Prompt: Storm
"Power's out," Christine said, dragging a match against the coarse edge of the matchbox. She gently touched the match to the candle before blowing it out after the flame burst to life. She picked the candle up and quietly walked over to WildWing, settling down next to him on the sofa. "You okay?"
"Ask me that again when the power comes back on," WildWing said, his eyes darting this way and that.
She nodded. "Sure," she said, not sure if he had seen the nod in the dark.
"Are storms always this bad?" he asked.
"Not always," she answered. "But they had been saying we'd be do for a bad one." She glanced at him. "Something is bothering you, WildWing," she said, placing a hand on his own feathered one. "Want to talk about it?"
WildWing tilted his head back and ran a hand through his head feathers. "Just remembering things," he said quietly. "And not always good things."
Christine nodded. "Still, you didn't answer my question."
WildWing glanced at her. "You don't like this storm, do you?" he asked. He could see her starting to tremble - it hadn't gotten that cold already, had it?
Christine shook her head no. "My father. He died in a storm like this when I was little," she said quietly.
WildWing pulled her close and allowed her to snuggle into his arms. "Shh," he murmured. "It'll be okay." He hoped he could turn her thoughts away from the past and towards something else. "So," he began, glancing at the candle. "Think it's strong enough to cook by?"
She glanced at him. "What?" she asked in disbelief.
"Think it's strong enough to cook by?"
"It's a candle, WildWing. What do you plan on cooking?" she asked, sounding a little amused at the whole thought. Well, it would be a first.
"I dunno. S'mores?" he answered, looking at the bag of marshmallows that Nosedive had left behind.
"Oooh, s'mores," Christine murmured. "I think I know where Mal left her stash of chocolate. But the graham crackers..."
WildWing leaned back and pulled the box out from behind a cushion. "Hid them from one of my brother's early morning munchie attacks prior to practice."
Christine laughed. "Let me get the chocolate. Back in a moment," she said, taking the candle to go hunting.
"Ask me that again when the power comes back on," WildWing said, his eyes darting this way and that.
She nodded. "Sure," she said, not sure if he had seen the nod in the dark.
"Are storms always this bad?" he asked.
"Not always," she answered. "But they had been saying we'd be do for a bad one." She glanced at him. "Something is bothering you, WildWing," she said, placing a hand on his own feathered one. "Want to talk about it?"
WildWing tilted his head back and ran a hand through his head feathers. "Just remembering things," he said quietly. "And not always good things."
Christine nodded. "Still, you didn't answer my question."
WildWing glanced at her. "You don't like this storm, do you?" he asked. He could see her starting to tremble - it hadn't gotten that cold already, had it?
Christine shook her head no. "My father. He died in a storm like this when I was little," she said quietly.
WildWing pulled her close and allowed her to snuggle into his arms. "Shh," he murmured. "It'll be okay." He hoped he could turn her thoughts away from the past and towards something else. "So," he began, glancing at the candle. "Think it's strong enough to cook by?"
She glanced at him. "What?" she asked in disbelief.
"Think it's strong enough to cook by?"
"It's a candle, WildWing. What do you plan on cooking?" she asked, sounding a little amused at the whole thought. Well, it would be a first.
"I dunno. S'mores?" he answered, looking at the bag of marshmallows that Nosedive had left behind.
"Oooh, s'mores," Christine murmured. "I think I know where Mal left her stash of chocolate. But the graham crackers..."
WildWing leaned back and pulled the box out from behind a cushion. "Hid them from one of my brother's early morning munchie attacks prior to practice."
Christine laughed. "Let me get the chocolate. Back in a moment," she said, taking the candle to go hunting.