splinters

Escort him home… Yes, not a bad idea at all. If there was a way of getting the same kind of ward off this witch than his current provider perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone.

“Sir Tine. You may call I Sir….or Tine if you wish.” In most cases he insisted on being called Sir to establish a power balance. In this case however he was seeking her aid and she held all the cards, there was no point in chancing his arm and making a poor impression.

He didn’t bother to try and keep track of their path, his sense of direction was already poor and he didn’t need it getting worse by fighting whatever spell she had going. 

“Do you prefer payment in cash or transfer? I could give you a blank cheque either if it would suit?”

“Ah, you shouldn’t have given your name.” She was smiling as she chastised him, good-natured. “It’s a powerful thing to give a witch like me, and I asked to possess it.”

“Don’t worry, it’s yours.” It was her handing the power back to him, even though she’d made no move to take it. The Fae were powerful beings, and they had taught her many tricks. 

“And cash or transfer is ideal. I need it for groceries.” She was aware that she could be charging thousands for this meeting, but it didn’t seem fair. It was merely a consultation - a glorified chat. 

They walked for a while, exchanging pleasantries. Eventually they came to a quaint little lane, where the road stopped in an abrupt dead end as it met what looked like the edge of a forest area that was contained within wrought iron fencing. 

Harley’s house was the first one beside it - old stone and greenery, with a circle of mushrooms in the front garden. “It’s just here.” She opened the gate for him and led him up the garden path, unlocking her door with a wave of her hand. There was no key hole. If Tine tried too hard to look at her house number, he would find himself getting a headache. “Do you drink tea?”

Pushing the key into the door’s lock Morgan paused at the question and needed a moment to actually answer.

“Its been…three years? I think…Oh shit it has been three years. I moved after the end of the disaster that was 2016. God that was some shit wasn’t it?” Seriously that year seemed to be a curse for everyone involved. With a shake of her head Morgan opened the door and switched on the lights.

Along the narrow walls little fairy lights flickered to life and illuminated a small shop lined with shelves and cabinets housing various occult themed mechanise. Tarot cards with pretty intricate designs. Candles of different sizes with ornate holders. Inverted crosses and pentagrams made of silver and bronze.

And gemstones. Lots and lots of glittering stones of all size, colours and quality strewn about the displays and catching the lights above.

At the opposite far wall when you enter was a doorway covered by a curtain of blue and purple beads. Just before the doorway on the adjacent wall was a stairway leading up.

“I’m just going to freshen up real quick. Two seconds.” Bee lining for the stairway she paused and pointed to a a little sign above a display before heading up. The sign was written in red pen on a lined notebook page and stuck up with tape.

 It simply read: ‘Steal my junk, I’ll curse your funk.’

The merchandise was a red flag, but Harley let it slide. It was possible that Morgan had struggled for business, and spicing the shop up with spooky tack was how she drew more people in. Besides, some of it was real. 

The gemstones in particular had a sort of presence to them. Real power, though she couldn’t say what. It was possible they were all charged. 

“Hm?” Harley glanced up in time to see her tap the sign, brows raised in amusement. Blunt, but she rather liked it. “Of course, take your time.” 

She took her time looking over the various nicknacks that littered the store, pausing at a particularly pretty set of tarot cards. Oh, weren’t they stunning? 

There was no magic coming off of them, but it didn’t matter. She could turn receipts with card names scribbled on them into a functioning deck if she had to. They simply needed a blessing - some encouragement. 

“Nothing at all. As far as I’m aware, they have always been there. So I couldn’t even tell you when I got ‘em.”He rubbed the back of his neck a bit awkwardly, to know that she was going to help him was a relief however. He really did not expect her to take on such a request, it would have sounded way too troublesome to most witches.

“Do what you must, I will try to help wherever I can.” She was honest, level headed, he liked that. While he was plagued by guild, she was calm and simply thought of the best way to solve this. That was exactly what he needed right now, someone to think clearly for him. 

“What should I do?” 

Harley set her mug down on the low coffee table and got to her feet, heading over to a cabinet nestled in the corner. The was too hot to drink immediately anyway, so they may as well get started. 

