Twenty Years Later (Week 1066)


Cambridge was no stranger to bad drivers. When the city's roads started as glorified cow-paths, there was nowhere to go but up right into the glass ceiling of a sprawling campus town. Nearly four hundred years of history permeated the area, theology and intuitive settlement coming together in a maelstrom of changing cultures and expectations, rebounding off the two major schools in town- although to call them only major was a slight to their enormity. Both Harvard and MIT had left twin boot-prints of science and culture on the community, and in whole it was better for it.

This made the F-350 E barreling down the highway into town at seventy-five with a purple and gray ensign any less weird, though. Gasoline fired cars had grown rare in the east, but the obnoxious truck was rolling on through with its engine on and burping smoke when the driver revved the engine. Coming into Oak Yard of Harvard and Cambray hall, the engine finally shut off as the truck rolled into a parking spot on the electrics, it came to a stop with a shudder as the motor finally wound down. The strange vehicle (to the electric and self-driving community) dropped off two people, each strange in their own way.

The first was, if not a dream, then certainly something else. Blue-black hair that almost glinted in the sunlight, he laughed at his companion before pulling out a gigantic duffle. With a practiced sling over his back, he set it up while his companion stretched out languidly. Watching the canvass of the duffel crease his white cotton shirt, some of the girls in the yard almost missed the stole that was lovingly draped over his shoulders and staff he carried, dry flint corn husks rattling around the top.

The second was far different. She was heavy, taller than the man, and moved with an unearthly grace, feline senses gracing her every movement. Her long, silver tail coming out from her skirts only emphasized her actions, the perking of the feline ears on her head making sure she was totally aware of herself and environment. Skirts decorated over with bright embroidery tried to hide her long legs, but the cropped shirt she wore did nothing except expose her toned midriff to the world. She carried another duffle, as well as two large suitcases that seemed to be full to bursting. Walking up to the hall, a few directions got them sent to their room to drop their stuff off before getting food.

In the small common room, murmured whispers went along as the pair started raiding the vending machine for everything they could get. Finally, the proctor found the commotion, and stepped in.

"Would you be the new students from Metella?" he asked, frowning. "Ummm… I can't pronounce these names…"

The boy rolled his eyes, and sat his haul down on the table before cracking a soda. "Arsurf Martel, Corn Priest and Shaman, Son of Thomas Martel and Jenevie Blue Corn. Did some moron forget to put our names back to English script again?"

"Maybe?" the Proctor said, shrugging. "Mostly I just can't read the handwriting."

Arsurf rolled his eyes and took a long slug of the drink before looking at it funny. "Yeah, so I'm Arsurf, you…?"

"I'm the proctor, John Williams." the proctor said. "Call me John."

"Charmed." the girl said, reading the ingredients to a package before tearing in. "I'm Nauta Johnson, daughter of Lieutenant Commander Jessica Johnson and Sheti Johnson, of Metella and Hillfort."

"Ah, and the other two of you?" John asked carefully, looking askance at Arsurf's staff. "I know there were four in your delegation…"

"They're in the room getting set up." Nauta replied, before scarfing down an entire bag of cheetos in one go before making a face. "And do you guys have any food that tastes like, y'know, food, and not dusty cardboard?"

"Down in the dining hall, yeah." the Proctor said. "If we could collect your friends- ah!"

Behind the proctor was the driver of the truck, smiling disarmingly. His slick ash-blonde hair was pulled back in a strict braid, feathers and beads running through it. Everything else about him was normal, until you got past the odd cut of his denim trousers and the fact his black shirt was a T-shirt- everything past that was heavy sleeve tattoos. When he smiled, a few people in the room stepped back, such was his air.

"Kenaz Walker." he began, reaching out to shake John's hand. "Son of Major Timothy Walker and Euenia Aedethier-Walker, grandson of King Aede Mackatheon and Colonel Abraham Walker, of Metella and of Antenela; master inkworker by the tuition of Euenia Aedethier, of Alescias Mackathen, of Tuella Tamascathen."

About half the room blinked in surprise, the other half just letting out a breath after the block of information. The proctor was most definitely in the later group, prompting Kenaz to have a chuckle.

"I know it's a lot to handle all this, but c'mon!" he said, laughing as he slapped his chest. "Just call me Kenaz- the rest is just popcorn."

Arsurf snorted, rattling his staff so the top made a dry sound. "Sure, sure, says the only one with a claim to the throne here."

"I'm something like sixteenth in line for one and for two the day I actually oppose Morgan for it is the day we just steal a nuke to put us out of our collective misery." Kenaz grumped, before pointing a finger at his friend accusingly. "And the day I manage to stand a chance in hell of killing Aunt Wyta without effectively dropping the bomb on all of us is a few weeks past never."

"Nah, you might be able to do it!" Arsurf lied cheerfully. "You'd just need me and Corn Woman to lock down all the potentia of the area, Morgan would probably be over here or wrapped around your- oof!"

"Can we not frighten the goats?" Nauta asked rhetorically, before ripping into a package of jerky. "More importantly, what do you guys always tell me about bedrooms?"

"Fiiiiine…" Arsurf said, sighing. "So, who wants to find Morgan?"

"Who says she isn't already here?" Morgan said, causing Arsurf to de-ass to a good five foot minimum safe distance behind Nauta. Kenaz just chuckled.

"Wondering when you'd stick your face down here, 'coz." he snarked. "Mind introducing yourself to the proctor here?"

"Do I have to?" Morgan pouted, before stealing a coke off the table and taking a long pull.

"Well since the rest of us did it…"

"Fiiiine." Morgan whined, before belching loudly and slamming the coke can down on the table. "I would be Morgan Corvidae An-Wyta Bear, daughter of Wyta herself, goddess-"

"Demi-goddess." Arsurf corrected smugly, shit-eating grin nonwithstanding.

"-Demi-goddess and Princess of Metella, fifth from the throne in her own body, and the most convincing Bear that you ever did see!"

"Goddamnit." muttered Kenaz, glaring at her distinctly. "Why do even let you out in public I swear ahhhhhh…"

"Because she makes too much noise when you keep her cooped up at home?" Nauta shot back, making inroads on a second bag of jerky. "Because your uncle doesn't want us at his house all the time, and neither do my parents? Because she screams when you and Arsurf do the-"

"Neříkej to!" Kenaz hissed, before composing himself. "Jsou jako táta, pamatuješ?"

Nauta just turned her nose up. "You know my Czech isn't that good; just say it in Hills."

"You know my Hills sounds like someone choking on a kebab skewer."

"And my Czech sounds like you just got done getting me high as a kite to do a new tattoo. I wonder, when did I learn it again OH WAIT-"

"I'm backing Kenaz on this one." Arsurf said, cheeks red. "Can we not?"

