[IC] For Queen and Country

[McHaggis]

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[McHaggis]

.

[Write]

𝗔𝗢𝗜𝗙𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗬


♪♪

“We like our fun and we don’t fight”

Aoife danced in a way that would make you think she might have been practicing. But mostly it was because no one was watching. She twisted and turned with a smile emblazoned on her face. The living room was a mess, but hell – she didn’t care all that much. She was dancing on top of a chair whose cushions were torn to shreds. But all the sudden her alarm blared through her ears, she was still dancing when it sounded she glanced at Stef’s door for a few long moments, letting the alarm play through for just a few more seconds before turning it off. Alarms were weird for her, they didn’t make anything but sound. Her senses were only amplified to humans because of their emotions, others too of course – but the point of the matter was that a computerized sound never tasted like anything. Which was weird to the young angel. Something she’d have to get used to. But with the sun coming up over the horizon and morning breaking, it was time to fix things. She paused the song for a minute.

She sighed a small sigh of relief and got to work. She’d have to buy new cushions for her chair, Stef had taken a massive bite out of it… She’d also have to try and find an outfit that covered her collar completely – to avoid suspicion. She didn’t need anyone to know that she was lodging a vampire, otherwise they’d come for Stef. Aoife wouldn’t allow that. Once, Stef had referred to Aoife as a guardian angel, which had given her too much pride to back down from having Stef as her charge at this point. Besides, she had helped raise more than a few orphans and runaways. She could do this. Popping into her room she hurriedly sorted through a pile of clothes. She needed to do laundry so her options were limited but she managed to find a sweater that pretty well covered her collar, although it seemed that when she walked it shifted a little, she’d just have to remember to cover it up so Stef didn’t see it.

She skipped over to the kitchen, making sure to clean up the small trails of the disastrous night in her path. By the time she was looking for eggs to make the room looked pretty much spotless and Stef wasn’t due up for at least a little while still. But there was no eggs.

Darn.

Aoife took out a small notepad she used to leave Stef notes and jotted down a quick message.

“Hey girl,
Just running to the store to buy some breakfast supplies!

Stay Hungry,
Aoife <3”

And with that she had a jacket thrown on to ward herself from the cool February air and she was off.

Aoife hit play.

“Everybody’s dancing in the moonlight ~” She sang in a singsony voice that was almost definitely at least a little off-key. But as she was exiting she saw a girl smoking outside the building that she recognized. “Hey Aila,” Aoife began with her usual unrequited smile.

“Hi.” Aila responded, not making eye contact, her voice felt like pins and needles and smelt like pine. It was an emotion Aoife had gotten accustomed to feeling brush against her with the cool morning air.

“How’s everything?” The angel asked, placing her hands behind her back and clasping them tightly. She always tried to spin these encounters in some kind of positive way, it just didn’t work all too often.

“It’s good.” She said throwing her cigarette to the ground and brushing past Aoife on her way back up to the building.

“Okay, bye!” Aoife said in a slightly raised voice as the Canadian girl made her exit. The scent of pine drifted out of Aoife’s mind as she turned back on her way to the store. It was nice, Aila was nice in general, most people who were that sad were usually incredibly rude but Aila was always polite.

In Aoife’s mind that counted for something.

She continued on her way, a smile on her lips as the warmth of the sun made its presence known to Aoife, she could feel it on her wings. Even if no one else could see or feel them. It felt really nice. Aoife popped into the grocery store and immediately ran smack into a woman, in turn pausing her song. The woman had darker hair, she was tall and had a fairly imposing face. She wore dark sunglasses that completely blocked Aoife from seeing her eyes, but the posture, the way about her – it was pretty obvious who this was.

“Oh, Ms. English, I’m very sorry please-“ She began, but the older woman had no time for the young angel.

She sighed a deep, breathy sigh that felt like a punch to the gut. “Its fine, Aoife was it?” Her unsureness about her name sounded like a certain amount of contempt and bored intolerance.

“Yes Ma’am…” Aoife managed to stutter out, she felt the taste of warm iron in her mouth, like it was blood and it was intensifying rapidly. “I’ll get out of your way now.”

“Please.” Eleanor English strode past the young Angel, a shopping bag in hand, but Aoife couldn’t quite make out any of it.

Making her way to the aisle with some eggs in it she managed to grab a twelve pack, a small carton of milk, some cheese – all of the fixings for a good breakfast. Happy with herself, she took her small basket to the checkout line, and waited as there was a burly man in front of her already checking out. He had rough skin that looked like it had seen a few years of hard labour, most likely somewhere where it was warm. And coarse short blond hair. She recognized the aura anywhere, Officer Monythebeng’s was always something of an oddity. A false yellow.

He was purchasing what could only be described as an industrial bottle of Advil, along with some coffee creamer, a bottle of red wine and a dozen bagels.

… Aoife was always nice, but Officer Monyethebeng was an odd duck.

“Ah hey,” he started, turning to see who was waiting behind him. “Yer one of them high schoolers right?” He asked.

“Oh, no my name is Aoife – we’ve met a few times actually I’m studying in pre-me-“ Aoife started to helpfully explain.

“Alright, don’t do drugs Eva.” He said, his voice felt like an uneasy breeze and smelled like alcohol.

That might not have been the Empathy actually.

“You need a bag for those?” The cashier asked as Aoife heard the door ring, Officer Monyethebeng already on his way out. She zoned out for a second.

“Oh, yes two bags please!” She said, quickly grabbing a few bills from her pocket that she had stuffed in before leaving the house.

On her way back to the apartment the sun had come up a bit more, not enough to be significant – but enough to really consider this the morning now. She took a deep breath of fresh air and exhaled with a huge smile on her face, restarting her song once more.

"Everybody was dancing in the moonlight."

Sure, last night Stef had one of her episodes – she still needed to find someone to teach her how to control that. But she was fine, Stef didn’t drink too much of her blood and the worst had passed. Besides, it was Friday and Cael had a plan for tonight – not that he bothered to clue Aoife into it.

Finally making her way back up the stairs, bounding up them she passed by a lady wearing what could only be an entire comforter. She looked at Aoife with a wicked grin.

“Don’t stare too hard, a walk of shame is only a walk of shame if you can’t make it work.” Eve said her voice tasted like red wine and dark chocolate all at once. It was really overpowering and frankly way too much for Aoife to handle this early in the morning. “You look pleased as punch, you know Friday’s only good after you get everything done right?” Eve asked with a playful grin, smooshing past Aoife and continuing her quick walk back from whatever bed she crawled out of.

Aoife didn’t pay it much mind – she might’ve lived around some weird people. But they just helped make her morning what it was! It was pretty great, all things considered.

There wasn’t much to complain about.

Walking back into the small pseudo-two bedroom apartment (Aoife’s room was converted from an old walk in closet) she got to making breakfast for her and Stef. She had the feeling that today, among everything else – would be good.

[Undine]

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[Barrett]

𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗡 𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗪

^{Running from The Daily Grind to The Capital, catching up with Blake; @Undine}

Colin Renshaw was running late.

Not literally of course, not yet. He was actually walking late, not travelling nearly fast enough for someone who was already behind schedule and yawning constantly. The day had begun on time, actually, he'd risen to his alarm, lathered some toast in marmite and made tea all in a reasonable-ish frame of time. The problems had started when he'd opened twitter, just to check up on things, and been brought low by an avalanche of messages, @s and general carrying on. Most were not at him, so much, but at The Capital or articles he'd written on their site.

It took some time to dig himself out from under all of it but he still had time to get ready and walk to work when he was finished. Then, just as he was about to put down his phone, a comment on some picture he'd uploaded to Facebook reminded him of something completely different and he'd wandered off into the living room and starting sorting through the items on the mantlepiece. He was searching for one specific picture, taken on the same holiday as the one he uploaded to Facebook. No, it wasn't not there, must be upstairs in the office somewhere or maybe in Emma's room.

