Prompt Post: ROUND TWO
ROUND TWO IS CLOSED
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Rules post.
Flat view.
ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)
ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get my modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
<< ROUND ONE | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND THREE >>
Rules post.
Flat view.
ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)
ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get my modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
"You never swear," Scott said, serious and anxious.
"Because it's a filthy habit," Charles agreed. "It did really hurt, though." He slipped his good hand into Scott's; the boy might have been twelve, but he gripped it tightly. "Let's go see whether the other's have managed to set anything on fire yet," he added, leading the way towards the back.
"But it's pouring out," Raven said.
"And that's stopped them when?" Charles asked, and felt Raven's eyeroll at the back of his head.
Alex, Hank and Sean were standing around the wreck that had been the boiler room; the roof had completely caved in, dragging the tops of the exterior walls with it; the boiler itself had managed to escape damage due to its saving grace of being against the interior wall, and so shielded from the collapse. The fuse box, however, was undoubtedly a mangled mess beneath the brick and iron.
As they approached, remaining in the doorway as protection from the sheeting rain, Sean picked up the broom, flipped it so he was holding it by the brush and cautiously prodded at the wreckage.
The pile flashed and sparked, and the three boys leapt back.
"Poking it with a stick," Charles said, drily. "Very scientific, boys."
They turned, Sean flexing his grip on the broom handle guiltily.
"Charles!" Hank said. "Are you okay?"
He waved his hand at them. "Stabbed myself," he said.
"Again?" Sean said, raising an eyebrow.
"That last time was not my fault," Charles said, accusatorily. "I wasn't the one who left the rake out."
"Inside," Raven said, clearly tired of the bickering; she was watching the remnants of the fusebox warily, "before you guys get electrocuted. And," she prodded Charles in the shoulder, rather harder than necessary, "I'll need to bind your hand, mister."
"Yes, mother," Alex said, smirking; Raven shot him a glare as they all trooped back into the darkened kitchen, the boys dripping everywhere.
"I'll, um, find some candles," Hank said, wiping his glasses on his sleeve and only really succeeding on smearing the water across the surface.
"Good idea," Raven snapped, tugging Charles down into a seat and glaring into the darkness until the match flared, sulphur-bright, and Hank set the candle down next to them.
"Ow," Charles said, sardonic, as Raven peeled off the rag with savage force. She glared at him.
"Baby," she said, reaching behind her to tug open the drawer, pulling out the first aid one-handed. Her mouth was twisted sideways as she examined the hole in Charles' palm, and he recognised that she was being rough because she was worried about him. He nudged her ankle under the table, and her gaze flickered up to his. "Idiot," she said, but the tightness in her face relaxed somewhat. "You stabs themselves with an awl?"
Charles hissed as she applied the iodine, the brown tincture staining the skin yellow around the wound and mingling with the blood still dribbling from it. "They're drills, Raven," he said. "They're supposed to be sharp."
"Yes," she said, threading the crescent needle to stitch the skin together, "but they're supposed to drill through inanimate objects. Not your hand."
"Shut up," he said, cheerfully.
Sean was sweeping the floor, knocking whatever might be on it out into the yard; a sensible precaution, Charles thought, remembering that his entire study was probably coated in glass.
"I'll make some tea," Scott said, eyes on Charles' hand.
"Not with the kettle!" Charles said, sharply; Scott's hand stopped mid air. "Boil it on the stove," he said. "That's gas-powered; we don't want to risk the electricals until we know how bad the damage is."
"Right," Scott said, changing direction to dig the old whistling kettle out of the cupboard.
Raven cleaned the stitches carefully with Dettol and cotton wool, her movements more gentle now; she had clearly got over her fright at Charles' outburst on injuring himself, and her anger over being frightened by it. The Dettol and iodine smells mingled in the air, filling the kitchen with a clean, sterile smell as the stove clicked alive and the water stared to shudder within the kettle.
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