Scarletfox

The Fox grabbed a knife out of one of her pockets and allowed her fingers twirl it around. She let her emotion drain away back into the void. She was calm, like a fox. "Now I feel like taking off someone's arm." She glanced at Nath, thinking back to their earlier conversation. "As long as you aren't too disappointed, I think I'll focus my efforts on whatever wacko voodoo creature is chasing us."

"Yes. I am well." The Fox said her rehearsed line, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

The Fox stopped abruptly. Suddenly, her arm was slick with blood, causing her leather jacket to stick to her arm. It was very uncomfortable, but that was the least of her worries. It was night, and the air smelled like gasoline. A towering lamp-post shined light on a man with a gun standing over a bloodied girl with red hair, who was sprawled out on the concrete ground. The gun was smoking. The man kneeled down, and checked the girl's pulse. He smiled cruelly. Then, he looked up straight up at Little Fox, who thought she had been undiscovered. She was crouching in the shadows, tears streaming down her face. Alice was dead. "You can come out now, Little Fox." He said with a sickeningly sweet sounding voice, pointing the gun at her. Bam. Just like that, the Fox returned the group. She knew her face was probably twisted all around in pain, so she returned it to nonchalance. "My sister's... gone." The Fox didn't know for how long she had been experiencing that episode, it took from a few seconds to a few hours for that kind of thing to pass. She saw Vapor beside her still, so she assumed that it had only been a couple seconds. The Fox began walking again, and realized her right hand was strangling one of her knife handles. She tried to relax it, but to no avail. This happened sometimes too, so she just let her hand keep clenching the knife. "Thank you, the Fox said, taking the knife with her left hand. "I will guard it well." She hooked the knife onto her belt. Then, realizing her right hand was back in her control, she withdrew it from her pocket, and wiped the sweat off her palms. A feeling of horror filled the Fox, as Vale took out a gun. She immediately averted her eyes from it, to prevent another flashback. She took her left leg, which was twisted the worst, and stomped the ground with it. Her whole leg felt like it was on fire. Re-focused, the Fox walked to the side of the group. She would fight to protect these people who had helped her, but she wasn't sure she fully trusted them enough to leave her back fully exposed.

"Relatively no. It was very unexpected this time. I get stabbed or... shot, quite often when there are hounds on my trail, but nobody's ever successfully caught me before." That is unless this group was all an elaborate trap set up for her... "This time, however, I had no one of much significance close on my trail. I pulled off a few small jobs lately, and then this happened. I've only ever lost anywhere near to this much blood once, and that time my sister had to knock me out to keep me from stabbing our cab driver. For me, either I feel the pain, and am in complete control with some gained focus from the pain, or, I am completely out of control, with everything seeming confusing to me." Every step sends another streak of pain through the Fox's ankles, as if reminding her of the pain she learned to live with daily.

Nay, it was kind of a reference to my 132,687,324,908 brothers who were named Dave. In fact, all of them have died, so you were correct. Most of them died doing stupid things, like carrying chairs incorrectly, or skateboarding on a table dolly. (My older siblings and I led the moving of chairs and tables at our school weekly back in the good old days. There were so many of us around, and people never really tried to count. So, when the kids were skating around on table dolleys about to get themselves killed, we claimed we had a brother named Dave, who died while skating on a table dolley. It was hilarious, the kids' eyes doubled in size, and they said, "Reeeallly???" And we were like, "yup!" Then whenever anyone on the setup team did something stupid, like trying to lick dry ice meant for ticks, we would bring up our brother Dave the LXIV, who died from licking dry ice, or Dave the 3045th, who tripped while rolling a round table too fast, or Dave the 462th, who died from stealing the cupcakes meant for our Christmas concert. I just came up with the first thing I thought of, not thinking anyone would ask what it meant. It kind of means a lot to me, nostalgically speaking)

The Fox tensed as Vapor touched her on the shoulder, but she turned, not letting her discomfort show, "Ah, yes, sorry, I think I missed that. I'm the Fox."

