---

The first thing Miles notices when he wakes up is the cold, because of fucking course the radiator’s broken down again.

The second thing he notices, as he burrows further into the confines of his bed, is the metaphorical ice pick lodged into his brainstem. Honestly, Miles finds it ridiculous that even as a Fae, he had to suffer the drawbacks of copious ingestion of alcohol. They were, after all, magical beings from a separate dimension. You’d think they’d be able to get shitfaced without suffering the consequences.

But alas, that was not the case, and he had the sinking feeling that the effects of one too many vodka shots would continue to linger throughout the rest of the day.

It isn’t until ten minutes later, when a particularly strong gust of wind hits him right in the face, that Miles tumbles out of bed with an agonised moan, still wrapped in a cocoon of scratchy cotton sheets. He prays - actually prays - with all his heart that Mrs. Atkinson from the local salon would ring him up to say that he didn’t have to come into work that day, thus allowing him to spend his day curled up in a ball of self-pity, but that hope quickly dissolves with the ringing of the alarm clock, and he lets out another noise of nauseated distress before reluctantly pulling himself to his feet.

Miles goes about his morning routine with a gruelling slowness, a far cry from his usual bouncing-off-the-walls persona. Every movement was an aching slog through his own personal hell, and it took him a good while before he started feeling less like a zombie. Of course, he still felt like shit, but he almost believed that after a cup of coffee, he could get through the day without keeling over and dying.

Key word: almost.

It takes him way too long, but Miles gets things done (courtesy of a face full of ice-cold water that’d sent him shrieking in surprise). His breath is minty fresh from brushing his teeth three times, and what used to be a cowlick-ridden bedhead has been successfully wrangled into a fauxhawk with half a can of hairspray. Throwing on whatever that’s clean - which, surprise surprise - consisted of a leather jacket, a black t-shirt and a pair of too-tight jeans, Miles makes a quick stop in front of the bathroom mirror with an armful of makeup to make sure that he no longer looked like he’d been out partying till five in the morning. Sure, he could just use a glamour, but he really couldn’t be bothered to keep it up the entire day, and with the recent anti-Other sentiment brewing amongst the humans, minimising the risk of getting found out sounded like the best course of action.

Now he’s probably gonna get yelled at for showing up late to work, but he’d be damned if he stepped out of his front door looking like a hot mess. He had a reputation to maintain.

...Well, it wasn’t a very good reputation, but you get the picture.

Pulling on a pair of black Doc Martens, woolly gloves, a scarf, plus an extra hoodie under his jacket because goddamn was it cold, he casts a glance back at his disaster zone of an apartment before venturing out into the frigid winter. Those fucking Unseelie Fae, Miles thinks to himself, lips curling into a scowl. He didn’t even have to watch the news to guess that this was all their doing.

---

On his way to The Hair Lair - as he’s taken to calling the salon he works at - Miles wanders into a coffee shop, because hey, since he was already late, there wasn’t any harm getting his hands on a cuppa first, was there? And he’s sure that Mrs. Atkinson would appreciate him getting her a coffee as well… or at least that’s what he tells himself as he strides up to the counter, ordering two cappuccinos and contemplating a muffin.

Whether it was a stroke of bad luck, or simply just bad timing, Miles had somehow managed to miss every last bit of information regarding the Others on TV, with the one in the corner moving on from the morning news to its scheduled daytime programming. The Unseelie Fae’s continued protest, the Creature Rights Act, not to mention the murder of Nick Bloodfang at the hands of a group calling itself ‘Helsing’ - were all but unknown to him. But as the saying goes; what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, and he felt certain that once he got to work, he’d be caught up on all the latest gossip.

Putting her washed and dried plates back into the dinky cupboards of the shared kitchen, Stef shook her head. "Nah, I'll pass. My hair takes a hella long time to dry, even with a hair-dryer." She answered with a roll of her eyes. She loved her hair, but why did it have to be so goddamn thick?!

As Yuki continued talking, Stef picked up on the slightest bit of discomfort in her words and expression - hidden well enough, but it was still there. Deciding it would be wise not to pry - not to mention she'd look paranoid as heck if it turned out to be nothing - Stef didn't mention it, instead answering Yuki's query.

"I'll have to see. If John entertains me enough, I'll stay - but I might swing by Queen's place, see if Megumi wants to play in the snow or something. I don't think she'll be at school today." She said with a grin - she was sure the little girl enjoyed snow just as much as herself. And Alastair would likely be happy for Stefanie to take her off his hands for a few hours too. Asshat probably wanted to get wasted. "I'll go and get dressed - oh, hey Mags." Offering up a quick wave and smile to Maggie, Stef ambled back to her room, closing her door behind her and looking it over.

