𝚂 𝙾 𝚃 𝙴 𝚁 𝙸 𝙰

[senna_]

❝ 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐎 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

'xxxxshift. location. cabin deck/porchxxxmentions. vivette, carsusxxxtags. open
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Kenna had never been one of British Columbia’s early morning risers, and she was beginning to truly feel that that was never written to be part of her destiny. She felt unsettled by the things others often saw as pure beauty: the early-morning stillness that drew across the sea coated it with a shimmer of sunlight and a glimmering reflection, the tranquil state of the water making it seem as if nature’s deep sea was one big ice rink, often put one’s mind at ease, but for Kenna, the lack of activity made things feel distant; unalive, even. She felt out of her body in those primitive stages of waking, yet knew that one simple step would rumble across the forest floor. In the early mornings, she felt like there was no space for humankind; everyone deserved a moment of meditation, and early daylight hours was Mother Nature’s time to debrief and recollect. Kenna was most content snuggling up in the comforts of her bed, grabbing onto a bundle of her blanket as she flipped onto her other side, heart lurching up to the throat as she felt her knee brush the drop-off point of her mattress. She didn’t have many tasks written in her agenda, but rolling – quite literally – out of bed was not one of them. Forcing her eyes to remain shut for a few more moments, she rolled back, this time landing on her stomach, head burying itself down into her feathery pillow. The scent of lingering laundry detergent mingled with some sort of earthy fragrance filled her senses like she had just been sprayed under the nose with perfume. She was keen on getting a nip of nature’s fresh breath against her skin; Kenna spent so much time outside that it was as if she was required to maintain a certain number of hours in the sun in order to survive.

She dragged her body upright in zombie-like form, head the last to roll up. Her shoulders were tense; either she had slept in an inhumane position, or it was from her leap-frog adventures up in the trees yesterday afternoon. She ran a hand over her tangled hair; was that a leftover piece of twig twisted into her frizzy waves? No, it was worse: her hair had knotted uncomfortably. “I can’t win,” she grumbled under her breath, although her tone was far from genuinely displeased. Kenna took this opportunity to spend more time in her bed as she carefully raked her fingers through her hair, parting the strands piece by piece until her locks freed from one another. Then she braided it back; Kenna had made far too many jokes about how chopping her head off right from the roots would make life so much easier. Of course, she’d never actually go through with it, but with the number of times she had spoken rather distasteful of it would likely take longer to convince someone that she didn’t really mean what she said, than convincing them that she was serious.

By now, the sunshine was highlighting the window frame, and after staring at it for a second too long, an outline of a reddened image burned into her eyes, presenting itself maddeningly with each blink taken. Kenna truly did have a love-hate relationship with mornings. Not like Vivette, who always seemed to be up bright-eyed and cheery hours before Kenna was. Although Kenna often saw Vivette as part of the sun itself: she always had such radiant energy that lit up the room the way the sunshine was currently saturating the glass window. Okay, enough thinking. With a dramatic grunt and a swing of her legs for extra momentum, Kenna tipped herself off the bed, and slowly but surely began her morning wash-up routine.

By the time she was done and ready to start her day, she could hear several secluded hum-like voices sounding from nearby. A conversation in the process, spoken in low tones as if meant to be kept a secret. Eavesdropping was a guilty pleasure of hers, something she’d only sheepishly admit to a few, but she had no interest in doing so this morning. She mostly did it for the gossip, really. Who could possibly have so much to say before noon? That was a funny thing to think, really, because Kenna sure did, if prompted appropriately. Talking had always kept her younger siblings content in the early hours, but she wasn’t on babysitting duty any longer. For whatever reason, that thought exhilarated a stinging feeling inside her ribcage, like a bee had stung the center of her heart. She held nothing against a single one of her siblings; they hadn’t been the ones to send her running elsewhere, after all. This was a train of thought Kenna always tried yanking on the lever in time to avoid traveling down that particular pathway. She had relocated to Fox Island long enough ago to know that these people could be considered to be her distant family in some ways, but distant fared a far different feeling to blood relatives. That was a topic of internal discussion for another time, she told herself quickly, freezing that frame of thought before she found herself spiraling down a rabbit hole.

Following that, Kenna’s mind continued to dabble in several overlapping thoughts as she walked aimlessly, all lowering into a dull whir as her fingertips made contact with one of the doorknobs, the brass material cold to the touch as she opened the door, exposing herself to the crisp breeze that whisked by her as in on cue. From afar, she could hear the susurration of the Pacific waters down below. The ocean was always such a mystery to Kenna: it was so ominous, with so little of it having been discovered, and yet, so striking. Kenna had always endured a thrilling inclination for long forest hikes and watching fluffy, cotton candy clouds from up in the comforts of the thick tree branches over a dip in the sea, but that wasn’t to say she had any negative feelings towards it. Perhaps she was a bit uneasy with the idea of exposing herself to the unknown under the surface of the seawater, but she wouldn’t go as far as saying she was afraid of it. The way it bordered Fox Island like the island’s personal protector went a long way in Kenna’s mind. Surely, she’d never be able to associate truly negative feelings towards it, regardless of how high her levels of wariness were.

Some people just felt more of a natural draw in its direction, such as Carsus, whom Kenna had caught sight of as she propped her lower arms up onto the desk railing, hands lazily hanging over the other side of the somewhat dampened wood. He looked like he had been out for a bit; even from afar, Kenna could catch sight of the dull shadows that covered the skin under his bottom lashes. Raising one arm, she lifted two fingers up towards her forehead and half-saluted in his direction, unsure if he actually saw the movement or not. Returning her arm back to its original resting place a fleeting moment later, she shifted her weight so that her elbows rested on the wood, the palms of her hands coming up to fit comfortably under her jaw, cradling her lower face. She took in a deep breath, the cool morning air filling her lungs from bottom to top. Things were always so peaceful around here; it was one of the few places that succeeded at calming her mind. At the moment, what to get for breakfast was seizing up every inch of her senses.

