Welcome to Gaia! ::

A few hours after arriving back from the lab facilities. You feel odd, itchy. You go to touch your arm and feel... hairs sprouting from it? But they are longer, they seem to start fairly soft as they grow but even as you touch them you can feel them getting stiffer. The same thing seems to occuring on your face as well, down your back, and down your legs inside your pants. Your head feels odd as it seems some of your head hair on top is stiffening as well. Pointing strait up, it doesn't take long to figure out these are the beginnings of your quills.

You watch as your fingernails grow longer, and feel the same occur in your toes. They slowly sharpen and darken in to claws. Your nose feels odd, as it seems to get colder, you touch it and feel that it is more like an animals nose.

You also notice, with all this, that you can smell things you couldn't smell before, as a hedgehogs nose is very accute. On some instinctial level, part of you just wants to curl up in a ball and make this discomfort go away. After a little while it is over, and your left, less human. Your appitite more carnivorious though you can eat vegetables if you need, they will not match your pallete as much anymore.

Your no longer completely human...

Ambrose had been nose-deep in the borrowed book on wolves through most of the previous night. It started as a morbid curiousity - wanting to know, and yet not at the same time. The concerns still clung to him that somehow reading about them would increase the effects psychosomatically.... then on the other hand, maybe if he knew wolves better, he could more readily discriminate between a 'whim' and some aspect of the genetic manipulation. In the end, he had read through most of the book and studied the images fervently late into the night. It really was fascinating, and all in all - though he may not admit it - he considered himself relatively lucky with his animal 'assignment'.

Finally, after having slept in the next day, he woke up, showered, and followed his stomach to the cafeteria, leaving the book behind. He didn't know anyone else who was turning into a wolf - and so he doubted that there would be any pressing need for anyone else to read it.

He walked down the food line, weighing down his plate with a big chunk of pot roast, some steak strips, and a dinner roll before taking a seat at one of the tables.

Emelyn hardly knew what to get, going through the line- which was a new experience for the girl. Her entire life, she'd boasted a very particular pallete, picking and choosing like a finicky pet what morsels would and wouldn't pass her lips. Given, the variety was wide- but entirely specific. Now, however, as she pushed her goggles back up past her spines absently, and shuffled down the line, tray pressed up against the counter, she had an idea as to why everything looked so fantastic. Hedgehogs were incredibly omnivorous, and foragers by nature... so it would make sense, she thought, as she piled up hamburger buns and broccoli on top of chicken bits, that she'd not be biased towards what she ate. Food is food, a little voice said in the back of her mind- although surely, it was less a voice than an animalistic whisper.

By the time she came into the main seating area, her plate was a veritable smorgasbord. She didn't have time to wonder how she'd stomach it all, however, since her eyes alit on a figure sitting not ten paces away, bent over a tray. It was the same man she'd seen on the video. Because she'd seen such a personal moment in his life, she almost felt badly about being in the same room as him- she wanted to leave, sort of like an apology for witnessing his pain and horror. But they were going to be on the island together for a long time, if not for life... so she might as well get over her discomfort. As was the 'Emelyn way' she tackled it, head-on, and sat directly in front of him, plopping her tray on the table.

"Hello."

Ambrose looked up, startled at Emelyn's sudden appearance. "Oh!" He said, then hastily swallowed the food in his mouth and dabbed at lips with the napkin apologetically. "I'm sorry, you caught me off-guard." He then did a doubletake - almost not recognizing her - he had only met her but briefly over a month ago, and certainly before her changes. She was one of the lucky ones - with relatively mild affects. "Emelyn? I... wow, I haven't seen you in quite some time... How... how have you been?" He asked genuinely, gesturing to the seat that her tray was in front of.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, getting comfortable in the seat with a minor adjustment, "..It's just that I figured we'd seem quite antisocial if we sat at separate tables..." she indicated to the rest of the cafeteria with a sweeping arm gesture, "while there's no one else around." Her expression was sweet and wry- just short of winking, and she picked up her fork and stabbed a nice long sprig of broccoli with it. She'd not transferred it to her mouth yet, before she answered his question, so she let it hang in the air, the cutlery twirling between her thumb and forefinger like some sort of baton.

"And I've been... fine, thanks. I've been better, but I've definitely been worse. ...And you?" She tacked the question on in a way that sounded as if it had been an afterthought- but really, she'd been wondering about how Ambrose had been doing since that day at Moreau's mansion, and she'd watched the tape of his transformation, and of the agony he'd endured. She still remembered how much it had terrified her, and how her fingers had remained locked to her lips, vertical and shaking.

He waved off her politeness. "No need to apologize. There is no entertainment in eating alone. Although you'll have to pardon my... ah... choice and quantity of food of you do share my company." He said with half a note of apology, and half a joking grin.

He pondered the answer to that loaded question. He remembered that the Dude had mentioned that Emelyn had decided to try to make the best of her situation... and he was glad of it. At least he hoped he hadn't taken things to the extreme that Thorn had. "I... well... I can't say I'm doing particularly well ..." he began a bit too honestly. "I mean... I feel alright physically now... I'm being fed, they're providing for me.... but..." He winced. "I'm not exactly happy with the whole situation." He glanced over to her, taking in the spiked bangs, the wet nose.... "What about yourself...?"

"Oh." she said simply, putting the fork back down on the tray, and chewing the large sprig in her mouth. It was awkward for a moment as she chewed, unable to say more than the single-syllable exclamation until it was all down. Once it was, though, she looked at the man sympathetically- and in truth, she was looking at the man, for she still had the tendency to let the animalistic features blur, and to see someone as the human they used to be. More often than not, she didn't realize she was doing it.

"I'm sorry." And she truly was. "I keep forgetting that there are others on the island who aren't.... volunteers." She said the word apologetically, an almost sad smile on her face as she faced a man who had a life that had been ruined by these experiments.

"And I'm alright. Coping, slowly." She said it softly.

He glanced to her, chewing thoughtfully and finally nodded. "I... I have nothing against the 'volunteers' here... I just wish that the ONLY people here were volunteers." He said with a sigh as he stabbed at another strip of beef. "With all of the funding he must have, he should be able to have a better screening process, even IF he can't reveal ahead of time what the project is." He frowned.

Glancing back to her and acessing her features he nodded. "I'm glad to hear that.. It... takes quite a bit of getting used to. And I fear I'll go through the same thing again when I receive my next injection. It's frightening - no matter how much I try to get used to the concept. I don't know how much of me is going to be left when this is all over - physically OR mentally - and I know he said we'll still be intelligent and can speak.... but what about little things? Instincts? Will it change who we are?"

He shook his head. "I"m sorry - I've.... I've just been thinking about all this too much I believe. And sat down with a book on wolves last night..."

"God," she laughed, almost a nervous huff of a laugh, "I don't even want to think about that. ...I don't even know if I'm still human now," she said, betraying her professing that she didn't want to think about it, and doing exactly that. "And I don't know if I entirely want to be a hedgehog all my life. ...God, it will last our entire life, won't it?"

She felt a little embarrassed that she'd not thought all of these things through- but really, she had- it was just that she'd been so long suppressing the ideas and the possibilities behind it all.

He winced, and nodded. "From what they say this isn't exactly a one-way process. And that if they stop partially through it's even worse - can potentially mutate our cells and give us cancer." He finished bitterly.

"So even, theoretically, if we could escape or convince one of them to let us go, we're still screwed. AND because of this not exaclty being legal, they can't let us off the Island, even afterwards, or it would raise eyebrows to say the least. And that's assuming one could even reintegrate back into normal society after turning into an upright animal." He glared down at his plate. He always got bitter when he started reflecting on the exact nature of the project. He knew it was fruitless, and he knew that complaining would get him nowhere, but sometimes it just helped to rant.... a catharsis of sorts.

He then realized, belatedly, that this might not exactly be helping Emelyn in the least, and he looked back up quickly, sheepishly. "I... I'm sorry. I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear."

The word stopped in her ears, and pounded with a hollow resonance. Cancer. She'd long believed that, despite what it was, and all the terrible things that it meant, as a word it was actually rather mellifluous, flat... almost smooth, as it came off the tongue and drifted through the lips. Who would know that such a beautiful expression of the English language could carry with it such... heartbreak.

"No, it's alright," she said, "whether or not I hear it, it's still going to happen. But I hadn't heard that.. stopping would give you cancer."

He looked up to her - the veracity in his eyes. It was the truth - or at the very least he believed it to me. "I heard it first from Aubrey, and then Moreau confirmed it. They're doing genetic manipulation in a living organism, rewriting our DNA.... they said if they stop the injections then our molecules could become unstable... or something like that..." He winced. "Regardless of the specifics... they said that it might not be within a week, but that there is a high chance that we could start.... breaking down in a year or so."

"Honestly..." He said quietly. "That thought has been one of the things that has scared me the most. Even if we could escape, or be rescued, or they were shut down.... that's what fate would serve us. Something tells me that what they're doing here is rather outside the realm of any other studies. I doubt anyone else would know what to do to 'save' us."

His thoughts wandered to Angelina again, and his face looked even more sallow under the fluorescent lights. "So even if I could escape.... and see her again... it would only be to have to say goodbye again... and make her watch me die." To say nothing of the almost guarenteed agonizing death.... he thought to himself.

It surprised Em that Ambrose was thinking of escape, even after all this time. And whoever this 'she' was, by the look in his eyes, and the way his face had drained of all color- he obviously had something to get back to. In that moment, Emelyn envied him more than anyone in the world- for even if he were in the most pain of his life, trapped on this godforsaken island, he still had someone to think of, someone to at least imagine escaping to. Em was all alone.

