[table][row][cell][/cell][cell][center] [url=https://fontmeme.com/calligraphy-fonts/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/260221/b8d18c37.png[/img][/url] [img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/cb1a5a7280c750c79655b6f12a2b0d1a/900e92b546fec8bc-60/s400x600/83d49e02f0597b4d3a2ec81e1f21cd4b7035c49e.gif[/img][/center][/cell][/row][/table][center][right][color=gray][sub][color=lightgray][b]Location[/b][/color] [color=white]—[/color] [i]#444 Miners Street[/i][/sub][/color][/right][/center][center][color=#EB38E5]▅[/color][color=#E93BE5]▅[/color][color=#E83EE5]▅[/color][color=#E741E6]▅[/color][color=#E644E6]▅[/color][color=#E547E6]▅[/color][color=#E44AE7]▅[/color][color=#E34DE7]▅[/color][color=#E250E7]▅[/color][color=#E154E8]▅[/color][color=#E057E8]▅[/color][color=#DE5AE8]▅[/color][color=#DD5DE9]▅[/color][color=#DC60E9]▅[/color][color=#DB63E9]▅[/color][color=#DA66EA]▅[/color][color=#D969EA]▅[/color][color=#D86CEA]▅[/color][color=#D770EB]▅[/color][color=#D673EB]▅[/color][color=#D576EB]▅[/color][color=#D379EC]▅[/color][color=#D27CEC]▅[/color][color=#D17FEC]▅[/color][color=#D082ED]▅[/color][color=#CF85ED]▅[/color][color=#CE88ED]▅[/color][color=#CD8CEE]▅[/color][color=#CC8FEE]▅[/color][color=#CB92EE]▅[/color][color=#CA95EF]▅[/color][color=#C998EF]▅[/color][color=#C79BEF]▅[/color][color=#C69EF0]▅[/color][color=#C5A1F0]▅[/color][color=#C4A4F0]▅[/color][color=#C3A8F1]▅[/color][color=#C2ABF1]▅[/color][color=#C1AEF1]▅[/color][color=#C0B1F2]▅[/color][color=#BFB4F2]▅[/color][color=#BEB7F2]▅[/color][color=#BCBAF3]▅[/color][color=#BBBDF3]▅[/color][color=#BAC0F3]▅[/color][color=#B9C4F4]▅[/color][color=#B8C7F4]▅[/color][color=#B7CAF4]▅[/color][color=#B6CDF5]▅[/color][color=#B5D0F5]▅[/color][color=#B4D3F5]▅[/color][color=#B3D6F6]▅[/color][color=#B2D9F6]▅[/color][color=#B0DCF6]▅[/color][color=#AFE0F7]▅[/color][color=#AEE3F7]▅[/color][color=#ADE6F7]▅[/color][color=#ACE9F8]▅[/color][color=#ABECF8]▅[/color][color=#AAEFF8]▅[/color][color=#A9F2F9]▅[/color][color=#A8F5F9]▅[/color][color=#A7F8F9]▅[/color][/center][indent][indent] [color=lightgray] The power had been out long enough that the house had started to feel like it was breathing wrong. Rowan lay half-sprawled on top of the sheets, one bare foot hanging off the side of the bed, the other tangled somewhere in sweat-damp fabric. The air was thick, pine and honeysuckle and something faintly metallic from the stillness of overheated appliances. The kind of heat that didn’t just sit on your skin, but pressed. The kind that made time feel syrup-slow. Somewhere outside, cicadas screamed like they were being paid by the decibel. He exhaled through his nose and stared at the ceiling fan above him, motionless, useless, accusatory. [color=EB38E5]“Yeah,”[/color] he muttered to no one. [color=EB38E5]“That tracks.”[/color] Rowan pushed himself upright, running a hand through hair that refused to cooperate, skin already slick again the second he moved. The house on Miners Street had character, sure. Original wood. Old bones. Charm, if you were feeling generous. What it did [i]not[/i] have was insulation worth a damn when the grid decided to tap out. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand. No signal bars. No service. A dead rectangle of heat-warmed glass. [color=EB38E5]“Of course.”[/color] From down the hall came the faintest shift of sound, floorboards complaining under someone else’s weight. Familiar footsteps. Unmistakable, even half-asleep. Rowan didn’t smile, exactly, but something in his chest loosened all the same. He pulled on some basketball shorts and stepped into the hallway, the wood cool under his feet in places where the shade still held. The house smelled like incense and old paint and whatever candle Callie had burned last night, something smoky and sweet and faintly herbal. [color=EB38E5]“Please tell me you hear generators,”[/color] he called, voice low and rough with sleep, pitched just loud enough to carry without breaking the quiet. [color=EB38E5]“Or at least the sweet sound of Husker’s freezer fighting for its life.”