[འབྲོག་ཁྱི]

𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖶𝖤 𝖢𝖮𝖴𝖫𝖣 𝖫𝖠𝖴𝖦𝖧 𝖥𝖮𝖱𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖱 𝖬𝖮𝖱𝖤, 𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖭 𝖶𝖤 𝖢𝖮𝖴𝖫𝖣

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⯭ ⋅ ─── ⋅ 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑺𝑼𝑺 x 𝑯𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑳 ⋅

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𝖳𝖤𝖠𝖱 𝖨𝖳 𝖴𝖯 𝖫𝖨𝖪𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖣𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖳 𝖭𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳, 𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖭 𝖶𝖤 𝖢𝖮𝖴𝖫𝖣

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tagging; kenna
mentioned; none
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location; cabin
shift; grizzly bear

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Sunlight leaked into the shed through cracks in the grainy wooden walls, and opening the doors had raised up motes of dust that drifted around in the air, which struck the nostrils as somewhat musty. They floated through the faint splinter-like beams of light like summer insects over a field. A frayed old rope tangled together pieces of lawn furniture and some kind of plastic contraption, which was scraped up and down its many legs until little frizzles had risen from the otherwise smooth surface. It sat in the middle of the shed, a giant ball of... mess. Carsus had tucked his tent canvas away on one of the shelves, between a folded tarp and a cardboard box of gardening tools, but he found himself unable to walk away from the mess without at least trying to sort it out.
indentindentGrowing up on a farm made it a given that they'd had a number of dilapidated old buildings — sagging toward one corner, boards rotting and falling out onto the pasture — filled with clutter and scrap, but Carsus had kept taking them on as projects in-between the seasons. He would sort out the stuff, keep what remained useful, and fix the walls up so they wouldn't cave in the next time they got snow. There was a deep sense of satisfaction in it, and no matter how much work he already had on his plate, he liked working with his hands. One calloused palm on the back of a chair, the other on the rope, rasping in his grip, he pulled the entire thing outside onto the grass. The fibers sticking out of the rope pricked at his skin, but it was all so familiar. He didn't mind.
indentindentCarsus had managed to work out the chair from the tangle, fold it, and store it back against the wall inside the shed, all the while murmuring under his breath about how it needed to be sanded and refinished. Maybe a nice dark lacquer. Something else to keep him busy. But as he tucked at the rope again, a plastic bucket he had missed on the heap tumbled loose and fell, hitting him square in the head. He grunted and stumbled a step back as it thunked onto the ground with a hollow sound and rolled away, and as he looked up from his project, rubbing the tousled hair atop his head, he noticed that Kenna had appeared on the porch. There wasn't a world in which he was lucky enough for her not to have seen him strike himself with a stray bucket. He lowered his eyes again, and busied himself with a knot in the rope, but a hint of red had risen to his bristled cheeks, heating his skin against the chilly air.

indentindentTruth be told, he thought she was charming. While he found himself to be a charmless oaf. Nearly ten years ago, back in Wales, everyone had been happy to simply find someone their own age to talk to in a rural town whose population was middle-aged at best. Carsus could talk about his sheep all he wanted and still make a girl laugh. Although, the Guinness might have been a factor. Now, he didn't find himself to be all that interesting. He didn't even have a flock of sheep to talk about. His stint as a ranger back in mainland British Columbia had lasted only a few months, and he had been terrible at it. They must have hired him based on the fact that he did look like someone who had braved the woods for ages. But he was from Wales, where the last large predators must have died a few hundred years before his birth.
indentindentBut Carsus did love the wilds. The coming of spring had brought the birds back, and even now, they sang in the trees that circled the Hawthorne property. Light, fluting melodies, and the creaking calls of crows, interspersed by a rare, haunting cry. Days of wandering through the forest had familiarized him with its flora, and he had learned how to read the land better, even under these unfamiliar skies. Some of the animals and the plants had begun to feel like old friends, as silly as he found it to mention. To Carsus's discredit, he hadn't asked her, but to his rustic eyes, Kenna seemed like someone from a big city. There was a glow about her, a kind of gravitational pull that he had only seen in people on the television. He could feel himself shrinking away in the face of it, unwilling to do anything that might taint it.
indentindentHe finished untangling the furniture, and with the shed somewhat arranged, closed the doors until the only reminder of the mess that had been was the semi-circle carved into the dirt. He stood for a moment, taking in the sun that climbed higher in the sky, and the clean air that smelled like water filtering through moss. There was little more for him to do outside, and the thought of breakfast was beginning to worm its way into his mind, but as he stole another glance at Kenna's form, leaning against the railing, it seemed impolite to him to pass her by without at least a greeting. The words of Carsus's mam chided in his mind, telling him to remember his good manners.

indentindentWhat a horrid sight he would have been to his mother, crossing the yard barefooted and in a torn jumper, dirt under his nails from a night spent outdoors. He climbed the steps to the deck and settled a few feet away from Kenna, arms crossed over his chest, the picture of a farm boy surveying the land. At first he wasn't certain what to say, before settling on a good morning, followed by another moment of silence.
indentindentindent"Seems like it might rain today," he noted, deciding, in all his charm, to bring up the weather. The steady blanket of clouds overhead seemed unmoving in its vastness, but far away, the shattered edge was shifting with the wind. Carsus cleared his throat. "Fair day, either way."

[guh-huh!]

ＴＯＢＩＡＳ　ＡＲＥＭＵ . / / !
━━━━━━━━━━━ ━━━ shift; arapawa ram x ` feeling; feeling the ram-ifications x ` tagged; send a friend in!


xxxxhere’s what they don’t tell you about being a ram: it's quite relaxing.

xxxxmaybe it's the wool; warm and soft around his body like a snug blanket. even during the stormy months of march, he's managed to stay dry under the plush swaddle the gods have somehow gifted him. maybe it's the hooves; four strong legs provide much more stability for climbing and running long distances. toby hasn't managed to trip over the normal cracks in the gravel once- which can't be said about his much larger, lankier human legs. plus, the giant horns do make for a pretty good conversation piece. he's managed to hang six wreaths on them last holiday, and next week he's going for an all-time record of most glasses balanced on ram horns. (much to collie's delight and josie's chagrin).

xxxxthe air, still in love with autumn enough to be crisp and inviting, hits his face with a welcome breath. he really likes his early morning ram-jam walks, setting off from his room after coffee and ambling — in no particular hurry — around the lavish forests grounds. at this time of year, the sun rises as he walks, and there’s no finer sunrise than on a red civil twilight, when the haze of his favorite color lights up the sky warmly. with a scarf tied around his- now a bit thicker- neck, and the extra wool on his shoulders giving him no trouble at all, toby finds that there’s a genuine little moment of happiness here; a breath of relief after the hell of a year he’s had.

xxxxwhen he starts to near the cabin, he pauses momentarily, seeing a familiar sight in the distance. it's undoubtedly a slew of strawflowers: the same kind his mother kept back at the house. a sure sign of spring nearing, and the perfect think to add to his room- albeit already filled to the brim with useless items. (can't ever have too many favorite things, he'd argue, it just makes the home feel homier). he smiles into the feeling, motioning his horns forward as he quickens his pace — not to get there faster, just to enjoy the breeze as he pads.

