---

Thanking both Katie and Claire for their contributions, Andrew began hastily eating his eggs with surprising speed. He hadn't even done any actually exhausting spells lately, just some Alchemic practice the night before, as prescribed by a Circle advisor. His skills in transmutation were slowly growing, though he still had some issues with the geomantic array to properly channel the energy. Andy's natural Fire came so simply, with a runic channel and a small incantation when needed, that such complex formulae and reagents were challenging. It left him with quite an appetite in the mornings.

Well, that, and he was sure a shit storm of folks was waiting for them at the shop. With all that had happened, plus the weather, it was going to be another packed day. The tips would be nice, though; Folks seemed to love his barista skills, and if he liked the folks he'd even do some fancy latte art with the milk pour. Skills paid the bills, after all.

Andrew did get a sort of annoyed twitch when Claire called the normal folks "naturals"...as if they weren't? Fuck, they were one step from human as it was and Witches were still getting shit. The Others were just as natural as humans...but he didn't say anything about it. She had good intentions, and he couldn't fault her for that. "I'm good, love. Be careful out there, though. Ya know how folks get with a storm."

s Katie, however, seemed to get it. "Right?" He said through a mouthful of toast, "It's like treating the culture of someone you just met like it never existed before you laid eyes on it. It's an adjustment, sure...but murders? On both sides? We don't even have the full fucking story." Andrew's runes were smoldering again. He shook his head, clearing the building fog. "Sorry...you ready Katie? Place's gonna be a nuthouse by the time we get there." The young Witch asked, putting his plate in the sink.

---

Whoever invented that awful alarm clock noise can go royally fuck themselves.

It was already well into the morning, and after hitting snooze three times, the electronic caterwauling had finally broken Liam's stupor. "Oh, for fuck's sake," He groaned as he rolled out from under his heap of messy covers to give the clock a good smack. Reluctantly, Liam stood, stepping in piles of clothes from God knows how long ago and other random bits scattered around the dark, mediocre apartment. With all the blinds shuttered, only the lights from his idling computer, clock, and Squeaks's heat lamp filled the apartment, the lizard crawling out of his rock habitat once he noticed movement. "Mornin', Squeakerooni. Got anything today?" He inquired, leaning down to let the hot light illuminate his gaunt features. The lizard simply cocked its head in reply.

"Figures. Ya quiet little man." Liam groggily stumbled over to the fridge. It was fairly sparse...save for the two or three bags of blood, random liquors, and the smattering of food that he had no idea was good or not. Sighing, he grabbed one of the crimsom pouches and moved to the small kitchenette. Opening the cabinet above the sink revealed...well, most of Liam's life. Pipes, bottles, needles...the only somewhat official looking one, labeled "Sanguinol" label-maker style, was what he was after, along with a scarlet stained shot glass. With a grimace he filled the shot with blood, knocking back two small white pills with it. He slammed the table with force, fighting down disgust. [color=#A2F22F]"Fuck that's nasty. The fuck did I grab?"[/ Looking at the pouch, it was labeled with A-. Usually that was went down the easiest for him...must of been a bad batch. At least the pills and the shot would keep him relatively pain free for the afternoon.

Right now, though, that fucking left was giving him a fight. Hopefully it'd fade soon. Liam made his way painfully to his computer, pushing aside clothes and making a path, sitting down with an emphatic hrrggg. to check the news. Internet was all he bothered to pay for, now that it handled everything phone and television could do in-home. Instantly, there was little good on the front page.

"Murders and petitions. Fuck me." The Dhampire sighed, a thin hand coming up to hold his bedhead back. The Unseelie he didn't care about, and he rather liked the cold, so it wasn't too big a deal. But you can't just get rid of everyone like that...can you? He'd be lumped in that for sure, and the vamps and wolves would rip him apart just out of anger. Maybe heading out today was a bad idea?

Nah...not as bad as any other. You couldn't really tell he was a Dhampire...if you didn't look hard enough...or heard rumors...or if anyone wasn't even mildly observant. Still...he wanted to grab some stuff for a new track that still sat open from the night before. He wanted some older samples to work with...and groceries were probably a necessity.

A pair of randomly selected denim jeans, utterly unfit for winter, and a hastily procured hoodie had him out in the cold right quick, making his way up town. Hood up, face down, and hopefully out of eyesight of anyone with sharp things and radical notions. They could kill him after he got this shit on Youtube.

Loki woke when the sunbeam coming through the sheer curtains rotated to rest on his face. With a discomforted grunt, he pulled his arm out from behind his head. It felt like someone had sent his body through a meat grinder. ”What the hell did I do last night…” he thought to himself as he attempted to wipe the sleep from his heavy eyelids.

A few blinks adjusted his eyesight enough to take in his surroundings. This wasn’t his bedroom. No, but at least it was his house this time. He was wearing nothing but his pants on the living room couch, where he had apparently slept all night. Loki could taste dried blood on the corner of his mouth… he must have gotten the munchies and had a midnight snack.

Sitting up caused a pair of lacey knickers to tumble from his bare chest to his lap. Loki plucked them up with a thumb and forefinger to inspect them. Things were starting to piece together in his foggy mind. He looked around for the bird who was surely missing these right about now.

Laying on the floor beside the couch, more than half naked, there she was. Loki raised an eyebrow at the ginger girl as he stood up. She wasn’t moving. “Well, damn…” he murmured and nudged her face with his toes in an attempt to rouse her. Still no movement. Another one bites the dust…

“Charles!” Loki called out. “Don’t I pay you enough to take out the rubbish?”

At that, the dead redhead no longer held his attention. He wasn’t sure what day it was, but he was certain that he was probably almost late for something important, and he had to get ready for it.

“She’s not dead, sir. Just… inebriated still, I suppose.” The butler replied from the kitchen that Loki was on his way to. Charles already had a glass of blood prepared for him along with serving of delicious looking fruit salad. Loki forked up a few pieces of fruit and then downed the scarlet refreshment.

“Oh, well, see to it that she is taken care of then. I have to wash up.” Loki remarked between bites.

“Of course, sir. You have a meeting with Mr. Richardson in one hour.” Charles offered the reminder without even having to be prompted. He was just that good.

Being a neat person that doesn’t eat all that much, it could be argued that Loki doesn’t really need a butler. An he doesn’t… Truth be told, it was far too melancholic living in an 8 bedroom, 5 bath home by oneself. Charles was just as much a friend as he was an employee. And, as it turns out, quite the useful one!

“Right, that would make it Thursday. Thank you, Charles, you are a gift!” He said with sincere dramatics before taking his leave to brush his teeth and shower last night’s sweat and sin away. If only the hangover headache could be so easy to get rid of...

When Barachiel arrived at the Early Bean the morning rush was still going full swing. Apparently even the horrid weather couldn't keep people away from their much needed coffee. Many described feeling addicted to the bitter dark liquid, a fact that it found rather confusing. As far as it could tell addiction to anything in this society was highly frowned upon, yet no one blinked an eye but instead agreed wholeheartedly when one mentioned addiction to coffee. Personally it was okay with this particularly confusing and illogical hole in the mankind's social rules. Its hands felt might turn into blocks of ice if a warm beverage wasn't placed in its hand soon. Finally getting through the line and coming out on the other end with a hot chocolate, Barachiel decided it would be best if it stopped a moment and went over the file of its next child. It scanned the room looking for available tables. As luck had it there was one left open by a gentleman who had just gotten up to leave. Picking the seat so that Barachiel could see the rest of the establishment, it began opening up its briefcase and pulling out the file for one Dylan Fox.

