20 May 1893 — Grimstone Workshop
Elias Grimstone
@"Daffodil Potts"

She'd taken this path countless times before, and yet this was one of the rare times that Irene did not hasten to get there. It almost felt like a dream, walking through the crowd in Hogsmeade, automatically taking the turns and barely giving them a second thought. All the while, looking down at the letter in her hands, staring at it until the words blurred before her. Ever since she’d received it, she felt as if pieces began to fall around her; and all she could do was watch as the decision before her began to solidify. There was no offer of control, or offer of stalling for her to catch her breath. She’d asked Soph about it. Asked Penny. But the one person she’d really wanted to ask — and was avoiding asking, because wasn’t she afraid of his answer? — was Elias.

He was the fixture in all of this because he knew her the best. And perhaps it was because she felt lost, unsure of where to go that she felt she needed his opinion most of all. As she rounded the final corner to his block, her heart seemed to climb its way up her throat, scratching at it until her mouth felt dry. She stared at the hanging sign outside of his workshop, stared at the hinges and its chain in the hopes that it might suddenly spring to life and show her the way.

Of course, no such wish of hers would ever be granted, and so she walked to the door and knocked. What little pressure she put on the door caused it to swing open. What time was it? Checking her watch, she saw that it was just before the end of the work day. So he might be with a client. Under normal circumstances, she’d leave and come back later, but this couldn’t wait. So she stepped through the doors of the workshop, immediately feeling slightly more at ease as the scent of pine and oak dust mixed with the sharp tang of varnish filled her senses. “Elias?” She called, before deigning to pull out a stool and take a seat while she waited, placing the letter on her lap and re-reading it for the umpteenth time in the past week.

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The following 1 user Likes Irene Crawley's post:1 user Likes Irene Crawley's post
   Elias Grimstone

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as of 20 Dec 1893, Irene's hair is cut short above her shoulders

“I’m here! Just a minute,” he called back. He’d left the back window by the workshop open, so he heard the voice float through into the garden easily. One of the brooms had been giving him grief, and he’d spent too long inside with clients and commissions and had had to get outside where he was taking it out on the weeds instead until the frustration eased. There was something soothing about seeing the success of a task take shape (and he had had far higher standards for the garden since meeting Daff), so he had been making good progress on the flowerbeds.

But that was Irene’s voice, so he got to his feet again with soil-stained knees, brushing most of the dirt off his hands and scratching his jaw as he went back in to greet her properly.

She had a piece of parchment on her lap when he stepped back in – not one of his scraps or designs scattered through the workshop, but a letter or something else. He couldn’t make out what it was from here, and instead propped himself on the edge of the workbench, leaning back on his hands. “Hello. And what can I do for you?” He asked – in jest, as he might have a client who wanted a broom, because they didn’t usually need a reason to stop by.

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look ANOTHER beautiful bee!set <3

Even though the door had been open, thus signaling that Elias would be home, Irene realized that once she heard his voice, she’d been hoping he wouldn’t be home. That she might be able to delay this until the last possible moment…but she had to give her answer at some point, and she didn’t want to delay. His eyes were bright and of course he seemed in a genial mood; there was rarely a moment when he didn’t seem to be in a good mood these days. It didn’t take a genius to know why, but of course because Irene knew, she only gave him a wan smile and wondered if he was going to be seeing Daffodil later that day.

As much as she wanted to, Irene couldn’t exactly bring herself to return his joke. Any ridiculous answer that she might have cooked up was simply evaporated. “I wanted er — to ask you something.” She began awkwardly, glancing up at him. For whatever reason she wasn’t able to unstick herself from the seat, and so he towered over her. “It’s a bit complicated, so it might be best if you —” Fishing back into her pocket, she unfolded the letters and handed to him, a slight tremor running through her at the anticipation of his reaction. Would he tell her to go? Would he want her to stay? A tiny seedling of hope had been buried at the small possibility that he wouldn’t want her to go alone, and he’d offer to accompany her. Because Irene wasn’t sure she wanted to do this alone.

