aungier | Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?

Entry tags:

Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear? - November 2nd, 1888

Date: November 2nd, 1888
Time: 12:00am - ~02:00am
Location: tba, probably entrance-hallways-Timo's bedroom
Characters: Timo Väinämöinen (

moimin_papa) & Ivan Timoevich Braginsky (

muscovy) [CLOSED]

Summary: Ivan arrives and Timo suddenly has a son.
Warnings: Unlikely.

It was windy, cold and rainy, and Ivan shivered despite being all bundled up. It was not colder than what he was used to, not by any means, but it was still not a nice weather at all. And it was so wet and dark and scary, the shapes of their surroundings looking different from back home and the wind howling, and it almost looked like the shadows were reaching for him... And he was all alone, ever since he had been dropped off by a travelling businessman not too far away from where he was now. The gatekeeper had apprently told them to get him right up to the main house, and Ivan assumed that it was just fair that nobody who didn't really have to would get out at a night like this.

They should have arrived at the house earlier, but something with the government had held the adults up and so he was here, at midnight, standing outside a large house where only an eerie shimmer of light behind one window told of human occupation... or was it a ghostly light? A huge house in any way, dark and threatening. But still better than the woods. It would provide some semblance of warmth and under the low droop of the night door's awning he wasn't hit by as much rain anymore. Which at this point didn't make much of a difference anymore, but the thought counted. Hopefully the things inside the suitcase that he had dragged with him from Russia wasn't equally drenched...

Biting his lower lip, the boy reached up to take the large iron ring that hung from the night door into his hands, pushing to lift it up and then let it swing down. The thud resonated through the whole door, and it took all his nerves to not jump back from it.

It would have meant jumping out into the night, after all. While waiting for a reply, he dug under his coat to extract a bundle wrapped in oilcloth, holding it tightly to his chest.

When the door finally opened and the person on night watch peered out, he held the bundle out to them and said "Letter.", hoping that the pronounciation was good enough to be understood. The man frowned but opened the door fully, saying something that probably was meant to ask him inside. He stepped in, heaving and dragging the suitcase with him, and then just stood there, dripping ont he ground while the door was closed and the bundle was examined. On top, he knew, the man would find a letter that would indicate that Mr. Timo Väinämöinen was to be alerted to his arrival, and that the letter below was for him. He had been told that the man that they said was his father had not been alerted to his existence yet, nor to the fact that he would be coming here, and he was frankly scared of what would happen - what if that man decided that he didn't want to know about him? He didn't know what the General would think about him returning, but he knew that his grandparents would be furious and absolutely oppoed the idea of him returning, they had seemed all too glad to be rid of him.

He looked up when the person that had opened the door said something to him and then left, leaving the letter sit on the small table in the tiny room that the man seemed to have spent the night in. And thus Ivan stood there, feeling small and worried and shivering, dripping on the ground and clutching his suitcase close, as it was the only familiar thing there was around.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

At least the weather gives Timo little cause for distraction as he leans over his paper, lit by the flickering light of his candle. Staring at it in the dark like this hurts his eyes, but he doesn't have much of a choice. Although he can speak English well enough for day to day encounters, and he knows the highly specific language of the research that they've been working on, there's enough gaps between them that makes writing anything up a complete pain. He has his research notes spread out beside him, written in a scribbly mix of English, Finnish, Swedish and Russian, using whatever language came to the surface of his increasingly muddled head at the time.

The knock on the door comes as a surprise, rocking him from his thoughts. He drops his pen, and then scrambles to mop up the ink before it damages anything irreparably. "Ah, a moment, please!" Well, his sleeves are already ink splattered, what will a little more do? He doesn't notice the smudge of damp ink that leaves on his cheek and hair as he tucks his hair behind his ear as he goes to finally open the door and receive his letter.

"He's waiting in the entrance." Timo's told, before the man disappears into the dark, leaving him confused.

"Who is?" He asks, but too late. The letter in his hands seems the only explanation, so he retreats to the light of his candle to see if it holds any clues.

It does. All the information that he needs. 'He' must be the boy that his father has told him he will take on as his son, at risk of losing the healthy income that his father provides for him. There's no explanation of who the boy actually is, but it doesn't take much for Timo to guess. He wasn't invited to the wedding of his older brother, but he was at least informed of it. And the letter isn't entirely stick. In return for taking on the boy, Timo will not only have a rise in his income to cover the boy, but a little extra besides. Timo doesn't need it for his day to day expenses, but he has been trying to put aside some. After all, he can't expect to inherit much, and at some point the income he's receiving will stop.

In fact, the only thing that the letter neglects to include is the boy's name.

Letter still in hand, he picks up the candle in the other and heads out into the cold corridor, quickly wishing he'd put a jumper on before leaving the relative warmth of his room. But the cold doesn't stop him from waiting outside the guardsroom, clutching to the letter like it might offer some form of protection. What should he say? Does the boy know that he's not really his father? Timo assumes not, it's too much to ask of a child to keep something like that a secret. So he can't tell him either. But he can't lie forever. He hates lying.

