Perfidious Albion, Chapter Twelve
Wednesday, January 30th, 2019 07:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
challis_2070 posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
mindcrackloveFairly short chapter.
Do wish I had managed to get it to line up with July 12th, but alas, no. Though to be fair, the actual chapters centered on July 12th might end up being posted by then. O_O
Chapter Eleven- https://mindcracklove.dreamwidth.org/1183413.html
Lasairfhíona, Tom, and Pyro had decided they all wanted to go over to Baj’s house. In so much as that Lasairfhíona and Tom both wanted to discuss things with Baj, and that Pyro wished to talk with (or complain at) Dinnerbone. As such, they decided to all go over together in the morning.
“Have a good time playing with your cousins, Paul!” Lasairfhíona smiled softly at her son as they got ready to go into the living room where Baj was waiting for them.
“Thanks! Have a good time with your brother, da!” He hoped that it wouldn’t have much fall out for him, really. He knew they were all planning on talking about shit and he prayed that they wouldn’t then discover even more questions to ask of him.
He hurried (he most certainly did not skip) off to Dinnerbone’s room.
He skipped on up the stairs to where Dinnerbone’s room was.
-----
“Hello Baj.” They both said as they entered the living room and went to arrange themselves. Baj was sitting on a chair facing the couch, so they decided to go sit on the couch that he was facing.
“Hello Tom, Lasairfhíona. How’re you two today?” He shrugged slightly as he leaned his back into his seat, watching as his brother and sister-in-law sat down.
“Ultimately things could be better, but you know, all told, things are um, progressing.” He was pleased to be seeing his brother again after so long, it was nice to be getting to see him frequently since they had arrived.
“And how about you, Lasairfhíona?”
“Well, not entirely bad, I guess. Things could always be better. And yourself?”
“Oh. Well, yes. It’s nice to see the two of you.” He didn’t really want to answer, since he knew they’d all be talking about stuff that he’d much rather leave in the past.
She blinked at him slightly. That wasn’t an answer at all!
“That wasn’t an answer at all.” She grumped at him about his lack of proper answers. Such an annoying trait, avoiding answers. One she knew well from being a politician.
“I guess so. Right enough. But we need to talk about things, we can always can get back to it.”
“Fair enough, or it will have to do.”
-----
“Heya Dinnerbone!” He skipped on over to Dinnerbone’s bed before spinning around to look at him.
“Heya Pyro. I guess your parents and my dad are all downstairs talking now? Thought I heard you all come in.”
“Yup. Woe is me.” He flopped melodramatically onto the bed and yanked his head up to look at Dinnerbone, sitting at his desk, when he responded.
“Pyro, you are not a Shakespearean actor. Don’t say that shit.” He waved his hand in mild annoyance. “I suppose you wanted to talk about stuff as well then, if they are?”
“Yes. They asked me, yesterday, about shit that happened when I was twelve.”
“Are you referring to that thing you mentioned, about being interned or whatever it was?”
“Yes.” He growled slightly at the memory.
“No growling. It’s un-nerving.” While his cousin was normally very bubbly and almost ah, high-strung, it was entirely unpleasant to hear him growling.
“Sorry. In other news, I learned that my parents apparently don’t talk to each other either so I’m not the only one out of the loop on shit.” He waved slightly, not entirely pleased with it, but not actively unhappy any more either.
“I guess so indeed.” He looked back at the computer for a moment before breaking into a flurry of laughter. Oh man, that was a new thing for it to run into.
“You okay there, Dinnerbone?” He craned his head up to look more directly at his cousin as he laughed himself silly.
“The Minecraft bug tracker has run into a bug. Do you want to submit it to the bug tracker? Sure. I’m sure it’ll get resolved soon.” He rolled his eyes at the bug tracker. A bug tracker that had its own bug tracker, god damn.
“Oh well then. That’s uh, unfortunate of it.” He generally ignored the bug tracker. Bug tracker tracked things for him.
“Wait, now, back to your parents and you and yesterday or whatever it was that you wanted to talk about.” Back on track. Tracker can get them back on track.
