she acknowledged before looking back to Dorian and making her way to a chair nearby him. "But I think it is fair of me to say that we will both do what we can to support you. Now I'm all ears; what would you like to say?"

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne If you say so. 1424 0 5

Tatiana Vorontsova

March 13, 2020 8:01 PM

frets by Tatiana Vorontsova

Tatiana chuckled when Dorian told her he knew who she was. At least he still had some humor. Not enough. But some.

“Eto khorosho,” she said. That’s good.

Him thinking they might be mad at him, though, that was not good. “Non, non,” she reassured him. “I have no anger, frère de mon coeur,” she said. She ignored Professor Brooding’s sentences once she realized they indicated a similar feeling; the woman used far too many words, but right now, Tatiana suspected that Dorian would not laugh if she whispered tak mnogo slov’! to him.

Later, in the midst of anxiously searching his face for some hint of what was going on and stroking one of his hands, she caught the word both from the professor and she nodded again. “You tell her, you tell me, eto khorosho,” she assured him. “I help, she help. What happens? What they do?”

All at once, she was back at Dorian’s house in her mind, that awful moment when she had realized that something was seriously wrong with his family. The helpless rage she had felt when Dorian had convinced her not to go confront his brother or parents right away had made her feel almost physically ill. Now, the knot was already starting to form in her stomach just waiting to hear what was going to be said. She already knew, as much as it was possible to know something with the limited information she had, that what he said was going to enrage her again, after all; the only question was whether she would also feel so helpless that it made her sick. She hoped not, but was not optimistic at all.

16 Tatiana Vorontsova *frets* 1396 0 5

Dorian Montoir

March 13, 2020 8:48 PM

I'm sorry by Dorian Montoir

“Right. I know. I mean, I know that really, I just-” he stated, in response to Professor Brooding’s assurance that she was just giving him space. He cut himself off though, because he wasn’t sure what the end of that sentence really was. I’m just having a hard time thinking logically, or not saying stupid things. He was already scaring both of them enough, especially Tatya, without admitting that his brain felt like it was unravelling. Could you be so sad that you just stopped making any kind of sense? He thought that, if he had spoken to them separately, he might have been willing to ask Professor Brooding that.

“Thank you,” he mumbled instead. As she sat down, he began to question both the wisdom of speaking to them together, and at all. As she’d said, it had been a lot easier when he didn’t have her piercing attention focussed on him, especially when everything he had to say was so horrible. He wondered whether it would have been an option to just allow Professor Xavier to tell them everything, or to request him to come here and do that now, whilst Dorian sat in a corner not making eye contact with any of them but able to watch their reactions. Even if it was, it was too late. He’d asked to speak to them, and now he was going to have to do just that.

“You can help by not getting mad - not just here, but at anyone,” he reiterated. They both said they wanted to help but neither of them had specifically promised that. “I mean… you can be mad at Matthieu,” he offered. He didn’t care what opinions they held of his brother, “But not like… not saying you want to go and hex him or hit him or those types of things. Cos that’s what ba-” he had been about to say ‘that’s what bad people do.’ But he specifically did not want to define anyone who hit another person as ‘bad people’ because then- “Jean-Loup already did that,” he admitted, looking anxiously to see their reactions, not sure if he wanted them to cheer or condemn the action - he didn’t want either. He didn’t want any of it to have happened. “Matthieu hit me and he broke my nose, so Jean-Loup did the same to him, and now everything’s a mess, and it doesn’t solve anything, it just makes everything worse. He made it so much better… Before, I mean,” he took a deep breath, aware he’d dropped in somewhat on the middle of the story, especially from Professor Brooding’s point of view.

“Matthieu used to hit me quite a lot,” he admitted, “But… Jean-Loup made it stop. He was good at making Matthieu go away, and he got me to tell my father,” he said, something stirring in his chest at the memory of how warm and nice it had all been. It softened his feelings. If he could just stay in that part of his memory… He tried to equate the person who’d pulled him so gently off the ice and the most recent person he’d seen, driving his fist into someone else’s face. And he wanted one of them without question, and he wanted nothing to do with the other. And it should have been easy because how could those two possibly be the same person? “And Papa was really mad at Matthieu and- and it was all better. It was fixed, so I didn’t need…” he trailed off on ‘I didn’t need to tell you.’ He was still a little worried she’d see if differently. But it wasn’t even the thing that was weighing on his mind the most heavily right now.

“Am I supposed to forgive Jean-Loup? What happens if I don’t, or I can’t?” he asked.

13 Dorian Montoir I'm sorry 1401 0 5

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

March 15, 2020 4:18 PM

Me too, precious one. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Mary agreed to Dorian's wish that they not get mad at anyone and she was almost very proud of her neutral expression. She managed to keep it there the entire time Dorian spoke, only changing it to show that she was listening and understood what he was saying. Behind it, she felt like she was screaming. Her stomach felt hot and burned with anger at a lot of things that didn't make any sense to be angry at.