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as of 20 Dec 1893, Irene's hair is cut short above her shoulders

Her unusually awkward air served to settle his spirits a little, the jovial mood simmering down to a quieter contentedness. Elias quirked an eyebrow at her first remark, nonplussed as to why she would be hesitant to ask him anything. They had always talked candidly; conversation with Irene was usually effortless.

He didn’t say anything, just peered at her curiously for a moment more and leant forwards to retrieve the letters from her hand. He leant back against the worktop opposite her again, legs stretched out in front of him and one foot scuffing against the floor as he tried to turn his attention to the letters. He grinned at the address of her full name, middle name Victoria, and his eyes widened slowly at talk of relatives. His jaw shifted slightly open, an unexclaimed oh; his brow furrowed as he moved further down the page, and found a smudge of soil where his thumbprint had been. He made sure to hold the parchment more carefully, delicately at the edges. It was – it was a significant document. An incredible piece of news. “‘Eager to make your acquaintance,’” he echoed without quite realising, looking up belatedly at Irene and offering the letter back to her, flabbergasted. “Is this real?”

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look ANOTHER beautiful bee!set <3

She waited for a beat, not wanting to make eye contact with him until he’d finished reading the letter. But as soon as he became transfixed on the message, Irene took the opportunity to finally look at him. With all her practice of observing people sitting for portraits, it had become easy for Irene to glean a wealth of information from a simple glance at a stranger. She would never admit this to a client, but asking them various questions while they sat for portraits revealed more than they probably would have willingly revealed to any other stranger on the street. With friends and loved ones, it was far easier to do so, but with soil still streaked on the knees of his trousers and the slight flush in his cheeks, it wasn’t hard to guess that Elias had come in from the garden. She even thought she saw a hint of a tan on the back of his neck just above his collar, and she made a mental note to stop by Evergardens the next time she was in London. The Sprouts’ magical floating leaf umbrellas that the welcome witch occasionally hadned out would provide the perfect amount of shade.

Her heart had been fluttering in her chest ever since she sat down. It stopped momentarily at the smile as he started reading, and then picked up in pace as Irene watched him slowly make it to the end of the page. There — she could see it in his posture that there was a slight shift in his demeanor as he reached the end. She could only cast him a grimace as he finally looked up to her. In her nervousness, she caught her bottom lip with her teeth, nodding tentatively. “I looked into the references he included.” She pointed at the extra pages, only taking the top letter in case he might want to peruse the extra leaflets.

“They’re all in order. What’s more, the professor that I had back in Paris remembers Mrs. Shaw well, and has talked to her at a few functions.” To think that she’d been so closely connected to a distant relative, and she hadn’t even realized it…Irene was still recovering from the residual shock. She stood up finally, leaning against the workbench and crossing her arms. “Mrs. Shaw and I are only related by marriage. Her husband apparently is — was — my mother’s distant cousin.” Yet another deceased relative in the family, Irene now realized with an unpleasant jolt. “I don’t really have the money right now to have it legitimized further, but I figured —” Here, she gave a shrug, her eyes downcast. “—I haven’t been to Italy in a long time. It might be worth looking into.”

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as of 20 Dec 1893, Irene's hair is cut short above her shoulders

Elias listened closely to all she said, marvelling at it and digesting the news all at once. Elias glanced down at the additional references, trying to discern how legitimate it all looked, but really nothing leapt out as strange to him.

So this was news worth celebrating, besides the death of Mrs. Shaw’s husband. Irene looked nervous, uncomfortable, a little downcast: not quite sure of herself, then. “But she’s still – you still have family, Irene,” Elias breathed, because he knew who she’d lost, he knew how very alone she was in Hogsmeade. Through marriage or not, this was something. He put his hands to her shoulders, gently, with one kneading press to stop her shrugging this off as if this was nothing. This was a great deal to her.

And Mrs. Shaw knew about art, so there was another connection they had, no matter their blood – and she wanted to meet, so this really couldn’t have been better for Irene. “And money,” he added, with a wry smile to say that he knew that wouldn’t register as at all important to her. Irene was not the sort of person who asked for anything, or thought she deserved it. The thing was, she did. Good news could not have come to a better person. “Of course it’s worth looking into,” Elias assured her, trying to coax her to look properly at him again. “You have to go. And if there’s anything you need, anything I can do to help –” then tell me. He meant that sincerely.

