Izzik gathers his equipment, Izzabella starts cooking, Izzik sets off to the park for his first gig.

All characters featured belong to  IzzyTheShizzy

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Izzik had long since finished his “business” and set about in his room preparing for the day ahead of him. The actual ceremony wasn’t until tomorrow, but he was invited to take “behind the scenes” photos of the wedding rehearsal for a quarter of the daily rate. He wasn’t exactly sure of the legality of such a proposal, but he figured that it would give him an opportunity to get the lay of the land. Packing his bag with the usual telephoto lens for close-ups and intense focus, a normal zoom lens for more dynamic movement for when the ceremony actually began, and a short, stubby wide angle lens to get a good shot of the entire setting. He placed the body of the camera gently, carefully placed in it’s revered position in the center of the bag and strapped down to ensure no jostling.

Making sure all of the attendant accessories, lens wipes, extra batteries, a shotgun microphone for natural sounds as well as various lavalier microphones in case interviews were necessary. He was making a “behind the scenes” video after all. Everything accounted for, he scooped the bag up and walked it over to his door, setting it next to a tripod and a simple light kit. Satisfied with his work, he checked the black minimalist watch on his wrist, still plenty of time before he even needed to think about leaving. Shrugging, he sauntered over to his computer desk, setting his sock-lick headphones on his long rabbit ears and flicking the switch do deaden all ambient sound except for that of his computer.

About an hour had passed, he was sat, leaning forward, elbows on the desk, fingers interlocked and resting under his chin, azure eyes glued to his iridescent screen. In the midst of turn ninety-seven of God knows how many playing a grand strategy game, he was idly watching the AI take it’s turn at the pace of a snail. That’s when the loud BANG sound erupted from his door, the slapping of Izzabella’s note somehow cutting through industrial grade headphones. Snapping him out of his trance, he pulled the headphones off his ears, and set them lengthwise on the table. Pushing himself off his chair, he walked over to the door, and his ears perked at the distinct sound of Izzabella’s door slamming shut.

Cautiously, he opened his door, still wary of any possible shenanigans from his diminutive roommate. Seeing no sign of her in the hallway, his attention turned to the door to her note. The feeling of relief washed over him, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He shook his head and plucked the sticky note from his door, folding it and sliding it into his pocket. Quietly walking out of his room, he walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge to see that his mocha was also there. He smiled widely, reaching in and picking up the coffee, bringing the straw to his lips and sucking down the drink happily.

Shutting the fridge door with his footpaw, he looked around the dark apartment. The silence was heavy, almost deafening on his lopine ears. They twitched, for some reason even the appliances were silent, or maybe dulled? He shook the thought from his head, his footpaws carrying him equally silently across the hardwood floor back to his room. The door still open, he reached in to scoop his camera back, slinging it over his back. Repeating the process to leave the strap of the tripod case on his shoulder, he closed his door and waited, listening. Not a single sound from Izzabella’s door. He took an indecisive step towards her door, standing right in front of it. Raising his paw, he went to knock on it, but stopped just short. Eyes boring into the door, trying to glean any information from the implacable wooden barrier between him and his roommate, Izzik heaved a heavy sigh and dropped his hand. He shook his head as he took his leave, walking down the hall. Scooping up his own keys from the bowl by the door, he ducked out and locked the door behind him, setting off down the apartment hallways towards the elevator.

Pressing the button to bring the elevator back up to his floor, the jackalope idly hummed an old sock-hop type tune. Swaying left to right, his tail moving in the opposite motions, his long, lopine ears flickered curiously. His azure gaze scanned the empty hallway, the sad little fern by the elevator buttons his only company. Izzik mused to himself why it was always so empty in the hallway. So quiet, he even wondered if anyone else lived on this floor. His questions would remain unanswered for now, at least, as the familiar ding of the elevator reaching its destination brought him back to reality. Readjusting his camera bag over his shoulder along with his tripod case, he walked in, pressing the button to go down.

