Atrophy

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Heads up crew! I'm gonna be on vacation in Japan for two weeks starting the 4th. I doubt I'll have much time to do proper posts while I'm there, but I can probably offer up responses to dialogue if needed. Otherwise assume Sully is continuing to have a great time kicking it with his new best friends and Sloane is continuing to suck ass.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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The Greenwood Coven

& Sully McPherson

in collaboration w/ @Punished GN

Last Night, Greenwood's Base Camp

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A gust of wind appeared, carrying leaves and other foliage…

Then, the Greenwood Coven appeared in the brushes… at their base camp. It was in the range of Amelia’s teleportation, and thankfully, Judas’ abstraction didn’t work in areas like this… they could hear the chaos of his fight against the PRA in the distance. Which meant that it was something chaotic going on. It wasn’t a fancy setup… it was set up like a generic camp, with tents, chests, and whatnot, hidden in the thick bushes.

However, their fearless leader, Ruby White, had already pulled out an emptied cigar, licked the edge, put her marijuana inside, rolled it, and had it lit in under a minute. She took a very deep puff of it, then blew it out with a sigh… she rolled her eyes as she looked toward the sky.

“... That bitch ruined our plan!” Ruby hissed.

“I mean Rubes, it’s okay!” Jessica said as she tapped her friend on the shoulder before she shrugged. “We can’t do anything about it now!”

“She’s lucky they killed her,” Ruby started, “Because I would have shoved my entire staff up her ass and blew her apart!”

“Again,” Pearl sighed. “She is deceased; there is no need to get worked up over it.” She then rolled her eyes.

“You might need to take a fatter hit of that!” James chuckled as he threw his axe over his shoulder.

“She said…” Noami mused as she turned to Sully. “... She said she was with the Sycamore Tree Coven… was that just bullshit or is that true?”

“Yeah,” Jess raised an eyebrow, “We got another Coven in St. Portwell?”

“... You all are acting like there isn’t a new group of assholes calling themselves a Coven every other week,” Ruby rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, were you talking to me?” said Sully, looking up dumbly.

The large man was sitting on the ground in only a t-shirt and jeans, his jacket snatched by some biker jackass and his boots dumped next to a pile of sand where he’d given up on shaking them free of the debris. He was currently shifting through his backpack, shaking sand that had snuck in past the zipper out of a stack of compostable cups he’d bought, thinking that the old gang’s meeting at Auri’s shop was going to be raucous in the fun way instead of the way it had turned out to be. Enough heads were turned his way to answer his question.

“I mean, they are with the Sycamore Tree Coven,” said Sully, scratching his beard and wrinkling his nose as he raked out more sand. “Were, I mean. They were. The Sycamore Tree Coven isn’t…it’s not really...I mean, I honestly don’t know what they’re doing. By the time I met up with the old gang, everyone had decided to just go to a titty bar.”

“Sounds confusing as all get out!” James laughed.

“Look, either you’re a Coven or you’re not,” Ruby asked. “Sounds like they’re just a bunch of assholes doing whatever…”

Sully held up the Chalice and wiggled a cup. “Anyone else need a drink?”

“I could go for some Henny,” Naomi said before chuckling, “Shots all night!”

“Could love some whiskey,”

Pearl shrugged, “I’m good.”

“You sure? After that mission, I’ll drink myself into a coma!” Noami answered.

“Hey, we don’t question those who choose not to imbibe. Nothing but love for the sober ones,” said Sully, passing generously overfilled cups around the circle. He smiled. “Somebody’s gotta be able to take us through the drive thru when we all end up wanting drunk food.”

“I’ll go for some red wine,” Autumn said as she nervously laughed and glanced off to the side as she addressed the elephant in the room. “That was… weird.”

“Yeah, who you tellin’?” Naomi said. “That psycho tried to kidnap Jess, then tried playing the victim!”

“You should have let them leave after she put Jess down,” Pearl said.

“Yeah!” Jess said, “Ya’ can’t fix crazy with a conversation, you know, sister!”

Naomi rolled her eyes.

“Like we were just going to let them waltz off like shit’s cool,” Naomi said.

“I mean, it was pretty cool when she just put me down and was going to leave us alone, you know…” Jess laughed as she rolled her eyes. “I meannnnnnnnn, I’ve been almost eaten by Emily’s pet monster so many times I’m not so rattled by it anymore!” She ran a hand through her hair.

“She mentioned a ‘quota,’” Autumn said, “I’m… I should have asked what she meant by that...”

“Don’t matter, she’s dead,” Jess said, “Honestly, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s over and done with.”

Ruby took a hit of her blunt and then turned to Sully and said, “... Malik said that Emily was in Sycamore because some bitch named Britney gave her psycho-ass an abstraction.”

“Well Malik should know that anybody who Emily thinks is a bitch must be a pretty good person then,” said Sully, acting like he knew who this Malik person was as he passed out the last cup and positioned himself on Ruby’s left.

