Hey, isn’t that SERAPHINE “SENA” DE BELAY-CANDELLA. I thought they went away for the summer? Did you hear they might be a HUMAN. What I do know for certain is that they’re 30, and they’re AGILE and RIGOROUS. They’re originally from SEVILLE, SPAIN and have been in FENRIRSWOOD for 3 MONTHS living in SUNE’S HARBOR. I wonder if they still work in CASINOS as a PROFESSIONAL POKER PLAYER. Best if they stay safe for now.

“Then you’re in the wrong place, cali. Police station’s that way.” Reza waved in the general direction of where he thought the police station would be, the smoke that escaped his cigarette danced in the air as he did so. He assumed that whoever she was looking for wasn’t in the hospital, or she wouldn’t have looked so lost the first time he saw her at the lobby. Or maybe she didn’t know which room the person was in, which made her pretty suspicious in his eyes, though he wasn’t one to judge. Reza took another long drag, feeling the burn of nicotine filled his lungs before he exhaled the plumes of white smoke. “Who’re you lookin’ for, by the way? Maybe I know them. Or I know someone who knows them.” He probably didn’t, or at least he might not recognise the name since he was never great with them. But if she had a picture with her, then he might be able to help, if he was so inclined.

“What does that supposed to mean?” Reza scoffed, looking at her with arched brow. There was never a time he had flown under the radar, so to speak. In fact, he had been living his life quite the opposite. It wasn’t like he had a choice in that matter, but rather than wallowing in things that he couldn’t control, he might as well roll with what life had for him. He’d curse the Gods that played with his fate all the way, but he’d make it work somehow. When life gave you lemon, and all that.

The trips she’d taken between the hospital and the police station were immense. The woman could go blind tomorrow, and she’d know every step to take there. Of course, he couldn’t possibly know any different, but it rubbed her the wrong way, nonetheless. All she kept hearing from people since her sister's disappearance was their two-pennies-worth as if she hadn’t been exhausting every possible avenue and using every resource available to find her. "Yes. I’ve been,” she clenches her jaw, trying to pass the bad taste he left with a drag of her cigarette. “I take it you’ve had better run-ins with them." She did not, in fact, put that much trust in the police. Unidentified people were more likely to stumble into a hospital than waltz into the station, but the main reason she lingered here so often was for the off chance her sister might so happen to check herself in. Hospitals had no way of knowing they were on a missing persons list unless told otherwise. Sena might have been patient with plenty but not this. To the point, she was tempted to use the one-time gift she was given by the rider for her own selfish reason. When asked for more, she lets her cigarette dangle off one corner of her glossed lips to produce a photo from her satchel purse, smoking just the same. “My sister Paloma,” through her mumble, the white smoke ripples into the air as she goes to hold the picture out to him. “It’s been just over four months since she was last seen.” This wasn’t anything new, but although she wasn’t hopeful, she took a chance.

His reaction was...amusing, to say the least. “It’s not a slight on you.” It had more to do with the hospital and them losing tabs on him if he had to sneak out for a smoke. It wasn’t reassuring to her whole plight, a reminder that this establishment was like any other, but she didn’t feel the need to say all that, settling with: “What did you think I meant?”

after recent events, the place was on fire from the inside, the ash was hidden to the humans and to those who did not care to dwell in the ruins of their own creation; werewolves and witches who had no idea what they were up against, humans who fell victim to something they never should have seen, nor heard, nor faught against; the woman before her was no different, she could’ve easily been torn to pieces; swallowed whole by a god that couldn’t be touched; couldn’t be hurt, couldn’t be killed. and how do you fight something that cannot die?

evanora had tried. and she had failed; again, an attempt that was witnessed by the woman. the witch did not take defeat lightly;and she did not care if her magic had been exposed to humans; they could fuck off, for all she cared. this place would burn to the goddamn ground, and she’d be damned if she got swallowed by the flames. 

“that’s because i never had the intention to introduce myself.” a dry reply; surprisingly colder than her usual response to someone who had bothered her unexpectedly. she lifted her gaze to meet the brunette’s, dark eyes studying her features for a short moment, “my name means shirt, when you know so much more about me.’ 

