Luned and the Argonauts: Quest of the Golden Fleece

[Lemonadeparade]

Rowan shook her head with bitterness and repugnance as the old woman slipped out of sight. "What a nut." she grumbled, thinking of her heading warning. Rowan tucked her hand nicely onto Maxwell's leg, shifting her head onto his shoulder again.
"I could sleep for a million days." she imparted, then let out a soft yawn.
"I vote no more picking up strange old women off the side of the road, huh?" she smiled, before letting her eyes slip shut.

The sky was casting a darker shade of blue, the Sun was starting to retire itself into the later hours of the day. The car had grown peaceful, the group of friends feeling the travel taking its toll on them slowly. They had searched around the cavities of the car and found a CD with nice slow songs, lulling them into a swing of perfection. Things seemed to be going nicely now, no elders telling Rowan she was a punk.
The camp was growing closer, only two miles away as it rolled around to night time, the sweet summer breeze carried country scents into the window. She had passed out on Maxwell, they say fresh air makes you sleepy because of less pollution. Whatever it was, she was happily dozed off next to her teddy bear, Maxwell's shoulder was a nicely suited resting place for her head. The rest of the car ride was spent planning who was going to do what job when they got there, food duties were handed out; as well as who was going to fetch what for the group.

The sky was soon coated in puffy pink and orange clouds as the sun sunk lower and lower, Rowan had been sleeping for quite a while when she woke up. "Are we there yet?" she croaked, her voice still faint from the sleep she had endured. She looked up at the window, seeing where they were. Nope, not there. She sighed, almost. "How long has it been? " she piped up, looking up at Maxwell curiously. She didn't want to seem pushy or urgent, but she was growing so impatient she could barely wait any longer. One thing about Rowan was her lack of patience that always got her into fits and predicaments. She rubbed at her eyes, feeling the crusty bits of sleep in her eyes, the achy feeling from being immobile for too long. Her smile grew seeing him, and all of her friends around her as she woke, she wished she could wake up to this every morning, then she would have been more of a morning person.

[KrimpetyCatcher]

A huge smile was evident on Sam’s face as he stretched in a vain attempt to soothe his aching back. Sure, even the front seat of the Argo still created the issue of bent knees and stooped neck. And even though every bump in the road sent another jolt of discomfort down his long spine, he was still happy. Because each pothole took him another metre away from Boston, and every painfully sung song brought him one step closer to the outdoors. Of course he loved the city. The artist’s scene, the nightlife, even his job – Sam felt a true and deep affection to the city. But recently he’d felt something. Something which called for his attention, demanded action from the man dubbed “Most likely to end up homeless” at an unofficial awards ceremony back in New York. This little voice inside his head had been urging him to get out of the city, to take in some different scenery for a while, and he was happy to acquiesce. Besides, he knew that the seating arrangements could be far worse – he had no doubt Olive could vouch for that.

It was not until the party’s third stop that he was finally allowed some time alone with his thoughts. He had slowly unfolded himself from the car, a smile creeping back onto his face as he took in the store. Milton’s, Luned had called it. Whatever the place, it just screamed character. Of course, Sam immediately fell in love with the place. The vintage gas pumps, the rickety, weathered look of the place – you just couldn’t find anything like it in Boston. Or New York, for that matter. This smile only grew as he slowly wandered into the store. Around him was art. Beautiful, beautiful art. Some of the most amazing natural views in the world surrounded him, and he was in a convenience store. Hell, the drive was worth it just to arrive in this place alone.

He had initially planned to purchase something – at the least some drinks to support the meagre supply he had brought – but he was left breathless by the landscapes on all sides, and he had spent the next several minutes simply wandering the edges of the store, inspecting each piece more carefully than the last. He eventually looked up, only to notice that he was the last of the travellers in the store. The owner of the store – Milton, he presumed – was staring at him expectantly, so Sam smiled before calling out:
“It’s amazing. The art, I mean. In fact, I think I’ve fallen in love your store. It’s one of the more interesting shops I’ve ever come across – are you sure it’s not just an art gallery?”