She was first and foremostly angry with Mathieu for his part in all of this. So many little things made more sense than they had before. This also made her angry with herself for not pushing, not asking, not helping. And then with Dorian's mother, who had maybe just not noticed, but also maybe allowed it. She was glad that Jean-Loup had helped to make the steaming pile of- had helped make Mathieu stop, but Jean-Loup had only been on the scene relatively recently, which meant that Dorian had experienced possibly years of this trauma before anyone had finally stepped in.

This last thought was the one that made her the most grateful for every little hug and every little display of trust. Really, Mary should have recognized the signs. Dorian was hurting now, but that wasn't new for him; Dorian had been hurting for a very long time and Mary had let him down. She suspected that, were she to say so out loud, he would disagree vehemently. Generally, she tried not to tell students they were flat out wrong, but he definitely would be in that case.

Mary really wasn't sure what to say. If it had just been herself and Dorian, she would not have been so worried, because she would have cared less about how she came off or how Dorian came off to his friend. It was more important in this moment that she was Professor Brooding-Hawthorne than it usually was when she chatted with Dorian. At the same time, he had come to her - included her - because she was Mary. Even though he probably would not call her that.

She made a point of taking slow, deep breaths. She had found that telling people to slow down and to breathe rarely did much for them, but providing a model to copy, consciously or otherwise, could be more helpful. She also wanted to make sure he knew that she was not angry and that she was in control; her emotions were not deciding what she said next or did next. That seemed important considering everything Dorian was explaining.

"I don't know whether you want advice or comfort," she admitted. "You've been through a lot and you're going through a lot right now. Thank you for sharing this with us." It felt like such a silly thing to say. It was a formality in some ways, but there was a reason it was the 'correct' response to these sorts of things. Dorian's age made it all a little different, of course, since he no longer required Mary's mandated reporting or any such thing. She also wasn't sure she could argue that he was in immediate danger at this point.

"There's nothing that you're supposed to do or have to do. However you're feeling is the right thing to feel, whether that's angry or sad or scared or something else," she began slowly, wanting to make sure that she was understood and also wanting to make sure that she was careful with her words. She also was very conscious of Tatiana's tendency towards brevity, and Mary didn't want to overstay her own few moments in the conversation. "And you don't have to decide right now if you forgive him." A thought crossed her mind and she glanced hesitantly towards Tatiana before deciding that if Dorian wanted her here, then she must be a safe person. She knew about Jean-Loup, after all. "I suspect that you are angry with yourself, too. You might not be ready to hear it, but I want you to know that none of this is your fault and you haven't done anything wrong. People knowing, Mathieu, Jean-Loup . . . you haven't done anything wrong. And it's okay if you're not sure yet whether you think Jean-Loup has, either."

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne Me too, precious one. 1424 0 5

Tatiana Vorontsova

March 15, 2020 6:45 PM

Ya ochen' zol. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Tatiana was wary as soon as Dorian asked that they not talk about wanting to hex people, and she soon discovered she had more than adequate cause for that concern. Bound by the promise not to say things, she swore quietly in Russian, though her mind was full of much more explicit and much more violent thoughts in the same language.

She did not want to hex Matthieu. She wanted to, in no particular order, spit in his face, slam something heavy into both of his hands, and kick him in his masculine parts until they became inverted and he had to live as a woman. Not least because she had a horrible suspicion that it was far, far worse than what Dorian was telling them right now.

Tatiana had known for a couple of years that Matthieu was cruel and violent, but that Dorian did not want violence meted out to the sorry excuse for a bespoleznyi ublyudok. He was saying that Jean-Loup had made it stop, but that it had resumed and that he was upset with Jean-Loup for replying in kind - which made her think that Jean-Loup had somehow handled the problem without violence before. So what had changed? Something had to have changed. Tatiana had planned to go confront Matthieu herself that day at the Montoirs' house, but had been stopped from doing what came naturally to her by Dorian and Emilie. Dorian had tolerated this for years, but then the addition of Jean-Loup had changed that, too. Things did not suddenly go in different directions for no reason. There was always a force in the background which caused the change, and the remaining question of how everyone knew now....

Professor Brooding talked a lot. Tatiana reminded herself that telling the woman to shut up was not a good idea. For one thing, even now, she could give Tatiana detention. For another, Dorian wanted her here, which meant he clearly did not mind her excessive babbling as much as Tatiana did - regardless of how incomprehensible Tatiana found this tendency of his. What was the professor even trying to say, buried in all those words? Had she just repeated herself about it being acceptable for Dorya to be angry? Why was that something that needed saying twice? Of course it was acceptable! He had done nothing, ever, to deserve violence. It was unjust. Anger was the only appropriate response!

