two thousand miles and one left turn
#1
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Word Count: 562 // One or two people, please Smile.



It was full dark by the time Vigilante consented to allow Jimson to stay within the borders of Cour de Miracles; because of this, it was fairly late by the time he reached the Hotel, and so he did not call out when he walked in the door for fear of waking anyone. The building was quiet, a looming, almost eerie structure in the dark. The giant dog crept as quietly as he could, which was not very, down the hall of the hotel. His room in the farmhouse back home had been on the top floor, and so when he found stairs, he climbed them until there were no more, and then picked a direction at random and walked until he found an open door. As best as he could discern in the paltry moonlight filtering in through the window, the room contained a bed and a dresser, as well as another door behind which he assumed was a washroom. A thin layer of dusty sand covered everything; well, at least the room wasn't musty, thanks to the open window. Closing the door behind him, Jimson leaned his staff against the door frame, set his bag, bow, and quiver on the floor next to it, and made his way over to the open window. Beyond lay an overgrown garden, a once cultivated area which was being mercilessly assimilated into the thick forest which circled the hotel. He sighed heavily, tracing figures into the dust on the windowsill with a finger. He missed home. Rather, he missed what home used to be -- the house he'd grown up in, the family that surrounded him, long summer days spent watching the sheep. None of it was there anymore. He chided himself -- it was dumb to sit sulking over things he couldn't change. Even if he went back home, what he really missed about it would still be gone. His two brothers would be there -- maybe, if they hadn't followed in Jimson's stead and taken off, too -- and it would be wonderful to see them, but it wasn't enough.


Sighing again, the heavily furred canine shook out the ratty blankets and pillows which covered the bed, hoping to loosen at least some of the settled dust. The dust did loosen, but he also succeeded in stirring up dust everywhere else in the room, and succumbed to a sneezing fit before he settled down into the bed which barely contained all his bulk and protested mightily against the assault. His dreams were chaotic, and painful, but he did not remember them when he woke the next morning.


Jimson awoke to sunlight prodding his eyelids. It wasn't altogether an unpleasant way to wake up, but he'd gotten to sleep late and his eyes weren't quite ready to open. He forced them anyway, and heaved his great white bulk up off the thin mattress, groaning as his back protested the springs which had dug into it all night. He'd have to find some sort of padding for the bed -- perhaps he could filch an extra mattress from one of the unused rooms. He shook himself, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and gathered his staff, his bow, and his quiver. Time for breakfast. He exited the room, closing the door behind him, and made his way down the stairs and into the lobby.




Table credit Raze.
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#2
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Herpa derpa hi! Word Count :: 400+

“Oh! Perfect!” The feminine voice trilled into the foyer as the front door burst open and slammed against the wall. “Just who I wanted to see!” said a faceless voice – for the face was obscured behind a pile of cloth precariously clung to by a pair of white arms. Of course, it could have been any unsuspecting member of the court who Orin would have said that to at this moment, it really didn’t matter who she had discovered in the hotel just that she had found someone.

It looked more like a pile of fabric with legs than a Luperci wandering through the main hall, with bolts and yards piled high and trailing down around her so that she nearly got hung up and tripped over her burden. Yet somehow Orin managed to make it past the threshold and rotate a little so she could peek around the colorful mountain at whomever was in the room. Honey gold eyes looked the giant dog man up and down and a brow quirked, then she barked somewhat comically, “Well are ya gonna just stand there or are ya gonna help a lady out?” Her quick words were followed by a wide, toothy grin that showed that she meant no harm, but really could use a hand.

And then, before he had the chance to really help, she dropped it all on the floor.

On purpose.

She glanced down at the mess she just made for only a beat before her eyes turned back to Jimson, and then she trampled all over the pile getting to him. “I don’t know you but no one gets into the Hotel when they’re not supposed to be here, so I’m gonna assume you’re alright.” As she stepped up to him she had to look nearly straight up, for he towered almost three full feet above her, yet she stood there with her hands on her hips, just grinning as though she didn’t notice the size difference at all. In fact, being so little and petite, she was quite used to others hulking over her, never mind the fact that she once dated a wolf who was large enough to live at the top of the beanstalk.

“Orin Takekuro, at your service,” she held out her hand, then added. “But you better be at my service ‘cuz right now I need another pair of hands. How about it Jack? Got a minute or are ya just here to eat all the food?”



