Flamingo A3, Early Saturday Morning (NFB)
Despite copious amounts of caffeine drunk throughout the last two days, Callisto eventually needed to sleep. Also despite her best efforts to exhaust herself, she dreamed .
Lying belly-down along a support beam, grimacing at the way the thatch scratched through her clothing, the girl carefully inched up towards the smoke hole in the roof.
"Hear anything, squirt?"
She looked down at her sister and glared. "You're making too much noise," she hissed and put a finger to her lips.
"Bet I could hear more," pouted, blowing her fringe out of her eyes.
"You're too old and noisy," she retorted. "They'd catch you. Now quiet so I can hear what they're saying."
While she listened intently at the smoke hole for several long minutes, steadfastly ignoring her sister's fidgeting and fiddling. "Well?"
She frowned and shook her head. "I don't get that much. He's from a village few valleys over. Something about some kind of princess?" Her nose wrinkled as an acrid, greasy stench overlaid the musty-clean scent of sun-warmed thatch. "You smell that?"
"Smell what?"
"Don't know," she said, turning away from the hole. "It's like burnt meat or something…"
"I can't smell anything." Shrunken tendons snapped and popped as the blackened jaw moved, exposing unexpectedly pale bone. Small gobbets cooked flesh and chunks of frizzled hair fell off as she shifted her position on the roof. "You're just imagining things. Again."
Callisto shot upright, throat raw from screaming. She swore underbreath, frowned, then swore again, louder this time. Or at least she meant it to be louder.
She dug her nails into the flesh of her palm. Not still dreaming then. Which meant that her voice was...gone.
Laughing soundlessly, nearly hysterically, Callisto flopped back against the mattress. At least she didn't have to worry about being heard by her cabinmates.
[ooc: open to any Flamingos (or non-Flamingos with a reason to be in the cabin) who might be around, but I'll need to crash soon, so SP is love]
Lying belly-down along a support beam, grimacing at the way the thatch scratched through her clothing, the girl carefully inched up towards the smoke hole in the roof.
"Hear anything, squirt?"
She looked down at her sister and glared. "You're making too much noise," she hissed and put a finger to her lips.
"Bet I could hear more," pouted, blowing her fringe out of her eyes.
"You're too old and noisy," she retorted. "They'd catch you. Now quiet so I can hear what they're saying."
While she listened intently at the smoke hole for several long minutes, steadfastly ignoring her sister's fidgeting and fiddling. "Well?"
She frowned and shook her head. "I don't get that much. He's from a village few valleys over. Something about some kind of princess?" Her nose wrinkled as an acrid, greasy stench overlaid the musty-clean scent of sun-warmed thatch. "You smell that?"
"Smell what?"
"Don't know," she said, turning away from the hole. "It's like burnt meat or something…"
"I can't smell anything." Shrunken tendons snapped and popped as the blackened jaw moved, exposing unexpectedly pale bone. Small gobbets cooked flesh and chunks of frizzled hair fell off as she shifted her position on the roof. "You're just imagining things. Again."
Callisto shot upright, throat raw from screaming. She swore underbreath, frowned, then swore again, louder this time. Or at least she meant it to be louder.
She dug her nails into the flesh of her palm. Not still dreaming then. Which meant that her voice was...gone.
Laughing soundlessly, nearly hysterically, Callisto flopped back against the mattress. At least she didn't have to worry about being heard by her cabinmates.
[ooc: open to any Flamingos (or non-Flamingos with a reason to be in the cabin) who might be around, but I'll need to crash soon, so SP is love]