location: sparrow coffee

achara is not anxious by nature, she never allows her nerves to control her. but since the news of a murder, for once in a long, long time she's felt so restless. murders are hardly uncommon news in a town thats filled with different specifies fighting for power. granted, after years of rules and peace treaties, they would not expect it, anytime soon, and certainly not so publicly. clearly someone is trying to send a message, but to who? that's what has her up at nights because not even her loved ones are safe.

but one family had piqued her genuine interest, in their ambition and supposed willingness to make difficult, potentially cutthroat, choices. the moon's. over the years, ceridwen had become unlikely friends ( in as much as one could be when queen ) with the cailleachs and was a regular face at the small coffee shop they owned.

and with the latest revelation, of a murder, the queen finds it all the more imperative to make an appearance at sparrow. moving through the bustling shop, nodding politely to those that greet her, ceridwen hovers before the table hosting the eldest moon child. impatient words barked at her bring only amusement, not taken to heart like she might from a lesser person, bemused smirk alighting her features. "bad day ??" the nixie royal muses, seating herself opposite achara.

canting her head at achara's words, the leanan sidhe raises a brow but does not pry. her friend would share her source if and when she was ready to. "please-" adriana nods, dismay clouding her expression. "the more we know..." the better we can prepare. the sentiment goes unsaid but she feels it. if this will lead to a breaking of the treaty, she needs a chance to get her loved ones away.

         finn was late to work, the news they'd woken up to had shaken him to his core and the young male found himself staring at his bedroom wall in a cold sweat for much too long before he finally realised they were supposed to be getting ready for work. the young púca loved a party just as much as the next person, but because of his early shift he'd decided to leave a bit earlier and after reading that morning's breaking news he was almost glad he didn't stuck around longer. the idea of finding something so gruesome or being around at all when this could've happened too much for the brunet to currently digest. walking into work they were quick to apologise, especially after taking up that sudden free day recently they knew being late to work wasn't exactly employee of the month behaviour. "sorry, news." they said, waving their phone in the air as if that'd explain it. "just spooked."

a murder. ritualistic at that. adriana remembers well enough the last murders the town had experienced, and before that the war, she knows that any blood spilled risks becoming a tidal wave. her hands are steady despite the thundering of her heart in her chest, thumb scrolling over the article once more. there were so few details, not enough clarity. she was at least certain that it was not her daughter, or finn - but what about brynn ?? he was leanan sidhe. when was the last time she had heard from him ??

she's half way through finding the overseer in her contacts when her young manager walks in, looking visibly shaken. "no-" adriana shakes her head, stepping out from behind the counter towards him. "no apologies necessary, caro mio." the leanan sidhe says gently, hands reaching to cup his face. "i'm just glad you're alright." brows knit into a frown, lips pressed in a thin line. "have you heard anything more ?? i could not find a name-"

"don't worry, i've already given milo 'the look'" the púca chuckles, shaking her head. the bouncers at kings and queens were always fairly responsive; it took little but a disgruntled expression from her to have them throwing someone out on their ass.

grabbing a beer out the fridge ( she doesn't need to be told twice ), rory throws a glance back over her shoulder. "anything you need, eb ??"

"sometimes... i wonder what you think too." the nix mumbles, a small frown coming over his face before he shakes his head slightly. maybe he shouldn't have said that. "what do you want for dinner?" he asks, instead changing the topic at hand as he looks back at the other with a questioning look. "i'll cook tonight, i feel like i haven't been doing enough of that lately."

clearing his throat, he tears his gaze away quickly and stares at the page in his lap instead. the likeness is there but it needs the detail, the little things that make him art. pencil returns to paper, motion paving the way for delicate lines. i wonder what you think too. that gets his attention, eyes lifting to fix upon the other man again. what does he think ?? nothing that he can say aloud, that's for certain. "dinner-" he repeats, drumming the end of his pencil against the pad. "i'm easy. you do plenty anyway, pretty sure the flat would be a straight up dump if it weren't for you."