Finally, he takes a step in. What startles him is how old he is. He must be five or six already. Does his father really intend to claim that he was fifteen when he fathered the boy? Still - stranger things have happened. Timo crouches in front of him so they're eye to eye and then gives him a slightly unsure smile, still hesitant. He's trying to be calm for the boy's sake, but there's too much to take in really.

"Hello." Timo starts in Finnish, and then realises that he doesn't know what language the boy's been brought up in so far. But then his father's family are more Russian than Finnish these days, so he tries that. "I'm Timo. I'm your father." The words felt odd, out of place, but he forced them out, already noticing that he was soaked and his smile turning to more of a frown. He needed to get him warmed up. "Do you have a name?"

He doesn't even know his name. Ivan't heart sinks a bit at that (in the long run, it will make him cling a bit harder, because it means there is even less reason for Timo to not suddenly discard him, if he knew that little about him before, right?). But he...

He tries to smile, but he is only just six, and this is all a bit too much being hungy and tired and scared and lonely now, even lonelier in a place where the only person that was supposed to know him (because parents know their children, right? His mother always knew him, even when she cursed him out in the moments when her sickness got to her too much and clouded her thoughts) doesn't even know his name. He's never felt this vulnerable - at home, he at least had some resemblance of a position, and while travelling he had, too. But this - he just feels like he is in a limbo, or rather, as if he is falling into nothing. And he's cold, and hungry, and the situation is scary and he's just thoroughly miserable.

Timo being a bit young to be his father doesn't occurr to him - he is an adult and as such he is old. The ink on his face makes him look a bit funny, but it does nothing to console the little boy, and having been adressed in Finnish first... living where Russians and Finns are a mixed population, he's heard the language before and there are enough servants in the house who speak it for him to know some basic words (because he does like watching them, like he likes watching everyone, and can be very attentive), but he could never have a conversation in it. His pronounciation and tone are better in Finnish than English due to having heard it since he was little - his wet nurse was Finnish, even, because for the bastard baby it didn't matter - but he has basically no vocabulary, less even than in English. Does Timo expect him to speak it?

Really, he should smile and answer, he knows he should, he will get into trouble if he doesn't, but he can't do anything but tear up right now, deep sobs stopping any coherent word that might try to escape, tears quickly flowing over, snot mixing with the salty liquid while he is still clutching the suitcase, feeling like it is the only anchor left to him.

Timo starts when his words only cause tears to well up in the boy's eyes. What did he say? Maybe Russian was the wrong choice as well, and he should try Swedish? Guilt wells up in his stomach, but he's also starting to realise that he has no idea how to raise a child. What if he does something wrong?

Even he hesitates for a moment about taking a stranger into his arms, but there's a boy crying in front of him, and his warm nature won't let him hold back. Not caring that he's soaked, he reaches out to wrap his arms around him and draw him lightly into his chest. He strokes his wet hair. "Shh, shh, don't cry." Timo tries Swedish this time, then tries again in Russian. "Don't cry. I know it's scary, but we'll work it out." Well, his shirt's ruined now anyway, so he uses his less ink-stained sleeve to wipe his eyes and nose.

"We need to get you dry and warmed up." Still not knowing what language the boy's used to he reverts back to Finnish, more thinking out loud as he finally registers how cold he is. "Are you hungry too? We can go down to the kitchens." Hopefully someone will be up, or Timo can sort it out himself. There are some advantages to having been brought up as a servant's boy, even if this house is differently laid out to the one he grew up in.

The hug was unexpected, but it can't be an instant fix because Ivan kept himself from crying for weeks now, he's used to being abandoned but to have to abandon what little he had to anchor him himself was so much worse. It does help in the long run, though, and Ivan's hand leaves the suitcase after a bit and fingers of both little hands curl into Timo's shirt, ruining it further as he presses his face into it. It's not that he trusts the stranger yet, but he wants him to stay, you have to stay, don't leave me alone, being alone is scary.

The fact that all those emotions are just amplified by being physically miserable right now doesn't speed up the sobs coming to an end, but finally Ivan pulls away enough to nod, though it isn't clear to which of the parts... But he heard hungry and warm and dry, and all of those sound like the man wants to feed him and find him a nice place to sleep, and maybe stay around for a bit. He can deal with everything else in the morning.

The shirt can be replaced (though Timo will at least try and scrub it first). It's more important to make sure the boy feels safe, and Timo hugs him in a little closer when he feels a small hand curl into his shirt. It makes him feel a little better, reassured he's doing the right thing. And being fatherly does make him feel good.

