Skyler knew perfectly well where they were going. She tells this to herself, even as the tall pines seem to blend seamlessly into each other. Crystals of snow catch on her trousers as she slows down and peers forward. Silently willing something to materialize between snow-dusted branches.

“Of course I do, Angel.” She scoffs, mustering every inch of confidence she was definitely losing with each passing moment. She’d been perfectly confident not five minutes ago. “It’s right this way.”

Why did forests look so alike? Honestly, would some variety kill anyone?

Every so often she looks back at the somewhat somber figure of her husband, making sure he’s still following behind her. Nightmares would drag their teeth across her throat for some time still, lingering in small gestures - in that panicked heartbeat when she loses sight of him.

It would get better, eventually.

“There!” Skyler’s excitement skyrockets when she catches sight of something, hurrying between grand dark trunks. Low branches are unceremoniously pushed aside as she trudges through deep snow to reveal the clearing ahead - and, most importantly, the building nestled within.

“Ta da!” Her arms are wide open, smile stretched to make room for the sunlight in her expression. “Isn’t it perfect?”

An amused look is thrown over Skyler’s shoulder.

“For us.” There’s no space for doubt in her voice, as sure and steady as the sunrise.

Angelo’s own doubt is barely given time to bloom, swept away by Skyler’s whirlwind of enthusiasm as she reaches for his hand, holding tightly.

The illusion of choice disappears as Skyler drags him forth with her, fighting the occasional snowdrift to reach the cottage’s front door where Jones, perhaps unsurprisingly, joins them.

Up closer, the cottage looks like something out of a forgotten fairy-tale. Snow gathers on its gable roof and in the hollow between stones. It would’ve eventually made its way inside through an open window or a collapsed roof structure.

In time, nature would’ve swallowed it up - but not yet.

The front door creaks solidly, like a grumpy old man begrudgingly allowing them entrance. Within, everything is caked in a thick layer of dust that speaks to years of abandonment. It takes everything in her not to sneeze.

Skyler has no actual knowledge of any previous occupants, so whoever lived here might’ve escaped to the safety of the city when the world turned to shit.

Her feet leave a trail in the dust as she immediately makes for the sizable kitchen, disappearing under the counters only to almost immediately reemerge with a ridiculously big pan held in her arms, looking like she’s just won the lottery.

"Not too shabby, huh? Could fit a whole Jones in here."

The dog in question seems unimpressed. 

Some might read Skyler’s gesture as acceptance, but those are the people who haven’t watched her bare her teeth against insurmountable odds and offer fate the middle finger.

No, this was just a different kind of fight.

When she stalks past the threshold into the long-neglected cottage, it is with a conquistador’s stride and a steady heart that bears no doubt of its intended destination - and will make sure Angelo’s follows in its wake.

“It doesn’t need much work,” comes her voice from somewhere within the kitchen, having put the pan down to inspect the stove. A line of coal dust darkens her cheek. She rubs at it, unaware. “’S not much, but the kitchen is big. There’s a huge fireplace right over there. Chimney is clogged, but looks to be in good condition.”

At the moment the interior is barely any warmer than the snowscape outside, but she imagines that a good fire would warm it up real good. Especially with a fireplace that size.

Chopping wood, she knows, wouldn't be a problem for either of them. She might get GIDEON GRAVES in on it too.

Skyler takes Angelo to each room, barely allowing him enough time to take one in before moving on to the next. The living room. The bathroom and-

“And here’s our bedroom.” Not will be, or might be. Is. “Might have to find some new furniture. Couple of rugs…” Skyler casts a critical gaze at the room, ignoring the dozing Jones atop the bed. “Definitely a new bed.” That one won’t survive us.

Her eyes are drawn to the curve of his shoulders, to how well they fill the previously empty doorway. Arceus, can the man stop looking like a delicious morsel for three freaking seconds? She needs to focus on something other than thoughts of dragging him down to this creaky and untested bed.

