Nora Cadwallader (safekeep) wrote in disorderic, @ 2017-12-29 17:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | barnaby snell, nora cadwallader, rhys cadwallader |
WHO: Barnaby Snell, Nora Cadwallader, and Rhys Cadwallader
WHAT: Secrets are revealed. Happy Mari Lwyd!
WHEN: December 29
WHERE: The Gentle Green
WARNINGS: Nah
It did not take Barnaby Snell long to realize the Mari Lwyd was not for him. In fact, it took all of five minutes. He had spent the entire five minutes squinting distrustfully at it, half-expecting it to lunge forward and attack someone. Now, though, he had split off from the throng of skeletal horse admirers, aimlessly wandering through the halls of the Gentle Green. His boots were heavy on the creaking wooden floor, though his footsteps weren’t quite loud enough to drown out the Mari Lwyd song. He found himself humming along as he sipped at his hot chocolate, his eyes darting from door to door. The flowers painted on each door matched the names of the rooms: the Marigold, the Clover, the Orchid, and so on. (His heart gave a kick when he passed the Meadowsweet, the room he had stayed in with Jeremy.) It didn’t take him long to reach a door he knew was locked, a door that led to another four rooms. Baz’s eyes widened in surprise when he realized it wasn’t just unlocked, but cracked open. The floor groaned loudly as he took a cautious step forward, and the door swiftly clicked shut. Quickly drawing out his wand, Baz strode forward. “Hello?” he called out. The door locked with a click, and someone listening closely would hear a pair of hushed, urgent voices. "Is someone there? Did they see you?" "I don't know, I don't think so, but--" "Get the hell away from the door. What were you thinking?" Baz froze in place, suddenly unsure of his next move. If there were Death Eaters, he couldn’t face them alone. But he didn’t want to risk leaving them alone to do God knows what, either. He walked closer, wand at the ready, and his voice was imbued with false bravado as he said, “I know you’re in there. You better leave if you know what’s best for you — I’m an experienced duelist!” His demands were met with silence, as if the people on the other side of the door were frozen in place, holding their breath. “All right, if that’s how it’s going to be, then I’ll just—” "What are you doing?" Nora cried out from behind him, her voice noticeably alarmed. Also needing a break from the beloved Welsh festivities, she'd noticed her brother wander off and, after awhile, came to look for him in the mostly-empty halls of the inn. She strode toward him quickly, keeping her voice low. "Bazzy, what are you doing?" “Nora, you need to stay back,” Baz insisted, throwing up an arm as if to shield his sister from an attack. His own recent brush with a Death Eater home invasion was all too fresh in his mind. Then, in a hushed whisper: “Someone is here. I saw someone and I heard at least two different people. It could be the Death Eaters.” Nora felt the panic rising in her, not at the idea of Death Eaters behind the door, but that Baz knew there was anyone behind the door at all. "Stop it," she hissed, looking wildly between the door, her brother, and the rest of the hallway to make sure no one else could hear them. She put her hand on his wrist, pushing down his wand. "Put that down. It's fine. It's fine." “How is it fine?” Baz shot back, his voice rising. He pointed his wand toward the door as he spoke. “There are intruders! We need to let Rhys know what’s going on right now.” "Keep your voice down." Nora rapped her knuckles against the door in a familiar pattern. "It's alright," she leaned close to the door as she spoke. "It's Nora. It's alright." There was a small sound from behind the door as someone shifted their weight. "I'll take care of it." She turned back to her brother, her voice just above a whisper. "They're not intruders. It's fine." Baz regarded his sister with wide eyes. “Okay,” he began slowly, “they’re not intruders.” A beat. “What the hell is going on?” "I can't—" Nora took a deep breath to collect herself and figure out her next step. Her heart pounded, but it could have been worse. It was just Baz. It could have been worse. She thought of all the guests and well-wishers there to see Mari Lwyd; what if any of them got curious, too? "We can't talk about this right now. Not here. There are too many people right now." She looked up the hallway again, realizing that even standing here too long could be suspicious, if someone were looking for trouble. "I need you to trust me that everything is alright, and I'll explain later, okay?" Baz’s expression shifted from apprehension to confusion. Nora was harboring a secret — a secret that involved strangers in her home. It was difficult to wrap his mind around, but Baz nodded and pocketed his wand. He shot another wary glance at the door before his attention turned to Nora. “When can we talk about this?” he asked, his voice low. His concern bled into his voice as he