#feywildstart

Yvette glanced down, alarmed. She set about trying to shush Fido, who had started barking and now for some reason refused to stop. “C’mon, Fido,” Yvette muttered, peering into her messenger bag for a treat. “What it is, boy?”

She glanced briefly in the direction of Fido’s barking. Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, sorry--sorry. Don’t mind him.”

If he was being honest with himself, the Rookery wasn't necessarily the sort of place Tyler and his friends would usually frequent. It was a speakeasy, and it was it was cool but it seemed a bit, well. Almost gimmicky. Almost, though, because it also seemed incredibly classy, in it's own way. Chandeliers hanging overhead, stairs leading to a seating area with a fireplace. But then there was the drink served in a teacup. He didn't really know what it was trying to be.

He didn't really mind any of that now, though, because the drinks were good, and him and his friends had had to start their night somewhere. Of course, his friends were late, specifically, later than usual. Part of him wondered if they'd gotten lost, but he hadn't gotten any texts, so there really was nothing to do but wait. As he finished his drink, his second drink, in fact, he turned to the person next to him.  “What’s that you’re drinking?” He asked, not the best conversation starter, but it was one, at least. And talking to people was better than pulling out a book - He would die before he got caught reading at a bar, even a strangely elegant one like this.

September first. Not technically a holiday, but Hazel almost felt like it should be for kids who’d grown up with the Harry Potter stories the way she had. So she celebrated with a hufflepuff t-shirt, owl earrings, and a deathly hallows necklace, announcing her nerdiness to anyone who knew enough to notice.  

She’d always felt connected to the stories. No, she hadn’t gotten a Hogwarts letter, but she had gotten a letter when she was ten years old, inviting her to Camp Forosnai where she learned she was different. That magic was real. Yer a Fey, Hazel. Didn’t have quite the same ring to it, but fiction was almost always better than reality. She’d hoped to find friends like Ron and Hermione but she’d been...different. The only Seelie. At least her adoptive family hadn’t been anything like the Dursleys. 

Tugging her phone from her pocket, she sent a text to her brother Heath Please tell me you’re available tonight for a Harry Potter marathon? She should have been paying more attention to where she was walking instead of her phone because no sooner had she hit send than she ran right into someone. 

“Oh, god...sorry, I wasn’t looking. Hi, uh... You okay?” 

Although Kaitlin was a girl made for summer, bare-footed adventures and days without end, she had to admit, there was a certain fondness in her heart for fall, in seeing the cyclic nature of the world come to a close. It was a reminder that the world was a living, breathing entity - and that they were all alive within it. Central Park wasn’t beautiful like the Seelie realm, but it held a charm of its own...a certain mystic romance about it. After all, there had to be a reason so many romantic comedies had set themselves here. A magic without being magic? No, she thought sadly, there is only one magic - and it is beyond my touch. 

Wrapping her hands a little tighter around her coffee cup (pumpkin spiced latte, of course), she stared out to the boats, bobbing tourist couples, breathing wistfully. “I know it’s sort of cliche. And very overpriced. But I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Raven had watched the hand-fastings with mild interest, his eyes darting from Gale and Gorta to Camellia and the Queen. It was an interesting turn of events, to be sure, but perhaps it’d work out for the best. Gorta wasn’t half bad, he supposed. Camellia probably wished that the court had shoved her parents together but that was a romantic notion that would not have worked out well for anyone -- no one forced Lacha into anything and he was glad that his court had known better than to try. 

The ceremonies ended and he made is way to the drinks, helping himself. “Thank fuck no one tried to force me up there. It’d be the shortest marriage ever, that knot would be cut and buried before the kiss was even over.” 

Forest hadn’t been down to the pier in at least a year, probably more. He used to like going out on the water with his friends back in high school, renting a few kayaks, packing a bag full of food, and sitting out on the water all afternoon. It didn’t feel quite the same anymore - though, granted, not much of New York felt quite the same anymore. Things used to be a lot less...complicated back then. 

He slowed down to a walk as he reached the edge of the water, using the neck of his shirt to wipe sweat from his face as music blared in his earbuds. He thumbed the rope band on his finger, a habit he’d picked up ever since it had been placed there, a constant reminder, as he continued along the pier, somewhat lost in thought.

Maybe it wasn’t...all bad?

Bumping shoulders with a passerby was the only thing that got his attention brought back to reality and he cleared his throat, pulling out an earbud and glancing back in the direction of the person he’d run into, “Hey -- sorry.”