aungier | (no subject)

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Date: November 2, 1888
Time: 1:00 PM - 3:00 PM
Location: Various locations around the house.
Characters: Shirogane (

anachronisticbilliards) and YOU! [OPEN/~~CLOSED~~]
Summary: Shirogane's just trying to do his job and is available to be bothered.
Warnings: Moving furniture. The horror.

What with all of the people constantly coming and going at Aungier House, furniture needed to be moved around quite often. Rooms needed to be prepared. Some rooms didn't have enough furniture. Others had too much. Other rooms had the appropriate amounts of furniture and were well-used, but the furniture still needed to be moved so that the maids could clean.

That's where the footmen came in. Today, Shirogane found himself doing just that--moving furniture. For the most part, he didn't mind the work. It could be physically demanding, true, but at least there was a point to it. A purpose other than that someone somewhere thought criminals needed to walk on treadmills or turn pointless cranks for hours on end. For a few hours in the afternoon, he could be found moving furniture between rooms as he'd been directed. If he needed to be bothered or pulled away for some other task, well, he was just a footman. He didn't quite have as much governance over his own time as he would have liked.

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Hindsight would likely remind Warsman later that walking along while reading wasn't the most sensible thing to do with his time, but until then karma was only too happy to pick up the slack.

In his defense, the books here really were quite unlike anything he'd ever seen before; there were so many in one place, and on so many subjects from so many years gone by. Reading in English fluently was a skill that, even after seven years, still required honing on his part, but he knew more than enough to dive into some of the lighter texts on offer. So much that picking between the array of volumes jammed onto each and every shelf took him far longer than he'd anticipated, and he hadn't even noticed Shirogane getting to work in the room next door.

Which was probably why, as he made to leave with his latest acquisition open in his hands, he completely failed to notice the chaise shuffled rather closer to the doorway than usual- and walked right into it. Giving an impressively loud oof, Warsman stumbled over the back of the sofa and landed mask-first in the cushions, while Moll Flanders took to the air with aerodynamics that would have captivated any physicist. That it was also likely to catch Shirogane hard on its way back down was less worth boasting about.

Shirogane had been rather focused on the small chest he was in the process of trying to move, and so he completely failed to notice Warsman's presence until it was too late...if, by "too late," one meant "a copy of Moll Flanders suddenly came out of nowhere to hit him in the head." There was a bit of swearing as Shirogane suddenly dropped the small chest he'd been carrying and turned to glare at whoever had thrown the book at him. At least, he assumed it had been thrown.

Righting himself on the chaise, Warsman didn't even realise Shirogane was around to give him that filthy look until he finally lifted his head, one hand pressed to his helmet to try and steady his head. As his sight settled first on the young manservant and then on the book now lying on the floor beside the dropped chest, though realisation dawned.

"Ah-" He struggled back to his feet and around the sofa, holding his hands up defensively. "I'm sorry! I wasn't-- are you alright?" Trying to apologise properly could wait- if he was right, the poor man had a look more on his mind than explanations. Quite literally.

"There are other ways of getting my attention that don't involve throwing books at me." Shirogane rubbed at the spot where the book had conked him in the head. Perhaps the tone wasn't as polite as what he should have taken with a guest of the family who was therefore more important than he was, but he was fairly certain he'd just had a book thrown at his head. This, despite the fact that Warsman had already apologized.

Oh, dear. Judging by his face, he was going to have to do better than hurriedly sputtering out an apology like hot fat in a frying pan. Warsman at least had the decency to look as shame-faced as he can manage with his mask's limited range of expressions.

"I didn't mean to throw it- I tripped on the sofa and it flew out of my hands. I really am sorry." He took a hesitant, hopeful step forward, silently praying that he'd been clearer this time. "I hope it didn't hurt too badly...?"

Tripped? On the sofa? The sofa Shirogane had moved so that it was partially blocking the doorway while he got that end table into the proper position?

Oops. That realization seemed to blunt the worst of his anger, at least. "Ah...no, no, I'm fine..." How very awkward. "I did not realize I'd placed the sofa so far out there in the way..."

Watching realisation dawn on Shirogane's face was something of a eureka moment for Warsman; the very last impression he thought he'd be combating that day was of someone so utterly dismissive of those around him that he saw fit to demand their attention by throwing someone else's (probably expensive) property at them.

"You hadn't," he answered gently. "I was reading at the time. I really should have been more aware, but..." But it really was a startling read. He paused, glancing almost plaintively to the floor again. "... not to undermine my apology, but... do you think you could help me find it? The book, that is. I have a sneaking suspicion it might have been a first edition."

