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LovelyComplex Retired Zone
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1 day ago
Before the morning radio incident...
Stepping carefully through the tight, Amazon forest that was Evermore, Caspian took in the vast smells that surrounded him. Smells that reminded him of sweet summer. Every colorful petal gave off a different texture and feel to it. The pivot roof windows allowed the morning light to seep in and brighten up even the darkest of crevices and corners. The sacredness transcended everyday concerns. The only thing that mattered here was peace, tranquility, and the feeling of timelessness. Individuals were given a moment to breathe, away from the outside world, as they immersed themselves in the beauty of nature and learned of 'wonders untold'. Words spoken from the owner herself, whose business only catered to those that resided in Edgetoun but who was always willing to talk to people about all things green.
From herbalism to botanical science, Zarah Sibley, in Caspian's eyes, was one of the most well versed and devoted individuals, in regards to her passion. She was unapologetic and never faltered from being her boisterous self. Her vivacious presence alone transformed Tudor-style old stone, white painted walls, heavy iron bound doors, and other Gothic splendour into a page within a storybook. The building itself was a beautiful relic and she brought out the best of it, while adding her flare to her little shop of flowers.
Not too long ago, she made herself an Other on everyone's radar. Something she believed would've been found out over time. Her act was a display that showed her fearlessness. That she carries her difference like a banner. Edgetoun shouldn't be afraid of change. Change was inevitable. He would know. Yet, with the amount of time Caspian has spent with her, he knows there's more to it. Why would a loved woman in the community where 'the Other' was not fully accepted reveal herself? Reveal herself as a witch who fancies Green Magic. This would not only put her life in danger but also be bad for business.
If he knew her like he thought he did, she was protecting something. Something other than herself. With her being a popular florist, no one would know who was directly connected to her since people entered and left her shop endlessly. The first Others to come out always got the short end of the stick, to pave the road for those they cared about. He didn't know her intentions but he wanted to tell her. Tell her that he was different too, but... if he did...
He too was protecting those he loved, by playing it in the shadows. In the shadows, he could grow stronger. When it was time for him to walk into the spotlight, he wanted to be a force. A force to be reckoned with. Almighty. Powerful. What he did know was she was an inspiration and he could only hope that nothing bad ever happened to her.
What would happen to Evermore if she were gone? She was the heartbeat to this timeless place. His home away from home.
Wrapped in small tissue, in his gloved hand, were wet stems and at the top of these stems bloomed green dusty miller and deep purple berries. He was in the process of building a bouquet for a woman who went by the name of Gemma Clark. Someone he heard who recently moved here. Her request was 'stunning silver' with 'starry blossoms' and a tad bit of 'rose and plum'. Oddly specific order. Reminded him of something he'd make for a dramatic winter wedding. Ms. Sibley gave him full control over this project, which showed how much she trusted him and his eye for beauty. The buyer wanted it in one of their ceramic vases they sold too. As Sibley told him, she specifically asked that the vase be stainless white, as if it were the color of untouched snow.
Whatever the customer wanted, he would abide. When the piece was finished and set on the counter, waiting for the Miss to pick it up, he caught sight of a note from his dear boss: Had to pick up some ingredients. If you need me, you know my number!
Okay, cool.
As Caspian waited for customers to come, he read the daily paper. More specifically he read the headliner article about Nick Bloodfang's case. The man who changed it all. A fucking werewolf. Typical. Werewolves were known for their stupidity, as he learned from his mother.
His attention was taken away from his Friday morning digest when he heard the chime of the door bell go off and a good, deep waft of something delicious entered his nostrils. The customer smelt like candied apple, orange, maple, cinnamon, neroli, rose, winter musk, orris root, and moss. Jesus, how did someone have such a distinct fragrance!? It smelt like delectable candy apple on a winter's day.
That oh so familiar burning sensation grew in his throat as he glanced up from the paper to see a tiny tigress of a blonde. Every fibre of this small woman's being craved maximum attention and all she had to do was stroll into Evermore. Or maybe this was him simply craving her. Wanting her — his lips close to her throat and his fangs piercing into... Since when did he ever crave something this strongly?
And then she spoke loudly, exuding more confidence than any person should. Something warned him that this woman, as sexually engaging as she was coming across, was questionably odd. "This bouquet is perfection! It reminds me of the best time of the year." Gemma let out an impish giggle, before continuing, "I don't have much time, but I'm so glad this was done before I absolutely needed it. My desk is unfortunately tragically drab."
Narrowing his eyes, giving the lady a quizzical stare, while keeping himself composed on his desire, Caspian questioned her intent, "So, this... extremely particular bouquet, meant for a bride, is just for your desk?"
"Duh. Why else would I buy flowers if I prefer them dead? I can't bare to sit there without some decor. Do you know how mundane the Capital looks on the inside? It's god awful!" This woman was extremely into herself. Under normal circumstances, he would not like this type of woman at all. Unless it was his twin. His twin was an exception for nearly everything.
"That'll be £130." Caspian shrugged, accepting that this woman was simply another weirdo among weirdos. Hey, if she had the money, he wasn't complaining.
"You got to be kidding me!" Gemma crossed her arms in protest. Even added a pout, as if she wasn't a twenty seven year old photo journalist.
"This honestly isn't bad for what you've ordered. It includes every specific flower to give it that 'perfect' look you wanted as well as the very specific vase you wanted. Color and all."
"Okay, okay. Whatever. Here's my card." She complied. If she didn't have to book it to work, this would've been a longer conversation, which would've led to a heated negotiation. The transaction happened and the tiny woman carried the big vase out the door.
With her out of the general vicinity, Caspian was given sudden relief. The need to feast dissipated and he could carry on with his duties. Thank goodness.
Sometime later...
Zarah Sibley, with a hefty brown bag in her arms, came rushing in. As an immediate response, Caspian went and took the bag out of her grasp. Rather than greet him, she turned on the radio, which was beside the cash register.
...who cannot separate themselves from carnal desires and primal urges frighten you?
Placing the bag down, he intently listened to the broadcast and took out his phone to text his other half.
Suddenly he regretted not texting his mom first and the broadcast was no longer important to him as his cheeks flared red with his sister's... his sister's... forward... random...forward words. W-what?! The vampire should give himself some credit, though. At least this wasn't the family group thread. At least, Calypso was awake enough to not make a blunder such as that. Broadcasting her goal of the day to their mother or uncle or both.
That kind of thing never ended well. For anyone.
GM
.
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coGM
Barrett Oh, the year was 1778...
Member
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6 yrs ago
𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗢 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗩𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗢
Arriving at the office and sending a message to Doctor Alston; @MiddleEarthRoze
Like many people, Renato Carvallo's first reaction to waking up was to groan and wish he hadn't. Unlike most people, he didn't then move to snooze his alarm and snatch an extra five minutes of slumber but instead leapt from the bed and proceeded immediately with the day. It was his policy that an unpleasant ordeal was to face head on and powered through, not delayed until it became all that much more unpleasant with the anticipation.
His morning routine was nothing unusual, though he spent more time grooming his moustache and selecting his suit than could possibly be necessary. When he was certain that the jacket's shade of teal complimented his eyes properly and had broken his fast on cream cheese and salmon, Renato stepped out of his front door to face the day. He could feel the tension itching under his skin, the desire to tell that pillock in accounts how stupid he was and the need to scream at the 'expert witnesses' he was corralling into a semblance of coherency yearning to be free, and it was almost too much to contain.
But he knew that today was Friday. Only one short day at the office to hold in his temper and then he could let loose. As he started his car and began the drive to the Prosecutor's Office, he was already thinking ahead to the night's revels. Where to go, what to drink, who to kiss, when to stagger home. A few weeks ago, he'd ended the night with a trip to a nightclub named 'The Ace of Spades' and remembered liking the atmosphere. Of course, he'd been at least three sheets into the wind at that point and had no idea if he'd like it tonight... but he was willing to give it a go. At the very least, it would surely be a break in this interminable discussion of the Other.
Traffic was, as always, a nightmare but eventually he pulled up outside the Prosecutor's office, his temper ratcheted up a notch or two by exposure to London's more creative drivers. It was an old building but well maintained and well staffed. Renato was only one of a dozen or so lawyers that worked within and then there were a host of interns, secretaries, janitorial staff and general functionaries. On a good day, the office's occupants felt like a group of allies that would keep him going should he falter and have his back in a close moment. On bad days, they surrounded him on all sides, got under his skin and made him want to scream.
Still, Renato felt confident that he could keep any irritation he felt today under wraps. After all, the preparation for the Bloodfang case was going well, there was a new little Italian restaurant a few streets away to get lunch from and soon he'd be free of the office for the entire weekend. All he had to do was make it through the day without snapping at anyone or making a snide remark.
Renato's first test came after he had installed himself in his office and called up his PA and understudy, a nervous young man named Bartholomew, to arrange and double check his schedule for the day. Bart was impressionable, eager and often more naive than Renato's practised cynicism could bare but he meant well. Unfortunately, he often didn't do very well and today he'd forgotten a folder of notes on past cases that he was supposed to spend the morning marking for his superior to review. To compound that error, he couldn't remember whether he'd actually left a message at the Coroner's Court asking for someone to come down and talk Renato through the results of the autopsy and had to leave the room in order to double check.
Pinching his nose, Renato counted to ten under his breath as the young man hovered nervously with the address book held in front of himself like a shield.
"Uhm... I made sure, I did send them a message, they said that one of their people could come down after lunch. Is... is that okay?"
7...8...9...10. And go.
"That's fine Bart, don't worry about it. Sometimes we all need to make extra sure but drop them a line to confirm the time will you? Last time we had one of them down she arrived forty-five minutes late and claimed our office had the time wrong." Renato delivered the last line with a conspiratorial grin and roll of the eyes, which Bart picked up on with great relief.
"Oh, yes, of course! I'll make sure they know it's at one o'clock and no later!"
The young man went to dash from the office but Renato called him back.
"Before you do that, do you know which of the examiners is coming down? From memory, there's the blonde one that can't keep a straight face to save her life and the other one, the one who never looks like she's paying attention."
"Uh..." Bart's finger ran down the page. "I think that it's... yes, it's Doctor Alston. She'd be the, uh, the second one."
Renato sighed. "Well, any port in a storm. Thanks Bart."
The younger man practically bowed as he left the room and left Renato to stare at the file on his desk. It was Renato's hope that with a little researching and preparation, he could suggest that Bloodfang had attacked people while transformed before and that this was not his only attack, just the only one that had ended in multiple deaths. And so the file contained a list of cold cases from Edgetoun and the local boroughs that had been marked for reevaluation due to new information. Most of them were thought to be animal attacks or pranks, a couple having been chalked up to the actions of a very specific serial criminal.
Or rather, it should have contained those records. Instead, it was full of... bills? expense reports? a montly invoice for digestive biscuits? Just as Renato made to shout for him, Bart leapt back into the room, face a picture nervousness and brandishing a nearly identical file.
"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry! I left the wrong file!"
It was a small thing, a tiny thing, just a very minor irritation in a world that presented many major ones. It wouldn't do to shout at Bart over such an inconsequential thing, not when the boy was trying so hard. That would be mean, cruel even, and not reflect accurately on the person Renato was or on the atmosphere of professional courtesy and cooperation that the Prosecutor's office maintained.
At least, that was what he told himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose and began, again, to count to ten.
1...2...3...
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Grimoire Gaming Unseelie Faerie
Member
Seen
3 mos ago
𝗟𝗢𝗞𝗜 𝗩𝗔𝗡 𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗕𝗘𝗥𝗚
Mentions of one particularly self-righteous human journalist. @Undine
Morning light streamed in through a large window on the eastern wall of the dining room. It was surprisingly sunny for a London day in February, but not altogether unwelcomed. One might think that it should be unwelcomed, being that Loki was a vampire, but the Van Stenberg Estate hosted a number of windowed walls such as this. Although it made him weaker, Loki enjoyed the sunshine. He couldn’t gaze outside for too long in the daylight, but it was nice to see the natural surroundings of his home. He’d paid enough money for this plot of land, of course he was going to enjoy the gorgeous view.
Sidestepping the beams of sunlight, Loki travelled from the grand dining room to the kitchen. He had to go to the lab for work in about an hour and a half, he’d already showered, and it was about time for him to finish his morning routine of breakfast, browsing the news, and getting dressed for the day. Loki pressed a button situated above the countertop and the speaker system wired throughout his kitchen came to life with a soft, glowing light. As he went about making his breakfast, the local radio station played through the speakers. The modern music was not of his tastes, he listened mostly for Louise. She had a pleasant voice, and Loki liked to be aware of the lives of most vampires in the area, especially the younger ones. They might need his guidance or intervention some day.
The scientist had a carefully crafted way of preparing his morning mug of blood. His fridge was stocked full of bagged blood, all from very willing donators, of course. He heated the red liquid on the cooker, set up double boiler-style so that the vapors from boiling water warmed it without scorching the plasma. A thermometer was clipped to the pan to measure the precise moment that the blood was heated to average human body temperature. Once heated, Loki tipped the sanguine delight into a clay mug and brought it, along with his plate of beans, toast, and a fried egg, over to the shaded side of the dining room table.
Loki enjoyed his breakfast whilst scrolling through his favourite news sites on a tablet. He might be archaic, but that didn’t mean that his understanding of technology had to be. He could manage an iPad, and all of the equivalents. Loki made it a point to stay on the forefront of technological advancement at all times, as knowledge was in fact power, and he quite liked having power. There was the sound of a key being turned and the front door opened to reveal a short, very pregnant woman, with long dark brown hair. Loki smiled up at her.
“Good morning, Miss Madeline.” Loki greeted his maid and personal assistant, for lack of a better title. She smiled in return and struggled to get the things she was carrying through the door. Loki stood up and made his way over to her to help carry some of the bags. “Now now, don’t strain yourself, luv.”
“Thank you, Master Van Stenberg. That’s your dry cleaning, it was done a bit early. Also, I managed to get the blood out of your linens.” She said and closed the door behind her. She spoke lightly of the blood because she was fully aware of what Loki was. He made sure to pay her handsomely for her secrecy, paired with weighty intimidation in the form of thinly-veiled threats towards her precious growing family if she were to ever betray him. It was good system they had, truly, it benefited the both of them.
“The Millesimo ones? Brilliant! Those were pricey.” Loki praised her as he walked back over to his breakfast.
