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A small fisherman's boat stood in the middle of the sea, the waves just softly brushing against the wood as if too nervous to bring the whole thing down. It was, surprisingly enough, a calm day. No erratic waves, no demanding winds, no downpouring rain—just the warm rays of the sun filling the inside of the boat with a yellow glow. The sun was rising and Stormy was not happy about it. Not one bit.
She would've moved the boat to a different angle, or just parked against an island all together—perhaps Nulla Terra? It sounded dangerous and oddly ominous, perfect for Stormy. But sadly enough, due to the aftermath of the storm from yesterday, Stormy was left with an injured right arm and her ego absolutely shot.
How ironic... the big mean woman gets nearly taken down by the same thing she was named after. It made her groan in embarrassment at the mere thought. Even worse was that the box that laid on the corner—carefully wrapped in mystery paper with offensively horrendous colors that clashed, all thanks to Vanilla—stares at her. It probably knew all of her sins at this point from how long it's been in this stupidly small boat.
Bucky's birthday party started in just a couple of hours, and yet, she couldn't even do the most simplistic thing: deliver stupid gifts just to make a stupid beaver smile.
The grumpy polar bear glared at the window across from her as she stared daggers at the beautiful scene outside, her boot cladded feet propped up on a small table as she sat on a big enough chair—overly done with pillows and blankets done by Vanilla, as if she was some little baby that could fall to the floor. She wasn't used to being… pampered like this, and it weirdly made her feel defensive. Made her feel like she had to prove that she was fine.
So, she begins to take her feet off and stand up, attempting to just thug it out and steer the boat to the right direction... This immediately catching the attention of an already panicking cat that rushes over to her side.
“Wait! Your arm hasn't healed yet!” Vanilla tries to push Stormy back down despite having the arms of twigs.
“So? That don't mean I ain't able to walk.”
“But what if you trip and break your other arm!? That can happen!”
"I think you're readin' too many of them books, a simple fall isn't gonna kill me—"
Vanilla abruptly cuts her off and begins to ramble again with her stories. She's always done this—always found a way to make Stormy horrified at the true stories of her family.
“That happened to my grandpa after he served the war! He went out the door, tripped on the stairs and broke his arm! He went to the hospital…” The cat begins to scratch the back of her neck, already lost in thought. “And I think that's how he died. Or was it from food poisoning…”
Vanilla was oblivious to Stormy's eye roll as she slumped back on the chair, trying to cross her arms before wincing at the sharp pain from her wrist.
“Kid, enough with the horror stories already. The sun hasn't even had its damn coffee yet.” Suddenly getting the strong urge to down five cups of coffee to deal with Vanilla's bullshit, Stormy simmers in aggravation in her chair as Vanilla walks over to the center of the place, already pacing in tight circles.
“...Basically, all I'm saying is that I don't want to be the reason for your demise! I'm trying my hardest but I just can't do it right! I make one pancake, then suddenly BOOM! Grandpa's now in a casket! I try to steer a boat to give you a break? DOUBLE BOOM! I somehow summoned a storm and ended up getting us lost and you hurt in the process!”
Stormy closes her eyes, attempting to zone out and hopefully catch a nap—But at this rate, with Vanilla in the room? That was unlikely.
Her pacing increases, her hollow eyes now tracking the floor as she fiddles with the hem of her thick sweater. “We're gonna be so late to the party and everyone's gonna be worried sick! What if Bucky gets all sad that he didn't get all of his gifts!? Or Giovanni gets all angry again? Or... or..."
Her paws tighten their grip on her sweater.
"What if they just actually don't care? L-like, they just shrug it off and go on with their day. Or even celebrate that we're missing!?"
Stormy furrows her eyebrows, shifting her head to the other side. Not now, not when she already felt so "useless".
"And don't get me started on how I always disappoint my mother! Can't even steal forks right in a restaurant without making them get a divorce!”
Okay, this is going too far, too quickly.
The bear opens one eye, watching the cat pace in circles at an alarming rate. She grips her fluffy tail, wringing it like if she squeezed hard enough, then she'd be awarded with the answers of life.
“I can't even make friends, they all just end up using me as a floater! Maybe that's what I should do at that point—Just quit my job and become those floating things in the water… no! Not even that! I'd just get in the way, probably crash a ship by accident... kill folk... I'll be forever known as Vanilla the serial killer!”
At this point, Vanilla's rambles shift into harsh mutters of a madman, her gaze hardening into something dark as her chest began to heave.
A panic attack. Great. Just what Stormy needed to help her rest.
It did make her feel bad, though. The damn cat was always such a worrywart, but she rarely saw this side of her. Stormy never exactly cared about others' well-being—how could she when she was constantly worried about her own? Her arm was on the verge of breaking and the closest hospital was probably miles away!
She mentally winced to herself at how selfish she was sounding in her head. Yeah, sure, she was kicked out of her family at a young age and had to learn how to survive with only herself in her mind—but that still didn't excuse how cold she'd been acting to Vanilla for the past… couple of months? Yikes.
Stormy wasn't great with words, and words weren't great with her either—so she leans at the table in front, her eye catching on to the glint of a laser pointer. She manages to grab it and fiddles with the buttons until the red laser appears out of nowhere.
Well, if she can't comfort Vanilla with words, why not try something stimulating to the mind? Crazy idea. She knew. But aren't cats known for chasing things to keep them happy? Shouldn't be too different for Vanilla.
Stormy points the laser beside a hanging handcrafted map of previously explored places, making the dot dance in circles—mimicking Vanilla in a way.
Automatically, the cat's head snaps to the dot, hollow pupils blown wide as she releases her ruffled tail. It makes Stormy smirk at how laser focused (heh) she was on it, her tail swishing so fast it could've flown right off.
Then—THUD!
Vanilla's paws plant themselves on the wall, the dot dodging in time. A faint, uncharacteristic growl emits from Vanilla as she tries and fails again. At this point, claws were out, and not even Stormy had never seen them before. Not like Vanilla was ever a fighter and her nervous wreck of a personality would always stop her from getting them out.
The dot moves to the floor, Vanilla drops to it and slams her pads against the wood. No luck. The dot had already begun running mindlessly
The scene that unfolded before the bear was absolutely picture worthy—too bad she couldn't grab her camera.
Vanilla gets on all fours, chasing the dot in circles, too concentrated to hear the low, rumbling laugh from Stormy.
“H-Holy—HA! Holy fishing cod, this is all it took to shut your trap? Why haven't I don't this more often!?"
The dot gains the ability to teleport to the ceiling, making Vanilla twist her head to stare at anything to try to find it. With the way her eyes moved and how her mouth was shaped like an upside down V, it really did make her look so cute.
Adorable even, but Stormy refuses to go that far.
Vanilla looks at the ceiling and notices the dot, pacing in circles one more time before sitting down. She begins to chirp, tail wagging as she tries to call the dot down like it was a bird.
It nearly warmed Stormy’s heart. Nearly. Luckily enough, her smirk grew into a fond, soft smile. Her once hard gaze now lighting up to something that could almost be mistaken for…joy, at ease even— like the sun that filled the room with a faint glow.
Maybe she should do this more often.
Maybe being around this cat wasn't as horrible as she once believed.