"Well, I was told that these experiments will actually cure cancer. ..It strikes me as odd that they could both cure and create."

He shrugged heavily. "they said they're 'familiarizing themselves with genetic manipulation' by these experiments. That by knowing it better they could tackle cancer someday. But it seems a rather roundabout way to do it if you asked me. Not that I'm a geneticist by any means... and perhaps you would think me ignorant for saying it, but I don't understand how transforming people into... animals... especially so many of us, constitutes medical research in understanding the human genome." He glowered.

"Roundabout..." she said the word quite softly, and until it cleared her lips, she'd not realized the word had been aloud. She looked up at Ambrose, who was glowering in his seat, his canine features skewed along with his still-human expression. "That's why I said I'd volunteer for the experiment," she said, suddenly feeling the need to explain herself. "Moreau asked me if I'd get the second injection voluntarily... and we fought. But he said that he was trying to cure cancer, and I decided that my life was worth that."

His eyes were drawn back to hers, and he faltered. He felt sorry for her, and immediately saw how Moreau had tricked her.... but on the other hand who was he to make someone miserable when they could possibly have found some saving grace to be here. "I... well... they might be. I just... well... I'm no scientist." he reiterated weakly. "Those have just been my thoughts. The only part of what I said I know from what they told me is the repercussions if the injections stopped."

He scratched at a patch of fur on his arm, a constant reminder of what was happening, and a silent promise that there was more where that came from.

Em nodded, mostly to herself- she still believed that this had a purpose- and in truth, it did. However, she still didn't understand how personal an objective it was. By becoming Moreau's martyr, she was essentially freeing herself from the guilt and the pain of Mizzie's death. There would come a time that she would realize that being Moreau's guinea pig wasn't going to keep Mizzie's death from being a senseless one... but until then, she sat, sold into a faith that was supported entirely on hope... and on guilt.

She noticed his scratching, and a smile found its way back to her face. "Maddening, isn't it? The worst is trying to keep yourself away from scratching... well, anyplace but your arms." She said, laughing, and knowing that Ambrose would understand the meaning: the fur certainly didn't stop in the visibly accessible places, after all.

Ambrose acutally laughed at her comment and nodded. His mind clung to the chance to divert itself from going through that painful cycle once again. "It's true." He winced. "And especially when you get an itch on somewhere difficult to reach... like your back. It... well... it's hot here, and I sweat.... and under the shirt it clumps and..." He trailed off, certain that he was probably delving into far too much information than she wanted to hear, and changed the subject.

"What have you been doing since you arrived? I saw you... a long time ago it seems now... not long after I had arrived myself.... and you mentioned your crashed boat..."

Emelyn certainly understood the embarrasment and the itch- but she noted, by the way he described his discomfort... that he'd come out with much more hair during this transformation than she had. In fact, she recalled back to the tape from Moreau's camera that had captured his change... and realized that she'd 'gotten off' much easier than he had. Perhaps it was Moreau's way of rewarding his volunteers, she thought. But in truth, she doubted that the self-possessed man awarded that much thought to his subjects. Even his 'favored' ones.
"Well," she said, eating in between her words, for she realized she was famished, "after Moreau made his... proposal, which was rather soon after I got here, actually," she pondered aloud, "Anyway, after the proposal I felt so guilty for saying yes, and I pretty much holed myself up in my cabin. The only person who drew me back out into the sun was the Dude," she said, hoping that she hadn't added any inflection to the way she'd said his name that would indicate any feeling one way or another. "And after the transformation- well, I don't know. I think I just realized that I can't stay there forever." She didn't mention that it was mostly because she still felt human, and beautiful... because she knew that would change, and wasn't willing to base the entirety of her self-esteem on those now-fragile qualities.

He listened as he plowed his way through the pile of food in front of him.

"The Dude is good at that.... seems to be rather concerned about most of us here." Some of us a bit more concerned with than others, admittedly.... "Ironically he's done a pretty good job of trying to keep our minds off of the changes and the imprisonment. But it's no small task. And he seems to be rather... distracted... now a days, anyway." He sighed, his mind going back to Greer, his belated realization of his feelings, the guilt that followed shortly thereafter, and the entire, embarrasing situation.

Just looking up into Emelyn's blue eyes framed with rich, brown hair made him think of Angelina... and how dearly he wished he could see her again, how much that he wished that he had never signed up for that damndable study.

"Distracted? What do you mean?" Emelyn looked up from her food with a puzzled expression darting through her blue eyes, and wrinkling up her brows in confusion. She'd not had a chance to see the Dude in over a week. "Is he okay?"

"Okay?" Ambrose asked incredulously, then realized that she had by her own admission been spending most of her time indoors.

"Oh he's fine... just... well, rather focused on Greer in particular recently." The itch moved to the back of his neck, and without thinking he reached back to scratch at the soft fur that grew there.

She dropped her fork in surprise. "Oh. I..." she gave a small, mostly forced laugh. "Clumsy..." she ran her fingers through what used to be solely her hair... running into small, sharp objects at the same time. "Damn," she whispered, but it wasn't for the sake of the brief pain.

His eyes lingered on her - her mannerisms spoke of anything but a casual accident. He knew very little about how the Dude and Emelyn had gotten along, but if he wasn't mistaken, he could swear that her actions bespoke of disappointment in The Dude's attachment.
He pursued his lips, taking one of the last bites of his 'breakfast' to quell his words before he could properly mull them over. He knew how she felt...

"I'm sorry..." He seemed to be getting his foot wedged in his mouth in all kinds of ways today. He certainly wasn't doing much to lift the poor woman's feelings here.

"Sorry?" She said, feigning ignorance of what he was implying. But by the look in his face, he knew exactly how she felt. "Yeah, well... I think I set myself up for that one."

Sympathy was on his face as he reached over and patted the back of her hand. "It's a small island after all, and supposedly we're stuck here for life." he commented simply with a strange note of bitterness.

He stood up after that - he needed to get his mind out of all these depressing thoughts. Staying up most of the previous night reading about what might happen to him hadn't laid a good groundwork for this day apparently. Maybe he should try to get some more rest. It wouldn't be hard with the less sleep the night before and a belly full of meat.

Funny, she thought- those words don't seem very comforting. "Well, anyway... I should probably get back to my room. I left my diary open on the desk, and it's doubtless wanting a few more sentences." She smiled at the gallant, older man. "Thanks for the dinner conversation."

Ambrose nodded in understanding. "Take care, Emelyn. If you ever want to talk... I'm here." He finished, and before bussing his tray he gave a gallant bow.

"Thank you as well. It was good running into you again" He smiled genuinely.

"And you as well. ..Ta," she said, and turned back to her food, her thoughts stewing.

She lay back on the sand- it was getting in her hair and eking down the back of her swimsuit, but she really didn't care, and she closed her mind to the sensation of the crunching sand, and opened her eyes to the soft, easy clouds above her. They seemed so far up, so peaceful and calm. She'd had the sky on her mind ever since her conversation with Greer- and the idea that the woman may possibly be able to fly someday. Being so far away from everything, immersed in quiet and wonder- it appealed to this girl who was used to being a million different places at once. ...Staying in one place for so long... it was taking its toll on her. Many things were taking their toll.

"I don't even know why I'm down here," she said to herself, and perhaps to that cloud that looked a little like a ram... "There's no one here." She brushed the goggles away from her forehead, sacrificing them to the mass of still spongy quills, and sighed to herself, "Not that I'm looking for anyone." It didn't much bother her that she was talking to herself- it was a common affectation for her, since she often traveled alone.

"Not looking for the Dude... not looking for Greer, or the doctors- and not looking for Ambrose." ...He'd been on her mind, too. The Dude's 'hints' ...hadn't exactly been subtle, and if anything, she'd been avoiding him, just in case the sea lion's hopeful nature had caused him to make the same thinly veiled suggestions to him

As if speaking his name had summoned him forth into existence, not a few moments after Emelyn had uttered Ambrose's name to the clouds above her, a familiar 'pat-pat-pat' noise of bare feet on sand reached her ears.

Wandering out onto the now-familiar sandy stretch of the beach, Ambrose had begun to consider it both a safehaven for thoughts, as well as a location that often brought him face to face with someone to talk to. He had had some of his most intersting conversations here on the beach... but also some conversations that he wasn't exactly proud of. All in all, however, Ambrose was still feeling social today, perhaps as a result from his meal alone in the storage room with the supplies even after his conversation with Greer hadn't sated him. He had had more than enough of his share of alone time over the past couple of days and he craved company. Hell, he craved more than that, he knew, but as for that, there was more than a few complications.

He had actually left his fencing supplies at home, along with any pretense that he had come here to work on his epeework. The sun setting on the beach was one of the most beautiful sights he had seen on the island, and more than ample of a backdrop for his thoughts than during a workout. Besides, he had just finished showering.

As he walked down the dunes of the beach, his eyes did indeed catch on a figure lying in the sand - and his silent hope to find someone out here to talk to was rewarded. Seeing the quills and the goggles from the back fo her head, however, caused him to nearly miss a step. Emelyn... He had just been thinking about her earlier.... Some part of him was intrigued by her - there seemed to be a lot more to her than he had revealed through his few casual conversations. Part of him was eager to learn more... another part of him said that it was becuase of the all-too-familiar deep blue eyes under the mop of brown hair.