Leaning over, he carefully extracts the suitcase from the boy's hand so he can pick him up, and then grab the suitcase too. "If we go own to the kitchen I might be able to find a basin big enough for you to wash in." The actual bath might be down there too, but filling that would take a long time without help. And if nothing else, Timo can make him something warm to eat, and in his experience kitchen fires never go out, so they can sit in front of that. He hopes the boy has some spare clothes in the case that h can change into. "You can sleep with me tonight and we'll arrange a co bed for you in he morning." He smiles, then, reassuring and soft. "Everything will be all right."

The Finnish washes over Ivan, single words like 'wash' and 'kitchen' standing out, but more than that it makes him feel like coming home, like things will be taken care of now. The language will always be a servant's speak to him, but at this age, that mostly means that he'll probably get food soon and that people will be nice. It's a good thing. And then there are vague memories of his wet nurse, who was the most steady person that ever existed in his life, that always add a layer of comfort to hearing it.

Even if he could fully understand what was said, he wouldn't really listen to it, too tired and still crying, hiccuping and trying to keep the tears from falling but failing. He rubs the sleeve of his left hand over his face, not realizing that he gets snot all over it that way, and clutches the hand that is holding onto his right tightly. His sight blurry and the eyes small with tiredness, he doesn't see nor care where they are going, content to tag along as he is led. He'll explore the house once he is allowed and has the time, but at the moment, he has no curiosity left and only wants to get some food, get warm and sleep. Not necessarily in that order.

Edited 2013-07-04 15:00 (UTC)

Technically, downstairs is meant to be off limits for Timo, but that hasn't stopped him before, and it certainly doesn't now. He knows the way, keeping his steps shorter than he would otherwise so he can match the boy's, even if it seems slow to him. He keeps talking as they walk, trying to reassure both of them, still using Finnish even if he has no idea if it's what the boy speaks at all. "Is there anything you like to eat? There should be some milk at least. I'd make you some soup, but you're probably too hungry for that. There might be something from dinner left over, although if the cook has gone she's probably taken it with her. We'll find something for you, though."

Holding open the kitchen door when they reach it, he gently nudges the boy towards the fire, before going to find a stool for him to sit on. Then he kneels in front of it to reignite the glowing embers, feeding them until it's a bit more lively and might do some more towards warming him up. "There, that's not so bad." He says with a smile, still on his knees in front of the boy. "You'll warm up quickly now. Shall I still look for something to bathe in, or will you be all right?" He asks, reaching to gently wipe the boy's face clean again.

Ivan just followed until now, going where Timo went or nudged him, standing when Timo left to find the stool and finally sitting down on it, trying to unwrap his scarf and, after some feeling has started to return to his fingers, to take off the drenched coat. It's a lot of fumbling, because it is harder when everything is wet and heavy and also his fingers are still feeling a bit numb. And tingle on the insides at the same time.

"I wanting milk." His grammar is completely off, though the tone is surprisingly spot-on for someone with such little grasp of grammar and vocabulary. He has a lot of listening practice, but nobody ever really bothered to teach him any Finnish. "And soup." It's the two things that Timo mentioned - he'd go with any food at all at this point but soup is warm, and milk is probably warm too. Maybe there will even be a little honey in it. What was the word for honey?

His eyes are on the older noble as he speaks, trying to assess his reaction to what he just said - sure, he never really speaks Finnish and has been told that he shouldn't, but this person that is apparently his father spoke it all the time just now so it seems to be what he expects? Ivan hates situations that he cannot judge properly almost as much as situations where he gets hurt.

"Aha, so you do speak!" Timo chuckles, pausing in helping Ivan out of his coat as he brightens up completely. Not that he was worried. All right, so maybe a little. He's too old to not speak. And too old to struggle over the grammar like that, surely. Timo tries to think back to how well he could speak when he was that age. But he was speaking three langauages by then, all mixed up together and that at least triggers another thought. "Would Swedish be easier? Or Russian?" He asks, trying each language in turn. Surely it won't be anything else? He knows that his brother has travelled, but they wouldn't have sent him a child that he can barely speak with, would they?

He resumes helping him out of the coat, though, aware they need to get him warm and dry as soon as possible. "Are there dry clothes in here?" He asks, a hand on the suitcase once they have the coat off. "I'll get you some milk - and some soup - but we need to get you dry and warm first."

"Russian." It's clearly his native language, what with how easily and correctly he speaks it. "I don't speak Swedish." Bits of Finnish, growing amounts of English... But no Swedish. He's heard it, but only from guests of his great-grandparents, and he almost never is allowed to stay around when they have ones. "Is that bad?" He doesn't want to try to learn it, English is hard enough, but if it is necessary, he will. You do what you have to and what you're told, until you are old and strong enough to not have to do that anymore.

He proceeds to shed his other clothes after the coat has come off, the items pooling at his feet in a puddle of fabric and water and mud, not caring that they are in the middle of a kitchen. The fire is warm and there should be clothes just a bit drier in the suitcase, and if they aren't... well. Surely he can borrow a shirt or even just a blanket. Anything would be warmer than his clothes now. (Not that his thoughts get that far. They stop at 'we started to take my clothes off and they are still cold'.)

