Every morning just after dawn, Thorn leaves either the Villa or her Mountain Home, and runs.

When at the Villa, most often she runs through the surrounding neighborhood and city. When in the Mountains, she either follows the road that winds past her front-line fences, or runs through the forests that border the road, most often she combines the two.

Whether running in the city, cross country, or along rural or outlying roads, she uses the terrain. Freerunning acrobatics to go over or around obstacles and train agility, strength, and stamina, combative magics to go through obstacles, skin changing for a different perspective entirely.

She's rarely alone in her morning runs, daily Roan's ward Ophidia joins her, as does Bane. Anyone is welcome to join up or drop off at any point during her morning five.

Afterward, no matter the day, she returns to the Villa in order to prepare a large breakfast to fuel her family for the coming day.

Pharlen did not understand snow. It was a scary cold thing that happened in places where there were real seasons, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

Desdenova paid for that lack of understanding. Whenever he headed out to hang out with Hawk, and she caught him, Pharlen insisted on stuffing him into heavy snowsuits and jackets.

Desdenova usually managed to squirm out of those - Pharlen always had the garments not only Scotch-Gaurded but made impervious to Desdenova's magic - and discarded the outer clothing in the inn.

This time, Desdenova mooched into the inn to find Vera shuffling through her mail. She watched in amusement as Desdenova struggled out of the heavy gear. She was in a hurry, though, and once she gave the boy a hug and praise for his studies in Latin, she gave him a letter.

"Make sure Thorn gets that!" she called.

Desdenova waved and then eyed the letter. He could run off for Thorn's house and drop off the missive, but that would mean less time to play Minecraft and work out nuisance cantrips with Hawk.

So, a small spell later, and the letter appeared in the one place he was very familiar with - Thorn's kitchen. The letter poofed into existence, a corner jammed into a pan of fudge cooling on the marble like a weird little flag.

Of course, as Thorn plucked the letter from the fudge, a chime would sound along with a once-familiar male voice announcing:

"You've Got Mail!"

Desdenova appreciated the classics, after all.

Thorn's corral of horses, mustangs and vanners, fell prey to rustlers.

One rustler with one horse, a large black vanner with a little star of white on his brow. Whooping and spinning a lariat to get the animals moving, the wicked pair quickly cut an active trio from the herd and sent them careening from their shelter.

The bandido, identity concealed behind a red kerchief, kicked the gate shut, and then deftly herded the three stolen down the road.

None of the rustled horses were all that concerned about their theft, soon enough they were trotting alongside the black animal, grunting and muttering at each other companionably.

Meantime, the desperado pulled out his phone to make a few texts.

Desdenova made the hit, mostly because he was allowed into Thorn's villa, also because the house wasn't *too* warded against his cantrips and tricks.

He set out the present and cheerfully cast a few cantrips...

When Thorn stepped in, glitter would swoosh down over her with 'happy birthday' sequins and whooshes of Silly String.

http://i.imgur.com/qQxP8Cn.jpg

The dogs would line up and howl out the Birthday song.

http://youtu.be/H1FBhTIxgv4

Flowers appeared one by one and swirled around before landing in their vase.

http://i.imgur.com/MXoCXQG.jpg

Then music played -

http://youtu.be/7e58wn01ru8

From this...

http://i.imgur.com/vdxmjJu.jpg

Several brand new albums with it - recordings of Pharlen, Jack, Desdenova and Jackie playing guitar, mandolin, violin, dulcimer, and piano.

There may have been a small Gopro camera recording the scene.

...Yeah, there was.

http://i.imgur.com/xxnJR9A.jpg

February 11, 2015

Antsy and thoughtful, Thorn chose a different path for the morning's diversion. After running with the usual people, in a slightly unusual place she turned her attention above.

High above where an island floated unfettered and unsupported. A wild place where nothing that was man-made survived. A garden of unearthly delights that dazzled the senses. Always early Fall, always warm and blooming. The air scented with grasses and flowers and blooming trees and water in the distance. Clogged with bird song and crow laughter and frog's mockery, the murmur of breezes through leaf and branch and bud and bloom, the burble of water over stone whispering through moss and lichen.

A wilderness forest choked with life in accordance to the Balance, singing with the Rising of a Power. This was her place, one of several, but more closely tied to her Center than any other. This was where the redneck finally stood up to shoulder the yoke she'd been subconsciously working toward since coming to Rhy'din.

