the harbinger

Caffeine didn’t affect her, not the way it did mortals, but there was something comforting about a warm cup in her hands that grounded her more than anything. The events of the storm left much of the town shaken, which meant the cafe was unusually sparse for this hour, but the fury didn’t mind. She took her large cup of black coffee and a scone and wove between tables towards a booth in the corner near a window so she could write a little. She hadn’t expected an outburst from a witch as she passed her, and the sound made her jump more than anything else would have. Quick reflexes and an even temperament kept her from spilling or dropping her journal or pastry, and she sidestepped the witch and her table slightly.

“It’s alright, I wasn’t going to trip over you,” she assured. “And everyone’s still wound a little tightly. You have nothing to apologize for.” She looked familiar, but Sela couldn’t quite place her. Her relatively short time in Corinth meant she hadn’t yet learned all names and faces of the more rooted supernaturals there. Still, the familiarity meant she should know, and so the fury’s brow furrowed slightly as she studied her. After a moment, she shook her head. “You looked familiar, I’m sorry.”

-

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about me, I didn’t want you to trip over them.” She gestured just as a toddler waddled past, right where the woman would have stepped at that very moment had Daciana not stopped her. The witch savored these tiny moments where her sight was a gift, and not a curse. And then she realized she’d shown too much of herself in front of a stranger. “I mean, kids you know, unpredictable,” 

“No worries, I’m Daciana Vidalis, would you like to sit?” She was nothing if not polite. 

     Henry was tired, but that was nothing new to him. The truth was, he couldn’t remember the last time he had not felt tired to some extent. That was the reason why he sometimes wondered if the blood in his veins had been replaced with caffeine; it honestly wouldn’t surprise him anymore. It was another morning spent getting his fix of coffee before heading off to the university campus. The line wasn’t long, fortunately, and so he got his hands on a warm cup of coffee quicker than he’d expected. 

       It was on his way out that he almost dropped it though, a woman’s voice and a hand reached out in his direction enough to cause him to almost stumble over his own feet. And no, he really didn’t want to burn himself with coffee after just barely escaping a burning hospital during the storm. “Shit.” The curse word slipped out underneath his breath, and he pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his quickly beating heart only slowly calm down. “You scared the shit out of me. That’s the worst possible way to get someone to not spill something.” But there was no malice behind his words, a crooked smile on his lips instead to show her that he wasn’t mad. Nothing had happened after all.

“Henry!” Daciana’s flush grew deeper as she recognized one of the professors in her department. They’d worked together on a number of research projects and she’d asked him if he’d mind looking over some articles she’d been working on. Still, had she known it was him she likely wouldn’t have shouted at him. But then again she had little control over when her visions came, and she did her best to control the things that she could as quickly as possible. 

“Sorry! It looked like you were going to run into that person, I didn’t want you to get burnt,” she managed a smile, “or, gods forbid, lose your coffee.” Daciana laughed and moved to stack her books and make space at the table. “Do you have a class this early? I was going to head over to the university in a bit if you wanted to finish your coffee then walk over?”

@daci-vidalis​

There was no love in the genasi’s darkened heart for the Delphi Coven, he had been in Corinth long before Anastasia had ascended, back when she was still their oracle. He had learned then how to obscure his actions from her view, she was a meddlesome woman but they had not crossed paths in decades and the genasi preferred it that way. Her sons and daughters however? They were far less well-equipped, and spiteful as he was, he did not want anything ever getting back to her of his actions. So what he sabotaged, he did through subtlety alone. 

Years prior one of her daughters had entered his shop, her magic distinct, nearly unique, and after some short discourse Zakaría had come to learn that she had the power of divination. An occasionally useful, yet altogether trivial ability not even born of Hekate’s will, but bestowed on the witches by the oneiroi many years prior. He had helped her then, and he had pretended to help her many times over since. 

“Daciana.” Zakaría greeted, the genasi’s presence was one she’d been weary of once, but had since become quite comfortable with. “I have a gift for you.” 

-

Daciana, for all of her visions of doom and despair, was actually quite trusting of those she did not know. Perhaps it was some flaw in her logic, or a too deep trust in her gift. Because she who saw all of the pain and violence beings were capable of, would surly see any sort of harm headed her way. This was why she’d never quite agreed with her mother’s outright rejection of any magical being who may not be exactly aligned with the light. Anastasia, it seemed, saw the world in black and white, good and evil. Daciana who’d always played along the fringes, the places where black and white blended into shades of grey - was drawn to those on the margins. 

The pawn shop had been an accidental discovery, she’d wandered in to avoid a storm, and found a place full of history and secrets. Zeke, the owner, had that flaw in his magic her mother warned them all about - but Daciana foresaw no threat in his easy charm and helpful guidance. Now, she even considered them to be friends. What her mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, and that included the time Daci spent in the shop. 

