Gladiolus Amicitia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sword_chocobro) wrote2023-11-18 07:23 am
sword_chocobro) wrote2023-11-18 07:23 am
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43 Unicorn Street; Saturday Morning [11/18].
Not that there was really any reason to need an excuse to stay over at Nell's these days, but last night actually had been a very practical sleepover, since Gladio had made some plans for a nice little belated birthday weekend get-away with Nell, and it was just that much more convenient for catching their portal in the morning, because, of course, he wanted to get some good hiking in at their destination before they got around to the nice rest and relaxation in the little cabin in the mountains he'd booked.
Clearly, however, that morning, things were....not exactly going to plan.
Because....well, you know how this one went. When Gladio did finally wake up, yawning and stretching and frowning a little over the fact that he'd slept in, which meant that he'd probably missed his chance to sneak in on the Crownsguard training that morning, he was also a little confused by another person in the bed with him. He groaned a little, rolling his eyes, thinking it was Iris having snuck in because she was scared or just being kind of a brat, but it was pretty obvious this wasn't his sister pretty quickly. Some friend of hers, maybe? Someone brought in to help take care of her, like the King had that Scientia boy take care of the Prince?
Well, whatever it was, it wasn't his problem. His problem right now was that the Crownsguard was probably half into all the good forms by now, and if he didn't hurry up, he'd miss all of the good training, and then the Marshall would give him a lecture about tardiness, or, even worse, he'd get it from his dad! So he wasn't going to pay any mind to the little girl as he pulled back the covers, rolled out of bed, and tried to get his bearings a moment, trying to find some shoes and wondering if he'd have time to coax a quick breakfast out of the cook before he rushed off to the Citadel.
[[ for she whose place this actually is! ]]
Clearly, however, that morning, things were....not exactly going to plan.
Because....well, you know how this one went. When Gladio did finally wake up, yawning and stretching and frowning a little over the fact that he'd slept in, which meant that he'd probably missed his chance to sneak in on the Crownsguard training that morning, he was also a little confused by another person in the bed with him. He groaned a little, rolling his eyes, thinking it was Iris having snuck in because she was scared or just being kind of a brat, but it was pretty obvious this wasn't his sister pretty quickly. Some friend of hers, maybe? Someone brought in to help take care of her, like the King had that Scientia boy take care of the Prince?
Well, whatever it was, it wasn't his problem. His problem right now was that the Crownsguard was probably half into all the good forms by now, and if he didn't hurry up, he'd miss all of the good training, and then the Marshall would give him a lecture about tardiness, or, even worse, he'd get it from his dad! So he wasn't going to pay any mind to the little girl as he pulled back the covers, rolled out of bed, and tried to get his bearings a moment, trying to find some shoes and wondering if he'd have time to coax a quick breakfast out of the cook before he rushed off to the Citadel.
[[ for she whose place this actually is! ]]
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When he hopped up she slid carefully off the big bed and tried not to even look at him before slipping silently to the kitchen to put on water for tea and get the day started. Boy or not, menfolk had to be treated with respect, so she'd best get a breakfast made. Maybe she was just five, but she knew how to make some oatmeal and eggs and get some toast going - even in these new-fangled looking machines.
She'd have some toast with jam and butter on the table by the time he'd found his shoes. And hopefully a shirt.
But just in case this was actually one of Amos or Rufus's stupid friends...
"Ain't nobody gettin' fed who ain't wearin' a shirt and coverin' they'un's own self up like they's s'posed to!" she shouted towards the bedroom.
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"Who are you, anyway?" he snorted faintly as he went over to snag some of that toast before his attention curiously shifted toward everything else being made right now. "Are you even old enough to be using a stove?"
He'd already made pretty quick work of that first piece of toast, popped the last bite into his mouth, and went for another one. He was a growing Shield of the King here! He needed a lot of fuel!
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Menfolk.
Still, any of the Mamas would be quick to blister her behind if'n she was rude to a guest.
"I'm Nell," she said, from the chair where she was currently overseeing the eggs so she could flip 'em when they were ready. "And you'un'd better hope I'm old enough to use a stove, 'cause it don't look like any of the Mamas are around to cook."