Shirogane nodded. "I think it bounced off somewhere in that direction..." Not like he'd been watching the book when it ricocheted off his head, but he at least felt the thing bounce off. That had to help with something. "What book was it?" Not like this would help with the search process much. There would only be one book lying around somewhere in there, right?

Right. A direction. That was a good start. Warsman turned towards the corner of the room and padded carefully across the floor, shoes clipped on the floorboa-- ah, he'd heard a thump when it landed as well as after it hit its mark, hadn't it? If it had landed on one of the Persian rugs this family seemed so very fond of the sound would have been swaddled by the carpeting.

Indeed, he was so preoccupied by his search that he didn't think to put off giving his answer, and found himself saying, "'Moll Flanders', by Mr. Daniel Defoe," before he could review whether or not it was wise to advertise his literary habits in this particular instance. "It has a brown cover..."

"I hope it's not going to blend in with the flooring..." Shirogane was not at all well-read in the least, and so the title failed to elicit any sort of judgement from him one way or another. A lost book was a lost book, even if this one seemed as though it would make for a formidable weapon in a worst-case scenario. He got down on his hands and knees, the better to peer under chairs and tables. "What's it about?" He was a bit curious as to what a mechanical man might have been so engrossed in reading that he walked straight into a couch.

For a moment, when the realisation of just what his admission might have entailed caught up with him, he thought he'd gotten away with it. How silly of him.

If he'd had cheeks, Warsman would have blushed. "It's..." How could he possibly make this sound appropriate? It wasn't that he'd been caught with an issue of The Pearl, but it seemed like precisely the sort of thing he could be misunderstood about. "It's about the life of a sinful woman," he settled on eventually, then busied himself leaning over a nearby armchair to check behind it, completely missing the book at his feet in his hurry.

"Ah." Shirogane was sorry he'd asked. He'd spent more than enough time hanging around areas of varying levels of disrepute to know exactly what being a "sinful woman" would entail. He supposed it was one of those novels that would present the life of such an individual in great, scalacious detail, only to hastily add that this narrative existed only to provide the gentle reader with an example of the horrors of sin. It was definitely not the sort of thing he would have expected a mechanical man to be perusing. No wonder he wanted to find the book. Leaving something like that lying around where one of the children might find it probably wasn't the best idea.

Shirogane had started up his own search on the other side of the room and had his back to the book on the floor, but at Warsman's explanation of its contents, Shirogane couldn't help but turn to look at the other in surprise. When he did that, he spotted the book by Warsman's feet. He breathed a sigh of relief and went to pick it up, opening it up to flip through the pages as he did so. Morbid curiosity, one might call it. "Is this it?"

'Ah'. That said it all, really, didn't it? Silently, Warsman cursed himself for not having the ingenuity to lie on the spot- though if he'd been caught out at some later point, the man would doubtless have thought him frightfully rude as well as a sensationalist.

He winced slightly as he found and held the book up, not only because he'd miss it in so obvious a place but because it meant the evidence was right in front of his face. "Yes... yes, that's it."

Rather than claim it immediately, though, he at least had the grace to let the manservant leaf through it first; if he were Robin he'd probably have been able to leap in then and there with page numbers and recommendations, citing the most affecting and elegantly written passages, but all he could do was stand by in slightly embarrassed silence. "... I... really couldn't give you an opinion on it yet," he forced himself to say eventually. "Mr. Defoe's works are apparently held in very high regard, though. You're welcome to borrow it when I've finished."

Shirogane closed the book and handed it back to Warsman. He seemed surprised at the suggestion he read it later. "Ah, I usually don't often have much of a chance to read," he said, embarrassed. "I generally play cards on the occasion I do have a bit of time to myself..."

Miss Mary receives large packages from time to time. She has family in the country and they do from time to time send her trunks full of new clothes, not always for herself but also to share with the ladies of the house. She also receives trunks packed full books, which she uses when teaching her young pupils. One of the butlers has brought her a not from the family, which says that the trunks are not far behind.

So she takes the edge of her skirts in one hand and goes looking briskly for a footman.

A footman can conveniently be found carrying a chair down the hall in Mary's direction, actually. Shirogane has no idea she's actually searching for one, and he'll give her a polite nod as he and the chair walk on by. He's trying to keep to the side, assuming her brisk pace means she's on some important errand of her own that in no way involves finding a footman to lift heavy objects.