The sound of feet on the sand made Emelyn roll onto her stomach, her suited torso supported by a protective arm, and peer up at who was coming up behind her. She almost swallowed her breath at the sight of the wolfen man- and his name was breathed in her mind, and on her lips. "Ambrose," she said, wondering if her voice had carried up through the sea breeze- for it had sounded too soft in her head to be real. "I didn't know anyone was here." She wondered if he'd heard her talking to herself... or heard his own name.


Ambrose's hearing did indeed pick up on her startled whisper, and after his hestitation, he continued walking towards her as he spoke.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to interrupt you if you wanted to be alone." He murmured, tucking his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts. This was the first time he had warn them since his change, exposing the furriness of his shins. "I just... well... the beach seems to have become a popular place and I was seeing if anyone might be out here on such a fine night as this." He finished, stopping about ten paces from her, not wanting to bother her if she did want to be alone. "I just arrived, though - I haven't been here long at all."

She noted his tentative steps- and wondered if he was just trying to give her space- or if he didn't want her to see the fur on his legs. She didn't bother telling him that she had a similar, although lighter outcropping on her own- or that her nocturnal senses were starting to develop into fine vision. It was why she could see the russet grey clouds in the night sky, and distinguish their shapes as they drifted along. "No, you're not disturbing me." She let herself drop back onto the sand and rolled back onto her back, supporting her torso up from the back this time, her arm stretched out. "And if it's company you were after, company you've got. Sit down." She patted the sand at her side.

He smiled, taking a seat next to her on the sand that still held the warmpth of the day as the air was cooling to a more tolerable temperature. "Thanks, Emelyn." He smiled, looking over her face again. As strange as it was, maybe the subtle mix of animal features on her face helped him... distinguish her. This was a wholly different person despite resemblances, someone new who was also stuck in a very similar situation as he. And he really did feel something of a connection to the mysterious woman.... or at least a healthy dose of curiousity. Or was that the Dude's influence and his own imagination that her appearance initially hooked.

Well, even if he wasn't looking for a relationship... he was certainly looking for friends here. "How have you been doing...? I... I am truly sorry if our conversation last time disturbed you. I know how delicate of a position we're all in."

She shook her head, smiling as she did so as she looked out at the ocean. "Well, it did disturb me." Emelyn believed in being honest, "But you don't have to aplogize. I'd rather a disturbing life than a sheltered one. It gave me a lot to think about." She wiped the quills up off her forehead with a flick- they were always getting in the way these days, and then put the hand back down on the sand- realizing that it was painfully close to the man... but not wanting to move it for fear of seeming timid with it.

Ambrose's eye was drawn to the movement of the hand, and laid to rest on it as she placed it close to his on the sand.
"I know how you feel." he said quietly. "My own mind has been rather overactive as of recent. Probably too much so. I guess this is what happens when you're put somewhere out of context of everything that was normal to you before and you completely break the routine of your old life. I kind of feel like I'm floundering here sometimes. Even with things to occupy my time like helping Greer with the butterfly house, or practicing and teaching fencing... it's still... I don't know... it almost seems shallow as mean as that might sound." He winced. "I'm sorry - please stop me if I sound like I'm whining." He shook his head. "See - too much thinking. My mouth starts running."

"Oh no," She said, turning her head from the sea to look at him, instead. His voice drew her to his eyes- wondering if the pain that she could hear... was visible, as well. "It's not whining. I understand what you mean exactly." She sighed, letting her chest rise and fall with the weight of all the things she'd been thinking in one heavy huff. "It feels like I've been completely cut off from the pace of my life. ...I've not been in one place this long since I was twelve." She didn't add that she'd realized... that she was totally alone, and that there was no one even pining her absence. There would never be a search party for her. Never a teary funeral. It was what ate at her, more than the disrupted pattern of her life.

"Really?" He asked, "I couldn't imagine that... always on the move, never some place to really call home?"

He shrugged, wrapping his arms around his knees as he gazed out at the water that reflected the amazing violets and magentas of the setting sun. "I've traveled a lot, but I've always had a home to return to. My parents lived in the same place all my life... and I lived there until I moved away to college. But even then I really didn't move that far away. Even stayed in teh same state as sad as that might be. But... since I moved out, I knew exactly what I wanted to do... I had a pattern, you know? And... while it had its share of difficulties, I never expected to be so... derailed. That... that's how I feel now." He looked down to his bare feet half-burried in the sand. "And I guess part of me is thinking that it is just a setback. That... somehow... things will get back on course. And I'd really like to believe that. But... it's hard. I've never exactly had a great deal of 'faith' if you catch my drift. Always been more of a realist. But here..." He snorted. "Neither 'option' seems all that realistic. This whole scenario is something out of a bad made-for-TV movie." He looked back over to her, and part of him thought about how pretty her face looked in the play of colors from the sunset.

"Why have you moved around so much..?" He asked, realizing he was selfishly focusing on himself again.

She'd kept silent as he spoke, watching his eyes, and his lips as the words formed on them- nodding at certain junctions- quite often, because she understood what he meant, and she could feel that there was a lot stewing beneath the surface of this man. When he spoke of faith- and how he'd never really found any, Emelyn saw a cruel mirror of herself, and she wanted to tell him, like the old Em would, that there was faith in yourself- and faith to be had in the people and circumstances around you. She used to believe that the world was essentially fair. ...But ever since Mizzie's death- she'd become just like Ambrose. Faith... didn't hold much place in her heart, these days.

"Well," she said, answering his question, "I used to do it because it was my passion." She paused, and pulled the aviators goggles off her head, and dropped them gingerly in his lap. "...My Grandpa John gave me those when I was 11. I used to love Amelia Earhart. She was my idol. He even took me up in a plane- a Lockheed, like she flew. I was petrified, but the goggles made me feel better." She laughed at how absurd it sounded. "The strappers fell apart years ago- but I keep those with me. ...Probably to remember why I started travelling in the first place. Now, I think I just do it- to... try and get away." The pause that followed was immense- and for some reason, she found herself telling Ambrose willingly what she'd never told any other islander without prompting. "Ever since my sister died. Last year."

He smiled as she recounted her story, picking up the goggles with a gentle care, turning them over in his hands. He could smell the memory of leather on the straps... and they seemed to really be heavy with the weight of sentiment. He listened to her story as well, smiling. Like Greer, it seemed that Emelyn held passions in her chest - a curiousity that was refreshing compared to the people that he was often surrounded by in the New England socials and school systems.

"I'm sorry" He spoke quietly, recognizing the weight in her voice as a signal that she must have been very close to her sister. Ambrose had never reallly lost a family member that close to him, and always felt a little uncomfortable when someone spoke of teh death of a loved one. How could he truly relate to that. "It sounds like the two of you were very close." He finally said. "That must have been very hard." He looked to her as he handed her the goggles back, his hand lingering a bit on hers as she took them.

She couldn't answer him- not for a few moments, for somehow a burst of heat had touched her as his fingers did, and she didn't entirely understand it. She focused instead on replacing the goggles amidst the mass of quills, and catching a breath she didn't realize she'd lost. "We were close," she said, stretching her neck out as if it would dissolve the quickly forming lump therein, "but not close enough, I guess, that I was home with her when she was diagnosed with cancer. I was in Poland at the time." Her voice was suddenly soft. "I flew back immediately- to New England, actually. Rhode Island, is where she lived with Grandpa John- before he died. Year before. And I was with her for the treatment. But it wasn't enough." She pressed at a point on her forehead, shaking her head slowly. "I'm sorry. Now I'm rambling."

He shook his head. "No... don't apologize. Sometimes burdens can run around in your head forever until you let them out through words." He winced. "That's something Angelina told me at least..." He sighed. "I have a bad habit of bottling things up as well." He scratched his arm.

"But I have to admit... sometimes it's too much for one person alone."

"I'm so sorry about your sister." He swallowed with a wince, remembering back to the talk about cancer. "I... dear lord, I really didn't have much tact last we spoke, did I?"

Rather than answer his question, Emelyn suddenly broke out in a spontaneous smile- despite it all. "Dear Lord... oh, I thought I'd never hear a phrase like that again." She laughed despie herself. "You really are from New England, aren't you?"

Ambrose barked a laugh, feeling the mood lighten again. "Yes" He said amidst chuckles. "It's that obvious, huh?"

He shook his head, still grinning, the expression bringing out the boyishness of his features.

"So... you've been doing a lot of thinking as well? Have you reached any conclusions?"

"Thinking thinking... ooooh, I do a lot of thinking." She drew her knees up to her chest- it was getting a little chilly out here on the beach with the sand cooling and the sea breeze still rolling in off the tide. "Conclusions though- not so much. I'd only just convinced myself that I was to blame for everything that happened to me, when I decided... that it needed further revisiting. I figured that Moreau was doing the right thing, and that I was right to become some sort of martyr for the cause. ...But now I'm not so sure." She sighed again, speaking almost matter-of-factly. "Right now, the only thing I'm sure of... is that I'm alone. I don't know if I really ever need to get off this island- because there's no one waiting for me."

His brows were heavy over his eyes as he listened, shaking his head a little bit. "Not to sound presumptuous.... but how can you be blamed for your sister's cancer? For ending up here - as werent you shipwrecked? I know... that blaming yourself can often be the easiest way to try to deal with pain.... to shoulder that burden as opposed to choking it up to just the way things are... but it's not usually true."

He shook his head. "And... while I think that it's wonderful that you have found perhaps a reasoning to being here - some purpose... I honestly can't agree with it myself. There are better ways to do what he claims he is doing I would think. And certainly better ways that pulling people from their lives unwittingly - whether or not they give consent after the fact. If what he was doing was truly that moral... he wouldn't have to be doing it on a secluded Island outside of the US." He shook his head.

