It's Only Ordinary Solo

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐍.

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Ruth Fairchild, The Film.
01:30⠀─•────────── ⠀11:00

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑰𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒔 : 𝑻𝒘𝒐

Ruth can admit, along with her three other siblings, how flirtatious and sweet her parents can get whenever they were around each other. It was like witnessing two peas in a pod, fate entwining them since the very beginning. In truth, it was much the opposite.

Elias Fairchild, besides his other [REDACTED] siblings, had never really talked to girls before. He was shy and busy. Busy with repairing tools, he says. Busy with going to the library to learn, he says. Busy with school, and soccer, and helping his family out, he says. For a thirteen year old boy going to a boys school, exposure to the other gender was rare, albeit never.

It wasn't that he didn't look charming enough or anything. He was just too busy. Right?

The truth was, Elias hadn't yet grown into himself. He didn't know how to hold himself the way maturity wanted you to, or know where he fit in. He was unstable, and it wasn't what girls wanted back then. For a guy to know what he was doing. (Besides that, several people had started to consider teenagers being too young to love, ignoring the hormones that cause infatuation and romance)

So...when he laid eyes on Eleanor Isolde one day, at a socialising event (really a disguised company discussion, just with a garden and some drinks) held by the one and only Isoldes, he just-- fell in love with her. Young Elias didn't know it then. He was simply mesmerised by the grace she exuded easily. The way she walked, the way she spoke, the way she smiled. Eleanor was a lively girl who itched to skip but glided instead. Elias had never seen such elegance. He assumed that only the Royals could ever do such. As mentioned, Elias was never in much contact with the Isoldes beyond the gate. He hadn't realised that Eleanor was raised that way, despite the young girl getting subtle thoughts of rebellion.

Elias fell for the wrong reason.

Eleanor Isolde had been incharge of walking around smiling at guests and accepting handshakes. She was to become the co-assistant to the heir of the company, once her [REDACTED] retired. As such, being able to recognise possible bonds and competitions was essential. Training their children since young made [REDACTED] smug, having reclined in a chair to watch the Fairchilds make their entrance.

Oh, how they didn't wish to be here. Anything hosted by the Isoldes was mad and deadly, only for their own gain. Yet, it would be bad courtesy not to show up. Thus, the Fairchilds swallowed their tongue and pride and made way to the centre of the gathering, where [REDACTED] sat. The owners made tense and rather passive aggressive conversation, while Elias' eyes began to wander around. Soon he found himself wandering away to the edges of the garden, which were surrounded by Eleanor's very own flowers.

Elias bent down to admire one, eyes sparkling at the sight of the ever blooming blossom. Oh, how he wished his house had decorated itself with some. For the strangest reason, they only seemed to grow rocks and greens. Perhaps it looked more serene that way.

He tilted his head, eyes wandering down to the little thorns on the rose. How fascinating. The beauty protecting itself. He reached forward for a closer examining, only to halt as a shadow suddenly loomed over him.

"Please don't touch my roses."

Elias turned around slowly, heart palpitating before it dropped at the sight of the person responsible for the young voice. Eleanor looked down at Elias, lips tilting towards a frown, not often seen. Elias turned red, blushing from...embarrassment? Scrambling up, he stammered, "I-I apologise. They were just so pretty it became-became tempting."

To his surprise, Eleanor beamed and stepped beside him, bending down to look at her roses. The silky white dress she wore flowered around her, never wrinkling. "That is quite the lovely compliment you give me, Elias Fairchild," she replied to him in her soft bespoken voice, letting her fingers graze at the petals. Elias turned to look at her, confused? "How do you know my name?" Eleanor didn't look at him, though her smile remained. The question was unanswered till this day, and Elias never found out why.

Elias making his frequent round trips to the library often meant that the gatherings by the window of Eleanor's family became ferverent and often. Their hatred for the Isoldes seemed to increase every time the innocent boy came by despite never setting foot on their property. Eleanor was often in the garden, but her siblings would tend to come out right as Elias leaves to mutter terrible things about the boy. Eleanor truly did not like such petty shaming. The words ruined the beauty of her flowers, which always seemed to wilt at the negativtiy that radiated from her other members of the family-- Especially when they discussed about the Fairchilds.

Still, Eleanor couldn't help but wonder what the reason behind all the hate truly was. More so, she was miffed and starting to slowly believe that all the talk about Elias was true. After all, she had never properly seen or interacted with the boy. For all she knew, he was [insert some pejorative here]

Eleanor had been watching the lad enter their garden with his family, following him with her gaze as he began to wander over to the edges where she had planted her prized roses. Panic rose like bile at the thought of him trashing her flowers and she had hurried over, untrusting her assumptions of him and the assumptions of others.