xxxxhis hooves make easy work of the cliff they're planted on, as if they pay no attention towards the near ninety-degree cliff they're balancing on or the gravity acting upon them. instead, he peacefully trots up to the flowers, picks them as gently as a hungry herbivore can, and then returns back to his own two, human feet, once pleasantly placed onto the ground below. his hands are much more delicate than the strangely-squareish teeth of a ram, anyway.

xxxxspeaking of those teeth- toby cringes internally, not having factored in the idea that they might have ruined the stems completely in the... less than delicate process of removing them from the earth. his hands smooth over the the now mangled stems, but there's no way these flowers are going to stand up in the clay vase he made when he was twelve that he refuses to part with. instead, there's an easier way to display these flowers with fickle stems.

xxxxthrough well-practiced maneuvers of his hands, toby weaves the stems of the flowers successfully into a slightly-lopsided crown. he's tried to get it into a gradient of sorts, but with the few flowers he's managed to salvage- he was only capable of making it look somewhat acceptable by his own standards.

xxxxsomewhat acceptable, is, by definition, acceptable. he tosses the slightly pathetic flower crown onto his head, walks proudly to the doors, gives a royal wave to the folks standing outside, and sneaks in-between the conversations to make his way inside of the kitchen.

xxxx"good morning sunshines," he announces. letting his fingers snap into pointed finger-guns as he motions to the others around him in a highly-energetic fashion for somebody this early. "you all mind if i make waffles? i honestly don't think i'm gonna survive if i don't have some soon."

xxxxhe doesn't wait for an answer. instead, his hands are already pilling up with bowls and the only carton of eggs they have shoved in the fridge.

[chase.]

𝐂 𝐎 𝐋 𝐋 𝐈 𝐄 xxxx ♛
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[ golden eagle ] [ he/him ] [ location - cabin yard ] [ mood - self-aware, enthusiastic, adoring ]


xxxxxxxGrey. Collie didn’t falter at the use of his last name. It was still somewhat unfamiliar to him, but he was grateful for the change. The name Shepherd had gone down with the helicopter two years ago - if he heard it now; especially from a soldier’s mouth - it’d probably give him a spontaneous heart attack. Only his captain had ever had the formality to call him by his last name, everyone else always thought Collie was just the significantly more amusing option.

His weight shifted from foot to foot, as subtle as he could make it. Kate was not someone who really tolerated him, and he wasn’t about to really push his luck by interrupting her. Do you really have more important things to do? Collie blinked, stalling the retort. Actually, what did Kate do with her time? The coyote was incredibly good at remaining undetected, something Collie wagered could be credited to her training. He didn’t often see her with anyone else, nor did he often see her engaging in any particular hobby. Maybe she was more similar to him than she’d like to admit.

Collie was still desperately trying to find his new place in the world. Since he first discovered his other side, he’d “split” his life into two halves almost. Colin “Collie” Shepherd, a soldier belonging to the Special Air Service, a regular human soldier. Then the animalistic side, the raptor, and it took a lot of sleepless nights before he even entertained the idea he wasn’t lucid dreaming or straight up hallucinating. It was an odd predicament. The Eagle was him, he couldn’t just deny that - but he was incredibly good at keeping the two halves of him separate. Collie Shepherd was just a soldier. The eagle was just a bird. It could do whatever an eagle wanted to do, soar the skies, sit on a branch for hours, basking in the sun - hunting down helpless mammals was something Collie did his best to prevent, but even he couldn’t overpower the initial instincts. He balanced the two halves the best he could, embracing the animal when he had the chance - but also shutting it out completely at times. Then Collie the soldier died; fell to his death with his team somewhere in the Eastern European wilderness. But the damned bird survived, and if the animal survived that meant so did Collie. Just not Collie the soldier.

He threw himself into his animalistic side at first, the eagle’s life hadn’t changed. It could still fly, chase prey, and live its life unaffected by the crash. Normalcy. That’s what it was, and that’s what Collie chased fervently. The routine was the same, granted he spent more time than ever as a bird, but the fundamentals didn’t change. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. His name changed, all his savings and old belongings were seized by the army - and with no next of kin, all of it just went to charity. Collie was all for being generous, but he had some particularly colourful words to say about that. Then after almost eighteen months, he found himself at Fox Island - finally attempting to figure out his new place in the world. Collie was still, well, Collie - but a large part of his identity had gone. Late nights found him scoffing at the irony of his name. A collie is a sheepdog, a working dog - they live and breathe it. What does a collie do when their flock is taken from them? All their work and sense of self just… gone. A working dog without work is just a dog. An incredibly frustrated dog that practically bounces off the walls and gnaws on furniture, chasing its tail for hours and getting nowhere. He’d seen it before in other animals, read about it even. Malinois in the army, being put on kennel-rest and then going stir-crazy within weeks, foaming at the mouth and howling throughout the night. Ruffian; a famous racehorse who was so adamant she wanted to race that she made her tragic injuries worse and was subsequently put down. Animals given a job, a purpose, never coped well when that job was taken away from them. Their drive to just do something never leaves, just their outlet for it.

But Collie wasn’t an animal, he was a person with a sharp-enough intellect to know that he could find another purpose, a different job with new routines. So he was making an effort. He could tell he was pent-up, of course he could tell. He buzzed with a hyperactivity he hadn’t known in years, and hours of intense workouts only dampened it briefly. Working himself to exhaustion each day was only increasing his stamina and therefore letting the problem snowball out of control. He needed to be smarter about it, find things that would scratch the itch. Sparring was one thing he hadn’t been able to try so far, sure Toby would probably wrestle with him, maybe even Carsus, Kenna absolutely - but actual, technical, soldier sparring? Only Kate could give him a run for his money, which made her an unlucky target.

Her gaze was icy as she glared at him, threatening him with the promise of a well-deserved smack. He only grinned wider. It wasn’t sparring, but the mention of violence had been the closest he’d gotten so far. Then Kate stepped away, closer to George, and Collie winced. He rubbed the back of his neck, smearing the saltwater that had beaded. Maybe today wasn’t the day to try to pry open Kate. His grin faltered and his lips parted as he tried to conjure words to say. Do I apologise? Leave? Ah hell. Leaving would probably be the best thing to do, he’d easily overstayed his welcome. Collie followed her line of sight into the forest, inhaling-

“-I have a feeling you aren’t about to leave me alone.”