"And I say that you're lucky." He looked out to the horizon as the sun was swallowed by the ocean, unphased by the changing temperature. "I feel... cut off here. There was no closure to anything. I .... I haven't told many people, but I essentially ran away from home. I was furious with my parents and we hadn't spoken in over a year. And now I feel horrible about that. I... I really do love them... and I wish that they reciprocated. And Angelina..." He sighed. "I mean.... what am I supposed to do? That's what's burdening me the most. We're still together... well... were.... If we had broken up... if it really was life and death that separated us, then I could move on. I would know that there really was nothing still binding us. But that's not the case. I DO still love her, and I know that she still loves me. And I know she's alive out there, maybe even looking for me - or maybe she thinks I'm dead. I have no idea... and I don't want to give up hope."

He breathed in a lungfull of air. "The closest I've settled on is that I still look human enough to pass for normal.... maybe with a few alterations. I could still go home and live my life. If the experiment really doesn't do more to me than this... or whatever.... and so I still have hope. And I am trying not to think about the alternative that is trying so damndably hard to close in on me. Especially after seeing Greer change again." He kicked at the sand, realizing that he was opening a can full of worms on top of this nice woman whom he barely knew. He usually wasn't this forthright with his emotions at all - he bottled them up inside. Why was he telling his life story to her? His mind proferred two options that he didn't much care for - she reminded him of angelina... or it was the lupine side of him that sought companionship.

"Oh Ambrose," she said, feeling something more than pity as she placed her hand across his, her fingers grazing the sand at its edges, "It sounds like you actually do have faith. Or maybe hope is different from faith. ...I don't know. ...It's such a fragile thing- I don't want to crush that faith... but you have to know that you can never go back." The words stung in her mouth, an left a bad taste in the back of her throat- it felt like her words were poisoned daggers, and she hated every thrust. But another part of her egged the words on- as painful as it was, she couldn't abide by him from... moving on. Living his life here, as well as he could. "If you go back, I believe it that you won't last long. Moreau may be a liar... but I don't think that a human body can put up with this..." she held up a nearly-clawed hand, "for very long without upkeep. If you go back- you'll die. ...If you could even go back."

The next words were whispers, and they stung in the night through her lips. "I don't want to take away your hope," she said again, "but I don't want you living a life of regret. That's not a life. You have to start living here." Something compelled her... and she put her hand up against his face, turning his eyes to meet her with a gentle touch. "It's all we have left." The words echoed in the moonlight.



Ambrose's eyes stung with the harsh reality of her words. As much as he was trying to disbelieve it... he knew, deep down, that it WAS true. The fragile hope he had been building was just cleverly-disguised denial.. and he knew it.
But still, he tried to protest. "But they said the procedure was unpredictable. What if it doesn't change some of us as much as others... or further treatments just cements the changes that have occurred..." Those were the flimsy notions that he had tried to use to cement his optimism. "My humanity... your humanity... I believe that we still have it. I mean... truly... look at us... it's not that bad yet..."

He swallowed, his words catching is his throat as she directed his face towards hers with her warm hands, he saw the emotion in her eyes and the emptiness in his chest reached for it. The moment seemed to linger on the cool beach, the newly risen moon glimmering off the glass of her goggles, catching in the pools of her eyes. And a whisper in his ear asked if perhaps this was an answer... of sorts....

"I believe we still have our humanity, too. But not because it can be reversed. But because he can't change who we are." Her hand hadn't left his face while he spoke, and she now took it off- and the release was almost a jolt of its own, as she touched the mass of quills that built up past her hairline. "They may give me these- and these..." her claw-like fingernails ran across her cheek, "but this will always be me." She laid her hand across her heart, not aware she had so much feeling- she'd thought it had all died... and she was so overwhelmed that she was actually feeling something so strongly... that wasn't guilt, or fear... that tears ran down her cheeks. "And it doesn't matter where I am."

His face crinkled as he saw the strength of her emotions, and he chewed hard on his inner lip instinctually to keep it from pouring forth in front of someone else.
"I don't think that a reversal is realistic either... but even with where we are now... it can be disguised, shaved, and so forth. If they don't progress further... we could live normal lives back home."

"But... on the other hand.... if we do change further... if our faces become those of animals... how mcuh of who we are is what we present to the world? What other people think of us when they see us? They say if you wear a mask for long enough than you become that facade...."

He sighed and shook his head. "Things are so complicated." He gave a half-smile to her. "Welcome to a segment of the turbulent thoughts that have been playing through my mind lately."

She smiled. "I think we wouldn't be human, if we weren't so conflicted." She turned her claws over in the moonlight, examining them- and wondering how long until they really looked like an animal's. "So long as we agonize, we know we are human." She gave him a wry smile. "And yes, we could hide what we are from now- but how long until you think Moreau is going to change us? Not long enough to escape." She was tired of the pregnant pauses, so she just continued, letting the words that had been in her mind since their last conversation roll off her tongue. She was being so open- why stop now? "I... saw your transformation. I thought I should let you know. Moreau showed it to us-the tape... that girl, Thorn, and I. I don't know how he thought it would convince us- but I saw it. ...I'm sorry."

He couldn't help but give a small chuckle at that. "I suppose that much is true.... and the Doctor did say that he was pretty certain that we would, at the very least, retain our minds and our memories. Which I don't think I could bear knowing otherwise."

He shook his head. "I didn't mean try to hide out from further injections. I am pretty certain that he administers them in our sleep as it is. I just mean that maybe the experiment doesn't work the same on all of us. That the changes won't be as sweeping as the Doctor hopes. Or maybe since Greer's already changed, that I've already received my third injection as well and haven't changed any further. Because she changed for the first time after I did..." He shook his head. The hopes that he was describing were getting thinner and thinner.

He looked seriously to her as she admitted the fact. "You... saw that?" He squirmed a bit, as the memories of that night were vividly called to his memory. The pain.... the crying, and suddenly he had a hard time meeting her eyes, his face burning. "You must think me a child..."

"No. Pain is pain. No one is immune to what it does to us. ...When you're in pain, you forget that anything outside of yourself exists. Your world shrinks." She was speaking from an experience of emotional pain, and how her existance had shrunk to the size of her own fear- tight and controlled around herself, and how that feeling didn't go away until the pain had subsided. "I actually thought you were very brave. If I'd had such a hard transformation- I might have thrown myself over the cliffs."

He shrugged, feeling a little bit better at least. "Thanks... and... yeah, it's true. I guess I didnt' really think about the fact that people would have been watching me during that." he shuddered again. He didn't want to think about a repeat performance of that episode... especially as any further changes could only get more painful.

"I hope that you don't have to experience anything like that." He said sincerely. "Hell, I wish that no one here did."

"Well, I think people have had an easier time with it thus far... but it's only going to get worse." She let some of her own fear shine through, and her breath came out as a shudder. "The quills that have come out so far... have transformed from the normal hair follicles. But when they start cropping up along my back... those will have to come free on their own. I've looked it up in the library. Hedgehogs have over 7,000 spines. ....I can just imagine them coing through in a matter of hours. Like a cavalcade of daggers in..." her breath abandoned her, and she was unable to finish the sentence.

His mouth hung open for a moment before he shook his head quickly to right it. "Dear lord.... and I thought the thick fur was bad... growing hair from where there were no follicles before.... but quills?? You have to ask the Doctor if he can give you some morphine before he injects you... I heard that the Dude was able to get some..." He shook his head.
"But with the surprise injections that they seem to be resorting to.." Ambrose trailed off. "By the time most of the people have found out they'd been injected, it was too late - especially to run to the town center to get drugs."


"Moreau... told me I couldn't have painkillers. That it would disturb the transformation," Em said quietly, trying to regain her voice from where it had dropped, seemingly into the depths of the sea.

Ambrose looked confused. "That doesn't seem to make any sense. Why did he let the Dude have them then...?" He thought on how the Dude and Moreau didn't get along. "Unless that's the point... but I didn't think that Moreau would risk the health of his 'experiments.'"

She looked up at Ambrose- engaging in another one of the pauses she hated so much in their.. unpredictability. "So... he lied to me," she said, her eyebrows furrowing into a level line above her still so blue eyes.

He opened and closed his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. Finally, in light of her take on leveling with him as far as the reality of the situation he responded. "Unless he was purposely risking the Dude's safety... which doesn't seem like him, as much as I detest the man... then it sounds like it."

"I see," she said softly, the calmness of her words betraying the shock beneath the surface- the tumultuous, chewing sensation that ate at her from the inside. "So... it was probably all a lie. I thought I was doing something noble," she whispered to him, desperation tinging her voice. "I thought I had a new purpose to my life." Then... inexplicably, she laughed, and returned to his earlier question. "So have I made any conclusions? Only one. I have no idea what I'm going to do."

He winced, hating to be the bearer of bad news - a role that he had unfortunately found for himself more times than he could count since his arrival here. That, certainly, was not the purpose that he wanted.
"I'm sorry... I seem to be doing a miserable job in making you feel better, here." He gave her a lop-sided smile. "I hate to be the one to pull the sheet from your eyes, especially when I hardly know any more than the next person here. I really don't know what Moreau's be-all and end-all goal is here. All I know is that turning us in to animals seems a far cry to me to curing cancer."

