( he's not sure what he expected to find, but his daughter painting gives him pause, the kind that grips his heart with an affection that is so strong it pains him. (he feels this way most of the time he looks at her; it's impossible not to be in awe in death just as much as it was in life.)
he exhales heavily, peering past her shoulder to the upright canvas, and says with some disappointment, ) At another time, I would love to join you, but unfortunately I do need your help.
( one day he'll stop looking like that any time she so much as steps into a room. it's a lot to live up to and only sometimes does she feel like she succeeds. )
You need my help. ( that lands -- how it lands, as it would coming from her overprotective tracking her to cult meetings father, but. she's not going to fight. he's not here to fight.
she steps aside. )
Come in. Let me -- ( set this paintbrush down and ... wipe her hands on a rag and try to not looks like this to help him. ) What do you need my help with?
( she has nothing to live up to in order to deserve his love. that is unconditional and never-ending. it pains him to know — to know because of him — she might believe any differently.
he walks inside, takes note of the room and a closer look at her canvas. jason's shirt is still white-knuckled in his grasp. it hasn't been long since he was last here, escorting her back to her room after the veiled order meeting.
he does not regret the lecture; what he does regret is their disconnect. perhaps this is his way of bridging that gap. ) Jason's missing. I need you to do a locator spell.
( It's not that she'll feel she never will, or never could, it's what sits behind his eyes. His awe. She knows she doesn't have to do anything. She knows he's dead. But every time he looks at her like that, she remembers he's gone. Dead and gone.
It's not a disconnect, Klaus, when it's a disagreement between father and daughter. Secretly, she appreciated the attention. She's still independent. Staking her own claim.
Painting her own paintings. )
Jason. Your roommate. ( The surrogate teenager. Maybe it should bring more fire in her belly. Even a little jealousy. But, she's not. She takes the shirt from him, or holds it until he lets it go. She takes the burden.
( he remembers it too. he remembers this might be his only chance to be near her, to be her father. if he cannot meet her in the afterlife... if this is it... he refuses to believe that it is, but to have been pulled and separated from her so many times — to know this with the burden of regret... how can he not be in awe of another chance?
and of her, grown up? standing on her own two feet?
he suspects she did: appreciate the attention. there has always been an earnestness about how hope argues with him; a longing to do so. he can't help but know there's plenty unsaid between them; he searches her eyes momentarily as she speaks of jason. he lets her take the shirt, passing it off without hesitation. ) There are maps in the library.
( If she longed, it was because her father had it in his mind he needed to stay away. And that is still something they haven't discussed at length. )
Then it's us, with the map. In the library. ( A second of tension passes between them. It's not her best work. She's not the funny friend in the super friends for the record. ) Just - let's go to the library.
( And find this map. It's a side some people don't see. Hope's dark humored, silly side. It's probably not something her father has seen. Not really. The joke lands with a thud but it still feels good to be dropping it. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
he exhales heavily, peering past her shoulder to the upright canvas, and says with some disappointment, ) At another time, I would love to join you, but unfortunately I do need your help.
no subject
You need my help. ( that lands -- how it lands, as it would coming from her overprotective tracking her to cult meetings father, but. she's not going to fight. he's not here to fight.
she steps aside. )
Come in. Let me -- ( set this paintbrush down and ... wipe her hands on a rag and try to not looks like this to help him. ) What do you need my help with?
i didn't get this?? thanks dw
he walks inside, takes note of the room and a closer look at her canvas. jason's shirt is still white-knuckled in his grasp. it hasn't been long since he was last here, escorting her back to her room after the veiled order meeting.
he does not regret the lecture; what he does regret is their disconnect. perhaps this is his way of bridging that gap. ) Jason's missing. I need you to do a locator spell.
damn it dw
It's not a disconnect, Klaus, when it's a disagreement between father and daughter. Secretly, she appreciated the attention. She's still independent. Staking her own claim.
Painting her own paintings. )
Jason. Your roommate. ( The surrogate teenager. Maybe it should bring more fire in her belly. Even a little jealousy. But, she's not. She takes the shirt from him, or holds it until he lets it go. She takes the burden.
She'll do this. )
I need a map.
no subject
and of her, grown up? standing on her own two feet?
he suspects she did: appreciate the attention. there has always been an earnestness about how hope argues with him; a longing to do so. he can't help but know there's plenty unsaid between them; he searches her eyes momentarily as she speaks of jason. he lets her take the shirt, passing it off without hesitation. ) There are maps in the library.
no subject
Then it's us, with the map. In the library. ( A second of tension passes between them. It's not her best work. She's not the funny friend in the super friends for the record. ) Just - let's go to the library.
( And find this map. It's a side some people don't see. Hope's dark humored, silly side. It's probably not something her father has seen. Not really. The joke lands with a thud but it still feels good to be dropping it. )