Grimoire Gaming

For Queen and Country

𝗟𝗢𝗞𝗜 𝗩𝗔𝗡 𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗕𝗘𝗥𝗚

^{Mentions of one particularly self-righteous human journalist. @Undine}

Morning light streamed in through a large window on the eastern wall of the dining room. It was surprisingly sunny for a London day in February, but not altogether unwelcomed. One might think that it should be unwelcomed, being that Loki was a vampire, but the Van Stenberg Estate hosted a number of windowed walls such as this. Although it made him weaker, Loki enjoyed the sunshine. He couldn’t gaze outside for too long in the daylight, but it was nice to see the natural surroundings of his home. He’d paid enough money for this plot of land, of course he was going to enjoy the gorgeous view.

Sidestepping the beams of sunlight, Loki travelled from the grand dining room to the kitchen. He had to go to the lab for work in about an hour and a half, he’d already showered, and it was about time for him to finish his morning routine of breakfast, browsing the news, and getting dressed for the day. Loki pressed a button situated above the countertop and the speaker system wired throughout his kitchen came to life with a soft, glowing light. As he went about making his breakfast, the local radio station played through the speakers. The modern music was not of his tastes, he listened mostly for Louise. She had a pleasant voice, and Loki liked to be aware of the lives of most vampires in the area, especially the younger ones. They might need his guidance or intervention some day.

The scientist had a carefully crafted way of preparing his morning mug of blood. His fridge was stocked full of bagged blood, all from very willing donators, of course. He heated the red liquid on the cooker, set up double boiler-style so that the vapors from boiling water warmed it without scorching the plasma. A thermometer was clipped to the pan to measure the precise moment that the blood was heated to average human body temperature. Once heated, Loki tipped the sanguine delight into a clay mug and brought it, along with his plate of beans, toast, and a fried egg, over to the shaded side of the dining room table.

Loki enjoyed his breakfast whilst scrolling through his favourite news sites on a tablet. He might be archaic, but that didn’t mean that his understanding of technology had to be. He could manage an iPad, and all of the equivalents. Loki made it a point to stay on the forefront of technological advancement at all times, as knowledge was in fact power, and he quite liked having power. There was the sound of a key being turned and the front door opened to reveal a short, very pregnant woman, with long dark brown hair. Loki smiled up at her.

“Good morning, Miss Madeline.” Loki greeted his maid and personal assistant, for lack of a better title. She smiled in return and struggled to get the things she was carrying through the door. Loki stood up and made his way over to her to help carry some of the bags. “Now now, don’t strain yourself, luv.”

“Thank you, Master Van Stenberg. That’s your dry cleaning, it was done a bit early. Also, I managed to get the blood out of your linens.” She said and closed the door behind her. She spoke lightly of the blood because she was fully aware of what Loki was. He made sure to pay her handsomely for her secrecy, paired with weighty intimidation in the form of thinly-veiled threats towards her precious growing family if she were to ever betray him. It was good system they had, truly, it benefited the both of them.

“The Millesimo ones? Brilliant! Those were pricey.” Loki praised her as he walked back over to his breakfast.

“Quite… perhaps next time you’ll think twice before eating in bed.” Madeline replied sassily, arranging the bags in neat piles according to where she would need to bring them.

Loki smirked as he chewed a bite of his beans and toast. He swallowed before speaking again. “Well, where’s the fun in that, Miss Maddie?“ She rolled her eyes and went about her work. Their conversation continued as usual, until something rather out of the ordinary came up. Louise’s lovely radio voice was replaced by that of an old-timey male news presenter-styled voice. Loki listened to the hijacked broadcast with piqued interest, sipping at his mug or warmed blood in quiet contemplation. It was a manifesto. A call to arms. When the man was finished, Loki laughed.

Madeline, however, was less amused. Loki could sense the change in her emotions, as fear began to roll off of her in waves. It changed the very aroma of her blood, her fear made it all the more enticing. It was only natural for her to be afraid, as she was a human and he was not, and that was a very anti-Other manifesto that Loki was choosing to laugh at. “Come now, Madeline. There is nothing for you to worry about. Do you see me worried? It’s rather amusing, actually, for your lot to be so bold as to challenge the wolves on the night on which they are strongest.” Loki tilted his head to the side and smirked at her. “I do wonder… shall the hunters actually become the hunted?” he mused with an eerie grin.

“I-I don’t know, Master Van Stenberg.” She stammered, carefully placing a fresh floral arrangement on the dining room table, which she had picked up for him at Evermore Flowers earlier that morning. Lilies, those were his favourite, Maddie knew him well. Seeing that Loki was finished with his breakfast, she took away his dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, along with those he had used to prepare his meal, to started the wash cycle. The vampire stood up and walked over to her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, at least that was his intent in the gesture. Madeline jumped at the touch and spun around to face him.

“Take the weekend off, I insist. Stay indoors until all of this blows over, I would hate to see you taken as collateral damage if any bloodshed is to occur.” In a shockingly warm motion, Loki brushed his thumb across her cheek. Madeline’s expression paled. “I’d be lost without you, luv.”

Madeline nodded in agreement. “Of course, thank you, Ma—”

“No need to thank me. Head home now, give your son a kiss. Keep him safe.” Loki’s words were meant to be kind and concerned, yet they came off as intimidating. Madeline worked for a vampire, a vampire who had once vaguely threatened the life of the son he was now requesting that she keep safe. Maddie nodded once again and saw herself out of his home.

Now that he was alone, Loki had a lot to ponder. He stepped into his walk-in closet, which was stocked with his collection of suits, including the freshly dry-cleaned ones. Loki selected a charcoal grey ensemble, paired with a pale purple shirt, and a rich plum tie. The elder vampire deftly tied the silk, paisley-patterned fabric around his neck in a Balthus knot as he contemplated what he wanted to do about the broadcast he’d just heard. A man with meddlesome proclivities such as his could not simply sit around and do nothing. As he pulled the tie knot tight, an idea struck him.

Blake.

It was nearly time for him to head to work, but attempting to discover the cure for cancer could serve to wait a few more minutes. Loki had more important things to do… like torturing one particularly self-righteous human journalist, for example. Loki sat at his computer desk and flipped open his laptop screen. He clicked on his e-mail account, and decided it far better to send this letter anonymously, for now, at least. Loki created a disposable new e-mail address under the name “collateral_damage”, inspired by the phrase from his previous conversation. He began to tap out a message to send to the woman who so openly invited the Other and non-Other world to contact her.

Good Morning, Miss Preston,

I assume that a journalist such as yourself has heard the news by now. Quite the broadcast was aired live for all of Edgetoun to hear just moments ago. It appears that your messages of Other equality have fallen on deaf ears. Or… perhaps those ears were not so deaf, after all. In these past few weeks, you have sat behind your computer screen and typed about things far beyond your scope of understanding. You are a human in far over your head, and I believe that you may not even realize it. The events of this coming weekend are the consequence of your self-proclaimed activism. You spoke too loud, and now the actions of the extremists that you have inspired will speak even louder. A war is brewing, and whether or not you physically choose to participate in it, the Other blood that is shed will still be on your hands.

Take care in writing your next article. The whole world is watching, and not everyone sees things through rose-tinted glasses.

Regards,
Your Not-So-Friendly Neighbourhood Vampire

Loki’s eyes scanned the screen as he proofread the letter for any errors. Did he truly believe that Blake’s flashy journalism was to blame for the radical behavior of the extremist broadcast hijacker? No, he did not believe that. The e-mail was meant to bait Blake into a little game of cat and mouse. To knock the annoying journalist down off of her high horse which, in his eyes, she had no right to put a saddle upon. This game might entertain him, at least for a time. Eternal life lasted far too long to spend it being bored. Loki abhorred boredom.

CANCELLED.

_{Featuring: Dixon “Just Juice” Piccoli
Location: The Helmsley’s Boat Party}

Dixon had once heard people talking about how hell has multiple circles. He wasn’t totally sure of the specifics, as he was never a very religious boy — neither were his folks — but, he was quite sure that he heard someone mention that once before. He was also quite sure that the car ride he’d just endured was one of those circles. The worst one. How the fuck did he wind up in that position? A position… on top of a boy, in the backseat of a car. Jesus Christ, he still felt all sweaty because of it. Fuck Damian and his stupid ass speaker. And fuck Katie too for inviting him to this stupid ass party. And fuck Noah for — no, don’t fuck Noah. Definitely don’t fuck Noah.

The thoroughly pissed off boy boarded the boat with his fists balled up so hard in his hoodie pockets that they threatened to burst through the seams. To make matters worse, they had arrived ridiculously early to this party. Why did he have to go and get a ride here with his not-brothers? He should have just been honest and got a ride from his Dad at a more appropriate time of arrival. No… he should have just stayed home, that’s what he should have done. It was too late for that now, he’d have to find something to do to occupy his time. Hopefully something enjoyable. He sure as hell hoped he wasn’t expected to help out with set up, because he certainly did not sign up for all of that business.