“A gift?” the witch brightened noticeably, “you didn’t have to do that, thank you.” Daciana flushed with delight, glancing down at her hands where she twisted a ring around her finger. “I wish I had something for you, other than the questions and troubles I brought to burden you.” 

The city is slowly getting back on it’s feet, unsurprisingly the coffee shop is one of the first places to reopen. It’s quite laughable, in all honesty, the fact that less than a week after a magnificent storm wracked the city, Caffeine & Caffeine has already reopened good as new. Anemos thinks humans would be damn near nonfunctional without a daily caffeine intake, and they themselves even admit to having a taste for it. Unfortunately, it seems that a lot of the city had the same idea, as it’s rather crowded inside the establishment, much to Anemos’s irritation. They’re debating the optics of trying to put everyone around into a catatonic dream state ( far too many, but an amusing thought none the less ) when another’s voice breaks through their musings, and the spirit turns just in time to avoid colliding with some human rushing by, their hot coffee thankfully still in tact in their hands. Not that they’re capable of being burned, but it would’ve been a great inconvenience. “Hey, watch it!” They put on their best Grace voice to shout in outrage at the busy little human who never even slowed down. 

With a huff, Anemos’s attention turns to the young woman sitting at the table. A witch. Interesting. “Oh my god, thank you so much for the warning! That would’ve ruined my shirt!” Which, to Grace, would’ve been the world’s biggest tragedy. 

Daciana flinched when the patron snapped, they had an air of self assuredness that she had always admired in others. One that she’d unsuccessfully tried to emulate. She was far too intimate with darkness to drift through life with such ease. No, Daciana walked carefully through her days, attempting to cause as little harm as possible to those who had the misfortune to cross her path. Because in her deepest darkest moments, Daciana feared that she didn’t just see the violence and pain, she was the cause of it. This was her biggest fear, her deepest shame, her darkest secret. And she would carry it to her grave. 

“Of course,” the witch smiled softly, encouraged by the buoyant thanks and easy charm. “It’s a beautiful shirt, I am glad it survived.” And, suddenly emboldened by either the near miss or the copious amount of caffeine she’d had, Daciana moved her books to make a space at her table. “Would you like to sit? Prevent any more almost tragedies?” 

@corinthbaystarters​

Ezio had seen more natural disasters than they could count, had haunted the edges of war and terror and delighted in the manipulating the dreams of both the oppressors and the oppressed.  They watched as a construction crew went to work on rebuilding one of the crumbled structures in the ancient quarter, sight seeing was a hobby of the oneiroi’s. “It was Frost who said that some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire.” They turned towards the person who had approached, a smirk on their compartmentalized features, “But if I had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great, and would suffice.” They canted their head back towards the beefy, scenic view in front of them. “Do you think the city will be the same after this?”

-

For one who was so often plagued with visions of death and destruction and ruin, there was something even more unsettling about seeing it in front of her. Daciana kept blinking, as if she could clear away the scene in front of her with only her force of will. It wasn’t strong enough. She shuddered, the lines between her visions and reality were starting to blur, it frightened her. What was worse - she didn’t feel like she could tell anyone. 

“What was that?” A voice had broken through her spiral causing the witch to jump. She was easily startled, and her face flushed as felt the other’s eyes on her. Daciana did not know them, but they had the distinctive air of magic around them. Surprisingly, this made the witch more comfortable. She’d always been too trusting and naive. 

“Forgive me, I sometimes get lost in my own thoughts. I don’t think it will be the same, nothing ever is.” She tilted her head to the side, thoughtfully considering the attempt to rebuild. “It is sad to see history crumbling, almost like we’ve lost something we hadn’t fully appreciated.” 

@daci-vidalis​

Atlas was in the courtyard of the Vidalis estate, his dreams of late had been disturbing, to say the least. Before the storm the oracle had been plagued with visions of a coming downpour but had been given no indication of the full breadth of horror that would follow. Katerina Alpha to the Argos pack had been murdered, and their beta, Alarick, a man that Atlas had considered a friend, had turned out to be anything but. Truthfully, Atlas was feeling more vulnerable than he was willing to let one, he was full of self doubt an uncertainty, and if Atlas was being honest, he was just trying to put up a strong front for the rest of his coven. 

Yet he felt anything but. The scar on his hand was a reminder of the curse that had nearly claimed him the night of the storm in Dionysus Bar, and while Anastasia had offered some words of comfort, they still felt hollow. His confidence was completely shaken. 

He sat in the courtyard and enjoyed the cool breeze as it came off of the sea, the estate was in the heart of the city, it had suffered some damage, but it was nothing that the coven could not manage. The weaver sat with his back-strap loom tied behind him, not as large or as ornate as what he had at home, or in his shop, but it was enough to pass the time with. 

