He goes home. He asks his daughter about her day. She asks him about his, and Gepard tells her a careful mix of bright falsehoods and truths with all the unpleasant details carefully scrubbed away. His day's fun. And it's not like it's utterly miserable so much as-
Anyway, he cooks dinner as she does her homework. Occasionally, he helps her, but so far nothing's too complicated. She's too little to have real homework. They eat. He's still not the best at it - helping with homework or cooking - but Gepard's learned to be better for Lily.
Sometimes he plays with her. Sometimes he reads to her. Eventually, she washes up and goes to sleep.
Gepard takes cold showers. Sometimes, he closes his eyes and imagines he's back on the front lines, as for all he wouldn't trade his daughter for the world, he had a purpose, once, and now his purpose has shrunk down to one little girl he'd do anything for, and he-
He gets out.
He reads a book. That's what he does. One book a week, so that he can talk about his stock. Sometimes two. This particular one's imported from Penacony and talks about things that Gepard will never, ever see, but- maybe his daughter, one day. Maybe.
Mornings are the same. Breakfast, and he walks his daughter to school - and Gepard dreads the day Lily will be too old for him to do that, when she's old enough to have her own life and her own mind (and he swears that he'll respect what decisions she makes when she comes to that point) and doesn't need him anymore, because even if he wants her to become her own woman he still dreads the day she'll no longer need him and he'll have to confront whatever it is he's become - and then he goes to his job.
What's his job? A quiet bookstore in the middle of nowhere, where no one recognizes him as a Landau- at least, they don't mention it if they do. And he sits, and he watches the snow fall in the distance, and continues reading the book, and his routine is-
His routine is. He has a routine.
He makes tea? That can be- it's not bad tea. He ignores his mail. There's a letter from his parents. He'll read that later. Always later.
...maybe he'll do something fun for lunch. Perhaps go to a cafe? (He always goes to the same cafe for lunch when he wants to do something "fun", and he'll read, and eat a sandwich quietly.)]
no subject
He goes home. He asks his daughter about her day. She asks him about his, and Gepard tells her a careful mix of bright falsehoods and truths with all the unpleasant details carefully scrubbed away. His day's fun. And it's not like it's utterly miserable so much as-
Anyway, he cooks dinner as she does her homework. Occasionally, he helps her, but so far nothing's too complicated. She's too little to have real homework. They eat. He's still not the best at it - helping with homework or cooking - but Gepard's learned to be better for Lily.
Sometimes he plays with her. Sometimes he reads to her. Eventually, she washes up and goes to sleep.
Gepard takes cold showers. Sometimes, he closes his eyes and imagines he's back on the front lines, as for all he wouldn't trade his daughter for the world, he had a purpose, once, and now his purpose has shrunk down to one little girl he'd do anything for, and he-
He gets out.
He reads a book. That's what he does. One book a week, so that he can talk about his stock. Sometimes two. This particular one's imported from Penacony and talks about things that Gepard will never, ever see, but- maybe his daughter, one day. Maybe.
Mornings are the same. Breakfast, and he walks his daughter to school - and Gepard dreads the day Lily will be too old for him to do that, when she's old enough to have her own life and her own mind (and he swears that he'll respect what decisions she makes when she comes to that point) and doesn't need him anymore, because even if he wants her to become her own woman he still dreads the day she'll no longer need him and he'll have to confront whatever it is he's become - and then he goes to his job.
What's his job? A quiet bookstore in the middle of nowhere, where no one recognizes him as a Landau- at least, they don't mention it if they do. And he sits, and he watches the snow fall in the distance, and continues reading the book, and his routine is-
His routine is. He has a routine.
He makes tea? That can be- it's not bad tea. He ignores his mail. There's a letter from his parents. He'll read that later. Always later.
...maybe he'll do something fun for lunch. Perhaps go to a cafe? (He always goes to the same cafe for lunch when he wants to do something "fun", and he'll read, and eat a sandwich quietly.)]