Stranger at the Door [C]

[attr="class","sun"]A Foreign Sun *

I never thought I'd see

Fiamma's days living out in Arecia tended to be structured by routine— the familiar pattern of tasks and chores that she regularly tended to, all in a bid to survive out here alone —but there occasionally came days where she looked over her to-do list only to find it... surprisingly bare. Such occurrences were not common by any means, but there still were times when her food stocks held steady, she had fresh water waiting, and there was not a single leak in the ceiling or jammed cabinet for the fire magi to attempt fixing. She was thoroughly caught up and thoroughly bored because of it.

Ah well, there were far worse things to be complaining about. She would rather this sort of dilemma over the hair pulling stress of every problem and worry knocking at her door at once any day. Because she'd experienced both (living on your own and learning how to manage everything took some time) and could soundly throw her support behind the option of having nothing to do over everything to fix. Not to say that this didn't leave her very, very bored. Fiamma's day thus far had gotten off to a rather lazy start, waking up hours after sunrise, and she'd idled away the afternoon with a quiet lunch, a brief round of stretching outside, and now this— laying sprawled on the living room sofa and tossing a tennis ball up into the air repeatedly.

A flick of the wrist, the ball sailed up, a lazy spin as it stalled at its peak for half a moment, the ball plummeted back down, a soft thwock of it hitting her palm. Regrip. Repeat.

Yeah, not exactly a thrilling pastime but it was holding Fiamma's listless focus for the moment. Toss and catch, toss and catch, toss and— huh? The tennis ball changed course and sailed back down to land, bouncing, off one of the cushions as the fire magi abruptly sat up with ears perked to listen. For what exactly? She didn't really know, but Fiamma could swear that she'd heard a shuffle of movement through the nearby, open window— leading to behind the house —and the sharp chattering of birds disturbed from their rest. Sitting and listening told her nothing else about the situation which prompted her lips to tug downward in a frown; her instincts told her that someone was out there, and she didn't make a habit of ignoring them.

It was within the next half a minute that Fiamma had shoved her feet into a nearby pair of sneakers and was opening the front door to her cabin. A cool breeze rolled up to meet her, stirring a few strands of her dark hair, and the scaled magi paused to strain her ears again before descending the front steps. Was there actually someone around..? Hmm, nothing in the front yard, what about around back?