Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Go Ahead and Sign The Scroll [Private 1x1]

Bo looked at Othello, missing the quiet sigh. "I hope it plays out well." Bo said, glancing at Belladonna approaching them.

Bo then spoke up to Belladonna, "Please.. be careful with stuff, try not to break anything or throw away anything special.." Bo said with a hint of sadness and worry to his voice, and watched Belladonna walk off to look for the stairs in the foyer...

Belladonna gave Bo an odd look but continued on her way.

Othello waited until Belladonna was out of hearing before turning to his young contractee. "Bo, she is a cleaner of houses. That is her job. To insinuate that she might damage items of value or in any other way perform her job badly is quite rude," he chided, though his voice was quiet. "I doubt she would throw away anything that is not clearly trash, and if something should break on accident, it is merely an item. I recognize that you deeply feel your parents' loss, but you cannot keep this house as a mausoleum or else you, yourself, shall cease to truly live. It is perfectly acceptable to keep a few things as remembrances, but your memories and love for your parental figures are not tied to things. They reside within you. Even should this house and every item within it burn to the ground, you will still have them. Understood? Now, while she is busy aquainting herself with the house, I suggest you go out into the garden for some air and light. If you do not desire to do so, then your room would be a good second option. I shall remain here in case she should have any questions."

Bo glanced at Othello when spoken to, and his face grew a look of mild shock when Othello scolded him, not expecting the sudden lecture. Bo stared, looking much like a deer in headlights. Othello had suggested things towards Bo similar, but to state them so sternly, though quietly, startled Bo a bit. Bo's eyes grew watery, but he did not cry, as if he was holding in the tears.

No, he would not cry.. Othello was right.. He was right, he was right, he was right. And Bo couldn't keep denying it.

Bo looked down at the floor.. "Understood." He said in a slightly, monotonous voice. Bo didn't sound sad, angry, but he didn't sound flat or emotionless either.

If it could be described, it was a big, bundle of tangled emotions, some holiday lights tied up within each other, or a yarnball unraveled and raveled up again messily. Metaphorically speaking of his emotions..

Bo would just have to slowly untangle these lights, and Bo would have to properly ravel the yarnball.

Bo looked back up, "Should.. Should I apologize to her? When I see her next?" Bo asked, playing with his shirt sleeves anxiously.

Othello shrugged as he loosely folded his arms. "That I cannot answer for you. I will certainly not require it of you, for what would be the purpose of empty words said to please the person forcing them without any real intent? If you feel you should give an apology, then you should. If you do not feel you should give an apology, then you should not. An apology should mean humble repentance and a desire to change one's ways. Empty words solve nothing."

Bo looked down at the floor again. "I think.. I think I will, I think she deserves an apology."
"Because.. Because I didn't mean to try and make it seem like she was bad at her job.. I just.. got worried, and- and anxious, and I didn't know what to say.." Bo fought back tears.

"So.. So, I will apologize to her! After I spend time in my bedroom for a while, as suggested by you." Bo looked back up again. "I think I might need some alone time anyway." Bo sighed.

Othello inclined his head. "A wise idea. It is perfectly fine to make mistakes, child, and it is good when you do because mistakes are how you learn. Now that you have made a mistake, you have identified how to fix it, and you shall do your best to implement that fix. These are the appropriate steps. We cannot always fix our mistakes, but that does not mean you cannot or should not try. Go and take your time alone. I will ensure that you will know before Belladonna leaves."

He moved away, following after Belladonna. While the site he'd used to hire her had appeared reputable, and he thought they had good comments as to their trustworthiness (reviews, he thought they were called), she was still a stranger in his contractee's home. He intended to keep an eye on her from a distance. With that thought, he paused and made certain he was out of sight before drawing a rune on the wall with his finger. The rune glowed pink for a second, and then with a tiny pop and a whisp of smoke that smelled faintly of brimstone, a single orb the size of a medium fist appeared into existence. It turned slowly, revealing a pupil. The floating eye blinked. It shouldn't have been able to blink, but it did. Somehow.

Othello blinked in return, greeting the eye. "There is a female dressed all in black. I desire for you to watch her. If she appears to be doing anything suspicious, please alert me."

