RP: While you were sleeping
Characters: Madam Rosmerta
Location:Upstairs room at the Three Broomsticks
Date: July 6, 2000
Status/Warning: Private/None
Summary; Rosie takes a nap
Completion: Complete
"One...two...three..." Giggling behind her hand, she set off out of the large room through the swinging door. The little girl stopped and looked around before finding the perfect spot. She ran into the darken back room, squeezing herself between the large wooden barrels that were stacked on top of one another. Stifling another fit of giggles, she strained to hear the numbers.
"Seventeen...eighteen...nineteen...twenty! Read or not here I come!" A woman sang out. The girl scooted herself further back into the hole between the barrels until she could no longer see in front of her except for someone's ankles and feet.
"If I were a little girl where would I hide?" There was movement in the kitchen, pots and pans being flipped open, cupboard doors opening. Then nothing. Straining to hear, the little girl wiggled closer to the light. She couldn't see anything.
"Found you!" her mother said, her face filling up the hole between the barrels. While the sudden appearance of her mother scared, she squealed and laughed in delight. Reaching in between the barrels, the woman pulled her daughter out, noticing all the dirt on her dress and in her hair. "Look at you, covered in dirt and soot. Is your name Cinderella?"
There was some more laughing. "Silly, Mummy. You know what my name is." The girl placed her hands on her hip and gave her mother a saucy smile. Her mother laughed.
"All right," she said. "Then who am I?"
With a roll of her eyes, the little girl said, "You're Madam Ros-"
Her eyes snapped open. This was the second dream like that she's had in a week. The first, last Thursday, she had been dreaming she was in the kitchen and a small boy was standing on a stool next to her, washing apples and she peeled them.
"Mummy? How many more?" he asked. Rosie smiled down at him, while he seemed to be very interested in the pie the apples were about to go in, his attention span of helping out had seem to fade over the last twenty minutes or so.
"Why don't you finish that one and one more then you can go play?" This seemed to appease the little boy, who handed the washed apple to her and picked up another washing it quickly. He finished in record time before dropping the fruit into the sink and jumping down from his stool. He turned to leave the kitchen, stopped and ran back to Rosie, hugging her legs. "I love you, Mummy."
She shook the memory away; it was late in the afternoon. Rosie knew she needed to get ready for the dinner rush. Stretching as she stood from the sofa in the upstairs room, Rosie thought about the dream some more. A pub really isn't a place to raise a child, although I did and I'm pretty normal, right?
Location:Upstairs room at the Three Broomsticks
Date: July 6, 2000
Status/Warning: Private/None
Summary; Rosie takes a nap
Completion: Complete
"One...two...three..." Giggling behind her hand, she set off out of the large room through the swinging door. The little girl stopped and looked around before finding the perfect spot. She ran into the darken back room, squeezing herself between the large wooden barrels that were stacked on top of one another. Stifling another fit of giggles, she strained to hear the numbers.
"Seventeen...eighteen...nineteen...twenty! Read or not here I come!" A woman sang out. The girl scooted herself further back into the hole between the barrels until she could no longer see in front of her except for someone's ankles and feet.
"If I were a little girl where would I hide?" There was movement in the kitchen, pots and pans being flipped open, cupboard doors opening. Then nothing. Straining to hear, the little girl wiggled closer to the light. She couldn't see anything.
"Found you!" her mother said, her face filling up the hole between the barrels. While the sudden appearance of her mother scared, she squealed and laughed in delight. Reaching in between the barrels, the woman pulled her daughter out, noticing all the dirt on her dress and in her hair. "Look at you, covered in dirt and soot. Is your name Cinderella?"
There was some more laughing. "Silly, Mummy. You know what my name is." The girl placed her hands on her hip and gave her mother a saucy smile. Her mother laughed.
"All right," she said. "Then who am I?"
With a roll of her eyes, the little girl said, "You're Madam Ros-"
Her eyes snapped open. This was the second dream like that she's had in a week. The first, last Thursday, she had been dreaming she was in the kitchen and a small boy was standing on a stool next to her, washing apples and she peeled them.
"Mummy? How many more?" he asked. Rosie smiled down at him, while he seemed to be very interested in the pie the apples were about to go in, his attention span of helping out had seem to fade over the last twenty minutes or so.
"Why don't you finish that one and one more then you can go play?" This seemed to appease the little boy, who handed the washed apple to her and picked up another washing it quickly. He finished in record time before dropping the fruit into the sink and jumping down from his stool. He turned to leave the kitchen, stopped and ran back to Rosie, hugging her legs. "I love you, Mummy."
She shook the memory away; it was late in the afternoon. Rosie knew she needed to get ready for the dinner rush. Stretching as she stood from the sofa in the upstairs room, Rosie thought about the dream some more. A pub really isn't a place to raise a child, although I did and I'm pretty normal, right?