~ You'll Just Have to Trust Me ~

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    mags. So, I made a form for my character so you have some info to go on, but don't feel as if you have to have a form as well. I'm good with whatever really~ I also moved the plot idea over here for easier access.


    So, would you like to start or me?

    Morgan Smith
    Plot Idea

    looks good! and yes would you be able to write the first post? some stuff came up for me so i won't be able to post until tomorrow. i'm thinking that my fc is gonna be max barczak by the way. mind if i use your form? i'll be sure to flesh it out a lot more when i can.


    christopher bennett

    The post was edited 2 times, last by mags. ().

    "Just let me be who I am."

    "It's what you really need to understand."

    Morgan Smith || 21 yrs || Pic —

    {{ Go right ahead and take your time~ }}


    Thunder clapping. Lightning flashing. Rain pouring. Heart pounding. Feet aching.


    Morgan couldn't think of anything else as she tried to make her way through the rain. She obviously didn't have very good timing. First night in town and she has completely lost her sense of direction in the middle of a storm.


    Morgan arrived on the local bus just a short time before sunset. She had only a bag to her name and only a few hundred dollars in cash. Finding a room wasn't exactly in the works so she had planned on simply finding a sheltered area to bunker down. However, the storm had greatly caught her off guard, sending her stumbling through the dark and rain. Maybe this wasn't a good idea... She jumped as the thunder clapped again, sending her hairs to stand on end.


    Squinting through the rain, she glanced around on the horizon trying to find some place to go. In the distance, quite a ways away, she could see a small light. It was a long shot, but light was better than darkness right now. Quickening her steps, she began to hurry for the light, hoping it was some salvation from this torturous storm.


    As her feet ached, she stumbled through what she thought was a field. As the light grew bigger, she began to believe that she was indeed coming on some shelter. As it came into view, she could see a large barn and sighed with relief. Thank God!! She hustled over to the door and pressed up against it, pulling it open just enough to slip in. She was met with the smell of hay and animals, though she hardly paid attention as she merely relished in the feel of warmth. She was finally out of the wind and rain.


    Stumbling towards the hay, she planned on laying down for some rest. She would be gone by the time daylight came so no harm would be done. Looking like a drowned, half starved rat she went to a ladder that she presumed led to the loft. It took her a little bit to actually climb up, but once up she set her soaked bag to the side and practically collapsed upon the hay that rested up there. Her mind went blank almost immediately as she gave into exhaustion, slipping into a deep sleep as the storm raged outside.


    {{ You can start off at the next morning if you would like }}

    ❝ CHRISTOPHER BENNETT ❞ ☀

    Today was going to be a good day, and Chris wasn’t about to let anyone convince him otherwise. He woke to the sound of his father’s battered Ford pick up sputtering down the long, winding driveway out of earshot, carrying both his parents and any sign of responsibility down to Des Moines to visit his sister at college. Fortunately, they wouldn’t be returning until late that night, giving Chris plenty of time to get some rare hours of relaxation in.


    He tugged on a worn t-shirt and jeans as he rolled out of bed half-awake. The animals were just beginning to rise with the sun, and Chris could already tell they were impatient without even stepping a foot into the barn. He stumbled down the stairs and grabbed a cooling plate of toast that his mother had left out for him, just as Midas barreled into him. The collie and german shepherd mix was nearly ten years old, but still acted like he was a puppy. Chris bent down with his toast in his mouth as he scratched the dog behind the ears. “Let’s go, boy,” Chris said through his food as he stepped into his boots and headed out the door to the barn.
    The ground was still wet from the previous day’s rainfall and the air still cool and moist as the sun began to rise. Midas sped ahead to the barn, and slipped through the thin crack that the open door left. Chris took his time on the minute long walk to the barn, looking over the rolling fields that the herd cattle grazed in as a sense of tranquility washed over him the the early morning peace. That peace, however, was quickly disturbed when he yanked open the door to the barn and flicked on the lights.