“Quite… perhaps next time you’ll think twice before eating in bed.” Madeline replied sassily, arranging the bags in neat piles according to where she would need to bring them.
Loki smirked as he chewed a bite of his beans and toast. He swallowed before speaking again. “Well, where’s the fun in that, Miss Maddie?“ She rolled her eyes and went about her work. Their conversation continued as usual, until something rather out of the ordinary came up. Louise’s lovely radio voice was replaced by that of an old-timey male news presenter-styled voice. Loki listened to the hijacked broadcast with piqued interest, sipping at his mug or warmed blood in quiet contemplation. It was a manifesto. A call to arms. When the man was finished, Loki laughed.
Madeline, however, was less amused. Loki could sense the change in her emotions, as fear began to roll off of her in waves. It changed the very aroma of her blood, her fear made it all the more enticing. It was only natural for her to be afraid, as she was a human and he was not, and that was a very anti-Other manifesto that Loki was choosing to laugh at. “Come now, Madeline. There is nothing for you to worry about. Do you see me worried? It’s rather amusing, actually, for your lot to be so bold as to challenge the wolves on the night on which they are strongest.” Loki tilted his head to the side and smirked at her. “I do wonder… shall the hunters actually become the hunted?” he mused with an eerie grin.
“I-I don’t know, Master Van Stenberg.” She stammered, carefully placing a fresh floral arrangement on the dining room table, which she had picked up for him at Evermore Flowers earlier that morning. Lilies, those were his favourite, Maddie knew him well. Seeing that Loki was finished with his breakfast, she took away his dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, along with those he had used to prepare his meal, to started the wash cycle. The vampire stood up and walked over to her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, at least that was his intent in the gesture. Madeline jumped at the touch and spun around to face him.
“Take the weekend off, I insist. Stay indoors until all of this blows over, I would hate to see you taken as collateral damage if any bloodshed is to occur.” In a shockingly warm motion, Loki brushed his thumb across her cheek. Madeline’s expression paled. “I’d be lost without you, luv.”
Madeline nodded in agreement. “Of course, thank you, Ma—”
“No need to thank me. Head home now, give your son a kiss. Keep him safe.” Loki’s words were meant to be kind and concerned, yet they came off as intimidating. Madeline worked for a vampire, a vampire who had once vaguely threatened the life of the son he was now requesting that she keep safe. Maddie nodded once again and saw herself out of his home.
Now that he was alone, Loki had a lot to ponder. He stepped into his walk-in closet, which was stocked with his collection of suits, including the freshly dry-cleaned ones. Loki selected a charcoal grey ensemble, paired with a pale purple shirt, and a rich plum tie. The elder vampire deftly tied the silk, paisley-patterned fabric around his neck in a Balthus knot as he contemplated what he wanted to do about the broadcast he’d just heard. A man with meddlesome proclivities such as his could not simply sit around and do nothing. As he pulled the tie knot tight, an idea struck him.
Blake.
It was nearly time for him to head to work, but attempting to discover the cure for cancer could serve to wait a few more minutes. Loki had more important things to do… like torturing one particularly self-righteous human journalist, for example. Loki sat at his computer desk and flipped open his laptop screen. He clicked on his e-mail account, and decided it far better to send this letter anonymously, for now, at least. Loki created a disposable new e-mail address under the name “collateral_damage”, inspired by the phrase from his previous conversation. He began to tap out a message to send to the woman who so openly invited the Other and non-Other world to contact her.
Loki’s eyes scanned the screen as he proofread the letter for any errors. Did he truly believe that Blake’s flashy journalism was to blame for the radical behavior of the extremist broadcast hijacker? No, he did not believe that. The e-mail was meant to bait Blake into a little game of cat and mouse. To knock the annoying journalist down off of her high horse which, in his eyes, she had no right to put a saddle upon. This game might entertain him, at least for a time. Eternal life lasted far too long to spend it being bored. Loki abhorred boredom.
Sidestepping the beams of sunlight, Loki travelled from the grand dining room to the kitchen. He had to go to the lab for work in about an hour and a half, he’d already showered, and it was about time for him to finish his morning routine of breakfast, browsing the news, and getting dressed for the day. Loki pressed a button situated above the countertop and the speaker system wired throughout his kitchen came to life with a soft, glowing light. As he went about making his breakfast, the local radio station played through the speakers. The modern music was not of his tastes, he listened mostly for Louise. She had a pleasant voice, and Loki liked to be aware of the lives of most vampires in the area, especially the younger ones. They might need his guidance or intervention some day.
The scientist had a carefully crafted way of preparing his morning mug of blood. His fridge was stocked full of bagged blood, all from very willing donators, of course. He heated the red liquid on the cooker, set up double boiler-style so that the vapors from boiling water warmed it without scorching the plasma. A thermometer was clipped to the pan to measure the precise moment that the blood was heated to average human body temperature. Once heated, Loki tipped the sanguine delight into a clay mug and brought it, along with his plate of beans, toast, and a fried egg, over to the shaded side of the dining room table.
Loki enjoyed his breakfast whilst scrolling through his favourite news sites on a tablet. He might be archaic, but that didn’t mean that his understanding of technology had to be. He could manage an iPad, and all of the equivalents. Loki made it a point to stay on the forefront of technological advancement at all times, as knowledge was in fact power, and he quite liked having power. There was the sound of a key being turned and the front door opened to reveal a short, very pregnant woman, with long dark brown hair. Loki smiled up at her.
“Good morning, Miss Madeline.” Loki greeted his maid and personal assistant, for lack of a better title. She smiled in return and struggled to get the things she was carrying through the door. Loki stood up and made his way over to her to help carry some of the bags. “Now now, don’t strain yourself, luv.”
“Thank you, Master Van Stenberg. That’s your dry cleaning, it was done a bit early. Also, I managed to get the blood out of your linens.” She said and closed the door behind her. She spoke lightly of the blood because she was fully aware of what Loki was. He made sure to pay her handsomely for her secrecy, paired with weighty intimidation in the form of thinly-veiled threats towards her precious growing family if she were to ever betray him. It was good system they had, truly, it benefited the both of them.
“The Millesimo ones? Brilliant! Those were pricey.” Loki praised her as he walked back over to his breakfast.
“Quite… perhaps next time you’ll think twice before eating in bed.” Madeline replied sassily, arranging the bags in neat piles according to where she would need to bring them.
Loki smirked as he chewed a bite of his beans and toast. He swallowed before speaking again. “Well, where’s the fun in that, Miss Maddie?“ She rolled her eyes and went about her work. Their conversation continued as usual, until something rather out of the ordinary came up. Louise’s lovely radio voice was replaced by that of an old-timey male news presenter-styled voice. Loki listened to the hijacked broadcast with piqued interest, sipping at his mug or warmed blood in quiet contemplation. It was a manifesto. A call to arms. When the man was finished, Loki laughed.
Madeline, however, was less amused. Loki could sense the change in her emotions, as fear began to roll off of her in waves. It changed the very aroma of her blood, her fear made it all the more enticing. It was only natural for her to be afraid, as she was a human and he was not, and that was a very anti-Other manifesto that Loki was choosing to laugh at. “Come now, Madeline. There is nothing for you to worry about. Do you see me worried? It’s rather amusing, actually, for your lot to be so bold as to challenge the wolves on the night on which they are strongest.” Loki tilted his head to the side and smirked at her. “I do wonder… shall the hunters actually become the hunted?” he mused with an eerie grin.
“I-I don’t know, Master Van Stenberg.” She stammered, carefully placing a fresh floral arrangement on the dining room table, which she had picked up for him at Evermore Flowers earlier that morning. Lilies, those were his favourite, Maddie knew him well. Seeing that Loki was finished with his breakfast, she took away his dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, along with those he had used to prepare his meal, to started the wash cycle. The vampire stood up and walked over to her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, at least that was his intent in the gesture. Madeline jumped at the touch and spun around to face him.
“Take the weekend off, I insist. Stay indoors until all of this blows over, I would hate to see you taken as collateral damage if any bloodshed is to occur.” In a shockingly warm motion, Loki brushed his thumb across her cheek. Madeline’s expression paled. “I’d be lost without you, luv.”
Madeline nodded in agreement. “Of course, thank you, Ma—”
“No need to thank me. Head home now, give your son a kiss. Keep him safe.” Loki’s words were meant to be kind and concerned, yet they came off as intimidating. Madeline worked for a vampire, a vampire who had once vaguely threatened the life of the son he was now requesting that she keep safe. Maddie nodded once again and saw herself out of his home.
Now that he was alone, Loki had a lot to ponder. He stepped into his walk-in closet, which was stocked with his collection of suits, including the freshly dry-cleaned ones. Loki selected a charcoal grey ensemble, paired with a pale purple shirt, and a rich plum tie. The elder vampire deftly tied the silk, paisley-patterned fabric around his neck in a Balthus knot as he contemplated what he wanted to do about the broadcast he’d just heard. A man with meddlesome proclivities such as his could not simply sit around and do nothing. As he pulled the tie knot tight, an idea struck him.
Blake.
It was nearly time for him to head to work, but attempting to discover the cure for cancer could serve to wait a few more minutes. Loki had more important things to do… like torturing one particularly self-righteous human journalist, for example. Loki sat at his computer desk and flipped open his laptop screen. He clicked on his e-mail account, and decided it far better to send this letter anonymously, for now, at least. Loki created a disposable new e-mail address under the name “collateral_damage”, inspired by the phrase from his previous conversation. He began to tap out a message to send to the woman who so openly invited the Other and non-Other world to contact her.
Good Morning, Miss Preston,
I assume that a journalist such as yourself has heard the news by now. Quite the broadcast was aired live for all of Edgetoun to hear just moments ago. It appears that your messages of Other equality have fallen on deaf ears. Or… perhaps those ears were not so deaf, after all. In these past few weeks, you have sat behind your computer screen and typed about things far beyond your scope of understanding. You are a human in far over your head, and I believe that you may not even realize it. The events of this coming weekend are the consequence of your self-proclaimed activism. You spoke too loud, and now the actions of the extremists that you have inspired will speak even louder. A war is brewing, and whether or not you physically choose to participate in it, the Other blood that is shed will still be on your hands.
Take care in writing your next article. The whole world is watching, and not everyone sees things through rose-tinted glasses.
Regards,
Your Not-So-Friendly Neighbourhood VampireLoki’s eyes scanned the screen as he proofread the letter for any errors. Did he truly believe that Blake’s flashy journalism was to blame for the radical behavior of the extremist broadcast hijacker? No, he did not believe that. The e-mail was meant to bait Blake into a little game of cat and mouse. To knock the annoying journalist down off of her high horse which, in his eyes, she had no right to put a saddle upon. This game might entertain him, at least for a time. Eternal life lasted far too long to spend it being bored. Loki abhorred boredom.
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Nallore RPG's Grope Master & Taco Hunter. :P
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Online
Olivia gave Zoey a friendly smile as she entered the office setting her coat down and stretched out slightly herself, looking at her coworker she could tell that it was going to be a rather long day. "Of course, I know that you Brits love your tea during the day." Olivia said jokingly in a very fake British accent as she went over towards the nearby cabinet where she had put some of the stuff there to make the tea. Then she went and started to get it all ready for Zoey. She shrugged slightly to herself and decided that she'd make a cup for herself as well, biting her lower lip for a moment as Olivia thought about the full moon coming up rather soon.
While the tea was being brewed Olivia made her way and pulled up a chair in front of Zoey's desk. "So whats the plan for today then boss?" Olivia asked leaning herself up in the chair and stretched herself ever so slightly, she had a feeling that it was going to be a pretty long day as well. She then heard it going off, as Olivia stood up and made her way over and started to pour both mugs up with the tea before making her way back over to the table and slid it over towards Zoey.
Olivia then sighed slightly before finally speaking up, as she tried to think of a way to hide her excuse for not going in on the day of the full moon. Olivia had a feeling that Zoey might be suspicious if she suddenly came out of the blue to ask for that day off, then Olivia finally figured out the perfect excuse. "Also was wondering, if maybe if I could possibly take the nineth off?" She finally asked, before finally figuring out the rest of her excuse. "My parents are flying in and wanted to check up on me, and see how I am doing." It was the best excuse that she could think of at the moment, even though it was really just a simple lie.
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Fabricant451 Queen of Hearts
Member
Seen
2 hrs ago
KEI
There’s a future we still have yet to see on the other side of the clouds
We could spread our wings and fly there
Today, like the day before it and the day after it, was going to be a great day. Kei believed this with every fiber of her being; she couldn't remember the last time she had had a bad day which had to have been some kind of record. She'd always overheard discussions about how bad a day has been but Kei counted herself lucky that she was able to greet each day with a smile and say good night to every day with an even wider one. The day itself was still young but she could sense it in the air. The warmth of sun. The breeze of air. The wild breath that was life was all around. If people were unable to feel that, to bask in the wonder that was life then it was Kei who felt sorry for them, and it was Kei who took it upon herself to help them understand what they were blind to.
Before that, however, Kei was not above a small amount of vanity. The hospital had put up the nameplates of new investors, board members, and trustees right next to the listing of the chiefs of the various medical departments. While Kei was not one to do things expecting a reward, even she would admit that what she was seeing was amazing in its own way. The short-haired woman was looking into a mirror, though it wasn't her reflection that looked back at her. Brown eyes, wide in wonder and glee, stared intently at a little plate displaying the name 'KEI' surrounded by plates with names of other vital members of the hospital staff and board.
While she wasn't on the board or even employed, Kei did regularly donate to the hospital which seemed reason enough to give her a little recognition. It wasn't just money she had donated - though she had donated to the hospital on a fairly regular basis - but her time as well. It was the latter that had her in the hospital so early on this particular morning.
With her little moment of self-congratulations handled, Kei skipped her way towards the elevator, stepping to the side as the doors opened and a nurse pushing a wheelchair bound man came out. Kei waved to the man and, while twisting her hand, produced a flower - seemingly from nowhere - and offered it to the man, who was equal parts skeptical and impressed at the sleight of hand. He offered a word of thanks and even a smile, which Kei appreciated and reciprocated as she stepped into the elevator, waving at their backs until the door closed.