Short of venting her own outrage - which she would not do now, as Dorya had asked her not to - she wished she could pull Dorian aside and ask him some pointed questions - and then it occurred to her that, in a way, she could. It would be very rude to speak mainly in another language, or mix of other languages, to him in front of the professor, whom she was fairly sure only spoke English, but....

"Dorya - eto vsya istoriya?" she asked. Is that all the story? "Ya ne ponimayu." I don't understand. "Pochemu vse znayut?" Why does everyone know? A thought occurred to her. "Is...Zhan-Lu tam, kogda Mat'ye...byl plokh?" she asked, rendering the French names into Russian and avoiding the word 'hit' because she doubted Dorian knew it in Russian. Is...Jean-Loup there, when Matthieu...was bad?

16 Tatiana Vorontsova Ya ochen' zol. 1396 0 5

Dorian Montoir

March 16, 2020 7:56 AM

I said no zol by Dorian Montoir

Professor Brooding wasn’t sure if he wanted advice or comfort. Advice. He definitely wanted advice. He wanted her to know the answers, the way she always did, even if that seemed impossible right now. He tried to listen carefully to what she had to say. However he was feeling was right… He knew what she meant, even though none of it felt right at all. He was allowed to feel what he was feeling, and he was allowed not to know the answers. He gave a slight nod… It was a theme they’d been over many times. That things would work out. That not knowing was part of it. That it was okay not to know, and to be scared – or at least, you had to try letting it be. It had never made it easy. The thought that there was no answer was simultaneously freeing, in that it didn’t put him at fault for not having it, and terrifying, in that no one else was going to be able to give it to him either. He nodded again, his attention having been on her whilst she spoke, quietly accepting the truth of it.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on it though before Tatya jumped in. He tried not to read into her speaking Russian, assuming she was just doing it due to agitation, and perhaps due to the pact of not getting mad at each other meaning that Professor Brooding couldn’t call her out on it. It wasn’t quite what he’d intended, but he also knew the need to just slip back into a familiar language when under stress.

“Yes?” he answered her most recent question last, checking with himself that he’d understood. If he had not, it would hopefully become evident. He answered in English, figuring her lines of enquiry would become obvious enough to Professor Brooding as he did so, and not minding her knowing any of the things he had to say in response. “Matthieu… he… um, saw us kissing,” he admitted, avoiding Tatya’s eyes. He was not so embarrassed to admit this in front of Professor Brooding who, after all, had more or less seen him and Jean-Loup making out against the Quidditch stadium on the trip to Tumbleweed. Whilst Tatya approved generally of his relationship, she tended not to read between the lines, and he thus wasn’t sure she’d followed through the logical implications of the fact that they couldn’t possibly be affectionate in public, along with the advantage of no one realising there might be anything to keep an eye on in private. Or whether Tatya really knew much about relationships outside of courtly dancing and hand-holding. It wasn’t as if he himself had had many ideas on that front until the summer.

“Then there was all the fighting. And Mama heard this and came. She thought Jean-Loup hurt me, so he told her what Matthieu is like,” he recited, his voice hitching slightly anxiously as he did so. “She was away before, when I told Papa, because her grandfather was sick. I suppose he didn’t tell her because she had enough to think of. She’s so angry with Matthieu now,” he sighed, wondering how he had ever been stupid enough to keep this a secret. If he had tried to make it stop before, would it have worked, and been easier on everyone? When Professor Brooding had said not to be angry at himself, he had wondered why he would be. He had so many other people to be upset with right now. But she wasn’t totally wrong, not when it came to his part in sweeping this under the carpet and letting it get so monstrously out of control. “I know… I know it’s fair. He deserves everyone to be angry with him. And I don’t care for him, but I know it’s hurting her being so disappointed, finding him to be such a bad person

“And Jean-Loup had to leave. Because of fighting. And I had to tell Mama, before Matthieu did… About me. And… she was already shocked because of Matthieu. And… you said it already,” he pointed out to Professor Brooding, “Sometimes people don’t know how to feel about something straight away. And you said it’s allowed for me. So, it’s allowed for her too, right?” he checked. “She just… isn’t really saying anything,” he admitted, knowing they’d want to know, “She won’t talk about it with me. She just… doesn’t know how or what to say,” he explained, begging with his tone for them to understand and forgive her this.

13 Dorian Montoir I said no zol 1401 0 5

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

March 18, 2020 2:23 PM

Ummm . . . yes? No? I don't know. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Mary watched a lot of things play across Dorian's face, and then Tatiana's face. They both seemed to be feeling so many things and it was a good reminder for Mary about how bad it sucked to be a teenager. That was without all the extra, very real, very adult problems that Dorian was dealing with and that Tatiana undoubtedly was too, although Mary knew little to nothing about them. Her instinct still screamed at her to wrap Dorian up in a hug and let him bawl his eyes out, but she wasn't sure what to do with Tatiana there, particularly since Tatiana didn't exactly seem like her biggest fan.

