An Advanced Victorian Steampunk Roleplay discussion
Characters' Havens
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Vivian's New Start
((OH, things getting heated there! Ah, sorry I took so long.))Joeri heard raised voices from downstairs and paused in his packing. For a moment, he reflected on whether he should go see what was going on. But true to his word, he decided to leave Vivian be. She had to fight this battle herself.
Bertrand laughed mirthlessly. Vivian's conduct thus far had done more than just slight him. He knew she was right - he had been an utter bastard about the entire thing and he should have written to her before coming tonight - but she hadn't dignified him with a letter, had she? No, she'd just sent back her birthday gift and written a line of Shakespeare, as if the Bard could say everything that needed to be said. Bertrand had come tonight in the hopes of mending things with his sister, and though he'd been expecting resistance he hadn't been counting on a healthy helping of trademarked Kaylock cruelty. And that hurt him more than he was willing to admit.And when Bertrand Kaylock was hurt too deeply he tended to say things he shouldn't.
"What, you mean to tell me Geoffrey hasn't told you?" he taunted cruelly, getting to his feet. "Oh, you're more than just emotionally his sister, Vivian. We all know it, except for you."
Vivian breathed hard as his words hit her. No. No. She shook her head and said, "Don't even think about saying things that aren't true, Bert."
"Oh, but it's true. Geoffrey really is just has much your brother as Ben and I are - only half, but hey, it's better than not belonging entirely, right? You've got Mother and old Thaddeus to thank for this."
Vivian's control snapped and she flew at Bertrand with a shrill cry. "What the fuck is your problem?" she screamed, pushing him hard.
Bertrand was about to reply when Vivian doubled over suddenly with a sharp intake of breath and a ragged cry of pain. She hunched over against herself, her arms clutched around her waist.
It was only then that Bert's rage and temper died down, and he saw her properly for the first time since she'd entered. Vivian wasn't just thin. She was practically gaunt. Her plain cotton dress seemed to hang off her. Her cheekbones seemed too sharp. The fingers on her real hand seemed to long and thin.
"Vivian?" he asked, suddenly concerned. "Vivian, what -?"
"Get out," Vivian hissed, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. Oh God, it hurts...it hurts so much. It felt like something was being ripped out of her body.
((Your turn!))
Joeri was taking out one of his shirts when he heard Vivian's cry. Blast staying up here, he thought as he threw his shirt down and went over to the stairs. "Vivian?" he called as he hurried down the stairs. "What's going on?" he asked as he headed towards the parlor.
Vivian straightened up with difficulty, another cry of pain half-muffled by her clenched jaw. "Jesus!"
Bert stared at her before rushing to her, catching her just as she staggered and fell. Something was soaking through the front of her dress. Something dark that smelled sweet and metallic, something Bertrand knew from his profession.
"Get Bridget and bring water, lots of water," Bertrand ordered Joeri, scooping Vivian up into his arms. She was moaning in pain, her hands clutching at her stomach and wringing her dress. He bounded up the stairs with her in his arms, bursting into the bathroom and getting her into the tub before removing her dress and laying her down. Towels, towels...
His blue eyes scanned the room frantically and he grabbed a towel off a shelf above the door and soaked it with the water in the pitcher on the washstand. Bert's actions were mechanical as he wiped off the blood, noting that it wasn't stopping as he cast aside the towel and removed his jacket and vest.
"Where the hell is that water?" Bertrand bellowed.
Instead of getting Bridget, Joeri swiftly went to grab the water himself and instead gestured for the startled woman to follow as he rushed up the stairs to the bathroom. "Here, it's here," he answered as he came through the door. His eyes went wide at the side of blood, shocked and unsure what was happening. Shaking his head to focus, he asked, "Anything else?"
Bertrand shook his head as he took the water jug from Joeri. "Not for now," he said tersely after washing his hands thoroughly and kneeling again by the tub. He silently soaked a fresh towel in the new water. Vivian cried out sharply and her back arched, and Bertrand laid a hand on her forehead. No fever - that's good... Steeling himself he pressed the fresh towel against Vivian between her thin legs and held it in place.
