Young Writers Society

@Princess: I figure most of the Half-Sights know each other, so I included her here, okay?

Lyric

I stared down at Reseph as he collapsed against the wall again despite his best efforts to stand up. "Are you- ?" I began, before cutting myself off mid-sentence, slipping my arms between his to help pull him to his feet. Once upright, he leant on me heavily, still unstable.

A sudden expression of pain flashed across his face, and his legs gave way, almost pulling me down with him as what weight he had been supporting came down on me. Somehow we managed to stay standing, though Reseph offered an apologetic grimace in my direction before pushing himself back onto his feet, pain evident on his face. I swallowed nervously, adjusting my grip on him so that his weight was leaning on my shoulder, and we began to set off. "Let's go to the infirmary, and you can tell me there, okay?" I attempted, anxiety showing through the forced lightness I'd attempted to inject into my tone.

Reseph gave a weak nod, stepping forward slowly.

Just then I heard the faint pad of paws ahead of us, and a familiar wolf face appeared around the corner, shifting into an even more familiar Half-Sight face as we watched. Lidz stood up cautiously, an uncertain expression on her face. "Resesph ...? What happened to you?"

"Questions later." Reseph muttered through gritted teeth, taking another pained step forward. "But right now, a little help would be nice."


Thomas

As the mother swept into the room, I took an awkward step away from the bed, standing quietly to one side as the two went through some kind of tragic reunion, hugging and crying and more hugging. I hesitated, then took a wary step forward.

"Excuse me, mam?"

This went ignored as the mother -Eleanor?- continued to speak to her daughter in broken whispers, running her fingers through the girl's hair in a fond gesture, a small smile visible on her face despite the tears. She rubbed them away, then turned to look at me with an expression that lingered somewhere between suspicion and curiosity.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly, all of her energy apparently spent on hugging her daughter. I looked up to meet her eyes, then tilted my head in an gesture of introduction.

"I'm Thomas," I began, but Dalia interjected before I could say anything more.

"He's my new best friend." she repeated seriously, looking her mother straight in the eyes as if to emphasise this point. The woman -Elaine?- hesitated, then nodded. "Right." she replied slowly, then turned to face me again, none of the suspicion gone. "What were you doing in here?"

I gestured to the bucket. "Dalia is still sick. I was going to try and soothe her fever."

The woman looked from me to the bucket, before nodding tersely. "Thank you. But I think I can take care of my own daughter for now." Her words were clipped and brief, and I nodded silently in reply. A moment passed, during which the woman laid the cloth over her daughter head.

I let out a quiet cough, then spoke. "I'll need to stay in here, for now." - A pause, then - "I won't disturb you."

Larkin Metternich

Messy didn't quite do justice to Lark's room. The walls were covered with scribbles, ravings, and essays, the floor littered with chunks of metal and heaps of tools. The windows were cracked open the smallest bit, and in the dim light one could spy Larkin Metternich shuffling around his things and tossing them about.

He couldn't find Sancho. This was terrible, absolutely, undeniably, incoherently devastating for Lark. He'd only built Sancho yesterday; how could Sancho be gone?

The City Quack must have taken him. Lark's eyes narrowed and he stopped flinging his other thingummies around, if only to fume for a few moments. They should have never let that city quack in the household. The Metternichs were the only doctors the Roshens would ever need, and now they were being punished for bringing in another doctor.

That had to be it.

Lark sat down, dejected, realizing he was not going to find Sancho after all. Even worse, what if Sancho ran away? This was all the fault of those fools. If only they'd let Lark use Sancho on those strangers, those strangers would be well right now, and Sancho wouldn't have disappeared.

Knock, knock, knock. Lark ignored it. It's probably Alex again. Alex was oh-so-annoying when he needed something. Lark took off Bob. Lark was proud of Bob, he had to admit - the device was nothing more than corrective lenses framed by thick brass, something to help him look at smaller things without the help of a microscope. It was absolutely wonderful, but Lark didn't want to wear Bob outside his room, lest Alex and the rest of the household try to take Bob away too.

