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Hey! I'm completely amazed by your work and I love how everything comes out! I was first impressed with your aesthetic and your character sheets, but further impressed by your writing as well! Anywho, I wanted to put this here just in case you were still taking requests and wanted to do a lil' somethin' somethin' for me? :)

request type. // Banner for character~!
stock and images. // So I was hoping to get a banner for my totally rad character! I'm super conflicted on which photos/gifs to use for him, but I'll just leave some for you and let you make your spin on it! :) Here's a still photo that I was hoping to use with maybe some cool gifs/color tones of black/red/orange? Here's a gif of him too if it'd be easier, or if you could use both then that'd be so cool~!
size. // defaulted.
text. // Augustus Evans
misc. // So he's a son of Hades in a roleplay I'm doing, so I was wondering if you could maybe use some stuff from the collection that you have that could help personify that in the header? :)

If you find that the images I gave you are difficult to work with then I can for sure give you some other options as well! <3

Time: Morning
Location: Apollo’s Cafe
Interactions: Golden Girl@Altered Tundra, Golden Girl's Friend@Allycat
Mentions: Dallas @Plank Sinatra, Felix @jetipster, Beau@Crimson Flame

Night. That’s what Vivian was going to say, Gus was sure. It’s strange how first impressions work, let alone how much could be assumed after only a few minutes of interaction. There were many things he assumed of her, and they came to him quickly from his desperation to make a potential friend at his new school. From the start, her presence was undeniably cheerful and Gus couldn’t help but feel the comfort from her company, but her further actions casted such a mixture of feelings. He knew that this school was different, but the students were just like any other teen from the looks of it, so he assumed that the muffin was some kind of hangover remedy of hers. Gus’ first conjecture was that she must’ve been one of those cute girls that everyone adored—for her quirkiness, her humor, her presence, and best of all: her smile. But the label he so-quickly placed on her began to form into that of Olympus Academy’s popular blonde schoolgirl. Partying at night, especially when they’re not even finished with the first week of school, texting in the middle of their conversation, incredibly rude is all Gus could think—it wasn’t anything Gus hadn’t seen before.

Regardless of whomever she may be on the inside, her guise could not be ignored, nor could it be dismissed over such a trivial gesture. Gus has always been quick to decide whether someone were to be his friend or not, to save him the time and effort of getting to know a person and ending in the possibility of disappointment. His theory is that you should always be yourself, through and through. Any artificial personality one would present at first meeting is not somebody he’d wish to associate himself with. Nevertheless, there was something about Vivian that made it so he couldn’t get up and leave, as he normally would if he were in this predicament with anybody else.

At the mention of her brother, he turned around to see if her beauty and charm ran in the family. He was presented with three guys, probably upperclassmen by the looks of their maturity, but perhaps they were like Gus in which they looked older than they really were. One was tall and fair-skinned with icy blue eyes that appeared vibrant and beautiful. Even from where he was sitting, he could see their glow and feel an unanticipated chill from their glacial-like attribute. The other two matched Vivian’s character more, as they both had similar features, both possessing a similar presence to hers. One in particular, dressed in all pink, had a peculiar beauty to him. Except it was all attraction the flamboyant blonde had, and Vivian’s beauty shone more complex than something so comparingly simple. The other—golden haired and masculine combined with a much similar presence to Vivian’s, though it was accompanied by a stoic intimidation, not stemming from competitiveness, but more of a protective nature—that seemed more plausible.

And for a moment, Gus could feel a sense of insecurity building in him. Perhaps her lack of interest was because Gus wouldn’t be a hotshot at this school like he was previously. Maybe what she saw in him was nothing compared to the six foot, greek demi-gods that walked with such confidence and grace. Regardless, Gus wasn’t one to fight for the attention of someone, so she gave her the opportunity to flee from the increasingly awkward conversation. Turning back to her, his bold, brown eyes trying their best to match the charm of her ensnaring gaze, he spoke, “I promise that I’m probably not as fun to be around, if you’d rather go over there.”

