incendiary

Fuck. Fucking fuck. While mastering this body was much easier than Toeth had expected for their previous experience in possessing bodies was a bitch and a half, Toeth hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to control this body and scour through Alexis’ recent memories at the same time. To do the latter, Toeth often had to “shrink” inside Alexis, and delve into the recesses of Alexis’ brain, triggering memories through word association, each jump in memory feeling like facing a fork in the road with an infinite number of paths. Each time Toeth did this, searching for recent memories in Alexis’ brain to make sense of something her soul seemed to immediately recognize, Toeth sacrificed partial control over Alexis’ body. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, it didn’t grant Alexis control back right away. Instead, Alexis’ body would be at an odd standstill, the only other indication of there being “no one home” was the glazed look in the girl’s piercing blue eyes.

Toeth walked about town, their borrowed body donned in a silly witch costume, trying to decide which party to attend. They had managed to glean from Alexis’ recent memories that there were two parties: one at the den in the southern part of town, and the other at a house on Rosehill. It would be interesting, Toeth thought, to observe these humans and lesser supernatural entities without being detected. Something about their presence made Toeth feel… superior. Superior in a way they rarely felt in Hell. It would be a fun experiment. Observe, and then wreak havoc later, once they come up with methods to do so.

Their confidence slipped as soon as they saw someone approach them, all of their mannerisms indicating a personal familiarity. Who was this person? How did they know Toeth’s new vessel? What should Toeth do?

As the person approached, Toeth jumped into Alexis’ brain, hoping to trigger a memory through image association alone. A tough task, especially for a first timer. Perhaps Toeth should have waited for the other senses to kick in. All Toeth could do within those few seconds was pull one or two hasty, brief memories, which told them little about this person except maybe where Alexis last saw them. Fuck, they couldn’t even pull a name out of her brain.

So when the person approached “Alexis,” Toeth resumed control of their vessel, mimicking a human greeting as best they could. 

“Oh, hi… uh..” Toeth stammered, hoping that the other person would volunteer some information to get Alexis’ memories jogging (as Alexis’ stubborn soul wasn’t helping Toeth any). “Nice-to-see-you!”

Ivy’s costume was hardly spectacular, a makeshift Lara Croft outfit pulled out of her closet last-minute with a jacket thrown over. Halloween was always more about the parties than the costumes for her. But seeing the abundance of witches ( or, rather, humans in witch costumes like this was Hogwarts and Halloween Town all in one ) roaming the streets, she had to wonder if she should’ve donned a black, pointy hat too. Just for fun.

She’d stopped by a group of friends-slash-acquaintances from here and there, chatting with them until she decided which party to go to next. One of them pointed out Alexis passing by, who Ivy had never really talked to aside from when the girl got coffee from the Roasted Bean or if they were in the same bar. When a phone fell to the ground, Ivy picked it up and quickly caught up with the other girl, tossing a ‘thanks for the drink!’ behind her, a guy yelling something after her she couldn’t quite make out. 

“Nice-to-see-you?” Ivy mimicked with a laugh, eyebrows raised. “Too much alcohol? Or not enough? Anyway, you dropped your phone. And Travis? Tyler? Something with a T,” she added, jutting her finger in the direction of the group she’d just left, “wants your number, but can’t find the balls to actually ask you for it.” 

TODAY FELT LIKE ONE OF THOSE AWFUL, NO GOOD NIGHTS. Billie always had his suspicions about the moon; it bothered him the red color coming off it. He watched it as if he expected the thing to come slamming down to the Earth, though he said none of this as he held a sketchbook in his hand. Underneath him was a crate, bowing under his nearly two hundred pounds. 

Making rough lines across the paper, he peered intensely from underneath his eyebrows toward his study, sucking on the inside of his cheek. He’d come to the Den, though he couldn’t say why; he hadn’t had a drink in a long time, and didn’t want one – just one of those nights, he guessed, where old influences flooded the gates, just to see if one might break. Instead of bending to the will of this nasty old blood moon, he moved to sit outside in the gently chilly air, and broke out his art utensils.

Billie breathed softly out of his nostrils. His blackened finger tips softened the edges of his study’s eyes. He aligned their eyes with their nose and mouth, and so on. The strokes of the charcoal in his hands were deliberate, exact. Billie looked at the page, then to his study. “You have terribly mesmerizing eyes. I may just break out the color just for you.” Billie’s voice was flat, hardly any movement from his lips apart from the lift in the corner of his mouth, an echo of a smile.

What a fucking shitshow of a night.

Firstly, she’d lost Zaira, secondly, there was the fight that left her aching from the spells she’d cast, and thirdly, there was that little, troublesome issue that the night didn’t seem to end. Hours had passed, she was sure, enough for her to book it out of the hospital and make it to the bar instead of her bed. Oh, Ivy was all for partying until the sun came up, but this? This was something else. Dawn should have broke through the sky by now, golden rays peeking through the clouds.

But she felt stronger, too. Was it the moon blessing her from the stars, eerie as it was, or was it simply her own doing, reaching deep into herself and uncovering untapped potential? A half-blood witch’s not as good as a full one. Yeah, well, this half-witch had just taken down someone twice her size. Tapping absentmindedly on her phone before realizing there still wasn’t service, she turned at the sound of someone’s voice.

“Oh, yeah?” Ivy gave him a crooked smile, her tone archly dry. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special. Make sure you add in those honey-gold flecks.” She tipped her beer to her lips. “Huh. Normally I’m the one behind a sketchbook, but it doesn’t hurt to change things up, you know?”

