a small, unincorporated village called Macleay
The storm had beaten the hell out of Port Leiry, that much was true, but even if the bulk of it never made it this far inland, it was pretty clear that some of its outward strength had.
Trees downed across roads, porches collapsed, windows shot out by wind-whipped debris, and some old buildings just plain-old knocked over by the shock of it all. That storm had been a monster in its own right, and what she'd said to Kevin was true; the rest of the country was caught onto it now; words like 'unprecedented' and 'storm of the century' were all commonplace in the news cycle.
She'd intended to come out and have a weekend with Summer, one that wasn't quite as quiet and morose as her first visit, which had been hauned by specters of gloom and moody uncertainty and the chilling advent of Lucian's watchful eye.
Now it was community cleanup; helping Summer and her family (her family, too, they kept insisting) pick up the pieces. That handy werewolf fortitude was coming in clutch, even if she had to sort of pretend, just to keep up appearances. It had been a day of sweating and tearing down and picking up. She'd even gotten to raise the frame on a barn, which was something she'd never really imagined herself doing.
It was all the sort of stuff she liked to imagine herself doing; it's quiet out here. There's no city traffic or sirens or anything. She resolves that, next time, she's bringing Aria, because she misses her. She wants Summer to properly meet her. She wants to make new memories.
She wonders what Summer'd make of her little found family; Morgan and Kevin and Jude, hell, even AJ, even though she's pretty certain those two won't click.
The hard works done for the day though, and she's finding she's not even really tired. She'd played hosre-shoes earlier, too, during the big lunch break, which was a game she'd never played either. She's pretty bad at aiming, even if the heavy shoes'd felt light as tennis balls in her hands. Either way, it had been an experience unlike anything she'd had before. Blood or otherwise, this whole town, the little off-grid part of it felt like they just wanted to help eachother.
It's healing. She wants to write about it; she might do so tonight whenever she turns in.
Once the sun goes down there's a big roaring fire and some folks are singing songs and others are smoking what she's pretty sure isn't tobacco and others are having some beer and she's standing on the fringes, feeling welcome but still a little apart all the same, like she's not quite meant to be here; she's been dragged into the group a few times, but she always manages to drift out; nerves mostly. Oh well, she's perfectly fine people watching for now.
She spots Summer coming up to her, and shifts a little bit, smiling a little shyly, like she's been caught skipping class or something. "Hey," She says, and its accompanied by a smile, closed-lipped and bashful. She wants to say, "Hey, sis" but that still feels so strange, like she's not earned the right to say it yet.
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who: @summersauveterre where: Macleay, Oregon when: the weekend after the Storm