It was a hella cosy room. The lights had shades over them, as Yuki had been kind enough to nail them up for her. it was a lot easier than having a dimmer switch put in, not that Stef would have been happy with the effort and money that would have gone towards something like that. The rest of her room reminded her enough of her bedroom in Colorado, but not so far that she felt homesick each time she came in. The colour scheme had become a lot darker, for example - simply for her eyes. Dark purples and blues absorbed any sunlight that would filter through the window, far better than a whitewashed wall would. The bed was a 3/4 one, a definite upgrade from her single that she'd had since she was 4. It was piled high with pillows, fluffy throws, and several types of plush animals. A desk sat opposite her bed, with various things piled on top of it - paper, straighteners and curling tongs; make-up scattered here and there, with a paintbrush haphazardly set in her hairbrush pot.

Ah, her paintings. One of the more expensive things Stef saved up for now were art supplies. Sketchpads, oil paints, watercolours, even a box with charcoal in it. That stuff was messy, but she enjoyed using it all the same. She even had some crayons if Megumi ever wanted to doodle with her.

Slotting a CD in her player, Stef got dressed to the upbeat sound of The Killers - All these things that I've done.

"These changes ain't changing me, the cold-hearted boy I used to be..." Humming along to the lyrics, Stef tamed her hair into a ponytail, straightening the ends so they looked somewhat less curly. Not really feeling the overly "grown-up" vibe today, Stef made do with some eyeliner and a wee bit of mascara for her make-up... and of course, the concealer on her neck.

Pulling on some leggings, boots, and a gray long-sleeved sweater, Stef packed some things in her bag and walked back into the kitchen, digging through various drawers to try and find her gloves. She always kept them in the weirdest of places. One time she found them in the fridge, next to the butter.

---

---

In any other situation, Nick would have made some kind of snarky comment to Nikita - either about the place she'd just been and what she'd been doing at said place; the slamming of the door; or the lack of shirt underneath her jacket. However, he could tell she was already in a bad mood - no doubt over the things he'd just seen on the news. Also, he too was shirtless. He could hardly complain.

"Good morning to you too." He made do with that, taking another gulp of tea before answering her question. "And yeah, I've watched it. Fuckin' arseholes - not that I expected anything less." He sighed, leaning back in his chair, stretching slightly. "He wasn't going to last long. If the humans didn't kill him, an Other would have taken him down just for blabbing."

Opallum roamed about the city district of Edgetoun with his hands in the pockets of his light brown cargo pants. Dipping his head a tad, he focused on the stone of the sidewalk floor only a foot away from his transitioning footwork with a vacant gaze.

The first day of January was quickly shaping up to be regrettably uneventful, save the approaching snowstorm conjured by the disconsolate Unseelie Fae. Desperate for any variant of amusement, Opallum had pondered on once again taking part in some of the physiologically mangling drugs that plenty of his homeless kin had delved into time and time again and, briefly, even considered joining them in the dilapidated Edgetoun buildings that they had dubbed their "bases".

Swiftly did history kick him in the back of the head when it arrived.

In the past, he had most definitely indulged in the intake of marijuana and the injection of minuscule amounts of heroine, but, each time he attempted to procure a high from either of these substances, the only outcome was a steep increase in his internal body temperature and a crippling headache. When observing his human "friends" interact with the drugs, they seemed to actually undergo a psychological muddling whenever exposed. Regardless, Opallum came to the very reasonable decision to cease taking any sort of opioid, narcotic, or hallucinogen of any type. Money was already hard enough to scrape together with his socioeconomically impoverished state, but what was the point in spending that dosh on something that only made him suffer? He was no masochist.

Instead, he found no harm in putting his fire evocation to use. Typically, the evoked flame was enough to light a blunt or heat up whatever black tar heroin the London druggies managed to get their hands on. He occasionally found the company of drug addicts to actually be delightful.

Whenever asked how he produced a flame from his thumb or index finger, he always just waved a dismissive hand in their direction and deemed it a "cheap parlor trick". Honestly, not many even questioned how the "parlor trick" worked, because as long as they could get their due, they didn't pry too much.

