Building a Butterfly [RP, [ profile] tin_cam, back-dated to April 11th or

May. 28th, 2009 08:05 pm
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Victor's in his room, sitting at the dining table with his book in front of him. Once again, he's impressed with how nice it is -- there was no way he could get anything like this back home. He's currently got it open to a section explaining how the wings work, basically, with a couple of nice diagrams showing what's what. It should be very useful to this project he and Cameron have planned.

The project. Victor's still not sure how on earth it quite got started. The conversation he'd had with Cameron was -- interesting, to say the least. And it brought up a lot of questions he's not sure he has answers for yet. Like what he's going to do with his life here. And how to deal with the fact he's not linked to a famous (or infamous, if you asked some people) family anymore.

Or what he'd do if the chance to go home suddenly popped up.

He shakes his head and leans back in the seat. He doesn't want to think about that right now. He just wants to focus on building these butterfly wings. He's never done anything like it before, but -- well, it could be fun. And he can't deny he'd like the chance to fly.

He just hopes they do a good enough job that he doesn't end up a bloody smear on the ground when it's all over.

on 2009-05-29 11:54 am (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
Armed with an array of building materials she thinks might be useful (that she spent several non-sleeping hours collecting from around the Gauche), Cameron makes her way to 187-B, feeling decidedly content. Or at least she’s guessing that’s what she feels. She certainly feels more settled, now that she has a task to do. Like having a plan, a goal, gives her something to accomplish. She likes that. Very much.

And she’ll get to talk to Victor, who she has definitely had her most successful conversation with so far. She likes that, too.

Cameron stops abruptly outside the door of Victor’s room, and considers for a moment. Then, raises her fist to it and knocks, a little harder than necessary. She’s being polite. People knock on doors out of politeness, she’s learnt that. But, before she’s let in, she opens the door herself and steps inside, face lighting up with her best friendly smile.

“I brought some things that might be useful.” she dumps the various wires and twigs and chunks of wood she’s collected, “For building your wings, once we’ve decided on the best plan for doing so; what kind of wings you want, what size, how far or fast you wish to fly using them...” she trails off. “Shall we start?”

on 2009-05-29 09:42 pm (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
The knock startles Victor out of his thoughts, meaning the chair he's sitting in rocks dangerously for a moment. Luckily he manages to avoid tipping over -- wouldn't do to possibly give himself a head injury right before they start this. He rises to open the door --

Oh. Cameron's already come in. With a lot of wire and wood. Victor eyes the pile with puzzled interest. Well, she said she knew --


It clicks in Victor's mind just then -- Cameron's a girl. And she's in his room. Alone.

He has an unchaperoned young lady in his room.

Victor can't stop the blush rising on his cheeks as awkward shock fills him. He knows women don't need chaperones to move about freely these days. In fact, he's pretty sure women and men visit each other one on one all the time now. But that knowledge is running up against 1875 manners, which are now yelling at him for daring to take such liberties. What kind of a proper gentleman does he think he is? If he's not careful, he could end up with the reputation of a rake! Except that wouldn't really matter here, would it? (Do people even call such men "rakes" anymore? Damn it, why does the world have to be so confusing?)

It takes Victor a moment to respond to her, what with the swirl of emotion in him. "Cameron! H-hello! I -- y-yes, that was n-nice of you." Deep breaths. Deep breaths before you make a complete arse out of yourself. "We s-should -- I have the d-diagrams r-right here. . . ." He turns the open book so she can see it better.

on 2009-05-29 10:20 pm (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
Cameron looks rather bemused by Victor’s nervy behavior, she studies him for a moment. Has she perhaps acted inappropriately? Should she have knocked on the door louder? It’s possible he didn’t hear and wasn’t ready for her to come in.... Or perhaps she’s not appearing friendly enough? She tries to smile again, “Are you alright?”

Well, she’ll just have to remind him that she is friendly. She moves towards him, and, a little awkwardly, pats his arm in comfort. In attempt at comfort. She knows people do this, though she’s never tried it before herself. Now seems like the appropriate time, she thinks. It’s possible Victor is just worried the wings might not work. Cameron drops her arm back and glances towards Victor’s book of sketches and diagrams, “There’s no need to be nervous. It may be dangerous but I assure you we will accomplish our mission--” A pause. That doesn’t sound quite right. “--Project, our project.”