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look ANOTHER beautiful bee!set <3

Family.

It was such a foreign concept to her. So foreign that it had taken three people to tell her for the impact to hit: first Sophia, then Penny yesterday and now Elias. That Mrs. Shaw was undoubtedly a relative of hers, even if it was by marriage, was just beginning to crystallize. And that Mrs. Shaw had an interest in the arts…well, there was a slim possibility that they might actually get along. ‘There is hardly anything about her that would be deemed orthodox’, the letter had stated. Irene felt the pit in her stomach swirl uncomfortably. Those employed always spoke well of their superiors; was Mr. Wilson to be relied upon to tell the truth about Mrs. Shaw?

Her throat felt tight at the prospect that Mrs. Shaw might not be as accommodating as her lawyer said. Could she be bitter that she didn’t receive such an inheritance? It sounded as if she was quite comfortable herself, but if Irene learned anything by portraiture for the higher classes it was that financial security was never a guarantee to someone’s disposition.

The pressure of Elias’ hands on her shoulders brought her out of her worries, and she inhaled sharply her gaze moving from the letter in her hands to staring directly at him. Him, Soph, and Penny had — without hesitation, without question — all bolstered her confidence, and this sudden contact with Elias seemed to push her over the edge. Irene’s expression crumpled for just a second before she tried to compose herself. But instead, something caught her eye, and without thinking, she reached out a hand to gently brush a streak of dirt away from the edge of his jaw. There was no need to hear the rest of his sentence. “Thank you, I will...” She nodded, finding herself latched in his gaze and she almost rested her palm on the side of his cheek.

“Elias, there’s something else that I wanted to —”

Before she could realize what she was about to do, a sound split through the air and Irene jerked her hand away from his skin as if she was scalded.

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The following 2 users Like Irene Crawley's post:2 users Like Irene Crawley's post
   Alice Dawson, Elias Grimstone

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as of 20 Dec 1893, Irene's hair is cut short above her shoulders

The weight of her hospital stay was still pressing down on her. It had been such a mess. In hindsight, she should have just asked for help sooner, but even now, with Amaryllis providing her with correctly-brewed Dreamless Sleep potions, she was leery. She thought of writing to Noble to thank him for his help, for having to endure such an awkward situation, but wasn't sure anymore whether or not she could do such things.

Elias was a bit easier to reach out to, things having been awkward there too, but she knew she wanted to reconnect and make sure they were okay. On the surface things seemed fine, but there had to be lingering questions and feelings on the matter she would rather clear up sooner rather than later. So she did what she always did; made up a bouquet of flowers and packed up some sweets from the bakery down the Alley and decided to pop by his workshop unannounced. She had a pretty green vase to go with the multi-colored carnations, knowing he was still using random pitchers and jars for her continued displays of affection. It was homey, of course, and she loved the mismatched collection, but she really liked the color on this vase and thought he would too.

Scooting around to the open door of the workshop, Daff had been lost in thought about how she wanted to approach this, that it took her a second to register there were two voices coming from inside the workshop. Her pace instantly slowed and she paused, knowing she didn't want to interrupt. She recognized the second voice as Irene's and she also recognized there was a seriousness in the conversation emanating from the windows. The words weren't clear, but the tone was; she should go.

Briefly she looked for a good spot to leave the vase and treats for Elias to find whenever he came out next, but couldn't see anywhere obvious. With the intent not to listen to whatever they were talking about, Daff decided that the windowsill would have to do. What she should have done was just leave and try again later; the sight that she caught a glimpse of through the windowpane had her inhaling sharply. She stumbled over something, a discarded shovel, (hers of course) and both the vase and sweets went crashing down to the ground. Sighing softly, she thought of just disapparating, but that would be the coward's way out. Instead she bent to start cleaning up the mess, which naturally led to her picking up the pieces and slicing her finger open on one. Hissing out an oath under her breath, Daff reached for her handkerchief to stem the blood flow, quickly piling the glass on top to clear it up.