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With a second piece of toast in hand, his worry about some little kid messing around in the kitchen started to supersede his concern about sneaking into Crownsguard training, so he moved closer to see what it was she'd been working on to make sure she wasn't going to just burn the whole place down.
"Usually," he added, with a mouthful of toast, "there's a cook who does all of this."
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There was a bit of panic as he came closer to the stove. "What is you'un doing? Go sit. Your eggs are almost ready and I'll bring 'em right over."
Imagine if her father - or his - were to walk in and think she was expecting himbto help with the food!
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Though it was being boastful which was a different sin. Oh, dear.
"And that's why I've got me a chair, so's I can reach," she pointed out, sliding four eggs on to one plate and two onto another before carefully moving the frying pan off the hot spot and turning the stove to off. She ladeled a big portion of oatmeal into one bowl and a much smaller portion into another before climbing down. "Go sit 'fore you'un gets us both in trouble."
She hustled the plates for the boy over and returned with some syrups and honey and cream she'd found for the oatmeal. "I 'pologize for not knowing what you like on your oatmeal, but if'n you tell me I'll get it all set up for you while you start on the rest."
Drat, she'd forgotten the tea! She went back up on the chair to carefully pour out two mugs and brought his over to the table.
"Well?" she asked. "How do you like your tea and oatmeal? Or I can pour you some milk if you'un wants that instead. Or as well."
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He did pull out a chair and sit down once she was starting to settle, though. "I don't really drink tea," he said, "but juice is good. And I can fix my own oatmeal, you don't gotta do all that, and this way, I can make it exactly how I like it, you know?"
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She got the juice and stomped it over - as much as a very slight five year old could stomp, he might not even notice - and moved the cream and syrups away from him before she carefully poured him a cup of juice.
"Is this 'posed to be some sort of test?" she asked suspiciously. "You start to put stuff in your oatmeal and then yell for a Mama to complain that I'm not behaving like a proper Church girl should?"
Definitely not one of Sam's friends. Sam was nice and even gave her chewing gum sometimes.
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Although that did have him squinting his eyes at this weird kid for a moment and now he had to say this next part, just to see if it blew her tiny little brain wide open, based on what he felt he was starting to put together here.
"Sometimes," he said, "I even make my sister's oatmeal for her."
Not because she was a baby (although she really pretty much was), but because he just liked doing it for her, so there!
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"You do not. The Mamas wouldn't let you. And your dad would prob'ly whip you if they caught you doin' women's work. And lying is a sin, so you'un is gonna have to confess tomorrow in front of God and everybody at meeting tomorrow."
And what did his age have to do with anything? Her father was a lot older than nine and he'd sure as shootin' never fix his own oatmeal. He'd never so much as get his own coffee. Or even bring a dish to the sink!
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It helped that Iris pretty much adored everything about her big brother, but, hey, he came by it honestly!
Then he had to snort into his juice after he'd grabbed it and lifted it for a drink. "Women's work," he repeated. "Who told you that kind of thing, anyway?"
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"Everyone knows that," she said primly."Is your father a backslider or something? Did you just come back to God's Cloud of Glory? You better learn you'un the rules or you're gonna get yourself and other people in trouble. Now," back to the important stuff . "What do you want in your oatmeal."
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More like...God's Cloud of Farts, probably!
(What? He was nine!)
"But I do know that it can't be that great if it they won't even let me make my own oatmeal. Sounds like a Nif thing, if we're honest..."
It did become pretty clear that this kid wasn't going to let him actually make his own oatmeal, and he was definitely not about to pick a fight with a little girl, so he just sort of looked at her while he tried to figure out where to take this next.
"Guess I'll just take it plain," he decided, pulling his bowl in closer so he could start digging in, because he was wasting a lot of good training time with this nonsense already.
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And where was everyone anyway? She'd never even set foot in such a tiny and quiet house.
Just no sense to any of this.
But maybe... She put her hand to her forehead, the way her Mama did sometimes when she was sick. Nope. No fever. But maybe he had a fever and was having 'lucintions like Amos had that one time. Maybe that's why it was just her and him - she was 'posed to take care of him 'cause he was sick.
"S'okay," she said with a sigh. "We can pretend about your dad and all. And if you really want to make your own oatmeal this one time it's okay. What with you and the 'lucintions and all."
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