harmonial | (no subject)

( ... these usernames... )

Brother...?

[Insane thought: how dare they call his beautiful sister 'pigeon'??????? She deserves better.]

I see the House has 'supposedly' made an error with your registration as well.

Edited (i'm tired) 2025-02-08 04:41 (UTC)

( sunday marching up to the front desk asking to speak to their manager )

With the number of ( guests? no, ) victims that come in, I guess it would be too much to organize. Not everyone's hospitality can match that of The Reverie.

[HE WOULD?]

And even The Reverie had its mistakes. [Well, mostly when Certain People came to Meddle, but he sets those past memories aside.] Robin. What were you assigned?

The six of clubs.

( and somehow she missed him in passing on the sixth floor? testament to how big a building this must be. )

After I'd been assigned, I noticed a mark on my neck that looks new.

( —or is that somehow saying too much? somehow talking about what it covers instead of the magically-appearing, dusty little symbol is... uncomfortable. )

What did you draw?

( so to speak. a better card? worse...? )

[Oh. Oh.]

We have the same card.

[A joke played by the House? First the error in their registration, and now assigned the same rank and suit. It cannot be an accident.

Though he doesn't share where his own mark is, her answer sticks in his mind — what a symbolic place for it to be. How close is it to her scar? What does it look like? His thoughts run too far in that direction against his will.]

I see.

( not quite so lucky then — or the kind of luck that would score them a pair, in the same suit, with nothing to really show for it.

... he's really on the same floor then? so close, but there's a thought, when he didn't even show his face the first time they met...

something like, he should have his privacy; this will have to be enough. but it'll take some time to smother the nagging thought that she could be right next to him, so easily here, if she really thought to push. )

It's too early, perhaps, but when I'd waited on guests playing games in the casino, their behavior would sometimes go erratic.

I was told it's because of this suit. Has it affected you?

This suit? You're certain of that?

Exactly what kind of behavior did you observe?

[Not yet an answer to her question, which isn't wholly intentional — but it is the most important. What did Robin learn about the Clubs suit?]

( ... right to business, glossing over any facet of his own condition. but it's fair — it's a steady sense of priority to find out about their captivity. and if he weren't okay...

well, she's not sure if she'd ever hear about it. )

I'm sorry, I only saw the marks when they were somewhere more prominent. Faces, or the backs of people's hands at the card tables. So I don't know specifically if it's because of the clubs or just any suit in general...

Back during the party, there was a game. If someone lost a hand big enough, they'd suddenly become agitated. Not because of anger, but I could feel their emotions rising like a crescendo, and I

( ... sent, just a little too soon. the next pause... is a lengthy one. thirty seconds. minutes. like she's waiting for him to fill the blank where she's suddenly stalling. )

[Her words fall off at a cliff. Sunday waits, but his sister does not go on, and he finds himself locked in that sole moment — hurting to reach across the distance.]

Robin, it's all right. Was it overwhelming?

[They had once struggled as children with this part of their nature, and she is better at it than him, now.]

There are a lot of different emotions around us right now, and they're only enhanced by... features of the House's doing. The suits, in ways we don't understand yet. Don't be afraid of it. Protect yourself first.

( she feels a little sheepish, falling back to old habits of letting his words bring comfort.

that probably doesn't help. )

I'm sure it will be fine, Brother.

The powers of Harmony worked in the beginning, when I first arrived. If I try tuning again, I'll see to it that I have some privacy...

Just don't push yourself.

[FUSSING INCREASES]

How are you finding your suite? Does it have everything you need? I know that it's not much, but I've been told it is possible to increase rank.

( bro... )

I hope you don't think fame has made your sister into someone requiring such high maintenance...

The bed is comfortable.

( admittedly it — could be better. too many springs, and a beaten comforter that has probably seen better days, but she won't complain when she's holding no illusions that this isn't still captivity even when it's all trussed up like a one-star motel. )

As far as the amenities go, it looks like we may be on our own for food and water.

Have you eaten?

( after the partying and feasting. but that isn't the real question: if you haven't, why can't we go together? )

[sis...]

It does. Occasionally I've seen some of the establishments here provide those more necessary items on the house, but... you can't always assure they remain untainted.

[He doesn't specify — tainted by what. It varies, he's noticed, but certainly there is one worse than the others.]

I ate earlier.

