Mobian Daylife #1: Lanolin's Day Off

 Lanolin began her first day off from work in nearly three weeks in the same exact way she started every day of her adult life: By downing three cups of bitter black coffee before 7am.
She awoke from a relatively restful night’s slumber. Pillow pushed between her legs, bedsheet balled up and used as her pillow instead. An act that, by all accounts, should have left her waking up feeling tired and miserable. 
You didn’t toss, turn, bundle up bedsheets and straddle pillows in your sleep and wake up feeling like a brand new ewe.
But she found a new spring in her step every morning anyway. Ever since that wolf literally fell into her life and turned everything upside down.
A shower was in order; she smelled of sweat, dirt and powdered concrete from the previous day’s construction job down south. They paved over a family’s entire driveway and built a ramp for the wheelchair-bound grandmother(an unfortunate occurrence of the war). It had been a peaceful, if not labor-intensive day. Certainly better than the one she spent on that weird pony planet.

Lanolin downed the last sip of her third cup of coffee while sleepily looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. She wore a pale yellow tank top, the left strap slipping off her shoulder. No bra. And a pair of boxer shorts. All in need of a wash, which meant a trip to the laundry mat was in order, and soon.
She yawned, then rubbed the last of the night’s sleepiness from her eyes before undressing and hopping into the shower.
She left the bathroom several minutes later, feeling like a brand new sheep, wrapped up in her brown towel, her thick wool dripping suds with each step. She knew she had clean clothes, but none of which matched her modern style of military-like cargo pants, heavy boots and thick—ironically—woolen tank tops. She didn’t even have a clean sports bra to put on, and that was embarrassing.
She shifted through the plastic tub with the word “Lanolin” hastily scribbled across the lid in permanent marker. Most of this was too small, clothes she kept more or less for the sake of nostalgia, not that she’d tell anyone that. Lanolin the Sheep was stoic, ill-tempered and unflinching. She couldn’t be seen with a soft, sentimental side, could she?
How did that public persona even come about, anyhow? It seemed every time she made an important, rational decision, she was being chastised for it. 
“Lanolin’s just crabby.”
“Lanolin’s too bossy!”
“She’s mean!”
“She said WHAT about Sonic?!”
The last one got her the most. Sonic the Hedgehog’s actions had resulted in so many being put in harm’s way. And even though there was surmountable destruction, rarely was anyone ever hurt. Despite that, Sonic was celebrated for his heroism, for fixing the problems HE created by acting without a plan. For showing his enemies mercy, long after they had proven they’re beyond redemption.
There wouldn’t have been a need for the Restoration had Sonic just acted accordingly way back.

She growled, took a deep breath, then exhaled. She repeated the steps multiple times, standing in her walk-in closet, dressed in nothing but a towel, while the thick wool on her head dripped-dried on the cheap linoleum flooring the contractors had placed in the makeshift apartment complexes.
The sheep glanced to her left, catching a glimpse of herself from the bathroom mirror as the condensation rapidly receded. Her wool had grown out of control over the past few years, and with all the action happening around Mobius, she’d never made an appointment to get it styled.
But today, for whatever reason, instead of staying home on her day off and reading a book to kill time before her lessons, she’d go out and get herself done up for the first time in a long time.
It was time to lighten up, just a little.
Just a little.

Three hours later, she stepped out of the stylist’s shop for which she had traveled an hour out of the city to see. Riding her bike again for the first time since that ill-fated trip to the lake with that blasted wolf was a wonderful experience, even with the extra wind resistance she was now all too keenly aware of, thanks to the four huge tufts of wool she had on her head.
Keyword: Had.
Lanolin had her bangs curled across her forehead, creating a cute yet functional look, along with two streaks of heat-straightened wool to frame her face; something she hasn’t had since her days back home. Seventy-five percent of her wool had been sheared off and the rest restyled, forming a single fluffy ponytail that started at the base of her skull and ended midway down her spine.
As if to put the little cherry on top of the refresher, a crisp, cool gust of wind blew through the small town’s main street, traveling from the nearby lake’s surface just to ruffle up her new hairstyle. She felt good, really good. And there was only one thing that could make her feel better: Her lunchtime coffee.