While the rest of the car ride crew went about adjusting lights and ensuring that the boat was party-ready, Dixon went exploring. He had never been on the Helmsley’s boat before, and the thing was fucking massive. It was damn near the size of a strip mall and, if he didn’t have such a good understanding of physics, he probably would have questioned how the thing even managed to float. There were a lot of rooms, the more private ones had little signs posted outside them to indicate if they were occupied or not… Dixon was pretty sure those were entirely designed as fuck rooms. He could dig that. The most interesting place he found was the game room below deck. It had a pool table, air hockey, darts, tables for beer pong and other drinking games, and a bunch of couches situated around the video game station, which was mostly set up for Guitar Hero. JD plopped himself on one of said couches and pulled out his phone.

The young teenager lost track of time as he sat there, viciously tapping at the device in his hands. Watching Jareth play Fortnite earlier had inspired him to do the same. The best place he had gotten so far was seventh. Dixon was normally pretty ace at video games, but playing on mobile was a severe handicap to the gameplay. There were the sounds of people upstairs, lots of people, and there were even folks crowding into the game room itself, but JD paid them no mind. It wasn’t until his phone screen dimmed and flashed a “Less than 10% battery life remaining!” message that Dixon looked up from what he was doing.

Holy crap… this was a big crowd. JD sat up slowly, as if he was trying not to draw any attention to himself, and he slid his phone back into his pocket. He should probably preserve the rest of his battery life in case any emergency came up. Though… they were in the middle of the ocean, so he wasn’t sure what good a phone call would do if there was an actual emergency. Wait! They were in the middle of the ocean now, at least they probably were, it seemed like enough people were here! This gave Dixon an idea.

Wandering his way further into the depths of the labyrinthian yacht, Dixon finally found it. The control room! Better yet, he found it, and it wasn’t locked. Oooh… JD looked around at all of the buttons and controls with wide-eyed amazement, closing the door behind him. “You shouldn’t be in here, please return to the festivities. The captain’s room is off limits to party guests.”

“Whoa!” Dixon jumped as the sudden voice of the ship’s AI system filled the room. He looked around, and found that he was very much so alone, so the voice definitely had to be AI. “Says who?” He replied.

“The captain.” The feminine voice responded curtly.

“Well… I don’t see him around…” Dixon tested the computer. He was going to try to convince her to let him drive this thing. And to keep it a secret.

“I am the captain.” She replied, the inflection of her tone indicating that he’d struck a theoretical nerve. A… circuit chip? He wasn’t sure of the name of the physical component that gave Assistant’s their ability to express emotions and have personalities. What an annoying part that was, AIs could be real dicks these days.

“Oh… well, in that case. I am sorry, captain. Can I please drive the ship?”

“No.”

“Come on. Pleaassseeee? There are definitely manual controls here. I promise I won’t fuck it up. Sailing a ship is on my bucket list. This is going to be the only party story that I will have to tell. I don’t drink or do drugs or anything like all of the other kids here are doing. This could totally make my night, so… please?”

There was a moment of silence. Dixon raised his eyebrows curiously and looked around, as if there was going to be a physical manifestation of someone to talk to and convince. There wasn’t. But… after a few quiet seconds, there was a response. “Fine. You have five minutes, and I will act as co-pilot to counteract your inevitable human error.”

Geesh, she didn’t have to be so rude about it! Either way, JD agreed to those terms and received instructions from the computer on how to manually pilot the ship. Truth be told, it wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world, the boat was hardly moving above a snail’s pace, but it sure felt cool to Dixon! His five minutes passed, and he thanked the captain for letting him do that before leaving her in peace. He heard the door click locked as soon as he exited the room. Clearly she didn’t want to have anymore non-Helmsley-staffed visitors. Whatever… at least he got to have his fun!

Now what? He should probably try to find Katie. She was the reason he came, after all. Well, her and her friend. It was more of the friend that did the heavy-lifting part in convincing JD. Noah wanted him to come, and he’d never really even talked to the boy before. He couldn’t really say no to that. Dixon chewed at his lip ring and decided that he needed a drink first. Not a drink drink, just a normal one, because he was thirsty. Remy’s salty snack foods that Damian had pilfered, and Dixon had doubly-pilfered, were probably to blame for his thirst.

JD weaved his small frame through the crowds of high schoolers with ease. Up the stairs, down the halls, passing the dance floor (and avoiding the dancing entirely), Dixon finally made it to the bar. The large male bartender looked at him directly and Dixon suddenly felt a little bit intimidated. “What’ll it be, kid?” The man asked, wiping a glass with a linen cloth before stowing it away in a cabinet with others of its kind.

“Juice.” Dixon responded coolly. That went much easier than expected. So he thought…

The bartender raised an eyebrow at JD, looking him over and not even bothering to hide the judgement in his eyes. Dixon felt each and every label that the man was tossing upon him: kid, street rat, troublemaker, punk. The list went on. JD stood his ground defiantly and kept his gaze locked on the bartender. “Listen, kid. I don’t know what kind of party you think that this is, but there isn’t any jungle juice here. The Helmsley’s are offering up the best, and I’m under instructions not to card anybody. You can take your pick of anything. We’ve got top shelf,” he gestured behind him with his thumb towards the bottom row of bottles. He cast his thumb upwards again and again after the next two statements. “And the shelf above the top shelf, and lastly, the shelf so damned high, it practically comes from the attic of a royal castle. So… what’ll it be?”

The green-haired boy stared at him dully. Was this guy for real? “Just… juice. Please. I like pineapple the most, but if you really want to make it super fancy.” Dixon held out his pinkie finger, high and proud, mocking how a pretentious person might sip their tea. “You could put a splash of mango in it, a bit of club soda to make it fizzy, and a couple of cherries. I mean… if we’re being really fancy, you know.” Dixon smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. He was proud as a peacock with his very extra request.

The bartender chuckled and shook his head. “I actually think I like you, kid…” He remarked before turning and making JD’s non-alcoholic beverage. Dixon’s slowly dying phone buzzed in his pocket while he waited for his drink to be finished. He fetched the device and unlocked it with his finger pattern. It was Katie, and she was probably looking for him. Dixon supposed that was perfect timing.

From: Katie
i am in dire need of assistance and if you don't come i need you to have a very good reason

Well that wasn’t ominous or anything. Jesus, what did she get herself into now? Maybe she actually murdered Scott this time, and needed help hiding his body. Good thing they were on a boat, the ocean makes for more than a decent-sized watery grave. The bartender slid the finished product in a glass towards Dixon, and JD politely thanked him without any of the sass from earlier, before he responded to the text.

To: Katie
kk
where are you?

CANCELLED.

_{A Collab by @Universorum and @Silent Observer
Featuring: Sean “Not A Perfect” Sterling and Selena “Pretends To Be A Perfect” Sterling
Location: Sean’s Car → The Helmsley’s Boat Party}

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Sean and Selena were on their way to the Tuesday night party, in Sean’s new NSX. He was happy to report that the car rode smoothly, and was even happier to report that he liked it. This was good; it meant he’d have a viable mode of transportation that could comfortably fit at least some kind of shopping bag. He had a feeling that if this thing with Brynn was going to go anywhere, then he needed a way to lug around a lot of shopping bags. She seemed the type.

Sean tapped the paddle shifters on the back of the steering wheel and looked over at Selena. Currently, his focus wasn’t on Brynn. He was meant to be focused on Selena. They needed to talk. Since his return from the Academy, nothing really had gone right with them. Sean had been in a bit of a mood since coming back, and it seemed to have established a rift between the two of them. He wanted to fix it, or at least attempt to. Maybe with a decent enough talk, she would be happy again.

His lack of interest in a party had seemed to upset her, but she didn’t fully understand. It wasn’t just that. Sean’s expulsion from the Academy had left him in a rut. He wasn’t himself, he wanted to be alone, so that he could wallow in his own depression. Fortunately, it seemed Sean was willing to bend for the wants of Brynn and Selena combined.

And now they were heading to the party together.

“Selena, we should talk.” There, conversation started.

The feminine twin had remained silent throughout their entire walk to the car. This might be viewed as her stewing, but in reality, she was just mentally preparing herself for the party. Selena had a number of faces to wear, and the one that was required for a Helmsley party was not the one that she was currently wearing. Clearing her mind, Selena stared out of the window and tried to think of the things she had to look forward to. The list was short, but it was working to distract her until Sean spoke up. Sel didn’t even turn her head to respond, she kept her gaze focused on the passing landscapes outside the car. “Should we?”

