Havenwood, NY

Flynn woke to a dreary Monday morning at around seven. He had hoped that for his sister's arrival it would be a sunnier spring day rather than a rainy one, but alas, it was not to be so. He had informed his hotel staff in plenty of time that he would not be available, but if an emergency occurred, Flynn could be contacted, of course. The faerie dallied by having breakfast in his study and by reading the Herald, mostly to keep his mind from wandering to the arrival of Aisling and getting overly nervous.

Yet nervous he was as the faerie shoved aside his barely touched plate and spun his chair to face one of the windows that overlooked the back grounds. In the distance, he could see the stables and barracks and the barely discernable guards going about their assignments and routines. A smile curved his mouth when he saw the familiar mop of hair that identified Toby as the fae broke away from the group to head back toward the mansion. As he so often did, Flynn couldn't help but compare his relationship with Toby to his relationship with Cavan. The bond he had with Toby had been forged through blood, sweat, and tears, creating a level of loyalty to one another that was unmatched. There was almost nothing the two wouldn't do for the other. He and Cavan, however… Up until Cavan had twisted the knife in his back, Flynn had loved his brother and he thought with time, the animosity, the jealousy Cavan held against him would fade. He assumed—poorly—that Cavan would've had his back where it counted on the simple fact that they were brothers. Flynn realized far too late that his brothers ambitions far exceeded his love for the brother that stood in his way. A sigh was heaved at the loss, even after so many centuries.

Of course, with his mind on Cavan, thoughts of Aisling didn't stray far behind. Unlike his bond with Cavan, he and Aisling had been close. Before his exile, they spoke often with each other, confided dreams and secrets to one another, and Flynn had enjoyed teaching her how to use a sword and to play chess. His absence had to have been difficult for her and he only hoped that Malachi proved to be a much-needed balm. Her arrival to Rosewood Manor would be an equally needed change and he only wished that Malachi could be there with her so that he could get a better sense of the other faerie prince.

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Despite the chaos at the mansion and preparing it for it's Memorial Day weekend opening of tours, Flynn had taken the time out of his busy schedule to make a trip to Crescent Hill Academy and talk to and check up on the students who had at least one fae parent. The last student he was currently speaking to had been a bit of a surprise when she was introduced to him 12 years ago for she was a full-blooded Sidhe. Flynn had learned that she was the many times Great-Granddaughter of Earl Colum and Countess Sadb, the latter who was a sibling of his mothers. The pair had been one of a few who had debated leniency in his jailing to a year versus the original sentence of hundreds (no doubt a suggestion made by Cavan to teach him a lesson). What the Earl and Countess hadn't counted on was Flynn's own stubbornness and pride that rivaled his father's. When he met young Mór, or Moreen as she was known to the mortals, he was relieved to find that his father still had allies that weren't in Cavan's pocket. Over the years, she had been an unknowing fountain of information until she had finally wised up to his subtle "inquiries of home" and now voluntarily acted as "middleman" to relay information from her parents to him when she returned to Faerie for school breaks. Written correspondence could not be trusted if was intercepted by Cavan's spies and given his brother's growing paranoia, Flynn had been especially careful since the turn of the century to word his letters to his sister carefully.

The older fae sighed after Mo had essentially confirmed all of Aisling's concerns, fears, and news. A sad smile graced his lips as he reached the short distance between them and lightly touched the tips of his fingers to her shoulder.

"Give my regards to your parents, yes?" A more happy smile grew on his face at the nod he received before he encouraged the girl to go have some fun on his account. In the moment he had alone, Flynn used it to reflect on things before he heard the tread of Toby interrupt the twitter of birds. They held a brief conversation on the matter of his brother as they strolled toward the main building of the academy when he saw the underlying reason for today's visit: Joshua Foley.

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The past few days had been something of a blur for Anya. Between keeping her scheduled shifts at the hospital and keeping Ben alive and as pain-free as possible as he recovered from whatever ordeal had brought him to Zee's door, she hadn't been sleeping much. Luckily she'd pulled enough doubles and even triples in her time to be used to surviving on coffee and power naps for a few days.

She shuffled in, stifling a yawn as she drained the last of the coffee she'd made before leaving the house as she put her things away in her locker. Then she made a beeline for the coffee maker at the nurse's station. A few of the newer nurses were standing nearby, gossipping and twittering softly among themselves. Anya just rolled her eyes with a sigh and refilled her cup, before walking a couple of steps over to Nadine, one of the other veteran nurses.

"What is this time?" Anya asked, looking back at the younger nurses. "Pretty new patient? Or does Paul have a new boyfriend again?"

