#kiddscove

A mama and baby dolphin show up in Kidd's Cove, circling the boat, leaping, and chatting away for hours, pulling us into their world. I hope just a see-thru t-shirt and no bottoms at all is a good look for diving with dolphins!

☆   •   °   .   𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴   𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩,   𝘢𝘯𝘥   𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨   𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴   𝘪𝘯   𝘩𝘪𝘴   𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵.   as   if   he   can't   believe   the   notion   --   realization   flooding   over   him.   no   ...   no,   it   can't   be,   can   it?   ol'   foxy   was   swept   up   in   the   fire,   one   of   them,   had   to   be!

and   yet,   𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦   𝘩𝘦   𝘪𝘴.ᐟ   saying   his   name   -   not   a   mistake,   not   an   accident.   giving   him   a   once   over   like   he'd   done   before   when   michael   had   sidled   up   to   his   stage   with   a   fresh   bruise   or   scrape.

𝘢𝘯𝘥   𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺,   the   words   are   barely   able   to   scrabble   past   the   lump   in   his   throat.   bandaged   hands   brush   some   curls   of   his   dark   hair   from   his   eyes.   those   freckles   now   dark   spots   on   his   skin   are   oh   so   familiar.

❝   h   -   how   d'you   know   my...   ❞   it's   croaked   out   with   some   marked   disbelief.   a   half   second   of   hesitation   as   he   shakily   reaches   up   to   his   hood,   pulling   it   down.   this   was   risky,   but...

❝   do   you...   𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸   𝘮𝘦.ᐣ   --   n-not   just   as   a   guest   profile   or   employee,   but...   but   as...   ❞   𝘩𝘦   𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴   𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺,   and   perhaps   he   is.   but   michael   afton   was   never   afforded   the   luxury   of   family   to   confide   in   or   count   on.

everyone   from   his   younger   days   was   dead   or   dying,   wouldn't   speak   to   him,   wanted   him   dead   or   would   recoil   at   the   sight   of   him.   

It's not even a cool rock. The little fox stares at it, all glum. Still, he's off to get the wheelbarrow with no complaint, and in no less than five minutes he appears, tiny compared to the ridiculous height of it.

DogDay   can't   change   his   expression   much,   but   even   without   the   vast   array   of   movements   that   foxy   seems   to   have   --   his   complexion   looks   somehow   incredulous.   a   beat,   before   his   voice box   warbles   to   life.   low   gravelly   tone   ringing   out, despite of the water damage its sustained.   (   𝘩𝘦   𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴   𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥   𝘸𝘩𝘺   𝘩𝘦   𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵   𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥   𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦   𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵   )

❝ as much as I appreciate your attitude, I appreciate you being in one piece more. ❞ can't let it happen again, he can't ---

❝   --- listen   to   me,   this   isn't   the   sort   of   place   you   come   back   from.   I   --   ❞   𝐼'𝑣𝑒   𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡   𝑡𝑜𝑜   𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦   𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠   𝑡𝑜   𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒   𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟.   ❝   -- I   need   to   know   you'll   be   careful.   I   need   to   know   you   won't   treat   this   like   a   game !   ❞   a ragged breath from his voice box forcing him to give pause. [ & how cruel to make something that could feel, that could suffer but not DIE so easily. ]

❝   if   they   find   you,   if   they   catch   you,   disassembly   will   be   the   least   of   your   worries   --   ❞   the   voice box   wavers   as   if   it   was   to   cry . . .   yet   no   tears   spring   forth.   perhaps   he   just   didn't   have   any   left.

❝   -- they   will   tear   you   apart,   crawl   beneath   your   shell,   ravenous,   hungry,   searching.   and   if   they   can't   find   anything to fill themselves,   they'll   warp   you   into   something   that   can   be   USED. burrow into your mind until your thoughts aren't your own, until you do things you'd never do.   forced   to   survive   --   to   serve   that   . . .   thing.   𝘛𝘩𝘦   𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦.   ❞

he   sounds   desperate,   voice   straining   and   guttural   before   losing   momentum   and   softening   as   he   pleas   in   an   airy   tone.   ❝   promise me, promise me you won't pick a fight alone -- promise me you'll come back.   ❞