"Fine." Nauta huffed. "But you two owe me something nice."

"But it was my turn-" Morgan said before the proctor cut them off.

"Anyway, let me take you all down to the dining hall!" he called out with a false cheer. Shuttering the conversation for now, the gang followed their guide down to food.

---

"That's the last of it, right?" Kenaz asked, as the foursome finished dressing their rooms out. Getting a two-bedroom with bath suite had taken some working; saying they'd bring their own furniture helped. What this really meant was a pair of twin futons rammed together in one room, while the other one was turned into basically a huge storage area and lounge. The center common area was still a common area, naturally, with a handful of rugs and wooden folding chairs as well as a terribly low table surrounded by cushions. Sitting at it, Nauta nodded and sipped a cup of tea she'd made, the thick aroma permeating the room.

"It's pretty good, yeah." she muttered in Meledli before taking a pull on the tea. "I still wish we'd gotten a ground floor room, though."

"Mostly because you know you can't stick a six-story drop." Morgan replied from the bedroom, sprawled over the two combined futons. "I mean, I can, sorta-kinda."

"Sorta-kinda means you can not die at the bottom." Martel replied, before flopping down next to her. "Whereas I just walk it off after a month."

"You're all idiots." Kenaz grumbled, digging around the food bag for something that wasn't pemicin or gas station food. "We have a perfectly good rope around here and I'm pretty sure we can just tie it off to the futons until we can just jump."

Moments later, there was a knock at the door. Stopping his digging, Kenaz checked to make sure he was wearing pants, found that the answer was in fact affirmative, and opened the door. A young woman was there, holding a tray of some sort of food.

"Hello!" she said cheerily, looking Kenaz in the eyes for a moment before her gaze started slipping south. "I'm Andrea, and I brought you some ink- I mean, brownies! Lots of brownies!"

"Well come in then!" Kenaz said laughing, beckoning her in. "We just got all set up, so if you could put that on the table while I get my friends."

"Right, right…" Andrea muttered, eyes locked on Kenaz's back as he ducked through the curtain to the other room.

"Hey, guys, put some clothes on!" he yelled "We have a guest!"

"Did they bring tribute?" two sleepy voices murmured out in sync. Groaning, Kenaz noticed in the thin light from the curtain that neither of his friends were clothed, and the wastebin had grown a foil wrapper.

"goddamnit guys just get some fucking clothes on and get out here before Nauta eats all of it." Kenaz shot back, before coming out of the room and noticing Andrea trying not to scritch Nauta's ears. Rolling his eyes, he took Andrea's hand at put it over Nauta's head, beginning to scritch happily. The catgirl just started purring, closing her eyes and leaning into it.

"Be careful." Kenaz warned. "She's kinda picky and if she- oof!"

Stumbling back after Nauta whacked him in the gut, Kenaz oophed and sat down on the rugs. "And sometimes I don't like it when smug artists try and draw on me with sharpies."

"It was one time!" Kenaz protested, rubbing his side.

"I thought you were gonna make me sit in an aloe bath for a week when you were done tattooing me!"

Andrea gulped, and looked at the rippling traces of shining ink that wrapped around Kenaz's bare torso. Sure, he'd remembered pants, but a shirt? Nope! Each shifting line tried to dance together under Andrea's gaze, barely distinct patterns starting to make themselves clear. Some kind of star was central to the design, while his right was dedicated with what could almost a night sky, the left being a sun with eagles soaring high. It wrapped over his shoulders completely when he turned around, and his back was a gigantic mandala- nearly two dozen characters of unknown origin and meaning, ending in what almost looked like some ancient alchemical symbol. More decorations littered the young man, but Andrea didn't get too much time to feast her eyes- there was a cat-girl next to her that seemed demanding of head scritches.

The fact that people with… other than human portions, to put it mildly, existed in itself was one of those little things biological and health scientists had been having a collective case of heartburn over for a number of years now. The theoreticals of magic might have rebooted the Indiana Jones series and made anthropology the field with the highest level of deaths by degree from all the adventuring done, but even with the world turned upon its head there just weren't that many people coming through the portal. To America, it remained a mathematical curio, to academia a hair-tearing paradise…

...and the reverse? Not much. To say the disparity of economy was incredible was to understate the oblivious until it was noticeable. The closest thing to a modern country was the Kingdom of Antenella, who had barely touched the iron age before life had been twisted around into knots for them. What wealth they had was minuscule, their population meager, and their potential capped by the frequent raids from the southern states. Few companies were established there due to the extreme cost, and few people left because they had no chance. Literacy there was barely one in three of the population, basic academics beyond anyone outside the small bastions of 'civilization' in Metella and Hilltown, and the majority of the areas was still dedicated to subsistence farming for their food. At the very least, the relative economic boom had ended anything that resembled slavery, and the people were pragmatic enough to know every hand was needed to ride the coming storm. The cat-people, or Yrcen when properly rendered in English, hadn't been moving over in droves either. Aside from the infamously large emigree communities in Tokyo and Prague, most of their population in America tended towards base towns, as they emigrated when their military husbands moved.

So Andrea continued scratching Nauta's head until the later fell over her in a heap. Struggling to get out from under her, Andrea never noticed the blue-haired gentlemen who helped her up.

"Glad to see she likes you." Arsurf said, chuckling. "You brought food?"

"Yeah, a little." she said, blushing.

"Wonderful!" he said, grinning. "I'll get the plates."

"It's just brownies." she muttered. "I made them yesterday."

"Are they magic brownies?" Morgan asked, as she went over to the cooler. "Also, do you want anything to drink? We got beer."

"Ummmm…" Andrea went, looking left and right. "Sure?"

"Great!" Morgan said, before digging out a skin bag. "Now, you want the regular stuff or should we get fancy?"

"Regular stuff? Okay…" Andrea muttered, looking totally confused. "Sure."

Getting some ceramic cups out, Morgan poured while Arsurf stumbled out of the bedroom and glared at the now-raised blinds. Hands dancing around the table, he found the first full glass and raised it up, before ritually pouring a dash onto the table.

"Rain to earth, earth to plant, plant to man, man to river, river to rain." he murmered reverently, before throwing the entire mug back. The rest of the Metellans did the same, and Andrea tried to follow suit- shortly before falling over backwards and gagging. Helping her back up was Nauta, looking mildly concerned before helping herself to more beer.

"How do you drink that crap?" Andrea asked, before turning a slight shade of red. "It tastes like raw goat!"

"Shit, she figured out what the bag's made of." Kenaz deadpanned while Morgan chuckled. "We brought it for sharing with any visitors, and it worked like a charm."