Time was getting short but not having brought his phone with him and not having dressed enough to be wearing a watch, Colin didn't even notice. He moved aside some of the clutter on the windowsill behind his table, shifting some old paperbacks, a stack of bills and an ornate pocketwatch... there it was. He lifted a picture frame out from the mess and placed it in a place of pride beside another, smaller frame at the front of the desk.

The one he'd rescued from the snowdrift of paper and office supplies was a quite recent and clearly taken as a selfie by Colin. It showed him and Emma a few years ago, standing atop a hill in Scotland. They were both damp and cold but were beaming with the triumph of having scaled the slope, rain glinting on Emma's glasses. That wasn't the trip that had resulted in Emma's... condition, it must've been the one before it but it still made his gut clench to look at. Colin had slowly moved it further an further back on the desk, putting reports and mugs of tea in front of it until it had been blocked from sight completely. Now it was restored.

The first picture, the one he'd never allow anything to be put in front of, was much older and a little grainy, though the ravages of time and experience had done little to change how Colin felt whenever he saw it. It showed himself and Emma, both fifteen years younger, as well as the missing member of the Renshaw family; Carolyn. The three of them were walking down a road towards the whoever took the picture (for the life of him he couldn't remember who did it) with Emma in the middle, holding both of her parent's hands and grinning madly. She was so small that they were almost hoisting her into the air and she seemed to be loving it.

For several minutes, Colin sat in his chair and stared at the two photos, lost down memory lane.

And then, with a start, he jumped up and looked down at his wrist. There was no watch there but he knew what one would tell him; you should already be gone. He scrambled into some clothes, grabbed his laptop and some relevant notes to fill his bag with and raced downstairs. Within a few minutes he was walking at a brisk pace towards the newspaper's offices, running through the checklist of things he'd need for the day in his head. Keys, wallet, phone, large supply of patience for talking to the boss... Checks all round.

Still, the trip wasn't that far and he was only five or ten minutes behind schedule... maybe he could stop in at the Daily Grind for a coffee? If he brought Blake one too, she probably wouldn't even give him more than a bit of side-eye for coming in late so it would actually be tactical to get coffee, he'd avoid a lecture or pointed questions. Having already talked himself into it, Colin detoured towards the cafe as he untangled his headphones and inserted them into his ears. What he really wanted was some calming background music but he was yet to properly understand Spotify and Emma refused to help him unless she was allowed to pick half the songs on his playlist, an ultimatum he wouldn't even consider. So the radio would have to do.

Now standing in the line, Colin drowned out the happy mumbling of conversation from around him and focused in on the radio. It was some modern pop song, something about feeling stronger and moving on, which was a little disappointing but then he was used to On the Edge being very hit and miss. Sometimes you'd get lucky and hear a Queen track or even some Franz Ferdinand but mostly it was new bands that Colin hadn't the energy to learn all the names of. Still, he mostly listened because it was local and often the callers were people he knew.

But as the song came to an end, it wasn't the familiar voice of Louise that faded in, nor anyone else that Colin knew. It was a hard, cruel voice, tinged with a touch of excitement. It was what the voice was was saying that chilled Colin to his core though. A call to action, a rousing yell to the mob, asking them who was to blame for their problems and then pointing at one group; the Others.

Witches. Vampires. Werewolves...

And with that, Colin spun around and raced from the Daily Grind, almost knocking over a gentleman in a suit on his way out. He ran down the road, turned the corner and threaded through passing cars at a higher speed than he'd moved all morning, sprinting flat out all the way to The Capital's offices, where he took the stairs two at a time. Finally arriving at the office, he heaved open the door to stand, panting heavily, in front of his colleague. Judging by her look of self righteous outrage, she already knew about it, had maybe even heard the broadcast.

Without slowing down, Colin sprang over to his desk and got out his laptop.

"I heard the whole thing, I was on my way here and it just bloody came on! Has it been recorded somewhere? Have you transcribed it? How many people heard it?"

His fingers were already leaping across the keys, looking for the answers to those questions until another one stopped him dead in his tracks. He abandoned the latop and pulled out his phone, pulling up his most messaged contact.

Looking up, he was sure he'd just missed whatever Blake had said to him.

"Sorry, needed to check up on Emma, no reason to be worried though." he said, seemingly more to himself than to her. Focusing properly on Blake, he tilted his head to one side and observed her tired, feverish eyes. Almost like looking in a mirror, if mirrors showed you as younger, more smartly dressed and with better makeup.

"Alright, that happened. This whole... thing just got ten times weirder, ten times more dangerous. How do we write this? What do we say?"

[Write]

𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗔 𝗔𝗧𝗟𝗘𝗢

The shower ran hot over Aila’s scars, recently adorned cuts, bruises, and sore muscles. She stood somewhat painfully with her hands on either side of the nozzle, just letting the barely too hot water shock her awake carrying some dried blood down the drain with it. She had work soon and she was trying to quit buying coffee and smoking before every shift.

She let the water continue to pour over her until it started to feel normal. That’s when she reached gingerly for a towel outside the shower, slicking her hair back over her head and out of her face. She dried herself off and threw on a pair of well-fitting sweatpants and a tank top with a campfire on the chest. She jumped onto her small old couch that a couple officers had helped her pick up from a garage sale about a week ago and flicked her tiny TV on to the weather station.

That’s when she saw it.

“Ah…” Aila started, her eyes darting over the text and small infographic on the screen. “Fuuuuuuck.” She groaned.

February 9 is the next full moon was all she really took in before her hand subconsciously grabbed a pack of smokes and her lighter. She made her own cigarettes, something growing up on a reserve taught her, not that it was a notable talent. Hey, my name’s Aila I want to save people, I can make little cancer sticks.

Her coat was snagged on the way out the door and in an instant the cold air was nipping at her shoulders, collar and ankles. Her cigarette was lit and with a long drag she turned her gaze to the moon which was still high in the air, without the light from the sun.

It wasn’t long before Aoife Reilley came skipping out of their building like the goddamned Disney princess she pretended to be. She was literally listening to Dancing in the Moonlight.

…

Yeah, no, the one by Toploader.

“Hey Aila,” Aoife began with her usual unrequited smile.

Aila turned her gaze ever so slightly towards the brunette, nodding a little, taking another long drag. “Hi,” was all the werewolf forced out. She hated being overly polite and Aoife was nice enough – but she didn’t have time for it right now.

“How’s everything?” Aoife pressed, assuming a ridiculous posture that was both childlike and… Well, kind of cute.

“It’s good.” Aila said, tossing her cigarette but in her path and stomping it out in the same stride, pushing past the older girl in order to get back into the apartment. It was too warm near Aoife anyway – it made her uncomfortable. Her feelings around that girl were odd and disjointed. In one hand, Aoife was her senior and pushing to become some kind of medical… Something. Aila wasn’t listening when Aoife went into a long-winded explanation of it. But, at the same time she did see her with Cael once which seemed like the antithesis of Aoife who Aila thought was a nun the first time they met.

“Who knows?” She mused to herself quietly getting back upstairs. She always walked to work with Stein whenever he got up and had breakfast with him if they still had time, if it was too late she’d have to go in and wake him up again. After losing his partner he had been somewhat… Out of sorts, it was a while ago but your partner is someone you want to see grow old.

Not that Aila would know, she was still a secretary. Slamming the door to her apartment in momentary frustration she heard someone shout after her but she waved it off and threw her coat at the rack near her door. Grasping the cigarettes she had sworn off less than an hour ago she once again glanced at the weather station and shoved them back into her pocket with a groan.

“This weekend is going to be shit.” She said to herself staring at the ceiling with a groan.

Her phone beeped, and she grabbed it. It was an email from work.

Expect a lot of calls today, local radio hijacked for an extremist message. Be in ASAP.

Aila looked at the phone and read the message a few times. Taking it in.

She read it once more, snagging a pillow from one end of the couch.

She screamed into it, kicking her feet back and forth before just throwing it haphazardly knocking a bottle or two off a nearby coffee table.

“God.”

She had to get going for breakfast with Stein before work, it was something of a tradition.

[McHaggis]

.

