Owl to Susan Sto Helit (closed RP for Susan and Charles Macaulay)

[charlesmacaulay.livejournal.com]

((Backdated to just after Henry Winter and Camilla Macaulay's wedding.))



Charles was antsy and bored and wearing a trench in the stone floor of his room from pacing. He needed distraction, somebody to talk to so he could avoid thinking about the honeymoon. Camilla would come back, yes, and his plan could go forward; but for now the fact that she was with Henry, on a honeymoon, was driving Charles crazy. But drink he would not, not after the last time. That just led to mistakes, and Charles refused to make mistakes. Not now. Not this time.

Which mean he couldn't go to Francis. Francis would just encourage him to drink. Or more. More was not a good idea. Richard was out, either - Charles was in no mood to deal with his unrequited melancholy over Camilla. This did not strike him as ironic in the least.

Charles was at a loss: he needed somebody, a friendly face. Someone who could take his mind off of what was likely happening in a hotel room in Mykonos. It occurred to him, somewhat belatedly and after some thought, that there just might be someone who could do that.

Susan. Camilla's friend and maid of honor.

Granted, he'd only just met her, but he'd liked her. Really liked her, not in a sexually predatory way but as a potential friend, and Charles had forgotten how good simple friendship could feel. It had been years since there'd been anyone who was just his friend. She'd seemed to like him, too. Maybe she'd be willing to help take him out of himself, stop him from sabotaging everything he wanted and ruining everything he'd risked.

Maybe she'd know what Camilla was doing.

With this in mind, he sent her an owl, carrying a bag of mini-marshmallows:

Susan,

Come to Hogsmeade with me for some hot chocolate and a change of scenery?

Charles

((Edited for more clarity on Charles' thinking. Shouldn't affect the actual RP at all. :) ))

Comments

[usethepoker.livejournal.com]

"Better than I expected," she said. "Though I can't say it will ever be a favorite. The bread really does make a difference." That, and perhaps the fact that it hadn't been put together by some matronly little witch at Madam Puddifoot's. "As for Lucky Charms, it would be hard to dislike anything with marshmallows in."

She drained the last of her cocoa. "What was it like, your school? Hogwarts can hardly be the standard of this world's educational system--Camilla's told me very little about Hampden, other than that she and you, Henry, Henry's best man, Francis, and that odious Richard all went there." Susan Did Not Like Richard. At all.

[charlesmacaulay.livejournal.com]

Odious? Ha. There was a time Charles would've said something in Richard's defense. That was before Richard had ratted him out to Henry.

"You want to know what Hampden was like? I wouldn't say it was the standard of any educational system any more than Hogwarts is. We used to say it was the last place on earth for the worst people in the world. A really small liberal arts college, third-tier -- that's pretty low, in the national rankings -- and it'd take just about anyone who could afford the steep tuition and who could cast their dubious academic record in a good light. They didn't say any of that in the promotional literature, of course. It all sounded very high-minded and forward-thinking, you know, tailor the curriculum to the individual. I don't think there's many schools that would have let us do what we did in terms of our own curriculum -- we classics students. It really was awful, and also kind of wonderful."

Charles rubbed his palm against the thigh of his slacks, then leaned his chin on his hand. "I dunno. What is it you want to know about it?"

[usethepoker.livejournal.com]

Odious. Definitely odious. The man had insulted her to her face--the fact that he'd done so in a language he did not expect her to understand didn't make it any better. An insult was an insult.

Honestly, Hampden sounded like the sort of place Susan might have liked, in terms of being able to tailor curriculum--if she'd had a choice at school, she wouldn't have subjected herself to Literature or History. It wasn't until the mess with the glass clock that she'd had even a glimmer of interest in history, and even then it was because she'd finally noticed just how weird the history of the Discworld actually was.

"All of you," she said. "Your little group. I've heard only a few passing words from Henry and Camilla about school, about the classes you took and the things you did." They would all have been so young, then--twenty, twenty-one? "What little I've heard sounds interesting, but neither of them really volunteer information, and I haven't wanted to ask." What made her feel it was all right to ask Charles, she didn't know, but somehow he projected a different...vibe...than Camilla and Henry. Whether illusory or not, there was something a little more open about him than there was about the others.

[charlesmacaulay.livejournal.com]

(( reposted because I tag better when I'm not falling-over sleepy >> ))

Of course she was curious. Everyone had always been curious. There had always been rumors. Charles would have to be careful what he said and didn't say; but he was used to that, too.

All of you, she said. He had to restrain a wince. All of you properly included Bunny Corcoran, and she'd seen him at the wedding reception being disruptive. A late and ineffective disruption, damn it (though Charles had since realized that it had been a desperate and foolish hope Bunny could really put off the wedding anyway. Delayed it, maybe, that would have been the best he could hope for).

"If they don't volunteer information that's probably because there isn't much worth telling," he lied straight-faced. "Or because what they remember isn't something they feel like sharing. They were closer than I knew at the time." There, that might be a nice spot of misdirection. If Susan suspected something hidden and secret in their collective Hampden past, he'd offer up something she already knew about, leaving the subject of Bunny entirely untouched.

"I don't really see how it would sound interesting. I guess it looked glamorous from the outside -- to people like Richard. That's just because they're fooled by the surface of things. Francis likes to dress up, and Henry looks like an undertaker, and Camilla's ... Camilla. So it's picturesque." Notably he left himself out of this description, though he was as much a part of the picture as the rest of them: the handsomest of the lot, the golden boy, carelessly debonair in his white tennis sweaters, like something out of F. Scott Fitzgerald. "But that's all surface. Just like I was telling you earlier -- it makes people feel provincial but it's all show. There wasn't anything special about us. We were just a little clique like any other clique of kids. Our classes were fascinating to us, but let's face it, Julian Morrow wasn't exactly Richmond Lattimore. He hardly published at all. I doubt he was particularly well known in the international academic community. The only one of us who went on to grad school was Richard, and he did his PhD in English lit, nothing to do with the classes we took together at all."

Charles shrugged. "It was college, that's all. I bet that's what really interests you about it -- the general framework of it, because it's different from school where you come from. There's lots of novels and stuff about the American college experience. Maybe you should read some of those."