DEVIL'S HOLD

THEODORE "THEO" KIRBY For my soul, he made an offer, and to the dust again I fell.

[ofkirby]

mrs. REGINA DUNRAVEN

                          “indeed,  little margaret ––– the ankle - biter herself,”  regina mused,  a smile slipping upon her lips at the thought of her little,  loud - mouthed cherub.  how motherhood had turned her into a sentimental fop,  unable to resist the urge of inserting her daughter into each and every discussion she partook in!  the cigarette resting limply between her fore and middle finger,  she inhaled a brief puff before,  with an incline of her head,  remarking,  “i know precisely what you’re thinking.  i am far too youthful looking for children.”  regina’s lips outstretched into a mirthful display.  the lines around her eyes and mouth begged to differ,  but it was a harmless jest nonetheless.  “you make a fine point.  regina dunraven,  though most call me ‘red’,  at your service.  and yourself,  sir?” 

A low laugh bubbled from Theo’s throat and he found himself smiling genuinely for the first time in a long time. He smiled often, put on a show to let others believe that he was alright, but the surprise in learning that her protective daughter was a mere toddler... Well, Theo couldn’t help but find amusement in it. He’d long admired strong women, and it seemed that she was one in the making. “Little? And here, I’d dared assume that she was a debutante,” he teased. “Pray tell, how is it that your babe has guilted you into quitting?” Oh, this poor woman would be in for the fight of her life in just a few years, and he found himself amused at the thought. Theo, too, took a long drag from his cigarette and allowed his expression to slip back into its usual mask, a smirk. “Precisely,” he replied a bit too emphatically, “I am truly startled by this revelation.” And with that, he let the smoke stream from lips in wispy tendrils. “How old is she?” He asked, curious. People loved to speak of their children, and thus far she seemed like good company. 

"Red?” He liked that, it wasn’t so stuffy. Her name had a bit of personality, as did the woman it was attached to. “A pleasure then, Red. I am Theodore Kirby,” he replied, offering a hand out of politeness, “but I much prefer Theo. Not Ted though, I’m not yet crotchety... Perhaps in a few years I’ll mature into it.” 

[ofkirby]

mrs. AURORA LEWIS

“Ah, you never know. You do refuse to use my first name after all” she replied with a smile. “The English, always so modest. That is not bold at all, I like hearing it” even if she had now spent more of her life in England, she had grown up in a very different environment. She had always teased her husband about keeping his emotions to himself, how strange she was the one now doing it. “I do” she replied as she got one for him. “And the price is you telling me how you have been”.

"My refusal to do so comes from a deep, undying respect for you, miss.” He replied with a grin. “And your baking too, of course.” Theo had tried once or twice himself, but it hadn’t gone particularly well. He wasn’t ever much good in the kitchen. A soft laugh escaped him. Perhaps the English were modest, but they had long been a military force to be reckoned with. Or, they had been before they’d lost hundreds of thousands of young men... He tried his damnedest to brush such thoughts off and met her gaze. “I’m well,” he lied, adding a faint smile as if doing so would make it true. “It is good to be home, I’ve missed the nature here.”

[ofkirby]

dr. JAMES ANDERSON

“There was, routine is needed sometimes” but then with his position he had been forced to do things… unthinkable things. That was always going to live in his conscious. Men had died because of him, and even when he had tried to argue back, it just hadn’t worked. He did rarely, but sometimes he was given orders he knew would end only in bloodshed. “Oh I do not miss it that much. There is much nicer food here. I suppose it is simply that I am not used to such things now. However, we all adjust, I can adjust back” it would just take time.

Still, he was glad that the other man didn’t mention the war itself. He didn’t know how he could talk about it without breaking down. Everything felt like it was closing in around him, and he didn’t know how to cope. It was over, and yet it seemed to be living on in his mind. It was endless, and had ruined every night’s sleep he’d tried to have.

That was right, focus on that, he just needed to think of his mother’s cooking. “She once served a meal which was half burnt and half raw. To this day, I do not know how she managed it” he was too afraid to have asked at the time. He missed her, more then words could say. But she had wanted to do her part, it had just cost everything. “No I am not, moved here recently” he said, not wanting to say that he had moved there after the war, not wanting to name the damn thing. “James Anderson. Though just to prove my naivety, Dormer?”

Theo couldn’t disagree. In truth, since he’d come home he had felt a bit unmoored by the sudden lawlessness of the life that he’d once led. He was no longer needed to keep lookout, to spend his evenings watching the no man’s land between trenches, to get a few hours of rest with his head on the escape steps. So long as the grounds were tended to on the Dormer estate, it seemed that he could do as he pleased. The feeling was almost unsettling. He’d fought for these rights, and yet he couldn’t remember now what he was supposed to do with freedom. This, he thought, must be how freed animals felt. “It is,” he agreed, “though I admit it’s a bit strange to have so little direction presently.” 