"Bridget, go get my back from the parlour," he instructed. Thank God he'd come from work and still had it on him.
When she returned, Bertrand asked for privacy and only began a proper examination of his little sister when they were gone and the door was shut.
After being ushered out the door, Joeri stood out in the hallway, hands clasped behind his back in worry. He knew Vivian didn't look well, but he couldn't figure out what was wrong with her. Thinking over his letters with her, he tried to think of what could have caused whatever was happening. He moved to leaned against the wall, head bent as he waited for the diagnosis.
When the bleeding had subsided after what seemed like an eternity and a day, Bertrand washed away what he could of what remained and called for Bridget to bring fresh night clothes and a clean old sheet. He tore that into long strips and wrapped them securely, but not tightly, around his little sister, and then Brdiget helped him dress Vivian. He carried her up to her bedroom, telling Joeri to go down to the parlour, and once in her room Bertrand laid her down gently upon the bed.She had passed out from the pain long ago, and Bertrand sat quietly on the edge of her bed for a long, long time before he finally moved.
"Keep an eye on her, and if she wakes up in pain, give her one of these," he told Bridget sternly.
"Yes, sir." Bridget took the bottle he handed to her. "Sir, if I may ask...?"
"I'll tell you later, Bridget. I must speak with Mr Walker first."
Bridget nodded and sat faithfully by Vivian's side as Shakespeare bounded up onto the bed on her other side and laid his head on her leg, whining softly.
Bertrand looked down at himself and grimaced. His white shirt was covered in splatters of blood, and he went into the bathroom to pull on his vest to cover up the worst of it. His throat tightened at the pink stain on the bottom of the tub and he turned away quickly.
He walked into the parlour quietly.
Joeri couldn't sit still and was pacing in front of the mantle when Bertrand came in. Turning to face the man, he asked softly, "Is she all right?"
"She will be now," Bertrand said, his voice oddly rough and tired. "Do you have...any idea as to what happened?" he asked, curious to know if Vivian and Joeri had been aware of Vivian's condition.
Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair for what could be the hundredth time. He now looked disheveled and worry was creasing his forehead. "Not at all. I mean, Vivian has told me something in our letters, but I could never tell what the meaning of it was."
Bertrand sighed and crossed over to the cabinet where he was certain Vivian would keep liquor. Sure enough, there was a bottle of whiskey and glasses, and he poured a tumbler for them both."Sit," he said, handing over the glass.
He did as directed and took the glass, though he wasn't sure if he was in the mood for such a strong drink after what just happened. "Do you know what happened?" Joeri asked directly, looking over at him.
Bertrand sat down in the chair opposite Joeri's.There was no other way to say it than bluntly.
"She had a miscarriage," he said softly. "She was about two and a half months along, I'd say, judging by the...the amount of blood and tissue that was expelled. So she'd been carrying since about mid- or late July, I would think."
"A m-miscarriage?" he stammered out. He felt his nerves rise and decided to take a drink of the whiskey. After he felt the warmth of the alcohol spread through his body, Joeri told him quietly, "July was when we first tried it."
Bertrand knocked back the shot he'd poured for himself and set the empty glass down on the table."I'm not blaming you," he said in an even tone, "nor am I blaming Vivian. She knows what to do when...things like that happen. It must have been a bad batch of tonic."
Bert sighed again and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
Looking down at his glass, Joeri swirled around the remaining liquid. "I knew Vivian didn't look well, but I didn't say anything. I just thought she was getting thinner because of work, or something," he said, his voice tight.
"She eats like a bird on the best of days, and when she's stressed out or emotional she doesn't eat at all," Bert said heavily. He'd forgotten that, and he kicked himself mentally. You idiot. You shouldn't have given her a reason to be anxious. "And, of course, working at a barn would only make her weight drop faster. When she was an idle noblewoman she didn't have any heavy physical work to do..."He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms until the urge to cry subsided. He felt so guilty.
Massaging his temple with his free hand, Joeri frowned even more. "And then the stress of my leaving, Geoffrey being gone, it's a wonder she held out so long," he said, giving a shake of his head. Outwardly, he was calm, but his thoughts were mixed in a torrent of emotions as he began to wonder what would have happened if he didn't arrive home that day.