And just like that, Gus’ plan was foiled by yet another face of unfathomable beauty. It seemed all demi-gods had the body and face worthy of magazine covers. This girl in particular seemed close to Vivian, maybe even considered her best friend by the way she was freaking out over their separation. Gus remained straight-faced throughout her arrival, but was, again, faced with a similar greeting that Vivian had to Gus. ‘Daughter of Demeter’, Gus thought to himself, another person proud to announce whom their godly parent was.

In response, Gus left his introduction just as simple as it was before, “I’m Gus.”

Time: Morning
Location: Apollo’s Cafe
Interactions: Golden Girl@Altered Tundra

She entered in a rush—hair as golden as the sun with a glimpse of an enchanting smile that Gus hoped to see again, even just one more time before she would leave in the same hurry as which she entered with. Gus snickered at her demand at the counter, hearing her request for her blueberry muffin with such urgency. ‘Cute,’ he thought to himself as the employee scrambled to fetch her muffin to fulfill her dire need.

Gus’ gaze remained locked on her, strangely allured by her presence, as if he could see the light of her aura radiating with emotion. Emotions that would only offer comfort and tranquility, opposite of the usual intimidation that he felt from every other student. Before he knew it, his eyes were following her, his head eventually turning until he was staring straight ahead and across the two-person table that they, now, both occupied. Gus stared, for what would seem like an hour, in awe of her. She emitted such a strong, genuine beauty, but it was conducted by such a gentle sincerity that drew him in like the sunrise—the comforting glow of the sun after the cold darkness of night. Though he would hope to further assume her personality, to be that of heartwarming and kind, he looked away quickly before she would notice. Gus cleared his throat, pretending to not be affected by her strange tenor, his eyes reflecting in the sun to gloss over his deep, brown eyes. Yet, they stood no chance to hers, crystalline and captivating.

She broke the ice with a proper, unexpected introduction. As the words escaped her lips, he succumbed to the urge to give a faint smirk in response to her presence—but such a smirk was short-lived as he was faced with reality again by the words of her greeting.

The Daughter of Apollo. Gus wasn’t going to even pretend like he knew who Apollo was, but thoughts in regards to him specifically would be quickly dismissed as his own godly father came to mind. He took a breath, trying to thwart his lingering feelings of unease for the sake of the conversation, but if she would be observant enough, she’d be able to sense his hesitation. He thought about his own introduction, and what was considered etiquette in Olympus Academy for a proper, expected greeting. But he still felt numb to the events of his life, staggered by the shock of his truth, so his greeting fell flat and uninteresting.

“I’m Gus,” he replied simply, the deep rasp of his timbre helping to make him come across as much older than he is. His calloused hand took hers, giving a soft shake, and then releasing.

For a second, he let the interaction become quickly awkward as his eyes fell to the floor. But he finally let his mind flee from the constant angst that filled it and turned his attention to the golden girl—Vivian, ‘Daughter of Apollo’. He rubbed off the buttery crumbs that transferred to his hand, and then rubbed the back of his neck to try to play off the gesture, his white t-shirt clinging tight to his muscularity. Gus let out a short chuckle and lifted his eyes to meet hers, “So, Vivian, do you always get a muffin in the morning with such urgency?”

The comment was half-interested and half-flirtatious.

Time: Morning
Location: Apollo’s Cafe
Interactions: N/A

‘Dear journal’

Black pen ink scrawled the very first page of an empty journal, scratching across in terrible penmanship. The first two words were jotted instinctively, but the remainder of the text required a moment of thought. “What the hell am I doing,” Gus couldn’t help wonder aloud. As low as his tone was, it could’ve been loud enough for the surrounding students in Apollo’s Cafe to hear him. He didn’t care, though—the massive change in his life came faster than he could even pronounce the word ‘Hades’, and it felt like the shoes he turned running in were not his own, but somebody else's. What was his life before didn’t fade, but rather vanished into an unknown void that he could never reach, find, or see. Gus holds onto his memories, though, the pieces of his past that has made him who he is, even if his identity is changing wildly.