They had been home for such a short time that it would be damn near impossible to acclimate to Hamelton in just a few weeks’ time. Things would certainly get better, the nightmares would fade, or so Theo hoped... “An adjustment indeed.” Theo mused. “Humans are versatile things, however, I am quite confident that we will find our way in society again.” They would, of course they would... Right? 

Theo laughed despite himself. He knew that he shouldn’t likely laugh at the other man’s wife, nor her efforts, but the way that he’d explained it was rather comical. “Hard work, I’m sure.” He teased, winking at the other man as if conspiring. “In truth, I’ve managed something close. Despite my best efforts, it seems that I am ill fitted for domestic life.” Theo had always preferred the outdoors, so perhaps it wasn’t a surprise. “James,” he repeated with a grin. “A pleasure. The Dormers are one of the aristocratic families in the area. Dukes and ladies. Kind, despite it all, though.” 

[ofkirby]

mrs. AURORA LEWIS

Hearing the door open, Aurora looked up, smiling instantly as she saw it was Theo. He was a sweet boy, though she also knew she liked him for how much time he spent at the bakery. That was selfish, she knew that. It was probably why she had given him more free cakes then others. “Theo, I was beginning to think you no longer liked my baking, it’s been so long”. 

A soft laugh escaped Theo’s lips. After the hellish cooking that he’d been exposed to in the trenches, he’d become convinced that there was no such thing as a bad meal here in Hamelton. Even the worst food here was better than the pauper’s supper that he’d eaten on the frontlines. “Oh, Ms. Lewis, you had thought that I would leave you without a word?” He shook his head gently, smiling at her. “I am, perhaps, a bit too fond of your baking, if I must be so bold. Have you any of those sticky buns left?”

[ofkirby]

mrs. REGINA DUNRAVEN

                          a brief smile adrorned her features,  a word of thanks slipping past her lips in response to the strangers’ uncommon kindness.  it was the least she was due after such a day, no?  “only on my death bed will i know such a secret and even then,  there is no way to prove it true,”  regina remarked,  voice amused as she lifted the cigarette and held it loosely between her lips,  leaning over to graze the tip against the flame kindled between his palms.  she inhaled deeply,  cheeks hollowing,  relief washing through her system.  “thank you.  although i must warn you,  my daughter shall be furious with me if she finds out –– may i trust you’ll keep this between us friends?”

As far as Theo was concerned, there would be plenty of fire and brimstone where he was going after death, so he might as well continue his vices in the afterlife. At least that way he might enjoy the smoke in his lungs a bit more. “We should only be so lucky as to quit in death,” he mused. If there was life beyond, he was certain that his vices would follow him there. He’d (and they’d) always been stubborn as a mule. Theo held the lighter out and stuffed it back into his pocket once she’d lit the cigarette evenly. “Your daughter?” He tilted his head slightly. Huh, he hadn’t expected that. “Very well. Your secret is safe with me, friend.” A pause. “Only, we can’t be particularly good friends if I don’t know your name.”

[haedall]

Atonement (2007)

[ofkirby]

mrs. REGINA DUNRAVEN

                          it was unfathomable how sharply the world retreated in the opposite direction of ‘justness’ ever since the men returned from war.  what was once women’s work had returned to the male species,  and it was quite rightly impossible for a woman – regardless of her standing,  or even education – to find a decent post other than ‘secretary.’  regina’s fingertips itched for a cigarette,  her lungs braying for the familiar release of nicotine,  caving in on themselves in the wake of a day chockfull of rejection.  she had no qualms begging for it,  and beg she did,  leaning over and entreating the man beside her.  “i loathe to be a bother,  mind of i bum a smoke?  it turns out,  to my utter surprise,  quitting was a terrible notion and i shall never allow myself to make such a foolish decision again.” 

Theo allowed himself to focus on his breath. The sharp intake of smoke and nicotine settled him, allowed him to relax, and the feeling of it rising from his lungs made him feel powerful. He could do this. He had survived the trenches. He had survived the Battle of Amiens. He would survive his homecoming. Slowly, he felt more settled, and it was only then that he heard a voice. Blue eyes blinked open, studying the woman in front of him, and he smiled. At once, he was himself, or rather a mask of himself, and he reached into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes and handed them over. Next, he drew his lighter and readied his fingers again, this time he was not so clumsy. “If you find a way to quit them, do let me know.” He replied, a half smile pulling at the right corner of his lips. “I have tried three times myself and I’ve nothing to show for it.” 

