S Lynn (robling_t) wrote,
S Lynn

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Trevor and Jason's 'Thing Wot's Sort Of Like An Advent Calendar', #30

And, appropriately enough, we wrap up this miniseries on Trevor's birthday:

30.) And finally: Write a letter to your character, from yourself.

[Since this didn't make sense in the context, we turn once more to Jason:]

The next question is something about a letter that sticks in your mind. Trev's telling the researcher about one he got from his aunt when he was in jail, encouraging him to stick to his principles and not let the side down by agreeing to have anything to do with the war. I think I'll probably talk about the one Stuart wrote to Mom when he heard she was having us; it's mostly an apology for screwing up her life and then ours before we were even born (most of which he's taken back since) and promises to help out however he can with helping us all stay connected with the larger community of weres and their friends and supporters (which he's really stuck to, you have to hand it to him).

Trevor's just getting to the bit about trying to explain to his aunt about what happened to him while he was in custody when there's a clatter in the kitchen and a frightful wail. I'm off the couch like a shot.

The Hound of the Baskervilles is sitting on the kitchen floor, hiccuping in a scatter of oranges. "Hey, Pupcake, you promised you were going to stay in bed," I say, picking her up.

She snuffles in my ear. "Sammidge?" It's half explanation and half petulant demand.

"All right, sandwich, then back to bed, okay?" I carry her back down the hall to where Trev and the researcher are looking on curiously. "I think we're gonna have to wrap this up so I can foodinate her, huh?"

The researcher (a kitsune from the U of C who smells to me of bugle-calls and the idea of fish stock) nods and starts gathering together her notes, promising to send us the paper when she's written it all up. I'm used to being studied, I spent most of puberty with people poking me and trying to figure out if stuff was supposed to be doing that, but it's kind of neat to be asked to contribute to a project about understanding what everyday life is like for people like us, even if people who aren't like us are going to think that it's fiction.

The Pup's snuffling again, working up to repeat her demand for that sammidge. My life, already in progress. Trevor looks almost content as he goes to let the researcher out. This was probably a mental thing to do, yeah. But then again if it will help. If it will help her, someday.

Hey, I'm good with that if he is.


It's been an interesting year of it. Looking back, it's surprising how much of the initial outline turned out to have legs; actually, the only details that have really changed substantively from that strange hour-and-a-half of revelation were the triplets' birth-order -- Jason was originally the youngest, rather than the firstborn -- and that suggestion that "Trevor sort of has a thing for Jason's sister Sandra", which she politely blocked with her very first appearance on-screen being that mention of a Serious Boyfriend. (David, in fact, is the only major cast member who wasn't even a glimmer in Muse's eye that night; the really peculiar part is how he's accidentally managed to become a counterpoint for many of the themes of the work, such as the contrast between his immigration status and Trevor's, or how whereas Jason has consciously taken the position that if people are going to say that his brother and sister are black then so is he, David comes to the question of race more from an argument that if seven of his great-grandparents were of European descent then why does everyone get so hung up on the eighth? Not so shabby for a character whose very first line of dialogue had me going ...WTF, so he's Randomly Australian, too?...)

Been a weird trip, and not nearly over. Here's to the first year of the Trevor & Jason Show, and I only hope I don't get hit by a bus before I can write up the rest of what Muse has in mind for us all...
Tags: advent_2011, dvd-extras:hiraeth, fiction_and_sausages
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