He continued,
‘It’s been a long, weird day. The last time I could remember this feeling was when I transferred high schools because the first one didn’t offer a good enough sports program. I don’t even know what to call it—nervousness, anxiety? Whatever it is, I don’t like it. It’s making my hands shake and I know that every new face I meet can feel it when I go to shake their hand.

Whatever the case, this isn’t at all what I expected. I feel anger bubbling up inside me, but I can’t pinpoint where it’s stemming from. I’ve lived my life exceeding my peers, and here—I’m just outclassed on so many levels. I refuse to write about my weird heritage, but this place is just hitting me with the reality of it all. Maybe I am the son of Hades and this isn’t all just a dream, or a sick joke.

Gus took a sip from his coffee. The combined strength of the caffeine and the bitterness helped to wake him up. The aroma also helped to calm his nerves, reminding him of the few mornings he could share with his mother when they both had no obligations of the day. It was strange how such fond memories can be so fresh, yet still somehow feel distant. Gus would deny the difficulty in moving away on such short notice, for he would abhor the willingness to feel weak.

They gave me my schedule for classes. . . I was hoping that I could just breeze through the year since I was taking higher level classes at my old school, but these classes are so crazy. It’s as if every damn class is based around mythology, and I can’t fathom that since that shit has always been treated like a joke and only the weird nerds really put any thought into the subject. Regardless, some of the classes are really physical, which I assume I can handle, but the teachers I’ve met have all warned me about the real strain they can have. The students here are very. . . hard. They remind me a bit of myself in a way, with my competitiveness. They seem ferocious in a way.

I don’t really know what I’m getting myself into, but I’ll just keep going for the sake of mom. I could tell she was holding back tears when she left after moving me into my apartment today. She wasn’t too excited about the fact that I’ll be living with a girl. Hell, I don’t even know how I feel about that. On one side, I hope she’s not pretty enough to distract me, but in a way, I hope she’s pretty enough to distract me. It’s weird to say that I live in an apartment when I’m only 16 years old. I think I’ll get chances to see mom throughout the school year. I hope I will anyway. I don’t know how she’ll be alone. . .’

The last few sentences stirred emotions in Gus, strong enough for him to finally remove the ballpoint from the paper and become lost in thought. He glanced out of the window, onto the campus of Olympus Academy, eyeing his new peers that made up the diverse, yet simultaneously similar, student body of such a peculiar school. Some walked with strong conviction and strength, some were more passive and laid back, some were observant and guarded—yet they all had the same glint in their eyes that Gus managed to relate to in some form or another. Still, the intimidation lingered with each passing student, and this was new to him. Being on the other side of things slowly, but surely, began to put things into perspective a little. Lost in thought, he sat with a steaming cup of coffee and chicken scratch for words on a fresh journal, waiting eagerly to uncover this new beginning.


W a y D o w n W e G o , P a r t N o .
location: 322 Heath Road → P.J’s
interacting with: Jack @Hawkins, Meir @Severance, Freya@Eleven
◂◂ II ▸▸ Roslyn — Bon Iver & St. Vincent
Mornings were always rough for Sebastian. The sweet escape of slumber could never be taken for granted, and Sebastian valued that part of his day the most. It’s sad to say that he’d prefer to be sleeping than doing anything else. Perhaps such feelings are brought upon by the emptiness, and the fulfilment of his dreams and fantasies are what get him through the days. Sebastian would fall asleep on his stomach, but would always wake on his side, the first sight being his dog tags from the military, a necklace given to him by his father, and an array of medals, trophies, and photos from his success in high school—all displayed neatly by the large window that overlooked the dense forestry of Maine.

He blinked a few times, appreciating the fact that he never needed an alarm to wake up for work, but also annoyed that he could never be able to sleep in to enjoy just a few more moments of a different reality, or the lack of his current one. Sebastian took a deep breath, reacclimating to the truth of his life, the memories rushing in like raging rapids and coming in flashes that felt like punches to his gut—the usual way he wakes each day. He opened his eyes as the sun’s position shifted to glimmer in his deep blue eyes, signifying that it was time to get up and get ready for his long shift.

