wish granted.

When they were sixteen, Baz brought a stray cat into the house. It took their father weeks to notice its presence, took him weeks to realize that there was something small and feeble living underfoot, to the point that Baz had been so sure that he’d never figure it out at all. He’d let himself fall into a false sense of security, let himself believe his father would never know. And that had been wrong, of course, because their father always found out things like that. 

The surprise came when he didn’t mind it.

It would be good, he’d said, to have something to catch the rats. For all his faults, Baz’s father had been a health-conscious man, had been paranoid about sickness and disease. His own mother had fallen ill to something that had killed her slowly, he’d told Baz once, and the fear of such a thing sapping his strength had lived with him ever since. So the cat was allowed to stay, and even with their father’s permission, it had felt like Baz was getting away with something. It was exhilarating, it was exciting, it was joyous. 

Right up until the moment when it wasn’t. 

Right up until the moment when the cat had dropped a dead rat onto the bedsheets in Baz’s father’s room, until the moment that tiny corpse sealed everyone’s fate at once. Baz never found out what happened to the cat after that, never knew what punishment it had wrought for doing the very thing it had been allowed in the house to do, but they had their suspicions. It was through this that Baz learned you could be exactly what you were supposed to be and still be wrong, somehow. You could do what you were meant to do down to the letter and still do it wrong.

There was something almost funny about that, in a sad sort of way. The cat had done everything right, and it still wasn’t what Baz’s father had wanted. Baz had done everything expected of them, and they still weren’t what they were supposed to be. They were right and wrong at the same time, good and bad. And after a while, they’d figured, there was no point to it. Why try to do what you were meant to do when you were punished for it anyway? Why bother killing rats if your best case scenario was being tossed out in the streets the moment you killed one in the wrong spot? Why fight for the love of someone who wasn’t capable of giving it to you? 

People who knew their story often assumed Baz had given up on trying to be decent the moment there was a dead boy in their bedroom and their father’s rage was too big to get out from underneath. Even Baz sometimes cited this as the moment a switch flipped in their life, but it wasn’t true. It started with the cat. 

They gave up trying to be what other people wanted them to be after that. They stopped putting on a show, stopped wearing masks that didn’t fit quite right, stopped trying to force themself into other people’s clothes. They were who they were. For seven hundred odd years, in fact. And it served them well. It did. 

Until it didn’t.

Affection was a poisonous thing. It spread like tar throughout your veins, turned you black and burned you from the inside out. Baz knew, better than most, that nothing killed a person faster than love. But gods, nothing made them feel more alive, either. 

It was love, they knew, that made them who they were. It was love that drove them to kill their father in that fateful act of vengeance and grief, love that made them accept the offer of immortality, to live where Ailwin couldn’t. And it was love that found them stepping forward at that blasted town hall meeting, throwing their name in the ring. 

They’d lived for love. They might as well die for it, too.

Because they loved this world, they did. They loved this town, and all of its oddities. They loved the people they’d met here, even if ‘love’ looked different to a being who’d lived for centuries than it did to someone who only got eighty years if they were lucky. They’d lived a hell of a life here, within these borders. And they’d had a long run. 

The memories poured in as they thought of it, like a projection screen playing out with flickering faces of people they’d known here, both escaping town and already gone within the borders. Jonas and Blue, long gone now even if only months had passed since they’d seen him last. Marina, beautiful and lively and determined. Levi, bright and burning and still doubtlessly furious at them for this. Correy, all stoic and serious even when he no longer had to be. Crow, surly and short but fond underneath it. Ari, who’d do anything for the people she cared for. 

There were worse things to die for than this, weren’t there? There were worse ways to go. To live and die for love, to drown in the weight of it… Wasn’t that every poet’s dream? Wasn’t that what they were meant for?

The wind howled in their ear, and they closed their eyes as the ground shook beneath their feet. The world rumbled. The sky screamed. It was hot and it was cold and it was everything and it was nothing. Darkness rose up around them as the sun got farther and farther away, as if Hell was coming to meet them, to greet them at the door. 

The whole world was screaming, and they didn’t think it would feel like this. They’d always prided themself on their words, on their ability to craft cityscapes and lives out of a few curled letters, but there was no metaphor for this. 

It was abrupt, when it ended. All at once, not a slow fade, not like the way their father had described it for their grandmother, not like the light leaving Ailwin’s eyes or the way Jonas shriveled and shrunk beneath the sickness that took him in the end. It was quick. Baz couldn’t have asked for kinder. There one moment, gone the next. Wasn’t that what everyone wished for? Wasn’t that the only good way to go?

The ground stood still. The clouds dissipated. The world was silent. The world was there, still. And Baz wasn’t.

The arboretum near Hambry Park would always be one of Nicole’s favorite places in town. She cherished it not only for its beauty, but also for its sentimental value. She made her very first friend –her dearest friend– among those trees.

The walk to the botanical tree? Nowhere near as remarkable, however. A shiver ran down Nicole’s spine as she set foot in the cemetery. Although she wouldn't have to walk a far distance from her parking spot to the botanical garden, it wouldn't be an fun stroll. If she didn’t know better, she’d think someone planned for the cemetery to look gloomy every day. Today, it was covered in a thick dark mist, despite being surrounded by perfectly nice fall evening. 

Normally Nicole didn’t like to distract herself before making it inside the garden’s limits, but a foul smell reaching her nostrils stopped her in her tracks. She glanced down, lifting one of her boots. Maybe she had stepped— no, it was clean. So was the other boot. She considered ignoring it, a big ask actually, and just continue her walk, but a figure in her peripheral vision made her turn. 

After that, it was a case of putting two and two together. The smell, that wretched odor, was emanating from the other person in the cemetery, who had just made eye contact with her. Right? What else— Normally, Nicole would’ve kept quite. She was known to avoid conflict. She could’ve continued her journey towards the botanical garden. Except this person’s scent was… foul. Which was saying something, considering they were right by the cemetery. They could very well be ill, or worse…dead. She touched the tip of her nose, shrugging her shoulders before blurting out. “What the fuck?”