After assisting them in achieving their high by utilizing his fire, and when they weren't completely out of it, some of them disclosed their life story and how they landed up where they are now. Occasionally, the ifrit didn't even have to ask for a narrative. Some just needed an outlet to vent their qualms or pains. Quite interesting, these stories. War veterans, depressed teenagers, mothers and fathers -- a diverse crowd, with each individual owning their own fascinating tale of defeat or enlightenment. Of course, there was always a risk when he spent an extended amount of time with any of them. There was always the looming threat of the police, but he could always flee. Flight was certainly a helpful ability to have when scenarios like those began to unfold.

"Uhm . . . Hm." he mumbled gruffly.

It would seem that Opallum had found himself facing the burgundy brick wall of an alleyway's end. Honestly, this wasn't an uncommon occurrence, for the ifrit's boredom-spurred promenades tended to end either with him standing in the middle of a parking lot, facing an abandoned house, or -- on rare occasions -- accidentally walking directly into a wall. Opallum shifted about to face the exit and then emitted a lengthy sigh, promptly going to run a hand through his long, black curls.

He strode out and continued traversing indiscriminately through the borough of Edgetoun once more.

Katie groaned and rolled over to look at her alarm clock when Andy knocked on the door. She still had ten minutes before her alarm would go off, so she rolled over to get a few more minutes of sleep. It felt like she had barely closed her eyes when the alarm went off, the annoying tone never failed to wake her up. She groaned again as she turned off the alarm and then rolled out of bed, landing on the floor with a soft thud before rolling over to her dresser to pick out her clothes for the day. Once she reached it, she was forced to stand up to reach the higher drawers, so she did so sluggishly. She was definitely not a morning person.

She managed to find a decent outfit in a reasonable amount of time, and after she got dressed, she headed out into the kitchen. "Good Morning!" She mumbled cheerfully to her flatmates as she passed them. The warm smell of coffee beckoned to her, so she didn't stop to see what was on the news. She filled up two-thirds of the cup with coffee before pouring in quite a bit of sugar and milk. She was convinced that the best way to drink coffee was with as little actual coffee as she could get away with, but she needed the caffeine.

It seemed that Claire was making eggs, and Katie could only assume that Andy had made the coffee. Realizing that she was the only one who wasn't helping the others get ready, she resolved to get up earlier. "Who wants toast?" She asked, hoping to be able to make up for being the last one up. It wasn't much, but at least it was something she could do. She reminded herself that she also needed to learn to cook. She could whip up a mean cup of coffee, but ask her to fry some bacon or flip a pancake and you'd likely be dealing with a stove fire. At least she knew how to use the toaster and the microwave, and occasionally even the oven.

She grabbed some jam out of the fridge and set it on the counter, then turned to one of the cupboards and pulled out butter and honey. She set them all neatly in the corner of the counter by the toaster before grabbing the bread. Now at least she'd be contributing to breakfast, a little at least.

”Bloodfang? What a silly name.” Moan drifted over to the TV, staring at it with her usual dubious sleepy expression. "I guess ya prediction came true, poor sir." The news droned on about his mysterious death, the woman's voice sounding like lead in Mona's ears, and she soon fell back in step to float besides Felix. Her eyes drifted down into the tea cup before it was snatched away for washing. Leaves, soaked to smudges, sat in in a light pool of chilled tea and made no sense to her ghostly eyes. She would never be able to understand how Felix saw death in that mess, but perhaps that was for the better. There were somethings Mona shouldn't know, after all. She sat back on her heels, lips pursing as she suddenly imagined what those smudges would have looked like if they were speaking of her own death.

Mona wondered if anyone out that had predicted her demise.

A chilly, uncharacteristically glum sigh escaped her, and she settled down on the chair Felix had vacated. "We've been the interest of the press for a bit now, huh? 'S kind of annoying." Her gaze drifted back to the television, face slumping down against her balled fist as headlines filled her mind. Most were stupid skeptics, wondering who among them could be a vampire or werewolf or devil, some involved traffic accidents on the way into town and missing children and more theories about the storm brewing outside. News, news, news. Mona sighed again and turned her gaze to the musty window beyond, watching the gray light stream down to dapple their floor with dust and spirit lights.

Outside, a gust of wind pressed against Faraday Heights, creaking the old building and kicking up a few branches below. Mona tilted her head at the noises and then grinned, turning to stare at Felix with her usual dreamy look. "It's gonna snow today, got any plans? We can..." She shifted to and fro as if embarrassed, though her face remained delightfully unimpressive. Excitement made her fidget, nothing more. She was just excited to ask Felix little things. "Maybe we can hang out, go for a walk? It could be fun!"

