cleanliness is next to godliness

Dad

POSTED: Tue Mar 21, 2017 11:25 am

Spring cleaning! With warm weather right around the bend, why not clear out your den?

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Alot of responsibilities had been dropped during the early months of the year to support the war effort. Spaces in the Mansion had gone untidied, repairs had been pushed back and some forgotten altogether. There was one, however that stuck in Oriole's mind.

He remembered it clearly: his father's scream, the splintered and shattered floorboards, and the gaping hole that looked down into the eerie dark. He walked carefully up to it but kept clear of the edge. The boards beneath him creaked a warning. Thinking better of it he skirted the edge until he reached the stairs and descended into darkness.

Even with the light streaming through the hole in the ceiling the basement was dark. Further in where the last tendrils of light faded away Oriole saw nothing but blackness. He tried to suppress his imagination, tried not to wonder what the darkness held. His young mind flitted between far-flung possiblities each as unlikely as the next, but he turned his back in favor of the light. When he did the hairs along his spine prickled and his unease lingered.

Pushing through his anxiety the adolescent bent to gather up fallen boards and debris from the basement floor. But there was only so much he could carry by hand and he frowned. He was going to need something put the debris into so it was easier to carry, and something to scoop it with now that he thought about it. He dropped his load, brushed himself off, and headed back up the stairs in search of a broom.

Last edited by Oriole de l'Or on Fri Jul 07, 2017 10:00 am, edited 1 time in total.
Oriole de l'Or

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POSTED: Tue Apr 04, 2017 11:21 am

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Cartier was healed for the most part but he still had his aches and pains that troubled him from time to time. Ever once in awhile it was so unbearable that he had to go to Harosheth for some poppy tea. He was trying wean off of that though. Harosheth had been giving him smaller and smaller amounts over time because she was trying to make sure he wasn't about to get addicted. Those first few nights without it had been terrible. He'd had the chills and the shakes, that combined with the pains that he already experienced. It had been torture but he knew Harosheth was right. He needed a clear head if he was going to get back to where he had been before the accident. Though now he was learning things would never be the same and the bliss he felt from the poppy tea called to him. He had no need for a clear head now that he was useless.

He had thought to slip out to the Hospital House for the brew when he caught Oriole coming from a room that he had declared to be strictly off limits. What are you doing in there? Don't you know it is dangerous and that you shouldn't be in there? He asked as he hobbled his way over, one arm slung around his chest to hold onto his ribs. They always pained him now when he tried to move quickly.

He sought to look over his son for some sort of injury that he might have gotten from venturing into the danger zone. Even though Oriole was old enough to shift now Cartier couldn't help seeing him as a pup that needed to be protected. That place is off limits for a reason. He said as his worried gaze flitted over his son's body.

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POSTED: Mon Apr 17, 2017 11:04 am

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Oriole's shift from obedient pup to adolescent had resulted in a very willful young man. It merely solidified the drive and determination he'd shown as a child and with it a stronger sense of self. He grew stubborn and questioned his parents orders, protesting that he had shifted and was now an adult. Whether that was true remains to be seen. But most of all Oriole was determined to help.

Oriole tread the stairs carefully, his brown paws grey with cement dust. His dad's voice surprised him, Cartier was limited by his injuries and rarely went far. Oriole doubted it was not for lack of trying, more so a strict physical limitation that forbade long jaunts. He stopped at the top of the stairs, frowning, though his ear flicked with discomfort. He dusted himself off and tried to avoid his father's eye.

I thought...Since everyone's just been so busy recovering from the war, I'd clean up a bit. His hand rose to the back of his neck to rub away a pretend ache as he tried not to fidget. He was still avoiding his father's gaze and his words neither gave nor hinted at an apology.

He could sense Cartier's worry and twitched an ear in annoyance when he felt his father's eyes roam his body. I'm fine, Dad. He said, dismissive. I'm not a puppy anymore. Near fully grown Oriole stood taller than some adults, however gawky his limbs remained. He was certain that whatever an adult was allowed to do, he was too. He didn't like it when his father babied him, even more so now.

Slightly anxious and a little irritated Oriole wasn't sure what else to say, he really wanted to help. And this spot had been the first to come to mind. Do you know where the brooms are? He asked slightly sheepish, but determined.

Last edited by Oriole de l'Or on Fri Jul 07, 2017 10:01 am, edited 1 time in total.
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POSTED: Mon Apr 24, 2017 5:56 pm

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There are other places to clean. Just... not there. Cartier eyed the room as if it might be rabid and would attack at any moment. You could have chosen absolutely anywhere else. Why start there? He didn't know when Oriole had become disobedient. Had that happened during the time he was unable to be a father? When he wasn't able to be around to watch over Oriole and keep him out of trouble? Was it spite that had driven his once devoted son to become rebellious? It wasn't like Cartier thought himself out to be too strict. He had only stated this one area to be off limits. How was that so hard to follow?