“But yeah, I mean, Britney did but it was different times, you know? World was ending, snakes were stygianing, our bodies were changing, hair was showing up in—look, I’m saying we were young and dumb. At the time Britney thought it was the right thing to do,” said Sully with a shrug, holding his hand out. “She’s actually a pretty cool lady. Y’all would get along.”

“... Well, bitch needs to learn that actions have consequences,” Ruby rolled her eyes. “Don’t let me meet her then, I’ll have some very choice words for her.”

His hand dropped as he turned towards Jess, “Wait, who’s dead?”

They all looked at Sully before Naomi answered him with a….

“Alizee… whatever the fuck that crazy bitch name was?” She started, “You didn’t see her go up to the Wolfpack and get blasted? I did.”

“We all did,” Ruby said.

“Oh,” said Sully, lowering his head, his throat tightening. It must’ve happened while he was busy getting his ass kicked. He was glad he didn’t see it. He’d seen enough of his squad die back in the day. “Alizée was deeply troubled. I think she really just needed some help. I…shit…”

“I… Maybe I could have cast my healing field a bit faster…” Kashmira mused out loud.

“There was nothing you could have done, Kash,” Naomi affirmed by putting a hand on her hand.

“Yeah, c’mon kiddo you did great. Actually, you saved my life,” said Sully, forcing himself to be jovial for Kashmira’s sake as he fished a finger through the bullet hole in his shirt. “See? You’re a goddamn hero.”

“By the way, who was that tall girl?” Jess asked with a grin. “Did her mamma breastfeed her until she was like fourteen or something?” She laughed at her joke as she slapped her leg.

“Fifteen. That’s Britney. Why?” Sully nudged Jess. “Want me to set you two up?”

Naomi and James twisted their face up, as they glanced at Ruby.

“Actually, I would like a word with her,” Ruby said, taking another hit. “Me and my foot.”

“Fearless leader,” Naomi injected. “How about we don’t pick a fight with everyone and their mother?” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, she was big as fuck!” James said. “She might knock you out!”

“Plus Jess is in love with her. Boss, please, let love win,” said Sully, holding his hand out again, his eyes scanning the face of everyone except for Ruby to see if it was normal for her to bogart the weed.

“Maybe I might try her,” Jessica laughed. “But, I don’t think I’m strong enough for all that!”

“Wait, why were you all even at the strip joint?” asked Sully, turning to Ruby, emphasizing the word joint. He cocked an eyebrow and gestured widely to the group, playfully pretending that he was offended. “And why wasn’t I invited?”

Ruby leaned back… as she turned towards Jess. “Jess, start the campfire, we need it for… dramatic purposes.”

Jessica looked at Ruby blankly before she said, “... Sure,” and began to arrange the logs and sticks in a tent around a random rock…. And turned the rock into magma to light the campfire! Everyone arranged around the campfire, with Ruby sitting down with her legs spread and Amelia at her side. Kashmira sitting ladylike with her legs bent and closed, her hands together as she silently prayed to Shiva. Naomi, James, and Autumn sat next to each other, chatting. As Pearl just quietly sat to the side.

That was when Ruby took another puff, and her eyes were bright red. She raised a finger, and said, “Hate to put it like this, but you’re technically not one of us yet.”

The playful glint faded from Sully’s eyes as he nodded.

“I mean,” Naomi said. “He’s pretty much one of us.”

“Yeah, and we need another guy here so you stop walking around the campsite naked all the time!” James added.

“When I said I like it natural, I meant it,” Ruby told James before she turned her attention back towards Sully. “Yeah, but, you ain’t prove yourself yet, and with Sycamore back in the picture…”

“... Kind of!” Jessica added with a smile.

“... I’m not sure if I can fully trust you anymore,” Ruby said.

“Yeah, and was that 8th Street bitch with the blonde hair with ya’ll?” Naomi added, referring to Eve.

“What does she have to do with anything?” said Sully, a hint of sadness in his voice. He shrugged. “Look, I don’t really know the current status of Sycamore. We’d all just gotten together because a couple of our friends died, killed by some sicko. None of us were really with anyone. Honestly, it had been ten years since I’d seen her.”

Sully stared at the fire. Rolling with Sycamore had dragged him into a fight, nearly got him killed, got somebody else killed, and made him deal with buzzkills like Sloane and dickheads like Greyson. Greenwood on the other hand had already helped him out through some tough times, pulled him out of the grave, helped him escape a bunch of scary ass bikers, and (as far as he could tell) was psychopath free. The scales were heavily unbalanced.

“Look, Ruby, I like you guys, but I like some of those Sycamore cats too. We went through a lot together, and I’d be lying if there wasn’t a part of me that wanted to get the old band back, but that part of me is just stuck in the past. I wanna be part of this team. If I can find a way to make y’all trust me, perfect. I’ll do it. But if my presence here makes you all feel uneasy, hey, you know I don’t wanna be a burden,” said Sully.