The brunet hesitated. If Kate was already resigned to the idea that Collie was going to stay..then what was the harm in doing just that? It was a cheap excuse; but one Collie was more than happy to shamelessly capitalise on - apologises could come later. His grin returned, albeit more of a smile this time. “You know, if you have an injury or somethin’ - I’ll avoid it.” He offered, blatantly ignoring her irritated tone. “Or, why don’t we go and do those..” Collie paused, bringing his hands up in air-quotes. “‘More important things’ you said you have to do. I don’t mind helping.” As much as he didn’t believe her earlier comment, he didn’t quite have the proof to just call her bluff. He rolled his shoulders back, gesturing with his hands. “We can do whatever you want to do, you name it - as long as it doesn’t involve me leaving, sitting still, or sitting in silence.” Maybe it was a mistake, letting Kate have free roam of the decision making. She probably doesn’t want to do the decision making. But she had completely shot down his umpteenth request of sparring. So.. beggars can’t be choosers? “I don’t need to have a heartfelt, sappy conversation, but I need something.” - and you might understand that more than most. Begging her to spar hadn’t gotten him anywhere the last few times he’d asked, maybe a different approach would gain the result he wanted. “You can invite anyone you want, or it can just be us, I promise I won’t complain - and I’ll owe you.”. Collie looked back towards the cabin, where no doubt most of the others likely were. Carsus and Kenna were just outside the cabin, though too far away for Collie to hear any of their conversation. Toby walked into his line of sight, offering a confident wave to everyone before heading through the door with his head held high; adorned with brightly coloured flowers. His smile widened as he waved back, letting his gaze linger on the closed door for a few seconds after Toby had disappeared inside. The man hung the moon and the stars in Collie’s eyes, it was a friendship he was eternally grateful for. Bromance seemed like a lost idea after he left the military, but then Toby in all his wooly glory rammed into his life, and the rest was history. Maybe he was still a collie with a flock, just an incredibly small, one-ram flock.

[ inventory : multi-tool, phone ]

[ tags ; kate ] [ mentions ; carsus, kenna (v.v. brief) - toby ]

[འབྲོག་ཁྱི]

𝖥𝖠𝖪𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤 𝖥𝖮𝖱 𝖠 𝖶𝖧𝖨𝖫𝖤, 𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖲𝖤𝖭𝖨𝖮𝖱 𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖳 𝖲𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖤

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⸸ ⋅ ────── ⋅ 𝐾𝐴𝑇𝐸 x 𝐴𝑉𝐸𝐷𝑂𝑁 ⋅

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𝘚𝘖 𝘐 𝘞𝘈𝘒𝘌 𝘜𝘗 𝘐𝘕 𝘏𝘌𝘓𝘓, 𝘛𝘖𝘙𝘛𝘜𝘙𝘌𝘋 𝘉𝘠 𝘔𝘐𝘋𝘐 𝘉𝘌𝘓𝘓𝘚

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tagging; collie
mentioned; josie, (kitchen folks)
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location; yard
shift; coyote

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Seemingly as suddenly as it had come, the racing of Kate's heart subsided. She drew in another long breath, this time a sigh, and released George to return to her close inspection of the same old yard. A look up at her, and the dog happily padded away, wet dirt clinging to the white of her feet. She had practically been a puppy when Kate had brought her along from the mainland, pretty much just to bear the trip over the churning waters without choking on the memory of what had happened. Collie kept talking at her, and she raised her eyes back to him — less icy, but still impassive. Resigned, maybe. If she was relieved that he hadn't taken more offense at her outburst, she was trying not to show it. but I need something. There really was a manic sheen to him, or perhaps it was just restlessness. Like a ghost, one that filled you with discomfort each time it caught up to you.
indentindentAs much as Kate was resisting relating to him in any way, that she couldn't overlook. She understood it, the rush of excess energy that was left with you, after the army. It was difficult to sit still, to abandon the routines. And what the hell were you supposed to do with your hands? Some shrink that had seen her after the accident — likely to soften the blow of so much loss in one go, they really did not hand those visits out to just anyone — had suggested knitting, and Kate had fantasized about throwing the armchair through the window. But that only would have gotten her more hours talking to someone who would never understand. Not really. Even if you were discharged, it couldn't take the soldier from you, and you didn't become a well-adjusted civilian overnight. Sometimes it never left you. She could almost taste the saltwater as it dug down, flowing into her throat and rooting in the fragility of her lungs. Bitter.
indentindentindent"Fine," she sighed. But that didn't let her off easy: it only meant that she needed to come up with something useful to occupy Collie, and as much as she still wanted to punch him, she wasn't going to spar him. She wasn't ready for that, the chance of crumbling in front of him like a first-day recruit, and she really did not want to talk about how all of her injuries were the mental kind. Pride had all too often gotten the best of her.

indentindentA bark resounded from the shade of the trees, and a flock of dark birds — what kind, she wasn't sure — thrashed out of the budding branches, disappearing in a blink. George was bounding back and forth in the plant litter among the roots, excited, but she knew not to chase after. Kate had done her best to train some of the menace out of her, but a dog was a dog, and Kate had never wanted to change that. It brought to mind the Island's only pet store, in Soteria Bay, and she had been meaning to go, stock up on food for George. Saying that she had been intending to go that day was technically a lie, but the fact that she needed to go some day wasn't untrue.
indentindentThe problem was, even with a population of only a thousand, Soteria Bay was the most crowded place around for miles. Not only was it right at the edge of the water, but it was too much like a city in relation, and a city was like a battle. Loud, frenzied. Confusing. And she had no way of knowing if someone would recognize her and give her those hollow, vain words about bravery that had the power to push her into a panic. She'd drowned. There was nothing brave about it. Maybe it was good to bring someone who might understand if she lost it. Maybe it was a terrible idea to bring another soldier, knowing nothing about what had brought him here. She didn't want to tell him either of those things, and she really did not want to swap stories. Frankly, it was the last thing she wanted. Comradery had wounded her deeper than all the rest of it.
indentindent"We're running errands, in the Bay." It was a statement, not a question. Kate called George to her with a short, sharp whistle. She didn't look him in the eyes as she continued, instead feigning interest in some random spot on the dog's fur. "This better not be some kind of charity plot from Josie, or I'll push you out of the car while it's moving," she threatened, but it was hardly as pointed as the comment about punching him had been. He was already dulling the edge of her bark, and that only made her want to punch him again. Absolutely no worming past Kate's meticulously constructed walls: that was the rule. She turned to leave. "I'll wait in the truck."

