Yulia
In almost every other example I could think of, Moira did her fair share of housework, maybe even more. However, when it came to the kitchen after she had cooked and laundry, she often was significantly less industrious. I didn't mind so much, because it took a lot more out of her than it did out of me. I was going to let Ashley continue watching TV while I did the dishes, but she walked over, curious about what I was doing. So I showed her, and the sweet little girl volunteered to help.
Of course, her "help" often made a larger mess than it was cleaning, but I was more than capable of containing the damage and keeping things mostly under control, and I could see how happy it made Ashley to feel like she was helping. Eventually, we settled on a system that worked pretty well. I would wash the dishes, she would dry them from the chair she was standing on next to me, and then place them in the dishrack on the side counter.
After we were done with that, and after a small impromptu water fight which I may have inexplicable lost, I showed her how to clean the countertops, the stove, the splash guards, and even held her up so she could scrub the oil and dust that had settled on the inner surface of the fume hood. I had first found and made her wear a surgical mask so the dust wouldn't settle in her lungs. We had a large supply because Moira needed to wear one every time we went out, and I would wear one out of solidarity. Also, Moira hypothesized that vampires could be carriers for disease, despite remaining unaffected by them.
Then of course, I showed her how to mop the now very wet tile floor, and soon it had gone from covered in nearly an inch of standing water to slightly damp in places where the mop has reached its limits.
If I worked at some business, I would have to find a wet floor sign, but I am sure it will be fine while it finishes drying, and the tile is well sealed.
Next, we went into the gym and grabbed all the towels and cleaning rags. There was actually a mid-sized tub next to the washer for removing chemicals as best we could from clothing as well as soaking out grass and bloodstains. I almost dumped all the towels in there before I realized someone had accidentally reversed the buckets or something. Then I showed Ashley how to load the washer with towels and what setting to use for towels, and we went to watch another episode while we waited.
Soon enough the washer was done, and as was inevitable, we were in the middle of an episode when it finished. I paused it again while Ashley and I went back to the laundry room. Ashley apparently could read just fine, and so she found the towel setting on the dryer herself.
Next, I drained the tub and rinsed the rags and kitchen washcloths multiple times before loading them into the washer machine again. Ashley enthusiastically found the towel setting, and we soon were free to go back to watching our show once more.
However, by the time the laundry was done and it was time to fold the towels and move the cleaning cloths to the dryer, Ashley had apparently fallen asleep. I gently laid her down on the couch beside me and went to deal with it myself, but apparently this was enough to wake her up again, and even though she was obviously tired she doggedly followed me back to the laundry room.
There I showed her how to fold the towels efficiently. Some of them were too large for her tiny frame, so rather than taking them away from her we worked together on it like they were a bedsheet. I supposed my towels are the size of one, anyways. We were enjoying ourselves and not exactly moving with any real speed, so I was only a little surprised to find the next load finishing within a few minutes of us.
However, the few minutes of down time were all Ashley needed to find her way back to dreamland, and I set her down on the folding table off to the side. This way, if she woke up during the process, she could still help. The table was also lightly padded so it was much superior to the ground for small children. I know because I have sometimes secretly taken naps on it in human form. I wouldn't say this behavior was to get away from Moira, per say…it's just exhausting spending most of your time taking care of someone with multiple chronic illnesses. It's not her fault either, so that is why I hide when I do it, and she mostly doesn't notice.
The table is shockingly sturdy, or perhaps that is only shocking until I reveal that I weigh 300 kg in my human form, thanks to the strange gold-carbide alloy coating my bones and my superhuman musculature. So even though Ashley is a shockingly active sleeper, the table basically doesn't move at all. Any time she somehow wiggles or rolls her way into my work area, I gently set her back down back where she started. I am beginning to think she might be doing this on purpose but I find myself amused by her antics.
Soon, my suspicions are confirmed as she starts giggling. After that, I tickle her until she begs me to stop and then we finish folding all the towels and rags, putting the towels away in the linen closet and distributing the kitchen cleaning cloths to the kitchen and the rags to the gym closet. Ashley is clearly flagging by this point, and I feel rather bad for the usually diurnal little girl being made to stay up all night.
With our mission complete, I backtrack to her room and help her sit on the counter so she can brush her teeth, and then we resume watching our show, waiting for whatever Moira is doing to blow up in her face. Unsurprisingly, the normally energetic little girl falls asleep quickly, and I notice it is now 4am. Moira isn't training her, so she probably won't mind if she cheats a little bit.
Despite saying this, I move her until her form is mostly concealed between me and the end of the couch. That way, Moira will not find her until she is at least somewhat awake. I pause the show, because I hardly want Ashley to be hopelessly lost if she wakes up later, and put on The Princess Diaries because I find it terribly amusing. Even more so because Moira takes its premise far more seriously than it deserves.
About a third of the way through the movie, I notice Ashley's form shaking, and as I look closer I see tears streaking down her face. I very gently shook her.
"Ashley. Ashley! What's wrong?"
"I miss my daddy!" she wailed pitifully.
What. The. Fuck. Why must mortals trap their children in their disintegrating relationships and messy divorces?
"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?" I asked cautiously. This question had a high likelihood of blowing up in my face.
"I don't know! One day mom came home from work, got really mad at daddy, and then told him to leave! He hasn't come back even once!"
So her father was likely committing an act of infidelity and her mother did not take it well. Fair enough. That doesn't explain why he hasn't tried to be there for his children though.
"Ashley, I think I understand a little bit of how you are feeling. You know, my own father has been…" I choked back the word dead as that was probably too heavy for the little girl right now, "gone for quite some time now. I still miss him every single day." For some unknown reason, this topic of discussion had motivated bloodred tears to begin flowing out of my eyes. After 496 years, you would think I would be over it by now.
"Tell you what. Why don't I hold you and we can be sad together? How does that sound?" I asked it in a hopefully light tone of voice. I had less control over my own voice than I would like right now.
She nodded tearfully and then held up her arms. I took her into my arms and sat her on my lap, and we cried together for an embarrassing amount of time. Afterwards, I took her to the bathroom and washed both of our faces. Finally,we sat together and finished watching The Princess Diaries.
In my head, I was actually trying to figure out how to locate and contact her father. He might be kind of worthless, but mortals only get so long with their parents before they are just…gone, and I wanted Ashley to at least get some time with him before that happened.
On the other hand, Moira had made her own father immortal, and he had given her cause to regret it every day since. Maybe it was better to remember them with fondness and grief rather than be confronted with the terrible reality of them every day.