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Windfall - Chapter 2b: The Otter Holt
Windfall
Chapter 2: Watching the Clock
Part B
First chapter: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/17028825/
Previous chapter: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/17731884/
Kylie, an excitable otter, can hardly wait. Max, her best friend, is coming to visit for the first time since their cable TV show ended. He also happens to be her unconfessed crush.
~ ~ ~
Max wagged against the seat. Hard to believe he had three whole weeks with Kylie. He couldn't puzzle out the mood of her feline pal, but no one expected him to understand cats, not even cats.
The dappled light through the forest played across Kylie's delicate whiskers. She caught him staring and tilted her head toward the window. "I promise there's a town behind those trees."
The dog nodded, as if he'd been staring at the trees the whole time. Maybe he'd missed her more than he realized. He watched out the window as they crested a ridge and swung around the edge of Windfall. He sat up a little straighter. "Oh, wow, this is just like the show."
"Yeah, her mom basically copied the whole town." Shane swished his tail from the driver's seat. "I'd take you down Main Street, but we'd run into the credits."
Laura Bevy had been the executive producer and lead writer on Strangeville. Max had always admired how she could cultivate the chaos of running a television show while somehow keeping track of a teenaged otter daughter. Not that Kylie had been a been a bad kid, just precocious and stubborn—traits that had mellowed out around the time she was legally allowed to vote.
A parade of weathered wooden buildings drifted past. Various styles and eras, but most seemed several decades old. The town lay in a hill-strewn valley among a string of minor mountains, a gap where streams and settlement had collected. He hadn't spent much time on the East Coast, but it felt like the backdrop for a romance novel about lighthouse keepers. Or maybe lobster fishermen.
They left Windfall behind. A winding, uphill road led on as they passed out of sight of all civilization. Gnarled forest limbs grasped from all sides. The road passed under a wrought iron archway; a rust-bled sign, dangling above missing gates, read "Bourn Manor." To either side, a crumbling stone wall extended into the woods.
Max turned to her. "Bourn?"
"We used to be the Bourns, but, y'know, stuff happened." She shrugged a little too fast. "Marriage mostly."
The husky's brow furrowed in thought, but he let the evasion slide. She'd tell him if it were important.
The minivan rolled up a long driveway, the mundane crunch of gravel counterpointed by the ornate mishmash of a house. The sprawling manor hunched, ancient and aged, against a backdrop of jagged pines. The back half of the structure seemed to have engulfed a smaller house like some kind of architectural growth. Countless windows watched him from three long-forgotten stories. A walkway ensnared the nearby carriage house, between which struggled a twisty, weed-choked creek. Scabby paint whispered shades of gray. What little sunlight dripped through the trees threaded the ornate filigree of porch railings.
Max hopped out of the van and surveyed the property. "So. I see you've moved into a horror movie."
Slipping to his side, the otter wiggled a rueful shrug. "It's not as bad inside. We're reclaiming it, but it's slow going." She glanced to the open window of the minivan. "Thanks again, Shane."
"Sure." The tabby half-waved. "Talk to you guys later." The dented minivan chugged off, vanishing down the wooded hill toward town.
The canine squinted toward the roof. "What's the weather vane? I can't see from down here."
She crossed her arms. "It's a fish."
He grinned wryly. "Of course it is."
"Max!" The front door swung open. An older, stouter otter in a seaweed-patterned blouse and beige slacks bobbed down the stairs and swept the dog down into an embrace. "Oh, it's so good to see you!"
Kylie rolled her eyes. "Sheesh Mom, let him get in the door first."
Wagging, he returned the hug, his arms on her shoulders. "Hi, Ms. Bevy."
"My wayward child returns." The middle-aged lutrine set a paw on either wide hip, looking up at him. "And I've told you to call me Laura."
A grin as he shrunk a little. "Yes you have, Ms. Bevy."
