Halcyon Halls

Who: Sasha and Mircea
Where: Isle of Bacalao Hotel
When: Late Afternoon
What: Tea, talk, and a spot of blackmail business.


To Sasha’s delight the Bacalao Hotel not only had a tearoom, they had a wonderful one. It was elegant without being excessively lavish, neat without being dull, well-lit and surprisingly spacious. There was none of the beribboned stuffiness that covered similar specimens like a bad case of mange.

Sasha’s requested table near a window and got it without trouble. The waiter pulled out a chair without hesitation; Sasha made a note to leave a good tip. She liked having doors opened for her—in more ways than one. It’s a tough world, Tori used to say. Enjoy whatever few courtesies survive it. Besides a window table offered an extra bit of privacy.

And Sasha’s upcoming conversation with “Mircea Grey” was not a public matter.

Unless he doesn’t come, hissed the cynical gremlin-voice in her mind. She ignored it. He’d come if only for curiosity’s sake. The universe had yet to invent a better bait than human curiosity. Except who said he was human…

Oh, whatever. He’d come.

Not interested in giving her doubts time to flourish, Sasha signaled the waiter. Ordering a pot before her guest’s arrival would be rude—even if she could empty it solo—but a cup of the day’s special, Orchid Oolong, would suffice till then. Ordering food posed a similar crisis of manners; Sasha’s stomach and manners warred briefly before compromising on Devonshire cream and hearty scones. It’d be like spitting in a canyon as far as Sasha’s ogre appetite was concerned, but, hey, at least it’d put something between her teeth. The waiter also didn’t blink at being asked to fetch water for Dreizen, which earned the man another juicy brownie point on Sasha’s meter.

(She remembered the time they tried baring Dizzy, then still a clumsy puppy, from the Savoy’s tea room. She’d staged hysterics until Josiah had words with the manager. In the end, both puppy and girl got in. there’d even been a placating “donation” of complimentary apricot tartlets.

Sasha was never one to waste a tantrum.)

Sipping tea, her posture uncompromised and her face calm, Sasha made a pretty picture in the afternoon light...as was the point. The 40’s style dress and 30’s pumps were modest yet posh, matching the discreet garnet twinkle in her ears, the gold watch and bare fingers. Her hair was loose, her makeup simple. She looked, Sasha knew, like someone’s pampered niece, small and young and flush. Well-heeled, as Josiah would say in his ever-so charminlgy out-of-date way.

Josiah would have nothing charming to say about his runaway protégée meeting with a man of Jack Ransom’s repute—good thing we’re not on speaking terms then, eh, Hatter?—but it was Ransom’s reputation that Sasha was counting on. Supposedly, the man turned a tidy profit during his time. Whatever his motives (and oh how Sasha’s own curiosity itched to know that) Ransom was familiar with the business, the spider web of connections and hazards that Josiah once taught Sasha to navigate. The world she lost connection to without him. The world she needed now.

All good things to those with will, Sasha recited silently. Slathering cream on her scone, she settled in to wait.

He’d come.

Who:  Sydni and Mircea
What:  Meandering the beach; Mircea's found a new mark
When:  Evening
Where:  The beach

If there was one thing that put Sydni at peace, it was the ocean.  And there were plenty of places to find it on the island.  Even though she walked every morning, this week she had found it necessary to walk in the evening, too.  She had to take a break from work to think so she could come back refreshed.  She did a good job looking not distressed in classes, and she kept up on her work, so for the most part, most people didn't notice her morose mood.  Why should they?  She was just... quiet when she was sad.  Not much of a difference from her usual self.

Walking along the beach, the brunette realized that at least now she could find beauty in things.  Stooping down, she scooped up a sand dollar.  She looked at a lot of shells still, but the only ones she ever kept were sand dollars.  Whole ones.  She loved how Christians saw them as representative of Christ's wounds, while they were also perfect pentacles.  It showed how not so different the two faiths were, in her opinion.  Smiling softly to herself, she cradled the fragile shell in her palm and continued her walk.