    Midas’ ears were flat against his head and his lips drawn back in a snarl as he growled up towards the hay loft. Chris groaned, ignoring the dog and walking towards the nearest stall. There was most likely some poor bird or animal caught upstairs again. Chris turned his back to the dog and instead turned towards the mare in front of him, patting the farm horse’s forehead as she nudged him for treats. After a moment he left the horse with a departing pat and moved towards the feed room, casting Midas an annoyed look. The dog still hadn’t shut up, and continued to stand beside the ladder barking. Hopefully the animal would leave soon enough.


    Chris stepped into the feed room and picked up the two closest full feed buckets, bringing them back into the main space of the barn, then set them down with a final, exasperated sigh. “Midas, quit it will you?”


    In turn, Midas began to bark, his head not turning from the loft. “For God’s sake,” Chris mumbled, reaching for one of the metal pitchforks against the wall. He walked briskly towards the ladder, and nudged the dog aside as he began climbed the ladder one-handed. When he reached the top, he felt around the wall until his fingers felt the switch, and cast light into the loft.


    There was a body, no, a person in the hay loft. Chris watched for a moment in utter confusion as the small figure’s side rose and fell in breath. They were somehow nestled in a small pile of excess hay in the center of the dim space. Chris planted the end of the pitchfork heavily on the wooden flooring, producing a heavy thud before he spoke loudly. “Who the fuck are you?"

    "Just let me be who I am."

    "It's what you really need to understand."

    Morgan Smith || 21 yrs || Pic —

    Barking. She could hear barking though it was faint and faded, as if in a simple dream. All night, Morgan had slept without moving at all. Where she nestled down is exactly where she stayed, too warm to even think of really moving about. And the darkness of the loft only helped her to feel even more cozy and to remain asleep. However, her plans to be gone by morning had drastically backfired.


    Slowly she had begun to realize that the barking wasn't simply in a dream. Her eyes cracked open slightly though her head was still filled with fog as she tried to recall where she was. That's when she heard a heavy thud and a voice. Her heart nearly stopped and her blood went cold as her body jolted straight up, facing the man that now stood before her with a pitch fork. Hay stuck out in all directions from her hair and her eyes were as wide as a deer in the headlights. The water and mud from the previous night had since dried to her, not helping her already scrawny look. Going a few days without proper food had taken a toll on her naturally tiny frame.


    Shifting backwards, she tried to put more space between her and this man, dragging her bag along with her. "S-s-sorry," she stammered, her voice coming hoarse and quiet. "I-I didn't mean to be here, honest!" Her words had come more quickly, almost like a young child trying not to get in trouble for something. Her gaze darted to the ladder, her only way of escape, but she knew that was nearly pointless.


    She wouldn't be fast enough to make it past him. Even if she jumped up now, he was standing in a position that would allow him to easily stop her. Besides, the barking below made her very wary of even coming down as it signaled a not-too-happy dog. Her chances were very limited here, and her gaze went to the pitch fork he was holding. Great screw up you got yourself into, she gently scolded herself as her wide gaze then found his again.

    ❝ CHRISTOPHER BENNETT ❞ ☀

    Chris hesitated, unsure of how to handle the situation. Now that the girl had stirred, she looked even smaller than when she was curled up in her nest of hay. Her eyes looked wide with fear and confusion, and her clothes and hair were a dirty and wet mess. She looked hopelessly young and extremely invulnerable as she backed away from him. Chris immediately felt like the criminal in the situation, as he realized that he was blocking the girl’s older means of escape from the strange man interrupting her slumber. He was just barely over six feet tall, and realized that he must be towering over the half-drowned girl in the loft.


    “How,” Chris paused to clear his throat, and tried to speak softer to her. “How old are you?” he asked uncertainly, twirling the long handle of the pitchfork between his fingers. “Where are your parents, and how the hell did you end up in my barn?” The bombardment of questions fell from Chris’ lips one after another, and he continued to stare at the girl. He didn't recognize her, and he knew everyone in Stonehill, Iowa, population: 483. There was a chance that she was knew in town, but how on earth did she end up miles from the center of town in the middle of a storm?


