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[Aaron Dell]

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Aaron Dell was the second of four kids. Bastian was the eldest, then came Aaron followed by his little sister Livvie and finally, Curtis who rounded out the pack. They made an odd looking motly crew that often left some to wonder if they all had the same set of parents. A joke to which their father would only give the hint of a smile before shutting down all together. A common occurrence since their Mother had up when the kids were little, leaving Jonathon Dell to raise all four alone.

Bastian was dark in every sense of the word from his hair to his boots. Curtis with his bright blonde hair and light blue eyes sat at the other end of the spectrum. At thirteen he was always the first one to play a practical joke. A trait to which their father, Jonathon did not encourage. Livvie, being the only girl was the sunshine and the glue of the family. She was also the cook, the maid, and the gopher. While her hair held a tint of red, so did Aaron's. But mostly it was just blond unless you were really looking, or had had the bad sense to tick him off. But between their tempers, the red tints, and their sarcasm as a second language they were almost inseperable.

Bastian was the money minded one. He held all the books for their little business in Trinsic and was their father's right hand man. Aaron on the other hand, had no head for numbers. He preferred to be the strong arm of the family. Happiest in the woodshed or in the woods themselves, slaying something, he kept his head down and his hands moving.

That same head of dusty blond hair that he kept cut relatively short for working purposes was currently leaning over an intricately crafted table. Running the blade of his knife along one of it's many inner circles he finished off what was a 3 day piece. Commissioned for a local family, he had painstakingly chopped, molded and put together this table inch by inch. And tomorrow at 3 ticks past the midday sun, the family would be here to get it.

Finishing up, he took the apron off and tossed it on the back of a workbench. He had nothing on beneath it, shirtwise, preferring instead to work with his chest open to the air. It wasn't always the wisest thing with wood shavings flying around and heated tools. He had certainly acquired enough scars over the years, nevertheless it was how he preffered to work. Picking up his shirt from the same workbench he had tossed the apron onto, he pulled it over his head and made his way towards the house.

Livvie had left just over a week ago. There had been no word from her yet and both his brothers and he were growing concerned. It was time to check in on her.