“Okay, okay. So yeah, they were asking about the time I was interned. They seemed really upset about it. I learned how mamaí became a politician. I learned that da thought that mamaí was on the war council…” Did his cousin know what that even was?
“What the fuck is the war council, Pyro?” Apparently, no no he did not know what that was. He didn’t even know how to explain what it was!
“Urm, the IRA war council. Thingy. Council for the IRA, in this case.”
“Isn’t the IRA at war? Isn’t the entire thing a war council?” Well, that made sense to him, at least, if he thought about it.
“N…no? They got like, community project leaders and shit. I don’t know, they don’t talk about it! I just know that people say that Sinn Fein and the IRA war council are related, but they aren’t really, they got proper channels and shit they have to communicate through. Specifically to keep the politicians and the IRA people separate or more separate or as separate as they can be, I guess. I’d have to ask mummy more about it, really.”
“Since I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you more, I guess you could do so then.”
“True enough. Oh. Look, I’m like 90 percent certain that that really annoying soldier is still in the area…”
Dinnerbone sucked on his teeth thoughtfully before answering. “Actually, Pyro, I’m pretty sure that we both know said soldier on the server…” Since the man was still trying to annoyingly contact both of them.
“I am trying to pretend that you are not most likely true.” He knew it was true. It was almost undoubtable true that Bitsy and this damned solider, BTC, are the same person. “I am just pretending that Bitsy and BTC are not the same person until irrefutable proof happens.”
“As you wish, but, I am pretty sure I’m right.”
“I know.” He sighed and stared at the ceiling for a while before starting up his mp3 player.
-----
“So. My son mentioned something about having had a minor uh, mental break down while he was here?” Well, that was the best description that he could come up with, really.
“You could…say that. I think he was having some kind of flashback more likely, or some type of PTSD. He was…unresponsive, we thought we might have to call for an ambulance. I think that might be what broke him out of it, actually.” Well, that and the knocking on the door and calling out to him. He still wasn’t sure what the hell he was supposed to do for someone in that case.
“Do you know what it was about?” Did he talk to him about it, really. He wasn’t sure if he wanted his son to have confided in his uncle before he confided in him or his mother.
“Not really. Nathan, your younger nephew, his nickname is Dinnerbone, I know they talked and Nathan said later it was about something that happened when Paul was twelve but was actually triggered um, but remembering something that had happened last year? He mentioned something about running into a soldier that had been involved with whatever happened last year and that somehow resulted in him freaking out about that and about what had happened when he was twelve, I guess.”
“Baj…what did he do?” He could guess. He knew what Paul had done for those months after he had brought him home and before Lasairfhíona had been released. He had alternated between showering constantly and refusing to shower at all.
“He locked himself into the guest bathroom shower and cranked it way up. He um, you are aware of the scars on his arms and legs, right?”
“He doesn’t talk about them much…” He didn’t think his son cut himself, however. Or at least, not as far as he was aware.
“They come from him scratching at himself, honey.” She had gotten for him gloves and it made her feel helpless because she couldn’t help him much more than that.
“Yea, he told us that, that he sometimes wears socks and gloves to bed to try to prevent it.”
“He does it in his sleep, you mean? When he has the nightmares, I suppose.” She had gotten him the gloves for that, she thought he might try to take something to help him sleep, but she didn’t ask about that, it seemed…he could manage it himself.
“Oh, yes.” When else would he be wearing gloves to bed to prevent something he could avoid while awake? Well, not avoid. He was doing it awhile awake when he was in the shower? Or not awake. Not here. Sort of here? Confusing.
“He really doesn’t like talking about the nightmares, of course.”
-----
Dinnerbone stared at Pyro for a moment.
“You know, I think that those might rightly be called night terrors, not nightmares.”
“And what the hell is the difference, Dinnerbone?”
“You can get treatment for night terrors.” It was mostly a matter of degrees.
“Oh.” Well how about that. “You can get treatment for them??”
“Yes. Millbee had them when he first came to live with us. Which makes sense, but still. His therapist sent him to someone who proscribed treatment. Between that and the therapy, it seemed it help.”
“Oh. I’ll…talk to my therapist about it, then.”