"Well, you're as proper as ever. And more handsome, if that's possible. Wouldn't you say, sweetheart?" The elder Bevy elbowed her daughter.
"Mo-om!" The younger otter squirmed back.
Her mother laughed. "I'd have picked you up myself, but somebody didn't want to wait for me to drive down and pick her up after work."
Kylie crossed her arms, tail slipping a little around the canine beside her. "In my defense, I thought he'd have more than one bag and we'd need the van."
Max shrugged, hefting the bag to his shoulder. Long-dead ancestors of the otters he knew had worn most of the paint from the boards of the porch. The overhang seemed faded, perhaps a bit warped, but sturdy. With another look up the looming house, he decided maybe he'd better see more than just the surface before deciding just how creepy it was.
"C'mon, lemme give you the tour." The younger otter took him by the arm, leading him up the porch. Its peeling paint crumbled under their feet.
The dog shrugged to Laura, who waved him along.
The front door creaked open, carved and heavy. Beyond lay a foyer, appointed with modern trappings against old wallpaper. The younger otter flourished a bow to the left. "Your room, Monsieur."
Max set down his bag in the entryway, amazed how far she could bend over. After six months out of their company, Max had forgotten just how much otters differed in construction from dogs. If he tried to bend like that, he'd end up in traction.
After a scant glance at the guest bedroom, she walked on, sweeping a paw to the next room. "Living room. Kitchen's back that way. Beyond lies wilderness."
He surveyed the landscape of sheet-draped furniture and dusty boxes. A stack of black-and-white photos revealed otters on their backs around a gramophone, knitting sweaters and mending fishing nets. "You weren't kidding about the place being full of old stuff."
"Junk is the preferred term." The lutrine rolled her eyes. "Legends tell of a garage somewhere back there; not sure I believe it."
Near the foot of the stairs, the husky slowed to examine a board of ancient keys. Each nail held at least one ring of them. Each ring held at least half a dozen keys, sorted by chronology and rustiness.
"The Keys of Mystery." Kylie jingled them with a wiggled of her fingers. "We found a drawer in the kitchen with like two hundred years of random keys in it. Whenever we find a door with a lock, it's like the world's most tedious game of Perfection. Let's head upstairs."
Following her, he set a hand on the railing. It wiggled under his weight.
She glanced back, creaking the old stairs. "Yeah, don't use that. Mom's got a contractor lined up to fix it."
His ears lifted in alarm.
She slumped with a small sigh. "No, there aren't any other safety hazards." She led him upstairs and into a tidied bedroom. The occasional box lay along the walls, still waiting to be unpacked. A light smattering of posters splashed color around the space—a tattered tribute to the pop sensation The Sugar Gliders sparkled beside the faded cartoon cast of Majestica and the Defenders of Pegastar. "None that I know about, anyway. The house is older than the telegraph or something ridiculous. Who knows what else is falling apart."
The canine's eyes flicked from the fresh phytoplankton-green paint to the new carpet to the wide bed. The room was a weird island of girly modernity in the spooky old house, like someone had spliced ten seconds of puppy cartoons into a horror movie. "Nice. It's very you."
"I like to think we have at least this much of the house settled." Her eyes lit up. "Case in point." She bellyflopped onto the bed. It sloshed back and forth. Her body rolled over every wave as she rolled to grin up at him.
A roll of his eyes did nothing to fade his smirk. "Waterbed."
"Waterbed!" She wriggled about on its surface. "You have no idea how nice it is not to sleep on a spring mattress."
With a shake of his head, he glanced out the window, noting a quaint greenhouse and pond. Kylie's mother seemed to be carrying some sort of flower pot in that direction. Further out, the forest closed in, scaling the ancient stone wall that ringed the estate. "So your mom…"
"Pounced on the master bedroom, which has a study and will soon have a hot tub." The otter sat up, rocking back and forth like a buoy on the waves. "It's all very impressive."