Dylan Fox's situation was heartbreaking to the angel. The child himself had a bright a soul as any on this Earth but his family was torn apart and it was beginning to send the young child on the same dark path the rest of his family seemed so intent on walking down. When Barachiel had first met the ten year old Dylan, his older brother had just been arrested for stashing their dead mother and using her checkbook to supply his drug habit. Most everyone except Dylan and his two brothers thought the lady had simply become a shut it, and this went on for a couple weeks until a neighbor called the authorities about a horrid smell coming from the lads apartment. A horrid story really. Thankfully the lad was currently living with his grandparents who seemed a good sort of people as far as it could tell. But Barachiel thought this might be challenged soon as the boys' father was expected to be getting out of prison sometime this year, and such fights were never easy for the child.

But there was nothing it could do about the coming situation so it concentrated on ways of helping the young boy now, going through all its notes and observations, taking mental notes of successful attempts at getting the child to open up. Sometimes all they needed was someone to confide in. The trick not being overbearing and an authoritative figure telling the youngster what to do, but instead being a friend who listens and when asked gives advice base on similar experiences in the past. If one wasn't careful it could easily slip into the first.

Every once in awhile the angel would take a sip from its hot coco, its eyes going over the people coming in. Most were just another person off the street that faded into the background. Every once and awhile Barachiel's mind would find a stranger that stood out from the others and it would spend a moment thinking about where they were going and where they were coming from. There really wasn't any point to this practice but it found that it enjoyed the stories it came up for people. At one point its eyes rested upon a young lady who seemed to simply radiate confidence, just from the moment she entered the door to getting in the still long line. It was hard to describe what it was about the woman that gave off such confidence, but Barachiel settling on the face and the way the woman's looked upon the room as if she was owned it and everyone who filled it was simply a pawn for her to use. Its mind immediately going to work trying to explain where this feeling came from but Barachiel just smiled and shook its head. It was likely she was just another face that would get lost in the shuffle and it needed to continue to give its attention to Dylan and his situation.

27B-> The Early Bean

Interacting with: None at present.

"Okay, then. I'll be back in a little while." Claire hopped in her car (A beat-up old Ford Fiesta with three wheels in the grave and the fourth on a banana peel), and headed off to the store.

As she headed back, foodstuffs in tow, she passed by The Early Bean. There wasn't anything that needed to be refrigerated right away, so she decided to stop in for a little bit, have a quick bite. The blueberry scones looked quite good, so she ordered two of those. She sat back, taking a few minutes to check her phone.

"When love breaks up, When the dawn light wakes up, A new life is born, Somehow I have to make this final breakthru . . . Now!

I wake up, Feel just fine, Your face, Fills my mind, I get religion quick, 'Cos you're looking divine

As strains of the one and only Freddie Mercury washed through the apartment from the media centre in the corner, the one and only Freddie Milton Hughes-Jackson opened his eyes to greet the new day. It took a few beats for his mind to sort itself out and then he felt a gentle tapping on his shoulder. Rolling over, he was greeted by the first magical sight of the day; a breakfast tray, complete with orange juice, a cloth handkerchief, buttered crumpets and a steaming cup of English Breakfast tea, hovering in the air over the bed. Still gently poking his shoulder was a small teaspoon, given the task of making sure he didn't knock over the tray and ruin the last hour's work of his animated household appliances. Even though he was woken up this way almost every day, Freddie couldn't help but grin. Magic, what a wonderful thing to have in your life.

He sat up, picked up the teaspoon, gently put it down on the tray and then eased the tray onto his lap. Sip the tea, nibble the crumpets, drink the orange juice and enjoy the continued pay off of a week's casting, experimentation, recasting of the different animations necessary to make sure that the food was not only made properly but delivered gently. During the testing period he'd been hit over the head many, many times by both the breakfast tray and the tea spoon. Still, no one said the path to the perfect breakfast was supposed to be easy. Speaking of the perfect breakfast, he got to work finishing his own off. Hmmm, the crumpets were well buttered but slightly overcooked, have to modify some of the spell parameters. Swallowing the last of the orange juice, Freddie put the tray aside (it immediately began to float towards the kitchen and wash itself), leapt out of bed and and showered. With personal hygiene out of the way, he came back to the bedroom and began choosing his outfit for the day. Wallace of Wallace and Gromit or a 1950s book clerk from Kent? Choices, choices.

Living breathing, Rock 'n' Roll, this never ending fight!

As Freddie reached the end of another song, Freddie spoke up. "Radio what's new, please" he said, staring at the media centre. It took half a second for the spells to translate his spoken commands into commands for the machine but then BBC Radio One came to life with its characteristic businesslike tone. "Outrage sparked on both sides of the debate over the emergence of the 'Others' today with the well publicised murder of Nick Bloodfang. The Werewolf was being held in captivity after the manslaughter of a young girl whose parents have chosen to keep anonymous and was today found dead in his cell. A group calling themselves Helsing have claimed responsibility on Youtube alongside posting a manifesto of Other persecution. According to this manifesto, this will be but the first of many deaths to come. We take you now to-". The voice stopped abruptly when Freddie threw the tea spoon at it, the universal command for animated objects in the flat to stop whatever they're doing.

Deftly tying his tie, Freddie swore quietly. Even in his own home, the seat of his power and independence, he didn't like to curse. But dammit all if every development in the outing of the Others hadn't made things worse and worse. The Unseelie trying to freeze Britain back into the dark ages, Vampires being chased away from bloodbanks (as if that's going to help anyone) and now this... It would try the patience of a saint.

RING RING RING RING RING

And speaking of patience... There are two phones in Faraday Heights 24B. One is Freddie's mobile, a stylishly modern contraption that's covered in arcane glyphs and eldritch scrawls that do everything from improve the battery life to guarantee free wifi, even underground. The other is an archaic lump of black plastic and ancient wiring that only rings when one person calls it. The ring is like the bells of doom, signalling the death of free will and the collapse of empire.

Freddie picked up the phone and said "Hi mum, how are you doing?"



Thereafter followed a brief exchange as well rehearsed as the script of any telemarketer. Cynthia Evergreen Hughes inquired after Freddie's health and happiness, Freddie told her he was fine. He asked how her and Marcus, his father, were doing, she told them they were tolerably well. She told him he really aught to be publishing another thesis on the myriad inaccuracies and inefficiencies of Berthault Batterton's treaties on the natural relationship between magic and electricity, he said that he'd get to work on it any day now. She asked him whether he had made any new friends in the same tone of voice she'd used when he was five, he said he could put many names to faces in the area. And so on and so on. He laughed when he was supposed to, she gave dry chuckles whenever he tried his hand at a joke. Upon leaving home, Freddie hoped that daily interrogations on his academic, physical and social well being would become a thing of the past. He had therefore been somewhat dismayed when his mum had presented him with a house warming present; a telephone that only she had the number to and enchanted to tell her whether he was in hearing distance of the phone.

When the conversation was finally done and Freddie had extracted himself from the verbal clutches of his mother, he gathered up his bag, keys and other affects before rapping twice on the wall by the front door and saying "But nothing's what it seems, please." At his words, the mass of animists tools, chalk, stardust, cutlery, cogs, gears and wires that occupied most of the floor and surface space in the flat flowed into a series of large plastic boxes which duly put on their own lids and slid under the bed. Just a precaution, should he be lucky (or should that be unlucky?) enough to have someone with him when he returned. He also had counter phrase to put everything back in the perfectly ordered mess he liked to work in.

His mood was still pretty grey when he stepped outside and locked the door. The combination of his mother's phone call and the awful news on the radio had done a good job of spoiling the honest satisfaction Freddie got from his morning wake up. He was therefore scowling when he turned around to see a statuesque beauty in a white towel and nothing else standing in the opposite doorway, some letters in her hand and a playful smirk on her lips. His next door neighbour, the ever enchanting and fantastically french Eve Lumiére, gave him a little wave.

