A fox briskly trots down an empty road, looking to all the world like it knows precisely where it's going.
Well, she's the snuggliest softest fox, so there!
She happily accepts this title! Also 'wigglesome.' She has decided to wiggle affectionately. Wigglewigglewiggle. Affectionate soft fox!
So soft! So wigglesome! So cozy and fluffy and pettable!
Wiggle! Wiggle! Wigglewigglewigglewigglewiggle okay that's enough of that. Noseboop, just so he knows she cares.
Then she gently baps his stomach with a paw as a reminder for lunch, and affectionately boops his nose again.
He laughs, and conjures lunch.
But first: he may have a nuzzle. Then lunch.
Awwwwww, a nuzzle! What a good way to start the day.
She has a light lunch, and then snuggles up again. It was more important that he be reminded of lunch's existence than for her to actually eat; she sort of suspects that if he forgot to sleep, he might have also forgotten to eat. Now that there is food in front of him he probably remembers that it's a thing. Sure, he's an all powerful wizard who maybe doesn't need to eat to sustain himself, but she's allowed to care about his welfare. She noses him affectionately, just because.
He eats lunch and then pets his soft fox friend.
Hmm. She believes she'd like to read. She nuzzles him, then hops off the bed to go to her letters and write:
May I have a book?
Here's a book about the history of cooking, written by someone who is clearly very passionate about the subject and wants to share the joy. It's pretty good.
This is an adorable book. She loves it very much. While she's not that interested in cooking or its history, it's still nice to watch someone else care very much about it, and write their passion. And maybe she can try out some cooking ideas once she's got opposable thumbs again.
She snuggles her snugglebuddy happily, and settles in to read.
Isfain pets her some more, and nibbles on lunch, and then says, "Back to work with me," and conjures some more food and vanishes.
She yips an affectionate farewell, then goes back to reading.
Eventually she finishes her book, has dinner, and then promptly has no idea what to do before bed. Isfain's busy, she already did a lot of sniffing around outside, she doesn't particularly want to read any more, she's explored most of the tower, and she already had a nap. As far as fox activities go, there's not really a lot else. For a little while she nibbles upon her chewtoy, but eventually she gets bored of that too. Hm. This is a problem.
Clearly, she needs a project of some kind. The only question is: what kind of project can a fox actually do? ... No, fox instincts, 'pee all over everything in the tower to claim it as her own' is not a valid project. Go back to the corner of shame, she would like to go back to ignoring those urges. Instead, she wants an actual project, that can amuse her very human mind.
... Hm. She thinks she has an idea. But she'll need supplies and a place to work. The place to work is easy enough; there are a number of rooms that look like they haven't been used for a while. The materials are a bit trickier, she has to put time and effort into collecting them, but there are plenty outside. She spends the next several hours collecting small rocks and twigs; the twigs she carefully trims down to straight sections with her jaws. It doesn't taste very good, but hey, she's eaten rats. It's all uphill from there. Once she has a suitable set of supplies, she carefully transports them to her chosen workspace, and organizes them by type and size. Then she begins carefully constructing a little city made out of twigs and stones; the stones arranged to make cobblestone paths, the twigs stacked on top of each other to make little twig houses. It's incredibly difficult to do without any fingers, but, well. She was looking for a way to waste time. This will certainly do.
Eventually, she finally notices she's tired and goes to sleep in her foxbox, too exhausted to even really miss the snuggly embrace of her wizard companion.
The next morning there's an adorable picnic basket next to her bed, with a note pinned to it that says, I'll be in the big pile of books if you need me. Inside the picnic basket is enough food to last her the day.
D'aww! What a sweetie. She is charmed by the picnic basket. Also by Isfain. She is admittedly super biased on this front.
The adorable picnic basket gets dragged to her twig and stone city workspace, so she can eat while she works. She adds a little town hall, a town square, a blacksmith, then a couple little houses, and then she's entirely out of building materials and needs to go collect more. First she has lunch, then: yep, time to go collect more. Once she has enough, it's back to building. Her tiny twig and stone city will be glorious one day.
She spends the day like this, then drags the picnic basket back to her room and curls up to sleep.
The next morning's picnic-basket note reads, Pile of books: day 3 and counting...
Giggle. Clearly, this deserves some kind of response. She considers, then goes and steals enough letters from the set in her room and the one in the entrance hall to spell out, 'You're adorable' next to the picnic-basket's location.
Then she decides she doesn't want to work on her twig and stone project just yet, in favor of wandering around outside and sniffing everything some more. Can she identify useful herbs by smell? Even though it's cold outside and they're all either dead or in hibernation? Can she remember their locations so she can swing by when she's human and collect them for a possible garden, later? As she finds out: yes! Her nose is excellent, and if she pays close attention, she can identify some plants by smell. Whether or not she'll remember where they are when she's human is another matter entirely.
She heads back inside, decides that she wants to soak in a bath, because that seems novel, and then does that. Once that's done, she rolls around in towels, and then indulges in a case of the zoomies. When she calms down, she spends a little while nibbling her chewtoy, then begins tossing it in the air and chasing after it. When that gets boring (and it gets boring pretty quickly) she goes back to working on Twigtown. Which she labels as such, since she already broke up the letter sets to declare that Isfain is adorable. She has just about figured out Twigtown's economy. Because it amuses her, they are a logging village, and rely on lumber exports down the river (represented by a stolen towel, since it's so helpfully blue to match the blue and silver theme of her room) that cuts through the middle of the town itself. She even adds a little twiggy dock, with a little boat, connected by carefully positioned tufts of grass to represent the boat's mooring.
The next morning's note reads, I don't think I realized just how long I can spend buried in books at a stretch until I had to step out daily to keep my fox friend fed.
The picnic basket is accompanied by a neatly organized assortment of letter tiles, with what looks like about a hundred of each letter available. A tedious but highly effective way for her to leave more messages.
It's getting kind of annoying that her only method of communication involves tedium, but she is building a little village out of twigs. Tedium for something actually useful sounds acceptable, if kind of annoying.
Don't worry, I'm amusing myself well enough while you're swimming in books. Take as long as you need. I also don't mind if you leave me more than a day's supply of food so you can cut back on interruptions. I'll remind you if I get low, she spells. Then she considers, and adds another line. I do miss snuggling you, though. If you go to bed at a time that I'm asleep, feel free to steal me from my fox box for snuggles.
This message written, she goes and continues Twigtown construction. Then, she wanders around outside exploring and gathering more materials, and then she goes back inside, cleans her paws of dirt, and spends half an hour jumping on the bed. Because she's an adult, and she's allowed to do that. This important task completed, she settles in to nibble on her chewtoy, and eventually goes to sleep.
That night, he does in fact steal her from her fox box for snuggles, at a late but not totally unreasonable hour.
He is deft at stealing foxes, because this one does not wake up from her relocation! The teleportation probably helps.
Predictably, she wakes up snuggled, and is summarily delighted. She nestles closer and makes a pleased (and quiet) little chirp, careful not to disturb the sleeping wizard.
The sleeping wizard is so cozy!
He is! He definitely is! She's more than happy to stick around and contribute to his coziness until he wakes up. She missed him very much.
The first thing he does when he wakes up is curl up and start petting her.