09-19-2020, 11:31 AM
The smell of death in her and Sam's hut had grown stale, but she felt confident it would never quite leave. Candles claiming to be calming provided no assurance, only reminded her of when her spine was exposed, lies of fortune telling compelling her young mind. It was not welcoming or comforting to be at home anymore. Still, even now, the female finds herself refusing to enter that room, sleep on the couch, with her children, never in her own bed. It wasn't her bed anymore. Wasn't her room. Was hardly even recognizable as her house anymore.
At first, she figured that she would simply deal with it. It isn't like she hasn't gone on working non stop in the past. Her children deserved to stay somewhere safe and consistent. But, she had to be there, too, if she were to take care of them properly. And conflicts arise. So, ultimately, she decides to spark a conversation after Lovekit's return. She doesn't speak of the death, simply states that she felt they'd like her childhood rooms more, that they'd be safer, have more fun, being in the captain's quarters within the Tempest. After all, she'd grown there with her papa and siblings, and had preferred it a majority of her life until she ended up switching to her hut for the sake of living with others on the beach. She didn't want another hut, though. It'd end up having the same problems. There was comfort in the old air of the captain's quarters, and she needed it.
And so, the tigress would slowly but surely begin to help pack things up for easy transfer, taking toys she was sure her children would want to keep, pictures, blankets, anything she felt they could use. The only thing she didn't mess with was anything left in her former bedroom. That door remained closed, and it would continue to. Anything she needed would already be in her old room in the ship.
Once she'd double checked they'd gotten everything they needed packed up, the female would begin to pick up a few boxes and head out to the beach. They'd make rounds back and forth - she could do most of the heavy lifting, and they'd at least have all of the boxes in their rooms by sundown.
At first, she figured that she would simply deal with it. It isn't like she hasn't gone on working non stop in the past. Her children deserved to stay somewhere safe and consistent. But, she had to be there, too, if she were to take care of them properly. And conflicts arise. So, ultimately, she decides to spark a conversation after Lovekit's return. She doesn't speak of the death, simply states that she felt they'd like her childhood rooms more, that they'd be safer, have more fun, being in the captain's quarters within the Tempest. After all, she'd grown there with her papa and siblings, and had preferred it a majority of her life until she ended up switching to her hut for the sake of living with others on the beach. She didn't want another hut, though. It'd end up having the same problems. There was comfort in the old air of the captain's quarters, and she needed it.
And so, the tigress would slowly but surely begin to help pack things up for easy transfer, taking toys she was sure her children would want to keep, pictures, blankets, anything she felt they could use. The only thing she didn't mess with was anything left in her former bedroom. That door remained closed, and it would continue to. Anything she needed would already be in her old room in the ship.
Once she'd double checked they'd gotten everything they needed packed up, the female would begin to pick up a few boxes and head out to the beach. They'd make rounds back and forth - she could do most of the heavy lifting, and they'd at least have all of the boxes in their rooms by sundown.
NOTHING'S EVER LOST FOREVER, IT'S JUST HIDING IN THE RECESS OF YOUR MIND AND WHEN YOU NEED IT, IT WILL COME TO YOU AT NIGHT. I MISS THE YELLOW. I MISS THE YELLING AND THE SHAKEDOWN. I'M NOT COMPLAINING, NO, I GOT A BETTER SET OF KNIVES NOW. I MISS MY DRUMMER, MY DEAD STEPBROTHER, AND THE PIT CROWD. AND CHUCK AND MATTY - IF THEY COULD SEE ME THEY'D BE SO PROUD.