"Ah Freddie, enchanté, how are you?"

"Uh... I'm good, yes, f-fine, good. You are? I mean, sorry, I mean, how're you?"

As most of his brain alternatively went into panic mode or melted in the heat of his embarrassment, he morosely reflected that it would be nice if every conversation was a well worked out as the one he constantly had with his mother. Even if you didn't like what was being said, at least you could say your parts without committing social suicide.

Aila sat alone on the corner of the couch. Curled in on herself thinking thoughts she knew a therapist would tell her to keep from her mind if she had ever bothered to see one. Until suddenly, lips brushed against the top of her head and they pulled her out of her trance like a puppet on a string – Danny always knew the small ways to make Aila stop thinking so much. She let her legs go and sat on the couch like a normal human being for a few moments as Danny retrieved his coffee.

"You eat, yet, Buttercup?" Danny called from behind her in the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah that’s alright Danny you don’t have to make me anything I had a granola bar.” Aila said giving her first pseudo-father a small smile.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Her second hunk of a father-

A therapist would probably comment on that as well now that she thought of it. But all the same he strode out of his room as confident as usual.

For a moment everything was wonderful. Ethan had started performing one of his soliloquies about making snow forts and having snowball fights. It was nice hearing about him and Danny in the past, it made Aila wonder how long they had really known each other and if they had really known each other. Danny knew that Aila was an other and she suspected about as much from him all things considering, like his lack of reaction to the news. She suspected most people of being other. Human’s like Ethan, they felt so rare, so pure… And then the news decided to speak up.

“So we’ve heard the source of this storm is the ‘Unseelie Fae’. Does that mean that everyone who dies in this storm today should blame them as well? Say someone gets into a car accident, a child wanders out and dies of exposure, who is to blame? Usually we’d blame it on nature. But we know better now.”

Ow.

As Ethan sipped out of his ‘Aila luvs u’ mug with an odd cut-out of his face on it and drank his warm coffee, he pondered. Did he know anyone who wasn’t human. Did he know any monsters, animals, beasts, murders, serial killers, monstrosities…

Well of course, Aila - he knows you.

“I gotta head to work guys.” Aila said quietly sitting up from her spot on the couch and turning to Danny with a shaky jaw. “You two stay out of trouble today, I’ll pick up dinner on the way home – don’t worry I know the favourites.” She said warmly giving Danny a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, the same to Ethan. “And Danny,”

“Those snowball fights mean a lot to Ethan so if you cheat I’m gonna give you a time out when I get home.” She said with a sheepish grin as she slithered out the door grabbing her winter coat on the way out.

Unfortunately, the smiles Danny and Ethan worked so hard to build up, too hard, didn’t last long when she was walking in the cold alone.

The cold in Britain was typically comparable to Canada, but it didn’t get quite as bad on the worst days. Days like this were actually rather common in the Canadian winters. She attempted to find premade footholds in the snow, stepping into them making her gait while she walked rather clunky. Days like today made her seriously consider purchasing an iPod, it might be a worthwhile investment for a girl like her.

She wondered briefly for a moment, would Ethan still treat her the same when he found out she had murdered people. As a werewolf no less? No, he probably wouldn’t. She knew she was living in a glass house, but the problem was it was somewhere she felt accepted.

Why wasn’t there a saying for what to do when you live in a glass house that’s cracking? Do you get out, or do you enjoy how beautiful it is despite it all?

---

 


At first glance and knowing who she was, one might assume Blake was a very personable person. She was, but in the morning it was on need to know only. While Eve did hate mornings, she also took great pleasure in being a pleasure to be around and as such, it came across that she liked mornings.

“Blake my darling, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault, besides you got me an in – our landlord’s quite the looker you know.” Eve mused poking at the air towards Blake. She giddily stood up and made her way to the kitchen.

“Mr. Queen, if you could just show me – a poor girl how to fix this faucet.” She said mockingly feigning innocence. She laughed quietly to herself before giving up the charade. A much more serious tone made residency in her voice afterwards.

“You must be busy this morning, what with this ‘Helsing’ on the loose.” She said, venom dripping from her words. “I don’t quite like the idea of people seeking other people out like it’s a fucking witch trial” Eve said walking in front of the window by Blake’s left. “If we shoot them and they don’t die they’re a vampire, if they do we get to bury them like the person they were.” Eve mocked pointing a finger gun at the window.

“I’m sure you’ve got lots of fan mail from yesterday darling, I’ll pick it up.” Eve said dropping her act and returning to the same sultry Eve that haunted her apartment. She made her way outside and quickly took a trip down the elevator. She didn’t really care that she was in her towel, but to make appearances she put a hand on it. ‘God forbid it should fall.’

She was correct – of course, mail by the truck loads must’ve been in their box. She swiftly grabbed the top thirty or so and left the others to wait their time.

“You have to make an example of these letters, strike fear into the heart's of the others.” She thought to herself. As she made her way back up to her room she found herself sifting through them – perhaps someone wanted to get in touch with her and not Blake for once. An ex lover, a future lover, a current lover, tax returns, anything?

Freddie exited his room, probably to do the same. Eve perked up, speaking of future lovers…

“Ah Freddie, enchanté, how are you?” She said in her ‘you don’t know me yet’ voice.

"Uh... I'm good, yes, f-fine, good. You are? I mean, sorry, I mean, how're you?"

“Oh sweetheart that’s so kind, I’m doing very well, no thanks to these Unseelie Fae though.” She said shooting a playful glance to the outdoors. “You take care of yourself, be sure to pop by if you need anything.” She said turning to her door but keeping his gaze. “‘Revoir!” Eve said in her disjointed Quebecois.

“Boy across the way’s pretty cute.” She said dropping her cute French voice when the door had closed behind her and Blake was awaiting her mail.

“They’re all for you, there’s some more downstairs as well.” She said taking her seat back on the coach. “I might have a little cat nap soon, you’re welcome as ever to join you know.” She said in her sing songy voice she usually teased Blake with.

---

---

What an absolutely miserable morning. Opallum's search for food in the various dumpsters and trash cans scattered throughout the entirety of Edgetoun, and even some other farther off districts of London, had been an utter failure. The yield rate for energy put into seeking food and actually acquiring it was highly unfavorable at that moment, and, as a bonus, he now smelled like burning refuse. Well, he always did smell like burning wood, but the trash of London's citizenry succinctly booted the "wood" out of that. The upside was that the snow might melt and wash the nose-scrunching aroma away, but the ifrit could only hope.

Now, he sat on a bench (again) with his arms folded across his chest and back slumped against the cross rails with a considerably deep frown. He stared forwards at an apartment's wall with furrowed brows. The magnitude of his boredom was beginning to surpass his innate need to eat. Its been -- Seventy? Eighty-two? Eighty-four? -- Eighty-four years since I came into this world, his conscience began. And this hassle will never become less tiresome. Briefly, Opallum pondered on why he had never been able to simply amass enough funds to afford himself a home or an apartment. The majority of individuals he had met in his life were regular civilians perhaps fifty or more years younger than him, and even they had a place to call home.

Then again, he recalled that most had life set up for them from the get-go. He couldn't remember a time when he met an ifrit who had just . . . "materialized" into this Earthen plane out of nowhere and managed to establish a relatively stable lifestyle, complete with a decent-looking home, ample cash, and a job.

Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he had even met another of his kind. He most certainly knew that there were more spread across the globe, but entities like him were rare enough. See, finding a djinn to "grant you wishes" (which is a total myth, by the way, believing that a powerful enough genie would entrust an incredibly destructive or beneficial wish to a human) is an arduous task as it is. But then try finding an ifrit, which isn't as bountiful as the already scarce normal genies. Additionally, it was London; since it's a major global city, there was little doubt in Opallum's heart that there might be another djinn about. But from what intel he could gather from the spoken and written word over the span of eighty-four years, his kin were more prominent in the Middle East and Northeastern Africa.

"Hm."

Maybe some of them were kings. Ifrits were known for their strength and cunning . . . And also their tendency to be overtly hostile and aggressive towards humans and naturally wicked, ruthless creatures. Maybe it had to do with how they were raised, since Opallum didn't conform to that mold. Having no parents to hammer the culture of the djinn into him can certainly contribute to this difference in behavior, of course.

Once he assumed a more neutral expression and relaxed his initially tensed shoulders, the ifrit continued to sit and wonder.

Ari's morning began with the dulcet tones of Bach, and the not-so dulcet tones of Apollo, meowing in his ear.
"Is is that time already?" He murmured to his cat sleepily, blindly pawing through the air until his hand found Apollo's silky fur, stroking the cat into silence. His other hand reached to his head, wiping the sleep from his eyes until he could bare to open them both fully.
Now awake - somewhat - Ari reached from his phone, turning off the alarm (He couldn't understand why people woke themselves up with jarring bells, when classical music does such a good job.), and opening up his browser to see if the day yielded anything of interest for him.
And oh, he was not neglected on that front.
"Mortals First? Oh, you poor humans. You never seem to learn." He sighed, shaking his head as he watched the "Helsing" video. Never had he encountered creatures that thrived so from conflict - no wonder the old Gods enjoyed toying with them so much.
Still watching, he sat up in bed, scrolling through the various comments before growing tired of it - the story would be all that was talked about for days now, so the rest of it could wait until he'd had some breakfast.

Upon throwing some clothes on - and some cold water across his still weary eyes - Ari got to work feeding his three cats. Artemis has obviously just killed a very small mouse, and placed it by his bare feet proudly as he poured cat food into the bowls.
"Aww, we're still learning, aren't we Arty? Who's the cutest little huntress in all of London?" He cooed as he tickled the back of her ears, ushering forth purrs from the ginger tabby. If Talia had been here, there likely would have been some expression of disgust over his treatment of his babies cats - but then again, she was just as much a cat person as he.

"Ra, off the counter. We've talked about this." Shooing the youngest of the three away from the cereal, he picked the box up, followed by milk... which, upon opening it, ushered forth a sour stench. Wrinkling his nose, he glanced at the congealed mess of off milk inside. Lovely. No cereal, then. And with a disappointing lack of any form of bacon or eggs in the house, meant he had to go out for breakfast.
Which normally he wouldn't mind, but the Fae just had to make his morning more complicated with their little hissy fit, didn't they?
"UUGHHHHHHHHHHHH. God's be damned. Guys, enjoy your kibble. Daddy has to go and find his own food." He sighed dramatically, grabbing his coat with a quick wave to his cats. Apollo yowled loudly in response, Ra was half-sitting in, half-eating his food, and Artemis was eating out of Apollo's bowl before her brother noticed.

The outside was colder than it looked, which did wonders for Ari's mood.
"Bloody Faeries. Always making matters worse for everyone. This is certainly going to make the humans like us better." He complained quietly as he walked, breath rolling forth from his mouth like fog coming in from the sea. "Fucking Faeries. Hopefully the coffee shop has the heating on." With that, Ari made his way towards The Early Bean. Who needed Starbucks anyway?

---

Stef had been digging through one of her bedroom drawers, wondering if she'd somehow left her mits with the pasta dishes in the kitchen last night when Yuki yelled through.
"Thanks - where did I leave them this time?" She asked with a grin, grabbing her hat before leaving, placing it haphazardly over her hair as she took her mits from Yuki. They were hella cute - had little paw prints on them and everything. After another swift glance outside, it saw the snow wasn't letting up; looks like they were definitely taking the Tube this morning. She'd grown to put up with the underground trains, simply for necessary reasons - she couldn't constantly be scared of them, because she and Yuki wouldn't be able to go anywhere otherwise. So, Stef dealt with the hot, cramped spaces of the tube with a smile on her face - however, that nonchalance was not passed over quite as easily to other confined areas. Thankfully, she didn't have much interaction with spaces such as that.
"We ready to go?" She asked Yuki, zipping up her coat.

---

Whenever Miles came to The Early Bean in the morning, he made it a point to waste as much of the barista’s time as possible. It wasn’t because he had nothing better to do, no. In fact, he had quite a number of things on his agenda, like getting to work, first and foremost; but alas, as luck would have it, the barista currently manning the counter was the one who insisted on spelling his name wrong every single time, and his dignity demanded he retaliate. The first few times it happened, Miles simply chalked it off as a careless mistake. Maybe he mumbled, maybe the guy couldn’t hear him properly over the din of the morning crowd - whatever the reason, he didn’t see the point in kicking up a fuss about it. People made mistakes, and that’s just the way it is. As time went on, however, the continued mistakes slowly began to grate on Miles’ nerves. How does one even find this many ways to misspell a name? This morning’s rendition was particularly creative, and he would’ve almost been impressed at the feat if he weren’t so peeved.

The pixie’s eyes narrow as he stares at the offending sharpie-inked letters on his coffee cup. M-Y-L-E-Z? Really? Who did he think he was? A scene kid from the early 2000s? In another life, he might’ve appreciated their rainbow-hued aesthetic, but he did not fancy being associated with such a shameful period of human history. Even he had standards, he’ll have you know.

…Anyway, where were we again?

Oh right, petty revenge.

Miles feels his irritation ignite a fire at the pit of his stomach, and he returns to his task to quell his frustration. Stepping up to the display fridge, he takes a dramatic sip of his cappuccino before motioning the barista over, a false smile plastered on his face. He knew - better than anyone - that with the threat of a reprimand from the manager, he wouldn’t dare ignore him.

“Hey, Ollie,” Miles almost hisses out the name, which really was rather impressive, given that there were no S’s present in ‘Ollie’. Truth be told, he had come up with a more fitting epithet for the ginger-haired barista a few days back, but he decides to keep it to himself, for the sake of public decency. He didn’t have to resort to such means to get back at a disrespectful brat, and he found that most of the time, passive-aggressiveness proved to be much more effective in the long run. “I think I want to try something new today. What’s good on the menu?”

“Well, today’s special is our homemade strawberry cheesecake-”

“Yikes, never mind. I don’t like strawberries. You should make raspberry cheesecake, raspberries are always good. What about that?” Miles questions, pointing at some kind of salad, pointedly ignoring the little label that indicated just what it was.

“Autumn kale salad.”

Miles’ expression twists into one of disgust, and he declares his revulsion verbally as well. “Ugh, kale. Truly one of God’s greatest mistakes.”

“Might I recommend your usual-”

“Cauliflower quiche?” Miles cuts Ollie off before he could go any further, pressing up even closer to the glass display. “Who in their right mind would put cauliflower in a quiche?”

The two’s exchange continues in such a manner for a whopping six-and-a-half minutes, and Miles only decides to put an end to it with a ‘you know what? I’ll just have my usual’ when the barista appeared sufficiently aggravated. Sure, it was paltry payback, but didn’t people always say it was the little things that made life worth living?

With a blueberry muffin in hand, and two coffees in the other, Miles starts to leave, though not before catching sight of a vaguely familiar face amongst the crowd. He felt positive that he’d seen the suited fellow around before, but somehow, his name escaped him.

