Way With Words - Printable Version
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Way With Words - Zelda Darrow - April 24, 2020
March 25th, 1890 - Alfred's Flat
I moved on fine, just ask your friends
Hope that's what you wanted
So ask yourself what could have been
But what's the point in saying anything
Any time works for me.
When she asked to come over, a part of Zelda had almost hoped that Alfred would say he was too busy, or that he had changed his mind. He had to have other friends (Jo, apparently) and therefor a better way to spend his time than spending time with Zelda. But of course he didn't; he wasn't allowed to do his job, and he couldn't do anything risky without activating the curse, and so: she could come over whenever she wanted.
She wasn't supposed to do this. She certainly wasn't supposed to want this.
Coming to Alfred's flat in the late afternoon was not a good use of her time; not when she had a boat to fix and other projects to work on. Besides, she had a cursebreaker (kind of) to ask about the Voyager, and that - also would have been a better use of her time. A more moral use of her time for sure. The entire trip to the Ministry atrium, she was trying to talk herself out of it. She got as far as the floo portal convinced she was going to mutter the address of the house in Bartonburg and then, there she was, saying Alfred's address.
Zelda arrived in the fireplace of his flat in a flash of green flames. She stepped out and swept the ash off the skirts of her robes and into the fireplace with a wave of her hand. "Hello?" she called. She knew it was the right flat - she had been here before - but there were still nerves creeping up her spine. Maybe if she left now, he wouldn't know she had ever been here?
When she asked to come over, a part of Zelda had almost hoped that Alfred would say he was too busy, or that he had changed his mind. He had to have other friends (Jo, apparently) and therefor a better way to spend his time than spending time with Zelda. But of course he didn't; he wasn't allowed to do his job, and he couldn't do anything risky without activating the curse, and so: she could come over whenever she wanted.
She wasn't supposed to do this. She certainly wasn't supposed to want this.
Coming to Alfred's flat in the late afternoon was not a good use of her time; not when she had a boat to fix and other projects to work on. Besides, she had a cursebreaker (kind of) to ask about the Voyager, and that - also would have been a better use of her time. A more moral use of her time for sure. The entire trip to the Ministry atrium, she was trying to talk herself out of it. She got as far as the floo portal convinced she was going to mutter the address of the house in Bartonburg and then, there she was, saying Alfred's address.
Zelda arrived in the fireplace of his flat in a flash of green flames. She stepped out and swept the ash off the skirts of her robes and into the fireplace with a wave of her hand. "Hello?" she called. She knew it was the right flat - she had been here before - but there were still nerves creeping up her spine. Maybe if she left now, he wouldn't know she had ever been here?
RE: Way With Words - J. Alfred Darrow - April 24, 2020
Even though she'd written and said she'd come, a part of him was still thinking maybe she wouldn't. At the very least, he'd expected it to be a while before she did. (Well, he'd had a small, fleeting hope that she might come right away, within twenty minutes of him returning from the post office, the way that Jo Smith had when he'd invited her — but Zelda was not Jo Smith, and he'd known she wasn't going to come as soon as she got the letter, so he couldn't even be properly disappointed when she didn't. Zelda was a working professional who was busy — specifically busy trying to save his ship — not a bored girl tending a shop she didn't much care about. She was also, of course, not the sort of girl who made a habit of showing up alone at men's flats).
He'd expected to spend Wednesday doing absolutely nothing, at any rate. He'd gone out for groceries that morning and then taken an early afternoon bath, because... well, why not? It wasn't as though he had anything pressing to be doing instead. After that he'd settled down with a book — but as he hadn't expected company, he was only half-dressed when he heard her voice call out. "Hey!" he answered back immediately, tossing the book aside and scrambling for a shirt, which he was still in the process of buttoning as he headed into the front room.
"Sorry," he said with a sheepish smile. "I didn't expect you so soon. But, uh, I'm happy you're here, all the same."
RE: Way With Words - Zelda Darrow - April 24, 2020
Zelda was startled into a smile, although she found she couldn't look at the buttons he was redoing or she would be overtaken by her embarrassment. "If it's a bad time I don't have to stay," she said, although - what else could he possibly be doing? They might as well have this onversation, and come what may.
Honestly Zelda didn't know what to expect; he had said that he was saying goodbye to her, but she did not fully believe it.
"I decided to come after work," she explained, shedding her jacket. If Alfred was only recently buttoned, then it was odd if she was wearing outerwear, right. She left it hanging over her arm, because of course she immediately didn't know what to do with it.
