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Eric doesn't get postcards from current or former pupils, but Viggo does and plenty of them.

There is this one exchange student for example, a bloke from the Netherlands who graduated some time in the early 2000s. Eric has no recollection of what he looks like, but he knows he's the guy who regularly sends cards from pretty random locations - like St. Petersburg in one week, followed by a duderanch in New Mexico the next. All of them have the obligatory postcard picture on one side (some impressive building at sunset or an unrealistically empty beach, a kitschy mountain range), and on the other, there is always just Viggo's name and address and 'Greetings, Peer'. No text, no hello, nothing but that. Like Peer reckons that the picture on the other side conveys the scenery better than words anyway and the fact that he went to the trouble of buying a stamp and finding a post-box proved his friendship well enough.

It quietly amused Eric for years until he fished the latest one (New Zealand, urgh) out of the messy stack of mail at the staff room's entrance. He mentioned it to Gerry during break, and Gerry explained to him that this was just the custom way in Holland (and then went off on a weird tangent about tulips). Eric likes his explanation better.

Eric thinks of whatshisface Peer when they leave Boeotia in the early morning hours of August, 7th to drive up North, towards Meteora.

For months, every time either of them or someone else only so much as mentioned Greece, Viggo wouldn't shut up about the monasteries of Meteora and Orlando would roll his eyes and leave the room. It was so predictable that people (well, Bernard and Cate) would deliberately steer the conversation to Greece's latest financial crisis or, say, Lord Byron's involvement in the Greek struggle for independence if they wanted to get rid off Orlando.

Because Viggo has been completely unable (and unwilling) to tone down his enthusiasm about the lonely enclaves high up on giant boulders even the littlest bit; 20 minute odes in prose being pretty standard.

As they drive into Thessaly and the landscape changes, Eric already knows all about the 24 different monasteries, knows which ones are still lived in by monks, which ones used nets as the only way to get up there until well into the 1970s, which one of them is said to be build atop a dragon cave. Viggo already told him all about it over the last six months or so.

Today though? Eric used his three sentence working knowledge of Greek to get them breakfast and chatted about rugby whilst eating, comments on random oddities on the side of the road - like that orange market stall with one single misshapen orange on display -, sings along to some of the English songs on the radio.

Viggo has yet to say a single word. He smiles and nods with a five seconds delay that tell Eric that he isn't really listening. He looks out the window of the car while his fingers toy with the brand new map in his lap until its edge is completely frayed.

Eric stops on the side of the deserted mountain road and pulls the map towards himself. When he made sure they are still on the right track, he looks up and finds Viggo watching him. That quiet anticipation, that steady reverence is still in his eyes as Viggo covers Eric's hand on the gear stick.

on 2017-08-08 01:20 pm (UTC)
gattodoro: (Viggo Shirt)
Posted by [personal profile] gattodoro
I hope that Viggo's expectations are met and that Eric's patience is amply rewarded = beer and sex would probably do the job.

on 2017-08-08 06:07 pm (UTC)
noalinnea: (Default)
Posted by [personal profile] noalinnea
This place looks absolutely stunning and I can absolutely to Viggo's enthusiasm/obsession with it! But even more spectacular than the scenery is this little snippet his Eric's take on the whole situation which one might call patience, but I think it's so much more, it's everything, literally everything he feels for Viggo in a nutshell, and he just seems to be so content that he gets to be there with him for that day that I can hardly contain myself here- that's so damn beautiful. And that one little gesture of Viggo, the way he rests his hand on Eric's tells me he's feeling the same. And you don't even need words for that! ❤️

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