(no subject)
As improbable as it had seemed to Lisey, given that the island's weather had only that morning been entirely normal, there was one thing that a girl born and bred in Maine could tell without a second thought, and that was when snow was on the air. She'd finished up her kitchen shift this morning, stepped out of the compound into the unnaturally cool air, and at that moment she'd have bet just about any amount of money that they'd be ending up with a few feet before all was said and done.
It's evening now, the sun is setting and the flakes have started to fly. Lisey's not sure how bad it's gotten, but from the look of the people who are just reaching the compound from the outside, things are getting bad. Before too much more time passes, she'll see if the clothing box has got anything to offer and head through the caves to find Scott at home and make sure that he'll be okay - the hut is weathertight enough, she things, and God knows they're used to bundling up. Until then, though, there's work to be done here; all the people who are waiting out the storm in the compound need to be fed, after all, and as kitchen staff she feels she's got a duty to stay and help out as long as she can.
At least, she thinks with a wry smile as she puts on what must be the thousandth pot of coffee for the bone-chilled masses, she's in her own body, at her own age, and feeling entirely like herself. Snowstorms in June are odd, no doubt, but compared to everything else that's been thrown at them? A little old Nor'easter is almost a comfort.
[Gathering/meal post for everyone weathering the storm at the compound. Tag Lisey, tag each other, get something to eat and stay warm! Timed to this evening, and it's pretty safe to assume the kitchen is at max capacity, all things considered.]
It's evening now, the sun is setting and the flakes have started to fly. Lisey's not sure how bad it's gotten, but from the look of the people who are just reaching the compound from the outside, things are getting bad. Before too much more time passes, she'll see if the clothing box has got anything to offer and head through the caves to find Scott at home and make sure that he'll be okay - the hut is weathertight enough, she things, and God knows they're used to bundling up. Until then, though, there's work to be done here; all the people who are waiting out the storm in the compound need to be fed, after all, and as kitchen staff she feels she's got a duty to stay and help out as long as she can.
At least, she thinks with a wry smile as she puts on what must be the thousandth pot of coffee for the bone-chilled masses, she's in her own body, at her own age, and feeling entirely like herself. Snowstorms in June are odd, no doubt, but compared to everything else that's been thrown at them? A little old Nor'easter is almost a comfort.
[Gathering/meal post for everyone weathering the storm at the compound. Tag Lisey, tag each other, get something to eat and stay warm! Timed to this evening, and it's pretty safe to assume the kitchen is at max capacity, all things considered.]