would u say there's anything abt vasco's upbringing that made him kind and goodnatured? especially as a noble being around other nobles with strict parents
I think it's mostly an inborn personality trait, further cultivated by environment that rewarded good manners, gallantry and coming across as a respectable pillar of society. He just has that natural knack for socialization, empathy and reading people. He's a charismatic person and he knows it, and is aware that being friendly and personable works well in his favor. In fact, if he wasn't earnestly goodnatured and used his wiles for selfish and nefarious purposes instead, he'd be dangerously good at manipulating others and getting them to do what he wants. Luckily he has sturdy morals and knightly personality and genuinely likes people (unless given an explicit reason not to) and wants to make sure his presence is a positive force in their lives.
His father was strict and commanding and over time Vasco started to get along with him less and less. But he's always had a good relationship with his mother, as the youngest child he was the apple of her eye and arguably a little bit of a mama's boy. His mom was a warm and lenient person (albeit sort of fussy, overprotective and often a little too docile for her own good) so I think he takes after her. Most people in his life treated him well, adoringly even, and it's much easier to be kind to others when your own self-esteem is in healthy standing. He didn't encounter visible injustice very often as a child but he developed low tolerance for unfairness at young age, and his mom would usually praise and reward him whenever she found out his son had demonstrated initiative and strength of character by standing up for the underdog. Problems would start to arise when it was his own father abusing his power and authority.
And I don't know, maybe it's a bit tacky and idealistic to say, but he's always liked animals and took interest in horses and falconry early on, and working with them might've also taught him patience, gentleness, respect, responsibility and wordless communication? You can certainly manhandle a difficult horse into submission and I imagine many people at the time did, but he strongly believes he gets better results by cultivating trust, security and compassion. He ends up applying many of the same techniques on his relationships whether he realizes it or not.
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Not coming anymore
Jen’s text message comes in when I’ve already left the house, and I groan as I pull my phone out to see it on the screen.
Are you serious? I’ve already left the house, you have no idea wh-
I delete the message and phone her instead. She picks up after one ring.
“Jen, seriously?”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“What the hell? My mom was going out again tonight and I had to sort a babysitter for Ivy. It took me an hour, and now I've already showered and changed my clothes. I'm on the way to the beach, are you seriously telling me I have to turn back and undo everything I've just done?”
A pause, “No, you can go. I just can’t.”
“Wh-” I fling my arm up and sigh. She can’t expect me to hang out with the emos without her. What if they get peckish and start eating me?
“Michelle isn’t allowed to go, so she doesn’t want me to go either.”
“Oh I see, so Michelle just asked at the last minute. And was shocked and appalled that she’s not allowed? How stupid is that, my god, she isn’t allowed to do anything. Why would she think her parents would let her do this without advanced permission seventy-two hours in advance?”
“Hey! Stop ranting at me! It’s not my fault! I told her I was going to go out anyway and she gave out to me and now we’re mad at each other, okay?”
“She’s miserable so she needs you to be miserable too?”
“Yeah, apparently.”
I scoff, “that makes no sense.”
“Yeah well a lot of things don’t make sense in Michelle’s world.”
I sigh and turn to face the sea. The sun has only begun to set and toss colour over the clouds. It’s a nice evening, the kind that makes you guilty about staying in, and so my annoyance at Jen morphs quickly into annoyance on her behalf. “Can’t you just come anyway?”
“No, I’m too upset now.”
“Jen…”
“You should go. I already told Evan you were going to meet him there, and you could probably use the fresh air and conversation… I can’t bear to think about you stuck in your room drawing your own fucking toes on an evening like this.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll still go.”
“Good, I’ll talk to you later, and you can tell me all about what happened.”
“I’ll come over, yeah?”
“If it’s not too late.”
“Bye, Jen.”
“Yep.”
Speaking of Evan, I spot him up ahead, dashing over the grassy bank towards the path with his dirty old school bag bobbing on his back. I call out to him but he doesn’t hear me, so stuffing my phone back into my pocket I begin an easy jog toward him.