The routine of getting ready was second-nature, allowing him to think about all the things he needed to think about. This morning, it was the planned reunion with a few old classmates, that he purposefully refused to reply to for the sake of his introversion. Sebastian told himself that he would leave it up to fate to decide whether or not he would join, and this day he was scheduled as a double, so that made his decision for him. Although, he did look forward to the brief meeting he’d have with them as he, oh-so-skillfully, would help intoxicate them. In a few short moments his body was cleaned, his hair was styled, his uniform was on, and he clicked the lights off of his messy bedroom.

Sebastian still lived in the same house that his father bought when he moved from Germany. Nowadays, he had nobody to say his farewells to whenever he’d leave, since he had no nanny to care for him anymore. The seclusion was nice and Sebastian genuinely enjoyed living alone, but it was obvious that it was very negative towards his declining mental state. Regardless, he continued with his commute without thought or expression, his now-mundane personality encompassing the better of him these days.

Sebastian said his usual greetings to his coworkers, set up the bar with ease, and awaited the rush and the foreseen bitterness of the tourists. Thankfully, it was a Monday, so it wasn’t expected to be busy and he could hopefully have a chill day.

And to his surprise, the day went on simply and slow, just how Sebastian enjoyed his work shifts. He stood at his usual spot at the empty bar, right by the vodka, spinning a pen with his right hand, his chin held up by his left hand as he leaned, hunched and tired. The ambiance of the old, tavern-like building was comforting once Sebastian took the time to actually appreciate it. It added to his trendiness of being a bartender at such a unique spot in town. He wore a nicely-fitted black t-shirt with the logo on the back and his name embroidered on the front, paired with dark jeans that hugged his muscular legs nicely.

It wasn’t until the arrival of his old classmates that his monotony would break into anxiety, as he began covering up his melancholy as best he could. He was embarrassed of being on the other side of the bar; both drawn upon by not agreeing, nor disagreeing, to join the reunion and from shamefully being presented to them at his full-time job as a simple bartender. First it was Jack, that was always a pleasant surprise since he enjoyed her company at work, but Meir was the first strike to cause his mix in emotions.

Sebastian didn’t have much of a greeting for them, which wasn’t inordinary for him since he has always been stand-offish, regardless of his mental state; he always hides his emotions. He made their drinks quickly and flashy, showing off his bartending skills a little to try to feel less inferior to Meir, who clearly was doing so much better since his high school days. His stature was strong and manly, and he somehow managed to hold onto his instilled intelligence and was very clearly surpassing the low-lifes of Ritman High, that Sebastion now considers himself apart of. Sebastian handed them their drinks with a very faint smile, and a quick nod for politeness.

Zhou was next to come in, though she didn’t approach Sebastian for a drink or greeting, so he chose to ignore her for the time being, not out of spite, but out of his own awkwardness. Sebastian moved to polish some wine glasses as his shell began to close more and more, realizing that their company had only made him feel worse about himself instead of whatever it was that he thought it would make him feel.

And maybe it was because he was lost in thought that he didn’t hear her come in, but the familiarity of her voice rang deep for Sebastian as she spoke his name. He flicked his head up from the wine glass and there she was, just as beautiful as he remembered, and just as alluring. Freya—the girl that Sebastian had such a weakness for at Ritman, that still, unexpectedly, lingered as the same feelings resurfaced within the moment. Among the memories that they shared, he very clearly remembered the night that she took his virginity And he wished that he could’ve found it in him to not distance himself from her afterwards, not because she wasn’t good, because it was certainly very great and memorable for Sebastian, but because she seemed so much more than what he imagined himself as. Seeing her now, he couldn’t help but blush from the butterflies in his stomach, realizing that he never got the chance to tell her how he really felt, but then, he could never speak so freely about his feelings, so he let whatever they had wash away like the rest of his life.