With a familiar 'ding' Kei stepped out of the elevator and left the drab white walls behind as she stepped into the light blue pastels of the pediatrics ward. She went into the elevator holding nothing but as she stepped out she was holding balloons by their strings, the helium filled containers trailing along the ceiling. When Kei first showed up with balloons to the pediatrics ward she was met with many a strange look, hospitals were typically serious place and balloons were more celebratory in nature, but years of experience with this sort of thing carried Kei forward. People, kids especially, didn't tend to enjoy people speaking in hushed, adult words. Doing so tended to drive home the more unfortunate realities of the more terminal patients and the like. Just because someone was in the hospital didn't mean they didn't need some humor and joy in their lives.
Some of the ones who needed humor and joy were the ones at the nursing station. Kei made that her first stop, waving to the familiar nurses who were on call. Kei knew them all by name at this point and they, for the most part, were happy to see her if only because Kei's intentions and presence were pure. This morning, though, some of the nurses seemed on edge and as Kei approached she only picked up on a few scattered words. 'Radio' 'Broadcast' 'Others' 'Fear' were chief among them. The conversation came to a stop when Kei waved and offered a balloon which was promptly denied.
Kei nodded and began her rounds, popping into a room and dropping off a balloon. She stuck around until the room occupant gave a smile or a laugh which in turn widened Kei's own before she left to repeat the act in other rooms. Her supply of balloons didn't seem to dwindle until her visit to the final room of the ward and she left the smiling child having no more balloons in hand. Back into the main lobby of the ward, the nurses were back to discussing some sort of radio broadcast from earlier; Kei could see apprehension and worry from the nursing station. If the adults were upset, that could only lead to spreading that bit of uncertainty around. These patients had enough on their plate, they didn't need worried nurses as well.
Kei skipped her way towards the nurse's station only to say one thing. "It's going to be okay." The way she said it, there was almost an assurance to it, a calming sort of soothing voice. If it meant that whatever was said in the radio broadcast was stricken from their minds, then it would have been worth it. Kei had no idea what was said, but she honestly believed that everything would be okay come what may. It was a great day, after all.
Back she skipped to the elevator, waving her goodbyes as the door closed. Kei bounded her way out of the hospital, back out onto the streets of Edgetoun. Another great day greeted her as she skipped merrily along the sidewalk with the only destination being wherever her feet took her.
Before that, however, Kei was not above a small amount of vanity. The hospital had put up the nameplates of new investors, board members, and trustees right next to the listing of the chiefs of the various medical departments. While Kei was not one to do things expecting a reward, even she would admit that what she was seeing was amazing in its own way. The short-haired woman was looking into a mirror, though it wasn't her reflection that looked back at her. Brown eyes, wide in wonder and glee, stared intently at a little plate displaying the name 'KEI' surrounded by plates with names of other vital members of the hospital staff and board.
While she wasn't on the board or even employed, Kei did regularly donate to the hospital which seemed reason enough to give her a little recognition. It wasn't just money she had donated - though she had donated to the hospital on a fairly regular basis - but her time as well. It was the latter that had her in the hospital so early on this particular morning.
With her little moment of self-congratulations handled, Kei skipped her way towards the elevator, stepping to the side as the doors opened and a nurse pushing a wheelchair bound man came out. Kei waved to the man and, while twisting her hand, produced a flower - seemingly from nowhere - and offered it to the man, who was equal parts skeptical and impressed at the sleight of hand. He offered a word of thanks and even a smile, which Kei appreciated and reciprocated as she stepped into the elevator, waving at their backs until the door closed.
With a familiar 'ding' Kei stepped out of the elevator and left the drab white walls behind as she stepped into the light blue pastels of the pediatrics ward. She went into the elevator holding nothing but as she stepped out she was holding balloons by their strings, the helium filled containers trailing along the ceiling. When Kei first showed up with balloons to the pediatrics ward she was met with many a strange look, hospitals were typically serious place and balloons were more celebratory in nature, but years of experience with this sort of thing carried Kei forward. People, kids especially, didn't tend to enjoy people speaking in hushed, adult words. Doing so tended to drive home the more unfortunate realities of the more terminal patients and the like. Just because someone was in the hospital didn't mean they didn't need some humor and joy in their lives.
Some of the ones who needed humor and joy were the ones at the nursing station. Kei made that her first stop, waving to the familiar nurses who were on call. Kei knew them all by name at this point and they, for the most part, were happy to see her if only because Kei's intentions and presence were pure. This morning, though, some of the nurses seemed on edge and as Kei approached she only picked up on a few scattered words. 'Radio' 'Broadcast' 'Others' 'Fear' were chief among them. The conversation came to a stop when Kei waved and offered a balloon which was promptly denied.
Kei nodded and began her rounds, popping into a room and dropping off a balloon. She stuck around until the room occupant gave a smile or a laugh which in turn widened Kei's own before she left to repeat the act in other rooms. Her supply of balloons didn't seem to dwindle until her visit to the final room of the ward and she left the smiling child having no more balloons in hand. Back into the main lobby of the ward, the nurses were back to discussing some sort of radio broadcast from earlier; Kei could see apprehension and worry from the nursing station. If the adults were upset, that could only lead to spreading that bit of uncertainty around. These patients had enough on their plate, they didn't need worried nurses as well.
Kei skipped her way towards the nurse's station only to say one thing. "It's going to be okay." The way she said it, there was almost an assurance to it, a calming sort of soothing voice. If it meant that whatever was said in the radio broadcast was stricken from their minds, then it would have been worth it. Kei had no idea what was said, but she honestly believed that everything would be okay come what may. It was a great day, after all.
Back she skipped to the elevator, waving her goodbyes as the door closed. Kei bounded her way out of the hospital, back out onto the streets of Edgetoun. Another great day greeted her as she skipped merrily along the sidewalk with the only destination being wherever her feet took her.
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In which a night shift cop from another country tries to flirt accept a casual night out with a drinking buddy. @McHaggis
Lang whistled as he took his earbuds out. Louise had signed off and they had started their flashback playlist with some Daryl Hall and John Oates. Nice to hear some American music for a change. He waved to the night secretary who was just ending her shift, Aila should’ve been getting in pretty soon to take over for the day. He went and signed off his shift, taking his vest off, changing, and releasing all of his equipment before finally heading over to his locker. He found his baggy pullover hoodie and threw it on. It exposed the nape of his neck and a bit lower than his collarbone, but he always wore comfy clothes after work. Besides, he was only just remembering what the sun looks like.
But that was when everything his changed. As he was about to close his locker, he heard his phone buzz from inside it. “Ah shit, close call.” He murmured to himself grabbing the phone and quickly scanning the contact it was from. But it was an unknown number.
Huh.
He read the first line offered in the preview of the message. His brain was only able to process the words ‘Louise and radio’ before he instinctively threw his phone at the wall. There was absolutely no reason. No sensible way to explain what he had done. He gingerly picked up the phone, looking at the screen and inspecting the damage. It had a sizeable crack in the bottom half, which made Lang inhale sharply upon seeing it.
“Oh shit.” He muttered, looking behind him. The room was empty.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck oh shit.”
It’s fake.
“Oh obviously.” Lang started to laugh a nervous laugh, it sounded less like a healthy human and more like a cat choking up a hairball. He slid his phone into his pocket, but it felt like it weighed as much as a fridge.
It’s fake.
He continued to get ready, grabbing a few of his things. A few other night shift officers came in, quietly greeting Lang. He just stared at them. Right into their eyes. It could have been one of them.
“You good buddy?” One asked, Lang squinted at him, focusing all of his cop super powers into this stare, “a-are you okay?” The man just seemed confused, shit.
“Yeah.” Lang said, grabbing the rest of his things and storming off.
It’s fake.
“Hey Laurel, before you head out – mind if you run a number for me?” Lang asked the secretary, looking somewhat like a junkie with the amount he was twitching.
“Oh sure, Lang. What is it?” Laurel asked coolly.
“Uh, yeah, it’s 2038073914,” Lang said, starting to sweat a little.
Laurel’s eyes scanned the screen as her fingers nimbly inputted the number. One eyebrow raised to almost hilarious proportions before her eyes slid over to Lang. “I swear to god if you’re stalking that poor girl Lang.”
It’s not fake.
“Thank you!” He said taking off in a full sprint, small duffle bag in tow. He made it out the doors and continue to sprint, he made his way into the middle of the road and jumped as far as he could.
He felt like a kid again.
“Lang, what the fuck?” Another officer shouted out at him.
“Shut up!” He called back, sprinting around the corner and taking off towards his house. By the time he made it home he closed the door behind him and threw his sweater at his bed. Staring at the text message again.
“Oh my god, she makes typos.” He said quietly. She asked if I was for drinks.
I am for drinks.
Lang quietly pondered what to do, staring at the propped up phone sitting on his pillow.
“I need help.”
He quickly opened up his text messages with the only person who could help. A girl he actually knew.
Play it cool. Only advice Aila could have given.
It made sense. She was a radio host, that was basically a short walk from being a phenomenon, a celebrity. She could’ve been expecting someone like Elvis, or other American heroes.
He had to dial it up.
Lang opened up the notes section of his phone so just in case she could see him typing, she wouldn’t watch him draft a good response for the next five minutes. The entirety of the time it took him to draft the thirty three word text he was beet red and felt like he was overheating. His ears especially burned with passion and embarrassment as he reread everything to make sure it didn’t sound like he had reread it 100 times.
“Okay.” He said, moving back to the messaging app.
It was done.
Immediately he buried his phone beneath his pillow placing his head on top of the pillow and tried to wait it out. Maybe time would go by quickly and he would have a response soon?
Maybe she was just as anxious?
His phone vibrated and his pillow was nearly torn asunder as his desperate claws reached the phone.
It was the Domino’s pizza app he kept forgetting to delete.
They had a deal for 7.99 two topping large pizzas.
Wow, that’s an amazing deal.
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𝗪𝗢𝗟𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗞 𝗪𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗡
Mentions of a young dhampire in Edgetoun. @Undine
The hustle and bustle of Düsseldorf International Airport rang out loud around the hypersensitive dhampire and his companion. There were hundreds of people conversing with each other and rushing to make their flights, the beeps of machinery at the security gates, the hiss of the sandwich press at one of the airport’s many eateries, and countless other sounds. They were surrounded by endless noise, yet it still felt like they were the only two people in the room. Wolfrik stared at his childhood pal, ex-girlfriend, best friend, and the person that knew him the most in the world aside from his late mother.
Most people would describe Monika as a handsome woman, she was not searingly sexy the usual standards, yet she was drop dead gorgeous to Wolfrik. Her appearance was pretty, and her heart was beautiful. Wolfie studied the brunette’s face, knowing her expressions well enough to recognize the worried crease between her eyebrows and shiny glint in her honey-brown eyes for what they were. She was upset, anxious, and forlorn. It broke his heart that he was the reason for that countenance… again. Goodbyes were hard, far too hard.
“Do you hate me, Mon?” Wolfrik asked quietly in their native language. She should hate him. This would be easier, if she did. He deserved it, if she did. Wolfrik let himself succumb to his pain, both emotional and physical, and he dove into drugs and alcohol as a coping mechanism. His vices drove a wedge between them, ending their relationship, but thankfully not their friendship as well. He didn’t blame her for it, she deserved so much more than the love of half a man.
The crease deepened as Monika’s eyebrows stitched together. For a moment, she looked livid, and then the expression fell away into a chuckle. “I could never hate you, Wolf, you stupid fuck.” The corner of her mouth pulled up in the faintest shadow of a smile. She closed the distance between them to rest her hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You need to get better, and staying here isn’t going to help you. My Wolfie has always done best when he has determination in his heart, and for the first time in a long while, I see that fire in your eyes again. This is the closest you’ve come to knowing your father. I hope he is what you need.”
Wolfrik chewed at his lip and struggled to make eye contact. If only she knew the depth of his despair. He wasn’t just a grief-stricken addict… he was dying. There wasn’t any way to get better. From what he had read online, dhampirism only ever got worse. But, she couldn’t know that. In the end, it would be best for him to leave this place and let her move on with her healthy, human life. Like father, like son, right? At least he was saying goodbye first, that’s more than this mysterious Loki ever gave his mother. “ I hope so too.” Wolfrik said with a heavy sigh. “Mom loved him, and she had the best judge of character of anyone I know… so, he must not be that bad. Right?”
Monika pursed her lips together and shrugged. “Hopefully not…” She moved the hand that was resting on his arm to stroke his cheek in an almost maternal gesture. “But he did leave her without a word, so, guard your heart around him. I know you want to know your father, but it might be best to keep some walls up for a while. Protect yourself. You might look like a real hard punk, but you’re soft as flower petals underneath that leather.” Monika smirked and lowered her hand to punch at his leather jacket-clad chest gently. “Hurry along now, or you’ll miss your plane.”
Wolfie nodded in understanding of everything she had just said. Mon might not have the full picture — like the fact that his father likely peaced out because he was a vampire — but her words were no less wise. Without any more conversation, for risk of being overcome with emotion and not being able to speak clearly, Wolfrik pulled her into an embrace. His frame was so gaunt that she was practically hugging herself when her arms wrapped around him. He never used to be so thin. Wolf pulled away after a few moments of silent embrace, and then pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “It’s a one-way ticket, Mon. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Promise me you won’t wait up… please live your life.”
“It’s just a plane ride, Wolf. Don’t be so gloomy and final about it.” She responded with a light laugh. It sounded as hollowed out as he felt. With that, the pair parted ways and Wolfrik became one of the many passengers rushing down the terminal to make their plane in time. Wolf boarded flight 2486 from DUS to LCY without a second to spare. Monika was right, he almost missed the flight entirely. Monika was usually right.
He had purchased one of the cheapest tickets available, so Wolf was seated along the aisle with the least amount of legroom known to man. Wolfrik was rather tall, so the latter was particularly unfortunate. That said, he didn’t care all that much. Wolfrik had far too much on his mind to care for something as trivial as physical comfort, that was always hard to come by these days anyway, especially while sober.
Wolf pulled a book out of his carry on bag and flipped it open. For all intents and purposes, the book functioned as a journal. All of the pages were dated, some of them bore passing thoughts or short paragraphs of prose, but most held sketches. Wolfrik was always much better at speaking his mind through his artwork than he was with words. Tucked into the entry for the current day was a loose page from the sketchbook of another artist. It was his mother’s drawing, the one he’d used to track down the identity of his father after she had passed. Wolf ran his thumb along the paper reverently, pondering on what kind of man his father might be. His thoughts were interrupted by the words of a blonde flight attendant asking if she could get him a drink. He ordered whiskey, like a proper day-drinking dhampire ought to.