Nature walks were something Baz enjoyed more than people might expect. Most who knew them assumed they preferred the comfort of indoor life, and while they did enjoy being pampered, they’d been born in a time that was largely without most of the modern amenities people couldn’t live without now. Electricity was still a relatively new invention, and things like technology were still practically infants in the grand scheme of things. But nature? That had been around longer than Baz themself.

It always made for good inspiration, too. They’d sketched most of White Crest over the years they’d spent there, but the thing about White Crest was that it was always changing. More than usual lately, with the strange happenings about town. The fury had spent hours in the woods before moving on to the cemetery, sketching old gravestones with dates they’d been alive to experience. They were particularly distracted by their art today, carefully doodling without much care.

That was, of course, until the stench hit them.

It was an overpowering thing, heavy and putrid. Immediately, Baz’s nose wrinkled up with disgust and they shut the sketchbook quickly, as if afraid the smell might sink into the pages and make a home there. A quick glance around showed one other occupant in the cemetery, the other figure blocked from their view by the twisted branches of a nearby tree. She didn’t look like the sort of person who’d produce such a smell, but the scent was utterly undeniable. Baz made a face at her.

“You’re asking me? They do have showers here, love. You really ought to try one.”

Nicole scoffed in disbelief at their retort, even though, she had made similar assumptions. “Real funny” she grumbled, unwilling to discuss hygiene habits with this strange. All she wanted to figure out was why they smelled so awful. Though judging by the tone in their reply, she questioned if she should even care for this person’s well being.  A short dilemma, granted, as she knew better than to deal with this type of enigma all by herself. No, a team up was always the better option.

Nicole approached slowly, taking on the other person’s scent as subtly as could. It was rude to sniff, after all. Her apprehension towards them all but disappeared when she couldn’t place anything strange on them.  “Alright. So, it’s not you,” could anyone blame her for thinking it was? “And it’s not me, trust me” she added quickly, before the could interject. “So what the fuck is rotting out there? This isn’t the usual… aroma”. And maybe, if their conversation had started on a better note, she would’ve mentioned her past experiences with tomb raiding, but for time being, it was better to keep her crimes to herself. 

With the prime suspect out of the equation, Nicole began musing on other possibilities. Zombies? She vaguely knew their scent could be vile if not fed.  But she didn’t have enough experience to spot them or separate them from say, a trash bag. She paced around, eyes darting between the tall mausoleums and the tree branches that had grown alongside them. It was hard distinguishing anything immersed in the mist, but out of the corner of her eye, a shadow appeared. Covering her mouth with the inside of her elbow, she gestured to the creature. It was still partially hidden between tombs. An neglected animal, she considered, though a gut feeling strongly contradicted her thoughts. “Might be it” her voice alerted it of their presence, and instead of scurrying off like a scared animal would, it began to slowly approach them.

The fact that Baz was offended by the stranger’s assumption would come as no surprise to anyone who knew the fury. Truth be told, they had a habit of getting offended by most things. A large chunk of said offense was always for show, though. After a few centuries of living, you did learn to let things roll off you a little easier. But Baz had a reputation to uphold, and this reputation involved being utterly offended by the tiniest slight. They were very good at keeping it up.

Still, it was with curiosity rather than annoyance that they observed the woman as she stepped in closer, watching the way she subtly sniffed the air as she got close. The move proved that Baz had been telling the truth, of course, but it also allowed them to recognize that she, too, was not the source of the smell. The proximity to the stench remained unchanged even as the stranger drew nearer, a sure sign that she wasn’t the cause. “It’s not you,” they allowed begrudgingly, waving a hand in her direction. “It is an unpleasant smell, isn’t it? Certainly not the usual fare, though this town never smells heavenly.” It wasn’t even the rotting fish smell that had overtaken the town as of late. This was something new, and certainly not anything Baz wanted near them.

The woman seemed intent to figure it out, and Baz was content to trail behind her lazily as she investigated. They let her take the lead, of course. In cemeteries like this, things that went bump in the night were all too common, and Baz would much rather let a stranger be attacked than face such things themself. Before long, the pair had stumbled upon… something. It was difficult to make out what it was in the dark, though the scent was overpowering as they got closer. “I think we’ve found our prime suspect,” the fury mused, squinting at it as it approached. It was… Eugh. All right, it was horrifying. All pink and wrinkled, like one of those hideous mole rats magnified to a terrible size. And the smell! The smell was certainly the worst part. “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” Baz winced, “and I’ve seen multiple reality television stars the morning after a night out on the town. What is it?”

“You’d be right…” It wasn’t a hard observation to make, given the monster was now approaching them, carrying its stench along the way. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. But that was a inevitable, considering the town they lived in and the ground they stood on. Still, it was something unlike Nicole had ever seen. All wrinkles and skin folds (at least she thought it was supposed to be skin) with no real shape. Was there a real threat underneath it all? In no way did it look like it was seizing them, preparing to attack. It was difficult, she figured, to find any trace on intention in its faceless shape. Instead, the beast glided towards them as if he was meeting old friends.

“Hey! What if it can hear you? We don’t need it to be angry at us” Nicole chastised them, immediately searching for ears somewhere. In response to their second interjection, she turned around with furrowed brows, trying to decipher what they were saying. “Right…” she licked her lips, wondering if reality TV stars even existed in White Crest. Townsfolk would make for a more entertaining show than any of those TV personalities. However, she had no time to think about any of it since they were standing in front of a horrible creature, and that trumped beautiful TV people. “No fucking clue,” it was an obvious answer, and Nicole took a few steps forward, closing the distance. “I don’t think it has any plans to kill us, though. It might not even see us”. She was curious, as always, about any living being in White Crest, but it seemed… she might have just encountered the most underwhelming one of them all.

“It’s just… here” just like they were, having a stroll in the cemetery. Except it was stinking up the place as it went. Having settled that this abomination posed no danger to them, Nicole turned to suggest they leave it alone. But before she could even speak, the monster flapped one of its lumpy folds, akin an arm, and tried to reach for them. Nicole shuddered, bumping into her companion as she retreated. “Shit. Sorry”.