Miles must’ve looked dumbstruck as he just stood there, rooted to the spot as the gears in his mind turn furiously to put a name to the face. It was something unorthodox, he remembers that from a conversation with his landlord, and it started with a ‘B’.

And then, all of a sudden, a metaphorical lightbulb flicks on, and it almost feels like he’d just won the lottery.

“Hey, Barachiel, right?” Miles waltzes closer to the man, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. “I think we might be neighbours.”

Yuki giggled gently tossing Stef her paw mittens. “I don’t know how you did it this time, but they were up on top of the fridge.” She said pointing to the barely surmountable fortress that was the refrigerator. She quickly retrieved her belted coat, tying it around herself. “We’re going to want to take the train today.” Yuki said slowly – Stef hated enclosed spaces more than most people, but she had generally gotten used to the train.

“Yup, I think we’re about ready to go.” She said opening the door for Stef, closing it behind them both. They quickly made their way through the storm and down into the subway station. Yuki was rather adept at navigating Edgetoun’s underground – it seemed like knowledge that was important to know just in case it ever came up.

“You know, where I was born we didn’t have stuff like this.” Yuki said absent-mindedly to Stef as they walked through the tunnels navigating their way to the station in which they would board their train. “When I was a young girl I remember my dad had wanted me to learn how to ride on a horse for transportation – that makes me feel old.” She mused stepping around the cracks in the ground but still keeping pace with Stef.

“So after we get home today I’ve got some things I need to go over with you, but to make sure you don’t hate it that much we can pick up a Pizza to share on the way home – or if you want something else I’m fine with it.” Yuki said turning to Stef and tapping her nose briefly. “Alright come on, the worst part of this will be done in no time and we’ll be making jokes with John in a snow storm soon.” She said gently placing a hand on Stef’s shoulder as they entered the train.

She felt bad for the girl. She knew what it was like to have irrational fears. Once in her life she had a lover who had decided to take her to a zoo. In this zoo, they had bears. Yuki did not like bears. But alas, they were behind bars, cages – where those vicious monsters belong. Now Yuki did not nor does she now support zoos, but when one type of animal is a one-ton mass murdering bear, certain measure should be taken. Well when Yuki went to this zoo one bear in particular thought he was much smarter than the rest of the bears and he must’ve figured out that Yuki was a Kitsune. Well, let’s just say the bear rampaged in his cage and ever since Yuki has been irrationally afraid and rather offensive towards bears.

Her fear wasn’t exactly as bad as Stef’s, she didn’t have to ride a bear to work each morning, but she understood it. When Yuki had decided to adopt Stef she had visited the library, read parenting books. That was the most common place advice.

Understand them, and one day they will understand you.

Yuki felt her heartrate pick up again and she knew Stef could hear it. Vampire senses tingling or whatever Stef says.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about your request to get a pet.” Yuki said temptingly to Stef.

Of course distract her with a pet!

“If you can save up some money, and you promise you’ll take care of it, then we can have the conversation.” Yuki said grinning widely at Stef as the train pulled into their stop.

Katie was relieved by Andrew's reaction. Yes, he'd gotten a bit heated, but what he was saying was reasonable. She was glad that someone else agreed. She smiled in response to his apology. "No need to apologize, I've gotten fairly passionate about things I've been talking about before, almost threw a chair on accident once..." She trailed off, looking thoughtful for a moment before muttering a bit more. "Almost threw a chair on purpose once too... But anyway, it's a natural reaction."

Realizing what time it was, she quickly scarfed down her remaining eggs and toast and washed it down with the rest of her coffee while nodding in affirmation to Andy. If her boss knew she made coffee like that she probably wouldn't have a job as a barista, but that was the way she liked it, and at least she was fairly skilled at making coffee the way other people liked it too, though she couldn't do latte art nearly as well as Andy could. She swallowed quickly and thanked Claire for the eggs as she walked to the door and shoved her feet into her boots. It was cold out there, she'd need to wrap up pretty warmly.

As she put on an extra sweater and a scarf, she realized she hadn't yet thanked Andrew. "Thanks for making the coffee by the way, I'd probably be a zombie right now without it." As she said it, Katie began to wonder whether zombies were real as well. They weren't your typical kind of creature you read about in fairy tales and myths, but they were what could be described as supernatural... depending on the type. This set her on the path of wondering whether dragons were real, they were more common in such stories and were widely acknowledged in myths and legends all around the world, surely they had to be real at some point, though maybe they were hunted to extinction or something. It would certainly be interesting to find out. She didn't want to ask though, it just seemed like a rude thing to do. Besides, if zombies were real they'd probably have been noticed a long time ago.

She pulled on her jacket and hat as she returned from her thoughts to the real world. "At the very least, we shouldn't end up getting bored today." She remarked to Andy about the probable conditions at the coffee shop. "I hope people aren't getting too tense in there."

---

Well, well, well, it seemed there was some entertainment to be had today. A young man whose name appeared to by Mylez, or Myles, or Miles, or something of that nature, judging by the cup, was causing a little bit of consternation at the front of the line. Talia smiled in anticipation of some kind of blow-up, but it didn't happen. How disappointing. Still, there was material she could work with. This could prove to be interesting. As she waited for her coffee to be made, she watched him head over to an occupied table. The man sitting there seemed to radiate an atmosphere of wholehearted diligence. Her smile widened slightly, this mixture could prove quite dramatic. And the name the boy uttered to the man at the table didn't sound modern, in fact, it sounded downright ancient...

Well, Barachiel was obviously an angel, that much was certain. Just the kind of angel that Talia liked to mess with from the looks of him. She could feel a mischievous spark growing into a flame as she took her coffee, name spelled correctly as always, and a slice of strawberry cheesecake over to the table where the two were sitting.

"Do you mind if I sit with you? There's not much room elsewhere." She asked them, setting her coffee and cheesecake down without waiting for an answer. As she relaxed into the third chair at the table, she focused her arrogance-enhancement energy on the young man whose name was misspelled. He already seemed to have plenty, it would be entertaining to see what would happen if he had a bit more. She wondered if he would protest to her butting into the conversation with the angel, or whether his reaction would be welcoming. Arrogance was nothing if not unpredictable when you least expected it. In any case, the result would be better than just sitting around with nothing to do.

"Quite chilly outside, isn't it? The Unseelie Fae should do something useful and give us moderate warmth instead of freezing us all to death."

Barachiel’s face couldn’t help but frown as the whole coffee shop stopped to look at Miles’ display. The line had gotten nearly twice as long in the time Miles finally had chosen his ’usual’ order. Clearly the youth had to be upset about something because in the angel’s experience no one just caused this much trouble for the heck of it. But if he was upset it couldn’t possibly tell what it was about as Miles never did get around to a point. The poor barista was clearly flustered and brimming with annoyance by the time the pixie was done with his sport, and Barachiel was thinking about going over and saying a few words to help calm the red haired gentleman down.

It probably would have if Miles didn’t just stop in the middle of the room and stare right at Barachiel. Finding itself surprising uncomfortable beneath the young man’s unbreaking gaze, it looked over both its shoulders to make sure there wasn’t something there that the young man was staring at. Nope, nothing there. No other explanation than the young lad looking at Barachiel. The angel was unsure of the correct social response in this situation so it decided to close up its folder on Dylan stare calmly back at the pixie. This seemed to do the trick as Miles then began to walk over and announce they were neighbors. An announcement that quickly cleared the uneasiness the angel had felt before. A smile parted its lips as it extended a hand out as it raised out of its seat. A proper action in introductions it found. “Ah of course. Though most call me Alexander.”