"And the rest of the upstairs?" He waved a digit around.
"More wilderness." She grabbed a pillow and propped herself up with it. "Peeked into the basement and attic—same deal. About two thirds of the house we've only been in to make sure there aren't any wild animals." Her tail swished over the sheets, stirring more ripples. "We'll explore while you're here. If you're into big rooms with spooky cloth-covered furniture, it's a really good time."
"This place is decked out like a costume drama." His paws rested on the window sill. "I keep expecting a butler to materialize."
She nodded, itching the soft, cream-colored fur of her neck. "Back in the day, between the family and the help, something like twenty people lived here."
Max glanced around and imagined his extended family stuffed into one building for more than a weekend. "Suddenly, even this house seems too small."
"Yeah, I don't think I could handle it either. The property has outbuildings; they mostly lived there." Her rounded muzzle flashed a smirk. "Mom and I just like you enough to let you stay in the house."
"Thanks, rudderbutt." Sitting beside her, his weight sloshed her up with a squawk. He watched her with amusement. Paws out spread, he managed to remain upright on the sloshing surface. "I'll try not to be in the way."
"No, please, be in the way." She gripped his arm. "It's been super boring. Mom hides out working on projects most days."
"Oh?" The canine's ears perked in an instant. "What's she working on?"
Kylie tipped a hand back and forth with fluid grace. "I don't think she knows yet. You know how it goes." She smirked up at him and thumped his chest. "Sorry to disappoint your inner fanboy."
She wasn't wrong. Getting to see Laura work from up close had been one of the coolest parts of the show and he'd been dying to know where she'd go now that Strangeville was finished. He changed the subject. "What about school? You looking at any colleges?"
She grimaced. "Not really. Still decompressing from the show. Moving across the country got complicated fast." She elbowed him. "You've got that covered, though."
He shrugged. Covered was a strong word. "Just some classes: this and that, seeing what sticks." A chuckle. "Liked the writing class I took, but the instructor seemed more interested in talking about his dream journals than teaching us how to tell a story. Kind of put me off."
"I always liked your stories. You should do what you enjoy." Her eyebrow lifted in his direction. "As long as it isn't acting."
"Hey!" He poked her flank in retaliation.
She flicked him with the tip of her tail. "Just saying, you're lucky Serge is basically you with a Russian accent and a penchant for dramatic lighting."
His legs crossed, adding a dapper tinge to his hulking demeanor. "I'll have you know I have an offer on the table even now."
The otter smirked. "That Ukrainian kibble commercial?"
"I could get you a part too." He settled an arm on her shoulders. "I'm told we have chemistry."
Her paw slipped around his back. "I might've heard that somewhere."
His tail swished against the blankets. "Seriously, though: without you, I would've just been a bit part. I don't know if I ever thanked you for that."
She patted his side. "Hey, it worked out pretty well for me too." A slight blush crept under her cheek ruffs. "I mean, I got way more screen time than I did as the tagalong kid."
"You weren't really a tagalong, since you brought skills no one else had"
"That's a generous assessment." She chuckled. "And then you showed up and we hunted monsters. We didn't have the best track record, but we did our damnedest."
"You were the audience surrogate too, especially in the early seasons. You'd ask the questions the viewer would be asking. Then the writers reached a point where you'd already have the relevant information, so they started handing the confused lines to me." He furrowed his brow. "And then they never stopped." He shook his head. "Serge was kind of dense."
"It made him cute." Her phone buzzed. She slid it from her pocket. "Mom says dinner's ready."
The husky raised an ear, with a glance to her mobile. "She texts you from downstairs?"
"Eh." She offered only a shrug and a smirk. "Big house." She stood, which caused the waterbed to become unstable and left Max in a slow tip backward. She giggled and lent him a paw.
Once he'd managed to scramble off the shifting surface, he followed her down the stairs. "Back home, we just bark at each other."
