They Say Home Is Where The Heart Is... [cont'd]

[Lancet && Jones]

<sub>The lights were a welcoming sight, still flickering in the windows. No doubt put there to attract company. He rolled his eyes and muttered something indistinguishable, which was probably for the best as he trudged wearily up the heavy steps to the door of number thirteen, stuffing his key awkwardly into the lock, half-pulling Will over the threshold.

"Cerith!" He shouted, scowling as he pushed the door shut with a considerable bang, causing the only candle in the atrium to extinguish itself in protest. The thick silence was almost a certain indication that there was no living thing in the entire house, but James had a somewhat irritable look about him, and tried again.

"Ceridwen! Confound it, woman!" He shouted, and still there was no reply. "Damn nuisance that girl..." He murmured, pushing open the door to the haunting yet rather comfortable-looking living room. Soft bottle-green sofas collected around a smouldering log fire, and oil lamps flickered in brackets along the crimson walls, and the polished wooden floor was covered with a Persian silk spun rug.

"Sit..." James encouraged, before turning from the room and removing his soaked blazer, the sleeves of his white shirt stuck to his skin, and his waistcoat running with the collected rain. He seemed slightly younger without the dark tweed constraints of his professional jacket, and a more carefree kind of individual. He moved back into the room, tending to the fire, casting a match among the ashen logs, reigniting the reluctant embers that continued to blink pathetically. It was apparent now that Ceridwen, his nurse and general cleaner/carer/cook and bottle washer was still out. How long did it take to pick snowdrops? He sighed, casting a glance out if the window. The street was deserted, thankfully.</sub>

[silverlynxcat]

<sub>It was the flicker of warm golden light from the windows that caused the male to lift his head from the dismal sight of the dreary, wet ground which scuffed the soles and chilled the skin of his feet. The only bright side being that it washed the mud and dirt from his feet which had previously clung to him with the stubbornness dirt was famous for. His feet plodded in the puddles as he staggered up the steps to the front door. His eyes drawn to the soft glow from the windows which promised warmth.

He grunted as he was hauled through the door with more force than he felt was necessary as he was mostly walking now, only needing little support from James to stop himself tumbling back to meet the hard ground beneath him. However his irritance was soon forgotten as a warm heat flourished to meet him as soon as his feet touched the carpet of the hall and his cold, wet skin tingled at this new, and rather strange rush of heat. He shrugged off the man's coat which he'd been given on their travels here and hung it up on a hook away from the other coats so not to get the drier coverings wet.

He winced as the door slammed with needless force and James proved to be a rather loud man as he suddenly hollered a name foreign to the younger vampire, and he was silent as the doctor seemed to grow irritated with the lack of response until he yelled again. The truth seemed finally dawn on the older gent and he seemed to at last accept the idea that this 'Cerith' he called for, was not in.

Following the doctor quietly with a small limp from his numb foot he peered uncertainly around the doorframe of the living room, seemingly hesitant about entering, but the man's encouragement and the sight of the fireplace convinced him to press onward. However he did not place himself on the sofa but instead on the floor, in front of the fire place and watched as the rekindled tongues of heat grew more ferocious the more of the wood they ravaged.

A new colour of red and gold blushed the boy's cheeks and his eyes seemed to dance and glimmer blue and silver as they reflected the light. But it was merely the fire that made him look so much more healthy, the way the heat touched his skin. His clothes clung to him like a second skin, the white linen shirt nearly see through by how stubbornly it gripped him, his usually loose black trousers suddenly skin tight. His bangs heavy and dripping with gathered water trickled down his neck. But Will seemed oblivious to this as he sat in front of the first domestic fire he'd ever sat in front of, and he simply sat there, eyes closed so not to irritate them with the heat of the fire.</sub>

[Lancet && Jones]

<sub>He rarely ventured himself into Ceridwen's domain, but needs must as the devil drives. She tended to lock the kitchen door, though it seemed on this occasion he was in luck, as it swung open at the touch, and he descended the five short steps that led into the out-of-place room. It was not cold and clinical and impressive like the rest of the house, which was built either to prove how wealthy the owner was, or if not this the rooms were unforgiving and sterile. As if no one really lived there. And in all honesty no one did. It was kept clean just in case James ever desired to spend time there, but other than that the two inhabitants of the terraced house kept to their own spaces, and respected each others.

Cerith let herself dwell in the kitchen, and the pantry, and the tiny servants' quarters to the side. A fire burned, casting the warmest of orange light over the flagged stone floor, the rough wooden furniture and the many coopers that hung from the ceiling. He passed to the stove, where a kettle stood rather bluntly to one side, as if reluctant to stray anywhere near the fires. James lifted it onto the hot plate, walking away as the warm water began to bubble and hiss. He fought through the flowered and quaint tea cups to find the old chipped and plain set he preferred. Minly because they seemed to hold far more tea, and they didn't look idiotic and feminine. He set the teapot on the stand, accompanied by all he could find or prepare food wise. That being half a fruit loaf Ceridwen had left on the table.