The seabreeze reinvigorated her - she didn't think there was a cleaner scent on earth - and she paused to take a deep breath.  Yes, she was feeling better.  She no longer felt her heart was breaking.  It wasn't that she loved Charlie - she wasn't that foolish.  But she had cared deeply for him, and he was easily her closest friend here.  Perhaps she was foolish - it wasn't as if she hadn't been secretly hoping that somehow he'd be willing to...  With a sigh, she shook the silly notions from her head.  No thinking those thoughts.  She was feeling better.  No time for them now.

Continuing her stroll, she noticed a figure in the distance.  Someone else felt the urge to ramble.  No longer feeling so utterly morose, Sydni didn't steer her course away from the other person.  She didn't particularly want to chat, but a quick nod and a hello were not entirely beyond her.

Who: Mircea and Sasha (and Dreizen)
When: Tuesday afternoon
Where: Library
What: Sasha’s got blackbirds on the brain; Mircea’s got trouble in the wings.


Libraries, Sasha reflected, were harder than a bad habit.

Even the worst nicotine urge never bit as deep as the familiar bouquet: glue and cold dust, the musty, antique smell of well-worn pages, a whiff of worn leather and wood polish, and that last ghost of inimitable sweetness that marked a mature library.

It was heaven. It was torture. It was—utterly ridiculous. God help me, I’m turning weepy over the reek of mildew and magazine ink? How the mighty have fallen, indeed.

From a mercilessly objective point of view, Sasha could appreciate the irony of her condition—and the slice of humble pie it served. Certainly, her abilities had allowed Josiah’s precocious protégée to be a world class know-it-all more than once. Making her godfather’s jumpy apprentices cry in the book stacks had been a beloved childhood pastime. But humility was one thing; being outright handicapped was quite another.

We may sit in our library and yet be in all quarters of the earth, Josiah once quoted. He was right then as always: books had opened up a new universe for Sasha. What’s more, they showed that universe to be workable, coherent, a sum of things possible to record and understand. For a lost cause kid like Sasha, perpetually mired in a swamp of disordered memories and incomprehension, it had been more than a revelation: it was salvation. Sasha looked down at the open book beside her, seeing nothing intelligible in the rows of text, and wanted to cry—shout—anything—because it wasn’t fair.

It just wasn’t bloody-God-damn-fair.

A brusque rip brought her attention down to the notebook under her hand—and the small tear newly dug under her pen. Annoyed, Sasha smoothed the ruined spot, tender with ink, only to stain her thumb in the process. Really, why was she even bothering with pen and paper, when neither was of any true use in her condition? She carried a notebook in class for appearance’s sake only. All relevant “notes” went through her digital recorder or simply stayed in her memory banks. Though Sasha’s alexia didn’t erase her ability to write, she distrusted setting down her thoughts when unable to review them.

Which isn’t to say they didn’t find a way to leak onto paper regardless…

I was of three minds, wrote the poet. Like a tree in which there are three...blackbirds.

They littered across the page, a noiseless gale of rough wings and beaks and claws. Crow, rooks, jackdaws, and ravens with jagged crowns sketched atop their heads. The designs varied from elegantly simple to lovingly grotesque, wings spread and wings folded, some flying, some hopping, some without legs at all. Only the coloring was consistent: black.

Nigredo.

Caput mortuum. Though caput corvi, she admitted, would be the more appropriate term.

“One for sorrow, two for joy; three for a girl, and four for a boy.” Sasha’s lips quirked in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Five for silver, six for gold, and seven for a secret that's never been told.”

At the sound of his keeper’s voice, Dreizen raised his sleek head. That was one of the (very few) advantages of her current disability: if there was a library sign prohibiting animals, Sasha could claim blissful ignorance.

Who: Mircea and Sydni
When: Evening
Where: Outside of the School
What: A drunken Sydni meets a friendly wolf.

The benefits of being a shape shifter were that one could take a nice leisurely stroll outside and not be bothered by most sentient creatures, particularly when one was a large black wolf. Mircea only knew of one person at the school who knew his lupine form, and she wasn't likely to be speaking to him anytime soon. She didn't quite know about the raven yet, but she was a smart girl and she'd figure it out eventually. Either she would or that mysterious Max fellow who had left him that polite note.

