𝚂 𝙾 𝚃 𝙴 𝚁 𝙸 𝙰

[འབྲོག་ཁྱི]

𝑭𝑶𝑿 𝑰𝑺𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫❟ 𝑩𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑰𝑺𝑯 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑼𝑴𝑩𝑰𝑨

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Off the coast of British Columbia, among
the emerald forests of the Pacific North-
west, xlies the community of Fox Island.
Family cabins, x& towns of no more than
a xfew hundred xpeople web xthe island,
spreading out xaroundxits largest town
of xSoteria bay. xSedate xand beautiful,
these forests harbour a secret: a group
of xpeople capable of xshifting intoxthe
shapes of various animals. xHere, those
who arrive lost andx broken have their
chance xto xheal. xxThey xcan xbelong.
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[འབྲོག་ཁྱི]

𝑭𝑶𝑿 𝑰𝑺𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫❟ 𝑩𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑰𝑺𝑯 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑼𝑴𝑩𝑰𝑨

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i. Prioritize mammals pls, but I'll also allow
birds. One character / species of animal,
(unless you ask that xuser beforehand!!),
so xplease mention xthem alongside your
reservations. ii. No strict limit to amount
of characters per player, but since there
is a 500 word requirement xper post, I'd
recommend xtwo charactersx(unless you
can handle more). iii. Reservations thru
pm only. xiv. Forms in ⭢ discussion. xv. If
you bully anyone, you're booted >: 0 x iv.
Try to have forms up xwithin x48 hours!!
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[འབྲོག་ཁྱི]

𝑭𝑶𝑿 𝑰𝑺𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫❟ 𝑩𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑰𝑺𝑯 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑼𝑴𝑩𝑰𝑨

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HEALER, ELIJAH KING, 35, MALE, Tyres

The shifters can't go to an ordinary
doctor, but the healer's here to help.

COOK, TOBIAS AREMU, 29, MALE, guh-huh!

Feeding a group this big is a full time
job, but fortunately Fox Island's finest
cook is up for the task. xxxxxxxxxxx

MEMBER, NAME, AGE, GENDER, ufoparty

MEMBER, KENNA CABALLERO, 28, FEM, senna_

MEMBER, SODA BANAS, 29, FEMALE, revile

MEMBER, VIVETTE STOKER, 27, FEM, _Angel

MEMBER, RICHIE CAMPBELL, 27, M, harrington

MEMBER, AVERY QUINTERO, 29, FEM, senna_

MEMBER, NAME, AGE, GENDER, deco.

MEMBER, NAME, AGE, GENDER, PLAYER

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LEADER, JOSIE HAWTHORNE, 31, FEMALE, khyi

This family doesn't have official ranks,
but she was born on Fox Island, and
people look to her for advice. xxxxx

CARETAKER, MADDOX KANG, 27, MALE, mtuan,

Looks after the group's home. It kind
of just happened. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MEMBER, CARSUS HOWELL, 32, MALE, khyi

MEMBER, KATE AVEDON, 28, FEMALE, khyi

MEMBER, SORCHA FLANNÁGAN, 27, FEM, fawn,

MEMBER, VICTORIA LANGSTON, 29, F, tawney

MEMBER, EVELYN LEGARE, 28, FEM, Nyverria

MEMBER, "COLLIE" GREY, 29, MALE, chase.

MEMBER, SEBASTIAN MORGAN, 31, M, chase.