Lark tossed Bob onto a stack of papers scattered on the floor and continued his search for everyone else. If that quack took Sancho, who knew who else was kidnapped and dragged to the city to be exhibited? It would be degrading, humiliating, for his poor friends.

"Lark, I know you're in there."

How fascinating. Everyone knew where Lark's room was. Typical of Alex to think he was smarter than Lark. Lark ignored his childhood friend as he sifted through a pile of gears.

"Lark, the guests are up."

They weren't his responsibility anymore. Hmph. Let that other doctor take care of them. Wait - Lark squinted. He believed he saw Sancho's shadow in the corner. Could it be -?

"Please. We sent the city doctor back home last night. You're the only doctor in the house right now, and the little girl - she's still very sick."

Well, that wouldn't have happened if only they'd followed Lark's way. So now Alex had realized his mistake. Knowing Alex, he'd never apologize, though.

Lark scrambled towards the corner and picked up a large black box. He stared at it critically for a few moments before opening it and peering into its depths. Yes, it was Sancho. Sancho didn't leave after all. Lark clung to the device. No words were needed. Perhaps that quack was more of a fool than Lark had originally thought.

"We need you to take care of her -"

Lark frowned. Oh, the things he did in the name of being a doctor. He supposed he could forgive Alex this one time and treat the little girl. He let Alex grovel for a few more moments, though, not making a sound so as to aggravate the other man, before finally bursting out the door with Sancho in his hands.

"Just this once. The next time you ask another doctor here, I'm not taking care of his mistakes," Lark said, his eyes serious.

Alex blinked, surprised by Lark's sudden appearance, and nodded. Relief was written all over his face. "Thank you."

"Last time. Only as a favor to you."

"Only as a favor to me," Alex agreed.

Watch. By this afternoon, that silly little girl would be much better. They should have just let Lark take care of the pair last night. He could have handled it, really.

But now was no time for deliberation. Sancho was actually going to do something today. A gleeful grin spread over Lark's face and, messy hair and all, he took off towards the guest's quarters, towards his new patients.

Alex remembered to yell reminders about how Lark was not to experiment on human beings, of course, but they were neglected, and only the century-old walls heard the man's pleas.

Reseph:

Lyric and Lidz half carried and half dragged Reseph through the house. By this point Reseph was barely conscious, his mind going back through the days and weeks to the point when those bastards had caught him.

Reseph rose from a crouch as he surveyed the ancient ruins. They had once been a thriving forest town. Now the stone buildings were covered in trees and half chocked with vines and bushes. With a grunt Reseph tugged one particularly thick vine away from the wall to study the elaborate carvings.

His heartbeat picked up as he traced the old symbols. He'd only seen these symbols once before, when Gram had drawn words in the Ancient Language to show him and his cousin. Reseph knew he could be getting ahead of himself but he was almost positive the symbols were the same.

He drew a notebook out of his pack and quickly sketched some of the carvings. While he was working he heard other people exploring the ruins. More of those human treasure hunters no doubt. Reseph ignored the sounds, secure in the knowledge they wouldn't see him. He never saw the blow coming. Reseph heard a single crack followed by a sharp pain in the back of his head. Then everything went dark.

Reseph had woken in chains...

"Lark. Lark! Lark, stop running away and get your butt over here!" Reseph smiled slightly as his cousin's exasperated tones woke him.*

*I figured that they could put Daila and Reseph in the same room, so people don't have to run back and forth between them. Although as a half-sight, Reseph should heal up pretty quickly.*

Charlie Rose -

The rich aroma of the various herbs and spices assaulted Charlie's nose, he sniffed the soup he had prepared. It smelled like perfection. He took the large wooden spoon in his left hand, and carefully he dipped it into his concoction. With a steady hand, he brought the soup to his lips, sipping it slightly. His taste buds would bowed to him they could. It was perfectly balanced, with a extra hint of lemon to give it a added zing. He put the spoon down and looked at the other cooks in the kitchen.