However, the moment he turned to her with those sparkling forest green eyes, managing to utter a compliment to her in the midst of stammering, Eleanor stopped wondering if all those talk about him was true. She figured he was a good lad (just as she thought everyone was, to be frank) and sat down next to him, beginning idle chatter of the process of planting all her flowers.

Elias blinked at her with amazed eyes. “You planted all this?”he gaped, spreading his arms out. Eleanor nodded. “Oh, yes. I plant whenever I have the time to. I…” she hesitated, glancing out. “I suppose I have a lot of time.” She turned to find Elias watching her. “Perhaps you'd like to do something else?” He asked her, grinning.

The days where Elias walked to the library alone grew nonexistent. Whenever he passed by, the boy began standing next to the gate, whistling a tune to alert Eleanor who would come bounding over, sunhat perched on her head and a picnic basket for their breaks at the bay after hours of reading together. Slowly, her showcase of the family's perfection dawdled, much to [REDACTED]’s disgust and utmost distaste. It was all that boy's fault, yes. Those wretched Fairchilds forcing rebellion into their young girl's head. How dare they.

They waited for a few weeks, then months. Surely Someday the two were bound to stop seeing each other. Isoldes and Fairchilds never got along. These two never would. However, their interactions never stopped, much to [REDACTED]'s dismay.

Eleanor came giggling home one day, fifteen now, her lush curls bouncing as she trailed after Elias. The two had just come back from another trip to the library and had passed by a boutique. [REDACTED] peered through the second floor window, peeved as they heard the conversation through the gate.

"--I know you already have a bunch of flowers, so giving you a bouquet would be completely useless," the terrible boy seemed to be saying, clutching bags of seeds and turning redder by the moment. "...So, I was wondering." He gulped, then turned to fully face the girl.

He slowly reached for her hand and spread her palms. Seeing him touch her angered [REDACTED], but they stood at the window, waiting.

Elias stepped closer and spoke earnestly. "Eleanor Isolde, you are the most beautiful and charming lady I have ever set my eyes on. May I have the pleasure of courting you?"

[REDACTED] felt their heart drop.

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍.

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Ruth Fairchild, The Film.
02:00⠀──•───────── ⠀11:00

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚

Ruth Fairchild had a simple life up to the age of 11. Simple for her, but equally as unique and different from others.

There were days when everything was a mundane job. A mundane, habitual but also lovely job. When she would wake up at dawn and sneak out of her room with her older sister in tow, slipping into their shoes and skipping away onto the dark streets with more fog than shadows, murmuring to each other about the books they intended to keep reading. When the two of them would come back home an hour and fifteen minutes later (approximately), ready to greet their parents at the kitchen as Elias and Eleanor, husband and wife, make their way down the steps to make breakfast. Ruth would help her mother whisk the eggs with precision and slice the breads for toasting. Rita would set the table, making sure the water in the glass vase had been replaced with fresh ones to brighten up the flora set in it. Elias would begin brewing the coffee, humming along to Eleanor’s singing as she assists in everything, going from family member to family member.

The other two siblings would then make their entrance, Ace bounding down the steps and Aaron following the younger boy, yawning. One of their parents would make a comment about the older boy’s bird nest hair, with Aaron jibing back that he very much liked it that way, which would set off chuckles in the room.

Their ordinary morning.

If there was school to attend, the four of them would bound away, each heading in the same direction— Bathwick Academy, nestled on the outskirts of Bath. It was good for the siblings to live so close to the school. Often, one of the four of them would be distracted by the task ahead; Aaron with his delusional bird spotting, Ace with butterflies, Rita with bookshops that litter the streets( that’s an exaggeration. There’s just plenty of book related shops) and Ruth…Ruth…

Anyways. The four of them were always side by side to and fro school, unless the two oldest siblings had something going on. Otherwise, the four would reach school just ten minutes to the morning bell and leave fifteen minutes after the last one rings. When all were present, they often took the long way home, detouring towards the playgrounds or ice cream parlours. Knowing that the kids were fortunate to have willing parents, they seized the opportunity to explore the town around them as much as possible. However, when Aaron and Rita have errands to run or extracurriculars to catch, Ruth and Ace would bolt home, disregarding events that sought their attention.

This wasn’t just for their safety. It was also because that meant quick and simple turns on the television and swing which Rita and Aaron frequently dominated. The Fairchilds were masters at taking opportunities, and this was really just one of them.

Unlike her two older siblings, Ruth was generous enough to let Ace have a go at everything she wanted first, before getting her hands on them. She was strategic in her ways such that she avoided childish tantrums and arguments, earning her praises from her parents when they got home from work, a literacy professor and Boutique Bakery owner. Both worked tiring jobs, but their exhaustion tended to cease at the sights of home, their children, and each other.

