#xix. ⸻ • 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 • canon.

[storytelers-arc]

It was not in his nature, or habit, to take a vacation. John was a man of business, of action and enterprise; he taught himself self-denial at a very young age, denying himself any trace of comfort and now that he had money and prosperity, he still struggled in indulging in any sort of leisurely activity. A trip to the coast... Well, he felt like he had stepped into another world.

It was Doctor Donaldson’s doing. After a terrible bout of pneumonia that left his bedridden for a week, he was ordered to find a place to rest for a month and regain his strength. John had looked to his mother, expecting her to scoff and say he was no delicate lady and did not need sea air, but she had been frightened by his sickness; her strong, tall, unshakable son, shivering in pain, had softened her northern heart. Fanny knew just the place. She had been begging to go for years now, saying the waters were just the thing for her delicate constitution.

Three days after arriving, John was certain he would go mad before he ever recovered; there was nothing to do here. Except make calls and participate in society, things he never learned how to do, and was sure he would take no enjoyment from. There were books to read, and he always meant to go back to his studies, but when he looked at the selection at the house they were renting, he had no idea where to start, becoming dizzy even though there weren’t that many options.

If only the hands could see him now, sitting down on the sand, bare feet and trying to make sense of greek philosophy — finally, he deserved their scorn.” Twenty-five days, you will make it.” he said out loud, unaware there was someone near.

@remcmbrances​ • john starter call