    When Chris stopped talking and broke away from his thoughts he realized that Midas had also ceased his barking, in favor of a low whine. He could now hear the mixed breed dog pacing uncertainly on the wood floor below, committed to guarding the bottom of the ladder.


    "Just let me be who I am."

    "It's what you really need to understand."

    Morgan Smith || 21 yrs || Pic —

    Morgan held the man’s gaze as he seemed to be figuring out what he was suppose to do here. Finding a random girl in his loft was bound to bring a load of suspicion and questions. Some of those came to light as they left his lips, and her mind began to get to work. She had to be very careful here. Too much information may give her away, and too little would make him dig deeper. She couldn’t allow herself to be found out just yet.


    She watched the pitchfork as twirled in his fingers, thinking of her answers to come. “Twenty-one,” she said carefully, bringing her knees up to her chest. It was more of a comfort position to her, trying to get herself to calm down and think straight. “And... And my parents... Aren’t here.” Rather vague, but the truth. They weren’t here. One died years ago, and one couldn’t care less where she was right now.


    Then her words began to flow quickly, trying to defend her reason for being here, while making sure that she wasn’t going to get into some major trouble. Bringing the cops in would come close to blowing the whole reason for her running here. “And...I came in late last night on the bus. I’ve nevertheless been here, I didn’t know where to go, and then the storm came, and...” Her voice ended off as she clamped her mouth shut. She often rambled when she felt nervous, but that wouldn’t help her now at all.


    Her now hazel gaze still watched him carefully, looking like a scared animal. She doubted she looked very presentable, but there really wasn’t much she could do about that. She heard the change within the dog below, though it still frightened her. There was no way she could out run a dog in her current state.


    ❝ CHRISTOPHER BENNETT ❞ ☀ 

    Chris grew more and more confused as the girl began to speak. She focused so carefully on each word, as if a single slip-up would result in punishment. She was actually twenty-one? She looked so tiny and her hesitation before she spoke each word failed to help her case on convincing him.


    His eyes then widened as she mentioned her lack of parents. A dozen thoughts coursed through his mind as he tried to interpret her cryptic message. Had they left her? Were they…dead? Chris immediately chose to not press her for that answer, and to just avoid the topic altogether if possible.


    Chris sighed and reached a hand up to run it through his hair, utterly confused on how to handle the situation as the girl finished her brief narrative, and looked to him to speak or act. “So what exactly do you need?” he began and rested his hand on the back of his head. “Like, do you need a bus ride outta here, or some food, or money or what?”


    As he stood staring at the pitiful sight before him, he knew without a doubt that he wanted to help the girl. If anything, her mysterious appearance intrigued him. Rarely did anything exciting happen in Stonehill, or really anything at all. On the farm, days blurred into weeks, then months, now years for him. In some ways, this girl seemed to be a way out from the endless bore of chores and labor. Even if she was just some random girl that got lost in backwater Iowa, he hoped that it would at least make for an interesting story. “How can I help you?” he finished off lamely, fully aware of how strange the entire situation seemed to be.



    "Just let me be who I am."

    "It's what you really need to understand."

    Morgan Smith || 21 yrs || Pic —

    Even as he asked abut what she needed, Morgan had no clue how to answer. Her hands began to play with her ragged and dirty shirt, her fingers twirling around themselves hastily. Her gaze watched her fingers as she seemed to be throwing ideas around in her mind. She had no idea where she was, what town she was in, where to stay, or where to actually get started in this place. One thing was for sure: she would need to find a place to be and place to gather some income before too long or else she was going to be in huge trouble.


    She ran a hand through her messy hair, shaking her head lightly. "Um, telling me where I am would be a nice start," she said softly and rubbed her eyes a bit. The fear from before was slowly fading away, though caution still clung to her limbs. "And... Um... Where I could stay and get a job..." She raised her gaze now, knowing she had to sound completely out of her mind.