"I amaze myself. I have just made heaven in liquid form."Well, partially liquid as the soup was comprised of freshly cut vegetables and meats, giving it a heavy quality to it. Some thought of soup as a side. He was of the frame of mind, that if made right, soup could be the whole meal. One bowl of this, would fill a pregnant woman. "Honestly, I may cry because this is so amazing." He took a spoonful and shoved it in the nearest cooks mouth. "Try it; doesn't it make you want to lock yourself in a closet because of your inferior cooking skills?" He smiled, putting a lid on the pot. He didn't want the perfection to get away.

Absently, he put the spoon back into his mouth, sucking on it like a lollipop to extract all the juices. He moved around the kitchen with the spoon stuck in his mouth, stopping at various stations to tell the cooks running them, what they were doing wrong. He did this to everybody. All but Bena of course. Bena was a harsh woman, and the best cook in the kitchen. Charlie always tacked 'for now' at the end of that thought. She wasn't the kind of woman you messed with, especially when she had a butchers knife in hand. For a woman she was very large, and could probably snap Charlie like a twig if she wanted. It was for these reasons he never let his mouth run like it usually did.

Currently she did have a butchers knife in hand, cutting up the bloody carcass, of what he assumed to be a cow, or part of a cow. Charlie leaned against the counter and continued to suck on the spoon. The taste had long been gone, leaving the taste of wood, but Charlie had a odd thing about always having to have something in his mouth; even if it was not edible.

"You finish the soup?" Bena asked.

Charlie rolled his eyes when he was sure she wasn't looking. "Of course."

"Good, take two bowls to our new guests. Add some cheese and bread to the side."

Charlie smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was a smile of annoyance. "I'm a cook, I don't do room service. And my soup is a meal in itself. It does not need cheese or bread on the side." He said the two words as if he were talking about pestilent rats rather than food."

"You will take the food up, and you will add the cheese and bread." Bena synchronized every word with a chop to the meat."

"Fine," he said pouting like a defeated child. He trudged over to his station and dished out two big bowls of his soup. He put the bowls on a tray, and then threw on two chunks of cheese and one loaf of bread. "I'll be back, don't worry," he said to the other cooks. He balanced the tray on his arms and headed for the sick girl's room. Well, at least he would be able to see the bright faces of people that had tasted his masterpiece. He rarely got to see reactions to his food.

On his way out, he grabbed a few mint leaves and stuffed them in his mouth.

Daila

Daila cuddled into the warmth of her mother and let her eyes slip shut for a moment. She ached, and she didn't like it one bit. If there was ever a time when she was any more uncomfortable she couldn't remember it. She could hear the people coming in and out of the room, and that was enough to set her off ease.

On top of that she could feel the scraps and bruises on her mother's arms. She took a deep breath and funneled her energy into her mother. With a quick peek over her shoulder she could see how crowded the room was getting. The people who were rushing about didn't seem to be happy.

Under her fingers she felt her mother's scraps closing up and her skin becoming smooth again, and herself becoming weak and tired. Even more so than before.

*It's Short, and crappy. A post nonetheless. I hope you're happy, Cass >>*

Elodie Lestair

The faces were fabricating somewhere far-off, blurred behind a carefully-built wall of tears. A man holding something in his arms... something that Elodie couldn't quite make out, and another entering behind him; he brought the smell of something delicious with him. Soup?

Elodie blinked, moving the hand that wasn't around Daila to wipe off her cheeks. She froze at the site of the... what was that? ... in the first man's hands. He was muttering something that Elodie wasn't catching; something to... air? Oh Good God, greater power, help them all. The second man, more of a boy, if you asked Elodie, was indeed holding a tray of soup, bread and cheese. There was a bit of a haughty expression on his face; one more thing to make her uncomfortable.

Daila's fingers brushed along her arm. For a split second, an overwhelming dizziness overcame her- people, other people flickered in and out of her vision. An injured man, two women and a second man making his way over to him. Elodie managed a squeak as the vision disappeared, and the dizziness ebbed off. Every eye in the room was on her- her arms and her face to be more precise; along with another man's. Judging by his clothes, the head of the household- the master himself.

She didn't have to look down to know what had happened. Daila was slumped against her, breathing more laboured than before, not making a noise otherwise. Elodie rose from the bed shakily, setting her daughter's head back down on the pillows. She didn't look at her arms- she didn't have to. They would be healed, completely unscratched, and now Daila was worse off than when they had first arrived. A sob started deep in Elodie's chest, working its way up too quickly for her to stop it. Her face went into her hands, her emotions caved into her exhaustion.

