[ONE: Action at 5723 Cunningham Lane, Action on Cunningham Lane.]

[ifihadmanners]

Action A:

[A radio alarm goes off, its merciless bleating the trumpet that has called many a mayfield man to arms upon a morning. A hand emerges from the bedclothes, and bats viciously at the clock until it falls on the floor and is silenced with a clatter. Dark eyes snap open, and stare incomprehensibly at the ceiling, until the horror of the

Comments

A. (Sorry I'm so late!)

[wayitshouldbe]

[Having been up since dawn, as well as having taken to sleeping on the couch since her arrival, Aveline is wide awake when she hears the loud thump sounding from upstairs. Grimacing, she reaches for the firepoker and heads upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. The noise combined with all the shouting make it abundantly clear that she won't see a drone upon her arrival.

She sighs as she pauses in the doorway to the bedroom, the poker hanging harmlessly at her side. Better safe than sorry, anyway.]

Is cleanliness so offensive to you?

Re: A. (Sorry I'm so late!)

[ifihadmanners]

[Despite still being taken deeply aback by the sudden lack of wings and appearence of these leg things, Rikash is scrambling up and out of the snarl of bedding at soon as he hears someone enter the room. He's deeply uncomfortably in his body, and it shows-- he's holding himself like a half-strung marionette, even as he glares at her, recognizing the implict threat of the well-muscled woman and poker.]

Yes. I'm a Stormwing, not some puling human. We are nightmares.

[Cocks his head, and examines her.]

Where's the mage holding me here? You're no magic user.

[His tone is only somewhat scornful.]