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “Just give me the word and I’ll get out of your hair. Let you all handle business. There’ll be no bad blood here if I’m unwanted. The way I see it, we can still be friends.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” James said as he got up. “Why are you putting so much thought into what Ruby says? She’s high or drunk half the time; she probably forgets everything she says by the next day!”

“We want you here, Sully!“ Naomi said.

“... And I wonder why Ruby’s tryna’ pull “technicalities” now when we’ve been ignoring ‘im half the time anyway!” James laughed. “Naomi here flip-flops between being a leader and a grunt herself!”

"Yeah!” Naomi concurred.

“And we lost a lot of people during our fight with the Nazis…” Amelia mused out loud.

“Look, Sully,” Jessica put a hand on her chest as she said, “Surely we can work out something... And why is it that I’m the one that’s most chill about almost getting eaten by an Apparition?” She laughed.

“How about we take a vote, our fearless leader?” Pearl suggests, “We vote on whether or not Sully is one of us and settle the matter once and for all.”

Ruby was silent.

It was dramatically long before she just shrugged.

“Sure,”

“Everyone who agrees with Sully’s participation; raise your hand,” Pearl commanded.

“I’ll even turn my head so nobody feels—” the words didn’t even get completely out of Sully’s mouth before Jess, Naomi, Kash, and James raised their hands without thought.

Then Pearl and Autumn raised their hands.

Ruby shrugged.

“Sure,” she said as she raised her hand, followed by Amelia.

“Yes-uh!” Sully pumped his fist, unable to hide his smile. “You guys are the best!”

“But, I wanna meet these Sycamore peeps for myself… ” said Ruby.

“Of course, Rubes! I’m more than just a pretty face and an infinite supply of hooch. Anything you want, Sully’s your guy! Just say the word and I can get a mixer going,” said Sully. He’d just talk with Auri. As the leader, she could easily get everybody on board for a little meet-and-greet.

“I mean…” Naomi chimed in. “The Wolfpack are on our ass… and their ass, too. They seen our faces…”

“Yeeeeeeeeah,” James said. “I’m all for a jamboree, but I think we need to keep our heads down for a minute.”

“Hiding would be the best option,” Pearl said.

“Facts,” Ruby said. “But before you join us, you have to complete the initiation...”

Everyone else looked at her, confused.

“What initiation?” Naomi asked, “We ain't had to do no initiation!”

Ruby then took a long drag of her blunt… Then handed it to Sully. “To join us, you must take a puff of the blunt… Of friendship.”

“Don’t do it! She eats ass!” Naomi warned, laughing.

“Well shit,” said Sully, tentatively looking at the blunt in his hand before taking a big hit and holding it in as he passed the weed back. “That’s just one more thing we got in common.”

Naomi loudly gagged.

“Brooooooooooooo….” James laughed so hard he fell backward in his chair.

“We’re like blood brothers now, Sully… wait, hold on,” Ruby said to herself as she reached into her pocket to withdraw… a pocket knife. She raised it to her hand, as everyone looked on in shock, confusion, and some strange arousal. “We can be actual blood brothers, y-”

Before this could continue, James reached over and snatched Ruby’s hand, all while saying, “Nope, nope, nope, not today.”

“You know what we need?!” Jess shouted as she stood up, walked over to their treasure chest, and pulled out a party speaker. “Some fucking music! Let’s party!”

Then she had to wait a moment for it to connect to her phone. Meanwhile, Sully pulled out his own to silent the ring from a call he was receiving. The old contact photo of Auri smiled up at him through the cracks in his screen and caused him to hesitate, his finger hovering over the reject button. If Auri was calling it was probably something important.

…Then the music started.

"Oh yeah, now this one's a classic!" shouted Sully, silencing his phone and thrusting the Chalice up to the night sky as it filled with beer, foam spilling over the rim. "Let's go crazy!"

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Starry Eyed Surprise - Paul Oakenfold

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Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: The Ground?
The Coven's Lair

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Sloane pretended to feel her phone buzz and pulled it out of her jacket as she caught Jack palming a note and walking her way. She turned to allow him to more discreetly slide the note into her hand and slipped it behind her phone to obscure it from any of the others, blocking the back of the torn page with her hand as she slid her phone down to read the note. Her pulse quickened. The Void Heart should’ve been sealed years ago, but Sloane focused more on the fact that she should’ve been consulted. She may have just ruined the image she had spent years cultivating by admitting to the break-in, but this plan clearly came together before Auri or Britney knew about that. They were just excluding her as always.

Sloane resisted the urge to turn her head and look at Jack. She was appreciative that he’d informed her, but furious that he hadn’t gotten her involved. Still, she wouldn’t do anything to blow up their spot. She rolled the tension out of her neck as she pocketed her phone and the vanished note. Unhappy as it made her, she’d have to leave the sealing of Void Heart up to their (in)capable hands, hoping that Jack wasn’t overestimating Auri’s cleverness. As if on cue to stir up her bubbling anxiety, she heard the church doors bang open as Leon demanded information on who had just teleported away. Sloane turned, thinking up some excuse for Jack while two fingers massaged her right temple, yet another headache forming thanks to a Coven meeting.

