House of Gold

Archie Renner

🦁 Gryffindor | Father 🌈
 
Messages
891
OOC First Name
Anna
Blood Status
Unknown
Relationship Status
Engaged
Sexual Orientation
Homosexual
Wand
Straight 12 Inch Flexible Ash Wand with Phoenix Tail Feather Core
Age
35
Set during the summer break of 2050.
Archie had endured weeks of excruciating and tedious searching, of asking countless questions and traveling back to the orphanage he first called his home, of visiting hospital after hospital to sort through public records. All to create a web of potential leads and slowly although surely narrow down all possible options to finally figure out where he really came from, who he really was, and who his family really were after twenty-five years of his past being a complete mystery. Archie didn’t know how he had managed without going completely insane, the meticulous details and countless words on countless pieces of paper and countless names of people who might be his family taking a toll on his mind, and the constant task of following up each lead and finding most of them a dead end placing a heavy burden on his emotions. But with Orwell’s help, knowledge and emotional support through such a trying task and uncertain time in his life, Archie waded through it, eventually coming out the other side from the chaos of his search with both a name and an address he believed belonged to his birth mother.​
Archie could hardly believe they had gotten so far, how they had begun their search with such little information and ended up with a real result, a light at the end of the tunnel that was the name of a woman who fit all of the circumstances he knew about his arrival to the world, at least on paper. Now all that was left was to meet this woman and ask her so they knew instead of assumed she was one of the two people he had been searching for. Regardless of the uncertainty of whether this woman was his birth mother, or her profile fitting his circumstances was a mere coincidence and he would leave that day defeated, needing to begin his search all over again, Archie couldn’t hold himself back from feeling excited to meet her. As anxious as he was about the meeting and as anxious as he had been writing an owl ahead of his and Orwell’s arrival to her house, there was a twinge of excited anticipation in his heart that this woman was his mother, and knowing her would finally provide him answers to the many uncertainties he had about himself. To think all the things he never knew, all the questions he had about himself would fade into his past and be replaced with something real and tangible, it was impossible for him not to feel excited about meeting her despite his nerves.​
He apparated to the suburban street listed in the woman’s address, nervously intertwining his fingers with Orwell’s as they strolled a few houses down, counting the numbers until they reached the one they were looking for. Painted white and with a manicured lawn, it was quaint and not unlike the other houses nearby, fitting the humble suburban setting he expected when he first thought about what meeting his birth mother would actually be like. Archie paused in front of the gate, holding his breath and looking down to Orwell. Nerves suddenly overtook his excitement and his feet felt rooted to the ground as the gravity of what was about to happen hit him. Quaint setting or not, Archie couldn’t keep himself from swallowing nervously as he looked back over to the house, any bravery he had leaving him. “Um, can you knock on the door for me?” He asked his best friend, trying to take deep breaths and calm himself.​
 
Orwell had given whatever time he could spare to Archie’s search for his family, It had been difficult, there was a lot of paper, a lot of details to sift through to find what was necessary. He had provided any and all emotional support to Archie whenever he could, keen to be sure that he was managing okay, that it wasn’t over whelming and to just be there fore him how he needed him. Orwell would be glad however, and was glad when they found what they had needed and they could take a few steps forward. What was true that they had found all of the information they needed and were heading to this person, he knew that the difficulties with the situation would not be any easier just because Archie now knew where she was. He had been sure to ask Archie several times (perhaps too many times) if he was sure of what he was doing, if he was certain this was what he wanted him to do. He didn’t know how helpful it was but it felt like the only thing he could do. He didn’t want Archie to go into the situation uncertain and come out more hurt than before. However, he had seen in their research how much this meant to him, so with every assurance he hoped for only the best for Archie and this situation. It was unlikely to be easy for him.
Orwell had taken some time out of his usual schedule, as he had been doing for a while to help Archie in all of this, but today was the day. He apparated alongside Archie to the address they knew she was at and looked towards the house that greeted them. It was suburban...had those fences he was sure the old american books spoke about. It felt over done and made Orwell feel uncomfortable. But, his feelings didn’t matter in this, this wasn’t about him, it was about Archie, and if Archie felt comfortable moving forward and doing this so did he. It was easy to be reminded that though he hadn’t agreed with the Hogwarts House system, that sometimes they very easily played into them. He let his fingers intertwine with Archies as they approached the house. The silence the evidence that this was rather nerve wracking for Archie, the only indication he had found. They paused at the gate for a moment Orwell waited for any indication from Archie of when he’d be ready, ”Of course” Orwell said in response. He would do whatever little things were necessary to help Archie. He stepped forward continuing their short walk up to the front door and with a little squeeze of Archie’s hand he knocked on the front door.
 
