Theea
Yla
to love life, to love it —
I can’t help but grin when Flora calls dibs on the oven and disappears inside with Spice darting after her. “Good luck!” I call after her, already knowing the kitchen is about to be a battlefield. Ronin and Remi claiming the window earns them a grateful nod. “Thank you!” I chirp as they saunter off with the stained glass like they’ve got it all under control—which, knowing them, they probably do.
When Damien volunteers us for the porch, I beam at him, bouncing a little on my toes. “Got your back,” I promise, the words almost too quick with how eager I am. Calypso’s voice pulls my head up, and I laugh at the sight of her wriggling onto the roof. “I’m just grateful you can get up there at all!” I call, with a fond shake of my head.
I waltz up toDamien, tipping him a sly grin. “Looks like you’re the teacher this time,” I tell him, motioning to the pile of short logs for posts, the handsaw, and the long nails waiting at the side of the porch. “Only thing I’m missing are proper hammers.” I give a withering look to the sledgehammer head-down in the sand.
Inside, Flora is the first to step into the kitchen. The space opens into a small open concept, with three narrow doors lined along the western wall. Dust clings to every surface, and the furniture has been shredded and ruined by opportunistic wildlife. Against the counter sits a wooden cage and a net. From the slightly ajar oven comes a sudden, sharp rustle, followed by a quick, unmistakable chittering sound. Whatever has made itself at home inside is very much awake.
At the window, Remi and Ronin find themselves eye-level with the wall of the house, the elevation from the stout stilts putting the frame just above their heads. The window itself is jagged with broken glass, edges glinting dangerously, though the frame looks sturdy enough to be salvaged. Leaning against the wall is a crowbar, waiting to be put to work. The bottom of the frame shows scuffed wood and uneven scratches, evidence that someone—cough, Theea—had already taken a clumsy crack at the problem.
On the roof, Calypso discovers the palm fronds are cumbersome but not particularly difficult to shove off with her broom. Just as she finds her rhythm, a shadow crosses over her. A hel lands heavily on the roof tiles with a little thump, feathers puffed and head cocked curiously. Then another joins it. And another two. The air fills with flapping wings as one hel hops onto the end of her broom and squawks, head tilting at her. What could they want?
Round 2:
TLDR:
When Damien volunteers us for the porch, I beam at him, bouncing a little on my toes. “Got your back,” I promise, the words almost too quick with how eager I am. Calypso’s voice pulls my head up, and I laugh at the sight of her wriggling onto the roof. “I’m just grateful you can get up there at all!” I call, with a fond shake of my head.
I waltz up to
Inside, Flora is the first to step into the kitchen. The space opens into a small open concept, with three narrow doors lined along the western wall. Dust clings to every surface, and the furniture has been shredded and ruined by opportunistic wildlife. Against the counter sits a wooden cage and a net. From the slightly ajar oven comes a sudden, sharp rustle, followed by a quick, unmistakable chittering sound. Whatever has made itself at home inside is very much awake.
At the window, Remi and Ronin find themselves eye-level with the wall of the house, the elevation from the stout stilts putting the frame just above their heads. The window itself is jagged with broken glass, edges glinting dangerously, though the frame looks sturdy enough to be salvaged. Leaning against the wall is a crowbar, waiting to be put to work. The bottom of the frame shows scuffed wood and uneven scratches, evidence that someone—cough, Theea—had already taken a clumsy crack at the problem.
On the roof, Calypso discovers the palm fronds are cumbersome but not particularly difficult to shove off with her broom. Just as she finds her rhythm, a shadow crosses over her. A hel lands heavily on the roof tiles with a little thump, feathers puffed and head cocked curiously. Then another joins it. And another two. The air fills with flapping wings as one hel hops onto the end of her broom and squawks, head tilting at her. What could they want?
Round 2:
TLDR:
- Flora finds a cage and a net waiting inside to deal with the squatter in the oven.
- Ronin and Remi discover the window sitting high up, and a crowbar leaning against the wall.
- Calypso has an easy time sweeping palm fronds, but is now joined by a flock of hels.
- Theea and Damien have everything they need, except for good hammers.
— even when you have no stomach for it