Oh yes, Elias and Eleanor Fairchild were flirts, young hearts stuck in aging bodies. Ruth wasn’t a big fan of Romance books, though she knew much about them due to Rita’s gushing. Even so, Ruth had never seen a couple as in love as her parents. Honestly, sometimes, their love radiated so much Ruth found herself strangely mesmerised (unlike Aaron, who gagged at the sights. Pfft.)

When all were present, the Fairchilds would go on a trip up the grassy hill just a few streets away. It wasn't a steep one, nor was the top's flat grounds small either. It was a safe haven for the children and a stress reliever for the adults. Usually during those trips would they bring chess sets, board games, toys, bird watching tools (for Aaron) and a picnic mat. They always, always brought a picnic mat. Then they would begin their hike up.

It was exhausting, sure, aching backs and worn-out legs from a day of walking and sitting down. However, the sight when reached the top was magnificent, is magnificent. The blue would have seeped into a pinkish orange by then, then clouds now the colour of cotton candy. A cool breeze would pick up at the top, ruffling Aaron's messed up hair and creating waves through the three females present. A collective sigh would fall to the ground softly as the family enjoyed a glimpse of the expanding horizon together before settling down.

Picnic mat spread, it usually depended on the day as to whether they would have dinner on the hill. If Eleanor managed to come home earlier, perhaps, yes. She would have packed sandwiches stuffed with avocado, melted cheese, chicken, ham, lettuce, tomatoes, sauce. Hefty delicious meal that the Fairchilds all enjoyed. Upon eating there would be mild chatter and conversation about what went on during the day, when all the children would contribute their most eventful time of their day, causing everyone to beam, or gasp, or laugh. To the children, this was a way to boast that one had the toughest day. To the parents, it was simply heartwarming that they still wanted to share their lives with them.

After the small party, they would proceed to their own activities. This consisted of Elias and Eleanor settling down on the picnic mat or the bench available with Rita for a read, the other three playing board games. If Ace's attention span were to wander off, Ruth and Aaron would attempt a game of chess, before running off the hill(after permission) for their daily bird sightseeing. It was their thing, their activity. Aaron would clutch her hand and make a wild run in the direction he intended to go that day, perhaps the nearby pond or fields. Ruth would giggle and follow her older brother everywhere, eager to be Aaron's binoculars. She was increasingly responsible for spotting the bird these days.

They weren't always fruitless attempts. More often than not, the siblings would catch sight of a migrating or dawdling bird, some that they had already seen but didn't mind admiring again from a distance. It was a quiet moment, a time to let the world unfold beyond you, for time to be their conscious and to become aware of their breathing.

The sunset would approach them not long after and more-reluctantly than not, the two would trudge back home along with their family (waiting at the base of the hill) before they all bid farewell, washing up and getting ready for bed.

Perhaps, before Ace was born, Ruth would have been wide awake, waiting, still but eager, for her parents to come in and tell her a bedtimes story. But no, she was old now. The tradition was passed on to the youngest sibling, whose giggles could be heard through the door. Did Ruth mind? Maybe. That's for another time.

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍.

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Ruth Fairchild, The Film.
03:00⠀ ───•──────── ⠀11:00

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏: 𝑶𝒏𝒆

Ruth Fairchild did not have many friends. She was innocent when it came to socialisation, her only source of knowledge gained from books and her family. Unbeknownst to her, her family was small. Sure, four child was probably more than the average two or three. But that’s not the focus here.

Saying that, the point is— Ruth Fairchild had no grandparents or relatives.

No uncles to chuckle over the silliest things, no aunts that will come prancing to fuss over skirts and other feminises. No cousins to play games with, nor grandparents to delve into the history of the Fairchilds. How could Ruth Fairchild not have noticed the lack of albums that were meant to fill the shelves with pictures, supposedly baby photos of Elias and Eleanor respectively? How could Ruth Fairchild not have stared longingly at children who walk down the streets of Bath, hand in hand with their ancient grandmothers? Such a strange girl, strange indeed.

Well, that said, it didn’t mean they didn’t exist. Neither can it be said that they are deceased. What’s their status? Why didn’t Elias and Eleanor tell their children about their backstories? They seem like very loving parents. No matter the harsh backgrounds, surely they would reveal the truth to their beloved children. There’s a simple answer to this question.

Elias and Eleanor Fairchild have simply forgotten.

Genevieve Ravenscroft ran with the wind, her hands spread out and dipped to caress the long grass that brushed her fingers tips. She laughed as she relished the feeling of freedom, carefree despite the knowledge that her formal dress was now stained with dirt. Oh, she’d love to feel this everyday. Away from her blood-purist parents, away from responsibilities, away from—

“Miss Genevieve!”

She kept on running. The butler could wait, or at least attempt to catch her. She grinned at the thought, speeding up downhill but stifling her chuckles. How had he found her anyway? She’d have thought her plans of escaping through the back door were close to foolproof by now. He called again, the begs accompanied by heaves and gasps. Perhaps she shouldn’t wear the old man out. After all, if he were to kick the bucket, the Ravenscrofts would never find someone as faithful as the old chap.