The one downfall was that his clothes didn't shift with him. It was easy to carry a bag with clothing and secret it amidst some leaves in the woods near the school when he was a wolf, but doing it as a bird was another thing. He hoped no one ever closed his window or else he'd be stuck outside with no clothing. That would be...problematic.

Trotting outside of the school, Mircea was enjoying what would have been a nice leisurely stroll through the woods when he heard heavy footfalls on the path coming towards him and the school. He glanced upwards, his light eyes glinting in the moonlight as he opened his mouth in a yawn. Moving up the well-worn dirt path, he caught sight of a lone figure, staggering slightly as she walked. He huffed a soft bark before he moved a little faster and then took a seat, surprised to see the young woman walking towards him.

What on earth was Sydni doing out here, wine bottle in hand, staggering down the path looking as though the entire world had just ended? Normally, he wasn't concerned by other people's habits unless they involved him in some way or another, but given that he'd involved himself with the young woman moving towards him, he stepped into her path slowly and then sat back on his haunches, tilting his head to the side to study her.

What had she gotten herself into?

Who: Cassandra and Mircea
When: Monday
Where: Library


Cassandra wasn't sure she'd ever been so busy! Classwork, classwork and more classwork. Granted the fact that she was having a little more trouble than normal keeping up with her work could have had something to do with the fact that all her time wasn't being spent on working her way through the piles of reading she accumulated. She might have been a little distracted now. Unfortunately distracted by more than one thing. She would have felt a great deal less bothered by this distraction if it had been attributable to only one source.

It wasn't though. Granted, the dark haired demon that had literally swept her off her feet at one point was a good part of it. There was just more. Like the odd dreams she continued to have despite her desire to control them. Or the way that she just felt something prickling oddly at her skin. If she had a better outlook on everything she was capable of, she would have paid attention to those signs and perhaps listened to what her body was trying to tell her. But... she didn't. She didn't want to allow herself to have any premonitions of what might possibly be to come, whether it was for better or worse. The slight ability she'd been able to harness seemed to be only to deny what wanted to come and it was fragile at best, but she embraced it fully.

Or maybe ignorantly was the better way to phrase it. What was natural couldn't be denied forever. That fact sat at the back of her mind always, the far back...

Concerns or no, Cassandra was intent on buckling down on her studies before the week even got started and managed to get out of control. That was why as soon as her classes were done she hightailed it to the library. She carried with her a stack of books to be returned and on her back, the books she needed to be going over while she was there. Somehow she was certain that there wouldn't be enough time but she'd do her darn best to make a dent in it all.

Using her shoulder to open the door, Cassandra did her best to not lose her grip on the tower of books she had. That was clearly her only focus as she stepped inside or she might never have made it another step inside...

Who: Mircea and Sydni
Where: Outside of the School
When: Friday

When he'd finished cataloging the returned library books, Mircea made his way outside of the school. Friday afternoons weren't the busiest at the library, so he'd decided to spend it practicing. Now, his type of practicing wasn't something he wanted to broadcast to the entire school, so he moved to an out of the way clearing and decided to play target practice with a tree.

His throwing knives were some of his prized possessions. They were old, almost as old as he was, and they were in excellent shape. The blades were a dark steel and the handles were delicately wrapped with roan leather, perfectly balanced for weight and speed. He'd picked a medium sized tree with thick bark to throw at, and with practiced ease the knives slid from his fingers to land in the tree with a thunk.

Losing himself in the smooth movement of the steel flowing from his fingers, his thoughts wandered back to his meeting with Cassandra. She hadn't know that the black bird that had alighted on her windowsill was him and she had been just as kind and thoughtful as he had remembered. Despite all that had happened to her, despite her family's rejection, despite the years spent with him, she still trusted too easily.

