Nora Cadwallader (safekeep) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-02-23 09:13:00 |
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"Ugh, it's only a high of 2 today," Nora groaned as she looked at her phone. She would have to put on some warming charms; her work uniform was never quite right for winter. She brought the oatmeal fixings over to the kitchen table with a pout. "I hate winter." “It'll be over soon, love,” Rhys assured her. “We’ll be sipping fruity drinks on a warm beach in no time.” He headed toward the table with two levitating mugs, cream, and sugar in tow and set them down gently. “Do you want me to make you a hot chocolate you can take with you?” "I think it's going to be a tea day," Nora said, still pouting a little. "My new shift partner doesn't like the smell of chocolate. Can you believe that? Who doesn't like the smell of chocolate?" A small parliament of owls pecked at the window over by the back door. They picked up the treats the Cadwalladers left out on the sill for them and flew off. "And, there's the Prophets. I almost want to leave them out there and let them get rained on. It's supposed to rain today, too." “They’d be more useful as plant fertiliser,” Rhys said, moving toward her to give her a peck. “I think you should ask for a new shift partner. What kind of person hates chocolate? I’ll get the Prophets. You just worry about breakfast. Back in a sec.” He limped over to the back door and shouldered his way through it, making his way outside. He had not been expecting company. He blinked at the unexpected visitors, thoroughly startled. “Oh! Hello!” The Cadwalladers’ two visitors looked just as surprised to see him, for a moment frozen in fear and blinking owlishly at him from beneath the folds of sooty winter hats. They looked decidedly sneaky, like they’d hoped not to be noticed as they crept toward the inn, covering their tracks in the snow behind them. It was Andrea Spinnet who first regained her ability to speak. But the recognition registering on her face, didn’t entirely overtake the guilt and panic in her eyes. “Rh—Rhys?” Beside her, Alan let out the breath he’d been holding and straightened up as much as he could while cradling his arm close to his side. “Is it —” He cut a glance at his wife. “We really are in Wales.” “Mr and Mrs Spinnet?” Rhys managed, alarmed expression softening when he realised he knew them. “What are you—” Their haggard appearance and fearful expressions finally began to register, and he glanced toward the hills, wondering if they’d been followed here. “Are you alright? You look cold.” he asked sympathetically. It was then that he noticed the arm. “Are you hurt?” “My arm,” Alan said, inclining his head to indicate what Rhys had already noticed. “Snatchers,” Andrea explained. “They caught up with us at the lake.” She gestured vaguely off at the distance. She didn’t know what it was called or how far they’d traveled from it. “I’ve patched him up the best I can, but I’m no Healer.” “Nora will know what to do,” Rhys said immediately. He took one last, cautious look in the direction that Andrea had gestured to, then turned, beckoning for them to follow. “Quick, come inside. I'll put another kettle on.” "Rhys?" Nora called after her husband as he and two others made their way into the kitchen. "What's going — Oh. Here, come on, let's have a seat at the table," she said, filling in the blanks as quickly as she could as she registered just who was there with them. From what she'd seen on the network, Alicia's parents had been missing for weeks. "Is there anybody else with you? Anyone following you?" “We’re alone,” Andrea assured them as they sank into chairs at the Cadwalladers’ table. “We had a run-in with Snatchers a ways back but we haven’t seen any sign of them since.” Alan glanced around the room and took a deep breath — the first one in weeks that didn’t fill his nostrils with the scent of dirt and rot. “This place just gets nicer every time we visit,” he said, his eyes landing on Rhys before he gave a half-laugh. "That arm's giving you trouble, isn't it?" Nora asked. "Oh, Helga, you two are probably famished. Here, we've some oatmeal on the table, and strawberries. Don't eat too quickly, please, you'll make yourselves sick if you've not had a good meal in a bit. Alan, do you mind if I perform a quick diagnostic spell on your arm to see what's going on?" “No, not at all,” Alan said and stood to shrug off his coat. Andrea rose to help him, gently sliding the sleeve off his injured arm, hesitating when he let out a hiss of pain. But they eventually got it off, revealing the makeshift setting she’d put on it. The mention of food, and morso the smell practically had her mouth watering. But she was more concerned for her husband, and kept her eyes on him as she shrugged off her own coat and sat back down. “Thank Merlin we’ve got an actual Healer to look at it.” Rhys watched Nora run her diagnostic spell with concern and admiration, then turned to Andrea. “How long have you been out there? It must have been terrible, I’m so sorry.” “It’s been a few weeks, I think,” Andrea said, looking askance at her husband, who nodded. “We were staying in a hidden location before that, but it was attacked. We were forced to run.” "I saw Alicia mention something about that, I think," Nora said. "On the journal network. That must've been terrible. I'm so sorry. Alan," she said, shifting gears, "This is going to take a bit and it will probably hurt. And I think it can wait until after you've had some tea and something to eat and gotten yourself warmed up a little, alright?" Alan nodded, but his attention was caught on the mention of his daughter. “Alicia? How is she?” He shot a glance at his wife, and then Rhys. “Jess? Drew?” “We haven’t heard anything in weeks,” Andrea explained, reaching for Alan’s uninjured hand and giving it a tight squeeze. “We were hoping you might have a paper. We —” She exchanged another look with her husband. “We don’t want to cause you any trouble.” Rhys looked from Alan to Nora, then back again. “She’s well, as far as I know. They all are, from what I can tell anyway,” he assured him. He neglected to mention the fact that Alicia had been outed as a member of the Order, or any of the drama that had come with that. She was alive, and the last thing her parents needed was any reason to worry more after what they’d been through. “I’ll get you the paper, and anything else you need. You’re no trouble, I mean that. You’re very welcome here.” He gave them what he hoped was a comforting smile. They deserved a reprieve after all of the horrors they’d been subjected to. Both the Spinnets let out a sigh of relief at the news their children were well. It may not have been much information, but none of them had been killed, and that’s what mattered the most. “You’re both too kind,” Alan said and pulled a bowl of oatmeal closer to him. The smell of it reminded him just how empty his stomach had been. “But I’d hate to think what would happen to you — to the Gentle Green — if they ever found out we were here.” “That you’d helped us at all,” Andrea agreed. “It’s so much to risk.” Nora looked at Rhys. If they couldn't convince the Spinnets to stay, it was probably too much of a risk to let them know anything they shouldn't know. But they couldn't abandon their former guests, either, not now that they were already here. At Rhys's nod, she said quietly, "The thing is … it's not quite a new risk." The Spinnets exchanged a look of confusion, had a silent conversation through their eyes, as Andrea and then Alan realized the implication of what Nora had said. Andrea spoke first, for both of them. “If you’re certain,” she drew a deep breath and her voice grew thick. “We would be deeply grateful.” “And,” Alan chimed in. “We’d find a way to repay you, of course.” "We can worry about that later," Nora said. "Let's just worry about breakfast first." |