[Apokalipse]

𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗚𝗢 𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗬

Everything felt so hazy and fake around her, a sign that Indigo had passed tired and moved on to sleep deprived. Intellectually, she knew the shuffle of early risers moving around her were real people but a weary side of her eyed them like they were nothing but moving blurs of color. She should sleep; it’s been days since she’s laid in her bed and her nightly performances have been lacking.

Despite her thoughts, Indigo strode past her apartment complex and continued onto the street that led to her little hole in the wall shop. It would have been nice to stop at her studio apartment for a quick shower to get rid of the sweat and glitter that clung to her – but then she might be tempted to lay down. Indigo didn’t want to sleep; she wanted to push her humanly limits until she dies from exhaustion or the restlessness left her jittery limbs.

The shop looked like it always did – worn down, like her. Without the neon sign buzzing, the shop’s title proudly declared that it was “BLUE HAZE” in the tired grey of the morning. Later, when it got darker and she decided to light it up, she will be irritated by the missing letters – but fixing the sign costs money, and it wasn’t like the occult store was booming business. If anything, her finances have been suffering since Nick fucking Bloodfang. The humans that used to come there avoided her store because witches worked for the devil or some shit explanation like that. The Other that used to be regulars avoided it so people didn’t find them out and lead a witch hunt to their doorstep.

Though, it wasn’t entirely suffering, Indigo noted as she jiggled the door open and saw a piece of paper slide across the dusty linoleum. Leaning down and picking up the purple scrap (was it scented?), Indigo glared at the chicken scratch request for crucifixes.

“Fucking loonies.” Indigo huffed, crumbling the paper in her fist. If she was a more destructive witch, she would have burned it to ashes. As it were, she very well couldn’t divine it to a crisp.

Even though crucifixes would achieve two things, jack and shit, Indigo obediently tapped out an order twenty minutes later when everything was operating, albeit with a retro rustiness that Blue Haze was characterized. It’s not her fault she couldn’t afford a high-speed laptop or a nice TV; her customers would just have to settle for the slow as shit dinosaur PC that still had a box for a backing.

ITEM QUANTITY PRICE
Crucifixes 150 £514.88

It was a waste of money, to be sure. To spend five hundred and fourteen pounds on a hundred and fifty wooden crucifixes that wouldn’t achieve anything was absolutely dumb. But, if she jumped up the price for each individual one and added some nonsense about them being blessed by a priest, maybe she could get a couple of paranoid edgy teens to buy them.

That’s what her business relies on, nowadays, anyways. Her regulars have become decidedly irregular and the Others didn’t quite like to frequent such a closet-outing location, so Indigo had to keep her business running by taking advantage on the oft clueless crazies.

Thinking about the small amount of people that came in and out of the bell-triggered door to order some ridiculous and false countermeasure against the Other made her a bit nervous, now that she took a moment to really analyze it. Mostly what they asked for wouldn’t work – holy water, crucifixes, and someone the other day had asked for her to brew a potion against leprechauns. She closed the shop down for ten minutes, went to the back of her shop and scrubbed some of the glitter from her hairline into a bottle of tap before adding a smidgen of green food dye. Was it ethical to sell that to the clueless dope for fifty-five pounds? Certainly not, but she had little regrets.

It wouldn’t do to give dumbasses scared of leprechauns, of all things, actual tools that could be used against the Other.

Nodding decisively, Indigo flicked on her cheap radio she kept on the counter – she hated the radio, but it wouldn’t do to be out of the loop if one of the stations decided to report on something important. After she fiddled with the volume a bit, Indigo retreated to the back storage of her shop.

The storage room was full of dust motes that would have caused a violent sneeze if she wasn’t so used to it already – cleaning wasn’t exactly her forte. Indigo rarely put in effort to unpack boxes unless they would be going on display, so it took her quite a bit of ruffling around and scraping boxes across the floor before she found the seven boxes tucked in the corner. Armed with industrial strength duct tape, Indigo mummified the boxes carrying iron and a few Solomon Tools and scratched “NFHS” onto the small patches of brown box left. Not for Human Sale.

Satisfied, Indigo ambled back to the counter just in time to catch the tail-end of the On the Edge broadcast.

“–ally condemn the call to violence against the Other from these anonymous pirates.”

“Huh? Did I miss something already?”

[Write]

𝗘𝗩𝗘 𝗟𝗨𝗠𝗜𝗘𝗥𝗘


♪♪

A slightly less than conscious Eve awoke to the sound of a kettle screaming and the Blake on her shoulder telling her to run.

I fell asleep last night oh god.

Eve immediately bolted upright, wrapping the comforter she had been curled up in around her body as she began to tiptoe her way out the door. The sound of his footsteps caused her to bolt out the door even faster.

…Wait. His? Hers?

Who knows.

Even required a quick escape all the same. She bolted out the door and up the stairs, where she was met with the little angel who lived down the hall from Eve’s latest conquest.

Aoife Reilley was a strange girl, she was kind of what mother’s wanted their daughter’s to be – even though they were never like that. She was kind, boring, dressed nice and charitable… Probably? Eve didn’t know that much about her, that being said – she did know that girl was as gay as they came. Eve gave her a propositional smile for a second before realizing that the Blake on her shoulder would yell at her for flirting with someone during a walk of shame.

“Don’t stare too hard, a walk of shame is only a walk of shame if you can’t make it work.” Eve said, causing Aoife to recoil just ever so slightly. As if she tasted something sour. The girl opened her mouth, it snapped into her usual light smile but Eve interrupted once more. Moving past her in a slow somewhat overly cutesy fashion. “You look pleased as punch, you know Friday’s only good after you get everything done right?”

That’s right, she had lots to do today.

She kept running down the stairs to the entrance and out the door. She lived about a five minute walk from here, judging from street signs – but the nippy cold air brushed up against her wonderful, self-described sensual skin and she tried to make sure it would only be a two and a half minute jog.

Her sprint of sexual victory earned a few hollers from onlookers but Eve didn’t care, she waved a royal wave and continued jogging down the street in her bare feet and fairly large comforter. Finally getting back to their building Eve darted in and felt the warmth that she paid for so regularly comforting. The blanket was nice, but when in the outdoors it did little to help.

Approaching the door to her and Blake’s apartment she knocked three times, a signal for ‘Hey Blake, I’m coming in early, also I’m naked, covered only by a comforter and you should probably avert your innocent eyes because who knows what’s going to happen when I’m finally home.’

… It wasn’t uncommon among girlfriends, she was sure.

She liked to think of their place as Blake’s own little fortress of solitude. Because y’know, her boyfriend has never existed and she’s mean.

There’s a better joke there, but half of Eve’s mind was still overflown with champagne. She hastily creeped into the living room and poked her head into Blake’s room to make sure her roommate/live in house wife wasn’t around.

Perfect. Still no Blake, no doubt she was overrun as usual at work being Lois Lane. That should give the demon enough time.

“Okay Blake, let’s hope you’re as liberal as you act online.” Eve said huffing as she moved a small chair and lifted up a floor board. Inside were streamers, a rolled up banner and a beautiful custom made card.

The banner just read: ‘Surprise’.

But the card, beautifully written and absolutely eloquent.

The front read. “Only you could still be a virgin after all these years…” While the inside in beautiful cursive read: ”Because you’ve been living with a succubus this whole time! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3”

She would love it.

Blake probably wouldn’t.

But god damn Eve was happier than she had ever been. Maybe happy wasn’t right. She was somewhat anxious, truth be told. But she was also ecstatic. Finally Blake would get that she’s not just making terrible life decisions – she’s making them because she basically has to.

After setting up the streamers and banners on the walls and leaving the card in the middle of the coffee table, Eve went into the fridge. Luckily she was able to persuade Blake to get some take out last night. She had a small cake made in honour of the excellent news, of course another custom message for her roommate.

”No but actually, I’m a demon, from hell. I am empowered by the lust of my enemies. Love, Eve.”

It was just a casual follow through to the card in case it didn’t come across.

Short and sweet.

To the point really.

