Not what you signed up for // Closed // (Mature)

"No you will not!" Harrison's eyes threw daggers, the emotionless kind that went straight to the core—a technique he mastered in school in order to get people to leave him alone. "And she isn't 'my girl', pretty sure she had a boyfriend last time I checked."
A more astonished look grew on his features when Lock crept inside the building. Is he feeling okay?

Lock didn't know whether or not to laugh at the joke Nas had made, but whatever sound came from his lips was uncomfortable and awkward. His eyes drifted to Nas' hand and he frowned. "Do you want me to hold it?"

Hesitantly, Lock reached out a quivering hand towards Nas' open hand. His fingers slid gently around theirs. What a strange feeling, though he did enjoy the slight warmth of the fae's hand. That didn't mean he wasn't still terrified of them. "Yeah I suppose we should…" The feeling that he was suffocating began to grow, but there would be open windows for air, right?

Noel had been pacing around for a bit before he started to write something down on his notes.
”I’m going out to get groceries, anyone want anything?” he knocked on the walls twice to get the people’s attention. The conversation that happened earlier, he’d honestly like to ignore.
Yes, he knew what was going on but as someone who’s a picky eater, he really needed to get something.

"We could do with another couple jars of cinnamon sticks and cloves." Harrison shrugged, gazing up at the herb shelf. "Lock is running low on them, and they're the only things he actually likes the taste of." he then made his way to the fridge and pulled a piece of paper from the magnetic pad stuck on there, scribbling down a list of things they needed before handing it to Noel.

Lock did as he was told, opening every window he could. At least he wasn't the only one who was uncomfortable with they heaviness of the air. He turned to Nas sheepishly, rubbing his hands together as like a soothing technique. "Why did you want me to hold your hand?"

Noel nodded as he scribbled something down on his own notebook.
”I’ll be back in five minutes… with hopefully no problems or casualties” he showed to Harrison with a small smirk before sticking out his tongue and walking out the door, closing it softly.

Making his way to the shop, Noel tried to avoid as much social interaction as possible and upon arriving at the shop, he was greeted by the employee. He smiled sheepishly with a nod.

Cinnamon sticks and cloves… he reminded himself as he picked them out alongside some other things like crisps, cream soda, and tuna sandwiches that he will eat later.

Paying for the items very quickly and after receiving the change, Noel ran out of the shop back to Harrison’s house. Knocking twice on the front door, he waited for someone to answer.

Harrison hadn't even made it to the stairs before a knock came at the front door.He swung it open and shook his head. "You're not one to take your time, are you?" he stepped aside to allow Noel into the house. "Thank you for doing that. I'm heading up to the box room just to try and sort it out. Knock if you need anything." And with that, the human dragged himself upstairs and down the left corridor until the black door of the infamous box room came into view. It stood out like a sore thumb, what with the other doors being dark oak wood, but that just made it appear even more mysterious. With a gentle nudge the door opened, and Harrison closed it behind him, locking him in the darkness.

"It's never as simple as that when it comes to you…" Lock muttered, half under his breath. He knew what Nas was, knew who they were—he knew they were a liar. One of the doors closest to him had an iron key, though the discoloration and rust on the key made it look slightly more like copper than iron. It would be unfortunate if Nas were to touch it…

A shudder ran through Lock's body when Nas let out a scream, and when he saw their burning flesh all the colour drained from his face.
He fell to his knees next to them and pulled them carefully into his arms. 2nd degree burn… I must have an ointment in my shed, but will it work is the question. He put his fear of Nas aside, it was better to have a calm mindset when dealing with a situation like this. "Nas, will you allow me to carry you?"

Lock refused to respect what Nas wanted, and held onto her despite her trying to attack him.
He remembered Great-great-great Grandfather Dale telling him that his saliva had the ability to heal injuries to the skin, though he had never thought to test it before. Something about bringing out the dead such-and-such because of him being a hemlock plant—all things that he couldn't quite remember but they seemed to make sense at the time. Lock would like to believe that even if he couldn't heal wounds completely then he could at least numb the pain.
"Forgive me." That was all he said before taking Nas' burning hand and pressing his lips against the flesh. At first he could feel the heat radiating from it as if there were a fire inside his mouth, but an odd tingling ran through the moisture on his lips before the heat began to subside.

Lock kept a hold on Nas, he wasn't convinced that they would be okay if he let go of them. The scratch surprised him, so much so that his eyes turned glossy with what could only have been tears. Why hadn't he told Nas that particular door had an iron key? Why did he let them get hurt? "I'm sorry, it's all my fault…" He mumbled, tightening his grip around them.

Lock was not at all convinced, but reluctantly he let go of the fae, and reverted back into his timid self. He started to move away from Nas until his back was pressed against one of the walls. "Sorry…" he whispered, averting his gaze from them. This is awkward, I hope they don't hate me…

"I don't really care if I'm hurt or not." Lock sighed, reaching over to lock the door with iron. He made a mental note to not touch Nas when they were hurt—whether or not he would remember was another matter. "Are we finished now?" Lock asked quietly, feeling very uncomfortable in the situation he was in. He hadn't been in the house for this long since 1919, so his human manifestation wasn't used to the dust particles and walls.

"I can try and help from the window… If that's okay?" The drus' voice was still soft, almost hesitant as he looked at the fae. But he took their hand all the same, carefully lacing his fingers with theirs. He's seen other people hold hands like that, so that must have been how he was supposed to hold it–right?

(hello I am here now. I don't really have much to say so could we timeskip soon?)

(Yeah, that sounds good. Everyone else okay with that?)