Without retaining anything she said, Sebastian didn’t realize he was subconsciously still polishing the same glass, his grip becoming too tight and eventually cracking the glass in half, resulting in a small cut on his hand. The blood began to soak the rag as the sharp ting helped bring him back from his thoughts. The embarrassment couldn’t make his face anymore red than it was, and he tried to hide it with a chuckle, “Whoops—I’ll be right back.”

Sebastian rushed to the back area of the bar where he would wash away the cut and later, appropriately bandage it. But, instead, he stood there with the water running over his hand as he tried to compose himself with deep breaths.

Ambrosia’s Mansion

October 1st, 12:30pm | Astrid’s Room | Vampire NPCs

Astrid sat up in her bed, curling her legs in to her chest, burying her face between her knees. Around her, was the comfort of her fellow coven members: Lilith, staring out the large, dark tinted window with her arms folded; Nicolai, pacing around the darkened room despite how many large windows occupied the walls; and Azazel, sitting opposite of Astrid with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. It was silent for quite some time, despite the breeze of the afternoon winds and the rustling of the dying leaves. The room possessed a somber aura, accompanied by colors of red, black, and gray with a dim, yellow light from the chandelier above. The tall windows were heavily tinted, since Astrid preferred her room to be dark with a very exact amount of natural lighting.

Nicolai broke the silence with an upbeat voice, hoping his optimism could eliminate the weight of the room, “It’s been some time since your last vision, Astrid. Maybe whatever the hell it was is gone!”

“Don’t be stupid, Nicolai,” Lilith’s stern and serious voice spoke immediately, “This is different than anything we’ve seen before. Astrid’s never been like this before.”

“Well, Lilith, I was just trying to lighten the mood a little bit. I want to be here for Astrid as much as you do, but let’s face it, there’s nothing we can really do about it except sit here and watch her suffer,” Nicolai replied in a hostile defense.

“If you would use your head then maybe we could piece together her visions and actually come up with some sort of answer,” Lilith instigated, turning her head to give him a deathly glare.

Nicolai furrowed his brows, roaming to lean along the edge of one of the windowsills, “No need to be so aggressive,” he replied in a low voice.

Lilith turned to fixate her gaze back onto the horizon, “If I could get my hands on whoever is causing this shit, I’d kill them in the blink of an eye. And so help me Lucifer, if this is a damned witch, I’d love to taste every last drop of their blood.”

Nicolai let out an agitated groan, “I hate this. We don’t even know what the hell she’s seeing. How could she possibly envision the whole city of Salem on fire. What if it’s just some sort of scary nightmare that she’s having.”

Lilith shook her head, “I hate to break it to you, but everything Astrid envisions tends to come true. The only scenarios where she doesn’t see her visions to fruition is when a new one comes to replace the old one.”

Nicolai flicked his hand dismissively towards Lilith, “You talk like you know what her powers even do.”

Lilith scoffed, “Yeah, whatever Mr. I-can-feel-people’s-emotions. None of us know the extent of her gift, so let’s just go with our best assumptions of it.”

“Yeah, let’s just assume that armageddon is totally in the near future,” Nicolai retorted sarcastically, “And don’t act like my gift isn’t real, I can totally feel the anger resonating off of you right now.”

“I’m always angry. And you better shut the fuck up before I make you.”

“Will you both just stop fucking talking,” Azazel finally spoke, his raspy voice overpowering theirs enough to cut the tension.

The silence returned and the ambience darkened with each passing moment. On a day designated for celebration, the four of them remained guarded and tactful. Astrid’s visions have been becoming more frequent since the events of last night. Every ten minutes, it was like a different image of death or flames, and she could feel every bit of it’s reality, scorching her skin and gnawing at her bones. Her painful screams grew weaker with each proceeding vision as her pain tolerance heightened with every expected horror she faced -- if it weren’t for her vampiric anatomy, she would’ve been dead by now. To their surprise, the next vision hadn’t come when it was expected; the silence was relieving. But only for a moment could it be enjoyed before Astrid’s body tensed, her head lifting as her eyes stared distantly to focus on her new vision. Her breaths began to become heavy in fear as her eyes would scatter, frantically, all around.