“The wolves are coming, I’m sorry.”

She was on a beach. She was stranded, there was no one there but her and she was being swallowed by the sea and her loneliness. She felt a breeze on her thigh, she rolled over.

She was atop a building, it was Faraday Heights. Her mother was there. She gently caressed her face, smiled at her, and informed her that dinner was almost ready. A tear rolled down her mother’s cheek. She jumped.

She was in her room, looking at herself. She was sleeping, a wolf watching in the corner of her room. It jumped.

She was looking at her wall. The snowy brightness shone in past her blinds into her eyes. Her blanket only covered the top half of her body. This was the worst nightmare of all.

Aila slowly rolled out of bed wiping tears from her cheeks with the sleeves of the oversized sweater that functioned as an entire outfit of pajamas. She let her feet drag against the cold floor as she shimmied towards her door. She walked into the living room – there were a few beer bottles it crossed her mind that Ethan and Danny might have been drinking last night but the thought exited her consciousness as quickly as it entered.

She went to the bathroom. She gently turned the tap on, splashing some water against her face. She took off her sweater and stared at herself for a moment in the window. With a sigh, she turned off the tap and turned to turn the handle of the shower. She waited for the water to heat up.

She entered the shower.

She stood immobilized by many things, the temperature of the bathroom outside of the water, fear, anxiety. She gently scrubbed her stomach and thighs. Her hand gently grazed the scar on the outside of her right thigh.

“Do you remember April 15th 2005?” She stopped and focused on calming her breath which she hadn’t realized until now had quickened into short bursts forcing air in and out of her lungs. She immediately stopped the water.

Aila sat down on the floor of the bathroom, on a towel. She hugged her knees close to her chest and wept silently.

Dressed and ready to leave for work in about an hour – Aila put a pot of coffee on for the apartment and pulled a granola bar out of cupboard munching on it slowly. She ate for survival – not for pleasure.

She took the pot off of the maker when it deemed it was time and took three mugs off of the rack they hung upon over the stove. She had them custom made not too long ago for herself, Ethan and Danny.

She slowly poured the coffee out of the pot into their respective mugs and sat down silently on the couch. Not taking up too much room – yet even the amount she occupied, she felt, was too much. She had one eye on the progressing winter storm and another on her cup of joe as she drank it slowly, waiting for time to march onwards.
 

---

Yukiko watched Stefani retreat to her room and let out a small sigh.

’She definitely noticed.’ She said to herself quietly.

Yuki walked over to the fridge, went onto the tips of her toes and barely managed to reach on top snatching the mittens that lay waiting – somehow finding a home in a place Stef could no doubt not reach. Yuki gently laughed to herself and sat back down on the couch.

There were real circumstances to living life now. She would have to start practicing combat again. The ‘popular’ others the one’s that had a life in Britain before something like a Kitsune had. Werewolves, Ghosts… Vampires. She wouldn’t let any harm come to Stef and the first step to solving that problem was making sure she knew who Yuki was and what she could do. Honesty, Yuki had found out, was the best answer to times like these. When people like her and Stef were hunted door to door, finding each person with a life just unstable enough to knock over and following through with that plan.

Yuki even felt uncomfortable leaving Stef alone for the amount of time that she was going to have to get what she needed from the library. But it would be necessary.

“Stef, I’ve got your mits!” Yuki called teasingly towards Stef’s door.

She grabbed her own scarf and wrapped it around her neck gently. At least humans didn’t bode well in the cold – this storm could keep Stef safe even if Yuki couldn’t.

John gave a muffled "Hmph" as he placed the sausage links in a hot pan, the sizzle coming not long after. "Yeah, but I've never worried about a metal band killing anybody. Whole worlds gone tits up 'cause some wolf couldn't keep his teeth in his mouth." John said, an edge to his voice. He never had much sympathy with those who purposefully ate people, three guesses as to why. Adding the water, a dash of cinnamon, and a couple drops of vanilla and viola! The best with what he had to work with, coming right up. A little butter for the pan and they were golden as a bit of batter was poured out. As beauty was being made, John began to work on his second baby and started a pot of coffee.

Running a hand up his face to rub his eyes, John just let out along sigh. "Not much we can do about it...how was your show last night?"

Mordred

Location:Faraday Heights; 28A
Interacting With: @Ghost Queen @Fabricant451

"Somebody is going to die!" Mordred came into the flat from the front door, for the first time since about dusk last the night before. He was dressed in a fashionable topcoat, with a scarf and some good ol' head stomping boots. He shed the outer layers, hanging them on a coat rack by the door, to reveal distressed jeans and a cable knit sweater underneath.