With everything set up Eve decided she’d just tell Blake that she had bought the comforter as a 1 year anniversary gift and threw it on the couch before heading to the shower for a quick wash up.

Some people might have considered that she was rushing things. That she was overloading Blake with information. But Eve didn’t think those people gave Blake enough credit. The girl rolled with punches and… She had supported Eve for a while now. In a longer life than most humans get to live, Blake was one of the first people to really worm her way into Eve’s rotten heart.

So she gets to know everything.

But she’s also still a bit of a loser, so she gets a card and a cake because she’s into that kind of stuff.

[Grimoire Gaming]

𝗖𝗔𝗘𝗟 𝗖𝗥𝗔𝗪𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗗

^{From Edgetoun Uni to The Daily Grind, mentions of Guy; @Apokalipse}

The usually Friday morning chatter floated around the room comfortably as students discussed their plans for the weekend, or their misadventures from the evening prior, or both, in some cases. It was common knowledge that the weekend starts on Thursday nights for uni students, and it seemed that few in this room were exceptions to that rule. Cael certainly wasn’t, he had spent the previous night prowling a sorority mixer in search of closeted frat boys to offer a proper good time to. He’d had no luck in these endeavors so, alas, he had no wondrous tales to tell. Instead, the lavender-haired boy focused on his work.

Having studio art first thing in the morning on a Friday might not be considered ideal for most people, but Cael was not most people. As a liberal arts major that was decidedly undecided with what he wanted to do with his very long life, Cael dabbled in a little bit of everything. Literature, maths, botany, and studio art took up the majority of his time during this current term. Of that list, the latter two were his favourites. The painting that he was working on currently was a combination of those two preferences — he was trying to recreate a flower that he had seen during one of his trips to Avalon, using only a patchy mental image of it as reference. It was going relatively well, all things considered. When curious students asked him about what kind of flower it was, as they did not recognize it, Cael passed it off as one he’d seen in his dreams once. Avalon was like a dream, humans didn’t need to know the full truth.

Cael enjoyed the sound of the palette knife scraping against his wooden palette as he mixed the color that was meant to be the base shade of the flower’s petals. It was a gentle sound, but Cael was focused enough on it that it drowned out the voices of his classmates. Moments like this made him realize why some of those ASMR videos on YouTube were so wildly popular. Tingles, was it? Yes… this sound could give him tingles in the proper setting. He blinked sleepily as he dipped his brush in the mixture and brought it up to the canvas in front of him. After laying down a single stroke of the freshly-mixed paint, Cael gasped.

What a hideous color! Aoife would most likely correct his thought, as no color was a bad color in her eyes. She would analyze the mood and depth of it, as she often did, but Cael only sees colors visually, and he was certain that he right and properly ruined the whole painting with this one! Caeldyn stared wide-eyed at the canvas, and then looked down at the slab of wood in his hand, as if the palette was responsible for committing this atrocity. It did not, this one was all on him.

Cael was normally much better at color mixing than this, but he was very tired this morning. It’s not that he was hungover, or that it was too early in the morning — Cael was usually quite the morning person — he simply had not gotten enough sleep the night before. Cael’s frustrating roommate, Andrew, had brought a random girl home, proceeded to have relations with her not more than four meters from Cael’s attempting-to-sleep form, and then he went on to snore like a bear for the remainder of the night. Andy’s slights were being compiled in a formal list by the faerie boy, and someday, oh someday, Caeldyn planned to return them all. Revenge as sweet as Cael desired it to be would take careful planning, so he was in no rush. Andy-boy would get what was coming to him, in time...

Students began to shuffle around the room chaotically, breaking Cael out of his mental meanderings. He flicked his mismatched eyes up to the clock and realized that it was time for him to pack up as well. His shift at The Daily Grind started in half hour! Cael set about rinsing his brushes and wrapping his palette in plastic wrap — because, he certainly wouldn’t want that horrendous color drying out by the time he got back into the studio, of course! He’d have to make sure the ugliness stayed consistent in the future and keep that paint fresh. Sighing, Cael headed out of the classroom and onto the streets of Edgetoun.

The Daily Grind wasn’t too far away from campus, Cael could easily walk there and be on time if he kept a fast pace. The cold February air nipped at his nose and caused him to shrink his face down into the soft grey scarf wrapped around his neck. Cael hugged his arms across his chest in an attempt to retain his own body heat until he finally arrived at his destination. He entered his workplace through the back employee-only entrance. The employee lockers were situated behind the kitchen, and Cael went about stripping off his many layers there before replacing them with a barista apron over his light blue cashmere sweater. He passed his coworker, Bonnie, who was decorating pastries in the kitchen and she stopped him to say, “Oh hey, Cael, can you bring these out on your way?”

“Of course!” The fae boy replied cheerfully, turning his attention to the trays beside Bonnie. Each tray held a dozen perfectly decorated biscottis. The right tray were the Birthday Cake variety, notable by the white frosting coated with a shell of very happy rainbow sprinkles. The other tray were the Triple Chocolate variety — dipped in milk chocolate, sprinkled with dark chocolate chips, and garnished with a drizzling of white chocolate. Cael eyed the second tray lustfully.

“Don’t even think about it!” Bonnie scolded, recognizing this wanting gaze. Cael responded with a smile that dripped with faux innocence. She shook her head and then gestured her thumb behind her. “Take a dink from the pile instead.”

Cael happily wandered over to said pile of ‘dinks’, surveying the collection of broken cookies, mistakes, and pastries that simply didn’t look pretty enough to be put on display. Unloved product, but still perfectly fine in terms of taste. For now, Cael was able to quell his insatiable sweet tooth with a nibble of broken Peanut Butter Toffee-Turtle cookie. After his quick snack break, Cael brought the trays of biscotti out front and placed them into the oversized glass mason jars that they were displayed in for sale. The jars had chalkboard paint along the front side, so that the names of the biscotti could be written on them, along with appropriate chalk doodles relating to their flavours.

It was still morning, so the cafe was bustling and busy. The line reached almost to the door, and Cael quickly went about making drinks for the cashiers that were taking orders. He and his coworker, Guy, worked in tandem, tamping espresso, swerving out of each others’ way to fetch milk from the fridge, pumping syrups, and running orders to the pick-up counter. Their motions were so well-timed now that they hardly even bumped into each other anymore. The line began to dwindle down and the training cashier tagged out to practice making drinks, so Cael took over. The first few orders went off without a hitch until one particular woman stepped up to the register. She was a tall lady in a tailored business skirt suit with blonde hair cut in the stereotypical “I’d like to speak with your manager” fashion, and if looks could kill, Cael would be dead three times over. He braced himself for impact before she even opened her mouth to speak.

“Well, it’s about time — No, not you, Jeff, hang on, I’m ordering coffee — you guys should really look to getting a better staff here, I’ve been in line for forever.” The blonde bitched at Cael, taking a break between her bitching to address the person on the mobile that was pressed against her ear.

“I’m sorry about your wait miss, what can I get for you today?” Cael asked, his tone even and perfectly polite. He was well-practised in customer service, so he knew the drill. The woman continued her conversation with this Jeff on the phone and had the gall to look frustrated at Cael when he asked for her order. Did she seriously just roll her eyes at him? Cael was stunned.

“Ugh, one sec, Jeff — Yes, I’d like one large coffee filled to the brim, and make sure it's all the way to the brim, I’m paying you people for the coffee, so don’t skimp and leave room or whatever. I also need a cup of extra-hot water, double-cupped. And lastly, this one is the most important, one medium cappuccino, make sure the foam is good. Also double-cupped. I’ll be needing a drink carrier as well.” Cael smiled and nodded as he punched the ridiculously complicated order into the computer and cashed her out. He knew better than to give this order to someone else, especially with Guy being occupied and the other barista being a relatively new trainee. Out of the goodness of his seelie fae heart, Caeldyn took this monstrous task upon himself.