Her use of discretion, testing the waters, gave her what she needed to know. The young witch did remember her, and it wasn’t from their first encounter. Sena knew her name, after all. She knew all their names: Chae, Reza, Axel, Sunil, Evanora. Helia shouted them all out, except that of the woman before her. That, she learned through Reza, pleading with Hel to take Evanora away. The world just kept getting smaller, infuriatingly so, but grateful Sepphie was to the witch for doing what she did. Her survival was only made possible because of her and the others. Even if it wasn’t their intention, it’s what happened, and they paid a price that she didn’t in their bone and flesh. The only scratches she received were from the branches she ran past and the tree bark she climbed to escape a wolf. It’s why Evanora’s cold response wasn’t met with a snarky reply. She didn’t ask for any of this either. “That I do,” she acknowledged, features soft in remorse. “Not of my own volition, mind you.” After what the rider left them with, it was clear everyone involved was now bound together in one way or another, whether they liked it or not. She wasn't foolish to think otherwise, so she was trying to make do. "I doubt you'd prefer me to bother you about that.”

Joel inwardly applauded her discernment, “Good, that’s using your head,” she was right to question him, not that he was of any danger to her but it was good of her to be wary of any stranger. “In any case,” he tried to focus on his hearing to see if there were any other randoms around that he couldn’t yet see or smell, “I don’t know how much you know about these woods,” or whether she even knew about supernatural beings in general but it was certainly not going to be safe for her to remain here, especially not alone, better to bring her with him where she could at least be near a group of other people, “but full moons, kidnappings, better to be safe than sorry so how about we band together temporarily. I’m meeting some people just further in for a little bivouac and it’d really relieve my anxiety if you came along. I’d hate to leave you alone and then a few days later see your picture in the newspaper and realize I could have done something to avoid that so,” he casually took a side step as an indication that she should come with him, “What d'ya say?”

Isabella did not always have the best ability at picking up on others’ emotions, but she certainly always tried to understand others’ perspectives. She tried to do what she felt was the right thing in all situations, even now where she was trying to be helpful towards Sena. However, she could not help but sense that the help was not wanted and it was hard to know when the line between encouragement and simply being pushy was crossed.

Her lips pressed into a line with the response and she decided that being pushy in this case might not be the best. Sena had made it clear that she didn’t want to go inside. "Okay… well at least take the umbrella. I’ve got a backup in my office desk drawer so…” she trailed off, hoping Sene might accept the offer, even if she did not want to open up about whatever was clearly on her mind.

What happened with Sena was she didn’t know who to turn to, not when she lost her baby and certainly not now. Like a lost lamb, she had been drifting aimlessly with no one to check in on her ⁠— through some fault of her own. Because at the end of the day, she didn’t know anyone involved on any personal level, and thus, she slipped through the cracks. Had she known the woman next to her was the wife of Helia, the only one who noticed her the night of the Serpent enough to call her by her name, she might've been more willing to talk, but she didn’t. In that, Seraphine rarely did herself any favors, never taking shortcuts through anything.

Direct and firm were traits she could appreciate in others, however, and despite the fog in her mind, she wasn’t utterly unreasonable. Stepping outside of herself, she could see why the other approached her the way she had, even if the rain and cold were the least of her concerns now, so with a reluctant nod, she folds, accepting the kind gesture if it meant some peace.“Let me lead you to cover, then.”

Bodhi made sure to keep his notes short, to the point, but most importantly, to not let it distract him from what he was asking. He was hoping for some information that was important, something he could use. After all, things could have meaning without the meaning being known by the person who was sharing the facts. And he was researching the Supernatural direction - though he was certain the police in Fenrir’s Wood had done the same thing.

He stopped writing when she suggested he’d be more specific. He kept the grin from his face, he knew when people meant a certain thing. He knew when they knew. It was easier to spot now, easier since he’d come to Fenrir’s Wood, because in this city it was so woven in with the culture. It was hard to ignore, hard to get around, and once you knew what to focus on, you’d know the people who knew about the Supernaturals. “Alright, I’ll be more specific,” he said, closing his booklet, he could write it down later, he needed her to know she had his full attention. “I mean the strange stories of a Supernatural kind,” he said, which was still vague, but he figured if she wanted to talk about it, she wouldn’t be so quick to shoot him down.