She nodded understandingly as Dorian told his story, and then looked away politely as Tatiana spoke to him in a language she must have known Mary couldn't keep up with. It made her feel warmly towards Tatiana again and her heart settled some. Tatiana could be there for Dorian when Mary couldn't. Could speak to Dorian in ways Mary couldn't. And Mary was more grateful than she could explain for that fact. She found herself smiling a little at the two of them.

When it was her turn to speak again, she thought about her words carefully. "I think your mom is probably confused," she agreed, not wanting to say anything hurtful or anything untrue. Unfortunately, those two things seemed like they contradicted in some ways. "She's learned a whole lot of things really fast, and I am sure she's confused. It's okay if she doesn't know how to feel." Mary wanted to add that it wasn't okay if her feelings led her to hurt Dorian or to shun him in some way, but that wasn't something Dorian needed to hear. "She loves you very much. I think she needs some time and then maybe she'll know what to feel or what to say. Do you think you want to write her a letter? Or just wait?" He wanted advice, so she wanted to offer it. At the same time, she was basically useless in this situation because there was no advice that could make Dorian feel much better.

It made Mary feel better to know that the woman must not have known about Mathieu before, although it also made her feel a little sick. If she and Tabitha did decide to have children, could something that horrible go right under their noses, too? Where had Mathieu even learned that behavior? Was it something that could have been taught out of him or were Mary and Tabitha's children - hypothetical children - just as possibly going to be horrible as Mr. and Mrs. Montoir's?

There was something else, though, that stood out in Dorian's narrative. Again, Mary wasn't sure where Tatiana stood on this issue, but it seemed like one that needed to be addressed regardless.

"Maybe you don't need me to tell you, but I want to make sure someone tells you: Mathieu didn't get angry because you were kissing Jean-Loup and that your mom isn't upset because you were kissing Jean-Loup. There was nothing bad about you kissing a boy. Mathieu got angry because he's mean, and your mom is confused and scared. But kissing boys is perfectly fine to do, or not do if you don't want to." Her voice was soft and her eyes were warm, even if her tone was firm. She knew she sounded like An Adult, but that was all she had to offer. Someone had to reassure him that it wasn't anything he'd done wrong. The last thing he needed was to associate such negative things with his sexual orientation.

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne Ummm . . . yes? No? I don't know. 1424 0 5

Tatiana Vorontsova

March 18, 2020 4:31 PM

You said I could be angry at Matthieu. I am very, very angry with Matthieu. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Dorian replied in English, but the story became clearer nevertheless.

Tatiana almost wished that wasn't the case. She did not want to know this. She did not want to be in this situation. She wanted to be somewhere nice, where she could take her hair down and they could really just be Dorya and Tatya, and to be there while they were happy. All this...all this...Dorya's family seeming to collapse, him confusing her with one of his implications, now that she had a fuller picture of the story, Dorya hiding from them yesterday and now seeming...wrong, sad, anxious...she just wanted it all to go away.

That, however, wasn't going to happen. So she had to be an adult and face it.

Professor Brooding started talking again, and - wonder of wonders - made sense this time. Tatiana began to nod emphatically as the professor talked about writing Dorian's mama a letter. Dorian loved his mama. His mama was lovely and made tea and spoke Chinese with him, and liked him as he was. And she was angry with Matthieu, rather than Dorian, so that meant she was at least not for certain-sure wrong or bad. "This is good idea, Dorycha," she said. "Letter is good idea, when you want to write," she added, stroking his hand.

The professor had words to say about Dorian kissing boys and the reactions all these people had had, and while Tatiana wasn't entirely sure she followed all of it, she realized at the end that there was a good place for her to give advice of her own. "She is right," she pronounced. "You do no wrong - and Zhan-Lu, also no wrong," she said flatly. "Look you, Dorya - if you come to my home, and if Grishka zadnitsa like Matthieu, and you see Grishka hurt me - you do nothing?" she challenged him. "You sit, watch this? No help me? Bah! This is not like you. You tell teacher he is wrong to say I lie on test, but let stupid boy hurt my face?"

16 Tatiana Vorontsova You said I could be angry at Matthieu. I am very, very angry with Matthieu. 1396 0 5

Dorian Montoir

March 18, 2020 11:42 PM

Okay, anger for Matthieu. What about the rest? by Dorian Montoir

Dorian felt his stomach unknotting slightly as Professor Brooding agreed, and didn't say Mama was bad or horrible or that she was going to say awful things to her. He supposed he had told her what he wanted to hear, and that maybe there was some kind of anger deep down inside that she was going to keep secret from him. That didn't feel good, but he had been so frightened of telling and everyone getting angry with everyone else and of having even more fires to put out. That wasn't happening, and even if Professor Brooding felt sad or angry in private, he trusted her not to act on that - not to go writing mean letters to Mama or trying to report her to people who would take Dorian away from her. And he believed what she was saying now. Even if she had other feelings on the inside, what she was saying sounded true, and Professor Broodingish.