~ ~ ~
Max closed the door to the guest room, alone for the first time since he'd stepped off the train that afternoon. Without Kylie to hurry him along on a tour he could take time to get acquainted with his new lodgings. The room was dominated by a big, plush looking queen bed beneath a bay window. Pale, neutral wallpaper and dark carpet, kind of like a hotel room. An old, massive dresser stood guard in one corner, and it seemed even bigger once he'd tucked his few items of clothing into it. He pondered buying some new clothes after all, just to keep them company.
The bathroom encouraged him: small, but private and comfortable. The ancient plumbing only groaned a little when he went to wet his toothbrush, and while he brushed he couldn't help but notice how clean the counters were, how bright the steel of the faucets. Most the house he'd seen sat dusty and cluttered, only natural with just two people and such a big space to care for. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make his living space as comfortable as possible.
He returned to the bedroom and pondered his temporary home. He smiled, thinking back to his time staying with the Bevy's in Hollywood, pretending to be an actor. He wondered if all the time he spent feeling at home in temporary lodging had been what made his permanent bed in Montana feel so strange.
He shrugged out of his shirt and emptied his pockets onto the nightstand. First his pocketknife: a sleek, simple thing Kylie had given him on their second Yuletide together. Then a handful of loose change, the ruins that four days of dining carts and train stop convenience stores had made of the hundred dollars his father had slipped him. This he stuffed into his plain, thin wallet and set beside the alarm clock. Last was his keyring, used more for the little flashlight on the keychain than for the pair of battered steel keys to his family's house.
His eyes caught a flash of brass and he smiled. There, at the base of his bedside lamp, Kylie or her mom had left him a bright, freshly-cut house key. It was as warm a welcome as he could have hoped for. Sliding it in place with the others, he admired it on his keyring for a moment before it joined his wallet and knife in the pile.
The husky flung back the covers and climbed into bed. Even the thin blanket felt too heavy for the summer heat, so he let it drape over just his legs as he stared up at the ceiling. Seeing Kylie again had been really, really good. He'd almost forgotten how well they clicked, how in-sync they could be. The thought of spending a few weeks palling around with her made him smile in the darkness until the days of travel crept up on him and he fell asleep.
~ ~ ~
Windfall now for sale online! Over three years in the making and it's finally here. :D The book is a M/F furry romantic comedy in a Lovecraftian horror setting.
More previews here:
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/10973174/
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/12950193/
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/12278672/
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/14827336/
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/14467401/
All art for the book:
Slate
~ Tempo
Chapter 2: Watching the Clock
Part B
First chapter: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/17028825/
Previous chapter: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/17731884/
>>Physical copies: http://furplanet.com/shop/item.aspx?itemid=798
E-book: http://baddogbooks.com/?product=windfall <<Kylie, an excitable otter, can hardly wait. Max, her best friend, is coming to visit for the first time since their cable TV show ended. He also happens to be her unconfessed crush.
~ ~ ~
Max wagged against the seat. Hard to believe he had three whole weeks with Kylie. He couldn't puzzle out the mood of her feline pal, but no one expected him to understand cats, not even cats.
The dappled light through the forest played across Kylie's delicate whiskers. She caught him staring and tilted her head toward the window. "I promise there's a town behind those trees."
The dog nodded, as if he'd been staring at the trees the whole time. Maybe he'd missed her more than he realized. He watched out the window as they crested a ridge and swung around the edge of Windfall. He sat up a little straighter. "Oh, wow, this is just like the show."
"Yeah, her mom basically copied the whole town." Shane swished his tail from the driver's seat. "I'd take you down Main Street, but we'd run into the credits."
Laura Bevy had been the executive producer and lead writer on Strangeville. Max had always admired how she could cultivate the chaos of running a television show while somehow keeping track of a teenaged otter daughter. Not that Kylie had been a been a bad kid, just precocious and stubborn—traits that had mellowed out around the time she was legally allowed to vote.
