#rivervale_lodge

"They don't hit. Well, haven't."

"But it's early, you know?"

“Matthias said they are nice. And he never lies.” A stout conviction in this statement.

"They seem okay."

He nods, sleepily.

"Listen, they wallop you, let me know, okay? I'm big now."

She takes his plate and hers over to the sink.

He blinks at her, and his tail gives a cautious wag. “Okay. And if trees come walking again, I can bite them. Sorry about your stick breaking. Sticks... yaaaawn are important.”

"Thanks, I think." Dishes get washed, but left next to the sink to dry. "C'mon, you look tired."

“The bed is too big, I have to turn and turn and turn before I sleep.” He hurried to add, “but it’s nice and soft, though.”

"Do you sleep as a dog?"

A guilty look. “...no?”

"Was that a lie?"

“Dogs shouldn’t go on the furniture.” He mentions.

"I guess. Depends on the house..." She heads out from the kitchen, towards the stairs. "Some houses, kids can't go on furniture, neither."

He trails up after her. “Maybe they don’t like fun on the good sofa. But if you don’t bounce some then the cushions never get broken in and squishy.”

"I... guess? But breaking furniture is big trouble."

“There was yelling. It wasn’t -supposed- to break. And if they should have SAID that lookout has to watch the door and not the fun.” He ducks his head. “A LOT of yelling.”

Several more steps before he whispers shyly, “the jumping was fun before it broke though.”

She hesitates, and a furtive look around before... "Yeah, sounds it."

"Night, Conner."

“Night, Dagmar-and-Sam.” He answers, before heading to his room. The furtive sound of springs being tested on the bed, before, perhaps, too tired to explore further.

And the tromp-tromp of receding steps.

Carefully straightening the blankets, and curling up on the floor with a pillow, Connor drifts to sleep.

Down the hall... well, a flashlight and a comic book for at least another hou-... half-ho-.... ten minutes.

*************************

Brekke's work on the house has made her cast a careful eye around the Lodge, and she's seeing room for additional carving work. Currently, she's eyeing the window sills.

Whatever Kerri is working on in the kitchen smells like berries.

If Brekke checks, she would find her daughters location is close, in the woods, and cclosing. As Siv said she'd be out for a walk but not too far, that fits.

Brekke, to her credit, does not check.

Jaymes is in the kitchen, "I think berries might be too delicate for someone like me. I'm..more storm leaning than hearth"

Frank works at his desk, bespectacled, right next to the window. For the light.

There is a rhythmic "thunk" against the outside wall as Dagmar bounces a softball off the timbers. Throw, catch, throw again.

Frank sighs, glancing outside at Dagmar, then back to his notes.

A slight chuckle. "Do you recall how Siv would insist on walking the decks with that fake peg-leg because she wanted to be a pirate as the stories told? Step-thump, step-thump, step-thump...for hours."

Jaymes sniffs the berries, "You sure you don't want to teach me something simplier?"

"She climbed the rigging in it, too." He reminds.

"Oh, no, I'm sure you're up to this, Jaymes!" Kerri smiles at him, and her tone is bright. "And if you mess it up, I'm sure nobody would be cruel enough to criticize. Now, keep stirring or the berries will burn...but with your free hand, add just a bit of the dry ingredients from the bowl."

Jaymes nods, "I suppose not ..." WOOSh over the head

"Hey , Cuz" Siv says outside to Dagmar "How goes?"

"Hey!" thump

"Oh, she did, I had almost forgotten," Brekke nods.

"Wanna play catch?"

Kerri sighs and tries again. "The same goes for matters of preference...after all, if you go to the trouble of making something, it's common courtesy for people to enjoy it politely, even if it's not their favorite food. Keep adding the dry ingredients, a little at a time, and keep stirring, and reduce the heat under the pan gradually."

"Sure!" siv says, "You just doing this for fun or training?"

Brekke's fingers run over one of the window sills, and she says, "I cannot decide between vines and runes for the windows."

"How dry is this supposed to be?" Jaymes asks.

Frank slides the top page under the stack, keeps reading. "Well. You would make either beautiful. If you wanted to work an Art into the art, you could."

"Well, when we pop it in the oven it should bake up into something with moisture about half-way between a pancake and a very large cupcake. That is, if you measured all the ingredients properly. Keep stirring. Watch your heat."

Brekke huffs a bit. "That will likely happen whether I intend it or not." A glance at his papers. "What are you reading?"