---

In the early part of the afternoon, the sun shone merrily over the town of Sanctuary Hills.The day was warm, but with a nice breeze to help dry the sweat off of one’s brow, and keep them cool. People seemed too optimistic to credit the dark clouds to the west.

Summer is a favorite time of year for many residents of Sanctuary Hills. School is out, the town is less crowded without as many college students milling around. Even today, though, there were still some students lugging their worldly belongings from one of the dorms to the parking lot at Brooke Hall. And a handful had sought lodging in town, either for summer classes, or to work a summer job and stay nearby.
The library was still open, though a missive had been sent to all students that if they did not manually renew any checked-out books, they would be summoned back to the school on Friday, regardless of how long they had on their loan.

Many restaurants in Town Square had set tables out in front, to take advantage of the fair weather. Some reached all the way onto the brick of the square itself. The crowd amongst them consisted of townies, as well as some students and even a few parents who were in town to drive their children home from college.

Sanctuary Thrills had its summer discount in effect, which was coaxing a little more custom. All of the rides were open today, without an “out of order” sign in sight. The Ursa Major was roaring along at regular intervals, punctuated by the screams of its riders, and a handful of vendors cried their wares over the din.

But weather in the summer can be fickle, and before anyone could credit it, a thick layer of clouds covered the town, and disgorged its payload of rain. It seemed that not even the local weather channels had predicted that the rain clouds would move this direction, although not everyone was taken completely by surprise. Anyone tuned to 101.1 got about twenty minutes of advance warning, as “I Swear” by All-4-One was interrupted by the mysterious DJ Aaron(Erin?), who simply advised their listeners to “Fetch you an umbrella,” before resuming regularly scheduled programming.

Samantha Semenova, daughter of Professor Semenov, the locally famous magical anthropologist, watched as the freak rain came pelting down hard outside of the J.W. Steward's storefront and did a very rare thing.

She smiled, ever so slightly.

Surprisingly, there were some students who, with their apartment leases ending in the next few days, would rather lug their furniture to the nearest dumpsters rather than drag it home or sell their items back to the store. So her boss, Emily, had decided to hire a few of the male students who were staying in town and drive around in the store truck to do some judicious dumpster diving.

"Oh no, don't take the witch," she muttered to herself. But Emily was insistent that the store had to be manned today, of all days. So here she was.

Hidden behind the counter, in the well next to where the register sat, she had a miniature display set up of white plastic walls with round depressions, with a small fireplace on the end wall and a very large mirror. It all sat in an old tray of stenciled fiberboard.

J.W., it was claimed, had set this display up after a sales trip abroad to London one summer in the 60's, and had seen it in some television show there. He had actually bought some antique rent table to put into the middle of this dated display, and would putter around with it for hours.

Emily wanted it thrown out, but Sam had a different idea, shrinking it down to its current size. After all, Emily didn't say she couldn't keep the dated display herself, she just wanted it gone.

The miniature furniture were all items she'd found in the back and shrunk as well. Technically, it wasn't stealing as these items never left the store.

And it gave her something to do while waiting for customers who weren't going to venture in because of the rain or for Emily and some drenched boys to return from their trip to all the apartment dumpsters.

Rose sighed as she woke up from her shrunken apartment in the backrooms. Rain was not something she liked dealing with- raindrops the size of your head could always be a problem. Still, while she didn't necessarily have to water the outdoor plants, she still needed to check on the greenhouse, so her wings fluttered and carried the little fairy off on her rounds.

"Good morning," she said to Robert, one of the many Ogre-Eye Lilies she cultivated.

"Morning," the red flower responded. "Got any fertilizer? Martha's been a little skimpy on the Miracle-Gro lately."

"Sure thing." As Rose mixed up the plant food, the other vegetables started to gripe to her. Children, all of them- but she still cared for them.

---

"Well, I don't know why I came here tonight. / I got the feeling that something ain't right..." Valeriano squatted by Phil's Coffeehouse's back door, his black apron barely brushing the tops of his sneakers. The first drops had already penetrated the asphalt, and the low rumble of thunder filled the town. "I'm so scared hmm, hmm, hmm fall off my chair..."

