♛ | "Penelope...?" John's face is white and streaked with slime as the holocall goes through. The image juddery with the way his hand is shaking and he's up to his shoulders in thick, dirty water. "You could have w... warned me your estate had... a covered... well... I..." The Tracy's head twists, staring up at the pale circle of light high above him. "I... think my arm might be... broken." - John
“…John?” Lady Penelope stares in horror at the holographic image from her compact. John had stopped by for a brief visit after giving some lectures on astrophysics at a nearby university. Tea, companionship, a lovely stroll over the grounds with Parker desperately trying to keep Sherbet out from under foot. Somehow, Penelope had gotten so distracted by pulling up a few weeds that had stubbornly appeared around her rose bushes, that she hadn’t noticed John wander off.
“How on earth did you manage to fall down there? That well’s been covered since before I was born…” Her hand flies to her mouth, hiding her shocked expression. “Oh dear, the boards must have rotted away! Just– Just stay put, please! Try not to make it any worse than it already is!” Penelope closes the compact and stands, frowning at the dirt on her knees and hands. Look at her, grubbing around in the dirt like a child again while her guest wanders off and half-kills himself because of her own negligence! She pauses just a moment to call for Parker to fetch a rope before she darts off, her heart in her throat.
The old well dates back nearly three centuries now, but it was boarded up much later when the Manor was updated with the novelty of indoor plumbing. Years ago, Penelope used to play around it, sometimes dropping pebbles or small objects or coins down to hear them clatter on the stone sides, or splash in the small amount of water that collected after rainy days. She’d been careful even as a child, though, to never step on top of the gaping maw below the planks. The well is nearly hidden a short distance away within a small grove of very old trees. As she approaches, she can clearly tell that the planks, rotted from years of English weather, have splintered and disintegrated under the weight of a full-grown man.
Seeing how she’s already muddy, Penelope doesn’t hesitate to drop to her knees and peer down into the depths. It’s quite a long way down, but she thinks she can almost see John. “John? Are you down there? What were you thinking, standing on top of these planks? You could have been killed!”