    Here she was, a random girl with supposedly no history, arriving in a town that she doesn't even know. Then she shows up in a stranger's barn and has some lame excuses that she was giving off. You aren't giving yourself any breaks... She bit her bottom lip slightly, hoping she was even a little convincing. Being called out wouldn't be very good as she was already struggling with answers for him.

    ❝ CHRISTOPHER BENNETT ❞ ☀ 

    The words falling from Morgan's lips were doing a weak job of convincing Chris, but at this point he felt nothing but pity for the poor girl. It was starting to seem that she was some runaway, and by the shaking fear in her voice, whatever she was running from seemed worse than the possibility of ending up lost in a stranger's property in the middle of nowhere. "You're in Stonehill, Iowa." he told her bluntly. "It's about two hours north of Des Moines." Chris chuckled and continued to scratch the back of his head. "It's kinda in the middle of nowhere..." he drifted off and lowered his hand back to his side.


    "I can help you get on your feet if you want," Chris offered. He jerked his thumb backwards, to where the house was on the other side of the barn. "You can take a shower and I can fix you a bite to eat if you want." Was that the right thing to say? Fuck, he probably sounded like ten kinds of shady right now. Chris offered Morgan a slight smile and switched his pitchfork, which he had just begun to realize looked quite menacing in this manner, to his other hand. He took a couple slight steps forward and reached out his right hand towards her to help her off of the ground.



    "Just let me be who I am."

    "It's what you really need to understand."

    Morgan Smith || 21 yrs || Pic —

    Morgan began to picture a map as he spoke of Iowa, mentally measuring the length between it and California. It was quite a ways, and being in the middle of nowhere made it even better. No big news reporters, no magazines, no worries. She She felt her insides relax now. No one would be out here looking for her. Besides, small town was something completely new and different for her. To try and settle down here seemed very enticing indeed.


    As he spoke of helping her out, she couldn't help but feel very tempted by the offer. She hadn't eaten anything really wholesome in the past three days and a shower would do wonders for her messy appearance right now. Being seen beyond this property like this probably wouldn't help her much either. She watched as he took a step towards her and held out his hand, though her gaze looked questioningly at it and then back to him.


    Even though it was tempting to accept the offer, she was still very cautious and hesitant. In California, if you were caught trespassing there was a high possibility of the police being called on you. She had just been found trespassing, and in a place where she had no clue of anything. "So... So you're not going to call the cops?" she asked hesitantly as she looked at his hand again.


    It looked much larger than her own and callused by years of work. Her's, while compared to his, were small and looked like the hands of a delicate doll. The only work she had really even known was school work and that of a waitress, neither of which would really show on the hands.

    ❝ CHRISTOPHER BENNETT ❞ ☀ 

    For a moment, Chris wanted to pull his hand back. Call the police? Fuck, did this chick kill someone? Chris’ laughed was a bit forced, but he didn’t know any other way to break his growing unease in the lapse of silence. “Nah, I mean, you haven’t really done anything except maybe spook the horses and Midas a little.” Would be rude to ask for confirmation on this? Shit, what if her parents did die or something like that and she was a runway? Then who would be the asshole?


    Damnit this could be complicated. Chris ran through a dozen scenarios. He would feed her, let her use the shower and probably have a spare pair of clothes that his sister left behind, then drive her into town to make a phone call or something like that. Take the bus out of town? Yeah, that would have to do. If Morgan was so worried about the police, then either she did something very illegal, or, well, there really wasn’t another option besides irrational fear.


    “I’ve got some toast.” Fuck. Words, Chris, use your damn words. “Inside,” Chris blurted lamely. “Food. For you to eat. If you’re hungry?” The broken sentence finished as a weak question that hung in the air for a moment. Maybe this so-called exciting occurrence of a strange girl in the hay loft wouldn't be as nice as he had originally thought.


    "Just let me be who I am."

    "It's what you really need to understand."