"I... maybe," he agreed about writing a letter, "Professor Xavier..." he hesitated slightly, wondering whether the privilege he had been offered was something he was meant to share with other students. But he trusted Tatya to see the uniqueness of the situation, "He said that, if I need to, I can call her. Because it's... a special circumstance." The trouble remained that he was not sure what he would say. And that the problem had never been his willingness to talk but hers to listen.

And then Professor Brooding started to say something that did not make sense at first, because he was pretty sure that him kissing a boy was exactly why Matthieu had got mad. But then she rephrased it and it made sense. Sort of. None of it would have happened if- well, no, Matthieu would still have been mean. He always had been. But Mama... If he hadn't been doing any of this, if he had been bringing home nice girls who she approved of, she would have been happy instead of confused and disappointed. He couldn't do that though.

"Their reactions need to change," he concluded out loud, "Because... because the kissing boys part can't. So, the only way for the problem to go away is that they change their feelings." In some ways, it was reassuring to hear that he was not the problem. It had certainly started to feel like that, even though he couldn't ever believe that falling in love could be a character flaw. But the trouble with saying they had to change for the problems to go away was What of they don't? He felt no more control over what other people felt about him than he did over how he felt about Jean-Loup. Surely, if it all just could not be helped, the only option was to hope they changed their minds. Or for him to give up and live life as some kind of academic recluse. If things with Jean-Loup stopped working, then why not? How likely was it that he would find anyone else? He would not marry into a lie, but perhaps it would be an acceptable compromise just not to marry at all, and surround himself with books. It wasn't what he really wanted though. He had always wanted love.

Before he could dwell too much on this, or ask for any clarification, Tatya was chiming in again. She seemed firmly on Jean-Loup's side, but she herself had previously advocated kicking Matthieu, this was not the biggest surprise.

"Bien sûr I would do something!" he exclaimed, forgetting to mind his languages in the face of his honour being so impugned, "I would not let somebody hurt you," he stated, his eyes switching between both of them, grateful for once for the ambiguity of the single vs plural in English. It did not matter that Grisha was easily twice his size and would likely brush him off like a fly. Just as it had not mattered that Professor Wright could put him in detention. He was glad Tatya had brought that up - that her assumption was clearly not that he was a coward, in spite of what he had said about not fighting. "But I could, and he could, use imbolising, or body bind or... very many things. He did not have to... to be violent," he said, his accent shifting the vowels of the final word to their French pronunciation, though he suspected the word was mutually intelligible. His voice shook slightly at this admission and he blinked fiercely to control his tears.

"So... Matthieu is a mean person. Mama is confused. What kind of person is Jean-Loup?" he asked them both, "I know he was frightened... But... something bad came out of him when he was. I don't think I would ever do that. And... It's wrong to leave someone you love. So... if I feel mad at him, does that mean I was wrong about being in love with him? Or that I break my own rule by being mad at him? What's worse... to forgive someone who did a terrible thing, or not to forgive someone who you love and who loves you? If I forgive him, what does it say about me - equally, if I don't. I want there to be a way where everyone - me, Mama, and Jean-Loup," he clarified - he was happy to write Matthieu off as a lost cause, and was glad to think that no one here seemed to have a problem with that course of action, "Where we all are still good people. And I don't know what to do - I want to make good choices, and I don't know what they are - what if there are not even any good choices possible, only the... least bad. I don't know what the least bad things are, and why it has to be choosing anything with badness in it, and how I get Mama to listen and accept it and-" and he had been holding it back, but here it was again, that sliding avalanche of issues, and once he let one of them out, they all started tumbling out of control, a few tears following in their wake.

13 Dorian Montoir Okay, anger for Matthieu. What about the rest? 1401 0 5

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

March 20, 2020 9:38 PM

Anger for a world that hurt you. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Tatiana and Dorian exchanged a few short words back and forth throughout each of their comments and Mary wondered idly whether she was left to talk for so much at a time because it was her tendency, or because she was An Adult. She highly suspected the thought was only crossing her mind at all because she was anxious and feeling things and grasping at normal, everyday things was easier than tackling the whomping willow in the room.

Then, as if the heavens themselves had opened up, Dorian got it. Their reactions need to change. Yes! Yes yes yes, that was it! Mary was elated to see that even in the midst of a horrible, traumatic event, and what seemed likely to be Dorian's first breakup, if not his first broken heart, he was learning and growing. He had come so far since Mary had met him, and she was suddenly much more sure that everything was going to be okay. Graduation would come and everything would be okay.

She tried not to chuckle at the look of indignation on both Tatiana and Dorian's faces as they discussed hurting hurtful people. While it wasn't exactly appropriate for her to condone violence, she couldn't not condone it in this case either. Hadn't she herself just been thinking about how nice it would be to hex a young man's face off? Certainly there was a time, place, and justification for such things. And maybe role . . . Tatiana hexing Mathieu's face off would be much more appropriate than Mary doing so, even if the time, place, and justification were the same.

