Anmol Bodhi Mohan

"Sure, free coffee," Sofia agreed, taking the drink from her friend. She preferred tea but who was she to say no to free? Besides she was still trying to adjust her sleep schedule back to being in the land of the living. Sofia had been working nights since she was nineteen years old, ten years being awake all night and crashed out most of the day was hard to shift back from.

“Yes my coffee fix,” he agreed, as he tried to find another stand so he wouldn’t look to desperate at the place he’d just bought the coffee from that was now in Sofia’s hand. “After… perhaps the north side of the fair. We haven’t see every part yet, still enough to explore.” He sighed. “Last year this place was almost deserted, too much going on, too many people afraid of staying in a dangerous town.”

Taking a peep at the social media update, Amir is satisfied with the information and chuckles to himself. "Congratulations are in order for when I see him next." He grips the strap on his gym bag, pressing his mouth into a thin line as he considers his next move. The subtle shift in his expression reveals a man contemplating the intersection of past routines and future possibilities.

The idea of joining the digital age tugs at him, a reminder of how far he has come from his days of isolation and self-imposed exile. Succumbing to more small talk, he ponders aloud, "I should really make one of those things, huh? A Facebook." The words hang in the air, blending with the absent noise of the gym—their were no rhythmic clanging of weights, the hum of treadmills, nor the faint murmur of conversations; just a blank glass and his reflection staring back.

He smiled. "You don't need a facebook account to see business accounts," he informed the other. "They haven't walled off that information yet." If they had, Bodhi's job would've been a lot harder, there was so much people shared on Facebook that really had no reason to be on the internet. Facebook and Instagram was often the way he tended to find the people he was looking for, both open to the public. Only for Tiktok did he need to have an account now-a-days.

There was little that Beatrice set her mind to that she wasn't able to accomplish. Even when she felt over her head...once she tied her hair back and organized things by the minute, she could see a clear path ahead. One of the first things she did after moving to Fenrir was look into local plants in the area. There had been a line or two in some dusty old book, maybe the suggestion of a something rare hidden in the woods from a magazine published in the past five years. Even a professor mentioned an uncommon flower once or twice. She was determined to find if there was actually anything of note actually in the woods. Equipped with only the essentials, she entered the woods - was the plant calling out to her? Something in her gut nudged her in a specific direction. Beatrice wondered if the rare bloom released a pheromone for local pollinators since it blossomed so rarely. When she came across it, at first glance, she thought it glowed under the moonlight. ( Or was it just the light from her torch? ). The blossom seemed so delicate, all Beatrice wanted to do was reach out and touch -- She blinked, and the world around her became a blur. Her stomach sloshed, like she'd just drank a glass of sea water. Hadn't she just been in the woods? Could the flower's scent be this strong? Her feet seemed to guide her down the side of the road. The bookstore, under the lamplights, past the library...Had she seen the cafe? Where exactly was she going? Bea didn't know how long it had been until she finally came to. It didn't happen all at once, but each step brought back another whisp of clarity. Beatrice takes her first deep breath. She didn't know what, but something about the whole night felt off. Wrong. "Wh...where am I?" She asks. "What...what time is it?" Never the type to ask anyone for assistance, her voice quiets when she finally pleads, "Can you help me?"

He had no clue yet of anything amiss, until the Werewolves had shown up in town, and thinking that the Witches would protect them, he hurried to the more crowded places, seeking more bodies to keep them out of trouble.

She listened as he opened a menu, Sofia leaning in as he seemed to have opened it for the pair of them. She had thought the person he liked knowingly liked him back but things were just slow so it was interesting to learn they were actually unaware of his interest until now. "Yes, food, you pick," she insisted, sure if she was left to decide she'd order half the menu.

“I perhaps should’ve chosen a more reasonable person to get a crush on,” he joked. Because Evanora could be fierce and fiery and completely confuse him. Yet it didn’t push him away at all. He nodded, and then scanned the menu for a few different options, so they could share should Sofia not like the option he picked. He waved down a waiter and gave their orders, making sure that there was a jug of coffee on the list. 

He bit his lip. “Yes, in an officially romantic way,” he said. “It’s been… interesting,” he admitted. “I told her how I felt… and I figured she’d shoot me down or just run off, but instead she… invited me back to her place.” He blushed. Perhaps he was a school boy.