-----
Notes, Translations, etc
Not many notes. The bug tracker was from a tweet from...a while ago now, which I thought was funny.
Do wish I had managed to get it to line up with July 12th, but alas, no. Though to be fair, the actual chapters centered on July 12th might end up being posted by then. O_O
Chapter Eleven- https://mindcracklove.dreamwidth.org/1183413.html
Lasairfhíona, Tom, and Pyro had decided they all wanted to go over to Baj’s house. In so much as that Lasairfhíona and Tom both wanted to discuss things with Baj, and that Pyro wished to talk with (or complain at) Dinnerbone. As such, they decided to all go over together in the morning.
“Have a good time playing with your cousins, Paul!” Lasairfhíona smiled softly at her son as they got ready to go into the living room where Baj was waiting for them.
“Thanks! Have a good time with your brother, da!” He hoped that it wouldn’t have much fall out for him, really. He knew they were all planning on talking about shit and he prayed that they wouldn’t then discover even more questions to ask of him.
He hurried (he most certainly did not skip) off to Dinnerbone’s room.
He skipped on up the stairs to where Dinnerbone’s room was.
-----
“Hello Baj.” They both said as they entered the living room and went to arrange themselves. Baj was sitting on a chair facing the couch, so they decided to go sit on the couch that he was facing.
“Hello Tom, Lasairfhíona. How’re you two today?” He shrugged slightly as he leaned his back into his seat, watching as his brother and sister-in-law sat down.
“Ultimately things could be better, but you know, all told, things are um, progressing.” He was pleased to be seeing his brother again after so long, it was nice to be getting to see him frequently since they had arrived.
“And how about you, Lasairfhíona?”
“Well, not entirely bad, I guess. Things could always be better. And yourself?”
“Oh. Well, yes. It’s nice to see the two of you.” He didn’t really want to answer, since he knew they’d all be talking about stuff that he’d much rather leave in the past.
She blinked at him slightly. That wasn’t an answer at all!
“That wasn’t an answer at all.” She grumped at him about his lack of proper answers. Such an annoying trait, avoiding answers. One she knew well from being a politician.
“I guess so. Right enough. But we need to talk about things, we can always can get back to it.”
“Fair enough, or it will have to do.”
-----
“Heya Dinnerbone!” He skipped on over to Dinnerbone’s bed before spinning around to look at him.
“Heya Pyro. I guess your parents and my dad are all downstairs talking now? Thought I heard you all come in.”
“Yup. Woe is me.” He flopped melodramatically onto the bed and yanked his head up to look at Dinnerbone, sitting at his desk, when he responded.
“Pyro, you are not a Shakespearean actor. Don’t say that shit.” He waved his hand in mild annoyance. “I suppose you wanted to talk about stuff as well then, if they are?”
“Yes. They asked me, yesterday, about shit that happened when I was twelve.”
“Are you referring to that thing you mentioned, about being interned or whatever it was?”
“Yes.” He growled slightly at the memory.
“No growling. It’s un-nerving.” While his cousin was normally very bubbly and almost ah, high-strung, it was entirely unpleasant to hear him growling.
“Sorry. In other news, I learned that my parents apparently don’t talk to each other either so I’m not the only one out of the loop on shit.” He waved slightly, not entirely pleased with it, but not actively unhappy any more either.
“I guess so indeed.” He looked back at the computer for a moment before breaking into a flurry of laughter. Oh man, that was a new thing for it to run into.
“You okay there, Dinnerbone?” He craned his head up to look more directly at his cousin as he laughed himself silly.
“The Minecraft bug tracker has run into a bug. Do you want to submit it to the bug tracker? Sure. I’m sure it’ll get resolved soon.” He rolled his eyes at the bug tracker. A bug tracker that had its own bug tracker, god damn.
“Oh well then. That’s uh, unfortunate of it.” He generally ignored the bug tracker. Bug tracker tracked things for him.
“Wait, now, back to your parents and you and yesterday or whatever it was that you wanted to talk about.” Back on track. Tracker can get them back on track.
“Okay, okay. So yeah, they were asking about the time I was interned. They seemed really upset about it. I learned how mamaí became a politician. I learned that da thought that mamaí was on the war council…” Did his cousin know what that even was?