“Astrid?” Lilith rushed to her side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Azazel and Nicolai assumed a defensive stance. “What do you see?”

Within a moment, Astrid was locked in her vision, her body calmed, her breaths evened out, but her gaze remained distant. It seemed the vision did not haunt her like her previous ones, depicting a different scenario taking place. Her soft voice broke, “I see five people in a dark room. I think it’s night time. No -- it’s still daylight, but there’s so much dark magic that I can’t see clearly. I --,”

Astrid’s face fell as her eyes fixated on one position. Lilith spoke, confused, “What is it Astrid?”

“It’s us. In this room. But we’re not alone.”

Lilith looked over her face to try to discern Astrid’s condition, “Are you okay?”

“Lilith,” Nicolai spoke, trying to get her attention.

“When do you think the vision took place,” Lilith persisted with Astrid.

“Lilith!” Nicolai shouted in an attempt to get her attention.

Lilith turned swift and was presented with Azazel and Nicolai standing between her and a mysterious entity adorned with a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. The figure was tall and broad, emitting a dark, eerie presence so strong that utter darkness could almost be seen permeating off of him. Lilith stood up with a fierce expression, a protective hand still gently placed on Astrid’s shoulder.

The man lifted his head to reveal his dark skin, glowing red eyes, and black, patchy facial hair. As his eyes scrolled the room, his soft voice managed to echo with an intensity that caused chills within his audience, “You speak her name, yet she is nowhere to be found.”

“I’m right here,” Lilith spoke fearlessly, “Tell us who you are and why you came.”

“So demanding,” the man chuckled. He paused for a moment, “Tell me, were you named after her?”

“My name has nothing to do with this, now answer my question.”

The man let his expression fall flat and fearsome, his cracked lips laid straight and his eyes focused on Lilith. His glare was strong and sharp, worse than any blade or knife and surpassing the deadliness of any spider’s bite. One heavy step forward followed by an unsettling sigh, he finally sneered, wide enough to reveal the sharp fangs in his mouth, “I mean you no harm, as I am rather impressed by your very existence myself -- but the hostility is so unwelcoming.” Another step forward, his crimson eyes darting back and forth from Azazel and Nicolai, followed by a ghostly chant that echoed in whispers throughout the room, “To sleep with you.”

Nicolai fell abruptly, but Azazel still remained standing.

Lilith attempted to nudge Astrid back to reality, but her mind remained locked in a trance.

Within the blink of an eye, Azazel threw out a quick jab, landing directly on the man’s cheek. Azazel maneuvered to properly initiate another powerful strike of his fist while the man was staggered. Despite Azazel’s vampiric speed, it was still too slow and his fist was caught in a tight grip by the man’s hand. In one fluid movement, the man grabbed Azazel’s arm and threw him with force out of the window behind them. The glass shattered loudly as he spoke, “A resistant one, I see.”

Lilith’s continued nudging was finally halted since Astrid couldn’t shake the trance she remained in. Instead, she prepared to strike, and although her attacks were foreseen, her swiftness seemed to parallel the man’s own. A series of jabs, kicks, and uppercuts were thrown, all not a secure enough blow that would cause any significant damage. Instead, the man chanted once more, an unheard incantation as Lilith gasped for air and clenched her throat. She continued to choke, trying to take in oxygen, but her body simply would not allow. His voice rang again, “You are very feisty, you know. You remind me of the very woman I’m looking for -- you even have her name.” With that, Lilith would fall to the ground, her body contorting in pleading, helpless movements before she fell flat and still. He kneeled to her side, a hand caressing her face, “My name is Lucifer.” A flash of darkness encompassed the two of them, vanishing.

