Fawn 'Fauna' Marshal (thezenofanarchy) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-02-22 21:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, cycle002, fauna, max |
WHO: Fauna and Max
WHEN: New Years Eve afternoon, before the Key opens for NYE celebrations
WHERE: Max's place
WHAT: As usual, Fauna brings Max some real food - Max notices something different.
WARNING: None just yet.
The fact that Fauna hadn't left her house in more than a week was nothing new. The weather was bad, even for the dead of winter, and with nothing but her two legs and a refurbished (but very well loved) Schwinn to cart her around town, with no Markets open and the holidays still settling on Crow's Landing like thick snow and ice, the old hippie woman could turn hermit fairly easily, and without any explanation needed. But this winter was different. Between the usual good-sense to keep herself indoors, haunting around her warm kitchen (and that lovely mirror) drying herbs and curing soap and teas, Fauna was struck with distinct urges to venture out and socialize. The impulses felt... youthful, almost. She'd been gratefully free of the normal aches and stiffness that came with the weather, even with the daily meditation and yoga. She felt ten years younger, and with that spry energy came the need to share it with folks other than the quiet ghost on her property - as much fun as Ellie was.
Which was why, on the last day of the year, Fauna found herself bundled against the cold and springing over the curb in front of an old friend's place; a grape-vine basket hooked over an elbow, covered in many layers of heat-protective fabric.
A song with no particular melody lilted, hummed on her breath as she pressed Max's bell, a pale curl peeking out from her hood being coiled around her long fingers. The dust-smell of a cranked heater competed with the garlic and basil aroma drifting from the basket, and her own perfume of clove and vanilla.
"I know you're awake," she called joyfully at the silent door after it didn't open in five seconds. She and Max... they went way back. A fling (or three) when they were young and much more flexible, and once again between her divorce and meeting Rhona, but always there had been friendship. She was staunchly convinced it was her weekly meals of real food that kept him alive this long, considering the garbage he ate on his own.