And just when it thought it had the unusual situation under control, the young lady you virtually irradiated confidence walked over and sat down. Now the angel had been on this Earth long enough to understand that sitting down at a strangers table was far from normal. Looking for an explanation as it looked down at the female blinking twice thought crossed its mind that it might have simply forgotten who this person was. Looking back at Miles again the smile still on its face Barachiel offered an invitation, “Would you care to join us?” Its calm and soothing voice betraying no sign of surprise about the whole situation.

Sitting back down and once again giving Talia his attention it looked her over once more before deciding it definitely could not recall such a person. “The cold is definitely unpleasant, but I don’t think warm weather would gather as much attention to their cause.” It paused a moment before continuing, “Forgive me miss, but have we met before? I apologize but I simply cannot recall.”

If there was one thing on God's earth that could rival John's love for his job than it was pork, especially post-possession. There were so many ways he could prepare it, smoke it for barbecue, boil the meat and marrow for soups, dry strips of meat for jerky, and hell, if he was desperate enough, could eat it raw. Arguable the best worst part about it though was it's strange similarity with human flesh, not enough to completely fool Wendigo but enough to keep it reasonably quiet and out of John's hair. So, as the sausages browned and sizzled in the pan, John couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation, guilt, and annoyance at how slow it was taking to get "just right" as he liked to call it. And the pancakes? Well...who doesn't like pancakes.

Flipping those discs into golden brown greatness was second nature, allowing John to just give a lopsided frown as he nodded lazily at Mariska's words, shit may have hit the fan but the debris hasn't reached any of them just quite yet. All they could really do is wait and see if "Helsing" was had any bite to their bitch, preferably not if he was being completely honest."Ah, well that blows. At least you got money in the bank yeah? I mean, if nothing else than that's something to be proud of." This enlightening speech of course coming after Mordred's dramatic entry, earning a smirk from John as he wrapped up breakfast. Taking a moment to prepare his coffee, mostly coffee, a good deal of creamer, and enough rum to give it a healthy kick, John was ready to face the day. Creating a sort of breakfast burrito out of sausage and a pancake, John made his way for the door. "Call me if you need me to grab something on the way back" Not bothering to grab a coat because, quite frankly, he hasn't needed on in years.

Winter always his favorite time of the year, even before this thing decided to set up shop in his head, there was something about snowfall that just felt like...quiet. Now, well it was at this time of the year Wendigo was at it's most quiet. I guess even souls sucking monsters get homesick. John mused to himself, shrugging it off as he scarfed his food down. The trip down to the shit-mobile wasn't all that exciting, just a cigarette being lit and on it's way to being used.

---

---

Twilight. Beautiful times of day when the sky is dancing with color and the atmospheric phenomena encircles the area. When the Sun's geometric center is 6 degrees below the horizon, that is when one would know dawn is approaching. A fair skinned woman finished applying silicone cream to her damp, blonde hair and combed it straight. Blessed with a wild mane and a deathly allergy to any flat metal base items, the fae woman had to go through a much longer process of making her damned hair flat. Of course, most days she would let her curls be free but today she needed them to be obedient... something that wouldn't get in her way. After all, she was moving to her new humble abode. Sure, the iron would not touch her skin but she wasn't going to risk her hair burning off or her accidentally touching the iron, ultimately burning her skin far more than the average human would experience. Thankfully, there was an abundance of product for people's hygienic needs. Thank you, year 2020. Her sleep schedule was horrendous, having spent most of her night packing the rest of her things while replying to comments on FacelessVision to one of her latest videos, that was posted three days ago:

"Unsuspecting teen werewolf shot to death by ex-police officer"
_{Found dead on the outskirts of Edgetoun with a silver bullet in his head. Human officer's identity classified. Investigators assume the werewolf came from the Zephyrus Accord. Personal conclusions: Werewolf child is of the Bisclavret clan and was left to die. Read more on...}

– Stephanie Anderson, FacelessVision

That unfortunate experience when someone, who could have potentially saved a life, came a moment too late... That is a feeling story-hungry Eternity, a curious Solitary Fae, experienced at least twice a week. This story was old news but still brought attraction, especially since werewolves and vampires were the current media craze. There were potential stories everyday. Her talent was 'accidentally' stumbling on a crime scene after someone died or seconds before the victim was going to die. This video in particular brought quite a bit of controversy.

The scene unfolded as so: Turning the corner of a building, with the camera constantly rolling, Eternity stumbled upon a burly man holding tight onto his gun and giving a death glare toward a creature not even twice his size. His bloodlust stare was met with a young pup's golden orbs. The werewolf had a gorgeous white fur coat yet his eyes showed...weakness. Both man and wolf looked exhausted. Within seconds, only catching the human's face briefly on camera, Ettie watched as the man shot the young pup right in the head. Hiding... hiding on the side of the building, the camera revealed her small hands dialing 911. Everything was happening so fast, the audience could tell the faceless videographer was not mentally prepared to stumble upon a direct sighting of a crime. She had just decided to call it quits, thinking this night was rather uneventful but that was information the viewer wouldn't know.

The next moments were left silent but the text of her call for help was revealed on the video like subtitles. "I heard a gunshot... I think it's coming from the corner of Church and Hamel..." if the audience could hear the tone in her voice, she sounded pretty calm and collected, but at last it was text meant to be interpreted. The conversation swiftly went on and then came to a halt when she heard footsteps. Hanging up, she silenced herself... the aching feeling of whether or not this man would go in her direction could make the viewer's heart race. Taking a deep breath in, Eternity peeked her head to see if the close was clear, the lens caught the man running the opposite direction, leaving footprints behind. Not bright, not bright at all. Going towards the body, she checked to see if the wolf boy was still breathing. The scene turned into something sadly sentimental as if the werewolf was seen humane in the viewer's eyes. The boy was dead. The pure white of his coat was stained with his own blood. Remarkable imagery, but hard to look at... Symbolism of the loss of innocence. Hearing sirens, the nightcrawler ran to hide...

Usually, Ettie cuts her shots to make a cinematic experience out of her scene but for some reason, keeping this raw felt like the best course of actions... it was as if you were there experiencing this with her. The story was in the moment, so why change a thing? When the police arrived at the scene to examine the body, the video cut to black. By now, "Stephanie's" viewers knew that when it came to the investigation part of the story, she attached an article to the description section below. A supplement to the visual story for those who wanted to know some of the facts and early theories that went on about the case. As days went on and more articles were made about the crime, Eternity would add the article/video/content links to her 'Stephanie Anderson' FacelessVision page in a blog post.


Yes, lately Eternity's videos have been shedding light on the topic of prejudice against the Supernatural but this could have been easily turned into a race issue, since the cop was African American and the wolf was Caucasian (oh how the tables have turned). If the boy wasn't a wolf, they'd be crying their eyes out: COP WAS A MURDERER. But it looks like Supernatural races trumped nationalities. People were always going to nitpick her videos. It just so happens that the crimes her recent videos brought to surface had to deal with a human being terrible. Not her fault she hasn't walked into an alleyway where a wolf had finished mauling a vampire, or a vampire finished it's midnight dinner by draining a fae to death. She's only one person and if she were a witch or a ghost, maybe she could find crimes when 'The Other' can be easily painted as the enemy, but she wasn't.

All personal feelings aside, she loved her night job. No matter how challenging finding a good story was.

