October 6th, 1891 - Funeral of Mrs. Cartwright
Noble Greengrass

What the fuck had he done in a past life to deserve this shit?

Twenty-three, a second son with no parents, no older brother and a younger sister who was suddenly his responsibility and he wanted absolutely none of it.

Fate had an apparent problem with him and he was sick and tired of it. The worst part is that his mother had decided to hang around in ghost form and so Holden wasn't ready for any of this shit. He just wanted to live his life, his way without all of this ridiculous pressure of a family business and sisters to take care of. He was not old or mature enough for this. Not in the slightest.

He was nursing his third whiskey of the afternoon, lurking in corners to avoid both his mother's ghost, his sisters and anyone wishing to express their condolences. The buzz of the booze was taking the edge off, but there was little that could soften the raw feeling of incredulity that had welled up inside him and sat pressing on his chest at every waking moment. Apparently nothing he wanted out of life mattered to anyone else.

This was of course how Noble found him, hiding from people in the study with his head in his hands trying to quell the visible anger that threatened to overtake him all day.

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Noble didn't want to be here. He was worried that the guilt would start seeping out of his pores — that anyone would look at him and be able to see exactly what he'd done. But he had to be here, because he was friends with Holden, and his skipping the funeral would have been just as obvious as anything particularly guilty he did here.

So maybe he'd been eager to find Holden when he went missing, it was a favor to one of the older sisters, and if it got him out of the way and away from the ghost then that was fine, that was ideal.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the wall next to Holden. This was what friends were for — running interference and helping to keep you from sulking too much during funerals.

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set by Bee

Behind the desk that was not his, though he wanted nothing to do with it, Holden barely even registered Noble's greeting, fingers pressed into his temples as if it would help to still the thoughts running rampant in his brain. This was far from ideal. Hector disappearing had not been ideal, his father's death even more so, now his mother's, Holden felt like everything was falling apart at the seams and he had no intention to try and fix any of it back up.

He didn't want this, any of it. He was a second son in a family full of sisters, this was not supposed to be his responsibility and he honestly didn't know what to do with any of it.

"How the ever-loving fuck do you do this?" He said finally, though didn't bother to look up. Noble would know what he meant, even if the question was vague.

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   Noble Greengrass

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Noble was grateful, with a sudden fervent feeling that surprised him in how genuine it was, that his mother was still alive. He was grateful for Ford. Their father was dead, their father had sent them on a path that was likely to ruin them, but he wasn't alone in it. Holden was alone — and it was, at least partially, Noble's fault.

But despite that — he got it. Maybe not in full, but at least a little, Noble understood, because the responsibility felt like it could drown someone if they let it.

He sat down on the edge of the desk. "You get through it," he said.

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set by Bee

Holden's frustration was bubbling under the surface. "I don't want to get through this, I don't want to be responsible for all of this." No, he wanted to pursue his career, something he had worked hard for, something that was his, not his father's, not his brothers, no one's but his own. Why was that so fucking hard? Now he had a house, an unmarried sister and a business he did not want the responsibility of.

He was still talking down to the desk, his head in his hands as he groaned. "I don't even know what to do with Henrietta, she'll have to go live with one of our older sisters." That he could not take personal responsibility for, the chaperoning, the events, the season, he was not prepared or really even willing to concede to it possibly impacting his work. Frankly he hated it all anyway, unless the party had some kind of theme to it, he was not generally interested.

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Holden wasn't doing well — he was so angry. Noble was familiar with anger. It thrummed under his skin all the time, waiting to come out, and he regretted it almost every time it did.

"I know it's not fair," he said. He had no follow-up, though. It wasn't fair and wasn't going to be fair, but that didn't mean that Holden could avoid it forever. He was in charge of the house, now, and that meant that his own desires didn't get to take precedence. That was the responsibility that sons were supposed to have — even if they didn't want it.

But he wasn't sure that would go over well, now.

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set by Bee

Fair. Fuck fair he just wanted something to go his way for once. Was that really too much to ask for? Holden shot back the rest of his drink and poured himself another measure from the bottle he'd set on the desk when he'd walked in. This study sat largely unused as Holden had little use for his father's office, but it had been stocked with booze, mercifully.

"I worked so fucking hard to get where I am and now I'm expected to just throw it all out the window." It wasn't like his occupation was easy! He'd worked his ass off to get through the training, done the rookie years and was now finally in the beginning stages of being taken seriously, despite his youth and now it was all going to be ripped away from him if everyone else got their way. Give up the job, take over the cauldron company, chaperone Henri to all of the events. It wasn't that he didn't love his sister, of course he did, but there were just not enough hours in the day to handle everything that needed to be handled; not if he wanted more than four hours of sleep each night.

What he needed was for Henri to find a suitable match and get married. Something comfortable, that would solve the most emotional problems, then he could deal with the occupational hazards of the company and his job. He didn't want her to think that he thought of her as a burden, but he was barely old enough to look after himself successfully, let alone being responsible for her happiness as well. 

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Noble sighed again. He took the bottle from Holden's desk and took a swig from it. If he was going to do this, he at least needed a little more liquor in his bloodstream. He didn't know if it was his own guilt making this more difficult, or if it was that Holden was complaining about problems Noble would love to have — a successful business to fall back on.

He kept the bottle in his hand, since Holden had a glass.

"Is there anyone there who can run it during the day for you?" he asked, deciding to aim for practicality rather than indulging wallowing.

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set by Bee

Staring pensively into his liquor glass wasn't solving anything, nor was drinking copious amounts of it; Holden knew the whiskey didn't have the answers he needed, but it did take the edge off. "It's being run by a board at the moment, I'm on it, but they keep pushing me to take over fully." The thought if it, running a cauldron business, made him want to vomit more than the amount of alcohol he'd had today.

"There's a manager too, of course, but they feel like a Cartwright should be the one calling the shots." It should be Hector; hell Holden would be fine with one of his brothers-in-law taking over, but that was highly unlikely. Holden wasn't a businessman; he had no idea how to run a company, he hadn't been raised to do that. It had been his father, then Hector and now he was the only one left, but that didn't make him suitable to the position. "I'm not cut out for that kind of work." He said miserably.

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There was a board but they wanted Holden to run everything, and they wanted a Cartwright in charge. The Greengrasses had never been important enough for Noble to actually relate to that, but he understood the concept. He sighed and took another swig from the bottle. "I think you should use your mourning period to delay having to decide anything about it for as long as possible," he offered. "And we'll try to come up with something to get you out of it in the meantime."

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set by Bee

His mourning period. For fuck's sake. Holden hung his head again, sighing heavily. This was such a mess and Noble sounded almost convincing enough that he though there might be an easy answer here, but there wasn't. Holden had gone over everything again and again and again. He was either going to lose the career he'd built and loved, or his family was going to lose the business that had been theirs for generations. There was on happy medium, there was no middle ground. It seemed so black and white when he thought about it, but at least Noble had given him an easy out to give him time to come to terms with whatever it was he was going to do.

"Mourning period, right." It would give him a few months at least. "Thanks, mate." He raised his glass in salute and drained the contents once more. He should probably stop, as it was he was feeling queasy, but it was hard to tell what the exact source was. His entire world being flipped upside down again or the copious amounts of alcohol swishing around his stomach with nothing to absorb it.

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Currently goes by Hudson Atwater, yay amnesia caused by obliviation!

I'm in love with this set by MJ