The summer was well on its way to becoming a record-breaking season as far as humidity went, and living in the city was particularly rough this time of year. But the feel of the cool breeze coming off the nearby lake and the warm cup of coffee in her hand was enough to make her forget all of the troubles the planet—all planets, evidently—were facing and just enjoy herself in the moment.
While dancing through her wardrobe earlier that morning, the only clothing she found that would fit her top-wise was a halter vest. The kind with the big buttons on the front that she wore in her early teens. She used to be able to button it all the way up. HAD to button it all the way up; it was the only way her mother had allowed her to own such a revealing piece of clothing at that age. And she always had to wear a shirt underneath it.
The vest was a pale yellow, much like the sundress she had worn that day at the lake with Laik. It now sat at the bottom of her hamper, dirty, reeking of those tentacled monsters.
The large buttons on the front—four in total, only two of which could comfortably be buttoned—were a dark brown, creating a nice contrast against the pastel yellow of the garment. It was far too revealing for her liking in this state, but if she could get her black sports bra back on under this? Yeah, that might work, she thought.
And as luck would have it, she passed a clothing store that was having a clearance sale on overstock. 
Picking out a cheap pair of black aviator sunglasses as well, Lanolin had—along with her favorite green cargo pants and a pair of hiking sneakers she’d never worn before—created a new, yet familiar feeling look for herself.
She took one last, long look at the new Lanolin before departing the clothing store. Pale yellow halter vest, half-buttoned for no other reason than she bought it prior to her reaching maturity. The new black sports bra covered her up nicely while still keeping her shapely form obvious.
Why wool had refused to grow across the chests and bellies of her kind was undeniably frustrating. So easily could a ewe go without clothes just like the males if the wool would. Just. Grow.
Her eyes finished their downward trajectory, beginning at the new coffee-colored belt that her Wispon Bell hung from, proceeding downward across her lightly stained pants that SHE ABSOLUTELY WOULD GET WASHED ALONG WITH EVERYTHING ELSE BEFORE THE NEXT WORK DAY and finally ended at her trademark heavy-laced, steel-toed boots. 
Her little curly, wooly tail wagged.
She not only looked good, but felt good about herself for the first time in a long time.

Pulling up to the Restoration HQ building, friendly, familiar faces were out and about. Chatting with one another, going over plans, professional and personal in nature. Everyone here was friends in one way or another, and some had even transcended that and developed into romantic relationships.
The pair of beefy buffalo boys that everyone had initially assumed were related were actually from two totally different parts of Mobius and were now dating. A hot topic around the water cooler that Lanolin had initially been annoyed by, worrying that two members dating may result in unnecessary drama. But to her relief, the two had been very strict about keeping their personal lives completely separate from their work lives.
Lanolin was used to eyes being averted from her person as she made her way through the halls of the HQ, so now that she was catching glimpses left and right, she was feeling a bit uneasy, but she would not break the smile nor the stride she woke up with this morning. It was time her Restoration family met the real Lanolin, not the one the public decided she had been.

The elevator arrived on the basement floor, announcing its finished descent with a DING as the doors slid open. The sound of running water could be heard from the showers down the hall; men on the left, women on the right. Beyond that were the actual training grounds. Wide open rooms with an impressive variety of gear that the Restoration members could use to hone their skills when not on the field.
In the left room, the then Resistance team had constructed an elevated combat ring complete with padded flooring that allowed sparring matches to end with ring-outs or pins. 
Laik the Wolf stood atop one of the platforms, gnawing on an apple and not doing much else besides that. A weird wooden mannequin stood on the floor below him, looking like a crude recreation of the tentacled Kuthul drones based on a very threadbare description.
“Wolf,” Lanolin said, her deep voice echoing through the room. He turned, smiling that toothy grin of his. His canines protruded out of his upper just enough to give him that cute little puppy face—
Cute. She thought of him as cute.
“Lanolin, hi! Just in time, I was finishing up my brunch.” The wolf hopped from the platform and quietly padded over to her, his shoes and gloves both missing. He was completely nude, and for some reason, it really weirded her out.
“Been waiting long?” She said, meeting him eye to eye. Or tried to at least; His eyes were taking in the new sights.
He noticed.
“You got a haircut.” He said with a smile. 
She smiled back, having expected the first comment to be about her more expressive clothing. “I did, yeah. It was time I felt… Isn’t there like, a warrior from some legend that shaved their entire head in order to take as many advantages away from their foes?” She shrugged. 
Laik scratched his chin, pinching it between his thumb and index finger. “Hmm, maybe. Definitely sounds familiar. Anyway, I hope you’re ready for the next round of lessons. I’m not going to be easy on you this time.” He hopped back up onto the platform.
“I also brought you this,” he gestured to the weird wooden figure beside him. “It’s a training mannequin built specifically for honing the Wing Chun style. I’ve been using it as a coat rack ever since I moved to the city, so I think it’d be better suited here at the HQ.”
“I noticed that…” she trailed off, looking at the well-worn mannequin. Clearly, it had been used a great deal in its time. “Is it just me, or does it look like…”
“The Kuthul, yeah. Thought the same thing myself on the way over. Makes you wonder, y’know?”