Cartier's brow furrowed into a frown when Oriole dismissed his concerns. You'll always be my puppy. He spoke quietly and averted his own gaze. He fidgeted and picked at the scar on his arm, something he hadn't done for quite awhile. The tone had struck deep within Cartier and served to reaffirmed the thoughts he had been having that his family no longer needed him. It just further proved how useless he was.

One shoulder was lifted into a shrug when he was asked about the broom. I don't know. Probably in a storage closet somewhere. He had never sought out a broom and so he didn't know where to begin to look. Versace would probably know. Even Jehan might since he used to clean their room before Cartier had become a full time occupant. There might be one around the kitchen. Versace would probably keep one nearby to clean with. He continued to stare at the floor as he spoke and didn't even seem to notice when his arm started to bleed. But then when he fretted he hardly ever paid attention to the harm that he did himself but just focused on his worried thoughts instead.

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POSTED: Tue Apr 25, 2017 7:03 pm

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Oriole averted his gaze feeling the weight of his father's disappointment. He looked down at his dusty feet, his ears dropping back. It wasn't getting done...and, and I didn't want anyone else to get hurt. His brows knit, he didn't want his father to think he was blaming him or somehow resented him for his injuries. He supposed a part of him felt responsible for fixing what Cartier had broken, if only to ensure no one else met the same fate.

I wanted to fix it first, but then I remembered...I don't know how. The slightest hint of a grin tugged sheepishly at the corners of his mouth before it died there as he glimpsed the heavy look on his father's face. So...I thought I'd just, clean it up instead.

Oriole knew the rule, he just didn't think it applied to him anymore given his age and rank. Cartier seemed to think differently and when his voice dropped with sentiment Oriole folded his ears flat. He simply couldn't resent the love his father implied. I know, Dad. I'm just...grown-up. He was feeling uncomfortable now but it had less to do with his own emotions and more so with his father's change in tone. He took a step towards him. You'll always be my Dad.

Oriole drew closer intending to comfort his father but instead his eyes caught on the gleam of blood against Cartier's tawny fur. Dad, stop! His remarks about the broom fell on deaf ears as Oriole moved to still his father's hand. You're bleeding.

Last edited by Oriole de l'Or on Fri Jul 07, 2017 10:02 am, edited 1 time in total.
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POSTED: Wed May 17, 2017 5:25 pm

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If the room remained locked and the door blocked then no one could get in to get hurt. And to Cartier it really was as simple as that. Just quarantine off the room and forget all about it. He didn't pause to consider should anything ever be needed from the storage area. He would have suggested just moving it all elsewhere but still that would lead to bodies having to enter and exit that room multiple times. No matter what it didn't seem as if there were to be an easy solution for the issue.

Nathaniel was a carpenter but he left Inferni. Not that such a tidbit of information actually helped anything. Maddox was good with fixing things too. Another piece of information that wouldn't help. I guess we don't have anyone anymore who can fix it. He was left at a loss of who to suggest about speaking too on how to go about fixing the hole in the floor. His first to picks were unavailable to them.

He gave a nod of his head when he was reminded that Oriole was now grown. I know. And you no longer need me around telling you what to do. He spoke what he felt the reminder had implied. A half hearted shrug was given when he felt that Oriole was trying to smooth things over by saying that he would always be his Dad.

Cartier blinked and looked up when he was told to stop, having not fully realized what he had been doing. He glanced down when his hand was grabbed. It's fine. It doesn't even hurt. He said as he rubbed his arm against his side, serving to smear the blood around. Let's go get you that broom.

Cartier put his hand out in order to brace against the wall as he made his way towards the kitchen. His steps were stiff and made with little limping hops as weight was put only briefly on his ankle that hadn't healed correctly. It still served to pain him on occasion, mostly when he was still and tried to put the full amount of his weight on the joint. Maybe Versace will also have some sort of lunch cooking that we can sneak away with. It was an attempt at trying to lighten the mood.

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POSTED: Tue Jun 06, 2017 12:01 pm

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We can't just ignore it, Dad. We'll never get into the storage with this blocked off. He was young but old enough to know that ignoring a problem didn't make it go away.

A grim thought passed through his mind at Maddox's mention like a storm cloud. She'd been kind to him as a pup and however fleeting their acquaintance was it was still a loss he felt.

Maybe the library will have something? If they had no one else with hands-on knowledge it was worth a try. Then maybe we could look at it together? Cartier was down but not out. Oriole was determined to make him see, to get him involved. He would have embraced his father had he not seen the blood of the open wound, which Cartier quickly dismissed. Oriole wasn't as quick to let it go. You're always doing that. He murmured whether or not his father paid it any mind. Cartier didn't seem to, he was already searching his mind for a broom.

Oriole watched his father hobble and hop in a moment of hesitation. He didn't want his father feeling any worse, but he couldn't not help. The golden backed boy slid his arm beneath his father's and around his back, supporting only as much weight as Cartier needed.

