WHO: Embry Call and Ashley Dowling WHAT: The time has COME for you know what. WHEN: September 5, lunch time! WHERE: The Lodge RATING: PG STATUS: Completed and Closed
Painted in flames All peeling thunder Be the lightning in me
The gravel and fallen mulch of the upcoming autumn crumbled and collapsed beneath Embry's paws as he made his way through the familiar terrain. It was a hassle, if you asked him, and he had to mentally curse himself for being so overly obliging to everyone. He missed the warm, cushioned comfort of his Volkswagon bus, the heater, the old school A-Track - which were all currently in the possession of Leah Clearwater. And what he would of given for the feeling of dry feet. Embry's dark silvered paws were wrought with black grime and various coloured crud, his bag of belongings stuffed in the mouth of his grey muzzle. He seriously looked like a giant dingo with a baby clamped between his teeth.
The odor of the forest changed then, from a mild aroma of flora and fauna to a pungent whiff of simmering ground beef and cooking oil. A surge of caution signaled in his mind, his ears twitching at the small splinter of sounding voices. Abruptly, his senses started to peak, his feelings becoming an adrenaline-pumped mixture of excitement, vigilance, and hunger. It sent a different form of warmth through his body. Paws became limber feet and hands, his light-toned skin emerging from every inch of dark fur. Mumbling a short "Damn," Embry rummaged through his bag for his Chuck's and clothes, a cool, wet draft hitting his body like an icy shovel. By now, he probably should have been used to the transition from fur to skin. But he still hated the feeling of being naked.
He shoved on the last of his belongings , which was a black beanie embellished with a Sonic Youth logo. He looked human enough, albeit, his hair was a bit mangy and no doubt he smelled like fish from work. The boy needed a bath, that was for sure. But the sudden bellow from his stomache made him cranky, irrational even. He had to eat, and as averse as he was to smelling fishy in public, it wasn't like he knew any of these people. It was Forks. Who could could he run into?
He trudged along to what looked like The Lodge. He'd been here before, but it had been while since then. It looked the same for the most part. Once he stepped through the entranceway, an overwhelming melange of fried food, human body odor, and women slammed his gut.
Girls, girls, girls. It was a chanting lyric in his head as he caught sight of several lethal clans of high school chicks collaborating around the tables. Pink scarves, glittering gloss on lips, quick glances, and brief smiles. ...Oh God. Was he in a sorority house? His head shot down after that, shoving his hands in his pockets in hopes that he wouldn't see the one. He was hungry, and that was it. Embry was resigned to make this a quick hit-and-run as he took a seat at the counter.