"It's not bad." Timo's quick to reassure him, sticking with Russian now. Of the three languages that he learnt when he was young it's his least favourite, but he had to use it in his father's house so he's fluent. His accent is definitely not as good as Ivan's Finnish one, though. "I just didn't know if you grew up in Russia or Finland." Belatedly, he realises he should know whether Ivan's mother was Russian or Finnish, but there was no information about her other than that she died. That might cause some difficulties, but he puts it aside to deal with later.

Letting Ivan's wet clothes pool on the floor for now, he opens up the suitcase to see what's inside. Closer to the middle the clothes are dry at least, and he manages to find underwear, a shirt, and some trousers. They don't match, but they'll do for now. Setting them aside, he then stands to find a dry kitchen cloth, returning with that and kneeling once more to start drying Ivan off, starting with his hair and working his way down. "Will you tell me your name now?"

He's actually at a loss at that. If he had to be honest, he wasn't even clear on Finland and Russia not being the same - he always thought Finland just was a part of Russia, or something. Because both Finnish and Russian speaking servants are from the area of the house, or so he understood. And languages seemed to be tied to countries.

"I'm Ivan." He peers up nervously. "The General said it's a good Russian name." He thinks about it a bit further. "And everyone in the house who does nothing speaks Russian. I'm not sure if that makes it good." He's never really seen a Finnish speaker, or at least someone who speaks primarely Finnish, in the house just ...not do much that seemed to amount to anything (like clean or cook or take care of the animals or carry things around) for days. He assumes that they go somewhere else for that.

Technically Finland is a part of Russia, but nationalism has been growing lately, and Timo has an awful lot of pride for his country, probably more than is normal. He'd like to see it independent, and even if most people seem to think that Russia's been pretty fair to them, Timo harbours a gut feeling of something else. Maybe it's linked to the way that his father's Russian wife treats him. He tries to ignore it in any case, and he certainly won't let it impact how he treats Ivan.

"Ivan's a good name." Timo reassures him, hastily. "Ivan Timovitch, then." It sounds weird to say it, but strangely nice as well. He did always want to be a father. "Do you have any other names?" He finishes helping him dry and moves on helping him to dress, a lot clumsier than the maids that Ivan would have had before. He's trying, but he hasn't even had any younger siblings to help like this. "Who's the General?"

By now Ivan is relatively good at dressing by himself, because in the gaps between two caretakers he's often been on his own with that anyway, and also he's six already! He can do this! But he won't turn down the help, because it is nice to have someone be close and take care of him. He really likes that, and will take what he can get, even if it makes him look like a baby.

"Ivan Timoevich Braginsky. Nothing else." He raises his arms so Timo can get to the pants better. "That's normal, yes?" It's not clear if it is a question in the way that he phrases it, but it really isn't. More reinforcing his point. He has a perfectly normal name now, with a real father's name in it and all that. It's a nice thing to have. It's his.

"And the General is my great-grandfather. Me and mother lived with him because our grandparents didn't want us around. I think. They hated me, and I think they didn't like mother either. But that is because I'm a bastard. They said that that was to be expected." And that a lot of other things about him were to be expected too. And that they hadn't expected 'this' from his mother, and then they looked at him as if he was an old stinky fishhead. He shrugs. It hurts, but he's gotten used to it by now. It's just how things are, right? "I don't think the General hates me. He's just strict." Which is why Ivan has conflicting feelings about him - he feels no real bond, but at the same time he would be the one that he'd turn to for help. Even though the General has shown to not protect him when he needed it, like form his parents, but at other times he has, and that makes him practically the only person who's ever taken his side when there were more sides than one to pick from.

"It's normal." Timo agrees, as he helps Ivan into his trousers. He can understand that it must have been hard not having a father's name in his for so long. At least he has one to claim now. Even if Timo isn't his father by blood, they are related, and no one could doubt that. Besides, Timo doesn't mind claiming Ivan as his own like this if it'll make him feel more normal.

Frowning faintly at Ivan speaking so casually about being hated, Timo resisted the urge to pull him into another hug, and instead focused on getting the last of his clothes on. "There. Do you feel better now?" He asked, smiling down at him as he internally debated whether or not to tell Ivan about the link that they did actually share. "I'm a bastard as well, you know." He said, finally, looking up at him. "Don't let them tell you that it's a bad thing. Or your mother's fault." He ran his fingers gently through his nephew's hair, giving him another soft smile. "If I'd known that you existed I would have made sure you were cared for better." Although he probably would have tried to appeal to his brother to take him on, he would have at least made sure that the boy was looked after. He knew what it was like to feel abandoned.