Everyone he had talked to here trusted fairly easily, though he had no doubt that if he misstepped the administration would see to his removal. He didn't want to conceive of that. He'd worked too hard to make it here, to be close to her. And he would stay for as long as it took for him to get what he wanted.

A sound interrupted his reverie and with no thought towards it, just automatic reaction, he let the knife slip through his fingers towards its target. Damn!

Who: Mircea and Kim
When: Saturday Afternoon
Where: That place. With the books.

It was funny, the small things that made one happy. Rearranging the library had been a massive undertaking for such a small prank, but so far it had provided Mircea with an endless source of amusement. Students who were used to the layout had no idea of where to go to find their favorite tomes, and Mircea had even gone so far as to secret away some of the more popular volumes, claiming them 'out' for the moment.

He'd return them in due time, but for now it was just entirely too much fun to mess with the student body, all the while seeming like a diligent and serious librarian. To be honest, the book collection here at Halcyon was second to none. He'd already taken the liberty of skimming over several of the rarer books and found them fascinating. Perhaps he'd stay on longer here than he'd thought he would. Originally, it had been his thought to remain on here at Halcyon Halls for only a few months, but at this rate, he'd be here for much longer. He was surprised at how comfortable he was on an island. His people weren't known for their love of small places.

To him, an island was a small place. After all, it was completely bordered by water. Continents were fine, even if they were bordered by water, but islands? Generally he would have said 'no, thank you.'

Messing with the students was only a small part of his fun here. He'd visited Cassandra in his bird form already. She was entirely too trusting. How could she be, after the years she'd spent being used? It baffled him. Knocked out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening, he looked up to see a girl walking in and he resumed his reshelving task. He had no question that she'd need help finding whatever it was she was here to get.

Who:  Mircea and Sydni
What:  Research interrupted
Where:  Library
When:  After classes

After classes, Sydni had taken some time to get caught up on what had been happening in the scientific community as of late.  Unfortunately, the first article she picked up referenced an older article in another journal.  After searching the electronic databases, she discovered that the library had a copy of that issue, and that the electronic database only had a synopsis and not the full article.  Sighing, she changed out of her pjs and quickly pulled on some jeans and a cami style shirt.  She was going to be quick and didn't care about her presentation.  this of course meant that her tattoo and pendant were fully visible.  Like many other modern witches, she believed in the pyramid of power, including the creed 'to be silent'; that meant keeping her magic to herself.  To Sydni, that included keeping her holy symbols to herself.  It was best not to draw negative energy to those things she believed were sacred.  In any case, there probably would not be many students in the library.  It was dinner time.

After slipping into flipflops, she grabbed the page from her printer that listed all the info she'd need to find the issue, and some change for photocopies if she couldn't borrow the journal.  Most libraries didn't allow reference materials to be removed.  She plodded down to the library, relatively quietly.  Her flipflops occasionally slapped the floor, but they were old and worn, and didn't have the elasticity of a new pair.  Upon reaching the rather imposing doors to the library, Sydni slipped in relatively quietly.  She almost walked on eggshells in a library.  It had long been drilled into her that libraries were sanctuaries, and she kept a reverent silence, finding it difficult to even pose questions to the librarians in anything above a whisper.  Perhaps it was silly for an adult woman.  But there were many things Sydni did that would seem silly for an adult woman - swimming with sharks being another proof of that.

As she walked to the stacks where the scientific journals were located, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and set it to vibrate.  She knew this path rather well, and didn't really need to watch where she was going.  Reaching the aisle she was seeking, she looked up, and stopped.  Not because she'd reached her goal, but because it wasn't there.  The aisle was there, but the journals weren't.  Backtracking, she checked the signs.  Yep, she was right?  But where the heck...  She stood there for a moment, feeling as if she'd entered a parallel universe.  It was like walking into a parking lot and looking at your parking spot, and not finding your car.  That momentary confusion and panic before you realized, you'd parked somewhere else.  Except, this is where the journals had been parked.  Suddenly remembering the journal entry, it struck Sydni that there was a new librarian.  He must have moved things.  Slightly annoyed, she headed to the circulation desk.  Why mess with what worked?