![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
He'd known he couldn't stay in a hotel room in Germany forever since he'd gotten off the plane in Frankfurt. The best he had hoped for was that his father would have had time to rethink this marriage situation. Predictably, his father had done no such thing by his return, and his anger at August's audacity had seemed to know no bounds. At first, August had thought his father might punish him by not finding him worthy of the marriage that had already been laid out for him. Instead, his father's punishment took a different turn. Dates were made upon August's arrival, without August's knowledge or permission, and wedding preparations were put into place.
When August heard about this, he stormed into his father's study, willing to accept no less than a complete backing down on his father's part. Throughout the last conversation he'd had with his father, the elder Mr. Griesser had put out the line, 'Look where refusal got your Aunt Brigitta'. Before that, August couldn't really remember a time when his father's older sister, the black sheep of the family, had ever been referred to by her name. All he knew was that when his father and his aunt had been younger than him, Brigitta had been faced with her own marriage of convenience. There were family rumors that she had been in love with some poor man who had never been given a name in any of the stories August had heard, but his father referred to that refusal of the proper marriage as stupidity.
With little more than that knowledge under his belt, August had once again declined his father's wishes, and taken the road of the black sheep.
So far, he didn't like it.
His aunt owned a little house on Holyhead Road, on the coast of Wales. The rooms of his aunt's house smelt stale, like she never opened the doors or curtains. August pondered that that was to stop the natural light from displaying the color of the walls, which obviously hadn't seen a new paint job for three or four years. The kitchen was sparse and under-stocked. The room he'd been given was the size of his old walk-in wardrobe in his parents' house, and he'd been asked if he wouldn't mind not smoking while he was inside.
Also, he'd been asked if he could get a job, to help his aunt with the costs around the house. At that, August had balked.
"A job? Doesn't your husband bring in any money?" August hadn't mean it rudely. The fact was, he couldn't conceive of a situation such as his Aunt Brigitta presented him.
Brigitta had turned her face aside. "A job will fill up your days," she'd said, in a voice that spoke of a forced calm gathered from good breeding.
August had continued to stare at her, unable to believe that this was his lot in life now.
"My husband's been dead four years now," Brigitta had answered after a bit. That had been all she'd said on the subject in the weeks that he'd been here. August noted that true love hadn't left her with a life in any good stead. Not that he'd expected any different.
His mobile phone had international roaming on it. This was a good and bad thing because, for good, he didn't have to sort out a new mobile phone here, and for bad, it might have lent him a couple of weeks' leniency from the 'job hunting' that Brigitta was so intent that he do.
He was having a smoke in his bedroom, while Aunt Brigitta was visiting a friend to help in her garden, when his mobile phone happened to ring. He might have expected it was Elsa, but the number that showed up on his phone was unfamiliar.
"Hello," he said, not voicing the caution he felt.
"Is this August Griesser?" A lady's voice was on the other side of the phone. August immediately grew more interested.
"It is," he answered, taking a final drag of his smoke before butting it out against his metal bed frame.
"Hi, this is Aderyn. I'm calling from Quail about the job interview you attended two days ago? We were impressed by you at your interview, and thought you might bring a good quality into Quail."
Of course he would, August agreed. He recognised the strange lilt to her voice, now, as the Welsh accent. Nobody with that accent had his number. He hadn't found any places of class here to pick anyone up yet.
"We were wondering if you would like to come in for a trial day next Monday," Aderyn continued, and August made sure to reveal none of his boredom at the routine.
"Monday is perfect," he answered. "What time?"
As the details were made, August made a half assed effort to remember them before hanging up the phone. Then he went into the kitchen to see if there was anything in there worth eating.
When August heard about this, he stormed into his father's study, willing to accept no less than a complete backing down on his father's part. Throughout the last conversation he'd had with his father, the elder Mr. Griesser had put out the line, 'Look where refusal got your Aunt Brigitta'. Before that, August couldn't really remember a time when his father's older sister, the black sheep of the family, had ever been referred to by her name. All he knew was that when his father and his aunt had been younger than him, Brigitta had been faced with her own marriage of convenience. There were family rumors that she had been in love with some poor man who had never been given a name in any of the stories August had heard, but his father referred to that refusal of the proper marriage as stupidity.
With little more than that knowledge under his belt, August had once again declined his father's wishes, and taken the road of the black sheep.
So far, he didn't like it.
His aunt owned a little house on Holyhead Road, on the coast of Wales. The rooms of his aunt's house smelt stale, like she never opened the doors or curtains. August pondered that that was to stop the natural light from displaying the color of the walls, which obviously hadn't seen a new paint job for three or four years. The kitchen was sparse and under-stocked. The room he'd been given was the size of his old walk-in wardrobe in his parents' house, and he'd been asked if he wouldn't mind not smoking while he was inside.
Also, he'd been asked if he could get a job, to help his aunt with the costs around the house. At that, August had balked.
"A job? Doesn't your husband bring in any money?" August hadn't mean it rudely. The fact was, he couldn't conceive of a situation such as his Aunt Brigitta presented him.
Brigitta had turned her face aside. "A job will fill up your days," she'd said, in a voice that spoke of a forced calm gathered from good breeding.
August had continued to stare at her, unable to believe that this was his lot in life now.
"My husband's been dead four years now," Brigitta had answered after a bit. That had been all she'd said on the subject in the weeks that he'd been here. August noted that true love hadn't left her with a life in any good stead. Not that he'd expected any different.
His mobile phone had international roaming on it. This was a good and bad thing because, for good, he didn't have to sort out a new mobile phone here, and for bad, it might have lent him a couple of weeks' leniency from the 'job hunting' that Brigitta was so intent that he do.
He was having a smoke in his bedroom, while Aunt Brigitta was visiting a friend to help in her garden, when his mobile phone happened to ring. He might have expected it was Elsa, but the number that showed up on his phone was unfamiliar.
"Hello," he said, not voicing the caution he felt.
"Is this August Griesser?" A lady's voice was on the other side of the phone. August immediately grew more interested.
"It is," he answered, taking a final drag of his smoke before butting it out against his metal bed frame.
"Hi, this is Aderyn. I'm calling from Quail about the job interview you attended two days ago? We were impressed by you at your interview, and thought you might bring a good quality into Quail."
Of course he would, August agreed. He recognised the strange lilt to her voice, now, as the Welsh accent. Nobody with that accent had his number. He hadn't found any places of class here to pick anyone up yet.
"We were wondering if you would like to come in for a trial day next Monday," Aderyn continued, and August made sure to reveal none of his boredom at the routine.
"Monday is perfect," he answered. "What time?"
As the details were made, August made a half assed effort to remember them before hanging up the phone. Then he went into the kitchen to see if there was anything in there worth eating.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}