𝓵𝓪 𝓵𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓪

How long do you want to be loved? Is forever enough? Cause I'm never, never giving you up.

She came in the night, knocking on her door. Clara hadn’t expected an angel to come calling to her in normal circumstances and certainly not so late. But the gentle smile on her face and the promise of good news had Clara inviting her in quickly. The angel spoke of Clara’s kindness and nobility, something that had been noticed by the angel community. And then...

“Dina has spoken to a friend of mine,” she said softly.

“... My mother?” It had been the first time in centuries Clara had heard anything about her mother, the arch angel.

“I may know where your sons are.”

And just like that, Clara’s life changed like it never did before. For the first time since she’d given them away, the mother had a lead on where her two children were. The next day, she went to work to explain her situation (or a form of it) and was bittersweetly forced to quit her job. She packed up only what she needed and let a lawyer prepare the rest for her. But that evening she’d bought her tickets and got herself on a plane.

She was going home. She was going to Spain. And, if God was kind, she would finally be reunited with Rafael and Marcos...

TASK 6.0 | NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS

Sophie remained oblivious to the man and smiled in response. “Yeah, do you want to see?” Her voice was sheepish and she held up the sketchbook as an offer for the other woman to look. Unlike most artists, she held no reservations over sharing the contents of her sketchbook. Or, rather, at least the sketchbook she carried around with her in public. This book was what she considered safe for work. It held whatever art she wouldn’t mind sharing with the world unlike the one currently tucked away at the Inn which was more personal to the girl.

“I’m just a man,” he began, “sitting in front of a woman, asking her to love him,” he did his best Tom Cruise impression. Really, it was worthy of awards. He laughed lightly, “I’m just a regular ol’bookshop worker.  Not much of a reader, but in this economy, you take what you can get. And you?”

Clara huffed in amusement at his impression, smiling and leaning back a bit in her chair. “I’ve always had a special place in my heart for books but I have yet to visit the bookstore. I’ve always just used the library.” She said with a smile. “I work at West Hollow Hospital in the OB and the pediatric department.”

Honesty Day!

“I believe it might,” Clara responded with a frown. “The patient isn’t very fond of that kind of treatment. Perhaps we can try a different route. What else would you suggest?” She asked, hoping to give the nurse more opportunities to use her skills.

Honesty Day!

“But I am glad to have met you just the same, Thiago.” Clara said with a soft smile.

Honesty Day!

Clara frowned, her shoulders slouching a bit. “Oh, mija, please don’t tell me you burned someone again.” She said patiently, but concerned.

“You’re in luck. I happen to be a licensed therapist,” he said, shaking his shoulders back, “course, I gave myself that license, but it still counts,” 

Clara laughed softly. “And what are you really then?” She asked curiously. "Besides a sweet, self-licensed therapist."

Charlie picked up on a scent he knew he should know, but didn’t–still, at this point, he assumed everyone in West Hollow had to be some form of supernatural, more surprised when he met someone who wasn’t. She seemed pleasant enough, though, and despite what he’d say to humans, he wasn’t a species-ist. “I lied, when I first met you. I deal in truths and compliments, when they’re well deserved,” he said with a smile. 

“Oh, I didn’t do anything,” she said modestly with a soft chuckle. “I just think it’s quite wonderful to meet more kind, funny people such as yourself on a day like today. I’ve had a very exhausting morning and afternoon.” Clara commented in a light-hearted manner.

Sophie nodded, give a smile laced with sympathy. “Understandable.” She hadn’t had too much experience with that, but she knew it was an awkward situation to be in. “Hopefully if you see him again, he’ll have gotten the hint.”

Her demon senses told her she was human. “Certainly hope so,” Clara said with a smile and a soft chuckle, before her eyes flickered behind the girl and noticed someone paying a little too much attention to the human. A man -- supernatural. She decided that until he left, it would be best to keep an eye on her.

Clara’s smile turned a bit more nervous and she looked over at the sketchbook the other girl was holding. “--- Oh, are you an artist?” She asked kindly, hoping it would do the trick.

Laughter fuelled him more than blood, “My condolences,” he said grimly, “you’re missing out on all this sweet, sweet sugar,” he tapped his cup around her. “To be fair, though, you seem sweet enough on your own,” 

As a demon, Clara could tell he was supernatural, although wasn’t sure yet his species. “Oh,” Clara said, laughter bubbling up in her throat and her smile widening. “That’s very nice of you! You’re quite sweet as well. You must get all the ladies and/or gents.” She joked softly. Her tone and expression was quite obviously platonic - one might even say maternal. 

Sophie watched as the woman struggled to catch the paper and put her things to the side before standing. “Here, gotcha.” She snatched the paper up before the wind could whisk it away again. Holding it out to the other lady, she smiled. “I wasn’t sure if it was important or not and thought it was better not to risk it, you know?” She had lost plenty of little notes and important things she needed to remember before she finally gave into carrying her bag everywhere with her to tuck them away.

“It wasn’t really, but it could have been so thank you.” Clara said with a wide smile and a soft sigh escaping her lips. She took the paper back from the girl and held it up sheepishly to show her. It had a phone number on it. “A man preparing my coffee gave it to me... I didn’t want to be rude, but I'm not very interested in romance of any kind at the moment.” 

He shook his head vigorously, “Oh, yeah. At the very least, they must be sadists. Why else put yourself through the torture that is a creamless, sugarless coffee?” 

“I’m Charlie, by the way: your resident truth dealer,” 

Clara giggled softly, not at all bothered by the comment. She found him young and amusing. “Charlie, it’s nice to meet you,” she said with her ever-present smile. “I’m Clara. I drink dark brews myself, but you might say I grew up much more used to more sour coffee so it’s just a matter of habit.” She held up her cup of coffee in almost a cheers kind of way before taking a sip.

HONESTY DAY! (ALL MEMES ACCEPTED)

“I will, I promise you,” Clara assured her softly. “But not like this. This isn’t right.”

There wasn’t any real purpose behind drinking coffee–after all, it wasn’t as if it gave him energy–but he still insisted on his morning routine. Being in the sun was exhausting, and a cup of coffee tended to have a placebo effect on him, as if it was making some sort of difference (which it was not). It was little things like this that helped him feel connected to his humanity. 

And, alright. He had a sweet tooth. He enjoyed drowning his coffee with lots of creamer and even more sugar. He turned around to the stranger behind him, taking a long sip of his coffee before speaking. “Let me tell you something, people who drink their coffee black absolutely hate themselves,” 

This was how Charlie was–it didn’t matter who he was speaking to, he’d share his opinion whether they wanted to hear it or not. 

Clara had just finished paying for her cup of coffee and was looking around for a place to sit when a boy in seat in front of her turned and spoke up. At first, she wondered if it was directed towards her but there was no reason to suspect he knew her order. And, as it was, Clara was not easily offended or suspicious. She smiled before letting out a small chuckle and moved to sit in front of him. “Is that so?” The doctor asked, lightly amused.