"Thomas, could you take her back to her room while Lark inspects the girl?"

The last thing Elodie wanted was to be shipped back to her room, to be away from Daila's unconscious form. She thought of protesting, almost had, and lost her will when a hand rested gently on her shoulder. She let herself be lead away, face still hidden, leaning heavily on the man she presumed to be Thomas. She hadn't felt so defeated, so emotionally drained and exhausted, in a long time.

Aailen

Aailen sucked in a breath when he saw the girls carry in Reseph. As if things weren't bad enough; now Lark had two patients to look after, Aailen was more confused, Reseph was hurt... did he know about his grandmother? He looked up at Lyric, as the humans called her, eyes begging for some sort of answer.

"Let him take care of little Daila, first," Aailen found himself whispering, inching closer to the trio. "What happened to him?"

Lyric was the first to speak up, voice quiet, if not a tad strained. Aailen couldn't blame her. "He just... came back like this..."

Aailen let out a slow breath, trying to think of what to do. "Set him down. He can't stay on the bed, it's not big enough... we could move him to the next room over..."

The girls nodded, one of them turning to say something in hushed tones to Alexander. Aailen busied himself with taking Reseph's limp body, removing the weight from his cousin and friends' shoulders. Alexander nodded at them, muttering something about being there momentarily. Aailen managed a smile at the household master, starting out the door.

"Next room to the right, he said," Lidz murmured.

Should be easy enough... oh gods, this was going to be a long day.

[[I'm aware that the quality isn't the greatest, but I had to post something. >.>]]

(Hi! I'm just joining. My profile is on the DT. Oh, by the way, right up front, my character is blind.)

Jenna Train


Chop.

Who on Earth did he think he was, criticizing her?

Chop.

Oh, only the amazing Charlie, that’s who.

Chop.

It’s not that Jenna didn’t do enough already.

Chop.

She’d done her chores in the yard, and now she was chopping the blooming onions.

Chop.

Had the magnificent Charlie ever chopped something in his life?

Chop.

Hah! Of course, the wonderful Mr. Rose… well, Jenna didn’t actually know if he’d ever chopped anything in his life.

Chop.

But he was still a blooming twit.

Chop. Chop.

Jenna scraped the finely minced onions into a wooden bowl with the easy motion of one who has done this millions of times before. She passed a hand over the cutting board to ensure that no scraps were left, before heading over to the counter where all the produce was kept. Jenna deftly slid her bowl into place for the cooks and took another from the fresh produce side, and went back to her corner.

She got chopping. The noon bell rang. Jenna got up, brushed her hands off on her apron, which she carefully took off and left at the table, quickly ate her share of the lunch, and exited the kitchens. She would have a few hours of unscheduled work now. Unscheduled, because in a grand house filled with magic, who knew what would need to be done? Work, because she was a servant in a grand house.

Outside in the corridor, it was cooler and quieter than the rush of the kitchens. She could hear everything that went on in there, and it gave her a headache. The house was so much better, with its quiet bustle and occasional interesting sounds.

Her feet carried her towards the servant’s quarters. It was just past the guest quarters, which was fortunate, as it gave her an excuse to listen, in passing, to what was going on in that particular wing of the house. The arrival of the sick little girl and her mother was a fascinating turn of events. First old Weliarah’s death, now a mysterious girl who could see the Half-Sights...

... and now, strange muffled sounds from the sickroom. Jenna could hear two sets of heavy footsteps, people under some heavy burden, she guessed, move from one room to the next. But there were three people breathing... very odd. Well. It was her time devoted to helping with the household. If she satisfied her curiosity at the same time, who could blame her?

She padded over to the original sickroom. She heard the Master, Alexander, speaking from within there, as well as the doctor. She heard one other voice too, a half-sight, maybe. And then there was the fabulous Mr. Charlie Rose. Wonderful.

“Sir?” she said, addressing Alexander from her position just inside the door frame. How odd it was, she thought, that I have to be where they can see me so that they know who is talking.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but... well, is there anything I can do to help you?”