---

Driving in her white 2015 Nissan Altima, Eternity turned on the radio to listen to the happenings of lovely Edgetoun. The weather forecast was something she didn't need to hear since she felt the storm brewing a mile away. Perks of her people being the cause of it. She loved snow but it would make moving a bitch if she didn't beat the downpour. If the roads weren't an ice death trap, she would've rode her motorcycle that is currently stored in a warehouse with some of her other belongings (she highly doubts Churchhill can fit all her shit). Many moons ago she bought this car. If she did her research correctly a Nissan Altima was a middle class vehicle five years ago, so now it's kind of obsolete. Not one to be car savvy, Ettie hoped her vehicle didn't stand out too much in her new neighborhood. There were reasons why she didn't buy a luxury vehicle like the 2016 Rolls-Royce Phantom... Granted, if she could choose between driving a car or a motorcycle, she'd always pick her motorcycle. Sure, she'd have to be more selective on her wardrobe but the feeling of riding a bike was exhilarating and she wouldn't trade it for the world. A fairly decent size UHaul truck trailed behind her car with two men in it. Her outfit was simple: a black winter jacket with fur on the hood, a grey sweater, a plaid skirt (with red, white, tan, black), black nylon stockings and heel boots... She'd like to think her appearance was ordinary. The red brought out her light features and even if this weather wasn't what she considered freezing cold, she needed to 'blend'... however, blending in was not her strong suit.

The most intriguing piece of news that the radio personnel talked about was not so much the manslaughter, or the death of the werewolf, or even the petition and statement... but the mysterious person behind the 'typical' nom de plume: Helsing. If Ettie discovered the person behind the name, her Faceless page would be the internet's main attraction for who knows how long?! Perhaps she should start with finding leads to members of Mortals First before she went on a blind adventure searching for Helsing. Normally, she'd prefer reading a newspaper and sitting on her couch surrounded by files, pictures, her notes, some form of caffeine, and her laptop, but she had places to go, people to see! to move! God, moving was dreadful. Curiosity was overflowing in her tiny body when Eternity realized she had arrived at her destination.

Churchhill Gardens.

"Alright boys~ I'm going to see what we're working with." Exiting the parked car, Ettie twirled the keys she had gotten in advance and playfully stared at them. Not wanting to deal with signing papers and all that jazz this early in the morning, the woman took care of everything two days prior. The hired workers nodded and watched the fae saunter off.

Reaching the room 5B (at the tippity top!), taking in the doleful environment, that filled her with odd excitement, the whimsical blonde entered her new humble abode.

Her face dropped. Not at the sight of the mold, or the bleakness in the walls, but the interior design.

"Oh this won't do. I'll have to rearrange everything!" She did take note of the scattered man clothes, the dimness from the shutters being closed, but her attention couldn't leave the poorly placed furniture. Good to know my roommate has a penis or prefers wearing boy clothes.

Going to the outdoor hallway, she peered down to the parking lot and yelled, "BOYS! We got some spring cleaning to do first!!" Taking in the cold air, Ettie couldn't help but grin. A sudden thought popped in her head as she leaned on the frozen railing, "ACTUALLY! Lets bring all the boxes with the red tags into my bedroom since that's empty... um... the trunk, the purple suitcases, the mattress and other bedroomesque furniture. OH! And the things in my car! We can worry about the other color coded boxes later." This apartment complex seemed deserted for the time being or people were still sleeping. Eternity didn't care if she woke anyone up, they were wasting their day away anyways.

Cracking the door so she didn't have to unlock it again, the fae marched happily down the steps and began to help her moving crew bring all her shit in.

They decided to take care of the bed frame and mattress first, she nodded in approval, "Take your time and be careful. I know I could have postponed the move but... that's boring."

Andrew grabbed his peacoat held the door open for them to go, making sure to lock up before they left. Faraday was pretty Other-centric, as it seemed, but he still didn't want to take a chance at an angry human going door to door. Putting his hands in the pockets of his coat, he smiled to Katie. "No problem, love, it's what I'm here for. Thank you for the toast." He nodded at her comment on work, "Oh yeah..." Andy put his fingers to his temple, "I'm sensing...lots of grouchy, racist old folks." The Witch said in the mysterious tone of a fortune teller, then chuckled a little at his own joke...though he knew it was probably true.

The sidewalks were decently cleared off, but still slick from the wet snow. Not wanting either of them to slip, Andy thought it best to work a little magic. Nothing flashy or obvious, just enough to get rid of the hazard. He calmly took his hands from his pockets and brought them together, as though he were going to breathe into them. A brief cantrip whispered caused the circles on his palms to gently bloom into orange and writhe under his skin. As his hands parted, the air around the two grew warmer, until it was like that of a comfortable spring day in their immediate vicinity. Any lingering ice would harmlessly melt away.

"Didn't want any slips...that should take care of it. Hope you don't mind." Andrew stated, less looking for approval and more informing. He realized he hadn't really worked magic in front of Katie since her recent move in, and he hoped this would make it seem less...scary. Dangerous. That it could be used for simple, helpful things. Of course, it could also pull ancient horrors from the pits of Hell, but that wasn't too common.

After a few minutes of walking, they were coming up on the Early Bean, though it was still a good couple intersections away.

---

The stores had been hell to get through with the storm raging on, and Liam had a hell of a time getting anything. He managed a bag of essentials, bread and canned goods and the like, and decided he'd better get it home before anything. Plus, he was working the fucking evening shift at the shop today, much to his dismay. A scalding shower that would make him regret ever attempting hygiene was in order.

The market wasn't awfully far from his apartment, and the walk wasn't too bad. The poor boy nearly slipped and busted his fragile little monster head a few times, but eh, it was winter. Times ten. Shit happened. All along the way, he passed people hurriedly getting inside, away from the cold.

"...and she was a vampire! And I said, "Vampires? At my party? You've gotta be kidding!"

"...I swear she was real freaky, man! Long claws, crazy weird eyes, like they wanted my soul! Got some cool fuckin' scratches on my back, though."

"No love, you can't go play with the girl next door. She's one of those faerie things..."

Ugh. Why did the one thing he get from his vampire side have to be increased senses? He could hear all this from across the street, if he focused. Silly, silly people. They'd have to shape up eventually, or the progression of society had bad news for 'em...

Liam rounded a corner and stopped. There was a moving truck on the lot, men moving someone's shit around. Was he getting a new neighbor? He peered around his building and...

"Wait, what the fuck?" That was 5 fucking B! Who the fuck was busting into his pad? How'd they get keys?! It took a second to dawn on him, but the Dhampire remembered with a groan that the landlord had been trying to evict him due to his...habits. He just hadn't really been able to due to Liam paying rent on time. He felt deep down that this was Mr. Fuckwit's way of underhandedly pushing him out. "Yeah, well we'll just see about that Sir Go-Fuck-Yourself." He muttered, stepping up with his groceries.

It was then that he spotted a small blonde woman in winter garb, yelling orders around at the movers. He dodged burly men carrying God knows what to stand before her. "Excuse me, miss...are you, uh...moving into my apartment? The one that I have the rent agreement and pay rent for?" He questioned, smiling slightly, "I'm not gonna stop you, but I would've cleaned if I'd known I was having company. Extended...company."

Cancer.

It was a disease straight from hell itself, and it was Suriel’s job to exorcise such demons. The majority of the surgeries performed in this unit were brain surgeries, often those to remove malignant tumors. This surgery was one of the many. Still, no matter how commonplace they might be, there was still something incredibly nerve-wracking about having someone’s entire life in your clean, gloved hands. One small slip and you could wipe away someone’s childhood memories, their ability to speak, or to walk. And then there was the other looming demon...



Okay, perhaps it isn’t quite fair for Suriel to call death a demon. There were angel’s of death, after all; But that didn’t mean Suriel had to like it. Being a healer, death was the worst possible outcome. Thankfully, Suriel was a healer, and a blessedly good one, too! The operation went smoothly and, under the observation of the senior neurosurgery resident, Suriel managed to removed 100% of the cancerous matter. Young Ellen would live to blow out the candles on her sixth birthday cake.

Suriel was in the process of scrubbing down after the surgery when the senior resident joined them.