”Oh, so you do know how to offer condolences, Sloane?” Linqian sneered, actually surprising Sloane by her sudden appearance that the woman took a step back. ”You didn't even like Ashley. After everything Jinhai did for him, it's the least you could do, bitch.

Fingers still to her forehead, Sloane could see the second hand on her watch freeze as her eyes narrowed. Linqian, looking near feral, holding a bible high over her head like an exorcist prepared to literally beat the devil out of Sloane with the good book, mouth open in a silent roar. A shattering window, stained glass bouncing off of the floor, several canisters spraying a faint gas suspended in animation. The front door kicked open yet again, silhouettes of armored figures in gas masks with rifles leveled, a badge flashing above their heads through the haze. The second hand began to twitch forward as Sloane dropped to the floor faster than the orders could come out of the badge’s mouth, snaking her arms out of her jackets sleeves and pulling it up over her head in an attempt to mitigate the pain that was about to come next, hands shakily fishing black gloves out of her inner jacket pocket.

She acted fast, but not fast enough. Hunkered down inside of her makeshift cocoon, Sloane began to cough as her eyes watered, her skin burned, and her nose felt as if Drake was slamming it in again and again. Coughing, shouting, and the hissing of emptying tear gas canisters echoed off the ceiling of the church, creating a mess of unintelligible noises as if the whole building had started speaking in tongues. She didn’t even get the pleasure of hearing, let alone seeing, Linqian eating a taser. Sloane’s mind raced as she tried to formulate a plan as the badge began their countdown: THREE!

Sloane didn’t even know who was arresting—no, nevermind, she knew exactly who was arresting them. She cursed under her breath. Kali had been missing from the group, and idiots like Adora had distracted them all from noticing. The dishonorable snake had sold them out immediately. Outside of the jacket, her makeshift shelter would appear to shake as if the person hiding inside was having convulsions. Inside the jacket, Sloane punched the hard floor of the church until her knuckles throbbed. Surrender was the smart option, but seeing as how quick the only fed she knew was willing to break their trust a contingency was necessary.

Sloane grabbed Jack’s note, crumpled it, and brushed it with her faded tarot card like she was striking a match. There was an orange spark beneath the jacket followed by a blue glow as Sloane infused a quick curse into the page that made the paper yellow like an old book with the ends appearing blackened and smoldering, wavering like a shadow of a candle, as she turned Jack’s blank note into an Object of Obsession. She hid her Channeler and balled the note up in her hand. If the countdown ended with gunshots and screams, she’d toss the cursed page and run. It would force enough heads to turn that Sloane could easily scramble to one of the siderooms and buy herself a few more precious moments on this planet before having her life reduced to nothing more than a redacted report in the bottom of some filing cabinet.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: The Church, the Steeple, and all of the People, Clancy @Zombiedude101
Tranquil Haven Park

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I didn’t even do anything wrong. That was the lie Sloane kept telling herself to give herself the mental fortitude to deal with yet another Coven meeting breaking down. Layla trying to pick a fight with her for the crime of caring about her wellbeing, Adora pushing Sloane around because Adora had picked friends that didn’t appreciate gifts, Britney quietly judging her for falling victim to a burglary when Britney’s irresponsibilities with magic was the reason why Sloane had to hoard things in the first place. Yet none of them battered her fortress as hard as Jasper. Sloane’s rigid mask of indifference cracked as Jasper moved his accusatory finger away only to jerk it back to her, her eyes darting away as his green ones fell on her, claiming falsely that she’d made everything about herself.

Sloane wanted to scream at him. She wanted to tell that stupid idiot that Adora was the one who’d brought everything up in the first place. It wasn’t self-centered to defend yourself, let alone to own up to a mistake. And what gave him the right to tell them all to grow the fuck up? He was the one who hadn’t changed since high school. He was always being a jerk to her for absolutely no good reason, like he was obsessed with her or something, probably thought it made him look cool and everybody else was so stupid that it worked. Any time she wanted to bring up how unnecessarily cruel he was to her everyone would just act like she was the one being an unreasonable bitch, like she was the bad guy. Unbelievable. Again, she didn’t even do anything wrong.

Auri blew the lid of the pressure cooker that was the gazebo clean off with a scream and a swarm, marching everyone like ducklings over to their lair. Sloane fell in line besides Anya without a complaint, her arms crossed, her eyes plunging knives into Jasper’s back. Of course Lynn would latch on to Jasper, the social parasite that she was, but Sloane had hoped that Lila would’ve changed her ways, yet she still seemed as content as ever to follow the loudest person next to her. Sloane crafted their conversations with Jasper in her mind as she fumed in silence, growing more and more annoyed at the shit talk about herself that she was making up in her mind. How dare they say those things about her in her own imagination. So petty.