“Today, I want you to demonstrate everything we’ve gone over the past few weeks. The deflections, the counters, leg action. Everything. I’ve tried to be as one-to-one with your training as my master was with me, so I do apologize if something has slipped my mind.” 
Lanolin climbed up onto the platform with Laik, gloves, shoes, vest and belt & bell all removed. It was the most naked she’d ever felt around another person, and yet it… felt… right.
All day, every day, since training had begun between the two. The promise to teach her how to fight using the Wing Chun style of kung fu was fulfilled. The wolf had been good to his word, and she hoped that he had enjoyed it as much as she had.
Her stomach began to feel like an anxiety-stricken butterfly had been set loose inside her belly. Was it the nerves, the concern that she may not have absorbed as many of the lessons as she thought she had? What? What on earth WAS that? And what a terrible time for it to rear its ugly head.
Laik took four steps back and then fell into a stance: One knee raised high, the other leg stood straight and firm. Both arms held outward, elbows down, palms up. His motions were refined, fluid, like water. To think such a goofy furball could sure up like this was, admittedly, impressive to the sheep.
“Do you remember your stance, or do you just wanna free-style something? Your call.” 
“I remember…” Lanolin lied, “I just, I just think that I’ll free-style it today.” 
“Very well. Do you want to just get right into it, or would you prefer a quick refresher first?” Ladies choice. The wolf held his pose effortlessly.
‘What a guy. Too bad I’m going to have to whoop his tail after I overpower him,’ she thought to herself, falling into a loose stance that was less complex than the one her opponent had held.

The two approached each other, one step at a time, until they were in arm’s length. Lanolin threw the first blow, an upturned open palm strike aimed at Laik’s cheek. He deflected it with ease, offering up a reprisal in the form of a straight jab to her shoulder. The attack distracted her just long enough for him to slip his leg behind hers. She stepped back, tripping over the unseen obstacle and falling flat onto her back.
“1-0,” Laik said, extending his hand in a bid to help her back up. Her hand entwined with his, he pulled her up to her feet as the two returned to their starting points.
“That was… impressively quick. I didn’t even see your leg move.” She remarked, dusting her backside off.
“The off-the-mark attempt at striking your shoulder was the distraction. You gotta be just as fast in the mind as you are with your hands and feet. Now resume.”
The next bout lasted a few seconds longer, with Lanolin successfully blocking multiple blows, including one that had attempted to trip her up once more. Her critical failure had been when she tried to open palm strike his chest, which he deftly deflected, grabbing her arm and pulling her close, nearly close enough for their noses to touch.
And that infernal fluttering in her gut became so intense in that eternal second that she almost threw up right then and there.
Laik tripped the sheep, nearly slamming her to the ground and threw several quick punches mere inches away from her face. 
“2-0. Had that been a real fight, you may not have gotten back up.”
She sighed, reaching out to take his hand. “Wonderful way of giving your pupils hope there, wolf. 

“I noticed what you tried to do that time. The motions, the way you tried to pull in close.”
Her eyes went wide. “Wh-What do you mean?” 
“You tried to repeat the same attack I performed on Whisper all those months ago. The one that landed me in the hospital with a head injury and an apology letter.” Laik laughed, then rubbed the spot on his head where the Variable Wispon had nearly cracked his skull.
No great sage or ancient being of wisdom could ever have explained to her why she did what she did next, or why she allowed it to happen.
“I want to see how that played out for my own personal amusement, move for move. I’ll be Whisper.”
This time, Laik’s eyes went wide at the proposition. “You DO realize how it ended, right?” He held up his right hand, the same one that had rested firmly against Whisper’s chest.
“I do, and if I’m giving you permission to show me step-by-step how you properly perform that move, then I fail to see why it’s an issue.” 
Lanolin’s voice was so light and carefree today. She didn’t groan, growl or bemoan anything. Laik had noticed the change and was finding it to be quite refreshing. Their last training session had ended with her hoping the Azure Lake dried up under the intense summer heat and that he lost all of his fur for a month.
“Are you one-hundred percent—“
“Yes, already! Knowing how this ends, why would you protest so much? You’re the one to benefit here. Get on with it, wolf, I’m paying for these lessons, after all. Geez.” 
Laik allowed his body to go slack, letting the adrenaline from the previous rounds melt away. He needed a clear mind in order to explain this step by step.
“You’re not paying for the lessons anyway, Lanni.” He remarked before approaching the sheep.
That nickname again. The butterflies. “Blah, blah, blah. Fight. Now.”

