ʙᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴇᴇᴘ, ʀɪᴄʜɪᴇ (trashing) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-04-12 11:15:00 |
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It had been going well. And really that should have told Enola all she needed about the success rate of her current experiments. Being able to read about all of the improvements in science over the last few decades was amazing and being able to dabble in it a bit at school was also helpful, but hands-on practice had always been her preferred way of learning if she was able. With the money from the Holmes estate showing up there really hadn’t been a limit to what she was able to purchase and so she’d filled the room that was designated as her lab with various equipment and materials. Working to try out different methods for extracting information from paper and other materials, trying out mixing different chemicals to replicate other interactions that she’d been learning about. There had been a few accidents before, but nothing she hadn’t been able to control with the handy dandy fire extinguisher or by opening up a window to air out the room. Unfortunately, while the fire extinguisher had helped put out the small fire she’d accidentally started, opening up the window hadn’t quite managed to clear out the rather toxic fumes that had spread throughout the penthouse. She held the cat in her arms as she watched the various firefighters working to try and deal with the mess and talk to Richie. At least it had been contained to their top apartment only? Okay, seriously? Listen. Richie was all for Enola furthering her education however she saw fit - she was from a stuffy time in history all about dinner and tea services where the ladies couldn’t even wear pants without folks needing the fainting couch (where the rich enjoyed whatever was churned out in child slave labor factories, silverware and plate glass and toys), and was often underestimated because of her gender and her age, so, yeah. In Vallo, it was a lot more modern and liberal - he didn’t want to hold her back from chasing her dreams or whatever, nor did he want to stop her from also dipping her toes in the pool of Typical Teenage Experiences. Driving (while sober), going to parties, maybe drinking a little - he expected all of that, and if she wanted to date he would be alright with that too. All in all, Richie was a fairly lax guardian - he and Enola were a team, a duo, they had been since basically the beginning. Except now she’d definitely set the penthouse on fire and rendered it unlivable for the time being. Which - not only did that give him anxiety, but he clearly couldn’t just let this slide and would have to invoke Discipline for the first time. Jesus. Talk about cold sweats. He fully planned to deal with that once the firefighters (who arrived promptly to assess the situation and the components of that smoke) finished their ‘so your home almost burned down, now what?’ instructions. Hydrogen cyanide was a chemical component that was created when shit burst into flame, shit that wasn’t wood - mostly it was the deadliness that occurred when synthetic materials were burned, as it was explained to him. “Welp,” said one firefighter, with a mask over his face - Richie had his shirt pulled up to cover his mouth and nose because fuck, the smell. It was like Uranus (ha), which science said literally wafted an odor of rotten eggs. “You’ve got some smoke damage. And to get rid of the fumes you’ll need a few air purifiers and to replace all the filters.” “Cool,” Richie responded sarcastically. “So we just - probably can’t hang out while that happens?” Unless they wanted to die. Give it a few days, the firedude said. Make other arrangements. And, sure, maybe magic could transform the penthouse into a place that didn’t look like it just fucking exploded, but he didn’t want to deal with magic right now - he didn’t want an instantaneous fix, because that wasn’t teaching his adopted teenager how to be responsible. His adopted teenager holding a poor scared Crumpet, whom he went over to. “Enola,” he stated, blue eyes squinting behind the frames of fogged-up lenses. “We gotta talk.” A few air filters to air out the place didn’t seem that bad. At least this world had a contraption that managed to do such a thing. The structure of the apartment was sound and what was the big deal of being displaced for a few days? They could get a hotel room or stay with a friend? It was an adventure! Crumpet meowed pitifully, not at all seeming to agree with Enola’s assessment of the situation. The poor cat was practically wilting, far more dramatic than any human Enola had ever needed to deal with. She stroked his fur as she listened to Richie deal with the firemen before he finally headed over to her. He looked a little off, but that was probably the smoke inhalation. Enola had no sense of how foreboding those three particular words could be. The Holmes’ didn’t talk. At least not her brothers and her mother would simply tell her whatever was on her mind when it was on her mind, no preface necessary. So she didn’t mean it as a smartass comment when she asked, “Are we not already doing that?” Was this what parenthood was truly like? Wanting to throw your child to the wolves, but they were just so perfect and amazing and you loved them