I don't usually write requests, but heck why not! I threw in some R+M so that non-finn lovers wouldnt get bored.
Just a short little ditty of what Finn does on her days off.
It was dark in the treehouse, but not dark enough to hear the little arguments, or the little romps no-one wanted to hear. She was used to living alone, hell she'd be a fully independent since it happened. She got up, still wearing her usual ensemble, and strapped on her boots. She geared up, collecting her various weapons from her small bedside table, and ambled towards the kitchen. She missed being an adult; here she was sort of treated as a child. She hadn't been one of those in a long time. She was experienced, in more ways than one, and she was a little irritable. Sure her fellow inhabitants were kind, generous, and mostly easy to get along with, but more times than not they seemed to mock her. They used little analogies, stories from a world too far, and many literary excerpts in their speech which ridiculed her "lack" of education. The "right" education. She could tell them more things, but was always warned about changing this, or unchanging that. She could tell they didn't really want to know all that bad. Hell, she could smelt a semi-atomic weapon, with full capabilities in less than an hour. They didn't want her expertise. Saying utterances like "this shouldn't reach the plateau" or "If it should reach the wrong hands." What did they think she was? Some kind of mindless child, too clumsy for her own good. They taught her reading, and watched as she deftly climbed the treehouse to reach a snake. This is what her life boiled down to. Getting taught by a geriatric scientist, and being the treehouse-clown. She was getting a little tired of this.
So she left them a note in the early stages of dawn, and they'd probably scrutinize the rough grammar skills she still had. It said the basic things, gone for a while; I'll be fine, kill the damn snakes yourself.
So Finn marched her way into the jungle, past present future had will and is her home. Damn time travel is complicated. She had her knives, taken from the kitchen, and a stash she found of Roxton's. Little did the happy little treehouse family know, but he stashes as bad as Marguerite. Just swap Gems for Weapons, and they were practically the same person. Finn thought it was a little creepy.
Finn also carried her cross-bow, which no one ever asked about. They didn't stop to think how she kept replacing her bolts, or where she got the complicated piece of weaponry. Really, for explorers they don't explore much in their own house. If they had asked, she would have explained away some of the vast technical jargon that still haunted her thoughts, professors of old long gone. Sure she wasn't exactly literate, didn't mean she couldn't blow their socks off with aerodynamic details of her youth, airplanes, sonic jets, hell even laundry got easier in her time. They never asked, and she never told. Yes she knew a better solvent than the one's they used, who the hell uses Lye anyway? She also knew the better ways to guard your home, food, and people. They just stuck an electric fence around, and called it safe. Landmines, ditches, sonic pressure points that aligned to a semi-electronic gridline that bordered the treehouse would give them security unknown to this little paradise. But they never asked, and she never told.
Finn grumbled as she jumped over a log, snagged her foot in a notch in the wood, and fell hard on her face. Her mission today was to find an apple tree. Not those giant nuclear looking apple-by products or Apple's cousin as Marguerite calls it, Finn wanted an actual, physical, small red and green apple. She wanted to make apple sauce. It had been a very long long long time since she ever had a spoon of apple sauce. It seemed so trivial, but with days of exploring vast amounts of land far behind them, Finn
decided it would be alright to spend a couple days in a trivial pursuit. Damn that was a good board game.
Wiping the dirt off her shorts, and letting a little water from her canteen watch her dirty face, Finn started walking again. She started thinking about her clothing... They didn't react much to her during the first weeks. Allowing her to open up in her own time. Letting her adjust to their style of life. Still kind of felt like they were ignoring her. Marguerite had come to her, under one guise or another, and asked if she needed any clothing, and that she could probably sew something for her. A small little gesture like that was so unexpected, especially from what Finn heard of the Heiress' reputation.
Marguerite had spent a good solid day dying some fabric, Finn's personal preference of black, with the dark resin of a nearby tree. When Marguerite was done sewing, Finn had several different black outfits, similar her normal outfit in style and cut. Marguerite left the bundle of new clothes at her door, and left quietly. She apparently didn't want anyone to know of her kindness.
Finn overheard a conversation that still boggled her mind a tad later in the day. Challenger down in his lab as always was heard fussing over a missing jar of something or other. Marguerite tried her best to hide the smirk as it crept over her face.
She was leaning over the railing, cloth in hand as she scrubbed a large black stain on her hands. Finn watched from a safe distance, hiding in the pantry closet, as Roxton approached the fiery brunette.
"Something wrong Marguerite?"
"Picture perfect as always, Lord Roxton"
"What have you done this time, Marguerite?" Roxton exhaled loudly and leaned against the beam.
"Must something always be the matter, John? Honestly you go looking for trouble."
Marguerite did her best to hide her hands, and not look at the black mess she had made them. Roxton noticed immediately, and turned his back against the treehouse interior. In a voice that was so low Finn could hardly hear it, Roxton asked roughly, "What have you got in your hand?"
"A cloth John. Ever heard of it? People use it for washing. No gems, no maps, so secrets. A damn cloth."
Roxton took a brief scan of the room before he pinned Marguerite to the railing with his weight. He used his free hands to grasp hers, and made her open them. He startled a little, seeing the black splotches that covered her white skin. Her eyes were flaming with intense discomfort.
You've got to be more careful."
I was dyeing some cloth, got a little away from me. No big deal."
Who would want black cloth? A trade or something?"
Yeah Roxton, I was going to trade it. Now would you get off me?"
--
Finn escaped into her room, at the bottom of the second stairs, before she interrupted their romantic moment. Anytime those two were alone, and not angry turned into a voyeuristic nightmare. Finn felt like she was intruding just seeing them on a bench together.
Shaking her head of such thoughts, Finn continued on her long trek. It was about an hour later, when Finn stumbled once again into a patch of dirt.
"Maybe they're right. I am clumsy." Finn spoke out loud, before taking stock of her surroundings. She was in a large field, with bright orange pumpkins spotted amongst the ground.
"Hell, yeah! Pumpkin pie!" Finn shouted, a little too loud, but she was alone so it didn't matter as much.
Finn cut loose a rather small pumpkin, placed it in her backpack, one she stole from the missing reporter, she lugged another larger one from the ground and decided to carry both back with her.
She decided to whistle the theme of "Jeopardy" on the long trek home. If they asked about where she got the pumpkin, she'd tell. But they didn't ask, and she didn't tell.