Lyric

I followed Aailen as he carried Reseph to the next room, hovering over his shoulder anxiously as my cousin made occasional sounds of discomfort, twisting in Aailen's grip. As he was laid down on the bed, he curled up into himself, his face an expression of pain, before his breathing started to slow and settle, his features smoothing slightly.

"He's asleep." I heard Lidz murmur behind me, before taking a step back out of the room. "I'm going to try and get some medicine from Lark."

A silence fell on the room, and Aailen looked up at me from where he was crouched on the floor next to my cousin. "Nau," he said quietly, my true name coming from his lips easier than the human substitute. "Do you know what happened to him? This -" He gestured to Reseph's form with a slight shake of the head. "This can't have been an accident."

I shook my head in reply, biting my lip. "He didn't say anything. I asked, but-" I looked back down at the floor. "I don't think he was in the right state to be talking to anyone." Crouching down next to Aailen, I placed my palm on Reseph's forehead, exerting some of my dream power whilst internally counting to ten. Any longer than that at one time, and Reseph wouldn't be the only unconscious half-sight in the room.

As I rested my head on the edge of the bed, my gaze flickered over to Aailen. "You're covered in blood," I said absently, waving a hand in the direction of his shirt, and he gave a soft half-laugh, his smile not quite meeting his eyes. "Not as much as you," he replied after a moment's hesitation, a worried expression taking hold on his face.

I looked down at myself, grimacing slightly at the sight, then back up to Reseph. "I hope he gets better soon."

Thomas

Elodie -that was her name- stayed eeriely quiet for the duration of the journey, her gaze fixed blankly on the floor as I guided her back to her room. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke up without raising her head. "When will I see my daughter again?" she asked, her voice listless and quiet. Her weight leant against me as we walked, and she moved slowly, as if each step away from her daughter was a physical pain in her chest.

"I think ... probably tomorrow. Or later tonight, if she is awake," I hazarded tentatively, not really having any idea when her daughter would be judged healthy. Against me, Elodie gave a nod that I felt more than saw, and continued to move in the same resigned manner. I let out a barely audible sigh, then stopped, my hand tightening slightly on her shoulder to stop her.

She looked across to the room that I had gestured to, a frown flickering across her features. "This is not the room I was in before," she said quietly, looking up towards me with mild confusion.

I looked away. "I know." -A pause, then- "This room is closer to your daughter, so if you needed-" I broke off, then shook my head slightly. "If you stay here, I will go and get your things from the other room and bring them here."

Lidz ¬

I walked slowly out of the room.
Would he be OK?
I took the medicine from Lark, and rushed back.
"I hope he gets better soon," Lyric said, as I walked back in.
"So what exactly happened?" I asked. Lyric jumped, not realising I'd walked back in.
"He had an accident,"
"It wasn't on purpose was it?" I made the mistake of putting too much worry into my voice, and Lyric looked at me strangley. "I mean, I'm just worried about him,"
"No! Of course it wasn't on purpose! But why do you care?" I was taken aback by her sharp words. She's just probably worried too. I shrugged.
"So it was an accident?" I asked. Her eyes flickered to Aailen, slyly, she shook her head, but her look that was directed at Aailen told me otherwise. "It wasn't? Who did it?" I urged, staring at her hard, "Please tell me,"

Elodie Lestair

"If you stay here, I will go and get your things from the other room and bring them here."

Elodie blinked, bringing a trembling hand to her forehead. She massaged lightly with her fingertips before managing a slight nod. "Yes... thank you... Timothy." God, please let that be his name. She pushed herself off of his shoulder and took a few unsteady steps forward. Her knee gave, and with a half a second's worth of panic, she started to tumble forwards.

Hands latched under her arms, gently pulling her back up and supporting her the rest of the way to the bed. She collapsed, nearly missing altogether. Half a dozen apologies were whispered and eyes were rubbed, and then temples. ...Timothy? had asked something... something along the lines of whether or not she was okay.

No, sir, actually I'm not. My daughter may be dying, I may have an angry husband after me and I may be ill, as well. No good when your master kicks me back to the streets because my daughter seems a witch. "I'm fine, thank you."

