After several days of increasingly less subtle hints from the squirrels (which given their general lack of subtly to begin with...), various checks of the calendar, and what was definitely not any kind of panic attack, Cara had made plans for the evening. Very good, not overly complex plans.

However she had failed to account for the fact the island hated her. Personally.

"Seriously?"

[For the girl!]

Given she was not a sentimentalist even when it didn't feel like the island was going out of its way to provoke her, this had been a trying week for Cara. Between one thing and another, by the time Friday evening rolled around, she was not the happiest Mord'Sith in Fandom (something of an achievement, considering she was the only Mord'Sith in Fandom).

Which was how instead of getting ready for the dance she came to be sprawled out on her bed sans leathers, occasionally casting a death glare at an innocent bunch of roses. Mostly innocent. The bastard things did keep making her sneeze, after all.

[open, sure]

Cara had been feeling the urge to head down to the woods most of the week, which in and of itself wasn't highly unusual as they still felt like the most familiar place on the island. What was unusual was the unsettling and often confusing dreams (no seriously, she had no idea what a half-fixed, half-variable home-loan even was, let alone why she'd want one) that had accompanied this feeling.

But since hunting things usually made her feel better, she eventually gave into the urge, and was stalking through the preserve, bow in hand.

[For two.]

Cara was not wearing a dress today. She was wearing her leathers. Her nice, comfortable, red leathers which were the only item of clothing a Mord'Sith needed or wanted to own. It didn't matter whether they were pretty or not because they were Her Leathers.

She was also steadfastly refusing to admit that yesterday had actually occurred, as that would mean acknowledging that she had worn things, said things, done things, and agreed to things, all of which had quite clearly not happened.

Since yesterday had not happened, and she hadn't said yes to any questions regarding how she was spending her time today, she also was not getting ready for any dances. Instead she was trying to smother herself with a pillow.

[For one.]