“Just wait a moment.” She pulled out several glass jars, all labelled in delicate handwriting. They were filled with various mundane things - dried flowers, different types of grass, mushrooms. That was, until she waved her hand over them with a soft murmur. The very air itself seemed to shift, and in a matter of seconds the interior of most of the jars changed. Petals became iridescent mermaid scales, wood shavings became spun gold, and the grass became hair. 

Carefully, she took an ornate black pestle and mortar from the top shelf and set it down. She dropped hair and two different kinds of flower petals into it, whispering softly as she ground them up. The mixture seemed to almost glisten as she turned it into powder, like fine pieces of glitter. 

“Fae hair, moonflower and Cornish blooms.” She explained, approaching him with the pot. “The fae are masters of hiding, and the blooms have been played with by pixies. Together they can reveal secrets. The moonflower is simply a boost. I assume that the nature of your magic will respond better to flowers that have sat beneath the full moon.”

Without asking, she dumped the pot into Bandit’s tea.

“That would be very agreeable thank you.” And astonishingly cheap. Currency took many forms for supernatural beings and while coin was not uncommon it was usually associated with those who couldn’t ask for more.Perhaps the £300 was just the start of a slope into something more.

“I am unfortunately well acquainted with such wards. Once I ended up walking through a cornfield for several hours afterwards.” A small smile is extended like an olive branch. “Would paying extra ensure I keep my shoes post consultation?”

Falling into step beside her he could not help but note her appearance again. Such a frail and tiny creature, barely any presence to her at all. Her stature along with her hair color gave off the signs of an eldery crone, not a young woman with striking blood irises.

Taking his gaze off her he felt the familiar tingle of magic and faltered in his step a moment, a shot of pain shooting through his skull and originating from his left eye socket. Grunting he rubbed the area around it and sighed out his nose as the throbbing eased off.

“I know introductions may be moot at this point but would you prefer to be addressed as Ms. Delka or Harleen my good woman?”

A short puff of air left her nose, eyes creased in amusement at the mental image of this well put-together man wandering through a cornfield without his shoes. It thawed some of her ice, a small smile enough to flood her expression with warmth. 

“I can escort you home if you’re worried.” She was careful to make sure nobody ever hurt themselves, but she hadn’t considered how they’d spend the rest of their day as the confusion slowly wore off. “Do not worry, though. You will simply... Forget the way. All other sense of direction should remain in tact.” 

She paused as he did, watching the way he massaged around his eye with obvious concern. He didn’t seem too bothered though, so once she was certain he was alright, they kept walking. 

“Harley is fine.” She assured, as they turned onto a winding road. “And don’t worry, it’s maybe ten minutes away.” 

The laughter was…good? A good sign? Yes? No? Cy said it was fine and the laugh didn’t sound bitter or mocking so…

Frowning Tine tilted his head in thought. He really didn’t know much about Cy at all. In the past he simply didn’t care to know it. Before, whatever reaction the boy might have given Tine could simply respond however he liked because it didn’t matter how Cy felt about what he said. Now though Tine wanted to keep Cy around. 

He wouldn’t say the boy was important to him and if he left now it would be disappointing but he wouldn’t lose any metaphorical sleep over it, but, if that disappointment could be avoided by paying a bit more attention to him, than Tine would make the effort to quote unquote care about him.

“If you change your mind you need only say it.”

Turning his attention out the window a moment he returned his gaze to Cy with the start of a small smile.

“Where are you staying? Certainly you are not going back to your previous residence?” Tine had not been in Cy’s old home but he assumed the boy was looking to start fresh. Couldn’t exactly do that in a place full of memories of your past..

“I have a number of properties currently vacant if you would like to browse them. Until you find somewhere more suitable of course.”

From most people, it would have been a kind offer. In fact, maybe Tine really was just trying to be nice to him, but Cy wasn’t about to give him so much power. He wasn’t stupid.

“I’ve sorted out a place, it’s not half bad.” 

It was true. He could get money easily with his skills, and he’d used the money to get himself a nice apartment with a balcony. If he wanted, he could have a penthouse with a cleaner and a driver, whatever he desired, but the thought was unappealing. He didn’t need it, or want it. He liked smaller spaces and he’d learned to enjoy his own company and independence. 

