Brother-Sister Bonding time

[Boy]

"ALRIGHT!" The house that was usually so quiet, so peaceful, the house that was meant to be a safe haven where monsters slept, had been disturbed by the sounds of an argument. By stomping feet and shouting and a slamming door. The only difference is, there's only one person arguing. "ENOUGH! I don't want to hear it. STOP SAYING THAT!" The door at the end of the hall burst open, and Boy trudged down the hall, stomping angrily down the stairs. No one followed him. No voice called out of the room which, with its door open, was revealed to be empty except for children's toys and a bed. "SHUT UP!" Boy shouted from downstairs, and headed toward the kitchen.

[Marrick]

Doors were slamming, people were moving, and the Fury had, what one could consider, a fairly restful night of sleep. It was something to say that the sound of stomping and yelling and slamming of doors and cabinets or whatever else was being slammed and yelled at. She rolled out of bed, her head swimming and her stomach growling and her eyes somewhat bleary from the day she had all but slept away. Marrick, as a point of ritual, headed off to the kitchen.

[Boy]

The slamming only continues in the kitchen. A locker slams nearly off its hinges. Cans fall to the floor with a clatter. A pan lands on the stove top with enough force to rattle the oven doors and Boy slams the fridge door shut just as Marrick enters. He tears open a package of bacon with his teeth, spitting the plastic into the sink, and immediately turning on his heels, about to say something nasty to the bit of motion he sees in the corner of his eyes. "I DON'T -- Oh. Morning Marrick."

[Marrick]

"... who're you talkin' to?" She looked at him in her bleary-eyed state. The blonde looked at Boy, mouth closed and head cocked to the side ever so slightly. He opens up the bacon, and she doesn't do much except observe him. It's a distinctly feral gesture, but she seems so... intact this morning that it is neither here nor there. "Morning."

[Boy]

"Stupid...Travis." He's slapping strips of bacon into the pan. It sizzles weakly as the pan warms up. "He's been...I dunno. He's...fuck." There's an entire package of bacon in the pan, and he's moving to the fridge again, rooting through it. "Wendy's sick. I'm making breakfast. What do you want?"

[Marrick]

"Wanna take some time t'tell me 'bout it? I'm halfway decent 'bout comiseratin'- glee in having used a word that she recently learned, "-'bout confusing dudes." She hopped herself up on the counter and sat. He's slapping bacon on the pan, and it's sizzling. The Fury is undeniably pleased. "Bacon an' biscuits. An' eggs. We still have eggs?"

[Boy]

"Yeah, we got eggs." He say sorely, as if suddenly regretting being angry in the first place. When he emerges from the fridge, one hand holds a carton of orange juice. The other holds the eggs and a tube of biscuits close to his chest. He sets them all on the kitchen table, coming to the stove to turn on the oven and flip the bacon. "Its all cuz Wendy and me...We've been..." Boy's voice turns softer. Still slightly angry, still uncomfortable and upset, but softer. More intimate. "We've been...y'know." And Boy's shoulders scrunch together in a sign of discomfort.

[Marrick]

"Ohhh." A pause, then? she looked at Boy and seemed surprised for a second. Brows raised and a small smile on her face. She tried to bite back the desire to root for baby girls. Smart baby girls. That, of course, would be the jackpot. "He think yer too young or something?"

[Boy]

"Oh, he thinks a lot of things, but they aint about me." He glowers at the can of biscuits, and in the end, just hands it over to Marrick. "I don't know how to open this damn thing." Instead he readies a fold of paper towels and begins fishing the strips of bacon out of the pan. "He says she's...Well...says she's no good. And that...she's gonna leave. Like my mom."

[Marrick]

She looked at the can of biscuits, hopped off the counter, and then whacked it with a sizeable amount of force on the side of the counter. The can burst just enough that one could see the paper unravel and the biscuit dough inside. The ahroun was triumphant, and instead started to peel the container away and hand the philodox some biscuits. "She ain't gonna leave," she assures him, "maybe Travis is... well... maybe he's jus' livin' through you. Don't want the same stuff that happened to him happenin' t'you... on the other hand? You ain't Travis... and Wendy ain't yer mom... an'... well... yer Mom had you." As though this was an amazing accomplishment. Quiet reverence for her brother.

[Boy]

"Yeah, and look how great I turned out." He says sardonically, a scowl still fixed on his face. He's still a flurry of activity, setting the Bacon aside and preparing a baking tray which he sets the biscuits on roughly. "Seventeen. Barely keeping my shit together. I don't know any dark secrets and no one seeks my advice. My own tribe-mates in the city hate my guts. Fucking Brilliant." The biscuits get slammed into the oven, even before the warm up beep sounds. Boy sighs, leaning against the counter next to Marrick. "You know Wendy has like...a hundred brothers and sisters? Some of them...don't even make it past childhood. What if...what if Soledad was right? What if she can't even...y'know. Make 'em?"

[Marrick]

"Who hates your guts?" She blinked. "Soledad hates everyone." She takes a second, and instead of being young and thoughtful and reflective, instead she is sharp. "Muerte Fria is lettin' out her own anxiety 'bout bein' a mom on you cus she ain't sure she can do it herself 'cus she's too fuckin' scared an' selfish." The Fury growled it, and it was a visceral, primal sound. It was surprising, because Marrick, who as long as he has known her has been terrified of children, is so defensive of parenthood. She stops in her ire, and instead is content to stop and then be reflective. "If Wendy cain't have kids, y'adopt. Y'take whatever little boy Furies there are an' you raise 'em right. Or, fuck, y'take care of Soledad's kid 'cus she sure as shit don't want 'em." She tries not to growl at this thought. She doesn't succeed.

[Boy]

"Yeah. Yeah, I thought of that. She won't let me, though. Maybe...maybe she doesn't trust me or...I dunno." Boy lets out a great sigh, placing both hands on the counter to support himself and rolling his shoulders. "Travis is just...getting to me. Now its all getting to me." And when his eyes open, he seems a lot calmer. A lot less likely to force food down someone's throat, whether they wanted to eat or not. "Thanks. For talkin to me."

[Marrick]

"Yer seventeen. He's gonna get t'you," she tells him. It was easier this way. it was easier to pretend that Travis was alive and not... well... a manifestation of Boy's subconscious. "My dad got t'me somethin' fierce... still does, an' I haven't talked t'him in.. gawd.. forever."

[Boy]

Boy gives her a wan smile. The smell of the biscuits baking in the oven was already starting to tease them. "So how 'bout you? How've you been doin?"

[Marrick]

"Preparin' fer war," she tells him, "in more ways than one. Got stuff I'm gonna have t'teach ya. I ain't sure how this next moot's gonna go but..." She stops, she takes time to reflect. "Somethin's comin'. An'.. I don't know when, an' I don't know how, but... I'm gonna get some of th' other packs on this. We need recon."

[Boy]

"There's that thing Gut-Song was talking about too. Seems like there's trouble every week." An then he's standing with a straightened back, more alert. "What kinda things you teaching me?"