The conversation turned to Jean-Loup again and what kind of person he was. Mary didn't know him well enough to say for sure, particularly since their conversation had been stilted and halting due to the language barriers between them. "You don't necessarily know what you'd do in the heat of the moment," she countered gently, not wanting Dorian to base a young man's character on extreme moments. The most centered, well-balanced person in the world would snap if the occasion were right, and teenagers weren't famous for being either centered or well-balanced. "What would you have done if Mathieu broke Jean-Loup's nose in front of you?" The image of that happening to Dorian made Mary's blood boil, but she pushed that aside. The best way she could help Dorian right now was to help him help himself. "Maybe that would be something for you to talk about. Tell him that you're worried about the violence you saw in him and want to make sure you're on the same page." She shrugged, not wanting to seem like she was telling him what to do so much as brainstorming possible options.

It's wrong to leave someone you love. So... if I feel mad at him, does that mean I was wrong about being in love with him?

A conversation that should have been long forgotten came back to Mary then, unbidden. It was one that she had replayed so many times that even had she been ready to forget it, she couldn't have. She suspected the same was Tabitha and the man she'd loved once. Michelle had said goodbye. Mary had been mad. But they had never stopped loving each other. In some ways, Mary supposed they still did. But loving each other wasn't the same as being right for each other. It's always you, Berry. A goodbye that hurt more than anything else didn't mean it was wrong. But was that helpful for Dorian to think about right now?

She opened her mouth and spoke carefully, looking down. Normally, she wasn't one to break eye contact like that. She was strong and brave and fierce and . . . and so so scared. "Sometimes, we love people and then we have to learn to love them a different way. Loving someone and being right for someone aren't the same thing." Blinking away a memory of a starry night on a grassy field, Mary looked up again and smiled softly. "But sometimes we love people and that helps us fight through the hard times. I think you won't know until you try, and either way is okay. It's not wrong to get mad at someone you love, I think it's wrong to stay mad at them."

OOC - Quote and backstory from the WtS post about Mary and Michelle. http://asylums.insanejournal.com/weddedto_sonora/322198.html#cutid1

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne Anger for a world that hurt you. 1424 0 5

Tatiana Vorontsova

March 21, 2020 7:27 PM

I can get on board with that, too. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Tatiana nodded enthusiastically as she parsed what Professor Brooding was saying about Dorian having no idea about how he would really react in such a situation, and how he could try bringing it up with the actual source of his current dilemma. Her opinion of the woman rose, even if she still could not understand why they were talking to an adult at all. Dorian seemed to think it was necessary and therefore, for now, it was.

"She right, Dorya," she said. "I - I do not think I am...I do not know word. Person who...does what I do not think is right. Mais - je n'ai pas dit à ta maman ce que j'ai entendu." But I did not tell your mama about what I heard. "I could have. Or I could have kick him. We...when is bad, maybe we are not like us." A thought occurred to her and she squeezed his hand. "Like yesterday!" she exclaimed. "You do not come see me. This is not what you do. But you are sad, so you did not act like ma Dorya."

Some of the next phase of the conversation, about love, went over her head, but she allowed Professor Brooding to say her piece. Maybe Dorian could get something sensible out of it. Maybe, if she had not been stressed, Tatiana could have even understood it, but right now, it was just too many words to sort through, though she did concentrate on the bit that came after the words it's not wrong and nodded again in agreement.

"If must not be angry with love, then Katen'ka not loves me," she pointed out. "She get angry with me after Art Club last year. I thought she had a joke, but it was not," she explained. "But Katen'ka - moya sestra, da? We get angry, we stop getting. It always so. It so with other sisters, too, and Grishka sometime." Indeed, she had spent as much of her childhood quarreling with her siblings as getting along with them, but it did not mean that she loved them any less, or that they didn't love her, just as Mama scolding her did not mean that Mama did not love her. Mama scolded because she loved them and wanted them to become better - however she and Tatiana might disagree about what was best sometimes - and with her older brother and her sisters, well...they had been little, and besides, no two of them were alike. Sometimes, they squabbled. She had thought everyone understood this until she had met the Montoirs and figured out what they were like.

16 Tatiana Vorontsova I can get on board with that, too. 1396 0 5

Dorian Montoir

March 23, 2020 6:33 AM

Can you fix it instead? by Dorian Montoir

Dorian winced at the idea of Matthieu breaking Jean-Loup’s nose. It might have been hypothetical but it was all too easy to imagine. He could not, in spite of what Professor Brooding said, imagine his own response being violent though. He hoped he wouldn’t shrink back, too afraid to do anything, though his brain happily supplied a mental image of him doing just that. He thought he most likely would try to get between them. Not that that would stop Matthieu hitting, the way he would if it was Émilie’s physical presence. But it would stop him from hitting Jean-Loup. It was what he’d done once before, when it was his stuffed bunny that had been in the firing line. He would most likely protect someone else at his own expense. Maybe now that he could use magic he could intervene effectively, without anyone getting more hurt – that was what he wanted.