[ofkirby]

mr. HENRY B‌RAMSON

Hank shrugged a shoulder, it wasn’t all that kind. He certainly didn’t need any kind of special thanks for it. Not anything to worry about. 

The sweets had helped perk up his mood but Hank was a changed man. He didn’t try to hide it, he embraced it. Having enlisted had changed every part of him and while he hated it, it was what life was now. No longer the outgoing boy who would have taken Theo to find some tea and wash down the cake just for the company of it but still happy to share. 

“Deal,” he answered with a bright smile, following Theo’s gaze back towards the sweets.  “The tarts.” Nodding his head, thinking about how he shouldn’t have passed up on them, a better choice than the fudge. “Or a pudding. I don’t think there’s a wrong answer.” 

The bright pastries seemed to glint in the sunlight flooding through the shop’s window, and made each of them look divine. He glanced briefly at the tarts and then the pudding, and paused for a moment before picking up a tart, paying for it quickly, and handing half over to Henry. He was used to sharing. On the frontlines, Theo had often given up a bit of his food to men who were sick or suffering, and he didn’t much mind. Hell, it seemed like a sin to keep it all to himself now that he had enough to eat. 

Thankfully, the Dormer family made sure that he was well enough fed and paid. Their kindness both during and after the war would not soon be forgotten. 

“Here,” he murmured, offering up the other half of the tart and biting into the part that he’d saved for himself. Theo tried his damnedest to push away the guilty thoughts. There were men who’d not come home after the conflicts in France and Belgium, and he was fortunate enough to have made it out. How was a survivor supposed to act? Live his life to the fullest? Or, perhaps, draw himself back and repent? There was no clear answer. “These were my favorites when I was a kid,” he mused. They were still good, of course, but sweeter now than he’d remembered them then.

[ofkirby]

dr. JAMES ANDERSON

He blinked, suddenly realising what he said. “I only meant sometimes I missed the food. Four years of eating the same thing… it is odd to simply not eat it anymore” not that he would go back to it, it was hardly good food. It was a difficult one to explain, and he was never really sure how to either. “The rest of it… I adjusted, however I would never go back” even if his mind seemed to be trying to recreate the whole thing around him. No, he would do what he had always done and ignore it. He was ok, everything was ok. 

“It was… frighting somedays” and this was dangerous territory, a life that had never happened. “I did” if he thought of Dottie, he could easily say that he did. “However, I suppose things can only improve now, and the food here so far has been divine”. 

"Ah,” Theo smiled faintly. The clarification was much needed and he found that he could now relax a bit in this other man’s presence. “I suppose there was some comfort in routine,” he agreed with a little nod of his head, and then he grinned a bit wider. “But I’m perfectly happy if I never have pea soup or that wretched turnip bread again, thank you.” As the war had gone on, it seemed that the food had become progressively worse, he was glad to have more flavorful foods just a short walk away. “That said, I’m sure the baker here could recreate it if you ask nicely. Can’t be so hard to make.” 

No, he could agree with that sentiment. He would never go back either. If he could, if he could rewind to the time before the war, and tell himself never to go. Or, rather, not to volunteer for the conflict, he’d have to be dragged in if the Royal Army wanted his service. Despite agreeing with the other man’s sentiment, however, Theo kept his mouth shut. Better not to talk about such terrible things. 

Theo chuckled, a sound that surprised even him, and was left grinning afterward. “Frightening?” Love was a funny thing, wasn’t it? Perhaps she was a frightening cook, but he’d eat her food if only because she made it. There was a moment’s pause. Theo considered what the man had said, how he did love her, and he was left wondering quietly what had happened. “You’re not from around here, are you?” He tilted his head slightly to the side, veering away from the tragedy that surely shrouded this man’s past. “I’m Theo Kirby, I work up at the Dormer estate. Feel free to drop a line if you need anything.” 

[ofkirby]

It had taken mere moments for Theo to fall to pieces. A memory. A tin box in a little shop window. Johnny tumbling backward into the trench. His breath caught in his throat. A smoke, he needed a god damn smoke. Quivering fingers drew a cigarette to his lips and slipped his lighter from his pocket. With a quick (albeit clumsy) flick of his thumb he held the lighter steady and breathed in the smoke. “Ah,” he huffed. Fuck. Theo pressed his eyes closed and breathed in, letting the heat and the nicotine soothe his nerves. He would be alright. This, too, would pass.

@reginasdunraven

[thegothicscribe]

Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the surrey park at dusk, in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life. The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library. The story can resume. I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.