As if sensing her thoughts, Jones lets out a grumpy huff. He adjusts himself on the bed, kicking his paws into a more comfortable position. As if to say ‘I know what you’re thinking and I’m not leaving, not this time.’

Skyler’s mouth twitches. Fair enough.

A silver gaze snaps to Angelo when he speaks. He’d been doing his best impression of a brooding teenager for most of this impromptu tour, except when his eyes would occasionally spark with curiosity and/or interest. That in turn had done absolutely nothing to temper Skyler’s own enthusiasm.

And yet she finds a shy sort of relief bud in her chest, born from some shred of doubt that she’d never admit to.

“Yeah. I am.” On the other side of the frosted window, the first few flakes of snow drift downward. “I want us to have this. I want us to make it ours.” Brows furrow into a familiar ferocious stubbornness. “If I’m going to live here for a while, Angel, it will be on my own terms.”

For the first time her face cracks, and something jagged and sharp peeks from underneath. She misses home, too.

Perhaps sensing the abrupt seriousness, Jones lets out the teeniest toot.

Relief prompts a shuddering breath to leave her lips. 

"We're getting a new bed." The words are mumbled against Angelo's chest, even as a lopsided grin flashes over her lips. Peeking at Jones reveals that he's utterly unashamed of his actions, and in fact looks decidedly comfortable wagging his tail like nothing had happened.

Skyler expected nothing less. We should all aspire to be more like Jones.

"There's a shed too, and a small barn-like structure." She takes a step back, pointing towards where each of the buildings would be. The window's too foggy to see much of anything, however. Angelo would just have to use his imagination.

"Not sure what to do with those, but I'm sure we'll figure it out. Maybe something for Latias and Latios?" She knew that dragons could take care of themselves, but she was also aware how much they disliked the cold. And Circhester was always cold.

"I also talked to one of the local carpenters and acquired some carpentry tools to get us started. Shouldn't be too hard, I don't think."

Words not entirely unlike those ones had been uttered on a beach house rooftop, before she'd been proven painstakingly wrong. Like then, she's undaunted at the prospect of DIYing a whole house renovation.

Skyler grins up at Angelo, mischief dangling from her words. "At least the front door's working."

“Have you left any decision making for me?”

Skyler could've at least pretended to look the slighest bit contrite, but she was shit at lying anyway and there was no real reason to pretend to have a drop of shame in her.

Instead she allows her lips to stretch playfully upwards, revealing sharp incisors. When the idea had come to her, she'd rushed into it headlessly. The intention was to make this space theirs, and she silently vowed it would be - with both their inputs.

While he deliberated, however, it'd been too easy to step into the role of decision-maker.

Skyler had never been one to dawdle.

"I'll let you pick the front door color," she drawls, like a magnanimous queen granting a precious and rare boon. "And the kitchen is all yours to do with as you please. The bath is mine though."

Within the words lies a silent dare to lure Angelo into trespassing invisibly drawn lines. As if she wouldn't spend countless evening leaning against the kitchen's countertops, muscles tired and bones wearied, admiring Angelo's round buttocks and wide shoulders. As if he wouldn't spend countless hours in the tub with her, lovingly unbraiding her mess of gold and kissing a path down her shoulders.

His mishievous grin sparks one of her own, and she feels the ensuing warmth all the way to her lower belly. Her heartbeat skyrockets, a drumbeat in her throat.

And those shoulders, damn.

The bed, creaky and weathered as it might be, is looking increasingly inviting. Even with Jones in it. 

Of course, those thoughts are brutally shoved aside as mushrooms enter the picture. Skyler's eyes widen, her face pales, and she looks over Angelo's shoulders towards the stairs.

"I didn't check the cupboards."

(She'd find no mushrooms in the cupboards or anywhere else; but the old rug by the fireplace would prove suitably cosy for the next couple of hours.)