"Ha ha ha…" Andrea muttered. "Maybe some real beer then?"

Reaching over into the cooler, Morgan slung a iced bottle with a metal cap over. Watching Andrea struggle with the cap a moment, Nauta took a minute to pop the top off for her. Holding the bottle with both hands, Andrea took a slow sip, and then a slightly deeper one. The rest of the group smirked at each other- obviously a new drinker here!

"So, is there anything to… do, exactly, around here?" Nauta asked, yawning. "Other than classes, and sports, and those things you call games…"

"Well, there's usually a party somewhere on Fridays." Andrea said, taking another sip. "I think this week they're doing it at Phi Kappa."

"So, anything to do at this party?" Arsurf asked, leaning back as he locked his legs under the table with Kenaz to lean back and grin over the side. "Aside from the normal bits of eating, drinking, and fucking, of course."

Andrea blushed a little from the insinuation and alcohol. "Um, well, they have a pool, and a billiards table, and ping-pong, some arcade games…"

Kenaz's eyes perked up. "A pool?"

"Yes."

"We're in!"

---


Come Friday, and the gang was ready and raring to go. Arsurf had packed the cooler, Kenaz had his truck keys, and both the girls had helped the other one get their swimsuits just right and magicked on tight. After all the appreciative wolf whistles, the girls threw on overwraps and the boys got a pair of shirts on. Waltzing out the door, the progression to the truck was stared at. To be fair, two fit young men and two attractive young woman in embroidered wrap dresses were quite a sight.

"Hey, new guys!" one of the frats yelled. "Got any food?"

"Got beer!" Arsurf yelled, grinning. "You got food?"

"Pleanty!"

"Awesome!"

While the Corn Priest went off to do his thing with the food, the girls started sashaying over to the pool. When they dropped their dresses, one of the poor boys their fell over into the pool.

To be fair, they were looking at the daughter of a small goddess and the daughter of an Olympian. Nauta's mother, Sheti, had picked up a silver in archery in 2028, and that had been enough to bring the catpeople and yrcen into the international spotlight. The fact she was wearing a one-piece Rocket Weasel with a ultra-low ass sliding under her tail and a single stripe up the front before it split to the top only exaggerated her ridiculously fit body. Muscles rippled, skin gleamed, and she was the picture of health. The only oddity was a large skullcap covered in a bright floral pattern she wore, pressing her ears flat back into her skull and keeping water out.

Morgan was no slacker in beauty either. Her own swimsuit covered much less than Nauta's, but what it revealed was an otter-like sleekness. Her olive skin gleamed like it had been waxed, and she stretched to reveal her hips lean chest. A confident smirk directed towards what looked like water polo players graced her face as Morgan moved in on the hunt. The prey was looking receptive, when a loud roar went out.

"CANNONBALL!"

Expertly throwing themselves aside, Morgan and Nauta got out of the way that was the speeding bullet of Kenaz. Using a cooler as a stepping stone, he threw himself into the air, curling up as he slammed down over the deepest part of the pool. As the splash waves pushed themselves over and out of the pool, Arsurf walked out of the house and just raised an eyebrow at the affair.

"What did I tell you about trying to wash everyone else off the beach?" the blue-haired wonder asked. He'd ditched his shirt by now, a faint shock of chest hair bluring the outline of the few tattoos he had on his chest. Grinning over at his friends, he laughed loudly.

"Yeah yeah, don't forget you too." Kenaz replied after he'd surfaced, lazily backstrokking in. "Did you remember the kimshi?"

"Of course I remembered the kimchi, you goof." Arsurf grumbled. "I'm just waiting for someone to get drunk enough to ask me to break it out."

"C'mon, I wanted some!"

"You'll get some, grumps. Remember what happened when Andrea tried the beer?"

Kenaz chuckled as a response, coming up to sit on the edge of the pool. Sitting next to him, Arsurf gave him a kiss on the cheek, before throwing an arm around him.

"C'mon, let's see who's who here! You can meet new people, I can make Morgan try some yuri, who knows what might happen."

"I don't know, I see some blood in the water pushing the other direction…" Kenaz said, grinning. "You want to see if we can score a triple?"

Arsurf hummed, before smirking. "Y'know, why not?"

"Good, 'cause I'm seeing some chicks that would make your godmother question her cup sizes."

Arsurf snorted loudly. "Really?"

"Set grill as your twelve, and scan around to about ten-thirty."

Arsurf set up his references, and started scanning over. His best friend could tell he'd seen the women in question when his jaw fell open.

"They can get that big?" the Corn Priest muttered, shaking his head. "Sweet Mother…"

"I know, right? We can't not tap that. Holy obligation in your case."

"That is the most terrible theological argument I have ever heard about my church and I can't even argue it with you because knowing my luck Morgan started snapping pictures to send home and if those get back to the temple it'll be literal holy orders."

"... Have you ever considered telling your mom to take a chill pill?"

Arsurf shot his friend a wry look. "Have you ever considered getting Morgan pregnant and bodily throwing Crytus off the throne? Because let me tell you, I'm pretty sure that's the only thing you could practically do to match the act of stupid I'd be committing."

"Point, point." Kenaz said, waving his hands absentmindedly. "Anyway, time to go see if we're bringing anyone back to the room tonight."

As the two kissed again for luck and to stun their female prey, Morgan chuckled from the surprisingly comfortable lounge chair she'd found. Clinking copper mugs with Nauta solemnly, they both took a good sip of their bucks and smirked at each other. They'd already started drawing the young men in like flies, smirking at each other before Nauta grinned enough to let her fangs show.

"So, you think we should grab someone interesting?" she asked, her smirk saying leagues. "Unless you want me to hog up Kenaz for a few hours…"
Morgan chucklled, and rolled her shoulders. "I mean, I like being able to screw all night and not need any sleep either, but some of us only got the ability to turn physics inside out instead of not need to sleep for a few days in a row in exchange for eating all the bread."

"Yeah." Nauta muttered, taking another sip. "I still haven't figured out how he keeps up with me sometimes."

"Who knows?" Morgan opined. "As long as your itch gets scratched, that is."

"Meh." Nauta opined flatly. "I always know how to really get laid if it gets bad."

Morgan sat up and turned to face her, before slugging down the rest of her drink. "You are not talking about another one of those videos, are you? Because I am not hosing you down and aborting triplets without some advance notice."

"Poor yrcen gets her pussy petted one time-" Nauta grumped, "-and the bitch witch whines about it forevermore."

"I was fifteen, and after I was done neither of us could walk for a week!"