Atonement (2007) dir. Joe Wright

[wnq-writers]

kind faces are a lie

blowthecandlesoutt  (via wnq-writers)

[ofkirby]

ms. JULIET BLYTHE

IT HAD BEEN A TAD bit horrid at home in terms of the food, and at times, she had held some concern for the productivity for the inn, due to the fact that they relied on being able to produce good meals for anyone who stayed overnight, or merely fancied coming in during the day, a luxury not often utilised during the wartime. but, they had managed to keep going, the blythe family refusing with an iron will to let their heritage and institution go down the drain. still. it naturally had been worse at the front, though at least there was some humour about that going round. “and here i thought trench cooking might’ve been the most delightful of all”  a light tease in her voice to match his own manner, she raised a brow of amusement at the pun. “i doubt anyone would. we must all survive, especially those who fought at the front”. 

“no, not entirely. but we muddled on through” witnessing his expression, a small quirk dawned across her features, wondering whatever brought it on, though it was only natural in these past months. if anything, to her it felt a situation that had united them more, with the men at the front suffering more so than them. “if only it were possible, i would suggest the whole store. for now though, i recommend whatever else you’ve missed the most”. 

“Luxurious as it may have appeared,” Theo replied with a shake of his head, “we ate mostly turnip bread and pea soup.” With the occasional unwelcome addition mixed into the soup, but he left that bit out. He’d learned, throughout his life, that people didn’t want to hear all of the terrible details. It was best to treat troubling times with a bit of humor, self-depreciation, and the knowledge that non-soldiers couldn’t ever truly understand what he’d witnessed on the front. “We can only hope that the hardest of times have ended,” he replied with a little shake of his head. 

Hell, it couldn’t get much worse, could it? 

Theo looked about curiously, casting a glance at the bright pastries that surrounded them and smiled faintly. He wanted all of it, but was suddenly stricken by guilt. He’d crawled from the trenches with his life, whilst so many of his countrymen hadn’t the good fortune. He’d already been gluttonous enough. “I’ll have to think on it,” he mused, “for next time.” A pause. “Do you need help, miss? With your groceries?”

[ofkirby]

dr. JAMES ANDERSON

Normality… it wasn’t something he was really used to, not in the way he was trying to create now. He wanted it, he had craved it more than anything else his entire life. He hadn’t wanted to make his father’s mistakes… and then he had done exactly that. But the war… the only good thing about it, was now he could claim that he had that idealistic life once. A silver lining, a very thin on given the cost, but something. “I understand that. Though some days I almost find myself missing it, I suppose it is true that you can adjust to anything” he would never go back though, not with the decent food now.

“Too many to count” he replied, shaking his head. Alright so perhaps he didn’t miss all of the food out there. “I have eaten worse, my wife’s cooking somedays could be… risky” he joked with a soft smile. It had been his mother’s cooking, but he never mentioned his mother. He missed her more then he could ever say, and it was easier to try and forget that risk openly crying. 

Missing war? It was a troubling thought. Theo found himself eyeing the other man curiously, his head tilting slightly to the side as he examined him. He had heard rumor of men who enjoyed conflict, of soldiers who’d relished in battle and bloodshed, but this man did not appear monstrous. “I don’t...” Theodore paused for a moment to consider speaking what he felt without giving too much away. “I don’t know that I ever managed to adjust to a soldier’s lifestyle.” He frowned at himself. Was he supposed to admit that? Perhaps it was best to leave such sentiments unspoken. 

Theo waved his hand casually, as if brushing it away, and smiled at the man’s comment. He’d never had a spouse to cook for him, but if it was anything like his own cooking... He shook his head slightly. “Worse than what they cooks prepared for us on the front? You must love her.” He mused. Hell, it could only be love that kept people together if not a decent meal.

[ofkirby]

mr. HENRY BRAMSON

Raised to not hold his limited social status over anyone, Hank wasn’t trying to do anything with the offer of fruit cake other than sharing something good. It wasn’t as though he could stand there and eat the entire thing. Though, he could try. 

Pulling the cake back, Hank tore off another bite, a little smaller than all the ones prior now that he was engaged in conversation. Unable to stop smiling, Hank chewed as they stood there. 

“Taste buds change and, really, who couldn’t love this?” Swallowing the food, Hank gave a huge grin before stopping himself and dropping it, though his eyes still shone bright with the happiness. “There’s no place else in all of England where the fruit cake tastes as fine as this. Unless, of course, me mum’s made one. Then obviously her’s is the best.” 

It was a total lie and the small chuckle Hank gave said as much. Offering the cake to Theo again, more than willing to share. 