MEMBER, OLIVER BAINES, 26, MALE, _Angel

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[འབྲོག་ཁྱི]

𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵 & 𝑨𝑪𝑪𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺

the spots in this roleplay are unlimited for now. just shoot me a pm. :]

[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; open!!
mentioned; Josie
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location; beach campsite > cabin
shift; grizzly bear

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There was something about the seaside that made Carsus feel more at home. Maybe it was the openness that showed the sky and let the wind blow in with its briny smell, stirring the water like it did the grass on the pastures back in Wales. The dense, dark forest of the Pacific had a way of closing him in, tangling him in its matted green tendrils until he, the umber beast under Carsus' skin, made his uneasiness known. He wanted wide open spaces, pine-needle soft corridors under evergreens, and tangy prey blood in his mouth, and where Carsus needed to be wasn't right for him. He feared he would never settle, never release a long, resigned sigh from his nostrils and lay down for good.
indentindentBut the open shore of Fox Island was like a cool balm to a fevered face, and here he could feel himself draw in breaths that were deeper, colder. It was almost a cove that opened between two walls made up of tall, brooding firs, with its grey pebbled sand and labyrinth of sun-bleached driftwood. Perhaps it made the bear think of rushing rivers, waters into which he could sink his great clawed paws and scoop up a feast of a salmon that promised days without hunger, without struggle.
indentindentToday a soft mist had risen above the Pacific, and the air had a bitter edge to it, but it reminded him of early mornings on the farm, of spring days, and he had sunk his feet into the small, round stones until he felt sand on his skin. The small campfire was sputtering its last beside him, having stood vigil through the night while Carsus slept in his tent, a white wax canvas stretched over two logs. His sleep had been deeper than it was in his bed back at the cabin, where he seemed to stir every hour, coming to with a jolt of confusion for the lack of dirt scent in his nose, or the rush of cold sweat over a flash of his darkest memory that sank like an icy stone into the pit of his stomach. There was peace here, and yet, it was time to go back.

indentindentCarsus folded up the canvas, and made sure to smother the fire that had still stubbornly smoldered among the blackened wood. A near-imperceptible path, like a brown thread winding through the undergrowth, would lead him back through the woods and to Josie's. He still thought of it as such, even after these few years. It was almost as if he was staying at a friend's rather than trying to start a new life far away from Wales. They had spoken of it before, how he needed to stop acting like a guest, and he had tried, but his head simply couldn't let go of the idea. It wasn't just the grassy hills he missed, but everything about his life as it had been. His days might have been spent herding sheep from dawn, but in the evenings he would drive his rusty truck to the village that came to life at night with its handful of young people making the best of an existence in the North, far away from everything.
indentindentHis chest ached at the thought of the headlights on the narrow, stone-walled roads, the grey houses, the pub that smelled like ale and smoke. The girl he'd been trying to court with all the stumbling charm of a man who mostly talked to sheep. His brother. A flash of his mangled body flooded Carsus' senses as if he had just plunged his head underwater. His stomach twisted. Bile burned up the back his throat. The ferns along the path brushed against his knees and he was back on the Island. He could never return to Wales. And in spite of all his reflexive resistance, Fox Island was where he needed to be. Before he had come here, before he had met Josie, he had been living a life like a painfully clenched fist, hiding from everything, fighting himself, trying to ignore the obvious and force an existence that was nothing like him.
indentindentCarsus was still battling to make peace with the stranger in his body, but what he had been doing before had been slowly killing him, like a virus, eating away at his defenses and only making him more dangerous. Unlike what he had intended. The dense, drooping branches parted to reveal the cabin and the accompanying buildings that dotted the Hawthorne property. Carsus made his way across the dirt driveway and toward the shed, still barefooted and wearing a knit sweater worn from age — like some manner of wildman, and perhaps that suited him. A faint sun struggled to shine above the crest of the roof, glowing behind a veil of milky clouds. The air smelled vibrant, as if it might rain toward the afternoon.
indentindentThe large barn-like door groaned as he dragged it open, with the bottom rail drawing a raw semi-circle into the earth underneath. Carsus began to dig through the clutter, in search of place to stow the canvas until he needed another night of sleep in the open.

