JUNE EVENT: CAMP

[sailmods]

early on June 10th, Friday's morning announcements end with a request for everyone going on the latest excursion to meet her in the atrium. she seems in noticeably better spirits than she had been last time, and she leads them cheerfully to the tender. once they are all aboard, and the door is securely shut, the interior fills with gas, and, perhaps, their last thought before they slip into unconsciousness is "oh shit, not again."

passengers wake up on a rickety old school bus, driving down a dirt road surrounded by woods. what is it that they notice first? that, no matter what they were wearing before, they are now wearing a camp t-shirt and legitimately horrifyingly short shorts? the overstuffed backpack between their knees? the words "take one down and pass it around" dying on their lips? the fact that Friday is absolutely driving the bus?

or, maybe the fact that it's already slowing down, pulling up in front of a massive wooden sign, saying:

 

 

 

 

 

CAMP AION

when they get out of the bus, Friday is the one to divide them up into their cabin groups, and she is the one to give the counselors their very official-looking clipboards and whistles. she explains that they are in charge, and that she will be back to pick them up in a week, and... very little else. she responds to nothing outside of whatever is on her unseen little script, and she gets back on the bus shortly after, leaving them there.

welcome to camp. let's make some summer memories!

Comments

[firewalled]

"Huh. I thought with the yeast and the proofing and all, it could be pretty complicated..." He smiles when he sees the rolls that have been freshly baked, and is immediately tempted to snag one, but he postpones that just long enough to stroll up to Darcy.

"Here, hold still a sec." He tries to carefully wipe some of the sticky dough out of her hair. It goes a little easier with his clean hands. "Wouldn't want that crud drying like that. Especially since the showers here suck."

[saltwaterlungs]

"Proofing's only complicated if you suck, or if you kill your yeast."

Darcy freezes in place when Rich steps closer, keeping one dark, intense eye on him as he reaches- to clean it out of her hair. She visibly relaxes, holding still so he can finish his work.

"Thanks," she gives him a small nod, "whoever invented communal showers is going to hell."

[firewalled]

"Wow, seems a little cruel to people who just naturally suck." He doesn't know for sure if he'd kill his yeast, but he feels like if something could go wrong, it would.

Much like when he cleans the dough out of Darcy's hair. He's almost expecting to get smacked across the room, but eventually, her frame relaxes, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a soft smile. He... really wasn't expecting to see that kind of trust from her. It's kind of nice.

"Yeah, no kidding. Like, the only point of them seems to be making gay kids feel mega uncomfy and everyone else just feel super gross even when they're clean."

[saltwaterlungs]

"Just," she gestures, "don't suck. Stop sucking. You'll be fine if you just," the same gesture, "don't suck."

Once the dough is out, though, she indicates for him to give her some space again with her elbow. Doing a helpful thing doesn't mean you get to cuddle, Rich.

"They could at least put curtains in. I would take being Psycho-murdered in the shower if it meant nobody could stare at me. I already know I look like Arnold Schwarzenegger with the head of a teenage girl photoshopped on, I don't need other people staring to make sure I know."

[firewalled]

"Oh wow. Really profound advice. Definitely haven't heard that one before." He is pretty sure there's a little more to the practice of baking then just willing yourself into not sucking, even if confidence might help.

He gets her need for personal space, though, and he takes a step back, hands up, before heading over to snag one of the rolls. If she doesn't want him handing around, he'll snack a little and she'll have to keep doing the work herself.

"Curtains would be way more preferable. I mean... we've all got spots we'd rather have covered up, right?" He's not going to comment on the whole idea of not matching your gender. Nope. Not at all.

[saltwaterlungs]

"It's great advice. I don't suck every day of my life."

She simply doesn't suck. It's not hard, Rich.

Darcy gives him a little nod in appreciation when he backs off, and she wrinkles her nose up at the dough, trying to work out if it's done kneading or needs a bit more. Heh, kneads a bit more.

"Scars," she says with a nod, and she knows he'll get it. Hers are bullet-wounds from the mafia, hatchet-marks from an angry ghost, the claw-marks on her chest from when she fought a tiger, and countless other nicks and scrapes from the hazards of her lifestyle. Less dramatic and uniform than his burns, but neither probably wanted eyes on them.