This was where, while bowing up to slap back at a cousin who'd shattered the life, mind, and soul of a friend, simply for being connected to her, Thorn took up the mantle of her Power and started down the path that will eventually lead her to, even greater heights and strength.

With a quiet voice she told the crow parts of the tale. How the friend had fought beside her during her war on a destructive Cult bleeding the Slums dry. How he'd been taken, turned and warped into a ju-ju zombie. The rush and struggle of finding his parts again, finding him, to put him as close to rights as possible. His walking away at the end of the War, pushing it all back into his subconscious to pretend it'd all been a fevered, coma dream.

How he'd prayed to all the gods when his child died, begging, demanding, cajoling. And the one who'd answered, Suragot, corrupting the toddling girl, turning her to a mindless zombie. The price the man had paid, twice over when he'd put the child's shell down again. The shattering, the crushing.

Madness, well and true, had taken him. What he'd done to prepare for his vengeance, she didn't share. That was even less her story to tell than the rest had been.

Here though, surrounded by greens to dizzy the eyes and trip the mind, she could smile fiercely and lift her chin.
"We won though. Barely survived, and Suragot's still in power, but by the gods of a thousand maybes, he knew we were there, and he won't forget any time soon."

Pride there, and damn well earned.

A pleasant time, playing in the woods and exploring. An interlude that ended with a laugh and a leap off the edge that probably had the crow spasming. And definitely had it stooping into a dive as though it could stop her plummet.

And cacawed cursing and imprecations in the language of his kind when black wings, bat-like and suede hided, snapped wide to catch the air.

"Keep up!"

Fin made up for it by taking Lucy out for a relaxed night on Ben's porch, accompanied by Jack and Lirenel. There was singing and playing and animals running around. Perfect.

Whether or not anyone was 'round to see it, at some ungodly hour, Thorn was staring in amused consternation at her phone after having listened to Pharlen's return voice-mail.

She had the distinct feeling that, had she had neighbors like the albino and her tribe, coupled with her grandmother, her childhood would have been even less boring than it had been. In much better ways.

(Connected to this: http://rdi.dragonsmark.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=28504&start=240 )

Thorn visited often, though her timing seemed to be such that she missed, everyone. Little gifts left here and there marked her passing through.

The garland, had her smiling warm and soft and tender.

This, combined with the pang of missing friends who'd become family so quickly, who meant quite a lot, likely were the reason behind the meal she left.

Fish for the birds, high quality three way for the horses, as well as baled bluegrass for a treat, fresh meats for the canids. And for the people, a full spread from hors d'oeuvres to desserts.

Ben's backyard table was decorated with bits of Summer's end and Fall, golden candle light spilled out of globe chimney lanterns.

The mingling of the seasons very much evident in the flavors and scents and textures. Simple, elegant, warm.

http://cfc.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-set/.sig/2XzLCnsY3pjwuEJQ3z5g/cid/190497844/id/bNeIN_nQ5RGaD99hXi33Qg/size/c600x439.jpg

Because awesome cupcakes and cookies with family and friends are Thorn's idea of celebrating.

Also, Ben only has himself to blame for the sheer amount of goodies and treats. Thorn really did have to try out the decorating kit he'd given her for Christmas.

Set up on tables in his backyard, with iced jugs of tart juices and flavored sweet teas, anyone who listened to the nattering, snickering, headshaking crow knew very well that they'd left three times as much back at home in the Villa, with Roan laughing and shaking his head before shooing her out with a swat on her ass.

A very well dressed redneck in a pencil skirted lady suit and ice pick heels, her hair slicked back in a sleek knot at the nape of her neck was seen entering a local realtor's office on Monday afternoon. She had the handles of a briefcase in her right hand, and her phone in her left.

Apparently she was a steady client of the firm as she was greeted with a smile and graciously shown to a private waiting area before her agent met with her. After a couple or hours her business was completed and Thorn exited the building.

She seemed, more relaxed and at her ease upon leaving. Relieved and confident.

By dawn on May 1st, flowers were resting on the doorsteps of the people Thorn calls friend and family.

Wild flowers and garden flowers, cheery little tumbles of color and texture gathered from 'round her home property, and the gardens that surround her Mountain home.

This was, of course, assuming she knew where people lived, and could get there. If not, she'll hold them, or leave them at a person's place of business.

Doesn't matter if a person is male or female, single or not, the tokens were left.