She was afraid to puncture it — intoxicated by something that she didn't even deserve. She could never earn any of this. The witch only ever deserved the loneliness she chose for herself — that ever bitter life, Bodhi had no place in.

"You should've cast me from your mind, a long time ago." she whispered, arms falling, as she realised she's been holding on to him tighter and tighter —

He studied her face closely, the little bubble that surrounded them was so forceful, so tight that he’d completely forgotten where he was. He solely focussed on who he was with. Someone who was intent on stating that she did not deserve someone, that she was not good for this, that they couldn’t be. But any time he heard that, he just wanted to work harder to make sure she knew that he didn’t care. 

Evanora didn’t know his past. Didn’t know his roots, not what his father had been capable of, what his sister was most likely capable of now. How he’d been cast aside. He wasn’t a murderer, but he’d thought he’d become one, eventually. Bloody knuckles from faces smashed because his father wanted him to do it. 

Yet now, after all these years, his gestures, his life, his intentions, all of them had softened. There was nothing left of the boy who’d wanted to convince his father he had what it took to lead the criminal organisation. 

“I can’t,” he simply stated. “It’s impossible.”

Her hands followed his own — all soft, all goosebumps that Nora tickled with the uneven caress of trembling fingers.

She wanted to wrap herself around him, let him pull her into his insides and build her a home there — a home that would last, that would not end up in ruins. An impossible thing — loving him, a human in a destructive and deadly world. He coud've been a purpose, a thing to guard — she could've been his armour, she still could be, if she only —

Despite his many years on this earth, he'd never been this clear on his love for another person. To be closer to someone who he didn't know that well, but who he felt like he wanted to get to know better. He understood Evanora, at least, her opinion of herself, the heavy weight she put on her shoulders, the strength she did have when she was faced with adversity. Perhaps he understood her in a different way.

He chuckled, though the comment of being 'crazy emotional' felt true. Not as terrible as he'd been during the Pink Moon, when he felt like he'd probably almost scared Evanora away with how emotional he'd been. "It had to come at some point," he joked in return. "I do feel like I'm fit for the role right now," he said. "As if I'm a school kid with a crush, and my crush finally noticed me." He opened the menu for the both of them. It was full with vegan options, which was easy for him, and he knew the coffee was delicious. "Food first though?" he asked.

“I’m a mechanic, down at Win Garage,” he explained absent-mindedly. “Must be interesting work, what you do,” Rex said, trying to glean more without prying too much, or too obviously. “This town’s got its fair share of secrets.”   

"So if my car ever breaks down?" he asked, trying for a joke. At the mention of the secrets Fenrir's Wood held, he sighed. "I'm on the case of the missing students, the three who disappeared in 2022," he said. An old case it felt like now, but he was still determined. "However, aside from that, I sadly get a lot of missing husband and missing pets cases." And the missing husbands were 80% of the time cheating. "So not that interesting."

"Have you been in Fenrir's Wood long?"

He propped his elbow on the counter and rested his head against his knuckles. “No.” Reza shook his head, heaving a heavy sigh. “Conspiracies aren’t really my thing, you see. I prefer a more hands-on hobby.” His eyes lazily travelled from Bodhi’s handsome face to his chest then to his hip then back up again, lips curled into a slow smile. “’Sides, if this is as big as you said it is, wouldn’t it make more sense for me to stay the fuck away from all this? I don’t want to end up the same as him, you know. I’m too pretty to die like that.” Not to mention that nobody would cry at his funeral, which was really depressing to think about.

Clearly he would not get Reza along, but he did hope to convince him that if something did come to mind, that the other would contact him first. After all, he figured there was something, there had to be. Else where did he start? What could he do to find the missing students?

He frowned in contemplation. Having missed Reza scanning him. "Perhaps, I don't think you'd ever be a target, but I cannot be sure. The missing seem to have nothing to do with the Vikings," he said. He'd been on this case for almost two years, and he hadn't been taken himself, so he wondered if the one kidnapping people was out to hide themself.

Sofia nodded, recalling him asking if she had someone, wondering if he had asked her about Nibbler but not quite sure. The evening had been sort of a blur. "Well you definitely didn't ask me my favourite colour," she teased with a smile.