As soon as Elias came through the door she started in a steady stream, "I'm sorry, I was just trying to leave this. I didn't want to interrupt and I'm sorry that I did. Let me just clean this up and I'll be going." She said it all in a rushed whisper, blush as evident on her cheeks as the panic in her eyes.

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The following 3 users Like Daffodil Grimstone's post:3 users Like Daffodil Grimstone's post
   Alice Dawson, Elias Grimstone, Irene Crawley

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He was by no means an expert in reading people, but she was easier to read when she was actually looking at him. A mess of mixed emotions – she wasn’t yet sure of herself – he could feel the tension still in her shoulder – but he watched Irene calm herself in a way that reminded him, unwittingly, of the way the seas she’d painted had once stormed and settled before his eyes.

She must feel more at ease about it now, because she’d just lifted a hand to his jaw instead. His mouth lifted in the start of a smile, just at the corner, but then Irene’s expression changed. She started speaking again; and something had shifted in the air, and in her voice and in her gaze, and so Elias fell still, expectantly –

The crash came out of nowhere, striking him by such surprise that he visibly flinched. Irene had wrenched her hand away. Disoriented, Elias glanced through the window, face creasing abruptly. Ducking past Irene, he swore under his breath and went out, rounding to the window where she’d been looking in. Daff – Daff at the worst possible time – Daffy, who he had been half-desperate to see.

“It’s fine,” Elias assured her, with a touch of exasperation to his tone. He wasn’t sure if it stemmed from the vague frustration of Irene having been interrupted in the midst of such an important conversation, a strange sense of sheepishness that she had seen them together, some lingering resentment from the hospital scene, or mere annoyance that Daffy had decided to creep about outside instead of just coming in – but now she was hurt, so every other fact of the matter was, for the time being, irrelevant.

“Leave it,” he asserted, kneeling down to scrape the vase pieces and flowers and sweets (for him; of course she had brought him gifts) into a rough pile and then taking her by the not-bleeding hand to insist upon his next instruction. “And come inside. You’re bleeding.” He had bandages in the workshop – it would only take a moment to deal with.

And if it had torn away his attention entirely from Irene’s dilemma, he felt awful about it, leading Daffy into the workshop – but it couldn’t be helped now.

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The following 3 users Like Elias Grimstone's post:3 users Like Elias Grimstone's post
   Alice Dawson, Daffodil Grimstone, Irene Crawley

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look ANOTHER beautiful bee!set <3

In that split second, Irene felt her tenuous hold on…something snap as their attention was drawn towards —

No…

A flash of brown hair before a figure ducked below the window pane, and Irene’s stomach dropped while her heart simultaneously shot into her throat. Even through the window she could see Elias stoop down, and hear hushed, hurried tones. Before she could stop herself, Irene had seized the remains of the letter, folded them and stuffed them unceremoniously back into her pocket. A sense of wariness descended upon her and she felt the need to hide evidence of her ever having received word of a sudden inheritance.

She wouldn’t let herself regret telling Elias, and yet she bit her lip, wondering if he would tell Daffodil. She didn’t want Daffodil to know, and she didn’t have time to question why she’d felt this..this..possessiveness over a measly letter.

As they entered in the shop, Irene’s eyes immediately went to their linked hands. If possible, her stomach dropped even further before she suddenly caught a flash of red. Daffodil had cut herself. Before she could look askance to Elias, the world suddenly tilted on its axis, and she blinked rapidly. Blood. The smell, the sound of ripping flesh; the crazed, euphoric look in Mr. Hunt’s eyes as —

“You’re hurt.” Merlin only knew how she managed to bring herself back to the present, and before she could question it, Irene was automatically moving to where the bandages were located. “You should — I should…” She looked from Elias to Daffodil as the air seemed to grow thin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were expecting company, or I wouldn’t have…”

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The following 1 user Likes Irene Crawley's post:1 user Likes Irene Crawley's post
   Alice Dawson

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as of 20 Dec 1893, Irene's hair is cut short above her shoulders

It was Daffy's turn to flinch at his tone. She'd never heard it before and the guilt washed over her in a fresh, inescapable wave. Merlin she hoped he didn't think she'd been listening. She hadn't heard anything! Saw something she wasn't prepared to, but definitely had no context, which probably made it worse for her, but she didn't want to be privy to their conversation either. It was none of her business and had nothing to do with why she'd come. Her problems could wait. She could wait. Daff would never dream of intentionally derailing anything important.