Besides, it looked less suspicious. Yes, he could get whatever money he wanted, but he hardly looked the part. 

“... You can visit, if you want.” It was an olive branch, sort of. A way of saying ‘no I don’t want your charity but we’re still cool.’

“Think nothing of it. Consider it a ‘welcome back’ gift from I to you.” Smiling softly Tine took his card back and wordlessly took one of the bags off Twitchy to carry out of the store.

“I would love to see some of your work. When you feel comfortable showing it of course.” Seeing how flustered the boy got was very amusing a reminded Tine why he wanted the boy as a pet when they first met. 

That adorable sort of innocence and honesty in emotions. How sweet he would look in a collar being spoiled with affection… Well, perhaps he could bring up the contract at a later date. No need to rush.

Holding the door for the boy Tine joined him on the street and offered his hand out.

“Shall we enjoy that hot chocolate now?”

Twitchy took a moment to gather himself, knowing that if he tried to speak immediately it would be near-incoherent. He was overwhelmed by the kindness, and by Tine wanting to see his work, but he took a deep breath and centred himself. It was alright, Tine was just a kind man. It was fine.

“Um. Twitchy will make Mr.Tine all the art he wants.” It was the least he could do when Tine had bought him all this stuff. He followed Tine out onto the street, relaxing some as they got out of the store.

(Once he sat down she shifted to his lap, head rested against his chest and fuzzy arms wrapped around his arm with a soft purring noise. His hold was warm and it gave her comfort. 

A tangible and solid feeling she could reassure herself with that it really was him and this wasn’t another dream. Though admittedly she usually found him in closets in her dreams for some reason. Never could coax him out of the closet though.

But enough about dreams! He was really here now and she had so many questions. Clearing her throat she looked up at him with a happy gaze.)

“Hello Cy. I, I have a lot I want to ask but I don’t want to, you had your reasons I’m sure but… Are you staying? Is this just a visit or are you back?”

(Had he seen Bandit yet?)

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t planned for this, but he truly had no expected to see her. He’d thought that she would have moved on to bigger or better things, but apparently not. Apparently she’d stuck around in Domino as it decayed around her. 

“I’m staying.” He’d decided this only recently. Domino was rotten, full of darkness, and it was his home. He thrived here - felt best here. 

“No, no, no, it’s cool, really..!” the young wolf insisted, suddenly feeling the need to hide his arm a little behind his back. Honestly though, it wasn’t even that bad, if anything it was more the suddenness of it that startled him this much. This was probably a good opportunity to make a mental note about keeping some of his first moment impulses to himself from now on.

“I’m good, for real! S-Sorry i jumped like that, you kinda c-caught me by surprise a-and-… Well, i just kinda a mess everywhere.” cue an awkward laugh as he yet again tried to shake off the victim-hood aside, so to speak. With a quick wave of his arm he gestured back towards the coffee shop “Uhm..come on, let’s go for it!”

It was only a couple of minutes away so, technically speaking, in such a short amount of time there was no time to feel aggressively awkward and furiously embarrassed over the whole episode. But Achim did, and the lingering warmth tinting his freckled face did not seem to fade away. So, as to alleviate the whole ordeal, to turned to sniff, yes sniff, not smell, the arm that threw off her beverage and was now soaked in it. 

“…Oh, uhm…S-So you like hazelnuts? O-Or is this more like caramel? I can’t really tell, these syrup thingies are all mostly sugar so… heheh… kinda… hard to tell them apart… and stuff.” 

Was it supposed to alleviate? Because it felt like he was doing the exact opposite. 

He was so awkward, it was a surprise that he didn’t simply fold in on himself beneath the weight of his anxiety. She wanted to tell him that he was fine, that he didn’t have to worry, but she feared she’d come across as condescending. So she let him lead the way, amused at the way he sniffed at his arm. Dog-like. 

“There’s no syrup or sugar in it.” She laughed. “But the coffee roast is supposed to smell like caramel? I can’t smell it, but you’ve got quite the nose.”

The came to a stop outside of an independent coffee chain and Harley slipped inside, holding the door for him with a smile. 

“What’s your name? Mine’s Harley.”