She waited until the door closed to lift her head and open her eyes, teary as they were. They closed again- maybe it was time to pray to whatever was really out there. Not that it seemed to care much at the moment... perhaps it just had more important things to worry about than a dying girl and her hurting mother. It was worth a try.

She clasped her hands and bowed her head, starting to murmur pleas and wishes for protection.

Aailen

Aailen frowned at both of them, uneasy with the tension in the room. "We don't know what happened, Lidz," he answered softly, staring down at his shirt. Sure enough, it was covered in dried blood- something that brought on a wave of nasuea.

"You don't know?"

Aailen was vaguely aware of Nau's sigh, hardly hearing her as she retold her story. He was too busy staring at Reseph, then down at his own shirt, and then at Nau's. This blood was starting to get to him. How much had Reseph lost already? Don't think about it. He'll be okay... Lark will make sure of it after he's finished with the little girl.

More sickness... and her poor mother. Oh gods, what must that woman be feeling right now?

"I... I'm going to go change my shirt," he muttered, already half-way to the door. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes." He crossed the remaining expanse of room, slipped through the door and closed it softly behind him.

Thomas

I made my way back to Elodie's room about 20 minutes later, juggling her few possessions in one arm and balancing a tray on the other with some soup I had managed to scrounge in my detour to the kitchen. The woman had seemed to look pretty fragile when I'd left her, not even managing to walk without any support, and I had hardly been reassured by her insistence that she was fine. At this rate Lark was going to end up with yet another patient on his hands.

Nudging the door to her room open, I padded over to where she was kneeling beside the bed and bent to set down the tray on the bedside counter next to her. As I walked closer, she jumped in surprise, jolting me slightly as she stood up. The tray seemed to move in slow motion as it fell from my hands, the bowl of soup spilling all over the bedspread, the floor, and my clothing.

Elodie stared at the situation, seemingly frozen mid-action in shock, before her gaze slid to me anxiously. "I am so so sorry." she whispered, her voice barely louder than a breath, and I offered a half-smile, bending down to pick up the bowl and replace it on the tray, grimacing internally as I looked at the carpet. This was never going to wash out. Or at least, not without more scrubbing than I could bear to contemplate.

"We'll have to change your sheets," I replied in the breeziest tone I could muster, then stood up again, making my way to the cupboard at the end of the room and withdrawing a pile of sheets to redress the bed. I placed the new sheets on the cleaner side of the bed, then hesitated for a moment, looking from the orange-splashed sheets to the floor and resisting the urge to wail in despair.

"We could... change your room again?" I offered hopefully, looking back at Elodie, who seemed to be utterly paralysed by fear, actually trembling slightly as she stood staring at the mess. He gaze snapped back to me as I spoke, and she paused a second before replying.

"This is the one closest to Daila?" After my nod, she bit her lip and looked away again. "I would like to stay here then." she continued after an age, her tone seeming firm despite how quietly she was speaking. I nodded silently in response, ignoring the screams inside of me that refused to let anyone stay in a soup-covered room, but figured the mess obviously wasn't quite as much of an issue for Elodie, and began stripping the bed of sheets, moving around Elodie as she stood numbly in the centre of the room. She watched for a moment, then stood forward to take the other corner of the clean sheet as I unfolded it, glancing up as she helped to lay it out as if to enquire whether this was okay. My expression turned to surprise as she stepped in to help, but quickly softened, and I gave a reassuring nod before we continued the chore in silence.


OOC: Will do Lyric's bit later or tomorrow.

Charlie went to see the little girl first. He wasn't sure if she would be capable of eating the soup, but she was probably more in need of sustenance than the mother. When he entered he found the room rather crowded, he was no expert on such matters, but sick people should not have so many people surrounding them. He shrugged and put one of the bowls down. Charlie himself could never see the Half-Sights people apparently could see. He believed it, why would most of the house lie about such a thing, but he had witnessed no proof. He wondered if there was in the room now. Some people misunderstood Charlie. Sure, he was pompous in the kitchen, but otherwise he was rather nice. So tending to the sick girl wasn't even a question once he got a good look at her.