"No, no, no," Daff protested immediately, pulling against his hand. The last thing she wanted to do was go inside. Short of physically digging her heels into the grass, she couldn't do much without causing a scene, which might actually be the last thing she wanted, so she followed reluctantly. She was sure she couldn't be any more embarrassed or flushed, guilty for having disrupted their converstaion. Merlin this was awful! Casting a sheepish look at Irene, she mouthed, I'm so sorry, and was determined to get out of the workshop as fast as humanly possible.

An unpleasant feeling settled over her as she looked at Irene; she had certainly interrupted something serious and had the sinking feeling she had never been more wholly unwelcome in the workshop than she was right now. "It needs stitching. I'll just go to my sister's up the street." She had injured herself enough to know how serious it was. It might be the right amount of an emergency to get them to let her go.

"It was a spur of the moment thing, I didn't meant to interrupt once I heard some someone was here. What I had wasn't important, I just thought I'd drop what I brought on the windowsill and go." Though not drop it literally, clearly. Daff's gaze flickered uneasily between the other two and she pulled her hand from Elias'. She felt blood trickle down her arm. A little droplet hit the workshop floor to punctuate her need to leave and she quickly readjusted her hands so she didn't make a mess. Using the apron she had forgotten to take off to add to the handkerchief she was bleeding through, she squeezed tightly; the pain was keeping her oddly focused. "Let me back out of this as gracefully as I can manage. I don't want to be in the way of anything important." She added, a little more firmly as she started to backtrack towards the door. There was an undertone to the composure she tried to desperately portray that she hoped everybody would just go along with.

Daff had unwittingly gotten herself into this mess and she was desperate to get out of it, no matter what.

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The following 1 user Likes Daffodil Grimstone's post:1 user Likes Daffodil Grimstone's post
   Alice Dawson

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Daffy had protested, but then of course she had. Letting anyone help her was obviously a foreign notion to her. (Her unexpected hospital stay was still too fresh in his mind; if Elias had been inattentive then, he would not be accused of it twice.)

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Elias interjected, suppressing a sigh: he hadn’t been expecting either of them, let alone both, but he had no patience for hearing excuses. They knew they were welcome whenever they liked; this was just... an unfortunate coincidence. “And you’re not in the way,” he added to Daffy, as she dropped her hand from his. “We’ll wrap it up and I’ll take you to your sister’s myself.” But he swore to Merlin, if she left like this –

In any case, Irene had already ceded the space, set about looking for the bandages – Elias stepped over to grab one. As he did, he offered Irene a look of his own, I’m really sorry in his eyes. Their conversation hadn’t been finished; he had had more questions about the letter, and her inheritance; there was something else she had wanted to say. “The rest of it will keep, won’t it?” He asked Irene, with a searching gaze. “And I’m happy for you,” he added, which was about as much as he could say on the letters she’d showed him now; her news was hers to tell. But he would go see her later, if she liked – surely a little more time to ponder her situation would be good for them both.

And Daffy had brought him flowers, and he couldn’t fathom why, if there was some particular reason for them – but he didn’t want her to ever feel like a nuisance here. He paced back towards her, look softening, and held out his hand for hers, so that he could at least staunch the bleeding better before they took her to her sister’s. He’d sliced his own hands open enough on his tools, over the years; the wound fazed him far less than all the lingering tension in the air.

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The following 2 users Like Elias Grimstone's post:2 users Like Elias Grimstone's post
   Alice Dawson, Daffodil Grimstone

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look ANOTHER beautiful bee!set <3

Both of them had caught him unawares at least, Irene surmised, only able to nod in response as her voice got caught in her throat again. Daffodil had the wild, panicked look of a kitten trapped in corner as he brought her in, and Irene felt a tug of sympathy override her shock of being interrupted. She nodded in understanding at her hurried explanation, and looked to the window where the present ought to have been. But her attention was again diverted when she saw a splash of blood hit the floor. Irene stiffened, feeling another wave of nausea roll over her as she struggled to keep the vision of Mr. Hunt from taking over and causing even more disruption in this already tense afternoon.