    Morgan Smith || 21 yrs || Pic —

    Morgan let out a soft sigh of relief, her body visibly relaxing now as he spoke of not calling the police. So her cover was still in tacked. As long as the police and/or news media didn't get involved with her in this small town, she could probably make this work out. But now she needed to figure out how to settle here. She needed a job, a steady income, and a place to stay. Something cheap would be great as she didn't have a lot to her name.


    As he spoke of food, she felt her stomach growl and a pink shade crossed her cheeks. She folded her arms around her stomach as if trying to hide the noise, clearly embarrassed. "Um... Food sounds great," she said softly, then finally took hold of his hand. Her grip was still hesitant, and very weak. Honestly not having eaten very much was taking a toll on her.


    She stumbled up to her feet, her legs shaking slightly. Once she got her balance, she released his hand and tried to brush herself off, though it didn't do anything to help her appearance. She bent down and took a hold of her bag and slipped it over her shoulder, though her stance still showed great caution towards him. Just be smart about this, she reminded herself as she looked towards the ladder once more. There was still a dog below them.

    ❝ CHRISTOPHER BENNETT ❞ ☀ 

    Morgan's hand was small in his hand. As Chris helped pull her to her feet, he found it took little effort due to that the that she was frighteningly small. He smiled ruefully at the sound of her stomach growling and waited for Morgan to pick up her bag. "Ok," he said and turned to move towards the ladder.


    "Midas, we're coming down now, buddy," Chris called out to the dog. As he glanced down he could see that Midas was still pacing at the foot of the ladder, his ears and eyes focused on each movement Chris was making. Chris cast a quick glance to Morgan, before slowing descending down the ladder with his pitchfork still in his hand. When he was a few rungs from the bottom, he jumped off, his workbooks hitting the wooden flooring with a dull thud. He stepped over to the nearby wall and propped the pitchfork against it, there was no need for it now. Chris crouched down and gave Midas a quick scratch behind the ears, knowing full well that the dog's attention was still solely on the stranger coming down the ladder behind him. "It's okay, boy," Chris whispered softly as he rubbed the dog's ears. "She's a friend."


    Chris stood up and kept a careful eye on the dog as he waited for Morgan to come down. Midas seemed to have calmed down considerably, although he didn't budge from Chris' side. Chris glanced up towards the full feed buckets that he had left in the middle of the stable, and sighed. After he let Morgan shower, and fed her, he would have to come outside quickly to feed and let the horses out before he took her into town.


    There were nine horses there, and all of them were getting more and more impatient as the day grew later without food. Maybe Morgan could even help him out, although it didn't seem like the girl had any experience with farm labor. Oh well, she could at least carry a bucket of feed, right? "You good?" he said to Morgan.


    ---


    ooc;; feel free to control my doggy boy, midas. you can honestly make him do what you want in response to morgan if you want them to have some sort of interaction. he'd probably just sniff her and be all cautious and protective of chris.



    "Just let me be who I am."

    "It's what you really need to understand."

    Morgan Smith || 21 yrs || Pic —

    Morgan watched as he moved away from her and down the ladder, only now letting her body completely relax. She was out of his presence, and beginning to question her decision on this. She ran both hands through her hair as her mind began to think of every scenario that could possibly follow. Calm down... She told herself silently as she felt her stomach growl again. Just take the food. Be good and take the food. Drawing a breath to calm her raging thoughts, she moved towards the ladder now.


    Her blonde head peeked out over the edge of the loft as she watched him descend and then finally jump off the ladder. She had to admit that he was rather kind and strangely willing to help. Maybe it was simply her city experiences, but she was definitely not used to any of this. She also recalled how easy it seemed to be lifted by him, wondering if it was his own strength, or simply that she had become much lighter.


    Her mind came back to the present as she watched him talk to the dog, scratching behind it's ears and murmuring softly to it. She looked down at him as he gave the all clear to come down. She glanced around at the barn around them, noticing the animals that lingered near. Nothing else seemed threatening, so she turned around and positioned her feet over the rungs of the ladder, slowly making her decent, last thing she needed to do was fall.