“What the fuck is the war council, Pyro?” Apparently, no no he did not know what that was. He didn’t even know how to explain what it was!
“Urm, the IRA war council. Thingy. Council for the IRA, in this case.”
“Isn’t the IRA at war? Isn’t the entire thing a war council?” Well, that made sense to him, at least, if he thought about it.
“N…no? They got like, community project leaders and shit. I don’t know, they don’t talk about it! I just know that people say that Sinn Fein and the IRA war council are related, but they aren’t really, they got proper channels and shit they have to communicate through. Specifically to keep the politicians and the IRA people separate or more separate or as separate as they can be, I guess. I’d have to ask mummy more about it, really.”
“Since I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you more, I guess you could do so then.”
“True enough. Oh. Look, I’m like 90 percent certain that that really annoying soldier is still in the area…”
Dinnerbone sucked on his teeth thoughtfully before answering. “Actually, Pyro, I’m pretty sure that we both know said soldier on the server…” Since the man was still trying to annoyingly contact both of them.
“I am trying to pretend that you are not most likely true.” He knew it was true. It was almost undoubtable true that Bitsy and this damned solider, BTC, are the same person. “I am just pretending that Bitsy and BTC are not the same person until irrefutable proof happens.”
“As you wish, but, I am pretty sure I’m right.”
“I know.” He sighed and stared at the ceiling for a while before starting up his mp3 player.
-----
“So. My son mentioned something about having had a minor uh, mental break down while he was here?” Well, that was the best description that he could come up with, really.
“You could…say that. I think he was having some kind of flashback more likely, or some type of PTSD. He was…unresponsive, we thought we might have to call for an ambulance. I think that might be what broke him out of it, actually.” Well, that and the knocking on the door and calling out to him. He still wasn’t sure what the hell he was supposed to do for someone in that case.
“Do you know what it was about?” Did he talk to him about it, really. He wasn’t sure if he wanted his son to have confided in his uncle before he confided in him or his mother.
“Not really. Nathan, your younger nephew, his nickname is Dinnerbone, I know they talked and Nathan said later it was about something that happened when Paul was twelve but was actually triggered um, but remembering something that had happened last year? He mentioned something about running into a soldier that had been involved with whatever happened last year and that somehow resulted in him freaking out about that and about what had happened when he was twelve, I guess.”
“Baj…what did he do?” He could guess. He knew what Paul had done for those months after he had brought him home and before Lasairfhíona had been released. He had alternated between showering constantly and refusing to shower at all.
“He locked himself into the guest bathroom shower and cranked it way up. He um, you are aware of the scars on his arms and legs, right?”
“He doesn’t talk about them much…” He didn’t think his son cut himself, however. Or at least, not as far as he was aware.
“They come from him scratching at himself, honey.” She had gotten for him gloves and it made her feel helpless because she couldn’t help him much more than that.
“Yea, he told us that, that he sometimes wears socks and gloves to bed to try to prevent it.”
“He does it in his sleep, you mean? When he has the nightmares, I suppose.” She had gotten him the gloves for that, she thought he might try to take something to help him sleep, but she didn’t ask about that, it seemed…he could manage it himself.
“Oh, yes.” When else would he be wearing gloves to bed to prevent something he could avoid while awake? Well, not avoid. He was doing it awhile awake when he was in the shower? Or not awake. Not here. Sort of here? Confusing.
“He really doesn’t like talking about the nightmares, of course.”
-----
Dinnerbone stared at Pyro for a moment.
“You know, I think that those might rightly be called night terrors, not nightmares.”
“And what the hell is the difference, Dinnerbone?”
“You can get treatment for night terrors.” It was mostly a matter of degrees.
“Oh.” Well how about that. “You can get treatment for them??”
“Yes. Millbee had them when he first came to live with us. Which makes sense, but still. His therapist sent him to someone who proscribed treatment. Between that and the therapy, it seemed it help.”
“Oh. I’ll…talk to my therapist about it, then.”
-----
Notes, Translations, etc
Not many notes. The bug tracker was from a tweet from...a while ago now, which I thought was funny.
