#moonglowmagic

There was a strange irony in being back in the place he'd grown up, with so much changed, and yet some things had forever been altered. But perhaps the same could be said about him, and the fact that time never left anything as it had once been. Still, it was hard to look at the destruction that the Catalyst had left and not feel a sense of anxiety when Lunar Cove had stood as a sanctuary for so many years. By now the path to Poppy's back door was a familiar one, even despite the month that had passed since he'd last taken it, but the damage that clung to the building despite the obvious attempts at repair was not. It came with a stab of guilt -- guilt for not attending the ball and doing his best to keep the people he loved safe, guilt for being the one to place distance between them for once. Perhaps it was especially present because he knew that the council leaders were the main targets and there had been a fear in Poppy's eyes when he returned that had never been there in their youth despite all her attempts to hide it.

Maybe it was foolish to allow himself to hope for a future that they could never align on. He'd felt it that night, with Poppy clad in the sweatshirt that signified everything that he'd given up for her. But he wasn't eighteen anymore, and he knew that he hadn't been fair to her when he'd asked her to leave. The loss of his high school dreams; both of living up to everyone's expectations of him and the life he'd pictured with Poppy by his side shouldn't be her responsibility to bear, even if she'd been a part of the wreckage. And the sense of regret was acute, enough to wonder if this was what Poppy felt every time she'd left him behind, or if it didn't matter to her in the slightest. But after almost twenty years, he'd long ago stopped trying to erase what Poppy meant to him. While it had been easier to push to the back of his mind when he was out of state, it lingered now, enough that he didn't hesitate to knock and hope she'd let him back in.

Time had proven that there were some things he'd never be able to get over, and the way his heart still stuttered at the sight of her was one of them. It'd become a habit for his eyes to skim over every visible inch of skin for an injury or a mark, even when he was well aware he'd find nothing but unbroken skin. Now though, he could see some faint injuries and bruising, and his hands tensed to control the magic itching to heal her before even a word was said. "I just wanted to check up on you, I... heard about what happened with the bar and the ball. Is there anything I can do to help?"

When Will had moved from a big city to this tiny Rhode Island seaside town, he'd expected to receive less calls, that the fire-station might even have some peaceful days. He hadn't accounted for just how many people in Lunar Cove could make fire appear in the palm of their hands--or how many of those people were out of control teenagers freshly discovering their magical abilities. With the fire that had popped up in one of the farmer's market tents now extinguished, Will was making his rounds through the patrons who had been closest to the accident. Luckily, no one seemed to have been affected--except for a few very charred vegetables. "You alright, Miss?" he asked the woman in front of him. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

When Will and his sister, Rose, first stepped into the boutique, the thirteen-year-old still had her arms crossed over her chest and was looking suspicious. She was convinced that him agreeing to take her shopping was a trick--and she was right. He had brought her here specifically because he'd learned this was where the leader of the witch's coven worked and he was hoping that Rose would see a successful, fashionable woman and, through some sort of osmosis and inspiration, suddenly be excited about her powers rather than terrified. And he was hoping she'd agree to join the coven, something she'd so far been refusing at every turn.

Throwing (very small, very light) rocks at Poppy's window did actually make Will feel like he was back in high school. His basket had been a cheesy attempt at early 2000s nostalgia, complete with all the cliched aspects of some of his favorite romcoms--and he had many, being an avid connoisseur of the genre. That Poppy, his sister's best friend and someone he'd known quite literally all his life, had bought the basket seemed oddly fitting, like they really were flashing back two decades, back to the days when Poppy was nearly always sitting in his kitchen or sneaking out Reese's window. That he'd been very unclothed while she bought the basket was hardly that out of the ordinary either; Poppy had always seemed like such an integral part of the family, like another sister, that he'd changed in front of her before--whether by the pool or getting ready for football practice--without too much thought. That, and he had very little shame.

Now fully dressed, Will held a boombox above his head as promised and stood under Poppy's window, waiting for her to come down. It might have mimicked perfectly the sort of movie moment he'd been referencing--if his twin sister wasn't standing beside him. "I still don't know why you're here," he hissed. "Shouldn't you be campaigning somewhere, gathering your--what was it--oh yeah, two million dollars?"

The air was crips and heavy with the thread of rain as Laurel walked the streets of downtown, a steaming Daily Drip to-go cup in each hand. It was still early in the day, all things considered, but she knew if there was one place to find Poppy it would be at her bar, and it was a route she knew by heart. She picked up her pace once the familiar signage came into view, shouldering open the front door despite the illuminated closed sign, eager to be out of the chilly air.

“Hey,” she called out, seeing the back of a familiar blonde head behind the bar. Taking a moment to perform an impromptu balancing act while keeping hold of both cups, Laurel shrugged out of her coat. Finally succeeding without spilling a drop, she grinned as she draped the discarded garment across the back of an empty chair before approaching Poppy. “I got the feeling you were burning the candle at both ends, so I come bearing gifts.” She lifted one of the to-go cups in her hand for emphasis, accompanied by a small grin before handing it out to her sister.

He couldn't pretend that the past couple of weeks hadn't been rough. The shock that followed Poppy and Linden's birthday fading into a deeper sense of grief even as more questions came to the forefront. As grim as it was to say, the idea that there had been something more nefarious involved in a death of one of their own was not entirely surprising given everything that had already transpired. Altan had done his best to not let his emotions overwhelm him, especially when it seemed the most he could do as he watched Poppy shatter - the burden of everything falling on her shoulders. The position of Supreme wasn't something he envied, the strength she had to exhibit in times of crisis was not something he was certain he'd be able to replicate. But at least this time, she hadn't needed to go through it alone, even if all he could offer was a safe place to return home to.

But with the council meetings done, and Mason put to rest, he hoped that some semblance of normalcy and glimpses of happiness could be found. Given how her birthday had ended and how many nights she'd curled into him crying, Altan wanted to make sure she had at least one peaceful day. "What do you say we go to Happy Scoops?" He'd had a half-day at work, and the afternoon sun on his way home was luring him back outdoors even as his arms wound around Poppy and he placed a kiss on her forehead. Besides, if anything could lift Poppy's spirits, he figured that ice-cream was a worthwhile attempt. "It's too beautiful a day to spend inside."

He stood in the middle of the street as the party-goers of The Magnolia Inn poured out. He looked around from the outside porch where he was when the commotion started. He needed to get some fresh air—the stench of sweat and pheromones sent his ripper instincts into overdrive. Arturo took a moment to himself and then chaos erupted.

“What’s going on?” He quickly said to Safyie who was standing nearby. “Is it another attack?”

Sometime Sébastien wished he had a car. He only goes where he can walk and, even then, tries not to go too far from home. He was beginning to wonder if people recognised him. After all, Starlight Bar was pretty much the only place he visited, let alone frequented.

Sitting at the bar with a sigh, he gave the familiar bartender an awkward wave. "Hi," he was suddenly thankful for the small amount of alcohol already in his system, "I don't really know many cocktails off the top of my head - do you have any recommendations?"