The Fox found a smile dancing on her lips.

Issing the being of the yeeting.

Ehe he, hehe he hehehehe, ehe he heh...... Heh... I was babysitting three girls who didn't have a bedtime, were full of caffeine, and had unlimited access to a candy supply. Their parents stayed out until 11:30. I let the oldest girl (who was actually kind of mature) work on microwaving dinner, while I went upstairs and tried to coax the other little girl downstairs to eat. Meanwhile, the third girl had found her way into her parents room where she was rolling around their bed screaming. I finally put down my foot, and told the crying girl that if she didn't go downstairs by the time I counted to five, well, she didn't want to find out what happened when I got to five. Apparently that worked. I came downstairs to see a bright flash come from the microwave, and the older girl running across the kitchen to jerk open the microwave. The mac and cheese happened to be on fire at this point, the fork sticking out the top. Luckily, there was no explosion, and the fire wasn't too hard to put out, but it was just something that added to the stress. Soooo... Yeah, a close call.

What would you expect to see first if Spook showed up in a room of sharders? 132,687,324,908 Daves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," The Fox says, returning the bow. She would have curtsied, but she wasn't wearing a skirt, so... Sorry, Alice! She thought.

I was just in Washington last month! Just outside of Seattle seeing some old friends. It's crazy how different it is there from where I live. My biggest surprise was how little life there was other than humans. There were, like, no bugs whatsoever where I was staying. And I don't think I saw a single rabbit or squirrel the whole ten days.

Notting the winning? No. Wasing the winning!

The Fox nods in recognition, contemplating on that. It reminds her of something her sister used to say, Assume the best, prepare for the worst. The Fox guesses she had kind of fallen out of that these days. Perhaps this man was here to remind her of that. "What did you say your name was again?"

Wasing the winning

The Fox burst out laughing, it's just too much for her. He didn't respond the way she thought, and that made it all the better. Just then, she remembered herself. What was she doing? Laughing with strangers? She let the amusement die, and straightened, her smile dying.

You wasing the letting of winning of timing of four???? Wasing the shaming of you. Wasing the winning.

What is your favorite emotional connection with an object? Maybe, but only when I'm reading.

The Fox raised an eyebrow. Someone telling her not to trust them... yet? That was a new one. These people seemed... different. Better, somehow, than those she had known lately. The Fox respected this man, even if she didn't know if she trusted him or not. He seemed to care for this group very much. She nodded, and said with sincerity, "Thank you, for the advice." She paused, and then, adding an exaggerated solemn edge to her voice, she said, "I will be sure to use my knives on you on a regular basis." Her lips turned slightly upward as she anticipated the look on his face.

The Fox itched to pull out her knives and begin full out attacking these people. They were making her open up with them. She was bordering on vulnerability, and that was dangerous. How to respond to it? "I'm not sure," she said to quell the questions. But she knew the real answer. She would do almost anything. She had done almost everything.

"I'm not sure. I don't know if my life has been good or bad, just... my life. You can't miss what you don't have." That was somewhat true, but the Fox did feel emptiness from time to time. "That's how I usually do it. Most of the time."

The Fox shifts uncomfortably. Hide? She didn't hide. She faced her problems head on, yes she did. She realizes she never got her knives back from Fadran. She reaches out to take them. "Hm. So who are you, Fadran? What past events have shaped you?"

"Ah." The Fox didn't know what to think about that. Nobody had ever wanted to learn about her since Alice. What should she do? If she started thinking about the broken-ness of her life, would she return to that cold un-escapable well of emotion? No. She would not return. The Fox returned her gears to neutral. "So, what have you learned of me so far?" What, whaaaaaaaa? She literally had just decided to not talk about herself or her past! The darned mouth of hers had a mind of its own when she felt comfortable. Is that what she felt around these people? Comfortable?

She shrugged. "I am just The Fox. Is that not all I need?"