25 Foods #17: Peanut Butter
This is kind of an anachronistic one, given that peanut butter wouldn't be around during Victor and Alice's era -- buuuut everything else in this Victor and Alice's life is anachronistic, so let's run with it. The initial idea for the peanut-butterfly came up in one of the Winter Bingo prompts, "toast," and I decided I wanted to do more with it in this prompt. It ended up a weird mix of fluff and angst -- on the one hand, you have adorable peanut-butterflies; on the other, you have Victor's guilt over the whole situation with Lewis. Which is worse if you know that Lewis really did like him. . .but that's just how life is sometimes. Gotta take the bad with the good.
Alice knocked on the door of the conservatory. “Victor?”
There was no response. She knocked a little louder. “Victor, tea’s ready!”
Still no response. Alice frowned at the door. Victor had been spending a lot of time in his laboratory lately, but usually he came out for a quick cup of tea. “What is he doing in there?” she mumbled, pushing open the door.
As usual, the conservatory was rather warmer than the rest of the house, forcing Alice to stop briefly to acclimatize herself. She picked her way past the flowers and cages used for feeding and storing past successes toward the main experiment table. Victor was seated at the far end, watching something intently. “Victor?” she asked, coming up behind him.
Victor glanced up at her. His eyes had that slightly glazed look she’d come to recognize as a sign he was in the grip of Creativity. “Alice!” he cried, a wide smile splitting his face. He grabbed her arm and pulled her down next to him. “Look at this!”
Curiosity piqued, Alice looked. In front of them was a bit of tree branch mounted on a stand. Dangling from the tip of the branch was a quivering white chrysalis. As she watched, the fragile layers of the cocoon split apart, and a damp little butterfly emerged. It crawled up onto the tree branch and spread its wings so they could dry and harden. Alice frowned as she examined it. It looked similar to Lewis’s bread-and-butterflies, but instead of bright yellow, this butterfly’s wings appeared to be covered with some sort of orangey-brown spread. The head was different too – a yellowish-brown oval instead of a white cube. “Victor, what--”
“It’s a peanut-butterfly,” Victor said proudly. “I’ve been working on it for the past few weeks.”
“Oh!” Alice watched with amusement as the peanut-butterfly continued to sun itself. “Did you think the bread-and-butterflies needed friends?”
“Well, I’ve always been interested in variations on those, and I had Lewis’s notes--”
Victor stopped abruptly, the happy madness draining out of his face. He stared at his creation, then at Alice. “Do – do you think h-he’d be angry? That I’m adapting h-his work?”
Alice bit her lower lip. The subject of Lewis Carroll was always a bit awkward for them. The revelation that he had been in love with Alice, and that the Queen of Hearts had been created in her image, still weighed heavily on her – on both of them. “I don’t know,” she had to admit. Trying to soften the blow, she added, “I’m sure he’d want his work to live on.”
“But via me? He hated me!”
“He did not hate you,” Alice said firmly. “If he’d hated you, he would have just killed you, instead of trying to – No, that won’t come out right either.” Seeing the look on his face, she pulled him close. “It’s not your fault he created the Queen.”
“I know, but – I can’t help feeling guilty,” Victor mumbled.
Alice nodded. “I know, Victor. Believe me, I know. But I learned in Rutledge it does you no good to spend the rest of your life feeling horrible over it. What happened, happened. We just have to pick up the pieces and move on as best we can.”
Victor nodded slowly, then sighed. “I just – I don’t want this to look like I’m dishonoring his memory.”
Alice smiled. “You’re making Wonderland Park a little stranger. How could that be dishonoring his memory?”
Victor laughed. “You have a point.” He extended a finger to the peanut-butterfly, which crawled on. “I hope he would have liked this.”
Alice kissed his temple. “I’m sure he would have.” She watched the tiny insect flutter its wings. “Do you have any other ideas for variations?”
A hint of the madness came back into Victor’s smile. “I thought it would be nice to have one with jelly on the wings. . . .”
There was no response. She knocked a little louder. “Victor, tea’s ready!”
Still no response. Alice frowned at the door. Victor had been spending a lot of time in his laboratory lately, but usually he came out for a quick cup of tea. “What is he doing in there?” she mumbled, pushing open the door.
As usual, the conservatory was rather warmer than the rest of the house, forcing Alice to stop briefly to acclimatize herself. She picked her way past the flowers and cages used for feeding and storing past successes toward the main experiment table. Victor was seated at the far end, watching something intently. “Victor?” she asked, coming up behind him.
Victor glanced up at her. His eyes had that slightly glazed look she’d come to recognize as a sign he was in the grip of Creativity. “Alice!” he cried, a wide smile splitting his face. He grabbed her arm and pulled her down next to him. “Look at this!”
Curiosity piqued, Alice looked. In front of them was a bit of tree branch mounted on a stand. Dangling from the tip of the branch was a quivering white chrysalis. As she watched, the fragile layers of the cocoon split apart, and a damp little butterfly emerged. It crawled up onto the tree branch and spread its wings so they could dry and harden. Alice frowned as she examined it. It looked similar to Lewis’s bread-and-butterflies, but instead of bright yellow, this butterfly’s wings appeared to be covered with some sort of orangey-brown spread. The head was different too – a yellowish-brown oval instead of a white cube. “Victor, what--”
“It’s a peanut-butterfly,” Victor said proudly. “I’ve been working on it for the past few weeks.”
“Oh!” Alice watched with amusement as the peanut-butterfly continued to sun itself. “Did you think the bread-and-butterflies needed friends?”
“Well, I’ve always been interested in variations on those, and I had Lewis’s notes--”
Victor stopped abruptly, the happy madness draining out of his face. He stared at his creation, then at Alice. “Do – do you think h-he’d be angry? That I’m adapting h-his work?”
Alice bit her lower lip. The subject of Lewis Carroll was always a bit awkward for them. The revelation that he had been in love with Alice, and that the Queen of Hearts had been created in her image, still weighed heavily on her – on both of them. “I don’t know,” she had to admit. Trying to soften the blow, she added, “I’m sure he’d want his work to live on.”
“But via me? He hated me!”
“He did not hate you,” Alice said firmly. “If he’d hated you, he would have just killed you, instead of trying to – No, that won’t come out right either.” Seeing the look on his face, she pulled him close. “It’s not your fault he created the Queen.”
“I know, but – I can’t help feeling guilty,” Victor mumbled.
Alice nodded. “I know, Victor. Believe me, I know. But I learned in Rutledge it does you no good to spend the rest of your life feeling horrible over it. What happened, happened. We just have to pick up the pieces and move on as best we can.”
Victor nodded slowly, then sighed. “I just – I don’t want this to look like I’m dishonoring his memory.”
Alice smiled. “You’re making Wonderland Park a little stranger. How could that be dishonoring his memory?”
Victor laughed. “You have a point.” He extended a finger to the peanut-butterfly, which crawled on. “I hope he would have liked this.”
Alice kissed his temple. “I’m sure he would have.” She watched the tiny insect flutter its wings. “Do you have any other ideas for variations?”
A hint of the madness came back into Victor’s smile. “I thought it would be nice to have one with jelly on the wings. . . .”