The war had changed him, it was undeniable. Though he feigned that he had not shifted in the least, that he was still the same man that he had been three years ago, Theo had shifted. And why? He couldn’t help but wonder whether changes such as these, in preference of sweets, were a result of what he’d been through or merely a change in life. After all, people did change. He pushed the thought away. This was not the place for such curiosities. 

“It’s true,” he replied with a laugh. “Thank you,” he replied earnestly, meeting the other man’s eye for a brief moment, “I appreciate your kindness.” Truly, he did. The men could be kind to one another on the front, at least sometimes, but they could be equally brash and petty and wretched. He had seen humanity at its very best and very worst overseas, but this? This was an act that he had not anticipated... Kindness for no other reason than to be kind.

He decided, then and there, that he liked this man.

The second offer was equally unexpected, equally kind, and this time he smiled kindly and accepted. Theo glanced over his shoulder, eying the other pastries, and shrugged a shoulder. “The next one is on me,” he mused, “so what are our options?” He asked, smirking ever so slightly as he spoke. 

[ofkirby]

dr. JAMES ANDERSON

If there was one thing that he just couldn’t adjust to easily, it was wearing clothes that weren’t practically moving from lice. Even in his position he couldn’t escape that. He had got used to it at the time, not having any other choice. But now, the heavy coat over his shoulders to protect from the cold, he was just all too aware of how clean it was. It was strange, and he had no idea how to explain it either. It would sound odd if he ever did. 

He had been walking fairly purposelessly along when he came to the bakery. He had thought for a moment on buying something, but sweet foods were still rather difficult to adjust to. How much things could change in just a matter of years, he was never going to get used to that. “Biscuits or chocolate?” he asked, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts and focus on the other man. His could come back to haunt him another time. “I have, it is… filling” that was about the only nice thing he could find to say about it. He had hated it so much but often told there was no alternatives. 

Theodore was thrilled by the choice that he had now that he had come home. Not only could he go where he pleased, but he could also eat what he liked and go wherever he wanted in his off hours. These were luxuries that he’d not been afforded since he had left home all of those years ago. Chocolate? Biscuits? “Both,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I’d very nearly forgotten what real food tastes like.” It was a shock to his senses, if he was to be honest. The chocolate was almost overpowering, the sweetness alien, but these were welcome sensations. The memories that he associated with these tastes, sights, and smells were largely positive ones.

Filling was a very generous description of turnip bread. It was true, the bread did its job in feeding the troops, in ensuring that their stomachs were full and that they were able to fight another day, but it did little to comfort the men in the trenches. A soft laugh left him and he nodded faintly. “Guess you suffered through a few loaves too, huh?” He made a face. “I can’t say that I ever hope to have it again.” Nor to live through any of those horrors again, but he didn’t think it important to add that bit. 

[ofkirby]

mr. MATTHEW ALEXANDER

It was that time of the day when the sun was already hidden and the three male figures were wondering the streets. The Alexanders were a well-known family around town but now they painted a sad picture. One man, old and always silent, the other one on the wheelchair unable to say a word, his lungs burnt by the gas during the war and the last one pushing the wheelchair trying to hide the cold. People did pity them, laughed at them, misunderstood them but there were also those who started to slowly come back. Some friendships were broken forever but the others he hoped could be rejoined.  He knew Theodore from before. Before? Now that was how they divided time ‘before’ and now. So seeing him enjoying a simple biscuit made him smile. He even became alive, happy that the fellow made it home. ‘Theo?’ He said it as a question but he knew it was him. Matthew even managed a smile. ‘Oh boy, is that really you?’ He still had to ask, he learnt some ghosts were too real. 

The woman that he’d tried to strike up a conversation with seemed to want very little to do with him, and that was fair... After all, she had been trying to deal with a fussy toddler whose little hands seemed to grasp at every brightly colored pastry within arm’s reach. He watched briefly, amused, before eyeing a few of the little treats himself and then leaving the shop before he was tempted to buy anymore. To indulge himself too much was dangerous, if only because he couldn’t be sure where such needs would lead him.

As he stepped into the cool autumn air, the sun setting over the handsome little town, he heard his name. Theo perked up sightly and turned to face the sound of his own name. Oh, how he’d missed being called by his name. For the better part of three years he’d been Kirby and little more, but here? Back home in Hamelton he was more than his surname. “Matthew,” he replied, the corners of his eyes creasing with joy. He’d known Matthew well enough before the war, and he had quite liked the man. It was wonderful to see that he’d made it out of the war alive, assuming that he’d gone. “In the flesh,” he replied with a grin. “Being back... it still feels like a dream. How have you been?”