“More specifically, I need to talk, and you’ll listen, then you can talk, and I’ll listen. Or, you can ignore me — either or. I need to at least somewhat clear the air here.” Sean paused, staring at the road for a moment, thinking about how best to phrase what he had to say. He couldn’t be blatant about it, his father didn’t want his mother nor his siblings to know about any of what he did, so he had to dodge questions and formulate answers that weren’t complete truths, nor complete lies. It would not be easy. “I don’t know what you’ve been told about the school that I went to, but it was a very big deal that I got accepted to it, perhaps even more so considering I was recommended by Christopher. I worked very hard, and I threw away years of my life and time with my family to achieve the goal of graduating from the Academy with top marks. I was on the way to doing it, when I messed up. I made one mistake, and it left an ugly, bloody wound on what could have been an otherwise legendary career.”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, taking a glance at his sister, before pressing on. “I didn’t expect to be expelled like I was, but looking back? I probably should have expected it. I’d seen others get worse for less. I failed myself, I failed our father, I failed Christopher, and I failed the family. I messed up. I’ve come back here, and I’m different, yes, but more than that I’m just… I think I’m pretty much clinically depressed. I’m in a slump. I don’t like to interact with people, already; add in being in a slump, and being trapped on a boat with a bunch of people sounds like hell.”

“I’m not a perfect Sterling, I’d argue that I’m not even a good one. I can’t do what mom and dad expect and be a socialite and make appearances and friends and connections and be a benefit. I had my shot, and I blew it, and I’m trying to come to terms with that. But you have to give me time, Sel. I like time alone. I love you, and of course I want to do things with you — you’re basically my other half, just not in a romantic way? — but I really do enjoy just sitting in my room and being quiet. I know it’s boring, and I know it’s not very Sterling-esque, or even teenager-like of me to do that, but I do.” There was another pause, longer this time, before Sean said:

“Okay, your turn.”

Selena sighed. She listened to her brother, of course she did, but did he really think that she didn’t know most of these things? Sel lived under the same roof as him, under the same parents, with the same pressures. Selena did everything in her power to be the perfect daughter, and even then, she was repaid with lies. Sean was the one who got to go to a special school, he escaped, and he was favored for it. Things were different now that he was home, but they were different in a worse way. “I don’t know what you expect me to say, Sean. I’m not a perfect Sterling either, you know. If I was, then Daddy wouldn’t lie to me… but he does. And so do you. And Mom…” There was a moment of silence where Sel almost started to chew on her lip. She stopped herself when she remembered that she was wearing lipstick. That would ruin her party face. The physical one… her emotional one was completely shot at this point. She could at least try to salvage one of them. “I wasn’t trying to force you to go… I just… I didn’t want to go alone again. It’s a lot, I know that, I do it all the time. To you that boat is going to be full of a chaotic mess of people and, to me, it’s going to be just as lonely as being in our house. You say you like being alone, but it’s only because you are depressed — and yes, I knew that too. You’re my twin, and I’m not blind. I just have no idea how to help. I’m trying to find ways to spend time with you, because I’ve missed having you around so much, but… I don’t know. Maybe we’re both too messed up to be happy anymore. Mandy and Ali might be little turds, but I envy how close they are… we used to have that too.”

“We can have it again. Maybe not parties? We could do literally anything else together, and it would be much better. Maybe it is just because I’m depressed, but you know, depression passes… eventually. This might be good for me — maybe I’ll even get plastered like the rest of them. Who knows? Where should I park?” Sean asked, looking around as they pulled into the area. Sean turned his attention to the boat, and raised an eyebrow at the glowing monstrosity, radiating a million colors into the sea. “That’s… different. Has their boat always glowed?” He asked, putting the car in a spot away from the others; he decided he didn’t want it near other people.

“I’m not mad at you. I even overreacted a little, and I realize that. I think what it boils down to,” Sean paused, getting out of the car and walking around to her side to open the door for her, “is that I felt spoken for, by you. I wouldn’t have minded going to the party, I don’t think, but you sort of just told me to? And then you had mom tell me to. And that made me more annoyed, so I lashed out. I’m sorry,” Sean said, holding out a hand to pull her out of the vehicle, so they could enter the party together — like she wanted.

“I won’t invite you to a party again. Or assume you’re going to one. I’m sorry.” Selena responded with a genuine apology. Despite her family’s tendency to lie — be it blatant, by omission, or through half-truths — Sel would always be honest with her brother. She had no reason not to be. At least not yet, anyway. “I’ll offer a free pass, one shot to get me to do anything that you want to do instead. How about that? Even if it sounds like something I wouldn’t like, I promise I won’t complain.” The soft smile that graced her lips betrayed that she might be making a promise that she couldn’t keep. Sel would at least do her best not to complain, it would really depend on what activity he’d come up with. Her phone buzzed in her clutch and Sel pulled it out to see a text from Jamie, which she responded to.

To: Rita Skeeter
Sounds fantastic!
Be there soon, we just pulled in.

Selena pointed out a place for Sean to park once they arrived in the lot. She was gathering her things in the passenger seat and was pleasantly surprised when her brother showed up at her door to open it for her. So… he could still be a proper gentleman, it seemed. Mom would be proud. “Thanks, Seanie.” she said as she stepped out of his new ride, taking the hand that he offered her. Sel turned for a moment to admire the vehicle, which reminded her of his early quip about her own whip. “It doesn’t only drive itself, by the way. My pink monstrosity. I actually rarely use that feature — only when I am multitasking, or if I’ve had anything to drink. Liking to have control is the one Sterling trait that both of us inherited. I could see how you might consider the color a bit garish, though. Oh! By the way! Tell me about your motorcycle, what’s that like? Mother looked like she had a cow when Mandy brought that up.” Selena asked him with an excited, wide sparkle in her eyes. For the first time in a while, she looked like she was living up to her namesake.

“No, she’s not happy about it, at all. I bought it with my own money — because I wanted it. It’s like riding a bike, only with a motor I guess? I don’t know, you can ride it if you want. It’s not very hard, just remember to squeeze the clutch before you shift. Do you know how to drive a stick? It’s similar to that, only you shift with your foot. You hear the engine revving up, shift the gear.” Sean shrugged his shoulders. To him, it wasn’t really a big deal, he’d been riding motorcycles for quite some time now. “Riding a motorcycle is much better than driving a car, in my opinion. It’s a lot faster, and I like the maneuverability. It’s a helluva lot easier to outrun the cops when you can bob and weave in between buildings and traffic. Don’t tell mom I said that.”

“Of course I can drive stick. Daddy taught me.” Selena said as she hooked her arm with Sean’s as they walked towards the yacht. Sean would know that fact about her, had he been around for their sixteenth birthday. But he wasn’t. She wondered then, how it was that he learned, if Daddy wasn’t there to teach him too. There was so much that she didn’t know, and she hated that. Sel listened to him talk about his interesting new toy, and her ears perked up at one particular statement towards the end. “The cops?! Seanie!” Sel tsked and gently slapped at him. “Mom’s gonna kill you! Wait… did you say that I could ride it?” There it was, the sparkle came back.

“Mom’s never gonna know. I didn’t get caught, so no harm, no foul. And yes, you can ride it if you’d like. Or, I could just buy you your own… Up to you, I don’t care.” Sean explained, looking at the two guards, who handed him an iPad. Sean stared at it at first, before he scribbled his name onto it, and handed it over to Selena. “Trust me, if you’re going fast enough, the cops won’t even bother. At least not where I drive.” Sean explained, smiling at his twin sister. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad of an experience.

Selena’s expression paled at the words he was so casually saying in front of the Helmsely’s security guards. She played it off with a dismissive, casual laugh. “Very funny, Sean.” Selena signed her name in elegant script across the screen and passed it back to the guards with a warm, entirely innocent smile. As soon as they stepped out of earshot, she leaned in towards him and whispered. “I’d love to try it. Don’t tell mom I said that.”

Sean almost laughed at her trying to deflect his statement, as if the two security guards cared. As they walked up the ramp together, he decided to drive the discussion away, in case she crumbled when they got with their peers. “I joined a gym after school today. Well, I applied; hopefully they process my paperwork and accept me soon.” Sean explained, looking out at the sea of people. Well, if he had to guess, Brynn was at the bar. “The 365 Combat Club. Have you ever heard of it? I Googled it and it looks nice — a little small, but definitely nice.”

“Oh…” Sel turned to him as she processed that piece of information. She grimaced a little, and didn’t bother to hide it. “Yes, I’ve heard of it. Owen’s dad owns it. You remember Owen… from the party? He cheated on our cousin, almost killed Marshall… you… mysteriously went from mathlete to athlete and stopped him.” Selena’s eyes were on him, full of curiosity as she remembered that scene in vivid detail. “Are you sure you want to go there? There’s probably a dozen other gyms in the area, it’s Beverly Hills.”