“You aren’t in the way,” Irene echoed, and her words sounded genuine as a small smile eased itself onto her features. It was important, but she’d gotten most of what she’d wanted to say out of the way. The real shock that the other two were unaware of was how close she’d been to revealing something that would have made them all even more uncomfortable.

But Daffodil’s presence seemed to anchor Irene to reality; the reality that Elias and Daffodil were courting, and she had her own path to go that, with a pang she realized, couldn’t include either of them. If it hadn’t, it was even more cemented when she received yet another apologetic look from one of them, this time Elias. If the situation wasn’t so serious, Irene would have laughed: they both had the same ‘I’m sorry’ look etched on their faces, though Daffodil’s was understandably a bit more mortified.

“It will keep.” She repeated again, forcing a placating tone into her voice as she reached out to pat his forearm before putting the bandages down. Smiling at his small gesture of congratulations, Irene felt tension only tighten her shoulders and she looked around the workshop as Elias tended to Daffodil. There were tools laid out as if he’d just put them down, and the unique fragrance of wood carvings and varnish hung in the air. Her eyes lingered over the place where she always sat to work on a sketch or some other while Elias worked, over to the almost imperceptible splatters of paint at the baseboard where she’d spilled paint years ago after tripping over the workbench; she was collecting those memories to hold onto.

Taking a deep breath Irene looked to the both of them, though her eyes rested on Daffodil. “I’m sorry your gift got broken; there’s no need to leave, Daffodil.” She smiled. “I’ve told Elias everything I needed to tell him; I was only about to ask him if he might look after Bear for me whilst I took a trip.” A laugh, this time. “But something tells me he might not want his workshop ruined and filled with cat hair.” She would have been alarmed at how easily the lie slipped out of her if it hadn’t been for the relief that she felt about almost leaving.

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The following 1 user Likes Irene Crawley's post:1 user Likes Irene Crawley's post
   Elias Grimstone

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as of 20 Dec 1893, Irene's hair is cut short above her shoulders

They were both being far too accommodating, but Daff could tell by the tension in the room and their coded conversation that they weren't done and she was too close to tears to stick around. It was too much for her; the familiarity between them, the looks, the overwhelming feeling of being the odd one out, her middle-child desire to be self-sufficient, everything. Daff was not the one to be fussed over, she was the one supposed to be doing the fussing. She felt like she was suffocating.

She wasn't buying their nonsense either. Daff had far too many older siblings and experience knowing when she was being coddled. "Stop it, the two of you. Just stop." She finally managed, tone quiet but unrelenting. After backing herself all the way to the door again, she had every intention of escaping whether they liked it or not. The panic was rising to a level she might not be able to contain, but she was not a child that needed to be placated; she had messed up and she would take care of it, like she always did.

"I will be fine and I will be going, now." She insisted as she ignored Elias' outstretched hand, keeping hers firmly pressed to her chest, likely ruining the fabric of her dress in the process, but too distracted to care. "Good luck with whatever it is I interrupted." Daff passed a sad sort of smile between them before stepping back out of the workshop. She made it to the gate before the tears started, fumbling for her wand from her dress pocket with her free hand to disapparate.

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The following 3 users Like Daffodil Grimstone's post:3 users Like Daffodil Grimstone's post
   Alice Dawson, Elias Grimstone, Irene Crawley

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Catastrophe averted, Elias thought, imagining that everything was well in hand again. More fool him, then, he considered bitterly, as Daff first told them to stop and secondly refused to give him her hand. The moment was the first he had noticed – late, too late – that Daff looked on the verge of tears. From her vase getting ruined, or from the pain she was in, or else the panic and embarrassment of the moment – or hurt from what she had seen at the window, Elias considered fleetingly, but then the fact was there hadn’t been anything to see.

Never mind that, now he just felt overwhelmingly guilty, because despite his best efforts he had still sent Daffy fleeing through the door. Impulsively, instinctively, he followed her beyond the workshop, hating how she’d left and how he must have made her feel, but entirely bewildered by it too. Good luck with whatever it is I interrupted, she’d said, even though they had both said it was fine; Elias took a stride, and then another, and then, as he watched her fumble through her pockets at the gate, he slowed to a halt. Maybe letting her go, giving her space, was the safest way forwards – he wanted to tell her he was sorry, but he wasn’t sure what good it would do.