indentindentThe truck in question was an old white Ford, with a few spots of rust flecking the panelling of the cargo bed, and dirt crusted on its undercarriage, its use shared by the shifters. Kate didn't have a car of her own. She had never needed one during her years in the forces — it would only have been a burden to figure out what to do with it while she was away. The truck sat waiting on a patch of worn grass past the shed, and she caught a glimpse of it as she returned to the cabin to get her things. She traded her sweatpants for jeans, and stuffed a wallet into one of the pockets. The keys to the truck were hanging beside the door, and before she left, she grabbed a leash for George, and a jacket that hung a little loose around her shoulders. Even as a soldier she'd always been somewhat wiry, but she'd lost muscle since the army.
indentindentWith a grudging nod of farewell to those gathered in the kitchen, she did as she had said, and made for the truck. George followed, and with practiced movements, Kate spread out a grimy blanket in the back seat, and George jumped in. She paced for a while before settling down, and Kate occupied the driver's seat before Collie would have any bright ideas about it. No one had driven her in two years: it was her at the wheel, or nothing. If she'd had slight control issues her entire life, they had only been amplified by an encounter with the worst loss of control one could ever experience.
indentindentAs if to urge Collie to be quick, she turned the key in the ignition, and the truck rumbled to life. Once they made it to the Bay, she had every intention of making him carry around a 40-pound bag of dog food.

[Nyverria]

〖Shift: Harpy Eagle〗
〖Mentions: Kate〗
〖Location: Bedroom > Kitchen〗
〖Tags: Here〗

Sunlight peered through the window slowly but surely hit Evelyn's eyes, which caused her to begin stirring around in her bed. A slight groan escaped her mouth as she turned over to face away from the window. Opening her eyes slightly she saw nothing but a blur of her room. Evelyn had always hated waking up so 'early' in the morning as she would definitely need to do something throughout the day to keep her entertained. She had today as well as the next day off work and oh how she struggled every time she had nothing to do. "Perhaps a flight would preoccupy her? Hunting? Socializing?" Actually that last thought made her roll her eyes even at the thought of socializing with other people.

Laying there with her eyes closed for a while longer, she began to hear voices within the cabin and also outside. Opening her eyes once more, Evelyn had finally decided to get out of her nest of a bed and get ready for the day. Was she planning on going outside? Possibly later in the day, however, she threw on a blue tank top and joggers just to get her day started so far. Yawning, the woman had slowly made her way over to her desk that had a mirror behind it which allowed her to get ready for when she did feel like spicing herself up besides the normal cat eye eyeliner and... that's it. Her normal look is usually just a simple cat eye and straightened hair.

As she finished getting ready, Evelyn noticed her moonstone necklace sitting on the far side of the desk and put it on around her neck; it was the closest thing she had to her mother. Evelyn's grandmother had given it to her before she made her journey to Fox Island. Once she finished getting ready, she did one look over herself before she got up from her desk and forced herself out of the room. Walking out the door, Evelyn slowly and quietly closed the door and began making her way towards the kitchen. Creeping ever so slightly towards the kitchen, she could hear voices coming from the distant room.

Before even reaching the kitchen, Evelyn noticed Kate grabbing her dog’s leash along with a set of keys and her jacket before heading out the door. The woman just kind of shrugged off how in a hurry Kate had looked and made her way into the kitchen. The first person she saw was Toby then followed by Vivette and lastly Josie. Evelyn was grateful for Josie opening up her home to her among the other shifters that now reside here. If it weren’t for Josie, there was no telling what in the world Evelyn would be doing at this point in time. Stepping further into the kitchen, Evelyn began to read the room before she’d even attempted to make conversation with the other three bodies in the room.

Evelyn had always respected Josie, I mean… this is her home anyways. Even if she has resided here for a little over a year there was something that she couldn’t quite get over and that was just her trying to still be comfortable enough to use the appliances within the house and even cooking in general. During this time of her processing what was happening in the kitchen, it looked as if she either looked hesitant or just straight up in her own world. After careful consideration, Evelyn had decided to sit a chair away from Vivette. In her own head, she was hoping that Vivette wouldn’t think anything of the fact that she wasn’t sitting close to her.

Oh dear how the overthinking began to play in her head.

[chase.]

𝐂 𝐎 𝐋 𝐋 𝐈 𝐄 xxxx ♛
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[ golden eagle ] [ he/him ] [ location - yard > cabin > soteria bay ] [ mood - curious, wary, hyped kate took him ]



xxxxxxx “Fine.”

One word, one syllable, and it was like someone had given him their credit card. Running errands in the bay? Huh, she does actually have more important things to do. Fair enough. Collie hadn’t spent much time in Soteria Bay, only venturing into the town if he had ordered in specific car parts for people from the mainland, or participated in a quick security-gig or two. Collie didn’t have a set job right now, without the correct paperwork to even be in the country, it was difficult to find stable, legitimate employment. Instead Collie spent most of his time doing cash-in-hand jobs. Fixing manual cars, poorly-paid but entertaining security jobs, occasionally some odd labour if anyone needed an extra hand hauling around palettes of lumber. At this point he was just known as a spare set of hands; people passed his number around and paid him whatever they could.

Collie raised an eyebrow at Kate’s half-hearted accusation. He scoffed in retaliation, “As if I’d do any charity work for her. Done enough for charity in my life. Though don’t tempt me - being shoved out a moving truck is alwaaays a fun time.”

The man stood awkwardly for a few moments, watching Kate leave with the declaration that she’d wait for him in the truck. His brows furrowed in confusion as looked over at the truck. Surely he’d be waiting for her? His fingers gripped the hem of his sleeve as he adjusted the fit, finding it weirdly tight around his muscles. Oh, right. “Hey wait up!” He called, jogging after her, towards the cabin at the realisation his clothes were still wet from the earlier festivities.

