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A moment ago, Ethen had been running forward blindly, at least in the sense that he had eyes for the soap bar and that soap bar only. He failed to notice Fawkes and his fox, nor did he hear the sinister chuckling of Simon's fanged daemon or feel the heightened strains of tension within each member of the rooms. Unconsciously he had pushed Underneath into the pockets of cloth that made up his muffler, keeping his hands open for the capture. He continued to proceed, ignorant still of the soap's intended path of destruction. You see, Ethen knew little of the power that comes with rage, particularly female rage. So as the soap began to fall from the height of its airborne path, Ethen, still blind, approached the soap with a wild, boyish, half-smile. YES!! The soap ******** - Ethen looked into his open hands - he had gotten the soap. His adventurous spirit, however, was soon wrenched into into something approaching dismalness, judging by his facial expression. He looked at Declan, at all of him, and felt a brotherly sympathy.

"E-hehhh," however, was the only luxury in vocabulary his tortured imagination could offer him. After all, it DID look painful... but, after all, Ethen had gotten what Declan wanted in the first place. Saying sorry just didn't seem appropriate for such a victory!

((BTW, Raife - thank you. XD I can't stop laughing... XD ))

A husky chuckle escaped the curled lips of the wolf-daemon as she padded her way back to her boy. Reaching her tongue out to tickle his cheek, she nudged him to get him moving, feeling his embarrassment at seeing the nude girl rolling off him in waves.

Simon shook his head and ran a hand over his face in a effort to clear the blush from his cheeks. Placing a hand on Dee's shaggy neck for strength and stability, he stood, bottle in hand. Feeling it might be best to keep his hands free and not wanting to break his new acquisistion, he offered to the air, "Hey! Uh, you think we should perhaps bring this stuff back to the kitchen? So we don't lose it or break it or whatever?"

Simon should know better than to think anything was beyond the House, but he had to admit he was suprised when he found himself deposited neatly on the floor of the hallway outside the room they had just been it and that that room had just relocated itself at the other end of the hall.

Blinking in a mix of shock and humor, he stood and let out a sigh. "That settles that," he uttered, briskly crossing the few paces between his companions and the kitchen door. Leaving his bottle by the rest of Declan's strange gear, he returned to the hall and offered Death a quick pat. Her mood was begining to take a down turn. She disliked all this playing around.

Ethen assumed that his nervous chuckle had not gone over well with Declan, because instead of standing in the room with him and the bathing woman they'd come across, he was sitting on the floor in the hallway, facing the door Declan had shoved Ethen and the others out of. Underneath, who had been clinging desperately to Ethen's shirt with her teeth during the soap bar escapade, plopped into the cradle between Ethen's abdomen and his bent knees.

"Next time," she panted, "please-- set-- me down." While she spoke, Ethen recognized a strange rectangular lump underneath his bottom. Indeed, he had been sitting on the soap. Once Underneath noticed the stupified grin on his face and the true target of his attentions, she gave a quiet sigh. She was caught between relenting panic and affection in the action - being angry at such an innocent yet troubled boy was beyond her capabilities.

A deep rumbling resounded throughout the hall. Turning to see the floorboards rolling upwards in a pattern of harmonic motion, Underneath leaped into Ethen's lap and the boy, in turn, wrapped his arm around his daemon tightly (his free hand, of course, going to the soap). In seconds he was rolled, heels-over-head, to the other end of the hallway, the other teens following in what couldn't have been a much more graceful manner, though dizziness prevented the boy from confirming this.

When Ethen sat up again, Simon was fiddling in the kitchen and Fawkes sat not too far from Ethen, rubbing his neck. With the soap bar secured in the folds of his muffler and Underneath in his left arm, Ethen rose from the ground, swiped the dust from his bottom (regretably forgetting that, having rolled across the entire floor, more than just his rear was dirty), and extended a hand to Fawkes for the second time that day.

"Here - if the house lets us, we should probably go looking for more stuff. At least until Declan's back." Looking over his shoulder, Ethen noticed Simon re-enter the room.

(( As they are conceptual characters, I'm working on Ethen, Underneath, and their personalities (they're not changing TOO radically). However, I won't let that affect the RP that's going on now, as it wouldn't be appropriate, I think. Just an FYI. :3 ))

Fawkes stood with his arms crossed, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He was getting antsy.

" Looking for more things seems like a good idea," he said, maybe a little too fast. He was deffiantly getting too antsy. " The faster we find these things for that Declan guy, the faster we get out of this crazy house."

< Careful there tough guy. If I didn't know better I'd say you sound like you are scared.> Rouge snickered gently to herself.

" I'm not scared, I'm antsy. This house gives me the creeps," he whispered angrily to her. But all he got was her mocking snickers.

With a slight growl, Fawkes clapped his gloved hands together, rubbing them back and forth.

" Let's get this adventure started then."

Fawkes eyed Ethen for a moment. At least someone was making a desicion. Pulling his cloak closer, Fawkes fell into step next to Ethen.
" You could probably find some bleach in there aswell. My gaurdian sometimes uses it to clean really dirty stuff. Makes the place reek something awful, but it does look better. "

Fawkes shuddered at the memory of the nose burning stench. He wasn't too thrilled about finding it. He especially hoped that the bottles would be labeled and doing the "bad, bad thing" of smelling the contents wouldn't be in his near future.

With a sharp sound of cloth cutting through the air, Fawkes turned towards Simon. He arched an eyebrow at the boy, considering the his words.

" That may be true, but I'd rather be moving than standing around with a finger up my nose, trying to figure out what to do." He knew he sounded harsh, but at that moment he truly didn't care, he was getting bored and was tired of being in this disgusting, confusing house.

Rouge spoke softly, trying to calm Fawkes. She knew how he got when he was antsy.

Fawkes scoffed then turned back toward Ethen, still keeping Simon in view. Just because he was in a bad mood, doesn't mean he had to be completely rude.