[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; open!!
mentioned; everyone awake
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location; room > yard
shift; coyote

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The body of the vehicle echoed with a sound like one's own blood rushing inside a palm cupped against the ear. Air hissed out past the imperceptibly small cracks in the seals as if pressed by a tongue through the teeth. Water pooled onto the ceiling, soaking through the sleeve of her fatigues as she braced against it, dangling upside down by the belts straining across her chest. The breathing glow of the Arctic dusk sank into pure blackness, taking the last glimpse of her soldiers' alarmed faces with it, until a red alarm light coloured the whole of the cabin. They were throwing themselves against the doors, tearing at the handles and banging on the windows, trying to fight the pressure of the water bearing down on them, but the glass was ballistic and the sea was always going to win. Kate knew she was going to die, but she didn't want to believe it.
indentindentA half-second of eerie silence packed the cabin, before a creak of bending metal tore through into their chests and the sinking carrier lurched, tipping toward one of its corners, as the panel gave in and water rushed in, beginning to fill the trunk behind her. Shouting. Rifles clattering along the ceiling. Kate managed out a half-sentence, the knife death-gripped in her hand slicing through one of the straps trapping her in place, before her head plunged underwater and her mouth filled with water so cold that it forced the air from her lungs. Burning panic strangled the whole of her body.
indentindentA wet nose pressed into her cheekbone and Kate started awake, tangled in the mess of her sheets and soaked in cold sweat. The weight of George's head lay on her chest, and Kate's hand found its way out of the blanket, drifting up until she could sink her fingers into the dense fur of her neck. The air felt locked in her lungs, sitting heavy like a solid mass, and it felt difficult to draw a solid breath. She stayed there, combing through the soft white hairs until the panic drained out of her skin and George shifted to lick the underside of her jaw, still half-laying across her body. It was morning, and now that her task had been completed, she needed to go outside.

indentindentThe bedroom door opened into the hallway, and the owner of a tousled head of long brown hair, clad in sweatpants and a thin sweater, followed the patter of claws past the balustrades overlooking the living room and down the wooden stairs. Dim sunlight lit the cabin through the windows. Kate had never had much of an urge to linger in bed, or her room — at least not for any other purpose than hiding her face. Even after nearly eighteen months on Fox Island, it was barebones, pared down to the essentials, and kept like the quarters of a soldier. That was a routine she hadn't been able to let go, and the largest part of her continued to treat her life as something temporary, like a deployment. Eight dead, nine had she not been resuscitated and dragged back to life without any say in the matter. That was a fact of which she did not need reminding.
indentindentGeorge's honey brown and white body padded first through the sitting room and then past the entry into the kitchen, and Kate trailed after, pretending as if she wasn't there to avoid raising the attention of those who had woken up early. There were days she didn't need to pretend, and only George's incessant prodding would remind her that there was a space in which her physical body existed, and which demanded many things of her. She let the dog out through the front door, and George bounded down the steps before taking off in a loping gait to circle around the grass and garden pathways with her nose pressed close to the ground. Once again, Kate followed, cutting a straight path forward through George's winding one.

[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; open!!
mentioned; early risers
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location; kitchen
shift; black panther (amur leopard)