But that was by the by. He couldn't take back what had happened in the past. Ivan was here now and Timo would do his best to make sure that he felt more love here. Standing up, Timo went to hunt around in the kitchen, seeking out two small pans so he could warm up some milk for Ivan. Once the milk was on, he hunted out some stock and meat scraps to start a sort of soup, something more substantial. If Ivan wants honey in his milk he'd better speak up.

Ivan's eyes go wide at those news; nobody had mentioned that detail to him yet. He'd been told what family his father belonged to and where he lived, and that had been about it. He had of course tried to hang around and listen to everyone to get more information, but hadn't been very successful. He'd come to the conclusion that nobody was much interested in a person living that far away, but now with that new information...

Pondering the new information, he watches Timo seek around and scoots a bit closer to the fire, not enough for it to be dangerous but close enough to get as much heat as possible. He's not one ot freeze easily, but that doesn't mean that he won't appreciate warmth. Finally, he speaks up again. "Is that why you're here?" The question why someone who knew how troublesome being a bastard could be would cause more of his kind is there, too, but maybe it was no problem for Timo and his mother, or maybe... adults are weird. They don't necessarily make sense and often aren't right, either. Just stronger, so you have to listen to them.

If he'd moved too close to the fire, Timo would have moved him, and he does watch him for a moment, but relaxes again when he's sure that he's not close enough to burn himself. Then he goes back to looking for ingredients for a soup, while checking on the milk every now and again. "Partly. I was given the choice, and I wanted to come here. I'm working with the master on his research and it's fascinating." Timo always felt better when he had something to do. As a boy there had been chores, after he was taken into his father's household his education and then... nothing. And that had been boring. He didn't understand how the nobility (whom he rarely considered himself one of) managed to fill up their days without anything to do. "But my father made it clear that I wasn't welcome at home either, and it was this or I had to find something else to do."

Deciding that the milk was warm enough, he pours it into a mug and offers it out to Ivan. "There you go, that should help you feel better. My mum always used to make me warm milk if I'd had a day, or if I'd gotten rained on."

Ivan nods very earnestly. He's not sure what is up with that research, but everything else made sense. "Are you building things?" Because that surely is the interesting part of research. Except for the exploring part, but Timo is obviously not doing that. He's in the midle of civilisation, after all.

The milk is nice and warm and heavenly, and he doesn't even think about honey or anything, just presses his hands against the sides of the mugs and breathes the scent in. He's not sure if the temperature is really good for drinking, but if Timo doesn't stop him he'll try in a moment. After all it was given to him like this.

Smiling that Ivan seems to understand, Timo nods in reply to his question. "Sometimes! There's lot of work to get to the point where we can start building things, though." Timo's generally better at the design work than generally putting things together anyway. He can do it, it's just that he finds working out how best to put things together more instinctive than actually getting his hands dirty. Which is a shame, because he thinks that that kind of work is probably more rewarding. But it's good to see things that he designed put together whoever it was that actually built them. "I'll show you. But not tonight, it's much too late now." He'll have to formally introduce the boy to his hosts anyway, and give them a modified version of events. It's too much to expect his father or brother to have sent a letter to the master ahead of Ivan.

The milk isn't hot enough to scold; Timo isn't that careless. Which is just as well, since his attention is now on the soup that he's hastily putting together from what left overs he can find. He'd like to put some root vegetables in to bulk it up, but they'd take too long to cook, so Ivan will have to put up with it being a little thin, but he'll find some bread to go with it, and as long as it fills him up to sleep he can have a proper meal in the morning at breakfast.

For a while, it will be silent as Ivan is drinking his milk, large gulps that linger in his mouth for a long time because something makes him think that he should enjoy the taste because warm milk is a luxury. It's not a strong enough thought to really ake him wonder, though, and when he is half through the mug he cradles it in his hands, lowering them to his lap, and looks at Timo.

He has been wondering about this for a while now. "Do the people here know that I'll live here?" And what do they know about him, if? Do they like Timo, and if, will they like his bastard son? He doesn't expect people to be absolutely excited about him being there, anything but. But it would be nice to at least start on a positive or at least neutral note. Maybe he can make this place a nice home. Maybe he can make friends. That would be nice. He's not sure if he is ready yet, because he has to get stronger before making friends, right? Still, it would be nice. Maybe this place is a bit different.

That gives Timo time to get the soup as put together as it can be. Fortunately enough for Ivan his first taste of Timo's cooking won't be too bad, since he only has what he could find. It'll be simple, and quite thin, but hopefully satisfying. He cuts some bread as well, and then sets it aside with a bowl so that he can serve Ivan once it's ready, then hunts out a stool for himself and sits with Ivan, watching him as he drinks.

"I don't know." He admits. "It would be like my father to send a letter ahead to the Master but not to me. But please don't worry about it. I'll make sure that everything's all right." He doesn't want to lie to the boy, but neither does he want to make him worried. "You just need to focus on getting comfortable here and making new friends. There aren't that many people your age in the house, but maybe we can go to the town sometimes too. I'll have to see if the governess here will take you on too." But that can wait immediately. "It must be scary, leaving all your friends behind and having to learn a new language too."