The door swung shut behind them and Harley made her way up to the counter, fishing out her purse despite Achim offering to pay. 

“A friend of mine helped me with it but I’m afraid I can’t tell ya much about them. Apparently they were of Nordic origin. I wish I could show ya but they only ever show during a blood moon.” He tilted his arm, eyeing the pitch black rings around his arms. They looked like normal tattoos but he knew what these were capable of, there was nothing normal about them. 

       “You know, the fact that I barely remember half of my life doesn’t make this easier. I don’t even know if they got something to do with me or if they were put on me.. Ah, sorry. I know I ain’t makin’ this easy for ya.”

Bandit rubbed his prickly chin, feeling rather uncomfortable to ask for help without being able to deliver much. So he reached for the tea instead to take a sip. Then he remembered something.

       “But I got this, maybe it helps.”

The old wolf grabbed his phone and went through some images until he found the picture a pack member send him. It was a bit blurry but the giant, white beast tearing apart the forest underneath a blood moon, was clearly there. So he held his phone out to her, that she could take a look. 

“I’m not asking you to fix this for me, but perhaps you have a spell or a curse that could keep this from happening again. Something that would render me immobile as soon as this happens, doesn’t matter how dangerous. I just don’t want to hurt any of my friends ever again.” 

His desperation was palpable, thick and heavy in the air, and Harley took a moment to make sure her wards were up. The last thing she wanted was listening ears preying on this man’s vulnerability. Offering himself up to a curse, to danger, just to keep people safe. He couldn’t have been a bad person, not if he was looking to martyr himself.

Harley took the phone, looking over the blurry image quietly for a moment. 

“I will help you.” She began, passing the device back to him. “But do not be so eager to accept suffering as a solution. It will do you no favours. It will be our last resort.”

“If you are willing, I’d like to try something with you. It may show me these runes. Without them I couldn’t say what has been done to you.” She paused then, biting her bottom lip. 

When he spotted the woman, Bandit lowered the paper in his hand and walked right up to her. He had met many witches in his lifetime. Some that appeared as strange as they possibly could, some that managed to fit in. This one definitely counted to the latter category. She was small, frail even. She appeared like she was made of porcelain, he barely dared to offer his hand but realized that he was just being stupid.

 “Hello Harley, thanks for havin’ me.” 

He gently took her hand and shook it. Then he followed her inside. The first thing he noticed was that her home smelled nice - like her. No artificial scents, it was a natural smell of herbs, flowers and minerals. Nothing surprising coming from the home of a witch but her scent had something.. Clean to it. Like a mixture of fresh spring and chilling winter. 

          He liked it. 

“Alright.. It might sound a bit crazy, even to you perhaps. But I’ll try to explain it properly.” He sat down on her sofa, arms resting on his knees as he visibly began to ponder, trying to recall whatever information he could offer her.

“As a werewolf, I am influenced by the moon. That’s normal and there’s nothin’ odd about it. Every blood moon though, I completely lose myself. Not my human self, I mean my soul. It’s like I die for the duration but my body keeps rampagin’ on. I had it under control for a while. Chained myself up in the mountains but the last blood moon it … Escalated.”

“I tore down my home and almost killed my friends. It wasn’t a normal transformation either, it felt like my body got torn apart.” While he talked, he began to  roll up his sleeves, running a finger along the black tattoos around his arms. “Someone who saw me said that they saw runes appear on my skin before I transformed and I just want to know what happened to me and how I can keep it from happening.” 

He looked at her, giving her time to take the information in. He knew how crazy   it sounded. Like some bad draft for a fantasy novel. Sadly that was his life. 

The interior of her home was a blend of modern and old. Cream walls with exposed wood beams and shelves cut from whole tree trunks with the bark still on the exterior, accented by many, many plants in an assortment of modern pots. Some were geometric, some sleek black, some with little cat faces on.  The space between her kitchen and lounge was open - more of an archway than a doorway, and she could still see and hear him as she set about making a pot of tea. 

“I have heard of the blood moon making things incredibly difficult.” She agreed, focused on her task. Like the lounge and the hall, he kitchen was covered in plants. However, the old wood was swapped for crisp white marble and black iron. 