Cael aced this order, he made sure of it. Did she deserve that? No. But Cael was doing it perfectly just to spite her for being such a cunt at this point. He paid extra care to the cappucino, crafting the perfect rosetta in the foam. He upped the machine temperature for the hot water. He remembered which drinks needed double cups, and which did not. And there was absolutely no room in that coffee cup. He called the woman’s name — Francesca, gods, even her name sucked — and she snootily marched her way to the pick-up counter. Her phone was put away now, and she looked even more prepared to pick a fight with Cael than before. She took the lid off of the cappucino, inspected it visually, and then proceeded to stick her finger in it to check if the consistency of the foam was up to her standards. Cael’s jaw nearly dropped at that — that rosetta was perfect and she just, she… she destroyed it!

“Well, it’s no wonder why you're the one in this equation wearing an apron.” She said disapprovingly, a scowl on her face. What did that even mean? She wasn’t asking him to remake it, but that certainly wasn’t a positive response. Cael took full offense, though he did his best not to let that show in his expression. Francesca put the cap back on, sipped the beverage, and then shrugged — as if she supposed that it passed her test.

“Have a nice day, ma’am!” Cael said in his cheerful customer service voice as she turned to walk away. He was still pissed, he couldn’t help that his temper flared. She’d slighted the faerie, multiple times, no less! He could get her back, she deserved that. A devilish idea crossed his mind as he thought to tap into his innate fae ability to use fire magic. He wasn’t well-practised in magic by any means, but he could probably manage to heat up a simple cappucino to a scalding temperature. With what he assumed to be a subtle flick of his wrist, though it might not be so subtle to another magic user, Cael did just that. The next sip that Miss Francesca takes would surely burn her tongue. That ought to teach her not to wag it at others so scathingly. In Cael’s eyes, he’d done the world a great service in hushing her up, if only for a moment.

[Undine]

.

[Write]

𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗥 𝗘𝗡𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗛

Eleanor washed her hands in the kitchen sink, splashing some of the water on her face. The cold water from the tap felt warm to her skin with its unnatural coolness. The woman sighed, placing one hand on the rim of the pristine sink and the other on her forehead, rubbing it slightly.

“I swear to god these kids…” She mumbled under her breath rather quietly. She felt as though, even though she knew Caspian was out and Callie was in bed hungover, she shouldn’t have said it. In truth, her children were the best thing that had happened to her in nearly 900 years on this planet. Yet, there was no time where she was more stressed, or constantly worried about anything.

She took a look at the clock on her stove and grumbled before fetching her keys from a small ring that normally held them. As Eleanor approached her small vehicle it started up on its own, sensing her keys approaching it. She got in and started off towards town. The drive was always nice enough, if not overly mundane. She had lived just about everywhere – so Edgetoun and its residual outskirts were somewhat drab to her. But she didn’t want to move the kids.

“God, do I have any agency at all left?”

No.

Eleanor’s car silently grinded to a stop outside of a small grocer. She was pretty early, the sun was only still just coming up. She popped in and immediately headed to the cashier, who had her bag prepared for her already as was usual of Friday mornings.

“Thanks.” She said, gliding her wallet over a debit machine as a beep registered the exchange. She could smell the alcohol of an officer who should be in control of his drinking habits behind him, but didn’t worry too much about it and glided back to the entrance. As the sliding doors opened a smallish girl bumped into her.

She immediately recognized her as Aoife Reilley, she shared two classes with Caspian and one with Calypso.

…

Okay, she probably shouldn’t have that much knowledge of her children’s goings on. But sue her, she’s a vampire mother.

“Oh, Ms. English, I’m very sorry please-“ Aoife began, in a tone that begged condescension.

“Its fine, Aoife was it?” The older woman knew the girl’s name. It was just… She didn’t want to give off an air of familiarity. Perhaps that was mean, but muscle memory often is.

“Yes Ma’am…” Aoife sputtered like a beat up car. She tried to form words, the demure nature of the girl caused Eleanor to examine her more closely. Why does she find me so intimidating? I think I look nice. “I’ll get out of your way now.” She said, clearing her throat.

“Please.” The mother said to the stray leaf in the wind. Aoife nearly shook when Eleanor brushed past her. She immediately went back to her car and started the ten minute drive back to the manor.

She flicked the radio on just in time to hear Louise get cut off by another broadcast. It droned on about aberrations, fear, duty.

The full moon is on Sunday. We’re doing our civic duty. Are you?

She glanced at her radio with a smile one would give to a child who didn’t understand a simple concept. She took a long, deep breath before her fist went through the car radio.

When she pulled up to the mansion she bled a fair amount, removing her scarf she wrapped it around her hand and got out, slamming the door behind her. She rested on the hood of the car for a second and willed any anxiety away.

“They won’t come for them. No one knows they exist.”

With a few words Eleanor was fine. Everything was fine.

She took the bag which contained a few mice, some cheeses and some medication and walked out behind the manor. She found her trap she had laid and saw that it had worked as usual. A large fox this time, was caught in the cage, yipping at her. She removed it and with one, calculated and cold movement, snapped its neck.

Replacing the now gone mice in the cage she walked back to her house. She was ready to make her daughter a fox-blood drink to wane her hangover.

It was a harder world than ever for them to live in and Sunday would be a proving grounds for their sustainability as a family.

She was desperate to make it work.

She had to.

[McHaggis]

.

[Nallore]

Olivia Johnson

Olivia slowly opened up her eyes letting out a soft yawn as she stretched out from her bed, looking over at her phone as she heard her alarm went off. She slowly started to stretch once more letting out a slight yawn as she eyed her clothes that she had set up already the night before, eyeing the calendar on her phone as she had marked down the full moon. It was about the time that she dreaded quiet a lot once every month, she really and truly hated being a werewolf at times. She had only been in London for about a month, her arrival was a little bit unsettling when Nick Bloodfang’s rampage happened just a day after moving into her apartment in Edgetoun.

She started to take off her PJs and tossed them down on her bed, she usually didn't make her bed whenever she left to go for work but always did it the moment that she got home. Olivia looked at herself in the mirror, seeing the scar of the werewolf that turned her when she was in her teen years. It was always a reminded of the night it happened, she was in the woods around her hometown when the werewolf attacked. She was left to die, but she woke up a few hours later and the wound was healed pretty quickly, just her torn clothes and then the month later she was turned.

Since then Olivia always just made herself disappear for a day, going off to the woods for the day and then let the change take over and roam free like always. Shaking her head out of the memory Olivia quickly put on her button up shirt and a pair of jeans along with a belt, before heading off into the kitchen. Olivia made her way to the fridge and pulled out what looked like a half cooked steak, putting it on a plate putting it in for a minute before pulling it out. Olivia turned on the radio as she started to dig in on her breakfast for the day, when the unwanted broadcast started to go off. It was something that scared her a lot, there was always people who never understood, and usually would want to see people like her dead.

She quickly turned it off, and started to finish up the rest of her little undercooked breakfast, setting the bloody plate into the sink, rinsing it in water, and letting it soak. Olivia then started to get her stuff ready and made her way out of the apartment as she headed to the Coroner's Court. She surprisingly got the job rather quickly after moving to the area, and has been working there ever since, as Olivia adjusted her winter coat she walked there until finally she made it at the office. Olivia setting her coat down on the coat rack, and started to turn on the lights as Olivia started to get the paperwork ready.

[Write]

𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗬𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗕𝗘𝗡𝗚


♪♪

As the sun lazily made its presence known over the horizon Lang Monyethebeng bid his shift, the night and his waning sobriety adieu. He walked into the grocer with a yawn on his lips. Friday nights he had off, so at least there was that. In his left ear was an earbud connected to his cell phone, but he wasn’t listening to music – at least not to most people. It was music to his ears though.

Well, it wasn’t yet. Right now it was Cara, but Louise hadn’t signed off – which meant she was probably covering for someone. She was a professional, she always signed off. This meant that he had time to listen to her still while he made his way home until bars opened up. Some Adele song started up and Lang used the momentary distraction to carry out his purchases. At first it was just the essentials, the biggest bottle of Advil he could find, some creamer for his coffee and a bottle of red wine. But upon approaching the counter he realized he had nothing to pair with his beautiful red, but he also only had enough for, like, a dozen bagels.