[/color] He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, listening, not just for her answer, but for everything else. The town waking without electricity had a sound of its own. No hum. No buzz. Just cicadas, distant voices, the low thrum of heat settling into old wood. Rowan drummed his fingers absently against his thigh, four beats, pause, three, an unconscious rhythm he didn’t bother correcting. His eyes drifted to the front window, where sunlight spilled in hard and unapologetic, dust motes dancing like they had nowhere better to be. Summer in Pines Holler always felt like this. Beautiful. Heavy. Alive. [color=EB38E5]“Swear to God,”[/color] he added, quieter now, more to her than to the house, [color=EB38E5]“if this turns into one of those all-day outages, I’m moving my ass straight to the bar. Ice, generators, and bad decisions. In that order.”[/color] He waited there, listening for her voice, for whatever mood she’d woken up wearing, content to let the heat sit between them for a moment longer. Stuck in that awkward state of just asleep enough to stay stuck to the bed, Rowan’s voice was what made Callie shuffle to her feet. The heat hit her shortly after she stood up, giving her a few gracious seconds to ignore the sweat that ran down every inch of her skin. These early, humid summer days were beautiful, but they were a friend to no space without air flow. Reaching for the bottle of water on the bedside table, Callie wiped her arm across her forehead and took a moment to gather herself before answering her brother. Listening to the still silence that surrounded the house, the young woman couldn’t help but smirk once she picked up the low hum of the generators a few streets over at the bar. [color=A6FCFA]”They’re running,”[/color] she croaked back, opening the bottle and taking a drink. She scrunched her face up in disappointment - it was hot, of course, just like everything else at the moment. Callie took another moment to gain her composure, the heat leaving her feeling as if she had woken up with a mild hang-over. She loved North Carolina, and she loved Pines Holler even more - but she’d be damned if the humidity had ever been her friend. Moving slowly around her bedroom, Callie managed to make her way over to the closet before rummaging around to find their emergency toiletry supplies - an old milk crate filled with various items like baby wipes, emergency deodorant, and the like. Pulling it from the closet floor, she sat the crate on the bed and began to rummage around for the few random items that she needed before opening the door to hand it to her brother. Looking up at Rowan, Callie handed the supplies over to him with a sympathetic half-smile. The fact that Rowan was now a young man was never more present in Callie’s mind than when she had to look up at him. She still remembered him as the little shit that was just tall enough to reach her waist, running around their childhood house with a gleeful grin on those rare occasions when their parents weren’t home. Regardless of the time that had passed, Callie would always be grateful that she still had the means to look after her brother. [color=A6FCFA]”I’ll call the power company for an ETA as soon as I open up all the windows,”[/color] Callie reassured him, already making her way through the home to do as such. [color=A6FCFA]”If I can find signal somewhere, that is,”[/color] she grumbled quietly to herself. Their family plan was a great budget deal, but it was exactly that - budget. Power outages turned the Shaw’s phones into absolute bricks. [color=A6FCFA]”Maybe we could find something for breakfast too if you’re hungry,”[/color] she offered, brain already in full crisis solving mode. Rowan took the milk crate like it was something sacred, one hand steadying it against his hip while the other scratched at the back of his neck. [color=EB38E5]“Emergency glamour kit,”[/color] he muttered, peering inside. [color=EB38E5]“We are nothing if not prepared.”