One has the Key

Doctors and Starbucks

The Afton Residence

Breezing Brooke Street

8:34 AM

Waking time: none

Date: April 8

A long river lays still and nothing making it so quiet than a breeze of wind. No docking was around, but if there was, they'd no longer have their shine after so many trips were made by the feet of those boarding to destiny or fate. The docks were rusting and their old skin peeling to reveal a whole new youth inside, but tends to be a sensitive type that's gonna soak in much more and drown when under the dark waters. Fog drifted into it like a puffy inch of smoke, but no fire was there out in the sea this big, self-conscious enough as it may say about itself, the drift was slower and harder to see past. It felt almost cold but it was not by the winter time. Emotions have their bodies as much as we do to determine the feelings we get. A state of mind from the foggy-ness of the sea around, another dock sticks around alone on the other side. But your mind is at fault and there's only one side to start from. Meanwhile, the other side frowns away or hasn't been installed yet, without the materials to end the long hasty journey on a death road much worse than the concrete roads. Ripples are just the sounds of someone making that dangerous time in their lives. It's the sign of someone taking such risk to achieve what's on the other side across the non-solid street. They have to obey the sea and at a cost of a half chance of survival, one must trust oneself to take control over that power and become what the waters are making them do originally, if the boat was pushed far enough from the dock. However, the slight wind, was all it took to continue that push. Winds had their pushing, against a small boat, containing the red fox inside by such ease and stillness. A bed that determined how he should lay on the water, his powers surrounding him, gaining his trust and control like that ghost fox did before on that night, changing the way he saw his inner self, his inner soul, his inner magic that somehow became a reality when nobody else saw it.

Foxy wore a thin striped coat, down to at least his high thighs and the ending lines of his brown shorts that were held tight by a thin rope of a belt. A black and white striped scarf wrapped around his neck so softly to hide the collar marks of his hell time, just a pillow for your broken head. It's long but not long enough before time can compete with how long his jointed knee caps could keep him curled up tight at the strained middle. His breath was low and soft. His chest heaved every few seconds turning to slow minutes. It was so quiet and the boat was out of the way towards the middle of nowhere and the sky abandoning the guidance job. Foxy's ears were twitching to the soft cries of the wind and his tail swayed, his powers inside the heart of a Captain remaining easy. A head of a brown bear was swimming towards the fox's small ship and to have an appearance of only a top hat was to make it Foxy's jump starter. A rabbit and chicken's head followed close behind, all three's eyes were blacker than the ink in a pen. They kept their eyes on the small hair of fear sticking from the inside of Foxy's body. Everything was inside the body itself, but his anxiety from the past. How could Foxy be so ignorant of himself than he has tried to be selfless. It's an effort to put in if he were strong enough and the oldest, but by being the opposite, the heads climbed in and the other end of the boat was filled. The heart pumps more blood. the fog becomes unbearable to ignore and the chilly winds awaken the fox. His over-sized sweater couldn't cover him up with fashionable protection any longer. Foxy was in a daze. His fur slightly brushed back and his ears were down by the drowsiness of a course nap. The golden colors in Foxy's eyes were filled with drought of the fog but waters reflecting made him blink twice in attempts to probably see at full sight. Sitting up in a sleepy confusion, Foxy sits up on the small seat of the lower boards and ears were stuck down by nothing but silence greeting him. Despite the silence being a relaxed sound and the view of the water being the mirror of a fog that will clear up another day, Foxy found it unsettling. As a pirate by some percent of his blood in the past, he knew it would've been hours or maybe days since his boat has left the shores. A squeak scared his ears awake and Foxy's back was towards the forward direction to finally see three heads by the edge of his small drifter. The first to the left, was a head in an ice cube. The face looked to be poorly screwed onto the head to keep the metal inside covered and out of the world's eyes. The rabbit's head looked at Foxy with the dark, pale, dead eyes and wanted to scream or cry out in anger for the one who should've suffered longer than how he was dragged into. It was gonna be his fourth anniversary of hell and he wasn't around for the party. He was the main guest. The frightened fox backed away, only to have Chica's head, with her gouging, bloody eyes and an hand lost behind her beak. It tried to pin the fox down by the middle edge of the boat as a trap, but Foxy nearly pushed away back towards the Bonnie head as he also tried to trap him again in the world they call the dark.