#dawn1

There were only so many lockers, as many as there were teammates, so naturally when she’d joined the team Coach gave her the combination to the locker of the injured girl she’d be replacing. It was an alright locker. Farther from the toilets, nearer the showers. The goalie on her right and the Demerci girl on her left, neither of which she knew very well yet but neither of which had yet grated on her nerves, either.

In theory, it was a fine locker. Desirable, even. Except– Zafira clapped a hand over her nose. “Shiver me fucking tits, what is that smell?” Something foul and cruel hit the air once the locker door swung open. 

“Horror movies aren’t real,” Peter insisted over his shoulder. His feet were bare, and felt the cold embrace of the sand as he jumped from the boardwalk to the beach in an ill-advised passion. “Jaws? Totally fiction. You don’t really have to worry about going into the water at night.” Peter couldn’t have been more wrong, but he was a pirate and thus had to believe the lie to live the life. A second too late to pass the gesture off as genuine, he remembered to offer her a hand down. 

The grounds of the compound were a mess, to say the least. It’d gotten past the point of charming, so here sat Elba on her knees. Her pants were getting dirtier by the minute, as she pulled weeds out with her bare hands from the perimeter of the yard. Say what you could about the werewolf, but she’d never been bored a day in her life. A book was finished? Go for a walk. Seen all the sights? Okay, go pull some weeds. Keeping busier was more relaxing than... well, relaxing. At the sound of the gate swinging open, Elba lifted her head. A cigarette hung from her lips that soon morphed into a kind grin. She greeted the familiar face, “Oh, hi Dawn! Happy spring.” The sun shining down had her squinting as she waved. “Watcha got for us today? I hope it’s a horse. I could eat the horse, hoofs and all.” There was a hint of a grimace when she realized the werewolf humor might not land the same as it would with others.

“Oh!” Astrid’s features read recognition and then surprise. Since relocating to the city the faces had all begun to blur together. She missed knowing who her neighbors were, even if they didn’t like her very much. So seeing a familiar pair of eyes now on the sidewalk as she exited the bakery near Treaty Towers with a bag of pastries in hand felt like an immense relief. 

Then, of course, she realized what she was holding and remembered from where she’d met Dawn in the first place. “Please don’t think I’m cheating on your mother.” Astrid implored. “I haven’t tried them yet,” she held the bag up, “but I can already tell you they don’t hold a candle, and you can relay that to your mother if I happen to come up at all.” 

The bridge of her nose crinkled in distaste. “For New Year’s Eve?!”  Back and forth, firmly, Priscilla’s head shook and with it the long, styled waves of her hair. “Don’t you have something a little more...” Priscilla’s gaze was leveling. “Well, slutty. New Year, new look, new Dawn? Just because you’ll be a widow forever doesn’t mean you have to dress like one.” Even Priscilla winced as the words landed. “Sorry.”

Averting her eyes from Dawn she reached once more for the red nail polish she kept getting distracted from, and set to work on another coat across her toenails. “Remember the old mantra. It will save you. Hoes don’t get cold. Hoes don’t get cold. Repeat it to yourself in times of doubt.” 

Priscilla had lied and said her own dress was picked out weeks ago, as to avoid trying any on today. In truth she would be laying as low as possible tonight. 

“DAWN WITHEY!” He shouted as he glanced her in the corridor. “How would you like to explore the caves at the ruins with me and Holls and Arlene if I can convince her to go—  history AND ghosts. It's like a win/win.”

“I have an Aurologist! She’s very insightful and the reason I invested in a pair of clogs.”

“Are you just going to stand there awkwardly or are you going to ask your question?”