He entered the kitchen a lot more calmly than his entrance statement warranted, and reached for the automatic coffee machine that had produced a fresh pot about ten minutes before hand. As he poured himself a mug, he elaborated.

"Car accidents, pneumonia, a stupid slip-and-fucking-fall." He drained his cup in a series of hearty gulps, and when he continued speaking there was a heavy cloud steam issuing from his mouth. "And 'The Others'," He sketched air quotes with his index fingers, "Will be blamed, the victims made into martyrs for the cause. May the Lord God Almighty put me back in hell if I have not seen this shit before."

From where she stood, leaning back against the kitchen counter, mug of coffee in her hand, Maggie watched, silently, as Stefanie retreated to her room, her departure noted upon by Yuki with a despondent sigh. Maggies detached observation followed Yuki for a few minutes, watching as the woman reached up towards the top of their fridge to collect a pair of mittens that for whatever reason had been shoved atop the appliance. As Yuki declared her possession of Stefanis mittens to the closed door of the girls room, dangling the offending outerwear demonstratively, Maggie felt a small smile curve onto the corners of her lips.

All of a sudden she was thinking back to when she had first approached Faraday Heights, those few months ago, drawn in by the energy of 'different' and yet 'the same' that ran throughout the entire place like a river, guided by a small advertisement in the window of the corner-shop down the way. Yuki, from the start, had been somehow instantly young and instantly old, somehow wise beyond her years and silently understanding of Maggie, and Maggies identity, from the first moment they had shook hands and one of Yukis eyebrows rose in an elegant arch. It had felt unfair to Maggie at first, that somehow this woman knew what she was, what she had been born into, and had looked upon it with a benign indifference, but conceded no identity of her own. After a while however, Maggie had simply gotten used to the great secret that was Yukiko Abe, and was content to accept her flatmate for how she appeared, amiable and willing to share her flat and wine.

Stefani, had been something different from the beginning. In contrast to Yuki, who maintained an odd but seamless balance between youth and maturity, Stefani had always been painfully young. Maggie, who had never had much luck with teenagers even when she herself had been one, hadn't known what to think of her at first, mind too heavy and guilty with the instinctive dichotomy of her Mothers lessons of wards and spells to stave off Vampires. But the cloud had cleared, eventually. Stefani, as temper-driven as she could be sometimes, was truly a bright and clever child, who made a point of staying out of Maggies space. And Maggie could see it, somewhat, whatever Yuki saw in the child, that side of her that Stefani only showed to the woman, in the relaxed arch of her spine and the lightness to her step. Maggie would wonder sometimes, distantly, if one day Stefani might trust her like that, and always concluded that, she wouldn't blame her if the girl never did. There was hurt in those eyes, and pain, and fear and anger, trust was never offered freely from anyone who had eyes like that. And Maggie rarely went searching for something like that anyway.

As Yuki wound a thick scarf around her neck, Maggie padded out of the kitchen, mug still clutched in her hands, approaching Yuki carefully. As she passed the woman, Maggie uttered a simple request, "If you happen to see any while you're out, could you get some almond milk please?" Lifting her eyes to Yukis face, she added "I'll pay you back" and with a small nod, quietly excused herself from the room, not waiting for Yukis response. Taking another sip of coffee, Maggie walked down the hallway towards her bedroom, wincing slightly as she passed Stefanis room, as the sudden muffled blare of loud music erupted from behind the door. Making it to the quieter, dimmer sanctuary of her bedroom, Maggie closed the door behind her firmly, before moving over towards her desk. Her computer, still on standby from last night, lit up as she touched the on button, fans booting on at a low hum as she typed in her password with one dainty hand.

Maggie settled down into her desk chair slowly, as if hesitant, as she looked at the computer screen, and the browser tabs she had left open from her last visit.

Bringing her legs up to cross in her lap, Maggie rested her chin in her hands, directing a accusatory stare at the screen. Finally, after a few short seconds, she released a thin huff of a sigh from her lips, before leaning forward in her seat, a hand coming down to the desk to take control of the wireless mouse. The cursor swept across the screen, coming to rest on the sub>>sub menu option that had so captured her interest last night Recently amended research articles. With a short click Maggie brought up the link, and continued her journey through the numerous offerings of the Circle of Sorcery website.