As he noted he wasn't fun she saw her phone light up against the table, her sisters name showing for a moment before she lifted it, still listening as she read that her sister wanted Sofia to bring home dinner when she could. "I'm more performatively fun," she shrugged. "I like this more than I like clubbing but it's a good distraction sometimes, all those senses."

Sofia couldn't speak to being unsure, even when her own situation was complicated she and Micah had never suffered through the pains of the unknown. It was immediate, electric. It was not the only sort of love though and while Sofia couldn't relate she didn't think it meant it wasn't genuine. "You should try and know, I promise you'll feel better, even if you think you feel worse, knowing feels better," she insisted, though laughed as he not only rejected the notion of the arse squeeze but refuting it with the term 'bottom' as though this were the news and words needed schooling.

"Well, you can give mine a squeeze for practice if you like, I'll tell you if you're any good," she winked at him, though began to stand, fortunately for him not to actually test this. "I have to get going, my sister is hungry and a hungry college student is hell, if I don't get home soon enough she'll probably eat raw ramen and a diet coke. But text me, yeah? Tell me about this mystery crush when you see things through."

He nodded, clubbing had only ever been something he'd done in his youth, and it had never been about the senses, it had been about being visible, being the little puppet his father had wanted him to be. "I will try," he promised her. And he knew he would.

He blushed a little, though it was hard to see on his cheeks, and looked momentarily confused as to why she had turned to stand, until she explained that she needed to feed her sister. "I'll keep you posted," he said. "And I look forward to our next meeting being a planned one."

Rex’s train of thought and judgement was interrupted when Bodhi spoke. Following his gaze, he noticed the colourful graffiti adorning the wall. He took a moment to take in the artwork and shrugged. “Probably a bit of both,” he said, considering the mix of styles. “Some of it looks like your run-of-the-mill graffiti, but the larger piece seems more thought out.”

“But what do I know, I’m not an art expert.” He added with another shrug. The spirits’ whispers, both warnings and encouragements, made him curious about Bodhi. “What do you do?”

"Neither am I," he said with a smile, studying the wall still, then turned back to the stranger with a confused look. It was not a strange question, though usually he'd ask someone's name first. He was also used to being the one who asked all the questions, perhaps it threw him off guard not to be the one starting it. "I'm a private investigator," he said. "You?"

"It was probably started with good intentions. Most things usually are." He chirped up, glancing over at the wall the stranger was referring to. He'd never tried his hand at graffiti, but, he knew had the opportunity arose, he'd likely have given the community very little thought, especially when he was a teenager. "What is it, anyway? A lot of colours and smudges, but, I'm not really seeing anything." He squinted, pretending his problem came from not being close enough to fully see, rather than the truth of the matter being his inability to read. "I think it's good kids are painting, keeps them out of trouble."

He remained at a distance as he looked at the art work. "I think it's a big bird," he said. "Along with what I think are signs or names, some are a bit hard to read," he added with a laugh. He studied the signs a bit closer, they were making up the wings of the bird, probably a script, but not from any language he knew. "I hope the city looks on that the same way, clearly the boring concrete needed some colour," he suggested.

"But wait," he has more questions than answers, and so they fly out of the corners of his mouth faster than he could ever attempt to stop them. "What do you mean. Why's it suddenly closed on Friday's? What's happened to the owner?"

He took another sip from his coffee. "Do I look like I work out?" he asked, though it was said with a whole lot of amusement because he kind of hoped Amir would say yes.

Looking back at the club and then at his phone, he did a quick search and held up the Facebook page for Amir to see. "Looks like the owner has a wedding this weekend," he said, smiling. "So don't be worried, he seems to be okay."

"It's affecting you." she spoke, as if she was untouchable; never a victim, always the one holding all the power.

Her body leaned into his, "What did you want to talk about?"

There was a short moment where he heard the final notes of the last song The Forgotten played, but it was fleeting. He barely held his attention there, before it fell back.

"The moon," he repeated, as if he was listening and as if he understood what she was saying.

He kept her close, his hand on her cheek, his arm around her. What did he want to talk about?

"I don't remember, I just wanted to see you," he repeated. "And... and I had to tell you that I don't know how to be without you."