Eleanor gripped her fists tightly, suddenly nervous. She looked down at the eight little girls huddled close around her and remembered why she had turned up at the old saltbox. They had escaped that underwater hell, braved the brutal North Atlantic seas, and had survived one of the worst storms of that season. To think that Eleanor, the People's Daughter, was frightened of knocking on a complete stranger's door was preposterous! Yet she stood there, seized with dread and fear. She felt Delta lingering in the back of her mind. His reassuring presence only made her more miserable. What was the point of injecting herself with the essence of the greatest, bravest man she knew, if she was so scared to approach a harmless surfacer?
"Come on, Eleanor, it's chilly!" cried one of the girls. Even with the amount of conditioning they had undergone, the girls were poorly dressed for the below-zero conditions, and without proper shoes at that. Eleanor took in a sharp breath and delivered a few rapid thumps to the door, then stepped back and waited, fearing the worst. She heard a few distant voices, then the approaching footsteps, and readied herself to attack in defense.
The door creaked loudly and swung open with a bang, clanking against the white lights hanging from the snow-covered roof. Eleanor, startled, gave a short yelp, then clapped a gloved hand over her mouth in embarrassment. It was a man, perhaps in his early forties. It had been so long since she had seen someone who hadn't been spliced-up beyond recognition, she didn't know what to expect. He wore a thick red sweater and khaki cords tucked into work boots. His face was kind, surprisingly handsome considering his age, his dark blond hair peeking out of his tweed hunting cap. He chucked warmly and opened the door further to let them in.
"My apologies for the door, it could use a fixing." He smiled down at the girls. "You must be freezing! Why don't you littluns settle yourselves by the fire?" he asked, gesturing towards the flickering flames in the corner of the room. With a collective squeal, the girls darted past him and dove into the woven rug by the fireplace, giggling and whispering among themselves.
Eleanor shuffled in quietly after the girls, keeping her eyes intensely focused on the man's face. She found no hidden malice in his expression, but remained alert nonetheless. She could feel Delta's ghostly embrace protecting her, yet she couldn't help but feel unsettled.
"Now, would you like to tell me why you're wearing a diving suit, when it is clearly as cold as all hell out there?" he asked kindly. He smiled again. Something about the crinkling of his eyes when he smiled made her trust this man. Had Dr. Lamb ever smiled? Now that she thought about it, Eleanor couldn't recall it. The rare smiles Lamb delivered were cool and calculated – there was nothing warm about them. This man's gentle smile seemed genuine, and Eleanor felt suddenly comforted.
As she pondered these thoughts, the man turned towards the stairs, craning his neck around the rail. "Missus Taylor! We've a guest come to stay!" He faced Eleanor. "Missus Taylor will help sort you out with some nice clothes. She's a real nice lady, you'll see." He was already walking away as he called over his shoulder, "I'm going to help Maisie out in the kitchen – you'll meet Maisie soon, she's a young'un like you – fix something up for you and your sisters." Before Eleanor could respond, he was gone, and a tall, stately woman had descended upon her.
So this was Taylor. She was middle-aged, noticed Eleanor, but tall, taller than any other woman she knew. Dr. Lamb was a good six feet tall, so this woman had to be at least three or four inches taller than that. Once she had come to the bottom of the stairs, Eleanor realized that she was not actually as tall as she seemed. It was the way she carried herself that made her appear so grand. Looking at her now, she seemed to be no more than five foot nine at most. This did little to diminish her position, however. The woman loomed over Eleanor in her nightgown, eyeing her up and down. Eleanor straightened up, but felt like shrinking into the floor under the power of this woman's intense gaze.
"No, no, this will not do!" she exclaimed loudly, surprising Eleanor. She peered at her through thick spectacles. "What are you called, dear?"
"Eleanor, Eleanor Lamb." Eleanor willed her voice not to waver. These were surfacers, there was nothing to fear. With this thought, she steeled herself and continued. "And these are my sisters, Missus Taylor," she said, nodding at the girls playing happily by the fire.
"Mm, yes, well. I am Madam to you, Eleanor Lamb." She tutted disapprovingly as she took in Eleanor's defiant stance and her Big Sister suit. "Come up with me, we must have you changed at once." She started up the stairs, her nose wrinkled at the suit's briny stench. "It's bad luck to be swimming so close to the New Year, you know. The devil will pull you beneath the waters." Eleanor shuddered, thankful that she had escaped from the clutches of that devil. Then something that Madam had said struck her.
"New Year's, Madam?" she asked sweetly, silently cursing herself for sounding so subservient. Was it New Year's already? Before the though could linger, they had reached the top of the stairs. Madam turned to her and smiled knowingly. Eleanor tried to reach out to Delta for reassurance, but she felt suddenly disconnected from him, shaking her confidence.
"Well, Toad's Cove has got its own unique traditions to welcome in the new year. . . although I expect you shall learn them soon enough."
A/N: This is my first fanfic, so I'd love to hear your reviews! And of course, BioShock is owned by 2K Marin. And I thank them for delivering this beautiful game to us mortals! :)