Salem, Massachusetts

At first glance, the young wolf portrayed innocence, seeming harmless and ordinary. Perhaps it was the way she licked her ice cream, or how her mismatched eyes held so much untold beauty, it was undeniably deceiving. Though, Leo’s magic could not be denied and she was very well of supernatural descent. Ambrosia had some trouble discerning the extent of how strong she could be, but regardless, the young wolf’s blood flowed with all the strength, vigor, and ferocity of a werewolf and she played a role in this game just as any other supernatural would.

Ambrosia approached quickly, fast enough that her movements were overlooked by any human eye. She stood, in her black dress and long, wavy brown hair with an indefinite aura of eerie darkness, much different than any usual vampire if the girl would be able to depict her race. They stood face to face, only long enough for Ambrosia to extend her hand to give the girl a piece of paper. And whether or not she took it, Ambrosia would release her grasp on the note and be gone within a flash.

Salem, Massachusetts

October 1st, 12:20pm | Washington Park | Sage Lunarie@SamaraJayne96 Quinton Lynch@smarty0114 Jeremy Lindall@Rabidporcupine Evren Arthur@ineffable

“A rather odd occurrence I must say,” Leo mentioned to Ambrosia, “There are three magic-bearers in one area. It seems they are conversing.”

“Noted. And the girl, I assume, is human?” Ambrosia questioned, her hands shuffling the notes within her hands to properly order them based on her interactions with them.

“Correct, miss. Do be warned that they could be apart of the same coven.”

“Well,” Ambrosia started before a sigh, “Wish me luck!”

Ambrosia began her quick stride, and upon her arrival she immediately tried to see any signs of familiarity between the individuals. The younger two within the booth would obviously be more than mere acquaintances, but the man browsing didn’t seem comfortable in the social situation. Perhaps he was the odd one out. On the contrary, the young woman, whom was also browsing, seemed very interested. Maybe she was simply curious about the wares of the booth.

"Pesky, nosy little things, hunters are. Interesting characters, really. They're not as fun as witches and warlocks though. I mean...not as fun to read about."

Strange. Ambrosia thought to herself, but sought to ignore her assumptions to better focus on the matter at hand. Within an instant, Ambrosia would appear swiftly, trickling into the group from the crowd of people that strolled by the booth. She first faced the young man browsing the wares, a very faint, but still present, magical affinity resonating from him to indicate his magic-bearing heritage. Ambrosia grabbed his hand gently, the vast temperature difference becoming apparent as her cold touch maneuvered the note within his hand.

A quick turn and she was quickly melded back into the crowd, only to reemerge behind the booth to quietly approach the younger two magic-users that worked the booth. In subtle, rapid movements, the notes would appear in their hands, the sharp corners of the thick paper pressing against their palms without trace of how they’ve gotten there, unless their eyesight was somehow keen enough to notice Ambrosia’s quick speed.

Salem, Massachusetts

The park became increasingly more lively as the night went on. The sun had begun to set, casting it’s final, warm glow of oranges and yellows, a small glimmer left of the fiery orb descending behind the steeple of Salem’s cathedral. The eerie ambiance had not yet lifted from Salem, nor did it get even a little bit better; instead, it came boasting with the impending night. Regardless, Salem’s citizens casted the strange feeling aside, and they still found it in them to celebrate with full hearts on such an odd day. Kids ran around with glow sticks and hand-held fireworks, parents and families all working to set up a comfortable area with chairs and blankets, businesses had begun to close up shop while bars and restaurants prepared for the rush of people once the fireworks show had ended, and the supernaturals—what of them?

Azariah stared blankly at the sky, watching how the waxing moon would increase in it’s opacity with each passing moment, as the sunset became dominated by the darkness of night. The process could be considered long and boring—the way time passes slowly when you are waiting for something to happen, like the moon’s full glow and the presence of the stars. Azariah stood leaning against the cathedral that sat at the edge of the park, opposite to the dock and the choppy water of the ocean. He had a great view from here, standing on the highest point of the slope to see how the buildings and businesses on either side ran parallel to each other, right up until the docks.

