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

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