Honestly Zelda didn't know what to expect; he had said that he was saying goodbye to her, but she did not fully believe it.
"I decided to come after work," she explained, shedding her jacket. If Alfred was only recently buttoned, then it was odd if she was wearing outerwear, right. She left it hanging over her arm, because of course she immediately didn't know what to do with it.
RE: Way With Words - J. Alfred Darrow - April 26, 2020
"Of course it's not a bad time," he answered immediately. This wasn't exactly appropriate, what they were doing, but getting her here was the riskiest part of it all, he thought. They were hardly going to be observed in his flat, unless Bilton surprised him by coming home early, and when she flooed home no one would know where, exactly she was coming from. Now that she was here, he could hardly waste her presumably secretive floo trip by turning her around and sending her home. "I told you any time, didn't I? And, really, any time."
She'd taken off her jacket, and Alfred crossed the room to take it from her. Their flat may not have been lavishly furnished, but the did have a coat closet and he was at least aware of basic hosting etiquette. When he was within reach of her he had an urge to do something more than just take her coat — kiss her cheek, maybe, or touch her arm, or at least let his hand linger on hers for a moment when reached out — but stopped himself. He wasn't going to get through this conversation by acting on every silly impulse he had whenever she was nearby.
"So," he said as he turned and hung her coat in the closet. "Where to start, huh?" He tried to make his tone a joke, to lighten the mood a bit, but it was a question he still needed to pin down the answer to. Sometime, apparently, within the next few seconds, since she was here. As often as he'd rehearsed this conversation, or different ways that it might go, in his head, he still hadn't really figured out how to order all of his thoughts to make them flow coherently. Part of it was that he didn't have a central argument of any kind, nothing to focus a structure around. There was just a list of facts and a pile of feelings, and nothing much to do about them.
Alfred turned back towards the room. He awkwardly hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his pants, just to have something to do with his hands. "Do you want to sit down?" he offered.
RE: Way With Words - Zelda Darrow - April 27, 2020
If he was hanging her coat, then presumably she would be here longer than fifteen minutes, which was - something. Zelda did not, frankly, know what she wanted from this conversation - just that she wanted. There was unresolved tension around them, constantly, and she wanted something to happen to it so badly that she could feel it in her bones.
But it seemed that they were both at a loss.
"Sure," she said, crossing the room to sit on the right side of his couch. She pulled her knees up towards her chest, but stopped herself from wrapping her arms around them. "You look better," Zelda said, because she did not have much else to say, but also because he did. He was sitting up and he was no longer on a ventilator spell - he was gloriously alive and far from a hospital bed.
To look at him like this, it was almost as if there was nothing wrong with him at all.
But it seemed that they were both at a loss.
"Sure," she said, crossing the room to sit on the right side of his couch. She pulled her knees up towards her chest, but stopped herself from wrapping her arms around them. "You look better," Zelda said, because she did not have much else to say, but also because he did. He was sitting up and he was no longer on a ventilator spell - he was gloriously alive and far from a hospital bed.
To look at him like this, it was almost as if there was nothing wrong with him at all.
RE: Way With Words - J. Alfred Darrow - April 27, 2020
"Thanks," he said, moving to sit on the opposite end of the sofa and propping one elbow against the backrest so that he was facing her. "I feel better."
It was true, though it wasn't saying much, given that the last time they'd seen one another he had literally been on his deathbed. His health was also not what he'd asked her over to talk about, particularly — though given the circumstances it was a bit more on point than any other type of small talk might have been.
"So, uh," he began, brushing the fingertips of his left hand over the knee of his trousers and letting his eyes follow the subtle change in the shade of the fabric after he'd touched it. Anything to avoid making eye contact, he supposed, while he tried to collect his thoughts. "I suppose we could just pick up where we left off. Which was... with you saying you wanted me to stay," he continued after a moment, looking up at her now to see how she reacted.
Hopefully she'd meant it, and it hadn't just been the sort of emotional thing you say when you think people might be dying, because if she hadn't, he was probably going to make himself look silly in the next few minutes.
"I could stay," he said, which was a stupid, ridiculous thing to say in light of the fact that his chosen profession involved leaving the country for long periods of time, but those were the words that he heard leaving his mouth all the same. "If you really want me to. I just — I don't know what happens next. We could go back to what we were doing before, I suppose — sneaking around, meeting up like this — but... is that what you want?" he asked, voice pained.