"Friends are nice." It's a bland statement - friends are wonderful, and the best thing that can happen to a person. That's his belief. Everyone should be friends, because then everyone would have a large network of human closeness and everyone would be happy.

But it is also something that he doesn't think he can have yet himself, not yet. He has to get stronger first. Better. You can only have friends if you can offer something, if you can keep them. "Do you have friends here?"

The blandness of the statement makes Timo surprised, staring at Ivan for a moment, caught out. He would have expected Ivan to maybe tell him about some of the friends that he'd left behind, or maybe talk about the friends that he'd like to have, but not that. It almost sounded discouraging, or at least it did to Timo, as though friends were something that happened to other people. "I get on well with everyone here." He replied, still mulling Ivan's response over. "Well, those I talk to a lot, anyway. And the master's, well. He's hard to get friendly with. But he's still nice! Everyone's been good to me, even though my English wasn't very good when I got here. It still isn't, really. But we can learn together, you and me!" Or at least that's what he hopes.

'Getting on well' is a description that could mean a lot, but Ivan decides that it probably means more than just a neutral relationship coming froma guy as cheerful as his father. His father. It's still fresh and new to look at someone and apply that word to them. He'd always wondered how it would be, to have a face, to have a name to attach to that concept.

He's not sure what to think of it yet. "Mr. Kostochev said that he was sure that you could help me with it. So we will learn together, yes?" He had thought that Timo's English must already be good... but maybe that governess that Timo mentioned would play a part in it too. It worries him a bit, to have to listen to so many people, but he hopes that it will work out somehow.

Mr Kostochev must have been the man that Ivan travelled with, Timo reminds himself. Maybe he'll see if he can find a way to send something to him as a thank you. "We'll learn together." He repeats with a smile and a nod. He certainly knows more than he did when he came here, but he's daily reminded that he still has a long way to go. And in any case, teaching Ivan will probably help a lot. He'd like to teach him a little Finnish as well, his pride for his homeland dictating that if he really is going to raise Ivan as his son, he should do it properly, but he'll hold back on that, at least for now. Maybe one day they'll go back there and then he'll have a good reason to immerse Ivan in the language.

Leaning over, he tests the soup, but decides it needs a little longer before he can serve it to the boy. "What other things have you been taught? How good's your reading and writing?" Maybe it's not something that Ivan wants to think about having just arrived, but Timo will need to make sure that he gets a good education. It's the best way for bastards like themselves to take advantage of their position and move up in the world.

Ivan pulls his knees up, resting his heels on the stool and lowering his chin to his knees. He watches Timo's hands, or maybe the soup - both the man and the prospect of food are warring for his attention right now.

"For the last year, when other children were visiting, I was always sent to be instructed together with them." So he has learned a bit, he can read and has a very rough grip on writing and basic math, but that is about it. He's had three teachers so far, and none of them for longer than the few weeks that his cousins were visiting. If he hadn't found reading interesting enough to do it without being told to, because his mother had liked it... he wouldn't be any good at it now.

Timo struggles to work out how that's relevant for a moment. "So you only went to class when they were there?" That was a little worrying. He was probably quite behind. But they could work on that. After all, Timo hadn't started his formal education until he was in his early teens and he'd still done well enough.

Deciding that the soup was done enough, he served it up for Ivan, and then passed him the bowl. "Be careful, it's still hot."

The boy places his mug on the ground and then hops back on the stool to take the bowl, balancing it in his lap carefully. "Thank you.

...I can read." He's not sure why he never got a teacher for himself, and probably will never know - it's not something that they discussed with him. Maybe it was just hard to find someone for a house this far away from everywhere, where the onyl child of noble blood would be a bastard. Maybe there hadn't been the money for it. It was not that bad; it gave him a lot of free time, and the teacher would have abandoned him after a short time anyway, he's sure of that.

That's a relief, but Timo tries not to show it on his face. "Once you can read everything's opened up to you! Ah, well, you need to learn English and Latin and French too, but that'll come. I can teach you some and if the governess here won't take you on I'll find you a tutor. Ah - but it can't be all schooling! What other things do you like doing, Ivan?"

"I like watching people." He takes up the spoon and dips it in, careful not to drop it and have soup splash all over him. He wants to make a good impression on this man that he'll be dependent on for a decade to come, and who will hopefully stay for that decade. It'd be nice to have someone who stays at his side. "And listen to them having conversations. But it is fine if they don't. Or if they are alone."

The spoon is raised and he blows on it before eating the soup, and then lowers it back to the bowl to look up at Timo, smiling up at him. "There are a lot of people here, yes?"