The closer the thing came, the more disgusted Baz appeared. They did little to hide their repulsion, nose wrinkled and expression scrunched. They even let out an overdramatic gag as the creature approached, turning their head away and bringing their fingers up to pinch their nose closed. “I hope it can hear me!” They exclaimed, raising their voice to further prove the point. “Maybe it’ll take the criticism to heart and find a shower!”

Despite the stench, the woman made a good point. The creature didn’t seem particularly interested in violence, even as it continued its approach. There was no underlying threat to the nature of its trot, no reason to think it meant any harm. The worst it could do, Baz assumed, was stink up their clothes. But of course, that was a fate the fury would very much like to avoid. 

“Well, it ought to just go someplace else. Perhaps the ocean, where no one can smell it.” Levi and Marina might have taken some offense to the suggestion, but neither was here to scold Baz for it. Before they could say much else, the creature… reached for them. Baz feld the woman bump into their arm as she scrambled back, and they followed suit, placing themself firmly behind her. If one of them was going to be eaten by this thing, it certainly wouldn’t be Baz. “Do something about it! God, if it touches me, I’ll burn this stupid cemetery to the ground.” 

Even if it could hear them, Nicole doubted this pile of gooey flesh had any sort of grooming habits. Disgusting, sure, but probably not by choice. What did she know, really? Maybe its whole purpose was to cause olfactory distress. Upon better inspection, it became evident that it was in fact, made out of real flesh. Her face wrinkled, new thoughts spinning in her head. How the fuck did this came to be?

Nicole held her hands up defensively, putting space between the creature and her. She had to give the stranger some credit for their conclusion, though. Not that she’d voice it out loud. It was possible, considering how everything in town was turned upside down, that it had been displaced from its natural habitat. Whatever good will they won with their assessment, however, was quickly lost as they stood behind her demanding things from her.

“Why do I have to do anything? You’ve hands too, no?” Nicole pushed, forcing them to keep stepping backwards. The further from the creature’s saggy, rotting arm, the better. The idea of arson made her scoff. She had enough experience with that to let it happen. “You’re a little dramatic aren’t you?” the lump of flesh continued to move, unaware of the fright it was inflicting. “Why do we have to do anything?” she muttered after a beat. Turning around, she grabbed their arm and pulled them away from the creatures path. She stood behind one of the gravestones, watching it slowly make its way. It really was just a pathetic little monster minding its business.

“Might give animal control a call… You think that’s a—” significantly less on edge now that they had put some distance between them, Nicole glanced at the stranger. “I mean, they don’t usually deal with this type of… animal”.  It wasn’t an animal, of course. But she tried to save face, even if she hoped this person wasn’t one of those who still pretended everything had some logical explanation in White Crest.

“My hands won’t be going anywhere near all that!” The fury allowed themself to be maneuvered backwards, wanting as much space between them and the creature as humanly possible. It wasn’t enough that they’d placed the woman strategically between themself and the blob — Baz wanted to be in a different zipcode from that wretched thing. Though they’d certainly lived long enough to see plenty of it, they’d never been a fan of things like this. Disgusting aspects of the world they lived in, things that smelled unpleasant and looked even worse. One thing they’d enjoyed about the evolution of human society was the move towards cleanliness. If they had to deal with things like this on a daily basis, they would have bought an island for themself by now.

At the (absolutely justified) accusation of drama on their part, Baz put a hand against their chest, doing their best to look absolutely offended. “Dramatic? You think I’m being dramatic? This thing is the worst creature I’ve ever seen upon this earth!” Probably not selling the claim that they weren’t being dramatic, especially not with how loud their voice had become, but the point stood all the same. 

Moving out of the creature’s path was certainly a good idea, Baz had to hand it to the woman. They scrambled to make sure that she still stood between him and it, even with the gravestone adding some added protection. The last thing they wanted was for it to brush up against them somehow, after all. “Why do we have to do anything? Because it’s a scourge upon this planet! Because it’s gross! Because I don’t want to live in the same place as it!” But the fury did relax a bit as the thing went on its way. 

“What’s animal control going to do? Catch it in a net? I’d rather call someone with a very large knife.” Knowing a hunter would be nice, in a situation like this one, though Baz wasn’t sure there were any hunters in White Crest who wouldn’t take offense to their… status of humanity. Still, it wasn’t as if there were many other people you could call for a thing like this. Levi might kill it for them if they asked nicely, but there was sure to be some sort of price tag attached. “Maybe you should try kicking it.”

Arms crossed, Nicole squinted at the creature. Were they perceiving two different monsters right now? “Okay, that’s not…” she tilted her head. Maybe from a different angle— no, still the same. It didn’t shoot anything, have fangs, or claws or wings. It was pathetic, really. So why not leave it be?  “Have you been around White Crest? cause fuck, I’ve awful news for you. Gets way worse than this”.

But yes, it was gross, Nicole conceded. Silently once again. She didn’t want them thinking they were making good points. “Hmm”. It wasn’t enough of a reason to intervene. This monster had barely any interest in them, it seemed. Was this stranger actually scared and just putting on a dramatic display? Nicole couldn’t tell how much of their act was real. If they were scared then maybe, she’d feel more inclined to actually help. Like she always picked up the spiders for Leah.

“Yeah, alright” she grumbled, begrudgingly. Animal control was pretty useless anyway. “I’m not killing it” Nicole scoffed at the mention of a knife. “It’s not bothering us. Except your eyes, I guess. And our noses”. And it was a good thing to never mention the axe she was carrying in her backpack. “I’m not— I’m not gonna kick it,” she doubled down. That’d be stupid. It’d be stupid right? To test the thing… Why did she entertain the thought for a second? This person was a bad influence with all their theatrics. “I’m not… going to do that” she began, hand mid air, stopping them from suggesting anything else. “If you’re that scared we— I can trick into going away. To the woods”.