Photo courtesy of Alaskan Dude

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#3
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Word count: 510 // Lol! Orin is awesome XD.



Jimson had barely come around the corner into the foyer when the front door was flung loudly against the wooden wall and a musical voice sang into the hotel atrium. He could do nothing for a moment but stand and look dumbly confused, mouth slightly agape and blocky head tilted, as what appeared to be a giant walking and talking pile of multi-colored fabric strode in through the wide open door. He was even more confused once he figured out that there was some sort of small canine carrying the giant pile of clothes, because how could he have possibly been for whom who she was looking? He had only met two people in the Court, and neither of them were female, at least not as far as he could tell at the time. It wasn't until the white and... pink? female peeked out from behind the fabric and teasingly scolded him that he had the good sense to process what she was asking. "Oh -- sorry!" he exclaimed, dropping his bow, staff and quiver and stumbling forward, both hands out, just in time to catch exactly one end of one piece of blue fabric as the whole rainbow mess fell to the floor. He gave her his best wide and apologetic grin (which still managed to be a just little goofy) and offered the end to her as she tramped across the chaos of color on the floor between the two. "Sorry," he said again, with a baritone chuckle. "Y'took me off guard."


He watched with bemused brown eyes as she saucily drew herself up to her full height (which wasn't very much) and looked straight up at him, hands on her slender hips and a grin on her face. Next to her petite form he felt positively brutish; he wasn't even moving but just standing next to her made him feel slow and clumsy. She was a cute little thing, though, even if her pink mane and tail were still throwing him off a bit. “I don’t know you but no one gets into the Hotel when they’re not supposed to be here, so I’m gonna assume you’re all right.” He opened his mouth, this time to speak -- he must look like a mentally disabled fish, he thought -- when she spoke again. “Orin Takekuro, at your service. But you better be at my service ‘cuz right now I need another pair of hands. How about it Jack? Got a minute or are ya just here to eat all the food?” The burly white dog let out a loud, appreciative laugh before taking the proffered hand, gently engulfing it in his own massive paw. "Yer somethin' else, you are, y'know that?" He smiled warmly. "But I can hones'ly say 's a pleasure t'meet ya, Miz Takekuro. M'name's Jimson Morris, an' I'd be tickled t'help ya." He bent and began picking up the fabric, throwing a wink back at her over his shoulder. "Y'still might wanna keep a peeper on yer food stores, though."




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#4
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Word Count :: 800+

“So they tell me,” she joked when he called her ‘somethin’ else’. She plucked the end of blue fabric from his hand and promptly dropped it onto the floor with the rest as he shook her other in greeting. When he told her his name, her bell like giggle filled the air. “Hey, I wasn’t too far off there, was I old Jim?” She clapped him on the back at that and then turned to face the counter top, eyes peering through the store room door at the back of the common hall.

“You know, that isn’t such a bad idea. I like you already, Jim,” she chimed as she climbed right over the counter, instead of walking around; landing on the other side with the faintest patter of her foot paws and then disappeared into the back. She barely glanced over her shoulder at Jimson, but she did catch the most fleeting glimpse of him picking up some of the mess she had made. The poor man did not yet know the futility of the task he had undertaken.

A moment later a giggle came from the stock room. “I guess you haven’t had breakfast yet, there’s still food in the pantry.” She supposed a man of his stature had an appetite to match. The cupboards were not exactly full to the brim or anything, but the reserves were still quite well stocked.

“Eep! A mouse!” She cried in a high pitched voice, then her hand poked out of the doorway. A dead mouse dangled by the tail for a second before she dropped it with a thud. Laughter trailed after her as she once again disappeared, and then a suspicious silence fell over the room. All was well for a moment until Orin stepped out of the storeroom, arms full of goodies, and there was a loud crashing behind her. She went stiff for a minute, looked sheepish, and glanced over her shoulder to see a jar rolling out after her. “Hmm, I didn’t realize that thing was holding up that shelf…” she muttered, and then kept on walking like nothing had happened.

She skipped back over to Jimson and set some items on the table. There was an assortment of foods; venison jerky, a half bottle of room temperature milk, some crackers and goat cheese that smelled like it needed to be eaten today or given to the pig tomorrow, and a few other delectable goodies. It was kind of a smorgasbord for one person, so clearly she had brought out enough for the both of them.