The doors closed with no stereotypical woman or man racing to have him halt the door, no strange happenstances interrupting his journey. He lightly tapped his footpaw to the smooth jazz guitar just going on a sojourn through the psychedelic soundspace that only an empty elevator can afford. He wondered to himself again, a thing he often did when not near people he was familiar with, if the guitar ever got lonely playing to an empty room. Imagining just a guitar floating over an empty stool, the strings being strummed by an ethereal force. Somehow it was…. A sad guitar. Ding. The door opened to the lobby and yet another tangential thought was pushed from his head as he exited into another empty lobby.

“Do we live in an abandoned complex…? It’s Saturday for Chrissake..” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head and pushing past the open doors into the busy city street. The sounds, the sights, the smells, they were all his city, his home. He checked his phone for the address and the time. It was only a few blocks away, in one of the larger parks. He knew the spot. If you go just deep enough, it almost feels like you’re not even in the city. Setting off at a steady walk, he began his sojourn to his first real gig in months.

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Finally alone in the apartment, Izzabella ducked out of her mysteriously undescribed room. Whether it’s through sheer author laziness, or perhaps she’s hiding a deep, dark secret, the contents of her room remain shrouded in darkness. Wearing her usual outfit, black pants, black graphic tee, her favorite green fleece-lined jacket, a pair of black boots and the shark-tooth necklace she never removes, she wandered to the living room. Plopping down onto the couch, she flicked on the TV, with nothing really in mind to watch. This proved fruitless, as she quickly became bored with the entertainment equivalent of junk food that was pouring out of the flatscreen in front of her.

Looking over the top of the couch back to her bass, she sighed to herself. Feeling the creeping ennui that always seemed to take hold whenever she was alone in the apartment, she stood up with a grumble. Walking over to the kitchen, she hoped to eat her boredom away. Opening every single cabinet in the kitchen, searching through it, she just couldn’t find anything that struck her fancy. She was stuck in a rut, and she thought to herself how could she let herself get like this. All she had to do was wait a few hours, and then she could torture Izzik over being, well, Izzik.

“That idiot better not fucking forget again.” She grumbled under her breath, digging into the kitchen and pulling out various ingredients for buffalo chicken dip, a shared favorite among the two. Setting them on the counter, she threw her jacket, shirt, and even bra off into the living room. Digging into a closet, she slid a black apron over her chest, covering herself up, and tying the string into a tight knot behind her. She then set to work making a variety of movie snacks.

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The journey was quick, uneventful, though Izzik had cracked and succumbed to one of his guilty pleasure. Just a dirty, sidewalk city hotdog from a brown bear named Ralphio. He didn’t know what meat was in the dog, and to be perfectly honest with himself, he didn’t want to know. Chomping down the last bit of ketchup covered dog, he washed it off with a chug of bottled water, tossing the bottle and trash into a nearby can. Down the park pathway, there were a few furs dotted here and there, some on a bench just enjoying the warm spring day. Others were playing ultimate frisbee in a clearing, the smell of fresh cut grass and blooming flowers filled the air. Izzik closed his eyes, took in the scent deep and smiled.

The pleasant walk had to end sometime, and it did as he approached the specific clearing where the wedding would take place. Today was just the rehearsal, but the bride and groom wanted him there because they were the type to plan out literally everything in ceremonies. The groom was a wolf with auburn fur, black lined markings along the length of his muzzle and up his cheeks, he was wearing your basic yuppie outfit, cargo pants, brown loafers and a red polo shirt. The bride, an avian with the brightest pastel plumage he had ever seen, hues he didn’t even realize existed were flecked along her feathers, she was wearing a simple purple dress.

Izzik set down his camera bag, pulling out a standard wide-angle lens and attaching it to the body of his camera. Hanging the strap over his neck, he observed the other assembled guests. Various species comprised of the groom’s circle and the bridesmaids, but one bridesmaid stuck out to him, a sabertooth snow leopard. There was something oddly...familiar about her, his eyes would inevitably trail back to her whenever he didn’t need to pay attention. He checked his phone for the time, and he thought to himself, “I still have time…”