It wasn't what he wanted for her, that was certain. It was less than she deserved, and it was risky — every time she flooed to his flat she ran the risk of someone overhearing and realizing that wasn't an address she had any business being at. Even if they didn't get caught (which was less and less likely the longer they carried on that way), every moment they spent together was another moment they didn't spend moving on. That might be fine for him, because, hell, he might be killed by this curse before it made any difference, anyway. For her, though, as for any woman in British society, there was only a window of a few years where she'd be able to pursue the traditional sort of happy ending. That window was always closing, and it was irresponsible of him to occupy her time or her thoughts when her father had made it quite clear that he wasn't going to feature in one of those traditional happy endings.
RE: Way With Words - Zelda Darrow - April 28, 2020
Zelda tapped her fingertips against her knee and listened to him. He could stay. He could stay, which did not mean that he was going to, but at least it was not a flat-out refusal.
The thing was, she could live without him. She could go to work and live her life as properly as she could; she could attend the parties she was supposed to in the gaps around that. She could try to put him out of her mind; she could leave adventures to the people in her life with the freedom to live them. She could be wistful about them. She could think about him sometimes, when she was lonely.
Or she could sneak around. She could duck into his flat when he was here, touch him the way she wanted to be touched, spend a little bit of time with him. She could come in after work and between projects and whisper to him when she could. She could sustain that until Alfred gave up on her; her desire to be around him would not be exhausted until after his patience was.
And then he would leave, and she would be lonely, and eventually she would have to try to move on - or stare down the barrel of the gun of spinsterhood, like Xena was. She could lie and get married and quit her job and settle down and have children. She could build a life for herself in the gaps her husband left for her, like her sisters had, like Dionisia was. Her father would be proud of her, maybe, for the first time in her life.
She was not a person who wanted either of those things; she was not sure she could be.
"I want a life," Zelda admitted, "But I want it with you."
The thing was, she could live without him. She could go to work and live her life as properly as she could; she could attend the parties she was supposed to in the gaps around that. She could try to put him out of her mind; she could leave adventures to the people in her life with the freedom to live them. She could be wistful about them. She could think about him sometimes, when she was lonely.
Or she could sneak around. She could duck into his flat when he was here, touch him the way she wanted to be touched, spend a little bit of time with him. She could come in after work and between projects and whisper to him when she could. She could sustain that until Alfred gave up on her; her desire to be around him would not be exhausted until after his patience was.
And then he would leave, and she would be lonely, and eventually she would have to try to move on - or stare down the barrel of the gun of spinsterhood, like Xena was. She could lie and get married and quit her job and settle down and have children. She could build a life for herself in the gaps her husband left for her, like her sisters had, like Dionisia was. Her father would be proud of her, maybe, for the first time in her life.
She was not a person who wanted either of those things; she was not sure she could be.
"I want a life," Zelda admitted, "But I want it with you."
RE: Way With Words - J. Alfred Darrow - April 28, 2020
This was just where they'd been before, in their last conversation. He could have said the same things and they could have traced out the same trajectory. He wanted that, too, but he had tried and failed to go about getting it the proper way, so where did that leave them? They could try the improper way and run off together, but she wouldn't do anything to hurt her family. And then here they were again, right back in the same place. He could leave, or he could not leave, but then what?
"Well, short of some bit of illegal magic or blackmail, that isn't very likely," he pointed out. It might have been a joke if his tone hadn't been too weary for levity. "Unless you think there's some other way to change your family's mind."
RE: Way With Words - Zelda Darrow - April 28, 2020
And of course he was right; Zelda tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling. "What they don't understand," she said, distant, "Is that - if it's not you, I'm just going to be alone." She had never been alone in her life.
Dionisia was married, February was married, Jo would always choose her adventures. Jack had Quidditch and a family and wealth. Nemo and Dory would get married, Leonid would get married, Julian would get married - Xena would do something with society if she could not become someone's stepmother.
This situation was a puzzle she could not solve, but there had to be something - there had to be something because these things were supposed to work out, because Alfred saw her in a way that no one else did, because eventually all the rest of them would be gone and grown.
Dionisia was married, February was married, Jo would always choose her adventures. Jack had Quidditch and a family and wealth. Nemo and Dory would get married, Leonid would get married, Julian would get married - Xena would do something with society if she could not become someone's stepmother.
This situation was a puzzle she could not solve, but there had to be something - there had to be something because these things were supposed to work out, because Alfred saw her in a way that no one else did, because eventually all the rest of them would be gone and grown.