The flight from Germany to the London City Airport was rather short, just a touch over one hour long. It was just enough time for Wolfrik to have a second shot of whiskey to take the edge off of his nerves. He wasn’t actually meeting Loki yet, he’d planned some time for himself to relax before that moment, but he was nervous all the same. When the plane landed, Wolfrik filed out after the other passengers heading towards the baggage claim. He gathered his single, overstuffed suitcase, his acoustic guitar, and the carry on backpack he wore onto the flight, and he headed out of the airport.
Wolfrik caught a taxi to the borough of Edgetoun. What an apt name for a town that he may or may not meet his vampiric father in. He informed the driver that he was headed to the Sibley Hotel, and the man nodded in understanding. That was pretty much the only hotel in Edgetoun, after all. Wolfrik’s ride and arrival at the hotel was uneventful, he tipped the cabbie well and waved as he pulled away. The receptionist at the hotel was a slightly overweight, grumpy looking woman named Regina. She handed him his room key and a piece of paper with a password on it, informing him that the wifi was complimentary.
Unpacking his suitcases first seemed like the most appropriate thing to do if Wolfrik was to be staying here for a while. If all went well, he’d live with his father and try to get to know him a little better. If it went poorly, perhaps he would find a flat to share instead, as living out of a hotel for more than a few days wasn’t financially realistic. If it went abysmally… he’d spend the rest of his savings to fly back to Düsseldorf and try to put this whole pipe dream behind him. He hoped it wasn’t a pipe dream, though.
For the first time in a long time, Wolfrik felt hopeful, and he had a single dhampire to thank for that. If not for the keen eye of an Edgetoun resident browsing the same dhampire support website as him, Wolfie would not be here today. He would still be off chasing dead end trails in Germany instead of sitting on a fluffy hotel bed in the same town as his birth father. He needed to thank this stranger somehow. Leaning back on the bed, Wolfrik pulled out his phone and typed in the free wifi password the receptionist had given him. He opened up the website where he had met Laurel, and selected the option to reply to their direct message thread. Chewing his lip for a few moments to carefully plan his words, Wolf tapped out a message.
Wolf hit send on the message and let out the long breath that he had been holding. He stared up at the ceiling for some time before deciding that he needed another drink, and got up to dig into the stash of bottles in the hotel room mini fridge to quench that thirst. Breaking the non-smoking policy of the room, he also lit up a hand rolled cigarette. Whether or not it was laced with something more than tobacco was his own business. Getting high on his first day in town was his prerogative, if he so wished.
Most people would describe Monika as a handsome woman, she was not searingly sexy the usual standards, yet she was drop dead gorgeous to Wolfrik. Her appearance was pretty, and her heart was beautiful. Wolfie studied the brunette’s face, knowing her expressions well enough to recognize the worried crease between her eyebrows and shiny glint in her honey-brown eyes for what they were. She was upset, anxious, and forlorn. It broke his heart that he was the reason for that countenance… again. Goodbyes were hard, far too hard.
“Do you hate me, Mon?” Wolfrik asked quietly in their native language. She should hate him. This would be easier, if she did. He deserved it, if she did. Wolfrik let himself succumb to his pain, both emotional and physical, and he dove into drugs and alcohol as a coping mechanism. His vices drove a wedge between them, ending their relationship, but thankfully not their friendship as well. He didn’t blame her for it, she deserved so much more than the love of half a man.
The crease deepened as Monika’s eyebrows stitched together. For a moment, she looked livid, and then the expression fell away into a chuckle. “I could never hate you, Wolf, you stupid fuck.” The corner of her mouth pulled up in the faintest shadow of a smile. She closed the distance between them to rest her hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You need to get better, and staying here isn’t going to help you. My Wolfie has always done best when he has determination in his heart, and for the first time in a long while, I see that fire in your eyes again. This is the closest you’ve come to knowing your father. I hope he is what you need.”
Wolfrik chewed at his lip and struggled to make eye contact. If only she knew the depth of his despair. He wasn’t just a grief-stricken addict… he was dying. There wasn’t any way to get better. From what he had read online, dhampirism only ever got worse. But, she couldn’t know that. In the end, it would be best for him to leave this place and let her move on with her healthy, human life. Like father, like son, right? At least he was saying goodbye first, that’s more than this mysterious Loki ever gave his mother. “ I hope so too.” Wolfrik said with a heavy sigh. “Mom loved him, and she had the best judge of character of anyone I know… so, he must not be that bad. Right?”
Monika pursed her lips together and shrugged. “Hopefully not…” She moved the hand that was resting on his arm to stroke his cheek in an almost maternal gesture. “But he did leave her without a word, so, guard your heart around him. I know you want to know your father, but it might be best to keep some walls up for a while. Protect yourself. You might look like a real hard punk, but you’re soft as flower petals underneath that leather.” Monika smirked and lowered her hand to punch at his leather jacket-clad chest gently. “Hurry along now, or you’ll miss your plane.”
Wolfie nodded in understanding of everything she had just said. Mon might not have the full picture — like the fact that his father likely peaced out because he was a vampire — but her words were no less wise. Without any more conversation, for risk of being overcome with emotion and not being able to speak clearly, Wolfrik pulled her into an embrace. His frame was so gaunt that she was practically hugging herself when her arms wrapped around him. He never used to be so thin. Wolf pulled away after a few moments of silent embrace, and then pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “It’s a one-way ticket, Mon. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Promise me you won’t wait up… please live your life.”
“It’s just a plane ride, Wolf. Don’t be so gloomy and final about it.” She responded with a light laugh. It sounded as hollowed out as he felt. With that, the pair parted ways and Wolfrik became one of the many passengers rushing down the terminal to make their plane in time. Wolf boarded flight 2486 from DUS to LCY without a second to spare. Monika was right, he almost missed the flight entirely. Monika was usually right.
He had purchased one of the cheapest tickets available, so Wolf was seated along the aisle with the least amount of legroom known to man. Wolfrik was rather tall, so the latter was particularly unfortunate. That said, he didn’t care all that much. Wolfrik had far too much on his mind to care for something as trivial as physical comfort, that was always hard to come by these days anyway, especially while sober.
Wolf pulled a book out of his carry on bag and flipped it open. For all intents and purposes, the book functioned as a journal. All of the pages were dated, some of them bore passing thoughts or short paragraphs of prose, but most held sketches. Wolfrik was always much better at speaking his mind through his artwork than he was with words. Tucked into the entry for the current day was a loose page from the sketchbook of another artist. It was his mother’s drawing, the one he’d used to track down the identity of his father after she had passed. Wolf ran his thumb along the paper reverently, pondering on what kind of man his father might be. His thoughts were interrupted by the words of a blonde flight attendant asking if she could get him a drink. He ordered whiskey, like a proper day-drinking dhampire ought to.
The flight from Germany to the London City Airport was rather short, just a touch over one hour long. It was just enough time for Wolfrik to have a second shot of whiskey to take the edge off of his nerves. He wasn’t actually meeting Loki yet, he’d planned some time for himself to relax before that moment, but he was nervous all the same. When the plane landed, Wolfrik filed out after the other passengers heading towards the baggage claim. He gathered his single, overstuffed suitcase, his acoustic guitar, and the carry on backpack he wore onto the flight, and he headed out of the airport.
Wolfrik caught a taxi to the borough of Edgetoun. What an apt name for a town that he may or may not meet his vampiric father in. He informed the driver that he was headed to the Sibley Hotel, and the man nodded in understanding. That was pretty much the only hotel in Edgetoun, after all. Wolfrik’s ride and arrival at the hotel was uneventful, he tipped the cabbie well and waved as he pulled away. The receptionist at the hotel was a slightly overweight, grumpy looking woman named Regina. She handed him his room key and a piece of paper with a password on it, informing him that the wifi was complimentary.
Unpacking his suitcases first seemed like the most appropriate thing to do if Wolfrik was to be staying here for a while. If all went well, he’d live with his father and try to get to know him a little better. If it went poorly, perhaps he would find a flat to share instead, as living out of a hotel for more than a few days wasn’t financially realistic. If it went abysmally… he’d spend the rest of his savings to fly back to Düsseldorf and try to put this whole pipe dream behind him. He hoped it wasn’t a pipe dream, though.
For the first time in a long time, Wolfrik felt hopeful, and he had a single dhampire to thank for that. If not for the keen eye of an Edgetoun resident browsing the same dhampire support website as him, Wolfie would not be here today. He would still be off chasing dead end trails in Germany instead of sitting on a fluffy hotel bed in the same town as his birth father. He needed to thank this stranger somehow. Leaning back on the bed, Wolfrik pulled out his phone and typed in the free wifi password the receptionist had given him. He opened up the website where he had met Laurel, and selected the option to reply to their direct message thread. Chewing his lip for a few moments to carefully plan his words, Wolf tapped out a message.
Hey,
This might be a bit random, but I bought a ticket to Edgetoun to meet my father. I haven’t met him yet, I only just arrived. It’s a lot tougher than I expected it to be. I’m staying at the Sibley Hotel, in case you would like to meet up. I’ve never actually met someone else like me before. If you don’t want to, though, I totally understand your desire for privacy. Thank you for your help, I don't know how to repay aside from offering to get you lunch.
— WolfrikWolf hit send on the message and let out the long breath that he had been holding. He stared up at the ceiling for some time before deciding that he needed another drink, and got up to dig into the stash of bottles in the hotel room mini fridge to quench that thirst. Breaking the non-smoking policy of the room, he also lit up a hand rolled cigarette. Whether or not it was laced with something more than tobacco was his own business. Getting high on his first day in town was his prerogative, if he so wished.
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𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗧𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗜𝗡
"Do you remember the lullaby? The one you use to sing to me." Reina Stein, around her early twenties, sat on a log, drinking a beer. Deeply in thought, she stared into the flames rising from the dry tinder. Her skin glowed the colors of rage and her eyes flickered those same colors, orange, red, and yellow, as if they were putting on a show for all those that got lost in her pupils. Twilight faded to blackness in the Wood and the only light given to two wolves, momentarily away from their pack, was the crackling bonfire, where the smoke disappeared into the night and the wind's whistle warned them that their glowing ember would not last long. As she waited for her older brother's response, she took out a single cigarette stashed in her left ankle boot — never one to carry a purse. After using the fire to light it up, she gingerly brought the cancer stick to her thin lips, placing it in between with a subtle display of dependency.
"That's going to kill you one day." The larger man, with a well-toned and muscular body, late-twenties, was standing with his thumbs hooked in his jeans, also fixedly watching the blaze move. The shadows on the trees imitating it's dance. Nothing about how he held himself spoke youthfulness. If anything, his innocence was replaced with doubt and lack of faith for his brethren (and sistren) a long time ago. A man who was trained at his coming of age to be fearless, heartless, and loveless. With no fear, he would not hesitate. With no heart, he would not question. With no love, he would not be weak. Clayton Stein was his name, a warrior unlike any other, that played it by the rules, ruthlessly, since the day he turned. He had no choice at the time but to submit and obey.
Putting a young boy, cursed with an unloving household and a better left forgotten childhood, between the hammer and the anvil had its merits. Any younger, a monster could've been made, but no, if there was one thing where lady luck was kind, it was infecting him when he was nineteen. That gave him enough wisdom to fight his inner beast.
Although he held promising potential, he could never be the ideal warrior for The Bisclavrets. A werewolf is known for being bloodthirsty and vicious; a primitive creature that lacks empathy and holds tenacious hubris, all which lurks beneath their supposed humanity. Stein could see the beast residing in him and the high he got from getting lost in a murderous frenzy. He didn't like that side of him and no matter what, he knew he could never be ideal. The reason always being, he had someone he wanted to protect. Since the beginning he had someone to shield. Someone that made this infectious disease worth fighting. Someone he wished didn't follow his footsteps on a path that was given to him, when he had no say in the matter. The girl who sits before him, with a gaunt and ragged visage. The girl that gazes at the fire with desire. Desire to be more than she could ever be. The girl he called his sister.
"Hello? Clay! Are you even listening?" Reina turned her eyes to him, with glaring annoyance, as she breathed out smoke. "I'm going to take that as a—"
"I was. Sorry... It's getting late." Stein cleared his throat, while he nonchalantly looked up at the rustling leaves hanging from the trees, that sadly masked the night sky. "The lullaby... The... lullaby..." He played it like he couldn't remember the song, but how could he forget? It was the one thing that Rei outwardly showed appreciation for.
"Clay." Rei uttered in exasperation.
"Okay, okay. Y'know my pipes have never been the best, but how about I sing it to you before we head back?" He gave a smug smile, not wanting to showcase his worry for her, yet glad to see she still wanted his company. Unfortunately, as time went on, they were getting further and further apart.
He blamed her lover.
"I'd like that." The tired woman flicked her cigarette into the flame, before leaning back and adding, "One day, you'll sing that to my children."
Crossing his arms, Stein protested, "Woah, woah, woah! You're thinking way too far ahead, Reina. Let me have a family first, then you can follow."
"To have a family, you need a lady..." The young adult muttered under her breath.
"I heard that."
"Sing the song already!" Rei barked at her brother. Truth be told, this was one of their last, dear moments together.
"That's going to kill you one day." The larger man, with a well-toned and muscular body, late-twenties, was standing with his thumbs hooked in his jeans, also fixedly watching the blaze move. The shadows on the trees imitating it's dance. Nothing about how he held himself spoke youthfulness. If anything, his innocence was replaced with doubt and lack of faith for his brethren (and sistren) a long time ago. A man who was trained at his coming of age to be fearless, heartless, and loveless. With no fear, he would not hesitate. With no heart, he would not question. With no love, he would not be weak. Clayton Stein was his name, a warrior unlike any other, that played it by the rules, ruthlessly, since the day he turned. He had no choice at the time but to submit and obey.
Putting a young boy, cursed with an unloving household and a better left forgotten childhood, between the hammer and the anvil had its merits. Any younger, a monster could've been made, but no, if there was one thing where lady luck was kind, it was infecting him when he was nineteen. That gave him enough wisdom to fight his inner beast.