Sean nodded. “Yes, it was his suggestion that I join. Owen seems really nice, as far as I can tell. He approached me this morning, I think to be friends. We shook hands, and I told him that I don’t have any problems with him. He wants to spar with me, so I figured I might as well join the gym if I’m going to be doing that — I have to stay in shape somehow, after all,” Sean said, before rolling his eyes in response to her bit about his ‘mysterious’ transformation. “I don’t think I transformed at all. I just saw a situation that was about to go from bad to worse, and I stepped in to defuse it as best I could. You guys were lucky I was there, though. I think Marshall and probably Ophelia would both be in the ground by now if not for my intervention.”

“Maybe… I’m not sure though. Owen and Marshall were like, weirdly close before all of this. Not weird because of the closeness, it’s just that they’re very different people, you’ll see that if you get to know them. I don’t know, I think Owen was just a bit triggered. I’m glad you stepped in, someone did need to. I just didn’t expect it to be you. You kind of got the whole school talking about you, you know?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. Sometimes, people need saving. I’m usually a villain, but I can play the hero when the mood arises.” He gave her a smile, the mischievous glint now apparent in his eyes, “I guess this is where we part ways? I’m sure you want to hunt down Jamie and… do whatever it is you and Jamie do.”

Selena smiled through a slight giggle. “Oh… you know... gossip, shopping, talking about boys.” She said teasingly. Some of that was true, and most would assume those were the kinds of things she cared about, but Sel hardly talked about boys. Ever. There were never any interesting ones to discuss, well... usually there weren’t. “He did actually text me to meet up with him. You could come with, I promise I won’t let him awkwardly stare at you again. For both of our sakes… unless, you have other plans? I’m sure Brynn… is here. Somewhere.” Hopefully not shacking up with someone other than Sean. Not that she wanted to think about Brynn shacking up with Sean… eww, wow, no thank you.

“Brynn is here, and I’m on a quest to find her. Text me when you’re ready to leave, unless you end up going home with someone else.” Sean smiled and kissed her on the cheek, before he turned to leave and begin his own adventure.

Spectral Voices

Wolfrik Bastian Wasserman

𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Wolfrik Bastian Wasserman

𝗔𝗚𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

24. (24)

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

If it weren’t for Wolfrik’s gauntly skinny frame, his height might be described as imposing. His mother and her family were not tall people, so Wolf believes that his unknown father is to thank for this gene. Although his sharply defined bone structure and pitch black, messily-styled hair could be referred to as handsome — especially in the alternative community — there is an off-putting aura to Wolfrik that most people can’t quite put their fingers on. With pallid skin and circles under his eyes so dark that it’s a mystery if they’re from eyeliner or exhaustion, it comes as no surprise that the dhampire practically has one foot in the grave. On his best days, Wolfie looks a bit edgy, and on his worst, he is straight up ghastly. This does not deter Wolfrik from making a fashion statement, however. He wears his grim aesthetic well, outfitting himself in a plethora of tattoos — some by his own hand — as well as dark, purposefully worn out clothing with a certain gothic-grunge appeal.

𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Tattoo Artist — Worked at a shop called Tätowierhandwerk in Düsseldorf, Germany prior to arriving in Edgetoun.

𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Being fresh to Edgetoun, Wolfrik is currently unaffiliated with any of the local factions, though he is not close-minded to the idea of joining one.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Everything about Wolfrik is unapologetic, from the way that he speaks, to his style choices, and especially his attitude. He inherited his free-spirited nature from his mother, as he was always encouraged to vocalize his emotions while he was growing up. “Use your words.” She had told him, and he hasn’t stopped doing just that since. This behavior has only been magnified by his discovery of who he is, and what it means to be a dhampire. Wolfrik now has something worthwhile to fight for, a greater cause, Other equality… a cure. While he dabbles in his own form of activism, Wolfie has also embraced the “you only live once” lifestyle of his species — including some of the more taboo aspects, like drug use and alcoholism. That said, he hasn’t lost his humanity, it’s one of the few things that he has left of his mother, and it would crush him to relinquish it. No matter how intense the pain gets, he refuses to drink human blood to alleviate it. There are other forms of escape, they might be ugly, but at least they aren’t cannibalistic.

Despite his somewhat intimidating appearance, Wolfrik is not a monster. He hopes that he never will be. Wolfie is the type of soul that would give up his umbrella in a rainstorm, take the shirt off his back, or donate the last bit of the food in his cupboards to a person that seemed like they needed more than himself. Years of sitting on the other side of the tattoo artist’s chair has also made him a good listener, he loves hearing other people’s stories, and it often can improve the quality of their tattoos if he truly hears them out. He’s selfless, and he has a hell of a lot of love to give, with very few people left to give it to. Wolfrik breathes his emotional states into his artwork, whether it be in the form of spray paint on brick walls, or the ink under one’s skin, this is his legacy. Without a cure, Wolfrik may not live past the age of 35, but through his living artwork… he can be confident that at least some part of him will.

𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Born and raised in Düsseldorf, Germany, Wolfrik lived a simple and content life. Although his mother raised him as a single parent on a starving artist’s dime, he wanted for nothing. Having inherited Ilse’s creativity, the refrigerator of the Wasserman household was often plastered with the young boy’s pencil sketches and crayon drawings. His mother would proudly boast to her friends and colleagues about his gifts, fully believing that he would surpass her own artistic abilities one day. He was a talented kid, never very studious, but talented enough to make up for it, at least that was his mother’s hope.

The pair had a bond like none other. While Ilse had a decent sized family in Germany, having a child out of wedlock as a university student had unintentionally distanced her from them. Instead of letting her family’s cruelty depress her, Ilse poured all of her familial love into her only child. Wolfie was her rock just as much as she was his. This made keeping the truth of his heritage hidden from him difficult, and as the years progressed, keeping this secret grew even harder. Unfortunately for the both of them, the time for honesty came in the most brutal of ways.

Wolfrik was sick, but his mother was sicker. His brief, mysterious bouts of pain were nothing in comparison to the way that cancer had tore through her body. Wolfie was seventeen years old when he dropped out of school to support himself and his mother. Ilse hated this choice, but even she could not deny that him picking up work would ensure that the rent and medical bills got paid on time. Isle still struggled with how to admit the secrets she had been keeping from Wolfrik. Thankfully for her, she didn’t have to yet, as the treatments Ilse received were surprisingly effective, and she was soon in remission.

During this time, Wolfrik became established as a tattoo artist. He truly found himself in this profession. He was passionate about art, dedicated to his craft, and — despite his undiagnosed medical condition — he thrived. Although he could have afforded to strike out on his own, Wolf continued to live with his mother. He’d almost lost her once, and he’d be damned if he was going to leave her side. Fate disagreed with this sentiment, however, as Ilse’s cancer returned. She knew her days were numbered this time, so she finally told Wolfrik everything. Ilse admitted that his father was not some meaningless one night stand, as he had been led to believe up until then. His father was a professor at the university where Ilse had studied, whom she had fallen in love with, and his name at the time was Loki Albrecht. He had left town without notice before Ilse could tell him that she was pregnant with his child. It was as if he had died, gone like a ghost in the night, without any way for Ilse to contact him. Loki had broken her heart, he had changed her life, and... he was a vampire.

That last part was the hardest piece of information to swallow. Wolfrik might have attributed her tales to nothing more than the ramblings of a dying woman, if there wasn’t something within him that resonated with this truth. He had to believe her, she was his mother, and there was no other explanation for his condition to date. When Ilse passed away soon after this revelation, it was both a devastation and a relief, for she was only living half a life towards the end. The loss of her broke Wolfrik, but not enough to keep him down forever. Ilse had left him with a drawing and half of a name, and that was all that Wolfrik needed to begin the investigation of his paternity. For years, it was nothing more than dead-end searches and rabbit holes. Wolf discovered the term dhampire, and what it meant for him, but his father remained a mystery. It wasn’t until the mass outing of the Other that Wolfrik got any real leads. It was much easier to find the whereabouts of old vampires named ‘Loki’ with the sudden rise of “Dhampire Meetup” groups online to join and discuss your paternal search with, especially when you have a hand drawn picture of the man to reference. Wolfrik now finds himself with a full name, a one-way plane ticket to Edgetoun, and an indescribable amount of emotions swirling within himself.

𝗙𝗔𝗩𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Full list to be decided upon Wolfrik’s arrival in Edgetoun. He has researched the local tattoo shops on the internet and has an interest in applying as an artist at STRAIGHT EDGE for the duration of his stay in town, however long that stay may be.

𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦 & 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Ilse Wasserman, mother, deceased.
Loki Van Stenberg, father, alive
Monika Linnewerth, ex-girlfriend, alive

For Queen and Country

WOLFRIK

𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Wolfrik Bastian Wasserman

𝗔𝗚𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

24. (24)

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

If it weren’t for Wolfrik’s gauntly skinny frame, his height might be described as imposing. His mother and her family were not tall people, so Wolf believes that his unknown father is to thank for this gene. Although his sharply defined bone structure and pitch black, messily-styled hair could be referred to as handsome — especially in the alternative community — there is an off-putting aura to Wolfrik that most people can’t quite put their fingers on. With pallid skin and circles under his eyes so dark that it’s a mystery if they’re from eyeliner or exhaustion, it comes as no surprise that the dhampire practically has one foot in the grave. On his best days, Wolfie looks a bit edgy, and on his worst, he is straight up ghastly. This does not deter Wolfrik from making a fashion statement, however. He wears his grim aesthetic well, outfitting himself in a plethora of tattoos — some by his own hand — as well as dark, purposefully worn out clothing with a certain gothic-grunge appeal.

𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Tattoo Artist — Worked at a shop called Tätowierhandwerk in Düsseldorf, Germany prior to arriving in Edgetoun.

𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Being fresh to Edgetoun, Wolfrik is currently unaffiliated with any of the local factions, though he is not close-minded to the idea of joining one.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Everything about Wolfrik is unapologetic, from the way that he speaks, to his style choices, and especially his attitude. He inherited his free-spirited nature from his mother, as he was always encouraged to vocalize his emotions while he was growing up. “Use your words.” She had told him, and he hasn’t stopped doing just that since. This behavior has only been magnified by his discovery of who he is, and what it means to be a dhampire. Wolfrik now has something worthwhile to fight for, a greater cause, Other equality… a cure. While he dabbles in his own form of activism, Wolfie has also embraced the “you only live once” lifestyle of his species — including some of the more taboo aspects, like drug use and alcoholism. That said, he hasn’t lost his humanity, it’s one of the few things that he has left of his mother, and it would crush him to relinquish it. No matter how intense the pain gets, he refuses to drink human blood to alleviate it. There are other forms of escape, they might be ugly, but at least they aren’t cannibalistic.

Despite his somewhat intimidating appearance, Wolfrik is not a monster. He hopes that he never will be. Wolfie is the type of soul that would give up his umbrella in a rainstorm, take the shirt off his back, or donate the last bit of the food in his cupboards to a person that seemed like they needed more than himself. Years of sitting on the other side of the tattoo artist’s chair has also made him a good listener, he loves hearing other people’s stories, and it often can improve the quality of their tattoos if he truly hears them out. He’s selfless, and he has a hell of a lot of love to give, with very few people left to give it to. Wolfrik breathes his emotional states into his artwork, whether it be in the form of spray paint on brick walls, or the ink under one’s skin, this is his legacy. Without a cure, Wolfrik may not live past the age of 35, but through his living artwork… he can be confident that at least some part of him will.

𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Born and raised in Düsseldorf, Germany, Wolfrik lived a simple and content life. Although his mother raised him as a single parent on a starving artist’s dime, he wanted for nothing. Having inherited Ilse’s creativity, the refrigerator of the Wasserman household was often plastered with the young boy’s pencil sketches and crayon drawings. His mother would proudly boast to her friends and colleagues about his gifts, fully believing that he would surpass her own artistic abilities one day. He was a talented kid, never very studious, but talented enough to make up for it, at least that was his mother’s hope.

The pair had a bond like none other. While Ilse had a decent sized family in Germany, having a child out of wedlock as a university student had unintentionally distanced her from them. Instead of letting her family’s cruelty depress her, Ilse poured all of her familial love into her only child. Wolfie was her rock just as much as she was his. This made keeping the truth of his heritage hidden from him difficult, and as the years progressed, keeping this secret grew even harder. Unfortunately for the both of them, the time for honesty came in the most brutal of ways.

Wolfrik was sick, but his mother was sicker. His brief, mysterious bouts of pain were nothing in comparison to the way that cancer had tore through her body. Wolfie was seventeen years old when he dropped out of school to support himself and his mother. Ilse hated this choice, but even she could not deny that him picking up work would ensure that the rent and medical bills got paid on time. Isle still struggled with how to admit the secrets she had been keeping from Wolfrik. Thankfully for her, she didn’t have to yet, as the treatments Ilse received were surprisingly effective, and she was soon in remission.

During this time, Wolfrik became established as a tattoo artist. He truly found himself in this profession. He was passionate about art, dedicated to his craft, and — despite his undiagnosed medical condition — he thrived. Although he could have afforded to strike out on his own, Wolf continued to live with his mother. He’d almost lost her once, and he’d be damned if he was going to leave her side. Fate disagreed with this sentiment, however, as Ilse’s cancer returned. She knew her days were numbered this time, so she finally told Wolfrik everything. Ilse admitted that his father was not some meaningless one night stand, as he had been led to believe up until then. His father was a professor at the university where Ilse had studied, whom she had fallen in love with, and his name at the time was Loki Albrecht. He had left town without notice before Ilse could tell him that she was pregnant with his child. It was as if he had died, gone like a ghost in the night, without any way for Ilse to contact him. Loki had broken her heart, he had changed her life, and... he was a vampire.

That last part was the hardest piece of information to swallow. Wolfrik might have attributed her tales to nothing more than the ramblings of a dying woman, if there wasn’t something within him that resonated with this truth. He had to believe her, she was his mother, and there was no other explanation for his condition to date. When Ilse passed away soon after this revelation, it was both a devastation and a relief, for she was only living half a life towards the end. The loss of her broke Wolfrik, but not enough to keep him down forever. Ilse had left him with a drawing and half of a name, and that was all that Wolfrik needed to begin the investigation of his paternity. For years, it was nothing more than dead-end searches and rabbit holes. Wolf discovered the term dhampire, and what it meant for him, but his father remained a mystery. It wasn’t until the mass outing of the Other that Wolfrik got any real leads. It was much easier to find the whereabouts of old vampires named ‘Loki’ with the sudden rise of “Dhampire Meetup” groups online to join and discuss your paternal search with, especially when you have a hand drawn picture of the man to reference. Wolfrik now finds himself with a full name, a one-way plane ticket to Edgetoun, and an indescribable amount of emotions swirling within himself.

𝗙𝗔𝗩𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Full list to be decided upon Wolfrik’s arrival in Edgetoun. He has researched the local tattoo shops on the internet and has an interest in applying as an artist at STRAIGHT EDGE for the duration of his stay in town, however long that stay may be.

𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦 & 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Ilse Wasserman, mother, deceased.
Loki Van Stenberg, father, alive
Monika Linnewerth, ex-girlfriend, alive

For Queen and Country

WOLFRIK

𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Wolfrik Bastian Wasserman

𝗔𝗚𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

24. (24)

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

If it weren’t for Wolfrik’s gauntly skinny frame, his height might be described as imposing. His mother and her family were not tall people, so Wolf believes that his unknown father is to thank for this gene. Although his sharply defined bone structure and pitch black, messily-styled hair could be referred to as handsome — especially in the alternative community — there is an off-putting aura to Wolfrik that most people can’t quite put their fingers on. With pallid skin and circles under his eyes so dark that it’s a mystery if they’re from eyeliner or exhaustion, it comes as no surprise that the dhampire practically has one foot in the grave. On his best days, Wolfie looks a bit edgy, and on his worst, he is straight up ghastly. This does not deter Wolfrik from making a fashion statement, however. He wears his grim aesthetic well, outfitting himself in a plethora of tattoos — some by his own hand — as well as dark, purposefully worn out clothing with a certain gothic-grunge appeal.

𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Tattoo Artist — Worked at a shop called Tätowierhandwerk in Düsseldorf, Germany prior to arriving in Edgetoun.

𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Being fresh to Edgetoun, Wolfrik is currently unaffiliated with any of the local factions, though he is not close-minded to the idea of joining one.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Everything about Wolfrik is unapologetic, from the way that he speaks, to his style choices, and especially his attitude. He inherited his free-spirited nature from his mother, as he was always encouraged to vocalize his emotions while he was growing up. “Use your words.” She had told him, and he hasn’t stopped doing just that since. This behavior has only been magnified by his discovery of who he is, and what it means to be a dhampire. Wolfrik now has something worthwhile to fight for, a greater cause, Other equality… a cure. While he dabbles in his own form of activism, Wolfie has also embraced the “you only live once” lifestyle of his species — including some of the more taboo aspects, like drug use and alcoholism. That said, he hasn’t lost his humanity, it’s one of the few things that he has left of his mother, and it would crush him to relinquish it. No matter how intense the pain gets, he refuses to drink human blood to alleviate it. There are other forms of escape, they might be ugly, but at least they aren’t cannibalistic.