Well that's just... that's just creepy. Even Timo doesn't quite know what to say to that, taking a moment to stare at Ivan. What exactly is he meant to say to that? "There's a lot of people." The question doesn't need thought to reply to, fortunately enough. "Wouldn't you rather talk with people than just watch them?" It's a completely alien idea to Timo, which doesn't help. If he sees someone who looks like they need someone to talk to he'll very quickly find a reason to talk to them.

"But I'm sure there'll be someone for you to make friends with here." He adds, firmly.

Was that a wrong thing to say? He tilts his head, peering over at Timo inquiringly, though not unsmiling. He was asked what he likes to do, so he answered - but, it occurrs to him, he was never before really asked that question. Only ones like 'do you like activity X?' or 'what did you do today?'. His mother always seemed to enjoy the stories that he could tell her about the world outside of her bedchamber.

He eats a bit more of the soup and shakes his head, spoon still in mouth, before answering. "If they don't know that I'm there, they can't send me away, yes?" It's simple logic. Anyone would do it like that. Right? And a lot of people are just watching others without approaching them. The difference is that most of them are old and strong enough to not just be sent away when they are spotted. Or picked on. That's not pleasant, either. "And you can't pick on someone that you don't know is there, either. And it is still very lively to be around people, even if they don't know that you are there." He laughs, more a quiet giggle with upturned corners of his mouth, high pitched and cheerful, happy, clearly enarmoured with memories. "People can be very lively, yes?"

It'd be nice if he could make friends. If Timo is so sure of it, he will try. But he's not sure if he should get his hopes up.

The more Timo finds out about Ivan the more there's a hint of something... wrong about him. But he forces that away for now. He can't allow himself to think that about the boy that he's going to have to raise as his son. Besides, it's late and they're both tired. Maybe it's just that.

But he's stuck for words, awkwardly trying to come up with a response that won't worry Ivan. "Well, if that's how you like it. You should try talking to people as well, though." He offers, gently. Communication is good, and he shouldn't let Ivan shy away from it. "Hopefully there'll be some people in the village the same age as you that you can play with."

"Where is the village?" He's still not sure if it will really be as easy as Timo paints it, his experience just shows something different. But maybe this place is really different. Or maybe Timo is just different from him. That could be a thing, too. Though... if he wasn't treated like he was because he was a bastard, then... then. He doesn't quite want to finish that thought. It means that it must be something even more inherently about him than that. And that means that it is something that he can change even less.

Maybe it really is that he's too weak still, that everyone can pick on him if they want. That he needs to get strong enough so people can't pick on him anymore. Well, he plans on that anyway, some distant point in the future. A boy needs something to work towards, right?

And then something else occurs to him, and he gulps the soup down quickly, remembering at the last moment to not speak with his mouth full (because he still wants to make a good impression, and only bad children speak with their mouth full. Adults are apparently allowed to, but that is probably because they are strong already. "There are really no other children here?"

"Well, it's a little way, but we'll work something out." Timo says, cheerfully, and perhaps a little over optimistically. He just wants to encourage Ivan to make friends. Although, this probably isn't the best place for a young boy to grow up. Sure, he'll have access to the best education that he could have, but there really aren't enough people his age for him to play with.

"There are a few, I think. There's people younger than me, but not anyone your age that I've met." He admits with a sigh. "Ah, but I can play with you too, when I'm not working."

That gets him a surprised look. The only person who would play with him sometimes was his mother, who didn't have a job so it was just endless free time for her and she had still spare time outside of playing with him; and then there were his caretakers, who would play with him sometimes because it was their job. For someone to offer to sacrifice the time where he doesn't have to work - "Is that what fathers normally do?"

Or is being a father like a job, so ...but does that mean that Timo will have Sunday afternoons off, or something like that, and Ivan isn't allowed to approach him in that time? He still needs to get to the bottom of this. He should have paid more attention to what the other children and her parents were like, but the noble parents usually had no job themselves (that Ivan could discern, that is) and the servants tended to interact with their children on the side of working if they lived around the house, he rarely saw them in their actual free time.

Timo really isn't the best person to ask about what's normal for father's to do. "Why don't we not worry about what's normal and what isn't and see what works for us?" He offered, gently. Never mind that there were more than enough reasons to try and fit in - Victorian society really wasn't the right one to be trying to stand out from the crowd in, but Timo wasn't thinking about that. He'd always gotten on well with people even if he was a little unusual in many ways, and he didn't even consider that that might not be the same for Ivan.

"Do you feel better now?" He asks, then, reaching over to gently run his fingers through the boy's hair, checking to see if it's dry or not yet. It's probably a bad idea to take him to bed with it still wet, the last thing Ivan needs in a new place is a cold as well.

Ivan isn't sure if the "let's just see what happens" approach is really a good idea, but if his father wants to go with that, they will have to go with that. It's not up to him, he assumes.