"Jesus Christ," Bertrand muttered. It was, indeed, a wonder that she'd held on as long as nearly three months.
"Is there anything I could do? I'm staying home now, so I can help her on a daily basis if need be," Joeri told him, drinking the last of his whiskey.
Bertrand nodded. "Keep her comfortable and calm, and for God's sake keep her nourished," he said. "Do whatever you have to do to get her to eat and keep herself hydrated. The bleeding will continue for a few more days, but no worse than what usually happens monthly. I will give Bridget instructions on how to deal with that."
He nodded at his instructions, looking focused as the familiarity of getting orders settled his mind. "I will do my best," Joeri said with determination. "I promise to make sure Vivian is taken care of."
"I will speak with McCann myself and let him know she won't be in to work for some time yet," Bertrand continued, his heart heavy. She might not be going back to work after she got better - who knew what McCann would do or say in reaction to Vivian not coming in? - and he knew that Vivian would be devastated if she lost her job. But losing her job was infinitesimal compared to putting herself through physical strain while she was recuperating."I know you'll take good care of her," he told Joeri sincerely. "You've done a much better job of it than I have, I think." Bertrand sighed and got to his feet.
"I will be back in the morning, and if it's alright with you I would like to bring in a second physician," Bertrand said. "It is only because she is my sister and my judgement may be clouded because of it, so...a second opinion would be beneficial."
He made a gesture with his hand. "Go ahead. You have as much right as I do right now," Joeri replied.
Bertrand nodded and sighed heavily. "She'll be alright now," he said out loud, both for Joeri's sake and his own. He went to talk to Bridget and instruct her on what to do about the bleeding that would follow, and then retrieved his jacket from the bathroom.
"Until tomorrow, Joeri," Bertrand said quietly as he closed his medical bag and took it in hand, ready to leave.
"Bert." Joeri rose to his feet and looked at the man, his eyes looking firm. "I don't know what was said before this happened, but you must know how much Vivian has been missing you. If you disappear again, she might never forgive you," he said, his voice even.
Bert drew a deep breath. "She might already not be able to forgive me," he said quietly, glancing up the stairs.
"She might. She might not." Joeri gave a shrug. "Have you forgiven her yourself?"
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "Well, at least you've made the first step. I might not know much, but if you go to Vivan as her loving brother Bert and not Bertrand Kaylock, you might have a better chance of getting through to her," Joeri commented.
Bert looked at Joeri with an unreadable expression and then he gave a small, wry grin. "You catch on quick."He opened the door. "Until tomorrow, Joeri," he said again.
"See you later, Bert," he called after him, his tone back to its usual lightness.
Bert headed down the front steps quietly and hailed a coach at the end of the street.
Turning to look up the stairs, Joeri wondered if he should still give Vivian space. Deciding there was no harm to check on her, he climbed up the stairs and went to her room. Knocking on her door, he waited to hear if she gave a reply.
Bridget opened the door. "She's sleeping, sir," she whispered, "but if you wish to sit with her alone, I can go." She waited patiently for his response.
"If you don't mind, yes, I would like to sit with her," Joeri answered, whispering as well.
Bridget gave him a small smile and slipped past him quietly, giving them their privacy.
Once he was along, he went over to the now vacant chair next to Vivian's bed and sat down. Reaching out to take her hand, he recalled the last time he was at her bedside. So much has happened since then.
((Vivian's down for the count until further notice, lol, you can keep going))
((Yeah, I figured. Just wanted to reminisce and look at the last time he sat down next to her.))Rubbing his thumb back and forth over her hand, Joeri looked upon her sleeping face. It was more obvious now how exhausted she was and it pained him he hadn't been there for her the past few weeks. Sighing, his head bowed down. He was that close to loosing Vivian. If Bertrand hadn't been there, he didn't know what would have happened.
