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[Well, no rest for the wicked. Or the weary.

For now, they can enjoy their delusion of having a respite, and William slides a hand into a pocket.]

Of course. But let's not forget the reason why I asked you to join me.

[When he raises his hand again, he has a tarot card balanced between two fingers -- the Sun.]

Remember?

Of course! I'd never be able to forget seeing your brothers.

[ she glances at the card, and then reaches out with a hand, palm out. ]

May I?

Of course. [He hands her the card gingerly.] Activate it anytime you like. I'm curious to see it play out a second time.

[ Naturally, she really doesn't hesitate; as soon as he offers her the card, she takes it eagerly, activating it practically immediately.

Memories, memories!! ]

[And so, the card activates, a scene springing to life as though it were freshly remembered:]

The estate in Durham is large and sprawling — some may say too sprawling for a residence of only three brothers, two of which make the property their home on frequent occasions. But it is a well-kept home, couched by well-kept grounds, with windows that gleam brightly in the sun and a garden bursting to full with blossoms in the summertime.

Two brothers find themselves at the far perimeter of this garden, their fair complexions already tinging pink beneath the heat. William grasps the handle of a shovel, piercing the soil in an even rhythm, and his blond hair clings to his forehead with a thin sheen of perspiration. He's already dug deep enough that the earth comes up to his waist when standing in the hole he's made. His younger brother, Louis, watches nearby with a dark parasol in hand, desperately trying to shield them both from the summer sun, though the shade is only big enough to provide for one.

"Liam, you need to rest," he says, angling the parasol a third, fourth, fifth time. "The sun's high in the sky. It's too hot to be digging holes in the ground in this heat."

"I'm fine," William counters, his voice light and airy as the breeze that passes them by all-too-rarely. "Besides, the sun is exactly where it needs to be. The trigonometry's simple enough, but I prefer to see the results in real-time."

"What are you talking about? See what in real-time?"

William briefly straightens, popping up like a mole peeking out of its hidey-hole. He motions at the length of Louis' shadow, cast long and dark across the ground.

"The angle of your shadow informs the angle of a tree's shadow, if one were to grow just high enough," he points at the window on the second floor of their home, high above their heads, "and provide your bedroom with the shade needed to block the western sun you complain about so often."

Louis angles his head high, and the meaning behind this garden outing seems to strike him all at once — all this effort, for him? It is a very William-like thing to do, to undertake action, grand or small, and reveal its intent only after his machinations are already spinning. But confusion spreads across his face, because it is unlike his brother to miss a pivotal piece of any given plan, and he spies such a piece missing.

"If you're planting a tree, then where's… the tree?"

William just smiles.

A shadow moves across the ground, splaying across the two brothers in approach. A familiar voice sounds, lilting and humorous. "Well, it's right here, of course," says Albert, their older brother with dark, handsome features, pushing a wheelbarrow in a manner that is unsuited to a noble. There is dirt on his fingertips but no sweat on his brow. Inside the belly of the wheelbarrow, a young sycamore sapling sways back and forth, its roots bundled up in burlap, ready to be planted.

"You, too, Albert?" Louis looks disbelieving. "Did you wheel that all the way from town?"

"Of course not! There are plenty of horse-drawn wagons to spare, you know. I took the scenic route down here, and why not? The weather is pleasant enough."

William chuckles, continuing his digging.

“Pleasant enough…” Louis mutters, truly disbelieving now. "All this effort, just to provide my room some shade in the summer?"

"Well, in the future, of course." William's voice sounds hollow in the dirt hole. "But give it a year or two, and you'll have your shade. A sycamore tree grows fast."

Albert has a grin in his tone, too — but he always does.

"The things we do for our little brother," he says, knowingly.

"Don't sound so smug, Albert. You're next," corrects William, hanging the threat of good-natured favors over his older brother's head.

The man only laughs, easy and smooth. Louis sighs and accepts his fate: two brothers who will continue to fuss over him when he's always the one trying to do the fussing.

---
Hours later, when the sun is lumbering over the horizon, a young sapling casts a small shadow across the garden's grounds.

[ She's quiet for a moment, stunned--not by the process of sharing the memory, since it isn't all too different from how robots transfer memories, but by everything the memory holds. Siblings... siblings who are so close, the good natured humor they all share, the beauty of the estate and their ease in getting along...

It feels warm.

It feels nostlagic.

In a way, it feels lonely, too. But the ache, she thinks, is a good one. ]

Oh...

[ she pauses, pressing the card to her chest gently. ]

... Liam... you have such a wonderful family.

[He watches it play out, too, experiencing that same fondness. That same ache. He misses them, seeing his brothers like this; it is all the more poignant to view a happy memory, knowing that the circumstances in which he left them were far from ideal.

At least insofar as goodbyes go.]

Thank you, Miss Alpha. My only regret is that you cannot meet them in person. I think they would like you.

[ she's quiet for a long moment, and then her lips curve into a tiny, somewhat sad and nostalgic smile. ]

You think so...? That's such a nice thing to say. Maybe someday, somehow, our paths will cross after all.

But, um! Hopefully not in a place like this.

inbox. | bell.

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omg this turned out so long i'm sorry

NEVER APOLOGIZE i love everything about this

I'M GLAD

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