A parade of weathered wooden buildings drifted past. Various styles and eras, but most seemed several decades old. The town lay in a hill-strewn valley among a string of minor mountains, a gap where streams and settlement had collected. He hadn't spent much time on the East Coast, but it felt like the backdrop for a romance novel about lighthouse keepers. Or maybe lobster fishermen.
They left Windfall behind. A winding, uphill road led on as they passed out of sight of all civilization. Gnarled forest limbs grasped from all sides. The road passed under a wrought iron archway; a rust-bled sign, dangling above missing gates, read "Bourn Manor." To either side, a crumbling stone wall extended into the woods.
Max turned to her. "Bourn?"
"We used to be the Bourns, but, y'know, stuff happened." She shrugged a little too fast. "Marriage mostly."
The husky's brow furrowed in thought, but he let the evasion slide. She'd tell him if it were important.
The minivan rolled up a long driveway, the mundane crunch of gravel counterpointed by the ornate mishmash of a house. The sprawling manor hunched, ancient and aged, against a backdrop of jagged pines. The back half of the structure seemed to have engulfed a smaller house like some kind of architectural growth. Countless windows watched him from three long-forgotten stories. A walkway ensnared the nearby carriage house, between which struggled a twisty, weed-choked creek. Scabby paint whispered shades of gray. What little sunlight dripped through the trees threaded the ornate filigree of porch railings.
Max hopped out of the van and surveyed the property. "So. I see you've moved into a horror movie."
Slipping to his side, the otter wiggled a rueful shrug. "It's not as bad inside. We're reclaiming it, but it's slow going." She glanced to the open window of the minivan. "Thanks again, Shane."
"Sure." The tabby half-waved. "Talk to you guys later." The dented minivan chugged off, vanishing down the wooded hill toward town.
The canine squinted toward the roof. "What's the weather vane? I can't see from down here."
She crossed her arms. "It's a fish."
He grinned wryly. "Of course it is."
"Max!" The front door swung open. An older, stouter otter in a seaweed-patterned blouse and beige slacks bobbed down the stairs and swept the dog down into an embrace. "Oh, it's so good to see you!"
Kylie rolled her eyes. "Sheesh Mom, let him get in the door first."
Wagging, he returned the hug, his arms on her shoulders. "Hi, Ms. Bevy."
"My wayward child returns." The middle-aged lutrine set a paw on either wide hip, looking up at him. "And I've told you to call me Laura."
A grin as he shrunk a little. "Yes you have, Ms. Bevy."
"Well, you're as proper as ever. And more handsome, if that's possible. Wouldn't you say, sweetheart?" The elder Bevy elbowed her daughter.
"Mo-om!" The younger otter squirmed back.
Her mother laughed. "I'd have picked you up myself, but somebody didn't want to wait for me to drive down and pick her up after work."
Kylie crossed her arms, tail slipping a little around the canine beside her. "In my defense, I thought he'd have more than one bag and we'd need the van."
Max shrugged, hefting the bag to his shoulder. Long-dead ancestors of the otters he knew had worn most of the paint from the boards of the porch. The overhang seemed faded, perhaps a bit warped, but sturdy. With another look up the looming house, he decided maybe he'd better see more than just the surface before deciding just how creepy it was.
"C'mon, lemme give you the tour." The younger otter took him by the arm, leading him up the porch. Its peeling paint crumbled under their feet.
The dog shrugged to Laura, who waved him along.
The front door creaked open, carved and heavy. Beyond lay a foyer, appointed with modern trappings against old wallpaper. The younger otter flourished a bow to the left. "Your room, Monsieur."
Max set down his bag in the entryway, amazed how far she could bend over. After six months out of their company, Max had forgotten just how much otters differed in construction from dogs. If he tried to bend like that, he'd end up in traction.
After a scant glance at the guest bedroom, she walked on, sweeping a paw to the next room. "Living room. Kitchen's back that way. Beyond lies wilderness."
