#chrp.open

One thing Lucas will probably never get used to is how cold Scotland summers were. Back home around this time of year, he’d probably be laying on his floor with all the windows open, trying to tempt in a nonexistent breeze to make up for a long-dead AC. Now, he was shivering a bit as he stepped out of the water, grateful for a towel from one of the event volunteers, and looking around to find the coffee setup, or where he’d left his brother standing with Angel on her leash, whichever he might find first. Jumping from Bonny Bay instead of the beach was a good choice, at least, the swim to make it to the right part of the shore to join the rest of the festival had done a good job of keeping him from freezing completely, but still. Yikes. 

Towel around his shoulders and his dog at his side, he took a second to survey the coffee line, weighing his own impatience against the increasingly long wait. Nah. He could get all the free coffee he wanted back at the diner, and, more importantly, clothes a little warmer than swim trunks on a freezing cold beach. 

He stepped back, not looking where he was going and immediately paying the price as he knocked over a person who had been crossing behind him. He turned, holding out a hand to try to keep the person from falling, or at the very least minimize the damage by helping them up, “Oh, shit, sorry! Didn’t see you there.” 

Molly had a slow morning at home - those had become one of her most sacred routines since returning to Eden Ros. The first few weeks she felt uneasy despite being able to move back to her childhood home. The space felt enormously empty without Gale. But six months later, Molly had managed to begin to create something for herself in the cottage, around all of her mother's belongings. It was nice, or a "new" kind of nice that Molly had become accustomed to. She still felt like she was living in a shell of who she had been for the last thirty years away.

Finally, after lunch she mustered up the courage to head out to the Solstice Jubilee. A bundle of nerves seemed to settle in the pit of her stomach as she walked down main drag towards the start of a row of vendors. It was odd, feeling like such a stranger in one's hometown. Molly had moments that had her second guessing her choice to return altogether, but she'd rather cease to exist than chance running into Roger back in New York. This was one of her first big outings since returning - outside of a few nights in local pubs or burying herself (sometimes literally) in her work at Figheadair. Perhaps the nerves didn't have to make sense, and maybe a warm drink would help.

After a short meander down a row Molly found a food truck serving coffee. She ordered a Cortado and continued on her way, backtracking to a few of the vendor booths she had slipped past while in search of her beverage. It was no surprise that she found herself spending more time than she realized at a booth selling textiles and woven goods. With her coffee in one hand, her free hand reached out to touch a patchwork shawl. It was soft. "My mother wore one just like this when I was a kid." She spoke to no one in particular, and truly she hadn't meant to speak the thought aloud at all. Great - now she was talking to herself, she thought.

Chiara rarely opted to go out in the daytime like this, even with the solstice sun hiding behind some clouds and a light rain making it clear that it wouldn’t be too bad for her skin. One of the perks of running such a successful hotel was that she could make other people bring whatever she wanted right up to her rooms, and she wouldn’t need to even think about going out of doors. 

Sadly, “bring me an assortment of goods from around the city so I could peruse them and argue with you about the price” was a completely ridiculous thing for her to make her employees do, compelled or otherwise, so she needed to actually leave for this experience. Trailed by two of her more regularly-compelled employees, one holding a parasol to block the sun and the other waiting to hold whatever she might pick up, she was actually having a lovely time. 

She had no real intention of keeping any of this shit, but she liked to haggle, and it was always a nice little thrill to show her face around town. It gave the hunters a good scare to see one of the few vampires that had enough Chamber power to be almost entirely off-limits.

She stopped at one of the stands, running a finger over one of the goods. “It's a miracle anything manages to get sold at these prices.” It wasn't directed at anyone in particular, just a musing aloud to garner some sort of response, be it from the person running the stall or a fellow shopper looking for something worthwhile.   

         Now that the sun's stopped teasing all of them from beyond the clouds, fully tucked away to bed for the night, Allie couldn't be more grateful for the sweater she'd thrown on earlier in the day. The bonfire keeps her warm enough, and the sound of people chattering around her, friendly, and inviting. This is her favorite part of Eden Ros, she thinks, absorbing it as she sits here, quietly. But, maybe, Allie's only kept that way by the sweet carton of berries she produces from her little wicker purse, tied with a bow.

         Someone sits down near her, and Allie can't help but greet them with a smile, and a held out offering of the fruit. " Want some? I don't mind sharing. "

CONTENT WARNING: Nudity mention

The solstice bonfire had been reduced to little more than ash by this point, the music long since faded to echoes. Most of the festival-goers had already dispersed, and the few stragglers who remained stayed closer to Bheagain Beach. Bonny Bay was empty and quiet, save for the faint crash of waves below.

Aldora was alone.

More for the benefit of the others at the event than for herself. People these days were so... what was the word? Shy? Modest? Prudish, perhaps? About bodies.

It was a shame, really—bodies were works of art in their own right, and she had always been one to appreciate art.

Humming softly to herself, Aldora lifted the dress she had worn that day up and over her head before stepping out of her undergarments. Everything was folded neatly and set aside in a pile near the base of the cliff before she began the short ascent to its edge.

