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*dances about ecstatically*

Less awesome about the COVID. Hope it wasn't absolutely awful for you.
I woke up trying to figure it out and all my brain provided was that at least they wouldn't need to elongate their tail...
I still haven’t added things to my NPC list, but I did have a dream about this rp. I’m sad though cuz I can’t remember anything other than that Bancroft was a zombie mouse and the hawk wound up being a magpie wearing extensions and none of it made sense.
I need to actually add things to my list. I made it very lazily and then forgot it existed.
Yay words! It completely slipped my mind to ask if the Abbeybeasts have been setting up inside or outside, Wraith, so please do forgive my assumption of there being a table or two outdoors for them to hide under. Though I suppose they might have some out as picnic tables, anyhow, if not for Nameday. If edits must be made, I shall happily make them.
“Ha! Sure, I’ll follow with a treat of my own and enjoy it right in front of you two. Won’t share a crumb!” Rigby shouted after Zaris as the otter bid them farewell to return to his post. He was mostly jesting, but if he worked to earn a little snack, then he definitely wasn’t sharing it with anyone. Well, not unless they asked really, really nicely…

Honestly though, the work was a pleasant break from not working. Mostly because it was simple, and he felt useful. He would have been more disgruntled if Friar Ruddy had put him on chopping duty too, which the jocular chef may have been aware of. Cutting things wasn’t hard, they kept the knives sharp in the abbey kitchens, but doing it for any length of time was a tedious chore. And the thunk of the knife was annoying… He could hear two now behind him, both being inexpertly wielded against tough vegetables. Too much effort by half, if you asked him. No, he’d go for peeling shrimp any day over dicing turnips. That being said, however…

“I’m going to be dreaming of shrimp for days by the end of- Huh?” Both fox and mouse jumped as a voluminous shout rose behind them, and both wheeled to find a rather odd sight. There was Scraggs, by no means a small ferret, no, nor one who looked disarming, no matter how hard he’d tried earlier at the gate. And berating him with the very knife he’d been using was a small, spiky-furred shrew marm. Rawback’s sniggers at his companion’s plight were cut short when she turned both knife and temper on him. The poor beasts looked so put-upon confused that Rigby was struggling hard not to burst out laughing as he exchanged a glance with Rubella. She wasn’t trying at all, her own amusement clear to see as they turned back to their task. From the one-sided conversation, it was clear they were being lectured on proper knife handling safety. Rigby figured it was better if he didn’t butt in. He’d received a similar lecture, though with slightly less fervent zeal, when he’d first started learning as well. It was useful information, even if it was delivered in a no-nonsense manner and with a horrifyingly dazzling display of blade skills that… didn’t really belong in a kitchen.

He coughed to cover his giggle as Rubella elbowed him and snickered.

And for a brief moment, things continued in a mostly peaceful manner, mild background harangue not-withstanding, and festival chaos taken in stride… It was just another day at the Abbey.

Being in the kitchen where it was already noisy meant no one heard the distant shouts raised upon Zaris’ initial warning. The Friar did send someone out to see what the fuss was about when they caught a few raised voices in the Great Hall, but it wasn’t until the bells started ringing that everything fell still and all the Abbeybeasts froze to listen to the slow but unsteady rhythm of Matthias and Methuselah that signalled alarm rather than celebration. No one liked the sound of that. No one had been expecting it either. But, just in time, the young mouse who’d gone to find out the source of the fuss came back shouting. “It’s a hawk! A hawk or something bigger! Circling the Abbey, Friar. We’ve got to get everybeast inside! There’s some been caught under the tables and no way to the doors. We need more able paws!”

Well, with that news delivered, she turned right around to go back to help herself, and everyone else hurried to follow, or to check on their family members. Rigby spared a moment’s thought and then heaved a sigh of relief when he recalled that his mother and grandmother should be in the Great Hall going through the linens and his father knew better than to stay in the open with a hawk about. They’d told him often enough about their adventures, warning him on what to do. And now they all knew about it, so they should all be safe. And at least it didn’t sound like anyone had been taken, but…

Rigby stayed out of the crowd, knowing so many rushing paws would only trip him up or be tripped up if he joined in. But he did put the paring knife down and was staring worriedly after them all, concerned enough for everyone who’d been outside enjoying the gorgeous spring weather that it took him a moment to realise he was the only one left. Well, him and Rubella, Scraggs, and Rawback. They obviously didn’t have anyone they were instantly worried about, nor any idea how to help, probably. That, or they saw no need to. Rigby supposed it didn’t really matter, but since it was only them now, and no clear idea how the festivities might be affected, nor how long it might take everyone to come back, he sighed and shook his head. “Well, never mind your work for now. I know you three are hungry, so let’s take a break before we get back to it. Here’s some scones to tide you over.”

He felt a bit bad that they’d come asking for food and had then been forced to stare at food without being able to eat any of it, and now they might well be eating even later. So better to let them have a snack now, keep their energy up and all, and then they could finish their work. He stole a scone for himself as he went past the ovens, sniffing the air as carefully as he could to test the readiness of anything in them, though it was honestly hard to tell, and stirring the soup in the big cauldron as well as he was able before he gave in to his own worries. He knew he wouldn’t be much help even if he went. In fact, he’d probably be more helpful if he stayed here and kept an eye on things and made sure nothing started burning or anything, but… well, but. He didn’t want to stay and be useful not knowing if everyone was safe or if there really wasn’t anything he might do to help the others.

“Well, feel free to rest your paws for the moment, though if you could give that pot a stir now and again, and pull out anything from the ovens if you start to smell burning… Really appreciate it. Bit of a sorry welcome, right? Uhh, should be a beaker or two of something to drink on that shelf over there…” He was already at the door before he’d finished speaking, and he balanced there with a fidgety sort of hop as he tried to cover all the bases, too impatient to settle properly. When his brain wouldn’t tell him what it was that he was sure he was forgetting, he gave up, waved a crutch vaguely towards the corner where he knew the Friar kept refreshment for his helpers, and then started after everyone in his own delayed rush. Zaris had been heading for the Gatehouse, so he was outside and not near any tables, and Brother Jethro might have been on the wall again, which had to be even worse! Abbot Murty may have still been with him, too. Grant’s father had been outside, as well, and there were several Nameday regulars from the surrounding woodlands who hadn’t shown up yet, and Bancroft… what about him and his family? Did they know about the bird? He hoped anyone who heard the bells would know to tuck in out of sight somewhere safe.
February deserves more days and less time. Let’s steal from June, I say. June doesn’t need 30. Let’s make both 29, and add only half a day on leap years; but then let’s also alternate leap years to a two year gap instead of four. We can then alternate June/February Leap Days. I just feel this would work better.


For some reason my brain just tried to leave through my ears.
So very true. I should have the post finished today.
I shall hopefully be getting out a post today or tomorrow. My brain has been dead all week. Apologies for the wait.
Did I say tomorrow? I clearly meant overmorrow... >.> But a post! In which nothing happens, except that poor mustelids are put to work at the chopping block. I feel for them I do, chopping root vegetables is my least favourite kitchen chore. Probably. Until someone mentions one I"m forgetting...
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