Sloane followed the group into the church, too annoyed to admire the actually decent work Auri had put in to restore the building. It wasn’t something that butterflies alone could’ve done, which meant that Auri must’ve been pulling in some actual considerable revenue with her flower shop. However, all Sloane noticed was how Stormy pulled Auri alongside Britney into a side room almost immediately for a private meeting, leaving Sloane outside with the rest of the plebeians. It was just like the old days when Daisy, Ashley, and Auri would go off on their own. Sloane didn’t enjoy being out of the loop. The old, familiar feeling of jealousy crept in and mixed with her annoyance, brewing up a vitriolic cocktail inside of her that was so acidic it would’ve melted through Sully’s Chalice. She stared at the closed door, the world around her little more than a sharp, constant hum.

”At this rate it’ll probably kill us all before we get anywhere. Especially with some of us can’t even fucking keep a hold of a shit ton of stuff that could be used to kill us very easily,” said Linqian, bringing Sloane back.

Sloane turned her head towards Linqian and fixed her with a long, unblinking stare, dark and dead like a child’s doll. She knew what Linqian wanted, and she wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Like a Sicilian monk who had made a vow while also moonlighting for the Cosa Nostra, Sloane chose to stick to silence. Words could be weaponized and showing opinions opened up weaknesses. She rolled her eyes at Linqian and crossed herself with her middle finger, leaving it up to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit to tell Linqian to go fuck herself. Sloane settled into a pew, crossed one knee over the other, folded her hands in her lap as if she were praying, lowered her head, and quietly allowed the Coven to continue to dissolve around her as the caustic brew inside of her continued to bubble.

Anya attempted to get everyone on track, cleverly pointing out that their leader had once again abandoned them. Void attempted to convince the group to find a child, likely a case of buyer’s remorse in regards to his latest model. Eve attempted to rally everyone in supporting the troops, but most of the troops had left, leaving her alone in a crowd of ice cream connoisseurs and latecomers. The boy, who had a name, attempted to get things back on track but not before he shamed them after clamoring down from the support beams like they were a piece of playground equipment. Clancy, Ashley’s alleged cousin, gave off an uneasy energy, but then again all children were unnerving. However, what he said about the Dollhouse was even more worrisome. Sloane was under the impression they never meddled this far out West.

Yet, moments before Layla had attempted to start a vote and popularity contests had always been more important than survival in the eyes of the Coven. Sloane attempted to hold back a reaction as Anya acted too quickly and volunteered herself, her head slightly shaking as Anya made a rare mistake. Anya should’ve first seen if anybody even wants a new leader, then put herself in or, better yet, have someone else nominate her instead. She had gotten too eager and the votes of no, no, no, and fuck off rained down on Anya like a volley of arrows. Sloane looked up and gave her friend a slight tilt of the head, the strongest sympathetic gesture she could summon.

Her eyes followed Lynn to the center of the aisle, rapidly blinking as their resident false prophet expanded her repertoire to include revisionist history. Sloane and Anya never held any true authority in the Coven. They had given their all and dedicated themselves to the group, but had been betrayed and voted out by the people they had tried their best to help —Anya for speaking her mind and sticking up for Britney while Sloane due to being wrongfully accused of theft of what was technically her own property. If anything, the Coven didn’t fall apart because of them; it fell apart because they weren’t there to hold it together. Sloane rolled her eyes. There was no point in trying to defend herself or Anya, just as there was no point in showing how unimpressive Lynn’s prophecy of Anya losing the impromptu election was after a majority had already voted no.

Wordlessly, Sloane stood up from her pew, adjusted her watch, and walked up the main aisle to the front of the church, the heels of her boots echoing throughout the hall. She didn’t step up onto the stage, pausing instead in front of Clancy. She looked him up and down, arms folded, her unemotive face like that of a bored father trying to power through the Sunday service so he could drink with his buddies, watch the game, and go back to ignoring his family. Perhaps she was searching for a resemblance to Ashley, perhaps she was trying to come up with a reasonable way to ask for him to hand over the ax, her eyes reflecting the blade as they lingered. She sighed and the intensity of her stare faded.

“I am sorry for your loss, as I am sorry for our behavior. This situation has left us at our worst. My name is Sloane Faris. I was one of Ashley’s…well, I don't want to lie. Friend might not be the right word for it. Teammate, perhaps?” suggested Sloane, borrowing from Sully’s vernacular. She cleared her throat. “I’ll introduce you to Auri when she returns. She was close with Ashley. But it’s like you said: we want the same thing. I’ve been heavily monitoring the paranormal organizations filtering into this city, but the Dollhouse must’ve slipped by. I’d like to hear some more about what you heard, but first…” Sloane raised her voice ever so slightly, letting the acoustics of the room do the heavy lifting as she turned her head to the Coven and stepped to the side. “Perhaps the rest of the congregation would like to offer this young man their condolences?”

