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 let Colt’s introduction settle without comment, the name and title filing neatly into the mental ledger he kept of people he might work with—or trade with—later. He gave a brief nod, the faintest acknowledgment that he hadn’t assumed wrong. He wasn’t one for social niceties beyond the necessary, and a quick clarification was enough.
Aria chirped from his chest, as if voicing her objection to being kept in there any longer. Damien eased her out carefully, letting her land on the cleared ground. She padded forward, sniffing at the flags marking the post holes, before flopping onto her side in the sun, tail twitching in idle curiosity. He allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile. She’d mostly stay out of the way, though her interest in passersby and the tools scattered around meant he’d keep one watchful eye on her.
He stooped to grip a shovel, testing the weight before stepping to the first flagged spot. The earth was soft in parts, stubborn in others, and he set his shoulders, planting his boots firmly. His movements were methodical, careful—dig down, shift the soil aside, keep the hole vertical, steady, straight. Work he could measure, work that would leave a tangible result.
“Looks like we’ve got a solid start,” he murmured to no one in particular, voice low, as he began digging. Aria let out a small, playful chirrup from the grass, rolling onto her back, paws batting at a stray clump of dirt.
Damien grabs a shovel and starts digging! and the cub is just sun-bathing... for now
Aria chirped from his chest, as if voicing her objection to being kept in there any longer. Damien eased her out carefully, letting her land on the cleared ground. She padded forward, sniffing at the flags marking the post holes, before flopping onto her side in the sun, tail twitching in idle curiosity. He allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile. She’d mostly stay out of the way, though her interest in passersby and the tools scattered around meant he’d keep one watchful eye on her.
He stooped to grip a shovel, testing the weight before stepping to the first flagged spot. The earth was soft in parts, stubborn in others, and he set his shoulders, planting his boots firmly. His movements were methodical, careful—dig down, shift the soil aside, keep the hole vertical, steady, straight. Work he could measure, work that would leave a tangible result.
“Looks like we’ve got a solid start,” he murmured to no one in particular, voice low, as he began digging. Aria let out a small, playful chirrup from the grass, rolling onto her back, paws batting at a stray clump of dirt.
Damien grabs a shovel and starts digging! and the cub is just sun-bathing... for now