    "Yeah, I'm okay," she said as she moved down. She didn't jump from the ladder like he had, however, when she reached close tot he end. She moved her feet all the way down the ladder until she came to the floor before turning to face him once again. She looked down at the dog, but didn't reach out to him. She didn't have much experience with dogs, or with horses considering that's what lingered nearby.

    ❝ CHRISTOPHER BENNETT ❞ ☀ 

    As soon as Morgan's feet hit the wooden floor, Midas stepped over and began to furiously sniff her feet, inspecting the foreigner for any sign of a threat. Satisfied that she wasn't a danger, Midas stepped back and over to Chris' side. "Good boy," Chris praised the dog. Seeing that Morgan was behind him, Chris started out of the barn and onto the wide dirt path that led to the house.


    The sun had risen higher in the sky and had begun to spill over the dew-covered fields. The cattle grazed peacefully in the horizon, just tiny blotches of dark brown and black on the hill that sloped gently upwards. There wasn't much to see on the farm. Behind the barn was a smaller riding ring that used to house riding lessons for Chris and his siblings when they were younger, and beyond that was an empty, fenced in field that the horses liked to graze in. Closer to the house was another barn-like structure, although significantly stalling and looking to be in a rapidly declining state of decay. It housed only some of the older farm equipment and supplies that had fallen out of use. There was a long abandoned chicken coop beside the house, as well as a small, but impeccably kept vegetable garden that starkly stood out against the disheveled appearance of the other farm amenities.


    The house itself was a light cream color with a fading dark green roof tiling. It was two stories with plenty of windows and a large, open front porch with half a dozen brown wicker chairs with colorful cushions on them. The door was swung wide open and pressed against the side of the house, and only a screen door stood in the way of entry to the farmhouse. Due to a lack of garage, the two other vehicles the Bennetts owned were on the far side of the house, a pick up that had seen better days and a small, grey two door chevy that was missing the rear window and its bumper.


    As they made the short walk to the house, Chris cast the girl a sidelong glance to see how she was faring. "I'm Chris, by the way," he offered, realizing that he hadn't the slightest idea of who exactly this girl was. "So what's your name?" he asked.


    "Just let me be who I am."

    "It's what you really need to understand."

    Morgan Smith || 21 yrs || Pic —

    Morgan watched hesitantly as Midas sniffed at her feet. She didnt move while her gaze watched him, though quickly noted that he didn't do anything more than sniff around. She smiled slightly, then saw the young man start out of the barn. Morgan followed swiftly, wanting food and a shower desperately.


    As they walked, Morgan looked around as she took in the scenery. During the storm, she hasn't been able to see much at all, and was focused mainly on getting shelter. Now she could see the more peaceful side to it all. The land, the cattle, the smell of the air, and the beautiful house that sat neatly before it all. When she was a little girl, she often thought of living in a place like this once. She never thought she would actually be at one.


    Morgan snapped her attention back to the male as he asked for her name, noting that his was Chris. She immediately thought his name suited him. "Morgan," she answered simply, "And... This place looks beautiful." She cast her glance around once more, simply loving the look of this place.


    {{On mobile, and traveling... sorry if this is lame}}

    ❝ CHRISTOPHER BENNETT ❞ ☀ 

    At Morgan's words, Chris began to chuckle. He glanced down at her with an amused smile. "Beautiful?" he repeated with a slow shake of his head. Chris looked up at the farm. Beautiful? Hardly. To him, it was still the three hundred and fifty acres that he had spent the full twenty-two years of his life on. In some manners, the rolling fields and cloudy skies had begun to seem confining. It was still the same rickety metal gate at the end of the mile long driveway, the same forest green buckets that he put the horse feed in, the same dirt and sky and rocks that had surrounded him all his life.