"I would like to see if I can get her to eat. A empty stomach will only make her feel worse." He of course hoped whatever was wrong with her allowed her to keep the soup down. He cringed at the thought of his precious soup on the floor in chunks of vomit. Such a thought was nearly enough to ruin his own appetite. Of course, almost was the key word. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of brightly wrapped hard candies. He twisted off the purple wrapping of one of the candies and plopped it in his mouth. He usually held off on the sweets until late in the day, but his reasoning for pulling out the candies wasn't for him. "And if she eats all of her food, she can have a treat. Would you like that?" He smiled at the girl. She really did look terrible. It made him feel sad. He was convinced however that his amazing soup would perk her up.

He put the candies on the plate with the other food. As a kid when he was sick he would usually go for the sweets first. He would give the girl the same option. He noted as the mother was escorted out. She could have at least taken her bowl with her. He sighed. He'd have to go track her down now with the food. He glanced at the little girl one last time. "Feel better." He smiled and headed out the door with the tray of food in hand. He passed Jenna on the way out. He was oblivious to how much most of the other kitchen staff hated him. He figured they all loved him for giving them advice on how to make their bland food better.

"Here love, have candy" he said with a smile. Not that she could see it. He did however know she was rather adept with her hands and was far above patronizing her outside of the kitchen. He handed her the candy. It's lemon flavor, a bit tart, but the aftertaste is so sweet...it makes up for the sour." He liked her, maybe one day he'd take her as an apprentice. She had more talent than half of the sighted cooking staff.

He found the mother's new room and was aghast at what he saw when he had entered. Soup everywhere? His soup to be exact, which meant some fool actually messed with his station. There were two things that Charlie could not tolerate. He was mostly a cheery person as long as these two things were not crossed. People touching anything on his station and wasted food. Even nasty food shouldn't be wasted. Whenever some incompetent hack burnt food, he'd feed it to some animals. Animals weren't picky.

Seeing the soup on the floor almost brought tears to his eyes, because the expertly crafted soup could no longer be eaten. This sadness was replaced by anger and annoyance. "You stupid oaf, that kitchen staff is supposed to handle all food for this very reason." He put down his tray carefully. The two had started to clean it, but he was to annoyed to care. "Idiot, I should boil you in scolding water and serve you for dinner. That's one less bowl that could have filled someone, and now we might not have enough to go around. You'd make a decent replacement." He bit down into his hard candy, reducing it to shards.

Elodie Lestair

"Idiot, I should boil in scolding water and serve you for dinner. That's one less bowl that could have filled someone, and now we might not have enough-"

"Excuse me?" Elodie said softly, glancing at Thomas (whom she was still convinced was named Timothy) quickly. That poor man...

Apparently, she hadn't been heard. By either of them. "-to go around. You'd make a decent replacement." The boy... man? No, definitely boy, judging by his attitude- bit down hard on something. The crunching sound it made sent a shiver down Elodie's spine. She had never particularly liked that noise.

She tried again, raising her voice a few dozen notche. "Excuse me!" That got his attention, and Thomas/Timothy's to boot. Honestly, Elodie wouldn't be surprised if they heard her for three doors down on either side. And now that she had his attention, she couldn't help the fear rising up in her. It was well-masked behind an expression that only a mother could make, and it simply didn't show in her voice.

"Thank you. Now, it's hardly fair to assume that Timothy-" she got a bestranged look from the boy, one that went on ignored- "was the one who spilled the soup, isn't it? For all you know, I could've taken one taste and thrown it down in disgust."

The expression she received was unreadable- a mixture of shock, anger, hurt, and... pity? No matter, she wasn't letting him get a word in until she was good and finished. "Of course, that wasn't the case. In fact, I'm sure that the soup was so amazing that a king would humiliate himself by dropping to his belly to lick it from the floor, but that's hardly the point." She sighed, allowing herself to sit down on the edge of the bed. Her legs were growing numb, and as preferable as that was to pain, she didn't need to suddenly collapse.

"If it means so much to you, it's my fault. I've been shamefully jumpy for the past little while, though I suppose it's understandable, given my... situation. It's a new place with new people, and my daughter..." She shook her head sadly. "Anyways, I started. Knocked the bowl clean out of his hands. You shouldn't be so quick to make accusations."

