A mask to protect and hide that France understood all too well. And the more he watched, the more he saw, the more he ached to ask for a name. But he didn't dare while they were still out among prying eyes.
Still, the smile turned a little wistful as age also crept into his gaze. "Too long," he murmured. Fortunately for both their nerves, the town house he maintained in the city where he stayed when he didn't want to go all the way to his manor was just around the corner. He led the way up the stairs, and opened the door with a playful little flourish to usher the other inside. "Welcome to my home away from home." Not quite right. Anywhere in France was his home, the core of his new self.
The outside might be plain to look at, melding in with the rest, but the inside held a bit of his heart, though nothing from his older self. Aside from very subtle hints that only those who had known him then would see.
Meaning no one he spent any time with. But that may change. And he watched his guest closely for signs of recognition. A curl in the wood. A scent in the air. A painting that wasn't quite of the New, but near enough no one knew to question - or commented on the imagination of the painter. Not aware it was France himself who had done the works.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-03-15 02:35 pm (UTC)Still, the smile turned a little wistful as age also crept into his gaze. "Too long," he murmured. Fortunately for both their nerves, the town house he maintained in the city where he stayed when he didn't want to go all the way to his manor was just around the corner. He led the way up the stairs, and opened the door with a playful little flourish to usher the other inside. "Welcome to my home away from home." Not quite right. Anywhere in France was his home, the core of his new self.
The outside might be plain to look at, melding in with the rest, but the inside held a bit of his heart, though nothing from his older self. Aside from very subtle hints that only those who had known him then would see.
Meaning no one he spent any time with. But that may change. And he watched his guest closely for signs of recognition. A curl in the wood. A scent in the air. A painting that wasn't quite of the New, but near enough no one knew to question - or commented on the imagination of the painter. Not aware it was France himself who had done the works.