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The coffeemaker burbled, suffusing the kitchen with an earthy and somewhat sweet smell. A radio tucked into the corner of one of the counters played on a low volume the lone station that reached the island, crackling and spluttering on occasion as the waves fought to cross the strait that separated them from the mainland. Josie much enjoyed the silence of the woods, and couldn't stand it in the house, but then again, it wasn't silence at all, out there in the trees. The wind would card through the foliage, branches groaned against the pull of gravity, and birds sang near and far like a city of murmuring voices. She reached out to draw down a mug from the shelf, where they sat upturned to avoid gathering dust, and the wan sunlight flushing the window caught on the two tapered stripes of pink skin running across the back of her left forearm.
indentindentJosie had learned the power and responsibility of what she was from a young age. She could clearly remember the cotton-soft fur between the pads of her brother's paw, and the white curving claws that appeared as sudden as the flick of a switchblade from within that disarming facade. He hadn't intended it, only gotten caught up in their game of play-fighting. She had seven years on her youngest brother, and his mistake had taught her an important lesson: a shifter could never underestimate the damage they could do. Skin was fragile, and people weren't used to the threat of claws and teeth. They didn't know what to do with it. He had learned a lesson, too, frightened by the sight of bright red pouring from his sister's arm. It wasn't serious, in the end, and they were fortunate for it.
indentindentIt might have been this knowledge that informed what Josie had set out to do on her family's old property on Fox Island. For much of her youth, she had thought that everyone of their kind was born into a family that understood them and could teach them to navigate a world that wasn't made in their shape, but she had since learned that their nature wasn't all that straight-forward. Whatever it was that awakened these beings within them could sometimes lie dormant, skip entire generations, and arise when their carrier was least prepared for it. Now, she knew of dozens of stories like this, of accidents, changes, a new side of being that was alarming in its unfamiliarity. It wasn't pure altruism. She had initially been driven by curiosity, the kind with which a sheltered child looks at the wider world, but her mission had since changed. The more shifters she helped, the easier it was to keep the eyes of the world turned away from them. She had no intention of being poked and prodded, or studied as an anomaly, and she would not allow for that to happen to any of her kin, either.

indentindentThe coffee ceased dripping, and Josie seized the pot, filling her mug to the brim. No milk, no sweetener. The same applied for tea. She had heard every variation of the jokes assigning to her the personality of a black cat, and at first they had been amusing, then irritating, and now they tended to earn a roll of her eyes at the most, if anything. She did not know why nature had decided for her pelt to be black in its entirety, when both her mother and younger brother were golden and adorned with stunning dark rosettes. And yet it had made her life much easier. To a human eye, her family members would stand out in the greenery of the Pacific, their camouflage intended for the eyes prey animals, but she disappeared into the shadowy underbrush, freer to be herself. They had moved to Alaska in search of greater peace, while Josie had been able to stay on Fox Island.
indentindentShe turned toward the center of the kitchen, leaning against the counter and raising the mug to her lips. The house was beginning to stir with sounds of waking.

[Consulting_Angel]

Vivette Stoker
27 | Female | Spotted Hyena
Location: Room -> Kitchen
Tagged: Josie

Vivette had been awake since a couple of hours after dawn. She hadn't heard any movement from the others in the building, so she contented herself with keeping herself occupied for the time being until she heard a couple of the others moving around. She figured that she may as well take her time with getting ready for the day ahead, since there was no rush to be anywhere, and though she was already very much quite energetic even at this time, she didn't want to accidentally wake anyone up before they were ready. That had taken a few weeks for the hyena shifter to get into the habit of when she'd first arrived a few years ago.
Today, Vivette picked out a bright emerald green wrap dress that reached just to her knees, small gold hoop earrings and a gold chain necklace, and a pair of white strappy sandals to wear, and she carefully applied her makeup - shimmery emerald green eyeshadow that blended to a lighter green towards the inner corner, careful black eyeliner and mascara, clear lipgloss with sparkles of gold, and a light layer of foundation. It wasn't necessary to do all that, sure, but she enjoyed it, and loved the way it made her look. Indeed, once she was finished, she took her phone out and took a few selfies from a couple of higher up angles, and then she inspected each photo, before choosing her favourite one to post to her Instagram story with the caption: Up bright and early as usual! What time did you wake up?

After that, Vivette decided to spend a little bit of time working on one of her latest fashion projects. She pinned a slightly heavy fabric to a dress form, as she figured out a hi-low skirt that was hitched at the front - similar to a Victorian steampunk-style skirt - and worked out how she wanted to fabric to fall. She had a pretty good idea as to the direction she was going with the skirt, and had already worked most of it out. She used 'hidden tacks' and a little bit of hand basting so that the fabric wouldn't completely unravel when she carefully took it off the dress form. It would have probably been easier to work from a pattern instead, but she liked to see how the fabric worked, and she could make adjustments to how she wanted it on the dress form.
Vivette only really made clothes for herself, for the most part. She'd made the occasional shirt for some of the others before, but they didn't always have the same interest in style that she did, and she'd much rather make something that she actually liked to make. She'd maybe do a repair, but only if the garment was clean, and she made it clear that it would be low down on her priority list, because that was kind of boring - or she'd offer to teach them how to sew, so that they could do it themselves.