”It’s most definitely a store – now are you buying anything, or just gawkin’?” The voice may have been rough, but Sam didn’t take offense. The man had a baffled look on his face, as if he wasn’t used to someone striking up such a casual conversation with him. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, so Sam just smiled at him again. “So what’s your name?”

But Sam was already out the door, waving over his head as he headed back towards the van. He had seen the others clambering back in, and he was hardly going to hold up the trip by talking to everyone he came across. Why, that would be selfish – and he was anything but selfish. He chuckled as he saw the bulkier-than-before Olive crammed in the back but apparently cheerful nonetheless, and had to admit to being a little touched by the view of Rowan and Maxwell. Due to his obvious commitment issues, Sam had never had a serious girlfriend. Sure, he’d dated girls, and had several short-term relationships, but he’d never really clicked. He just couldn’t make a real connection with anyone, and the relationships had all gradually faded into nothing but friendship. So he felt happy for these two, who clearly weren’t missing such a connection. He couldn’t help it – he smiled at the sight, hiding it by turning to face his window, pretending to have a sudden interest in the flashing scenery. Happy people in turn cheered him up. It had always been that way, ever since he was a child, he was proud that he harboured no resentment towards others. It would be such a waste of time, anyway.

---
The driving continued and as quiet descended on the Argonauts Sam found himself staring out the window, taking in the nature that was whipping past. Before long he was wrapped up in his own thoughts, oblivious to his surroundings. He found himself reminiscing about his times in NYC, the friends he had left behind. The parties, the bohemian lifestyle – he had loved every single minute of his time there. But that part of his life was over and he was a better person because of it. If the past was going to make him sad, he wouldn’t dwell on it so he cast the thoughts from his mind, taking once again to staring blankly out the window. Finally, mention of a deer broke the silence, and Sam looked up with interest. After all, how many deer did you ever see in the city?

That’s when Mrs. Flint turned up.

Sam’s first opinion was that something must have crawled into that scarf and died a long, long time ago. As he was jabbed by so many bony elbows that he began to wonder if the old lady had more than two arms, he was almost attacked by the smell, and almost started choking. He was a clean person, someone who wasn’t a fan of bad smells – and now he was being smothered by a woman who seemed not to understand what ‘wash’ meant. By the time he had managed to scoot as far away from the woman as possible, his drowsy mood had entirely evaporated. Unfortunately, this was not the end of Sam’s suffering. Her bony joints managed to collide with Sam’s ribs at least another dozen times as she turned, revealing a personality which matched her smell. Rancid. She began insulting what seemed like everyone in the car, making a none-too-subtle comparison to two boys Sam had never heard of. It reached the point where he could felt he could touch the tension with a knife, before Maxwell seemed to calm down Rowan. Sam let out an audible sigh of relief, regretting it instantly – the moment he released his breath, he had to deal with another deep whiff of the odour seeping from Mrs. Flint and once again fought back a cough.

Finally, what seemed like an eternity later, Mrs. Flint got out of the car. However, this was not the end of her unpleasantness. After a speech that was more than a little creepy, the crone was finally gone. But she had left thoughts in her wake, memories of his time at College rising to the surface of Sam’s mind. Having studied English Lit, he was familiar with some of the Ancient Greek texts – the Odyssey, the Iliad, and many of the myths of Heroes were familiar to Sam. He recalled the Minotaur – the monster of the Labyrinth, which Perseus had slain. But how was that related to any of them? What did the Minotaur have to do with them? Finally, as Rowan piped up with an ‘Are we there yet?’ Sam finally dismissed the warning, deciding that the old lady must have been batty. He took a deep breath as he sunk once more into relaxation, wrinkling his nose as the smell launched an assault on his sinuses once again.

“Man, that smell just doesn’t wanta leave, does it? Ugh, I bet it’s all over my clothes too,” he said, pulling a face of mock disgust as he eyed his shirt distastefully. The mood had been noticeably subdued since Mrs. Flint’s great exit, and he was eager to brighten everyone up again. They still had to unpack, a task that became ten times worse if you were in a bad mood.

