Damien
"I never see you at the club!"
Okay? I never see you at the creek
Okay? I never see you at the creek
Damien leaned in as Thorn flipped his notebook open, watching the sketches take shape under quick, practiced strokes of the pencil. He'd had his vision, and it was something relatively simple. But what Thorn laid out had more thought, more practicality, and Damien found himself quietly impressed. His smile wasn’t broad or flashy, but it was steady, pride tugging faintly at the corners of his mouth as he followed Thorn’s explanations point by point.
“An A-frame,” he murmured, tracing a finger just above the page where the steep roof was drawn. “That’s good. Saves us trouble in the long run.” His gaze lifted, pale eyes flicking from the paper back to his friend’s seafoam-green ones. “This is better than what I had in mind. Cleaner, smarter. And the lookout at the top—” his mouth tugged a little wider, “—that’s exactly the sort of thing I was hoping for. Looks solid, Thorn. Real solid.”
He let the book sit between them a moment longer, soaking it in, before giving a single, decisive nod. “This is what we’ll build.”
Meanwhile, the worksite hummed into motion.
Deimos made short work of the trees. With a precision that bordered on artistry, his mastery of earth and air coaxed the trunks down one after another. Each fell exactly where he intended, clean and controlled, no wild crashes or splintering hazards. And with Theea’s quick thinking—ropes marking the fall zones, tools placed within easy reach—there wasn’t a single misstep or close call. Timber stacked in neat order, the lumber needed for construction was quickly piling high, the first major hurdle already cleared.
Theea herself was a quiet anchor to the entire site. Her organization meant no one lost time fumbling for gear, and her watchful eye kept the rhythm smooth. Small fixes here, a warning there; every adjustment she made went unnoticed only because it prevented problems before they could start.
Marcus, though, had the harder slog. Stones pulled from the frozen ground fought him every inch, and his arms soon ached with the repetition. Still, persistence might've carried him forward… until a tuft of fur darted from under a bramble, followed by the soft yips of a startled fox kit. The brush shifted again, revealing a small den dug into the earth, a mother fox glaring up at him with protective tension in her frame. The ground they’d chosen was not unclaimed, it was a home. If the work was to continue, Marcus would need to decide how to handle the den and its inhabitants.
By the time Damien looked up from Thorn’s sketches, the clearing was half alive with progress: trees down, tools ordered, debris steadily shifting. He could feel the momentum building, the project taking its first true shape.
“Alright,” he called, his voice carrying easily over the sound of labor. “We’ve got our plans. Next, we’ll need to start shaping the logs for the frame—cutting them to size, stripping them clean—and we’ll need a proper foundation dug in. But we can’t do that until the ground’s ready.” His eyes flicked toward Marcus, a subtle acknowledgment that the man’s task had revealed something more complicated than simple rocks and roots. “Let’s sort that before we move on.”
He set a hand on Thorn’s shoulder, firm and approving, before stepping toward the tools that had been rather conveniently organized for easy use. “C'mon, let's start measuring.”
Round 3 Breakdown:
Marcus - Confront your complication: the fox den. Figure out how to handle it (relocate, build around, scare off, or another creative solution).
Damien & Hawthorn - Begin translating the sketches into practice by measuring and planning log cuts for the frame.
Deimos - With trees felled, shift focus to preparing the timber: cutting logs, stripping branches and bark, etc.
Theea - Continue overseeing, or assist Marcus with the den situation / help Deimos with timber prep / aid Damien and Thorn in layout.
“An A-frame,” he murmured, tracing a finger just above the page where the steep roof was drawn. “That’s good. Saves us trouble in the long run.” His gaze lifted, pale eyes flicking from the paper back to his friend’s seafoam-green ones. “This is better than what I had in mind. Cleaner, smarter. And the lookout at the top—” his mouth tugged a little wider, “—that’s exactly the sort of thing I was hoping for. Looks solid, Thorn. Real solid.”
He let the book sit between them a moment longer, soaking it in, before giving a single, decisive nod. “This is what we’ll build.”
***
Meanwhile, the worksite hummed into motion.
Deimos made short work of the trees. With a precision that bordered on artistry, his mastery of earth and air coaxed the trunks down one after another. Each fell exactly where he intended, clean and controlled, no wild crashes or splintering hazards. And with Theea’s quick thinking—ropes marking the fall zones, tools placed within easy reach—there wasn’t a single misstep or close call. Timber stacked in neat order, the lumber needed for construction was quickly piling high, the first major hurdle already cleared.
Theea herself was a quiet anchor to the entire site. Her organization meant no one lost time fumbling for gear, and her watchful eye kept the rhythm smooth. Small fixes here, a warning there; every adjustment she made went unnoticed only because it prevented problems before they could start.
Marcus, though, had the harder slog. Stones pulled from the frozen ground fought him every inch, and his arms soon ached with the repetition. Still, persistence might've carried him forward… until a tuft of fur darted from under a bramble, followed by the soft yips of a startled fox kit. The brush shifted again, revealing a small den dug into the earth, a mother fox glaring up at him with protective tension in her frame. The ground they’d chosen was not unclaimed, it was a home. If the work was to continue, Marcus would need to decide how to handle the den and its inhabitants.
By the time Damien looked up from Thorn’s sketches, the clearing was half alive with progress: trees down, tools ordered, debris steadily shifting. He could feel the momentum building, the project taking its first true shape.
“Alright,” he called, his voice carrying easily over the sound of labor. “We’ve got our plans. Next, we’ll need to start shaping the logs for the frame—cutting them to size, stripping them clean—and we’ll need a proper foundation dug in. But we can’t do that until the ground’s ready.” His eyes flicked toward Marcus, a subtle acknowledgment that the man’s task had revealed something more complicated than simple rocks and roots. “Let’s sort that before we move on.”
He set a hand on Thorn’s shoulder, firm and approving, before stepping toward the tools that had been rather conveniently organized for easy use. “C'mon, let's start measuring.”
Round 3 Breakdown:
Marcus - Confront your complication: the fox den. Figure out how to handle it (relocate, build around, scare off, or another creative solution).
Damien & Hawthorn - Begin translating the sketches into practice by measuring and planning log cuts for the frame.
Deimos - With trees felled, shift focus to preparing the timber: cutting logs, stripping branches and bark, etc.
