<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/07/Charmed_helen_b.png)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">H</span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">ELEN</span> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">B</span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">RIANNE</span> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">M</span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">ITCHELL</span> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 7pt;"><br/>          it is in you to carry on      |      it is in you to lay down fears that hold      |     it is in you to find your way home          </span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><em>waking up to food &amp; family in the halliwell manor</em><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">   » tragan . wyatt . melinda . paisley</span></span><br/><hr/><br/>At first, it was easy to ignore the sounds coming from downstairs. Through her haze of fatigue-induced drowsiness, Brie could still recognize the light tread of Wyatt's shoes as he came in through the front door. Footsteps that faded, then got louder could be the sound of him going to the kitchen; most likely coming back with groceries, with enough food to feed an army. The later additions of chopping and pans moving against the stovetop confirmed that guess, though at that point Brianne's sleep had deepened enough that her attention had drifted away in light slumber. At one point, she could have sworn that Wyatt poked his head into the room to see who had crashed the house this time, but the fatal combination of performance, celebratory partying, and a turbulent flight back from Vegas ensured that Brie would stay sound asleep through the first hour or two of Wyatt's cooking. The chopping, distanced by one floor and a couple of rooms over, was even somewhat rhythmic, reminding Brie of her early days in ballet, doing<em>pointe</em>exercises with the whole class.<br/><br/>Some time later, the sound of more voices conspired to interrupt Brie from her sleep, though by then she was mostly ready to wake up. Yawning, Brie buried herself deeper into the pile of blankets and pillows, lazily trying to identify the speakers. The loud shout - high-pitched and female - had to be Melinda: she had a particularly soft, romantic lilt to her voice that Brie had always secretly envied.  Then a lower, familiar tenor - Tray, probably at the Manor looking for food again. Brianne made a note to herself to drop into his place and re-stock his pantry and refrigerator when she went to visit him next time. He never seemed to have enough (good) food around his place, and being him, he probably wouldn't tell anyone if he ran out of money for groceries again. She wasn't exactly bringing in bank, either, especially with all of her money going to the new studio, but she could at the very least make sure that her twin had enough to eat.<br/><br/>The thumping of footsteps slowly faded in the direction of kitchen. Brianne sighed to herself, eyes still blissfully shut, and contemplated the possibility of falling back asleep. She could see Tray anytime, really, especially now that she was technically homeless (though in all fairness, the square footage of their new studio was just shy of matching the first floor of the Halliwell manor in size), and she'd had dinner with Wyatt and Melinda only days ago... Her fingers tightened on the edges of the quilt that someone (probably Wyatt) had tugged over her after she'd collapsed into bed and fallen asleep - not necessarily in that order. It would be so easy to drag the quilt over her head and continue napping.<br/><br/>In the distance, Brianne could vaguely hear a siren, gradually increasing in volume-<br/><br/>-until it became ear-splitting and headache-inducing, unmistakably a police siren, now louder, and louder, and louder-<br/><br/>Brianne sat up blearily, wrinkling her nose at the sound of the screaming siren right outside the manor. That had to mean...<em>Payton</em>. Resisting the urge to flop back into bed and sleep right through dinner, she shoved her aching feet into a pair of soft, fuzzy slippers, wondering if dinner with most of the family warranted a shower and a change of clothes.<br/><br/>She looked down at the outfit she'd passed out in. Dolman shirt, sports bra, and baggy Stanford sweats - not too bad, considering some of the outfits Brianne had worn in the past for performances and workouts. She was completely comfortable in skintight clothing  and just as at ease naked, but she knew that her cousins (and especially Tray) wouldn't appreciate her appearing at the dinner table half naked. Rather than wasting time for a quick shower, Brianne grabbed a brush and neatened her hair just enough to tame it with a hairband before disappearing from the room in a shower of blue-white orbs.<br/><br/>Telekinetic orbing still gave her trouble once in a while, but orbing herself from place to place was as natural as breathing to Brianne. She reappeared moments later downstairs with a sleepy smile, hugging her twin tightly from behind before she snatched a roll (avoiding Melinda's mistake by using a bandana dug out from one of her pockets) and tore it in half. The two halves of hot, fluffy goodness released a puff of steam as they separated from each other. Brianne hastily blew on one of them, waiting for about two seconds before she devoured it in one bite. Smelling Wyatt's kitchen reminded her and her stomach that she hadn't eaten in at least nine hours.<br/><br/><strong>"I think it's been a while since we've had more than three or four of us together for dinner,"</strong>she said, giving Paisley, Melinda, and Wyatt fierce hugs before she finished off the second half of her roll.