She clasped her hands firmly on her lap to hide how badly they were shaking. They aren't Lawrence. The thought wasn't doing much to soothe her at this point.

Thomas

I patted Elodie's shoulder gingerly as she sat down on the bed, noting that she still seemed faint, a sickly sheen to her skin as she rubbed her forehead with one hand. Underneath my palm, I could feel her trembling gently, though whether it was from stress or illness I couldn't tell.

I turned back to Charlie, my brow furrowed with anxiety. "I'm sorry that this was spilt, but there's nothing that can be done now. Would you mind seeing if you could find some other food for our guest?" Putting emphasis on this last word, I deliberately shifted my gaze to Elodie, then back to Charlie. The man scowled slightly, still seeming bitter over the wastage of his hard-work, but nodded resignedly anyway, his eyes skimming over the patch of drying soup before he turned on heel and left.

I watched as he left, then sat on the bed a short distance away from Elodie, handing the somehow not spilled glass of water to her and meeting her eyes with a concerned expression. "You look ill." I commented quietly, taking the glass away again once she had finished.

Elodie looked up at me, her eyes tired and weary. "I just want to see my daughter again. I..." For a moment, she looked as if she was going to continue, but decided otherwise, turning away again and staring into the distance. I waited for a beat, wondering if she was going to pick up on the train of thought again, but she seemed unwilling.

"You should get some rest." I stood up from the bed, glancing up at the door before returning my gaze to Elodie. "I don't know how long Charlie will be with your food... Hopefully he won't be too long, at any rate. You should lie down for now." I gestured towards the bed, then moved to the other side of the room to sit in the chair in the corner, before hesitating and turning back in a vaguely awkward manoeuvre. "Do you... I can leave, if you'd prefer. I will have to take these sheets back at some point, anyway."

Elodie

She stared at the man for a moment, completely taken aback. Perhaps she shouldn't have been- it was such a small gesture, after all... but still, when was the last time anybody had been concerned for her privacy? Or her well-being at all, really? Now she was here, amongst complete strangers, and it may have been something as simple as procedure- for all she know, Thomas/Timothy could despise her for disrupting the peace, for making a mess or bringing illness into their home. Maybe he it was simply his job to act polite and take care of "guests," but even so, when was the last time anybody had acted this way towards her?

Elodie looked down at the floorboards, giving her head the slightest of disbelieving shakes. "No, you can stay... just- just in case I need yo-somebody." She smiled sheepishly and cleared her throat, mentally scolding herself. "Of course, if it's an inconvenience to you, you can go..." She trailed off, smile fading, eyebrows furrowing. She was most certainly overreacting to the situation, not to mention she was probably raising suspision. On the other hand, there was probably enough of that to go around as it was.

"I might need help getting up," she finished quickly. There. That sounded semi-reasonable, didn't it? What would the poor man think if she said that she was honestly afraid to stay in this, or any room for that matter, alone? She didn't even have a good reason to be afraid; she hadn't been when she had first woken up.

Thomas/Timothy may have said something, but if he had, Elodie hadn't heard. "I'll need to wash when I wake up." She chuckled to herself. "I probably look absolutely dreadful right now, don't I?"

Thomas/Timothy glanced up at her, staring akwardly for a moment before making a noise that sounded vaguely like a cross between a grunt and a mousey squeak. Elodie felt her eyebrows furrowing a bit in confusion. That was a sound she had never heard before.

"No... you look..." he trailed off, busying himself with something in the corner.

Elodie waited a moment for him to continue, murmuring a quiet, "Oh," when he didn't. She shifted uneasily on the edge of the bed, eyes drifting over to a painting that was hung on the far wall. A meadow, it looked like... not really to her tastes, but she needed something to pretend to busy herself with. Another moment or so passed before she crawled under the covers, facing as well away from Thomas/Timothy as she could.

"Don't let me sleep more than half of the hour. I... would like to see my daughter again as soon as possible." She stifled a yawn, not quite realizing how exhausted she was until her eyelids slipped together.