"Neither, but I'm sure Paul's hoping things go his way," Nadine chuckled, shaking her head before she nodded in the direction of a small clump of doctors several feet away. "Look who decided to come back."

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Anya had been holding a deep seated guilt ever since she had quietly threatened Ben after his crash landing in Zee's yard. While he'd been staying at her home, it had largely been while he was resting or she was working, and it wasn't until the day before that they had finally been able to sit and have the long overdue talk they needed. It had seemed to put them back on track, at least in her mind; she could see once again the bright eyed boy who had a painfully obvious crush on her daughter, and felt reassured he wouldn't betray them.

To build on their mutual good faith, she decided to stop by the store after she was done with her shift at the hospital. It was a recipe she recalled sharing with the Turner boys' mother a lifetime ago, one that had been reported back to her as quickly becoming Ben's favorite. She hoped it still was as she carefully walked the aisles, plucking ingredients from their displays and carefully arranging them in her basket. She saved the seafood for last, patiently waiting as the young man behind the counter handed her white paper wrapped packets of shrimp, clams, salmon, cod, and halibut.

Satisfied that she had everything she needed, save for a fresh loaf of bread, she thanked the young man and turned toward the bakery section, almost running into a man standing close to her.

"Oh, forgive me," she said quickly, before she froze, her brow furrowing as she looked up to see Ben standing there.

She opened her mouth to chastise him for being out of bed, until the realization struck her. It wasn't Ben. Her senses caught up to her; his scent was wrong, his hair was different... Her eyes went wide a the impossibility became the only option.

"Alex?" she asked, momentarily breathless. "It is you?"

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When he was roused that morning by his motherly neighbor, Mrs. Seward, who had taken it upon herself to be his housekeeper slash caregiver "because someone has to do it, Mr. Collins," it was not with the expectation of having tea later that day with the wife of one of Havenwood's wealthy merchants. In fact, Declan expected to have no visitors at all since he'd all but cut himself off from the community save for the few stubborn friends that visited him once a week or so. Mostly, however, it was due to being the middle of winter with heavy snow on the ground, making travel difficult. Because of such difficulties, Mrs. Seward was staying with him for the week while her husband was in Manhattan conducting business.

The morning was spent in routine as he assisted the older woman in tidying up the townhouse. Perhaps it was because Declan was now alone or perhaps it was because she did not have a set of her own, Mrs. Seward always insisted on using the silver for their meals. When he asked why one day, he could hear movement in what he figured out was a shrug and she gave a rather practical reply.

"Well… it just seems like a waste to let it just sit there to gather dust and tarnish." After that, Declan didn't have the heart to argue and it was usually his assignment to clean the set when Mrs. Seward said it needed cleaning. It was not a particularly large one that had been inherited by a previous wife at the time and somehow remained within his care. While the task could be tedious, Declan rather enjoyed it as it gave him the opportunity to reminisce over the fond memories they invoked. As he worked at the long bench table in the kitchen, the space and rest of the house became increasingly pungent with the smell of cooking stew. By mid-day, based on the sunlight he could feel on his back, he was ravenous.

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It was just approaching closing time when he and the single employee he kept at this hour had finished informing the few patrons left that they'd be closing in ten minutes. William was anxious to get the shop closed and cleaned so that he could head over to Eden and take the edge off that the bagged blood he obtained did not always do. Pulling the pocketwatch from his waistcoat pocket, he glanced at the time once again, a flash of annoyance shooting across his face because only a minute had passed since his return to the front, making it 9:50.

The vampire forced himself to suppress a sigh when the door hit the bell that hung over it, signaling the arrival of another customer. Yet, despite his ability to keep from sighing, William was unable to keep his irritation out of his voice.

"Good evening, madam," William could tell the patron was female from the sound of her footfalls, "Obscura will be closing in..." ( Read more... )

It had started as idle conversation, both Joseph and Emma griping about being the only single parents in the class. It moved on to friendly conversation, then some light flirtation, then as much flirtation as he could reasonably get away with when in earshot of five year old children. Finally, Joseph had decided to take the plunge (after some pointed insight from his daughter, Ana) and ask Emma out for coffee after drop off on Friday morning.

He figured Loaf Around was the best choice, especially since it was close to the police station. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to spend most of his day there when he needed a change of scenery. Working from home was great, but sometimes he needed public scrutiny to feel motivated to get anything done.