He grabbed the bagels and continued on his way to the register. In front of him was Eleanor English, easy enough for anyone to recognize. A lot of the other guys at the office made comments about how she looks, but Lang never really saw it. She had kind eyes, but he wasn’t the best judge of character either.

He was going to say something polite, but before he could get it out she was out the door. He tried not to think about it, instead working on producing the proper amount of money as the kid behind the register who got stuck with the crappy shift started ringing everything in. Lang patted his pockets as Adele sung of past loves, he found a few dollars in his shirt pocket and a few other dollars in back right pocket. He must’ve left his wallet in the cruiser. That was when he noticed a girl standing behind him.

“Ah hey.” He started, turning to see who was behind him, putting the money on the shelf as the cashier started to bag everything. “Yer one of them high schoolers right?” He drawled.

“Oh, no my name is Aoife – we’ve met a few times actually I’m studying in pre me-“ The girl started, but Lang wasn’t ready to continue a conversation for that long. Adele was getting towards the end of her song, which meant she was almost back.

“Alright, don’t do drugs Eva.” He said, grabbing his bag behind his back and waving to the cashier to keep any change, with that he took his leave.

Back in the cruiser, he gently put his groceries on the passenger seat and started the vehicle, the Bluetooth FM player in the left cigarette lighter chimed to life as it connected to his phone just in time. "That was Adele's new hit break-up song. Thanks for the request, Sam, and hope you feel better soon! Louise’s signature ‘radio voice’ as Lang often dubbed it when gushing to others was as spot on as always. But there was more to it than that, he always took a tiny bit of pride when he heard her ‘radio voice’. Because just once, during a late night call he could have sworn she didn’t use it. That was what kept him coming back, those blinks of realness.

Next up is a little something you might recognise, if you're feeling very 90s––"

Very suddenly the signal shut off and some static came through, before a voice pierced that static and shut every other noise out completely.

Good morning, Britain.

Do you feel a shiver of fear when walking home alone at night? Do you jump at shadows whenever the full moon is out and shining bright? Doesn’t the existence of beings who cannot separate themselves from carnal desires and primal urges frighten you?

Lang listened intently as a madman droned a manifesto. It wasn’t entirely a call to civil war, but it wasn’t so dissimilar. Lang physically felt ill at the mention of witches. Almost as if to confirm what he was he silently shifted a quarter nervously being flicked between his fingers like a poker chip into copper, then into bronze and back. The display was a party trick he often showed off as ‘magic’.

Would anyone know, just rom his past that he was?

He ignored it and soon, Louise was back.

"That–– that was an unauthorised broadcast, we truly apologise for the interruption and the show will soon return to our regular programming. But before we do, suffice it to say that On the Edge does not endorse any of the views represented in the previous manifesto, and––

Her voice was cathartic to him, almost so much so that he considered not polishing the bottle of red off once he was off. But he didn’t think much more about it with the words that followed.

"And though I am but the humble host of everyone's favourite radio show, I personally condemn the call to violence against the Other from these anonymous pirates." The confidence in her voice was… Well it was certainly there, but it felt pushed. He wasn’t sure if he was reading into things too much, but he felt like it was there.

"At least we'll have something for the listeners to call-in about later. For now, though, let's return to the Top 40..."

With that music would return to the airwaves, and Lang would head back to the station to call it a morning. The sun was now starting to rise over the sleepy town, he could only hope no one had been listening. But, he was and so was Louise.

He made a mental note to call in should her shift last any longer, just to check in.

[MiddleEarthRoze]

ZOEY ALSTON

Interacting with DS Black, & Olivia @Nallore

Despite how much Dr. Alston loved her job and the very interesting aspects of it, the last thing she expected to be doing this early in the morning was dragging herself to the human equivalent of a rat’s nest to investigate a three-day-old body found nestled in the rubbish there. But with Professor Carlisle on a study trip to Munich that didn’t finish for another 48 hours, Zoey was the next sucker in line to examine the body in its environment, and then perform the autopsy some three hours later.

By the time she made it back to the cutting room with her disgruntled Detective and rotting cadaver in tow, she’d perked up a bit with the help of some tea and a sneaky red bull. Detective Black was still looking as sour as the corpse, but that wouldn’t deter Zoey from a throwing about a bit of morgue humour throughout the autopsy. Had to keep things light somewhere, even for someone as empathetic as she was.

“Body is that of a middle aged Caucasian male, probably between 55 and 65, entering the second stage of decomposition. Abdomen is distended, but whether this is due to a buildup of gases or trauma related to death is unclear until we open him up.” By now, enough morgue techs had been called in early for them to help out in performing preliminary blood tests, taking fingerprints, and examining x-rays of the bones and teeth to aid in finding an identity for their John Doe – unless the police got there first, that was. The external examination was always the quickest bit to do, unless she was looking for something in particular. Just by searching, she could draw conclusions about this man’s life. For one, he was a drug user. Track marks in the crooks of his elbows, his groin, and inbetween his toes were still visible on his mottled, discoloured skin. Another note was that he was overweight, with a sizeable beer gut. She could make bets now to say he was – or should be – taking aspirin, but by the state of what he looked like and where he was found, over the counter blood thinners probably weren’t all that high on his list of preferred drugs. ”Hehe… high.”

“He was beaten before he died?”

The question from Detective Black quickly stopped her private inner monologue of jokes. She looked up at him from where he stood in the viewing room connected to the autopsy room, his gravelly voice sounding even deeper as it came through the intercom.

“What makes you say that?”

“He’s got two massive shiners. Don’t tell me he tripped and hit both of his eyes on something at the same time.”

“Stranger things have happened.” She retorted with a smile, before going to examine the man’s face. Even after three days the bruises were quite swollen, though again, decomposition could have something to say about that. “But I’d say a skull fracture is more likely. The trauma from something like a skull fracture can cause blood to seep into the spare space around the eyes, causing it to pool there. No beating necessary for a bump on the head.”

“You have to wallop someone to cause damage like that, surely?”

“Oh, come on Nick. You’ve been in the game long enough to know how fragile humans can be. I’ve had bodies in here who’ve bumped their heads going down some stairs on a double decker and dying a day later with no symptoms.”

“Who says he’s human?” Although said gruffly, she could hear the hint of a joke in Nick’s voice. Still, he made a valid point. As far as she was aware, there weren’t really many tests out there for her to test whether someone was human or not. Did a werewolf show up as human while in their human forms? What about the rest of the supernatural? Witches like her, or the various others walking about?

Deciding to ignore Nick and continue with her work, Zoey had her techs take photographs of all the noticeable and possibly relevant signs on Mr. Doe’s body. Contusions scattered around the body, old and new track marks, his twin black eyes, and some pink-ish dried froth in the corners of his mouth. Could be drool from his last night asleep, but she’d done this enough times to know nothing could be taken lightly.

An hour later Nick had disappeared and reappeared twice now, each time with a fresh cup of coffee and having finished an exasperating phone call. As Zoey peeled back the corpse’s scalp and left it folded over his face, she held back on the oscillating saw as Nick began to speak.

“Apparently he had a roommate. Came back to the scene, fled like a rabbit when he saw all the coppers there.”

“Do you think he has motive?”

“Does a faerie shit in the woods? They’re druggies, Doctor. It doesn’t take much for one to bludgeon the other to death for their last bit of heroin."

“Oh, you have such a sweet outlook on life, don’t you?”

“I’m as sweet as my coffee.” If most were to look at Nick, they’d think he’d be one of those miserable bastards who always had coffee black and strong. Well, he was still a miserable bastard, but he liked good coffee. Plenty of cream, plenty of sugar, and usually trying whatever sweet caffeine filled treat that Starbucks had whipped up this time. Except he didn’t like Starbucks and their prices, so he went to the local coffee shops and tried their own cheaper knock-offs instead. Whatever the case, he drank too much of the stuff.

“What is that, your seventh coffee this morning? You can overdose on caffeine as well as heroin, y’know.”