[Faeryx]

Not long after the little disagreement between Mrs. Flint and Rowan, she was fast asleep on him again. Another newly regularized part of Max's life, and again not something he minded. Max tucked his his left arm under her's and wrapped it around her. With his other hand he reached down and wrapped his long fingers around Rowan's rather small hand. Still puffing away at his pipe he looked out the window, ignoring Mrs. Flint the rest of her uneasy tenure. When Nate beside him, mentioned his allergy to tobacco smoke, he was caught a bit off guard. "I'm so sorry! I had no idea!" He said, quickly snuffing it and dumping the smoldering tobacco out the window. "I'll definitely keep that in mind, how bad is the allergy? I usually smoke once or twice a day and I'm not sure how long I'd be able to go without it, I suppose I could just try and not do it around you. I'm sure you probably notice put she..." gesturing toward Rowan with his chin "...smokes too."

Reaching behind him he clicked open his suitcase and put the pipe away, making his arm pretty sore in process, stretching so much. Without another word he looked back out the window and started to drift in and out of sleep again. Maxwell hardly slept this much and he would not be surprised when later that night he hardly got any sleep at all. Once more the Argo rolled to stop, this time to let Mrs. Flint out, at the time Max was only half awake and didn't quite catch what she said upon her exit, but he could have sworn she said something about a minotaur or centaur. Being a big fan of Greek Mythology and table-top roleplay Max knew about as much as the next guy about minotaurs, and he was kind of surprised. After a while he fell asleep again and had a rather vivid, almost lucid, dream about a minotaur.

In the dream Maxwell was in the Labyrinth on the Isles of Crete and heard a scream somewhere in the Labyrinth. He began running towards the scream and eventually found it. In what he assumed to be the center of the maze Max found the minotaur, and his mother. Instead of screaming though she was laughing, and baking in a large brick oven. The minotaur was sitting at a table wearing an apron and eating freshly baked cookies. Max opened his mouth to say something and woke up to Rowan asking whether or not they had arrived. He opened his eyes fully and saw that trees were still ambling by slowly and replied "No, not yet," as she wiped the crust from her eyes. He sat up from his slightly slouched position and let go of Rowan's hand, which he evidently still had hold of. "How far out are we exactly?" he asked leaning forward so Luned could hear him. Leaning back again he looked over at Rowan and said "I just had the weirdest dream."

[Melodym]

Olive wondered if by the end of this trip, her rump would be flatter than a pancake do to this unforgiving seat. Golly, it sure wasn't made for comfort. She shifted her weight from one side to the other before the jeep jolted forward to a complete stop. Olive had to brace her shoulder against the side, just to keep herself from falling forward into the seat with the love birds and the awkward third wheel that was Nate.

"Oomph." Olive blurted, rubbing her arm as the vehicle settled to a stand still and an older woman pushed her way inside, and boy did she reek to high heaven! She reminded Olive of a certain lady back home that lived with 'bout a hundred cats. Olive wasn't one to talk though, since her own appearance was far from tidy, so she kept her comments to herself. She just kept her face as close to the open window as possible.

The rest of the journey happened without much excitement, and it wasn't terribly long before the woman decided she had gone far enough, and exited the car, but not before giving Max and herself a bit of advice.

"Mother? Mama dun got swept away in the tornado back in the day. That ain't makin' much sense to me, but alright I suppose. Luned, ya sure gots interestin' folks in your town." She commented before shifting her weight again and hoping they were close by.

[Luned]

Luned felt bad for forgetting to mention Nate's condition, but there wasn't much she could do about it now. "As long as you smoke outside it should be fine," she reasoned optimistically. The rest of the drive wasn't very far, but for such a short distance, it took longer than one would expect what with the slower-than-usual pace required on such rough terrain.

"Almost there," Luned answered sleepy Rowan and questioning Max, still thinking on minotaurs, as well. Not because she heeded Mrs. Flint's words, but because mythology was one of her fascinations (obviously, with a car named after the Argo), and she was playing a silent game in which she assigned them all roles of Argonauts. Apparently Maxwell was Theseus, according to the old lady, and simple deduction led her to believe Sam would be Orpheus, what with the shared musical talent. But what about the rest of them? As captain of their ship, did that make her Jason?

