h e l i c o n i a c l a n [ claim-a-cat ]

    'A little fresh air won't do you any harm.'

    When Dove had asked about her situation earlier that dreary, snow-caked morning, it wasn't likely- even if you were to put it lightly- that her mother had graced her with even half of her attention.

    That morning, the house had been quiet, as it was every day, every evening, at every hour. Above her head, the sound of warm air brushing quietly through the vents was heard- interrupted only by the gentle patter of snow as it rained kisses upon her windows. A clock on the wall of her bedroom ticked something solemn and trivial, singing out about a time that Dove could never bother to check... It had been about seven, perhaps. She didn't want to get up. She really, really didn't want to get up. The temptation to simply roll over and let herself get lulled back to sleep was strong... but there was that little voice in the back of her head; that little nagging bite that cried for her to keep on schedule- to get out of bed- to forever remain habitual. So, of course, she did, as Dove had never been one to disobey orders, even from herself.

    She'd crept downstairs in her finest slippers, her hair in tangles, and fuzzy mind already searching for the warmth of coffee. Of course, she'd found her mother, instead, in her usual spot. Perched on the edge of the couch like a bird all too delicate, Dove's mother looked about as distant as always- her gaze far away, and thoughts held tight between blossom lips. The woman had always been rather aloof like that- always carrying a day-dream heavy quality that separated her from the rest of the world. It was hell to get through, and Dove knew that more than anyone.

    'Do I really have to go?'

    There'd been no 'hello', or 'good morning' exchanged between the two. It seemed an inappropriately sweet gesture to offer, especially when one was left to stare at their mother's turned head, and slender back.

    In her opinion, the whole notion of travelling to some winter resort was a waste of time, patience, and money; and besides money, those were a few things that Dove felt she simply didn't have. She didn't have the patience to go hiking in the winter, nor to deal with the company that came with it. She had more than enough time on her hands, but none of which she'd like to spare on such an unpleasant experience as what was to come. Her mother, however, didn't see it that way.

    'Yes... Now I understand that you don't want to go, Dove, but it'd be good to exercise your social skills every now and then... To broaden your relations...'

    None of her 'relations' were even her age. She was too young, and they were too old, and the only one she knew like the back of her hand was Gabriel Kings, and if he were the back of her hand, she'd have likely cut it off.

    'Gabriel will be there with you... You like Gabriel, don't you?'

    It was as if the woman had read her thoughts, and misunderstood them entirely.

    'No, I don't. Dad likes Gabriel. You like Gabriel.'

    'Is that so...?'

    That was how Dove knew the conversation was coming to an end. Her mother had stopped listening- stopped caring- and you could see it well enough in the glazing of her green eyes, and in the trailing of her words. Dove had been dismissed and let go, and despite the quiet subtlety of her mother's existence, that was made immediately and vividly clear to her.

    Turning on her heels, her jaw ever so slightly clenched, she'd promptly made her way back to the stairs in which she'd descended only moments before, the want for coffee now long gone.

    'Dove,'

    She'd paused, as her mother's voice briefly took hold of her.

    'Your aunt will be picking you up once it's time to come home.'

    Good. She liked her aunt better anyways.


    "You tired yet?"

    "You less annoying yet?"

    Predictably, and much to the displeasure of Dove, the trip up to Blackwood Mountain hadn't been altogether bad. After she'd packed, it wasn't long before her companion came to pick her up. Gabriel Kings- a rather intolerable fellow of five-foot-ten and cynicism- had grinned and kissed her mother upon the cheek; a move Dove knew pleased the woman, as if she'd been touched by royalty... as if his namesake were to be taken quite literally. How her parents could find anything to like about such a man was beyond her, but she suppose everyone had their type.

    'It's sweet of you to invite me along like this, Dove,' Gabriel had said on the train ride up. She'd shot him a look, and resisted the urge to gag herself in public; and by the smirk that played across his features upon meeting her gaze, she could gather that he'd been expecting as much. In all truths, there was nothing entirely unexpected about this situation, and that's what she really hated.

    It could be expected that she'd be forced to go up to this mountain in the middle of nowhere.

    It could be expected that her parents would make Gabriel Kings chaperone.

    It could be expected that she'd hate every single moment of it, and could do nothing about it.

    Blowing out a pluming cloud of air from between her teeth, it was all the Bellini girl could do in order to keep herself from wrapping her tiny, frozen fingers around Gabriel's throat, and, perhaps, her own in the process.

    "Wow, Dove... You're still as grossly charming as ever."

    Shooting the young-man behind her an over the shoulder glare, the girl wrapped her arms around her minute figure all the tighter. "I wish I could say the same of you," she began, "but it seems that you've all but lost your charm, and now you're just gross."

    She promptly earned herself an impressed quirk of the brow, at this.

    "You know, you could lighten up on me."

    Watching from the corner of her eye as Gabriel's taller form came skipping up to match her stride, the girl could only cringe into the down of her fur-lined jacket as the faint smell of cigarette smoke mixed with that of the snow, and pines, and wet, mountain stones. Gabriel didn't smoke often, that- among many other things about him- she knew; but he did smoke just enough to lightly tinge his clothes with the scent of burnt tobacco, and of which, she'd never been a fan.

    "I only lighten up on those I like, and you, Gabriel Kings, I dislike." Stamping her feet harder onto the ice-packed trail, she met the young man's dark gaze with her arched brows furrowed. His response to the look was a simple scoff, and a challenge. "And who do you like, Dove? Last I checked, you don't like anyone."

    This she had to think about, and that in and of itself was rather sad.

    "I like Tyler Ursan."

    "And why is that?"

    "Because he's shy, and shy people don't talk as much."

    "I think you're confusing the word 'like' for 'tolerate'. Try again."

    Whatever. It didn't matter. So what if she didn't like anybody? She liked the cabin that she was beginning to see up ahead, and she liked the idea of ditching Gabriel Kings, and sprinting away.

    "Don't catch up."

    Before even another word could leave her chaperone's mouth, Dove was off and running, her boots kicking up grit , while the wind went biting at her cheeks, turning them a burning, painful red. She really hated the cold; really hated snow and ice, and this dumb, god-forsaken mountain. She hated that she was so caught up in hating everything, that she hadn't been watching where she stepped, and ended up slipping on a patch of ice.

    "Crap--!"

    That was all she got out before she'd landed flat on her back.

    On her tailbone.

    At the cabin.

    "Why me...?"