“I’ve spent plenty of time in White Crest. I’d much rather face something that wanted to eat me than that.” It was, of course, categorically untrue. Not that Baz had been in White Crest for a while — that part was certainly the truth — but that they preferred deadly creatures to disgusting ones. For all the years they held beneath their belt, Baz was still something of a coward when it came to danger. But… yikes. That didn’t mean they liked seeing things like this. They’d need a few centuries of therapy if that thing came any closer, they were sure of it. 

Even Baz wasn’t sure how much of their display was for show and how much was genuine. It was something they’d learned early on in their life, before it became an immortal one; if you put on a show with enough gusto, you could begin to fool even yourself. And Baz was full of nothing if not gusto.

The show wasn’t having the full effect they’d been hoping for — if it were, this woman would already be killing the terrible creature and rescuing Baz from the stench of it — but it wasn’t entirely ineffective, either. Sending the creature into the woods wasn’t their favorite solution, but it was certainly far better than allowing it to remain out here in the open where Baz had to see and smell it. “Yes,” they nodded, not a hint of shame to their expression, “I’m terrified. Please, send it away. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

“Might wanna reevaluate those preferences” Nicole grumbled, mostly to herself. It was pointless to keep arguing. This creepy, horrifying sack of rotting flesh was probably worse than the apocalypse itself to them. She’d be the bigger person and respect this person’s fears. As ridiculous as they were, mind you.

She glanced at them as they spoke, lip twitching in annoyance. Nicole was exasperated by this stranger, just as she was in her inability to figure them out. They were playing with her, she was near certain of. Mocking her. But if they weren’t? Then, scaring it into the woods was a small thing to do for someone. Nicole could do that, couldn’t she? Brainstorming, her gaze had already returned to the creature when she heard her companion’s following sentence. She glanced at them, frowning deeply. What? The words sounded vaguely familiar. It had to be some sort of reference, going by context. But she didn’t have the time to access her very limited reference directory and remind herself why she had the inkling that this was some pop culture thing. “Yeah…okay. Fine,” she drawled, failing to inject the snark she wanted to.

But… How exactly was she supposed to do it? Lure it. Lure it— how? Did it eat? Did it see? “I…” Nicole shrugged, shooting the stranger a helpless look. Why did she have to get into these type of situations? Why did she offer? She rummaged through her bag, pulling out anything that appeared useful. A protein bar. Some change. Gum. Her flashlight. Bear spray. Could that maybe… ? She felt so stupid, coming out from behind the gravestone with— a can of spray in her hand. She covered her nose again, stepping more firmly. There was nothing to be scared of, but fuck if her eyes didn’t water as she neared. Hope hanging by a thread, Nicole pushed the button, spraying the lump with it and waited. 

“No, I’m very confident in my choices. Being eaten would be a far kinder fate than this. If it touches me, I’ll have to burn everything I own, just to be thorough.” Their tone was theatrical, their voice loud enough to actually draw the beast they were lamenting against towards them rather than scare it away. Baz, of course, was too busy being dramatic to make note of this.

In any case, they figured they wouldn’t have to worry about the beast long-term. This woman, as annoyed as she might be, seemed willing to scare it into the woods for them so long as they acted as if their fear was real and not played up for the drama. Baz stared at her as she studied them, showing no sign that they were being anything but truthful. She didn’t seem to catch the Star Wars reference — though she was young enough that she may only be familiar with the newer pieces of the franchise, like the ridiculously high budget television shows the kids were raving about — but they decided to let it slide. Given the choice between explaining a pop culture reference and being rid of the skin flap monster, Baz would much prefer the latter.

Though she’d have to figure out how to get rid of it first. The expression on her face told them that she wasn’t exactly confident in her ability to uphold her promise of shooing the thing away, and Baz inched back a little to put more space between the two of them just in case they needed to use her as a distraction to make a quick getaway. They watched, wide-eyed, as she fished bear spray out of her bag and inched towards the creature, leaning forward in anticipation just a little as she sprayed the canister. The world seemed to hold its breath alongside her as the spray shot out towards the lump of flesh, and then —

It scurried back, shaking what Baz thought might be its head as it worked to put distance between itself and the spray. The fury cheered loudly. “Do it again!”

Her jaw tightened at the mention of fire, again. Stopped talking altogether. She wouldn't even let this person joke about such stuff. She was a little bit traumatized, maybe. Instead, Nicole poured her energy on the task at hand.

Somehow, after the initial spray, the creature retreated. Baffled, Nicole examined the can, wondering what was inside that equally repelled a fleshy monster and a bear. And shit— there were more important things than spray ingredients to worry about, and her companion’s voice travelled fast to remind her what was at stake. She did as told. Because fuck it, it was working. And though it wasn’t the most agile of creatures, it crept away and away and Nicole continued to aim at a particular angle that would trick the lump into escaping towards the trees. 

By the time she had successfully guided the monster away from the cemetery, there was no spray left. She shook the can, pressing the button one final time until nothing came out. Just in case. After that, she waited, watching the creature’s behavior, making sure it wouldn't return. She turned towards the stranger, eyebrow arched. “There. You good now?” She huffed. Nicole still needed to make it to the arboretum on time, so the sooner she ensured that no further danger was lurking, the sooner she could go about her day.

She didn’t seem to like talk of fire, though Baz was too wrapped up in their own dramatic rambling to notice her discomfort. They were far too focused on the creature and her promise to dispose of it, far too interested in seeing whether or not she was successful. If she wasn’t, they would certainly grow more unruly. 

But that, it seemed, wasn’t something they needed to worry about. The bear spray, for whatever reason, acted as an effective deterrent against the beast, Baz’s hands clapping together filling the space with sound that only seemed to scare the creature more as the woman sprayed it again. Its movements were odd, unnatural, but so long as they were taking it away from Baz, the fury didn’t care much what they looked like. They watched as their savior continued to chase the beast until it was waddling off towards the treeline, trailing behind them both like a curious child.