there were few things milo did when he wasn't at kings&queens or making sure mila wasn't getting into any trouble , and finding a table at sparrow with a book and a few hours to burn was one of them . perhaps it was him still trying to put together a puzzle no one had all the pieces to or it could be the lack of connection to the material . but milo found it increasingly difficult to find the concentration to read any of the words on the pages of the book in hand . he marked a stopping point by folding the corner of the page before setting it down and folding his arms on the table , milo closed his eyes and let out a slow exhale , trying to clear his head if not just a little . opening his eyes again he reached for the coffee mug before grimacing at the realization the contents had gone cold before taking a sip of it anyway .

pushing her way into the cosy shop, the brunette puts in her order and then looks around for a vacant table. hazel hues settle on a familiar face, sat alone with his head in a book. she hesitates for a moment, gaze lingering just a little too long, before he clearly notices the attention. shit. "don't leave on my account-" rory breezes, sliding into the seat opposite. "besides, i owe you a drink after last night."

"I don't know what you've been told but keep an eye out for my article this week. I can only promise you it'll be juicy," Indy smirks brazenly. They were always proud of their work, knowing just how much it took to get where they are in the first place. "And let me know what you think.. I worked really hard on it," they're sure to add. An obvious indication that they were also slightly sensitive to harsh feedback. Which they'd received on a number of occasions already.

the day was taxing, as they tended to be for ronan ever since his metaphorical beaching. despite the ache settling down into his old bones, he was reluctant to go home. the first couple months of his stay in afon vale has been spent as a miserable hermit. as his spirits lifted, he found it less and less desirable to fall into old habits—even if he was still a hermit, relative to the rest of the town’s population.

ronan had been steering clear of blodeuwedd forest for a while. he wasn’t particularly ‘in the loop,’ but he read the paper near religiously. he’d heard about the gruesome sight they discovered. it was truly a damn shame. aside from the cove, the forest had become one of his favorite places to relax. now, he supposed, it had a bit of bad luck associated with it.

but the sky was clear and the day was perfect for him: just on this side of cool, where he could feel comfortable in a cardigan. he had his bag and a blanket, his journal, and a bag of veggie crisps (another delightful human creation, in his mind—right up there with writing paper and whatever it was that eased his back pain when he took two tablets with a glass of water). oh, why shouldn’t he have a day out? he hated to think of himself as some defenseless little thing. and death had never particularly scared him anyway, nor did he often fall victim to superstition.

yes, he’d have a day out, and maybe he’d find one of those delightful little skinks that skittered up trees in the forest again, the ones with the spots down their backs. mind set, ronan took off on the paved path towards the forest. he was feeling better already, he thought, making his way down a set of stairs. maybe he could finally finish transcribing his travels in the indian sea, the passage in his notebook remaining unfinished for quite a while. he only wished he could remember—

for the first time in a century, ronan exclaimed “ah, fuck!”

he’d slipped while lost in thought, one of his crutches sliding off the step earlier than he’d anticipated and tumbling out of his grasp. he glared at it with malice from the top of the stairs. luckily he’d caught himself, his free arm hooked over the rail and his other cane still firmly in place, but he was stuck in an awkward situation. blasted stairs.

“maybe this place is right bad luck,” ronan muttered. someone passing by caught his eye.

“sorry,” he said, sheepish, “could you grab that for me?”

it is automatic, the steps that lead them through their side of town and towards blodeuwedd forest. the verdant space had become their stomping ground over the years, the place that they could go to think and feel without consequence. though with the recent news, there is an added intrigue that draws them there.

their interest in blodeuwedd is not limited to the recent murder ( although that had certainly reignited their curiosity ) no, they were more focused on the history of the place itself. while they were a relative newcomer to afon vale, it had not taken them long to learn the tales of the war of the species, many battles of which occurred within the forest that encircled and bisected the town. it's the occultist in them that routinely draws them into the trees, as if among them they might find the answer to the one thing they desperately want.

they are lost in thought, wandering the path less travelled, when they hear the uttered expletives fracture the cool quiet of the forest. they follow the sound and soon find the fallen man, grappling onto a nearby railing. "shit, dude-" their mouth falls open, unable to repress the nervous giggle that bursts from their lips. bright eyes flicking between the man and his cane. "yeah totally, one sec." they close the space quickly, grabbing the implement from where it has fallen, to bring it to his side. "do you need a hand or-" they're not really sure what's appropriate here and don't want to seem condescending.