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.
Time: 12:00am - ~02:00am
Location: tba, probably entrance-hallways-Timo's bedroom
Characters: Timo Väinämöinen (
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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.
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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?"
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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"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.
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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."
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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'.)
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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?"
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"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.
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"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?"
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"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."
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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?"
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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.
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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.
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"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.
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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."
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...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.
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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?"
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"But I'm sure there'll be someone for you to make friends with here." He adds, firmly.
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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.
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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."
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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?"
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"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."
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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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."
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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?
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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.