(House Call) Door Knocking

[Circe]

"Buon gatto," the elf said out of habit as the hobgoblin moved seats. No apologies were offered to Mhairi for becoming a booster seat to the fur ball. The Summer quickly got inside, almost not waiting to buckle up before she got the little Beetle rolling.

Circe rolls her eyes at Thomas taking a jab at the cat's claims of leadership in the band. Circe opted not to contribute for a simple reason: if the cat got pissed she didn't want it going after her. "Well now then Sir Wibble," she pasted on a fake smile, "I just need directions to the trod you'll be taking. If you could, I'd prefer one that I can navigate to with this," she cast an aside glance at Mhairi. Her eyebrows waggled, and ears bounced, as she spoke: "lovely blue chariot. Might as well save your paws some trouble, right?"

After a moment, she couldn't help but crack, "I'm guessing her lap ain't that uncomfortable either, right? And no that ain't an offer to swap, I'm driving."

[Yumyumcrow]

Cat eyes lock onto Thomas Land.

"I? I offered inspiration! The band was wise enough to translate many of mine own ballads into the current vernacular. I shall have to tell you about it, sometime..."

And so the Lost drove off, leaving behind the bland suburban street with its trees and large houses. The old woman's house vanished from view, screened by the overgrown yard's riotous shrubbery. The city beckoned, lazy in the late summer haze. The horrors and tragedy of the little house forgotten in the teasing wind and warm air.

Once the authorities were alerted the life of Strawberry Marzipan was wrapped up with quiet, unfeeling, efficiency. Another lonely old maid for a quiet plot and barely a headstone to mark her existence. A woman lost to the world, her experiences forgotten to the passage of time.

Seems like a good place to wrap the Scene and the Plot. Unless anyone wants to pursue anything further, that is

Good work people!