Aeolian

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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_{Bé and Todd 《》 St. Portwell, Oregon [ House on the Hill ] 《》 Familial Greetings 《》 [@AeolianBé, Gisèle, Todd, @AtrophySloane, @EstylwenAislin, @NoriWasHereJasper, @AtomicEmperorLeon]}

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Despite the glazed, uninterested expression resting lifelessly upon Bé's countenance, he had, in fact, not completely disassociated since arriving in the meeting room with Gisèle and Todd. The young Frenchman had been listening keenly to the situation unfolding. After all, his life was on the line with this existential menace threatening to wipe them clean from the face of the earth, and frankly, Bé had no intention of letting anyone or anything take him out against his own volition. And despite his mild misanthropic views of the world and its inhabitants, there were a few people for whom he did not wish that misfortune upon. One of them had called out to him at that moment, garnering his focused gaze. Their eyes met, Bé and she, Sloane and he. It had been the first time they were in a tangible distance from one another since, heavens, who knows how long. But despite the years they had not seen each other, Bé couldn't help that her presence and gaze graciously offered him a moment of respite from the malignant ooze seeping from the pores of almost everyone else there. He could smell them, or perhaps that was Luca, bitter-tasting, decaying fruit better left to wither into the dirt from which it came. But for now, at least, if it is any consolation, she was here and he was glad for that. Bé returned to her a feeble smile. He was not much for grinning. This was the best he could muster at the moment. Meanwhile, Todd had been listening to, though his expression portrayed the exact opposite of Bé's. He smiled warmly to everyone who met his gaze, giving a cute, familial wave. Warmth; that was the aura Todd radiated from his being. When Aislin approached, he stood. “Well I'll be damned, you guys finally showed up!” Aislin said. When she put out her hand for a shake, Todd took it with his hand, but then pulled her in for a soft, gentle hug. He was a hugger after all and this felt more in kind to how things used to be. No need for formalities. Aislin was like a cute younger sister, head in the clouds, but always good natured from what he remembered. It was nice to see she kept her spirit all these years. He grabbed her by the sides of her arms, releasing her from his embrace, "It's good to see you too, Aislin," Todd said in a calm, almost paternal tone. Aislin continued, “Come closer to the crowd, we don't bite. At least, we don't bite much.” She joked. “We're expecting another magical faction to be joining us soon, so you'll be able to make a lot of new friends today.” Bé watched how they interacted with a tempered sort of interests. He remembered Aislin. Spunky, friendly thing. But she was never grounded in reality and frustrated him endlessly. Still, unlike some of the others, she was one of the more tolerable ones, even he had to admit to himself. That wasn't enough to coax him into dropping his cold gaze, so he simply shook his head. "I'm fine here." he said bluntly. Todd looked at Bé with a peculiar gaze, not the friendly sort, he thought, turning back to Aislin, "A magical faction...friends, you say? Hmmm...Okay...Sure, no biting though." he said with a cheeky grin. Gisèle was a bit of a wallflower, despite her beauty, so she clung Bé's side against the back wall. He was the only familiar prescence to her there. Todd looked back at her, ignoring Bé, who seemed preoccupied with some kind of revelry, "Will you be okay?" Todd asked her in a sweet tone. Gisèle nodded, showing a ghost of a smile, "Mhmm, I'll be okay here with my cousin for now." Todd nodded, "Okay," and set off behind Aislin to move closer to the group. Left to his own devices, Bé just remained where he was. There was too much going on, too many voices and smells in this small, splintered room. He just wanted to leave to a place of quiet and solitude. Bé let out a deep sigh, crossing his arms when he noticed Leon approaching with outstretched arms. "Mon Dieu, Bé!? Bé!?" Leon said. Bé staggered, not out of disgust, but rather vexation. "Bonjour, Leon..." Bé said cooly, running his hand through his curly locks, not showing any particular interest or spirit in his very formal greeting. Bé hadn't even thought that Leon would be here. A silly assumption. He immediately remembered their night of passion, but in his mind, he was emotionally vulnerable during that time. He had just committed a terrible act; letting a coven member die to the Stygian Snake and in his rage for the lies wrought against him, had transformed the corpose into a charm bracelet. He fidgted with the gilded accessory on his wrist, remembering how not long after, he had slept with Leon in the spur of the moment when the opportunity presented itself. Hell, he had been the one to initiate it. Very out of character for him, having given little thought to the consequences of said action. Bé just needed something to distract his mind from everything that had transpired, and Leon just happened to be in the right place at the right time. That was, at least, how he justified it to himself. His first foray into fornication. And his last. Bé continued looking at him blankly, not planning to reciporcate the hugging, as Todd probably would have. Frankly, he didn't know how to react to the only man, the only person, he had ever lied with. It was, unfamiliar territory all over again. It made it uncomfortable. But just then, Bé perked up as a strange, child-shaped shadowy creature burst into the room and fell onto the floor withering in pain. It could speak, that much was clear, so obviously it was human. Bé looked at the thing curiously, beside him, Gisèle covered her mouth in horror, murmuring some French epithet in shock. From his vantage point, from his immediate analysis of everyone's reaction, they must of have known this creature, because some of them rushed to aid the small abomination. Bé took note of the crystal protruding from it. He felt, a strange energy emanating from the boy. Strange indeed. Before he had too much time to react, however, Leon grabbed him by the shoulders, manuerving him out of harms way. How chilvarous. Bé's attention turned back to Leon after this, watching him charge out the room, sword in hand. Greenwood? Who was Greenwood? Bé was unfamiliar with this party, but braced himself beside Gisèle in case something even more sinister popped off. See? This is why he wanted to stay away from these people. Only a few minutes here and already he could feel himself being dragged into the trenches. These people were magnates for chaos. As everything unfolded, Bé remained still, watching everything unfold; Luca withering the crystal down to dust and then passing out on the boy they called, Clancy. Stormy and Sully going over to assist with her own unique capabilities. Here we go again, Bé ruminated. Todd had kept a close eye on everything transpiring too. He had moved to go help the shadow boy, but when they resolved the matter, he sighed, glad things hadn't escalated further. Well, they had escalated further when Luca passed out and the threat of Greenwood betrayal was floated. He moved closer to Luca's unconscious form. The poor lad. One had awoken and the other had fallen in its place. Todd kneeled next to Jasper, rustling through the satchel hung across his firm, atheltic body, before pulling out something organic and leafy, shaped like a small amorphous sphere of jelly. It had a unique scent, like moonflower and mint and was soft to the touch. "Jasper, give him this when he wakes. It's an anodyne. Have him eat it to help with any lingering pain that may persist." After passing off the medicinal object and patting Jasper on the shoulder as reassurance, Todd righted himself just as Greenwood walked in. He looked at them with cautious anticipation, but his posture relaxed slightly once they brought out pizza and seemed to be here under positive pretenses. This was the Greenwood he had overheard everyone speaking of. The Greenwood Aislin had mentioned to him earlier. Okay okay, so they're here to help. Good. His natural instinct was to lead and to greet them, but for now, he'd remain alert and supportive. He had just returned to the coven. He'd see how the new dynamics unfolded before fully integrating his own ideas into the fold. NPCs Gisèle, Bé's Cousin Marceau, Bé's Bodyguard (Currently off somewhere taking a piss, not fulfilling his duties.)

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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_{Bé and Todd 《》 St. Portwell, Oregon [ House on the Hill ] 《》 Entwined Fates 《》 [@AeolianBé, Marceau, Gisèle, Todd]}

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When it came to finding some commonground between Bé and Todd, there were very few similarities that one could see. But there were two things these men seemed to share on an intristic, visceral level; loss and a soul-crushing desire for recovery. One had lost his past, the other, his wife and himself, both vestiges of their former idenities sent off into the ever cascading winds that brisked upon their faces that evening. Little did they know that their fates were entwined on this fateful, fateful day. And perhaps, through this new chapter with the coven and eachother, they could recovery what was lost. Back in St. Portwell, Bé had adjusted quite poorly to his new accomadations. While Gisèle remained off-site at the nearest hotel, Salazaar the hermit had stuffed Bé and Marceau into the small, dingy cramped attic where they shared an old, wrought iron bed and a wooden dresser off in the corner. Bé had been tempted to use his magic to make his new abode, more, Bé-like, but Salazaar warned him the night before, not to mess with anything he had not been permitted to touch, which was most of the attic. It was stuffed to brim with all sorts of strange curiosities and artifacts and features of nature. Eyeballs in glass jars, a butterfly trapped in amber, the head of a mandrake, it was all there, and more. Marceau was morbidly curious by all the oddities, but Bé belched in utter digust and spent very little time in that room, other than to sleep. On that fateful that he would meet his old coven mates once again after so many many years, Bé had received a call from Auri, urging him to attend the meeting at the House on the Hill. While he had initially refused, feeling his presence in St. Portwell was enough of an existential punishment against him, Gisèle through her eloquence, convinced him to go with she and Marceau by his side. Marceau was the hired help, but Gisèle had promised his mother that she would look out for him as if he were her own brother. Todd had recieved the same call as well, only a few days prior. He had packed up what he could feasibly fit in his old 1995 Beetle, tearfully kissed his children goodbye, and set off toward his new accomadations, a modest flat near Memorial Park that stunk of stale bread from the bakery that operated beneath him. When Todd finally arrived at the House on the Hill, he couldn't believe where he was. It was almost as if, he were coming home. Not because of the location, but the people. Despite the grave circumstances, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of elation prickling under his skin. The kiss of his lips curved slightly upward, and walked toward the old abode. As he approached the door, he heard the rumblings of another car pull up behind him, a large black SUV. And out of it came Bé, Gisèle, and Marceau. Todd was not familiar with this trio, but they had an air about them, refined and regal. At least Bé and Gisèle moved with sophistication and their all-black silken garbs made them look like a neo-French royalty, effortessly glamorous and beautiful. Their sparkling aquatic eyes constrating against their dark skin was the most captivating element Todd took notice of. Marceau, on the other hand, appeared as grunge as ever. He was practically shirtless, just a thin tanktop fitting enough to cover his v-line and nipples. Todd smiled warmly at the newcomers as they walked up and paused in front of him, "Eh, howdy. I'm Todd. You here for the meeting?" His gaze met Bé's and he could sense a coldness radiating from the man. Bé was uninterested with any sort of pleasentries. He just stared at Todd, until Gisèle interjected awkwardly, "Heh heh, sorry. My cousin can be quite obtuse. Yes, I ummm, I do believe we are here for the coven meeting, right? I'm Gisèle. This is my cousin Bé and his companion, Marceau." Gisèle's english was sufficient enough, but she worried that her French accent might make understanding her a challenge. Luckily, Todd was not at all alarmed and in fact, found it quite charming. Marceau knew very little english all together, and so he remained quiet but attentive, giving Todd a firm handshake, as this was the American thing to do from what he saw on the tele. Todd nodded, "It's a pleasure to meet ya'll. Shall we?" "Sure," Gisèle said softly. Todd couldn't help but catch Bé's icy blue gaze again. The beautiful frenchman was statuesquare, a once-in-a-century beauty personified, but his countenance almost sat in a perpetual scowl, as though he dreaded being there. It unnerved the Cheyenne man, but Todd shook his head of the thought and went up to the door. Of the trio, Bé seemed the most familiar to him, but their time together in the Coven must of been very brief, no? Todd could not place any memories they might have shared, not even a greeting in passing. Todd knocked on the door. Once. Twice. Nothing. He tried wringling the door knob, but the old door just creaked, and heaved, unwilling to provide them with passage through the threshold. "Is it locked?" Gisèle asked, looking over his shoulder. Todd chuckled, "Seems that way, but, i've got it. Just a moment." Todd wasn't sure he should use his magic so openly in-front of these unfamiliar individuals, but, if they weren't who they said they were, it was unlikely they would be able to see anyways. The blind were always so oblivious to magical phenomena, even when it sat right in front of them, gilded and bright. It only took a moment though for Todd to work his magic. Part of his right arm shifted, taking on a pale translucency. He slide it through the wooden door and twisted on the knob on the inside. The door creaked open. Gisèle looked amazed, "Thank you. Is that your magic? Are you like a ghost?" Todd chuckled lightly, walking through the threshold and turning to face her once he was in, "Something like that, yeah. Do you possess magic of your own?" Gisèle nodded, "Mhmm, we all do. Mine is woefully unimpressive, My cousin's on the other hand..." Bé brushed against her, "Gisèle that's enough. We are not here to make inutile pleasentries." He then turned to the native american man, his gaze steely and annoyed, "Todd, is it? Mind yours and we'll mind ours. Just lead us to the meeting room as you intended, s'il vous plaît." Todd was taken aback. The passive-aggressive nature of Bé's words vexed him. As someone who radiated warmth and commonality, Todd was at a loss on how to respond in kind. He didn't want an escalation, so he gave Bé a feigned smile, "Sorry bud, this way. Auri said it'd be in here." As they approached the room, they could hear voices discussing things from inside. Bé and Todd shared two entirely different experiences as they entered the room. Todd seemed excited, to see everyone again was almost overwhelming. But the discussion was so heated, he was certain that he had missed very important details. He figured he'd make niceities with everyone after the main discussion was over. Not wanting to interject or disturb, he sat in a chair near the back of the room, listening in closely to what was being said. Bé on the other hand felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of dread. "You wait outside the door" he said coldly to Marceau in French, "This isn't any of your concern." And in truth, Marceau wouldn't have understood what was being spoken anyways, aside from a few American swear words likely to be slung about. And so Marceau did as he was told and that was that. Bé took in who was all present. It did seem some people were missing, but seeing Anya and Sloane amongst the weeds was a slight, ray of light in the darkness. Despite his quiet fondness for them, he was not exactly the type to display it and greet old friends cheerfully, so he went to stand beside Todd, resting his lithe body against the back wall and crossing his arms. Gisele sat in the chair next to Todd and they shared a friendly smile before looking toward the main discussion that was unfolding. But If Bé could help it, he wouldn't speak a word to these people, some he recognized, others a bit unfamiliar to him. Most, he disdained for one reason or another. So AT LAST, Todd and Bé were finally with the coven, but how things will unfold with their arrival is yet to be seen. NPCs Salazaar the Hermit Gisèle, Bé's Cousin Marceau, Bé's Bodyguard

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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_{Bé 《》 St. Portwell, Oregon [ The Hermit's Shack in the Woods ] 《》 Haunted 《》 [@AeolianBé, Marceau, Cousin Gisèle, The Hermit]}

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The memory came to him like an ominous wind that billowed madly from the skies. A young boy, ripe and blue-eyed, lay on a rickety old table. The voice overhead was feeble, like a blue-lipped ghost, drawn into focus by a flick of the light, and only then could he make out two eyes the color of horror and darkness. He tried to stir, to shake himself loose, but those empty, abyssal eyes held him steady. There were no chains; nothing corporeal bound him to that table other than the glare of those unnatural eyes. They were like ink. If he reached out, he could almost feel them stain his fingers. His gaze filled with a mist. The eyes were fading, but so was everything else... When Bé came to, salty beads of sweat had fallen onto his lips. He sat up, wiping them from his brow and forehead with a silk handkerchief pulled from his coat pocket. Marceau was driving while Gisèle sat quietly beside him, fidgeting with her phone, an exasperated look on her countenance. She turned to him, "You're awake. I can't get any signal out here..." They were driving through the forest on an old, dirt road. The brush had become overgrown and had it not been for Marceau's keen sense of direction, they surely would have gone off the broken path. Bé pulled out his phone, looking at it coldly, "Likewise." As they trudged on, the moonlight that illuminated the forest seemed to dim, lost behind a veil of menacing shadows. His mother had warned him of this prior to his sudden departure from Paris. She had said, "When the moon disappears, you're almost there." It had been a rather tense couple of days leading up to D-day. He and his mother were not on speaking terms; they only shared curt text messages about how his preparations were progressing. Gisèle had certainly felt the distance that bloomed between them. Bé hadn't uttered so much as a word to her and the growing partition erected between like a Babylonian fortress knawed at her thoughts. Marceau tried to comfort her, to tell her that Bé would get over it eventually once the dust settled. But would he? Bé was not known to be forgiving, and any sense of betrayal was a grave offense to his personhood. Had she betrayed him by not fighting harder to contest his mother's behest? In any case, what was done was done, she relented. When they finally arrived at their destination, Marceau was the first to step out of the car. "What a dump." he said carelessly. Bé stepped out the SUV, followed by Gisèle. "You should feel right at home then," he responded cooly. Bé looked around. Through the thickness of the forest was a glade. The moon had come back from hiding and illuminated, at the center of the glade, an old two-story cabin made of worn, splintered wood. The windows were cracked, and a chimney atop filled the skies with warmth and smoke. He could make out the glimmer of candlelight from the bottom window closet to the front door. Why did this place feel, familiar somehow? He had not been here before, surely. He would know if he had, and yet, the feeling of "home" pricked at his skin like a tiny, persistent needle. Had he imagined those shadowy eyes? It was likely but a dream he cared to soon forget. Once his mind had cleared itself of the intruding thought, Bé and Gisèle shared a queer gaze and then slowly set forth toward the shack. After one final, brief pause, Marceau knocked on the door. They could hear shuffling from inside the cabin, the jingle of chimes, and the rattling of stone on iron. When the door creaked open, an old man wearing a turban and loose cloth stood before them. He was short, no taller than 5'2". He had a full beard and appeared haggard and gaunt like a skeleton. His eyes were milky and white, though Bé could have sworn he recognized the shape and fold of his eyelids. Oddly familiar. The entire house held the redolence of boiling venison and other unfamiliar, highly unpleasant smells. The man inhaled fumes from a strange, ornate pipe balanced between his lips and blew out smoke right into their faces. Marceau smirked, amused at the greeting. Gisèle coughed, while Bé covered his nose, unamused. After a brief silence, Bé gathered himself once the reality of where they were had finally settled like a blanket of morning dew, "Are you Salazaar?" Salazaar looked at them one by one, but his gaze remained firmly on Bé the longest. Those misty, silver eyes moved up and down Bé's silhouette as though he were analyzing his form for imperfections and cracks. "You've grown well." he finally said with a slight, almost imperceptible, upturn of the corner of his lips. Bé lifted an eyebrow, "Pardon?" Salazaar chuffed, "Come in. You're letting out my heat." NPCs Salazaar the Hermit Gisèle, Bé's Cousin Marceau, Bé's Bodyguard

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_{Todd 《》 St. Portwell [ Todd's Family Farm and Orchard ] 《》 Pained 《》 [@AeolianTodd, Aunt Esadowa, @BlizzStormy]}

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Life had taken a rather sudden and unfortunate turn for Todd as of late. He had not experienced a good night's rest since his partner's tragic murder at the hands of an unknown assailant, and every night, his crumpled form, balled up like an agonized fetus, convulsed and sodded the sheets in sticky sweat. He'd wake up screaming and clawing at his chest until his sister, the eldest of his family, Esadowa, would rush in to comfort him with one of her specialty sleep tonics she called Lull. After a certain point, Todd would find himself in the basement, having slipped through the floor in his sleep after another horrific night terror wreaked havoc on his psyche. And so, because he could not find peace at night, he spent his waking days preoccupied with a million-and-one tasks to complete. If he was not tending to the garden, then he was working to repair the roof, and if he was not doing that, then he was building a new bookshelf to accommodate his daughter's ever-growing book collection and so on and so on, as the days seemed to drag with his heavy gossamer heart. Aunt Esadowa had left her luxury high-rise in Seattle to return to the farm and assist her mentally ailing brother, who, with each passing day, seemed to lose himself more and more. But in a family of workaholics and busy bees, Aunt Esadowa was almost certain Todd was the most hardworking of them all. But even for him, this was...extreme. It wasn't until he received a call from Auri about coven murders that it all started to click. What began as nothing but a blip of a thought, festered like a wild and untamed weed, until the idea took root and could not be dislodged no matter how much he tried. Once he was sure of himself, he pulled his sister into the greenhouse after supper and confessed. "I'm going back to the coven," he said, determination emanating from his eyes. His two children were playing outside, so Esadowa shut the door quietly so as not to alert the them and turned to him with furrowed brows, "What?" "I'm going back to the cov..." he repeated. Esadowa put her hands up like a protesting mime, "No no, I heard you. I just...do not understand why you would go back at this point in your life. You have children." Todd stepped away from her, picking up a pot of soil, and began tending to the sprouting that crested slightly from the surface. He spoke softly, "Yes. And that is exactly why I have to return." He paused, turning over the soil with his fingers before continuing, "I didn't tell you this before, but I received a call. Former coven members are being hunted and murdered like cattle. I cannot sit idly by and wait for someone to come after me next." His sister followed him over, standing on the opposite side of the table so she could face him, "That is serious. But what about your children? Will you just abandon them for your old...friends?" "That's why I need you to stay here, at least for a while longer, just until I can help them figure this all out. My staying here, near my children, puts their lives at risk just as much as it does yours. I can protect all of you if I leave and stop this psychopath." Esadowa went quiet for a moment. This was not an easy request to spring on her so suddenly. A few weeks off was one thing, but who knew how long this would go on for. Weeks, months, half a year? She had her life, a career, and a wife back in Seattle that required her attention. She couldn't just compromise her current obligations, could she? Should the children come stay with her in the city? Todd looked out toward his children playing on the old family swing he'd repaired last summer, and a thick, heavy tear fell down his cheek. He wiped it away on his sleeve before turning his gaze back Esadowa, his countenance all the more grave with desperation. "Esa, please. I have to do this. I have to. Let me keep you all safe. I need this." After a heavy silence, Esadowa sighed. "Okay, let me make some calls," She relented, crossing the table to hug him warmly. That was all Todd needed. He was sure he was making the right decision for children. At the very least, he hoped so. That night, Todd called someone he had been very close to within the Old Coven, someone who felt like a true brother. The call went straight to voicemail, so he left a message instead. "Stormy, my friend, it has been a long while since we've seen each other, hasn't it? I'm sorry that I am only now returning. *There was a brief silence* My wife is dead. Nova is dead. I...I don't know what else to do other than to come back and help put an end to this madness. I have to protect my children. It's the only way. Please call me when you're able. Can we meet? Perhaps with the other members? At least...those who can. I'll do everything I can to help. I've missed you all, my friend. Let's put an end to this. NPCs Aunt Esadowa, Todd's Older Sister

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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_{Bé 《》 Paris, France [ Bé's Flat ] 《》 Weary 《》 [@AeolianBé, Marceau, Cousin Gisèle, Tito]}

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Back in Paris, Bé found himself replaying that night at Madame Angelique's over and over in his head. It rattled and tugged at his attention viciously despite his best efforts to put the memory out of its misery. Had it really gotten so bad? How had he let it get to that point? He was leaning against the railing of his Juliet balcony, gazing down at the inner-city streets below, alit by torch fire and camera phones. Another protest, he assumed, the ruckus of the ceaseless noise bombarding his psyche. He'd thought he'd come out for a bit of fresh air, but perhaps tonight, he was more in tune for the quiet solitude of his third story abode. He took a puff of his vape pen and blew a ring, watching it drift off into the moonlight. [In English, because of Tito] When he returned inside, placing the device of soothing mint into his silk-sewn pocket, his manager Tito, cousin Gisèle, and his oaf of a bodyguard, Marceau, were waiting for him in his living room. Tito had a glass of wine in hand and was leaning against the nearest wall. Gisèle was sitting on his sofa with one leg crossed over the other, while Marceau was in his kitchen rummaging through his fridge. Bé sighed, acknowledging none of them. Instead, he walked over to his wine rack, picked out a glass flute, and poured himself a bit of bubbly. He took a sip, turning to face them with a deadpan expression, "What are you doing here?" he asked cooly, taking another sip. His eyes met each of them before settling on his cousin. Gisèle looked at Bé with a nervous gaze before standing up to meet him where he was. She placed a hand on his arm to try and comfort him, but with little hesitation, he softly pulled away from her and crossed the room to sit in an accent chair. Gisèle seemed hurt by the recoil, but did not follow him and instead, continued where she stood, "Your mother wants you to leave Paris, for your own safety." "I will do no such thing." Bé said, hushed venom leaking from his lips, his tone so dry and cold it could freeze the entire room into silence. They knew he would respond this way. It was inevitable. Bé had too much at stake right now; with his career just starting to gain traction, how could he possibly bunker away to God knows where over a few inconvenient incidents? And that warning Auri gave him before obviously had not come to fruition, so as he saw it, he was better off taking his chances within the familiar than the foreign. But mother was...mother. Bé understood as much but was unwilling to comply all the same. His cousin continued, "Bé, please. You know your mother. She affords you great freedoms in this life, but be realistic for your own sake. You know as well as I that severe reprecussions await should you defy her." Bé rolled his eyes, "I can, and I will." "Then you will throw away your livelihood? The comfort and luxuries she has blessed upon you? Can you make those sacrifices? I'm warning you Bé. She will strip them from your flesh if you protest." Bé crossed his arms, stepping closer to Gisèle to emphasize what he was going to say next. With furrowed brows, he glared at her coldly and continued, "Don't tell me about my own mother. And I'm warning you, cousin. Do not patronize me. And as far as I'm concerned, I will have to make those sacrifices regardless, no matter where I might lie. My life is here, in Paris." Gisèle shook her head, looking up at him fiercely betwixt the corporeal tension that polluted the air, "Oh, for heaven's sake! Just listen! It's only temporary, at least until she is sure you're safe. Tito will manage your flat while you're away." She looked toward Tito for reassurance, and when their eyes met, he gave her a cursory nod. Bé was not convinced by this feeble gesture of assent. "We speak in circles, and yet my answer remains the same. No." Bé and Gisèle quarreled a bit longer. It seemed like a never-ending carousel of reality and rejection. The cousins never got into it like this in all of their years of knowing each other, not once, which was rare for Bé because even as an adolescent, he was known for having a rather aloof and austere demeanor. He was not the friendliest child, and his peers often found his cold personality agitating and lofty. Gisèle had been one of the select few to break through the ice. And it made sense. Bé was an only child who was spoiled and lived an opulent life. But he was lonely and bored, and his cousin served as a companion, as he did for her. So they understood each other better than anyone else. But in this instance, Bé was quite frustrated by how acquiescent Gisèle expected him to be toward his mother's demands. The longer the discussion went on, the more disquieted he became. Meanwhile, Tito was patiently watching them bicker, his shades down at the crook of his nose so he could overlook the conversation with clarity and intercede should things get out of hand. He had hoped he wouldn't need to intervene, perhaps so Bé wouldn't feel as though everyone was operating against his wishes. But once it seemed that the sibling-like cousins had reached an impasse and Gisèle had uncharacteristically screamed at him to stop behaving like a petulant child, Tito finally decided he should step in with some degree of authority as the oldest figure in the room. "Enough!" he croaked, coughing haggardly as Gisèle and Bé fell mute and looked at him. He continued once he was sure he had their attention, but focused mostly on Bé, "Here's the deal. If you don't agree to this, you won't have a career to come back to." Bé took a deep, weary breath, grazing his fingers through his thick, curly black locks. His ocean eyes seemed to illuminate with a tinge of fire beneath the surface. He'd be fuming brimstone and smog if he had not been working overtime to maintain his composure. So instead of yelling as he truly desired, he instead, in a tempered tone, asked Tito, "Has my mother really gone so far as to mangle all my prospects if I do not comply? Has she truly?" "Afraid so, kid. She's good. Real good." "Then my mother is a real tart isn't she..." Bé murmured, finishing up the flute of bubbly. Gisèle, on the other hand, was foaming at the mouth with anger, "Don't talk about your mother like that, Bé! She has gone to great lengths to protect you and give you a good life..." She paused for a moment, a queer expression upon her face that Bé couldn't quite place, "A new life..." she said softly. "A new life? What is that supposed to mean?" Bé asked, eyebrow raised. Gisèle shook her head, "Nothing. Just know that she has done unimaginable things for you, things you can't begin to understand. And she only wants what she believes is best for you. Show her some grace." A heavy silence filled the room after that. Bé was lost in stilled contemplation, his gaze frozen on a framed photo of him and his mother from when he was a young boy. Tito looked at them both, back and forth, taking it all in. He hated getting in the middle of family drama. He was just the manager, after all—an employee. He deemed it best to keep his contributions to the discussion minimal at best. Gisèle was left to do the heavy lifting. Finally, Bé asked, "Where am I to be shipped off to then? Boston? Montreal?" Tito grunted, "Errr, no. Somewhere near Portland, Oregon. She's got an acquaintance you can stay with for a while until the dust has settled, if you will." Bé's eyebrow twitched. Oregon? Was it a coincidence? What were the odds that the very place he despised the most was located in the same state? Over the years, he had tried so hard to disassociate himself from that place, from that past. The only person he kept semi-communications with was Sloane, and even then, it was not enough to draw him back. And yet... A heavy blanket of silence filled the room. Bé seemed lost in his mind once again as Gisèle and Tito shared glances with one another, unsure of what to say next. Bé was dreadfully introspective. The way he could get lost in his thoughts mid-conversation without pause was uncanny. Just then, there was a loud clank from the kitchen, and everyone, except Bé, turned to look. Marceau had royally decimated Bé's kitchen but somehow managed to cook an Italian supper popular in Marseille. When he finished setting out four dishes and plating them with the aromatic cuisine, he plopped a tomato cherry into his mouth, threw a dirty cloth over his shoulder, and, through eager chews, said to the group with a grin, "Who's hungry?" No one said anything. The sour mood seemed to have doused everyone's appetites, Bé most of all. Never had he felt so much of his agency stripped away. He was no child, and being treated as such was unimaginably distressing to his ego. Truly humiliating. When he couldn't bear to look at their faces any longer, Bé stormed out of the room and entered his sleeping quarters, slamming the door behind him. He took off his top and tossed it onto the nearby velvet chaise lounge, revealing his glistening, chiseled body. If nothing else, Bé was a masterpiece unto itself, a beautiful Grecian effigy made flesh. Even his face, twisting with disgust and anger, brought the moon to cower in shame. Running his fingers through his thick, curly hair, Bé fell back on his bedside and let out a deep, weary sigh. He laid there, motionless, only mired thoughts and memories filling the void. He fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist, an inconspicuous accessory that had once been a person. Quite the macabre bit of jewelry. This pretty little secret hung upon him daily, perhaps a counterintuitive thing to wear, though, for someone who wished to forget their past. But in some ways, maybe he didn't want to forget. There was someone back in Oregon that he sometimes thought about in passing. It wasn't Sloane, or hell, even Anya, for that matter. At least, no in THAT way. Someone else stole those quiet moments from him. Rent free. Finally, when he heard the last vestiges of Tito and Gisèle leaving his flat, Bé fell into a deep, troubled sleep—a slumber full of beautiful wonders and nightmares. But before dreams took hold, Bé wondered. Who was this acquaintance in Oregon? Why hadn't he heard of this person? What were the odds that he'd run into the old coven members? He wouldn't, right? The idea was like barbs beneath his skin. But alas, these were thoughts for the sunrise. For now, he'd relinquish himself willingly so that the moon and night might take him peacefully. NPCs Tito, Bé Manager Gisèle, Bé's Cousin Marceau, Bé's Bodyguard

Summary

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1: After the incident with the stalker back in Monaco at Madame Angelique's home, Bé has returned to his flat in Paris. He is confronted by Gisèle and Tito (Marceau is cooking). They inform him that his mother is ordering him to leave Paris and stay with an acquaintance of hers for his own safety. If he refuses, she will basically fuck over his entire livelihood and career. Obviously, Bé does not want to do this. Bé and Gisèle argue over this. Bé discovers from Tito that he will be staying in Oregon, which makes him feel disquieted. With nothing else to say, he storms out of the room and goes to sleep, but not before lulling over his past and some of his old connections from the Coven.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

@Shin Ghost Note

Todd Dancing River

"There's a secret garden inside of you just waiting to bloom. It just needs a bit of nurturing."

_______________________________________________ Todd Dancing River He/Him | 29 | Native-American (Cheyenne) | 5'10" | 156 lbs _______________________________________________ Earthy. _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "I do not fear hardwork, I welcome it." ___________________________________ [+] Green-Thumb ⫻ Todd has what some might call a green-thumb. He's always had a knack for growing plants abd gardening thanks to his upbringing and was the most effecient at it in his family. He would find little unassuming patches in his family's orchard and grow other plants that he found beautiful or beneficial. Kenpo ⫻ He trained in the art of Kenpo from age 9 to 20, so he can go toe-to-toe if he needs to. Also, he just always spent most of his time outside, and was never one to watch t.v. or play videogames. He was either playing or working outdoors in some capacity. Horseback Riding ⫻ They had horses on their farm, so he learned how to ride them as a kid. Also, horses are important animals in his Cheyenne culture, so it was invetible that he would be taught to ride from a young age. Athletic ⫻ Due to his upbringing, Todd is generally very atheletic, probably moreso than the average individual. He's particularly good at running and swimming. Nurturing ⫻ Beind the second eldest of his siblings, Todd adopted a somewhat fatherly kind of personality. He's got a quiet wisdom about him, a great listener who likes to nurture others to be their best selves. Because of this, Todd's a beloved individual who can bring out the best in those around him. People always come to him for advice. Cooking ⫻ As the oldest brother in the family and the second eldest overall, a lot of the patronly duties fell to him while he mother and father were working. He would cook for his siblings and now cooking is second nature to him. He would often combine his cooking and gardening skills to cook tasty, but healthy foods for his younger siblings.

Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "For the things I care about, beauty is a non-factor. Anyways..." At first glance, people might describe Todd was earthy and modest. Of course he's attractive by conventional standards, but not in a way that is obnoxious or unrealistic. He's of average height with an athletic build, but his handsome facial features are approachable and mild, nothing too out-of-the-ordinary worth mentioning. Todd's most notable feature is his long thick wavy hair, which he often keeps in a single or double braids. His hair is VERY sacred to his Cheyenne heritage and culture. He'll never cut it short. His clothes seem to match his personality. Having lived on a farm and orchard most of his life, his style seems to reflect his upbringing. Todd wears jackets, flannels, and boots. He's often adorned with some kind of accessory related to his Cheyenne heritage, like a necklace, earring, bracelet, or ring. His glasses are large and round, giving him a somewhat nerdy appearance. Overall his style seems a bit vintage and grounded. Todd is one of eight brothers and sisters, so he's had very little time to worry himself about his appearance from a vanity standpoint. They were always too busy helping around the house, so everything he wore to the way he styled his hair was about comfort and effeciency in getting things done. As such, he is not very materialistic and teaches those same values to his own children.

_{Psychology
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"I like to plant things and watch them grow."

MAIN GOAL ⫻ To keep his children safe. This is why he cameback to the coven. After the attack and hearing that other ex-coven members are being killed, he's staying away from his children so he doesn't put them in harms way. Of course, his main main goal is so stop whatever is trying to kill them all so he can get back to his kids.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ To Todd, everything is like a garden. You plant the seeds you want to cultivate into something magnificent and beautiful. As such, he's got a nurturing, paternal, calm and cool big-brother sensibility about him. And the way he moves in the world reflects that. He doesn't believe in barriers or having regrets or inaction. For Todd, you cultivate and nourish the kind of life you want for yourself and everything else becomes inconsequential. While he is not naieve to the unfortunate and downright terrible conditions that life can throw at us, he stands firm in never letting the world limit our growth. We are always blooming so long as we continue pushing forward despite the adversities we may face. Todd's wisdom makes him seem older than he really is. But this is a man who fears stagnation and stillness. He always needs to be doing something.

SECRETS ⫻ To be honest, he has no real secrets. He's always been an open-book. Suppose that's why he's so approachable and magnetic.

SEXUALITY ⫻ Openly pansexual, though he's monogamous with whomever he's with. Prefers women though.

FEARS ⫻ His children being hurt and dying. Dying before seeing children grow up. Literally most of his fears revolve around his kids. He's a parent after all.

REPUTATION IN OLD COVEN ⫻ In the old coven, Todd was a beloved figure whose calm, cool, and wise nature made him a source of comfort and counseling to everyone else. He was also one of the oldest members and often acted as the Coven's paternal father or big-brother figure that others came to. He was reliable, unproblematic, and his amazing cooking skills were enough to solidify his place in the fold. Todd would often cook for the coven members or invite them over to his family farm, so most of the coven members are familiar with his own family. At 19, he left the coven to raise his newborn with his high school sweetheart. His departure was a major loss to the morale of the group. He was like a guiding light. A lighthouse.

ROLE IN THE BATTLE AGAINST THE STYGIAN SNAKE ⫻ During the battle against the Stygian Snake, Todd was one of Britney's unassuming "victims". He just so happened to be nearby when she forcibly sealed an apparition named Catherine, inside of him. This simple act opened up his eyes to a whole new world and he truly saw it for what it is. Seeing the battle unfold, his protective "big-brother" instincts took over and he used his newfound gift tosave many lives by phasing people through the stygian snake's various attacks and using his gift to help people escape from under debris and rubble, things like that.

FLAWS ⫻ Todd's a bit of a busy body. He hates doing nothing and always feels like he's needs to be doing something. When he's not being active or engaged in something, Todd can become restless and irritable.

_{Backstory
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"Nothing is more important to me than my kids."

Todd's early life on the family farm and orchard in St. Portwell was defined by responsibility and hard work. As the second oldest of eight siblings and the eldest brother, he took on a paternal role from a young age, ensuring his younger brothers and sisters were cared for while his parents were working. Todd's days were filled with tending to the land, managing the household, mentoring his siblings, studying for his own academics, you name it. He was never truly able to be a kid. The farm was not just a place of labor but also a space where he learned the values of diligence, resilience, and family loyalty. His love for Kenpo, which he practiced after school, provided him with both discipline and a sense of personal achievement away from his neverending family duties. He made a lot of sacrifices for his family's well-being and cohesion. He kept everything together, even when his parents, at one point, spoke of divorce. His father said to him one night, "Todd, thank you. You're the reason your mother and I are still together. Hell, you're the reason our family is still together. We would have fallen apart without you."

At 18, Todd's life took an extraordinary turn when he encountered Britney on his way home from Kenpo practice. While fighting the Stygian Snake, she sealed an apparition named Catherine inside him, allowing him to use Cather's power of intangibility. While this newfound gift was a heavy burden, it proved to be useful as he was able to use his power to save many lives during the fight. Despite the danger and the sudden shift in his life, Todd rose to the challenge, driven by the same sense of duty that had defined his upbringing. And truthfully, he could have resented Britney for what she did to him, but, in life, Todd believes every new experience is something to grow from—a new seed to cultivate until it blooms.

Following the victory, Todd remained with the coven for a while longer to help nurture his new gift and learn all about this new world he had been forcibly brought into. The camaraderie and the sense of purpose he found within the coven was like being at home. It was, familiar, uncannily so. At the age of 19, he would leave the coven to raise his newborn daughter with his high school sweetheart who was also in the Sycamore Coven with him. His departure was a big deal, as he had become a beloved, reliable, and stable figure within the group. But he had new and old responsibilities that awaited him back home, and he just couldn't continue with the Coven, which had become a burden for him, unfortunately. Frankly, it had become a burden for them both.

Tragically, the mother of Todd's two children was killed by Father Wolf (though Todd does not know who the killer is). Still in mourning and fearing for the safety of his children, Todd returned to the coven once again to lend his support, to uncover who the killer is, and put an end to their new adversary's murderous spree, if only for the sake of his own kids. They've already lost their mother; he'll be damned if they lose him too.

_{Abstraction
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"Take my hand. We'll escape this place together."

TYPE ⫻ Aberration (Adjoined)

ABSTRACTION ⫻ Catherine's Gift: Catherine was an American witch from the 1600s who escaped the Salem Witch trials, though not before witnessing all of her sisters burned at the stake. Catherine swore to live on forever, even in the afterlife. Before her death, Catherine would cast a powerful spell, turning her essence into an apparition. This bound her to the world of the living so she could eternally seek out revenge on the descendants of her sisters' murderers. Eventually, Catherine's spree of retribution came to a halt when Britney sealed her inside of Todd, allowing him to utilize the magical gifts Catherine possessed.

ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻

Incorporeal Form
Todd possesses the gift to become incorporeal (intangible). While in this form, he can phase through matter on a molecular level, passing his atoms through the spaces between the atoms of the object through which he is moving. In this way, he and the object through which he is passing can temporarily merge without interacting, and each is unharmed when he has finished phasing through the object. He can share his intangibility with other objects and people by maintaining physical contact with them throughout the duration. Todd can also selectively make different parts of his body incorporeal at will without having to make his entire body intangible.

Incorporeal Distortion
While in his incorporeal form, Todd can alter his atoms, making them volatile. In this state, his body disables the binding forces that hold solid matter together. This causes the matter to crumble or break down around him as he passes through it.

Incorporeal Flight
While in his incorporeal form, Todd's body is not affected by the forces of gravity, allowing him to float, hover, and fly by passing through air molecules. As he describes it, the experience is like swimming through the air. While flying, there is a visible watery-esque ripple effect around him.

Psychic Immunity
While incorporeal, Todd is functionally immune to psychic abilities, as there is no corporeal mind to influence, read, or manipulate.

LIMITS ⫻

Todd is unable to breathe while fully incorporeal, so he can only continuously phase through matter for as long as he can hold his breath (it's like being underwater). This also means he can only fly for as long as he can hold his breath, with the duration even shorter if he is extending his gift to someone else mid-flight (i.e. carrying them). Solidifying while in an object could cause serious injury, if not death. As it is an active power, if he can't see, anticipate, or react to an attack coming, he can't phase through it.

WEAKNESSES ⫻ (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU)

^{Other
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"All along you were blooming."

Todd has two kids, a daughter (11) and son (10). Their mother, who was also a member of Sycamore, was killed by Father Wolf. Todd doesn't know the identity of the killer, only that they're connected to the killing of other Sycamore Tree members.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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Interactions: Madamoiselle Vanille, Marceau, Madame Angelique, Cousin Gisèle, Stalker @Aeolian
Madame Angelique's Manor in Monaco

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There was an eerie stillness permeating that old, creaky library. It hung over them like a shadow, unearthing and unfamiliar as Gisèle moved closer to Bé, her eyes glazed with a thick molasses of fear. In truth, Gisèle was not completely defenseless. As was the case with most members of the Rochefoucauld family, she possessed a magic of her own, and in fact, it was quite potent. The unfortunate matter was that Gisèle did not have great control of her gifts and it often triggered when she was consumed by fright. Well, perhaps then it would come in handy.

The moment of quiet held steady, both parties not wanting to make a move until they were sure of the other's. But Bé had a remarkable, almost uncanny level of patience and knew that he could hold fast until he was sure what he was up against. And then, there was a flash of light that illuminated from behind a bookshelf labeled Eastern Antiquities, and then a blur took off swiftly toward the back exit. Bé recoiled and closed his eyes, blinded by the sudden flash. However, he knew in an instant who it was, and his posture relaxed.

"Fool," he said, looking around his person for something. Ah...a chair, old, wooden, French provisional. It would do. His eyes glimmered with a golden light as he approached the dinky old antique, and the area around him shifted; everywhere he looked were golden threads tightly wound around one another, throbbing and pulsing as though yearning to be touched. There was always this sensation that they wanted to be pulled. Somehow, these golden cosmic filaments were alive. He looked at the threads silhouetted around the chair. The closer he got, the looser the threads became. And then he plucked one of the strings, and the mass of threads pulsated, releasing a thrumming angelic hum. Another pluck.

And then, the golden light and threads faded from his gaze, and in place of the chair was an ornate, tasseled carpet. Miraculously, it hovered several feet off the floor, floating up and down—a flying magic carpet. "Go, ensnare him," Bé uttered, and the magic carpet zipped off through the air, flying through the library and out the front entrance into the dimly lit corridor. The blur was at the end of the hall and made a hard tight right turn heading toward Madame Angelique's glass conservatory. The carpet took after it as Bé and Gisèle hurried into the hallway.

From behind, Madame Angelique and Mademoiselle Vanille were fast approaching, pulling themselves along by their breeches. Bé could hear the frou-frou of their ornate, glamorous gowns, and when they were finally upon them, Madame Angelique seemed to be utterly aghast, "Someone, please tell me what is going on. Why did I see a man being chased through my home by a carpet?"

Bé let out a heavy sigh, "My stalker is here. I'm handling it." He realized this was the first time he had truly acknowledged that the fan was much more than that. In truth, Bé had hoped that it wouldn't get to this point, but it seemed that perhaps his mother was right after all. It was one thing: trying to get photos of him at the train station or hotel. But to trespass into the home of someone he knew. That was behavior Bé could no longer excuse and in some respects, he felt guilty to have brought this foolishness unto someone else, especially someone as completely unrelated to the matter as Madame Angelique was. In fact, it infuriated him that now she was involved.

His mother let out an audible gasp, "Here? It is not possible, is it? How dreadful!"

"A stalker? Heavens!" Madame Angelique cooed dramatically, fanning herself like a stage actress about to swoon into the arm of her lover. Gisèle, on the other hand, looked remorseful, "I should have used my magic to stop him when I had the chance. I'm sorry Bé."

"It is of no matter," he said to his cousin, assuring her that it was no fault of her own.

"Come, we must capture our uninvited guest for his transgressions against my home." Madame Angelique proclaimed, and then the group took off toward the conservatory. When they arrived, the large glass-domed room was full of plants and trees and flowers that glimmered with a midnight blue. It was an ecosystem unto itself, and the starry night illuminated the room from every angle imaginable. The group looked upward toward the tree canopies at a surprising sight. There was a sophisticated collision of staircases and platforms, allowing one to walk across the canopies for a perfect view of the entire conservatory. At the very peak was an aviary of gilded cages filled with exotic birds squeaking and singing madly. And near these caged birds was Marceau. He was looking down at them proudly, a charming grin upon his countenance, and slung over his shoulder with one arm was the stalker, unconscious and wrapped up in the carpet like a burrito.

"Well, well, well, who do we have here?" Madame Angelique cooed, a hunger in her gaze as she looked up at Marceau and licked her lips. The tattooed man jumped down from the platform and landed on the surface floor with perfect balance, the wrapped stalker still in his grasp. "The name's Marceau."

"How wonderful." Mademoiselle Vanille said brightly, walking over to him."You have saved my son once again." She turned to Madame Angelique "This is Marceau, my son's guardian."

"Now I could use some guarding like that..." Madame Angelique said breathelessly.

Bé rolled his eyes as Marceau bowed to his mother and then approached him, placing the stalker down on the floor in front of his feet. Bé looked from Marceau down to the stalker, inspecting his face. He was alive, not to say for the giant knot sprouting from his forehead like a big pulsating red weed. It was likely a surprise one-hit knockout from Marceau. He'd probably be out for a while and wake up with a serious concussion. "Want me to kill em?" Marceau asked matter-of-factly, his expression uncharacteristically cold.

"Kill him?" Gisèle exclaimed with wide eyes, shocked that Marceau would even recommend something so, in her eyes, evil.

"No." Bé said, quietly.

"What should we do with him then?" his mother asked.

Madame Angelique approached the unconscious carpet-wrapped man and stared at him for a moment. After a brief silence, she turned to Bé, "Worry not dearest. He won't remember a thing about this night, or you for that matter."

"Of course. Your kiss..." Mademoiselle Vanille whispered, recalling Angelique's magic that allowed her to manipulate the minds of those she kissed.

Bé shared Angelique's gaze and then nodded, "Very well. Rewrite his mind and scatter his memories to the stars." He didn't need to thank her outright. She could sense the gratitude that quietly filled his sparkling ocean eyes.

This was the first time in his entire life that he actually admired Madame Angelique; the first time he looked at her and didn't recoil in disdain and annoyance. He owed her one.

"With pleasure," she said calmly and then knelt down to the stalker, removed his glasses, and puckered her lips as she went in for a kiss...

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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Interactions: Madamoiselle Vanille, Marceau, Madame Angelique, Cousin Gisèle @Aeolian
Madame Angelique's Manor in Monaco

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Anyone who was anyone within France or Monaco knew it was a grave offense to miss one of Madame Angelique's parties. She was at the height of modern-day aristocracy, a Monégasque woman who bore no children, though her husband had pleaded with her for years to bless him with an heir to inherit his unimaginable fortune. But Madame Angelique was too selfish to sacrifice her lifestyle for childrearing, and so, gifted with the power of an apparition sealed within a bejeweled tube of vibrant crimson lipstick, one kiss and her husband would forget all about wanting an heir; no son or daughter to call his own. She had to keep this up over the years, as the manipulation would eventually fade, and he'd fall back into his yearning for a child until the mind-altering was refreshed once again.

As Bé entered Madame Angelique's grand ballroom, he had hoped to steer clear of the woman, but he would not be afforded such a luxury on this night. Flanked by his mother and Marceau on either side, he took in the grand spectacle of the room, with its soaring ceilings and glass canopy that basked the room in ripples of starlight. Tables of food flanked both sides of the room, an inconceivable bevy of edible delights and delicacies like none could dream of. Of course, this sight did not engender sentiments of awe or shock within the young man. This was nothing new to him, though Marceau certainly gawked at the mounds of foods that created an overwhelming aroma, from chicken confit to lamb shank navarin. The tattooed man beelined toward the kougloff and tarte citron before Bé had a chance to protest. To no one's surprise, Marceau would act out of turn, having never witnessed such a feast. This prompted a weary eye roll from Bé, who regretted having brought someone not of the Ton to such an event.

[In French]

Kissing his mother on the cheek as they parted ways, Bé followed after Marceau to one of the food tables. He looked around the expansive room as he bit into a chocolate-covered strawberry, savoring the sweet burst of flavor that flooded his mouth. He recognized many faces there but had no interest in socializing and only offered pale greetings when approached. Beside him, Marceau had already filled his first plate to the brim and was now digging in to fill another. Placing the half-eaten strawberry on his place, Bé turned to him, already appearing exasperated, "Marceau, please mind your manners and behave with some civility. This is a soiree, not a shabby all-you-can-eat buffet. Fill your plate lightly, and if you want more, discard what you have and come back to the table for another small serving."

Marceau was hardly listening. His mouth was stuffed with escargot, and as he spoke, little pieces flew out of his mouth. Bé looked at him with utter horror and disgust.

"No, sir....This is emmm..." he began between chews, "...the best food I've ever...." *chew chew chew* "...had. The boys down in Nice won't believe me when I tell them about this...." He paused, picking up something by the end and dangling it like he was inspecting his latest catch. "What's this?" Marceau asked, hanging it over his mouth as he slowly dropped it in for consumption, smacking his lips loudly as he chewed. "How crude." Bé said.

I have to get away from this man, he thought, turning for the rear corridor. Bé had been to Madame Angelique's home before; he knew his way around, but more importantly, he knew where he could escape off to for a bit of respite from the noise before his mother would inevitably come looking for him again. Mindful to avoid anyone he knew personally, Bé entered the corridor unscathed, just narrowly missing Madame Angelique, who was marching over to him with a glass of red wine in hand before being pulled away by an older man wearing glasses and a very obvious toupee. Her husband.

Several dimly lit corridors and stairways later, Bé had arrived at his destination—the library. It was a grand room with an old-world smell that soothed his throbbing head as he entered. Old books filled the wooden shelves as high as the ceilings, each with its own rolling ladder. He recalled it fondly, like the library in Beauty and the Beast. The modest library he'd constructed for himself in his Parisian flat couldn't even begin to compare.

As he flipped through an old book dated back to 1935, his head jolted up suddenly. Like the rest of the manor, the library was dimly lit. The moonlight that filtered through the large windows brought far more illumination than the surrounding gas-lit candelabras and sconces could provide. Bé looked around for a moment, certain he'd heard something fall. Sitting the book back on the shelf, he crept toward the general area where he'd heard the sound. The room was silent; only the faint noise of music from the distant ballroom and his own heartbeat echoed.

Bé rounded the corner, certain this was where he heard the thud, and then he hit his foot on something as he took another step forward but, quite suddenly, made a rapid 180° when the sound of his name reverberated from behind him. The voice that called out to was recognizable, airy and bell-like. Instinctively, Bé let out a sigh of relief. Standing before him was none other than his cousin, Gisèle. She was a petite young woman, only a year or two older than he was. Gisèle was an exceptional beauty, and the daughter of his mother's sister, a woman whom Gisèle tried to pretend didn't exist due to her mental health problems. But Gisèle was a familiar presence and one of the few that Bé was fond of. Whenever his aunt was locked away at an asylum, Gisèle would spend that time living with them, so they had developed, over time, a rather organic sibling-like bond. Only she truly understood what it was like living in that house with all of those, now, very deceased husbands.

"Gisèle, you terror. How did you know I was in here?"

Gisèle giggled, walking over to Bé and embracing him warmly, "I saw you leaving the ballroom and followed. I almost called out to you, but then the Madame would have had her way with your supple form, and I just couldn't allow that, now could I?"

Bé shook his head, "Dear cousin, must you make my skin crawl?"

Gisèle released him, a faint, devious smile on her lips, "You're such a prude. It tickles me to see you uncomfortable in this way. It's a novelty I enjoy, I must confess." Bé rolled his eyes, "Charmed..." he jested. But then he remembered something and kneeled down, picking up the small book he'd hit his foot against earlier. "To be honest, I have little appreciation for these sorts of antics, as you know. I mean, honestly, Gisèle, I do not find it amusing," he said accusingly, waving the book in front of her so she'd confess to her crime.

His cousin's eyebrow arched, a confused expression on her face. She looked at the book curiously, grabbing it from his hand and inspecting it closely before looking back to him, "Pardon? I only just came in here moments ago."

"Did you now?" Bé asked, his tone more serious.

Gisèle nodded, "Of course. What is it?"

He believed her. One thing Gisèle was not, was a liar. And then his mind went back to the phone call he'd had with Auri a few months prior. He hadn't heard from anyone in the Coven since he'd left that provincial American town all those years ago. Well, aside from Sloane, for whom he spoke with every once in a while. They liked to keep tabs on each other, as this is what friends did, no? But in truth, he hadn't heard from her in a while. Bé had been so busy and preoccupied that he hadn't given it much thought. Could his call with Auri have been why? Bé fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist as he thought about Auri, his brief stint in the coven, and the warning she gave him. When she recommended Bé return, he refused and hung up on her. He didn't want anything to do with the coven or St. Portwell, and her request for his return only stirred up feelings of indignation he had long ago shoved into a small box and hidden away. Truthfully, he didn't wish death on those in the Coven who had already perished, but the way he surmised, getting anywhere near his former coven members would only sew more trouble and chaos. Whether this was his stalk...fan or the thing Auri warned him about, he'd handle it in his own way.

With his guard up, Bé's eyes studied the room carefully as Gisèle moved closer to him, looking around in kind. She shared his sparkling aqua eyes, but hers quivered in contrast to his steady determination. "What? What is it?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"I believe someone else followed me in here, and they knocked over this book. An amateur blunder, quite frankly."

Gisèle kept her gaze forward as she slowly began reaching for something in the black purse that hung on her arm, "Are you sure?"

Bé nodded knowingly, "Mind yourself, Gisèle. We are most certainly not alone."

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

@silvermist1116 Okay gotcha! Let's say it's because he still thinks she's a pink lux user and he knows general mind stuff is in their wheel house. But I'm sure once he eventually learns about her new headphones, he'll dislike her even more. :)

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Disclaimer: None of these relations are set in stone. If you have objections, please let me know. I don't mind changing any of them if you had other thoughts or ideas for your character. Help me flesh this out.

B É R O C H E F O U C A U L D
B É R O C H E F O U C A U L D

"That supposed love you share for one another is nothing but childish folly."

⚜ Acquaintance || ☯ Neutral/Indifferent || ☮ Friend || ♫ Best Friend || ♥ Crush || ⚤ Romantic Partner || ✄ Disliked/Bad Vibes || ☘ On Good Terms || ★ It's Complicated || ꕥ Friend with Benefits/Hook-Up || ☠ Hate/Enemy || ☪ Curious About

"I don't like you, more so that you are...tolerable."

✄ B R I T N E Y . W I L L I A M S ✄
Self-Righteous;

⚜ D R A K E . B L A C K M O R E ⚜
Everyman;

✄ L I N Q I A N . H A N ✄
Unreliable;

✄ L U C A . O L I V I E R A ✄
Plague;

♫ S L O A N E . F A R I S ♫
My Style;

✄ ✄ T A Y L A . C H O I ✄ ✄
Get out of his head 1;

☠ E D I C T . D E V O L A ☠
Get out of his head 2;

☯ C L A N C Y . P A T R I C K ☯
Unknown;

✄ J A C K . H A W T H O R N E ✄
Weirdo;

☘ ♥ ★ S U L L Y . M C P H E R S O N ★ ♥ ☘
Admiration;

★ ꕥ L E O N . R I C H O U X ꕥ ★
One Night Stand;

⚜ S T O R M Y . C A R S O N ⚜
Good;

✄ L A Y L A . H Y A C I N T H U S ✄
Useless Crybaby;

☘ A N Y A . B A K S H ☘
He gets her;

✄ A D O R A . P H O E N I X - P R E S C O T T ✄
Thinks he's a bully;

✄ E V E L Y N N . S E R E N E L I G H T ✄
False Prophet;

☯ L I L A . B L A C K W O O D ☯
Ambivalent 1;

☯ J A S P E R . W I L D E ☯
Ambivalent 2;

☪ L U N A . I N O U E ☪
Mysterious;

⚜ K E N S H I R O . M U R A K I N ⚜
Interesting;

✄ ☮ ★ A I S L I N . R O S E ★ ☮ ✄
Feels the need to protect her, and that's annoying;

☮ A M A R A . K I N G ☮
Real;

✄ A A R O N - A R Y I N . T H O R N E ✄
Annoying;

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

---

Interactions: Madamoiselle Vanille, Marceau, Tito @Aeolian
Rochefoucauld Manor in Monaco

---

After spending a week at his childhood home, a grand manor nestled in the heart of Monaco, Bé found himself utterly exhausted. His mother's relentless demands for his attention had left him drained, his days filled with a dizzying array of social engagements. By the fourth night, he had accompanied her to countless shops, attended numerous parties, and endured several brunches with her affluent circle of unethically wealthy socialite lady friends. But it wasn't until the 7th day that he was finally granted a moment of respite from the whirlwind of his mother's unyielding social life.

However, this brief reprieve was short-lived as news of a potential stalker reached his mother's ears. While traversing through the moonlit corridors of Rochefoucauld Manor, the situation stirred memories of Bé's past encounters in Paris and Geneva, where he was the target of some unpleasant attention. Despite his attempts to downplay the incidents, the Madame's nerves were too wired. And so, against Bé's protestations, she hired a bodyguard to protect him, some ex-criminal imprisoned for protection racketeering, ironically.

As Bé entered his mother's grand bedroom, he looked around for her with those piercing ocean eyes. They caught the starlight that filtered in through the nearby window when he heard movement coming from Madame Vanille's boudoir. He sighed deeply, taking a sip from the teacup he'd transfigured from a thimble earlier before and approached with feathery steps. In truth, Bé had hoped to dissuade her from such extreme measures during his visit to Monaco, perhaps convince her to send that wannabe bodyguard back to the undergrounds of Marseille where he belonged. Well, this dream was all for naught, and Bé would soon discover that his dear Ma-Ma was keenly aware of the latest encounter he'd had at the train station in Nice.

When he entered the room, his mother's back was facing him. A large gilded mirror stood before her as she admired herself in what appeared to be an onyx mink fur coat as dark as midnight. Her dearest handmaiden, Anna, was assisting with the feathery dress that flowed beneath the mink coat, praising and complimenting her beautifully ageless reflection that dazzled with jewelry and fine adornments. As Bé stirred his tea, he braced himself for the inevitable conversation, his quiet gaze fixed on his mother admist the lavender-scented steam that filled the space.

[In French]

"Hello my love. Have you ever seen your dear Ma-Ma ever the more divine?"

"You look, healthy..." Bé said with a cool expression, taking a another sip of his tea as his eyes shifted to the maiden and then back to his mother.

Madame Vanille rolled her eyes, catching his gaze before shooing her handmaiden away. Once Anna was gone and out of earshot, Bé's mother took off the delicate diamond bracelet she'd been toying with and sat it down on the glass display case that housed enough luxury jewelry to end world hunger.

"Healthy is as healthy does." she retorted, looking for something else to try on as she continued, "Now, I hear you got into a little squabble with that stalker of yours while in Nice."

Bé's brows furrowed under his curly locs as he took another sip of his tea. It was about half-empty now and he could already feel himself yearning for another cup. "Is that what he told you?" Bé asked, an exasperated sigh escaping his full lips.

"Something to that affect."

Bé sat down on the nearest chaise and crossed one leg over the other, "Your new hire has quite the lacquacious tongue, doesn't he?" he remarked. Madame Vanille gave a dismissive shrug, so Bé continued, "That is not how the events transpired. Yes, I did encounter the stalk...fan, again." Bé paused sipping the tea, "And yes, he did get a bit handsy, but, there was no squabble. He was just eager. The true matter of the issue is that your serviceman threw him into into the lobby fountain at the Le Negresco hotel. Everyone there saw. It was an utter fiasco, and I can not jeapordize my image with someone like that around. So Ma-Ma, I urge you, please send that brute away, far far away."

Madame Vanille turned on her heels to face him, "Oh my sweeting, this is all the more reason why I stand resolute in my decision. Can you imagine what might have become of you if not for Marceau?"

Bé was unamused by the idea that he needed Marceau for protection. He'd only been in his mother's service for a few months now, and Bé has faired well up until this point. Why suddenly now did he need some overgrown neanderthal shadowing his every move like a stray dog desperate with hunger? Bé sympathized with his mother's fear, but it was not enough to justify the measure.

"Ma-Ma, please don't patronize me. I could have changed that man into a toad." Bé said, sitting the empty teacup on the nearby side table and clasping his hands together. His posture was always so naturally poised and sophisticated, erect like the Hyperion tree he'd visited while on a photoshoot in Los Angeles. This was a man who never slouched. His body simply didn't know how to.

"In broad daylight? For the entire world to see? I think not."

Bé looked away, his throat suddenly dry as paper despite the tea, "I know. I only mean to say that I am no invalid. I can protect myself. I really don't nee..."

Madamoiselle Vanille cut him short, massaging the crest between her eyes with a feeble moan, "Bé, please. You know how swiftly these migraines materialize when you contest me like this. Not before tonight's soiree. Please dear."

--------------------

Back in the hallway, Bé had enough built up frustration to break a mirror. The conversation concluded quickly from there, as his mother simply stopped responding altogether, leaving him to vent to the silent night. Not only had his plan failed, but she'd even guilted him into being her plus one at tonight's soiree at Madame Angélique's. What a nightmare of a woman. When his mother ushered for Anna to re-enter the room again, Bé knew that was his cue to withdraw.

As he ruminated on the moment outside her door, assured that he could have said something else to convince her, he heard the hard clack of steel-toed boots approaching. Bé smelled a faint musk wafting past his nostrils and the offense brought to his face nothing short of a scowl.

It was Marceau, the tatted husk of flesh his mother hired to quote on quote, "protect him". Born in Marsaille to a red light Jezebel, Marceau was an orphan swept into a world of crime from an early age. After spending some time behind bars, job opportunities were limited. And so, what is a man with such a damaging past to do other than enlist in the service of a wealthy Monégasque socialiate.

Marceau seemed confused by the scowl as he approached Bé, "What?"

Bé took a deep breath to maintain his composure and then turned on Marceau as though to reprimand him like a disobedient child.

"I had the situation under control."

"It sure didn't sound like it."

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Bé sighed, vexed by Marceau's callousness, "That is neither here nor there. I'm referring to the fan in Nice. I expressly told you not to inform my mother about that incident. It was a trivial matter, at best. And let me be clear..." Bé paused, letting the heavy silence linger for emphasis as he gracefully caressed an unruly bang behind his ear, "I have an image to maintain. Do you understand what that means, or are you as daft as you seem? You can't go about flinging people into water fountains at every false provocation of potential danger. And most certainly not a fan."

Marceau snorted, "He was getting too comfortable with you."

Bé shook his head, "No, that is what I wanted him to think."

"Well, look, your mother hired me to..."

"I don't really care why she hired you, and frankly, my reputation is more important. You need to understand how this world of glamour preserves its illusion. When it comes to managing fans like these, placation and appeasement is a delicate process of give and take. During these initimate interactions, often the words spoken are meaningless. You have to respond with grace and think carefully bef..."

Before he could finish, Bé looked over the balcony of the main entrance and saw his manager approaching the staircase. Bé sighed, "Nevermind. Have Raphael prepare my regalia for tonight's soiree."

Marceau raised an eyebrow curiously, "So we aren't leaving for Paris tonight after all?"

Bé glared, "Obviously."

As his manager rounded the corner, Bé turned to greet him, his expression like someone whose only wish was to melt into their bedsheets. Bé's manager was a stout man named Tito, an American who shared a striking resemblance to Danny Devito. His appearance always tickled Bé mother, who couldn't help herself whenever she was in his presence. But Tito was as chill as a cucumber, and few things perturbed him.

[In English]

Tito spoke matter-of-factly. That is why Bé liked and trusted him with his career, "That musclehead of yours sure has stirred up some trouble."

Bé sighed with a knowing gaze, resigned to what was likely to unfold, "I know..."

Tito continued, "I've heard through the grapevine that your fan, or maybe ex-fan now, may be preparing to press charges. But don't sweat it. I've got my guys on it, and we'll squash it before sunrise If I can help it."

Bé's lips lifted into a delicate, gentle smile of gratitude, "Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a soiree to attend."

Tito laughed, "I thought you hated those sorts of things."

Bé chuffed, leaving for his childhood bedroom where his assistant, Raphael, would be there waiting to dress him, "I do."