”Great work in there, as always. Your hands are always so steady, it’s almost inhuman.” He said, giving Suriel pause, if only for the briefest of moments. Suriel dried their hands and smiled at their advisor.

”I’ll take that as a compliment. Trust me, though, I’m just as nervous any other junior resident… God just blessed me with healing hands.” It was nice that they could be so openly honest about their explanation. Humans were far less likely to scream ‘supernatural! monster!” when you you said something like that, they’d just assume you to be some religious nut. If only they knew who walked among them. They thought they knew, but they didn’t know that half of it.



At 1600 hours, Suriel’s shift at Edgetoun Memorial Hospital was now coming to an end. After giving report to the incoming residents and nurses, Suriel stopped by Mrs. Oswald’s room. It was an unnecessary action, as Suriel already knew what they would see. About halfway through the surgery, Mrs. Oswald’s light went out. That’s how Suriel could tell who needed their help, the sick all had lights. The brighter the light, the more healing they needed. Mrs. Oswald’s light was dim earlier that day. She didn’t need help, she was ready, all that was left was to say her goodbyes.

A woman was weeping quietly behind the glass pane of the window. Lisa, Suriel presumed. Pausing for a moment, Suriel watched the scene. They wouldn’t go in and interrupt, it wasn’t their place, this was another doctor’s patient. Suriel took comfort in the fact that the old woman was resting in peace with the Father now, even if though it caused her granddaughter grief. In this rare instance, death was a kind mercy.

Suriel made their way to the locker room. They changed out of their scrubs and into a bright purple top, white blazer, and slim fit dark-wash jeans. The angel dressed well, but all of their clothes were bought on a tight budget. Another person joined Suriel in the locker room. It was that nurse. The nurse. Suriel looked into the locker as they pulled out their wallet and mobile. They felt their cheeks getting warm. As the nurse got closer they grew hot, even. What a strange sensation...

---

---

Soft. Almost kind of soothing. The new voice that chimed in, after her moving crew went inside the apartment with some of her furniture, was rather melodious. The Unseelie-blooded woman couldn't help but listen to him with intrigue. Bringing her attention to the pasty male, her blonde hair moved along with her head turn, as her chartreuse green stare met with his chocolate orbs. She didn't respond right away. Actually, she let her eyes take him in and trail down his physique. Her expression was unreadable as she analyzed the man's appearance and the way he held himself. Though his attire was not the classiest, she did like how he wasn't dressed appropriately for this beautiful weather. If she wore a thin summer dress and no shoes, while dancing in the snow, people would question her sanity but the cold felt amazingly nice on her skin. She couldn't help but love it!

There was a devious gleam in her eyes.

"Let me tell you about our apartment." And with that, Ettie strolled into the building. Her two worker bees came out of her bedroom. Waving at them, the young woman cooed, "Hey Boys! Can you give us a few minutes? Bring my shit to the hallway out there or something." Not questioning her, they did exactly as she said, leaving the room and closing the door behind them. Gesturing to her roommate's couch for him to sit, she pulled out a pack of Insignia cigarettes. Her throat had been itching for one for quite some time. Placing the stick between her lips, she dug into her purse for her matches. Yeah, a bit old fashioned but she preferred matches over lighters. After lighting her cigarette and shaking the match in her hand, Ettie placed her box of cigs on the coffee table, along with the matches. Taking a long drag in, Eternity let the smoke settle in her body before gently exhaling. With a challenging gaze, the fae insisted, "Feel free to have one if you smoke." Leaving him in the living room, she went to the garbage can and tossed the used match away.

A blanket of silence enveloped the room. Eternity loved to build anticipation. Plus, she needed time to enjoy her poison.

Entering the living room once more, Ettie addressed the matter at hand with a small grin, "If we're going to live together, we need to lay all our cards on the table. I'll go first." Her tone was self assured, dominant, and a tad bit fresh. Her aura reflected a woman who would get what she wanted, at all cost. She was strong and wanted to make sure this sickly looking man, known as her 'roomie' now, was on the same page as her, "Don't be a pussy and be straight with me. I don't bite-- too hard." Her expression was inquisitive, as she thought and spoke about her prerequisites, "Lets see, I'm rearranging absolutely everything in here for my own sanity. You will see me in my bra at some point. Maybe even nude. Eh, probably even nude. I like doing my work in the living room and cannot have interruptions unless you're offering to help me with my shit. I will need some kind of light so if this... 'shade'" She gestured to the shutters of the window, "Is kind of your thing, we're gonna have to meet each other half way. I'd like to replace all your iron belongings, like frying pans and such. I will be installing an air conditioner because I prefer a cold house. My job could possibly get you killed!" Her face went straight, as her words went to a complete halt. Her look broke with a light chuckle and a quick drag, "Nah! I'm just kidding!-- I think. Just know, if I don't come home one night, you might want to look into it! Lets see, what else... OH! I can't cook for shit, so my slowcooker is godsend. And this is a MUST, I need the best internet. I can't handle snail speed. So, if you don't have it already, can ya upgrade?" Feeling accomplished with her list, she stared at the ceiling, trying to think if she had anything else, "I got nothing. Your turn."

Her eyes widened at a thought. Scurrying closer to him, she gestured for him to give her a hug, "Oh! By the way, I'm Eternity. Eternity Loveless. Call me Ettie." She stared at him waiting for an embrace, "Come, don't be awkward. You'll be stuck with me for awhile, might as well break the ice with a hug."

Well, this was happening. Liam took in this woman's form, how she was so...commanding for her stature. She seemed powerful. Like the world could be falling to pieces and if it wasn't on her schedule, then the apocalypse would have to begrudgingly find another date. It shocked him, left him somewhat slack-jawed, and he didn't snap out of this until he was led inside his own place and told to sit down. He most definitely took a cigarette when offered and pulled a lighter from his pocket, striking and lighting before taking a drag to reorganize his mind.

The silence built, as if a gun was being loaded, and suddenly, the bullets started flying. Demands, ultimatums, orders and facts all cascaded down on Liam's scrawny shoulders, his dark, bloodshot eyes blinking as his way of life was effectively dismantled and rebuilt. Once she stopped, Liam slowly nodded. Reasonable enough.

A deep breath, and then Liam was firing his own weapon, "This house is loaded to the brim with drug paraphernalia, I've got the life expectancy of a well-groomed dog, so I intend to enjoy it. I am not an addict, however. There's blood in the fridge that's necessary for my survival. The computer and mixing equipment are only to be moved by me, they're sensitive and it takes forever to dismantle." Liam made an exaggerated shrug with that statement, then continued, "The dark is kinda required because if the sun hits me directly, I don't exactly tan well if you catch my drift. You can open the blinds in rooms that you're in, but close them when you're done. Air conditioner is fine, cold suits me. You can replace the cookware as long as you buy the replacements, I'm on a tight budget. Menial and dead-end job, you understand. I do make music though, and am very loud." Liam smirked at her joke about her job, but offered some reassurance, "I've got a friend with connections, hunting you down wouldn't be an issue. And yes, dear, my internet is the best. It's the only thing I pay extra for. Oh, and that's Squeaks," He pointed to the terrarium, "you are to show him the utmost respect, and if we are to separate for any reason, I get custody. Period."

After that whole spiel, Liam realized that he just totally confessed his Dhampire nature to a complete stranger. She did say to leave all the cards on the table...so he did just that. He smiled his best smile and gave Ettie a big ol' hug, careful not to burn her with his cigarette. "Liam Woodsworth. Elliot if I'm in trouble." Liam pulled back, taking a long drag before tapping it into an ash tray on his table. "Well, come on then. Let's get your shit in here."