The eye blinked and whisked away, propelled by some unknown force. Othello remained close to where he assumed Belladonna to be, but he did not try to spy on her at all. That was the eye's job, and despite the fact that it was a floating eyeball, it was very good at staying hidden. Nothing much seemed to happen. Belladonna explored the spaces available, staying out of the bedrooms and not touching anything she didn't need to. When she finished exploring, she asked to review Bo's schoolwork so she could be familiar with it. Othello presented it to her in the parlor, and she skimmed through it without a hint as to what she was feeling.

That seemed to be the end of things, and Belladonna presented Othello with a list of items she needed and promised to return to clean the next day. Othello called for Bo to join them distractedly as he tried to read Belladonna's spidery handwriting. Did that say sage smudge? What was a sage smudge?

Bo walked into the room that Othello and Belladonna were in, and this was his chance to apologize, after all, she was getting ready to leave. "Miss Belladonna! I, uhm- I have something to tell you!" Bo spoke up, putting his hands behind his back. "I.. wanted to apologize for earlier this morning.. when I asked you to be careful and not to break anything.." Bo said quietly, "I didn't mean to upset you, if- if I did. I was just worried, and anxious, and I definitely could have worded what I said a lot better." It was clear that Bo had thought out this apology. "I know your job is to clean houses, and I know you must be really well at your job, or else you wouldn't be a housecleaner!" Bo added, "So, I apologize." Bo nodded his head in an apologetic bow, before glancing at Othello reading the list. Bo tried to get on his tiptoes to take a peek at it, but didn't understand the spidery handwriting, so decided to stop.

Othello glanced from the list long enough to give BO a tiny nod of approval. Then he went back to deciphering what he thought either said "tea light candles," or "teal igot candies." Neither made sense to him. Who would make candles out of tea?

Belladonna stared at Bo, a bit of surprise making it through her mask of indifference. She recovered, though, and her expression quickly regained its look of melancholy resignation. She waited for Bo to finish talking and waved her hand vaguely in front of Bo as if trying to indicate something about him. "You have a beautiful aura, child. Beautiful. Your words are gone, lost to the void of the universe. Perhaps they shall find you again in this lifetime. Perhaps not."

Othello looked at her, wondering what the heck it meant but beyond the point of caring what these humans were talking about. "I believe I shall be able to procure some of these required items," he said, moving the conversation elsewhere. "However, I do not know what some of them are. If you procure them for yourself and present a proof of purchase, I shall reimburse you."

She inclined her head and walked to the front door. "This is a reasonable expectation on this mortal plane." She picked up her umbrella from where she'd left it by the door. "I shall be able to work with what is already available for now. I shall see you tomorrow providing the dark fates allow. Good bye."

Othello saw her out and gently closed the door behind her.

Bo watched as Belladonna waved her hand in-front of his face vaguely. He didn't know what a beautiful aura was, and if he truly had one, but assumed it was a compliment. Just as Othello was, he was wondering what Belladonna even meant by her strange words. And when Belladonna left, Bo waved goodbye and watched the door close behind her.

".. She seems nice?" Bo looked at Othello with an awkward smile.

"Indeed," Othello agreed. "I do not know if this arrangement shall work out, but this is why they have what is called a 'trial period.' If either she or we decide it is not a good arrangement, we may break it off rather quickly." He turned and glided into the house. "We shall see. Now, Bo, what is next on your schedule?"

Bo thought for a minute, then spoke up, "Well, I've ate breakfast, met Belladonna, I spent time in my room, studied, apologized to Belladonna.." He went through his schedule mentally. "I think lunch is next?" Bo said, slightly unsure. "I am feeling a bit hungry." Bo smiled softly, "Maybe you can try and make panna cotta now? Or we could save that for after dinner?" Bo warmly added.

Othello considered the request. "I must go over the recipe again before I attempt to prepare it. I shall study it with determination after lunch and then prepare the pan cottage after supper. Does this meet with your approval? Also, you should take some time outside today for your health. If you desire for me to be with you, I am willing to do so after lunch."

Bo giggled to himself at the 'pan cottage' thing, and then nodded. "That'll work.."

"I'll go outside.. uhm, by myself. I'm brave." Bo tried to look tough and brave, but it was hard to take the tiny kid serious. "But, uh, do occasionally check on me, even if you just look out the window." Bo then nervously laughed.

