special_rabbit | Entries tagged with where: 6 unicorn street

It should absolutely be stated, for the record, and with absolutely no uncertainty, that anything that was to potentially occur in this apartment this evening had nothing to do with the date on the calendar. Well. Okay. It maybe had something to do with the date on the calendar, but only because the arrival of...that mushy holiday...meant the apex of business for Irene, and, as a result, that meant she'd earned a little something to celebrate making it through the rush, because while no one better talk to Amaya about all those hearts and chocolates and romantic notions, she would always be here to celebrate capitalism and the power of the shiny gold coin.

Or, well, American dollars, in this case, but, anyway, you understood what she meant. This was about love of money and sales and the bottom line, and not about love of...

...other things. It was just about Irene coming over and getting the chance to unwind somewhere that wasn't right above her shop to celebrate a successful sales period. Over some food that neither of them had to cook. And some celebratory champagne. And maybe....some....other things. Later....

Shut up.

And Amaya pouring some rum one for her and one for the squirrels was clearly just a sudden bout of her generous nature, really.

[[ oh, you know who it's for, and NFB, s'il vous plaît ]]

Somehow, despite Amaya usually working with the door to the forge wide open for passersby and good airflow, yesterday had passed her by without incident. Maybe all that hammering and the weapons on the wall had meant even the most careless of werebeastie knew to avoid that place. The same, apparently, could not be said for her greenhouse, and she noticed it that next morning, as she was getting ready to go downstairs and get the day started, something rustling in the plants.

"Dave?" she called out curiously. "Diane?" And, after a small hesitation and a sigh and a shake of her head, "Stabby? You all aren't getting up to something you shouldn't be, are you?"

But even as she said it, she looked toward the tank and saw the lobsters were there, just chilling out without a lobster care in the lobster world, and she frowned, maybe thinking she'd been mistaken. But there was no mistaking this loud crash of a clay pot on the tile floor of the greenhouse, and Amaya wasted no time in snagging up her nice cast iron pot and going to go see who was stomping around her greenhouse and making a mess of things.

The door swung open, and the red, feral eyes of several something stomping around her greenhouse pivoted immediately toward her, including from the large pane of broken class by the door from the outside that all these abnormally large and vicious looking rabbits had crawled in through.

"Ah," Amaya managed to get out, before they pounced, "zards."

[[ and open, if anyone so happens to try and swing by! ]]

Amaya supposed being dragged out to do radio turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because it was thanks to the squirrels that morning that she knew what was up with today, well before she got started in the shop for the day, where it would end up catching her entirely unawares until the first poor unsuspecting (or, she rather suspected, potentially perfectly suspecting) person strolled in.

But not today, mistletoe! Ha!

Amaya was going to spent her Tuesday now tucked away safely in her apartment, with some big dusty volumes she'd been wanting to start cracking into anyway and a nice mug of tea, by herself, and that mistletoe could just go bugger off.

Downstairs, there was a sign posted on the door, though, because even when there was mistletoe, she hated the idea of potentially missing out on some business:

Blackstone Foundry and Forge
is CLOSED today
due to technical difficulties

For inquiries or weapon emergencies, please contact
555-AMYA

And, with that, she settled in for what would hopefully be a nice, mistletoe-free day, for once, dammit!

[[ of course it's open, duh. ]]

It had been the kind of week that made Amaya wonder if it was rude to just drop your friends off at the animal shelter for kenneling when they'd turned into something, but it had also been the kind of week where she figured even if she did drop Irene off at the shelter, she'd still manage to make her way back, if how often Amaya wound up having to unceremoniously remove her from the bedroom was anything to go off of. She wasn't really sure how much of that was the ermine or how much of that was Irene, but there had definitely been far too many mornings waking up with a fancy weasel curled up in the bed...somehow.

And, sure, when she had to take care of Seivarden as a cat, she got cat hair all over everything...but at least she stayed in the living room. And Amaya had given herself very firm, very arbitrary Rules about this sort of thing!

So when Amaya went to bed the night before, she was....well, she wouldn't call it confident that there was no getting into the bedroom that evening, because she'd just had the week she'd had, but...she had a good feeling that her efforts to stymie another bedroom breach were pretty solid.

Amaya was, of course, wrong about this.

If anything, her efforts only encouraged the ermine more.

But she'd she wouldn't know anything about that quite yet, as she herself was still sleeping, snoring away, maybe a little later than usual because proper weasel restriction was honestly a bit exhausting.

[[ obviously for the aforementioned fancy weasel, s'il vous plait!

and I would 100% like to leave it up to the squirrels if they decide to take Amaya up on her bribe or not ;) ]]

You know what? Things had been perfectly fine...right up until the point where they weren't, and that point was exactly the moment that Amaya, being pulled out of sleep in the way of those who stuck to a pretty rigerous schedule for these things, became aware of the fact that, no, no, everything that happened in the last few days was not just some nightmare (when was it ever?) and had indeed actually happened (didn't it always?), because here she was, waking up, not by herself at all but, instead, with the inexplicable, inexcuseable, absolutely unheard of (occasional school trips notwithstanding) situation of waking up with someone else in her bed with her.

And not only that, but with an arm around her to boot!

Amaya...almost didn't even know what to do with this information. Her first thought was somewhere along the lines of understanding now why Diaz kept a good knife close to her own bed because that would come in handy for removing that arm, but then Amaya did remember who that arm was attached to, and she would feel a bit bad about that. A bit, especially when she remembered why that arm was there in the first place.