[/color] He watched her for a second longer than he meant to. The heat was doing that softening thing it did to the edges of the morning, turning sharp thoughts syrup-slow, but even through it, he noticed the way she moved. Efficient. Already three steps ahead. Windows. Phone. Breakfast. Strategy. Callie always did default to logistics when the world tilted sideways. He shifted out of the doorway to let her pass, shoulder brushing the frame instead of her. Close enough. Familiar enough. The house creaked as she moved through it, wood popping faintly in protest as she started working windows open one by one. Warm air shuffled in, but at least it moved. [color=EB38E5]“Generators are running, huh?”[/color] he echoed, glancing toward the front of the house like he could see through three blocks of stubborn humidity. The faint hum had reached him now too, a low mechanical pulse under the cicadas. Not pretty or musical. But steady. Rowan dug through the crate and pulled out a pack of baby wipes, popping it open with a quiet snap. [color=EB38E5]“Guess Husker’s is officially the town’s savior again. Add that to their résumé.”[/color] He dragged one of the wipes down the back of his neck with a sigh that was almost sinful. The heat clung stubbornly anyway. From the living room, sunlight poured in like it had something to prove. He crossed toward the kitchen instead, bare feet slapping softly against old wood, fingers already tapping against the counter without him realizing it, one-two-three-four, pause, one-two-three. A restless rhythm. He opened the fridge out of habit. Warm air breathed back at him. He snagged a Cheerwine anyway. Rowan closed it immediately after. [color=EB38E5]“Cool,”[/color] he deadpanned. [color=EB38E5]“Love that for us.”[/color] He leaned his hip against the counter, watching her silhouette move past the windows, listening to the town wake up in pieces. A truck door slammed somewhere. Someone shouted a name down the street. The generator hum carried, stubborn and mechanical. He tilted his head, listening past it. [color=EB38E5]“Think we’ve got anything that won’t try to kill us?”[/color] he asked, glancing toward her as she passed the doorway again. [color=EB38E5]“Bread. Peanut butter. The emergency Pop-Tarts you pretend you don’t buy?”[/color] His mouth twitched faintly. Then, softer, less joking, more real. [color=EB38E5]“You sleep okay?”[/color] It was casual. Almost. But the question held weight beneath it. He didn’t look at her directly when he asked, his head still inside the kitchen, his eyes watching the way light moved across the kitchen floor instead. Outside, a breeze finally pushed through the open windows, carrying the same pine and honeysuckle scent from before. Rowan let it settle over his skin. [color=EB38E5]“If it’s gonna be a bar day,”[/color] he added after a beat, tone lighter again, [color=EB38E5]“I call dibs on the good stool. The one that doesn’t wobble.”[/color] He tapped out another rhythm against the counter, absent, steady, grounding, waiting for her answer. Moving around their house, Callie seemed to find a rhythm of her own. She couldn’t open [i]every[/i] window, due to the fact that Charlie refused to replace the missing screens in some of them like Callie had requested. Thankfully, there were still enough of them that were intact that could get the air moving through the house. They were also blessed with the fact that their screen door was still in decent condition. Opening said door, the brunette was met with a soft morning breeze. Callie closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the air. A small smile found its way to her face as the familiar smells of Pines Holler brought back old memories of other power outages she had shared with Rowan. She wanted to protest when she heard the fridge crack open, but knew that her point would be futile. Like everything else in Pines their refrigerator was old. The seals were worn out and it was hard for the thing to keep temp on a good day, much less on one with no power. Her smile turned to more of a smirk when her brother commented on the Pop-tarts specifically. [color=A6FCFA]”Don’t pretend like you don’t appreciate me grabbing your favorite flavor,”[/color] she teased. [color=A6FCFA]”I’m sure the stuff in the freezer is still okay.”