He pushed this aside though. There was little point focussing on the hypothetical when there were so many real problems to deal with. And perhaps, now that Mama knew, this issue was going to be out of his life for good. He wasn’t too optimistic that Matthieu would ever change, but he thought he stood a decent chance of simply being allowed to refuse to see him in any unsupervised setting.

There was also… a lot in the few small sentences Professor Brooding uttered. The first, he wasn’t sure he understood at all, but when she followed up with ‘loving someone is not the same as being right for them,’ he guessed that maybe these were euphemisms for breaking up. He felt words jumping to his throat, ready to ask if she was saying that was what he should do. But then she carried on, carefully balancing that scale, the way she always did, leaving it up to Dorian. They would either be strong together or fall apart - he knew that. He wanted to know which one was right though. Which one would happen. Whether he could choose and, if he could, which one he ought to. He wasn’t sure what he thought of any of that, but as usual Tatya stepped right in to fill any gap.

“Non, c'est différent - ce n'est pas de ta faute,” he assured her, worrying that she was blaming herself now. Had he made her behave against her moral code by telling her not to tell Mama? He didn’t like the sound of that. Nor that he’d made her worry by being absent last night. People often thought Tatya wasn’t so serious, maybe because of her jewellery or maybe because she couldn’t express it well in English. He tried not to make that mistake. Had he done so though? Had he assumed he knew better? Did he generally assume that he always knew better? Or had he just been afraid… Neither were very admirable reasons. “I’m sorry,” he added, for both counts. She kept petting his hand, and he was not being very responsive, but he made sure to brush the side of hers with his thumb, to return the gesture.

“I think brothers and sisters are different,” he said, when Tatya used her family as examples. He was pretty sure that when you loved someone, they weren’t meant to make you feel like the world around you was shaking. What she described, they were petty little disagreements… But then Professor Brooding had talked about fighting with people you loved too. Did she mean little fights, like Tatya was talking about, or did she mean these big, huge, horrible world ending arguments where you didn’t know if people were still going to speak to each other? “Or… those fights are different than these ones. What kind-” he began asking Professor Brooding, but he didn’t know how to end that question. What kind of fights do you have? was far too personal - maybe ‘What kind of fights do grown ups have?’ or ‘What kind of fights are too big, and make you walk away?’ Why did there have to be any kind of fighting? Hadn’t he had enough of that? He certainly thought so. He liked everyone being happy and getting along. It bothered him with Émilie got in a snit, but he knew that was how she was, and that she would come around - he had had less of those issues with Tatya but knew it was her nature too, he’d just usually watched her directing that emotion towards someone else, or the English language. The thought of someone getting truly and properly mad, of fights that ended relationships was horrible. But so was fighting all the time and having to stay with someone. Couldn’t it be nice and calm? Did you always have to worry that the nice things you had were going to break?

He also knew that he had no way of telling how much of his current feelings were directed at Jean-Loup. It was a problem that he was part of that mix, rather than someone like Tatya and Professor Brooding - a shelter to run to - but it wasn’t fair to blame all his current feelings on his boyfriend. And he had been scared too, of these two doing just that. Of them getting angry with Jean-Loup for hurting him. Now they weren’t, why wasn’t that a good enough answer for him? Did he want them to be? And what did that say about him and their relationship?

And that brought them back round, full circle, to Professor Brooding saying it was okay if he didn’t know how he felt right now. He had tried and tried being okay with the uncertainty, not just over this but everything but it had never felt more impossible. She always said that, and always promised it would work out in the end. He had thought he’d got there. Maybe not all the way to where life was good and trouble free. This, telling his family, dealing with those consequences had always been in the way, but he’d had someone he thought would be standing beside him to deal with that. Now he didn’t know, he didn’t even know-

“I want-” he was about to say that he wanted his life back how it had been a month ago. But did he? He would still have all these horrible conversations still to have. Jean-Loup would still be this person who was capable of a thing he disliked. But if he didn’t judge people by their extreme moments, did it even count as a part of who that person was? If it was, then living in ignorance of it didn’t make it better. If he started trying to trace the thread back to where he’d started making mistakes, what would he even choose? He could keep pulling and pulling until it all unravelled. He wasn’t sure he’d see a point where he could safely stop until he’d gone back to before he was born, and just stopped himself from ever existing. But even that wasn’t good enough. His Mama had wanted him even before he’d existed. A special little rabbit baby, to be just like her. And he wasn’t what she’d wanted from that. Would it have been better if she’d never had him? Dealt with that disappointment early on of not having him at all, rather than wasting all those years investing time and love in him, only to be disappointed now instead? He was starting to see why wizards were not allowed to mess with time. Going backwards was possibly even more complicated than going forwards.