continued, “‘Cause like, I’d like to get looped in on whatever is happening here.” Nora ran through her options in her head; there weren't many of them. "Can you stay for supper? After everybody leaves from Mari. And act normally until then?" “All right,” Baz nodded. He sipped at his cooling hot chocolate before gesturing down the hall. “Back to the murder horse, then?” Nora didn't say anything to Rhys while Mari was visiting, or after while people milled around and ate and socialized. She didn't want him to spend the entire time worrying, especially when he really seemed to be enjoying himself. (That didn't happen often enough anymore. She missed it.) The visitors left with the setting sun, and the few guests staying overnight drifted back to their rooms. The knot in Nora's stomach never quite went away, but at least they could finally talk, the three of them, without too much risk. Dinner was simple and quick, some pasta thing Nora and Rhys used to make when their shifts didn't line up and they didn't have long to spend together to eat. She waited until they were all sitting and eating before broaching the topic again. "Rhys," she started gently, "There's something the three of us are going to have to talk about. Baz was exploring today and he wound up … near the Daffodil room." She shot her husband a knowing, and apologetic, look. Rhys’ eyebrows knit together in concern and he fell silent, looking from his wife to his brother-in-law and back again, unsure of how much Baz had discovered. He took a deep breath before speaking. “Alright,” he said calmly. “Is everyone okay?” He didn’t want to risk saying too much until he knew how much Baz already knew. Wordlessly, he reached over and placed a reassuring hand on Nora’s. Everything would be fine. “That depends on your definition of fine,” Baz blurted out, glancing between Rhys and Nora as he idly pushed a piece of pasta around on his plate. He didn’t feel any less confused — in fact, he was baffled by Nora and Rhys’ tone. “The complete strangers hanging out in your home are fine. I’m also fine, as they’re apparently not Death Eaters.” “They’re not strangers,” Nora said calmly. She interlocked her fingers with Rhys’s and took a deep breath. “They live here. They haven’t got anywhere else to go.” Rhys nodded. “This is the safest place they've got. And the more people know, the less safe they're going to be, you know?” A moment passed. Baz’s eyebrows shot up as he regarded his sister and brother-in-law incredulously. “Are you telling me,” he began in a low voice, “you two are harboring secret muggleborns?” His nonplussed tone gave way to admiration: “That’s fucking awesome.” Nora wasn’t quite sure what response she expected from her brother, but once it was out there, she couldn’t really be surprised. Even if she’d never thought of it in those terms before. “You can’t say anything, Baz. Not to Jeremy or Chelsea or Gwen or anyone.” Baz frowned. He didn’t keep very many secrets from Jeremy or Chelsea or Gwen. His gaze cut to Rhys as he nodded. Rhys let out a small sigh of relief. “No-one else knows. You're the only one,” he said, hoping that would help to soothe any hurt feelings about his not having been told in the first place. “But I guess if you're surprised, that means the ruse is working, so cheers to that.” “I guess this means you guys aren’t secretly in the Order, right?” Baz asked around a mouthful of pasta. He was only half-joking. He thought he had known Nora and Rhys well enough to assume they would never take this kind of risk, but apparently he didn’t. And it wasn’t like Jeremy could name any of his fellow vigilantes. “Because I feel like the next revelation is going to be that Rhys has a tattoo of a phoenix on his left ass cheek.” Nora almost smiled. "I'm not going to talk with you about a tattoo that may or may not be on Rhys's left ass cheek," she said lightly. "But no, we're not in the Order. That's not … we don't want that. But this is what we can do, so this is what we're doing." Rhys looked to Nora, smiling fondly. “‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing’, etcetera. So we're doing something.” he said simply, then added, his tone deadpan, “And it's a dragon, FYI.” Obviously delighted, Baz let out a loud laugh — a single ha! — that broke some of the heaviness of the conversation. “It’s cool that you’re doing something,” he said, grinning at both of them. “You two don’t really see like — I mean, you just seem scared. You play nice with the Death Eaters. No one would ever suspect you two of doing anything illegal.” "It's not playing, Baz," Nora said. "Of course we're scared. But we can't risk any sort of attention, either." “I mean, I know that,” Baz replied, setting his fork down and steepling his hands beneath his chin. “I’m just saying, things make more sense now.” A beat. “How long has this been going on, anyway? I hope I’m not that oblivious.” “Since the MRC announcement?” Rhys said, looking to Nora—as always—for confirmation. “It