“If we build the wings correctly, the chances they won’t work and you’ll fall and injure yourself, or die, are more unlikely.” Cam’s sure those are comforting words. She picks up the sketch book and begins to flick through it.

on 2009-05-29 10:40 pm (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
It's not your fault, Cameron. Victor's default state is nervous and worried, and doing something so against his old morals just makes that worse. He tries to smile back at Cameron -- he doesn't want her to worry about him. This isn't her problem. "I'm -- fine. I just--" He isn't sure how to finish that sentence, honestly. All the endings he's thinking of sound off-kilter somehow. Never had anyone in my room before? Never had a GIRL in my room before? My mother would kill me for this. . .

Then Cameron pats his arm -- obviously a comforting gesture, but it still makes him feel a little awkward, given his mental state. "I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head. "I'm just -- always a b-bit nervous."

Maybe not comforting in the usual sense, but Victor can't help a slightly morbid smile. Sometimes the way she speaks can be rather darkly amusing. "W-we'll have to be sure to build them correctly, then," he says, moving to stand by her (though not too close) as she flips through his book. They'll see a lot of pictures much like this ( and the ones here (

on 2009-05-30 12:59 pm (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
Cameron brightens, “We will, don’t worry. I will make sure nothing bad happens to you.” she nods in approval, feeling pleased that Victor seems at least a little less nervous now. Maybe she’s getting better at this whole… interacting-with-other-people… thing.

Flipping through the pages, Cameron studies Victor’s drawings carefully, though it doesn’t take long for her to memorise most of them. A glance, really, is all it takes; she has a very good memory. Oddly, Cam feels another smile tug at her lips, though it’s… involuntary, she’s not consciously trying to look nice and friendly, she’s just… smiling. Which is unusual. Cameron doesn’t think that’s happened to her before. But, looking at the drawings, and thinking about taking a theory and making it into something that works and that will make Victor happy…. it makes her smile.

She stops flipping through and glances over at Victor, “Firstly, we’ll need to calculate your weight and height so we can build wings of the appropriate size and strength,” Cameron explains, and eyes him for a moment…. “You are 6ft 3”, correct?”

on 2009-05-30 08:25 pm (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
"Thank you," Victor says genuinely. "I appreciate it." Assurances of safety do help in the whole "interacting with others" thing.

Victor looks too, taking it all in. That book Santa got him for Christmas was wonderful for explaining things. He's smiling too as she flips through. This -- this really could be wonderful. That's actually something he likes about Chicago -- nothing seems quite impossible. Back home, the idea of a man flying like this would have been laughed at. Here -- well, look at what they're doing now.

He nods as she eyes him. "Yes -- it's common for Van Dorts," he adds in explanation. "I'm afraid I don't know my weight, though." He's really skinny, though -- in fact, one might say he's underweight, though Victor deals fine with being that thin. It's just a common trend among the Van Dort men. "Though -- there may be a scale around here. . . ."

on 2009-05-31 11:31 am (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
Cameron considers this, then, “If I lift you up an inch or two from the ground, I may be able to gauge your weight…” she offers; he doesn’t look very heavy, and she’s found over the past few weeks that she’s remarkably good at lifting heavy objects with ease. She guesses she must have done some intensive weight training before The Rift took her and wiped her memory.

“Or, if you would prefer to weigh yourself,” she glances around, looking for some scales, “Scales are usually put in bathrooms, correct? So that people can weigh themselves after washing, without their clothes adding anything extra that would give a false total.” Cameron nods in approval, “For accuracy, that seems the better option.”

“Where’s the nearest bathroom?” She hasn’t been in one since she arrived. She has noted that this is.. odd. Possibly. Though maybe it isn’t; she often forgets to eat or drink anything, and feels no worse for it, and when dirt smudges against her skin, it wipes off, doesn’t cling the way it maybe should do. Cameron hasn’t needed to find a bathroom. She decides not to mention this.

on 2009-05-31 07:54 pm (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
Victor frowns thoughtfully. Babel didn't seem to have any problems lifting -- his body -- when he last left it. Even still, it seems kind of weird. "That's all right," he says. "There must be something around here for me to do it myself."