"I choose to interpret that as a result of Arsurf's tender affections to your poor traumatized self." Nauta shot back, smiling after another sip. "These drinks are quite good."

"I do know what to ask for, you know." Morgan huffed, raising her nose in a practiced huff. "Seeing as your cooking is normally as much ginger as you can stuff in the pot."

"And you keep coming over to eat it anyway, sooo…"

"Hel-ooo, ladies!"

"Excuse me for a minute." Morgan told Nauta quite seriously, before she shot the blonde hunk that had walked up a sultry look. Huffing, the catgirl just made her way over to the boys, who at this point were leaning dramatically on a fence and sipping beers dramatically as they recounted old stories.

"-and I said, if Uncle Bear loaned you his rifle, then-"

"Why are you holding your gun?" Nauta interrupted, pulling herself in under Kenaz's arm to artfully steal his beer and leave him with an empty copper mug.

The few of the surrounding girls who didn't get the joke suddenly did when Nauta's hips ran dangerously close to her friend's crotch. "Remind me again why it's always you with your pants around your ankles when the gryphons find us?" she said, sultry. The glares she got were worth it, as Kenaz pinched her to earn some space.

"Probably because the last time we shot a male gryphon was when you had your size compensator bow on you up in Arawas country." Kenaz huffed back, setting the empty mug on the fence that shielded the grill from the pool.
"Not my fault you can't draw much more than a wimpy little bow."

"Most people's definitions of 'wimpy' don't start around eighty pounds draw weight and go up from there." Kenaz said, rolling his eyes. "You wanna try giving me shit 'bout that, I'll just borrow the Barrett again and we can go back to plinking Rocs over on the Esterling side of the mountains."

"That's no fun and you know it." she huffed, poking him.

"I second that opinion." Arsurf said, raising his hand. "I for one am quite happy not to have to fight my way past Baptist lynch mobs armed with molotovs and flint spears again."

"What." was the flat response from a rather… bountiful redhead who was the current target of Arsurf's intentions.

"Missionaries of all stripes go up into the hills a lot." Kenaz explained. "They inevitably convert a small village, die because they don't have the sense God gave sky turtles, and then you've got a bunch of illiterate and belligerent rednecks holed up in there waiting to stir shit up. They've gotten better, but better is pretty damn relative."

"Archos did nothing wrong." Nauta implied with a smirk, shifting over to lean on Arsurf in preparation for what was going to happen. Instead of his normal response, though, Kenaz just grabbed her hip and wrist and went for a classic over-the-shoulder throw. Blinking for a second, Nauta flicked her tail carefully to spin her so she landed back-first into the pool, slapping the water to soften her landing as she took a breath. Taking advantage of the momentum, she slipped under and let out about a quarter of a breath- something she knew would make her about neutrally buoyant.

Eight seconds later, a small splash signaled Morgan diving in, pushing off the wall to come over to her friend. A few taps, and a quearing gesture communicated what she needed to know adequetly- they had a lot of practice with this.

What the hell did you do this time?

The usual.
Nauta replied with her cheshire smirk. He just felt showy today.

You're an idiot.

You're boring.

Love you too.

So, think we should get out of the water soon?


Turning as they heard a sloppy splash, they looked over to see Arsurf had joined them. He was smiling madly, and was still laughing enough so little air bubbles were leaking out his smile.

Y'all gotta see this shit!

Surfacing carefully, the three looked over to where Kenaz was on the deck, laughing his ass off from something only he could see. Whispering, Arsurf pointed to the shallows. There, a rather… obese woman was trying to waddle around, her swimsuit doing nothing to hide her figure, or lack thereof. As she tripped on a loose beer can, both the girls started snickering. When a chair creaked and groaned under her vast flabbing size, they were chuckled. By the time she finally deigned to leave, both sides of her body scraping the gate on the way out, both of them were laughing so hard Morgan slammed back into the water, her legs giving out from the comedy. It was almost a full minute in the water to get herself back under control, concentration shot. Coming up, she still chuckled as she looked over at Nauta. There was something off about her friend's look of residual mirth, before the catgirl gave her friend a rather showy hug.

"Morgan." Nauta said, chuckling into her ear. "Where'd your top go?"

Yeah that would explain it. Morgan knew that if she wanted to wear as… attractive a swimsuit as Nauta's technically-decent numbers she needed to contain dat ass give her tail some breathing room, she'd need something to hold it on to her sadly lithe figure. Where some woman would just use fabric tape, though, Morgan was a sorceress, daughter of a sorceress, and as such just magic'd the thing to stay on exactly where she put it. Most of the time it worked pretty well.

Now that it wasn't, it looked like Kenaz and Arsurf were gonna have to go fishing in the pool for some strategically designed dental floss. Whistling loudly, Nauta drew the two in.

"So…" Morgan muttered, flushing a little. "Wanna help play find the string?"

Kenaz just shot her a lidded look. "I was this close to getting laid, Morgan. This close."

"I'll make it up to you." she said, sighing.

"Morgan, Morgan, we're talking about grade A collegiate pussy." Kenaz muttered, doing a short little backstroke around the group. "I am morally obligated to show them how a real man fucks."

"No you're not." Arsurf said lazily, floating ambiently. "You're just horny as fuck because you haven't gotten laid in a week. Whereas I have already broken the horns off my particular dilemma because I value my sanity."

"You mean Nauta got snuggly and you got yours before becoming a body pillow."

"So?" both Nauta and Arsurf replied arily.

"Never mind…" Kenaz muttered. "I'll look for the top. Was it a floaty one or a sinky one?"

'Sinking." Morgan replied quickly. "I replaced the clasp so that it wouldn't float around and so you could find it easier."

"You better be glad this is a bromine pool and not chlorinated, or else I'd need goggles for this." Kenaz grumbled one last time, before diving down into the water. Waving off in a terrible salute, Arsurf just breathed out and started sinking, beginning his own search. The two girls at the surface, meanwhile, had just about nothing to do, unless Nauta was willing to let Morgan go topless for a bit.

Nauta had very different plans. Grinning, she started nuzzling Morgan's neck, before working around and planting a quick hickey on her collar.

"Nauta!" Morgan gasped.

"Well, I was trying to get laid too." Nauta deadpanned, before placing a matching hickey on Morgan's other collar. "And if you're making it up to Kenaz, I might as well get some, no?"

Morgan looked up at the sky. The moon looked back at her from past the halogen lighting that kept the party going. Morgan glared dramatically at the moon, before sighing.

"There's no helping you horndogs is there?" she muttered.

"Sow the wind, reap the whirlwind." Nauta replied, grinning.

"That worked back when the number of times you talked me into yuri was back in the single digits."

Nauta laughed, and let go of her friend. "I mean, if you want me to go start something with your cousin and a nice bush…."