[/color] Her tone was thoughtful, calculating. It was nearly impossible for Callie to not want to fix everything she could, even in moments where the crisis was relatively minor. [color=A6FCFA]”Not that that matters with the stove not working,”[/color] she continued to think aloud, the corners of her mouth turning downwards into a frown. Walking back into her bedroom, the weight of Rowan’s next questions settled right on top of the summer heat. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t hear him, not this time with the whole town still and quiet. [color=A6FCFA]”I slept okay,”[/color] she attempted to lie. They both knew the other had nightmares. Even with the thunderstorm sounds Callie played on her bedroom TV all night, she knew Rowan heard the shouts. [color=A6FCFA]”You?”[/color] The young woman began to clean herself up, changing into [url=https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/fa/2c/e3/fa2ce3a2eb92e69e9ff8cdb15c8e38f1.jpg]clean clothes[/url] and the like. Another small smile crept its way onto her face as she listened to Rowan tapping against the kitchen counter. Familiar and steady, Callie knew he did it for himself, but it helped to keep her grounded as well. Coming back around the corner of the hallway and into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but laugh at his comment about the bar stool. [color=A6FCFA]”I agree - but only if I get the one next to it without the big stain,”[/color] the older Shaw joked back. Sitting down on the living room couch, Callie began collecting her smoking supplies out from underneath the coffee table to roll a few blunts for today's adventure. [color=A6FCFA]”Ya know, speaking of being the town savior, I’m sure Husker also has something better to eat than Jiff.”[/color] Rowan made a quiet sound of approval from the kitchen when she confirmed the Pop-Tarts, like she’d just validated something deeply personal. [color=EB38E5]“First of all,”[/color] he called, leaning his shoulder against the doorway so he could see her moving through the living room, [color=EB38E5]“brown sugar cinnamon is a cornerstone of my emotional stability. Put some respect on it.”[/color] There was no real bite to it. Just heat-soft humor. The kind that came easy when it was just the two of them and the morning hadn’t decided to be anything more than inconvenient yet. He wiped the back of his neck again, already feeling the sweat returning, and listened to the house breathe. Open windows helped, but it was like trying to cool a fever with a damp cloth. Her answer about sleep didn’t convince him. It wasn’t supposed to. He nodded anyway, eyes drifting to the floorboards between them. [color=EB38E5]“Yeah,”[/color] he said. [color=EB38E5]“Me too.”[/color] It was easier like that. Easier to leave the truth alone before it woke up all the way. When she came back out, dressed and more solid somehow, he let himself look for a second before he remembered not to stare. She always seemed to gather herself faster than he did. Like whatever chased them in the dark had less teeth in daylight when it came to her. Her laugh, real and bright, cut through the heat when she agreed to the bar stools, and Rowan huffed a quiet laugh of his own. [color=EB38E5]“Alright, but if anyone’s bled on your seat again, that’s not on me. That’s between you and God.”[/color] He made a face then, hating the joke. He shifted into the living room as she settled on the couch, watching her pull out the tray and supplies like it was just another part of the morning. Another routine. Another small act of rebellion against discomfort. His stomach growled, low and traitorous. [color=EB38E5]“Okay,”[/color] he admitted, rubbing a hand over his face. [color=EB38E5]“Husker’s officially our best option.”[/color] He glanced toward the front door, where the screen creaked faintly in the breeze, then back toward the dark kitchen behind him. [color=EB38E5]“Plus,”[/color] he added, almost as an afterthought, [color=EB38E5]“I’m hoping the power’s back before four.”[/color] The words sat heavier than the rest. He leaned down, grabbing his sneakers and thumbing the worn edge of one sole. [color=EB38E5]“I’ve got a session.”