Although he held promising potential, he could never be the ideal warrior for The Bisclavrets. A werewolf is known for being bloodthirsty and vicious; a primitive creature that lacks empathy and holds tenacious hubris, all which lurks beneath their supposed humanity. Stein could see the beast residing in him and the high he got from getting lost in a murderous frenzy. He didn't like that side of him and no matter what, he knew he could never be ideal. The reason always being, he had someone he wanted to protect. Since the beginning he had someone to shield. Someone that made this infectious disease worth fighting. Someone he wished didn't follow his footsteps on a path that was given to him, when he had no say in the matter. The girl who sits before him, with a gaunt and ragged visage. The girl that gazes at the fire with desire. Desire to be more than she could ever be. The girl he called his sister.
"Hello? Clay! Are you even listening?" Reina turned her eyes to him, with glaring annoyance, as she breathed out smoke. "I'm going to take that as a—"
"I was. Sorry... It's getting late." Stein cleared his throat, while he nonchalantly looked up at the rustling leaves hanging from the trees, that sadly masked the night sky. "The lullaby... The... lullaby..." He played it like he couldn't remember the song, but how could he forget? It was the one thing that Rei outwardly showed appreciation for.
"Clay." Rei uttered in exasperation.
"Okay, okay. Y'know my pipes have never been the best, but how about I sing it to you before we head back?" He gave a smug smile, not wanting to showcase his worry for her, yet glad to see she still wanted his company. Unfortunately, as time went on, they were getting further and further apart.
He blamed her lover.
"I'd like that." The tired woman flicked her cigarette into the flame, before leaning back and adding, "One day, you'll sing that to my children."
Crossing his arms, Stein protested, "Woah, woah, woah! You're thinking way too far ahead, Reina. Let me have a family first, then you can follow."
"To have a family, you need a lady..." The young adult muttered under her breath.
"I heard that."
"Sing the song already!" Rei barked at her brother. Truth be told, this was one of their last, dear moments together.
Before Stein (who is now thirty six) got to the part in his dream (inadvertently a memory) where he sang to his sister, his radio mysteriously turned on. He was woken up by an eerie voice: Do you jump at shadows whenever the full moon is out and shining bright? Keeping his eyes closed, he listened to the message closely. Undoubtedly, the message would rile up the people more so than they already were with the reveal of the Other two weeks ago.
Today was going to be a long day. He predicted that Aila would have to deal with phone calls of people, majority being humans and the supernatural pretending to be humans, freaking out. Phone calls where they told her how the police should do their jobs. What they're failing to do. What their next course of action would be with protecting the people from these creatures they refused to understand. Phone calls upon phone calls. As for him, he'd probably be presented with hate crimes and his boss most definitely stacked more paperwork on his desk for him to do before he was permitted to review his files for his last case, The Murder of Clementine Everleigh. A sex worker known as Diamond Girl that unfortunately suffered far more than she deserved. Details not worth thinking about on his bed.
Ever since the Other got out, there have been obsessive radicals spreading conspiracy theories on the web of cases that have been long closed. The human way of life! Either turning their back on things they didn't understand or adding fuel to the already blazing fire, like this Helsing group. Pardon him, not all humans were bigots, zealots, and annoying fuckers, but the pressure was on for him and his co-workers and it'll take a lot of willpower to persevere. The fight had only just begun.
Along with trying to make a better Edgetoun for him, Aila, and those few he cared about, he had his duties within The Zephyrus Accord, since he was Beta. He was most definitely taking on more than he probably should, being both a prime 'human' investigator and the Beta with the least years on his belt. Add the constant guilt for leaving a couple of people behind, yeah, Stein was biting off more than he could chew.
His mind left the broadcast, as the radio suddenly turned off. With that occurrence, his eyes whipped open. Not only did the ray of light from his window, which he was sure he closed his curtain, blinded him, but the face of his dead partner glaring at him, inches away from his face, laying right beside him, caused him to jolt back. Have no fear! He did not fall off. His bed was king-sized because he needed the space.
"Shit, Coli." He immediately, and awkwardly, scooted off his bed, looking at the ghost that demanded his attention in rude spirits.
Sitting up ever so gracefully, her blonde locks dangling over her business wear, Colette, his dear, dead partner-in-crime looked at him with livid eyes. What'd he do? She wore her dark skirt that went to her knees, her nude hose, and her favorite white blouse. The only thing missing was her suit jacket that she was never fond of, always saying one day she'd burn it. This outfit was one of her preferred outfits to wear when she testified at court (though, she would wear the suit jacket out of requirement on being professional). With displeasure written all over her face, Collete snapped, "Who is this man? The one that sleeps through his first three alarms and wake ups when Aila is already in his kitchen scrambling eggs."
Dodging her sarcastic reprimanding, he went to his dresser and applied deo on his armpits, under his plain white tee. He was a man that took night showers to relax himself to sleep, if, he came home that night to sleep. "Coli, this whole popping out of nowhere needs to come with a damn warning sign. When I don't have work to rush to, we need to set some ground rules. I'd be damn if you've seen me showering."
"It's not like you can do anything about it." She teasingly winked, before getting off his bed and heading to his desk, where his open laptop was, "Plus, you know you're not the guy I like! Sorry, sweetpea, but when I look at you, I think of a zit that won't go away." He narrowed his eyes at her. Wasn't she the zit?! Haunting him and nobody else. Why didn't she show herself to their other colleagues? Why did she add more work to his already heavy load?
WHY, COLI, WHY?!
Placing her bottom on his comfy office chair, fit for a big man like her insufferable Stein was, Coli surveyed his tabs, without permission, "This whole rut of your's has got to stop. I'm here, maybe not in the way you'd like, but I am here. You're not going to maintain the peace and solve my murder mystery if your brain is only half working." She scanned through his emails, nosily going to his drafts. "By the way, when are you going to send this unfinished letter to Preston, hmmm?"
Stein slammed his laptop closed. "Don't worry about it." He was already wearing pants and buttoning up his work shirt. He hated this outfit.
"It seems to me you want to make a big reveal. Wolf at Edgetoun police station. How well do you think that would go?" Coli turned the swivel chair around to face him, both her arms and legs crossed. He knew these questions were only because she cared and didn't want him to get hurt, but this was a matter she had no say in because she didn't understand.
"I don't want to. I need to. Eventually. The sooner I do it, the better it'll be for those... like me. We're getting the worst end of the stick due to a hiccup—"
Coli cut him off, "A hiccup? Nick Bloodfang's case was a 'hiccup'?" Man, was she always this feisty or was she simply getting impatient with him? It's only been two weeks since she even revealed herself to him talking about things like Undead Anonymous and her journey as a ghost, saying she thinks she's getting down how to appear 'more human' again! Solving a murder with no leads takes time, Colette Bonnet. "You're smarter than that, Clay."
After putting his wrist watch on, checking the time as he did so, he grimaced, "As much as I'd love to stay and chat, I have food to devour and work to deal with."
"You can thank me, by the way. For keeping you tuned in with Edgetoun's happenings." Coli stood up, grabbed Stein's cologne, and sprayed his wrist that didn't have a watch on it.
What he didn't realize was how tired she was getting, with every action she did making herself seem human, especially to him. Touching corporeal things drained her, but she missed being able to do little things.
In response, he rubbed that wrist on his neck and grumbled at her, "You don't need to baby me."
"Maybe you're right, but this new Stein, who SLACKS, definitely needs help getting his shit together." She slowly started vanishing before his eyes. "I'll see you later, but please do remember, my case is still on the shelf and I can't leave this world until you help me remember what happened to me."
Right before she completely disappeared, he yelled, "Warn me next time!" The last thing he heard of her was a giggle and a light 'we'll see'.
Great. Just great.
His eyes widened when his glass colagne bottle was now falling to the ground. With quick reflexes, he caught it then placed it back on his dresser. In the same exact spot that it originally was in. Goddamit, Coli.
Oh right, Aila! He hurried to his kitchen, grabbing his shoes as he exited the door. How did she get in, you ask? Well, that's easy. She was the only person that held a spare key to his apartment. Coli, however, didn't need a key. Every place they've ever been together, which was most of this damn town, was a place she could come out of nowhere and spook him.
Either way, they had to leave.
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GM
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Kirah Dragonbunny
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0-24 hrs ago
Kaytlin Devlin
Kaytlin's patience was being tried. May was sitting on the edge of her bed crying. This was exhausting, and Kaytlin could feel her tie to the physical world waning.
"Shouldn't you be at school." Kaytlin did her best to keep the weakness she could feel out of her voice. It seemed May didn't notice.
"With that announcement? There's no way. Mom and dad are looking for a way to evict you and that radio take-over... I had to run back here." May was still catching her breath.
"What announcement?" Kaytlin had no idea what May was talking about. Now the girl was rambling. Telling Kaytlin about some hostile take-over of the radio station. There had been a call to arms, of the sort, against the Other. "I'll be fine May. Your parents promised they wouldn't salt and burn me, and that was a call to action against the less savory types. I am not a vampire or a werewolf. People won't see me as a threat." Even as Kaytlin said it, she knew she didn't completely believe it. Literal witch hunts were about to come into vogue. "Now, go back to school for goodness sake. You're going to get into trouble." May did seem a bit calmed down, and stood.
"I wish I could hug you." She scrubbed at her face drying it off. Thankfully missing the stab of pain that crossed her face.
"Me too," Kaytlin whispered. May picked up her backpack and left Kaytlin alone.
Kaytlin took a few moments to compose herself and imagined her sister's dining room. It was only a couple blocks from her own home. Something that May's parents had used in argument against Kaytlin "living" in their home, but dangit it had been her home first. She had put down the tiles in the bathroom herself, ages ago with Gerald. The thought of him caused her heart to pinch. Stupid emotions like that made her mad. She still loved him.
"Hello, Kate." William smiled at her, reading his newspaper. He started to open his mouth then caught himself. Probably stopping himself from offering her coffee, again. "Evelyn is upstairs. Shouldn't be much longer."
"What's in the news?"
"The usual nonesnse, and of course the more obnoxious stuff." Worry crossed his face. "I'm thinking of putting an ad in the paper. Saying we're an Other friendly non-criminal law firm."
"Might want to hold off on that. There apparently was a radio hyjack."
"Oh, about?"
"It was a call to arms against others." William frowned. He was getting older; though he was technically younger than Kaytlin, he was looking his 53 years, even more, these last couple of weeks. The frown showed wrinkles deeper than Kaytlin had ever seen on his face before.
"Kaytlin I didn't expect you this early," Kaytlin explained to her sister the situation. "I agree let's offer our services to Others." Kaytlin raised an eyebrow. "Not pro-bono, but let us help the community. Your community."
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MiddleEarthRoze The Ultimate Pupper
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5 yrs ago
STEFANI ROCHE
Interacting With: Aoife @Write
"This has got to be the best summer ever." The thought kept drifting through Stef's mind in an equally content and excited manner. There hadn't been a summer like it before. Sunning amongst gorgeous ancient Greek ruins, the deep blue of the Mediterranean glittering in the setting sun before her, and the rich scents of local cuisine wafting her way. Turning as she heard a raucous laugh behind her, Stef joined in as she saw Caleb messing about on the scattered stones behind them. Jumping about, doing ridiculous headstands and just generally showing off for his younger siblings. It was pretty standard behaviour for her eldest cousin, but she couldn't help but laugh herself. Head turning as her Aunt, Uncle and parents joined the group, her gaze held for a moment on a shadowy figure in the distance, before her head whipped to her parents all of a sudden, frowning. Something felt wrong.
"Everything alright, love?" Her father asked as he took a seat to her right, Mother on the other side. He was wearing a ridiculous holiday shirt covered in the garish patterns he always liked, and had a sunburn on the back of his neck.
"I... I thought-" Stef faltered, trying to remember. Everything around her seemed hazy. Looking up again, the silhouette of the distant man had disappeared, and it was then that she recalled. "You're not supposed to be here. You... you and mum, you had to work!" Both of them looked confused and concerned as she jumped to her feet, now feeling panicked. Something was going to happen, but she couldn't remember what.
"What are you on about? We've been here for a week!" Mum said with a placating smile. In the distance, Stef could hear an alarm begin to blare.
"Come and have a sit down. Think the sun's got to you, Margot." The man was behind them now, and instead of a shadowy black, he was blood red. A flash of lightning, and her parents lay dead. Next, her aunt and uncle. Caleb and the rest of her cousins were still messing about in the background as Stef witnessed the massacre, unknowing of what was happening. The alarm grew louder.
Another flash, and her cousins were lying on the floor, motionless and bleeding out. As the stranger turned to her, fangs glinting in the setting sun, the alarm grew deafening, and she awoke with a start.
Despite the quantity and severity of the nightmares she'd been suffering from for the past year or so, Stef still couldn't get used to how real they still felt. Turning over and burying her head into her pillow with a tired groan, the young vampire tried to mentally shake off the last few images she had seen. It was nearly always the same design; starts off great, see's a man in the distance, and then everything becomes not so great. The people sometimes changed. A lot of the time she saw Aoife in place of her parents, or some of the other friends she'd made dying. It always cycled back to her family though. Dying, bleeding out, the dream so realistic she could even smell the coppery scent of their blood.
Blood...
Stef jolted upright, realisation flooding over her. Blood! The last thing she could remember was smelling blood, and now here she was... but it was the void in her memory that concerned her the most. She couldn't remember going to bed, calming down, anything after seeing the cut Aoife had made.
"Oh my Go-AOIFE!" Jumping to her feet and promptly falling over in her tangled mess of blankets, Stef barely even saw the mess she had made in her room as she flung open her door, only to see a strangely tidy living room. There was no blood, no corpse, not really much sign of the usual carnage she wreaked when she lost it.
Not calmed in the least by the lack of mess, Stef paced from room to room, calling out for her guardian as she did. Her senses told her that the angel wasn't even present, but with the panicked blood rushing in her ears, Stef couldn't even think straight. What if she had killed her, and then started cleaning up after herself in her bloodlust? It was weird, and didn't really make sense, but ever since she'd been turned the world was full of weird. As she circled back to the kitchen, she was about to call out for Aoife yet again before clapping her eyes on the note.
“Hey girl,
Just running to the store to buy some breakfast supplies!
Stay Hungry,
Aoife <3”
Just running to the store to buy some breakfast supplies!