"Nope!" Morgan yelled, briefly mortified as she clung to Nauta. "We're not up by Glacier Lake- you can't do that sort of thing here!"

"Am I scandalizing you again?" Nauta asked. "I swear I only scandalize you when you've been clam-jamming me for a week because of the move oh wait!"

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry I've been an overbearing prick about this, it's only a few hundred miles in somewhere we've never been before with no way home and enough money to buy a new palace involved. Woe betinde me for wanting to make sure Dad or Uncle Timmy never get involved." Morgan mouthed sarcastically.

"We've got feet, and there's a trail system that takes us almost straight to the base." Nauta said, boobing her friend on the nose. "So stop panicking."

"I am not going home to live with my mother again!"

"You could always crash with Arsurf."

Morgan stiffened up. "Nope, not happening, negative, denied, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars."

As the blue-haired priest splashed up behind them, Nauta smirked. "Speak of the devil- you find her top?"

"Yeah." Arsurf muttered, passing it to Morgan. "Now, you get it on, I'll go start the truck."

"Why?" Nauta asked, smirking.

"Because I'm pretty sure Kenaz accidentally undid at least one bikini while he was wallowing around in the dive after coming up for air like the scrub he is, and knowing him pulled a few more strings to make a distraction." Arsurf deadpanned, about the time a small huddle of girls on the other end of the pool started screaching. "If he's smart he's gonna do that sneeki-breeki shit he likes to brag about and meet us at the truck."

As the three exfilled out of the party as politely as they could, all three kept an eye out. Kenaz wasn't the sheer woodsman that Nauta was or the social wizard Morgan could be when she tried, but hands down he could be a genuinely sneaky son of a bitch when he put his mind to it. This made catching him in the act a group bonding exercise of the highest order, mostly by ribbing the shit out of him because he'd screwed up.

Of course, when Kenaz rolled down the window of the truck with a lit stogie in one hand, all three of his friends started swearing.

"How?!" they all yelled.

"Well, I'll tell you on the way back." Kenaz grinned as they all piled in. "The hard part was getting out of the pool of course…"

As the four started heading back to their new home in the dorms, the air lightened considerably. Just because they'd gone to a whole new world didn't mean everything was different- after all, they still had each other.
 
The kids are terrible, Andrea is racist as fuck, and Nauta probably can't buy a hat that'd fit anywhere in the state.
 
The kids are terrible, Andrea is racist as fuck, and Nauta probably can't buy a hat that'd fit anywhere in the state.

The kids are terrible, yes. I mean, Nauta only speaks four and a half languages, Kenaz has never used an Adobe program, Morgan thinks printing out doujinshi on her dad's computer is fine, and Arsurf is deathly afraid of cameras because he's afraid his godmother will hear about what he's been doing.

Threadmarks are a little confusing

Im always a sucker for portal to other worlds type of stories

Please continue

Threadmarks are always a bit of a leap here: I'll sort them again soon.
 
Love and Cats (Week 17, Love Interests rewrite.)
Love and Cats
(Week 17)

"You know what Frank? I'm sick of this shit, and I'm sick of this goddamned world." A red-headed lance corporal said, as she pointed an unsteadily bobbing finger at the sergeant next to her. "I wanna go back home, and try and patch things up with Kristen. We've been on this side of the portal four months, and I swear everyone's gotten hitched but me." Hiccuping, she continued "Don't get me wrong, I love you guys, but when I see the girls Lieutenant Bear and that fucking retard ended up with, I just get so jealous."

"Jessica, why the fuck would you want to patch up your relationship with her?" the sergeant said in between sips of his own beer. "She's a fucking harpy, and she cheated on you how many times?"

"Three times... that I know of…" Jessica muttered.

"Then why not forget about her and try to play the field here?" the Sergeant said. "It's worked out for literally everyone else. Besides, it's a different world, and we're not even sure it's in our universe. What happens here stays here."

"I'm not going to waste my time chasing bartenders or fucking whores who aren't actually into me, Frank." Jessica shot back. "It's like every hot local chick is straight as an arrow and thirstier than Private Bevan."

"How is she doing anyway?" Frank replied, morbidly curious.

"She's bringing home enough dudes that when there's finally a herpes outbreak she'll probably be patient zero." Jessica continued as Frank's beer shot out his nose. "And she's loud enough I usually just give up and sleep in my office. Especially when I see that fucking cat dude loitering around."

"I don't know what to say then." Frank said. "You're pretty damn hot, there's got to be someone in town who might bite. Like one of the PHS nurses or something. Hell, you can probably hitch a ride with Vegas' lunatics or Lieutenant Bear when they go to the capital again."

"Fuck. Thanks for trying, but that's not exactly giving me hope." Jessica said as she downed her beer in a few gulps before motioning for another.

"Do you want me to like magic some girl out of thin air?" Frank said. "I'm in intel, not miracles."

"You say that like there's a difference."

"Don't you mean staffing? I mean, we somehow ended up with only one lieutenant that can't tie his shoelaces, and he's Civil Affairs for fuck's sake. When are we gonna need him here, ever?" Frank laughed weakly, pulling on his own drink.

"You'd rather have Captain Lee wouldn't you?" Jessica said as her drink arrived with the cute bartender who had somehow managed to get herself a crop top and booty shorts (probably from some american admirer,) instead of the wrap dress every other local woman wore.

"Fuck yes I would." Frank replied. "At least Captain Lee only crawls out of the bottle for meetings and wouldn't try to get involved in my job. The goddamned lieutenant just keeps fucking shit up, and I can't wait until we have a civilian city government so it isn't my goddamned problem anymore."

Jessica's phone went off. "Fuck, the game's about to start. I'm going to head down to the Mess and actually eat something." She said before downing her beer in one go. "Tell Miguel I said 'hi' when he gets here."

"I will." Frank said.

~

It was about midnight that same night when Sergeant Frank Valois and his husband Lance Corporal Miguel Villalobos heard a familiar jingling over the sound of the space heater in their tent. They'd only had the tent for a couple of weeks since they had gotten married, but it had become homelike, even if interruptions like this had become depressingly common. The newlyweds waited a few minutes before Frank popped his head out of the tent to take a look around.

"What is it this time honey?" Miguel said as he looked over at the tent flap from his perch on a crate they had pilfered to be a couch.

"A pheasant." His husband, Frank, replied as he stared at the dead and unplucked bird hanging down from a convenient tent-pole.

"Is she ever going to get the message?" Miguel said as he ran his fingers through his black hair. "We've told her you're off the market twice. I'm about ready to call the MPs."