He wondered what it would be like to just give control of his life over to someone else. To tell Professor Brooding she had to make his decisions for him. What would he lose? It wasn't as if he had any sense of control, and it would relieve him of all the responsibility of making all these impossible choices. If she was so sure it would be fine in the end, why couldn’t she just take the reins to get him there?

“I don’t know what to do next. I know - talk to them. He wrote me and I wrote him, but how… how do I try to explain things to other people when I don’t even understand them? How do I move things forward when I don’t even know which way that is?” he asked. He had vague notions of valour that suggested he shouldn’t cry more than a few stray tears in front of Tatya - that she would be truly alarmed by seeing him lose it completely. But he was rapidly giving up on that ideal. He was getting fed up with asking rational questions and being no closer to having plans or answers except to wait for things not to suck so much any more. Hadn’t he tried that? Hadn’t he done his time? Why couldn’t you tell if it was getting better or not? Surely, if things were headed in the right direction, you would be able to tell, rather than not even knowing which way was up, or how to get any further forward.

“It’s not fair,” he managed, his voice thick with tears, as he gave up on managing how he was feeling. “I don’t want fights, or bad surprises. I want to feel like I’m safe.”

13 Dorian Montoir Can you fix it instead? 1401 0 5

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

March 25, 2020 8:09 PM

Soon, you'll be walking. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Oh, Dorian. Poor sweet Dorian. At some point, Mary's heart had lodged itself firmly in her throat, where it was slowly breaking. Mary was left to swallow the pieces, and the anger, and the pain, and the answers. Whatever she might be able to offer Dorian in terms of solutions would not be of any real help to him. This was not something anyone else could fix. Life, Mary had come to accept, was not a potion. Sometimes it felt like it was - add a little of this, a little of that, take your time, and things turn out okay. But sometimes it did not. There wasn't an ingredient missing, and nothing had burned. This was just life. And Mary couldn't offer a recipe or shortcut to making it any easier.

Instead, Mary took a breath and nodded with a sad smile, understanding. "Sweet one, you've already done exactly what you need to do: just say what's in your heart, and trust that it will be taken care of. If people are cruel, you have others who will love you forever."

She took a seat nearer Dorian, very much wanting to reach out and hug him. She was certainly open to it. But she wasn't sure whether he'd be comfortable with such things in front of Tatiana, or whether Tatiana would be comfortable with such things at all. Besides, Mary made a point of not initiating such things with her students, preferring to let students steer their relationship that way. There were few exceptions and this, unfortunately, was not one of them.

Waving her wand, Mary conjured three cups and plates, and summoned a platter with cookies, lemonbread, and brownies from her office, as well as a pot of hot chocolate. They remained floating in mid-air near enough to be accessible, since the nearest desk was much less so. Mary poured herself a cup, not sure whether Dorian or Tatiana would even want any, and took a brownie. Her throat felt dry and very much like she wasn't going to be able to swallow it. But this is what normal looked like. This is what getting through it looked like. And if she couldn't do anything else in the world, she would be the best dang adult she could be for Dorian.

"Whatever happens, you are so so loved," she promised, holding up her cup. "Talking it out, crying it out, screaming it out, hugging it out, eating it out . . . You are always safe here, Dorian."

22 Mary Brooding-Hawthorne Soon, you'll be walking. 1424 0 5

Dorian Montoir

One foot in front of the other (tag Tatya and Professor Brooding) by Dorian Montoir

Tatiana Vorontsova

Chto? by Tatiana Vorontsova

Dorian Montoir

Pas maintenant by Dorian Montoir

Tatiana Vorontsova

no ya ne ponimayu chto ne tak. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Dorian Montoir

Everything. by Dorian Montoir

Tatiana Vorontsova

O nyet. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Dorian Montoir

Facing the Inquiries by Dorian Montoir

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Who do I need to hex? by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Tatiana Vorontsova

I think we're past the mere hexing stage now. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Dorian Montoir

No, no, no by Dorian Montoir

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

If you say so. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Tatiana Vorontsova

*frets* by Tatiana Vorontsova

Dorian Montoir

I'm sorry by Dorian Montoir

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Me too, precious one. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Tatiana Vorontsova

Ya ochen' zol. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Dorian Montoir

I said no zol by Dorian Montoir

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Ummm . . . yes? No? I don't know. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Tatiana Vorontsova

You said I could be angry at Matthieu. I am very, very angry with Matthieu. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Dorian Montoir

Okay, anger for Matthieu. What about the rest? by Dorian Montoir

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Anger for a world that hurt you. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Tatiana Vorontsova

I can get on board with that, too. by Tatiana Vorontsova

Dorian Montoir

Can you fix it instead? by Dorian Montoir

Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

Soon, you'll be walking. by Mary Brooding-Hawthorne

frets by Tatiana Vorontsova