Stay Hungry,
Aoife <3”
"'Stay Hungry'? Really, Aoife?" Trust her to make a likely accidental joke about what had happened last night. Staying hungry was exactly Stef's problem. Grasping the note and holding it close to her body, Stef walked back to her room, feeling quite numb. Aoife was clearly alive, and clearly okay to clean up and go out, but that didn't stop the worry. It never would, not until she saw her safe and sound. On top of the worry was guilt, as usual. Going through on of her "episodes", as they were now known, always brought back memories of the time when she had actually killed someone. An innocent man, just trying to help her out. It didn't really matter how many times she tried to tell herself that it wasn't her fault, and she had no control, the guilt still ate away at her. Stef couldn't even imagine how some vampires could walk around quite happily, knowing the full extent of the deaths they'd caused over the years. And then there was the thought that she considered some of those vampires not just friends but family now, which was a confusing mess of feelings too. In short, emotions sucked, but life without them would be even worse.
By the time Stef heard the jangle of keys in the front door, she'd made a half-hearted attempt at cleaning up her room. It had looked as though a tornado went through it, but after throwing her duvet over her crumpled bedsheets and blankets, re-stacking her bookshelves haphazardly and throwing her dressing gown over the ever-growing heap of clothes sat on her desk chair to hide it, it just looked like a fairly mild storm had blown through. She'd been dithering about maybe alphabetising her books out of lack of both energy and something to do when her angel returned.
"Aoife! Are you okay?" Sprinting from her room, Stef was ready to practically bear hug her before coming to an awkward halt a few feet away, giving her a scrutinising once-over. No bruises, no cuts, and no smell of blood. It seemed as though they'd both been lucky, but after such a close call, Stef felt far too concerned about her self-control to hug Aoife.
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coGM
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Kirah Dragonbunny
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0-24 hrs ago
Abby
Interacting with: Pearl (NPC), and a text sent to Alistair @Mchaggis and Theo @MiddleEarthRoze
Abby tossed her phone between her hands. Pearl paced around the kitchen, a habit from her time as a human. The two of them had gotten into the small home late the night before, rested from their travels and had been up and about early enough to hear the broadcast. Pearl was young enough that she had been turned after the advent of Google, a stock that Abby had been smart enough to invest in on the ground floor (thank god for fake identities).
Pearl understood the science of the internet better than Abby, who picked Pearl's brain regularly on that sort of thing. There was so much to keep up with. Radio and Television were easy enough. Abby liked both of them. The internet though was much bigger and faster. She had found a few websites that she liked such as Tumblr and LJ. Then there were the ones she found annoying, Twitter, Reddit, 4chan. Pearl knew how to deal with those at least.
Between the two of them, they kept a good eye on the internet. It was a useful resource and a lot of the time is how they found young fledgling confused vampires or dhamires. A question to yahoo answers was sometimes answered with a knock at the door. Much more convenient than waiting for something bad to happen and then doing damage control after the fact.
"So much for damage control," Abby said. Pearl started a pot of tea.
Seven-hundred years of trying to prevent just this from happening. Seven-hundred years of pulling vampires from dangerous situations and keeping them from contacting their living family. Seven-hundred years of finding half-breeds forgotten by their sires before things could get out of hand. Seven-hundred years were crashing around Abby. At least it wasn't a vampire's fault, but now they had to do the cleanup.
"I haven't been in London for too long. I don't know which contacts are even still good here. Well other than Alistair. I know there is the prosecutor's office, but I don't know anything about them. Are they human? Do they have Other sympathies?" Abby knew Pearl was listening, despite her not participating in the conversation. That was because Abby thought out loud often, she could keep it in check when needed, but she preferred to talk to someone. "I'm gonna text, Alistair."
She stopped tossing her phone and pulled up the messaging app. "I'm in town. I heard the radio takeover. The Collective is gonna freak. We should meet. What can I do to help? When works for you?" Was Alistair even wanting to get involved? He hadn't been all that active in years. But he knew Edgetoun better than she did. He had his nose in all sorts of business. Alistair always had, and would always be a gossip. She could at least get a temperature check from him.
"I also need to see that cousin of mine." Abby bit her lip and stared at her phone. How long had it been? She typed up "Hey cuz. Long time no see. I'm in town, want to get a drink?"
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coGM
Barrett Oh, the year was 1778...
Member
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6 yrs ago
𝗦𝗜𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗢𝗪
The sun streaming onto the windows of Old Oakes Court found Simone already awake, sitting up her perpetually messy bed with her phone in one hand and the other idly twisting in her hair, light just filtering through the half drawn curtains onto the snowdrift of clothes, books, witchcraft supplies and assorted miscellany on the floor. Some of her thoughts were on unimportant matters; the feed scrolling behind her cracked screen, whether she could be bothered to get up and make tea for herself, where she was going to find blackbriar root at short notice for the introduction to druidism class on Monday. They were the little things that you let distract you from whatever's lurking at the edge of your mind, the big thing that's going make you think about it in a minute but that you can ignore for just a little longer...
The big thing for Simone this morning was honestly a whole bunch of things, wrapped around and about each other until they might as well be one thought. The name of the tangled ball of worries and anxieties, at least, was simple; Hook and Sinker. Half a year ago, there'd have been nothing to think about. Simone would've been looking forward to seeing them at the Crypt Cafe later that day and would probably have still been laughing about whatever they'd gotten up to the previous night. Laurel would've arrived in his immaculate uniform, arm in arm with Emma in her scruffy one, and they'd all have cracked jokes, teased each other and loudly made disparaging remarks about the weirdo in the suit that was always sitting in the corner.
But now? Simone didn't know what to expect, even less what she wanted to happen. Things had changed so dramatically in six months that it was almost unthinkable. Laurel had been unreachable, both emotionally and as a presence, for ages now and Simone had no idea why. Worse still, she couldn't ask Emma because the girl had been withdrawn, cagey and sometimes even waspish whenever they'd met up. Sometimes it had been clearly directed malice (most often at Alice, Simone's then girlfriend) but just as often it had been general hostility and random moments of aggression that made Emma's hackles rise and everyone else take a step back.
So the prospect of seeing them both today was daunting, to be sure. On the one hand, she wanted to go and see them and be a good friend and make it all go back to how it had been before. She was older than the other two, had a real job and was legally an adult, and the nagging, responsible voice at the back of her head (that always sounded like her mother) told her that she should be the one to Sort Things Out. But on the other hand, a large part of her wanted to send a quick message to them both excusing herself from the meetup and spend the whole day in and around her bed, avoiding people and social responsibilities alike.
The tug of war between the two sides had gone back and forth in her head for the past several days now, neither side definitively pulling ahead. More than once she'd taken out her phone to send that fateful message but had pulled back from the brink each time. And now, mere hours before the arranged time, there was a new, fresh desperation on both sides. There was one factor that was slowly but surely winning Simone over towards going though; it was now too late to politely cancel and there's nothing more familiar to the British than sitting through a social event you'd rather have missed because it would've been too awkward to excuse yourself.
With a groan and a grunt, she rolled out of bed. Whether she was going to the cafe or not, Simone was starting to feel hungry enough that staying in bed was no longer a real option. The house was quiet, Ada having left an hour or so ago to give a lecture, so Simone decided to make sure the neighbours were awake by blasting music from her phone. The off-kilter notes of Spellbound by Siouxsie and the Banshees rang through the kitchen as Simone busied herself with making tea, toast and clearing up. It was another way of delaying making a decision, setting a self imposed deadline like "I'll make up my mind when I've had breakfast," but knowing that there's nothing so easy as breaking a promise to yourself.
Armed with cream cheese on toast, strong tea and another 70s tune, Simone returned to her room and booted up her laptop, clearing some folded clothes from the desk chair so she could sit down. She'd come upon another quick delay while making the food, she really aught to check on the Circle's facebook group and see if there was anyone who needed a hand with anything. After all, if there was a desperate need for someone to lift chairs and arrange a council building for a class, she could hardly swan off to hang out with her friends, could she?
But there was nothing. A few people were chattering about Monday's introduction to Druidism, some were looking to get together a group for a pub outing on Saturday night and there was, as always, the background discussion of the Other situation but no one who needed help to save Simone from making a decision. There was a group poll on when the most people would be available for a Circle-wide meetup to discuss 'matter of great importance' that distracted her for a moment (Monday would be best for her, it was he next day off) but when she shut her laptop, there was no longer room for doubt.
She was going to have to go.
A twinge of guilt twisted in her gut a that thought and another went off when she realised just how hard she'd been trying to avoid this little meeting. It wasn't that she didn't want to see Hook and Sinker, she just didn't want to have to face questions as to why she'd missed so many other meetings, mostly because she had no good answers and no new excuses. Still, you had to face the music some time and you might as well look your best while doing it.
The next little while was spent sorting through her clothes, carefully filed across the floor, and selecting an appropriate outfit. Something cool and eye catching definitely but not too bold, she didn't want to look she was having too much fun. Obviously there'd be an array of enamel pins attached but which ones? She had an old biscuit tin filled with the damn things and still more pinned to various dungarees and jackets spread across the flat. Eventually she settled on a maroon bomber jacket, some muted orange flared trousers, her 'Dead Lame' t-shirt (a local band that were rumoured to be entirely made up of ghosts, vampires and dhampires) and a huge pair of sunglasses. Her hair got rather less attention, she just combed into a heap and sprayed it to (hopefully) keep it in place.
As she stepped outside and locked the door, she knew she was setting off a little too early and would be at the cafe at least a quarter of an hour before when they'd arranged but that was all well and good. She had her laptop with her, stuffed into the tote bag hanging off her shoulder, and she could work on one of the lesson plans she'd be neglecting for her upcoming course on the fundamentals of Elementalism. The Crypt Cafe was a nice place to work, she found, because you never had to wait that long before someone you knew would come and disturb you, giving you a perfect excuse to look away from your work.
It wasn't long before she was curled up in a corner seat at the back of the cafe, a large cup of coffee (lots of cream, lots of sugar) in front of her and her laptop on her knees. She'd made it here. Now all that she had to do was wait for the other two to arrive...
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Fabricant451 Queen of Hearts
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RYLEIGH RAINE
The bell was ringing
Our souls were singing
Do you remember every cloudy day
Three Specific Mentions - @Silent Observer@Barrett
Every week Ryleigh told herself and her roommate, Gemma, that she was going to quit her job. At first it seemed like the right thing to do, though it had its perks - namely the brief hours and the opportunity to banter with some of the most dry newscasters this side of the Atlantic, but she couldn't escape the soul-crushing feeling that she was wasting her talents on a job she only got because the producer really wanted to sleep with her. And judging by the way he leered every time her segment came up she was certain he still thought he had a chance. Ryleigh learned fairly early on not to wear the little ear piece that the producers can feed lines into after the first month when her ear piece was overtaken by compliments on her dress.
Of course Ryleigh knew that quitting her job was kind of an impossibility, she didn't exactly have any other career prospects given her lack of a college degree and the market was already cornered on flower shops and herbal establishments. Given that she was still expected to pony up her half of the ren, her job was a necessary evil. She wondered what her family would think knowing that for all the knowledge swimming around in Ryleigh's brain - knowledge about spells and witchcraft and other bits that would make a normal civilian believe themselves to be in a dream - that she wound up using it in order to read weather for a few minutes on the morning news every weekday. Her coven would surely be so proud. As if they kept tabs on her for any reason other than making sure the Raine name didn't drag itself through the mud any more than it already was.
The absolute worst part was waking up. Technically news never slept but the morning news prided itself on being there for people that liked to turn the television on while they ate cold cereal and toast and needed a talking point for the water cooler when the hot show or sports were in the off season. Six in the morning every morning, which meant Raine had to be in the studio no later than five thirty. Fortunately Ryleigh had mastered the art of not making much noise when getting ready, Gemma didn't deserve to miss out on sleep because of Ryleigh's unique choices in life. Depending on the amount of coverage and breaking news, Ryleigh's segment came on anywhere between six thirty and seven and once more for the late arrivals at quarter to eight. Ten minutes, tops, with most of her work day spent in a chair while an underpaid intern put some bounce in her hair.
It could be worse, Ryleigh justified, she could always be on the evening news as well.
This morning saw Ryleigh take the early train to the news building, say her greeting to the poor desk clerk who existed just to tell people which elevator bank to go to, and arrive in the green room for the local news. It wasn't exactly the BBC - they probably had a bit more professional decorum comparatively - but it was still the news. Ryleigh didn't fully hate her job, of course, just the unfortunate personal inconveniences that every young professional surely felt; if there was a poll Ryleigh would be certain that ninety percent of people hated their jobs due to ridiculous reasons like 'not living up to their potential' or whatever. Though giving a weather forecast was not how a little Ryleigh envisioned her adult life, that she could get away with delivering the forecast in whatever manner she fancied (assuming it was fit for broadcast, of course) had kept her complacent for the most part.
"Can you believe we're still on about this Bloodfang nonsense?" From the makeup chair next to Ryleigh came the sharp voice of Constance Chapin, one of the two anchors (three if one included Heath Darcy, who did sports) and who Ryleigh always said looked a bit like Emily Blunt which was meant as a compliment but wasn't taken as such. "I've heard of slow news days but this is ridiculous."
Normally, Ryleigh wasn't the type to socialize with her co-workers when the camera wasn't rolling, but it was clear that Constance was trying to get some reinforcement. "Yeah, I can't imagine why people would wanna know about a guy that took out three girls. Sorry. Allegedly. Lawyers, right?" Ryleigh spoke up, doing little to hide her sarcasm.
Constance either hadn't expected the response or didn't appreciate it. The anchorwoman turned her gaze to the weather girl and the tightly pursed lips might as well have been a wealthy socialite looking down the nose at a pauper for all the vitriol contained therein. "It's nonsense. People actually believe this talk of 'Other'? That someone named Nick Bloodfang exists? Gullible idiots, the lot of them. The people that believe this 'Other' bunk probably believe anyone who wears a pointed hat is a witch."
"Witches don't wear those hats anymore, they went out of style in like the 1800s." Ryleigh replied in full-on deadpan and it wasn't until Constance glared at her that Ryleigh cleared her throat with a little bit of laughter. Her little off-handed remark was not at all appreciated by Constance.
"Viral marketing, that's all it is."
Ryleigh kept her comments to herself and let Constance rant and rave in peace. Ryleigh did suddenly have an idea for the day's weather report, though, and she had to excuse herself and take a trip down to wardrobe.
By the time the clock struck six, the Edgetoun News played its little ditty and the headlines were read off and reported on by the anchors. By quarter to seven Constance threw over to the weather. The weather report had its own name that Ryleigh requested by making a little request to the producer with winking eyes and a suggestive voice. Other news channels just had the weather. Edgetoun had 'Raine or Shine with Ryleigh Raine'.