“Listen, I got dragged out of bed at 3 AM to investigate this dead arsehole who may or may not have been murdered by his shitey friend. If I don’t keep the coffee flowing, I’m passing out on your damned floor.”

“Well don’t do that! We might get you confused for one of ours and stick you on the slab.” Zoey darted Nick a grin, and before he could retort, he was leaving the viewing room to answer his phone yet again. Now she could refocus without listening to Officer Grumps, no matter how entertaining he was.

As she came to discover, the fellow’s black eyes weren’t from a skull fracture or brain hemorrhage. His brain was in quite nice shape actually, considering it was three days dead. From there she moved on to the main body, planning to examine each organ until she found her answer. A heart attack wouldn’t be surprising considering the state of the guy. However, she didn’t have to go very far to find her answer.

“Ahh… pulmonary edema.” Hefting the heavy, fluid filled lungs from the man’s chest cavity, Zoey placed them into the scales nearby. “There’s our cause of death… now how did you get it?” There were countless causes of pulmonary edema – or excess fluids in the lungs – some were natural, and some could be evidence for potential murder. Taking into account the guy’s lifestyle and general health, it could be either.

“Have we got our prelim bloods done?” Turning to one of her techs as Zoey moved to the heart, aiming to look for symptoms of CAD. Looking through the various test tubes, the tech nodded. The prelim’s would let her run specific tests for chemicals present in the blood, but not the amounts of them. For now, she’d had them run tests for the usual suspects – heroin, cocaine, meth – and even threw aspirin in there are well. Just to see if she was right.

“Positive results for heroin and aspirin.” Well, her hunch was correct, but it still wasn’t a solid lead. Nick would have to wait and see for this fellow.

When Nick returned in the next hour, John Doe’s body had been taken apart and put back together again, and his Y-incision was being sewn shut and Zoey leaving the room as he re-entered it.
Catching up with her as she headed towards the locker room, Nick switched his phone off as it rang yet again. “Have you got a diagnosis, doc?”

“He died from a pulmonary edema, but until I get toxicology back, I can’t say for sure what caused it.”

“You can’t even give me a hunch?”

“If it helps, I went through the checklist of things that’ll cause it, and I couldn’t find much to assign it to a natural death. There were no signs of CAD, I highly doubt he went mountain climbing recently, there was no evidence of drowning, and his lungs were lacking trauma, clots and toxins that can all cause it. It could have been caused by pneumonia, but a heroin overdose seems more likely. But as I said, I need to wait-“

“-for toxicology, got it. If it is heroin, can you prove if he was given it forcefully?”

“Nope. There’s no bruising or signs of a struggle that would indicate he didn’t give it himself, or allowed someone else to do it."

"What about the black eyes?"

"It probably wasn't caused by a major fight. He took aspirin, which thinned his blood and made the bruising more prevalent. I wouldn't put it down to an assault. More likely a fall. So, if you want someone for murder, it’ll be down to you now, Detective.” Offering a sympathetic smile to the sleep-deprived copper, Zoey shooed him from the room so that she could get showered and changed in peace. With how rushed she had been this morning, a shower had been out of the question. She just hoped she hadn't woken poor Jack up.

Keeping the shower short but sweet, by the time Zoey had replaced her scrubs for her clothes, dried her hair off and made her way to her desk, Nick had left the building and Olivia had entered it.

"Morning Liv." Smiling at her younger co-worker, Zoey leant back in her chair and stretched, groaning as she thought about the day ahead. There were tests to chase up, police to deal with, and of course, a brand new John Doe report to write out.

"You wouldn't make us a cuppa, would you?" She asked the American, digging through her bag for her phone as it dinged. Scrolling through her local news app, a frown began to build on Zoey's face. A hijacking of a small time radio station didn't seem all that important, but with the current anti-Other climate going around, this was worrying.

"Oh, if I get a vision because of these arseholes I'm going to hex them so bad."

[McHaggis]

.

[Undine]

.

[Barrett]

𝗔𝗘𝗗𝗡𝗬𝗫

^{Appraising and accosting the young barista, Cael; @Silent Observer}

Two figures walked along Pratchett Road with a slow and measured pace. They didn't look at one another, never so much as exchanged a glance, and so their remarks seemed almost to be addressed to the well kept hedgerows or the twittering birds.

"Winter hangs onto this land. Icy fingers locked into the earth. Their agents mass and more arrive daily."

"I assume spring is coming though? When have not the rays of sun wiped clean the earth of hoary frosts?"

"It is unlikely to come soon. Things are unsettled over there. Your absence is still felt strongly."

There was a hook in that sentence, baited by the taller figure to force the other to apologise or offer an explanation. But the first was not half the angler that the other was a wriggler, as he simply ignored the hook to press on to what interested him.

"And who is left most inconsolable by my leaving? Ettoryn? Veldear? The Triplets?"

The taller one sighed.

"Ettoryn thinks you will return and waits. Veldear thinks you will not and sullies your name. And the Triplets seek to undermine me."

The Other laughed.

"By looking to prove that you have taken many trips to the mortal plane where your predecessor has retired, I imagine. You can't fault their strategy, they'd make you look weak, themselves informed and myself dishonest. Are you ever followed on these trips?"

The taller figure shook his head sharply.

"Hmmm... I see two solutions, one more permanent but equally more difficult to arrange. The first is simply that you allow one of their agents to tail you, catch him and arrest him for crossing into this plane without permission from the Queen. You'll look a tad boorish but they will be unlikely to press the matter further and will be weakened by the loss."

Another shake of the head.

"No, it wouldn't do to increase your reputation as a killjoy even further, would it?"

The taller figure frowned and wrinkled his lip. He was unused to be insulted to his face with such unsubtle language, both because of his illustrious position and because the Summer Court's denizens preferred to wrap their barbed words in the guise of compliments. Had the shorter figure been anyone other than who he was, there would have be a reckoning. As it was, he would simply ignore the comment.

Seemingly oblivious to his partner's irritation, the other figure kept talking.

"The second is solution more involved. You allow the agent to track you to a meeting, find some excuse to meet with a solitary fae here on the mortal plane. Let the tail follow you to at least three of these meetings before apprehending them and dragging them back to court. Announce that this catspaw interrupted you during a debriefing of a double-agent you long ago planted in the Winter Court and that whoever sent them has jeopardised the Summer Court's ability to move against the Unseelie."

The two had reached the end of the lane and finally turned to face each other, Pratchett road on one side and Prospect Park sweeping down the hill below them on the other. The taller figure stroked his chin and looked down at his companion.

"The triplets will be humiliated. The Unseelie will be worried. And I will look more powerful than ever."

For a handful of seconds, he stared into his comrades eyes and nodded slowly.

"It is a fine plane, Aednyx. I will enact it immediately. This means I will not see you for some time."

The former Archduke, for of course it was he, gave a tinkling little laugh. "Worry not, my own company is more pleasant to me than yours ever could be. Make sure only that some minor Baron comes in a week or two to inform me of your success, which is of course inevitable for as long as you stick to my plan."

Pherakna, Archduke of Dewsdrop and right hand to Queen Titania, resisted the twin urges to strike and bow to the other fae and instead turned sharply on his heel and strode downhill. There was a spider's web that hung between two bars of the park's iron fence that could be used to travel to Avalon and he now had a great desire to leave this plane. He could not deny that he was second in word and deed to Aednyx but there was only so much poking he could take before he needed to leave or snap back.

And he had no idea what would happen if he retaliated. Better for them both that he accept the jibes as the cost of doing business and take out his anger on his opponents at court.

Aednyx, meanwhile, looked to already have forgotten his erstwhile colleague and was looking down upon Edgetoun with a critical eye. He leaned his weight on an umbrella, chosen more to match the maroon of his shirt than because he feared the rain, like a walking stick and carefully unfolded a pair of sunglasses. As he set them on his nose, he set his sights on a building some five minutes brisk walk away; The Daily Grind. After all, what was a better chaser to Faerie politics than a shot of human angst?