Val wore a blasé and unbothered expression, the half-finished cigarette dangling off his lips, while he gazed at heavy, baleful clouds which now dominated the sky. "...and I'm wondering hmm, hmm, hmm down the stairs..."

"...Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right..." What started just minutes ago as a light sprinkle gradually turned torrential. From there, Val watched as a curtain of rain began to fall over Sanctuary Hills, and his humming came to an end.

"Shit," he sighed, annoyed and a little frustrated as the water came up to him. "Guess break's over." Val took one long drag off his cigarette and snuffed it out on the ground, flicking the butt into the you're-sweeping-it-up-later oblivion. The barista hopped to his feet and into the coffeehouse before he could get more soaked. Smoothing the front of his apron, Val marched himself dutifully to the storefront, where already a few patrons and passersby were hurriedly pouring in, hoping to take cover from, well, the downpour.

Valeriano beckoned the customer who'd been holding the door open. "'mon in. I'll take it from here," he said, reaching into his pocket and squeezing some hunk of calcite therein. The coffee shop magician took over, and he murmured a few words in an unintelligible tongue. Val stepped out and leaned back against the door, ushering people off the streets and into Phil's.

With an arcing flourish, Val quickly withdrew his hand from his pocket and held it above his head. Reacting accordingly, a field of raindrops around Val radiated outward from him before continuing their descent. The falling rain then appeared to yield a sphere of dry air around Val, which extended over a large patch of the outside seating and became more of an invisible box. This umbrella-like barrier provided enough shelter for the last folks to enter the shop. Except for one.

"Mi—chael—" Val said exasperatedly, his voice strained. "Just leave it. I can getcha a fresh one."

"But— it'll get wet..." the customer fretted.

"I know. I'll take care of it later, just get in here," Val urged through gritted teeth.

Michael dejectedly squeezed past Valeriano into the restaurant, tossing a forlorn glance at the croissant, now soggy, and the coffee cup-turned-mini rain barrel.

Val rolled his eyes as that last man entered the shop. He released his concentration, and with that, he drew in a sharp breath of air. Almost immediately, the suspended rain splattered on the ground, and the rest continued to fall normally. Sighing with relief, he slammed the door shut, ringing the shopkeeper bell loud, and Val made his way back to the counter, where a line was forming.

"Hi, welcome to Phil's Coffeehouse. Just a second." Val squeezed behind the counter, wiping his hands off on his apron and smudging some white dust on it. He switched the radio to 101.1 FM and turned the volume up on the coffeehouse speakers just a tad to overcome the rain. Val spun around to face the first in line, and he pressed his hands down on the countertop, back in customer service mode. "Alright, sorry 'bout that. Can I take your order?"

"...Clowns to the left of me, / jokers to the right, / here I am— / stuck in the middle with you!..."

---

---

It started out as a pretty ordinary battery jump call. Professor Abernathy was trying to leave Sanctuary Hills University for the last time until fall, and of course her aging Volvo chose that moment to fail to start. For a call like this, she was in the shop’s pickup truck, instead of the usual tow truck.

“At least it’s a nice enough day,” the professor remarked, as Georgia pulled a set of jumper cables out of the truck. They were neatly coiled, held in their loop by a wide velcro strap. Georgia made a non-committal humming noise in response, and Professor Abernathy seemed unlikely to be dissuaded from talking. “You know, if you have to be stuck outside for an hour or two.”

Georgia grimaced, but said nothing. It had taken her only forty-five minutes from the time she received the call to arriving here, but there wasn’t any sense correcting her. And besides, she might not have meant anything by the comment. Some people just hyperbolize. Instead, she continued her work. It was a trivial job, but being stranded was no fun and most people would be more appreciative of this than if she had rebuilt their engine. Luckily the parking lot had thinned out, and it was easy to put the nose of the pickup right up against the Volvo. She started the truck’s engine. The radio immediately kicked on, crooning at her "For better or worse, till death do us part..." and Georgia practically punched the power button to cut it off.

“You’re a life-saver, Georgie!” the Professor called out after her Volvo followed suit. She stepped back out of her vehicle as it idled, to shake Georgia’s hand.

“Oh, it was nothing much, ma’am,” Georgia averted her gaze as she began to wrap her jumper cables back up, just as neat as she had gotten them. She was looking down at her hands when the first raindrop hit her on the back of the head. There was only time enough to lift her head up in surprise before a sheet of rain washed over them both.