She listened to him speak as she set two mugs on a tray, mentally sticking pins in things she felt were important. However, when he mentioned runes she looked up, blood red eyes trained on his face.  “Can you tell me what these runes look like?” 

The magic behind the curse of lycanthropy wasn’t her speciality, but she’d read enough to have a good grasp on the subject. Glowing runes on the blood moon wasn’t something she’d ever come across. Could it be a spell? Who would have cast it? 

Jackpot. 

She might not get any sex tonight but money was always a close second and she could tell this one would be a repeating customer. The second Morgan spotted the necklace she knew the woman was interested in this occult nonsense. Now she just had to sell it well enough to keep her coming back.

“No time like the present. Unless you were out here looking for something?” Morgan gestured vaguely to the club and its patrons. Throwing her short jacket over her shoulder Morgan gave a wink.

“Shall we gorgeous?”

Idle small talk was offered during their short journey, mostly about what a nice night it was and an offer of her jacket if the paler woman was cold.

Some witches were adept in reading energy, and could sense a magic user from a mile away. Harley was less-so. She could pick up on certain kinds of magic with ease, or traces left behind, but she’d never had the gift of being able to meet a person and tell what they were.  ”No, no I wasn’t.” She’d known someone that could, once. They could pick a vampire out of a crowd, or feel the school of magic tied to an item just by being near it. It was an enviable skill, and in this moment she wished that she could get a better read on this woman. Another witch? A seer? A human with a hint of connection to her world?  Harley supposed she’d find out. They slipped into amicable conversation with relative ease, though Harley declined the jacket in favour of her poncho to fight off the night chill. It was pleasant, really. A short walk under a bright moon. 

When they came to a stop outside of what looked like a store, Harley rose her eyebrows. She’d expected to go to the woman’s house, or just somewhere quiet, but she supposed it made sense. It was a profitable business, and having a permanent location probably had its own benefits.

“How long have you been established here?”

It was rare that Harley took clients without meeting them first, but her contact had told her that it was urgent and that formalities could cost lives. So she’d waved her rule and agreed to meet him the very next day. There was the little problem of her home being difficult to find, charmed to be unnoticeable and impossible to remember the directions to, but she’d found a way around that quite easily. A piece of paper with the name of her road written on it, impossible to remember unless you were holding it. Any attempt to copy it down would come out ineligible - a mess of nonsensical letters and symbols. It was a matter of safety. 

She was currently stood outside, wrapped up in an oversized black poncho to fight off the chill as she scanned the street for anyone new. Sure enough, a huge man rounded the corner with a piece of paper clutched in his hand and a confused look on his face. The moment he set foot on her street the delicate writing on the paper started to run like fresh ink, until it was completely unreadable. 

The chunky heels of her boots clicked against the floor as she approached him, expression guarded as she looked him over, as if assessing. Tall, muscular, rough around the edges. Could easily overpower her physically, but didn’t look like he’d try to. Good.

“Hello, Bandit.” The words were soft, and she held out a delicate hand with black pointed nails. “My name is Harley.”

His hand dwarfed hers buts he shook it firmly and then turned, expecting him to follow. 

[ @frxgmented​ cont from here]

Still shaking off the droplets of coffee from his arm, the young wolf hissed as he tried to accommodate to the change of temperature. Didn’t help that his forearm was already a bit red and irritated, and once he actually got to see the ‘damage’, the tiniest little whine slipped past his lips. 

The voice of this girl however brought him back “Huh? Ugh..Y-Yea, i’m f-fine..!” he answered quickly, momentarily stumbling over his words. Yup, apparently it was coffee that got spilled everywhere. Very milky, hot coffee. Needless to say that it also made a mess. “C-Crap-…! I-I’m so-sorry, I-I-I-I wasn’t looking where i-…!”

“…Lemme buy you another. P-Please?”

Had it really hurt him? Part of her wanted to reach out and sooth it with a simple spell, but she wasn’t stupid enough to start using magic on a complete stranger when it wasn’t life or death. Unfortunately, he’d have to bare it. 

Oh, but the offer to replace the drink was sweet. As was the apology. Poor thing could barely speak. Harley was usually incredibly wary of strangers, but he seemed so non-threatening and easily flustered. How old was he?