They turned down onto a smaller road, overgrown branches hitting the frame of the car and tickling the arms of those who left their windows down. There was a little wooden sign posted on a tree marking their arrival at property: Cunningham, inscribed on a vaguely loon-shaped silhouette.

At this end of the long gravel driveway was the outhouse, a lovely little shed with an obligatory crescent moon carved through the top of the door. Thanks to Dickon coming up earlier and taking a broom to it, it'd be far less spider webby than usual. Thick forest flanked them at all sides except straight up ahead, which was a grassy banking lined by large rocks and wild blueberries that sank into a beautiful sparkling waterscape. The cabin was right up against the edge of the pond with a deck that extended over the surface, leading down into a small floating dock on one side where the rowboat and canoe were already tied up. There was a chimnea for a fire at night at the edge, as well as a few chairs and a grill, and an ancient oak with gnarly roots that entangled the boards of the far corner of the deck and from which was hung a rope for swinging into the water.

The sun was getting low, but they'd just gotten there and Luned wasn't about to waste their last hour of daylight. "Don't worry about dinner yet, guys, just relax and get settled in!" She even volunteered to put the groceries away into the pantry and coolers of ice, so all the others had to do was drop their stuff on the bed they claimed in the loft area and they could get to exploring, swimming, canoeing, or even just grab a cold on and sit out on the deck. Luckily for Nate the camp was kept quite clean and fairly dust free, and it was looking to be a cozy stay for all of them. Dickon had even left them some practical supplies, like flashlights and fresh batteries, as if he didn't quite trust the city folk to fend for themselves. Other than that the cabin was used quite often by their extended family, so there were plenty of necessities available such as fresh bedding to use, ratty old romance novels to read (courtesy of Aunt Annette), and a fine assortment of bug sprays and sunscreens at their disposal.

Before they all disbursed, Luned also made sure to quietly mention to Rowan and Max that there might be some old tents in the shed if they wanted some privacy, as the cabin itself only had one room for everyone to sleep in. The shed was probably a frightening place of cobwebs and squirrel nests, but it was also bound to have some useful things such as life jackets, old fishing poles and tackleboxes, and somewhere in the back was a bin of luau supplies such as tike torches, grass skirts, and flowery leis from past summer excitement.

(If you'd like to know how the camp area is set up, please refer to the "Setting" part of the first OOC post. Just let me know if you have any questions and I'll fill you in!)

[Lemonadeparade]

"Really?" she raised an eyebrow, looking at him curiously. Maxwell wasn't one to usually go around talking about his dreams, or not in front of people. "About?" she questioned quietly, brushing his scruff with her fingers playfully, this was something she did quite often when she was bored or happy to just be near him.

Soon the destination came into view, and Rowan's shiny eyes lit up with the feeling of being overjoyed.
"FINALLY!" she exclaimed, poking her whole body up like a prairie dog. She was always so impatient, and easily excited. This combination sometimes made her seem a bit obnoxious, but who likes waiting? She was Rowan, and she wasn't going to change any time soon.

She plopped out onto the Earthen ground. Her limbs were stiff and creaky
"Hmm." Rowan examined the place, her eyes darting from chairs to the trees. She was secretly determining if it was worth the horrid drive, and something reminded her there was still a drive back. She let her smaller bag drop to the ground as well, she beamed with victory. She let her attention fly to her cigarettes, placing one into her mouth and making sure she was distanced from any allergy acquirers. She lit the Parliament, she knew most people thought they were disgusting, but she grew used to them over time. In fact, her first cigarette was a Parliament, she had just never tried anything else ever since. A drag of smoke clung to her lips before she exhaled slowly, inhale stress, exhale tranquility. Her eyes were weary, the trip finally collapsing its weight onto her. "An extra tent might be nice." she shrugged, feeling more impartial.

Maxwell and Rowan had grown so used to be around the group, they had forgotten that they would even see their mushiness. "It is up to Maxy." she decided, flicking ash away casually. Her stomach growled, and she excitedly looked down at the bag. "Oh how long have I waited for you, my sweet." she grinned deviously, before rummaging around in her back with her cigarette between her lips. Soon, Rowan beheld the shiny plastic back of puffy colored swirls. She tore open the bag and picked a puff off of the mound, she placed the lump onto her tongue, letting it melt into her mouth. "That's the stuff." she sighed with utter content. Cotton candy and cigarettes, what more could she need?

