The first thing Ron can remember is the rush of ocean water in her ears. Sand in her mouth, and more rushing painfully over her skin before she crashes onto the shore. But she has a mouth. A mouth, ears, skin - eyes are then there somewhere, too. They blink blearily with saltwater, and she has the mind to brush hair away from them before she manages to push herself onto her knees.
There's someone trying to help her up, but she shoves them away as well as she can... which isn't much. It takes until their second attempt for her to think better of it, and take their hand to try and get to her feet.
Her dog is waiting nearby, wagging his tail nervously and whining for her attention. His shoulder comes up to the average person's waist, and he makes a perfect brace for her to lean on while she looks around. Nothing is familiar, but it feels hard to get truly upset about it. Ron wonders if that's acceptance or just adrenaline.
"Hey." She goes to grab the arm of the Waker who had helped her up, in case they leave her here naked with nothing but her dog. "Hold on, where the fuck am I?"
ii. Fucking Crabs
Ron doesn't know why she cares about getting her bike back, but maybe it is just the adrenaline. Maybe it's just that if she has something normal to focus on, it won't completely fuck with her head that she was a squid until an hour ago. The only problem is that this is just barely a normal problem.
Her motorcycle washed up on the shore, but it washed up in the same area that the fishermen warned about crabs. She managed to find it, but now she's got to lug it through the sand until she can get it upright and figure out somewhere dry-ish to assess the damage. And all the while, she has to make sure Ollie doesn't try to fight a crab.
"Ollie, heel." She snaps back at the dog, who lets out a musical whine-woof of protest before skittering away from the snap of claws. "If you're not gonna help, at least don't make me have to stop and amputate a paw. Okay?"
iii. A Step Back And A Short Breath
Fuck, now where is she. Ron feels like she must have just been at the beach, and Ollie is still stopping to shake off the ocean spray, but now they're indoors somewhere. Somewhere with barely defined features, and the smell of mildew... but it's indoors, and that makes it slightly better for the bike. Which she's still guiding by the handlebars.
With a defeated huff, Ron kicks the kickstand out and checks under the bike's seat for her toolbox. Yep, that's all there. And the omni makes a pretty great flashlight for checking the tires, which she determines need a cleaning but don't seem to be damaged.
She's dimly aware that she's not alone, but she doesn't seem to be in a rush to greet the other person. Ollie, on the other hand, is happy to trot over and shove his nose into their privates, as is the polite dog greeting.
iv. Wildcard
[Want to find Ron in a book? Or be grabbed off the beach by her after she wakes up? Or mysterious third option? Hit me up at dogbones#3310 or necromantica or just toss something at me!]
Ron Howard | OC
i. A Good Old Fashioned Arrival
The first thing Ron can remember is the rush of ocean water in her ears. Sand in her mouth, and more rushing painfully over her skin before she crashes onto the shore. But she has a mouth. A mouth, ears, skin - eyes are then there somewhere, too. They blink blearily with saltwater, and she has the mind to brush hair away from them before she manages to push herself onto her knees.
There's someone trying to help her up, but she shoves them away as well as she can... which isn't much. It takes until their second attempt for her to think better of it, and take their hand to try and get to her feet.
Her dog is waiting nearby, wagging his tail nervously and whining for her attention. His shoulder comes up to the average person's waist, and he makes a perfect brace for her to lean on while she looks around. Nothing is familiar, but it feels hard to get truly upset about it. Ron wonders if that's acceptance or just adrenaline.
"Hey." She goes to grab the arm of the Waker who had helped her up, in case they leave her here naked with nothing but her dog. "Hold on, where the fuck am I?"
ii. Fucking Crabs
Ron doesn't know why she cares about getting her bike back, but maybe it is just the adrenaline. Maybe it's just that if she has something normal to focus on, it won't completely fuck with her head that she was a squid until an hour ago. The only problem is that this is just barely a normal problem.
Her motorcycle washed up on the shore, but it washed up in the same area that the fishermen warned about crabs. She managed to find it, but now she's got to lug it through the sand until she can get it upright and figure out somewhere dry-ish to assess the damage. And all the while, she has to make sure Ollie doesn't try to fight a crab.
"Ollie, heel." She snaps back at the dog, who lets out a musical whine-woof of protest before skittering away from the snap of claws. "If you're not gonna help, at least don't make me have to stop and amputate a paw. Okay?"
iii. A Step Back And A Short Breath
Fuck, now where is she. Ron feels like she must have just been at the beach, and Ollie is still stopping to shake off the ocean spray, but now they're indoors somewhere. Somewhere with barely defined features, and the smell of mildew... but it's indoors, and that makes it slightly better for the bike. Which she's still guiding by the handlebars.
With a defeated huff, Ron kicks the kickstand out and checks under the bike's seat for her toolbox. Yep, that's all there. And the omni makes a pretty great flashlight for checking the tires, which she determines need a cleaning but don't seem to be damaged.
She's dimly aware that she's not alone, but she doesn't seem to be in a rush to greet the other person. Ollie, on the other hand, is happy to trot over and shove his nose into their privates, as is the polite dog greeting.
iv. Wildcard
[Want to find Ron in a book? Or be grabbed off the beach by her after she wakes up? Or mysterious third option? Hit me up at dogbones#3310 or