writing to prompt again, a quick little thing

MAUNDER: to mumble; to wander slowly and idly. (Can this apply to how slowly I've been drinking my tea this morning?)

Cy walks slowly along the waterfront, patting his niece’s hand where it is tucked up in the crook of his elbow. So good to have her here with him, they get along so well, essentially solitary people whose business it is to work with groups and survive the elements… Artemis is such a lovely person. She smiles up at him, and leans playfully against him as they approach a lamppost. “Whoa!” he protests. “Have not got my land legs back yet, apparently!” as he bumps her shoulder with his ribcage. She’s so tiny compared to him but she has absolutely no fear in her. And she’s tough like madrone roots, tough like her hiking boots. And yet, she’s not the littlest bit bitter. (what would she have to be bitter about? elephant elephant) They grin at one another as they walk into their favorite bar and get their favorite table. The barmaid slaps two coasters down and confirms: Coffee porter for him, habanero cider for her. When the drinks arrive, they toast and clink: “To family, chosen and blood.” They always toast to the same thing.

Yesterday's work. (nanowrimo)

Plot bunny: Artemis and her dogs.
Artemis ruffles the soft ears of the long legged dog panting between her feet. Her keen eyes scan the … (trees in the forest, could have bookend scenes beginning similarly at different points in the story) … house for the inevitable evidence of dog scuffles and minor misbehaviours. she nods and smiles, as Gwen rolls over for belly rubs. The house gnomes are not striking yet, the house looks tidy still. Gwen smiles up, tongue lolling out, as Artemis’s long fingers groom through her coat, pulling a few loose leaves and twigs from their last ramble through the fields. Artemis wonders why Arthur has not put in an appearance, as usually he is not willing (does not hesitate) to forego (demand) his share of any human attention.

She sniffs the air. Deliciousness is in the air, a right and proper British lamb stew in the making. Her one extravagance, a live-in housekeeper. She grins. Otherwise, as she knows well, the house will be a mess (in spite of the gnomes’ best efforts!) and she would be eating a lot of plain fruit, granola, cheese, crackers, and beef jerky. *grimace* She remembers her “bachelor phase” quite well and has no desire to go back to that way of living.

It’s a simple house, her house. Small and neat, with a rambling back yard and kennels along the side, attached to the garage. The puppies are born in birthing boxes in the garage, and once they are old enough to wean, join the pile of dogs in the kennel, until they are trained up properly as hunting and guide dogs. There is always a demand for guide dogs. There is always a demand for hunting dogs. Artemis loves both kinds of training, and her babies only go to clients who have been thoroughly vetted and interviewed and who will treat them as the treasures they are. Family members, but family members trained to help with specific and necessary tasks to make a person’s life BETTER.

Standing, after one last rub to the soft belly under her hand and a soft grip on one silky ear, she walks into the kitchen and greets Mrs. (elephant elephant need a fairy housekeeper name) with a grin and theatrical sniffing of the air. Gwen has followed Artemis into the kitchen, where Arthur has decided to rule today from under the kitchen table. His doggy-face splits in a grin and he scrambles up to jump up on her legs while she laughs and scruffles his ears and scruffs his neck, pulling his smile even wider as he tries to lick her face and she denies him, pushing his nose to the side so he can not get a good lick in. “Dammit dog, it’s a good thing nobody ever comes here to adopt puppies. Nobody would believe that our puppies have any damn training at all after seeing YOU at your worst!” But of course she’s not mad, she’s still laughing, he’s still jumping and trying to love on her the best way he knows how, and the housekeeper has her arms crossed over her apron and is laughing at all of them, even Gwen who is sitting in Good Dog Pose by the doorway, with a panting, smiling face.