remarks | (no subject)

N-nah. Too much else t' do t' be thinkin' about that kinda stuff.

Like what — looking after little ol' me?

[ Sometimes she's not so little. And it's those times that Brick has to look out for. ]

Um— yeah, I guess. I mean, it's not like it's a chore or anything, y'know?

You're just saying that. [ Claret brandishes a finger like she means to poke him with it, but she keeps it out of his personal space ]

[ He doesn't mind if she gets close, doesn't mind if she teases him, but that's the kind of interaction that's saved for Titian, that's meant for the oldest brother rather than the one who'll be lost when the history books take the time to address the Duke family. ]

Nah, Cee, 'm not a liar.

[ She'd like to be close, would like to be family, but Claret has spent more time away from them than she has spent with. It's not a closeness she think she's earned, more a stranger than a sister. Whatever attention she earns comes from the fact that she's a Duke — Titian's doing more than anything else. It isn't about her. ]

Fibbing's not lying. It's different.

Don't need t' fib, neither, [ Brick says, shoving his hands into his pockets with a shrug. ]

Ain't seen you for a long time. 'S good to catch up.

[ The corners of Claret's mouth turn downward, as if she means to ask whose fault is that. It had been their father who'd sent her away and Titian who'd brought her back, but she'd been the one who was born so sickly (not right in the lungs or right in the head). ]

We could catch up anywhere. Maybe if we asked Titian real nice he'll send us someplace warm.

Don't doubt it. [ Brick smiles. The expression is small on his features (most are), shy more than anything else. ]

Don't think he'd say no t' anything you asked, sis.

[ Brick smiles so Claret cannot help but do the same, an echo of the expression ripping across her face like rings caused by a carefully cast stone. The second son is so unlike the first that sometimes she wonders how it's possible that they'r even related. ]

If Tee had his way, I'd never go anywhere. [ It's more petulant than truly disgruntled. ] He'd keep me in his pocket if he could.

[ It's not a petulance that Brick seems to entirely understand, even if he does tolerate it (as he tolerates everything else that his siblings do). ]

It means he loves you, [ is all that he says, blinking once at his sister. ] He gets scared you'll get hurt. That's all.

Titian loves Cerise, [ comes out of Claret's mouth before she means to actually say it and immediately she winces slightly as if hearing it out loud, spoken by her own voice, is too harsh for her ears. Not that it made it any less true but the Dukes have never quite managed to perfect the art of familial love. There was responsibility, yes; there was blood and the family name. There was passion and jealousy and anger and overprotectiveness, and maybe when taken all together it created something like love. But for some reason it sits oddly in Claret's chest, like all that sickness slowly killing her over the years.

(Maybe isn't the problem with Titian. Maybe the problem is her.)

After a moment, Claret tries to smile again at her brother, one hand reaching out to poke him once on the shoulder. ]

You love me.

[ Brick feigns mortal injury, making a sort of oof noise as he falls one step back.

He loves his sister, it's true, and he loves Claret best because the rest of his siblings scare him, because they all have a certain madness but Claret's seems the easiest to handle. (The Duke madness that touched all of Red's children except him.) ]

You know I do. Don't mean Tish can't, too.

(no subject)

you saw nothing

whistles innocently

no subject

aren't you at work???

finishing a couple of mock-ups but otherwise taskless :u

well hullo then ^

chellooooo

twiddles fingers and toes!!!

:*

picks at all the threads!!!!

eats :v

b-but!!!!!

no buts :u