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The letter he had received from Anna—Diana now—had been a mild surprise, but it was an emotion Elijah had quickly gotten over. Instead, he spent the next two days admonishing himself for not expecting the unexpected from his Maker. When the younger vampire quit berating himself, he quickly penned a response and sent Victoria to take it to Durant Manor that very day. Instructions accompanied the raven to whomever took the letter that a shiny bauble of insignificance should be sent back with the creature as payment for services rendered.

Since he'd known her, Victoria was always eager to please given her limited capabilities outside the full moon. With her task completed, Elijah spent the rest of the day planning when to take up Diana's invitation. As he thought, the vampire did several sketches of the Von Klimburg building, adding watercolor as the mood struck him when he finally concluded that a week from today wouldn't be overly suspicious. When that day arrived, he closed the gallery promptly at six, gathered the 11x14 portfolio he'd made for Diana and as Elijah approached the manor, it was with mild trepidation.

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Iris didn't normally drink a lot during the week, just a pint or two as she sat in her favorite booth at Miller's Tavern grading papers. But Wednesday afternoon had meant the Arsenal match at Southampton, which meant that she'd booked it down to the tavern as soon as she was able after school had let out for the day. The afternoon had been spent pounding pints and making a ruckus, mostly on her own, but with the blessing of the people who worked there and had missed her English antics. The afternoon had blurred into evening, then into night, and before she realized it, the match had been over for several hours and she still had a stack of physics exams to grade.

The rest of her night had been spent drinking cups of coffee and frantically trying to prepare for the next day, until she dozed off at some point. She woke to the sound of her alarm, and swore as she turned it off, her head pounding as she stumbled to the bathroom to try and make herself look presentable. After a quick shower, a fresh change of clothes, and a touch of makeup, she shuffled into her small kitchen where she prayed Liam had been his usual sweet self and brought her a proper cuppa and breakfast, the way he often did when he knew she'd had a few drinks too many the night before.

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The palace had been quieter than normal, the absence of Aisling becoming sharply evident. Usually the past several days would have been spent in celebration, all culminating in the largest of them all, on the night of Aisling’s birthday. Instead, there was something of a heavy silence on the shoulders of the Spring Court, many of whom viewed the princess’ birthday as the event of the year. He heard the disappointed whispers and curious looks, as her absence had only been explained with a vague statement of travel.

The rumors were only fueled by the King’s depressed state; in the days since Aisling had departed for the mortal realm, Liber’s mood was no longer buoyed by his daughter’s light. Cavan himself had overheard theories that ranged from an illegitimate pregnancy - fathered either by Prince Malachi out of wedlock, or the mutt guard she had insisted on - to the princess committing an act of treason that had resulted in her banishment. When asked directly by the insipid members of the Court, he had simply demurred politely, doing his own part to fan the flames of conspiracy theories until they began to reach the ears of the King.

With his father and his advisors now desperately trying to put an end to the simmering maelstrom, it was easier and easier for Cavan to slip away unnoticed. Upon learning that his sister had been granted permission to reunite with Flynnwood in the mortal realm, he had sent word to the shapeshifting whore he’d recruited to keep a closer eye on his brother. But when he’d heard little from her, or any of the other spies he held, he came to the decision that it was time for him to take a more direct approach.

His trips to the mortal realm had made him well-practiced at slipping through unnoticed, as well as with the comforts he required already at hand. Faerie jewels could fetch a hefty price in the right markets, and with that he had built himself a small fortune to operate with when he arrived. He had kept an apartment in the city they called New York, having used it mostly to host the various women he picked up for an evening or two for entertainment. But it wouldn’t do to be so far removed from his siblings.

No, he’d need to stay much, much closer to them this time. Actually living with them would, of course, be out of the question, as would staying in the quaint hotel his brother owned and operated. He’d need something more private, more secluded.

As he stood in the living room of his apartment, looking out over the twinkling lights of the city, the river caught his eye. In the distance he could see a number of sails, softly listing side to side as they were gently buffeted by the breeze. A slow smile began to grow as he sipped at the glass of faerie wine he’d poured himself.

Yes, a boat would make for a grand entrance. Now all he had to do was find the right one.

"You weren't there, RJ!" Becca whisper-shouted into the phone so she wouldn't draw attention to herself as she walked down Main Street toward her intended destination, flashing a smile while someone passed by her before her expression quickly changed back to it's annoyed, angry visage. Her footfalls were rushed yet clipped, a physical testament of her rage as she fairly stalked down the sidewalk. A few pedestrians scrambled to get out of her way as the werewolf quietly continued her tirade into the phone.

