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[/i][/INDENT][/INDENT][CENTER][COLOR=04cf3a][sup]________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][img]https://i.imgur.com/boAerIi.jpeg[/img] [/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=04cf3a][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Home - Debolt, Alberta, Canada[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=04cf3a][b]Human #5.048:[/b][/COLOR] [color=white][I][b]All the Small Things[/b][/I][/color][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=04cf3a][SUP][sub]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][INDENT][sub][color=04cf3a][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]Haven - [@Skai][/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][b]Previously:[/b] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5573353][I]A Place to Nest[/I][/url][/right][/SUP]

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Rory's eyes glazed over as he refused to focus on the trees that lazily rolled by. The jostle in the old truck's movements were clear signs of its suspension going bad. The old man certainly knew, and mentioning it would certainly come across as a complaint instead of an observation. So he kept his lips sealed, ran his fingertips over the tight muscles in his legs, and dissociated.

When the truck stopped, it took him a moment to register that they had arrived. It was that sudden absence next to him that registered action, and he instinctively used his arms to slide his body across the old bench seat. He swung his legs over the end, and eased his weight onto his legs. Pain shot through him, duller day by day but sharp enough to loose a strained grunt from his lips. Haven's fingers wrapped around his arm to help support him, as Rory flopped into the wheelchair. He felt the frustrated look from his partner, but shook it off.

He still didn't like the doting, but knew he'd be doing the same in her position.

While she admired the nature around them, Miller approached, holding out an old set of keys. The key-ring had small flecks of rust from years of wear and tear. Rory reached into his inner jacket pocket, feeling for the stack of cash he had counted and bound that morning. He had always intended to use his inheritance to begin putting down roots, but never expected it to be this soon and under these circumstances.

He was sure that his parents would be disappointed.

That made it all the easier to place the stack into Miller's hands.

Miller left, and Rory ran his finger along the keys the man had left him. He handed the keys off to Haven when she motioned for them, and he watched her enter into their new home. He sat in front of the porch stairs, a small smile on his lips as he saw the wonder in her movements. Her happiness was infectious.

Infectious enough that he couldn't help but shift his legs off the footrests, and plant themselves on the course gravel. His arms did most of the work in pulling himself to his feet, adrenaline working to dull the pain. His right arm rested on the bannister, and his feet took each step one at a time. It felt almost surreal to walk again, grounded only by the shaky pain that made him feel like he would keel over at any second.

Haven had rushed to his side by the time he reached the porch proper, and the feeling of her lips against his melted the world away for a brief moment. She moved to support him, and he wasted no time to settle his weight on his shoulders. It would take time for him to be back to normal, but he felt a surge of pride in his chest at the steps he had made.

Most folks wouldn't even be able to stand for a second this quickly from a fractured femur.

“Let’s walk inside together.”

Rory nodded at the suggestion, letting her take the lead in guiding them through the open front door. He set the pace, taking one step at a time in a slow marching rhythm. He resisted Haven’s urge to set him down in the rocking chair near the door, instead nudging them in the direction of the dining table. They lowered him into one of the seats, Rory’s labored breathing intercut with sudden inhales. His legs burned in pain, but he tried not to show it. Haven was already out the door again to grab the wheelchair as he took the moment to admire the space. It was much larger than their former accommodations, and had much more natural lighting.

Of course, next came all the small tasks that came with moving into an old, small place. Rory had plucked an old towel from one of his bags, and began using it to dust everything he could reach from the comfort of his chair. He gave the handle of the sink a quick flick, grimacing at the sight of sputtering brown water. Miller’s comments on the water heater now felt more like a bad omen than an off-hand comment. He shook his head, flashing a look over in Haven’s direction. She had taken the towel from him to wipe some of the harder to reach places. Her eyes met his, and a faint smile traced his lips.

Rory rolled himself over to the bathroom. It was modest, sporting little more than a toilet, bathtub, and sink. Except, of course, for a small door. Opening it revealed the water heater, along with a junction box. He opened the later up briefly, noticing the handful of switches and making sure everything was powered. He then turned his gaze back towards the water heater, fiddling around with the controls until he found what he was looking for.

[Color=04cf3a]”Dove… can you check the shed out back and see if Miller left a hose? I think we need to flush the tank.”[/color]

Rory powered off the water heater, listening as the screen door to the back porch slammed shut. His legs still ached, but he refused to let that stop him. He locked his chair's wheels, and slowly lifted himself up out of his seat. He tried lowering himself down slowly, only to lose his grip on the door frame in the process. He let out a sharp cry as he fell onto his tailbone, coupled with the newly fresh pain his legs were in as they had bent sharper than usual. He took a few deep breaths, centering himself as he pushed himself with his hands to sit near the base of the water heater. He turned off the cool water spigot, and leaned back to rest his head against the wall. Now, he simply needed to wait.

It took 3 hours of trial and error to finish flushing out the water heater and getting a nice, clean stream of water to come from any of the faucets. Running a hose out the bathroom window, fiddling with the water flow to flush water in and out of the tank to clear out the sediment buildup, and then letting the tank refill again while sprawled out on the bathroom floor had left him feeling somewhat satisfied. Haven’s relieved sigh at the sight of clean water sent a smile over his lips. His chest rose in a swell of pride.

Rory Tyler would be ok.

He would survive.

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