RE: Way With Words - J. Alfred Darrow - April 28, 2020
That statement made his heart hum, but he knew that she was wrong. She might not know it, but the truth was there wasn't anything very special about him, when one stripped away the mystique of his misadventures. If it wasn't him (which it wouldn't be), it would be someone else, because she was young and interesting and had an honest smile that would catch someone's attention. She had plenty of time to find someone, if Alfred only got out of the way first so that she could see them. She wouldn't want for options, and someone would sweep her off her feet probably much more deftly than he had.
He could have told her that, but she wouldn't have believed him. Not now, anyway.
"Well, that's the solution, then," he joked hollowly. "We'll just try again in ten years, when they've all given up on you."
RE: Way With Words - Zelda Darrow - April 28, 2020
Zelda laughed, equally hollow. What was unfair, she thought, was that - with two exceptions - all of her paired-off siblings had fallen so in love with someone who mattered so deeply to them, but that these marriages were utterly proper. No one bent the rules, except Ari, who had papered over the rules with the offering of a baby.
She tilted her head back up to look at him. "Could always just announce a courtship and - see," she said, "What would they do, say I'd gone mad?"
She tilted her head back up to look at him. "Could always just announce a courtship and - see," she said, "What would they do, say I'd gone mad?"
RE: Way With Words - J. Alfred Darrow - April 28, 2020
Alfred laughed, sure that she was joking — then wondered if maybe she wasn't. The look on her face didn't suggest that it was entirely out of the realm of possibility, and given the context of everything they'd been talking about... well, why not? He'd already offered, with varying degrees of sincerity, to elope with her on more than one occasion. This wasn't any more crazy or spontaneous than one of those sorts of plans.
"Like in the paper?" he asked, his heart rate increasing slightly. "Or at a party, and make a big enough scene about it that they couldn't just pretend it hadn't happened?"
RE: Way With Words - Zelda Darrow - April 28, 2020
She had not been entirely serious, but she had not been entirely joking, either. When he did not outright reject the concept, the proposal slid further into the category of serious. It wasn't an elopement. It wasn't a scandal, either. And wasn't it better to let her putter about courting him than to face the scandal of ending a courtship?
The look on her face turned conspiratorial; the corners of her mouth twitched up into a smile.
"At a party," Zelda said. "The papers would pick it up if it was a - big scene." And that way, there were no reporters to ask her father in advance.
The look on her face turned conspiratorial; the corners of her mouth twitched up into a smile.
"At a party," Zelda said. "The papers would pick it up if it was a - big scene." And that way, there were no reporters to ask her father in advance.
RE: Way With Words - J. Alfred Darrow - April 28, 2020
When the corners of her mouth twitched up, that sealed the deal for him. Alfred broke out into a wide grin himself.
"Alright," he agreed, nodding. "Let's do it."
This was not going to endear him to Zelda's father, he realized, but if she was willing to go through with it, then what could he say in objection? Besides, if they were able to actually spend time together out in the open, maybe he'd have a chance to endear himself to him (and the rest of Zelda's family) sooner or later. They could have a long courtship, if that helped anything. Courting for the next five years would be better than trying to do this indefinitely, or cutting things off entirely.
After a beat, though, a sobering thought occurred to him. His smile faded and he added quietly, "But — we should probably wait until the curse is... gone."
No use pissing off her entire family if he was just going to die in a month, after all.
RE: Way With Words - Zelda Darrow - April 28, 2020
Zelda grinned at him, but bit her lip and nodded, reluctantly, when he mentioned the curse. She should probably fix him before her father yelled at him again; what if the Picts had planned for the eventuality of angry old Jewish men?
"A cursebreaker is going to help me," Zelda said. She did not have to specify that Julian was the Cursebreaker, did she? Maybe it was better that Alfred not know; there was something about enlisting her brother (as long as he said yes, which he would) that felt unprofessional. "I think that - I really think that I can fix things."
"A cursebreaker is going to help me," Zelda said. She did not have to specify that Julian was the Cursebreaker, did she? Maybe it was better that Alfred not know; there was something about enlisting her brother (as long as he said yes, which he would) that felt unprofessional. "I think that - I really think that I can fix things."
RE: Way With Words - J. Alfred Darrow - April 28, 2020
"Well, I hope so," he said, keeping his tone light because that was the only way he could talk about this. If he let himself think too seriously about it, his mood sank rapidly, and he wasn't going to let that happen. Not when she had just proposed courtship — sort of — and had an idea about how she was going to fix the whole curse situation — sort of. "You can't write me off as a lost cause just yet. Not if we're going to make a scene together," he teased.
With a small smile, Alfred reached out to take her hand in his. "I'm not very good at goodbyes, am I?"