He surveyed the landscape of sheet-draped furniture and dusty boxes. A stack of black-and-white photos revealed otters on their backs around a gramophone, knitting sweaters and mending fishing nets. "You weren't kidding about the place being full of old stuff."
"Junk is the preferred term." The lutrine rolled her eyes. "Legends tell of a garage somewhere back there; not sure I believe it."
Near the foot of the stairs, the husky slowed to examine a board of ancient keys. Each nail held at least one ring of them. Each ring held at least half a dozen keys, sorted by chronology and rustiness.
"The Keys of Mystery." Kylie jingled them with a wiggled of her fingers. "We found a drawer in the kitchen with like two hundred years of random keys in it. Whenever we find a door with a lock, it's like the world's most tedious game of Perfection. Let's head upstairs."
Following her, he set a hand on the railing. It wiggled under his weight.
She glanced back, creaking the old stairs. "Yeah, don't use that. Mom's got a contractor lined up to fix it."
His ears lifted in alarm.
She slumped with a small sigh. "No, there aren't any other safety hazards." She led him upstairs and into a tidied bedroom. The occasional box lay along the walls, still waiting to be unpacked. A light smattering of posters splashed color around the space—a tattered tribute to the pop sensation The Sugar Gliders sparkled beside the faded cartoon cast of Majestica and the Defenders of Pegastar. "None that I know about, anyway. The house is older than the telegraph or something ridiculous. Who knows what else is falling apart."
The canine's eyes flicked from the fresh phytoplankton-green paint to the new carpet to the wide bed. The room was a weird island of girly modernity in the spooky old house, like someone had spliced ten seconds of puppy cartoons into a horror movie. "Nice. It's very you."
"I like to think we have at least this much of the house settled." Her eyes lit up. "Case in point." She bellyflopped onto the bed. It sloshed back and forth. Her body rolled over every wave as she rolled to grin up at him.
A roll of his eyes did nothing to fade his smirk. "Waterbed."
"Waterbed!" She wriggled about on its surface. "You have no idea how nice it is not to sleep on a spring mattress."
With a shake of his head, he glanced out the window, noting a quaint greenhouse and pond. Kylie's mother seemed to be carrying some sort of flower pot in that direction. Further out, the forest closed in, scaling the ancient stone wall that ringed the estate. "So your mom…"
"Pounced on the master bedroom, which has a study and will soon have a hot tub." The otter sat up, rocking back and forth like a buoy on the waves. "It's all very impressive."
"And the rest of the upstairs?" He waved a digit around.
"More wilderness." She grabbed a pillow and propped herself up with it. "Peeked into the basement and attic—same deal. About two thirds of the house we've only been in to make sure there aren't any wild animals." Her tail swished over the sheets, stirring more ripples. "We'll explore while you're here. If you're into big rooms with spooky cloth-covered furniture, it's a really good time."
"This place is decked out like a costume drama." His paws rested on the window sill. "I keep expecting a butler to materialize."
She nodded, itching the soft, cream-colored fur of her neck. "Back in the day, between the family and the help, something like twenty people lived here."
Max glanced around and imagined his extended family stuffed into one building for more than a weekend. "Suddenly, even this house seems too small."
"Yeah, I don't think I could handle it either. The property has outbuildings; they mostly lived there." Her rounded muzzle flashed a smirk. "Mom and I just like you enough to let you stay in the house."
"Thanks, rudderbutt." Sitting beside her, his weight sloshed her up with a squawk. He watched her with amusement. Paws out spread, he managed to remain upright on the sloshing surface. "I'll try not to be in the way."
"No, please, be in the way." She gripped his arm. "It's been super boring. Mom hides out working on projects most days."
"Oh?" The canine's ears perked in an instant. "What's she working on?"
