adifferentlife: (content)
Sybil has never been more grateful for a few days off from work with all of the snow that has tumbled down on Darrow over the past few hours. It is relentless, rather like the snow that had trapped them in Kagura, except this time at least Henri and she are in their own home.

"Do you think we have enough formula," she asks Henri, looking in the cupboards. Their refrigerator is full, as are their cupboards. There is bottled water in case they have need of it, and the medical kit that Kaine had gifted to her that she has kept well-stocked even with his departure. There is also wine simmering on the stove, the beautiful bouquet of cloves and cinnamon filling the room. "I think we must, if it only lasts a few days."

She turns to look at her husband, holding a sleeping Sybbie in his arms. There is something about seeing the two of them together that warms her heart. This is her child and her husband and they are a family now though not the one either of them had expected. "We should put her down before she wakes again."
adifferentlife: (upset)
The night had been wonderful, everything that Sybil had hoped for it. They were now wed, and had spent the night celebrating with their friends. Food had been plentiful, wine had flowed, and Sybil couldn't remember a nicer night. When she and Henri had finally fallen into bed, they were both exhausted. They were even more exhausted when they finally fell asleep. Things were as close to perfect as she could have ever imagined.

The cries were what woke her. They pulled her from sleep foggy and confused. Henri started to stir as she slipped from their bed, wrapping a robe about herself to go investigate. There was nothing that should have woken her in their rooms, certainly not what sounded like a baby.

She shook her head, trying to clear the mustiness settled in the crooks and crannies of her brain. There, near the doorway was a basket, and in the basket was an infant dressed as if for a christening. She knelt beside it, hushing the child as she reaches for it.

"Henri?" Sybil calls out to her husband. She picks the baby up and rests her against her shoulder, rocking back on her heels as the child nuzzles against her neck. "Henri, something's wrong."

Something's very very wrong if there's an infant in their rooms who is not supposed to be here. She smiles at the oddity and her way with understatement. There's a piece of paper poking out from the basket, and Sybil snags it, her brief glance turning into a much longer look.

It's a baptismal certificate. A baptismal certificate for her daughter, her daughter with Thomas Branson.

"Well, if I can't stop you I see no point in a quarrel. It'll be a very different life to the one you might have had but if you're sure it's what you want."
"I am."

"Somehow none of that seems to matter when we're in Dublin. Class and all that just fades away. I'm Mrs Branson and we get on with our lives like millions of others."

"We need peace, and safety. Downton can offer us both."


"I do believe in God, but all the rest of it, vicars, feast days, deadly sins, I don't care about that. I don't know if a vicar knows any more about god than I do. And I love Tom, so very very much."


"I love him." The memories flooded in, and were she not sitting she would have fallen. Suddenly it all seems so plain, the life that she'd had. Leaving Downton, trying to elope, finally moving to Ireland with Tom and marrying him. Their life there and how they had loved one another. How frightened she had been for Tom and how they had gone back to Downton. She had convinced him to stay there and it was there that she gave birth to their daughter and there that Sybil is sure that she died.

Which means this little girl is her daughter. Sybil looks up to Henri, tears streaming down her face as she sees the face of the other man that she loves. "I love him, and this is our daughter."
adifferentlife: (pleased surprise)
With her wedding less than a month away Sybil feels as if it has taken over every moment of her life. The day before the nurses she worked with had thrown her a shower, gifting her with both outrageous lingerie that she was horrified to even look at as well as the much more practical gift of dinnerware. It was an unexpected event and even with the strange underthings, it has made her look forward to this afternoon a great deal.

It was going to be a casual afternoon, or so she hoped. They had booked her favourite café, organised food and champagne and tea. There had been mention of games but Sybil isn't entirely sure what those entail, only that there seemed to be an inordinate amount of toilet paper stacked at one end of the room.

She knows from the many weddings that she's attended that she might not have much time to spend with her friends on the actual day. That's what today is for, to sit and talk and enjoy.
adifferentlife: (thoughtful)
Two days and Sybil is more than tired of this place. She had packed enough clothes to last the three days they would be there, but being snowed in meant that she had loaned out much of it to friends. The suite that had seemed so large their first night now seemed cramped, even more than her training quarters had. That morning Rene had returned rather racously, and now Sybil sought silence in the bedroom. She also needed something to wear, her simple day dress tired and worn after a full 36 hours.

