#;maybe you lost it while you were pipkippy specialing

[kindredbond-blog]

[Orange Smock]

   @botanyknowledge

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.” They had all the skewed time in the Entity’s realm to do that. Right now, he just wants to forget about worrying when and where their next trial will take them. He’d rather keep resting his head against the shoulder and remember how the strap of her smock feels—scratchy burlap intertwined with the stubble saplings sprouting from his jawline. “Or I’ll be out of a job.”

    Of course, Claudette can’t help but worry it’s hard-wired into her now, all the possibilities of who would go who would stay, or killer they would be up against, at times it was overwhelming to consider all the possibilities. Even if she acted cocky and proud in the trials she really wasn’t like that back at the fire and everyone but the killers knew that her cockiness was just because she was a seasoned survivor who was good at predicting what the killers were going to do. She would try to relax , if not for her own sake then for Dwight’s, she didn’t need to come completely unhinged by the thoughts that were buzzing around in her head not when they were finally relaxed at the fire for the evening. ‘You’re right, I should just try and enjoy the calm.’

Claudette yawned quietly before nudging dwight’s head affectionately with her own she can’t help but insert another comment into their conversation. ‘When do you think i’ll get my smock back?’who knows what had happened to it but she had lost track of it one day running through haddonfield, whether she dropped it or the entity took it back is still unknown to her but she wants it back soon. ‘It’s been like what two months or something?’

  For someone so apparently wracked with worry, Claudette seemed the most capable among them to keep a closed lid over a boiling point that often brought each of them to their limits—spewing momentary tantrums until there was less water in their soul to escape through volcanic means. At least, if Dwight hadn’t had the pleasure of cowering with her in and out of the Entity’s patchwork shadows, then he never would have guessed her capable of the concept opposite of calm. Each trial she would tighten the smock around her waist like a warrior gearing up for battle, but they both knew she was more of an actor. Swaggering through their trial only to settle down by the campfire afterwards, suddenly as sweet as he’d always known her to be, Claudette was the definition of a double life. Expecting her to chuckle at such an accusation, Dwight refrains from making it, hoping to spare his chin from any sharp movements in the skull resting beneath it. “Like a day at the spa.” He agrees. “But without the spa.” The only mud bath in their future were the swamp’s bloody cesspools.

  A soft snort escapes him as her hair tickles his cheek, and for a moment, he lets himself believe they’re all on a camping trip, curled up by the fire after a long day of ultimate Frisbee and dock parkour. It’s hard not to let such fantasies filter through his thoughts after cloaking himself in her comforting presence. Cruel as she could be to their persistent pursuers, Dwight knew her smile better than her smirk enough to enjoy what little time they had left to relax before their trials began anew. The golden flecks fastened into his hide seem to burn brighter the longer she lingers by his side, as if hopeful to illuminate one of her warm expressions. It’s her question that catapults him back into their reality--skewed variant of a version of the original though it was. The pause he indulges in is as long as it takes for him to adjust his glasses until they’re straight again, helping him see his surroundings for what they truly were—inescapable. “You think they’d make a trophy flag out of it with all the grief you cause.” He’s joking, of course. Her concern, no matter how trivial, is always important to him, and not just because it was a leader’s job to listen. “Something that particular shade shouldn’t be too hard to spot, right? We’ll find it. I’ll stake my hat on us finding it--tonight, in fact.”Which is proof enough he means every word of his promise. It’s a nice hat, after all. Not many hats had “Dwight” embroidered above their bills, or still smelled faintly of pizza grease.