Andy nodded to Claire as she entered the common area, acknowledging her point about the Unseelie protest. He was sure he'd hate it come 3 PM, seeing as that would be close to his shift ending, but it was the pinnacle of non-violent protest. Well...Andy hoped it was non-violent. All of England wasn't responsible, after all. "Eggs would be lovely, dear. Thank ya. " He smiled in appreciation and set to setting the table for the three of them. Their kitchenware was simple, white ceramic but it certainly got the job done.

After setting the table, he darted off to his room to slip into his work slacks and black button-up, long-sleeved sadly. On the left breast, a little brown pile of coffee beans was embroidered, with "Andrew" etched in green underneath. Tacky, uncomfortable, and professional, hitting all the high notes of Andy's distaste for formal fashion. Mr. Lawrence, his boss, gave him the nastiest look when he asked to rip off the sleeves. If he wasn't hurting for money, he would have done it anyways just to fuck with him. But alas, the life of a public servant beckoned. At least he took his showers in the evening, to relieve all the day's stress, so no extra steps to his morning routine.

He left his room in time to see Katie bumble her way out of her room, a warm smile on his face. "Morning to you too, sunshine." He watched briefly as she assembled her cup of coffee...if it still was that, after all the fixings. "Might wanna down that milkshake real fast, love. Shift starts in an hour and the commute's gonna be shit in this snow. Toast works, though." Andy teased briefly, slipping past Claire to grab butter knives and silverware from a basket next to the stove for all three of them.

After placing them down with napkins on the counter, next to the plates, Andy realized they'd be leaving Claire to herself. "Ya got anything planned, Claire? Need us to bring ya something back after work?"

Interacting with: Andy @Dusk Katie @Username

"Good to see you're awake, Katie." The young witch got around to whipping up a couple of omelettes. Red peppers, sausage, and cheese for herself, while the others could call in whatever they liked. "Take it you saw the news today. This whole Unseelie business trying to bully everyone into submission isn't going to work. The naturals are already pushing back, as Nick found out. We've had our first Other murder, and there's going to be a whole lot more blood on both sides before everyone comes to their senses."

She shrugged. "What we really need is a chance for passions to cool. Unfortunately, that's not going to happen." A deep sigh escaped her lips. "I'll be heading out to the store this morning. Anything you guys want me to pick up?"

The snow had made traversing to work a rather annoying experience. Barachiel didn’t dislike many things on Earth but it was really beginning to consider adding the cold to that list. The sensation of its boogers freezing as it walked about the snow covered sidewalks coming to the forefront of its protesting senses. How humans had survived whole winters without the comforts of their modern buildings was a true marvel to it.

After finally arriving at its office Barachiel spent the first half hour just trying to warm up. A terribly fruitless task as management didn’t think it cost appropriate to turn the heat up past twenty degrees Celsius. It exchanged the customary pleasantries as it passed its fellow workers. Most were covered in layers of clothing and looked completely miserable. There also seemed to be a fair bit of whispering going on. Barachiel never stopped to catch what it was everyone was speaking about but passing by a few conversations it could hear low mumbles about Helsing. One coworker speaking louder than the rest in particular caught its interest. He was a rather large man, whom Barachiel would describe as equally round as he was tall had his brow in a furrow and eyes that it could only describe as filled with feverish hate. I heard that Conner, you know the guy that is always talking with management? Well I heard that he's actually a friggin' werewolf. He's probably talking with the upper ups all the time trying get them to help him cover up all the children he's eaten. The large man hushed up quickly as a member of said management walked on by. Barachiel had never noticed anything about this Conner, and cast a quick glance over this man who sat typing away at his computer. Sure seemed human to it.

A quick check of its email showed that many of his meetings today with families had been canceled due to the weather. And those were only the ones who were willing to give it a courtesy email. Many more would simply be no shows. So this meant it was a house call kind of day. Which meant braving the cold once again. Barachiel would have to discuss another form of protest with the fae if this kept up much longer.

Well if it was going to be out and about traveling the streets most of the day, it would need a warm beverage. The coffee in the break room had the permanent taste of being burnt and the Early Bean was on the way to the first child it would check on today. Perhaps it could get a pastry for the child while it was at the shop. It was sure the child would enjoy that and it found that fed children tend to listen and pay attention a tad bit better. So Barachiel gathered its folders for the day and putting them neatly in its suitcase before swinging the bag over its shoulder and continuing out into the winter wonderland passing by the large man once again. Can't wait till Helsing kills all them murderous bastards. Hopefully they can get Conner before he decides its time for lunch.