And he couldn’t stand outside the workshop this dumbfounded forever, so once she had gone he eventually retraced his steps back inside with a newfound stab of frustration at the scene. “Fuck,” he muttered, with feeling, rolling back up the gauze he still had uselessly in hand. If anyone had left, it was supposed to have been Irene – but he couldn’t feel angry at her either, because what exactly had she done wrong?

Instead, he could barely meet her eye now – he felt so stupid about this. Of course it had had to happen in front of Irene – Irene, to whom he’d confided all his feelings and hopes and fears about Daffodil in the first place. (We’d make a decent match, wouldn’t we?) Merlin, and here he’d thought it had been going well, and now between this and Daff’s shop being broken into and her being sent to the hospital without his even knowing – it felt like nothing he’d been doing was enough.

Elias set the bandage down again and rubbed a hand over his face, dragged it ruefully through his hair. “Sorry,” he said, frowning, to Irene, mostly because she was the one still there. “I don’t know what – happened there.” He shrugged helplessly, and started forcefully rearranging things on the workbench just for something to do with his hands. He ought to go outside and collect up the rest of Daffy’s flowers and fix up the little vase, or else return to the conversation they’d been having, but he suddenly felt too frustrated to do either. “I can take Bear,” he added belatedly, still not looking at her. What was one more creature to add to the local strays?

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The following 3 users Like Elias Grimstone's post:3 users Like Elias Grimstone's post
   Alice Dawson, Daffodil Grimstone, Irene Crawley

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look ANOTHER beautiful bee!set <3

But it was Daffodil who left first. Irene’s stomach gave an almighty jolt at her harsh words; Daffodil had always had a sweet disposition, and so any words that resulted in her frustration hit by twofold, and it was plainly obvious that she was incredibly flustered and exasperated. Her parting words gnawed at Irene as she watched her leave. Even worse was the fact that Elias moved after her, and it might have been the fact that this entire encounter seemed like a fever dream, but it seemed to Irene that he moved with such decisiveness, such swiftness and such disregard for anything else that it felt as if she had an answer to a question she had been too afraid to ask. He was just outside, but she was alone.

‘Whatever it is I interrupted…’

Irene scowled at the words hanging in the air as she stood there in the empty workshop. She hadn’t shown any sort of willingess to share her news to Daffodil when she appeared, and yet it still stung that her news should have been followed by such disaster.

Had she not said anything at all after telling Elias, she might have had more agency to feel indignant. But instead, she only felt the nauseating burn of shame curl in her stomach. She had come so close to lighting fire to everything she’d tried to suppress for the past few years; so close to ruining what Daffodil and Elias had.

The shop that had always felt so comforting had taken on a strange chill, and even Elias’ return couldn’t bring it back. She remained silent as Elias cursed. It wasn’t often that he got frustrated but when he did, it was palpable.

Love will do that to you.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Irene looked toward the point where Daffodil had disapparated. “And neither does she...I’m..Im sorry.” It’s me who should apologize…

Of course he hadn’t a clue what had just happened, but if Daffodil had seen them in the seconds before her appearance had been made known…Irene could infer, and it left an uncomfortable feeling in her chest. She watched as he began to fuss about with the tools on the bench; allowed until she could see his movements smooth into something a bit more instinctual than out of pure disorientation.

“No,” she replied quietly. “I’ll be taking him. I’m not leaving him behind.”

It had always been a possibility, but it wasn’t until a few moments ago, when she saw what she’d almost done, that it crystallized. With her mind already shifted elsewhere, to things she needed to complete before she left for Italy, Irene heaved a sigh. “Besides, he leaves sooty paw prints everywhere. That would be horrible for the workshop. I already have soot I can’t get out from my bench that’s been impossible to remove.” She laughed. It was a horrible attempt at lightening the mood, but she laughed anyways.

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   Daffodil Grimstone

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as of 20 Dec 1893, Irene's hair is cut short above her shoulders