While she does not interrupt his work, she does follow him, her note folded demurely in her hands in front of her. It's a strange looking little procession until she speaks up.

"I'll have need of you."

She isn't shy about telling the servants what to do. She was raised in a civilized home herself, with a similar array of hired help. She wasn't in favor of being cruel to the staff -- (one slave to another) -- but each much perform their duties.

By this point, he's delivered the chair to its destination. "Oh?" He'll carefully set it down in its proper place before straightening and asking, "What do you need, miss?" He is definitely curious; he hasn't been around long enough to have been sent on a great many errands, and he has no idea what the governess might want with him.

She offers the note to him, written by the head butler according to the information passed along by the courier. The times at which the trunks are to be expected are written clearly, separate from the sparse lines of text. Shortly after 1:00 it says.

"I have several trunks to arrive, I want you to meet them with me and take them up."

All the way up to the third floor. How delightful.

Shirogane took the note and scanned it carefully, then nodded. How lucky of him to have been the one she'd caught for the task. Not that he was letting that show, of course.

At least it wasn't more oddly-shaped furniture. He supposed he had that small comfort. Trunks were predictable and rectangular. "Of course, miss. I'd imagine they'll be arriving at any moment, if they've not done so already."

She flashes a brief smile, although she does turn then to head out into the great hall, more eager for her deliveries than to observe too much politeness. Her steps are light and graceful, a girlishness that belies her position of authority over the households children and her secrets of motherhood. Like any good lady, she'd been taught to dance, it shows in how delicate her toes touch the floor as she heads down the stairs.

It's muggy outside, rain threatening for several days now.

"They mustn't get wet," she murmurs the herself in agitation, staring down the road impatiently.

Shirogane is considerably less light on his feet as he follows along after her, the picture of a duitiful servant who is on the verge of having a very long day.

"Of course they won't get wet, Miss," he reassured her. "I'll run back to the house to fetch some oilcloth if it starts raining. He hoped the rain would wait and get it over with while they were all sleeping to spare him the pleasure of trying to do his job in the wet.

"Very dutiful." It's easy to tell she was not born and bred an English lady when she says such things aloud, even if her pretty Louisiana accent were not enough to make the distinction. Then again, sometimes it seems it is not so much her breeding as her maturity. Strangely whimsical for a girl her age, at twenty-one she might have a bit more sense.

She brushes some of her blonde hair back off of her forehead, staring up at the sky as if the birds might relay to her how close the car bearing her trunks might be. The birds don't care for her, however, certainly night bluebirds and sparrows. She would have better luck with a vulture.

The vehicles are late trundling up the road but Mary doesn't give up on them for a moment, giving intructions to the deliverymen as easily as she gave instructions to Shirogane.

Edited 2013-07-17 22:02 (UTC)

"I try, miss." Well, maybe he wasn't as ill-suited for this job as he was beginning to think. Or maybe he was just very good at faking being particularly competent. At any rate, he hoped such comments might get back to his bosses somehow. If he were dutiful enough, perhaps he might get a raise in pay.

He glances at the birds as they wait for the deliverymen, and he can't help but envy the fact that they can come and go as they please with no repercussions. They can flit wherever the wind might take them, with no questions asked.

Shirogane offers the deliverymen a sort of nod of solidarity when they arrive, a greeting from one laborer to another. He sees no point in standing there and doing nothing as they set about their work, and he'll help them unload their delivery.

At one point, Shirogane might notice that he's being watched. And followed, depending on if he's moving at the moment that he notices. There's a boy of maybe six, not hiding but still kind of invisible with how still and quiet he stands. He's not nearly perfect at not being noticed though, not enough practice. There is a smile on his face, as if watching someone move furniture around fills him with great joy.

And actually, it does. Not so much the actual activity of the footman, though it is interesting enough to observe, but the being around someone. Ivan prefers for the people that he is around not to know that he is, because that way he won't be sent away, and even if they don't know it feels like company. He likes being around people, he likes it being lively or at least as lively as possible. It keeps him from feeling lonely.

Shirogane notices the boy, though he does spend a bit of time carrying on as though he hasn't. Let the boy think he was better at not being noticed than he actually was. The sight of the smiling child was enough to make him smile as well as he completes his task, a change from how serious he usually looks when he's working.

When he's finished, he'll turn to give the child his full attention and another smile. "I've not seen you around here before." He must be the new arrival a couple of the more gossipy maids had been talking about earlier. "What's your name?"