Throughout the past week Knox had never seen his mum so distraught. Patience and understanding and mindfulness was never something Knox associated her with, her reactions to his regular rebellion and rule breaking proof of this. But to see her react in unexpected ways at the drop of a hat in the last few days told Knox something was different, that through all her usual strictness something had changed, a flip had switched and she was more on edge than he’d ever known her to be. It was through his later eavesdropping of his parents’ late night conversations in the kitchen did Knox then realize some kind of distant and estranged relative was about to visit, unannounced other than with a mysterious letter to warn them, and this was what had caused his mum to be so distressed. It was confusing for Knox to say the least. He thought he knew all his relatives and had met them all once in his life, whether it be when he was a baby or later on during some boring family gathering. So to hear there was someone in their family tree distant enough to cause this reaction made Knox’s insatiable curiosity go wild, and his demeanor determined to meet this relative and be part of whatever situation that was going to unfold in his house.​
On the day of this anticipated visit, his mum had asked him to stay in his room and Knox agreed, if only to sneak back downstairs and wait close to the door so he could answer it as soon as he heard knocking. When he did, he rushed to open the door before his mother could, hearing her shuffle around in the living room as he looked over to the guests, brows furrowing with confusion at their appearances. Both of these strangers looked far too young to be some kind of long lost aunt or uncle that he was expecting, and he tilted his head to the side as he looked them both up and down, noting they were holding hands. “Hi! I’m Knox.” He greeted, just in time for his mother to step in and interrupt his childish meddling.​
Susan Ivers thought she had locked her shameful past away, hidden her memories and emotions and mistakes inside a box with a lock and key never to be opened again, and any chance of her once terrible decisions being traced back to her new traditional, respectable and expected image fading to nothing over the last twenty six years as she moved on with her life. To have it all thrown back in her face after all this time, so suddenly had her mind and emotions swirling in anxious circles. The fear of being judged, fear of her husband seeing her differently, the fear of Knox experiencing such a big change in everything he thought his life had been, and the guilt, the overwhelming guilt of giving a child away forcing her into a state of shock. She only had a few days to prepare for what she should have known would be the inevitable situation of meeting her adult son, and what a drawn out, stressful few days they had been. Susan had cleaned the house unnecessarily what felt like a thousand times, and she had reformed the habit of smoking that she thought she had quit, desperate to find some relaxation in the midst of having the stability and life she had worked so hard for change, feeling as if her entire life and the trust her family had in her was crumbling, falling apart at the seams. She had been so young, and her situation so avoidable and if she could have changed it she would have, without an ounce of hesitation. However now Susan was about to face her fears, and come to terms with the choices she had made so many years ago.​
The sound of knocking on the front door roused her from her thoughts, and Susan stamped out her half finished cigarette in the ashtray now rooted to her living room coffee table as she stood up, neatening her hair with her hands and folding her arms over her cardigan as she headed to the door. A disappointed but not surprised sigh escaped her mouth when she noticed Knox had already answered the door. In an effort to control what was happening, Susan reluctantly accepted Knox’s place in this meeting and stepped into the doorway to usher the two guests inside, unable to look either of them in the eye as she welcomed them into her home, expecting Knox to close the door behind them. “Come on in, I prepared some biscuits, would you like a glass of milk, water maybe? Or tea?” She asked them, feeling frazzled and unable to hide it. “Here, take a seat at the table.” She said frantically, pulling out one of the dining chairs and heading to the kitchen to find the plate of cookies she prepared, returning to place it in the middle of the table as she sat down herself, arms crossing over her chest again as she wanted to get this over with. "Well? Where do you want to start?" Susan asked impatiently, finally looking between the two strangers and immediately able to discern which was her son.​
OOCOut of Character:
Just to avoid any extra confusion I'm rping both Knox and his mum in Knox's posts, Knox's dialog is in regular bold and his mother's dialog is in pink!
 
Orwell could share in the nervousness that Archie likely felt, the nervousness at not knowing who would open the door, what they would be like and for Orwell, a little fear that it wouldn’t be what Archie was looking for. He thought it would be cruel of fate to make them terrible people, but the house was nice, the garden was nice, both in a very traditional sense. The door swung open and Orwell looked to who answered, it wasn’t exactly who’d he’d expected. A young boy, who was clearly the child of the parents opened the door. Orwell couldn’t help but briefly glance between them as if looking for similarity in their features, but he wasn’t sure he could really see them. Orwell did see in looking at Archie that he seemed a little overwhelmed by it and perhaps even more so, when a woman appeared at the door. Orwell looked at her and smiled politely, this was Archie’s mother, his real mother. Orwell squeezed his friend’s hand, giving him reassurance that everything would be okay, that he was there, that they would be just fine. He watched as the mother invited them in and Orwell was the first to step in and let himself very lightly pull Archie in with him. They followed her to the table where she’d pulled out the seats.

”I’d take some tea if you’ve got it, no milk,” Orwell said, aware that Archie still hadn’t said anything. He let his hand remain in Archie’s under the table and looked at him closely, trying to ask without saying anything if he was okay, but when he thought maybe it would be good to say something the woman walked back in. Orwell looked towards Archie and expected him to begin but when he didn’t, Orwell cleared his throat, ”We could start by introducing ourselves I guess. I’m Orwell Kitchen Brocken, and this is Archie Renner. We’re both twenty five,” Orwell said, he had an evident kiwi accent a bit of a contrast to Archie’s, but he looked towards Archie as he finished speak, hoping he would pick up where Orwell had stopped. He didn’t think he’d be the right person to say to this woman that Archie was her son, he didn’t think it would be the right thing for him to do. He was a guest of Archie’s in this interaction, here to help out and provide some security as well as knowing that if she started being mean he’d be there to stand up immediately for his friend.
 
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