Kylie tipped a hand back and forth with fluid grace. "I don't think she knows yet. You know how it goes." She smirked up at him and thumped his chest. "Sorry to disappoint your inner fanboy."
She wasn't wrong. Getting to see Laura work from up close had been one of the coolest parts of the show and he'd been dying to know where she'd go now that Strangeville was finished. He changed the subject. "What about school? You looking at any colleges?"
She grimaced. "Not really. Still decompressing from the show. Moving across the country got complicated fast." She elbowed him. "You've got that covered, though."
He shrugged. Covered was a strong word. "Just some classes: this and that, seeing what sticks." A chuckle. "Liked the writing class I took, but the instructor seemed more interested in talking about his dream journals than teaching us how to tell a story. Kind of put me off."
"I always liked your stories. You should do what you enjoy." Her eyebrow lifted in his direction. "As long as it isn't acting."
"Hey!" He poked her flank in retaliation.
She flicked him with the tip of her tail. "Just saying, you're lucky Serge is basically you with a Russian accent and a penchant for dramatic lighting."
His legs crossed, adding a dapper tinge to his hulking demeanor. "I'll have you know I have an offer on the table even now."
The otter smirked. "That Ukrainian kibble commercial?"
"I could get you a part too." He settled an arm on her shoulders. "I'm told we have chemistry."
Her paw slipped around his back. "I might've heard that somewhere."
His tail swished against the blankets. "Seriously, though: without you, I would've just been a bit part. I don't know if I ever thanked you for that."
She patted his side. "Hey, it worked out pretty well for me too." A slight blush crept under her cheek ruffs. "I mean, I got way more screen time than I did as the tagalong kid."
"You weren't really a tagalong, since you brought skills no one else had"
"That's a generous assessment." She chuckled. "And then you showed up and we hunted monsters. We didn't have the best track record, but we did our damnedest."
"You were the audience surrogate too, especially in the early seasons. You'd ask the questions the viewer would be asking. Then the writers reached a point where you'd already have the relevant information, so they started handing the confused lines to me." He furrowed his brow. "And then they never stopped." He shook his head. "Serge was kind of dense."
"It made him cute." Her phone buzzed. She slid it from her pocket. "Mom says dinner's ready."
The husky raised an ear, with a glance to her mobile. "She texts you from downstairs?"
"Eh." She offered only a shrug and a smirk. "Big house." She stood, which caused the waterbed to become unstable and left Max in a slow tip backward. She giggled and lent him a paw.
Once he'd managed to scramble off the shifting surface, he followed her down the stairs. "Back home, we just bark at each other."
~ ~ ~
Max closed the door to the guest room, alone for the first time since he'd stepped off the train that afternoon. Without Kylie to hurry him along on a tour he could take time to get acquainted with his new lodgings. The room was dominated by a big, plush looking queen bed beneath a bay window. Pale, neutral wallpaper and dark carpet, kind of like a hotel room. An old, massive dresser stood guard in one corner, and it seemed even bigger once he'd tucked his few items of clothing into it. He pondered buying some new clothes after all, just to keep them company.
The bathroom encouraged him: small, but private and comfortable. The ancient plumbing only groaned a little when he went to wet his toothbrush, and while he brushed he couldn't help but notice how clean the counters were, how bright the steel of the faucets. Most the house he'd seen sat dusty and cluttered, only natural with just two people and such a big space to care for. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make his living space as comfortable as possible.
He returned to the bedroom and pondered his temporary home. He smiled, thinking back to his time staying with the Bevy's in Hollywood, pretending to be an actor. He wondered if all the time he spent feeling at home in temporary lodging had been what made his permanent bed in Montana feel so strange.
He shrugged out of his shirt and emptied his pockets onto the nightstand. First his pocketknife: a sleek, simple thing Kylie had given him on their second Yuletide together. Then a handful of loose change, the ruins that four days of dining carts and train stop convenience stores had made of the hundred dollars his father had slipped him. This he stuffed into his plain, thin wallet and set beside the alarm clock. Last was his keyring, used more for the little flashlight on the keychain than for the pair of battered steel keys to his family's house.