Being a vampire, she hadn't been able to participate in the morning dip. She had made peace with almost all aspects of being a vampire over the millennia—both the good and the bad—but the sun was something she still missed dearly, even after all this time. And though she'd never admit it, she had been deeply disappointed that she couldn't take part in such a charming local ritual. The feeling had gnawed at her steadily throughout the day.

But as sentimental as Aldora was, she had never been one to wallow. Nor was she going to let something as trivial as not owning a swimsuit stop her.

So here she was, bare beneath the light of the moon, standing only a few feet from the cliff's edge.

If she couldn't participate in the ritual, she thought as she backed up a few steps, then she'd simply make her own.

Then she ran.

Aldora sprinted toward the cliff's edge with a laugh she couldn't quite contain, pulling her knees to her chest as she became airborne. The thrill of weightlessness overtook her before she struck the sea below with a tremendous splash.

The water would have been cold enough to steal her breath, if she had any. A shock to her system that was almost painful in its intensity, and yet made her feel alive in a way she hadn't in a very long time. For a lingering moment, she remained beneath the waves, watching the bubbles rise around her as she sank, admiring the way they caught the moonlight in flashes of silver.

But the cold was beginning to make her muscles stiffen, and so it was time to resurface.

She swam toward the shore, a sharp shiver and muttered curse escaping her as the breeze picked up just as she emerged from the water. As she wrung the saltwater from her curls, she heard it—a faltering step and a sharp intake of breath.

It seemed someone had stumbled upon her.

A soft, amused huff escaped her.

"Lovely night for a swim, no?" she asked playfully as she continued working her fingers through her hair, entirely unbothered by the interruption.

After a moment, she turned her head to glance over her shoulder at them, her eyes shining with equal parts confidence and mischief.

"Or are you just enjoying the view?"

The smell of coffee and bacon wrapped around every customer walking through the main doors, 500 Miles playing softly through the speakers while the waitresses made sure everyone’s cup of joe stayed full.

It was a usual early morning: busy booths, the bell from the kitchen ringing, and Todd at the grill flipping pancakes, a towel over his shoulder and his flannel tugged up to his elbows. He added extra blueberries when he noticed the usual 8 a.m. customer sitting at the bar. One of the regulars — and he already knew they needed an extra bit of pancake goodness before heading off to work.

The customer had barely sat down before Todd was there with a fresh cup of black coffee and a plate of pancakes in front of them.

“The usual this morning?” His smile was faint, but already there, welcoming anyone in with carbs and caffeine.

Even while stacking dirty dishes and wiping down the counter, Todd’s eyes drifted for a second whenever the door rang with someone new walking in.

“Morning. Know what you wanna order?” Todd asked as they sat down, menu in hand, while he came over with a fresh pot of coffee.

when: Festival portion, Summer Jubilee

Thera licked the last of the grease from her hands as she polished off her secound fried mars bar of the day, quality calories if you were to ask her.

She was making her way towards the antiques section of the fair, more towards business and away from pleasure, though Thera liked her work. She liked the thrill of tracking down books and objects that held import to people who had long past or lost use for them. She pulled a wipe out of her back, she had long ditched the beach bag from her morning with Olivia and Fin back at her car, but her old beat up tote bag was similar in its tendencies to contain multitudes while still appearing small in size. While most used book sellers might not say they mind uncleaned hand, Thera had worked with old and fragile books long enough to know that they preferred clean, ungloved hands.

She hit her third stand before she happened onto something curious. The particular bookseller specialized in foreign language texts and the loosely bound tome barely holding itself together in the French section immediately caught her eye. The lack of glue and binding weren’t the only indication the book was old as Thera tested the fragile, yellowing pages of the text. Astrological symbols and footnotes had been penned into the margins as well, another tell tale sign the book was more than it meant to look to the normal eye.

Her smile widened when she reached an annotation of the Greek symbol Tua being intersected by Gamma, a clever curse if not put in the wrong hands. Thera turned, wanting to inspect the keeper of the stall, when her hands and the text slammed into a person who had materialized close behind her.

In a tumble Thera went grabbing for the text as the book fell in two to the ground, its fragile binding no match for the impact of the movement she had intended to be discreet. The apology fell out of Thera’s mouth as an instinct as she went clamouring to the ground to scoop up the book. “I’m so sorry, how terribly clumsy of me.”

Where: Stitch

The smell of salt, the sea that lingered in the bar, ingrained in the foundation. Some would turn their nose up at such a smell, but Louisa found it reminiscent, romantic even. It was a bitter sweet reminder of the life she lost. She was grateful for Chiara, for what she had given her and she never squandered her vampirism but in fleeting moments she wondered what it would have been like if she hadn’t gone to the coast that day, if the crude oil hadn’t filled her lungs , coated her body. Who would she be?

She has spent more time as a vampire now than her time under the sea. And in the grand scheme she was still young when it came to other vampires. She’d changed so much already in just over fifty years, what would the next fifty have in store?

Tonight she was doing one part of her job. Listening. If one just sat and listened to those around them talk you’d be amazed what you’d hear. The stigma that came with sitting alone quietly watching the condensation of the cold drink occur did bother her.