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

I dream of its glorious return everyday, Citizen.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Sounds like Ghost is trying to stop democracy again.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: The Gazebo Gang, Adora @Punished GN
Tranquil Haven Park

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Sloane had spotted Adora approaching the gazebo and pretended not to notice her, unsurprised when the imposing woman immediately invaded her space. The hand on Sloane’s shoulder was a quiet threat of violence, the kind that Sloane simply refused to acknowledge. She looked up at the taller woman with an expression of sheer boredom teetering on mild annoyance, like if Adora was playing a bit role in a junior high drama club’s rendition of Our Town and Sloane was her older sister being forced to watch it by their parents. Anya was quick to come to Sloane’s defense and Sloane immediately knew why. First of all, Anya was simply a good person. Secondly, Anya was the one of the only people here smart enough to understand what Sloane had been trying to accomplish instead of writing it off as selfish or power-hungry.

Most importantly, Anya was the only other living person who knew. Sloane could tell that she was trying to protect her. Anya’s argument was sound and logical—Adora shouldn’t have the rings because Adora didn’t deserve the rings. She had given them away and those people had given them to Sloane. They weren’t Adora’s to take back. It would be like an old farmer kicking the door open to a fine Michelin star restaurant, stomping mud and shit all across the dining room, grabbing a filet mignon off of someone’s plate, and eating it with their soiled hands while eyefucking your date because they were the one who’d sold the cow to the restaurant. It was simply not how things worked.

However, Sloane felt dirty letting Anya take the heat for her. While she agreed that Adora would be better off getting professional help than traipsing about with magical rings, she didn’t like making Anya lie for her. It felt wrong and dirty, like if Sloane were taking advantage of her friendship with Anya by burdening her with knowledge of the truth because she knew Anya would cover for her in situations like this. Plus, there was a problem with what Anya had said: what if Adora agreed and gave Sloane her ring? And then what if Auri or someone else pointed out that, hey, a group of our peers were wiped out the other day, Sloane, why not use the rings or loan them to someone trustworthy? What does Anya say then? No, no, Sloane much rather wait until the right time, like when the people who matter start dying.

Sloane’s face softened as she looked up at Adora, feeling the anger burn down on her, and then she gave Anya an apologetic glance as she slumped forward. What looked like the world’s weakest attempt to headbutt Adora in the chest was actually Sloane’s second awful hug of the week, her arms hanging limply at her side like noodles. A flush of embarrassment was crushed by a tidal wave of shame. Sloane always thought of herself as someone who’d face death with dignity, but only an absolute monster would hold onto their pride when the lives of others were on the line. She said something, an apology muffled by a heavy exhale of disappointment and Adora’s hoodie, and stepped back.

“I don’t have them anymore. I don’t have any of my artifacts anymore,” said Sloane, crossing her arms again. My? None of them were hers in the first place, all either stolen or entrusted to her by people who shouldn’t have. “They were stolen from me alongside my counterfeits and a number of sealed Apparitions. Snatched from my business or my home, security measures somehow bypassed, hexes and countermeasures either dispelled or avoided. I had figured that the thief had ties to Sycamore considering how easily they answered every precaution I had taken.” Sloane laughed sharply, a rarely heard noise that sounded more like a dog getting its tail stepped on than amusement, and looked out across the park remembering the literal days she had wasted establishing webs of spells. “And I took a lot of precautions.”

“It’s not like I was trying to hide it at the time,” she said, looking back at Adora. She’d absolutely been trying to hide it, just like she was currently hiding her frustration. “If I couldn’t track down the artifacts then I had planned to inform the relevant parties about what had happened and go from there. It just happened that a few days later my old pals started showing up dead.”

“And I know a bunch of you are just absolutely nutting yourself right now thinking about how you’re going to use this information to cut me down as you ingrates just adore to do,” said Sloane, eyeing Linqian. “But save your breath because your opinion is as unimportant as you are irrelevant to this conversation. It feels weird to blame the victim here, but I’ll still take full responsibility for the theft. So yeah, I’m sorry Adora. I messed up. I'll handle it. Let’s move on." Sloane rolled her eyes. "After all, we have to end this meeting so we can go to the actual meeting."

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Harrisburg Towers

---

Steam rolled against the high ceilings of a spacious, marble bathroom as the shower hissed, the wall-length mirror above the his and hers vanity obscured by fog, an old tarot card resting on the center of a neatly folded black towel. The silhouette of a slender woman could be seen through the frosted glass door of the shower, forearm and head pressed against the wall, wet hair hanging over her face like a funeral shroud. News of Alizée’s death had arrived in the form of a group text left on read. It was difficult for Sloane not to think how if she had gone with the others instead of seeking an escape from the group that things would’ve gone differently. She stared at the water spiraling and disappearing into a dark void down the drain, wrestling with the belief that she had once again failed in her responsibility.

Steam rolled off of a dark gray mug of tea as Sloane sat alone at the head of her dining room table, a newscaster rambling about gang violence at a local strip club from a television in the other room. Antiques decorated the walls of her loft, including a number of ancient weapons, each one marked by one of her hexes should anyone unwanted decide to pay a house visit. Sloane stared out the floor-to-ceiling window and watched from the vantage point of the Harrisburg Towers, the high-rise luxury apartment complex that had been opened during the reconstruction of St. Portwell, as St. Portwell woke, little ants and toy cars clogging the streets while fishing boats returned to the harbor.

