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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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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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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