was either register or go on the run for our first guests, and we obviously couldn't let either of those things happen to them. And please don't feel bad for not knowing. It means we've done a good job of deflecting attention if even you didn't catch on.” Nora nodded, confirming her husband's statement. "I'm sorry we couldn't tell you." “Eh, it’s fine,” Baz said, shrugging. “We’ve all got secrets.” Rhys looked Baz in the eye very seriously. “I accept your possible ass tattoos.” “I cannot confirm nor deny the existence of an ass tattoo.” Baz’s smile was slightly crooked as he reached down to hike up his jumper. “But I do have a snitch around one of my nipples if you want to see....” Nora waved her hands at him, holding them up like she was shielding her view. "Nobody wants to see. Nope! Not while we're eating!" “We'll take your word for it,” Rhys agreed. Baz tugged his sweater back into place with a laugh. “Tell Dafydd. He might find it charming and that could be my way in, if you catch my drift.” "Maybe if you had a music note," Nora suggested, still grimacing playfully. Then, after a beat, she was serious again. "Dafydd definitely can't know about this." “Definitely not,” Rhys agreed, wrinkling his nose. “He'd have an aneurysm.” “I’m not going to tell Dafydd, we barely talk to each other.” Baz picked his fork up and stabbed at a piece of pasta. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even Gwen or Chelsea. Or Jeremy,” he added. "Thank you, Bazzy." “You’re welcome, Lenore,” he replied with a smile. He briefly glanced at Rhys before adding, in Portuguese, “Your husband is much cooler than I thought he was.” "Did I mention he's learning Portuguese?" she replied in kind, winking at her husband. Baz whipped around to Rhys, his expression sheepish. “Is he really?” he asked, switching back to English. “Don’t worry, I never thought you were uncool.” Rhys smiled, equally sheepish. “Don’t worry, I’m still very, very uncool,” he replied, in quasi-butchered Portuguese. He looked to Nora, his expression apologetic. She looked back with sympathetic fondness. "You're the coolest person I know," she tried to say in equally miserable Welsh. “Okay, no,” Baz cut in, shaking his head. “No, não, and na. That’s the extent of my Welsh, by the way. Jeremy’s been teaching me. Kind of.” He paused and waggled his eyebrows before popping a piece of pasta in his mouth. Nora, finally feeling relaxed enough that the knot in her stomach was unwinding itself, gathered some pasta on her fork. Before she took a bite, she smiled playfully. "I'm glad you've finally come around and believed me about the merits of Welshmen." She squeezed Rhys's hand. Rhys squeezed hers in return, equally relieved. “We have our uses.” “Yeah, you’re both pretty great,” Baz said, fondness seeping into his words. A heartbeat later, though, he cleared his throat and straightened in his chair, trying to throw some walls back into place. “It’s whatever.” Seeing her brother struggle, as he always did, at the hint of expressing emotion, Nora changed the subject just enough to rescue him. She reached over to grab his hand too, a gesture meant to comfort and assure both of them. "I'm really glad this doesn't freak you out. … It doesn't freak you out, right? At least, not much?" “Not as much as it probably should,” Baz admitted. He considered, for a moment, telling them both about Rodolphus Lestrange and the chocolates, but it didn’t seem like a good idea. He gave a sheepish shrug, then continued, “I’m sure I’ll be a little more scared for you guys once it really sinks in, but all I can think about right now is how I’m proud of you or whatever.” “Or whatever,” Nora almost laughed. She considered her next words for a moment, weighing whether it was the right choice or not. Still, they’d gone this far. “Would you like to meet everyone, after supper? I think they’ll feel better if they can put a face and a name to the voice from the hallway earlier. Especially since you know what’s going on now. Besides, they’re probably sick of just seeing our faces.” “I can’t really blame them. Have you seen your face?” Baz teased. “But yeah, sure, I’d love to meet them.” “Excellent,” Rhys said, finally comfortable enough to retrieve some pasta of his own. “I’ll tell them that they’ve got a celebrity guest. Perhaps Chris will actually smile, for once—or you know, maybe scowl slightly less.” “Oh man, I should’ve brought gifts,” Baz replied, sounding disappointed with himself. “I have a ton of Cannons gear that’d work as presents and, like, who doesn’t want Cannons gear?” “We did give him one of your old copies of Quidditch Through the Ages for Christmas,” Nora admitted. “Ohhhhh, that’s why you wanted the books.” “Guilty as charged,” Nora said, before making a face at her own word choice. Legally-speaking, they were guilty of a lot. Still, she felt better now that Baz knew, as if a little of the burden had been lifted somehow. “Anyway, Chris is a bit surly, but once he gets to know you…” |