addisonrigas reblogged your post and added: āaddisonrigas: cursedsunlight: It had been storming heavily all day,ā¦ā
The first tug is enough to urge him off the groundā¦
@addisonrigas
Ā Ā Within the next ten minutes Solar has lead the ancient through the Darkness surrounding their home, and up to their apartment. The dolls are baking and the apartment smells like a bakery because of it, more than a few come to greet the witch, surprised that theyāre back so soon, and with a guest. A soaking wet, shaking guest with an aura like a dense, eerie fog. The little entities are more surprised when Solar hangs their umbrella, puts their books down, and starts tending to the guest on their own without issuing a single order or request.
āWait here fer a sec,ā the witch says, leaving Addison in the living room with dolls, and the tingle and chiming of warding trinkets to accompany him. Theyāre back five minutes or so later, arms full with towels, a wrap around skirt and an overly large shirt. Theyād had to search to find that damn skirt, having not worn it in a long while.
āHere,ā they say in warning a moment before lightly pressing the towels and shirt into his handĀ āThaās thĀ biggest shirt I got, an a wrapĀ āround skirt. It shoulā fit ya jus fine till yer shitsā dried.ā
Even though he knows they dislike it, the older lets himself get lost in the mundane, passing thoughts of the witch for the ten minute walk to block out most of the storm. He can still hear it through both of their ears, flinches every time with an either exhaled or inhaled hiss that he canāt tell is the normal lingering fear, exhaustion frustration, or annoyance, but they get to the house, the sound muffling significantly once the door is shut, making him wonder absently if the place is charmed.
He just tiredly nods at the order, feeling the type of bone deep weariness that comes with an issue repeated over for centuries. He is a bit surprised at the warm smell though. Recognizes it as something that would make a place seem homey. It isnāt as if it smells bad, it just doesnāt really hold any interest for him
Somewhere further in the house he can hear them digging through cabinets, or drawers, so considering heās already soaking wet at the foyer (he assumes a foyer type room, itās not as if he can tell), he manages to strip off the vest and dress shirt before they come back, handing him what feels like a towel, and explain to be clothes.
āThanks.ā He mutters quietly, tossing the towel around his shoulders, tucking the clothes under one arm, then working on tying his hair up in a tight bun to keep out of the way. That would be a different demon to tackle at a different time. He could be lazy for now.
Then without a single ounce of shame, and not to mention they hadnāt seen it before, he stripped off the rest off his wet clothes, dried himself off, and changed into the given clothes. The shirt fit fine, he had a narrow build after all, but with the height difference the skirt only fell to mid-calf on him. At least he wasnāt bothered by wearing such things. āThank you..ā He murmured again, trying not to tilt his head towards the now fainter sound of the storm. The house made it better, but he could still hear it.