“Evan,” I do a half jump onto his shoulders and he almost dies with fright, his knees practically going from under him, and twists around combatively to realise it’s only me.
“Fuck,” he wheezes, “Fuck sake!” He yanks his earbuds out, pulsing with the tinny beats of some pop punk song , “You fucking scared me!”
“I know, I’m sorry, I need to stop doing that, it’s just a habit.”
“Yeah, God.” He combs fingers through his floppy fringe and sets it in place in a gesture, habitual and a bit compulsive, that he repeats constantly.
I fall into step with him once he has gathered himself and I smirk, “Why are you so jumpy, Evan?”
“I dunno.”
“What do you think I’m going to do to you?”
“Nothing, I just… This is how I am. I don’t like it when people sneak up on me, it makes me nervous.”
“C’mon, it’s either that you’re afraid of getting beaten up or you’re afraid of getting caught doing something you shouldn’t, that’s what I think.”
“Wow, aren’t you full of theories?”
I laugh, “And related to all this, what’s in your locker, Evan? What are you always guarding it for?”
The corner of his mouth ticks up as he glances at me, “My locker? Do you really want to know?”
It's not like I care that much, because honestly, how exciting can it really be? It's the locker of a seventeen year old boy, so it probably contains a mouldy lunchbox and the crumpled remains of last month's chemistry assignment, but Evan seems pleased that I've asked him about it. I feign interest for his sake.
“Well, yeah, of course I do.”
He swings his bag off his back and fumbles through the front pocket. It’s got a huge ink stain on it and the zip has broken, so it’s just hanging wide open, “I’m showing you because I know you probably won’t tell anyone, you know, seeing as you don’t really have friends anymore.”
“Harsh,” I say, but not untrue. Even since the cowards from rugby took Fitzy’s side in our tussle over Alison’s nudes my lunchtime calendar has looked a lot emptier than it used to. Where there used to be banter at the picnic benches there is now... decidedly nothing at all, save, maybe, for a few unimpressed glances my way, an accidental or not-so-accidental shove against my shoulder in the hallway. Maybe my absorption in art is related to this somehow, but I haven’t been in the headspace to psychoanalyse myself that much lately. My mind is so full of values, tone, shape, and line quality that it has (blissfully) no room for other, less interesting things...
But, as it appears, this is interesting.
Evan pulls out a bag of pills, about twenty, all blue with little batman symbols on them, then digs his hand back in for another, this time filled with green buds.
I look at him and say simply, “You’re a drug dealer.”
“Yeah, man.”
“That makes sense.”
“Yeah, I've been at it a while now, I think I have a pretty good business going with it and all... So if you’re ever looking for something, you know…”
“You sell to Alison.”
“Uh huh,” He stuffs the baggies back into the front pocket after a rather over the top glance around him, like he thinks this empty street is suddenly going to burst to life with guards and sirens coming to hunt him down, throw him in handcuffs with a boot against the back of his neck and toss him in Mountjoy prison, like there are no criminals wanted more in Dublin city than Evan Henley and his fifty bag of weed. “She comes to me from time to time, not lately though.”
“Yeah,” I cough out a laugh, “I took your molly a few months ago. It was shit.”
He shrugs, “I get what I can get, not my fault.”
“Hm.”
“You could go to someone else, you know, but there actually isn't anyone else in our school, is there? I have a monopoly.”
“Fair.”
“You won’t like, tell Michelle or anything though, will you?”
I stare at him incredulously, “Michelle doesn’t know?”
“No, she hates all this stuff, like, she’s really strict about all drugs and shit and I just know she'll blow up at me and start shouting and roaring if she knew about it. I’d just rather not deal with it.”
I pause to consider this. It probably isn’t any real harm keeping this from her, is it? It’s not like she needs to know, and realistically if she did she would only freak out and and tell Jen, and then if Jen knew that someone close to her was in possession of any of this stuff she might-
“Yeah, no worries, I won’t tell her.”
He pats my shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie, so I guess we're real buddies now, “Ah, thanks Jude. Had a feeling I could trust you with this stuff.”
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