"I don't really think that's necessary." Frank said, before taking the pheasant in. "Sheti is a nice girl with a cute kid, and I don't want her getting in trouble over this."

"Because you want to tap that." Miguel said as he sighed. "I didn't know you were a breast man though. I might not have said yes if I'd known. That lip rug is bad enough."

"I like all kinds. Besides, you're just mad that she can pull off that dress better than you can." Frank shot back, stroking his mustache.

"I could pull that off." Miguel replied, "I'd just need some new heels is all. Maybe a nice set of pumps. Oh, and a new wig."

"Sure…" Frank muttered dutifully, trying to find his boots. His bald head reflecting the lamplight.

"You're going to give it back to her aren't you?" Miguel said as he sat up. "I'm coming with."

Sheti lived in a farming hamlet about a mile out of Metella proper, and only a few hundred yards from the fence line of the main base. It was on a small rise that was just above the high-water mark for the spring flood. The hamlet itself wasn't much more than a couple of barns and corn cribs, with maybe a half dozen pithouses and a low wall working their way around the rim of the rise. Sheti's late husband had been one of the farmers there after they'd had their first child, and his family hadn't yet thrown them out of the house on the edge of the hamlet yet, even if they were loathe to tolerate, never mind support a Yrcen full-blood and her half-breed toddler.

Frank knocked on the door, and after a minute Sheti opened the door and popped her head out. The smile on her face quickly faded when she saw Miguel and her blue-grey ears drooped, almost hiding in her hair. The maltese cat-woman then came out to talk. In the light of the moon (and a flashlight) her eyes glowed even as they narrowed.

"I guess this is actually a no then." She said in pidgin as Frank and Miguel nodded.

Frank handed the pheasant over. "Yeah. I'm married. I love my husband, and I can't just leave him for someone else."

"Could I do your laundry or something? Could you set me up with someone?" Sheti replied nervously, with her ears back, eyes wide and voice low. "I need to go somewhere else, they won't let me plant, and I can't leave my daughter with anyone here to really hunt. She's too young to travel into the mountains, and they might try something if I'm gone…"

"We'll ask around, but there's not really much work at the base if you can't speak English, and you can't stay in our quarters." Miguel said.

"Maybe try with someone else?" Frank said.

"Some of the boots in my section or the sergeant could probably go for the whole single mom catgirl thing." Miguel continued. "Alternatively there's Captain Lee. Only problem is he's Captain Lee."

"I don't think that would work out." Sheti replied. "I'm about ready to give up on men anyway. You let two women marry, right?"

"Johnson's a dyke, so maybe her?" Frank said switching to English.

"You just described half the women in the brigade." Miguel replied.

"The redhead. Weather forecaster, sings Duran Duran songs on karaoke night." Frank said. "I know she's on the rebound."

"Right, her." Miguel said. "She might be worth a shot."

"So," Frank said, switching back to Meledli, "We might have a plan."

"What kind of plan?" Sheti said nervously.

~

"Sergeant, what are you planning?" Jessica Johnson said when she got the look on Frank's face, trying to decide if she'd had enough coffee to handle this bullshit on top of her hangover.

"I just want you to go out on a date with someone." Frank said, pulling something up on his phone "Just as a favor."

"Who is it this time?" Johnson said, "It better not be one of your husband's boots. I've been pretty clear I'm not interested in men, and I don't need a merkin. Why you think I'm one of those boatfuckers down trying to build a dock is a mystery to me."

"That's funny. I remember that you were practically begging me to set you up last night." Frank continued as he handed his phone over to Jessica. "She's a nice full-blooded yrcen girl. Looks kinda like a Maltese cat, and she's cute I guess. It doesn't even need to be much more than the two of you and her kid having a picnic or something."

"Cute or not, she has a kid." Johnson said, her green eyes narrowing even as she looked at the screen, before handing the phone back. "You probably should've led off with that Frank. Even if she is cute enough that I won't report you over this."

Frank waved his hand, pulling out a cigarette. "It's not like that. Her daughter is adorable, and is why I'm trying to find her someone. Her late husband's family hate her, and she can't really hunt or travel with a toddler." he said, lighting up and offering the pack to Johnson "and I said I'd help her find someone if she'd stop bothering us."

"Why is she a widow, anyway?"

"He was one of the guys who died in that first skirmish, along with the nomarch and a few others." Frank said. "She doesn't hold it against us, and she's been essential for the Clinic's research since her daughter is the only eared yrcen child in town, but his family are pretty anti-everything as a result. Most of that hamlet, really."

"Christ, what is it with you and charity cases? This is like that damn dog."

"I'm a bleeding heart. Sue me." Frank replied with a shrug. "Anyway she's hot, and she has a pretty good sense of humor, so do you want to go out with her or not? If you don't want to, I could try and set her up with Captain Lee."

"Fuck, if that's the alternative, I'll go out with her." Johnson said. "Christ, talk about going for the throat. I mean, you might as well let them kill her or something, put her out of her misery.

"Well, that's option three," Frank muttered, puffing away. "Except the minute she's dead, the kid's getting thrown in a sack and stoned to death or something. Probably just as much to spite us as to just kill the kid since the locals know we're doing very important research on her, which makes it my problem and you're the only decent asset we have for this, outside putting them in protective custody or playing favorites with a particularly hated widow. Plus you were the one complaining about not getting any."

Jessica gulped, and swiped the proffered cigarette from earlier. "That would probably have gotten me to agree sooner, you know. 'Oh hey, this kid's on the line and the circumstances involve a threat to our control of the town, do us a favor and show up a few times, maybe get her to scrawl on some paperwork.'" Jessica said as she lit up. "But no, you have to mention Captain Lee, didn't you?"

"There is no fate worse than Captain Lee, except maybe a posting in the sandbox, and even then the second one has danger pay." Frank said. "So I used what worked."

"You still could just take this up with the MPs or something, instead of trying to be sneaky." Johnson continued. "God knows this would be the perfect dry run to get a women's shelter or something going."

Frank scoffed, and waved his cigarette dramatically out towards the base wall. "You tell me, with a straight face, that you think we can get the people and the money to work out a woman's shelter when we can't even get a goddamn seven-day forecast that isn't 'mid sixties with a chance of rain, bring a poncho you fucking boot'? When my entire job is hunting down dumbfuck boots who might have run into spoopy shit and making sure we don't get smited for fucking up another holy site? When the USDA people are trying to figure out the best way to drag these people out of sustenance farming without causing a famine along the way, and I'm the go between for all of it?"

"Fuck you, you'll get a good seven day forecast when we get a radar worth a damn." Jessica growled, puffing angrily for a moment as Frank's cold summation of the facts warred with her rosy recollections of the past few weeks. "but you have a point. It's still not right."