His eyes caught a flash of brass and he smiled. There, at the base of his bedside lamp, Kylie or her mom had left him a bright, freshly-cut house key. It was as warm a welcome as he could have hoped for. Sliding it in place with the others, he admired it on his keyring for a moment before it joined his wallet and knife in the pile.
The husky flung back the covers and climbed into bed. Even the thin blanket felt too heavy for the summer heat, so he let it drape over just his legs as he stared up at the ceiling. Seeing Kylie again had been really, really good. He'd almost forgotten how well they clicked, how in-sync they could be. The thought of spending a few weeks palling around with her made him smile in the darkness until the days of travel crept up on him and he fell asleep.
~ ~ ~
Windfall now for sale online! Over three years in the making and it's finally here. :D The book is a M/F furry romantic comedy in a Lovecraftian horror setting.
More previews here:
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/10973174/
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/12950193/
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/12278672/
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/14827336/
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/14467401/
>>Physical copies: http://furplanet.com/shop/item.aspx?itemid=798
E-book: http://baddogbooks.com/?product=windfall <<All art for the book:
Slate~ Tempo
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1151 x 850px
File Size 378.6 kB
Finally got around to reading the whole thing! Blew through it as fast as I could and enjoyed it very much. A good mix of romance and drama, though admittedly I'm not 100% into the sci-fi, but whatever. I'll definitely be keeping an eye out for future works, especially if you do anything else with these characters.
I think it was a solid page turner with good characters, and the darker parts didn't get too heavy as to overwhelm the shipping--which imo was basically what originally drew me to it. Gah I'm such a sucker for furry romance.
As for specific things, I'd say I really liked Laura's characterization the most; her snarkiness really fit well with her occupation. The steamy scenes were well done, and I thought you painted a pretty good picture of the town itself, though it's uniqueness kind of threw me a bit at first (sorta pictured something like Lenox, MA mixed with Estes Park, CO). What I wasn't immensely happy with was the last scene with Joe. Idk something about it felt kind of rushed and unexpected, even though there was a precedent for it. I also admit that it might just be me (not totally on board with alien sci-fi stuff in general).
But yeah I'd totally be down for a sequel. There's a lot of room for further development, especially in terms of their professional careers and family matters.
As for specific things, I'd say I really liked Laura's characterization the most; her snarkiness really fit well with her occupation. The steamy scenes were well done, and I thought you painted a pretty good picture of the town itself, though it's uniqueness kind of threw me a bit at first (sorta pictured something like Lenox, MA mixed with Estes Park, CO). What I wasn't immensely happy with was the last scene with Joe. Idk something about it felt kind of rushed and unexpected, even though there was a precedent for it. I also admit that it might just be me (not totally on board with alien sci-fi stuff in general).
But yeah I'd totally be down for a sequel. There's a lot of room for further development, especially in terms of their professional careers and family matters.
Glad to hear it! I try not to have my work get too dark, since the stories I enjoy most keep a fun tone overall. And don't worry: anybody who reads down into the comments of one my stories is probably a sucker for furry romance too. X)
I found Laura interesting to write. She's sassy and far more secure about her place in the world than Kylie. Her snark is a defense against the craziness of her profession and of the supernatural elements she's trying to forget. As for Joe, I wanted his last scene to be a surprise, even if it was hinted at.
The sequel will feature more of their careers and interactions, especially once Kylie's dad shows up...
I found Laura interesting to write. She's sassy and far more secure about her place in the world than Kylie. Her snark is a defense against the craziness of her profession and of the supernatural elements she's trying to forget. As for Joe, I wanted his last scene to be a surprise, even if it was hinted at.
The sequel will feature more of their careers and interactions, especially once Kylie's dad shows up...
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