Winter Storm

[very_sharpe]

Thomas stands at the window, watching the snow falling. It's falling fast and a considerable bit has accumulated already. The television in the background announces that more is expected, and he can only think of Edith. It sounds as though the city will shut down, for the most part. What if she needs something? Automobiles couldn't make it through this mess, and with her crutches, going anywhere on foot simply isn't an option. Fretting enough, he turns from the window and begins to bundle up in warmth clothes, topping off with a scarf, his coat, and a wool hat. He turns off the television and puts on his gloves and new boots, then heads out.

No one has cleared the snow at the front of the building, so he has to shove the door open with some force to actually make it out. The wind is not so terrible yet, but the air is far from still. He has learned much of the city now, and Edith had been kind of enough to offer her address. He keeps it in his coat pocket, checking the paper though he memorized it not long after she gave it. He sets out, careful to keep to the sidewalks though they are no more easily passable than the roads. Along the way he stops at a small grocery he finds open. Perhaps she doesn't need anything, but he picks up tea, some good cocoa, and a fresh half dozen scones.

From there it's a cold trudge to the Bramford Building, but his determination and lingering concern keeps him going. Thomas has no idea how long it actually takes him to get there, but is grateful for his experience with the bitter Cumberland winters.

Thankfully he is able to get into the building when he arrives, and he heads to Edith's floor to her door. Perhaps he should have called ahead, he realizes, a bit embarrassed that he'd just set out without thinking it through even that far. Well, he is here now. So he knocks.

Comments

[ghostsarereal]

Edith doesn't have to be following any weather reports to know that there's no way she'll be leaving her apartment for at least a couple of days. All she needs to do is look out the window at the snow piling up, the gusts of wind moving it around. Under her current circumstances, she hasn't been getting out quite as much anyway, but with this, it would be nearly impossible. She doubts she'd make it halfway down the block in this state, her crutches hardly equipped to support her on icy sidewalks and the risk of injury not worth attempting it. There's nothing to do but wait it out. In spite of knowing that there's a good chance she'd have been staying in anyway, she can't help but find that a little frustrating, restless as she moves carefully around her apartment. At least she isn't entirely alone here, the building full of others who likely won't be getting out either, but the situation feels uncomfortably familiar even so.

She's in the middle of checking her kitchen cupboards for the third time when she's startled by a knock on her door, abandoning her current task in favor of hobbling over to answer it. There are really very few people it could be, so perhaps it shouldn't surprise her to see Thomas standing there, but it does all the same, given the walk he must have had to take in this weather. "Thomas," she says, her eyes widening, and quickly remembers herself, moving to the side to leave the doorway open. "Come in, you must be freezing. Did you walk all this way?"

[very_sharpe]

"I did," he confesses, looking a bit sheepish as he does. He knows it wasn't the most prudent decision, but by the time he considered that it felt far too late to turn around. "The streets are too thick with snow for any cars to pass."

He shakes off his coat, removes his hat, and kicks the last of the snow off his boots before he steps inside. He doesn't want to track too much dampness in. Once the door closes, he takes his gloves off as well.

"I-- well, I was worried, thinking you wouldn't be able to get out in this mess if you needed anything. I brought some tea, and scones," he says as he remembers the plastic bag hanging from his arm.

[ghostsarereal]

"Well, you were right about me not being able to go anywhere," Edith says, letting out a breath that's not quite a sigh as she nods towards the window. "I've been watching since it started, and I can't see that being likely to end well." Some chances aren't worth taking. She's just glad now that he's made it here alright, not wanting anything to happen to him on her account, unexpected as his visit may have been. Instinctively, she wants to tell him that he shouldn't have, but she doesn't want to give the wrong idea in doing so. The gesture is one she appreciates more than she knows what to do about now, even if it does leave her a little retroactively worried.

Leading him over towards the couch and the little table in front of it, she continues, "Here, put that down. You're alright?"

[very_sharpe]

"I'm fine," he assures with a small smile as he puts the bag down. "I'm used to winters like this." He takes the moment to take his gloves off - it seems rude to wear outdoor gloves inside, especially when Edith's apartment feels so cozy.

"I really should have called ahead - I apologize for that. It just didn't occur to me before I'd already started my walk. I really don't mean to intrude, I was worried you wouldn't be able to get things you might need. I wanted to ah... to offer my services as a courier, if you are in need."

The more he talked, the sillier he felt. He looks very sheepish.

[ghostsarereal]

"Oh, I couldn't send you back out in this," Edith says with a quick shake of her head. Used to it he may be — and she's seen enough of a winter in his home not to have any doubt that that's the case — but that doesn't mean he should be walking around in this now, with the snow showing no sign of letting up. Of course, she's also not sure what she would do if there were anything she badly needed, but so far, nothing of the sort has arisen, for which she counts herself lucky. Keeping her own kitchen fully stocked isn't a habit she's yet managed to get into, especially being so limited in what she can carry on her own.

Her expression softens after a moment, her instinctive worry giving way just a bit. "You should stay," she decides. "At least for a little while, until the sidewalks are clearer." It's the least she can do, when he's come all this way just to see to what she might need. She can't pretend she'd mind having a little company, either.

[very_sharpe]

"Alright then. Should I make us some tea?"

He takes a moment to remove his coat and scarf as well, since Edith has decided he should stay. He finds a place to hang his things. "At least you're far warmer here than Allerdale has ever been," he said with a little laugh. He knows well the place carries no pleasant memory for her, nor for him, but he cannot help but think of it now, and the sharp contrast the cozy warmth of her apartment is to the drafty, decrepit house.