Opallum continued travelling along the sidewalk with little energy in his posture and step. His mind had wandered to the topic of both domestic and international economics -- he had certainly become that bored. Taking a quick 1 o'clock glance to his right, he spotted the familiar architecture of Faraday Heights coming into his view. Looked like the ifrit had finally gone in a circle. He had been walking to nowhere specifically for most of the morning, enjoying whatever aesthetics the borough of Edgetoun had to offer, so it would only make sense that he'd pass by the same landmarks eventually. As Opallum began walking past the Faraday flats with an idle gaze kept forward, he abruptly winced and, almost compulsively, placed a hand atop his abdomen.

There it was.

The sharp pang of realization which strikes the mind and, succinctly, the body. An instinct staunch in its function and pervasive in its blunt indication. For someone like Opallum, these pains had always proved to be an especially familiar nuisance.

Hunger.

Previously, Opallum had only snacked on a half-eaten breakfast sandwich that someone had so hastily thrown away nearby Avalon Heights, and that morsel managed to hold him over for a few hours.

He only now realized that he hadn't another bite of breakfast to eat this entire morning. If having to deal with the makeshift alleyway-bound beds, the prevalent chill of London weather, and the mordant, judgmental gazes of more socioeconomically upstanding passersby couldn't cause enough suffering among the homeless community, hunger was a particular aspect of this life which really just . . . blew. Rather than going through the usual, tedious process of sifting through public trash cans and dumpsters for some slightly edible scraps of food, he instead decided to put his quest for sustenance on hold. Sating this desire didn't always take precedence over everything else when it arrived. For now, he would continue walking around -- drifting. Opallum would wait for maybe an hour or two before seriously seeking out any foodstuffs. He could endure.

Katie playfully stuck her tongue out at Andy before taking a sip of her coffee. She dropped a couple of slices of bread in the toaster as she listened to Claire outlining the news. Oh boy, a murder, and something about the Unseelie. She'd heard a little about the Unseelie Fae, but not much, she decided that she'd do some research on them later. Might as well find out who they were, she wondered if it had anything to do with the unusual weather outside, seeing as how they usually didn't get this much snow, but she figured it could also be just a freak weather thing. In any case, she didn't want to assume things, especially not with the Others. Too many people did too much assuming about them.

She was so deep in thought that she jumped when the toast popped out of the toaster. She plopped the pieces of toast down on two of the plates before putting another slice of bread in the toaster. She took Claire's silence on the matter to mean that she did want toast. She pondered whether there was anything she needed from the store for a moment.

"I don't think I need anything, but thanks anyway!" Katie smiled gratefully as she took the last piece of toast from the toaster and put it on the last plate before gulping down about half of her coffee, she drank things she liked quickly anyway, and it had finally cooled off enough that she could do so.

"Hopefully people will come to their senses soon. It's not like Others being around is anything new, only our knowledge of it is." She added as she sat down and began to butter a piece of toast.

---

It was going to be a long day. Despite the weather, some of Talia's clients still wanted to meet to go over housing prices, and she couldn't refuse since she had these appointments scheduled a couple of weeks in advance. Damn those Unseelie Fae! Damn them to-... well she certainly didn't want to see them there either. Maybe they should just all go to heaven and annoy the holier-than-thou angels, it would serve them right. A small smile crossed her lips as she imagined angels and Fae arguing over the most trivial matters. Anyway, in order to handle the weather and her clients, she needed some coffee, and possibly a bit of mischief.

The Early Bean was the perfect place for this. It was small enough where any disturbance would be noticed, but popular enough where anything could happen. Maybe she'd get to start a fight, that would be a good excuse to back out of one or two of her four appointments that day. Even just a heated argument would be enjoyable at this point, or someone being discontent with their coffee, she was incredibly bored. She hadn't been able to find anything new to do in such a long time. Lately she'd begun to share a house with someone, it left her more money to do other things she wanted, even though she had plenty and nothing to do with some of it. But this wasn't much of an exciting venture as much as her running out of things to do and deciding that having a roommate was worth trying.

She turned on the radio as she neared the Early Bean. She should have been there a good fifteen minutes ago, but the weather was not helping traffic, and quite a few cars had spun out on the side of the road. It was pleasant to watch the distraught faces of those on the side of the road, but Talia was still bored! As she finally pulled into the coffee shop parking lot, she hoped that something, anything interesting would happen. Then she grabbed her purse, stepped outside into the bitter wind, locked her car and headed through the doors, into the warmth and the smell of heated coffee beans.