“Oh now, and now I’ve got you stuck out in the rain with me!” The Professor seemed genuinely distressed by the predicament, but Georgia shrugged it off easily, trying to back toward her truck to get in and out of the rain, but feeling like she couldn’t end the interaction with a customer.

“Not really, ma’am, I’d probably be out here doing something, if not this. I reckon I was gonna get wet today,” as she continued the conversation, she held the rolled jumper cables over her head, but they were paltry cover. “But you get yourself home, I’ll be alright,” even as she said it, a crack of thunder burst from somewhere to the west.

The two parted, and Georgia climbed into the truck’s cab, trying to wipe some of the water from her face and hair. She flipped her windshield wipers on, and through the clearing glass, she spotted a handful of indistinct forms hobbling from the quad, apparently carrying heavy loads between them. Georgia put the truck in gear and trundled it across the lot to the edge where they would come off the grass. As they approached, she saw that they were all carrying furniture, a surprisingly large couch, some kind of desk chair and a shelf.

It was pretty apparent where they were heading, Georgia recognized Emily Steward’s truck in the parking lot. It already had a range of different pieces of furniture in the bed, and she guessed that Miss Steward was collecting furniture for her store, probably from students who were moving out today. Before she could stop herself, Georgia had already rolled down her window, and called out to the group.

“Y’all need a hand?”

They did. Not realizing it was going to rain, they had grabbed more than they could haul back to the shop in one trip, intending to leave it in the parking lot and come back in half an hour or so. Georgia grabbed a rain poncho from under her seat, and helped load the couch into the back of her own truck, throwing a tarp over it(wet as it already was). She followed the J.W. Steward’s truck back to Town Square, putting the radio back on to listen to Stuck In The Middle With You by Stealer’s Wheel.

Soon, Georgia was tracking water and mud inside with the rest of the hastily hired crew, holding up one end of the couch as they brought it in the back door. Even as Miss Steward came through with a rolling desk chair, she was calling up to the front of the shop.

“Sam! We need towels back here!” Under her breath she continued, “Unless you can dry up some water with magic…”

Georgia pretended not to hear this last bit, and instead joined the two college boys who were looking forlornly out the open door into the downpour.

“C’mon,” she said simply, “There’s more,” and she walked back through the rain to the truck to grab the next piece.

@Expendable

"Sam! We need towels back here!" Emily yelled from the back.

"Coming!" Sam yelled back, placing the miniaturized chair back on her display. Turning, she headed to housewares and grabbed two stacks of their good seconds towels, those that still had life but were too worn to be firsts. Of course, it would be her job to get them washed, dried, and stacked again.

While both stacks were tall, they weren't too heavy, just hard to see past as she headed down the aisle for the back room. Slipping inside the storeroom, Sam called out, "I got the towels!" as she put them down on the small desk, next to the industrial gold-tan time clock.

Turning towards the loading bay, she groans at the muddy footprints the boys were bringing in.. Wait, was that Georgia helping them?

What, is this your witch scout good deed for the day? Sam sighs, watching the mechanic.

"Emily, I'm going to go across the street for coffee, okay?" It would warm them up some, and faster than setting up the coffee urn. Maybe if she was lucky, they still had some donuts left.

"No! You can't! Graintaire!"

Her words were crafted upon the chords of fate, and rang true through the din of combat and storm. It was a miracle I could hear her over it all—The screams of men as they lay dying, the torment of souls as the Gate opened in the sky above, the tempestuous rush of wind as it escaped our mortal realm into the Hell that rent our sky asunder—and yet it was also my damnation. My blade quavered in the air. My arms felt, at last, the weight and labor of the day's fighting. I hesitated, but did not lower my weapon. Even as her cries reached me, I dared not look away from Grennich. His pale features stared back at me, and in the blackness of his eyes I saw myself reflected in the arcane glow of the Gate above.

That reflection struck me; it was the same vision from the Oracle. My blade coursing with energy, raised to a point as if it were my own hands that had cleaved the sky in twain. My eyes widened, and Grennich sneered up at me as if he could read my mind.

