RP: That Wasn't on the To Do List
Date: 28 March 2005
Characters: Eleanor Branstone
Location: Eleanor's house.
Status: Private
Summary: Eleanor makes soap, does laundry, and does a lot of thinking.
Completion: Complete
The soap making had gone better than she had expected. She had been extremely nervous working with the caustic soda, but she'd managed without burning herself. All the stirring after the fats had been added had nearly killed her arm, and she had started to wonder if this trace the books had talked about was just a myth. Finally the mixture had begun to thicken. Eleanor couldn't help but squeal when she'd run her spoon over the top to find that the line left behind didn't fade away imediately. Apparently, trace did exist, and she had managed to achieve it.
She'd made a fairly large batch, which she divided in half once it was ready to be scented. In one half she had used the oil that she had made for Ernie, and the other half she scented with lavender oil for herself. She hoped the nightmares would be gone before it was finished curing, but if they weren't, she hoped the lavender would help.
After it was poured into molds, and safely tucked away in the back of her wardrobe, Eleanor started on the laundry. Doing Ernie's laundry hadn't been as unsettling as she had thought. She'd managed to get it sorted, washed, dried, and folded before she had a problem, and it hadn't been the one she'd expected to have. She'd nearly had all of his shirts on hangers to put into the wardrobe when she remembered that he wasn't getting ready at her house in the mornings anymore.
Taking them all off the hangers, Eleanor mentally kicked herself for that. Honestly he'd not even stayed with her a whole week, and she'd barely seen him during that time. Yet here she was, ready to hang his clothes up in the wardrobe. It wasn't as if she had been expecting him to stay for good, or anything of the sort, but she did miss knowing that he was coming back to her.
Eleanor shook her head, and started folding the shirts properly. He was coming over after work. Then he would go home, and she'd have to sleep in her bed alone again. Knowing he wouldn't join her in the middle of the night. She sighed and tossed the shirt in a hamper before starting on the next one.
She understood why it was best for him to sleep at his flat. He... they wanted to take things slowly. At least the sex thing, and Eleanor had to admit it would have been very difficult to sleep in the same bed with him after the towel, and the kissing in the alley. Honestly, it was probably for the best. It wasn't as if she had a ruddy clue what she was doing. The book-- that was now hidden under the bed-- was no bloody great help. She'd no idea the things people got up to while shagging. Eleanor had thought it was all fairly utilitarian. Lay down, go at it for a few minutes, and go about your business. Romilda had said that Matt was probably a dud in bed, and that was likely true, but what if it wasn't just his problem? Eleanor now realized how much she had missed out on not having a girlfriend her age in the Muggle world.
The thought that she might be terrible in bed was terrifying. She'd like to be able to please Ernie, and she had her doubts about weather she would be capable. Yes, perhaps it was for the best, though she had to admit that if it weren't for that she'd have to say that a month with someone was probably long enough to move to the next stage. Especially when you genuinely cared for the other person.
Eleanor finished folding the shirts and glanced at the clock. She should probably get dinner started before Ernie got there. She promised herself that she would good while he was there.
Characters: Eleanor Branstone
Location: Eleanor's house.
Status: Private
Summary: Eleanor makes soap, does laundry, and does a lot of thinking.
Completion: Complete
The soap making had gone better than she had expected. She had been extremely nervous working with the caustic soda, but she'd managed without burning herself. All the stirring after the fats had been added had nearly killed her arm, and she had started to wonder if this trace the books had talked about was just a myth. Finally the mixture had begun to thicken. Eleanor couldn't help but squeal when she'd run her spoon over the top to find that the line left behind didn't fade away imediately. Apparently, trace did exist, and she had managed to achieve it.
She'd made a fairly large batch, which she divided in half once it was ready to be scented. In one half she had used the oil that she had made for Ernie, and the other half she scented with lavender oil for herself. She hoped the nightmares would be gone before it was finished curing, but if they weren't, she hoped the lavender would help.
After it was poured into molds, and safely tucked away in the back of her wardrobe, Eleanor started on the laundry. Doing Ernie's laundry hadn't been as unsettling as she had thought. She'd managed to get it sorted, washed, dried, and folded before she had a problem, and it hadn't been the one she'd expected to have. She'd nearly had all of his shirts on hangers to put into the wardrobe when she remembered that he wasn't getting ready at her house in the mornings anymore.
Taking them all off the hangers, Eleanor mentally kicked herself for that. Honestly he'd not even stayed with her a whole week, and she'd barely seen him during that time. Yet here she was, ready to hang his clothes up in the wardrobe. It wasn't as if she had been expecting him to stay for good, or anything of the sort, but she did miss knowing that he was coming back to her.
Eleanor shook her head, and started folding the shirts properly. He was coming over after work. Then he would go home, and she'd have to sleep in her bed alone again. Knowing he wouldn't join her in the middle of the night. She sighed and tossed the shirt in a hamper before starting on the next one.
She understood why it was best for him to sleep at his flat. He... they wanted to take things slowly. At least the sex thing, and Eleanor had to admit it would have been very difficult to sleep in the same bed with him after the towel, and the kissing in the alley. Honestly, it was probably for the best. It wasn't as if she had a ruddy clue what she was doing. The book-- that was now hidden under the bed-- was no bloody great help. She'd no idea the things people got up to while shagging. Eleanor had thought it was all fairly utilitarian. Lay down, go at it for a few minutes, and go about your business. Romilda had said that Matt was probably a dud in bed, and that was likely true, but what if it wasn't just his problem? Eleanor now realized how much she had missed out on not having a girlfriend her age in the Muggle world.
The thought that she might be terrible in bed was terrifying. She'd like to be able to please Ernie, and she had her doubts about weather she would be capable. Yes, perhaps it was for the best, though she had to admit that if it weren't for that she'd have to say that a month with someone was probably long enough to move to the next stage. Especially when you genuinely cared for the other person.
Eleanor finished folding the shirts and glanced at the clock. She should probably get dinner started before Ernie got there. She promised herself that she would good while he was there.