I swear, I swear that I'm a good kid, Guess I'm good for nothing at all

Flurry stated blankly into the fire she'd started, watching the flames flicker and willing herself into relaxing even just a little bit. Then realizing that wasn't working gave in and uncorked a bottle. Only a few minutes prior she'd sent the cat to find her mother, see if she was willing to come speak with her eldest daughter. (Or well the one who wasn't off who knew where doing who knew what.) Flurry's mind was a whirlwind. She was one part frustrated that once again she had been kept in the dark, one part hurt that she'd been kept in the dark even after her father had implied he wouldn't do so again, one part terrified by what she was going to say and do if her mother did show up and three parts exhausted, mentally and physically. Flurry wished she had someone, anyone, she could lean on right now. But she didn't so a bottle would have to do. When in doubt...

Besides if Flurry was going to disappoint her parents again this time she wanted to be drunk for it. That was what this was about. Her mother had taken on a position that meant Flurry couldn't keep the event she masked with shame (and in reality she still felt a level of indignation, she still thought she'd acted with rationality and hadn't said or done anything to jeopardize her family or pack) to herself. So she'd made a small camp on the beach for herself and her mother, a fire to warm them if needed and a few scattered bottles being kept cool by the tide that lapped at them, jammed into the sand so they wouldn't float away. And so Flurry drank, because it was all she had when she was going to be inevitably (to her mind) pushing her other parent away too.

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