Othello looked Bo up and down, mostly down, and resisted the urge to say anything snarky. "Very well. I shall endeavor to create something to eat. If I finish before you return indoors, I shall fetch you. Go and enjoy some fresh air."

He left Bo to his own devices and went to the kitchen. What was a small thing to make for a mid-day meal? While he did cook, it was rarely for one or two people. The only time he cooked for just himself and not multiple people was when he was low on funds or felt like something specific. This cooking for two - more like one and a half - was a new thing, and he was at a bit of a loss. He poked around, refroze the freezer again, and finally decided to make sandwiches. He hated making sandwiches. It was just so... undignified! But he was not certain what else to do, so he gathered up a bunch of random condiments and fillings and started awkwardly layering meats and cheeses on bits of bread, occasionally adding a bit of a condiment here and there.

Bo spent time outdoors, sitting in the grass mostly, but occasionally getting up to try and catch bugs.

After about half an hour, he managed to catch a beetle, and was eager to show it to Othello.

Bo pushed open the door, and walked into the house, holding the beetle in his hand. "Othello! I caught a beetle!" Bo called out, before wandering to the kitchen and looking for him.

Bo giggled a few, short times, as the beetle walking around in the palm of his hand kind of tickled.

Sandwiches were not his forte. He understood the theory of sandwiches, but not so much the execution. He had found a package of meat labeled "turkey," and vaguely remembered some tradition in certain Gaian cultures of some sort of gratefulness feast that involved turkey and some form of red berry jelly. As it happened, there was bright red strawberry jelly in the refrigerator. Perhaps turkey and this red jelly - it had to be strawberry jelly, right? How many types of red jelly could there be? - was not just for festivities. So, he put turkey, strawberry jelly, and lettuce between two pieces of bread and set them on a plate with a few pieces of sliced cheese on the side. Cheese went with sandwiches, if he recalled correctly. It was a strange thing to have on the side, but he would try it once. To drink, he poured two glasses of orange juice.

Othello had just finished placing everything on the table when Bo came in. "You caught a what?" he asked absently, wondering if this was enough food for a young Gaian child. "What are you laughing about?" He turned and made a face. "What is that and why is it in the house? It looks like a rock fairy used in a lesser curse of boils used by jilted teenaged girls against their boyfriends. Those little things bite dreadfully and foul your hand if you hold them too long. How did you catch it?"

Bo repeated, "I caught a beetle. It's a bug!" Bo held open his hand, the beetle crawling around (probably confused) on his hand.
"A rock fairy? Curses? Not at all!" Bo seemed surprised but didn't question it further. "I knelt down and carefully scooped it up off the ground." Bo explained how he caught it.

"Whyever would you capture such a squirmy creature and remove it from its habitat if you did not intend to utilize it?" Othello frowned, truly confused as to Bo's intentions. "In any case, find a place to store it if you intend to use it later or release it back where it goes. It is time to eat, and I do not relish the idea of eating with a... 'beetle'... at the table."

Bo looked down at it and then looked back up at Othello. "Because it's cute, and I wanted to hold it for a bit." He replied. Then, when Othello said it was time to eat and didn't like the idea of a beetle at the table, Bo wandered back outside to let it go, placing it gently in the dirt underneath a tree, before wandering back inside, and going to the kitchen. Bo washed his hands first, because it was always nice to do that before you eat, especially when handling rock fairies, er- Beetles.

Bo then went to the table and pulled out a chair, sitting on it and waiting for Othello to sit across from him.

Othello frowned at Bo, wondering why he was just... sitting there. What was he waiting for? He shook it off with the feeling of resignation. He was never going to understand this child. He sat down with his sandwich and indicated the sandwich sitting on a plate in front of Bo. "It is the turkey and red stuff like at your gratitude festival. Or some culture's gratitude festival. I do not remember which culture celebrates what festival."

He took a bite of his own strawberry, turkey, and lettuce sandwich and chewed slowly. It took a conscious effort to keep from making a face at the flavors exploding in his mouth. By the gorgon's sandy toes, Gaian's ate this stuff?? Why?! Ugh. Still, he was not going to be rude. He ate it without complaint and made a note to never, ever touch the red stuff again. He hated the taste of that stuff!