Rainy days in London (M) pt. 3/?

[gay-for-the-snz]

Water splashed up Elliott’s boots as Warren jumped and giggled and romped in the rain. It never rained in London–the cavern roof assured that. But on rare occasions, something more than a light sprinkle would shower residents with a force no one was prepared for. The roof of the Neath wept, and people scurried like trapped animals beneath the downpour, struggling to get to and form their duties.

Warren was jumping in puddles, her little umbrella bobbing with her as she danced and twirled and splashed water everywhere she could. She had only been in the rain a few times, as far as he was aware, and seeing her enjoy it made him happy. But…

“Ihh–iidtzh’IEWW! HiiIDTZH-! Hh’ndtZH’UU!” He sniffled desperately, trying to stave the flow as best he could. It was difficult to tell the difference between the dripping of his nose and the rainwater running down his face and hair as he trudged back towards home. He had been felt the beginning of a cold this morning, and after a full day of work and now a walk to get groceries in the rain he was certain he would be suffering for the next few days at least.

“Bless!” His daughter chirped, twirling her umbrella and jumping as hard as she could when her feet found the next puddle. She made sure to stay close to her mother as they walked. She knew the path, of course, but everything sounded different now, and she wasn’t confident she could effectively navigate on her own.

“Thank you, Rennie.” He sniffled pitifully, grimacing as he attempted to tend to his pink nose with an already soaked handkerchief from his pocket. Rain had soaked through his overcoat long ago, and catching a handsome cab was out of the question–they were all occupied by others attempting to escape the fate of feeling as if they were drowning on land. His shirt clung to his skin, his hair doing much the same to his face wherever it could.

Warren was dry, something he was incredibly grateful for, though he longed for an umbrella like she carried. He had considered asking to hold it and they both share it, but it was much too small for him, let alone the two of them at once. So he allowed her to carry it in pining silence.

“Mum, you gotta ‘elp me with my work when we get back.” She offered, having slowed her excitement a bit to ensure her mother heard her.

“Ihh…hiiIDTZH! I’ll…ohh…Lordhavemercy–hh’nDTZH’U! Iitsh’iew!’tdTSH’IEW! Nngh…hih…ihh-? …guh.” He pinched his nose between the folds of his depleted handkerchief, too embarrassed to dare attempt to blow but needing to at least attempt to fix his predicament. “Sorry Warren. I–snff–I would love to help you. I’m just…not feeling too well.”

“Well you never are.” Warren offered, much to his chagrin.

“Er…I suppose, yes. I’m sorry, yes, I would love to help you with your work. But first I need to change my clothes, please. Why don’t I fix you a sandwich and set you up to eat while I take a quick bath?” He was nearly pleading at this point, hoping Warren was in good enough spirits from her adventure in the rain to not raise too much of a fuss over being forced to wait while he tended to himself.

:M’kay. I’m gonna draw with Artie while you get all warm an’ such.” She genuinely surprised him with how accommodating she was being. “Are you gonna smell pretty when you’re done?”

“Er, probably not this time, no. I’m not feeling well, and the pretty smells make me feel sicker. My nose gets funny when I’m sick, and things make me a bit more sneezy than usual.” He doubted he was doing a good job explaining anything, but at this point it was the best he could do at the moment.

Elliott pulled the door open to the house, grateful to have finally made it home. It felt like he’d been walking for an eternity, and the veritable ocean that was forming on his floorboards from where he stood was a good sign it had been longer than he had hoped it would take.

“Mum, c’mere.” Warren whispered, tossing her umbrella aside and stretching up onto her toes.

“Yes, dear?” He bent down to her level, prepared to hear whatever sage words of wisdom she intended to impart. Her little hands cupped his face, and bringing him closer.

She was quiet another moment before gently poking his nose. “Boop!” She giggled as she ran off towards her room, leaving Elliott behind.

He scarcely had time to understand what she had meant before he had to turn aside, sneezing openly towards his already wet floor. “IiSHH! Hid’TZH’UH! Ihh–hhih’ndtzh’IEWW!”

Lord…the beginning of what was certainly going to be a brutal week.

[starpollen]

Awww poor guy ❤️ So cute!

[Willowwhip]

God bless. This poor...Father? Why is the child calling him Mum?

[gay-for-the-snz]

18 hours ago, starpollen said:

Awww poor guy ❤️ So cute!

Thank you 💕omg, I'm glad people still like reading about him

17 hours ago, Willowwhip said:

God bless. This poor...Father? Why is the child calling him Mum?

Elliott exists for other RP purposes, and he technically has a husband and second child, but since they aren't my characters they aren't included in this usually except a brief mention in passing on occasion, but Warren dreamed of having a mum and dad wasn't going to let having two dads stand in the way of her dream. So Elliott was designated as Mum since he was more traditionally feminine with long hair and floral perfume (he doesn't mind), and his husband was designated as Dad 😊 hope this helps clear things up!

[gay-for-the-snz]

There was an odd sensation on Elliott’s chest as he was dragged from his hazy slumber and back to reality. He cracked open a reddened eye in a clumsy and halfhearted attempt to discern what was happening.

He was met by the rotund form of Arthur, the fat orange tabby purring as he sat on the lanky American’s chest and vibrated. Good Lord, when had he even fallen asleep? Was he in bed? Why in Heaven’s name was Arthur on top of him?