He smiled to her softly. "And it's hard finding your purpose here.... I had just thought barely a year ago that I had finally found my purpose in life. That I was ready to risk it and move forward with what I wanted to do instead of what my parentes wanted me to do." He scoffed at himself and shook his head. "And look where it landed me. Maybe I should have never tried it in the first place. Now not only have I shattered my olympic-dreams, but I've also lost Angelina - never knowing closure. Not to mention transforming into a wolf. It would have been better to go to med school and broken up with Angelina - it would have saved everyone involved a lot of pain and heartache."

"...I'm sorry about Angelina. I know how important closure is. It's painful- but it's the only thing that helps you say goodbye." She recalled the picture sitting by her bed- the frame encrusted with dried out barnacles, and the glass cloudy from seawater damage.. but the same smiling face- with those same blue eyes that now stared into Ambrose's soul- shining back at her. She missed Mizzie more than anything in the world. But somehow, with that picture, shining back at her- she knew that she'd eventually be able to move on. Ambrose didn't even have that.

He nodded silently, swallowing down a lump in his throat.

"exactly.." He whispered.

He just sat there, beside her side, feeling the warmpth radiating off her.... and it felt nice.

"Thank you for talking with me, Emelyn.... I really do appreaciate it. And I apologize again for laying this burden on you.... I feel like I've been kind of unfair in that respect." He shook his head. Back home, he had gotten used to the luxury of being able to talk to Angelina.

Here, the Dude wasn't exactly a very sympathetic ear... and with Greer, things had become just a little bit awkward since she had become involved with the Dude. Was he looking too hard.... was she familiar.... or was there some sort of click? Or perhaps that was just her willingness to listen, and someone to commiserate with.

"No really- any time," she said, a smile spread warmly across her face. "It felt good to talk. And you just... know how to upset me just the right way, Ambrose Maurlias." She patted his hand and shrugged. "We may not have faith, but apparently we have... well, I don't know what we have." She laughed- very gently, "But it feels better than I thought it would." She stood finally, and sand fell from her pale body fringed with small edges of brown fur as she did.


He smiled sincerely as he rose with her, tentatively patting her on the shoulder a few times in an awkward gesture of appreaciation. "Thank you.." He said a bit wryly. "We have something." He concurred. "Maybe it doesn't matter quite what - as long as it is something." He brushed some of the sand that had clung to the fur on his bare legs. "And if you ever wish to talk more to me, well, I'm not exactly going anywhere." He smiled.

Thinking of one more thing quickly before parting, he spoke up. "Did you get the invitation to the Halloween party...?"

"Yes," she said, aware that this was the end of their conversation... and regretting it. She'd been so long without a real friend on the island- one that she didn't feel uncomfortable around, or like she was being appraised for being on "Moreau's side"... something that will undoubtedly change, she thought. "I've been working on my costume all month." She laughed, a little embarrassed. "You'd laugh. So you'll just have to find out on the day, when I get up the gumption to actually wear it. ...Are you going?"


His smile widened. "Really?" He was thankful for a pleasant turn for the end of their conversation. "I'm going as well - even if it is 'officially sanctioned', it should be a chance to enjoy myself a little bit. The last get-together we had involved alcohol and ended up in a rather amusing bout of truth or dare." He grinned. "So I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Now I feel bad" he teased. "I'm just having them order mine. But I'll leave that as a surprise as well." He commented.

He shuffled his feet in the sand. "would you like anyone to... er... walk there with?"
Why did he say that? Potentially ruin a good evening's talk. And apparently something in him was rebelling against the conscious decision that he had made to hold onto hope until he at least changed again.... but then again, he had also gotten a rather healthy shot of reality this evening....

She stopped in her tracks- for she'd already started to walk along the sandbar to the path that led to the village. His words froze her feet- and caused her eyes to fix on his. "...I can walk just fine alone," she said, carefully choosing her words. "But if you mean... a date?" She paused, as if appraising him- but really, appraising herself in the reflection of his eyes. "...Then yes." She took a step forward- her feet moved as if unbidden, and she rested one hand against his chest- it was nearly crushed there by how close they were... and she leaned up and left one soft kiss on his bottom lip- like the brush of a birds wing... and then it was gone, and she was standing back, several paces away from him. "...Goodnight Ambrose." She said simply... and turned and walked into the forest.


Ambrose's voice caught in his chest as the suspense of her reply nearly stole the wind from him. Then, slowly, too slowly, it dawned on him that not only did she realize what he was eluding (in his mind) very subtly to... but she also accepted - even after that!

His eyes lit up as her lips brushed his, his face immediatetly rushing with blood as a blush settled onto his cheeks. His fingertips raised to brush the spot where his lips were still tingling as he watched, in stunned, but happy silence as she took steps away from him. Then, as the realization of what just happened hit him, and it was good! His nub of a tail began wagging forcefully and audibly against the cloth of his shorts. "G... Goodnight to you as well... Emelyn~!" He echoed, firmly rooted into place for a good few minutes before finally returning to the village and his duplex.. on cloud nine.

Awen was tinkering with some wires on the Tv in the entertainment room. She went down to the room to explore and found that it had a kickin' TV and an xbox. She was appauled by the Doc though, sure the xbox was nice and all but what's an entertainment room with only one gaming system? Awen was currently plugging in her Game Cube to the TV. She had brought all of her games down and decided to share. Except for her PS2. She plays that too much to rreally give that up so easily. She was pulling back and turned the TV on. She flipped channels a few times and pressed the power on the game cube. "Aha got it!"

Emerwyn wasn't certain of what she thought when she entered the entertainment room. She never played video games, and avoided television whenever possible. She did watch some movies. But what she was really looking for was the one material thing she lived for - books. There were a few scattered about, but the selection wasn't too good. In fact, she was disgusted at the number of electronics as compared to literature. With a sigh, she searched the shelves. Most of the books she'd already read, but she picked an old favorite, Brave New World. Then she remembered how much she hated the ending, and she put it back.

Jamal sauntered into the entertainment room, his expression one of suspicious inquiry, a partially deflated basketball tucked under one arm. He hadn't yet taken a proper tour of the village and figured the rec center to be the best place to start with. Besides, it looked like it might be bustling with activity...and girls, of course. His gaze did a broad sweep of the room, mentally taking inventory of the electronics. It was rather disappointing considering how fancy the main building had been. He half expected a damn rollercoaster or a huge entertainment system. The black man gave an audible grunt of annoyance and a snort.

"Good lord, Captain Morgan- I can't follow you everywhere." She'd been at the orange majesty's beck and call all day, ever since the wee crack of the morning when she'd awakened to find the cat of the mellow-going islander mewling at her door. Now, he was persistant that she follow him into the gameroom and so she did, sighing as she went, and scooping up the orange beast as soon as they made it through the door. Only then did she realize- she'd never been in there before. And at least one of the current occupants... she'd never met before.

Awen hadn't honestly noticed anyone else in the room until she heard the destinctively male grunt somewhere behind her. She finally turned away from the TV, now proudly displaying the GameCube menu screen, and saw three distinct people she had never met before. One near the bookshelves she sort of recognised... but she couldn't figure from where. Maybe she was the person by the river? Awen let the thought go because it didn't really matter that much. The other two, however, she knew she didn't know at all. She slowly stood up and smiled. Not knowing which of the three to adress she deided to just address everyone. "Um well... Hello. I don't think I've met any of you yet." She said seeming to be rather bouncy-cheeful. honestly she had been in a much better mood lately. "I'm Awen" She knew she probably looked like a complete dumby just annoucing something to the room like that, but she wanted to know as many people on the island as she could. Friends were the only thing that was probably going to get her through this whole experience anyway. But she blushed a little bit in the few seconds of silence that always happened in situations like that.

Emerwyn was re-brousing through the book, trying to remind herself why she hated it, so she might give herself another shot at it, when a young lady's voice addressed the room. She spun around quickly. She was feeling rather jumpy for some reason. She saw the blue-haired girl who had disappeared at the river. She seemed to be in higher spirits today. Though the greeting was indeed awkward, Emerwyn complied.

"Hello. I'm Emerwyn. We'd met by the river the other day." While waiting for a response, she skimmed more books, finding many on animals. Perhaps Moreau wanted to educate the islanders so that they can get used to their new bodies, and how they'll function. She wondered if she should do some research, for future reference...

Jamal cocked a brow lazily at Awen as she gave the entire room a mass greeting, a spark of mischief flashing in his eyes as he casually checked out all of the ladies present. One he recognized as Emelyn, whom he shot a wink to in hopes of catching her eye. The other two...well...the blue haired one looked a bit young and a little more eccentric than what he was used to. Not many brothers in Detriot had strangely dyed hair. The second woman seemed to be about his age, so he also shot her a wink and sauntered more towards the center of the room to be a bit more involved.

"Whatup ladies," he drawled: slyly. "Da name be Jamal...but yous can call me whateva ya like."

Emelyn took steps into the heart of the room, the orange tabby settling all his weight into her arms as she did so. It felt like a meeting of strangers- for although she'd met Emerwyn and Jamal before, they were one-time, bizarre encounters. The blue haired girl near the television, the one who'd spoken up to be introduced- was brand new, as far as she knew.

"Emelyn," she said warmly, "And I'd shake your hand, except there's a cat sitting on it." She laughed, and turned to Emerwyn. "I'm glad to see you up and about. Moreau must have patched you up." She'd noted Jamal's wink at her- but for some reason, she felt strange entertaining flirting... after what had happened with Ambrose the night before.