---

---

"Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless, dearest the shadows I live with are numberless. Little white flowers will never awaken you"

Billie's sweet words crooned in the static of the radio, edging the somber silence settled in the living room. Anna Ross—No, that's not right anymore. Anna Cooper sat on the opposite end of their ratty couch, a glass of gin in her hand and her legs tucked under her, hidden in sea green fabric. Her eyelids sat closed, soft in the yellow light hazing the room, and her voice came out in a hum that vibrated her throat. A light tinge of pink peaked from under her blush and a softer smile pursed her lips.

The comfortable quiet hanging in smoke clouds above them belied the situation none too well - why their hands filled with hard liquor. Daniel had been lucky enough to be stationed somewhere just outside of London, and even luckier to be stationed with Anna's newly wed husband. Why she wasn't with him, he couldn't... he didn't allow himself to decipher. He sat his hat on the coffee table in front of them and stood, a deep breath leaving in a shaky hiss. Anna looked up to meet his eyes.

"It's not as bad as it looks," she whispered, soft under the haunting voice of Billie Holiday. Daniel furrowed his brow and knelt down to see the bruise covering Anna's right eye; how hadn't he caught that? "It's really not that bad, Danny."

"The hell it isn't," he growled and stood in a stomp toward the fridge, "you don't understand. You're not a fucking MMA fighter, Ethan; you pick fights with these assholes and I can't be there all the damn time."

Ethan.

Daniel stopped, a pack of peas in his hand and turned around with a furrow in his brow. The boy in question stood now, petulant expression and his arms crossed over his chest. "They called you a goth fairy," Ethan's jaw clenched and he could see the smooth muscles of his face shift and flinch at the pain it caused him, "they egged your car. They were planning on jumping you after cla—"

"So you thought it was wise to take that beating for me?" Daniel cut him off, slamming the peas down on the table - it didn't quite make the noise he was going for.

"That's not... you don't understand—"

"Enlighten me."

"That's not. Daniel, stop patronizing me. I knew what I was doing when I approached them. I'd do it again. And again. And again. Don't give me that look. I'm not taking another lecture from you, when you're no fucking better"

Breathe deep. One. Two. Three.

Second time that's happened in a week. Daniel pushed the heel of his palms into his eyes and let out a hissing yawn while he stretched. Cool air hit exposed skin, raising goosebumps along the flesh of his shoulder and arms and down his collarbones in a shiver. Another yawn racked his body as Daniel switched to lay on his stomach, feeling the long, deep, warming rush of blood running through to his toes and fingers and the deep pull of his muscles. His back cracked and his neck popped before he deemed himself moderately ready to dress and face the day.

He didn't - he wouldn't dwell on his dreams again. They didn't keep him up at night, which he took as a blessing (ironic) and they didn't exactly leave him hot and bothered and unable to look at his perfect, male specimen of a roommate in the eyes. Aila would catch that in a heartbeat, either chortle her way through the house or shoot him pitying looks. Daniel couldn't take either.

Scrunching on a sweater (jumper, they called it here), Daniel shuffled into the cold, hard wood floor of their living room-kitchen-dining room combo, saw Aila curled in on herself in the corner of the couch and immediately knew this wasn't a good day for anyone. He reached over the back to give the girl a peck on the head and snatch the remote from inside one of the seat cushions, turned on the news and smiled at the coffee laid out for him and Ethan. He wouldn't be at work today, at least not unless they called him in, which left him ample time to do... well, nothing. Probably why they liked to call him a cat; he took naps wherever he pleased, on top of whatever he pleased.

Taking a deep inhale of his coffee, Daniel immediately knew he'd need a few more. The snow raging outside meant he couldn't get in a smoke even if he could bare the frozen wasteland. It wasn't the 40s anymore and he'd likely get some kind of stern look from Ethan if he lit up inside. Aila wouldn't say anything, but Daniel wouldn't take the chance of making her uncomfortable, especially not looking like that.

"You eat, yet, Buttercup?" he called from his place on the kitchen's island, scooping his coffee up to plop down beside her. He didn't know if she needed space or not, so he kept close enough for comfort, but for enough away for... well.. comfort. His eyes roamed over her features, which didn't tell him much, but her stiff, shrunken posture hinted at some kind of discomfort. He wouldn't pry, that wasn't his job - he's not her therapist. "I'm sure I can snatch a few eggs before Ethan eats everything we'd stocked up on."