12-17-2021, 07:28 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-18-2021, 09:18 AM by Tristan Wells.)
[CW: Homophobia; reference to racism]
His eyebrows knitted together as he watched Pippa quietly sip her tea and set the cup down as if she hadn't heard him. Had the events of the previous day or the head injury tipped her into insanity? When she did acknowledge him, it only confused him more. What did she - ?
No! His stomach lurched. A shiver went through his body and left his knees weak and his heart racing. His face darkened. She had only lifted the sheaf for a moment, but he was almost certain he knew the letter by its handwriting.
As Pippa's words suddenly rained down on him, he opened the letter and glanced down at it. He felt sick. This bloody letter could become final ruin besides first heartbreak. Wilde had the audacity to be Irish. Tristan knew he himself could count on even less sympathy. He could feel his blood pulsing through his body while he pictured himself locked in a cell, humiliated in court before friends, his business and reputation and dreams ruined forever.
He clenched the letter tightly in his first. His entire body seemed to pulse with terror. He dashed for the only exit: breaking her. Terror turned to fury. He slammed the letter down on the table with force. "You have some nerve, insulting me and talking like that, after what I've done for you!" he shouted. "How dare you go through my things! How dare you lecture me about things you don't even understand! I'm an alienist! I treat people who are ill! Yes those people as well, but I keep it hidden, so as not to upset the delicate sensitivities of ignorant people like yourself! This letter... was given to me, shown to me by a patient before he died! I kept it, because it helps me understand! Can I not keep my own things in my own house, or do I need your permission!?"
His eyebrows knitted together as he watched Pippa quietly sip her tea and set the cup down as if she hadn't heard him. Had the events of the previous day or the head injury tipped her into insanity? When she did acknowledge him, it only confused him more. What did she - ?
No! His stomach lurched. A shiver went through his body and left his knees weak and his heart racing. His face darkened. She had only lifted the sheaf for a moment, but he was almost certain he knew the letter by its handwriting.
As Pippa's words suddenly rained down on him, he opened the letter and glanced down at it. He felt sick. This bloody letter could become final ruin besides first heartbreak. Wilde had the audacity to be Irish. Tristan knew he himself could count on even less sympathy. He could feel his blood pulsing through his body while he pictured himself locked in a cell, humiliated in court before friends, his business and reputation and dreams ruined forever.
He clenched the letter tightly in his first. His entire body seemed to pulse with terror. He dashed for the only exit: breaking her. Terror turned to fury. He slammed the letter down on the table with force. "You have some nerve, insulting me and talking like that, after what I've done for you!" he shouted. "How dare you go through my things! How dare you lecture me about things you don't even understand! I'm an alienist! I treat people who are ill! Yes those people as well, but I keep it hidden, so as not to upset the delicate sensitivities of ignorant people like yourself! This letter... was given to me, shown to me by a patient before he died! I kept it, because it helps me understand! Can I not keep my own things in my own house, or do I need your permission!?"