Her own bag was empty other than something she had hoped to wear for Henri on a more romantic night. That night had never come to pass, and now she found herself forced to go to his bag in the hope of a shirt or something that she could slip on and still be decent in the outer rooms. She pulled a button down shirt out of the bag, pleased at the size, and thinking it would do well over a pair of tights. It was only when she went to hold it up against her that she saw the box that had tumbled out of his bag.

Tempting, she can't help but crouch to pick it up. Pandora's box, perhaps, yet she opened it anyway. What she saw inside surprised her, the brightness of the diamonds both unexpected and welcome. Had he meant to propose? She stood, still in her day dress, staring at it, unable to do anything else.

[for Max]

Aug. 30th, 2014 04:57 pm
adifferentlife: (do you really think so?)
The days are starting to feel cooler in the afternoons, and it's weather that Sybil enjoys. The heat of the summer had felt harsh to her, harsher than the one before. She's determined to enjoy it, spending the late afternoon in the park with a book. A blanket laid out by the duck pond, she has some crackers to nibble on as she relaxes in the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze that works its way through the trees.

What she hadn't considered was the determination of the ducks. Scenting something akin to bread, they'd descended upon her, waddling over in droves until she's forced to flee. Sybil throws the remains of the crackers at them, shouting at them to go away. It's embarrassing to say the least, and she only hopes that no one has seen her.
adifferentlife: (wary)
Sybil sits on the edge of the bed, the box clutched between her hands. She has yet to open it, unable to take it out and perform the test that feels as if it has already changed everything. It's simple enough to find out the truth she knows. All she has to do is open the box and administer the test. Open the box and she won't even have to mention it to Henri if the test is negative.

More lies? More secrets dividing us?

That thought preys on her until she can think of nothing but the strained moments that have sat between them since their return from Downton. They are fewer these days, but they still exist and though there are less of them they seem deep all the same.

She hears the door open and her grip on the box tightens until she's crushing it, her knuckles white.

"I'm in the bedroom," she calls out when she hears him say her name. A part of her wants to hide the test, but she squares her shoulders instead, holding it firm in her lap.
adifferentlife: (concerned)
Another long day has passed by them, and Sybil is finding it harder to play along with her family. Though she and Henri had spoken at the hospital and mended much of what lay between them, things were still strained. They had not been able to say proper farewells, not with the other nurses and Doctors about, and as such she felt lonely and unsure.

Dinner had been difficult, Sybil doing her best to avoid Mary's glances and to have polite conversation. She could not help but look at it through Henri's eyes, and the extravagance of all that they had in Downton ate at her. When dinner finishes she stays only as long as she must, pleading tiredness in order to go to bed early. She can hear her Grandmama say that the hospital is working her too hard, but Sybil cannot stay to disabuse her of the notion, taking solace instead in the silence of her room.

Too much silence, she thinks hours later as she lies awake in bed. The sounds of a modern city have become the thing she is accustomed to. But it is not truly the quiet that keeps her up, but the thoughts she cannot escape. How will she manage here in this place that was once her home and now feels so strange? How will she find a way to make Henri understand as well?

Even the worst worries can only keep her awake so long, succumbing eventually to sleep. It only feels a few brief moments later when she's woken by the buzzing of her alarm, reaching out to find it and knocking glasses off her bedside table.

Henri's glasses. Her alarm clock.

Abruptly awake, she sits, seeing her own bedroom in Darrow and not the one she had fallen asleep in. Better, she thinks, is Henri beside her, rousing at the sound himself. Sybil gives him no time, pulling him into an embrace, kissing him fiercely.

They are home.
adifferentlife: (what?)
There had been little sleep for Sybil that night, unable to stop her mind from racing. Each word that was spoken at dinner played over in her head, followed quickly by her stilted conversation with Henri and then the one with her sister. When the maid comes to wake her she's already up and dressed, sitting at her dressing table and counting the minutes until she can go down for breakfast and then to the hospital.