Tray in his hands, he headed back up the stairs, quite gracefully banging his head on the way up and consequently cursing about it until he had found his way back to the drawing room.
"Blasted ceiling..." He murmured, setting the neat tray in front of the boy. "Hot drink, food, and if you want anything else just... go and find it somewhere..." He said, moving several instrumental trays from the corner and handing Will the only towels he could find without having to trouble himself with the stairs. "Where are your injuries, boy?" He asked, sitting opposite with a rather interested expression on his face.</sub>

[silverlynxcat]

<sup>Will didn’t pay any attention as the doctor pottered around his keep. His eyes were transfixed on the fire and the warmth that wrapped around his body like soft, warm woolly blanket. He shifted his position slightly and began to rub his hand to his upper arm. Rubbing the still thoroughly wet shirt against his flesh in an attempt to try and dry it more swiftly. Despite the fact he was in front of a fire. He was still trembling slightly due to the wet garments.

His sickly pale face however, was dry. It shone with some remaining moisture which the heat of the fire happily licked away as the male sat, curled up tight. His legs pulled up to his chest and arms wounding around his knees he sat huddled to the fire as close as he dare. Biting gently on his lower lip which thankfully no longer tinted blue. And then he took the priority of slowly rubbing his feet. Aiming to try and get the feeling back into them or walking would be pretty difficult.

The thud distracted him and his head shot up and he returned back to sitting with his arms folded across his legs, feet tucked under him. Not wanting to seem like was feeling comfortable enough to stay. So he remained in a more reclusive position, huddled against the blazing embers of the fire which had grown stronger the more of the food they devoured.

He watched the man enter with a tray, curiosity perking his head up slightly.

"Hot drink, food, and if you want anything else just... go and find it somewhere..."

He looked at the tray set on the rug beside him. Prodding the kettle but swiftly redrew his finger with a stifled yelp, more of shock than pain, when his finger was burnt by the hot surface. He picked up one of the towels he’d been given and simply sat on it so the furry rug he sat on wouldn’t get wet from his clothes and otherwise left the towels. Preferring to dry by the fire as it could do more effectively than a towel could do. Probably in less time too.

So unsure about the kettle, he hesitantly picked up the bread, eyes flicking upwards to see if James was to make any complaint before he bit into it. The taste was indeed very different to the plain bread he was used to stealing. It had a fresh sweet taste and happily continued trough it at a rather ravenous pace.

Will paused when James spoke once again, pausing mid bite. “No injuries” he replied lightly. “I’m fine” his feet were still quite numb other than tingling oddly, but he didn’t want to cause anymore trouble for the doctor. Only a bit of the bread remained as he sat down, turning his attention back to the kettle. He was noticeably more careful this time as he picked it up by the wooden handle and assuming whatever was in it, was to go in the cup. A but of hot water fell onto the tray at the clumsy handling but luckily most of the hot water got into the cup.

He lightly dabbed the towel on the tray apologising. Before looking questioningly at the cup of hot water, wondering exactly what he was to do with it for he most surely couldn’t drink it like that.</sup>

[Lancet && Jones]

James smiled, picking up the small jug of milk and handing it to him.
"The tea will be too hot without milk. Don't worry about the spillage. It'll be cleaned away later." He said, sitting back in his chair as he surveyed Will, his hands clasped together as he listened to the lick of the flames, and the steady tap of the rain at the window. He was often intrigued by human beings, and how they would react to certain things. As he had pretty much given up on his own demeanour and manner of life, it was good to see people actually doing something with theirs.

Sighing, he got to his feet again, tucking his fingers around the edge of the curtain and peering out into the street, still spotted with rain.
"The Abbey will be cold tonight... poor souls..." He muttered thoughtfully, letting the soft velvet fall back into place.

[/center]

[silverlynxcat]

_{The boy took the cup that was handed to him, looking in at the male coloured milk, giving it a small swirl around its container frowning a little as he looked at the teacup filled with hot water. He still didn't quite understand this strange drink. Hot water and milk?
Frowning he experimentally poured some milk into the hot water, watching it swirl together.
Ah, surprise, He now had...milky water....
He frowned, confused, not sure he wanted to try and drink it, something warm would have been nice, but he had his doubts about this drink as he shifted the cup, the pale, fog coloured drink swirled further and settle. He grizzled and gave up with this strange drink. Not realising it was lacking the actual tea leaves (Or bag dunno what they used in this period of time -useless-).
He instead went back to the remainder of the bread, nibbling away at that. "They abbey?" he frowned, looking at the doctor questioningly. Whatever it was, it sounded like shelter, and he could have guaranteed, sleeping in cemetery, in a room with no walls was much colder. Luckily, that was not the case tonight,}