“Daci?” Atlas questioned as he saw the woman enter the courtyard, he was innately fond of the fellow witch of divination, they were so rare, truly she was the only other he had ever encountered other than his grandmother and perhaps Anastasia that had the gift of sight. “You look shaken, is everything okay?”

-

Guilt was a peculiar sensation, stronger than shame and almost more crippling than fear. Unfortunately it was an all too familiar emotion for Daciana, one that had plagued her entire remembered existence. Sometimes she wondered why Anastasia had even bothered to take her in, as much trouble as she’d proved to be. Her siblings were all powerful and lovely and light, Daci only brought pain and hardship. And now - when she’d seen something that could have potentially saved someone her mother cared for and said nothing, why did she deserve to stay? 

The seer shuffled well worn tarot cards between trembling hands, the faces were nearly faded and edges soft from years of use. It had been the first deck her mother had given her, once she’d felt safe enough to speak and Anastasia had discovered her particular talent for the future. Where dreams and visions that came unbidden were always frightening, the cards were supposed to be neutral - predisposed to neither good nor bad. At least they were supposed to. Atlas’s voice startled her, so intent on her shuffling that she had not noticed the coven’s oracle in the courtyard. The cards went flying as she jumped, easily frightened particularly given the recent events. 

“Oh its you,” her voice shook with relief upon recognizing him, “forgive me I didn’t see you.” Daciana flicked her wrist upwards, closing her hand into a fist one finger at a time - the cards leaping off the ground and stacking themselves neatly into her hand. Card magic, simple almost stage tricks, had always been easy for her. “I - I don’t know,” she sighed, something about Atlas had always compelled her to be truthful and she couldn’t hide the way she tried to around everyone else. Daciana sank beside him on the bench, setting her deck of cards carefully next to her. 

“Do you -” she took a breath, “what if you saw something, and it was bad. But you didn’t tell anyone because you weren’t sure if they would believe you if you did tell them and you know that it would have hurt them to hear it. And you aren’t even sure that if you told them that anything could have changed or if it would just have happened in a different way and been just as bad.” Daciana spoke quickly, not looking up from her own hands in her lap. “Am I a bad person for not telling anyone?” 

Location: Katerina’s Funeral Open to: Delphi Coven members & Argos Pack members

The moment wasn’t what Anastasia thought it would be. Katerina hadn’t asked for a big funeral; hell, she was almost sure that the woman would’ve preferred to wash her celebration down with a glass of champagne and that gaudy seventies music she would listen to. The witch had imagined Katerina passing decades from now, long after the coven leader would return to Hecate. But then again, Katerina was gone, and she had taken Anastasia’s heart with her. She was standing near the back of the reception room, packed and hastily thrown together by herself. Most of the buildings in the city were unfit for such gatherings. “I was hoping you’d be here. Are you alright?”

Daciana almost didn’t go, she couldn’t face her guilt. She couldn’t face her mother and her loss. Because she’d seen it, the cloud of death and darkness and violence surrounding her mother’s love, and had said nothing. It was as if she’d plunged a hand into her chest and tore out Katarina’s heart herself. Fear and Guilt were sisters, this she knew this as well as she knew her own sisters. Her mother stood towards the back, Daciana knew she couldn’t avoid her any longer and she purposely waited until the witch was facing her before she got too close. 

“Of course I’m here,” she spoke softly, standing as close to the witch as she could without touching. Daciana did not like to be touched. “I’m ok,” it was somewhat dismissive, she didn’t want to burden the woman with her own guilt and pain, “are you? Can I help?”

Daciana wasn’t sure if she’d slept since that night. Perhaps it was fear, more likely the guilt over keeping her visions to herself. She should have warned someone, should have told her mother at the very least. But then, what was the difference between this particular version of death and pain and that which she saw nearly every day? She shook her head, trying to clear some of the fog and not get sucked into that spiral. Not now, she needed to study. She took another sip of her coffee and tried to focus on the article she was editing. The universe, it seemed, had different plans for her. The blackness threatened at the edges of her vision, words on the page in front of her began to shift jumping from one paragraph to another. She knew better than to fight against it, and so Daciana took a deep breath and closed her eyes, digging her nails into the palms of her hand to steady herself in the moment. 

Mercifully, it wasn’t horrific. More importantly, she could still alter the outcome. 

“Be careful!” She held out a hand, ready to counter any sort of misfortune that might befall this patron and their likely very hot beverage. Crisis seemingly averted, Daciana realized she’d nearly snapped at someone who’d done nothing to her and flushed, eyes looking down. “Forgive me, I did not want you to spill.”