too much to actually go through with it? Because Richie was about there. He sighed, reaching out to take Crumpet from Enola’s arms - the cat yowled some more, perhaps because she knew she was about to have to go into her carrier, which she hated with the fire of a thousand suns. “Yeah, we’re doing that,” he confirmed. “First topic: go pack a bag, because we’re gonna stay in Skyhold for a few days. Second topic: you almost blew up the penthouse, so you’re fucking grounded. We’ll discuss the terms on the walk to the waypoint.” Right. That’s what they’d do (because he needed to come up with what these terms actually would be - he’d never grounded anyone in his life, what the fuck??). They’d both pack, Richie would wrestle Crumpet into the carrier (and probably have a few scratches to show for his trouble), and they’d do a looooong walk. And talk. Enola almost felt bad for the cat, but as she wasn’t the one holding it and not about to be scratched she felt a little more bad for Richie. Packing a bag would be easy enough. Though she probably wouldn’t be able to salvage anything from her lab to bring with them. Maybe a notebook or two hadn’t gotten too wet when the sprinklers had burst into life. Their clothes should be perfectly fine to gather though. She didn’t think the smoke would have sunk into them quite yet. The firemen had been rather thorough. “What does grounding mean?” She was already on the ground. Was there a way to be even more so on it? She had heard of weighted blankets, perhaps there were weighted shoes as well? They didn’t seem very practical though. “And it didn’t nearly blow up. Simply caught on fire. We were still several steps away from blowing up.” “Oh my god,” Richie exhaled, all out of frustration - and whether he was frustrated at the whole situation (yes) or the fact that getting Crumpet into her carrier required tossing treats in there that she didn’t want because she knew father was betraying her (also yes), well. It was a toss-up, really - he luckily didn’t get scratched during this wrestling showdown, though there was definitely a RRREEEOOOOW and a hiss from the irritated cat. Yeah, fluffball - he got it, he definitely did. He’d already texted Max and cleared a Skyhold visit - also requested dick pics from his boyfriend because times were rough and Richie deserved a treat after returning from the war. “Either way, it smells like it blew up and catching it on fire is still not great,” he pointed out, going into his room to stuff clothes and other necessities into a bag. Guess he’d have to leave the video game consoles here and holy shit the video game consoles - he’d bring the Switch, but would just have to trust that the toxic fumes wouldn’t damage his other preciouses. There, done. He waited by the front door for Enola. “Grounding is a form of discipline. Back in my day my mom just whacked me with a wooden spoon when she cared enough to notice me acting out and that’s the thing - I’m only gonna ground you because I care about you.” That still did nothing to explain what grounding was at all. Being whacked with a wooden spoon seemed rather barbaric and something that someone from her time period might have endured. But grounding appeared to be a step up from it? Was it like finishing school? Except no, he’d said they were going to Skyhold. So, that didn’t quite add up. Why did everything have to be so confusing here? She packed as quick as she could manage and joined him by the front door, looking between Richie and Crumpet. She couldn’t decide which of them looked more frustrated with the situation. Probably the cat, but that was only because he was trapped inside of the carrier. No one liked being caged. “That still doesn’t explain what grounding is, Richie. I can’t very well adhere to it if I don’t know what it means!” And she had obviously already created enough of a fuss and didn’t want to accidentally add more to it. “We’re gonna figure out what it means together, Sassypants,” Richie replied and, hey, he was doing his best here. Not like he’d read a ton of parenting books (maybe just one or two, when he first had Enola living with him at Morningside and he did not tell a soul) but he was pretty sure that the grounding, the consequences, had to actually mean something to the specific kid - he couldn’t ban Enola from going to parties for a month because she didn’t really go to parties much anyway. That wouldn’t teach her a goddamn thing. With Crumpet still whining in her carrier (though at this point it was mostly just these pitiful mews of let me out, let me out, why does mother care not for me), he shouldered his bag and headed out the front door, taking the elevator down to the street level with his rebellious teenager in tow. There were waypoints all over the city but he knew the one that would get them to the courtyard of Skyhold the quickest (the series of waypoints, he guessed) so he’d just head in that direction. “Anyway - in general it means like, forbidding you to do something. In this case, you done fucked up with your mad science lab so you’re not allowed to go back in there for a month. However,” he added, because negotiating was cool, “...we can shorten that to two weeks if you complete a lab safety class.” She really needed one too, Jesus Kringlefucking Christ. It would be fairly difficult to head back into her lab