"You can't fool me 'boob lady,' I know what contacts are!" Catnip said, squinting at Roxanne. Kathrine guided The guests to the couch, reserving a more stately looking chair for Roxanne while Catnip took to the heavy wooden seat across from her. To Roxanne Catnip's chair looked almost throne like despite it's lack of fancy adornment. Both modest and grand, Catnip's audience chair. "Look at you, tattoos and all. Aren't they nice Kathrine? Roxanne's not shy to show off her stripes. In fact, she went and got stripes of her own. You don't have to be nervous about yours."
Kathrine anxiously fidgeted with her hoodie, clumsily masking her attempt to pull it lower over her knees. Roxanne had never seen so much skin on the maid and found it hard not to find her eyes drifting to Kathrine's bare legs and the stripes and spots that ran unevenly up their sides. It was easy to imagine how Catnip might find them fascinating, when they were on the appealingly tomboyish legs of Kathrine. Catnip sipped her own coffee and gave the sweet smelling dowel retrieved from a clay jar on the table a few experimental gnaws.
"It has changed a bit, hasn't it? The Pricetown people did a good job right? They even patched up and repainted your house Roxanne. A lot of the shacks people around here were staying in just weren't up to much, and since the storm did us the favor of knocking them all down, it was decided to build proper houses. There was plenty of space, why weren't we using it?" Catnip said. When she thought about it, Roxanne had to agree. The farm hadn't been much of a farm after a couple years living in it, and the old shacks had just been thrown up over the field that had been where most of the actual farming had been done. Poor Nathaniel, Floyd, and Hector for a little bit had lived in crappy little sheds compared to Roxanne's claimed farm house or Dee's workshop. Even the barn had been better outfitted. Now it seemed everyone had a small but proper house. Homes even, and where the shacks once stood there was now a large courtyard of sorts. The Mislings had even fenced in the area where the barn had been and rebuilt the farms armory and watch tower. Catnip and Kathrine's shared house was on par with houses of the pre-cataclysm, and if Roxanne was honest it entirely suited the couple.
"After that, me and some others decided to put people to work." Catnip went on, leaning forward in her chair and offering Roxanne a chocolate truffle, "Some Mislings wanted to fish, so a couple folks opened up a fishery and some smoke houses. Other folks decided it would be a great idea to start planting lots of vegetables, or at least getting fields ready for next spring. All of them come to me, can you believe that? It's kind of stressful actually... Oh! Oh! Some of the people I came back with know about Agmen! They want to hold services, whatever that means, and Hector even got the start of the chapel all up to snuff before now, so they have a place to meet!"
She leaned back in her chair looking like the prospect alone had tired her out. Then, she looked at her cup.
"Kat? Did you use that Chicory stuff again?"
Roxanne almost chuckled. A year away, and Catnip's accent had hardly changed, getting thicker with excitement. She could predict that it would only get thicker with age.
"So..." Catnip went on again, clasping her refilled cup in both hands and leaning forward, "Where did you go for two weeks?"
Jennifer rolled out of bed and dragged a hand across her eyes. She had things to do, announcements to make, and some small plans to prepare. First, to get dressed. Cheena had fallen silent almost completely now that the curse had been broken, but Jenny could still feel her strongly. While she couldn't hear the young fox, she could still feel her. Understanding the meaning of Cheena's intent almost instinctively. There was synergy between them that hadn't been there with Mikko. They both believed it was a factor as simple as gender. Right or wrong, it was the explanation they went with.
"Okay..." She groaned to the mirror, stretching the sleep out of her limbs. "Breakfast, then business. I wonder if you can feel what I feel?"
A sensation like being unsure came to her very briefly, then Jenny got the feeling that Cheena could to some extent. Taste, feel, experience. She was aware that Cheena became more active when she was asleep now as well. A handy trait to have as Cheena could keep watch while Jenny slept. It would take some getting used to, and a bit more time for them to adjust to the change. Mikko had been old and inactive, but Cheena was a young spirit and filled with energy. She wouldn't always be content with some things. Right now, she wanted human breakfast and Jenny had to keep her eagerness reigned in. Cheena would push her to eat as much as she could, her simple inexperienced mind wanting to act like the animal she'd been even as Jenny subconsciously behaved like the animal she wasn't.
"Bacon and eggs today, nothing else. Maybe toast. Toast? Ok, toast." she planned aloud as she left her room, boots slung over her shoulder. It would be a hard day to start, but later on she felt it would get easier.
Branches crawled from it's mudhut a sparse two hours later and got to work digging with it's bare hands and forming mud into as many servitors as it could before it's interest waned. What this amounted to was a solid eight small ape like mud creatures that would be a solid start to getting what it needed. The mud men would collect sticks, duff, and solid wood while Branches snuck down to the hall to get a few things. A close call here, a narrow escape through a window, and a good long look at the squishy baby thing in the crib and Branches had a shovel, a fresh shirt, and a collection of discarded feathers from the strange bird boy. These last Branches intended to use as a substitute for another ingredient. Right now, the feathers would be ground into a fine powder and bottled with salt, alder, and just a touch of clean water.
With those preperations complete, there was a bit of reading to be done and straightening up to do. Viscera from the previous night was buried, Branches grave was straightened and fixed up, and a book was selected. A primer on fashion. Branches delved into the book with a new interest and a mind for what Illiana had instructed it to do. Male or female? Boy or girl? After a bit of comparison, Branches gave up. Why couldn't Illiana have done this? Most people had one or the other arbitrarily placed on them by chance. Branches knew why actually. Illiana hadn't done it because doing it would deprive her of experiencing something no one ever got to experience. Time passed, the homunculus's servants worked with the shovel digging out clay, and after much more thought, Branches made a choice.