Warren was holding up Arthur enough that his full weight wasn’t rested against her mum’s chest–she was pretty sure he’d kill him if he did (maybe)–but it always made her feel better when Artie was making his rumblies against her, so surely it would do the same for Mum?

Elliott was humbled by the efforts his children were going to for him, and was content to simply lay there and allow them to believe he was still asleep. His nose, however, had other plans. “Iitsh’uu!” He smothered a surprisingly dainty sneeze against his wrist, surprising everyone in the room in the process.

Arthur hissed and freed himself from Warren’s grasp, struggling to escape the room. “Die!” Was his only statement before he practically waddled from the room, leaving a small cloud of orange hair in his wake.

Did Arthur really have to tell him to die every time he sneezed? He rolled onto his side, snatching up a handkerchief from his nightstand and preparing for the inevitable. “Hih…hih–IDTZH’iew! Hh’ndtzh! Ihh…hah-! Guh.” He gently pinched his nose to wipe away the moisture, wincing at the pain from the abuse it had already suffered at his own hands. He couldn’t see himself in the mirror on the vanity, but he was certain he looked poorly.

“Bless.” Warren sounded embarrassed as she mumbled, toying with the ruffles on her bloomers. She hadn’t expected him to be awake so soon, and instead to just take Artie for the night while she went to sleep herself. She hesitated a second before climbing up onto the bed and practically slapping Elliott as she attempted to feel for a fever.

“Ah! Rennie, what are you doing?” He flinched as her grubby hands made contact with his face. Why were they sticky!? He needed to bribe her into a bath again, Lord have mercy.

“Nothin’.” She replied casually, climbing back down onto the floor. “Uhh…g’night.” She dashed out of the bedroom, socks slipping a bit as she barreled around the corner.

“Goodnight…?” He was left sitting in bed, staring at the now empty doorway. Perhaps he should talk to her in the morning. For now, sleep sounded too enticing to pass up, and he sank back into the blankets with a comfortable sigh.

[Willowwhip]

5 hours ago, JustAnotherGuy said:

Thank you 💕omg, I'm glad people still like reading about him

Elliott exists for other RP purposes, and he technically has a husband and second child, but since they aren't my characters they aren't included in this usually except a brief mention in passing on occasion, but Warren dreamed of having a mum and dad wasn't going to let having two dads stand in the way of her dream. So Elliott was designated as Mum since he was more traditionally feminine with long hair and floral perfume (he doesn't mind), and his husband was designated as Dad 😊 hope this helps clear things up!

Ohhhhhh okay. Yeah that was confusing. Very cute though. Love 

[Willowwhip]

Awhhhhh worried daughter. Adorable 

[gay-for-the-snz]

"Mum? Mum wake up, 're you listening to me?"

Elliott was shaken awake by a pair of little hands on his shoulder and face to get him up. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to doze off. What was your question?"

"Wanted to know when you were born? Been workin' on my numbers with Artie, an' I gotta practice subtraction an' such." She looked up from her paper where she had been drawing again--she was getting better, too! It was easier to see the shapes when the candles were behind things so she could see better.

"I was born in 1873, and it's 1898 now. Do you know how old that makes me?" He picked back up the needle and thread from his quilting, resuming his efforts. He hadn't the faintest idea how long he had been asleep, but not long enough for his thread to disappear forever into the dark oblivion of beneath the sofa.

"Uhh..." She trailed off, counting up on her fingers. "Twenty-three?" There was a sincere hopefulness in her voice, speaking at a low volume to obscure her answer should it turn out to be incorrect.

"Right! I'm twenty-three, almost twenty-four now. And since we know you're eight, what year does that mean you were born in?" He was struggling to keep his eyes open, but continued work anyway. He was frigid despite the fire burning in the hearth right by him, and he was certain he was running a fever. There was a deep itch in the back of his nose that didn't do him the luxury of abating despite the way he mashed a knuckle to it.

"I already know that one, doesn't count. 1888, an' Artie too. We're right proper bruv an' sis!" She beamed up at him, a wide smile on her face that showcased her missing teeth and crinkled her eyes in a way that melted her mum to the core. Good Lord he was blessed to call her his daughter.

"You're vih--IIIDT'shiew! Heh--hiidt'zh! Hindt'ZHuh! Please 'scuse me Warr'n, I--hih-! 'dtzh!--ntsh'iew!" Elliott looked over steepled hands with watery eyes, pitying himself quite thoroughly. He groaned, exhausted from the effort of simply existing in the moment, and wrestling with whether or not to allow himself the luxury of relieving some of the congestion he was afflicted with.

Warren appeared to be one step ahead of him, sighing dramatically and turning around, covering up her hands with her ears. "Jus' do it, ya dummy."

Elliott hesitated a few seconds before snatching up his handkerchief and taking advantage of this opportunity to finally get a moment of breath through his blocked nose. He took a tentative sniff, testing whether he had done himself any good or not. It seemed he had, and he sighed thankfully. A long leg was extended to gently nudge Warren, and she seemed highly unimpressed with his behaviour. "I'm gonna go get s'more rocks. Don't die 'till me or Artie're back."

With that, the ailing American was left alone on the couch, the sound of a knife blade scraping against the outside of the door signalling his daughter's departure. He sighed and cozied up beneath what he had made of the quilt. For now, he intended to rest.