Awen smiled slightly more from learning everyones name. She glanced to Emerwyn, though Amaya had told her name to Awen she'd forgotten it in the rush to get away from the water and they hadn't really formally met but.. technicalities didn't really matter. She just felt the awkwardness in the room and wondered what she should do now? Well... you started it Awen you'd better get yourself out of it, she thought to herself. But honestly she knew she should have just kept quiet. What was she thinking anyway? She noted Jamal, who had winked at the other two women in the room but not her. Not that she was surprised really, Awen didn't think she'd wink at someone who had just tried for a mass introduction either. But enough thinking time for speaking... Awen flustered a little bit with words. She hadn't planned that far ahead. She looked tothe cat in Emelyn's arms. Oh hey a tabby would be a cool thing to turn into to.... Wasn't she supposed to be speaking...? "Um well, nice to meet you all. Sorry for the... weirdness.... New, nervous and...uh yeah... I'll just go and.. uh.."

She felt herself going red to her ears so she just turned and crouched back down by her games. "stupid..." She mumbled to herself as she sorted through the stack of games deciding which one to put in.

Emerwyn saw the man across the room wink at her. She smiled wryly at him. Turning now to Emelyn, she said, rather cynically, "Oh, the Doctor patched me up all right." She realized the lighting in here took away from the skeletal look her face bore in broad daylight. Otherwise Em would've plainly seen that Emerwyn was far from being "patched up." Now, she turned her attention fully on the young Awen. The poor girl must have it so hard... As do we all... She abandoned her books and sat down beside her. "It's alright." She placed a hand on her shoulder. It was finally her turn to lend a hand and an ear.

"We're all in this together."

Okay, Jamal's ego was effectively knocked down a few pegs when all he got was a smile from the strange older woman and hardly an acknowledgement from Emelyn. Jamal decided perhaps to check out the TV and gamingsystem was his best option for now. Besides, he did have some pretty wild gaming skills depending on the system. He nonchalantly tossed his deflated ball into an empty chair and hovered over Awen's shoulder, watching


"Oh, well, I'm glad he did something..." Em said in a tentative voice to the back of Emer's head as she spoke softly to Awen- having noted the sarcastic tone in Emer's voice but not knowing quite what she meant by it. She'd also noticed that Awen had given Captain Morgan a look... which she mistakenly figured was a desire to pet or see the furry beast. So she released him onto a couch so all could enjoy the animal. Then she looked at Jamal- achingly aware that she was the only changed person in this room, and perhaps the only changed person he'd met. It made her feel a little self-conscious- after all, here was a man who probably just figured she was a freak... but in typical Emelyn fashion, she buried the insecurities and walked towards the other gamers..

"I hope that thing has four controllers."

Awen gave Emerwyn a small smile and a muttered thanks. She looked over her other shoulder noticing the big man hulking over that shoulder. She was feeling both happy and awkward as she flipped through the games at being in the middles of all these people now. She pivoted a little bit laying the games out infront of the others so they had a better view. She grinned up at Emelyn when she spoke. "What kind of gamer goes without enough controllers? Especially on the GCN, really it's more of a party system than anything else... nintendo is notorious for making the most and sometimes best fun multiplayer games. Though...nothing really beats out Halo2 in my opinion nintendo likes the more fun party games, mario party, super monkey ball...that kinda thing." She had converted her own awkwardness into a possitive rambling about gaming. "But I don't limit my game buying to those, I've got like resident evil somewhere here.... but if you're all looking to play...." She trailed off, only Emelyn had really said anything about playing. Emerwyn was just there to comfort and she didn't really see Jamal as the "party game" type. She just pushed the games out for the others to pick and fell silent again.

Emerwyn was certainly not the gaming type at all. She'd never played. Except for one time that Noah, the grown-up child that he was, had brought his video games to the bookstore for them all to play. She was lost completely and had no desire to pursue the activity ever again. She also felt the need to leave, because the poorly spoken man was looking her over as a shopper looks at different slabs of meat. Once again, she became very aware of how much less conservative her new clothes were, and she cursed Moreau and his personal tailor. She'd been leaning forward slightly, too, and she quickly sat up, wondering where her coat was. With all of this discomfort she simply smiled awkwardly; this island was driving her crazy. This was the second time she'd been at a loss for words. "If you'll excuse me, video games really aren't my thing." At last! she found her voice. She stood up slowly, giving a pat to Awen, and returned to her bookshelves.

"Resident Evil is ma game," he said enthusiastically after picking through her rambling and locking onto the familiarity of the previously mentioned game. "s**t, me and ma dawgs tear that game UP."

For the moment, he had forgotten about either Emelyn or the woman whom one'd think he'd just assaulted with his mere (if not somewhat wandering) gaze. He vaguely heard her declare her distaste forgaming and heard her retreat away from the group, but didn't look up. Instead, he grinned at Awen in approval and clumsily knelt down to check out what she had there. Finally he had something to do other than sit in his room and smoke up whatever remaining pot stash he had left or try to place one-on-none with his partially deflated basketball which he had cleverly tried to fix with duct-tape when he was still living in Detriot.

"I've played games like this occasionally..." Em said, rifling through the titles with her almost claw-like nails- hoping that the scratch they made on the cartridges didn't disturb anyone. "But really, my favorite thing to do with gamers is to watch someone else play. ...My sister used to play things like... Final Fantasy and Tomba. I was in charge of the instruction booklets, and I'd keep her company while she'd play. Keep the boring parts like leveling up from making her not want to play anymore."

...The memory stung, a little- and so did mentioning Mizzie. But she was going to have to start bringing the memory of her sister back into her every day life, if she ever wanted a chance to get over her death. This island was a strange place to 'move on'... but at least it was a definite starting point from a completely different perspective.

Em sat on the couch and allowed the tabby to get back in her lap, drawing her legs up into an indian-style pose and settling back against the cushions.

"Play away... 'dawgs'," she said jokingly, raising one brunette eyebrow pointedly.

She nodded a bit to Emerwyn when she left the emidiate group. not everyong liked video games and she understood that enough. Maybe Emerwyn would like to borrow the book Awen had brought since she seemed so intent to find new books there. But she would ask her another time and grinned broadly at Jamal. "Good at Resident Evil huh? Maybe we'll just have to see about that sometime huh?" She looked over to Emelyn now on the couch. She felt kind of bad that only one person wanted to partake in the gaming but she understood sometimes she liked it better just to sit and watch others play. "Final Fantasy is the best RPG, I have from seven up in my room.

Awen looked back to Jamal and nodded her head to the Game cube. "If you want just pop the RE in there okay? I was really just setting it up and making sure everything still worked. sometimes, ya know stuffed in a bag for hours controllers tend to get....busted. But feel free to play yourself?" She smiled a little bit.

Emerwyn felt no qualms at all about leaving the group. She'd come here to read, and after her friends all split up, reading had become a solitary activity. She finally decided on Frankenstein, she remembered thinking about it when she first arrived at the island, the feelings and vibes she had gotten. She really looked up to Mary Shelley, too. She also made certain she'd grab a couple of animal books. So, she blinded grabbed one, tucked it under Shelley and started to exit, hoping she wouldn't be noticed.

"Don't mind if ah do," Jamal said saucily, plucking one controller off the ground and unceremoniously plopping the game into the system. He made himself comfortably on the nearest open couch, all but sprawling over the entire seating surface. He acquired tunnel vision shortly after, blocking out everyone else as he proceeded to get through the start of the game.

"Oi! Jamal! Stop bogarting the couch!" She laughed and edged over to the farthest corner, getting an irritated look from Captain Morgan as she relocated them. She kept her eyes on the game as it started but patted the couch next to her and spoke to Awen. "Sit down here. I haven't gotten a chance to get to know you yet. ...How long have you been here?"

Awen smiled a little bit and moved over to the couch with the other two, but instead of trying to sit on it and crowding everyone she sat on the floor and leaned against the couch between Jamal and Emerlyn. "Oh. Something like a week I think..." As she got this closer view of Emelyn she noticedthat she had also been changed. She had been too distracted, embarassed, before to actually notice. "OH! So you're already-" She cut herself off and glanced at Jamal. She wasn't sure if he knew already or not... by his composure.... Awen had guessed not. She cleared her throat a bit after the stumble. "Um... already used to the uuhh.. time zone switch eh?" She laughed a little nervously, such a lame cover up. "I'm still not too used to it, probably why we haven't seen each other... uhh weird sleeping habits."

"s**t, der yous go usin' strange words again," Jamal quipped to Em in a friendly manner without removing his gaze from the TV. "Yous forgettin' a brotha don't speak that bullshit."

He leaned forward as he blasted some poor soul into oblivion, his sprawling hardly contained still to his side of the couch though he did give Em more room. The man's brow quirked at Awen's slightly faulted statement but didn't find anything unusual about it. It was true he had no idea what was really happening on the island...and it probably wouldn't be a good thing once he found out.

"Bogart means to take. It's not actually a regular word. It's... slang." She stroked Captain Morgan, letting the beast turn over in her lap to get his belly scratched, and obliging it gladly. "Besides, it won't kill you to get a little schooled." She laughed to let him know she was teasing.

"And Awen," she said, prodding the girl gently in the back of the head to warrant her attention, "Yes, I have... gotten used to the time zones." She understood the near faux pas of the blue-haired individual, and appreciated that she didn't want to alert Jamal as of yet. Besides, if he didn't yet know anything was up by the fact that she was 25% hedgehog... well, he obviously didn't want to know.

Awen rubbed the back of her head where she had been poked and nodded a bit. "I see I see...." She was still looking forward at the screen though. "Oh oh Jamal to the left! Watch out!" She grinned knowing the level back and forth and he didn't look like he was gonna catch that one. She was curious though, she couldn't tell what Emelyn was going to be. She liked the double talk and decided to continue. "So Emelyn, random question, what's your favourite animal?" She hoped the other girl would get the meaning well enough. She didn't mean to intrude or anything she was just curious about the people on hte island. Also taking in tallies for her "is moreau evil' poll...