Anyway. Vivette finished prepping the fabric on the dress form, then took a moment to listen out for any movement or activity from the others. It sounded like at least one or two others were awake... and her stomach let out a quiet growl. She was hungry. She could continue on with her project later. She took a quick photo of her progress, ready to be added to her Instagram story later, and then she left her room and went downstairs, hoping that someone would already be cooking so that she could get a little bit of it.

To her disappointment, no, no one was cooking, but Josie was there already, with coffee, leaning against the counter. Not her sort of thing, but Vivette pulled up a chair at the table and sat down, figuring that some of the others must be on their way.
"Morning Josie!" Vivette greeted the leader warmly, with a bright smile. She quite admired Josie - taking on the group to live with her in her house. She was also one of only a handful that she'd refrain from taking photos of and would take direction from, as to not annoy her and risk getting kicked out. "How are you faring this morning?"

[chase.]

𝐂 𝐎 𝐋 𝐋 𝐈 𝐄 xxxx ♛
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[ golden eagle ] [ he/him ] [ location - coast > cabin yard ] [ mood - frustrated > cunning, enthusiastic ]


xxxxxxxYou’ve got this Collie. You’ve got this. His feathered head bobbed up and down slightly, almost nodding to himself. He’d been at this for hours; and the steadily rising sun just seemed to mock him at this point. Though the new addition of sunlight meant he could better see the small shoals of fish swimming about the shallows. Collie was resting on a branch of a spindly fir tree, it hung precariously over a ledge towards the ocean below. Not that it mattered if it fell, or if Collie slipped - he could simply outstretch his wings and glide elsewhere. Admittedly he was too heavy for the branch, and it swayed with his weight, but he was only focused on one thing. Fish. Coastal fishing was a challenge he’d never really encountered until his recent move to Fox Island. He still couldn’t quite bring himself to hunt more ‘stereotypical’ prey like hares or foxes - or even mice for that matter. For a seasoned soldier, he was undeniably soft. So, for now, fish were the only thing he’d allow to satisfy the bird’s desperate instinct to hunt. It’d never really been something he could indulge in before now, in active duty until roughly twenty-two months ago - he’d never had the time nor the privacy to just gallivant around the place as a bird. When he was granted a few precious hours of solitude, they were always spent just learning more of the basics; landing without falling flat on his beak, figuring out how to correctly catch the wind and let himself glide without the fear of crashing into a mountain-face. Simple things. Simple unlike catching a goddamned fish.

His first attempt at fishing had gone abysmally, to put it plainly. Eighteen months ago, Collie had watched an Osprey dive after a fish, completely submerging itself in the cold lake, only to reemerge seconds later with a trophy clutched in its grasp. Impulsively, Collie thought to follow suit - too impatient to go through the effort of researching whether or not it was also an eagle behaviour. Two minutes later he crawled to shore as a man, cursing and spluttering, having almost drowned himself as a bird. Feathers completed soaked from crown to tail, weighing him down like bags of sand.