"Never said it was." Frank replied, as he tossed a butt into the sand bucket. "And this case can't wait, so we'll do what we can. I'll go with you to bring it up to the brass if you want, see if something isn't done, like what happened to that son of a bitch Schmuckatelli bought his wife from."

"Where is your husband, anyway?"

Frank sighed, looking up at the stars. "We flipped a coin. I won."

"Christ on a cracker." Jessica muttered, the remains of her cigarette falling from her lips. "You sent him to Captain Lee."

"Ayep."

~

The area at the edge of the old town where Jessica met Sheti for their date was actually pretty nice. Being floodprone and too close to the walls to be cultivated, the current plan was to turn it into a park once some benches and playground equipment came in. In the meantime, it was a good place for a picnic, as long as you didn't sit in the swampy bits. With that in mind, Jessica had brought a tarp, and a tote full of food and drinks. In this case a couple cheesesteaks, a thermos of coffee, fruit cups, and a parfait.

Sheti had brought her daughter Nauta, a sack and a hunting bow and arrows. The toddler looked a lot like her mother, except she didn't have fur and her milk teeth were unsettlingly prominent.

The two sat on the tarp and conversed as well as they could in pidgin, even as Nauta ran around, tugged on her mother's hair and tail, and gorged herself on the parfait.

"I've needed this." Sheti said as she flicked her tail around, "Since my husband died, I haven't had a moment to relax. They've killed my dogs, threatened my daughter, and left me with no other way to feed us outside of picking off deer or pheasants stupid enough to go into the orchard."

"You live a hard life."

"If I could get away with it, I'd probably kill them all." Sheti said wistfully as she looked at her daughter playing with a doll. "It wouldn't be hard if I could get some poison, but shooting them or hacking them all to death would be too slow for it to be safe for her."

"Are you really capable of that?" Jessica asked as she looked at the grey woman who was pensively flicking her ears around, "I killed a man last week, and I don't think I could do it again unless it was him or me."

Sheti laughed. "I did it to put food on the table when it was just me, and those people didn't even deserve it." She continued confidently. "Not like they wouldn't do the same to me, if they ever left their huts for anything except the corn and their sheep."

Jessica laughed nervously even as she unwrapped a philly and handed it to Sheti. "I can understand that."

"Are you all that squeamish about violence?" Sheti said as she looked at the philly, covered in cheese and peppers and mushrooms, even as her ears tracked her now sleeping daughter's movements. "Is your land really so peaceful even your soldiers can be like that?"

"I'm supposed to be a fobbit, and I didn't join the Marines to go out and kill people." Jessica said as she unwrapped her own sandwich. "I joined up because if I didn't I'd have been stuck in Logan County waiting tables for the rest of my life. Nothing to see, nowhere to go, nothing to do… the boredom and drugs would've gotten me faster there than my odds of getting an arrow here, or getting blown up in Afghanistan."

"I left home for much the same reasons." Sheti said. "I had good timing too, since plague carried off my parents a year later."

"I couldn't handle being alone like that." Jessica said. "I know my family would hate me if I came out to them, but I still send money home because I know they couldn't get out, and I do at least want to give my sister's kids the chance I got even if there mother is a good for nothing."

"How do you even eat this thing?" Sheti asked, her ears folded back in confusion as she looked at the sandwich

"You eat it like this," Jessica said, before holding her philly up in Sheti's line of sight and taking a bite out of it.

Sheti followed suit. "What is this?" She asked in between bites, with her ears perked up, "I've never had anything like it."

"Bread, beef, provolone, green peppers, onions and mushrooms." Jessica replied. "There's no tomatoes or egg whites in it."

"What are those?"

Jessica rolled her eyes. "We kinda found out the hard way there's a lot of food the locals like you can't eat. Tomatoes, egg whites, certain sugars: they all make you sick."

"Glad I'm not the one who found that out the hard way." Sheti joked, taking another bite. "Did Skior find out about it?"

"Skior?"

"Old… comrade? I think that word is right? Comrade of mine. He did sales down here. Actually met my husband through him after a business dispute."

Thinking for a minute, Jessica tried to decide how to broach this topic gently. "Was he about yea tall, bushy unbraided beard, spat a lot, kinda greasy looking?"

Sheti shrugged. "Yeah, sounds about right."

"Well, since he was pimping some girls he'd brought in on our base and that's not allowed for a number of reasons, some of the guys tried to run him off, and followed him back to his camp. Except then they found a kid and… well…"

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's pretty dead." Jessica shrugged. "Just got shot 'resisting arrest' instead of having his heart torn out like that pimp did."

"Eh, he was horrible in the sack anyway, and tried hoarding our share of the loot." Sheti groused, finishing her cheesesteak, and going for the other half. "These are pretty good!"

"Thank the commissary." Jessica grinned. "After Awri puked up all over their floor from sweet tea and some kid's mother freaked out over bloody stools they made a local-safe menu, aside from the omelettes, which are whites only now."

"You know, if it means food like this on a regular basis, I'd be more than happy to come to the base with you." Sheti said, batting her eyelashes and smiling. "This is delicious!"

"It's on a rotation, but everything is pretty meat heavy." Jessica replied as she poured herself a cup of coffee and Sheti's expression shifted to something that reminded Jessica of a housecat that just heard a can opener even as she scooted closer to Jessica. "I've been in for three years, and I'm still not used to how good and how much food there is."

"Is it unusual?" Sheti asked, looking concerned as she leaned over. "I thought you all came from paradise."

"No," Jessica said, in between sips of coffee. "I just grew up really poor in the country."

"What about the medicine?" Sheti asked, as she moved to brace herself with an arm. "I've been taking Nauta to the doctors so she'll be safe from plague and worms, and because we need the food."

"I think that's cheap enough you don't have to worry about it." Jessica said in between sips as she tried to calm the older woman. "The doctors here are working very hard to make sure we don't accidentally make everyone sick, and that's why they're not charging for anything or outright paying people with peanut butter and spam to come in. Of course wives and children get priority over other civilians, but everyone does that."

"But isn't that why you give offerings to the gods and pray and keep food safe? Do your gods not protect you-" Sheti said, before being interrupted with a kiss.

"You're cute when you worry that much." Jessica said after pulling away. "We've got good doctors here and none of you are stupid enough to avoid vaccination."

"It's just, she's all I have left." Sheti said. "After my husband died, I don't have any family left, my former partners are all dead or gone, and Skior is dead. So it is the two of us, and I don't want to lose anyone else."

It was at this point that Jessica pulled a confused Sheti into a hug. "You're not doing this alone. I'm here, as are Frank and Miguel, and from what I've seen the enlisted wives here are pretty tight as well."

