Chapter Text
Archie steps out of the car, pulling his luggage out clumsily and stumbling back slightly, the weight of it overwhelming him. His Auntie Lottie takes his bag, pulling it along for him.
He glances up at the building before him, the grey, clouding sky seems to compliment it almost perfectly. It's intimidating and towering, like it could fall and crush him. He can see through the window the wallpaper is torn and unwelcoming. Even the wooden door has a scratch here and there. One or two windows are smashed, looking like people have tried to escape. Bold black letters are above the metal curved gate, reading: Emma Fletcher's Orphanage for unparented Children.
Mrs. Fletcher stands just past the gate. Her dark velvet dress reaches down towards her ankles. The darkness of her clothing contrasts her platinum blond hair, which is intricately woven into a bun. "Are you going to come in then?" She asks sternly.
The house was old. There were cracks in the cold, grey-ish orange bricks and dusty windows. It wasn't really a house, more of a mansion, really. Possibly an estate. With the number of windows, Archie could assume there were at least twenty room, possibly more. It was an orphanage, after all, it had to be large. There was a mossy cobble pathway leading up to the door, which looked wobbly and overgrown.
Similarly, there was ivy growing on the left side of the building and was likely what was causing the cracks. One or two windows had been shattered, and a window shutter one such window looked like it was going to fall off at the slightest breeze. Any colour on the house looked desaturated and grimy. To put it simply, the building looked miserable! Definitely not the new home Archie had been hoping for.
In addition, the garden at the front of the unfortunate building looked untended to. There looked to be an old well near the large spear top wrought iron fence that enclosed the property. It had the top covered with a few planks of wood, but it was hard to see from where Archie was standing.
He looks at the building, to the cobbles, to the iron fence, then back to the building. He hesitates to follow Mrs. Fletcher, but what choice did he have really?
With one last glance at his Aunt Lottie, he follows Mrs. Fletcher inside. The inside was... Better than the outside, even if it was equally as miserable. There weren't many people lingering about, but the few that did only glance at Archie with concern or scathing judgement. He's tempted to glare back, but he remembers his aunt telling him to be good while they had been in the car, so he decides against it.
Mrs. Fletcher leads him through the musty corridors and creaking stairwells, until they reach a room on the third floor, which he is presented with. There's little life inside the room, both in people and interesting features. He imagines it won't be long until he's stuck with some other poor soul who had the misfortune of being placed in this disappointment of a house.
Archie thanks Mrs. Fletcher with feigned and forced politeness, before entering the room. He drops his suitcase and glances around. A bland, plain looking calendar sits on the wall, reading November 14th, 1898. He looks at it closely, it had only been a month or two since the house fire. He stares, deep in thought until he hears... Scratching? He listens closely and swiftly deduces that the sounds coming from under his bed. He puts on a brave face, and peeks underneath it, and to his great shock and confusion he spies a girl under his bed!