Despite his somewhat intimidating appearance, Wolfrik is not a monster. He hopes that he never will be. Wolfie is the type of soul that would give up his umbrella in a rainstorm, take the shirt off his back, or donate the last bit of the food in his cupboards to a person that seemed like they needed more than himself. Years of sitting on the other side of the tattoo artist’s chair has also made him a good listener, he loves hearing other people’s stories, and it often can improve the quality of their tattoos if he truly hears them out. He’s selfless, and he has a hell of a lot of love to give, with very few people left to give it to. Wolfrik breathes his emotional states into his artwork, whether it be in the form of spray paint on brick walls, or the ink under one’s skin, this is his legacy. Without a cure, Wolfrik may not live past the age of 35, but through his living artwork… he can be confident that at least some part of him will.

𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Born and raised in Düsseldorf, Germany, Wolfrik lived a simple and content life. Although his mother raised him as a single parent on a starving artist’s dime, he wanted for nothing. Having inherited Ilse’s creativity, the refrigerator of the Wasserman household was often plastered with the young boy’s pencil sketches and crayon drawings. His mother would proudly boast to her friends and colleagues about his gifts, fully believing that he would surpass her own artistic abilities one day. He was a talented kid, never very studious, but talented enough to make up for it, at least that was his mother’s hope.

The pair had a bond like none other. While Ilse had a decent sized family in Germany, having a child out of wedlock as a university student had unintentionally distanced her from them. Instead of letting her family’s cruelty depress her, Ilse poured all of her familial love into her only child. Wolfie was her rock just as much as she was his. This made keeping the truth of his heritage hidden from him difficult, and as the years progressed, keeping this secret grew even harder. Unfortunately for the both of them, the time for honesty came in the most brutal of ways.

Wolfrik was sick, but his mother was sicker. His brief, mysterious bouts of pain were nothing in comparison to the way that cancer had tore through her body. Wolfie was seventeen years old when he dropped out of school to support himself and his mother. Ilse hated this choice, but even she could not deny that him picking up work would ensure that the rent and medical bills got paid on time. Isle still struggled with how to admit the secrets she had been keeping from Wolfrik. Thankfully for her, she didn’t have to yet, as the treatments Ilse received were surprisingly effective, and she was soon in remission.

During this time, Wolfrik became established as a tattoo artist. He truly found himself in this profession. He was passionate about art, dedicated to his craft, and — despite his undiagnosed medical condition — he thrived. Although he could have afforded to strike out on his own, Wolf continued to live with his mother. He’d almost lost her once, and he’d be damned if he was going to leave her side. Fate disagreed with this sentiment, however, as Ilse’s cancer returned. She knew her days were numbered this time, so she finally told Wolfrik everything. Ilse admitted that his father was not some meaningless one night stand, as he had been led to believe up until then. His father was a professor at the university where Ilse had studied, whom she had fallen in love with, and his name at the time was Loki Albrecht. He had left town without notice before Ilse could tell him that she was pregnant with his child. It was as if he had died, gone like a ghost in the night, without any way for Ilse to contact him. Loki had broken her heart, he had changed her life, and... he was a vampire.

That last part was the hardest piece of information to swallow. Wolfrik might have attributed her tales to nothing more than the ramblings of a dying woman, if there wasn’t something within him that resonated with this truth. He had to believe her, she was his mother, and there was no other explanation for his condition to date. When Ilse passed away soon after this revelation, it was both a devastation and a relief, for she was only living half a life towards the end. The loss of her broke Wolfrik, but not enough to keep him down forever. Ilse had left him with a drawing and half of a name, and that was all that Wolfrik needed to begin the investigation of his paternity. For years, it was nothing more than dead-end searches and rabbit holes. Wolf discovered the term dhampire, and what it meant for him, but his father remained a mystery. It wasn’t until the mass outing of the Other that Wolfrik got any real leads. It was much easier to find the whereabouts of old vampires named ‘Loki’ with the sudden rise of “Dhampire Meetup” groups online to join and discuss your paternal search with, especially when you have a hand drawn picture of the man to reference. Wolfrik now finds himself with a full name, a one-way plane ticket to Edgetoun, and an indescribable amount of emotions swirling within himself.

𝗙𝗔𝗩𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Full list to be decided upon Wolfrik’s arrival in Edgetoun. He has researched the local tattoo shops on the internet and has an interest in applying as an artist at STRAIGHT EDGE for the duration of his stay in town, however long that stay may be.

𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦 & 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Ilse Wasserman, mother, deceased.
Loki Van Stenberg, father, alive
Monika Linnewerth, ex-girlfriend, alive

For Queen and Country

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.

For Queen and Country

CAEL

𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Cael Lee Crawford
^{{Cael was named Spencer Lee Crawford until his eighteenth birthday, when he legally changed his first name to Cael in reference to his true fae name, Caeldyn.}}

𝗔𝗚𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

19. (19)

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Pastel colors, loud prints, cozy sweaters, black skinnies, floral designs, patterned tank tops, and punk boots. Cael’s sense of fashion is a little all over the map, yet it is undeniably fashionable. He wears what he wants when he wants, and he boldly owns his flamboyant style choices. The touchably soft, shaggy hair atop his head is altered with both chemicals and illusory magic. Cael’s locks are bleached to a pale blonde color that is often temporarily dyed — or glamoured — to appear any number of pastel shades. Mint green, powder blue, and soft lavender appear to be his favourites, which he frequently switches between to suit his ever-shifting moods. Currently, his hair is purple. As for physical stature, Cael fits into the stereotypically petite side of the fae, standing at 170cm with a thin frame that has been kept toned by years of dance and activities. A final notable characteristic is that Cael has heterochromia — both of his eyes have underlying grey tones, but his right is greenish while his left is more blue.

𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Cael is a freshman university student majoring in Liberal Arts — being perpetually indecisive about what career path he wants to take, Cael is choosing to study a little bit of everything and anything. Additionally, Cael is a part-time barista at The Daily Grind as a way to fund his college-aged “extracurriculars”.

𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

The Summer Court — This is the Court to which his fae parents belong, therefore it is the Court that Caeldyn affiliates with. Although Cael is a Changeling that was raised by a human family in the Overworld, the passion and heat of the summer sun boils the blood in his veins. Cael was born to this Court, and he decided that he was gladly willing to give his heart and soul to it, and it’s radiant monarch, after only a few visits.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

The Seelie Fae are said to be the personification of both spring and summer, and such is true for Caeldyn. Although Cael is a devout, albeit new, member of the Summer Court, his personality leans more towards the ways of spring. On the average day, he is cheerful and energetic, with one of the most contagious laughs that you ever did hear. The idiom states that one cannot have May’s flowers without first April’s showers, as such, Cael is as prone to bouts of melancholy as he is to manic episodes. His mood is as shifting and temperamental as springtime weather.

At a young nineteen years — which is infantile in fae timelines — Caeldyn is relatively guideless and woefully naïve. Being a child of spring has its perks, however, as Cael is boundlessly imaginative and full of fresh ideas, with an unyielding desire to learn and grow as much as possible. As any fae should be, Cael is also inherently meddlesome. He is always getting into other people’s business, and is intrigued by all things gossipy. While he is untrained in the true art of fae deception, Cael is still a trickster to the core — if he feels that someone has slighted him in some way, they will receive it back ten-fold, regardless of the innocence of said slight.

𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Just over nineteen years ago, the Crawfords made a grave mistake. William Crawford did not realize the mistake that he had made at the time, and he still does not to this day, but it was a mistake all the same. Billy was a logger, and as a logger, he did what loggers do — he cleared a forest. A fae-claimed forest. This was a sin against the fae of the highest order. William had taken what was theirs, so it was only fair play that they take something in return. Mrs. Crawford was with child at the time, which made the decision of payback easy. When the human child Spencer was born, he was stolen, and replaced with a baby fae Changeling named Caeldyn. The faerie’s powers would remain dormant until he reached his teen years, and until then, the parents would be none the wiser to the exchange that had taken place that fateful night.

Caeldyn grew up as Spencer, a fae child that was ignorant to what he truly was and where he had come from. He grew up human, but he was far from a normal boy. Spencer frequently talked to his imaginary friends in the closet, under his bed, and most importantly, in the backyard. He spent the majority of his childhood playing outdoors, rolling in the grass and soaking up as much sunshine as he could in the dreary England climate. He was an indecisive child, unable to pick a single hobby or activity to practice — he sang, he danced, he played instruments, and he participated on sports teams. The only activity that consistently stuck with him then and continues to stick with him now, is dance. His boundless energy and easily distracted mind earned him a diagnosis of ADHD as a child, but that mattered little to him. Spencer was as happy as could be, though the same was not true for the Crawford parents.