Just a couple of months ago, Sena wore half a smile listening to her sister’s account of incidentally witnessing someone executing a miraculous feat. Whenever she thought of the story now, she was a far cry from such a reaction. Still, it echoed ⁠— eating away at her — because a part of her wondered if that had anything to do with the disappearance, especially after her sister seemed captivated by such wonder. Being the big sister she was, Sena had told her to stay away from it as it wasn’t any of their business to get involved in those dealings, but knowing her sister, when was the last time she listened to her heed? “…” Eying Bodhi as he closed his booklet only to double down, her guard couldn’t have been more up. While she didn’t like to be met with diversion or ridicule when she relayed her sister’s narrative, it felt on brand. At least with nonbelievers, it was their honest reaction, and she could only assume supernaturals reacted the same to save face. In other words, she wouldn’t be shocked to find out she’d been gaslit to keep themselves a secret, but this? This felt strange. Then again, she had yet to withhold the tale from investigators. He was fishing, which was par of the course, but he showed up out of the blue to her. Was he trying to protect his kind by scoping her out to silence her? Was he only investigating? “I think you already know the answer."

“Well, if I don’t get out of here soon, I just might.” Reza wasn’t allowed to discharge himself on the account that he wasn’t fully healed. He already told them that he was fine, knowing the numerous test result that they made him go through proved that. But they claimed they were worried about the seizure coming back. When he explained that they wouldn’t as long as he was careful with using magic, they weren’t entirely convinced. And the conversation repeated on an endless cycle like that. It would drive anyone mad, really. He was planning on gunning it tonight, but seeing Chae would be alone made him hesitate for a moment. Maybe he’d come to a more decisive decision after a smoke break.

Reza grinned when the other conceded to his request, trotting along behind her to the smoking bay. Once he deemed that no one there would reprimand him, Reza turned to the other and asked for the cigarette. “So what bring you here, cali? You visitin’ someone?” Puff of smoke escaped his lips as he spoke, and the weight in his chest felt lighter with every inhale of nicotine that he took.

In the hospital’s smoking area, almond eyes cast down to trail over his arm and see how he was healing while she took out her engraved tin to hand him a bine. Once she finished lighting it, Seraphine lit one for herself, appealing to the arsonist inside, and took the first long drag. Before she could even stare off, the chirp beside her interrupted with a simple question — one she had the privilege of being asked because of him and the others —and yet, the woman stared at him for it briefly, wishing she were visiting someone. Had that been the case, then at least there would be an answer instead of this hell of limbo with days trundling by. “I’m searching for someone,” she revealed what felt like the world knew at this point but omitted to mention that she’d been checking in on him and Chae. It was the one thing she was willing to share about herself if it meant just one more person might have something to report, even if she expected the worst. They say motherhood is like walking around with a heart outside herself, and yet hers was forever outside looking, mourning, longing for what had been ripped from her. Now, the same question wasn’t asked in return, not even to pretend, knowing exactly how he ended up here. Instead, she rasped, trying for a small banter, “You flying under their radar doesn’t give me a lot of confidence to be perfectly honest.” It didn’t feel the same, sadly.

Helia chuckled, shaking her head. “Certainly not you,” she said with the tiniest laugh. But she was used to this, she hung around with far too many people who barely talked, who didn’t like to share things with her. She either wore them down eventually, or settled with the idea that she might never learn. It was alright, she had no particular right to know the stories of those around her. Yet, if someone wanted to be called her friend, she did expect at least a little bit, because it was sure to follow if they hung around enough, the spirits simply tapped into her annoying wish to know about people. “I have not, though I’ve been told Barcelona is a beautiful city, and I’ve always wanted to see the Alhambra.” She smiled, remembering all the pictures she’d seen. “However, I’ve always spend my vacation days on returning home to Brazil,” she explained. She gave some information thinking she might get some in return. “I’ve always wanted to get better at the language however, but instead I’ve been taught French.”

“Time will tell,” she presumed, leaving it in the air. The truth had a way of revealing itself, whether she cared to share it or not, be it in death or her vernacular. Taking another hit, the mention of Alhambra brought a reminiscent smile to her lips, thinking of the beauty awaiting Helia there if she went. Words alone rarely it justice, except the one excerpt on a plaque that stated: ‘For there isn't in life anything like the sorrow of being blind in Granada.’ Silent but listening, she felt a slight sense of solidarity with the woman despite having been born across the pond. Her relationship with Spain had layers. It was her culture by birth, the only one she ever really knew, as if her family had been there for generations, but that wasn’t the case. “Portuguese, then,” she notes, knowing they had an easier time understanding Spanish than the other way. “You have the head start, so there’s that.” Whereas it was Italian for her if she tried to listen. “I use to spend my summers in Seville,” she adds, a little sly in failing to mention it was her home, “but nothing comes to close Alhambra.” It was practically the eighth wonder of the world in her eyes. “Granada is worth it for the Moorish influence alone.”