"You see it now. How the butterfly's wings—" Grennich's venomous words halted with a gurgling, wretching, cough. Black phlegm and ichor flecked his lips and ran from a gash upon his forehead. I dared not move, even as I sensed the dark energies of the Otherworld manifesting around me. Every second I hesitated, the more death and carnage would wax around me. At last, Grennich continued in a whisper; "—Bring the hurricane. This is your fault, Grantaire. You cannot do it because you are weak! Without me, you are but a vessel for a blade, with no will of your own! Better that I use your power than it! I at least gave you a choice!"

My shoulders slackened at his words. My eyes shut for the briefest of moments. When I opened my eyes next, the blade's energy was coursing through them. Lightning crackled within my eyes and I raised the blade higher. As I swung it about slowly above my head, I felt the weight of the sword multiply as the sky moved with its tip. The tempest above, the scar in the sky which was spreading and devouring our world, reacted to the blade's movements. Each swing of my arms brought the storm to greater heights, the clouds darkening and thickening until great streaks of lightning were raining down around me. In great swathes, the hordes of Otherkin that were streaming earthward from the Gate were obliterated in the surging electrical blasts.

"No!" Her words rang true yet again, but this time I deafened myself to them. Fighting through fatigue, exhaustion, and the loss of my own blood I raised the blade one last time. Its weight was incredible. I could feel my entire body aching under Atlas' burden, the blade holding the sky itself on its point. In that last moment, which to me stretched for an eternity as I stared down into Grennich's blackened eyes and saw the storm raging against the hellfire of the Gate and myself silhouetted against that impossible arcane horrorscape, I felt like a God.

But when I brought my blade down, that moment of ecstasy turned to torture and obliteration. As I brought the blade down, bringing with it a column of lightning that sprung from beyond the firmament of the heavens, Yvonne was suddenly before me. I could not believe how quickly triumph could turn to horror. How swiftly Godhood could become a curse. In the blinding light that fell, the last thing I saw as she shielded Grennich's body with her own was her lips moving. My own blood filled my ears, I could no longer hear her voice, but in the glow of lightning the words 'I love you' were seared into my vision and mind.

Then, all was dark.

---

Tobias jerked away from his desk with such violence that he tumbled to the ground and hurtled into the empty bedframe. The banging on the door was joined by his head knocking against the metal edge of the frame, then the less significant thud of his head hitting the floor with the rest of his body. He groaned quietly, shutting his eyes tight.

"Malkinson you were scheduled to be out of there yesterday. This is your last chance before they bill you for the summer and write your grandmother—" Before the threat could be finished, Tobias was on his feet with a hand pressed to the back of his head. He reached the door and threw it open just as the speaker finished their intimidation, "—That you're being a nuisance. Ah, somehow I knew that would get you on your feet."

"Mel." Toby said in a groan. "Can't you cut me a break, all my stuff is already moved over to Phil's, I'm just finishing something up. I'll be out here in...Two hours, tops!"

"Two hours?" The stern face of his dormitory RA Mel(ody) somehow became more stern. "Toby, I'm supposed to be out of here myself. I'm glad you're finally showing some...spirit, or whatever it is you need to write, but if you take any longer then I'll be taking the flakk myself. You need to get everything out of there now, I can't delay any longer."

He rubbed the back of his head, wincing now for multiple reasons. Firstly because of the nasty bruise that must be forming, and secondly because of the cringing sensation he often got when he felt as if he was being a nuisance to someone. He sighed and nodded glumly.

"...Yeah, I'm sorry Mel. I'll wrap this up now and get out of your hair."

"Thank you." She said, her stern expression melting into a more amicable one. "Enjoy your summer" She concluded the dialogue with a wave of her hand in farewell and a friendly wink. Toby waved after her, then turned and ran back into his dormitory room to hastily save his manuscript, then print the paperwork to get compiled into his physical binder of pages, then he had to swiftly annotate the pages with color-coded sticky notes and...

An hour later, Toby was rushing out of the dorm with a stack of books in his arms, a computer being lugged behind him on a cart, and a second bruise parallel to the first on the back of his head from where Mel had thumped him for wasting more of her time. He sighed and rummaged awkwardly in his vest pocket for the keys to his car when the first raindrop fell onto the hood of the car. He blinked slowly, looked skyward, then allowed the panic to set in.