His damp shorts and uncomfortably wet t-shirt were swapped for a pair of black cargo trousers and a light grey, more importantly dry, t-shirt. That was another change Collie was still adjusting to; having to try and pick outfits that were “decent.” The cargo trousers were something he had yet to find an alternative for, but he was finally comfortable enough to wear a shirt that wasn’t dark. The boys used to rib him for his wardrobe back in service, if Collie had too many options he’d put together the most horrific of outfits for the sake of speed. He didn’t do well at standing and planning out clothes that fit together - just grabbed the most convenient options, even if it was a bright vermillion jacket and some disgustingly beige combat trousers. Now his wardrobe was neutral, all dark trousers with a multitude of pockets, and faded t-shirts - it made blending in easier. Collie paused, looking at the tactical gloves that sat on his nightstand. You don’t need them Collie. His hands balled into fists as he hesitated. He had no idea what the errands Kate wanted to do were, if he was gonna be turned into a pack mule, asked to threaten someone (even he’d admit that one was unlikely), maybe he was accompanying her to a dentist appointment? You’re just paranoid, man. The gloves had been a sort of safety-blanket for him, a comfort he didn’t want to let go of. For the sake of not leaving his fingerprints anywhere, he’d often been asked to wear gloves whilst in the field, along with the rest of his team. But you’re not in the field anymore - but you are supposed to be dead - but you live on an island with literally barely anyone - but what if-

Collie growled, snatching the gloves off his nightstand. He could overcome that another day; right now Kate was finally entertaining him, and that was more important. Wait, my wallet would also be useful, the credit cards might be fake but the cash is very much real, and perhaps a knife or- Collie spent a few more seconds shoving more miscellaneous items into his pockets, cursing at himself for his overzealous packing habits - it was a trip into town for god’s sake.

He emerged from his room, doing up his belt as he padded to the kitchen. “Mornin’ guys! Josie, Viv, Toby!” He greeted, nodding at them in turn. He blinked at Evelyn, noticing how she wasn't grouped up with the others. He squinted at her, pulling his gloves over his hands. Now isn’t the time. He turned back to look at the others “I’m heading to the Bay with Kate, if anyone needs something just send me a text!” He offered, shaking his phone in the air. The engine outside grumbled to life. “That’s my cue, Tobes save me a waffle, you’re the best!” He called, running out the front door before Kate had an excuse to leave him behind.

Collie slid into the passenger side seat, eyeing up Kate as the truck started moving. “Didn’t fancy letting me drive?” It was a double-edged sword; letting Collie in the car with you. On one hand, you could let him drive; no regard to speed limits nor the general state of the truck. “I’ll fix it, don’t worry-” at every god awful sound the undercarriage made. Skidding around corners on two tyres, arriving at the destination on near enough bare metal. On the other hand, you could let him be a passenger. Fidgeting the entire drive, shuffling into different positions every minute or so, constantly mucking about with the mirror or leaning out of the window. On bad days, he’d start poking the driver, playing the devil on their shoulder and trying to convince them that they could sooo make it over that ditch if they drove fast enough up the incline. Collie leaned back, looking at George in the rearview mirror.

“Even the Captain didn’t like me driving, I’d make everyone motion sick.” He commented after a while, unprompted. The silence was starting to kill him. “S-Grey.” he began in a mocking tone, making an effort to not get his own name wrong. “We don’t have the budget for you to play chicken with our equipment! You’re meant to set the example-” He spoke, pitch higher than usual as he mocked his old Captain. “They’d play rock-paper-scissors to see who had to sit shotgun for me.” Collie admitted, chuckling at the memory before moving his gloved hand to cover his mouth to stifle the noise. Maybe this wasn’t the time for army stories, he didn’t want Kate to bend the truck round a tree to silence him.

Once his giggling faded he remained somewhat settled for the rest of the drive, save for the occasional comment on the scenery or wildlife. He thought about battling for the radio, but even he knew that was against passenger etiquette. It wasn’t until the trio pulled up to park did he finally open his mouth again. “So, what’s first on the agenda?” He asked, immediately climbing out of the truck to stretch his legs. “I’ve not actually spent much time here, not had an excuse before.” He continued, looking around. It was odd to be in a populated area again, and he couldn’t help but flick from person to person - mentally categorising them. Build. Height. Clothing. Were they carrying? Cut that out Collie.

“I told the others if they needed anything to just text me, so we might have another stop or two.” He added, leaning against the truck. “I could also do with grabbing something to eat on the way back, or a drink at least. And none of that dark coffee you guys insist on, I mean a proper drink like tea or pineapple juice.” With every word that left the man’s mouth, he felt like the odds of Kate leaving him stranded in town were increasing. “I’ll let you lead the way, I’ll stay right on your heels.” He promised, another lop-sided grin appearing. “If I behave, do I get to drive on the way back?”

[ inventory : multi-tool, phone, burner phone, knife, wallet, lighter, gum, the kitchen sink ]

[ tags ; kate ] [ mentions ; kitchen crew ]

[senna_]

❝ 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐎 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

'xxxxshift. american marten location. cabin deck/porchxxxmentions. collie, katexxxtags. carsus
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'As much as Kenna appreciated her odd ability to connect with a tiny, furry pine-addicted mammal that barely weighed a pound, she disliked the tingling sensation that tickled the curves of her ribs every time her eyes shifted toward the forest. She had an uncontrollable hunger for that woody, herbal aroma; that lingering musky scent of bark that was drizzled over with sweetened sap, always sticking to the pads of her hands – or paws – could never hook a good grasp on her inner frustration for too long. She was constantly questioning that inner conflict that fluttered within the depths of her stomach. It felt unnatural to enjoy being out in Mother Nature’s garden as much as she did. She never cared much for judgment, spiteful comments were only words at the end of the day, and yet, that pressure lingered in her mind as if every cell in her body was tauntingly fondling it. Every time she acknowledged those sneers made by her mother, those weary looks of distrust from her father, it felt like pine needles were pricking her skin over and over again; at the same time, though, those memories were ghostly, almost as if she had dreamt them however long ago. When she let go and allowed that animalistic soul to break free, that mindset vanished just as quickly as the physicality of her human state did. Was it because the mind of a 19-inch-long weasel-like furball could only maintain devoted thoughts to climbing and preying upon sweet berries and tiny field mice? Or did she really just… not care? Human thoughts were so much more complex. Surely that had something to do with why she battled with such a prominent love-hate relationship with, well, anything and everything related to nature’s great outdoors.