 HAD   SHE   INADVERTENTLY   BROUGHT   ABOUT   THE   APOCALYPSE?   had   she   possibly   dropped   every   person   in   not   only   fairview,   but   the   world,   into   a   mine   field   without   intending   to?   all   she   knew   for   certain   was   that   she   had   unleashed   something   not   of   this   world   and   that   the   clocks   in   the   manor   had   stopped   ticking.   suddenly,   the   origin   behind   her   name   seemed   apt.   

 in   order   to   reverse   the   chaos   she   had   surely   thrown   fairview   and   its   residents   into,   pandora   came   up   with   the   crude   beginnings   of   a   plan.

 step   one:   find   a   way   to   round   up   what   she   had   released.   step   two:   see   if   said   otherworldly   being   would   grant   her   the   power   she   needed   to   usurp   her   father.   step   three:   throw   a    wicked   party.

 the   rest   she   would   leave   to   her   luck   and   wits.   after   all,   planning   had   never   been   her   strong   suit.   “ excuse   me,   you   haven’t   seen   anything   strange   run   by   here   have   you?   little   men   with   tails   and   pitchforks,   maybe? ”

there is something unnerving about the astor sisters, a sharp edge ivy knows will cut if she doesn’t watch out; a sense of authority that comes with knowing the family you’re in and the ambition that comes with it. if she cared to put a name on the feeling deep in her gut, she might even call it jealousy.

but pandora and nayoung are friends, at least ivy thinks they are, and there’s no reason to be rude to a friend of a friend unless given one. ivy raises her eyebrows, bemused by pandora’s question. strange doesn’t even cover half the town. “ what’s with the mini-devil description? i saw a guy run by with a tail, but you’re not looking for college guys in shitty costumes, right?  ”

HE  WAS  TOO  OLD  —  and  too  cultured  —  for  trick  or  treating,  but  it  didn’t  mean  that  he  wasn’t  going  to  have  a  little  bit  of  fun  on  halloween.  having  dressed  in  yusuke  kitagawa’s  fox  outfit  —  yes,  he’d  say  if  anyone  asked,  he  was  aware  of  the  irony  —  for  the  costume  party  at  lucien  loredan’s  mansion,  it  seemed  like  the  night  was  still  too  young  for  him  to  go  home  and  take  it  off.  there  was  more  fun  to  be  had  tonight.

so  here  he  was,  standing  in  line  for  another  party  in  town  and  watching  little  kids  in  their  tiny  costumes  hold  out  baskets  and  look  up  at  him  and  all  the  other  adults  with  those  pitiful  eyes.  he  tapped  the  person  next  to  him  before  pointing  at  a  kid  in  devil’s  horns.  “ got  any  spare  candies?  that  kid  over  there  looks  like  a  really  sad  devil,  don’t  you  think? ”

the crisp night air sobers her up quickly as she moves towards the next party, utility jacket thrown over her lara croft costume: black shorts, black crop top, guns strapped to her thighs. though she debated going as the most cliche witch possible to match zaira, this was far easier to throw together. ivy’s always had a penchant for shortcuts.

someone taps her shoulder, and she turns. though his mask hides his face, she still knows him by voice alone. “ you actually want to give some kid candies? is there a heart somewhere in you after all? ” her eyes widen in feigned shock. “ but i have some chocolate bar. you know, maybe the kid doesn’t even want candy, ” she muses, tapping a finger to her chin. “ maybe he wants to eat you. you never know with this town, right? ”

“ hey, at least you said sorry. it’s an improvement, ” ivy quips breezily as she scrolls through her phone, looking for the concoction she has in mind. “ normally i ask zaira to help me with my potions, but xe’s not around. we’re in the same coven anyway, so might as well call a truce after the whole croissant incident. ” a crooked smile plays on the corners of her lips. “ come on, two witches are better than one. you can have half of it when we’re done. you know, poison your enemies or some shit. ”

zaira  smiles at the sight of ivy by the door, the look of pleased satisfaction on her face and in her glowing aura. ivy had always been better at spells than zaira. potions came easier to zaira, preferring the feel of ingredients in xir hand and a potion at xir feet to incantations. though, the latter was useful when zaira couldn’t be bothered to remember when xe left xir hairbrush. when their schedules line up, zaira often meets ivy after work to walk home together – partly for company, partly because after the unveiling, it wasn’t always safe. xe always kept a few vials of helpful potions in xir bag if need be. “ damn, i missed coffee? ” zaira pouts, “ is there at least another croissant? ”

“ yeah, too bad. ” ivy shrugs, letting out a sigh. “ it’s cool, though, i’m sure we have some at home. and not another croissant, but i have a muffin. that can be our dinner. or post-dinner. croissants and muffins and coffee when we should be sleeping. ” she tosses a grin zaira’s way, easily falling in step with xir. ivy’s never been one to be too scared of walking alone ( but one must always exercise caution, both as a witch and a woman, unfortunately ), yet zaira’s presence is still comforting. two witches can surely handle whatever threat that dares to pass by. “ aren’t we supposed to be nocturnal creatures, anyway, according to humans that are probably getting us mixed up with vampires? ”

" it’s like some harry potter kinda shit. ” ivy grins, running her hand over the page where pencil strokes come to life, rolling waves crashing over graphite sand. it took her a while to get that particular spell right, but she can’t think of anything better than merging her two loves: art and magic. she flips to a blank page and roughly sketches out a polished gemstone in the middle. tapping it with the end of her pencil, she turns to nayoung, eyes gleaming. “ how powerful of a witch do you have to be to make this drawing real? imagine, you can draw anything and it’s yours. maybe there’s rules or it’s harder if it’s something living, like a dog or a rose, but... ”