considering they were going to be living at Skyhold for a bit, but Enola wasn’t about to bring that up. A lab safety class seemed an easy enough punishment to undertake though. It wouldn’t hurt to learn a few more safety procedures considering she didn’t want to actually burn down or blow up their apartment. “I can live that as my consequences.” She wasn’t sure where to go to a class like that but there had to be somewhere in Vallo that would offer it. “I really didn’t mean to set our house on fire.” She like their house and their living situation and Crumpet not having to be locked up in a carrier for any amount of time. This place was jizzing magic, so you best believe that once the fumes were dispersed in a few days Richie would be getting someone to ward Enola’s lab so she couldn’t go back into it - not until her punishment time limit was up. And it wasn’t like he didn’t trust her not to go into it when they were back home but still. He felt like he needed to make a point, or something. “Cool, there’s probably a class at the community college or something,” he said. “We’ll get you enrolled in one.” That seemed to be a fair compromise - and he guessed this wasn’t all bad. Staying at Skyhold would mean he and Max would get to see if they could live together without wanting to murder each other - good practice for the other M-word. Mawwiage? If getting married in such an unstable environment was even a good idea but Nyx had done it and other people had too, so maybe there was something to that. He glanced at Enola, brow furrowing. “And I’m not gonna say it’s okay but I know you didn’t mean to. I just - don’t want you to hurt yourself? I mean, if something happened to you I’d be a depressed lump of bones and nerdy glasses. Maybe with this class you also learn a little self-preservation, huh?” Enola thought she had plenty of self-preservation. She just usually tossed it aside when she was working to help out others--like when jumping off trains or getting into fights in the middle of London to try and hide someone else’s whereabouts. She hadn’t done anything as crazy as any of that since arriving in Vallo. Aside from maybe getting into a car that Zuko drove, but that was a different matter entirely though. But she supposed she would feel bad if she accidentally blew herself up and Richie had to deal with the fallout of that. Losing someone was difficult. She still wasn’t over the loss of her mother and the woman wasn’t even dead, had simply left her behind to fend for herself. And while she had taught her a great deal so she could handle the world on her own, it still cut deeply. “I’ll work on it,” she assured. “I’m not actively looking to get hurt.” “Yeah, I know - you’re a good kid. I feel pretty lucky,” Richie admitted. Maybe sometimes he was a little emotionally constipated (finger guns as I love you, anyone?) but he meant what he said and Enola was important to him; he wouldn’t ever leave her behind the way her mother had done. As someone who had grown up without a lot of parental affection, he knew how much it sucked and how much it hurt to not have anyone to give you that unconditional love when you really needed it. Because sometimes you just wanted your mom, damnit. When you were sick or sad or whatever else - and, hell, Richie would be Enola’s mom and dad. He’d make her chicken soup if she was feeling pukey, he’d take her out for pizza cones if she was upset - and he gave enough of a shit to discipline her if she did something wrong too. Hopefully he didn’t suck too badly at it; a lot of it was a learning experience for him also. “Hey, come here, Sassypants - “ He stopped by the waypoint then, turning in to wrap long arms around Enola and give her a hug. This was when the Full House music would start playing (or instead it was just Crumpet, meowing in her carrier). Hugs were still a bit of a foreign concept. She’d enjoyed them with her mother and even the housekeeper, but her brothers had been practically nonexistent and she wasn’t sure she ever really had hugged them before. Enola quickly reciprocated the hug with Richie though, trying to make sure Crumpet didn’t get too, well, crumpled. The resounding yowl from the little beast had Enola pulling away after a moment. “And you’re a pretty good adult,” Enola told him. They had both picked well all those fateful months back. “I think we better hurry to Skyhold or that one might murder us in our sleep tonight if we keep her locked in that thing a moment longer.” Crumpet let out another yowl as if agreeing with Enola’s words. Oh, right, yeah. Crumpet was going to shred her way out of the carrier if they didn’t let her loose soon - she wasn’t used to Skyhold and might revenge pee in a corner before she found her way around but they had no choice about bringing her. Richie wasn’t going to leave a living thing in with the Uranus fumes. “Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed, hand playfully ruffling Enola’s hair before he tightened his grip on the cat carrier handle. Then he touched the waypoint with his other hand, and off to Skyhold they went. Their home away from home for the next few days and, hey, maybe Enola could help out with mucking the stables as part of her grounding - Nah. Being knee-deep in horse shit sucked, and access: denied from her mad science lab was probably punishment enough. |