____Having said all that, the human brain wasn’t necessarily always the brightest bulb in the batch, Kenna noted, as she heard a troublesome clang sound from somewhere in the nearby distance. It didn’t take long for her gaze to seek out the old cabin that Carsus had plodded into just a few seconds prior. The man was standing dumbfounded, frozen on the spot as if his inner calculations were recomputing. If life was a cartoon he’d surely be sporting some black-and-white swirls as replacement for eyes. Beside him, a bucket presented itself on its side, gently swaying back and forth, mimicking live movement. “Did’ya give it a dent?” she called as she leaned forward on the deck, only for the cheeky wind to whisk by and steal her words, swallowing them into an invisible abyss. There was no way Carsus could have even heard a hint of a voice. Maybe she could use this for blackmail later – not that she felt Carsus would ever do something that would give her the determination to get him back for revenge. Carsus was harmless: He was all bark, no bite. It was oddly charming, though; perhaps something about being around a strong, intimidating-looking man who looked like he would have a gruff demeanor only to experience an attempt at making conversation through an assemblage of flustered vocals aided Kenna in picturing him the way she did. She at least thought they got on well – well enough that a harmless snickered comment about his loss in the battle of the buckets wouldn’t result in her body being flung off the edge of the cabin. And that was surely an exaggeration… although with his strength, whether that be in human or bear form, Kenna wouldn’t hold him to it.

____In all fairness, she really couldn’t be the one to openly judge anyone’s strength, or anything else for that matter, since it had become apparent quite quickly into her arrival on the island that she was by far the weakest of the bunch. Well, physically, maybe (she wouldn’t dare even consider Collie having a healthier amount of brain cells than she did – spoken with love), although that had never stopped her from acting otherwise. Collie was the one who experienced this side of her most often. The two were an odd bunch, sharing a shh, don’t tell mindset when engaging in something that most certainly would have others stopping abruptly to ponder over what it was they had just witnessed, if the two were to get caught. Ironically, moments like these typically occurred during the unruly hours of the night: Kenna never knew what Collie’s reason was, but a busy mind often called for a necessary walk, which, of course, often turned into something more than just a walk. Her curiosity peaked during the stillness of night, and oddly, she had stumbled upon Collie in the heart of the forest on more than one occasion. It had become such a normal circumstance that an insouciant manner, an exchange of a nod was all that was needed. Collie was a peculiar individual, to say the least. Kenna genuinely had no idea what it was about the blond that made her so determined to quote throw hands at him as she jokingly threatened, given his military experience. They both knew he could easily knock her unconscious in a matter of seconds… Well… Kenna physically tilted her head as she backtracked on her own thought. Collie seemed to be in his main character era; she was beginning to think that bloodied knuckles didn’t really fit that image. The difference between him and Kate in that field of their lives was truly bewildering. Men. The word came out exasperated in her mind, as if it was a representation of an eye roll. Something about their egos…

____And, on the topic of egos, Carsus had made his way up towards where she was standing during the time she sifted through her countless thoughts, not daring to make one mention of the incident that she probably was not supposed to have seen. She didn’t expect much to come from him, but his nonchalant comment about the weather did have her internally fighting away a snicker. “Shame,” Kenna replied with a dramatic sigh, resting her cheek against the palm of her hand as if dreamily thinking about the joys of rain. “Buckets of it, you think?” She turned her head to slyly glance at him just out of the corner of her eye, tucking her chin into her hand in a poor attempt to hide the mischievous grin she was fighting to bite back. “Tell me, weather expert, will it come thundering down on our heads without notice?” She was having too much fun with what she wanted to refer to as genius quips, but her inner voice was beginning to remind her that the conversation would go absolutely nowhere but down if she kept it up. She repositioned herself then, as if a change in her stance indicated the beginning of a new chat.

____ “Good morning to you, too,” Kenna greeted, shifting her body to properly face Carsus. The poor guy looked like he hadn’t had a wink of sleep in days. “What’s got you up and at it at this time?”

[tawneypelt0504]

✵𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶 ℒ𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓃✵
～𝒞𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒶𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝒻𝓉～ℒ𝑜𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃:ℛ𝑜𝑜𝓂～ℳ𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈: 𝒦𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓃 ℱ𝑜𝓁𝓀𝓈～𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈: 𝒪𝓅𝑒𝓃 ～

Victoria awoke with a grumble as the sun rays came in through her window and landed on her face. She had once again been researching shifter mythology late into the night causing her rather disheveled appearance. At least this time she had made it to her bed instead of falling asleep at her desk, something her back appreciated. Vic quietly pulled the blanket over her face trying to hide away from the suns rays, even when she wasn't concentrating on researching she tended to stay up late. Perhaps her night owl tendencies were part of her cougar shift, she couldn't really tell, some parts were rather obvious like when she was on a walk and saw a rabbit dash in front of her and felt the urge to chase after it. Victoria didn't like the more predatory aspects of her shift but thankfully those urges were easy to push aside. Everything else she loved, it was amazing how she could traverse even the roughest terrain with ease, making it easy for her to take on any hike she wanted.

Hikes were the furthest thing from her mind at the moment, as Victoria wanted nothing more than to snuggle beneath her blankets and spend her morning asleep. Although Vic was a night owl, her beloved roommate was not and once Hank realized she was awake he was quick to wiggle his head beneath her covers and shove his nose in her face, his usual good morning. "Hank" Vic protested from beneath her covers, her voice still slightly raspy from sleep. She tried tucking herself deeper into the covers not ready to leave the cozy confines of her bed, but Hank was quick to try and follow her wanting nothing more than to start the day with his favorite person. Hank's wants were helped by the fact Victoria couldn't resist his adorable face peeking up excitedly at her from under the blanket, and although she couldn't see it she knew his little stump tail was wagging as hard as it could go. After a few more minutes and some more "encouragement" from Hank Victoria finally sat up in bed and stretched her back cracking satisfyingly. She still wasn't going to get out of bed choosing instead to spend some time giving Hank the attention he rightly deserved.

Victoria moved so she was sitting on the edge of the bed and reached out gently massaging Hank's cropped ears his head resting on her lap, a relaxed sigh escaping him. Victoria looked down at him tenderly, even though she had owned Hank for three years it still brought her so much joy that he could relax in her presence. It hadn't always been that way, the first few months were especially rough. Vic remembered how she became Hank's owner. Vic had caught word her brother was "training" a guard dog, and so she snuck onto her parents property to rescue the dog from her family. Victoria didn't fully understand why she was doing this, part of her was saying it was futile since taking this dog wouldn't guarantee her brother but her life felt like it was falling apart, she had lost one of the few people who understood her and part of her just wanted to rescue someone from her family, like how she wished her sister and her had been rescued from their childhood.