Grinning as the woman turned back towards them, Baz flashed her a double thumbs up. “Lovely,” they confirmed. “You’re my hero, truly. A knight in shining armor! You put Christopher Reeve to shame!” 

Nicole stared at them, unblinking as her lips curved into a frown. Now, who was Christopher Reeve? Another reference, surely. But the one famous Christopher she knew, was Columbus. And they couldn’t possibly be… trying to reference him, right? That was pretty damn offensive considering— “I’m no hero” she huffed a humorless reply, almost certain she was still being mocked.

“Right… uh, so I’m gonna—” Nicole put the spray away, rubbing her hands awkwardly when silence settled in. “You keep doing— whatever it was you were doing,” she walked past them, making her way back to the path towards the garden. Only, and only because she had seen their reaction to the fleshy creature, Nicole turned, dropping the annoyance from her tone as she acknowledged them again. “Just… ah, be careful and shit. Not everything out there can be repelled with bear spray” she warned. That monster, whatever it was, had been inoffensive. Unlike the rest of the beasts lurking in the woods. Whether this person pretended otherwise or not. 

The premise was simple: Go to White Crest Central Station and assist confused travelers, all while carrying some warm, tasty baked goods. Sage has done it before. Countless times over the years. This time, however, she made sure to separate the warm, tasty baked goods from the warm, tasty baked goods with a little something special inside. 

Back then, in her favorite decade, no one had any problem consuming the latter pastries. These days, however, she was mindful enough to…appreciate the difference in taste. She heaved a sigh at the thought as they made their way to the station, a little sad and forlorn at the fact, The 60s were truly the best years of my life.

Sage exited the farm’s trademark van, which had the 60s decorated all over it, immediately looking around for “the charming, handsome one in front,” the person she had talked to online about this whole thing, two brown paper bags cradled by her arms against her chest. 

After a few hundred years of life, you found a multitude of creative ways to entertain yourself. Baz was something of an expert at it, able to find joy in the smallest of things. They weren’t sure how much of that came from immortality and how much of it came from being a poet, but they liked to think it was about fifty-fifty. 

Not that it mattered much. No, what mattered was that entertainment, and all the ways they found it. What mattered was whether or not they could convince other people to join the fun. It was always so much better when they could. Baz had always loved people. A little too much, if some were to be believed.

They shifted absently as they waited for their latest friend to arrive, eyes scanning the crowd. When they saw a pretty woman cradling two paper bags that smelled absolutely heavenly, they figured this had to be the person they’d spoken to online… or, at the very least, someone they could charm into giving them whatever it was she was carrying. With a charming smile, they moved forward. “Lovely to meet you in person,” they greeted confidently. “Those smell delightful. Which one is for me?” 

Sage just stared at the charming stranger for a few seconds, a warm smile on her face. It was as if she was trying to preserve the memory of his face in her head. Or maybe she was trying to remember a face she barely could, that of the person she was supposed to meet at this place. The flower nymph wasn’t quite sure which was which at that moment, though she just decided to wing it. After all the years she’s done the same, all the time she’s survived with just her smile and luck. What could go wrong?

“Charming and handsome one in front?” Sage chuckled, her delivery of the question somewhat vague in terms of its intended. Was she asking him? Or was she asking herself? Either way, she was always generous, so a delicious pastry for the stranger it was. She had already taken one out and was about to hand it to him when she remembered it had something else in it, something splendid, though not everyone appreciated the ingredient for what it was. “Oh, by the way, are you allergic to anything?”

“That’s me,” Baz confirmed with a flourish, clearly delighted at the description they’d given themself. They had a habit of… well, of saying anything that might serve to paint them in an attractive light. Seven hundred years earned a fury a hell of an ego, and they had a habit of learning on theirs. 

They reached out as the woman proceeded to hand them a pastry, pausing only when she did. The question wasn’t one they thought of often; as a fury, they hardly considered things like allergies. It wasn’t as if such things could kill them, after all. They thought back, trying to remember if they ever had been allergic to anything, but… Food had changed so much over the centuries, they weren’t even sure if any allergies they’d had in their human life were still applicable now. “I don’t think so, no,” they decided at last, taking the pastry and taking a bite without any further hesitation. The old ‘don’t take food from strangers’ rule probably wasn’t quite as important to someone whose only real weakness was decapitation, after all. “I don’t think I caught your name. Very rude of me, I know. I do apologize.” 

Sage raised a dainty finger in the air in a failed attempt to halt the man for a few more seconds but immediately stopped herself, curling it back down to join her other dainty fingers. With a quick wince, she watched him eagerly, curious as to whether the effects of the, uhm, special ingredient would work right away. Some people didn’t take long to experience the effects of the magical leaf. Others don’t even get affected by its more whimsical benefits. She even knew of a boy who only got into a brief fight with his bowels after consuming the same herb.

“That’s,” Sage feigned a cough, trying to remain as graceful and elegant as possible, even though she was clearly very excited at the results of his consumption. He did seem like he knew what she was implying online, so hopefully he wouldn’t explode into uncontrollable euphoria. “...good to hear.” She gave him a warm smile, intentionally this time, as a gift for their introduction. “I’m Sage Magnolia. What’s your name, charmer?”

Though they didn’t need to eat human food in order to survive, Baz did often indulge in it for the taste. They’d had plenty of gourmet meals throughout the years, dined everywhere from Italy to France to India to Thailand. Having lived through centuries of cuisine, they were pretty good at picking out distinct tastes within the food they were eating. So the woman’s special ingredient didn’t go entirely unnoticed. Baz had been expecting it, to some extent. She’d mentioned it, after all, in their online interactions. It was part of the reason why he’d agreed. Things like this were fun. Moreso when you were armed with the knowledge that nothing short of losing your head could kill you.

“Isn’t it always?” They agreed with a hum, swallowing the last of the pastry. It would be a while before it kicked in, they knew. They couldn’t remember if they’d always boasted a slower metabolism or if it was one of the many things they’d gained along with immortality, but it was certainly undeniable now. “Lovely name, Sage. I’m Sebastian, but I go by Baz.”