Where — Outside Restaurant in Sune’s Harbor

It was 10 at night, and for Sena, that meant dinner time. Having been their last customer before closing time, she had tipped them well. While she wasn’t doing too hot during her poker sessions, plenty was saved to keep her going for a good time, but she couldn’t keep losing at the rate she was. As she stepped outside with her take-out, the fresh nightly air breezed across her skin, but distant was her stare. It took the ruffling of a paper bag to reel her back to reality, and she looked to see that she was not alone. On a nearby bench was a woman who she had met, eating alone. This was the same woman who wielded magic at her fingertips. Her features softened, remembering it all again yet still unable to understand what had actually happened, "I never caught your name."

Reza wasdying out of boredom, and that was worse than facing a serpent God itself. Hetried to spend as much time as he could by Chae’s bedside before he was kickedout and was left to his own devices. Right now, he was trying to find someonewho could pass him a cig so he could have a smoke at the back of the hospitalbuilding when he noticed someone approaching him. It took him a moment for himto remember where and when he had seen her before. “¡ aye cali! Fancy seein’you here.” He flashed her a smile despite not quite know who she was as hesauntered towards her. He was famous, or infamous, depending on who’s opinionwas asked, so it wasn’t surprising that beautiful people would approach himdespite wearing the hospital pajama (he had requested to change from the gownhe had been wearing). Besides, he was a man on a mission right now.

He leanedforward when he made sure no one was listening in, brows furrowing together ashe lowered his voice, “you don’t happen to have a cig with you, do you? Helpa guy out here.”

His greeting to her only affirmed what she already knew: she had been more of a bystander than anything. She could have easily just not been there, and the result would still be the same for everyone involved. Still, no matter how she replayed that night in her head, never had she seen so much blood — savagery. It stained her mind. How this fool still managed to smile was beyond her, but she decided not to bring up anything, letting her role in this fade. It wasn’t because of embarrassment; that, she knew how to handle. Besides, it was the least of her concerns when she felt as empty as it was. This was something else entirely. It had been eating away at what little she had left, yet as he leaned in, his question brought out a knee-jerk reaction at his audacity. “Are you mental?” she chastised with pinched brows, knowing it’d slow his recovery, but the spark left as easy as it came. Inside her purse was the full monty: a metal case of cigarettes, a pocket ashtray, and a zippo lighter. A sigh then leaves her lips. She didn’t have much of a fight inside her, and in the grand scheme of things, what did it really matter? It was the least she could do. With a defeatist nod toward the exit, she folds, “Come on, then.”

Bodhi nodded, he wrote down just a few words, the most important ones. Sick, illness. He frowned a little as he looked at the words. He knew one of the deaths was Miguel, Reza’s uncle, a man who had disappeared a few years earlier, he hadn’t been a Werewolf, but he had become one just before his body was discovered. It was the type of information he shouldn’t have. ”Did you speak with neighbours or roommates?“ he asked. He put a little note on the end, a sign he’d made to suggest werewolves. What if Sena’s sister had been bitten, and then disappeared? It was possible… it was possible that that meant she wasn’t alive anymore. But he didn’t like to think that, because he didn’t like to give up on people before he could know for certain. ”Before the last call, did you talk with her? Did she have any enemies in Fenrir’s Wood that you know of, any strange stories she liked to share?“

Noting he jotted down a few things out of her statements, intentional in his writing, she carried on, preferring that over the squiggles of fluff that she was met with from law enforcement, “Neighbours say they saw nothing. Flatmate was out of town.” While she had no trouble maintaining eye contact, her gaze kept falling to that of his paper, rubbing the skin between her index and thumb as a subconscious move. "We talked here and there.” In hindsight, it wasn’t as much as she would’ve liked. They used to call each other every other week, but Sena had been distant toward everyone after her loss. Now, she felt responsible, and the burden was heavy. “I'm sure she had hers," came her answer after some thought, of the belief everyone had an enemy, "but I cannot name them." Or rather, she didn’t know them. Otherwise, she would’ve been happy to name names. “As for strange stories...it’s Fenrir’s Wood. You have to be more specific,” she tested the waters since she didn’t know where he stood. She didn’t need another person calling her sister a great storyteller and ‘very imaginative’ only to brush it off in the end.

Chae was a bit confused by her question and never one who had been good at concealing his emotions, always seeming to wear very obvious expressions in his eyes despite the lower half of his face being covered by the face mask, she may notice his confusion. English was his second language and sometimes things got a bit confusing or mixed up when his brain translated things and at least for him, it felt like she was asking the same thing but he didn’t want to appear like he was ignorant so he disregarded his confusion and replied hesitantly, “Both…?” Then he followed up by shifting, shoes scraping softly against the concrete beneath them, “If you don’t want to you can say that.”

Realizing she gave him pause, while not her intention, did not surprise her. It wasn’t the first time she was met with a look of uncertainty, and it wouldn’t be the last. Not everyone could keep up with her, nor did she expect them to. What was lost in translation could've easily been cleared up with no passing judgment from her had he asked. Despite her lingering accent, she was proficient in English now due to her father and love of theatre, but as a Spaniard, she knew what it was like to have it as a second language — the fumbles and jumbles of it all. “Both,” she repeated after him, just now understanding where she had lost him. It seemed her endeavor to find out whether or not he offered only to be polite was fruitless. She didn’t want politeness. She wanted a firm stance, and since he admitted he was better at architecture, she didn’t think it would be much of a challenge for him to draw her if he was passive about it from the start. Instead of trying to clear that up, she smiled, amused by the brief mismatch, and opted to say, “I know. I’ll be going now, and you should finish what you started.”

Isabella bends at the knees greeting the gerberian shepsky as it pulls on the leash, a hand goes to carefully and gently pet the canine. A warm smile spreads across Isabella’s face as at least someone seemed happy enough to see her. Her eyes drift back up to Sena with an almost sceptical look and a quirked brow. "Is everything okay?” she asks as she stands back to full height and her attention goes back to Sena noticing the coldness in her tone. “You’re going to get absolutely drenched out here.”

For someone able to maintain a poker face, her mask wore thin, very thin. However easy she made it look easy, spontaneity hardly made a good mix with her, though not in the traditional sense. Sena had a method to things, and after what she witnessed, her understanding of the world was warped in a manner she wasn’t used to. It was an existential crisis, questioning the rules of all of this. Werewolves and witches were digestible concepts to grasp when they kept to themselves; they were a secret society — at least on some level— to which she was no stranger. Yet if Gods existed, there was a broader context to things. What did that mean about her baby boy? About her sister? She was beginning to feel on the verge of something, and that's when Gallo neared her. For a long time, she carried this tinge of sadness. It seated in her eyes for anyone daring for a closer look, and in her tiredness, it surfaced more. Cursing at herself, she stares at the bottom of her red solo cup, listening to the droplets pitter-patting against the umbrella's fabric. "...Fine. Do what you want. I'm staying put." Even the thought of being indoors, surrounded by people, was something she couldn’t handle, let alone do.

Helia chuckled. “I can imagine, you do look like you’re far more youthful than you really care,” she said. She’d made a guess at the other’s age, helped by the spirits, who knew the turns of moons like she understood the calendar, though they spoke in seasons not years, and moons and not months. But she could easily translate their language. They perhaps spoke as much in riddles as Sena did, which made her smile. “Circuses and theme parks then,” she guessed. “You must’ve travelled all over for the first? I do hear an accent, you were from… Spain? Though I do not recall where in Spain.” 

“Who’s to say?” she kept some ambiguity. Time and birth years were tricky things to start from Ethiopia’s calendar to that of East Asia, especially when one involves Korea. Then, there were leap years and one’s own maturity. It fascinated her how it all was perceived. Smirking when Helia narrowed it down perfectly and continued to be right on the money the more she elaborated, Sena had to admit the woman knew her stuff. She tried to think back if she ever gave the impression she was open to sharing about her life. Sure, it wasn’t the first time someone brought up her accent to try to get to know her, easy conversation starter, but to make the assumption of Spain so early on earned the other a little more respect from her. “Clever. Have you ever been?”