Yeah, he said in a lighter tone of voice. Better not to work on an empty stomach-- I think Aunt Versace would agree. He flicked his brown tipped tail. Dad? Oriole asked. Where were you going earlier? Seeing his dad in the sitting room had caught him off-guard.

Last edited by Oriole de l'Or on Fri Jul 07, 2017 10:03 am, edited 2 times in total.
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POSTED: Mon Jun 12, 2017 11:38 pm

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Nobody has been using that stuff in there anyways. It is all covered in dust. I don't think anyone even knows what all is in there. He certainly didn't. To him it appeared to just be a room to collect whatever you wanted out of the way in. A place to store things that were meant to be forgotten. He had never witnessed anyone going in and out of that room. Granted he also had never had any cause to watch the room too closely either.

You don't need me to read to you. For that was the only thing that Cartier could think that he would be capable of helping with. Oriole would likely be able to go through the whole collection quicker without him there to get in the way. So even that option would have him being a hindrance rather than a help. That ended up not making it a true option after all.

Cartier glanced back when Oriole didn't let his habit just drop. He demands penance. You either perform it willingly or else He takes it himself. Not that he had ever forced his children to participate, or even demanded that they adhere to his religion. He had read from the Bible to them when they were little but he didn't force it on them should they have not shown an interest in listening to the stories. He had even stopped performing penance for the sake of his children. Of course he believed that he was now paying for it, that God had extracted it from him and took all from him to make up for his slipping.

Cartier offered up a small smile, though tinged in sadness still, when Oriole came over to help him out. You really don't have to. I can manage. Not that he was managing very well. Cartier was simply the type that typically asked for help. In fact it was a rare moment for him to ever admit that he needed any sort of help.

Then perhaps we won't get into too much trouble if we get caught. And if not then Cartier would take the blame for it. It had been his idea to take the food in the first place. Perhaps he could even prove to be a distraction should his son need one in order to get away with the goodies.

Cartier lifted and lowered one shoulder in a shrug when it was asked where he had been going. Was just going to check in with Harosheth. Nothing all that important.

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POSTED: Mon Jun 19, 2017 1:38 pm

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Well not with a big hole in the floor. He wouldn't let his father dwell in self-misery. Oriole nearly sighed in exasperation, but curbed the impulse. Not to read, Dad- I mean you were fixing up the windows when the floor fell through- I wouldn't know where to begin fixing anything. Reading was one thing doing: another. I don't even know where the tools are. Fleetingly his free hand grazed the back of his head.

Oriole's brows furrowed deeply. I know that Dad, but penance for what? You haven't done anything. But Oriole was forgetting something.

He shouldered his dad's weight selflessly, perhaps stubbornly and merely said, I want to. He couldn't stand to see his father suffer.

The whole "sneak away" bit had been lost on the boy causing him to dumbly, oh a beat later. Oriole wasn't humorless but his thoughtful nature made him miss a few things from time to time. There were so often other things on his mind.

At her mention, Haroseth's poppy tea quickly came to mind. But I thought you were getting off the tea. They were nearing the kitchen now but Oriole quickly paused. Are you okay, Dad? His brows were knit and his mouth made a solemn line. Cartier's injuries had been devastating for the whole family but Oriole thought he'd been on the mend. Either it was just wishful thinking or his dad's injuries were worse than he thought.

Last edited by Oriole de l'Or on Fri Jul 07, 2017 10:04 am, edited 1 time in total.
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POSTED: Thu Jun 22, 2017 1:37 pm

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I don't know how to go about fixing up the floor except to cover it up. Don't know if we even got anything that big. His brow furrowed as he tried to think of anything large enough to cover the hole with. He couldn't think of anything on hand that would serve for that purpose. I was just putting boards up over the windows. Nothing at all to it. He shrugged it off as he had saw it as being a simple thing that anyone could do. They used to be kept in the storage closet in the hall but I'm not sure if they ever got put back. Or if his supplies had ever been brought up from the basement. He had been out of the loop for so long now. Could always go to the city to find more if need be.

Cartier chuckled and shook his head. I'm a born sinner, son. He reached over to clasp his son's shoulder. My relationship with your Papa is not to be supported. I have the belief that you can do better than me and not be drawn in by sin and temptation. At least he seriously hoped that his son would have a proper relationship, that he would be able to do what Cartier couldn't.

Again Cartier shrugged when the tea was mentioned. I am alive, if that is what you mean. I can still move about. Albeit with difficulties. There are some days that are more difficult than others. He finally admitted. He was no longer throwing up all the time from pain but there were still days where breathing proved to be an issue. But Cartier was no stranger to pain. In fact he felt that he deserved it.

Once in the kitchen Cartier hobbled over to a chair and sat down. He lightly pressed a hand against his side and held it there. Over in that corner. He nodded his head in the direction to where the broom was propped up against the wall. It will have to be returned so that your aunt doesn't have a fit looking for it.

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