[There's a moment of pause, and then Robin will find her Watch chiming with a notification, where a portion of credits have been transferred from a user "thursday" into her bank account.]

Please buy yourself anything you need. If you're ever out, let me know. I've had success at a few of the betting games recently.

[It's not... a lie. Yet it also conceals this amount is the majority of his own account, a fact he cannot share if he's determined for this not to become a problem.]

Edited 2025-02-12 02:31 (UTC)

( — wait hol'up )

Sunday

( it's almost like she's using his government name here, and though text holds no tone, he might be able to imagine it when his watch chimes with the same kind of beat as credits are sent back to his account.

with interest it seems. )

... I won't be a burden to you.

( friction, maybe, when he's always protected her, and she's never stepped outside the shadow of his wing. but here, when she knows her brother, when she knows how risk-averse he could be...? )

[Not his government name...]

Robin. I earned those credits for you.

[All his hard work???]

It's not a burden. Haven't I provided for you in the past? Why won't you allow me to do it now?

( ... not her government name.

hard to tell by text, but it's too easy to imagine his tone, how she can feel how serious he might be about this. )

I'm so thankful, Brother. Truly.

( just in case... she seems unappreciative. )

But when currency comes at the price it does, I ( ... how does she say. that she can't imagine that he fucks or gambles to the point of a steady allowance. but she's still having a hesitant time about it too. ) worry you might invest so much in me that you leave too little for yourself.

You shouldn't worry.

[Will they ever move past this formal way of speaking... no, at least not now, because Sunday still struggles with it — has struggled in many ways these last several years, uncertain of how to stand at his sister's side and face her. Worse, now, with his own failure stark behind him.]

I'm not doing anything untoward. [i.e. sex........] I earned this through my own merit and effort. Accept it as a gift, this time. Please, for my sake.

[And — yes, those credits are getting sent back. He puts a freeze on his own account, so if Robin tries to return them, she'll be temporarily blocked.

The ease of this distant communication makes it easier to confess:]

Taking care of you gives me greater purpose in a place like this.

Edited 2025-02-16 19:17 (UTC)

( shouldn't she?

... shouldn't he? for that matter... it isn't an argument that he'll let her have, in any case, when her watch beeps again with his deposit and makes an off-tone with her own failed return. she stares at her wrist for a long moment, and then another longer one, frustration and a feeling of something bittersweet welling up tight in her throat at his incoming message.

his protection has always felt warm, but especially here, after everything, when she knows it shouldn't be so one-sided... )

... I want to take care of you, too, Brother.

( distance — does make this easier. )

You'd said that we could work together, couldn't we? So we should pool our resources.

[There are only so many denials he can make. In the past, in the exchanges of their letters, conversation was — prolonged. Days and weeks and even months passed between, extending delays until what was once a spontaneous issue might be resolved by the time they heard from each other again. And in their life before, funds were not one of those problems.

Her, stardom and celebrity buoyed freedom of both a physical and financial kind.

Him — well, Penacony was in no short supply of resources.]

I can see if it's possible to create a joint account between us.

[Acquiescence, finally.]

Would you accept something like that?

( and so are the dangers of modern technology: there's hardly the space of time to allow a problem to dissolve on its own.

plus, text can hardly convey the way that robin puffs up on her end of the line like a ruffling bird, all pleased at this compromise. )

I would be honored, Mister Sunday.

If it helps ease this decision, I will do my best to show you my financial independence by getting into the occasional squabble over the dessert allowance with you.

You don't need to call me that.

[Even if it's... cute, in a way it literally never is when anyone else calls him 'Mr. Sunday'.

Also, no, her brother still does not know how to joke.]

There's no dessert allowance. Eat as much as you would like.

( nearly too serious. too bad it's a charm point instead of anything that she thinks requires fixing. )

Aren't you worried you spoil me too much? One day, I might think to spend our hard-earned chips on more cake than either of us can eat, and where would that leave the both of us?

My dear sister isn't so irresponsible.

[Wow, this faintest glimmer of... teasing.]

If she does happen to demonstrate such behavior, then we'll have to resume my original suggestion — and she'll be placed on a budget.

( !!! )

And thus I'd become the recipient of my dear brother's cute scolding face...

That *is* quite a threat, Mister Sunday. I suppose I'll promise my good behavior, after all.

@pigeon

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