By the time the rain began to fall in earnest, Toby had managed to get his things lumped unceremoniously into the trunk of the car. When he was safely seated himself in the driver's seat, he slowly lowered his forehead against the steering wheel and let the throbbing headache he was trying to ignore finally emanate throughout his entire body. Reluctantly he pushed the key into the ignition, and twisted.

---

@kalanggam
Toby sprinted into the building from the rear entrance, feeling quite lucky that he had managed to get a parking spot right outside the door. He lumbered to a halt a few feet within the door, smoothing out his vest with one hand as the other brushed loose strands of damp hair back into place. With a quiet exhalation of calming, he returned his hands to his sides and made a small gesture that universally symbolized 'I'm okay'. He was almost convincing with it, too. He turned on his heel and pressed against the window beside the door to peer at his car.

"...I can wait, I've already lost my muse anyway." He spoke to himself in plain language and a strained conversational tone, externally on edge for some reason but internally struggling against the severe pain of his throbbing cranium. He cast his gaze about at the busy state of the cafe, and felt a genuine happiness slowly bubbling within the depths of his headache. He strode across the room quickly, stooping and conversing along the way to the counter;

"Why hello there Michael, I'll go ahead and take those plates for you—It's no trouble, I'm heading up that way myself. Oh, you guys stopping here before heading home? Yeah, I can't believe how insane Professor Olston's exam was. Did you guys manage to make the connection to Arusianus Messius in the third essay prompt?...I guess you guys didn't, huh? It's okay, it was a seriously tricky prompt that I think he was being deliberately misleading by mentioning Fronto prior to the year 1815. Oh, you still have library books? I can return those for you, I'm still going to be there volunteering over the summer. It really is no trouble at all, I can just stack these things like this...and...voila!..."

By the time Toby reached the counter, he was holding a stack of books, dirty dishes, and a hand-written note for someone else's drink order. He deposited his stack of gathered items onto the counter, took a deep breath, then looked Val straight in the eye.

"I need an..Er.." He looked at the note, losing his steam as suddenly as he seemed to get it. "Mocha frappuchino with whipped cream for Miss Enfield over there. Upside down? Upside down. _{I didn't know you could order drinks upside down}." He slowly folds the note in his fingers. "And whatever you can legally give me that has the highest concentration of caffeine possible."

---

Well, thank the universe, Valeriano thought. Help has at last arrived. With Tobias's timely arrival, Val's eyes peered at the back entrance, and his hands began to move of their own accord, finishing the coffee-brewing process. Meanwhile, Val had switched his attention to Toby, casually observing his coworker's small talk with the customers en route to the counter. Val briefly turned to the customer at the counter and handed them the coffee he'd just made. "Enjoy."

Val greeted Tobias with a nod and flashed a slight smirk when the latter finally approached the counter. "Ah, here comes my hero, ready to save the day," Val teased, deadpan delivery and all but still readily accepting the dishes. He immediately began tapping them against the garbage bin's rim, sending crumbs and leftover bits into the trash. "Just in time, Tobes. Prolly the worst rain I've seen this week."

Miss Enfield's order earned a quizzical, squinting look from Val. Indeed it was an improbable request, even with magic at their disposal, but he simply shrugged and started the espresso regardless. First, two for Enfield, then another two — Oughta make that four — for Tobias. He then lined up some milk, cocoa powder, and three cups, before he crouched down and groped around under the counter for another something.

"Semester done finally, huh?" he remarked nonchalantly from below the counter, raising his voice a tad so Tobias could still hear. His arm reappeared clutching a greenware figurine, no larger than his palm and inscribed with various sigils, and a battery. Each of these he placed beside the coffee cups, and he reemerged from below. For now, he did nothing with either and leaned on the counter, chin in his hand while he waited for the espresso machine to finish. "So, got any plans for the summer?"

Nova Bramble looked up from her phone. How exciting, she thought, to be stuck at home on summer vacation in an absolute downpour with almost nothing to do. Sighing, she got up and took a shower. Fifteen minutes later, she was finished and refreshed, dressed in her signature T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. She was bored, and her 7-Eleven job obviously couldn't be accessed due to the pouring rain and the fact that she was too lazy to get a driver's license.