It was a pleasant enough stroll, the February air still having the chill of Winter in it but the optimistic sun seeming to have decided that it was going to act as if summer was here and shine on. Harsh and bright, with the noise of amorous birds in the air and the bustle of the city going about its morning business in the air, Aednyx's favourite kind of day.

He was hardly paying attention to the world as he opened the door to the coffee shop and was almost knocked over by a scruffy looking man who came barrelling out. For a moment, Aednyx considered some form of hex or curse upon the fool but curbed his anger as he caught a look at the man's wyrd, trailing behind him. If he was any judge, pain and heartache were already bearing down on the fool, all Aednyx needed to do to get satisfaction was wait.

'Eddie' placed his normal order (ginger tea with a dash of honey) and took a seat by the window. The sounds of keyboard tapping, phones beeping and mortals talking washed over him, each one more inane than the last. He heard whispers about that lycan in jail, rumours of some sort of youthful arcane gathering and an awful lot of buzz about some newcomers to the neighbourhood. Aednyx sifted through it all like a prospector looking for the shine of intriguing gold but nothing caught his attention. Just general worrying about current events, as though these mayflies would live long enough to see the effects, and gossip about their tawdry little lives. Not even a good old fashioned unrequited love or tragic misunderstanding that he could involve himself in...

And then, as he was about to give up and leave the place, he felt the ripple in the air, the crackle in his blood that spoke of magic. And not just any magic, this was no mortal's clumsy wishing the world to be other than it is but the assured sense of a fae reaching out in order to make events more pleasing to their own narrative. Without drawing attention to himself, Aednyx stood and watched as a blonde woman who talking into a phone with one hand took a sip of her drink with the other.

The drink in the cardboard cup, that was the target of the hex he had sensed so Aednyx was not surprised when the woman squealed and almost dropped her phone in shock, spitting out some of the drink. One hand over her mouth, she fled in combined embarrassment and pain, much to the confusion of all in the Daily Grind. All, that is, except two.

Aednyx looked over at the counter and saw the source of the magic behind it, a smug smirk twisted across his young face. He was one of the baristas, pale of skin and white of hair, who now turned back to his work, unaware that his deed had been observed. Aednyx had already known the boy was Fae, both from the youth's looks and from the intelligence he'd had gathered on Edgetoun, but hadn't had any reason to pay him any attention till now, him being but one more changeling frittered about the British isles by careless or mischievous Fae.

That hex was well crafted though, doing not enough damage the woman to cause an awful fuss but still enough to ensure she regretted whatever she had done to draw the boy's ire. Aednyx himself would probably have done something more subtle and long lasting, causing mortals to fall in love with the most inconvenient person was always a favourite, but the lad showed promise. Now, what was his name... Hail? Maille? Dale? The old fae's eyes found the younger's name badge as he stepped to the counter to order a refill.

"So, Cael, does a hex come free with every hot drink? Or only for those customers that look at you the wrong way?"

Aednyx spoke so softly that no one should be able to hear him over the general hubbub of the cafe but his words sounded loud and terribly final in the ears of the only other Faerie in the room.

[Write]

𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗔

Andromeda took a sip of her coffee, attempting to feel the caffeine press its way into her mind. She needed to be ready and alert – she was getting there.

“So Mrs.-“

“You can just call me Kate.” The middle aged-woman interrupted. She had dark hair that fell straight down her back like frozen water, there seemed to be a large amount of product in it. “Are you sure you’re old enough to be offering therapy to my Brayden?” She asked with a privileged tone holding her son’s head in her hands in what looked to be a very uncomfortable position for him.

Andromeda took a second to look at the boy, he looked not frightened but anxious, like a caged animal but not one that was ready to resort to violence. His mother on the other hand looked like a twig supporting the weight of a fully grown mastiff.

Andi needed to diffuse.

“Kate,” she started, her eyes slowly shifting from the son to his mother. “Do you think Brayden and I could speak alone for a few minutes?” She asked, her voice light as if she was speaking to a child.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Doctor.” Kate immediately shot back as if she had spent the past decade of her life working as a therapist.

“I do,” Andromeda said, not breaking her eye contact from Kate. Kate looked at her for only a second before breaking eye contact and nodding. She said a few quiet words to her son before departing, leaving Brayden alone with his therapist. He fiddled with his hands a little bit, biting his cuticle, it seemed like he had cut it a little bit. His right hand had a band-aid on the knuckle, most definitely recent. He wore clothes that were definitely picked out by his mother. A button up shirt she'd expect of someone three times his age, his hair very neatly combed and gelled, khaki pants. No eight year old wore khaki pants as a choice.

After a few moments of silence, Andi moved out from behind her desk, expertly grabbing a lollipop from a small tray hidden behind her computer monitor before kneeling down so she met Brayden’s eye line. She handed him the sweet and met his eyes, he smiled a little bit and she mirrored his expression. “I’ll tell you what Brayden is that what you friends call you?”

“They call me Bray.” He said, unskillfully unwrapping the candy and plopping it into his mouth, leaving his poor cuticles alone for the time being.

“Do you think I could call you Bray?” She asked with a curious intonation.

“Yeah, we can be friends too.” Bray said looking at the window, Andi smiled.

“Okay, then you can call me Andi – that’s what my friends call me, okay?” She asked, he looked back at her with the smallest amazement.

“Okay.” He said, still making eye contact, nodding a little absentmindedly.

“So Bray, I heard you got into trouble at school last week,” Andi said, carefully watching his eyes. As soon as she mentioned trouble, his eyes moved from her gaze to the corner of his vision, his head turning slightly. She let the silence hang in the air for a few seconds.

And then a minute.

Bray looked upset, but she just kept her gaze ever so gently on him, before finally he turned back to Andi.

---

Andi dusted off some of her things as Kate re-entered the room she found the therapist sitting back at her desk and her son, content with his lollipop. She glanced at him sitting down and petting his head like he was a beagle.

“Okay Bray, your mummy and I are just going to talk about some grown up stuff, why don’t you go play out in the lobby for a couple seconds?” Andi said with a giant grin on her face. Bray got up and ran out to the small brainteaser toys that were located in the lobby, still well within the small area restricted to the therapists’ patients.

“So? What’s going on with my son?” Kate asked impatiently glancing at Andromeda as if she was her won disappointing daughter.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. He was being picked on and he fought back, I’d talk to him about using his words and speak to the teacher about making sure another student isn’t picking on him but other than that you should be fine.” Andromeda took a second to look at Kate once more, taking another sip of her coffee. “He definitely doesn’t need therapy, just a bit more support.”

A glare passed over Kate’s eyes, quickly but altogether still present. For a moment she must’ve considered lashing out. She was almost certainly giving him all the support in the world. But she decided against it and held her anger back. “Well Doctor, thanks for your opinion. We’ll be sure to get a second one before speaking to his teachers. She said, picking up her bag in an overly dramatic fashion and carting her son off to go someplace else.

Andi leaned back in her chair, her arms slouching to her side as she absent mindedly made a Bras d’honneur to alleviate some of the pent up anger.

He was a good kid though.

Shaking her mouse in order to wake up her computer, she wrote down a few notes about the session should Bray ever come back.

She leaned back in her chair and glanced at her calendar. Her day was empty and it was still the early morning. She sighed and leaned back even further until the chair creaked under the pressure. She snagged a lollipop and put it in her mouth with a slight grin. The air in Edgetoun was different than back home, not that she'd been home recently. But it felt uniquely full of opportunity. She never had any love for the politics of her people, nor their natures as self-serving brats. Instead, she liked people, even people like Kate. Sure, they were still ignorant and filled to the brim with false importance, there wasn't a doubt about that. But at the same time they were looking out for each other. Kate was a mother worried for her son, her son wanted to make friends. There was a purity about them.

“I’m bored.” The Fae groaned leaning even further back in her chair, before she felt her weight completely shift. She threw her arms out wildly but all the same she crashed into the ground, smacking the back of her head off the wall with a dull thud.

"Fuuuuuuck." Andi sighed rubbing her head.