“Sebastian, hm?” Sage found her new friend a little too charming that she didn’t even try to weasel out of him his last name. Usually, while the rest of her kind used that to their advantage in less savory ways, to her, it was more of a defensive measure. Sage didn’t really do anything destructive, let alone barely hostile, since she found her people in the 60s. Anything unsavory she might do was usually a last resort, only to keep herself alive and safe and unharmed. “That is a fantastic nickname as well. Baz… I don’t think I’ve met another Baz before, certainly not anyone as charming as you.”

“Do you usually take trips down to the situation to mix and mingle with random travelers?” It wasn’t the worst way to spend some free time, Sage could at least agree with that. If anything, if she did that herself, perhaps she could convince more people to go back to the values of her favored time period, to put love over war once again, to deny all personal conflicts in favor of reaching compromises. It seems like a pipe dream, sure, but a better reality often starts from an innocent dream.

“Oh, they don’t come as charming as me. I’m one of a kind, I’m afraid.” Not entirely true, though not far off, either. Furies were less and less common these days, even in a place like White Crest. It had been decades since Baz met another. It was something they tended to take some pride in, privately. Being a rare specimen certainly felt preferable to being something as dull and common as a vampire or a zombie.

The question drew a thoughtful hum from the erinyes as they chewed on the pastry, their shoulders lifting in a shrug. “When it suits me.” It was their answer to most things, really; Baz tended to do whatever they felt like doing, regardless of anyone else. It was something that had worked for them over the centuries, a habit they had very little intention of changing. “What about you? Do you always offer strangers pastries with a little extra kick to them? I hear that can be dangerous, depending on the state you’re in. I find it difficult to keep up.”

“I can see that,” Sage giggled as she continued to watch him savoring her baked goods. Although she never took great pride in her baking, she knew they always seemed to satiate everyone who took more than just a passing taste. Well, most of them. There were a few who couldn’t take more than just a bite, and that’s always mostly because of the extra ingredient. She could never relate to that, though. Her first time had been very dreamy. Ah, that’s probably why.

“Me? Well, I’m a strong believer in making love, not war, you know?” Sage offered him a shrug, a warm smile still on her face. “Never judging books by their covers, always giving everyone the benefit of the doubt!” It helped that she has never found herself in dangerous situations before. The few times that she came close, something always bailed her out. Like when that warden tried to take her down and ended up going missing a few days later. Or when a creep tried to stalk her and ended up going missing a few days later. The Universe always protects. 

“Oh, well, I hope those dangerous strangers aren’t around here. With everything that’s happened, the townspeople deserve a break,” Sage giggled again but this time took a pastry for herself and sank her teeth into them, delighting in their freshness and fluffiness. Just the way she liked them.

She was charming, too. Baz didn’t often take an interest in people — it was an exhausting thing, after all, growing attached to someone only to outlive them by centuries — but already, they felt a firm fondness towards Sage. Perhaps it was the ‘special ingredient’ in the pastries making them a bit more open to such things, or perhaps Sage was simply easy to like. Both options seemed equally plausible. 

“Oh, making love is one of my favorite pastimes.” They punctuated the sentence with a wink, grinning deviously. They couldn’t quite say the same for not judging books by their covers, of course. The nature of a fury was to pass judgment, wasn’t it? After all, there was no vengeance without it. And as delicious as Sage’s pastries were, they couldn’t sustain Baz. They needed vengeance for that. Judging books by their cover was, as it turned out, a pretty important aspect of keeping Baz alive.

Glancing around as if to catch sight of the ‘dangerous strangers’ the conversation now centered on, Baz shrugged. “It looks like we’re safe here,” they whispered conspicuously. “Though I suppose the best way for the townspeople to get a break, at this point, would be to find a new town. This one doesn’t seem to offer breaks very often.”

“Oh,” Sage felt her cheeks turn red and warm at Baz’s devious wink. She’s made love before, sure, and numerous times at that, with numerous people even, and not just with men, but not recently. Things have been too…interesting for her to focus on that part of her whole lifestyle. Plus, it wasn’t the 60s anymore, so… Let’s just leave it at that. Sage continued to smile from ear to ear despite the initial surprise. “Well, I think you’re probably good at it, too.”

Sage squinted as she looked around, even though she didn’t even have any idea on how to find a ‘dangerous stranger’. Someone brandishing a knife should be very dangerous, but these days, everyone knows how to hide such a weapon, only taking it out when necessary or already close to their target. She reads books. “Hmm, that’s unfortunate but true, and even then, the next break could very well be this town’s last.”

Although Sage wasn’t as long-lived as most others like her, only having been around since the 40s give or take, she’s still seen the town evolve through the decades. Sure, she’s spent some of those decades in another part of the world, but she’s lived through the changes, and for better or for worse, the town has survived a lot. Maybe too much that it was now time for it to go quietly into the night. Or with a bang. Hopefully not with a bang. The town, not her.

“I’m very good at it,” the fury confirmed, still grinning. They’d leave things at that. If Sage wanted proof later of just how good they were, they’d be happy to show her. And if she didn’t, that would be fine, too. Baz had never been the type to take offense to that sort of thing, after all. 

She was right about this, too, of course. Eventually, White Crest would stop getting lucky. Perhaps it would come someday very, very soon, based on the way things had been going. They ought to make the most of things while they could, ought to enjoy their pastries and their lost tourists. Such things didn’t last forever.

“Let’s hope it still has a few good years left in it,” Baz replied with a shrug. “I don’t think I’m ready for the fun to stop yet. Do you?”

“Very?” Sage purred, fueled by the secret ingredient in the pastry she had chowed down on rather elegantly. The vada pav wasn’t just like any other pastry. To some, the glorious deep-fried potato dumpling, slapped in the middle of two bread buns, was called the Bombay burger. To Sage? It was home. “Well, maybe I’ll get to confirm that for myself one day.” Her mantra was, after all, make love, not war. It wasn’t just words sometimes. All definitions tend to apply.