"She just yawned and rolled over after surveying the damage!" There was a pause before her eyes narrowed and she practically growled into the phone, "They were Jimmy Choo, RJ! Jimmy. Choo." Becca snorted and rolled her eyes in the next moment, "Well, obviously you don't know how much they cost before they end up in a consignment shop, doofus." There was another pause before... "That's not the point! Now I have to replace them and she knows how much I hate that kind of shopping!" Now Becca was just whining, muttering into the phone, "She's so lucky that Swinton woman is good at solving the weird shit that happens around here and that I'm pretty sure Zee would just murder me right back if I tried to murder her." It was at the moment the door to Belle's Boutique opened as the werewolf approached it, disgorging one of it's patrons at an inopportune moment and Becca mentally winced upon seeing Mrs. Weston's double take at the words murder her pouring out of her mouth.

Nervous laughter was quick to fill the awkward pause, "Haha, I'm just kidding, Mrs. Weston!" Louder into the phone the phrase, "You know how siblings can be. ByeRJ!" She said, abruptly ending her conversation with her brother and rushing past the woman and into the shop, breathing a momentary sigh of relief as the door shut behind her.

After decades of service to the Spring Court, Morgan was still glad that the Courts had made some unspoken agreement that plate armor was superior and that his own personal set was useful in his transition. What he could not understand or grow accustomed to was Liber's aesthetic for Roman clothing. For certain celebrations, Morgan was required to don the Roman inspired armor yet every time he wore it, he felt exposed without the remaining plate armor protecting his lower half. The comforting weight of chainmail was missed, the sound it made against the plates, and the whisper of his tunic was all familiar. It's absence throughout the celebration—A young Sidhe's debut—was sorely noticed to the Hellhound. The only assurance Morgan had was that Liber did not often require such attire from his guards and he was grateful when the evening was finally ending as he accompanied Aisling back to her suite.

As Captain and Princess walked in silence, they were accompanied by the banter of the four other guards assigned to protect her until Morgan called out, "Knock it off," as if he was having any other conversation. The command was followed by protests, "Aw, come on, Morgan! Don't you ever have any fun?" The Hellhound whirled on them, his action immediately ceasing any additional words with a stern look on his face. A beat passed where he looked at each guard until his mouth twitched into a smile.

Indicating to two of the four, "Clear her room and then you're dismissed. Be thorough!" He called after them as they scrambled for the door in a rush. Chuckles were accompanied his command and a hand clapped to his shoulder.

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Declan had found early on in his rather long life that a routine helped combat the feeling of hopelessness that sometimes plagued him; When the years and years ahead of him became too much. When he could concentrate on the next step and ask himself, What next?, life tended to be a bit more bearable until he got out of his slump. That Monday morning, however, would prove to be a dreary one judging from the blissful sound of rain assaulting his windows. Most would take the weather as an unpleasant sign, but Declan loved the sound—the feel—of the rain.

Loaf Around, the local coffee and pastry shop, was right across the street to The Nameless Page so he was hardly soaked by the rain but there was enough falling from the sky that when he crossed the threshold with a spring in his step, Declan had to shake some of it from his coat. Hearing footsteps, the witch side-stepped out of the way as he took a moment to assess his surroundings. With the rain creating white noise in the background, helping to filter the day-to-day sounds from outside, Declan could hear the routine sounds better inside.

He could hear the clatter of baking sheets being stacked in the kitchen despite the door being closed; He could smell the dough as it was worked and molded into what would be delicious creations for the afternoon crowd; He could smell and taste the salt in the air along the sugar from the cane that was used or the various berries for jams and filling. The smell of coffee beans was ever present, underlying, and pungent; A coffee lovers dream. Laughter toward the back, where you ordered, told him the usual morning staff were present. A smile curved his mouth; In all, it was a typical morning and with a swing of his cane, Declan moved toward the counter to order his usual.

After being on the run for three days straight and dropping in on his childhood friend—Literally—Ben slept for nearly three days straight once he'd gotten settled at Anya's. Not only did the injuries he incurred falling onto Zee's roof take its toll, but the silver in his body had nearly sapped everything he had. Ben only woke long enough to use the bathroom or eat or drink something at Anya's insistence. When he finally opened his eyes on the third day, it was to see a sun high in the sky filtered through a pair of sheer curtains. Relief flooded through him. He had half-wondered if the last three days had been a dream and now that he was awake to see it, the feeling of safety that went through him like a wave threatened to nearly overwhelm him. In that moment, he wished his twin was there because he sure as hell could use a hug from Alex. Someone needed to tell him it was okay now. Someone needed to pinch him. Deep down, though, he knew this feeling was only going to be temporary.