Emelyn looked nervously away from the two speaking before she answered Awen's question, so as to hide the appearance of her nose. "Er... its... a hedgehog, actually." She coughed, and then buried her fingers in Captain Morgan's fur. "I see... sweetness, and kindness in him," she answered Jamal, still looking away. "Animals are soft and accepting in a way that people can't be. ...Haven't you ever felt like you had to fight to be understood, to just.. survive?" She stroked the purring cat. "Animals... just accept you. You never have to fight. Something in that is very appealing," she said softly, placing a single kiss between the orange cat's ears.

Awen nodded a little bit at Jamal. "I think Boxers...or pitbulls... I can't remember which... were outlawed by a bylaw in my town." She shrugged a little bit. "They had caused a lot of problems appearently though I never really noticed anything....." She tilted her head back to rest against the couch to look up at Emelyn. She smiled a little awkwardly from the possition but she meant it to be a nice smile. It just looked funny upside down. "Hedgehogs are cute you know." She looked back to the screen and was silent a bit during the fighting to survive bit. She always fell silent when Lauren said something like that too... She grew up in a rich family, though her family part might have been cut short when she was seven she was still rich enough to be taken well care of. She didn't really get into those convorsations because she knew nothing of them really. "Behind you Jamal." She said in a duller tone than before.

"I ain't got no use fer an animal unless it can ******** a brotha up that tryin' to steal my s**t." Jamal said this very matter-of-factly as he blasted the head off some sort of zombie-looking thing. That was a moot point, however. For all the smack he talked, he seemed to be getting his a**-handed to him. "I ain't keepin' no animal that ain't workin' fer it's meals...and that thing look like it ain't much for workin. Unless yous skerd of a mouse, that is." He chuckled at his own wit, but quickly his good mood soured as he was effectively wiped out by the baddie that Awen had pointed out second ago. He grumbled and tapped the blue-haired girl's shoulde and offered her the controller. "Lets see how good you be," he challenged, giving her a sharp nod to accompany it.

"Well," Emelyn said, choosing her words carefully, "I can understand wanting to surround yourself only in things that are useful to you. ...But to me, Captain Morgan... that's his name," she explained, "is useful to me. He wants to be taken care of, wants someone to love him, and I feel needed because of that. So he fulfills... his purpose." She didn't want to have to make him understand- because sh knew that his view on animals would change soon enough. ...At least, for his own sake, she hoped so.

Awen grinned. "Watch and learn n00b." Once she took on that controller the game changed around. She had played the game so much every enemy was mastered in moments. Every puzzle solved quickly as possible. She laughed. "You tear this game up huh?" She rolled her eyes a little bit and her fire seemed to be ignited. She was totally showing the guy up. After all it was her game and she had had mroe time to practice... Not the point. When Awen got onto video games she totally got vicious. The sweet girl she seemed to be evaporated and she became a beast, at least by comparison. She was worst when she played Soul Calibur 2... She nodded back to Emelyn a bit. "And she has a point. Comfort is in and of itself a purpose man."

"Cats is pretty damn pointless to me," Jamal said with a shrug, making himself comfy again, which included more sprawling, which he did with a completely innocent expression though he looked at Em out of the corner of his eye. It was then again he noted how different she was, though he couldn't put his finger on it. All this talk about animals...he almost swore he could see a nose pad on Em instead of just a dark spot...no, that was silly. Some people just had features that made them look like animals. Hell, one president's picture he'd seen had been compared to a chimpanzee...he decided to drop the topic, even if it was a one-sided mental conversation. Back to the topic at hand, which was basically that he was getting shown up pretty badly by a woman. He decided to play it nonchalant though and smiled brightly, rolling his eyes in jest.

"Naw, yous just doin' so good cause I ain't wanna make you look back....Dat 'n a brotha gonna admit to bein' rusty."

Emelyn brushed a stray quill behind her ear- damn, she thought to herself, I'm going to have to quit doing that- just buckle down and get used to it. She was starting to feel a little... strange, what with the end of the animal conversation, that had so much subtext it almost reeked of double meaning. She found herself yawning, and Captain Morgan signalled her leave by jumping off her lap and running out the door. She watched him go with a sleepy expression.

"I guess that's my cue. It was nice to meet you, Awen, and I'll see you soon neighbor. I've got to follow the beast." She tapped Awen on the shoulder. "Kick his a**, girl." She winked at Jamal and followed after the animal. "See you." And then she was gone.

((And that marks the end of Em-involvement. You may check Jamal or Awen's journal for the remainder.))

It was the day! Ambrose had spent a good deal of the morning primping: showering (using the nice shampoos and soaps), burshing his hair (and fur), making sure his teeth flashed pearly white, and even sprayed a touch of cologne. Finally, he donned the costume that had arrived by his door just in time. The velvety blue material felt so nice - the staff apparently had spared no expense in the halloween costumes. Putting on the shirt, pants, tabard, belt, boots, gloves, and finally, the plumed hat, he grabbed his epee, and tucked it securely into his belt. Giving himself a dashing smile in the mirror before he left, Ambrose walked with a spring in his step to Emelyn's duplex, and knocked on the door.

The costume had been a few weeks in the making- and the planning of how it was all going to go together had taken days, near the end. So it was almost a disappointment to Em that she was dressed so quickly, and had so little to do after she'd slipped into her costume besides look in the mirror and tease her hair into behaving. Something about the invitation had begged for an ironic costume, and in a... dubious (at best) burst of vision, Emelyn had decided that she would go as not a Playboy Bunny... but rather, a Playboy Hedgehog. The black bustier with the heart-shaped curve it made against her breasts had been handmade- sewn herself, down to the darts. The ears- made from curved brown felt and attached to her aviator goggles, had also been handmade- but the shoes and stockings had been order out, and the collar and sleeve cuffs had been cut from a white shirt and pulled to the front with black buttons. Moments before Ambrose knocked, she tried to quell her excitement, and adjusted her hair to spike up as much as it could, coaxing the limp quills to stand on end. She'd only just taken a step back to look at the full effect... when the door knocked.

She jumped back, startled- but excited, and danced in place. "Just a minute!" She hurried towards the door, the black pumps clicking on the floor, and threw open the door.


Ambrose waited by the door, his curiousity building as far as what precisly she might be dressed as. His curiousity was soon quelled, however, when the door was thrown open to reveal a very.... very scantily-clad Emelyn. Ambrose's eyes widened and his mouth opened in a surprised - but happy - smile.

"Emelyn! W... wow!" He swallowed, trying to keep his eyes from wandering over her figure that was being quite nicely accentuated by her costume. "That's.. impressive! A ... playboy bunny..?" He blushed. "But no ears.."

She laughed, putting a hand up to her throat for lack of anywhere else to put it, and to touch the collar that was buttoned there. "Playboy Hedgehog, actually." She took her hand off the collar and flicked at one of the ears with a delicate motion. "I thought I was being funny. Must have been smoking some of the local vegetation... or... something." Then, for the first time, she allowed herself to take a good look at Ambrose. He was very... dashing. So she said so aloud. Unfortunately, her inner dialogue didn't seem to be working, because she also added "And you smell great."

Ambrose grinned widely as he looked at it again. "That's very creative! I like it... and wow... I didn't forsee something like this - you look wonderful!" He blushed a bit as she complimented his own costume. "I was hoping to." He spread his arms and turned a bit with a smile. "I couldn't resist."

He puffed up his chest a bit, smiling a schoolboy smile. "You really do look great." He gave a deep bow. "And, my lady, it would be my honor to escort you to the ball."

A blush crept up to the apples of Emelyn's cheeks, flushing her face with a warmth she was wholly unoccustomed to. She took a single step out of her duplex, closing the door behind her- and almost felt shy, stepping up to the dashing Musketeer. But she brushed a quill behind her ear and looked up at him through lowered eyelashes- for even on heels, Ambrose was taller than she'd ever hope to be. "How gallant," Em said, taking his arm.

Ambrose smiled softly with a bit of a chuckle. "And we make quite the couple... separated by a few hundred years, perhaps." He teased.

Holding out his elbow for her to take, he slowly began walking towards the tent that was lit up just outside of the village.

"So what inspired you?" He asked, looking at her costume.


She looked up at the sky, rolling her eyes in mocking of herself. "I have... no idea. I don't think I'd ever wear this normally. ...Not that I've 'done' Halloween in years. Maybe this is just all that pent up 'need to embarass self' energy manifesting itself in... a bustier." She laughed, and squeezed his elbow. The material was very fine, and she couldn't help but think that the outfit fit him... strangely enough, almost to a tee. It was as if a second skin had taken over this New England boy. "I swear, Ambrose," she said, daring a look over into his eyes, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a musketeer. You fit it so well."



Ambrose smiled. "Well, I think that this is the probably a more theraputic than some outlets for such pent-up things." He winked.

He scratched the back of his head briefly at her compliment. "Thank you, Emelyn. I... I really like it" He chuckled. "Something tells me I'll be hanging onto it long after Halloween itself ends." He smiled. "I... just hope it will still fit a few months from now." He hesitated.

"Oh," she said softly, "I hadn't even thought of that." The pause that followed her words was evident, and may have taken that one step further into ominous, had she not ran her free hand down the side of her bustier and shook her head with a smile, bringing some light into the subject of... change. "Good point, though. I don't see how this would fit once the quills come in." She laughed, but the merriment was more out of a need to comfort Ambrose. They were walking slowly enough, but she stopped them altogether to release his elbow, and turn to face the man.

