milliways_bar | (no subject)

Current Mood: sick

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Under normal circumstances, Matilda's fairly tolerable of her parents. Sure, they tend to leave her alone most weekday afternoons and sure they don't always use the nicest of language around or at her, but her system of creating pranks has leveled off the playing field in her humble opinion. Unfortunately, being sick-as far as she's concerned-isn't normal circumstances. She feels achy and stuffy and wants to be held. Does her mother take the time to spend the day with her sick daughter? Of course not, because she has bingo money to win back and goodness knows she doesn't want to catch her daughter's cold.

It's for this reason that Matilda's in Milliways, still in her pajamas and robe but with the large, rainbow colored blanket around her its hard to tell. She should be in bed, she knew this, but for some reason the empty house always seemed less favorable when she was sick and atleast Milliways seemed inhabitable and Ms. Bar much nicer than her mother-who was still human.

She makes her way over to one of the large sofa's by the fire, curling up with her blanket. She says nothing, but a note along with some toast, tea and kleenex appears on the small table infront of the sofa. She gets up enough to pull the table over closer and read the note.

"Thank you.." It's all she could manage to say before it's back to being curled up on the sofa.

ooc: one sick child in serious need of some one to take care of her-someone human shaped/ish. ATP is over but still expect some slowtime.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Hey, Matilda? You don't look so good."

She looked up at him from her blanket cover. She probably doesn't look to well, but she can't bring herself to be all that concerned for looking put together.

"I don't feel well. Woke up this morning sick." She may have a fever, but she's not sure, she doesn't know how high is too high on the thermometer.

"Do you need anything? I help out in the infirmary here. I know more about injuries than human sicknesses, though," he admits.

She motioned over to the tea and toast a foot away from her. "Miss Bar gave me that. Not sure what else is needed for a cold." Rest and a lot of fluids is what she's always been told.

Oh, a cold. He does know a little about those, and that sounds about right.

"Well, I'm good for company, if you want. I can't get sick. And we've got that hand sanitizer stuff."

"Okay." She would've nodded, but it hurt too much to do so. "Appreciate the company." Especially since he couldn't get sick. "What's hand sanitizer?" She knew what 'sanitize' meant, was it a sort of soap?

"It's goop you rub on your hands to kill the germs so you don't spread your cold. Hang on, I'll get some."

He jogs off to the infirmary and returns with a pump-bottle.

She carefully sits up, though it's less sitting and more leaning against the armrest of the sofa.

When he hands her the bottle, it does indeed look like soap. It also smells a little when she puts it on her hands. "Feels funny."

That's the most she could say at the moment. An achy head doesn't really lend itself well to thinking too hard.

"Yeah, but if you rub it in good it kinda disappears." Go figure.

He settles in on an adjacent chair and orders a digital tea of his own from a passing rat.

"So how come you're here instead of home?"

She carefully reaches for the tea, holding it in both hands so that the steam could clear her nose.

"No one's home." Her voice is turning scratchy so she keeps her sentences short. "It's depressing."

It had to be remembered that she was still a five year old girl: she appreciated hugs and cuddles as much as the next child.

"That bytes. No one was able to stay home with you?"

"Mum could have, but she didn't want to catch my cold." She was in no mood to hide or cover the fact that her parents just looked on her as 'there', and didn't really care for her like most parents would their children. Part of her wondered why she wasn't born in an earlier time and assigned a nanny-least those parents were expect to not care.

She takes a small sip of tea, flinching at the shock of hot liquid.

"What?!"

Enzo does not have a mother himself, but he knows that that is just wrong.

She just lay there, sipping tea. Her home life was her own problem and she was used to dealing with it as she would-she could hardly call herself shocked about it.

The Matilda he knew before never mentioned anything like deliberate parental neglect, as far as he can recall.

"Matilda... are you okay at home?"

It was a loaded question. Had she been well she would've answered that she's well enough, but she wasn't feeling too well.

"It's nothing new, but it's not as bad as it could be." Her parents didn't beat or starve her so she couldn't really complain-they just didn't do much with her.

"Do you need any help?"

"Are you okay?"

There is a Kanien'kehá:ka boy peeking over the top of the couch at you, Matilda.

Soon he moves away and sits in front of you on a chair, his hands in his lap.

"You don't look okay."

Her head aches too much to turn even when she hears a voice above her head, so it's something of a relief when he moves to sit infront of her.

"I'm sick." She answered, her voice somewhat hoarse as her throat's gone scratchy. She could go for the tea, but that means actually sitting up and reaching.

"I'm sorry."

He fidgets in his seat.

"Is there anything I can do?"

The power of the medicine has always resided with Bear Clan, and he's never been trained, but he can...do stuff!