The Taiga would come for their pound of flesh. Especially if they knew not one, but two, that had escaped their clutches were residing in the sleepy little town of Havenwood. At this thought, Ben heaved a sigh and turned his attention to the room.

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It had started Wednesday when renovations in the store and flat next door began. In hindsight (ha!), Declan should've known things would get progressively worse as the solstice drew closer, but more often than not the more attention you gave a spirit the more power you gave them. At least, that had been his experience. Things were always different here in Havenwood. Perhaps it was the leylines, perhaps it was the fact that the town sat near a faerie portal. Who really knew? What started out as harmless cold spots, wall scratching, and lights flickering had progressed to object displacement and then object throwing as of that afternoon when Declan had jumped into action.

He had been playfully flirting with Ms. Lautari in the shop as they were returning items to the shelves when he sensed a book careening toward them. Declan grabbed Prudence, narrowly avoiding the book but the two had crashed into the nearest bookcase as a result, disturbing it's contents; A small cauldron toppled off the top shelf, using Declan's head to cushion its fall. Suffice it to say, it appeared as if the witch would need stitches after the gifted woman had cleaned the gash on his head so off the two went to Havenwood General.

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Her words ripped a laugh from those very lips that hers ghosted before the sound abruptly halted, his ribs protesting the movement. A noise of pain replaced the laugh—Why did she have to make him laugh?!—yet a grin mixed with a pained expression still remained on his face.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Rug Rat," he quipped back as Ben painstakingly settled back upon the bed.

Winded slightly from the effort, he lay there a moment with his eyes closed and once again regretting the events that got him into this situation. Seeing Zee again, though, would never be among those regrets. Opening his eyes, they turned upon the weretiger when he caught his breath, his expression soft and a little anxious.

"Will you stay?" He murmured, "At least until I fall asleep again?"

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Despite the apology, despite his understanding of Anya's reason for her threat that loomed in the room, Ben could not relax until she left it. Still, his attention lingered on the doorway she had retreated through until Zee's voice cut through the tension and his gaze shifted to the weretiger. This time when he smiled, there was notably more warmth to it than the one he'd given Anya.

"No," he said with a slight chuckle and shake of his head, "No, with a weeks bedrest and a couple more taking it easy, I'll be fine." He glanced toward the doorway one more time before focusing on Zee again.

"Your mom and I just… came to an understanding with one another." Ben couldn't blame Anya one bit for her reaction. If the situation had been different, if Zee had disappeared or they'd been lead to believe she was dead, just like Ben, and she suddenly came crashing through their door… His own mother would likely find it suspicious and he had no doubt that she would say anything to Zee to ensure the safety of her sons. That's what mothers who loved their children did.

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It had been a year almost to the day that he escaped the iron fist of the Taiga when a group connected to the clan found him near the Canadian border. In hindsight, Ben had been stupid. The strategy had always been to say no more than two months in a place before moving on. He'd been pushing through nearly three in North Bay when he'd broken up the wrong fight in the bar he worked at. Realizing his blunder too late after the looks he'd gotten by a few members of the group, they caught up with him three days later outside his cabin while he was transferring supplies from his car to the kitchen. Despite getting the drop on him, Ben was able to take out two before the scuffle got serious between him and the remaining three. Fearing that one of them would clip him if he took flight to escape, Ben used everything he had on him to bring down the rest when he was rushed.

Ben had not been known for grandstanding during his fights and in the beginning he was not particularly popular due to his efficiency. That unpopular efficiency, however, had earned him his popularity later because of its brutality. That same brutality echoed through the clearing that made up his front yard as fists thunked against muscled flesh, chased with grunts of pain while fingers curled around limbs and snapped bones. Short-lived screams cut through the muted symphony only to end suddenly as a hand chopped at a throat, cutting off air. The performance came to an abrupt halt when the bark of a gun created a temporary cacophony of noise that ended with Ben's screams scattering through the trees on the frantic beat of startled wings.

As he hit the ground, the shifter could smell and taste the tang of copper on his tongue thanks to the inside of his cheek being cut by his teeth when he'd been punched in the face. But that was nothing compared to the fire that ripped through his shoulder, side, and back when he turned to flee, stumbling briefly from the pain. The sound of tearing fabric could be heard in Ben's scramble to rid himself of his shirt and despite the agony of his shoulder, he threw himself into the sky, shifting into a Barred Owl, and took flight. After that, Ben didn't have much recollection of anything else. It took everything he had to keep his concentration on flying and not lose his form thousands of feet up. He stopped only a few times to rest, digging out the bullets that he could and cursing whoever had been the smart enough to load the mag with silver ones.

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