Breakfast was a rushed affair as well, nodding and answering when asked a question and grateful that Mary was still abed. When she excuses herself she declines the offer of a ride into the village, wanting the walk to clear her head. This is her home, and yet she feels out of place. Has she changed so much? Will they be here forever, and will she have to find a way to make this her life again? These are the things that she wonders on the way to the hospital, thoughts that deserve more time than she has to dedicate to them. There's a transport there which means a morning of blood and sweat as they take in patients and get them clean and settled.

Sybil rushes toward Henri, barely making eye contact as she hurries to help him settle a patient. "Good morning."
adifferentlife: (what is going on?)
"I saw you, you know."

"Mary!" Sybil jumps when her sister glides into the room, dropping the comb she's just pulled from her hair. It's an excuse to not meet her eyes, to crouch and try and find the piece on the floor of her room. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was out in the hall and I saw-"

"Oh, please, Sybil, I could see you all dinner. You were watching that French Doctor just as Edith was," Mary settles on the edge of Sybil's bed, stretching an arm to tug off a glove. "At least, you seemed far less hungry than Edith. Only there's one thing that doesn't make any sense. How could you have met the young Doctor if you were at home ill?"

"Please, Mary, you musn't say anything." There's no stopping her sister once she's settled on an idea, and Mary, for all of her idleness at times is as smart as any of them. Sybil stands, brushing her skirts and setting the comb on her dressing table. It's a scant few seconds to come up with a story, but she does, barely. "It was when I was training. At the hospital, he was studying there as well. Only- I never imagined that I'd see him again."

Mary claps her hands, one still gloved, gleeing at the bit of information. "Won't that annoy Edith. But you must realise, Papa would never allow you to marry a commoner, even if he is a Doctor, never mind a Frenchman."

It's too much, and she's been in Darrow too long. Sybil snaps at her sister, patience for the games and ways low, especially considering their dinner. "But it would be fine for you to marry a lawyer, as long as it keeps the family safe?"

It's a cruel thing to say, considering how things have turned between Mary and Matthew, but Sybil doesn't care. "I will marry whomever I like. Father cannot stop me in that, unless he what, lock me in my room until I'm thirty?"

Sybil's expected to have shocked her sister, and she has, in a way. Mary in turn shocks her, laughing and stepping up from the bed to take Sybil's hand. "Here I had thought you the one of us who would make a proper marriage and satisfy our parents. But you're as stubborn as the rest of us, aren't you. Alright." Mary picks up her gloves, turning to leave. "I'll keep your little secret, but on one condition. I want to be there when you tell Edith. Now, don't 'Mary' me. I'm allowed my little pleasures."

Her words die on her tongue as Mary lets herself out the room, closing the door behind her. Sybil sags, gripping the dressing table. What has she done?
adifferentlife: (wary)
Sybil's day has been nerve-wracking. Her fainting went over well, in that it had distracted her family and the staff, which was precisely what she's wanted. Unfortunately, her mother had insisted that she not go to work at the hospital and instead spend it in bed. There was nothing to be done about it and no argument on the Earth could have dissuaded her Mama from telling her she must rest. Even if Sybil wanted nothing more than to go to work and see if Henri had made it. She'd fretted most of the day, and when it was finally time to get dressed for dinner Sybil felt sicker than if she actually had fainted.

When Anna mentions that Doctor Clarkson and a new, young, French Doctor are coming for dinner she holds her breath. It seems too much to hope for that it might be Henri, but who else might it be? She has to stop herself from running down the stairs, restraining herself and going down with Mary and Edith, barely paying attention to what they say. When she sees Henri seated between Edith and herself she cannot help but smile. Edith asks him about his work, and she forces herself to turn away, and tell their mother than indeed she does feel much better.
adifferentlife: (concern for you)
Sybil is slow to wake in the morning. She's entirely too content to be in bed with the man she adores more than she can say, even if they fell asleep scandalously nude. The night had been a long one, filled with touches and kisses and sweet words of amazement whispered between them. Sybil had been shy after they had finished, but that shyness had faded, replaced with a curiosity and happiness she's never imagined.