A part of her felt envious of the normal everyday people, their daily lives so routine they never had to question what they should be doing or where they should go. Her inheritance and her successful business had shouldered her with the burden of freetime, and while she burnt most of it serving as the city’s watcher there was still the lingering question of so what next? Sloane had taken to looking for the answer to her question in the cards, finding some comfort in giving up a bit of control to the largest scapegoat in the world, which was also known as fate. Taking a sip of Earl Grey, Sloane asked the tarot deck a broad question first: what’s in store for me today?

She pulled the first card up and flipped it away from her, revealing it to the rest of the empty room first and savoring the moment of anticipation as it completed its revolution and looked up at her from the table. Sloane’s eyes narrowed as she set down her mug, a small huff of annoyed acceptance escaping from her lips. The card showed two figures jumping from a large tower as a bolt of lightning crashed into it and started a fire. Chaos. Destruction. Naturally, it only meant one thing. Sloane flipped her silenced phone over and unlocked it. The text from Auri sitting was there at the top of her notifications. She shook her head and turned her phone back over, reaching for another card.

---

Interactions: Anya & Linqian@Fernstone, Layla & Void @Estylwen, Auri @Punished GN
Tranquil Haven Park

---

Steam rolled in Sloane’s head as she walked through the park, her long black coat and dark pants a stark contrast against the greens, oranges, and reds of the trees. Her hair was slicked back to prevent any rogue strands from attempting to hide the damage Drake had done to her face, a clean white bandage covering her broken nose and highlighting the unconcealed bruising of a black right eye. She refused to downplay his brutality. If he was going to be a coward enough to suckerpunch her, he’d have to deal with the discomfort of seeing his handiwork. Sloane gave Auri a curt hello and posted up on the rail of the gazebo so that she could observe the entrances of the park. She wanted to watch Drake squirm when he arrived.

But as the gazebo started to fill and Drake was still a no show, Sloane would have to settle for taking pleasure in a different kind of victory. So why was there a nagging feeling of anxiety in the pit of her stomach?

"You look awful," said Anya. "When you said Drake hit you I didn't expect it to be this bad. I suppose I should have... Ah, but don't worry, his dreams weren't particularly pleasant last night.”

Sloane’s stare softened as Anya joined her. She was happy to hear that Drake had bad dreams for more than one reason.

“It's a shame I couldn't be there yesterday. Between us we could have sorted out this rabble much more efficiently than Auri," said Anya.

“She does set a rather low bar. I’ve known airheaded socialites that commanded more respect than her,” said Sloane under her breath, arms crossed. She noticed Jack enter the gazebo and gave him a nod. She spoke louder to Anya as Jack sat on the rail beside her in an attempt to seem like she wasn’t conspiring. “I’m sure you had a valid reason for skipping yesterday. All that matters is that you’re here now.”

"Hello, everybody! You are all looking wonderful today!"

Sloane met Auri’s eyes and didn’t break her glare even after Auri looked away. Sloane impatiently tapped her foot as Auri stupid, saccharinely sweet voice kept talking. If Auri wanted to chastise them about ruining her already tacky flower shop and then change the meeting place to their old lair—god, saying the word lair nonironically as a twenty-something felt vastly uncool—she could’ve just had them meet there. There was nothing worse in the world than a meeting that could’ve just been an email.

"... Yesterday, Eksa Thresh, Simone Le Lay, and Finn Reid were found murdered. All of them stabbed to death..."

Okay, so maybe there were worse things in the world. Sloane lowered her head, her impatient foot coming to a rest. Anya, as sharp and brilliant as ever, took the moment to strike, using the tragedy to discreetly undermine Auri’s standing while Sloane was still processing. Luca asked the obvious question—of course it was Father Wolf—as Jack began questioning his methodology. Linqian cleared up his queries with her first hand knowledge.

”The only definite was that he was alone,” she said.

“A shame you weren’t there…” said Sloane, tossing an unsympathetic look towards Linqian as if she were a beggar taking up too much space on the sidewalk. The others would likely hear Sloane’s words as she had spoken them: as a low effort condolence, a My Sympathies card with nothing written on the inside of it but a signature. However, Linqian would be able to feel the hidden blade pulled from the sheath of the unspoken words: ...instead of him. In revenge for yesterday’s spit and split that Linqian had pulled on Sloane, Sloane turned towards Layla, telling Linqian that she had no interest in hearing whatever bullshit retort she would likely start throwing Sloane’s way.

“The buddy system? Is that your idea or one from your new friend?” said Sloane, gesturing to Void. Somebody had to address the elephant in the gazebo, it might as well be her. It wasn’t like her nose could become more broken. She glared at the Apparition, her voice sounding as drained of energy as one of his victims. “Alizée hasn’t even been dead for twenty four hours and you’re already onto the next girl. Layla, you’re young and dumb so I can forgive you for being tricked by this parasite, but he’s not your buddy.”