The fae continued to meddle in Mr. and Mrs. Crawford’s lives: grooming their “child” to prefer the company of fae over humans, stealing things from their home, causing their cars to not start and their expensive decor to fall over, and any number of other inconvenient things.The Crawfords had loved their little family home, but it appeared to be cursed, so they left it after nearly ten years of enduring the pranks and trickeries of the fae. They moved into a quaint three bedroom house in Edgetoun and thought that their lives would get better there. For them, it did not. For Spencer, this marked a new beginning, and the doors to a whole new world opened up to him.

Spencer was thirteen at the time that he first heard her song. The music called to him in both his dreams and his waking hours. The somber melody spoke to the young boy on a spiritual level… she sounded sad, and so very far away. Spencer had to find her, to give her comfort and assurance that everything would be okay. So Spencer did just that, he followed the nymph’s song all the way to Avalon. On that day, Spencer discovered his heritage, that he was actually named Caeldyn, the beautiful singer was his mother, and all of his imaginary childhood friends were real. She explained to him that if he wished to stay in the Overworld, he would have to learn how to conceal his true self from the humans. So he did.

Cael was only gone for a day. When he returned home, he expected to be scolded for having wandered off for so long, but he did not expect to be accused of having been missing for weeks. Time apparently worked differently in Avalon, minutes turned into days, hours to weeks, and everything was upside down and backwards. That said, it did not keep him from visiting Court again, he returned home many times. As Spencer grew into his late teens, he became increasingly distant from his human parents, and insisted that everyone call him Cael, without giving any reason for the change. Cael wanted to stay in the Overworld for means of frolicking and politicking, but he wanted to do so on his terms, and as his own person. When he reached his eighteenth birthday, Cael legally changed his name and enrolled in university — where he moved out into a dorm and started on his path towards true independence.

𝗙𝗔𝗩𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

UNIVERSITY OF EDGETOUN — This local college is surprisingly well-funded in comparison to some of the other establishments of Edgetoun. The campus buildings are named after a plethora of wealthy alumni and individuals from the town, and Cael specifically lives in Bigby Hall. Being a fulltime student and resident of the dormitories, Cael spends a great deal of time here.

THE DAILY GRIND — The coffee shop is the second most-likely place that you will find Cael, being that he works there as a barista part-time. Cael actually really likes his job, especially the discounted bakery treats to quell his insatiable sweet tooth, and the free coffee perks, not that he needs the extra energy.

YELENA — Ah yes, the extracurriculars. Cael makes it a point to go out clubbing quite often, as he enjoys the music, dancing, and meeting new people. Yelena is his particular favourite in that he gets to interact with like-minded individuals in terms of both otherness and Otherness. Perhaps one day he’ll find himself some summer lovin’ here.

𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦 & 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

William Crawford, human father, alive
Cheryl Crawford, human mother, alive
Bryzcael, fae mother, alive
Dynahlii, fae father, deceased in service to the Court
Aednyx soon-to-be mentor, alive
Aoife, college friend, alive
Guy, coworker, alive

Spectral Voices

Cael Lee Crawford

𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Cael Lee Crawford
^{{Cael was named Spencer Lee Crawford until his eighteenth birthday, when he legally changed his first name to Cael in reference to his true fae name, Caeldyn.}}

𝗔𝗚𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

19. (19)

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Pastel colors, loud prints, cozy sweaters, black skinnies, floral designs, patterned tank tops, and punk boots. Cael’s sense of fashion is a little all over the map, yet it is undeniably fashionable. He wears what he wants when he wants, and he boldly owns his flamboyant style choices. The touchably soft, shaggy hair atop his head is altered with both chemicals and illusory magic. Cael’s locks are bleached to a pale blonde color that is often temporarily dyed — or glamoured — to appear any number of pastel shades. Mint green, powder blue, and soft lavender appear to be his favourites, which he frequently switches between to suit his ever-shifting moods. Currently, his hair is purple. As for physical stature, Cael fits into the stereotypically petite side of the fae, standing at 170cm with a thin frame that has been kept toned by years of dance and activities. A final notable characteristic is that Cael has heterochromia — both of his eyes have underlying grey tones, but his right is greenish while his left is more blue.

𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Cael is a freshman university student majoring in Liberal Arts — being perpetually indecisive about what career path he wants to take, Cael is choosing to study a little bit of everything and anything. Additionally, Cael is a part-time barista at The Daily Grind as a way to fund his college-aged “extracurriculars”.

𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

The Summer Court — This is the Court to which his fae parents belong, therefore it is the Court that Caeldyn affiliates with. Although Cael is a Changeling that was raised by a human family in the Overworld, the passion and heat of the summer sun boils the blood in his veins. Cael was born to this Court, and he decided that he was gladly willing to give his heart and soul to it, and it’s radiant monarch, after only a few visits.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

The Seelie Fae are said to be the personification of both spring and summer, and such is true for Caeldyn. Although Cael is a devout, albeit new, member of the Summer Court, his personality leans more towards the ways of spring. On the average day, he is cheerful and energetic, with one of the most contagious laughs that you ever did hear. The idiom states that one cannot have May’s flowers without first April’s showers, as such, Cael is as prone to bouts of melancholy as he is to manic episodes. His mood is as shifting and temperamental as springtime weather.

At a young nineteen years — which is infantile in fae timelines — Caeldyn is relatively guideless and woefully naïve. Being a child of spring has its perks, however, as Cael is boundlessly imaginative and full of fresh ideas, with an unyielding desire to learn and grow as much as possible. As any fae should be, Cael is also inherently meddlesome. He is always getting into other people’s business, and is intrigued by all things gossipy. While he is untrained in the true art of fae deception, Cael is still a trickster to the core — if he feels that someone has slighted him in some way, they will receive it back ten-fold, regardless of the innocence of said slight.

𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Just over nineteen years ago, the Crawfords made a grave mistake. William Crawford did not realize the mistake that he had made at the time, and he still does not to this day, but it was a mistake all the same. Billy was a logger, and as a logger, he did what loggers do — he cleared a forest. A fae-claimed forest. This was a sin against the fae of the highest order. William had taken what was theirs, so it was only fair play that they take something in return. Mrs. Crawford was with child at the time, which made the decision of payback easy. When the human child Spencer was born, he was stolen, and replaced with a baby fae Changeling named Caeldyn. The faerie’s powers would remain dormant until he reached his teen years, and until then, the parents would be none the wiser to the exchange that had taken place that fateful night.

Caeldyn grew up as Spencer, a fae child that was ignorant to what he truly was and where he had come from. He grew up human, but he was far from a normal boy. Spencer frequently talked to his imaginary friends in the closet, under his bed, and most importantly, in the backyard. He spent the majority of his childhood playing outdoors, rolling in the grass and soaking up as much sunshine as he could in the dreary England climate. He was an indecisive child, unable to pick a single hobby or activity to practice — he sang, he danced, he played instruments, and he participated on sports teams. The only activity that consistently stuck with him then and continues to stick with him now, is dance. His boundless energy and easily distracted mind earned him a diagnosis of ADHD as a child, but that mattered little to him. Spencer was as happy as could be, though the same was not true for the Crawford parents.

The fae continued to meddle in Mr. and Mrs. Crawford’s lives: grooming their “child” to prefer the company of fae over humans, stealing things from their home, causing their cars to not start and their expensive decor to fall over, and any number of other inconvenient things.The Crawfords had loved their little family home, but it appeared to be cursed, so they left it after nearly ten years of enduring the pranks and trickeries of the fae. They moved into a quaint three bedroom house in Edgetoun and thought that their lives would get better there. For them, it did not. For Spencer, this marked a new beginning, and the doors to a whole new world opened up to him.

Spencer was thirteen at the time that he first heard her song. The music called to him in both his dreams and his waking hours. The somber melody spoke to the young boy on a spiritual level… she sounded sad, and so very far away. Spencer had to find her, to give her comfort and assurance that everything would be okay. So Spencer did just that, he followed the nymph’s song all the way to Avalon. On that day, Spencer discovered his heritage, that he was actually named Caeldyn, the beautiful singer was his mother, and all of his imaginary childhood friends were real. She explained to him that if he wished to stay in the Overworld, he would have to learn how to conceal his true self from the humans. So he did.

Cael was only gone for a day. When he returned home, he expected to be scolded for having wandered off for so long, but he did not expect to be accused of having been missing for weeks. Time apparently worked differently in Avalon, minutes turned into days, hours to weeks, and everything was upside down and backwards. That said, it did not keep him from visiting Court again, he returned home many times. As Spencer grew into his late teens, he became increasingly distant from his human parents, and insisted that everyone call him Cael, without giving any reason for the change. Cael wanted to stay in the Overworld for means of frolicking and politicking, but he wanted to do so on his terms, and as his own person. When he reached his eighteenth birthday, Cael legally changed his name and enrolled in university — where he moved out into a dorm and started on his path towards true independence.