There, he waited for an opportunity to enter the crowd, but he was quickly interrupted, first, by her presence, and second, by her cold, gentle touch upon his arm. Without turning around to see her, Azariah already casted his greeting, “Mrs. Sanguis—I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”

There was a moment of silence before she could speak, “Azariah, there are very pressing matters that I believe I should discuss with you.”

“Straight to it, then, huh?” Azariah smirked, turning around to face her with a warming and welcoming expression. Such expression was quickly dropped once he deciphered the worry and sadness on her face. Although the two are acquainted and have established a truce between her coven and his wolf pack, that was slowly growing into a budding alliance, he still did not approach with comfort. But, perhaps it was who she is, rather than their history, that was twisted and tangled with decades of rivalry and distaste.

Ambrosia stood straight, her piercing gaze looking into his eyes with sincerity, “Listen to me very carefully, because I do not have much time to explain. This friday I will be hosting an event with the others, and I believe it is in your best interest to make an appearance as we are facing a potential threat like no other that we’ve encountered before.”

Azariah’s face began to mimic hers, full of confusion and stress. He couldn’t deny her foretelling. Their lives were so susceptible to threats and danger that the truth in words could only ring true. He nodded, “Okay. Okay, okay. So what I’m feeling—what my wolves are feeling—it isn’t just false superstition.”

“Oh, Azariah,” Ambrosia chuckled, a soft smile peeking between her somber expressions, but only for a short moment, “Why do I feel that you don’t believe in your superstitions because of your self-doubt?”

Azariah rubbed the back of his neck, followed by a shy shrug, “Overconfidence can make a leader lead his people astray.”

“Well, it is not false,” Ambrosia confirmed, placing another cool hand on his, “He is out here somewhere, and we need to be more careful until we all meet. Things are starting to move and they are moving quickly, so you must tread carefully.”

“Wait, who is he,” Azariah tried to get her from speaking in pieces.

Ambrosia lifted her dark, golden eyes from his, staring blankly into the distance as she began to feel the weight of her words, “Lucifer. He came for them—for my coven. Lately, my dear Astrid has been receiving such constant, gruesome visions of an inevitable doom. They stayed to comfort her while I came looking for assistance, but I do not have the time to discuss with everybody, so I gave them a note to invite them to my home on friday night. I know that this strange aura cannot be denied by us and I know that we all feel it stronger than any normal human would. We all play a strange role in this and I need to get to the bottom of this.” Ambrosia became more and more assertive and protective as the words came from her lips.

Azariah tried to see the clarity with her words, but the confusion still lingered, “I will be there, and I will make sure my pack is safe.”

“They took her, Azariah,” Ambrosia retorted abruptly, “They took one of my vampires, and I will not leave her in the hands of him. He took her and I do not doubt that he will be coming for any one of us next.” Ambrosia took a small step back, her eyes moving to his hands, “I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?”

Azariah looked down, forgetting about the beautiful bouquet of flowers and pink cotton candy in his hands, arranged excellently and strategically to impress any individual. He touched one of his fingers to the bulb of a red rose, but he could picture the bloodshed of battle and the feeling of failure; the anticipation of danger came pouring into him. For a moment, he saw flashes of her—her strawberry blonde hair, her enchanting smile, and the way she gave such alluring looks—but he couldn’t deny his duty—his leadership. He looked up to Ambrosia, but she was already gone, without a trace.

Azariah glanced to the sky, seeing that the night had already taken it’s dominance. He took out his phone to send a quick text message.

To: Ev
I’m sorry for the late reply, but it’s looking like I’ll be caught up with family shenanigans tonight. I’ll make it up to you, I swear ;) Maybe we can go out for dinner soon?

Azariah’s mind began to come together, taking her words into immediate consideration. He couldn’t quite track or speak telepathically well enough to warn the rest of his pack, so he schemed a quick plan to ensure the safety of them. ‘Juniper’, he mumbled under his breath, dropping the arrangement in his hands and turning on his heel to enter the crowd of people. The first boom of the fireworks echoed as the cheer of people followed. The explosions of light flashing in the sky.

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