Collie looked up, eyes peering further off-shore, towards the deep and unforgiving waters of the ocean. He desperately wanted to try hunting over there, where the fish were more impressive and the winds much stronger. His feathers ruffled in irritation. He could only attempt to dive as far out as he was willing to potentially swim back; as a person. And right now, the cold pacific water didn’t look particularly inviting. Maybe he could convince one of the other shifters to take a boat out or something with him. Although that would mean letting someone see my poor excuse for fishing-

-Oh. Bingo! A couple of Whitings had returned to the shallows after Collie had scared them off a few minutes ago with yet another failed dive. With a strong flap of his wings, he was airborne once more. The sun cast his shadow dramatically over the water and the mist as he adjusted his wings, neck craning to eye up the fish better. You’re not an Osprey. Just the talons, not your whole body. Mind out for the waves. A brown blur careened towards the silvery target; talons extended out and wings half-folded back. The water refracts, move to the right. The shock of feeling the fish in his talons caused him to crash into the shallow water anyway, shrieking in surprise. And this was why we practice at sunrise. This fish, including his catch, swam away - leaving the pathetic excuse for a raptor partly drenched, feathers sticking up in all directions and wings splayed out to remain buoyant. Dignity in tatters, he resigned to letting the waves softly push him to shore.

He left the sandy banks feeling more like a fancy rubber duck than a feared and revered predator. Six months. That’s all the time he’d spent at Fox Island so far, and he was determined to embrace the shifter genes; even if it meant practising at ungodly hours so no one would see him nose-dive into the ocean. He was luckier than most though, golden eagles were at least found in British Columbia naturally. They were sparse, but nonetheless present. So just another one appearing wouldn’t cause much suspicion, if any. Not like the presence of something like a tiger or the more “exotic” species. Hell, eagles were even protected in this area - that was always a bonus. The only real risk was an over-zealous poacher shooting him down, but given how common golden eagles were elsewhere, he’d have to be real unlucky for that to cause an issue.

Soon enough the trees began to look familiar, and Collie wrung out his now-damp shirt as he approached the clearing of the Hawthorn property. A few figures were moving about, mainly visible from the windows of the cabin but one creature caught his eye. “Good morning beautiful lass!” He greeted George, a wide grin adorning his face. He’d always been a dog person - so much so that he refused to go into the canine unit of the military because he was adamant he didn’t have the heart to actually let the dog do its job. Collie carded his fingers through his wetted hair, combing it gently out of his face. Perfect! If George is here, Kate’s gotta be too.

Collie hadn’t really had the chance to talk to Kate, but he wasn’t blind to the fact she had also been a soldier - her mannerisms, the way she carried herself - she had left the military, but the military hadn’t left her. So, unlike Collie’s normal behaviour, he’d actually left her alone for the most part. Maybe if he gave her time, she’d kick things off? Absolutely not. Waiting had gotten him nowhere, and it was becoming more clear with each day that they would sit at stalemate unless Collie brute-forced his way in.

“Good morning to you too, Kate!” He called, walking directly to her. Is it a bit mean, forcing her into a conversation? Perhaps. But it’ll be worth it. He titled his head slightly as he got closer - an unfortunate bird habit. Kate didn’t look like she’d had the best night of sleep, but that was definitely not Collie’s place to mention. “How are you this fine morning?” He spoke, a meek attempt at being polite. “Who am I kidding, you know what I’m gonna ask.” He stated plainly, folding his arms over his damp shirt, a lopsided grin still plastered to his face. He’d only off-handedly mentioned it half a dozen times in the last few months. “You’ve gotta spar with me, come on - I’d even make you breakfast or something.” He almost pleaded. He broke eye contact to glance at George. “She’s welcome too of course, given she doesn’t try and maul me for touching her precious lady, that is.” Collie shifted his weight from one foot to another. “You could decide place and time, anything really. We both know you're best suited to doing this with me, even if you’d like to deny it. If I go much longer without a good sparring match I’ll get cabin fever - you think I’m bad now? Wait until that happens.” He drawled. Was it dramatic? Oh, of course. Desperate? Absolutely. Collie was making a fool of himself, and he knew it - but after being used by the Pacific Ocean as a bath toy this morning, he’d already resigned to a day without his self-respect.

