Memory Share Starters

[inaurare]

 for duplicitynet 

Wherever relevant, supporting pages will be linked to. However, please note some memshare threads will contain blatant headcanon/attempts to flesh out canon events further, such as those detailed in the wrap-ups/backstory. Please also check the list below for links and blanket descriptions!

Five years old - > sold to the Teahouse.
Eight years old -> that time he climbed up to Xanthe's window in the rain.
Fifteen years old -> basically the lead-in to Linn's My Fair Lady moment ("Adele, Linneus' favorite courtesan taught him how to move like the girls around the house and straighten his hair...") 
Sixteen years old -> the fallout of Linneus' first run-in with Master Atros. 
Seventeen years old -> Linneus is branded.

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[inaurare]

Linneus is being dragged, a hand tight around his wrist. Sixteen, at the time, slender as ever but still not quite grown out of the coltishness of youth, stumbling behind as he is pulled downstairs, the tight grip of his master’s hand only abating to shove him into his room.

They would be spartan quarters if they were not so lived in - a bed with a mirror above the mantle opposite, the fireplace swept clean and flanked by a poker and an almost-empty metal bucket of kindling. A small desk squeezed in to the side of the bed, a wardrobe at its foot, and a window set high into the wall at the head. But there is a worn, clearly handmade blanket on the bed, a trinket dish, writing set and a tied bundle of letters on the desk. The mantle and even the high window sill are cluttered with little knick knacks and items.

The master looms in the doorway and Linneus flinches when he jabs out a pointing finger, his own released hand rising to his naked throat, as if to shield it. There had been a necklace there. The master has brought Linneus here to have him account for all the rest.

Gradually each item is taken down. Clothes, books - jewellery - things that he had amassed during his time here, the origins of each dearly remembered. Explained. Approved. Or, most often, placed in his master’s waiting hand. In particular the master is keen to take anything that his son may have given Linneus, though it almost seems that the master takes things just for the effect it clearly has on him. With each item, Linneus grows visibly more and more distraught, his accounting coming through occasional sobs.

The blanket is removed from the bed. Nearly everything removed from the mantle, save a candlestick and matches. The wardrobe stands open and empty, the only clothes Linneus is permitted to keep piled on the bed and clearly just uniform items. No books remain, the writing set Xanthe had gifted him is gone from the table, leaving the desktop quite bare.

All that remain are the letters. And when the master points to those as well—

—Linneus wants to wake up. Now - or before the dream even started. He hands the letters over, and when the master hands one back he wants to snatch it away from himself so he doesn’t have to…

But he is sixteen and in fear of his master. Trembling hands, trembling voice, he opens a letter and he reads. And he opens a letter and he reads. And when Linneus is done pouring Xanthe’s heart out to his own father, to spilling out words that were only meant for him...

All of the letters are in the brass kindling bucket from the fireplace. And into Linneus' shaking hands, Master Atros places the matches.