[/color] He didn’t say it like it was nothing. Didn’t shrug it off. The opposite, really. There was something careful in the way he said it. Something he didn’t want to bruise. It wasn’t a big studio. Wasn’t Nashville. Wasn’t even Asheville. Just a converted room here in the House, where the walls had been padded with cheap foam and egg cartons, and literally everything else he could think to soundproof, where the air always smelled faintly like dust and old wiring. But it had mics. Real ones. And a kit that wasn’t missing half its hardware. And they paid him. Enough to mean someone, somewhere, thought he was worth recording. His fingers started tapping against his thigh without him noticing. Nervous energy. Hope. Fear. Music had always been the one place he didn’t feel like he was pretending. The only place he wasn’t the preacher’s son, or the mayor’s mistake, or the boy who stayed behind. Behind a kit, he was just… Him. No apologies. No explanations. Just sound. He swallowed and looked back up at her, tone lighter again, like he hadn’t just handed over something fragile. [color=EB38E5]“Figure if the power’s still out, I might be screwed,”[/color] he said. [color=EB38E5]“No power, no board. No board, no session.”[/color] He nudged his foot into his sneaker. [color=EB38E5]“And I’m not missing it. Not for anything.”[/color] Not for heat. Not for outages. Not for Pines Holler deciding to fall apart one inconvenience at a time. His eyes flicked to the blunt she was rolling, then back to her face, mouth tugging slightly at one corner. [color=EB38E5]“But,”[/color] he added, softer now, easier, [color=EB38E5]“until then, I vote we let Husker feed us and pretend we’re not slowly melting into the furniture.”[/color] He straightened, grabbing his other shoe. [color=EB38E5]“You roll. I’ll make sure no one steals our seats.”[/color] A small pause. [color=EB38E5]“And Callie?”[/color] He hesitated just long enough for it to matter. [color=EB38E5]“I’ll get you breakfast.”[/color] Even though she wouldn’t quite admit it aloud, having Rowan around made Callie feel lighter. Perhaps it was his familiarity or just having someone around who knew the unspoken things. Whatever it was, it was clear and evident when Callie smirked and laughed at his jokes - even if some of them left a bad after taste in their mouths from past experiences. While her brother moved around the house, Callie had already begun to stick to the couch. She silently admitted defeat, beginning to try and roll a blunt as the ground weed tried to cling to her fingertips. In a search for solace, the young woman found herself confronted with more minor frustrations to ignore. Such was life in Pines. She was mostly quiet, focusing on the task at hand until Rowan spoke up about his plans for the day. Another smile tugged at the corners of her mouth while she tried to hold back her excitement for him. Callie knew full well that if she tried to make a ‘big deal’ out of things that her brother would shut her down, stating that it wasn’t as exciting as she claimed. So there she sat, watching him with a silent pride as he stressed over the power. [color=A6FCFA]”If it’s not back on by then, we’ll figure it out,”[/color] she reassured him, lighting the first of her ‘prizes’. The smell of weed and light undertones of mango mixed themselves with the summer heat while her brain already began to spin with ideas of a backup plan. Nodding in agreement about Huskers once more, carefully dancing around the issue so as to not stress either of them further. [color=A6FCFA]”I know it’s only like ten in the morning, but a burger would [i]slap[/i] right now.”[/color] Now shifting her attention more directly to focus on both rolling and smoking, she nearly protested when he offered to buy her meal. The expression on his face was what made her think twice about it. [color=A6FCFA]”Thank you Ro,”[/color] she agreed, watching him make his way half out the door already. [color=A6FCFA]”I’ll see you soon!”[/color] [/color][/indent][/indent][center][/center] [right][sub][color=lightgray][b]Interacting With[/b][/color][color=white] — [/color][color=lightgray]Themselves[/color] [b][color=lightgray]Collaboration with[/color][/b][color=white] — [/color][color=lightgray][@Apoalo][/color][/sub][/right]