Having never been in this situation before that she could remember (that whole vampire thing, she felt, was quite a bit different, and, besides, more importantly, hadn't been in her own bed!), Amaya needed a moment to not panic and tried to use her own brain (especially now that it was clearly not romantic mush like it had been the last few days!) to get her out of this mess. Come on, Blackstone. You've gotten out of sticky situations before...

...nothing quite as sticky as this, but...

There was a good chance that, especially now that she was awake, Dwight wouldnt' be too far behind, so she had to think fast. Which meant the only real possible solution was going to have to be trying to very, very, very gently move that arm and slip her way out from underneath it, get out of the bed, head toward the door, and just literally just keep walking until she reached Timbuktu and never come back!

After she got dressed, of course.

Ahhhhhhh, zards!

[[ awkward wake up posts? what awkward wake up posts? For the owner of that arm and former Mr. Blackstone. ]]

Amaya had woken up and got dressed and prepared with a heavy reluctance to face yet another Friday, but it didn't take her long at all to realize that this morning was, finally different.

Mostly due to the fact that Dwight was still there sleeping on her couch.

Really, now, that's the day they managed to get out of the loop with finally, huh? It couldn't have just been the one where they'd both gotten shot?

But he had ~~oh so handwavily because the last few days have been straight up dumpster fires~~ still showed up yesterday, despite finally being filled in by Miguel about what had been happening, and at that point, Amaya, too, had realized that maybe just being honest about everything was the best route (and, hey, it had only taken her four days!). And even though there was a good chance that there'd be some progress in the whole thing when the infiltration team hit up that island, maybe it would be better if they both just stayed put, they could maybe get some planning and work done in the shop and then she could make some tea and he could come hang out with the lobsters.

There'd been quite a bit of awkwardness--even arguing!-- about it, at first, mostly on account of the whole getting shot that one time part of it, but at least just spending time in the apartment was better than just shoving Dwight in the closet again--not that it had apparently done much good! At least until they were sure the infiltration had succeeded, and, if not, well, then, they'd just reset yet again, and she'd make sure to text him immediately after waking up again to not even bother!

And, of course, was there a part of her who knew that there was a good chance the excursion would be successful? Maybe. But she wasn't going to think about that.

She was, instead, mostly going to try to see if she could slip pass the sleeping lout on her couch to get to the kitchen and make her coffee, as quiet and stealthy as could be (which, to be fair, were not usually her strong suits), and then hopefully slip down to the shop before he woke up and get starting on some work that might actually stick now that things were clearly back to normal (time-wise, anyway! There was nothing normal about this situation!) to help avoid at least that particular bit of awkwardness.

[[ for the oh-so-shamelessly modded and handwaved houseguest, please! ]]

It felt a little strange acknowledging it, what with the way the summer had been going as a whole, but Amaya was actually having herself a really good week, even with being made a target in Diaz's class today. Maybe even because of it, because she knew she'd earned it, really, and she was still sort of riding the high of that competitive spirit from the trebuchet competition on Wednesday, she'd gotten the greenhouse finished this week. She'd had a chance to enjoy a few ales down at Caritas, too, which felt like something she couldn't quite get to as regularly as she used to, so that was nice.

And, if she just so happened to have found a certain mood there at the bottom of one of those mugs, well, she had a solution for that on hand as well. No fuss, no mushy stuff, just a simple solution and a good use of the pleasant buzz she'd built up. Built up enough to the point where she'd almost sent off her message to the wrong person just out of old habits (between the doors and the trebuchets and the balls being thrown at her, who could blame her, really?), but she caught herself and redirected things so they went to the right place.

Or, at the very least, the place more likely to yeild result at the moment.

Good night for a movie.

No, Amaya didn't even own a TV.

That was kind of the point.

[[lol, they had to find out eventually! NFB, if you please, and for the recipient of said text for great SP and probably awkwardly NSFW shenanigans ]]

When Amaya woke up, she rolled out of bed, got dressed, and started her usual morning shuffle toward the kitchen to put on her coffee (and now, added to the habit, Seivarden's tea), and she gave her usual glance out the window to take note of what kind of day it was shaping up to be. The task was pretty much automatic at this point, really, which is why it took perhaps a second for her brain to really register what she saw, inspiring an almost comical double-take and surprised blinking at all that water out there.

And then came the wave of dread washing over her; she'd nearly dropped the coffee pot in her haste to hurry over to the door to the stairs leading toward the forge, which she flung open and didn't even need to take one step down before realizing that the whole place was completely submerged up until the top few steps.

Good news: at least her weapons weren't all stone and bone anymore.

Bad news: water was hardly good for steel! Not to mention that much of it!

"Ahhhhhh," she hissed between her teeth, "zards."

Good thing she knew how to swim, though she was sort of wishing she'd been a little more proactive about getting herself some scuba gear. No matter, she was wasting time, shedding off some of her heavier clothes and getting ready for a few dives to salvage what she could as quickly as she could. It might still be early enough that not a lot of damage had been done or would be done once it was all exposed to air after the water, and it would be a delicate balance, really, trying to maintain as much of their integrity as she could befo--

And there was Seivarden, padding into the kitchen after her and wondering very loudly why her tea wasn't ready yet.

"Oh, hold your whiskers!" Amaya shouted back. "There's more important things than tea right now."

She'd barely even caught the offended little yowl in response to that, because she wasn't wasting any more time in diving in and trying to bring up as much as she could as quickly as she could. But at least she had something to keep her busy that day.

It would be interesting, though, seeing how she managed to to salvage that giant shuriken.

[[ because why should we let Amaya have a break, hm?? Totes open if anyone wants to swing by a window or the back door or anything. The Forge, she shall be flooded this week, alas! ]]