    "I guess its really what you make of it," Chris responded to his own questioning statement. At this point they reached the deck. Chris moved up the two steps and reached for the screen door, pulling it wide open and gesturing for Morgan to enter. "There's a couple pieces of toast on the table if you want some, and some apples in the bowl. I could make you pancakes or something if you want something a bit more substantial."


    Immediately through the door was the kitchen. Against the wall were the medium oak cabinets and counters, on which the latter was crammed with miscellaneous file folders, papers, and writing utensils. The stove was fairly clean, and the matching grey refrigerator stood alive in the corner, humming to itself with colorful magnets covering its surface. The large, rectangular oak table in the center of it all took up most of the space. There were nine chairs crammed around it, with one standing lonely in the far corner with broken leg. The table was bare, except for a glass bowl half-full of apples in the center, and a light green plate of two pieces of toast in front of one of the chairs.


    From the kitchen you could see through into part of the living room, with a large bookshelf reaching the ceiling with books sticking out with colorful bindings. There was a large red couch piled with cushions near it, sagging the middle as if the feathery weight was too much; and a coffee table cluttered with more papers. Behind the couch was the wooden staircase leading to the second floor. It was a bit of an organized chaos, as Chris' mother liked to call it. To Chris, that was synonymous with home.


    ---


    ooc;; don't worry about it! it looks great to me!


    "Just let me be who I am."

    "It's what you really need to understand."

    Morgan Smith || 21 yrs || Pic —

    Morgan looked towards him as she wondered why he seemed to question what she stated. She thought it was so peaceful and pretty, and a place she believed she could really unwind at. Though, it could be that he had grown used to it all. Most people think that big city where she was from would be busy and bustling, hard to get used to. However, after living there so long, she hardly noticed any of it anymore. Perhaps that is what has happened to him.


    As they made it to the porch, Morgan followed behind him and stepped through the door that he held open for her. Her eyes immediately took in the kitchen and how it was decorated, seeing the immediate differences when comparing it to her own. Her own was dressed in white. White walls, white floors, white cabinets, and white counters. Everything was suffocating and so clean that it hardly looked lived in. Not that it really was lived in. But here, here it seemed so warm and welcoming. Traces of a family speckled the room.


    "Wow," she breathed slightly. She looked over at the bowl that sat in the middle of the table and then the pieces of toast. She felt her stomach growl again and moved towards the food without realizing it. She glanced at him before she reached out to grab an apple, though didn't sit quite yet. Part of her was afraid to leave dirt and the other was still cautious about being in a stranger's house. Though as she lifted a piece of toast to her lips, she let out a sigh of relief.


    It felt so good to eat some actual food again. Crackers, bars, travel nuts, all did very little for her. She didn't realize how hungry she had been before until she had taken a bite of the toast. Now she just kept eating the toast as she held it, grateful to have something other than travel snacks.

    ❝ CHRISTOPHER BENNETT ❞ ☀ 

    Chris let the door close behind him as he followed Morgan into the kitchen. Midas was already inside, following closely on Morgan's heels, although it was in the air on whether it was for lack of trust, or the fact that she was heading for food. He sat back on his haunches and stared up at her silently with his tail dragging slowly back and forth on the floor.


    Meanwhile, Chris scrambled to clean up the mess of papers littering the counter. “Sorry for the mess,” Chris apologized as he mentally cursed himself for forgetting to clean up all the farm paperwork. “The ceiling above the study has been leaking because the shower in the bathroom above it has been rotting the floor,” he explained as he stacked the folder atop one another until he had one slightly comprehensive pile of everything. Seeing no ideal place to store the stack, he shoved it as far as he could against the wall.


    Chris turned around to see Morgan eating the toast. “Do you want something else to eat? I could fix you up something more substantial like some eggs or something?” Chris paused for a split-second before continuing his thought.     “If not, I can get a shower ready for you. Some of my sister’s clothes would probably fit you." Both of his sisters were probably only slightly taller than Morgan. While Katy had already moved out and taken the majority of her belongings with her, Michelle had most likely left some of her clothes behind while she was at college.