She was busy deciding what to do, as her old friends (people she knew, not other role-players!) were busy doing who knows what in Florida or something, and not so many people she knew were in town, so she was temporarily stuck. In the meantime, she made some PB&J with chocolate milk, a perfect snack for the occasion. As she drank, she thought about the mysterious old shopping mall that had caused her to leave her old home at 7 years old. On random occasions, she would go exploring there, and when she was near the underground maintenance shed, she swore she heard screams.

She had found her adventure. Unfortunately, it was still pouring, so she decided to act when the rain cleared up. Nova was ecstatic, knowing now that there might be something worthwhile at that wretched mall after all. She knew that there might be nothing there, so she packed nothing for now. She left no note for her parents, because they were on vacation for the summer and then went to her room. She proceeded to lie on the bed, open her laptop, and browse until she fell asleep.

@kalanggam

"Yeah, the semester is finally done." Tobias' reiteration of the phrase lacked the typical relief that a student wielded in such times. Indeed, the realization that the official end of the semester had arrived only seemed to add to his present fervent state. "I'm staying in town. Phil even gave me a deal on one of the rooms upstairs, so if I'm ever not here when I'm supposed to be you can just go and drag me down yourself."

The lighthearted nature of the conversation seemed to soothe Toby, and he concluded that thought with a wink.

"I'm still technically taking a course over the summer. I'm trying to get ahead on my Philosophy credits to catch up to the advanced position I had in the classics department and qualify for another scholarship in the fall. I'm not worried about it— in fact, I'm glad I had an excuse to stay in town. I like it here, and I'd have been stir-crazy cooped up back in ye-olde-Malkinson-Manor for the summer. All my friends are here."

His eyes wandered as he spoke, moving away from Val and surveiling the coffee shop. The young woman he'd referred to as Miss Enfield was a fellow student of the classical department, and as he glanced that way she offered him a friendly wave when their eyes met. He returned the gesture in a small replication even as he conversed with Val. Though the espresso machine performed its task with much admiration, Tobias couldn't help but feel as if its sole purpose now was to torture him with the necessary wait for his addiction's latest satiation.

"Besides that, I owe Phil approximately one and a half arms and both feet for clearing a room on my behalf, so I'll be filling in more time here in town than typical. I've still got a key to the library and intend on keeping ahead of my studies. Oh! I recently got word from Aviva that she'd been digging through old maps of the area and she clued me in on what she called 'choice hiking trails'. The nearest one is out of Lexington, heading up Little House Mountain then upwards again to Big House. I'm keen on that, but there are still trails here in Sanctuary Hills that I haven't had a chance to fully explore... Some of them have older histories than the University itself, which makes them somewhat spooky if you ask me."

As always, whenever he had a chance to bring up his younger sister his entire visage lit up like a Christmas tree and his utter adoration of the girl becomes woefully apparent. His eyes swivel back to Val and he takes another breath.

"—But I'm rambling again. Sorry. I haven't even asked you how your day was yet. This rain is absolutely horrid, the kind that'd make my grandmother tell...stories."

He makes a grandiose gesture as if passing conversational initiative were a gentleman's sport, his implied query hanging in the air.

Emily didn't answer. Probably meaning this would be on her. Sam turned, heading towards the front door as she reached into a pocket. Pulling out a bit of lint, she studied it critically and spat on it, rubbing the liquid in.

"Cocoon," she whispered, feeling the slightest of power surging through her to the lint ball, now tied to her by her spit. It expanded and vanished.

The bell rang as she stepped outside, out from under the awning that protected the door, watching for the moment the cloud of rain bouncing off her invisible shield. With an eye on the traffic, she crossed over to the coffeehouse, only the soles of her shoes getting wet. Such a simple cantrip, anyone with the slightest of ability could use it. One used to need a bit of cobweb, but lint worked in a pinch.

Sam paused on the doorstep of the coffeehouse, spinning under their awning to shake off the rain. After all, it wouldn't do to piss off the guy taking orders. Stepping inside, she took care to dry the bottom of her shoes on the mat, then walked up to the back of the line to wait her turn. She didn't mind, it gave her a few more moments to study the producer of that voice she'd hear sometimes when he was performing.

---

@kalanggam