Had her head not been hurting, she would've shaken it. "Not really." She blows her nose into another kleenex. "Just need tea and rest."

That's what mum always gave dad when he was sick. Well, she gave him a hot toddy, but she was too young for that.

He looks to the table in front of her and nods - he'd offer her tea, but she's already got that covered.

It seems the next step is names.

"I am Ratonhnhaké:ton."

That was quite a name and for a brief moment Matilda just looked at him with her eyes slightly fogged-or maybe that was just the illness.

"I'm Matilda." She answered, still curled up. She wondered if he knew of handshakes and hoped that if he did he would forgive her for refusing-her hands were probably gross from constant sneezing anyway.

He doesn't know of handshakes - not yet. Matilda's in luck.

"Do you want company?" he asks, his hands on his knees. "You don't have to say yes. If you'd like to be alone I can go outside."

Joshua knows that sort of lump of covers. After a whispered conversation with Bar, he walks over with some chicken soup. "Hey, sniffle-blanket. I got something for you."

Here, Matilda, have a Big Brother.

Technically, Matilda already had a big brother, but except for his computer and her giving some pocket money to buy comics, the two didn't really interact that much with eachother.

The scent of chicken soup perked her up slightly and she carefully pushed herself up into a sitting/slouching position. "Thanks."

She flinches, her throat developing a tickly scratch and making the soup even more welcome.

Joshua sits down on the couch beside her. "Of course. You're not feeling well, of course I'm going to help. What's wrong?"

He's used to taking care of little sisters when they don't feel well.

She would've considered this rather novel had she not been feeling bad: she still wasn't used to grownups helping her. The exception being Mrs. Phelps of course, but this wasn't entirely the same.

"I'm sick." She let out a sniffle, reaching for a kleenex. "And no one's home."

"...hello", Nancy says gently, stopping next to the couch with a slight frown of concern at what she sees. "Are you all right?"

Nancy will have to forgive her if she's not at her best: it's hard to be polite when her body's not being too nice.

"I'm sick." She answered, not moving from her position even to sit up.

"I can see that." She pulls up a chair, all her mothering instincts coming to the fore. "But why are you here on your own sick, poor darling? Where's your mum or dad?"

"Mum's in Aylesbury playing bingo." She swallows, flinching when it hurts. "And dad's at work. Here's nicer."

It's warmer in atmosphere and it's almost rather sad that Ms. Bar's more attentive to her than her own parents. That wasn't to say that Matilda felt neglected-she could've easily stayed home and brew herself some tea or soup, but in Milliways she didn't have to.

Nancy looks shocked, then angry.

"Your mother left you on your own to play bingo, and you in this state? How old are you?"

Normally Matilda preferred to not go into much details about her home life. She's well aware that it's not ideal and that her parents don't really treat her all that well, but they don't beat or starve her so she's usually able to cope.

This time though, she's not in any mood to defend or explain their actions. "'m Five and a half.." Carefully, she sits up to retrieve the tea that Bar left for her. Even in the warm setting of the bar, the hot tea felt very nice in her hands. "She didn't want to catch my cold."

She would've let out a huff had her nose not been stuffed up.."Could you pass me the kleenex, please?"

"Five", Nancy says, disgusted, handing over the cardboard box, "and she puts more stock in her own wellbeing than taking care of you. You poor child."

She took a tissue, muttering a thank you before blowing her nose. "'m used to it." She'd been doing this for three years after all, she was perfectly capable of looking after herself to a certain extent-just this time she didn't have to.

"That makes it worse. You shouldn't be used to it." She hesitates for a moment, then moves decisively to the space on the couch that Matilda, being little, isn't occupying, and opens her arms.

The gesture earns her a confused look. She knew what hugs were, but this was the first adult that made that sort of gesture for her and she wasn't sure how to respond. Her home life wasn't the happiest, but she didn't think it was so bad that it required her to have a hug.

"Come here", Nancy encourages her gently. "You're not well, nobody's taking care of you and I happen to think somebody should."

"Ms. Bar's taking care of me and I'm used to taking care of myself." Yes it was sad that a Bar could take better care of her than her parents, but she has her pride. "I just came here because it's depressing being at home by myself."

"I'm sure she is, and I'm quite sure you are." It's entirely meant, not condescending. "But Ms. Bar, as good as she is, is a piece of wood. She can give you food and medicine and Kleenex, and be kind to you, but she can't give you a mother's comfort - and I am a mother, I've got a little boy about your age. No more can you give that to yourself."

[ooc: I've been meaning to tag Matilda with Kate forever, and keep missing her. I'm sure it's too late now, but next time can I claim a thread? ^__^]

sure! I'll let you know when I next post her.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only