[OTA] We're just beautiful imitations

[isadisease]

'-the distant past is one of those things that can enrich ignorance. It is infinitely malleable and agreeable-'

Space became more limited, hallways more crowded, quiet more elusive and air more stifling. There, at the castle. Although Archie wasn't too perturbed by the invasion - didn't really notice it, not consciously at least - a small voice became more and more persistent that it was unbearable and that they must leave for their own safety's and happiness' sake.

Too tired to argue with it (her), he complied.

Crisp, clean winter air against his face, the Spade wandered outside, listening to her idle chatter as he meandered through town until he reached Mike's Bar - and entered. He didn't come here often enough to be considered a regular but he was a somewhat familiar face. Memorable because not many people came here to read or do paperwork. But to each their own. At least he knew how to take his drink serious and wasn't one of those people who clung to just one drink all night.

'This is much better, don't you think, Arch?'
'If you say so, sis.'
'Go on, go on!'
'With what?'
'What you've been thinking about all day!'

Sighing softly, Archie flipped a page of the book he wasn't reading, picking up in his head where he'd stopped earlier.

'-far more obliging than the future and far less demanding of our efforts. It is the-'
'-the famous season favoured by all mythology! Who... who...'
'Who has not, at one time or another, played with thoughts of his ancestors, with the prehistory of his flesh and blood?'
'Who wrote that? Borgia?'
'Borges, sis, Borges.'
'Do you dream of playing with the prehistory of our flesh and blood?'

A difficult question, a difficult word - prehistory. As he mulled it over in his head, his mouth went off on its own.

"Everything is permissible in our dreams."

Comments

[dreamsofwords]

Mike's was something of a dive. Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course, but Alasdair usually preferred the glossy pub feel of the Three Cups, or the more vivacious atmosphere of the Four Suits. It was habit from those days when he thought atmosphere was essential to write great literature. It wasn't; you mostly just needed to sit down and do it.

Admittedly, he was working on a Stacy Wheelock Deck mystery that was tentatively called The Secret of the Coin.

"Pretty philosophical for this time of night," he commented, if only because it seemed the thing to do. "Heavy thoughts?" Of course, they all had heavy thoughts. They couldn't help it.

[isadisease]

"What?"

An unfamiliar voice belonging to a somewhat familiar face. Or maybe not - Archie couldn't be sure. Some days, faces and voiced bled together into a murky soup, thick and clotted which was a very unflattering way of describing one's own mind. It took him a few seconds to figure out what the young man was talking about and why...

"Oh, no, not really. Just an observation. A rather trivial and trite one, too," he added as he wiped the small frown off of his face.

[dreamsofwords]

They knew each other - but only vaguely, and only because until Alasdair, all the DeWitt men were men of science. He just had to be different. Either that or he was just terrible at chemistry, which was also a distinct possibility.

Alasdair nods a bit and he's silent as he finishes scribbling out a paragraph. But then he looks up. "You don't really remember me," he says. "But my father used to drag me along when he was using curiosity as a reason to poke his nose into Valerian research."

[isadisease]

Busted, it seemed. It happened occasionally when the mask wasn't on as firmly as it ought to be. Alasdair's words rang a bell, however, for which Archie was rather grateful.

There weren't many people who were brazen enough to poke their noses into old Valerian's business. Mr DeWitt's visits had been... memorable; not always pleasant but memorable.

"Oh, right, Mr DeWitt. He used to make the day more interesting." A small chuckle. "How is he?"

[dreamsofwords]

Alasdair's lips kick up in the corners, but it's not a smile that's exactly all the way there. "Good days and bad," he says, briefly, and waves to Mike for a drink. Funny how talking about Dad pretty much always caused that reaction.

"He's, ah, got dementia these days. It's a fight to keep him out of the lab."

[isadisease]

"Dementia? I'm very sorry to hear that." Archie paused, concern painted all across his face now. He'd seen enough cases of waning minds and memories and what it did to people and their families. It was never pretty.

"It must be very hard for you and your family."

[dreamsofwords]

"There are good days and bad, I think. My mother's insistent that she can handle it." He had doubts about that, honestly. "But I suspect we'll be looking for full-time help soon."

It wouldn't be easy to find in the Deck; medical personnel, period, was hard to come by. Medical personnel with that kind of speciality would be nearly impossible.

[isadisease]

"On her own?" He raises an eyebrow at that.

"You should look sooner rather than later. I'm surprised his doctor hasn't suggested it already," Archie adds, closing the book.

"We treat cases of dementia at the hospital and you probably don't want to hear it but the bad days will outweigh the good eventually. It puts a lot of strain on a family and while medication can delay it, it won't stop the... decline. Who's treating your father?"

[dreamsofwords]

"Dr. Morgenstern, mostly," Alasdair admits. But the new King of Hearts was more of a generalist. "I've been trying to get Mom to look into a specialist - we all have - but she's getting stubborn about it. The mess lately doesn't help," he adds, waving a hand. "She's worried if she takes him off-Deck, they won't be able to get home again."

Everytime they came up with a reason to seek help, Catherine DeWitt had a reason not to.

"You work with a lot of dementia?"

[isadisease]

"It's not our main area of research but we've been looking into it since the number of patients has been rising. When they come to us, they're usually in the late stages of the disease."

Knowing how difficult it is to even admit that a member of the family may have that kind of disease, Archie doesn't comment on the DeWitts' choice of doctor. Besides, he's sure the Heart has done the best he could for them. However, sometimes the best still isn't good enough.

"They could come to Oculis Meis to have him examined properly. I promise your father won't be kept there against his or your mother's will. At least, he'll get a treatment plan designed to fit his needs."

[dreamsofwords]

There's some hesitation. It has little to do with Archie himself - Archie Valerian has always been a nice man - but Dougal DeWitt himself had always been highly suspicious of the Valerian enterprises. Alasdair wasn't ever sure why, and he grew away from his father as he grew up, so he never asked for an explanation.

There aren't that many options, though. Not for this, whatever it may be exactly.

"I'll talk to her about it," he says. "Hopefully I can catch her receptive."

Soon enough Catherine would have to be receptive, and Alasdair would have to be the one making more decisions, but none of them knew that yet.

[isadisease]

No offence taken - Archie's used to hesitation and reluctance. He's hardly ever the bearer of good news, after all. As for Dougal DeWitt's suspicions towards Rafael's research, well. He's a smart man obviously.

"Of course. You know where to find me."