backdate this to, like, October 5th please?

Well, the hurricane was an interesting event, to say at the least.

The storm came like wind from hell, and the long, grueling days that it took to pass over left over a mess to match its force. Flooded lands, downed trees. Lovely. But, the most beautiful of things that now a chunk of her home laid disorganized on the north side of her home in the Ruins, right near the entrance.

Harrow wanted to kick at the debris that the hurricane had jumbled up, but somehow managed to refrain. She had made the place, the thing she had now recognized as her home, half decent, and it seemed to be her luck that a windstorm would happen upon its way and crumbled a good portion of the northside. At least the door frame is still there, and a little wall, she thought with a spitting growl as she appraised the ruins, obviously not at all satisfied with her optimism. She hated the change, and did not want to deal with it.

Alas, snarling at the crumbled bricks would not make them repair themselves. So, she whipped away from her ruins, the place giving her vivid annoyance just by its existence, and went off to nowhere. She was blinded by her anger at the storm that was now long gone, and did not particularly care where she was going, as long as it was away. When she had eventually calmed down, she noticed that her emotional wandering took her to the edge of the Pine Barrens, but did not stop, seeing no sense to turn around only to be annoyed by her situation again.

She brushed her hands against the trees she would pass by, allowing their rough skin to push her further into a peace. She paused at a relatively smooth-barked tree, and without a second thought began to claw at it. It was not another fit of rage, but curiosity about how the scars she would inflict would appear on the surface. She even began to etch her name with an extended index claw, writing it more than once to get the perfect script upon the worn tree. Soon enough, the tree was covered in her name: Harrow D'Angelo.

i just love to take forever to reply to threads i am such a loser. and i noticed they are only, like, a week apart from age. 8D

She had scented their approach, since a breeze was carrying that day in whichever direction, but she did not waste her time to look up at whomever it was. It was not one of her blood-family, so it concerned little to her whom it was. It was often that pack members would pass her by, but they were usual doing their Family duties, and Harrow was busy not truly caring about their appearance. It was less about being bitter and more about not wanting to go out and socialize. They were her family in relation terms, so that enough kept her from lashing out her tongue, and that left her with being respectfully quiet.

She continued to chisel her name into the tree, script text nearly perfect, not yet beautiful, though. To achieve perfection by marking her title upon the tree with flawless grace seemed to be her current goal, and she was wrapped up in it. The clearing of a throat advanced her ahead of time that they, whoever they were, were not passing by, so she finished carving her first name, leaving it unfinished as she turned her head towards the pair, keeping a hand against the tree.

It was an unfamiliar woman and man, and nothing about them, scent or looks, were nothing familiar to her. She did recognize the female's overly happiness as something annoying, but she did not allow it to register on her face. "I am fine," she answered vaguely, tapping a claw against the tree. "And you, miss?" Harrow could be diplomatic, if she tried, but it felt odd to call someone that when it seemed the other seemed to be about the same age as her. Oh well, she supposed. Better safe than sorry.

"My name is Harrow... D'Angelo." She pecked a sharp nail against the bark, as if to point out it was obvious enough. "Associate. You?"