She let the things fall onto the countertop very unceremoniously, except for the bottle of milk which she took out of the crook of her arm and set down right. That milk had come from Soraya the Cow herself, Orin’s very own friend whom she found when she lived in Cercatori d’Arte, and who taught her many of life’s lessons, including that it was possible to chew on food for hours, even when there wasn’t a source of food for miles.

Grabbing a fistful of jerky, she walked over to him (going to all the trouble to pace around the counter this time) and stood behind him, peering over his shoulder and watching him gather the material while she munched away. A moment of silence went by, and then her hand lashed out and swatted at his. “No no no, that’s all wrong, you can’t do it like that.” She grabbed a piece of cloth and tugged on it, but she wasn’t really trying to yank it from his hands with much force. All she wanted to do was totally mess up whatever he was doing because she didn’t bother to tell him what he was supposed to be doing to begin with.

“I don’t want it all gathered up, we need to lay it-“ she took a bite and then kept going with her mouth full, ”-all out…” Chew. “Like flat, like,” chew. “So we can-“ Chew. “See what piece is the-“ Swallow. “Longest. Want some?” She held out a piece of the jerky to Jimson.

“Or for that matter, no use working on an empty stomach,” she tottered away before he could take the jerky from her. Two wooden plates were plopped onto the counter top before Orin crawled up onto it again to sit. She then placed the bread on one plate, the meat and cheese on another, and then pushed the plate of bread towards Jimson and looked at him with laughing eyes.

“I’m just kidding!” She chuckled a moment later. “Help yourself to whatever you want.” She swung her legs like a child. “That way I can blame the mess in the back on you,” she added with a wink.

“Ok, spill. Where ya from, whatcha doing here, who ya visiting, when didja get here, how long’re ya staying, do ya like puppies, and please don’t eat my cow during your stay.”

Photo courtesy of Alaskan Dude

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#5
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Word count: 503



Orin flurried around him like a white and pink whirlwind, speaking but seemingly not expecting answers. Jimson straightened up and looked after her as she hopped the counter, and could not help but jump a little when she squeaked and tossed a dead mouse out of the pantry, laughing at her own silliness. It was extremely hard not to like Orin; she was so friendly and lighthearted, and he appreciated her good natured teasing.

He couldn't deny that he was thankful when she stepped out of the pantry, arms full of food and trailing chaos behind her. The dog winced as a loud crash echoed from the store room -- he was pretty sure he did not want to see what the petite female had left in her wake. But at least he didn't have to spend all morning out in the woods futilely shooting his damn bow at prey that moved too quickly for him. Not that he would be able to hit it any better if it stood still. His patience tended to wane on an empty belly, and he would get frustrated with his poor aim, which would cause it to become even poorer. At least this way he could go hunting without his stomach complaining -- wouldn't hurt to restock the store room after eating out of it, especially with winter coming on.

Jimson blinked and released the bolt of fabric in his hands as Orin playfully swatted at him and tugged on it. "Well, y'didn't say y'wanted it organized," he said, laughing, and followed her to the counter that she had pulled herself up onto. "Y'gotta point, though, if I had t'wait any longer fer breakfast I might jus' start chewin' on yer fabric there. Hey, now!" The last exclamation was playfully offended as she pushed the plate of bread toward him, her eyes full of laughter. The white male picked up a piece of jerky and began gnawing on it as she peppered him with questions. "I dunno," he said teasingly, "I do love me some good beef steak." He paused for a minute before chuckling and continuing, his slow country speech contrasting her quick manner of speaking. "Jus' got 'ere last night, actually. Came from down south a ways. Ain't visitin' no one in particular, yer King, I reckon you call 'im? He says 's okay fer me to stay a while, as I's jus' wanderin' wid no perticular place in mind. Ain't made up my mind yet jus' how long 'at'll be, but I reckon I'll stick around at least long 'nough t'rest up real good. Plus I told Mister Haskell I'd help 'im wid learnin' how t'fight wid a staff. Or against one, I'm not real sure." He took another bite of his jerky, and sniffed the cheese before judiciously placing it back down on the counter. "I love younguns," he added. "What about you? Y'got munchkins? An' d'you usually leave utter chaos ever'where you go?" He smiled, a teasing gleam in his eye.




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