“And considering how we’re all living on borrowed time we need to stop wasting it,” said Sloane, snapping her fingers twice at Auri. “Come on, leader, keep this meeting on track. I take it we’re done chasing around strippers and bikers, yes? What are your leads?”

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: Jack@Blizz
Dark Alleyway -> ER

---

"I'm taking us there, now. You may feel dizzy for a moment, Sloane. Three... Two...One."

Like a poorly coordinated trust fall near the roof’s edge of the Burj Khalifa, the darkness and weightlessness Sloane experienced felt like it lasted much longer than it actually did. Jack seemed to slip away. He was replaced by a strange sensation of serenity that only solitude could provide, one that was stripped away and replaced with a feeling of vertigo as the fall stopped. There was no dramatic splat on top of the Lamborghini but rather the unsatisfying and sudden end of a recurring nightmare where Sloane awoke before ever hitting the ground. She blinked her eyes and shook the dizziness away as the Dairy Queen became an alleyway, Jack once again by her side. A gripping fear that she’d just isolated herself with a potential Father Wolf left as sudden as it came when Jack spoke:

"The hospital is five minutes away from here on foot. I thought you'd like a few minutes to get your thoughts in order, before interacting with more people."

“Okay. I’ll manage on my own from here,” said Sloane, sounding exhausted.

She gently slipped her hand from his and then, much to her own surprise, hugged him. Surprising no one, her hug was an empirically bad one. It was stiff and oddly hesitant, as if she was unsure of where to put her hands or how to angle her head. Jack would probably detect her involuntary shudder, and like their step through the Void it ended almost as soon as it had started, with Sloane even muttering a quiet okay to signal that she had overdone her quota for the year. She turned and walked, perhaps a bit quicker than usual, away from Jack but paused at the mouth of the alleyway and looked back.

“Thank you, Jack. I,” Sloane stopped, unable to admit that she had misjudged the Void traveler. She cleared her throat with a cough into a clenched fist and continued, “I owe you. If you ever need anything, you have my number.”

Sloane kept her head lowered but her senses on high alert as she made the trek to the hospital. It was properly dark now, but still early enough into the evening that there were still people out and about. She turned her head to look across the street or windowshop at a closed boutique whenever she stepped into a streetlight or passed by a stranger, low-key worried that someone would see her face and embarrass her further with their attempt to help. Perhaps more worried that they’d see her nice watch, her fancy shoes, and her disheveled state then proceed to generate an opportunistic idea in their head, fail to control the dark impulse, and act on it. And not because they were a bad person, per se, but simply because they were a normal person and normal people were capable of terrible things.

She quickened her pace, her hand in her pocket, her fingers on her Channeler, her other hand holding her phone up to her ear and “listening” to a mock call in the universal sign of don’t-bother-me. Jack had prescribed her to get her thoughts in order and so she tried as she made her way towards the hospital, blue H’s posted on street corners guiding her way to a building that began to tower over the rest like a protective sentinel. The punch could’ve been many things. It could’ve been humbling, teaching Sloane to be more careful with her words and less liberal with her judgments, or at the very least to learn how to use tact when she spoke. It could’ve continued to be defeating, sending her spiraling into a further state of depression as she perpetually realized she had nothing and was nothing, lacked control and understanding, and loved and was loved by no one.

However, as she stepped through the sliding doors and into the bright fluorescents of the hospital lobby—chairs filled with normal people who had made a terrible choice, been put in a terrible situation, or just had terrible luck, all too distracted by their own troubles to notice the woman with a bloody face move towards the receptionist—Sloane realized that with the flare up of pain in her face there was also a kind of pride. Drake had hit her because she had struck a nerve, but she had only struck a nerve because she was right. So instead of the punch being humbling or defeating, it was toxically self-affirming: when Sloane did a terrible thing it was justifiable and for the greater good, when anyone else, including Drake, did a terrible thing it was because they were a stupid, shit-eating peasant who was simply unable to change their barbaric ways.

After the paperwork, and the waiting, and the waiting, and the waiting, Sloane found herself in the bathroom of a private hospital room still waiting as she posed in front of a mirror and admired Drake’s handiwork. The broken nose morphed and became a symbol, a badge of honor proving that Sloane was someone of great import simply by possessing a nose worth breaking. The swell of vainglory she’d feel the first time she would attempt to put on a pair of designer sunglasses only to find the bridge didn’t fit quite right would be well worth the pain, the crooked frames proving to the world something that she already knew: Sloane was better than a normal person. It was with that in mind that when the doctor finally returned and presented Sloane with the idea of coming back for reconstructive surgery to correct the crook in her nose she simply shook her head, unwilling to part with her crown.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

<Snipped quote by Estylwen>

It’s about to be six. 😎

@Punished GN

It's been way more than six days since any of us has enjoyed a GM Post.