The room is dark, and the bed is soft, softer than she remembers. She's sore as well, as she knew that she would be, in places that soreness is unfamiliar. "My love," she whispers to Henri, kissing him awake before reaching to turn on the lamp near her bed. Her hand touches glass instead, and she pauses, touching an all too familiar shape, pulling the lid off a container to the unmistakeable scent of biscuits. Biscuits she's not tasted in years. Sybil freezes, whispering Henri's name desperately when she hears a familiar voice at the door that fills her both with panic and joy unimaginable.

"Sybil, you know you have to come down for breakfast. Working late at the hospital is no excuse. Shall I send Anna to help you dress or are you going straight back to the hospital?" It's Edith at her door and she wants nothing more than to fly through the door and embrace her sister were she not nude and in the bed with a man.

"Of course," she calls out, meeting Henri's panicked eyes. "To the hospital, I'm afraid. Please apologise to Carson for me, I shall be right down."
adifferentlife: (conversation - i wonder)
Sybil remembers a time in her life where she thought she'd never manage idleness again. Where work had given her a purpose, and begun to fill her days in a way that she'd never imagined before that. Here, it is only moreso; between school, the hospital, and time with Henri, it often seems there are not the hours in the day that she'd like. It has meant that some things fell to the wayside, especially in the first few months with Henri. One of those things were her friendships, and as spring makes itself better known, she promises again to not take for granted the people who are important to her any longer.

It's why she's asked Thomas is he wants to join her for lunch. She picked a cafe in a quiet alleyway, near the centre of the city. It's been too long since they've had more than a few words, that she's done more than asked about his health, and TJ's. It will be nice to have some time to spend with one another, she thinks, ordering a glass of wine and settling in to wait.
adifferentlife: (displeased worry)
Her days at the hospital have been long since the faceless victims started arriving. With no idea what is causing it or how they can even breathe, it's been important to watch and record every moment of their time at the hospital. A task that has fallen to Sybil as a nurse's aide and even the other late term nursing students, in an attempt to relieve the burden on the nurses and doctors.

Still, she's not home much after dinner tonight, exhausted though she may be. Sybil had called Henri on a quick break, asking him to meet her at her apartment and to bring dinner if he might. All she wishes to do is to see him and curl up in his arms and hear that all will be well, even if it truly will not.
adifferentlife: (seriously?)
Tutorial this week was much of the same, if only for one exception. This was the day Sybil has brought Flavia with her and their teacher seems determined to impress. Not that they wouldn't be studying biological oxidation-reduction reactions but it does make a few hours of carefully monitoring and recording all the reactions.

Once they're done, Sybil takes her time cleaning up their station, letting Flavia approach the unit leader with all the questions she might have. The girl's curiosity is only to be encouraged, she thinks, and she's glad to have had any part of it.

"Should we get lunch? I've work this afternoon, but I thought it might be nice," she says when Flavia eventually returns. "Or do you have to get back to your regular classes?"
adifferentlife: (pleased surprise)
The best way to celebrate any holiday is to share it with people that one care's about, Sybil is sure of that. It's why she's organised this, a luncheon for any and all that she's friends with. It's not something she's done before, and it feels very adult to be hosting a party within her own home. It's not something she ever imagined doing in such a small space, or without a staff to support her, or even before she was married with her own home, but those aren't things that are considerations here.

Instead she's let everyone know when to come and to bring something to share with the others. She's ordered in the main part of the meal, a roasted turkey instead of a goose and a roast of lamb as well. There's champagne and wine, and she has the record player Kaine gave her in the corner playing christmas carols by Bing Crosby. There's a small tree of real pine with strings of beads strung through its boughs and little elecric lights twinkling. Henri has helped her to decorate and do the cooking that she's tried, even if most of the cookies she made needed to be thrown our they were so burnt.