"Thanks, Connie." Ryleigh knew that every time she called Constance 'Connie' that the anchor hated it. Constance was likely to hate Ryleigh's outfit this morning since it looked like a strong case of 'Halloween come early'. Ryleigh had a black pointed witch's hat, complete with wide bill, and to complete the ensemble she had a black and red corset and frilly skirt and heeled boots, something that wouldn't look out of place in a costume store for 'Sexy Witch', albeit a tame version. She even had a little wand in her hand which doubled as a pointer. "Ladies and gentlemen it's February and you know what that means. That's right, it means it's almost March. Fortunately today is going to be a bit brisk but not like the biting chill of winter. You can get away with a light jacket though I would leave the shorts at home."
Ryleigh gestured with her wand to the colored representation of clouds rolling in. "Of course it'll get cooler in the evening so for those of you who will be making the most of your Friday night, be sure to dress appropriately. It's hard to shake your stuff if your stuff is frigid. Do you ever shake your stuff, Connie, or are you too frigid?"
The camera cut to Constance who was struggling to keep her composure. Before Constance responded the focus was back on Ryleigh who now stood to the side and let the weekend forecast display show up for the viewers at home. "As you can see we're in for a bit of a cool weekend but spring is ever on the horizon. Which of course means now's the perfect time to invest in an umbrella. And as some of you are aware, this Sunday marks the full moon. I am required to inform you that in light of recent stories to take certain precautions. That, ladies and gentlemen, is your weekend forecast. Raine or Shine, I'm always on time. Now here's Mister Darcy to tell you how ardently he admires and loves sports."
When the cameras were off Ryleigh, she stepped away and went to the back to sit down and admire her handiwork. The job did have its perks. She might not have been quitting anytime soon, but she was sure that a certain anchor might be clamoring for her to be fired. It was the little things that made all the difference.
Ryleigh was out of the studio a little before nine and that was the best part of the gig. Early hours made for a fairly open schedule. The weather was kind of the most useless part of any given news broadcast given how easy it was to just check on a phone, but Ryleigh made the best of it. She had to give the people a reason to care and she settled on fun costumes and banter. Clearly it worked given she still had a job. With her job done and her attire back to normal, Ryleigh stopped into a coffee shop on her way back. Coffee wasn't normally her thing but her eye caught sight of a few pastries and often her stomach dictated the route.
The coffee shop was definitely some place she'd expect to find a congregation of people discussing acoustic rock music for hours which made it definitively 'not her scene' but coffee was coffee and pastries were pastries regardless of clientele. She did have to roll her eyes as they looked over the menu. What the hell was a 'cappurr-ccino'? Ryleigh made a mental note to maybe not come back here again if that was the kind of thing this place was going for. Why couldn't places just have a regular menu? She sounded like an old person now. It was quite unbecoming.
Ryleigh had her hands in the pockets of her jeans as she stood behind what she assumed was the only open register. An older man was talking somewhat intently with the young employee. It seemed like a private conversation but it wasn't as if Ryleigh could hear anything other than her own thoughts wandering and wondering who signed off on cat pun coffee menus. "You guys got like a May-December thing going on?" She spoke to the two of them with little regard for a filter. "Maybe you two can do your makeout thing later? I kinda wanna get a 'meow-chiato'."
"Excuse me.." A voice from behind Ryleigh drew her attention away from the conversation at the register and came face to face with someone that Ryleigh didn't know. They seemed to be a bit on the meek side given the small voice; if Ryleigh had to guess this person had simply rolled out of bed and went out. It seemed otherwise impossible for hair to be so...frizzy or a sweater to be so ghastly out of style by at least twenty years. Was that mauve? Did they make ANYTHING in mauve anymore?
"Line starts behind me." Ryleigh figured that would be the end of the interaction but she hadn't noticed that the mauve-clad person had a cup of coffee already in hand.
"Oh, no, not that. I...um...sorry if this is...you know...weird but...are you Ryleigh Raine? From the news?"
This was a first. Not technically, she'd been recognized before, but this was a rarity. Rare enough to where it felt like the first time. Though Ryleigh was on television five days a week it wasn't like she was a household name like an actual actress or something which was great for maintaining anonymity. "Never heard of her."
"You're funny in person too. I don't...I don't want a picture or anything I just wanted to say hi. I watch the weather every day." The person was either a fan or someone that just watched the news and by extension the weather. It was probably the closest they'd come to being star struck if Ryleigh had to hazard a guess. "Well...have a good day!"
And before Ryleigh could think of something witty to say, they were out the door and on their way. Not the strangest interaction she'd had with a fan but still it made Ryleigh shake her head and turn back to the cross-generational lover's meeting going on in front of her. Just as she was about to make another comment, the other worker behind the counter stood at the second register and waved Ryleigh over. "Does this place know that cats are lactose intolerant or is it just a cute little joke that the milk drinks are cat puns?" Ryleigh pulled out a crumpled bill and glanced again at the menu. "Now is the meow-chiato different from the es-purr-esso and don't you think that's a bit lazy when you already have cappurr-cino? Could I suggest 'kitty-au-lait'?" Ryleigh was smiling at her remarks which made for one person smiling at them. "Yeah, I'll get the macchiato and a cream cheese danish."
It seemed increasingly evident that Ryleigh wouldn't be coming back here anytime soon, if she wasn't barred from entry for her cheek anyway.
Of course Ryleigh knew that quitting her job was kind of an impossibility, she didn't exactly have any other career prospects given her lack of a college degree and the market was already cornered on flower shops and herbal establishments. Given that she was still expected to pony up her half of the ren, her job was a necessary evil. She wondered what her family would think knowing that for all the knowledge swimming around in Ryleigh's brain - knowledge about spells and witchcraft and other bits that would make a normal civilian believe themselves to be in a dream - that she wound up using it in order to read weather for a few minutes on the morning news every weekday. Her coven would surely be so proud. As if they kept tabs on her for any reason other than making sure the Raine name didn't drag itself through the mud any more than it already was.
The absolute worst part was waking up. Technically news never slept but the morning news prided itself on being there for people that liked to turn the television on while they ate cold cereal and toast and needed a talking point for the water cooler when the hot show or sports were in the off season. Six in the morning every morning, which meant Raine had to be in the studio no later than five thirty. Fortunately Ryleigh had mastered the art of not making much noise when getting ready, Gemma didn't deserve to miss out on sleep because of Ryleigh's unique choices in life. Depending on the amount of coverage and breaking news, Ryleigh's segment came on anywhere between six thirty and seven and once more for the late arrivals at quarter to eight. Ten minutes, tops, with most of her work day spent in a chair while an underpaid intern put some bounce in her hair.
It could be worse, Ryleigh justified, she could always be on the evening news as well.
This morning saw Ryleigh take the early train to the news building, say her greeting to the poor desk clerk who existed just to tell people which elevator bank to go to, and arrive in the green room for the local news. It wasn't exactly the BBC - they probably had a bit more professional decorum comparatively - but it was still the news. Ryleigh didn't fully hate her job, of course, just the unfortunate personal inconveniences that every young professional surely felt; if there was a poll Ryleigh would be certain that ninety percent of people hated their jobs due to ridiculous reasons like 'not living up to their potential' or whatever. Though giving a weather forecast was not how a little Ryleigh envisioned her adult life, that she could get away with delivering the forecast in whatever manner she fancied (assuming it was fit for broadcast, of course) had kept her complacent for the most part.
"Can you believe we're still on about this Bloodfang nonsense?" From the makeup chair next to Ryleigh came the sharp voice of Constance Chapin, one of the two anchors (three if one included Heath Darcy, who did sports) and who Ryleigh always said looked a bit like Emily Blunt which was meant as a compliment but wasn't taken as such. "I've heard of slow news days but this is ridiculous."
Normally, Ryleigh wasn't the type to socialize with her co-workers when the camera wasn't rolling, but it was clear that Constance was trying to get some reinforcement. "Yeah, I can't imagine why people would wanna know about a guy that took out three girls. Sorry. Allegedly. Lawyers, right?" Ryleigh spoke up, doing little to hide her sarcasm.
Constance either hadn't expected the response or didn't appreciate it. The anchorwoman turned her gaze to the weather girl and the tightly pursed lips might as well have been a wealthy socialite looking down the nose at a pauper for all the vitriol contained therein. "It's nonsense. People actually believe this talk of 'Other'? That someone named Nick Bloodfang exists? Gullible idiots, the lot of them. The people that believe this 'Other' bunk probably believe anyone who wears a pointed hat is a witch."
"Witches don't wear those hats anymore, they went out of style in like the 1800s." Ryleigh replied in full-on deadpan and it wasn't until Constance glared at her that Ryleigh cleared her throat with a little bit of laughter. Her little off-handed remark was not at all appreciated by Constance.
"Viral marketing, that's all it is."
Ryleigh kept her comments to herself and let Constance rant and rave in peace. Ryleigh did suddenly have an idea for the day's weather report, though, and she had to excuse herself and take a trip down to wardrobe.
By the time the clock struck six, the Edgetoun News played its little ditty and the headlines were read off and reported on by the anchors. By quarter to seven Constance threw over to the weather. The weather report had its own name that Ryleigh requested by making a little request to the producer with winking eyes and a suggestive voice. Other news channels just had the weather. Edgetoun had 'Raine or Shine with Ryleigh Raine'.
"Thanks, Connie." Ryleigh knew that every time she called Constance 'Connie' that the anchor hated it. Constance was likely to hate Ryleigh's outfit this morning since it looked like a strong case of 'Halloween come early'. Ryleigh had a black pointed witch's hat, complete with wide bill, and to complete the ensemble she had a black and red corset and frilly skirt and heeled boots, something that wouldn't look out of place in a costume store for 'Sexy Witch', albeit a tame version. She even had a little wand in her hand which doubled as a pointer. "Ladies and gentlemen it's February and you know what that means. That's right, it means it's almost March. Fortunately today is going to be a bit brisk but not like the biting chill of winter. You can get away with a light jacket though I would leave the shorts at home."
Ryleigh gestured with her wand to the colored representation of clouds rolling in. "Of course it'll get cooler in the evening so for those of you who will be making the most of your Friday night, be sure to dress appropriately. It's hard to shake your stuff if your stuff is frigid. Do you ever shake your stuff, Connie, or are you too frigid?"
The camera cut to Constance who was struggling to keep her composure. Before Constance responded the focus was back on Ryleigh who now stood to the side and let the weekend forecast display show up for the viewers at home. "As you can see we're in for a bit of a cool weekend but spring is ever on the horizon. Which of course means now's the perfect time to invest in an umbrella. And as some of you are aware, this Sunday marks the full moon. I am required to inform you that in light of recent stories to take certain precautions. That, ladies and gentlemen, is your weekend forecast. Raine or Shine, I'm always on time. Now here's Mister Darcy to tell you how ardently he admires and loves sports."
When the cameras were off Ryleigh, she stepped away and went to the back to sit down and admire her handiwork. The job did have its perks. She might not have been quitting anytime soon, but she was sure that a certain anchor might be clamoring for her to be fired. It was the little things that made all the difference.
Ryleigh was out of the studio a little before nine and that was the best part of the gig. Early hours made for a fairly open schedule. The weather was kind of the most useless part of any given news broadcast given how easy it was to just check on a phone, but Ryleigh made the best of it. She had to give the people a reason to care and she settled on fun costumes and banter. Clearly it worked given she still had a job. With her job done and her attire back to normal, Ryleigh stopped into a coffee shop on her way back. Coffee wasn't normally her thing but her eye caught sight of a few pastries and often her stomach dictated the route.
The coffee shop was definitely some place she'd expect to find a congregation of people discussing acoustic rock music for hours which made it definitively 'not her scene' but coffee was coffee and pastries were pastries regardless of clientele. She did have to roll her eyes as they looked over the menu. What the hell was a 'cappurr-ccino'? Ryleigh made a mental note to maybe not come back here again if that was the kind of thing this place was going for. Why couldn't places just have a regular menu? She sounded like an old person now. It was quite unbecoming.
Ryleigh had her hands in the pockets of her jeans as she stood behind what she assumed was the only open register. An older man was talking somewhat intently with the young employee. It seemed like a private conversation but it wasn't as if Ryleigh could hear anything other than her own thoughts wandering and wondering who signed off on cat pun coffee menus. "You guys got like a May-December thing going on?" She spoke to the two of them with little regard for a filter. "Maybe you two can do your makeout thing later? I kinda wanna get a 'meow-chiato'."
"Excuse me.." A voice from behind Ryleigh drew her attention away from the conversation at the register and came face to face with someone that Ryleigh didn't know. They seemed to be a bit on the meek side given the small voice; if Ryleigh had to guess this person had simply rolled out of bed and went out. It seemed otherwise impossible for hair to be so...frizzy or a sweater to be so ghastly out of style by at least twenty years. Was that mauve? Did they make ANYTHING in mauve anymore?
"Line starts behind me." Ryleigh figured that would be the end of the interaction but she hadn't noticed that the mauve-clad person had a cup of coffee already in hand.
"Oh, no, not that. I...um...sorry if this is...you know...weird but...are you Ryleigh Raine? From the news?"
This was a first. Not technically, she'd been recognized before, but this was a rarity. Rare enough to where it felt like the first time. Though Ryleigh was on television five days a week it wasn't like she was a household name like an actual actress or something which was great for maintaining anonymity. "Never heard of her."
"You're funny in person too. I don't...I don't want a picture or anything I just wanted to say hi. I watch the weather every day." The person was either a fan or someone that just watched the news and by extension the weather. It was probably the closest they'd come to being star struck if Ryleigh had to hazard a guess. "Well...have a good day!"
And before Ryleigh could think of something witty to say, they were out the door and on their way. Not the strangest interaction she'd had with a fan but still it made Ryleigh shake her head and turn back to the cross-generational lover's meeting going on in front of her. Just as she was about to make another comment, the other worker behind the counter stood at the second register and waved Ryleigh over. "Does this place know that cats are lactose intolerant or is it just a cute little joke that the milk drinks are cat puns?" Ryleigh pulled out a crumpled bill and glanced again at the menu. "Now is the meow-chiato different from the es-purr-esso and don't you think that's a bit lazy when you already have cappurr-cino? Could I suggest 'kitty-au-lait'?" Ryleigh was smiling at her remarks which made for one person smiling at them. "Yeah, I'll get the macchiato and a cream cheese danish."