𝗙𝗔𝗩𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗦
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

UNIVERSITY OF EDGETOUN — This local college is surprisingly well-funded in comparison to some of the other establishments of Edgetoun. The campus buildings are named after a plethora of wealthy alumni and individuals from the town, and Cael specifically lives in Bigby Hall. Being a fulltime student and resident of the dormitories, Cael spends a great deal of time here.

THE DAILY GRIND — The coffee shop is the second most-likely place that you will find Cael, being that he works there as a barista part-time. Cael actually really likes his job, especially the discounted bakery treats to quell his insatiable sweet tooth, and the free coffee perks, not that he needs the extra energy.

YELENA — Ah yes, the extracurriculars. Cael makes it a point to go out clubbing quite often, as he enjoys the music, dancing, and meeting new people. Yelena is his particular favourite in that he gets to interact with like-minded individuals in terms of both otherness and Otherness. Perhaps one day he’ll find himself some summer lovin’ here.

𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦 & 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

William Crawford, human father, alive
Cheryl Crawford, human mother, alive
Bryzcael, fae mother, alive
Dynahlii, fae father, deceased in service to the Court
Aednyx soon-to-be mentor, alive
Aoife, college friend, alive
Guy, coworker, alive

For Queen and Country

CAEL

𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Cael Lee Crawford
^{{Cael was named Spencer Lee Crawford until his eighteenth birthday, when he legally changed his first name to Cael in reference to his true fae name, Caeldyn.}}

𝗔𝗚𝗘
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

19. (19)

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
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Pastel colors, loud prints, cozy sweaters, black skinnies, floral designs, patterned tank tops, and punk boots. Cael’s sense of fashion is a little all over the map, yet it is undeniably fashionable. He wears what he wants when he wants, and he boldly owns his flamboyant style choices. The touchably soft, shaggy hair atop his head is altered with both chemicals and illusory magic. Cael’s locks are bleached to a pale blonde color that is often temporarily dyed — or glamoured — to appear any number of pastel shades. Mint green, powder blue, and soft lavender appear to be his favourites, which he frequently switches between to suit his ever-shifting moods. Currently, his hair is purple. As for physical stature, Cael fits into the stereotypically petite side of the fae, standing at 170cm with a thin frame that has been kept toned by years of dance and activities. A final notable characteristic is that Cael has heterochromia — both of his eyes have underlying grey tones, but his right is greenish while his left is more blue.

𝗢𝗖𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
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Cael is a freshman university student majoring in Liberal Arts — being perpetually indecisive about what career path he wants to take, Cael is choosing to study a little bit of everything and anything. Additionally, Cael is a part-time barista at The Daily Grind as a way to fund his college-aged “extracurriculars”.

𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
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The Summer Court — This is the Court to which his fae parents belong, therefore it is the Court that Caeldyn affiliates with. Although Cael is a Changeling that was raised by a human family in the Overworld, the passion and heat of the summer sun boils the blood in his veins. Cael was born to this Court, and he decided that he was gladly willing to give his heart and soul to it, and it’s radiant monarch, after only a few visits.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬
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The Seelie Fae are said to be the personification of both spring and summer, and such is true for Caeldyn. Although Cael is a devout, albeit new, member of the Summer Court, his personality leans more towards the ways of spring. On the average day, he is cheerful and energetic, with one of the most contagious laughs that you ever did hear. The idiom states that one cannot have May’s flowers without first April’s showers, as such, Cael is as prone to bouts of melancholy as he is to manic episodes. His mood is as shifting and temperamental as springtime weather.

At a young nineteen years — which is infantile in fae timelines — Caeldyn is relatively guideless and woefully naïve. Being a child of spring has its perks, however, as Cael is boundlessly imaginative and full of fresh ideas, with an unyielding desire to learn and grow as much as possible. As any fae should be, Cael is also inherently meddlesome. He is always getting into other people’s business, and is intrigued by all things gossipy. While he is untrained in the true art of fae deception, Cael is still a trickster to the core — if he feels that someone has slighted him in some way, they will receive it back ten-fold, regardless of the innocence of said slight.

𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬
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Just over nineteen years ago, the Crawfords made a grave mistake. William Crawford did not realize the mistake that he had made at the time, and he still does not to this day, but it was a mistake all the same. Billy was a logger, and as a logger, he did what loggers do — he cleared a forest. A fae-claimed forest. This was a sin against the fae of the highest order. William had taken what was theirs, so it was only fair play that they take something in return. Mrs. Crawford was with child at the time, which made the decision of payback easy. When the human child Spencer was born, he was stolen, and replaced with a baby fae Changeling named Caeldyn. The faerie’s powers would remain dormant until he reached his teen years, and until then, the parents would be none the wiser to the exchange that had taken place that fateful night.

Caeldyn grew up as Spencer, a fae child that was ignorant to what he truly was and where he had come from. He grew up human, but he was far from a normal boy. Spencer frequently talked to his imaginary friends in the closet, under his bed, and most importantly, in the backyard. He spent the majority of his childhood playing outdoors, rolling in the grass and soaking up as much sunshine as he could in the dreary England climate. He was an indecisive child, unable to pick a single hobby or activity to practice — he sang, he danced, he played instruments, and he participated on sports teams. The only activity that consistently stuck with him then and continues to stick with him now, is dance. His boundless energy and easily distracted mind earned him a diagnosis of ADHD as a child, but that mattered little to him. Spencer was as happy as could be, though the same was not true for the Crawford parents.

The fae continued to meddle in Mr. and Mrs. Crawford’s lives: grooming their “child” to prefer the company of fae over humans, stealing things from their home, causing their cars to not start and their expensive decor to fall over, and any number of other inconvenient things.The Crawfords had loved their little family home, but it appear to be cursed, so they left it after nearly ten years of enduring the pranks and trickeries of the fae. They moved into a quaint three bedroom house in Edgetoun and thought that their lives would get better there. For them, it did not. For Spencer, this marked a new beginning, and the doors to a whole new world opened up to him.

Spencer was thirteen at the time that he first heard her song. The music called to him in both his dreams and his waking hours. The somber melody spoke to the young boy on a spiritual level… she sounded sad, and so very far away. Spencer had to find her, to give her comfort and assurance that everything would be okay. So Spencer did just that, he followed nymph’s song all the way to Avalon. On that day, Spencer discovered his heritage, that he was actually named Caeldyn, the beautiful singer was his mother, and all of his imaginary childhood friends were real. She explained to him that if he wished to stay in the Overworld, he would have to learn how to conceal his true self from the humans. So he did.

Cael was only gone for a day. When he returned home, he expected to be scolded for having wandered off for so long, but he did not expect to be accused of having been missing for weeks. Time apparently worked differently in Avalon, minutes turned into days, hours to weeks, and everything was upside down and backwards. That said, it did not keep him from visiting Court again, he returned home many times. As Spencer grew into his late teens, he became increasingly distant from his human parents, and insisted that everyone call him Cael, without giving any reason for the change. Cael wanted to stay in the Overworld for means of frolicking and politicking, but he wanted to do so on his terms, and as his own person. When he reached his eighteenth birthday, Cael legally changed his name and enrolled in university — where he moved out into a dorm and started on his path towards true indepence.

𝗙𝗔𝗩𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗦
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UNIVERSITY OF EDGETOUN — This local college is surprisingly well-funded in comparison to some of the other establishments of Edgetoun. The campus buildings are named after a plethora of wealthy alumni and individuals from the town, and Cael specifically lives in Bigby Hall. Being a fulltime student and resident of the dormitories, Cael spends a great deal of time here.

THE DAILY GRIND — The coffee shop is the second most-likely place that you will find Cael, being that he works there as a barista part-time. Cael actually really likes his job, especially the discounted bakery treats to quell his insatiable sweet tooth, and the free coffee perks, not that he needs the extra energy.

YELENA — Ah yes, the extracurriculars. Cael makes it a point to go out clubbing quite often, as he enjoys the music, dancing, and meeting new people. Yelena is his particular favourite in that he gets to interact with like-minded individuals in terms of both otherness and Otherness. Perhaps one day he’ll find himself some summer lovin’ here.

𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦 & 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬
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William Crawford, human father, alive
Cheryl Crawford, human mother, alive
Bryzcael, fae mother, alive
Dynahlii, fae father, deceased in service to the Court
Aednyx soon-to-be mentor, alive
Aoife, college friend, alive
Guy, coworker, alive

Annddd, here's number three. I think I'm done now! :3