“All right, so first,” Laik said, falling back into his stance, “Come at me and attempt to strike me in the face. Not too fast unless you really want to hit me. Keep it slow because I need to be able to properly—“
Lanolin knew the drill; Knew how combat training demonstrations worked. The wolf was just nervous about what he was about to do, while she was antsy to make it happen already.
She threw the punch, aiming her fist directly at the wolf’s determined-looking face. His palm shot up, touching the side of her arm and guiding her off course, forcing her up close to his body. She could smell the lake and cedar on his fur, trademark scents of Azure Lake Zone where he grew up.
Her heart raced in tandem with the near vomit-inducing fluttering in her gut. This was the closest she’d been to his face since the skyfall incident. Why his expression was so determined-looking was a bit odd.
“Okay, freeze. It was at this point, Whisper—who was still masked, mind you—had been caught off guard. She wasn’t expecting me to get up close and personal so quickly, I guess. She threw a wild punch with her right arm, something that had been easy to predict.”
“Like this?” Lanolin swung her arm up in an uppercut motion, course-directed straight for Laik’s jaw.
“Yes, good.” He stopped the punch with the palm of his hand, then pulled her arm, straightening it as he swerved in front of her, then grabbed her shoulder with his left hand. The part he had been nervous about came next. He held his right palm up, spreading all five of his fingers, then paused.
Lanolin looked him in the eyes once again, wondering if he had it in him to even do what he had to do next, even with her permission.
“Th-This all happened very fast as she had been taking shots at me before this point, but once I got in close, it was really just a simple matter of deflecting and reacting, in training this is where one would score a knock-down point, but in actual combat…”
“On with it, wolf, I’ve got plans this evening.” She said with the familiar tone of aggravation seeping back into her voice. The Lanolin everyone unfortunately knew. 
Yet still the wolf hesitated.
Growling with frustration, she grabbed his frozen palm and pulled, flattening it against her chest as she, taking advantage of his surprise, quickly slipped a leg behind his.
“Oh, for the love of— You’re a grown man, Laik!” Lanolin pulled her leg back and pushed off against Laik’s chest, sending him flying backward onto the padded ground below.
“2-1,” She said, laughing at the wolf who had experienced the first takedown. “So is Wing Chun just about taking advantage of your opponent’s distractions or what?” Offering a hand and helping the wolf back to his feet.
“Some moves do, yeah. Get up close, using your hands while your feet actively slip in and out between their legs in hopes of tripping them. Of course, that only works against opponents with legs; Good luck taking out a Badnik with that tactic.”
There was a moment of silence between the wolf and the sheep. Only the sound of the showers and playful banter of those within filled the cave-like atmosphere of the training room.
“Well, all right then, let’s proceed. As I said, I got plans for this evening and am going to need time for another shower once this is done.” She fell back into a stance of her own invention; One leg up, bent at the knee with her foot resting on the other knee. Right arm held straight out, palm up, while her left arm held close, with a fist against her belly.

The sun was finally setting on this busy, but otherwise entertaining day off. Lanolin had learned some things about herself today, things she always knew, but had forgotten through all the chaos that was pretty much her everyday life now.
Between being a supervisor for the Restoration and the leader of the new Diamond Cutters, there was never a time the sheep’s plate wasn’t full, and as hard as all that could be on a person, she had to remind herself that these things shouldn’t shape who she really was down inside. 
The steps she took today, but cutting her hair and remaking her daily wardrobe, were some great first steps to reclaiming Lanolin the Sheep and bringing her back to the public eye. She’d hold onto her boss lady status because that was part of who she was, it just didn’t have to be ALL of who she was.
The cheap washing machine entered its second spin cycle with all her laundry from the past month pinned to the sides, heavy with detergent suds and fabric softener, all the while she sipped at her last coffee of the day, reading the latest newspaper.
“Sonic the Hedgehog saves the day again!” read the headline in big bold letters. Apparently, something big had gone down on South Island again. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had somehow caused it, taking a sip of her dark roast coffee with its single spritz of caramel syrup.
She smiled, then flipped the page, reading about the smaller victories.