After her cigarette had been finished, she began to fish her bag out of the mountain of luggage, her tiny frame almost climbing onto it as she flung a suitcase out. Some of the bags tumbled from the car in the process.
"uh..," she looked around nervously "oops!" she bit her lip. The bags were soon picked apart by the group of friends anyway, heading to Luned's order to get settled in. Now it was time to make the decision, to pitch a tent or to not pitch a tent, that was the question.

[Faeryx]

"That should be alright, thanks Luned," he replied. Max almost looked back out the window until he felt little fingers rub his beard delicately. He almost laughed, the bottom of his chin being one of his only ticklish spots. "I think the old woman pulled some sort of subconscious suggestion trick on me or something, it was about the minotaur. My mom was making it cookies. Like I said, weird." This time he did laugh, at the sound of what he just said. Even to him it sounded far beyond normal.

After Luned's mention of them nearing their destination Maxwell perked up a bit and didn't feel nearly as tired all of a sudden. As they pulled onto the campground drive and saw the loon shaped sign emblazoned with the name "Cunningham" Maxwell couldn't help but feel the ache in his long legs all the more in anticipation of being able to get up and walk around. The road narrowed and he was forced to roll up the window in order to not be hit by the branches of the trees hanging rather close together.

It was definitely a nice looking place, his eyes immediately drawn to the large lake, Max had always been a huge fan of swimming and loved to swim. Usually when Maxwell went swimming it was an all day affair, but he figured he would probably not being doing much swimming considering how much else there was to do. Camping was always an Allen family tradition, every year they would go camping for at least a week, usually during the summer and usually in Maine or somewhere else in New England.

When he saw how excited Rowan got Max smiled a little crookedly and hugged her lightly. "I love you," he said, still smiling. He couldn't say he didn't feel about the same. He was definitely excited, just not showing it as much. When they arrived Maxwell was ecstatic to have finally arrived, despite the fact that he figured it would have been well worth the trip, it was still a very long trip and he would probably be paying for it for the next few days at least, recovering his sore limbs. When he saw Rowan pull away he grabbed his pipe and tobacco pouch and followed. Loading and lighting his pipe he stood beside her holding the pipe by the bowl and trying to figure out how to get his own luggage and Rowan's out from under the pile, most of their stuff was on the bottom. The tobacco in his pipe was a very rich Kentucky blended with a bit of perique and it smelled rather spicy, just as it tasted. Sharply contrasting the smell of Rowan's Parliament cigarettes, or any cigarettes in general. Unlike Rowan's choice of cigarettes though, Maxwell has a variety of pipes and tobacco types lending to his clothing smelling more like a little of Virginia, Kentucky, and Louisiana. It didn't really matter to him whether or not Rowan and himself got an extra tent. Hearing her call him Maxy set his mind on a tangent though, which usually happened when she used that pet name because for some reason it bothered him immensely that he didn't have a pet name for her, usually sweet stuff or cupcake sufficed, but those were pretty common pet names. He brought his mind raptly back to attention, having to put a considerable amount of effort into making himself think on topic, and said "I suppose it would be nice, but it's rather late tonight, maybe set it up tomorrow? If at all, I'm not particularly concerned about it."

When Maxwell heard Rowan's stomach growl, and her going for the cotton candy, he remembered how hungry he was, even though he was rather amused by her infatuation with the stuff, never having been a particular fan. "I think we'll stay in the cabin tonight and make a decision tomorrow if you don't mind hon?" He said. Max didn't go straight for his luggage, instead he helped Luned bring the groceries in the cabin, puffing his pipe as little as possible while he was inside. After that he snuffed his pipe and put it away. Grabbing his own suitcases from the bottom of the luggage pile he also took Rowan's and carried them inside for her, then he came outside and offered the same assistance to everyone else. Once everyone was generally 'settled in' Max sat down on one of the couches and asked "Even though you said not to worry about it Luned, what're we doing for dinner? I can always cook something for us, I'm not a half bad cook, or so I'd like to think."