Vic remembered the first time she had seen Hank in a small dirty cage, inside an old gardening shed. His beautiful ears and tail cropped which only filled Victoria with more anger at her brother since cropping dogs ears and tales was illegal but, he was rich so why should he follow the rules. Hank didn't trust her and was very suspicious of her letting him free but when she leashed him he followed next to her politely although it was clear he wasn't sure what to make of her. It had been a rather awkward escape since Victoria still couldn't be in a car, so Hank had to trot beside her on her bicycle at 3 am. Before Victoria's departure to Fox island, which was in a few months Victoria took all the time she could to research about his needs, and how to gain his trust. It took a lot of time to gain Hank's trust but by the time they were heading out he was a much happier dog, he wasn't super social, and even now he tended to keep most people at a distance, but Victoria didn't care, she felt so proud of him.

Vic was brought out of her thoughts by Hank moving towards the door and scratching slightly at it, while looking at her expectantly. " I know sweet boy, I'll get your breakfast" Victoria got up finally starting her day. She put on a white button-down, with a tan sweater vest, and matching linen pants. As she was leaving her room she put her hair up into a ponytail, Hank following close behind her. Vic peeked into the kitchen, and gave the group of people a polite nod before heading towards one of the cabinets where she kept Hank's dogfood. After Hank got his food Vic grabbed herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table listening to the conversation around her.

[འབྲོག་ཁྱི]

𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖲 𝖨𝖲 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖭𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳 𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖭 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖲𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖮𝖣𝖲 𝖲𝖨𝖦𝖧, "𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧 𝖬𝖤"

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🙞 ⋅ ── ⋅ 𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐄x𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄 ⋅

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𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘌 𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘗𝘌𝘖𝘗𝘓𝘌 𝘞𝘏𝘖 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘈𝘒 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘚𝘔𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘎

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tagging; vivette, toby, evelyn, vic
mentioned; collie, kate
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location; kitchen
shift; black panther (amur leopard)

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The ad hoc leader thing — it had never come naturally to Josie. In the earlier days, when word had just been starting to spread and shifters had begun to arrive to the Island on their own, she had spent a number of hours on the phone with her family. Her mother had been worried, of course. As far as any of the Hawthornes knew, no one had ever deliberately gathered shifters of various different species under the same roof, and even Josie had had her moments of questioning whether it was a terrible idea. Fortunately, her youngest brother, even at the age of twenty, had been clever enough to remind her that she already had some parenting experience, and keeping two boys from mauling each other should have been the perfect training for this.
indentindentIn the end, the ever-vigilant people of Port Davis had turned out to be more of a headache than the surprisingly reasonable shifters moving onto the Hawthorne property. They hadn't caught on to the unusual nature of the residents, but they had thought that Josie was setting up some sort of party house. It was unbelievable the amount of trouble a bunch of retirees with nothing else to do could cause by sending strongly worded letters, but even that had calmed down once they'd seen that they weren't suddenly playing loud music or throwing rowdy parties on their beloved island. These days, most of the regular residents of Port Davis, and even the more distant Soteria Bay, knew most of their faces and it had made things easier. There was more goodwill about the strange family living in the woods.
indentindentJosie tapped her tattooed fingers against the side of her coffee mug, and as faint footsteps approached from the living room, she turned the radio off. The conversation could get loud some mornings, and she wasn't looking to add to the potential cacophony. Vivette's bright face appeared from behind the corner and took a seat at the table. In spite of her warm smile, Josie could see her eyes sweeping the space in front of the stove and refrigerator with slight disappointment. Josie genuinely wished someone else would appear to cook soon, because her signature dish of wet scrambled eggs really hadn't been a hit. She didn't consider herself to have all that many weaknesses, but food preparation was certainly one.
indentindentShe nodded her head at the greeting, and as Vivette inquired about her morning, she took a sip of coffee and inclined her head toward the windows in thought. The sky was still an even grey, and the light had a strange glowing quality to it, like it was radiating from all over.
indentindentindent"I might have to bore you by saying it's mostly the same old," she hummed, with a slight smile clinging to the corner of her mouth. Josie really didn't have all that many plans for the day, which wasn't necessarily that usual — it was more usual for her to be running around, handling all manner of issues that simply couldn't wait — but it wasn't all that interesting. She hoped Vivette might have had something in mind. Maybe even something she could tag along for. "What about you? Anything planned for the day?"

indentindentJust as Josie was beginning to fear that she really might have to try her hand at cooking again, Tobias appeared, his face bright, like a ray of light. There was a flower crown balanced atop his head, and had it been anyone else, Josie might have questioned it. Instead, she was merely grateful at the promise of waffles, even as Toby begun opening up cupboards with a speed that seemed to promise flour on the ceiling by the end of it. Josie held her tongue lest they might be robbed of their breakfast, and instead focused on the coffee cradled between her palms. He would clean up after himself. Hopefully. She acknowledged his whirlwind arrival with a nod of her head.
indentindentIt seemed the house truly was waking up, because Tobias's arrival was soon followed by a few others. Kate moved past the doorway to the kitchen so quickly that she was gone again in a blink, but Josie had long since stopped trying to push the brunette. It was clear that Josie wasn't the right person to help her, but she had faith that someone else in the house could help her open up. Maybe once she was ready, at the very least. At least she was going out. However, as Evelyn appeared, seeming a little withdrawn, Josie racked her brain for some way to open up a conversation in the room. She had never been the most sociable person, having always found it much more comfortable to linger at the periphery and observe, but she felt more equipped to do something here than she did with Kate.
indentindentHowever, her searching for a topic of conversation was interrupted by Collie appearing in the doorway, waving his phone and asking Toby to save him a waffle, before rushing back out the door to the sound of an engine starting. I’m heading to the Bay with Kate. Oh no. Even if Josie hoped that this unexpected trip with Collie might be beneficial to Kate, it seemed more like closing a cat and a dog together inside a small cardboard box. Then shaking it. She didn't believe that Collie was inherently bad in any way, but he was awfully energetic. And impulsive. He was a live wire. Some of his antics even had a way of getting on Josie's nerves, and in comparison to her somewhat resigned patience, Kate seemed more like a pile of dry tinder.
indentindentindent"I'm never seeing that truck again, am I?" she sighed, with a slight shake of her head. She had bought it for cheap a few years back, on account of its age and general condition, but she had grown somewhat attached to it, considering how unexpectedly reliable it had proven to be.

indentindentAs if to distract Josie from her newfound worries, Victoria padded into the kitchen, with Hank following after her. Josie crouched down to greet the doberman with a few passing scratches. He didn't seem to care much for the others, and tended to hang mostly around Victoria from what Josie had seen, but she hoped that the almost sisterly bond she shared with Victoria was something the dog could somehow sense. Josie shuffled a little to the side along the counter to allow her access to the coffee pot, and greeted her with a rare, if brief, smile.