The next whiskey bar

@Meissa

Solomon’s okay with the life he’s leading right now. Okay being the key word. He’s in the company of some righteous fools he feels sometimes, but isn’t that what he is too? He means the term righteous fools with love of course. Considering he’s really only met Meissa and Flynn — the King and Queen of this whole operation. It’s too quiet though. He’s not getting anything out of it — for entertainment purposes he means. He wants to stir up the pot. He wants to get close to them and know the grisly details of their plans — wants to participate in them. He wants a hand in their tomfoolery.

So far they’ve benefited him. Taken him in when he knew fuck all about the place he finds himself in. And it seems the King and Queenie may just like him — may just enjoy having him about. Still he’s restless. Not used to this kind of downtime, but he welcomes it.

And with said downtime, he’s got plenty of time to muck about and find some interesting bits ‘n’ bobs to add to his collection. The one he has residing in his den of course.

Today, he’s digging up pretty looking gemstones and interesting looking rocks. The hole he’s dug is about two feet down and three feet wide — been toiling over it all day he has. With a pile of two colorful looking stones about the size of a quarter sitting beside the hole on the grass, he’s still not satisfied with today’s catch.

So he continues. Steeling aching muscles, he continues digging. Fur covered in dirt and claws caked on it he carries on his business as the clouds creep over the sky, signaling a potential storm. All the more reason to hurry up.
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 Meissa was on a mission, a long-time one that she would work on likely throughout her entire pregnancy.

 Wow. Pregnancy. It was ridiculous to think of, to know that she now had life within her, produced from what instinct had told her to do but she had not been quite aware of the ramifications of. She knew it as truth, though, from the way her stomach had coiled for days. From what Flynn had told her. It still didn't quite seem real, but the pieces seemed to be fitting together to confirm. Her mate wanted them to keep it quiet until it was obvious, or at least until they decided to tell everyone together, so she kept working as if there was nothing different.

 Anyhow, her mission today was to lug a bunch of flat rocks from a quarry she'd discovered and pull them all the way back home. This required plentiful stops as well as some pausing to return when rocks might slide back down hills or otherwise. She glanced over, tired eyes trailing across the plains until something peculiar was spotted. This route, she hadn't come before, but it seemed that someone - was that Solomon? - had their own mission.

 With a sigh, she abandoned the stone and wandered towards him. “Whatcha up to?” she asked, peering into the hole he was making. “Digging a grave?”

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He’s preoccupied, limbs flexing as he works hard on digging for nothing more useful than his own pleasure. The pleasure to collect pretty things — shiny things, that is. So when Meissa begins walking up he doesn’t hear her until she’s fairly close. His ears shift and he stills, looking over to her with a hard working scowl on his face.

The silly woman asks if he’s digging a grave and he huffs out a tired laugh. “The cheek on you.” He hums as a smile comes to his maw. “Very funny, lass, but you’re not gonna be able ta get rid o’ me ‘at fuckin’ easy, now will ya?”

He chimes it with out own amount of cheek as he climbs from the hole and shakes out a dirty pelt. Gesturing a chin to the stones on the grass as he keeps his persistent eye contact.

“Diggin’ meself up some pret’y stones, I am. For me collection ‘at is.” He hums gruffly.

Only he grins devilishly at her when he remembers what Flynn told him at the reunion with the roman nosed woman who had saved him from that one bitch. His eyes are knowing and he slinks closer to her, words on the tip of tongue like the loose lipped bastard he is.

“Readying meself for ya big day, I am. Can’t be lookin’ an ungrateful cunt when it comes, eh?” He looks down at the stones after he’s done teasing her, intentionally leaving his knowledge vague. “Those may not be tha finest, but I’ve got loads more. Much pret’ier ones too, love.”
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 She grinned back at him, tails waving gently in the wind as well as with her humor. He climbed out and shook off the dirt, which she deftly avoided by stepping out of range. Then the woman stepped forward again to peer into the pile of stones he'd placed there. Oh, they reminded her of those that Flynn had found. Even the blue one that he had returned with that day on the mountain, when she had first met him and caught his gaze.

 She had belonged to him from that moment, and he to her.

 So, with that knowledge and that of the man before her's flirtations, she didn't mention aloud her lover's fascination with the gems. “Ah, you collect them?” she said, though it wasn't truly a question since he'd already answered it. “Where do you keep them?” She couldn't recall if he had a den in the Hiraeth with the rest of them or if he spent his nights out on the plains.

 He went on to chatter about her big day and she gave a soft laugh. “Well, I doubt they'll mind too much either way.” Once the little ones did come, they'd have one thing on their mind: drinking her milk. Oh. Gross. That - yeah, just the idea was kind of weird and she shuffled her feet slightly at the thought. Plus, she'd be needing to lick them to make sure they got stuff both in and out. Plus, the whole cleaning up process. She'd done it once before with a much larger output, so she figured she'd be able to do it again.

 Little did she know, their output was far, far different from what she'd already dealt with. Probably not so nasty, but who was to say?

 “Are you enjoying yourself here in Little Haven?” she asked, looking from the stones to the man. She felt the urge to ask about what'd been on her mind but decided against it, in the case that he said something that put her in a bad mood. Ah, always trying to avoid the hurt and yet finding herself drawn into them, that was Meissa for certain.

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