[Melodym]

Olive:

Olive bolted out of the car and jumped face first onto the comfortable, albeit slightly musty couch. Ah, sweet sweet butt relief. It was good to home, or at least home for the next week. Olive pressed her face into the cushion and relaxed for a good 20 minutes before finally getting up and looking around.

"Golly, this place sure is nice. Reckon it could be a church or somethin'. Ya'll best not do any hanky panky in here, I betcha God be watchin', and that would be mighty awkward." She whistled, peeking into each little crack and crevice before curling up in front of the fireplace. It wasn't lit, but for a second she imagined that she was a man with a thick mustache, laying out on a bear skin rug in the nude. She had seen a picture like that once. Olive imagine that's what rich folks did for fun, and for a second, she felt like one too! Like Burt Reynolds!


Jonas:

Jonas turned his beat up old rusty blue pickup truck down the path to Luned's family cabin. He wasn't much looking forward to the homecoming. She could have stayed in Boston for all he cared, but he also knew she and her city friends were probably incompetent. It's a known fact that spending more than a month in the city rots your brain and kills your survival skills, so he brought dinner. Luned's cousin Dickon sat in the passenger seat holding a few pizza's. They weren't very hot, due to how far away they had to drive to get them, but they were the closest these people were going to get to food they were used to.

"Does she look the same?" It had been a couple years, but that's not what he meant. Jonas actually wasn't sure what he meant, but it seemed a bit too philosophical for his best friend. "Never mind. I'm sure she hasn't grown a third arm or something, though I do hear city water is filled with stuff that could do that. I knew a guy who's brother grew an extra toe on each foot becuase of city water. Scientists say it's radioactive or something."

That may or may not be entirely true, but Jonas had a problem with exaggerations. Everyone that knew him knew to take what he said with a grain of salt.

As they pulled into the driveway, Jonas took a moment before getting out and giving Dickon a hand.

"I hope you all weren't expecting some fancy pizza, like with anchovies on it or something, becuase all we got was pepperoni. You'll live." He announced while stepping inside.

"Pizza? Free pizza?!" Olive's eyes widened as she bolted forward and took a box from Dickon. "I ain't never said no to free food and I ain't gonna start today. Thank ya kindly Dickon and Dickon's stranger friend."

Jonas nodded then made eye contact with his arch nemesis Luned.

"Hello Luned." He said in an even tone, his eyes narrowed just slightly. "You brought a lot of folks with you. Did you leave any behind for Boston?"

He sat the pizza's he was carrying on the kitchen counter before leaning against it slightly. He crossed his arms and looked over at Dickon.

"Tell them about how hot my girlfriend... er ex-girlfriend is. Like, way hot. Most attractive women you city folk will have ever seen. Which leads me to my point, if you do see her, let one of us know. She may or may not be missing. Could be she ran away, or could be a serial killer. Who am I to say." He rubbed the back of his neck while scrunching up his nose. "You guys going to eat or not?"

Olive already had her slice halfway into her mouth, while holding a second in her other hand for fast change out, like a Nascar pit crew changing a tire.

[Row]

As the rest of the group dispersed, Nate hung around outside for a bit as he took in the view. Mother nature in all her glory. Nate was about as "city boy" as you could get. He couldn't even remember a time when he'd been camping, although familiar with "roughing it", but not in exactly the same context as would be applied to the great outdoors. "Nice place you've got here," Nate commented to Luned as he admired the cabin. He'd constructed a number of buildings in the past six years or so, and albeit rustic, the cabin looked to be a well built and sturdy structure. While heading toward the back of the jeep, Nate noticed his duffle bag had been hurled onto the dirt path along with a number of others' belongings. Not so much as flinching, Nate grabbed for his bag and flung it over his shoulder, his other hand placed firmly in the pocket of his jeans as he headed inside.