Ivan is surprised at being adressed and not sent away. Usually when people notice him back home, they will stop talking and shuffle away, or tell him to get out, or start to be generally unpleasant. Depending on who it is, running can be a good option.

So he stays a bit wary, waiting for the bomb to drop; they guy seems nice, and he'd like to just believe that he is - he will act as if he is! But he doubts a bit that it is true. "Ivan Timoevich." He clsps his hands firmly over his belly, trying to not not betray anything but friendly openness. "My father lives here."

"Does he, now? That's good, a boy should be with his father." Shirogane felt a twinge at that; his own father ran out on him and his mother when he was a bit younger than Ivan appeared to be. He hoped this boy would have an easier go at life. "It's nice to meet you, Ivan. My name's Shirogane." He accompanied the introduction with a bit of a bow and a flourish, mostly in an attempt to amuse the child.

Ivan's smile falters for a moment; he is trying to cultivate it into a permanent thing at least around strangers or near-strangers, because people tend to be nicer when you smile, but emotions still overrun it fairly easily. I would allow that if he thought himself to be strong, but as it is he always hopes that it will stop eventually.

The thing is, his father wasn't with him for the past six years, so for all his life safe for the last couple of hours. He didn't even know him. And he's still not sure what to think of him. Yet, he nods, watching with slight confusion at the show that the man puts up. "I'll stay with my father now, I was told. Your name is unusual." He could probably have said it more elegantly, but the words wouldn't quite come.

Shirogane had to chuckle at that. He'd expected it to be a problem, really, but so far, the child had been the only one to say something. Perhaps he should have taken on a more suitable name whenever he'd changed, but this one just felt right. "Ah, that's because I'm Japanese...you can call me Silver, if that's a bit easier for you to pronounce." It was an old nickname, but serviceable enough.

Both words are ones that hold no meaning to him, so one is as good as the other. He shakes his head. "Shirogane." He'll repeat it a couple times more in his head, trying to memorize the name. "Japanese?" That is probably a nationality, but where is it?

Shirogane seems pleased when the child goes for the more proper name instead of the nickname, and he will offer an encouraging nod. And at that question, he'll answer, "My father was from a place called Japan. It's very far away...I suppose many of the names from over there would be strange here."

While Lyall rarely wound up stooping to moving furniture, himself, he did have to check in on the ones doing the moving. It was one of the privileges of rank that he had to admit enjoying. After all, he wasn't exactly of tree-trunk nature-- more of a shrub than anything else-- so that had never been a particularly pleasant endeavor.

It was always worse, of course, when one found out all one's hard work just went to waste. Lyall came into the room where Shirogane had just finished switching the couches to the other side of the room. He watched for a beat, looking both satisfied with the finished work and apologetic for what he was going to have to say. "I'm afraid that the Lady of the house has one more lounge sette she wants to fit in here."

Of course another piece of furniture needed to be added to the room as soon as he'd finished. Of course. Shirogane was unable to prevent himself from letting slip a bit of a sigh before turning to regard the room again. Turning away from Lyall to look back at the room gave him the chance to make sure he kept the irritation off his face. "Does she have any preferences as to where it will go?" There was the briefest of pauses as Shirogane momentarily forgot how he should probably be addressing one of his bosses. "Sir?"

The pause earned him a brief raise of his brows. Lyall didn't exactly care where people came from, but he did generally insist on at least the pproper respect. When Shirogane did add on the honorific he continued as if the hesitation hadn't happened. "I believe it is to be part of the collection by the window, and it is coming from the room next door."

Which was also a bit overcrowded for Lyall's taste, and would be even without the sette. He would never understand the current style of packing a room so full of furniture that one had to move carefully lest one bump it.

Shirogane stared at the furniture in that direction and had to wonder if anyone had even looked in this room before deciding it was to hold more furniture. He had his doubts the task was even physically possible, and part of him wondered if this was some sort of test to see just how much the new footman would put up with. Maybe if it had been anyone other than Lyall telling him that. He couldn't see the man wasting his time in such a fashion.

"That's going to be a tight fit...but I think I can manage it, sir." He walked over to the window to begin creating a space for the lounge. "Just the one additional piece?" At this point, he wouldn't have been surprised if Lyall broke the news that an entire dining set was to be wedged into the room as well.

"As far as I am aware." At least there wasn't going to be a dining room set. This was a sitting room, and not even the eccentric individuals in this household would be bringing a dining room table into a sitting room.