Rather reluctantly, Genevieve halted in her steps, whirling around arms akimbo as she waited for the butler to catch up. “What is it, Mr Chauveau?” She asked, head held high and impatient. The bald man with greying sides wheezed, bending on his knees to catch his breath. “It’s—It’s news about your father, Miss Genevieve.”

“It’s urgent.”

Genevieve arrived back at the house with the old man, still in her dirtied gown. Despite her furtive attempts to run to the shed where she had spares for such instances, the butler had insisted on going to the house without any detours. He said that delaying such drastic information was not worth the risk. She huffed, rolling her eyes. What could possibly be going on with Daddy now? He had been gone for so long, with the only attempts of communication being mundane reports back from Austria. This…‘drastic’ news was probably some trade failure or something.

They entered the foyer, then cut straight into the living room. Strangely, the house was silent. Little to no servants and mistresses scuttled about, which felt odd to the girl. Well, at least she thought it was silent. The closer they got to the room, the less muffled the sounds coming from it came. By the time they rounded the corner, Genevieve was shocked.

Her mother was crying.

If dinosaurs were deemed non-existent, Genevieve would relate her mother’s vivid show of emotions the same. The woman of the house was stoic and expressionless, working hand in hand with her dear husband. While she did take good care of her children, she never did show a single speck of affection through the smile of her lips, the sign more likely artificial than genuine. So…imagine her surprise to see her crying, one hand grasping onto the mantel of their fireplace and the other on a letter that was getting drenched in tears. Her wails resounded around the large room, and the servants gathered around quietly, bowing their heads as a form of condolence. Then did it hit Genevieve. Her father was dead.

Over the next few months her life turned upside down and whirled all around. She couldn’t decide if it was absolutely fantastic, or if it was hell. Genevieve hadn’t wished for the downfall of her household. She had only wanted to get away from her responsibilities. She hadn’t meant it in this way! Genevieve watched her mother die of heartbreak, her siblings fight over the wealth because of a non-existent will (or maybe properly hidden) and end in deaths filled with rage and craze. By the time her grandparents had flown over from across the world, Genevieve Ravenscroft was all alone.

What.

Arthur Fairchild.
Tall and slender build with a broad-shouldered frame, standing tall and presentable in a three-piece suit of muted colors. His long, angular face with sharp cheekbones and a well-defined jawline. Neatly groomed black hair almost a shade of brown. Genevieve had a hard time keep her mouth from gaping as he drew closer to her before proceeding to lock eyes. Oh, that, it could make the world swoon. His piercing forest-green eyes. Her heart hammered in her chest as she willed herself to stay rigid on the spot, resisting the urge to step back. Instead, she brushed a stray curl away from her face, then avoided his gaze to fix his cravat silently.

He titled her chin up, then continued to eye her with a warm but judgemental gaze, his lips curving into a balance between a smirk and a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Genevieve Fairchild,” he whispered to her, sending chills dripping down her fingertips. Wait. Did he say Fairchild?

Of course, it was no surprise that, a short while after the massive wave of Ravenscrofts deaths and hamartia, Genevieve, the last standing youthful Ravenscroft, would be bethothed to another. In this case…Arthur Fairchild, a striking young man who was the son of Drachenfels who seemed to have been friends with Genevieve’s father. She knew, of course, how they were the last strings of hope to strengthen both sides of the family. That Genevieve had to keep the relationship long lasting to avoid their downfall. Still, as she looked at the man before her, she found herself realising it might be a piece of cake.

They loved each other already.

Well, it wasn’t a piece of cake. It was more like…well, it was more challenging. Genevieve was expected to give birth to several purebloods to grow their family back to the state it had been before the multitude of deaths. The conceiving wasn’t difficult, it was the first instance of magic that her beloved kids were supposed to show that was causing discomfort running amongst relatives. “These kids,” they’d whisper. “They show their signs of magic…really late.” Genevieve and Arthur began to panic at the hushed rumours that they may as well be true. Some, to their relief, radiated in magic in time, allowing the couple to send them off to Hogwarts at an appropriate age. However, some, including Elias Fairchild, didn’t. Not on time. The biggest fear had come true— their children, some of them were squibs.

This was a bad sign. Terrible sign. Squibs couldn’t exist within a blood-purist family. Geneieve’s grandparents would be ashamed. Arthur’s father would be outraged. What would they do to their children? They couldn’t afford to lose their children, no matter how magic-less they could be, the two loved every single one to bits.

So they ran. Ran off to Canary Wharf to learn the ways of muggle business, to thrive under it. To allow their pureblood children to be sent off to Hogwarts and for the others to live their quiet ‘muggle’ life.