Miscarriage. That word revolved in his mind, coming back at him when he least expected it. From just one, careless moment almost resulted in a disaster for Vivian. Just one time. Though Bertrand said otherwise, he sort of felt it was partially his fault. In his rational mind, he knew he was right, but on the other hand, Joeri couldn't help but wonder if they had waited later until a proper marriage or a time they were ready, that this might not had happened. Or at least they would have expected it.
Again, he sighed, a large one this time. Please, Vivian, be all right, Joeri silently prayed.
Bridget tiptoed in with a mug of herbal tea and slipped it quietly into Joeri's free hand before leaving, just as silently as she'd come in.
He nodded to Bridget thankfully, but didn't move otherwise. His thoughts also wandered to what could of happened if there wasn't a miscarriage. Though he would gladly accept any child born into the world, he sure would have felt sorry if this unsuspecting accident caused Vivian any more stress or ruin her reputation. Joeri swallowed down the worry and what ifs, and looked upon Vivian's face again. It might have been his fault, maybe not. But Joeri was sure that hell would freeze over before he'd leave her alone without like that again.
Vivian stirred slightly, vaguely aware of somebody holding her hand and a dull pain in her gut. She whimpered softly, her eyes still shut. "Bert..."
At the sound of her voice, Joeri leaned closer, coming out of his daze. "Vivian? Oh, Bert went home," he said softly.
Bertrand had given her enough medication to keep the pain at bay and knock out a horse, and through the haze of the drugs Vivian cried a little."I want Bert," she mumbled, turning her face into the pillow.
"I'm sorry, Vivian," he told her, setting the cup of tea on the bed stand. He laid his other hand over hers. "He had to go home to take care of his family. He'll be back tomorrow."
Vivian cried harder and pulled her hand out of Joeri's. She wanted her brothers. Why hadn't Bert stayed? He'd never left her before when she was sick and he'd been the one to take care of her.Vivian cried herself back into sleep and did not stir again for the rest of the night.
He rose from his seat after letting her cry, more weary than after a day of training at the barracks. He turned put out the light that Bridget sneakily brought in and paused in the doorway, his back to her. "Goodnight, Vivian," Joeri whispered, though he knew she probably didn't hear him. "I'm sorry," he added again, not sure how else to help her. It hurt him to admit it, but he wasn't wanted at the moment so he went to the little blue room and finished unpacking, unable to go to sleep yet.
"I know that, Vivian, but Jesus - couldn't you be a little more open?" Bertrand countered.
"Me? You're accusing me of not being open?" Vivian exclaimed, sitting up straighter in her chair and ignoring the pain in her stomach. "I opened up to you and told you the whole goddamned truth about what I did while you were gone, and you were the one who threw me out," she reminded him bitterly. "You told me to go away and stay away, and I've kept up my end of the bargain." Vivian laughed mirthlessly, the sound sharp and grating. "Evidently I was foolish enough to believe you would be so kind as to do the same."
Bertrand ran a large freckled hand over his close-cut red hair. "You speak as if I've felt no guilt about this," he said harshly. "You speak as if it did not pain me to make that choice."
Vivian got up from her chair and paced in front of the fire place. "You seemed to make it easily enough," she retorted.
Bertrand forced himself to remain calm, to follow his hurt and anger and sadness. "I know," he said in a pleading tone, "and I'm sorry."
Vivian looked at him, her green eyes flashing. "That's all you can say?" she asked, her voice tight and higher from emotion. "You cut me out of your life and then come back into mine thinking a simple 'I'm sorry' will fix it all and make it as though nothing happened? Jesus."
She knew she was being hard on him. She knew she ought to try and get herself under control but she'd been so hurt and lonely and desolate for nearly two months that she couldn't. Now she could finally say what she'd wanted to say, and Vivian could not stop herself.
"Maybe I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore," Vivian continued cruelly. "Maybe I've come to realise I'll always be better off on my own, not counting on any Kaylock to be there when I need a brother."
Bert's temper flared up. "If that's how you feel about it," he snapped, "then perhaps maybe I should go and let you go cry to Geoffrey about it. Makes sense that you would. You're his sister too after all."
Vivian looked at him. "I'm his ward and he is my dearest friend," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "That does not make him a replacement for my own brother."
((Your turn, JiMei :P ))