"Oh, yes! I believe I saw one in there," he nods, grinning. "I could --" And then she goes on and the smile drops. "What -- did you just say--" There's that blush again. She isn't suggesting -- that he -- All right, accuracy is important to ensure he doesn't hurt himself, but the frank way in which she said "without their clothes. . . ."

"Over here," he says, shaking his head and indicating the bathroom door. He opens it and looks around -- yes, there is a scale in there. He looks at it a moment, then back at Cameron. "I could weight myself, but if you're s-suggesting I ought to do it n-n-nnn -- w-without my -- c-c-clothes -- could you wait outside? Please?" Cameron acts strange enough at times that he wouldn't be surprised if she had little sense of modesty. But having a girl in his room is one thing -- disrobing in front of her is quite another!

on 2009-05-31 11:41 pm (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
Cameron certainly doesn’t have any sense of modesty, and blinks back at Victor, looking once again bemused. A heat has risen to his cheeks, though Cameron is quite sure the temperature of the room isn’t any warmer.

She thinks for a moment, it’s true, she has no reason to go in there with him... so… “Of course. I will wait outside.”

But…. she doesn’t understand.

Victor’s nervousness has returned, she isn’t entirely sure why…. Perhaps he’s worried about getting hurt again? It doesn’t seem likely that weighing yourself is more dangerous than flying, but, then, she hasn’t done either. That leaves her with an insufficient analysis.

Cameron gestures to where she’s standing, and tries to sound reassuring as she explains: “I’ll stand guard here.”

on 2009-05-31 11:53 pm (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
Victor nods in relief, though her comment about standing guard nearly has him breaking out in nervous giggles. He's not worried about getting hurt (though, given how clumsy he is sometimes, it's a possibility), just about someone seeing him unclad. "T-thank you. I'll be right out." With that, he closes the door firmly. Oh my. . . .

He takes a few calming breaths, then pulls the scale out from the wall some and (a bit reluctantly) starts to disrobe. His hands are shaking a bit as he does. It's fine, it's fine, you're alone in here, loos are made for indecency, don't think about the fact that there's a woman just on the other side of the door I SAID DON'T THINK ABOUT THAT.

He carefully hangs his clothes on the towel rack as he removes them, finally getting his underpants off. Shivering a little, and unable to keep from eying the door (please, please don't come in unexpectedly), he hops on the scale. It beeps at him, cycles through the numbers, then displays 125 lb. Victor fixes that in his memory and hurries to redress, opening the door once he's settled. "It said 125 pounds," he reports.

on 2009-06-01 05:46 pm (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
When Victor emerges from the bathroom, Cameron is glad to see he’s alright; she has been trying to think of all the possible things that could go wrong, things that Victor could be worried about. Tripping, slipping on the tiles.... Admittedly, she hadn’t managed to come up with many.

125 pounds... At this, Cameron does a few quick calculations in her head, gauging what width and breadth of wing-size that will be needed. Then, considering something, she asks: “Do you have a design in mind? One that we could apply the size and strength of the wings to?” she gestures to Victor’s book,

“Each butterfly’s wings give that insect different strengths and weaknesses. It depends on what you want to do, fly fast, or more gently, or be able to climb up high in the sky?” Cameron’s gaze turns questioning, “What do you imagine you want it to be like?”

on 2009-06-01 08:38 pm (UTC)
Posted by [identity profile]
Hey, slip on the tiles in just the wrong way, and you could end up dead. But yeah, he's much better now that they've gotten weighing over with and he's back in his clothes.

Victor looks thoughtful, wandering over to his book on butterfly species and opening it to look through. "Hmmm. . . ." He gives it some thought, remembering some of the fantasies he's head about it. He's never really imagined flying all that fast, or particularly high, just. . . . "It was always just about getting away," he says softly, considering a picture of a monarch. "To be able to explore where I wanted. Not particularly about speed. . . ." He smiles a little. "There was this one species back home I particularly liked -- they wouldn't be in this book, this is all about North America. Bright blue and white -- I made a study of one of them the day before I came through. Perhaps I can duplicate it." He grabs his sketchbook, finds a fresh page, marks it "Private" (it's a bit of pain, having your sketchbook also be your journal), then sketches out this:
Image (

(Thumbnail, click for the big version)


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Victor (Van Dort) Brown

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