[ inventory : not a fish ]

[ tags ; kate ] [ mentions ; anyone up ‘n about ]

[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; none
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location; yard
shift; coyote

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The wan light had climbed higher in the sky, shortening the faint shadows that stretched toward the west. The surface under Kate's shoes alternated from flat, grey stones with stratified edges, marking the paths through the garden, to the sinking, moss-blended grass that fanned out from the house until it turned into shadowy forest. She would have liked to think that she was entirely awake, but she was following after George in a manner of post-nightmare haze, which blunted the sharper edges of her thinking. That is to say, her mind was wandering, unfocused, a perhaps necessary moment of release from her usual heightened state of vigilance.
indentindentThat was until a figure emerged from the trees, his hair wet, shirt damp, and grinning, as he approached. A quiet sigh climbed into Kate's throat, but she held it in. George jogged along to greet him without hesitation, her tail gently wagging behind her. Meanwhile, Kate had stopped a ways away, her face impassive and kept a flinch away from shifting into a rude grimace. Collie was... a lot. Not only was his bearing a walking reminder of everything that had been taken from her — with no one else around, it would have only required a slip of attention to think she was back in base camp, surrounded by soldiers going about their days, a setting that had once been her place of comfort — but there was something almost manic about him. The sort that made her wonder whether he might have been dishonorably discharged due to some kind of mental lapse. He wouldn't have been the only one.
indentindentUnfortunately, he was making his way directly to her, with George following at his heels for a moment, before losing interest and breaking away to follow some other scent drawn through the grass. It seemed he had gone swimming at the break of dawn, and in spite of every wild training exercise Kate had gone through as a soldier, not an ounce of her understood why someone wished to do that in the still-freezing Pacific. The scent of briny water clung to him, and it did not make him appear any more sane.
indentindentSometimes Kate wished it were socially acceptable to simply turn around and sprint away from a conversation. Maybe it was, and everyone had simply failed to tell her. She held in the wince at his question, but her stillness was a touch too stiff to be relaxed or natural. It was a terrible morning, preceded by a terrible night. To his credit, he moved on fast, yet only to ask her to spar. Once again.

indentindentindent"Grey," it was reflex to address him by his last name, "I have more important things to do." She really didn't. As much as she refused to admit it, Kate was merely afraid of putting herself in a situation where she might have been overwhelmed by emotions, still unable to confront everything that had happened. And she especially did not want Collie there as a witness when the dam finally did break.
indentindentPrecious lady. Kate's posture straightened almost imperceptibly, and old indignation flared in the cold tones of her voice. Basic training had been populated by men who saw it suitable to speak of her in all sorts of demeaning ways, whether it was finding it necessary to call her girlie or engage in loud-voiced conversations about her that would have merited punishment. She had taken her promotion to sergeant as a chance to nip that kind of talk in the bud when it came to the soldiers under her command. It might have earned her the reputation of a hard-ass, but she had only been that way to those who deserved it. Respect was answered with respect.
indentindentindent"But if you want me to punch you in the face right here and now, you won't need a pretense for it," she warned, unwavering, and regarded him with an icy look that might have been more frightening were it not so tired. A flash in her mind showed her coyote's teeth around his neck. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that George had ceased sniffing around and was standing still, looking at her questioningly, her tail still swaying slowly from side to side. Kate realized that in spite of her impassive countenance, her heart was racing in her chest. She needed to calm down before she made good on her warning.
indentindentindentShe drew in a slow breath that she hoped wasn't all that noticeable and averted her eyes from Collie's grinning face, then took a few steps away by using the dog as a convenient excuse to move. Kate threaded her fingers into the fur of George's neck, drawing her short nails over her skin a couple times. The tags on George's collar jingled softly. Kate's patience and self-control had fallen far from what they had been in the army, and if that caused her further distress, she was trying not to acknowledge it. Her eyes wandered to the wooded horizon, both feeling the pathetic need to say something more and hoping that the conversation could already be over. Knowing Collie, it wasn't about to be.
indentindentindent"I have a feeling you aren't about to leave me alone," she muttered, in a way that would have pissed off any commanding officer.