“I don’t think anyone is ever ready for the fun to stop,” Sage heaved a sigh, feeling much more saddened by the mood-dampening nostalgia of her own losses. The decades have passed, but the feeling has never changed. Her longing for the good old days, her few good years, only intensified with each passing decade. Much has changed, except for her. She was still holding down the fort, holding on to values that were scarcer than a good lay. “Even when it’s already here, we still try to trick ourselves into thinking it’s not.” 

Sage heaved a sigh, and after a few seconds, realized she was perhaps souring the mood. “Oh, I’m sorry… That wasn’t very fun of me, was it?”

“Very,” Baz repeated, punctuating the affirmation with another wink. This, above all else, was the sort of thing they thrived at. Plenty of aspects of human interaction had been lost on them over the years, centuries of existing just outside the realm of being human causing a rift that was difficult to overcome, but this was something they were still skilled at. Baz could flirt with just about anyone. Usually, they were pretty good at bringing it home, too. “I’d be happy to show you. Just say the word, darling.” 

They hummed noncommittally at her statement. They weren’t sure it was entirely true. There were certainly some people who wanted the fun to stop. They clung to things like morality and ethics and let that dictate what they could and couldn’t do. It was all painfully boring. Not to mention exhausting. Baz was tired of it, was tired of a lot of things. After seven hundred years, they figured, anyone would be tired. “Don’t worry. We can bring the fun back, I’m sure.”

“Well,” Sage’s eyes widened in amusement while her cheeks grew hot and red. He was easy on the easy and very charming with his words. She couldn’t help but wonder what else he was good at, what specific things, and how good. Sage could only imagine, and although she has great imagination, she could feel her lips become wet with anticipation. Let’s just leave it at that. For now. “Maybe if you still have some energy when we’re done with helping strangers out here? These pastries aren’t going to distribute themselves, after all.”

She began to look around them, at each and every stranger that passed by, came close, wondering if any of them really needed help. Sage remembered when she was a confused traveler from before, though in another country. The first time, she valued the help that came unsolicited from the strangest of places. The final time? It all ended up much differently, and the help she received was more of a curse than a blessing. “Hm? If you say so. Shall we begin then?” Sage handed Baz the bag with the pastries with the secret ingredient, curious as to how he would handle it.

 “I’m full of energy,” Baz assured her with a grin, clearly satisfied with the deal. If she was interested in spending a little more time together when the pastries were all handed out and the people at the train station had all been helped, they would gladly offer her their company to do so. It would almost certainly lead to good times for the pair of them.

Nodding, the fury took the bag of pastries, humming nonchalantly. “I’m not sure the tourists will appreciate your special ingredient as much as I do. Are you sure these are the ones you’d like to hand out, Sage dear?”

“Hmm, you think so?” Sage was a little bit disappointed at Baz’s hesitation. If she was normal, she’d realize he was pretty much just being a decent human being. It was disrespectful to feed people things that weren’t prepared normally. These days, one needs consent before feeding another something with Sage’s special ingredient. But, with a very audible sigh, Sage surrendered without much fight. She wasn’t someone who indulged in force in all its definitions. “I guess boring old pastries, it is.”

Sage swapped their bags, bequeathing the pastries without the secret ingredient to Baz and holding on to the ones with the secret ingredient. She frowned at the thought of how the succeeding generations seemed to be less fun than the 60s to her. Back then, fun things were celebrated, not banned. These days, everyone seems to care more about labels and warnings and money and credit and allergies. Boring things. “Why even be a tourist if you’re not going to be spontaneous and have fun?” 

“It would certainly be a waste to give them to people who wouldn’t appreciate them, wouldn’t it?” For all of Baz’s faults — of which there were many — they did tend to be generally respectful when it came to avoiding putting people into situations outside of their control without warning. It was why they granted wishes with the disclaimer in front that there would be consequences involved. Sure, they might not go into detail on those consequences, but they did allow for that little head’s up. If people chose to follow through with the wish regardless, it was still their choice. Baz made a point of that. 

Taking the bag of ‘boring old pastries,’ Baz flashed Sage a dazzling smile. “Maybe we offer them the choice, hm? Some of them may be interested in fun. Those are the ones we’ll know are worth talking to.” 

“Hmm, that is fair,” Sage heaved a sigh, frowning. People seemed to have become much more complicated through the years that followed the 60s. Back then, things were much simpler, much easier. Now people have all these words and warnings and complaints. Why couldn’t they just remain simple and easy? Why couldn’t they just mellow down and choose to love, make love, and ignore everything else? To Sage, it was all very confusing and unnecessary. It didn’t help that she wasn’t even human, and most times, she wasn’t even a sober human. 

Baz’s alternative, however, piqued her excitement once more. Like a child, Sage began clapping and grinning, eyes wide with delight. “Oooh, oooh, that sounds like fun!” She watched him, nodding, and turned around to look for anyone who could be interesting and fun. There were a few that caught her attention but no one fitting her description of “interest and fun.” There were interesting faces, mysterious people that made her wonder, and there were fun faces, those with strange hair colors or flamboyant clothing, but no one that seemed to her both. Finally, she turned to Baz and shrugged, “You see anyone interesting and fun?”

For a moment, she seemed unhappy. Baz liked her well enough, of course, but they were still a fury, did still find unhappiness better than the alternative. Still, there was something else in their chest, too, an artist’s soul that had always been somewhat at war with the nature of the erinyes. They weren’t exactly relieved when Sage’s unhappy expression morphed into one of delight — it brought a certain level of discomfort with it, as joy always did — but they weren’t displeased, either. There was plenty of misery in the train station to go around, after all.

And chaos to be caused on top of it. Offering people a choice between ‘special’ pastries and mundane ones was sure to cause some fun, given the fact that those who took the former would be uninhibited in a crowded place. Baz grinned, glancing around the station. Settling on a woman texting on a bench, they nodded. “How about her? Worth a shot, isn’t it?”

