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.

Comments

[inaurare]

Linneus is eight or nine years old, and it is raining.

What absolute fool would be climbing in the middle of a rainstorm?

Linneus would. And he would be smiling the entire time.

Eight, maybe nine years old, and he is scaling the side of a building like he has done it a hundred times. Perhaps he has – he’s sure footed; knows where the faults in the brickwork are he can catch hold of, what to grab hold of and what is so weakly attached to the wall that it is best avoided.

Climbing is the closest he can get to flying, and he has climbed trees, up to windows, even up to the roof, much to the despair of his caretakers. Not just for fear he should fall, but for fear he should be found - for fear he should escape. Servants should not climb, should not ride, should not swim, should not have any skill that might make it easier for them to slip their bondage.

So Linneus has leaned to not be caught. Climbing out of sight, or at night – even in the rain, like this. Perhaps one day he might even learn to sit Xanthe’s horse, once he gets big enough to ride.

But tonight he is climbing - his goal; a light in one of the large, arched windows. There is none of the poise and elegance of his adulthood here – none of that has even been learned yet, that he may favour it or throw it aside. Simply practicality, childish scrambling as he swings himself over to the ledge, drags himself along on his front until he can get his knees under him enough to get closer to the window.

Inside is a dark-haired boy who looked to be on the cusp of his teens. Seeing him, Linneus taps the glass – lightly, at first, probably lightly enough that the sound merges with the raindrops. So he taps a little firmer, this time catching the boy’s attention.

He can’t help his peals of laughter through the glass at the look on the boy’s face. Heavens, Xanthe must not have expected him, then!

(continued in the comic, pages 89, 90, 91, 92, 93)