wildmage_daine

If they wanted to keep things secret, Daine figures, they would've done a better job of it. Early morning is a busy time of day, not least of all because Daine's own internal clock has gone a bit weird since she moved out here. Her hours at the clinic never start before 4 PM unless there's some sort of emergency, and that's the only time she has to strictly be anywhere. Since Biffy's up at night -- and since she tries to stay up all night during the full moon, especially -- she's as likely to catch naps in the morning and evening as she is to sleep properly through the night.

She's trying to get back on a more normal schedule since the last full moon, but ends up rising around four in the morning. It's an absurd time to be awake, and Kitten grumbles at her for moving about, so Daine takes owl shape and goes for a lengthy flight through the forest. By the time she returns at a more reasonable hour, Lyall is there. She can hear them from her perch on her windowsill (can hear rather more than she wants to, in fact, and she resumes human shape so quickly she stumbles a little). Cheeks flushing, convinced that they'll hear her if she tries to tiptoe past Biffy's door, she ends up just stuffing what she needs for the day in her bag and dropping it out the window. After following it down in bird shape and dressing hastily on the lawn, she heads out on her rounds, determined to take her time.

The farmhouse is silent when she eventually returns, with the exceptions of Kitten and Pawvus, who greet her as if they've been bored witless (as opposed to playing with one another, or with the toys Thomas has made).

"Did Professor Lyall sneak out?" she asks the dragonet, who shakes her head in response. Daine arches an eyebrow. "Did they even leave Biffy's room?" Chortling, Kitten shakes her head again.

Daine snorts, then refills the kettle. It looks as if an earlier attempt at tea was abruptly abandoned, and she rolls her eyes as she puts the old cups by the sink and fetches down fresh ones. "You may as well go wake them," she says, selecting a more bracing tea for them and a milder one for her. "Nicely," she hastens to add as Kitten immediately tears off toward the staircase, Pawvus in bewildered, habitual pursuit. She listens for a moment, turning her ears bat-shaped long enough to make sure Kitten isn't whistling open a locked door. But there's only the click of the knob turning, so she lets her ears lapse back into their usual shape. If they're not even going to try to keep folk out, they can't object too much to an eventual interruption.

Kitten steps into the room, then sits up on her haunches and takes stock for a moment before waddling over to the stranger's side of the bed. Stretching her neck to peer over the edge of the mattress, she lets out a soft, inquiring cheep.