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Post by Adrian Veidt on Aug 13, 2010 2:53:17 GMT -5
He sat down at Adrien's side and took a breath, his face resembling that of a doctor about to deliver a fatal prognosis.
"She was eighteen and an heiress; he was already forty and had been disowned by his family- years before. My grandparents were aristocratic, I understand- I never met them- and him casting his lot in with a particular party built on populist rabble-rousing was the last straw. He wanted money, so he made her think he was just the sun himself, and then he married her."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Aug 13, 2010 2:55:55 GMT -5
"I'm glad I couldn't marry Roge," said Adrien with another shiver.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Aug 13, 2010 3:02:27 GMT -5
"I was another ploy for the family money. He made sure I was named after his grandfather, who'd been named after his grandfather. He thought that bringing another iteration of an old family name into the world would make them change their minds. It didn't. He was already assigned to the camp, but the officers had their own village where you couldn't see or smell anything but the smoke."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Aug 13, 2010 3:04:43 GMT -5
He traced his fingertip along the underside of Adrian's palm.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Aug 13, 2010 3:11:20 GMT -5
Adrian lightly squeezed Adrien's hand.
"I don't know when he started taking it out on my mother. For all I know, that's the other reason I was born. My first memories are of her standing at her vanity, trying to cover the marks. She was good at that. I couldn't walk yet, she brought me in to watch because I couldn't leave...
"Eventually she was pregnant again. Sometimes I heard her sobbing at night, but the door to their room was locked and my bed was too high. I imagine that's why Klara was so quiet when she was born. My father must have damaged her too."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Aug 13, 2010 3:11:53 GMT -5
Adrien burst into tears.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Aug 13, 2010 3:15:51 GMT -5
"Adrien- oh, fuck. Adrien, I'm sorry-"
He pulled Adrien close and rubbed his back.
"This was all a long time ago."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Aug 13, 2010 3:17:21 GMT -5
"I don't think I can hear all of this, I'm so sorry - I know you were going to tell me everything, b- but - "
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Aug 13, 2010 3:20:30 GMT -5
Adrian held him and rocked him for a few minutes in silence. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out as he reconsidered things.
It was a long time before he finally leaned close to Adrien's ear.
"We had our revenge later."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Aug 13, 2010 3:22:21 GMT -5
"Revenge... doesn't make it any better, I'm sorry - "
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Aug 13, 2010 3:26:24 GMT -5
"He was ill, when we were in America, and in pain. He expected me to give him his morphine- me, after everything he'd done to us... after all the bodies he threw in the ovens...
"I was sixteen. I didn't squeeze the air out of his morphine."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Aug 13, 2010 3:29:19 GMT -5
His face went rather frighteningly blank.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Aug 13, 2010 3:31:45 GMT -5
Adrian's face went distant.
"It was the only time he ever said he was proud I was his son."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Aug 13, 2010 3:33:24 GMT -5
In a moment Adrien pushed back from Adrian and clutched one of their pillows to his face, trying to muffle his own crying.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Aug 13, 2010 3:40:13 GMT -5
"Adrien-"
Childishly, irrationally, Adrian began feeling that he had managed to break Adrien as surely as a porcelain figure hurled at a wall.
"Adrien, I- no more stories, love, I promise- please look at me-"
The panic was followed by the horrible, mocking thought that he should have poisoned Adrien when he'd had the chance. Adrien would have died calm and happy and would never have had to have known this, let alone the upcoming New Year's shock...
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