An eyebrow was raised as Nate bore witness to that which was Olive, curled up infront of an unlit fireplace. "Nice fire you've got going there," he said with a smile, exposing his deep set dimples, before heading up to the loft to claim a space. Nate decided to take the bed closest to the stairs, in the sudden and probable case that "nature calls" in the middle of the night. He wasn't all too sure how inviting the outhouse would be, but it couldn't be any worse than the portable toilets at a construction site, could it?

The next destination on Nate's list was the outdoor patio attached to the lake. He would have taken the time to admire the view, although obscured by the dark of night, but quickly became distracted by some headlights on the horizon. Nate made his way back into the house, "Luned, looks like you've got some company.".

Indeed, it seemed she had. Two gentleman made their way into the cabin. The first face belonged to someone unfamiliar. He was quite tall with chaotic hair tucked under a flat cap. As soon as he entered, his attention seemed to be turned to Luned, seeing as he did not introduce himself to any of the others. However, the second gentleman WAS familiar to Nate. They'd met a few months back in Boston. It was Nate who had saved Dickon from entering the "Yellow Banana" with Luned and Olive. "Dickon! Long time, no see, man!" He said as he outstretched his hand for a shake before realizing Dickon was carrying a stack of pizzas. "Head over here and take a load off!" Nate suggested as he led Dickon toward the kitchen. As soon as the two could take a seat and relax Nate asked curiously, "So, who is that guy with Luned? And, what's up with the sudden talk about his girlfriend?". It seemed to him that Jonas was peacocking. A term used for an individual trying to show off or gain attention from the opposite sex. In this case, the opposite sex being Luned.

[Lemonadeparade]

"Uh..will do." Rowan blushed hearing Olive in her twanged voice. She looked over at Maxwell, shyly. She never liked to even say the word sex in front of other people besides him. When Olive let that little tidbit go Rowan could feel her face get as hot as the sun. She put her hands on her face, hoping nobody noticed the lobster in the corner.

Rowan had seen the new comers pull up, watching their every move. One multiple boxes of sustenance came out she liked them, whoever they were. "P-pizza." she could barely believe it, food. City food. Not trout with potatoes or even steak, god forbid. If there was one thing Rowan couldn't stand it was beef, or most manly food. "Hello, food!" she greeted them, taking one of the boxes and plopping it on the coffee table near the couch. The sight nearly made her tongue fall off into the pizza, she could feel drool forming in the back of her mouth. "I know this is rude but," she grabbed a slice and ate it, not sure if anyone else would even really mind. Rowan was always quite enthusiastic about things, food was no exception. She smiled with delight as the food made its way into her stomach.
"Nothing like not starving to death." she shrugged, looking over at Olive, who knew them. "Don't be so obnoxious. If you have something to say to anyone, say it yourself." she scolded them, rolling her eyes. "Unless..you are scared." she smirked. Rowan wasn't one to hold back her words, even when it came to strangers. She thought he was being rude, she was going to say it; her parents wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
After her slice had been finished, she plowed into her cotton candy, finishing a handful of fluff. "Anyone want some?" she offered, the sugary smell covered her fingers and lips. She turned to look at Jonas, even offering him some. Rowan knew better than to offer Maxwell anyway, sadly, he detested her special cotton candy, and they often disagreed on sweets. She was more of a kid at heart when it came to food and movies, but never get her started on drinking, oh boy, she could drink bourbon like nobody else. This would lead her to believe tonight would be a fun night, she had backed some shot glasses and liquor in her back safely, as a surprise.
"We need to tell ghost stories tonight." she decided, looking at all of them eagerly. That was one of her favorite parts of camping, in the city she was less thrilled about life, not nearly as excited. Growing up she rarely got to do any sort of camping OFF the reservation, making her even more excited. "I can tell plenty of spooky things about natives." she added, lugging her bag onto one of the beds. "Ugh!" she groaned tossing it like it was a discus toss.

She made her way back over to Maxwell and the rest of the group, dropping to the floor, criss crossed and relaxed. "No more sitting in the car from hell for a while." really, she loved Luned's car, but not when she could barely breathe..or move. She picked at her hair tie in her hair, letting it all tumble free, and splay down her back and shoulders. Rowan was finally relaxed, and ready to have fun with the group.