"Where are you going with this?" Sheti asked, unsure of how to respond to the gesture.

"I mean you were looking to get married right?" Jessica replied.

"Yes, I was." Sheti said.

"Then let's keep doing this." Jessica said before pulling back. "Grab your shit, I'll grab the kid, and we'll go to my quarters before we talk to Sergeant Valois."

Nauta didn't even stir once on the walk back, and Jessica laid her down on the small bed in her quarters to continue sleeping. Sheti watched over her and silently judged the shoddy construction of the B-Hut, and the moaning from next door. Jessica, having decided against hauling the two of them all the way across camp for what amounted to a socal call, called Sergeant Valois. By the time the Sergeant came around, it was late enough that the pair of locals were asleep, although Jessica was still up.

"So, how'd it go?" The Sergeant said as he sat down on the bench outside the B-hut.

"They're both out like a light." Jessica replied. "Hopefully her neighbors don't do anything to her house while she's gone."

"I don't think they're stupid enough to give us an excuse to come down on them. If they think she's fucking an American, that's protection enough for now." Frank said as he lit up. "You think you might end up marrying her?"

"She's certainly cute enough." Jessica chirped.

"You better start doing the paperwork then." Frank said. "I'll have the numbers for the people you're supposed to talk to on your desk tomorrow morning."

"Fuck." Jessica said. "Is that new?"

"No." Frank said. "You're just not enough of a fuckup to get special treatment."
 
NothingNow's stupid creative writing assignments.
I've had to do a bunch of short stories for my Creative Writing class. Naturally, I've gotten bored, and they're mostly beads and brass. They're filed under sidestory stuff because it's a convenient little place for largely out of continuity, but undepreciated stories.
Story 3.2, a scene in DC (and probably book twoish if we ever get there) with Bear and Wyta.
Prompt 3-2: Write a short story scene involving a conflict between two people over an object. Let the object take on symbolic significance. It may have the same significance to the two people or a different significance to each other.

"You need to put the tablet down." I said to my wife.

"No I don't." She replied, as she kept watching another episode of How It's Made. "We don't need to go to brunch for an hour."

"I said that half an hour ago. It's a formal event with my boss." I replied. "I need this, you need this, and you agreed to it. I know you can get away with being under dressed compared to the rest of us, but you could at least fix your hair. Please."

"No, they're coming here, so it can wait until after this episode ends." She replied as she looked at me over the tablet. "They're making cast iron and I need to know how they make it. It could be life or death for my people."

"If it is, I'll buy you a manual, just please put the tablet down so we can go to brunch." I said, as I looked at my wife, still in her pajamas, with her brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail. "I'll take you to that cupcake place afterwards if you do."

"You said that about the meeting." She replied, as she put down the tablet. "And then we didn't get cupcakes."

"Yes, because someone got in an argument and took so long the place closed."

"Well, they were wrong." She replied, not willing to let anything go. "Anyway, I'll get ready, but we're going for cupcakes and then going to the Smithsonian."

"Which one?"

"Natural History. I wanna see your weird dead things." She said, nonchalantly. "Maybe it's like something from back home. It's got to be better than the zoo."

"Sure, just don't get cupcakes all over the exhibits."

"So you're buying me a cupcake?"

"Yes." I said. "If you'll stay away from that infernal machine for the rest of the day, I'll buy you a cupcake, a really nice one even."

4.1, in Which Jessica buys Nauta a chew toy.
4-1 Write a one-page story that has a moral or teaches a lesson (theme).

Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack…

"So you bought her a squeaky toy?" My boss, the Lieutenant, said over the quacking.

… quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack…

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." I said, as my stepdaughter sat proudly with her ears up and tail flicking calmly like some mighty hunter on the cot we kept in the office. Squeaking the the toy duck she held in her mouth. "I mean look at how happy she is! I just didn't think it would keep up for this long."

… quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack…

"She's two." He replied. "I'm not going to say it was a terrible idea, because your wife is probably mad enough for everyone."

… quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack…

"Sheti actually likes it." I said. "She's actually pretty happy about how he daughter isn't play biting us anymore. But she's probably waiting for the squeaker to die as well."

… quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack…

"So why a duck?" My boss asked. "There's a ton of less annoying things you could've gotten her."

… quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack…

"It has the best reviews on that dog proof toy site, so I figured it'd last longer with her. And like it's better a duck than a squirrel or a rat, because you know she could probably catch a live one of those if she put her mind to it."

… quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack…

"And you don't want her getting bit when she does?" He said, "but you're okay with her getting bit by a duck."

… quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack…

"A real duck would probably hiss and quack enough to scare her off." I said, as my daughter kept chewing and the duck kept quacking, probably cursing its fate.

…Quack quack quack quack pop whine.

"Did you see this coming?" He asked, over the wails of a toddler who had just bit clean through her favorite chew toy.

"Yes." I said, before I turned to my stepdaughter. "It's going to be alright. Mommy will fix it."

4.2, a setting. So a quick description of Sheti's house once it gets power, and furniture can be delivered.

4-2 Create (in 200 words or more) the setting to a story. This can be real or imaginative. Can anyone guess if it is fictional or real?

The house was a small thing, only fifteen meters in diameter, with a smoky hearth in the center. There were tools and a few spears piled up against a flagstone wardrobe on the right side of that, which was full of various clothes, and opposite the wardrobe of the tool and spear pile, a minifridge sat with a breakfast station perched atop it. A closet that the couple had ordered from Ikea was beside that, and spaced out far enough from the shoulder height stone walls of the house to clear the ceiling. There was something piled behind there, but probably only more shelving filled with gods knew what because space was at a premium in an old house like this.

Opposite the hearth was mostly living area, where a roughly full-sized bed made out of wood and stone, and filled with unspun wool and covered in skins had been replaced by a more modern queen sized platform bed, and a foam mattress that had been an interesting experience to pick up from the post office. The sheets atop it were a cute floral print, with a similarly patterned duvet. A teddy bear and a well chewed squeaky toy duck laid atop that. Further from the door than the bed was a desk, atop which a router and some phone chargers lived, along with a small television and a good enough sound system. Framed Pictures of the family dotted the walls here and there, and in a spare nook almost directly opposite the house sat a small shrine with a couple of ceramic idols and a tray for incense and offerings. Atop it, presumably out of the reach of a child, sat a rack in which a bow and a well worn and maintained shotgun that had been a wedding present from a family friend.
 
Well, at least Wyta is somewhat cheap to bribe? Not that anything in DC, even a cupcake, is particularly cheap. >.>
 
Back
Top