Once people start to arrive she relaxes, allowing herself a glass of wine once she's sure everything is in order and things are going well. At some point there is nothing else she can do, other than talk to her guests; her friends. It's nothing like a Christmas at Downton, but her second one here in Darrow and it feels like the Christmas it's supposed to be.
adifferentlife: (content)
For a short while Sybil had wondered if she'd even be able to leave her apartment on the Christmas Eve, the snow coming in droves the day before. But it had tapered off through the night, and on the 24th the roads and footpaths were all clear of it. She'd bundled up to meet Henri at the Soup Kitchen, their time there passing quickly. A few hours of ladeling soup, serving up rolls, and handing over baskets of canned goods and gifts for the children, and she honestly felt as if she'd done something to help those who needed it. It wasn't enough, the simple giving of food only a bandage on the wound. But it was what they could manage today, though she finds herself more determined to contribute more to Darrow in the coming year.

It's perhaps an appropriate mood for going to mass. She's never been to a Catholic Church before, and it seems rather disappointing in the end. In English just as any service she was used to, but with a dreadful number of candles it seems to her. Overall she finds lttle different, refusing communion as the entire idea of transubstantiation seems suspect, but enjoyable nontheless. It's nicer to have Henri to share it with, even if he seems somber at some points of the night.

When they leave it's nearly one in the morning, truly Christmas day. It's snowing again and as she slips her arm through his offered one, Sybil looks up to him contentedly. "Happy Christmas."
adifferentlife: (pleased surprise)
Not every night can be spent at restaurants or the theatre, especially when Sybil understands the frustrations of living on a budget now. This doesn't mean she wants to spend any less time with Henri, so she plans a night in, after consulting with Katie and a few of the girls at work as to just what she should do. They spoke of plans and ideas, and there was some giggling on the part of the other girls when Sybil mentioned her concerns with being alone in her home with a suitor. Eventually she was won over to the idea, trusting both in Henri's honour and the knowledge that this wouldn't cause a scandal here in Darrow.

Now she has everything ready; wine and beer in the refrigerator, a few movies that were suggested and an electric popcorn machine she hopes she can master. The only thing missing is her date himself. She pours herself a glass of the crisp white, breathing in the fruitiness of it before taking a sip and settling in with a book to wait.
adifferentlife: (conversation - i wonder)
Dating is something that Sybil finds a bit strange. It isn't that she's doing anything she wouldn't have were she home at Downtown - the theatre with a suitor wouldn't be something that raised a brow, though dinner somewhere public would be considered odd to say the least. What is the strangest is doing it herself, organising this all with someone who doesn't know her family. Organising it with someone so much like her and yet so different.

The play had been one they both should have known. After all it was Shakespeare, and Hamlet - whilst not romantic - was something that she has enjoyed in the past. Tonight's performance left her baffled, with more questions than anything. But other than a shared baffling, she keeps her thoughts to herself until they're seated at the restaurant. Only then does she look across the table with her eyes wide, shaking her head. "Were they all supposed to be derelicts?"
adifferentlife: (content)
Sybil was serious about her offer to show Henri about the city should he wish, and the hospital and college in particular. There's a cafe at the college she's suggested they meet at, a place where the tea is finally acceptable after a year of her patronage. It's a beautiful day, there's a crispness in the air that can only herald the onset of autumn. She loves this weather, it's her favourite time of year, and something she's very glad still happens here in Darrow.

She has a table outside, a pot of tea sitting half-empty in front of her. The sun is warm enough that she's slung her cardigan over the back of her chair in a manner she considers rather haphazard even still. Her notes for pharmacology lay in front of her, mostly untouched. It's too nice a day to study and she's rather looking forward to the company she's been promised.
adifferentlife: (wary)
Arriving back in Darrow had been a relief but jarring as well. Sybil had cuts on her arms, bruises around them, all hidden by the sleeves that she's pulled down to her wrists. She can't help but look over her shoulder, peer around every corner in suspicion.

She's promised Elizabeth she'll go to the hospital to have her injuries looked at, but the hospital is the last place she wants to go. They'll know her there and if they see her wounds they'll want to know how she came by them. That isn't something she's willing to share with the people she works with.

Sybil is at the only place she can imagine going. Standing outside Kaine's door, she knocks quickly, the taps urgent. "Kaine are you there?"
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