11th September, 2022; the Tate Museum || @malachixliddell
Rune typically enjoyed this sort of event — and he went to plenty of them, adjacent to the Liddell name but not bearing the full weight of it, allowed to lean into his public persona of foster-son-turned-trust-fund-socialite. He hadn’t had much of a taste for these celebrations recently, though, not since the head of the Liddell family was confined to bed rest with a grim diagnosis hanging over everyone’s head. Today, Rune avoided the hearts of conversations and stuck to the outskirts, nursing the most expensive gin on offer and staring into space as he thought about the mirrored room full of flickering lanterns, and wondered how many people lost two fathers in one lifetime.
A familiar figure caught Rune’s attention, his answering smile subtly tired but genuine as he tipped his head in greeting.
“Hey,” he greeted his brother, in sentiment if not in name. Have there been any changes to his condition? Rune wanted to ask. “When did you get here?” — is what he settled on instead.