He looks up fromt he soup at the contact and relaxes a bit further. His mother used to do that, too, run her fingers through his hair... so it carries positive feelings and memories and makes him feel at ease. "Is there more soup?" He's still a bit hungry, but if there isn't more, he won't complain and demand more. Going to bed just sounds heavenly now.

Timo would probably actual take advice from Ivan - at the very least register his opinion, but never mind. He never had a father until he was almost in his teens, and even after that he was mostly absent. The closest he had to a male role model was the head of the household, and Timo had very quickly learnt to keep himself out from under his feet.

"Oh, of course there is!" Timo said, quickly, leaning to pick up the pot so he could dish out more to Ivan. He always tended to make too much anyway. Just a little bit longer and then Ivan can sleep. "Is that enough? I'll start clearing up while you eat that." He doesn't want to leave a mess in he cook's nice lean kitchen.

Ivan nods and dives right back into the soup. He'll not put it down until everything is eaten, and then wander over to Timo and hold bowl and spoon out to him. Where is he supposed to put these?

Timo absent mindedly ruffles Ivan's hair with a slightly damp hand before taking the bowl and washing it up for him. Once that's done, and the last little bits of cleaning, he goes to pick up Ivan's suitcase, before frowning at his wet clothes. Ah well. They'll hang them on the back of the chair for now and have them dealt with in the morning. "All right, ready for bed?" He asks, offering his free hand out to Ivan again.

Without hesitation, the hand is taken, though Ivan might be a bit heavier in Timo's hand this time, being too tired to hold his own arm anymore. His grip gets a bit tighter when they venture out of the kitchen and he looks around nervously, as if expecting monsters to jump out from behind corners. It's not quite that, he's just anxious and really doesn't want to run into anyone who could stand between them and the bed. He assumes that Timo would carry him there if he fell asleep while adults are talking but he cannot be sure, and... and. He yawns, stumbling because he didn't saw some uneven spot in the ground but catches himself. "Is it far?"

Timo notices that, and just gives Ivan's hand a light squeeze. It's late for him, a full grown adult, and he hasn't had to travel or come to a strange place to meet a strange man, he can understand entirely. Luckily Ivan's still small enough for Timo to carry if necessary, and the man's stronger than he looks anyway. "Not too far. Do you want me to carry you?" He asks, gently. They shouldn't meet anyone this late at night, and if they do, Timo won't be stopping to chat.

While ivan still isn't sure what to think of Ivan, he decided a while ago, somewhere halfway through the trip, that he would take a leap of faith with him. His mother treated him nicely most of the time, so surely his father would, too? He'd still be on his best behaviour and all that; but he would trust him to be nice to him; things like assuming that Timo would not trick him are a part of that.

So he just nods at the question. It will probably be quicker, and he is too tired to feel that his pride or something like that forbids him from accepting this kind of help.

At least Timo is a man to trust. He'd never hurt a child, no matter what. Besides, he can see that Ivan's exhausted, and the sooner they get him to bed the better. He puts the suitcase down and then crouches so he can gather Ivan up against his chest and scoop the suitcase up again. Even for Timo, the boy's too large to carry in one arm, but like this he's safe. "All right?" He murmurs, before standing.

Like that it doesn't take too long to reach Timo's room, his strides much longer without having to allow for a tired child's steps. There's not much to see, though, aside from his discarded work all over the desk. The room's narrow, and the bed even more so, but they'll manage. He sets Ivan down on the bed and smiles at him. "Almost there. Let's just put you in something more comfortable and then you can sleep."

Ivan wraps his arms around Timo's neck and just hangs on. He's not overly heavy for a boy his age, almost a bit too thin - which just seems to be a thing. He doesn't remember not eating properly. After all at least where food and clothes were concerned, he was always treated according to the status of his family, right?

When Timo sets him on the bed, he slumps a bit, yawning, but then leans forward and starts to unlace the ties of one of his shoes, clumsily and at less than half the speed that he would be able to do it at normally. "There is sleepwear in the trunk." He's not sure where, he didn't pack it, but there was some before so it still has to be there, right?

Timo notices that and frowns faintly. Has Ivan been mistreated? It could be. He'll have to try and find out, but tread carefully doing so. It's something to leave for another day, anyway. Nodding at what Ivan says, he opens it up, separating the wet clothes and hanging them up where he can. The dry clothes are set on the cabinet to be put away in the morning. Ivan's night shirt is fished out and laid on the bed beside the boy so Timo can kneel in front of him and help him finish stripping, and then into the shirt.

Then he helps Ivan into bed, tucking him in, before turning away to change himself. Finally he extinguishes the lamp, before slipping into bed beside the boy. And then there's an awkward moment. Instinctively he wants to gather Ivan up and sleep with him like that, but he's not sure how Ivan feels about that. Instead he leans over and kisses Ivan's forehead. "Sleep well, Ivan." He'll let him decide whether or not to move closer - but either way he's at risk of finding himself being cuddled in the morning.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear? - November 2nd, 1888

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject