Evil Ghost Note

Recollections: Where the Folds Meet

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Recollections: Where the Folds Meet

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Alejandro Sánchez & June Summers

Interactions: None.
The Warehouse Party.

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The music felt different.

Not quieter-just farther away. Like it was happening in another room, behind a wall she couldn’t quite see. June stood near the edge of the warehouse, her shoulder brushing against cold metal. Her eyes were half-lidded as she watched the crowd move. Not in patterns. Not in anything she could follow. Just... too much. Too fast.

Too loud.

Too hot.

“…You good?”

Alejandro’s voice cut through it, warm and easy. He stepped in close like he always did-natural, effortless, like space just made room for him. June turned her head slightly toward him.

“Fine,” she said, steady.

She wasn’t.

He didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and misread it. He leaned one shoulder against the wall beside her, boxing the space in just a little. Not aggressive. Just close.

“You disappeared for a second,” he said, a faint grin pulling at his mouth. “Thought you ditched me already.”

June blinked slowly, trying to focus on him properly. The world lagged a half-step behind everything she did, like her senses were chasing reality instead of meeting it.

“I don’t ditch people,” she replied.

Her voice stayed even. Controlled. Alejandro huffed a quiet laugh. “Good,” he said. “Would’ve hurt my feelings.”

He nudged her lightly with his shoulder. The contact lingered longer than it should have. Or maybe she just felt it longer. Her jaw tightened-just slightly.

“... You’re loud,” she said, not looking at him.

He smirked. “You already said that.”

“And it’s still true.”

That earned a small laugh.

Then he shifted closer.

Too close.

June noticed it immediately-not just the distance, but the pressure of it. The way the space around her shrank without asking. Her shoulders tensed.

“Alejandro,” she said, her tone flattening just a degree.

He didn’t catch it. Or he chose not to.

“Relax,” he murmured, voice lower now. “You’re thinking too hard.”

That wasn’t it.

If anything, she wasn’t thinking enough. Everything felt a step behind-her reactions, her balance, her sense of where things should land. He reached up, his hand brushing her arm, sliding just enough to test the space. June’s body went still. She turned her head toward him fully now, eyes sharper despite the haze.

“No,” she said.

It wasn’t loud.

It didn’t need to be.

Alejandro paused. The moment hung between them.

“…No?” he echoed, like he needed to hear it again to process it.

June held his gaze.

“No.”

Clear. Final.

Something flickered across his expression-confusion first, then something tighter.

“Hey, I wasn’t-” he started, pulling his hand back slightly. “I thought-”

“I know what you thought.”

There was no anger in her voice. That almost made it worse. She pushed off the wall.

“I’m leaving.”

That landed heavier than anything else.

Alejandro straightened, his posture shifting as frustration crept in. He didn’t say anything at first. June steadied herself, just barely. The floor felt uneven under her feet, like it might tilt if she stepped wrong.

“I’m leaving,” she said again.

Same tone. Same weight.

He ran a hand through his hair. “…Alright,” he muttered. “Do what you want.”

She already was.

June turned and walked.

She didn’t look back.

---

The air outside hit harder than she expected.

Cooler. Thinner. Real in a way the inside hadn’t been.

June exhaled slowly, one hand bracing lightly against the side of the warehouse.

“…Okay.”

Her voice sounded steady.

That was good.

That meant she was still-

She blinked.

The ground shifted.

Not actually moving. Just… wrong. Like it wasn’t sitting where it should under her feet.

Her body wasn’t keeping up with itself.

“…Right,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face. “Too much.”

The music thumped behind the walls, dull and distant now.

She just needed to go home.

Simple.

She’d done it a hundred times.

No thinking required.

June straightened slightly, forcing her focus forward.

Home.

That was enough.

Her fingers twitched as Lux gathered-purple threading through her nerves, familiar, responsive-

Except-

It lagged.

Just a fraction.

Like her body moved first, and the magic followed after.

Her brow furrowed.

“…That’s new.”

She tried again.

Focused harder.

Home.

Now.

The Lux surged-

And stuttered.

Not clean. Not sharp.

It reached forward-

-and slipped.

Like missing a step you should’ve hit.

June inhaled sharply, her footing shifting as something inside the motion broke rhythm.

She pushed more into it.

Forced it.

The instinct was still there-go, move, leave-

But it didn’t lock.

There was no clean “next.”

No destination snapping into place.

Just a direction.

Away.

That was enough.

It had to be.

She moved.

The world didn’t shift.

It resisted.

Then-

It gave.

But not the way it was supposed to.

Space in front of her didn’t open.

It bent.

Visibly.

Like the air itself had weight-like something unseen pressed a thumb into reality, denting it inward.

Her stomach dropped.

“.... what?”

The air tightened.

Sound dulled.

The Purple Lux didn’t carry her forward-it stretched. Thinned. Pulled taut like something being drawn too far, too fast.

The seam of the world-

showed.

Not fully.

Just enough.

A hairline fracture in the shape of space itself.

Then-

It snapped.

Not outward.

Sideways.

The line split open, not with light or darkness, but with something that didn’t belong to either. The edges trembled violently, like they couldn’t agree on where they were supposed to exist.

June stumbled back, breath catching hard in her chest.

“That’s not-”

The tear widened.

Still no sound.

But the world reacted.

The ground beneath her feet warped slightly, the concrete stretching in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. The wall behind her seemed farther away for a split second-then closer again.

Perspective broke.

Depth folded in on itself.

Cold seeped through the opening-not air, not wind, but absence. A hollow pressure that pressed against her skin and slid underneath it.

Her control slipped.

Just enough.

The Lux surged again-panicked now, uncontrolled, flooding forward in a desperate attempt to correct it-

But there was nothing to anchor to.

No destination.

No endpoint.

So it fed the break.

The fracture spiderwebbed.

Thin lines branching outward along nothing visible, yet distorting everything they touched. The space around the tear warped further, as if reality itself were being pulled toward it, stretched into something thinner, weaker.

The seam wasn’t just open.

It was unraveling.

The fold tore wider.

Clean.

Silent.

Impossible.

And June, for the first time since she stepped outside, realized she hadn’t just misfired a spell.

She had pulled on something that was never meant to be touched.

The boundary between places was strained, bent, split, and gave way in places it had always held firm.

The world didn’t break all at once.

It started to come apart.

And June-

---

Inside, the music didn’t stop. It couldn’t. The bass still pounded through the warehouse, but it felt distorted now-warped, stretched thin, like it had to pass through something before it reached the room. People kept moving. Dancing. Laughing.

Normal.

But some felt a shift before it happened.

A footstep.

Heavy.

Wrong.

It echoed through the warehouse-not loud enough to cut the music, but deep enough to be felt in bone before it was heard.

Someone near the back flinched.

Another step.

Closer.

This time, it knocked something loose. A loose bottle rattled on a table. A metal chair scraped an inch across the floor with no one touching it.

Something came through.

The first person didn’t even have time to react.

One second, he was standing, drink in hand.

The next-

Something took him.

Not grabbed.

Not pushed.

Taken.

His body jerked violently upward, feet leaving the ground as if hooked by something no one could see. His spine bent the wrong way until something inside him snapped audibly, even over the music.

Then he disappeared and reappeared a few feet away mid-impact.

He hit the ground hard enough to bounce.

Blood followed a second later.

People nearby froze.

“Yo-?”

No one laughed this time.

Another step.

Heavier.

Closer.

The floor responded to it.

Warping slightly under something with a weight that didn’t match what anyone could see.

A girl mid-laugh choked on her words as her body seized. Her head snapped to the side like someone had grabbed her jaw and turned it too far. Her shoulders followed a split second later-out of sync, wrong-before something yanked her backward. Her nails scraped across the concrete, leaving thin, desperate lines before her body lifted-

and then slammed.

Once.

Twice.

The second impact didn’t sound like bone anymore.

It sounded wet.

For half a second-

No one moved.

Then everything broke.

Someone screamed.

Just pure, animal panic.

“... What the FUCK-?!”

“GO-GO-GO-!”

The crowd surged all at once, bodies crashing into each other as instinct took over. People shoved, tripped, and grabbed at whoever was closest. Drinks spilled, cups crushed underfoot, shoes slipping on something slick that hadn’t been there a second ago. Phones came out immediately. Hands shaking. Screens lighting up.

“Call someone-call 911!”

“I AM-IT’S NOT-IT WON’T-”

“I can’t get service-what the fuck?!”

A guy near the wall was already backing away, grabbing his friend by the arm. “We’re leaving-now, come on-come on!”

“I dropped my phone!”

“LEAVE IT!”

Another scream cut through the chaos as someone fell. Not taken-just knocked down in the rush. Three people tripped over them immediately, collapsing in a pile.

“Get up-get UP!”

“I can’t-my leg!”

Someone tried to help, hauling them halfway upright before the crowd slammed into both of them again, knocking them back down.

The footsteps hit again. Felt through the floor more than heard. People froze mid-motion, just enough to ripple hesitation through the panic.

“What is that?!”

“There’s nothing there!”

A bottle near the bar lifted slightly, then whipped across the room at full force, smashing into someone’s shoulder hard enough to spin them around. They screamed, clutching at the sudden pain as glass scattered everywhere.

That was it.

Any last thread of control snapped.

People started hauling ass for the exits-desperate, messy, violent. Someone shoved past their own friend. Someone else dragged theirs by the wrist, refusing to let go.

“Don’t stop-don’t stop!”

“I can’t find her-where is she?!”

“WHO?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

Near the center, a girl crouched low, hands over her head, rocking slightly. “This isn’t real-this isn’t real-this isn’t real-”

Someone grabbed her arm. “MOVE!”

She didn’t respond.

They let go.

Another impact.

A body lifted.

This time, people saw it happen.

Not what caused it.

Just the result.

A boy was yanked sideways, feet leaving the ground as his body twisted midair like something had grabbed him and spun. He slammed into the concrete shoulder-first with a crack that echoed through the warehouse.

He didn’t get back up.

People screamed louder.

Some cried.

Some just ran.

Near the exit, it bottlenecked.

Too many people.

Too fast.

“GO-GO-GO!”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re pushing-STOP PUSHING!”

Someone fell.

Then another.

Then three more.

A pile forming at the doorway, people scrambling over each other, clawing for space, for air, for escape.

“Help me!”

“I can’t!”

“I can’t breathe!”

A hand reached out-grabbing onto someone’s shirt-only to be torn free as they were dragged forward by the crowd.

The footsteps came again.

Closer.

A girl near the edge of the room turned too late.

Something hit her.

Hard.

Her body didn’t just fall-it snapped forward, like she’d been struck by something massive and fast. She hit the ground face-first and didn’t move, blood spreading beneath her almost immediately.

Someone tripped over her.

Phones kept recording.

Even now.

Even as hands shook too hard to hold steady.

Even as people cried into them.

The room emptied fast.

But not fast enough.

It was still moving.

Still hunting.

Still stepping.

Each footfall was heavy.

Measured.

Like it wasn’t in a rush at all.

And outside, the night felt wrong. The air itself shivered, like reality had taken a deep, ragged breath. Through the faint flicker of the tear, a shape lingered at the edge of the warehouse lot-a massive black wolf, its fur absorbing what little light remained, and eyes glowing red. It didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and yet it watched everything unfold with a patient, predatory interest.

Inside, the chaos escalated. Screams cut through the thumping bass as people shoved past one another, dragging friends to safety, tossing phones into the air to capture what no one could fully understand. Bottles shattered, bodies tumbled, and the air pulsed with a sickening, unnatural rhythm that no one could match or outrun. Every step felt wrong, every sound off, as if the world itself had begun to bend under the monster’s invisible weight.

And outside, the tear pulsed wider.

The wolf’s red eyes gleamed brighter.

It waited.

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Interactions: Ella @FernStone, & Nora @NoriWasHere
The Warehouse Party Massacre.

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Lupe's eyes scanned the corners of the party—she caught sight of Vicky flailing in the beanbag again, shrieking for attention. Lupe stepped up beside Tuyen just long enough to smirk.

“Ella, just let Tuyen finish babysitting the damn cheerleader!” she laughed, voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, immediately, her gaze flicked to the first wrong vibration beneath the floor—the tremor that didn’t belong, the kind that pressed in on the chest before it even made a sound.

It hit the warehouse like a heartbeat gone horribly wrong. A girl nearest the back stumbled, frozen mid-laugh, before something yanked her sideways, slammed her into the concrete, lifted her, twisted her, and slammed her down again. The wet crack of impact made Lupe’s stomach lurch, and she felt her jaw tighten.

“Girls! RUN!” Kari’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. Her eyes didn’t waver from the room ahead, mapping exits, blocked paths, and anything the unseen monster might use as leverage. The next impact came closer. Lupe’s blood ran cold. People were screaming, shoving, stumbling over each other.

“Move!” Kari tightened her grip on Ella’s arm, guiding them past a toppled table and over a slick patch of spilled drink. Her voice didn’t carry worry—it carried authority. Fear wouldn’t help them now; only action would.

Lupe didn’t answer. There was no time for jokes anymore. She ducked low, scanning between bodies and smashed furniture, darting toward the back of the warehouse where Diego and Alejandro could be caught in the chaos. Her eyes caught every flicker of movement, and her muscles tensed. She couldn't see it, but the creature was stepping again. Heavy. Measured. Each footfall pressed down through the floor.

Another girl went down nearby, slammed repeatedly, blood glinting in the half-light. Lupe’s heart pounded. People screamed, shoved, and fought over space, but she threaded through them like a predator of her own. Step by step, breath by breath, she advanced, eyes locked on shadows that might conceal her friends—or death.

“Elsa’s coming—don’t stop!” Kari’s sharp voice kept them moving. She forced Ella, Tuyen, and Nora through the bottleneck near the exit, ignoring the chaos around them. Every second mattered; every hesitation was a chance for the monster to strike.

Lupe’s teeth clenched as she skirted another smashed table, caught a glimpse of movement near the far wall, and ducked into the shadows. Diego, Alejandro—where the hell were they? She didn’t have time to wonder, didn’t have time to think, only time to move, only time to survive, only time to search.

Recollections: Where the Folds Meet

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Interactions: None.
The Warehouse Party.

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Sometime earlier...

The warehouse was alive long before Lupe entered, bass thudding like it had its own heartbeat.

She didn’t just walk in. She arrived.

“Move, move, you’re so slow, papi!” Lupe shouted in Spanish, laughing as she grabbed Alejandro’s wrist and tugged him through the crowd.

“I’m not slow, you’re just crazy,” Diego muttered in Spanish from behind, but he didn’t resist as she hooked his sleeve and pulled him along anyway.

Alejandro grinned at the nearest strangers, eyes wide.

“This is crazy, mami,” he said in Spanish. “Like a movie.”

“Better than a movie, papi,” Lupe shot back, spinning for flair. “Because movies don’t have me!” She ended her twirl by pointing both fingers at herself.

Diego exhaled through his nose, scanning the exits.

“Yeah... that’s probably why people survive them,” he muttered to himself - albeit loud enough for Lupe to hear.

Lupe gasped, feigning offense.

“Hey! Relax, dad,” she said, playfully sticking her tongue out. “We’re here to have fun, homes!”

Alejandro laughed, slipping toward a group of people nearby.

“Let him be,” he said in Spanish, nudging Diego. “He’s just mad he never swiped his card.”

Lupe smiled like a fool, trying to hold in the laughter. As Alejandro just let it go.

“... I-” Diego began, then stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Never mind.”

Diego looked between them.

"... I cannot stand you two,” he muttered in Spanish.

They ignored him, or pretended to.

The three moved like they’d done this a thousand times before. Lupe cut through the crowd like she owned the air itself. Alejandro drifted outward, catching energy and tossing it back into the circle. Diego stayed just behind, vigilant, precise, containing the edges of chaos.

It was a rhythm.

One they didn’t even know they had built.

“But seriously,” Alejandro leaned close over the music, “if we get kicked out, that’s on you.”

“... Paaaaaaaaaaaaapi, have you even met Claire?” Lupe said in Spanish, grinning. “The only way you're getting kicked out of here is if you're Saylor, or Jeremy. One of those freaks.”

Diego snorted. “She invited Vicky.” He jabbed a thumb in her direction.

Lupe didn't even reply, she just blew raspberries and waved him off. Before turning her eyes the main event; the party! A group nearby cheered—someone fell, someone chugged, it didn’t matter.

Alejandro’s attention snapped immediately. “Oh no -look, look—” he said in Spanish, before vanished into the crowd.

Lupe shook her head, still smiling.

“That boy’s going to get himself kidnapped one day,” She rolled her eyes.

“All he has to do is start talking, they'll bring him back quick,” Diego replied.

“Or make friends with them,” Lupe added.

Alejandro returned like he owned the room, arm casually draped over June Summers’ shoulders. She didn’t flinch, didn’t roll her eyes — just stayed perfectly calm, surveying the crowd with that “I see everything” look she always got.

“You won’t believe what just happened,” Alejandro said in Spanish, leaning a little closer to June. “I convinced someone that they won't fall and break their neck by dancing on the table and they believed me!”

Lupe’s eyes flicked between them, impressed. “Papi... you actually bagged her?” she whispered in Spanish, bouncing lightly on her toes.

“Relax, I’m just her bodyguard,” Alejandro said in Spanish, shrugging like it was nothing.

June spoke next, in clear, smooth Spanish: “You’re loud.”

Lupe froze mid-step, a little stunned, eyes widening slightly. The realization hit her, and a grin spread across her face.“You speak Spanish?” She muttered in English, impressed.

"Clearly," June replied in their native tongue. "My stepfather was Puerto-Rican. And with him... you pick up some things."

Diego glanced between them, unimpressed, “You’re both exhausting,” he said voice flat.

Alejandro let out a quiet laugh, not even a little offended. “And yet here you are, bro!” he replied, laughing. “That says more about you than us.”

June’s gaze shifted to Diego, studying him for a brief second like she was filing something away. “He’s the one keeping track,” she said in Spanish, calm and certain. “You’d fall apart without him.”

Lupe blinked once — then broke into a wide grin. “Ohhh, she goootcha,” she said, bouncing in place. “I like her.”

Alejandro smirked, nudging June slightly. “Told you you’d fit in,” he said in Spanish.

June didn’t respond right away - just glanced toward the folding table bar, then back at them. “You’re out of drinks,”

Lupe gasped dramatically. “That sounds like a problem!” she was already moving.

They drifted toward the table like it was inevitable.

Lupe hopped up onto a chair, scanning bottles like she was picking weapons.

“Alright, papis, and mamis, what are we feeling?” she said, looking between them.

“Something normal,” Diego said in Spanish immediately, rolling his eyes.

“That one,” Alejandro pointed at the most suspicious bottle without hesitation.

June followed his finger, eyes narrowing slightly. “That doesn't look normal,”

“Exactly,” Alejandro shot back.

“Absolutely not,” Diego said.

“Yes.”

“No.”

June reached out, casually pushing the bottle a few inches away. “You’re not making it worse,”

Lupe didn’t wait. She grabbed both bottles anyway.

“Compromise,” she declared, pouring recklessly.

June took the cup Lupe handed her, inspecting it briefly. “... I’m trusting you, Lupe,”

“You should,” Lupe grinned.

They clinked cups.

“For what?” Alejandro asked in Spanish.

Lupe didn’t hesitate. “For us, silly,”

There was a pause.

Diego glanced at her — something quieter passing through his expression.

“... For us,” he repeated.

June watched them for a second, then lifted her cup slightly. “For surviving your bullshit, mami,” she added

Alejandro laughed. “You’re already part of it,”

They drank.

The music shifted.

Faster. Heavier.

Lupe felt it instantly.

Her head tilted.

Shoulders rolled once.

June noticed first — not the movement, but the change. “There it is,”

Alejandro followed her gaze and groaned. “Oh no—she caught a beat,” he laughed.

“I always catch the beat,” Lupe shot back in Spanish.

“Yeah, but now everyone’s going to suffer it,” Alejandro said.

June’s lips twitched faintly. “I want to see that,” she said in Spanish.

“Good,” Lupe replied.

She moved.

Not fully dancing yet — just testing it, letting the rhythm crawl into her limbs.

Alejandro followed, easy, loose.

June didn’t dance immediately — she stepped with them instead, adjusting, observing, then matching just enough to stay in sync.

Diego hesitated. Then sighed. Then stepped in.

The four of them aligned, not perfectly, but naturally.

Lupe at the center.

Alejandro feeding energy outward.

June stabilizing it.

Diego containing the edges.

People noticed.

Of course they did.

“Okay okay!” Alejandro shouted in Spanish, pointing at Lupe. “Go off!”

“Don’t encourage her,” Diego warned.

Too late.

Lupe spun, dipped, snapped back into rhythm.

Cheers erupted.

Someone whistled.

Someone tried to copy her, and failed immediately.

June watched that happen, almost predicting it. “Yeah... that was going to happen," she said under her breath in English.

Lupe bounced back toward them, breath quick, eyes bright.

“You are being boring,” she said to June. “Step it up.”

June tilted her head. “Define ‘step it up,’” she replied in Spanish.

Lupe gave her a smile that was almost seductive.

“... Just keep up, mami,” Lupe shot back with a wink.

June didn’t argue. She just adjusted — cleaner, sharper, more in sync.

Lupe noticed immediately. Grinned wider.

Diego shook his head — but there was a faint smile now.

“Wait—wait,” Alejandro grabbed Lupe’s arm. “Where’s Kari?”

Lupe paused mid-motion.

Her eyes scanned the crowd.

“She should be here by now,”

June followed her gaze automatically, already scanning patterns in the crowd.

Diego caught the shift. “Worried?” he asked.

“Please. She’s just late,” Lupe scoffed.

Alejandro bumped her shoulder. “She’ll show. You know she will,” he said.

June nodded slightly. “As much of a shut-in as she is, I doubt Elsa will let her read books all night,” she added with a dry laugh.

Lupe exhaled.

“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

Then the grin snapped back into place.

“Still—when she gets here, I’m calling her out!”

“Of course you are,” Diego muttered.

“Loudly,” Alejandro added.

^{“Publicly,”} June quietly added.

“Very loudly, papi,” Lupe confirmed.

The bass dropped harder.

The crowd surged.

The rhythm tightened.

Someone shoved another drink into Lupe’s hand.

Someone shouted her name.

Alejandro got pulled — then pulled himself back.

June adjusted position without thinking, keeping the group intact.

Diego shifted with her, locking the formation.

The night settled into them.

Lupe climbed onto a chair without warning.

“Here we go,” Diego muttered.

“AY—AY—watch her, watch her!” Alejandro shouted.

Lupe raised her cup—alive, electric, untouchable—

—and then...

“... Kari, Mami!”

---

Interactions: Ella @FernStone, & Nora @NoriWasHere
The Warehouse Party.

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Lupe didn’t even try to hide the grin spreading across her face as Ella doubled down.

“AY. AY, AY - there it is, mami,” she laughed, pointing at her like she’d just proven a point. “You’re insane. And that's why I like you, mami.” Lupe made the heart with her hands.

She leaned back against the table slightly, eyes flicking over Ella’s posture, the empty cup, the zero hesitation.

“Two drinks in and you’re already making promises like that? Caaaaaaaaaareful, mami,” Lupe added, voice dropping just a little, playful but edged. “I'll actually hold you to it.”

Kari, beside her, lifted a brow at Ella’s poke, glancing down at her own arm like she was genuinely assessing the claim.

“I wouldn’t underestimate her,” Kari said calmly, taking another small sip of her drink. “She's Ella. She's way more capable than we gave her credit for.” Kari laughed.

Lupe snorted.

“Don’t encourage her,” she shot back—already reaching for another cup anyway.

At the demand for pink, Lupe paused mid-motion—slowly turning her head back toward Ella like she’d just said something dangerous.

“Oh, you want the pink one?” she repeated, grin sharpening.

She crouched slightly, digging into the cooler again—this time pulling out a clear, unassuming bottle that looked almost too innocent. She held it up between her fingers, letting the strobe lights flash through it.

“Alright... now we’re talking reckless,” she murmured.

Kari’s eyes immediately locked onto the bottle.

".... Oh no,” she said under her breath. “That’s Everclear”

Lupe shot her a sideways grin.

“And?”

“Are you trying to kill somebody?”

“It’s a spice,” Lupe corrected smoothly, already pouring.

A splash of Everclear.

Something bright pink.

Something aggressively sweet.

Something that absolutely should not be sharing space in the same cup.

“See, now this?” she said, swirling the cup slightly, watching the colors shift. “This is what separates the legends from the scrubs.”

Kari watched the mixture with a small, knowing exhale.

“... If you say so?” she murmured, before crossing her arms. “Is this that 'concoction' made you try to fight a speaker.”

Lupe pointed at her immediately.

“Allegedly, mami. ALLEGEDLY.”

“You even apologized to it after.” Kari snorted.

“IT WAS PLAYING WITH ME!” Lupe shot back, then waved it off like that proved everything.

She looked back at Ella, smile returning full force.

“But you swore on Sailor Moon, though...” she hummed, dragging the moment out just enough to make it feel like a deal being sealed. “Can’t disrespect that.”

She stepped forward and slid the drink across the table toward Ella like she was handing over something sacred.

“Congratulations,” she said, almost ceremonious. “You’ve unlocked the deluxe edition, mami.”

Then, lighter again—

“Drink it, and if you survive, mami... ” she jerked her head toward the dance floor, where the bass was starting to climb again, “... You'll move up to the next level.”

“Please pace yourself,” Kari added quietly with a roll of her eyes. “You know someone's going to record it if you start wildlin'.”

Lupe immediately bumped her shoulder.

“Coooooooooome, on,” Lupe grinned. “If nobody records it, how else will we know what happens?!"

Kari rolled her eyes but didn’t disagree.

Recollections: Where the Folds Meet

June.Summers

17 | June April Summers | She/Her "I saw it coming... everyone else just didn’t."

Description: June Summers is the calm, watchful core of the “Terrible Trio,” noticing details others miss. While Claire takes charge and Zoey excels in chaos, June observes, adapts, and anticipates. Growing up near Cornell, she relied on her intellect and instincts in a town that values loudness and toughness. Her calm, analytical nature offers the group perspective, but there’s an underlying tension; she’s aware of things others overlook and sometimes reacts to events before they happen. She was present at the warehouse the night everything went wrong. While Claire and Zoey responded instinctively, June remained still—watching, memorizing, moving only when necessary. Some moments from that night, she doesn’t fully remember choosing, only realizing afterward that she had already acted. Certain details are too vivid, while others feel... missing, as if something significant was decided without her. Most of the time, June is consistent—quiet, thoughtful, precise. But not always. There are occasions when something about her shifts. Subtle at first. She straightens slightly. Speaks more directly. Moves with a confidence that doesn’t match her usual hesitation. Decisions are made faster, cleaner—like there’s no need to second-guess. In those moments, she doesn’t just seem observant—she seems *certain*. Not confident. Not guessing. Certain. And then it passes. She returns to her usual self, sometimes unaware that anything has changed. Others, she hesitates—like trying to recall a thought she never finished. Small objects around her sometimes feel slightly out of place. Positions seem… adjusted. She doesn’t question it—it's understandable when it happens. June is loyal to Claire and Zoey, even if she sometimes feels slightly apart from them. She detects risks they miss, patterns they overlook, and outcomes they don’t consider. Occasionally, she acts on those instincts before she can explain them—placing herself or others where they need to be without fully understanding why. Her presence is grounding. But not always in ways that feel natural. Abstraction: Unknown.

Recollections: Where the Folds Meet

Diego.&.Alejandro Sánchez

15 | Diego & Alejandro Sánchez | He/Him "You always moved too fast, Lupe." / "And you always thought too much, bro!"

Description: Diego and Alejandro Sánchez were Lupe’s younger twin brothers—two halves of a natural, breathing balance. Diego was the quieter, observant, grounded twin who preferred to watch and think before acting, often noticing details others missed, with a dry humor that caught people off guard. While Lupe was loud and bright, Diego was steady, making careful decisions and speaking with purpose, not out of timidity but from selectiveness. When he did speak, it carried weight. Alejandro, on the other hand, was warmth in motion—embodying Lupe’s energy in a gentler, more innocent way—open, expressive, and quick to laugh. He easily made friends and boosted everyone’s mood. Where Diego kept the trio grounded, Alejandro amplified their energy, often pulling his siblings into conversations, games, or trouble with enthusiasm. They created a rhythm that Lupe unconsciously followed: Diego slowed her down, Alejandro sped her up. They were her balance, her audience, responsibility, and anchor. Growing up in Xalapa before moving to the U.S., the twins adapted in different ways. Diego internalized the instability, becoming more self-reliant and perceptive. Alejandro embraced it, viewing each new place as a chance to start fresh, collecting friends and stories along the way. Despite their differences, they were inseparable - not just as twins but as a unit centered around Lupe. At the warehouse party, that balance broke apart. Amid chaos, Diego tried to steer Alejandro back, urging caution and smarter moves, but hesitation cost him. Alejandro, driven by instinct and fear, reached for Lupe rather than retreat. Their last moments reflected who they were: one seeking understanding, the other trying to hold on. They died before Lupe could reach them. Now, they live on only in fragments: memories, habits, and the unseen weight Lupe bears. Diego remains in her hesitation, the rare moments she pauses to think. Alejandro lives in her laughter, the forced brightness she employs to keep going. Together, they are her ghostly balance. Something she can never fully reclaim or recover. Abstraction: None. Still... some things don’t resolve neatly. The intensity of that night didn’t truly fade but became etched in memory. Not only in Lupe but also in the space where it happened, in the moments that replay when she closes her eyes, and in the strange feeling that certain memories feel overly vivid, almost too real. Sometimes, when her Lux flares perfectly, her rhythm feels partly foreign—like a hesitation that isn’t hers or a burst of energy that feels strangely familiar, yet hard to explain. It’s as if something is almost keeping pace with her—just out of sync, just beyond sight. It might just be grief... ... or perhaps something that hasn’t quite let go.

Recollections: Where the Folds Meet

Zoey.Gray
16 | Zoey Amile Gray | She/Her "Relax, I got it...okay wait, no I don’t, but I WILL."	Description: Zoey Gray is loud in every way that matters—loud voice, loud laugh, loud presence. You always notice her because silence doesn’t last long when she's near. She speaks quickly, moves vigorously, and dives into things without hesitation, as if she can’t process doubt. Zoey grew up in Cornell feeling stuck, like most kids, but while others hardened, she shone brighter. She deflects instead of shutting down, jokes instead of folding, and pushes forward even when she should stop. That makes her fun but also reckless. She’s part of the so-called "Terrible Trio" with Claire O’Sullivan and June Summers, a name that's partly a joke, partly a warning. Zoey embraces it as a badge of honor, proof they matter. At the core of it all is Claire. Zoey doesn’t just admire her—she fixates on her. Claire embodies everything Zoey thinks she isn’t: controlled, fearless, untouchable. Zoey mirrors her, supports her, and follows her into situations she shouldn’t survive. She calls it loyalty, but it's more than that. Zoey was at the warehouse the night everything fell apart, close enough to see and feel it. When the attack began, Zoey didn’t run at first. She stayed because Claire was there. Leaving wasn’t an option if it meant leaving her. That choice nearly got her killed. Her Kindling Event struck suddenly—no warning. A violent surge tore through her as something inside ignited. Zoey doesn’t discuss that part directly. Yet, everything she does now revolves around it. She’s no longer just following Claire—she’s trying to become someone who can truly stand beside her. Abstraction: Adept - Red Lux Electromancy: Zoey emits volatile electrical energy from her body, but her control over it is still developing and varies with her emotional state. When she feels excited, angry, or scared, her electricity appears as flickering, uneven arcs along her skin and between her hands. She often releases this energy in rapid, unpredictable lightning bursts that hit hard but are inaccurate, frequently arcing to nearby conductive surfaces like metal or water, which poses a danger to everyone nearby, including herself. Zoey is learning to build and hold a charge to make her next release stronger, but she struggles to maintain it. Her body tenses, her hands twitch, and her thoughts scatter until she releases the energy. Longer charging times tend to produce more unstable and explosive results. Occasionally, she can control smaller currents, overload electronics, or deliver controlled shocks—though these moments are inconsistent and require focus she doesn’t reliably sustain. Sometimes, her electromancy stabilizes briefly, allowing for more precise control, but these instances are rare, hard to replicate, and show the hidden potential she has yet to fully understand and master.
June.Summers

Recollections: Where the Folds Meet

Naomi.Chen

48 | Naomi Layla Chen | She/Her "I didn’t build this to watch it crumble because of other people’s mistakes."

Description: Naomi chen is a second-generation Chinese-American businesswoman at Cornell, fiercely guarding her family's legacy of the small chain of stores her parents founded. Town life has been unkind: she’s seen as aloof, condescending, and difficult to work with. Naomi quickly learned that politeness and charm are ineffective in a world that underestimates her, leading her to develop a sharp tongue and calculated ruthlessness in both business and personal matters. She seldom shows vulnerability, concealing worries about finances and the future with curt words and critical judgments. While many locals avoid her, those who depend on her know she is competent and relentless, ready to make tough decisions others might shy away from. Naomi’s greatest fear is losing control—over her family, her business, or her reputation—and she will do whatever it takes to prevent that it. Abstraction: Naomi is Blind.

Recollections: Where the Folds Meet

Jeremy.Cole

16 | Jeremy Hayden Cole | He/Him "I guess I’ll just be over here, then."

Description: Jeremy Cole has always been painfully aware that he doesn’t fit in. Shy, awkward, and relentlessly self-conscious, he drifts through high school unnoticed except when he trips over himself or says something inappropriate. His peers barely tolerate him, and he’s become accustomed to being ignored, laughed at, or quietly dismissed. Jeremy is intelligent but timid, often second-guessing himself before he even speaks. He obsesses over patterns, habits, and small details in a desperate effort to control what little he can in an environment where he has no influence. Despite his meek exterior, he longs to belong, to be noticed, to have some sense of importance—but the more he seeks it, the more isolated he becomes. He spends hours alone, tinkering with gadgets, doodling in notebooks, or replaying social interactions in his head, trying to understand what went wrong. His anxiety is constant, his confidence nonexistent. He rarely speaks up, and when he does, his voice trembles. He avoids confrontation at all costs, but deep down, he harbors a quiet yearning to matter—if only someone would notice him for more than his awkwardness. Abstraction: Jeremy is currently Blind.

Recollections: Where the Folds Meet

Claire.O'Sullivan

17 | Claire Annabelle O'Sullivan | She/Her "Call me cute, whatever you think will get you in my pants."

Description: Claire O’Sullivan, who calls herself part of the "Terrible Trio" along with Zoey Gray and June Summers (though no one actually calls them that), grew up quickly and harshly in Cornell. Once the cheerful daughter of diner owners, she watched her family fall apart after a shady deal caused their business to collapse, leaving her parents bitter, angry, and dependent on alcohol. Abuse became commonplace, and young Claire quickly learned that surviving meant fighting back or fleeing. Her resilience was driven by necessity, not choice. Tough, defiant, and fiercely independent, Claire doesn’t trust easily and rarely seeks help. She has a sharp tongue, a quick temper, and a reputation for fighting, petty theft, and reckless behavior—but beneath that exterior, she is fiercely loyal to the few people she truly trusts. The warehouse party she hosted was supposed to be a night of control and escape—but things went terribly wrong. When a tear in reality appeared, and the attack started, Claire’s instincts took over. During the chaos, she experienced her Kindling Event, igniting her Yellow Lux. The experience left her exhilarated, terrified, and profoundly changed. Since then, Claire has begun learning to control her Abstraction. Though still impulsive and brash, the memory of that night—the screams, the falling bodies, the world bending—continues to influence her. She understands her responsibilities to those she considers “her people” and is increasingly aware of how her power can protect them. She isn’t a master yet, but her determination and instincts are sharper than ever, sharpened by a single terrifying night that forced her to grow up instantly. Abstraction: Adept - Yellow-Lux. Channeler: An old teddy bear strapped to her hip. Aura Shell: A magical barrier hovers just above Claire’s skin, shielding her from harm. It instinctively responds to danger and her intense emotions, but can be unreliable; sometimes flickering, lagging, or breaking under stress. Claire can also extend the barrier around objects she touches to protect or strengthen them, giving her brief moments of increased power. She catches glimpses of its full potential, such as protecting others or reacting preemptively, but since the spell is still new, she’s learning to control its timing, shape, and strength. Each use serves as both practice and discovery, influenced by her instincts and emotions as she advances her mastery of Yellow Lux.

Recollections: Where the Folds Meet

Elsa.Connor

16 | Elsa Jolie Conner | She/Her "Come on, live a little. You can’t hide forever."

Description: Elsa Connor is the spark that keeps Kari moving (and, sometimes, alive). Born and raised in Cornell, she knows every secret path, hidden corner, and forgotten ruin in town, and she refuses to let life pass her by. Outgoing, fearless, and impulsive, Elsa thrives on experiences and adventure, always pushing herself and others into the unknown. While she’s charming and energetic, she’s also fiercely protective: the first to step between danger and her friends, the one who instinctively acts when something threatens those she cares for most, especially Kari. Her adventurous streak hides a serious awareness of risk and consequence. Elsa knows the stakes, but she believes living fully and protecting others are worth the danger. She is deeply loyal, socially perceptive, and creative under pressure, able to improvise solutions when plans fail.Elsa’s personality is defined by contrasts: impulsive yet thoughtful about friends’ safety, reckless yet precise in moments of instinctive action. Her life at Cornell has been shaped by its stagnation, decay, and hidden magic. She explored the town, the woods, and its forgotten ruins long before reality cracked, always curious and unafraid. The warehouse incident changed her life completely. When a tear in reality appeared and a creature attacked, Elsa instinctively shielded Kari, making a split-second decision that triggered her Kindling Event. This experience left Elsa exhilarated by her new power but also haunted by the danger she faced, the chaos she endured, and the unpredictability of the All-Verse’s reach into Cornell. In the weeks that followed, Elsa became hyper-aware of threats, tension, and the town's instability. While still outgoing and daring, her actions now carry a layer of calculation: she has learned to anticipate danger, even if she still acts impulsively. The trauma of the warehouse, screaming friends, thrown bodies, thick smoke, and blood, fueled her Red Lux, but also caused lingering anxiety. She feels responsible for those she can’t save, fueling her loyalty, bravery, and occasional recklessness. However, Elsa keeps her energy and charisma. She’s the one to push Kari into social events, explore new places, or check on friends during odd times. The warehouse showed her that instinct alone isn’t always enough. She learns to balance courage with awareness of her limits, trusting her powers without becoming reckless. Elsa stands at five-six. Abstraction: Adept - Red Lux. Channeler: Her Late Father's Multitool. Pyromancy: Elsa has recently mastered her first spell, Pyromancy, which lets her generate and control fire. She’s still learning its limits, but already she can create sparks, small bursts of flame, or simple walls of fire when she focuses. Her emotions influence the flames—excitement or anger makes them flare higher, while calm steadies them. Every use is a learning experience, and she’s discovering how her feelings and focus affect the fire’s strength and behavior.