"Oh and... just in case I don't tell you afterwards... I had a really good time tonight." She smiled, and hoped with all hope that the look of it lit up her face.

Ambrose took this comment as a good excuse to steer the conversation to something more positive than thoughts of further changes. Tonight was a festival, and they were going to enjoy themselves.

"I think you look lovely, Emelyn. And ... I'm glad. Hopefully the rest of the night will be as enjoyable as it has started off." He ran a hand genly over the spikes in her hair with a smile.

"We're almost there." His smile was magnetic as he spoke to her, gesturing to the tent.

"Eeeh..." she said, more of an exclamation of a breath than a word itself. "I wonder who's there." She turned away from his smile, knowing that it would only make her giddy- and she wanted to keep some of her wits about her as they walked towards the beautiful tent.

It was morning, and all that remained of Emelyn's Halloween costume was a pile of black material and torn tights on the floor of her duplex. This morning, she was back in her jeans, work boots, and a large floppy shirt with the sleeves rolled up to allow her arms the joy of some island air. ...The village was quiet, as it had been all morning. Emelyn didn't know if the denizens were recuperating from the Halloween party... or from the terrible realization of Moreau's power.

She'd been writing all morning- but something about enduring such a doldrum of dead quiet after the previous evening of companionship caused her to crave some company other than her own thoughts. So when brunch rolled around, she made her way to Ambrose's duplex.

"Ambrose?" She asked the door, knocking on it with a soft force of her knuckles. "Are you home?"

The laughter of the dream started echoing off into the blackness, replaced by a repetitive hollow knocking sound. Ambrose groggily moaned into the pillow, putting a hand to his head. His head pounded and he felt rather nauseous. He didn't think that he had had THAT much to drink last night.....
The memory of his dream washed over him and he groaned again, rolling to a sitting position, hoping that the dream would fade like dreams tend to do, but the imagry seemed to be petulantly stuck in his mind.

Suddenly, the realization that the knocking sound wasn't just a part of the dream hit him and he got unsteadily to his feet. His entire body was aching. Was he sick?

Slowly, he made his way to the door and opened it up, squinting into the sunlight.

Ambrose looked about how he felt - deep circles under his eyes, a bit on the pale side, and for the first time Emelyn had seen, he had a 5 o'clock shadow. Not to mention he was still wearing (minus the hat, glove and boots) the musketeer outfit from the night before).

"Emelyn.." Ambrose blinked and forced a weak smile. "It's good to see you." He shielded his eyes and gestured into the room. "Come in, please" He gave her an apologetic look. "I apparently drank more than I thought last night.... maybe someone spiked the punch..."

"Oh, you poor thing." ...You poor bedraggled thing, she thought, additionally, still hanging in the doorway. "Are you sure you want company right now? Is there anything I can do? I didn't mean to wake you up."

Ambrose smiled with a shrug, thinking back to the dream. Company sounded wonderful. "Actually.... if you don't mind, I would love to spend some time with you. The party last night was great.... up to a point of course, but I didn't see enough of you." He gave a lop-sided grin as he stepped back and let her into the room.

He took a heavy seat on the edge of the bed an gestured to the chair that was close by.

"Sorry, I'm sure I'm not much to look at this morning" He scratched the back of his head. "I haven't even brushed my teeth yet" He admittedly sheepishly.

She beamed, and accepted both the invitation into the room and the seat in the offered chair.

"I know- everything went so fast, I didn't get to see as much of you as I would have wanted, either."

If Ambrose didn't look like he was experiencing the worst hangover of his life, Em would have brought up what had happened at the end of the evening- and the terrible meaning behind it... but instead, her focus was just to not feel any better.

"Could I get you anything? Like... a glass of water? How are you feeling?"

Ambrose flashed her his best smile considering the circumstances. "Water sounds wonderful. Thank you, Emelyn."

He started to pull off the tabard off (there would still leave the white swashbuckler shirt on underneath). "I'll have to get a raincheck from you for the slowdance" He smiled at her as he lifted the tunic off over his head. As he did, and evading Ambrose's notice, a small square package patted down onto the bed.

"No worries!" She laughed, getting up and going over into the clean, narrow bathroom that was a staple for all the duplex rooms. She closed the door a little behind her, and filled up an upside-turned cloudy glass on the sink to fill with cold tap water. The light flickered, and she called through the crack in the door, "We can slowdance some other time." She turned the faucet off, and pursed her lips in the mirror, making a quick face at her reflection before pushing back through the door.

"Besides, you've got an advantage over me. You're still dressed all dashing, and I'm just in jeans and workboots. ...Here." She handed him the glass of water, leaning over the bed slightly as she did so. In the process, she noticed a small square on the bed, where it looks like it had been cast aside.

"What's that?" She asked, bending in to see it closer.

"I think you look beautiful" Ambrose rebutted. "Regardless of what you're wearing." He smiled, running a hand through his disheveled hair, unstyled save for the mussing that the bed did on it as he tossed and turned throughout the night previously.

He graciously accepted the water glass, and had started to drink when he followed her gesture to the small package on the bed, and promptly choked on the swallow of water. Spluttering and patting his chest, he tried to swallow it down properly while fighting a rising blush. "Nothing!" He quickly said unconvincingly.

Emelyn had already gotten a clear view of the square, however, and she straightened, an eyebrow cocked.

"Hm. Nothing. I didn't know that was a brand of condom." She sat back in the chair, moving it- not so imperceptibly- further away from the bed with a single shift of the legs. "...Do you need anything else?"

His face blanced upon her realization and then quickly changed to a deeper shade of red. "I....." He swallowed. "I didn't mean... er... I didn't expect..... It was from Vasile!" He blurted out, hoping that that sentence alone might suddenly make it okay.... judging from what he would have done in a similar situation, he realized that that might very well have the opposite effect. "He said... well... I certainly didn't bring any.... and well... we're stuck here so long - I took it because I figured, you know... eventually .. maybe... Ugh" He gave up, burrying his face in his hands.

"You figured, hm?" She said, her eyebrows leveling into one, very unamused line above her eyes. "Hm. Seems like you and Vasile have been doing a lot of thinking." She stood. "Well, Ambrose, I hope you feel better soon." It was said almost coldly- matter-of-fact... but then she turned and went for the door, and her conscience got the better of her, and she turned to look back over her shoulder.

"Really, if there's anything you need, just let me know. Feel better." And with that, she turned the knob and was gone.

Ambrose cringed, not really knowing what to say. He hadn't expected anything of her - especially not any time soon. But after some long hard thinking that they might very well be stuck there for the rest of their natural lives, Ambrose, while he did consider himself a gentleman, wasn't ready to become celibate for the rest of his life.

"Emelyn..." He tried to call apologetically. His illness adding to the pitiful sound. "I'm sorry - Believe me, I didn't mean anything of the sort! I just...." He sighed. There was no use right now - not feeling like he did, and not with her upset. He would... talk to her later... write her a note... something like that.

"Thanks" He said quietly, consoled at least somewhat by her small after-the-fact change of heart.

Achingly, he got to his feet and picked up the small offending package, and with an irritable snarl, wrested open his sock drawer and burried it inside. As he pushed it closed and turned to walk towards the bathroom to freshen up or shower or something, another wave of dizziness hit him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

He barely made it to the bed, his head reeling even more. He was hot, feverish, and as he scrambled to get his musketeer shirt and pants off, he became aware of an increasing ache in his right tricep....

Suddenly the hot wave turned ice cold, setting his hairs on edge as he realized exactly what was going on. THe punch wasn't spiked. He didnt' have that much to drink last night. He wasn't sick. It was the next injection.

"No...." he cried out softly, flashes of Hargun and Greer and Cassidy flashing in his mind. They barely looked recognizable anymore... their faces... changed... the changes....

Halting that train of thought was a stab of pain at the base of his spine as he cried out in a very lupine yelp. Ambrose began to wish fervently that he had never been woken up as the raging itch that had accompanied his first change began to spread over his body, all over his body. From his chest to his face to his legs and groin and back.

"No..... please" He whimpered to the vacant room, knowing with a sickening feeling that someone was watching this with a perverted pleasure.

It was worse, many times worse than before. A thousand times worse than the faded memory of the pain that had hit him that fateful night about two months ago. He bit down hard on the pillow, muffling his screams, refusing to give the technicions the satisfaction of seeing him cry again. His body ached, and itched, the searing pain at the base of his spine not halting but intensifying, soon joined by a mirrored pain in his face. He breathed, trying to ride it out, not sure if he was more terrified by the pain itself, or by facing the results of what changes they wrought.

The minutes faded into hours - time seeming to be irrelevant to the miserable figure curled into a fetal position on the bed - it was an endless torment that he was gripped with. At least the pain iteself was less frightening than the repercussions that it might bring with it. And so Ambrose clenched his sharpening and lengthening teeth into the pillow, letting the world fade around him behind the searing torment.

Greer stood in her doorway, unable to step in and shut the door behind her. The hawk had had enough of sitting inside all day, and was damned if it was going to let her do it again. But after those two little confrontations in the cafeteria, Greer really didn't want to go out and possibly bump into another akward moment. She needed to be outside, but somewhere she knew she would have trouble...

Glancing around her room, her sensitive eyes came to rest on the book Emelyn had given her. That's it! She could go visit Em and get more books to boot! Excellent plan. Scooping up the tome, the woman trotted quickly over to her friend's duplex and knocked on the door.