[ghostsarereal]

"Yes, I think it helps not having a hole in the roof," Edith replies with a small, teasing smile. Strange as it may be to talk about that place lightly, it's easier than the alternative, and she's not entirely sure what else to do. Really, now that she's asked him to stay, she doesn't quite know what to do at all. She isn't used to having company here as it is, and the circumstances, at once familiar and different, do nothing to help on that front. But at least she isn't here alone, and at least he isn't out in the snow anymore. "And that sounds wonderful. Come, I'll show you where everything is."

[very_sharpe]

Thomas follows her to the kitchen, bringing the bag of scones, tea, and cocoa with him. He almost hadn't been expecting that she would ask him to stay. He's pleased, but it's also some of the first truly alone time they've spent with each other.

For the moment, he distracts himself learning her kitchen. Hearing her voice is an odd comfort. He follows her direction to a kettle and mugs - whatever she has.

"I brought a few different sorts," he says as he sets the boxes out: Earl Grey, English Breakfast, Chai, Green. "The scones are cinnamon, I think, if that influences your decision." He smiles as he says it.

[ghostsarereal]

"It looks like you thought of everything," Edith says, still smiling, as she carefully lifts the kettle over to the sink so she can fill it with water. Figuring out how to get around on her own with her leg still injured hasn't been the easiest thing in the world, but she's better at it now than she was a few weeks ago. She's no less looking forward to not having crutches in her way anymore, but she can, at least, take care of some things. "Maybe the English Breakfast?"

[very_sharpe]

"Oh, hardly everything," he says with a little laugh. "If I'd thought this through a bit more, perhaps I could have brought you more groceries or thought to call ahead to ask what you might need." He offers a wry smile as he plucks the box of English Breakfast tea from the bag.

The moment feels so terribly domestic, or wonderfully so.

"I-- how are you, Edith? Really?" He finally looks at her again, meeting her gaze this time with a look of... well it was a mix of concern, and a bit of trepidation.

[ghostsarereal]

It would be an easy enough question to brush off. She could say that she's fine, that there's no reason for her not to be, and in a way, it wouldn't be a lie. She's been healing about as well as could be expected, there's no one trying to kill her, and though it's been an odd adjustment, at least she has everything she could need here, a place to stay and enough money to get by. The truth, though, is somewhat more complicated than that, and she has a feeling that Thomas would know it. She's not stuck inside — or wasn't until today, at least — but she might as well be, and it's making her a bit stir crazy. Navigating on crutches isn't the simplest task, more tiring than it has any right to be.

She still dreams of ghosts coming up through the floor, of Lucille wanting revenge.

"I'm alright," she says with a slight nod, expression a little softer. "I'll be much better when I'm properly on my feet again, I think, and I can start to get more of a feel for this place. I have to admit, it is getting to me, being so limited in what I can do."

[very_sharpe]

Thomas looks down at the tea he's holding. "I hope the things that haunted you before feel far away," he says. "I feel-- I'm concerned, sometimes, that my arriving here is a-- a trauma, for you."

Everything he had facilitated, had allowed to happen before he made any attempt to stop... He had interfered with her life in ways no person had a right to. Perhaps she would be safe in a way she is not now.

[ghostsarereal]

"No, of course not," Edith says, the answer coming quickly, instinctively, but no less meant for it. She can't pretend that it's been easy, trying to navigate what they are to each other now or to figure out what she wants them to be, but she hasn't once felt like that about his arrival, and she doesn't want him to, either. "I'm glad you have this, Thomas."

The rest goes unspoken, but she doesn't think it necessary to detail one of the reasons why that's the case. He'd died protecting her, and he deserves this second chance now as much as anyone could. "It might have been a bit of a shock when I first saw you in the train station, but it's not a trauma at all."

[very_sharpe]

"I'm grateful for that, at least." He tries another smile, so hopeful in his demeanor. "Goodness, let me get this tea on at least."

He shakes his head at himself and sets the bags of tea in the chosen mugs, then sets them on the counter near the stove. "Should you be sitting? Should I not be fretting over you?"

[ghostsarereal]

"You don't need to fret," Edith says with a soft laugh, fondly exasperated. "But if you feel like you need to do something, you can carry both of those into the other room when they're ready. That would help a great deal." She's gotten a bit better at trying to carry things than she was when she first started on crutches, but it's still one of the more difficult obstacles to get around. This way she can avoid the risk of spilling hot water on herself. "Is that enough, or do you need me to come up with something else for you to do as well?"

[very_sharpe]

"Of course," he says, smiling shyly after the instruction. "Well, I'm not much for a cook, or a maid, but I would do either if you needed them done."

After he's poured them each a cup of tea, and prepared it the way he remembers Edith liking, he brings them into the next room so Edith could enjoy her drink sitting down, and without hobbling to and fro. Thomas sits himself, relaxing for the first time since coming into the apartment. He exhales a bit heavier than normal, and his smile reappears.

"Are you still writing?"

[ghostsarereal]

"I'm trying to," Edith says once she's taken a seat, angled slightly to face Thomas better, crutches propped up against the couch beside her. "Mostly just toying with some ideas for now, and waiting for something to stick. But it'll get there." The loss of her manuscript had hardly been the worst thing to happen the night before she arrived here, but starting from scratch with something she's already written isn't something she's been able to wrap her head around. One day, maybe, she'll get back to it, but for now, she'll be better off with something new. It's just a matter of determining what that will be. "When I've really gotten started on something, you'd be welcome to read it, if you'd like."