Sage didn’t spend a lot of time outside the farm. At least not enough as any other normal person would. Not that she was normal. Or a person. But the few times that she did, she’d always find someone glued to their tiny phone, and boy, they’ve all become so tiny, the tiniest, through the years. Sage had a phone herself but it was not as tiny, not as cluttered with applications or features, and thus very outdated. Sort of like her. She sighed at the woman Baz had found, very unimpressed. “She doesn’t seem very interesting, or fun, but she’ll do, I suppose.”

Where was the woman’s tie-dye shirt? The fresh magnolia plucked this morning and nestled carefully in her hair? Interesting women wouldn’t be stuck on a bench fidgeting with a tiny thing. Interesting women, and men, would be playing a guitar, rousing the passersby with a communal song, and of course would not hesitate to try Sage’s baked pastry, secret ingredient and all. “Do you think she’ll even speak to us?”

Of course. At the end of the day, it all circled back to the lack of enthusiasm for a damn good time. Back in her day, everyone would just open their mouths and pop in whatever was offered to them. There was great faith, great trust, and definitely great love for all things unexpected. What a shame. These humans today seem so lost and claustrophobic. Easier for a flower nymph that’s still hung up on the 60s to say. Sage so often lamented what others would not even remember, did not even live through.

It was true, the woman hardly looked different than the rest of the people mulling about, but it was so difficult to tell these days. People had lost their taste for theatrical outfits that made them stand out in a crowd, preferring the same name brands and the same dull colors. It was a shame, really, but it did make things more interesting in one regard: every interaction was like a game of roulette. 

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Baz flashed a bright smile, sauntering over to the woman and sliding into the spot next to her on the bench. “Good afternoon, miss,” they greeted, and she lowered her phone to turn towards them. “Are you new to town?”

“I’m lost, actually,” she admitted, a sheepish smile on her face. “I’m texting my sister to see if she can track down a new train ticket for me, or come pick me up.”

“Well, if you’d like a snack while you wait, my lovely friend here has an assortment. Tell her what you’ve got, Sage dear.” 

With a bright smile, the warmest she could muster, complete with eyes shimmering with excitement, Sage offered the woman the brown paper bag of the perfectly normal pastries, all of which baked to perfection and without a hint of any special ingredient. She had taken Baz’s advice to heart, and to be fair, it did make a lot more sense when she thought about it, spending all those few minutes, maybe even seconds, it took to make her way close to their prey thinking about their exchange of ideas. “Here you go! Take one while it’s still warm!”

“Oh, uhm, is this free?” The woman looked a little hesitant at taking the offer, which was pretty smart of her, Sage would at least admit that. With everything that has happened in the past few months, and everything else that was still happening in town at the moment, a modicum of wariness was most useful. Sage nodded at her with glee, trying her best to charm the woman, or perhaps even guilt her, into her purposes. “Yes, of course! My name’s Sage Magnolia. I own the Namas-Tea Happy Farm at the outskirts of town, and these are, well, my little way of welcoming everyone to White Crest!”

In her head, it sounded pretty foolproof: A nice farm lady greeting everyone new to town with a brown paper bag full of warm pastries… What was there to be suspicious about? Then again, the woman was new to town, or at least lost in town, which wasn’t any different really, and that meant her guard was up in more ways than one. The lost girl hesitated for a few more seconds but Sage wouldn’t stop staring at her with that wide smile. Defeated, she awkwardly chuckled to herself and took one of the softer pastries, still warm, and warily bit into it, eventually succumbing to the deliciousness of the treat. “See? What did I tell you? Tasty, right?” 

“It’s a free sample,” Baz added helpfully, because that certainly sounded legitimate, didn’t it? Most people, like this woman, were naturally suspicious of anything ‘free’ in a capitalistic society. But add in the expectation that it was free in order to convince you to buy something later down the road and, suddenly, things made a lot more sense. 

Unsurprisingly, the woman didn’t seem to want to argue with free pastries any more than she had already. Baz watched with some curiosity as she took a pastry and bit into it, glancing over at Sage. After a moment of chewing, the woman smiled. “It’s very good,” she confirmed. “Thank you.”

Wincing a little at the slip, Baz nodded. “Sure, sure.” The woman would learn not to thank people in White Crest soon enough; whatever consequences she got from this display of gratitude were ones she’d earned herself. “Should we move on, Sage? Or was there more you wanted here?” They gave their new friend the chance to offer some of her more ‘exciting’ pastries if she chose to do so.

The woman’s positive feedback and display of gratitude made Sage’s smile grow ever wider. She gave her an excited nod but failed to realize what Baz was getting at with that second question. In her head, she thought he was just urging her to move on and share more of her pastries with more of the tourists and whoever else were around them. Sage was so encouraged by the woman’s reaction to her baked goods that she hyper focused on getting more of the same from the others. “I’m all good! Let’s find more people!”

Sage gave the same woman a final quick nod before doing just that, finding more people. With Baz’s assistance, she shared the remaining normal pastries until the brown paper bag they called home became empty. All that was left were the ones with the special ingredient in them, but at this point, Sage wasn’t quite sure whether it would be safe to share with others. Baz’s words from before, as well as the first woman’s hesitancy, made her realize this might not be the time nor the place for some lovely fun. It was a crossroads, after all, not an actual destination. People were more focused on finding their way out of there than actually staying, and her special bread felt inappropriate in that context. 

“Well, that was fun,” Sage chuckled to herself, shaking her head in a failed attempt to calm herself down and chase the excess adrenaline away. She then turned to Baz, gave him a quick look, before offering the remaining brown paper bag. “Here. This might be better left with you. I can make some more at the farm, and I’m pretty sure you’d appreciate this more than anyone else here. This was fun, Baz. We should do this again some other time.”

They may not have gotten to give out the ‘special’ pastries, but it was sort of fun to hand out the normal ones, too. While Baz might have initially come out with mischief on the mind, they found there was something nice about making people feel good, too. It was like art, but without waiting a few hundred years for your pieces to become relevant. It made them think that, perhaps, there was something in humanity worth keeping around after all.