Lyall looked a bit wry when he added, "But I make no promises of those whims of which I am unaware." He would never say such a thing in front of his employers and their family, but said employers and their family were not here, now, were they? "Shall I show you which sette is to be moved?"

Shirogane had to smile a bit at that comment regarding the family's whims regarding the furniture. Things could change rather quickly, true. "That would be very helpful, sir."

Because, really, at this point, all that furniture was starting to run together quite well.

"This way, then." Lyall headed out of the room and towards the next one down the hall, from drawing room to one of the various libraries in the building. He had a minute to talk, and since Shirogane was still relatively new, he felt it safe to ask: "Have you been settling in well, Mister Oogami? Besides the regular expectations that come with working for an indecisive family, at any rate."

Shirogane seemed surprised to be asked. "Well enough, sir. It's...a bit different than what I'm used to." His official story was that he'd previously been employed as a workman at the docks before working his way up in the world, which, he supposed, would have provided excuses for any behavior that might have been rougher around the edges than he thought. It certainly sounded better than prison. Even without that, it wasn't like he knew all that much about high society.

"I imagine so. One must polish up one's manners, working on a country estate. At least it is a country estate and not a city one," Lyall mused helpfully. "Things are perhaps a hair more relaxed here." He pushed open the library doors, looking inside for anyone who might happen to be inside. One never knew, in this house, given how popular the libraries were. Even Lyall, when he could snatch a minute away from work, was known to slip inside one for some light reading.

For now, it seemed to be empty.

"It's good to hear that, sir. I've heard stories as to how things are in some of the city estates from some of the other servants...I believe I would be happier in a place like this." That was the truth. The city certainly seemed stuffier than what he'd find here, and a country estate seemed confined enough at times. Not for the first time, Shirogane wondered why he hadn't simply set out to wander the world. Perhaps a berth aboard a ship, working as a sailor where they didn't care if you'd spent time in prison or not...

Of course, the pay was certainly better here, and he wouldn't have to worry about such pesky things as seasickness. That made a big difference. He'd traded a bit of freedom for a bit of security, and it was still an adjustment. He followed Lyall into the room and looked around at the furniture appraisingly in the manner of a man who was trying to decide which of the pieces would be easiest to move and hoping that whatever he had to haul, it would be that one. "Which sette is it, sir?"

"And I do hope you'll be happy here. Or at least comfortable." That was one thing Lyall did hope his staff knew about him: he did in fact care about their welfare, comfort, and feelings. Not so much that he let them walk all over him, of course, but enough that he took their opinions into consideration and their troubles with serious care.

"Quite honestly, I do not believe it matters which," he added, looking about, himself. "I was told 'that sette from the library', and not much more. So I believe you may be free to choose your own. Though I will not promise you wno't have to change it later."

"I think I will be, sir." Hoped he would be, anyway. "Comfortable" was a good word for it; the house was much nicer than anywhere else Shirogane might possibly have ended up. The family was still taking a bit of getting used to, and Shirogane still didn't know what to make of the vast majority of the other servants, but Lyall seemed like a decent enough boss.

Shirogane scanned the available furniture in the room and went for the smallest sette he could see. "This one looks like the only one that's going to be able to fit in there with all of the other furniture..." It would also be easiest to haul back in there if it wasn't the right sette. There wasn't a truly significant size difference, but with all the furniture moving he'd been doing, Shirogane was perfectly willing to take these small victories where he could.

"The color seems all right," Lyall agreed after considering it a moment, as well. It would harmonize rather than clash, even if it didn't precisely match. "Very well. Will you require any help to get it moved, or shall I leave you to it?"

Not that he'd stoop to helping manually, of course, not at his rank and with his reedy frame, but he'd send someone up to help if need be.

"I believe I can get it myself..." Shirogane experimentally went to lift the sette. He was no stranger to a hard day's physical labor; they did so hate to see the inmates lying around idle at his last place of residence. "No worse than some of the jobs at the, er, docks."

"Excellent." After one more glance about, Lyall finished, "I'll leave you to it, then. I trust your judgement to fit it into the other room's collection tastefully." Well, somewhat tastefully, anyway. He might have words about it later, but for now, he had other things to tend to, and he didn't need to supervise this simple endeavor. "Thank you, Mister Oogami."

Shirogane gave Lyall a nod of acknowledgement before returning his full attention to getting that sette where it needed to go. "You're welcome, sir. It's what I'm here for."

((and fade out there I believe :) nice establishing scene!))

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2pm, in the first floor Drawing Room

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