It seemed increasingly evident that Ryleigh wouldn't be coming back here anytime soon, if she wasn't barred from entry for her cheek anyway.
KAREN SCALETTI
Give a little bit
Give a little bit of your love to me
There's so much that we need to share. So send a smile, and show you care
Karen was running late this morning and that might as well have been the end of the world. She had always prided herself on being a bit on the punctual side but today was different. When the alarm sounded, yanking Karen from a happy dream where she was being given a cute little trophy for 'Teacher of the Year', she promptly put the pillow back over her head and pleaded for a few more minutes before somewhere in the back of her mind she convinced herself it was Saturday. That seemed right. It felt like a Saturday so it must have been a Saturday. There wasn't any school on Saturday so she didn't have to have office hours which meant a little more sleep before spending the day with a mug of coffee, a few crackers with cheese spread, and catching up on reality dating programs or seeing what streaming had to offer. Kind of the perfect Saturday in a way. She really wanted to know who was going to win the heart of the Bachelorette this series.
The dreams of an ideal Saturday lasted for a good half hour before her children voiced their wish for breakfast. Still, not the worst thing to happen. She could get out of bed, feed her kids, then crawl back for another hour or so. The cries for sustenance only grew louder and Karen voiced her understanding as she crawled out of bed, bare feet sending a sudden shiver up her spine as she stepped on cold flooring.
Karen rubbed her eyes as she crossed from her bedroom to the kitchen. Her steps were light but they seemed to echo off the plain eggshell walls which were devoid of any decoration; the only bit of decoration was a framed photo on the mantle in the living room. The photo in question was of Karen and her two children which was a bit of a hassle to get taken in the first place given how unruly kids could be. Karen's place was lived in but every bit of it felt like it was unoccupied. If it wasn't for the stack of mail on the coffee table it could almost seem like Karen was squatting; she wasn't, she just lived in a place where the only rooms that saw any use were the kitchen, the living room, and her bedroom which had a bathroom attached to it. There was plenty of space for others but there was only one pair of shoes. One person's clothes in the closet. A fridge of condiments and leftover Chinese takeaway. A drawer full of takeaway menus. A bedroom bookshelf full of pulpy novels with Fabio wannabe's on the cover.
Karen set two bowls out and opened the cupboard next to the fridge. The familiar sound of bits of food clinking against the bowl summoned her kids from their own beds. "Hey, hey, wait until I put it down." Karen spoke with a softly stern voice but it was the only way to get the kids to back away. She set the bowls down on the floor, next to their water dish. "Breakfast is served." With a purr of acknowledgment, Raggedy Anne and Haggardly Randi dug into their food while Karen gave them space to enjoy their kibble.
Though she would've liked to crawl back into bed she knew full well that once she was up she was up for good. Yawning, Karen took a seat in the living room, reaching for the remote and turning the television on. "Do you ever shake your stuff, Connie, or are you too frigid?" There was a little bit of relief in knowing that she didn't miss Raine or Shine, arguably the highlight of the otherwise dry morning news. It was strange, though, she didn't think Ryleigh Raine did the weather on Saturday. Karen's eyes went wide as it became clear that today wasn't Saturday at all. Now came the time to scramble.
A quick shower, a quicker battle with her eternal frizzy bedhead, and a debate over the outfit of the day - a purple sweater and jeans won out in the end - and Karen was at least on track to make decent time. Her office hours started at nine and she had already wasted time in ignoring her alarm and taking her sweet time in feeding her cats. By the time she was out the door she had totally forgotten that she hadn't had breakfast. It wasn't even eight and she was already anxious and exhausted and wondering how she was going to make it through the day.
One of these days Karen was going to invest in a car but with the absence of a personal vehicle she was going to have to walk as she did fairly regularly. Some days she arranged a ride but she tended to enjoy the walk, it wasn't all that long from her residence to the high school and public transportation was always handy so she never particularly minded the lack of a car. She was a bit pressed for time today, however, which led to a little bit of a quickened pace, especially since she would be going a little bit out of her way. While many students enjoyed their coffee from The Crypt, Karen found the name a bit bleak and its location even more so; Karen generally preferred going to the Daily Grind because where else could she get a cappurr-ccino? How adorable was that? Sometimes they even drew a little cat on the cup and that was always worth the extra trip.
It was a good half hour or so but she made it to the Grind and took a moment to catch her breath from her quicker pace. She stepped to the counter and ordered her usual: cappurr-ccino and a cranberry muffin, and deposited her change in the tip jar - along with a little extra - and she stepped to the side. Usually she would save the muffin for when she got to school but she needed the extra bit of energy so while she waited for her drink to be made she enjoyed the muffin. Most of it, anyway. The final few bites she almost choked on as she saw an incredibly familiar face enter the Grind.
For what seemed like an hour Karen wondered if she should go say something. She'd never met someone famous, or at least someone that was on television before, and yet there was someone she had just seen this morning. She was so absorbed in the moment that it took the barista tapping her on the shoulder to hand over the drink for Karen to remember a few specifics. Namely her pressed schedule. In all her time coming here, she'd never seen her here. What if this was a one time thing? She could just...say hello. Nothing weird about that. She would just be confident and friendly, like any other person.
"Excuse me..." Karen approached and spoke up, there was likely not going to be another opportunity to just say hello.
"Line starts behind me."
"Oh, no, not that. I...um...sorry if this is...you know...weird but...are you Ryleigh Raine? From the news?" So much for the confidence. Karen could hear her voice shaking and wavering but she couldn't just tap out now, not when she'd jumped over the hardest hurdle already. There was something kind of intimidating about Ryleigh, it had to be because Karen knew hew from the news and she had built up in her mind the belief that people on television were somehow unapproachable by the average citizen.
"Never heard of her."
Karen chuckled at the comment. It was a good little joke and it probably came from a place of constant recognition. Karen was probably just another on a long line of people that Ryleigh had to deal with on a daily basis. "You're funny in person too. I don't...I don't want a picture or anything I just wanted to say hi. I watch the weather every day." If she didn't have a coffee in one hand she might've palmed her on forehead at that. Now Ryleigh probably thought Karen was a weird stalker type. She basically just admitted that she watched Ryleigh every day. A bit creepy. Now was the time to bail out before she made it worse.
"Well...have a good day!"
Karen didn't even wave before she was out the door and putting distance between her and the Daily Grind. She could never come back there. Not if she would run into Ryleigh Raine again and make things even more awkward. Maybe it was time to embrace the Crypt Cafe. So what if it was near a graveyard, it wasn't as if zombies would sprout up all of a sudden. Just when she thought that being potentially late was the worst thing that could happen today.
Late. That's right. She had to hurry on.
Karen jogged the last distance to Crowley High when she rounded the corner that the school sat on. She had to take a moment to catch her breath outside the staff entrance and to compose herself. When she stepped through the doors she wasn't 'Karen who lived alone with two cats', she was 'Karen who lived alone with two cats but also a guidance counselor who helped wayward teens make good decisions'. There was a very clear distinction between the two.
Her office was as she left it. Her hard-earned degree hanging on the wall. The cabinet in the corner where her puppets lived. The guitar in the opposite corner for when she needed a musical touch to connect to the students. The comfy chairs to make the students feel at home and safe. Her desk with the screen saver of a cat pawing at a ball of yarn. Photos of Karen at various school events dotted her desk and the walls, along with several motivational posters (including no fewer than five that had cat motifs), and a few stress balls that sat atop her desk. There was an air of comfort and caring in every corner of her office, which was clearly by design. By her watch, she had made it with only a few minutes to spare. A bit close, but life was a series of close calls. She read that on a fortune cookie before.
For what it was worth, the counselor was in.
The dreams of an ideal Saturday lasted for a good half hour before her children voiced their wish for breakfast. Still, not the worst thing to happen. She could get out of bed, feed her kids, then crawl back for another hour or so. The cries for sustenance only grew louder and Karen voiced her understanding as she crawled out of bed, bare feet sending a sudden shiver up her spine as she stepped on cold flooring.
Karen rubbed her eyes as she crossed from her bedroom to the kitchen. Her steps were light but they seemed to echo off the plain eggshell walls which were devoid of any decoration; the only bit of decoration was a framed photo on the mantle in the living room. The photo in question was of Karen and her two children which was a bit of a hassle to get taken in the first place given how unruly kids could be. Karen's place was lived in but every bit of it felt like it was unoccupied. If it wasn't for the stack of mail on the coffee table it could almost seem like Karen was squatting; she wasn't, she just lived in a place where the only rooms that saw any use were the kitchen, the living room, and her bedroom which had a bathroom attached to it. There was plenty of space for others but there was only one pair of shoes. One person's clothes in the closet. A fridge of condiments and leftover Chinese takeaway. A drawer full of takeaway menus. A bedroom bookshelf full of pulpy novels with Fabio wannabe's on the cover.
Karen set two bowls out and opened the cupboard next to the fridge. The familiar sound of bits of food clinking against the bowl summoned her kids from their own beds. "Hey, hey, wait until I put it down." Karen spoke with a softly stern voice but it was the only way to get the kids to back away. She set the bowls down on the floor, next to their water dish. "Breakfast is served." With a purr of acknowledgment, Raggedy Anne and Haggardly Randi dug into their food while Karen gave them space to enjoy their kibble.
Though she would've liked to crawl back into bed she knew full well that once she was up she was up for good. Yawning, Karen took a seat in the living room, reaching for the remote and turning the television on. "Do you ever shake your stuff, Connie, or are you too frigid?" There was a little bit of relief in knowing that she didn't miss Raine or Shine, arguably the highlight of the otherwise dry morning news. It was strange, though, she didn't think Ryleigh Raine did the weather on Saturday. Karen's eyes went wide as it became clear that today wasn't Saturday at all. Now came the time to scramble.
A quick shower, a quicker battle with her eternal frizzy bedhead, and a debate over the outfit of the day - a purple sweater and jeans won out in the end - and Karen was at least on track to make decent time. Her office hours started at nine and she had already wasted time in ignoring her alarm and taking her sweet time in feeding her cats. By the time she was out the door she had totally forgotten that she hadn't had breakfast. It wasn't even eight and she was already anxious and exhausted and wondering how she was going to make it through the day.
One of these days Karen was going to invest in a car but with the absence of a personal vehicle she was going to have to walk as she did fairly regularly. Some days she arranged a ride but she tended to enjoy the walk, it wasn't all that long from her residence to the high school and public transportation was always handy so she never particularly minded the lack of a car. She was a bit pressed for time today, however, which led to a little bit of a quickened pace, especially since she would be going a little bit out of her way. While many students enjoyed their coffee from The Crypt, Karen found the name a bit bleak and its location even more so; Karen generally preferred going to the Daily Grind because where else could she get a cappurr-ccino? How adorable was that? Sometimes they even drew a little cat on the cup and that was always worth the extra trip.
It was a good half hour or so but she made it to the Grind and took a moment to catch her breath from her quicker pace. She stepped to the counter and ordered her usual: cappurr-ccino and a cranberry muffin, and deposited her change in the tip jar - along with a little extra - and she stepped to the side. Usually she would save the muffin for when she got to school but she needed the extra bit of energy so while she waited for her drink to be made she enjoyed the muffin. Most of it, anyway. The final few bites she almost choked on as she saw an incredibly familiar face enter the Grind.
For what seemed like an hour Karen wondered if she should go say something. She'd never met someone famous, or at least someone that was on television before, and yet there was someone she had just seen this morning. She was so absorbed in the moment that it took the barista tapping her on the shoulder to hand over the drink for Karen to remember a few specifics. Namely her pressed schedule. In all her time coming here, she'd never seen her here. What if this was a one time thing? She could just...say hello. Nothing weird about that. She would just be confident and friendly, like any other person.
"Excuse me..." Karen approached and spoke up, there was likely not going to be another opportunity to just say hello.
"Line starts behind me."
"Oh, no, not that. I...um...sorry if this is...you know...weird but...are you Ryleigh Raine? From the news?" So much for the confidence. Karen could hear her voice shaking and wavering but she couldn't just tap out now, not when she'd jumped over the hardest hurdle already. There was something kind of intimidating about Ryleigh, it had to be because Karen knew hew from the news and she had built up in her mind the belief that people on television were somehow unapproachable by the average citizen.
"Never heard of her."
Karen chuckled at the comment. It was a good little joke and it probably came from a place of constant recognition. Karen was probably just another on a long line of people that Ryleigh had to deal with on a daily basis. "You're funny in person too. I don't...I don't want a picture or anything I just wanted to say hi. I watch the weather every day." If she didn't have a coffee in one hand she might've palmed her on forehead at that. Now Ryleigh probably thought Karen was a weird stalker type. She basically just admitted that she watched Ryleigh every day. A bit creepy. Now was the time to bail out before she made it worse.
"Well...have a good day!"
Karen didn't even wave before she was out the door and putting distance between her and the Daily Grind. She could never come back there. Not if she would run into Ryleigh Raine again and make things even more awkward. Maybe it was time to embrace the Crypt Cafe. So what if it was near a graveyard, it wasn't as if zombies would sprout up all of a sudden. Just when she thought that being potentially late was the worst thing that could happen today.
Late. That's right. She had to hurry on.
Karen jogged the last distance to Crowley High when she rounded the corner that the school sat on. She had to take a moment to catch her breath outside the staff entrance and to compose herself. When she stepped through the doors she wasn't 'Karen who lived alone with two cats', she was 'Karen who lived alone with two cats but also a guidance counselor who helped wayward teens make good decisions'. There was a very clear distinction between the two.
Her office was as she left it. Her hard-earned degree hanging on the wall. The cabinet in the corner where her puppets lived. The guitar in the opposite corner for when she needed a musical touch to connect to the students. The comfy chairs to make the students feel at home and safe. Her desk with the screen saver of a cat pawing at a ball of yarn. Photos of Karen at various school events dotted her desk and the walls, along with several motivational posters (including no fewer than five that had cat motifs), and a few stress balls that sat atop her desk. There was an air of comfort and caring in every corner of her office, which was clearly by design. By her watch, she had made it with only a few minutes to spare. A bit close, but life was a series of close calls. She read that on a fortune cookie before.
For what it was worth, the counselor was in.
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