#oddsanddeadends

Character: Adelaide Leroux Species: Fae/Witch Age: 28 Gender: Female Pronouns: She/her Occupation: Budding Journalist/Barista By: Caroline

Biography

Addie moved to Henrietta right after she finished her senior year at a high school in Louisiana. Her father opened a record store in town and Addie worked there during her first Henrietta summer. It didn’t take long for her to realize that it wasn’t just witches like Sage that lived in town, oh no. Werewolves, fae, and others inhabited the town, too. Beyond excited to find out all the town had to offer, Addie stuck her nose quite a few places it didn’t belong that summer but with her outgoing, friendly nature, no one really gave her a hard time. Making friends with whoever would talk to her, and even some of those she had to really push to talk, Addie soon fit right in with the rest of Henrietta.

Personality

Character: Alex Anderson Species: Witch ? Age: 29 Gender: Male Pronouns: He/him Occupation: Nursery Worker By: Tabs

Biography

The campground baby. This was the title that followed Alex around everywhere he went. He couldn’t even blame people for it. To say his beginning was strange was barely scratching the surface. In 1960, a baby disappeared in the middle of the night from his crib. Most assumed his parents killed him, being young adults who had made the mistake of going to the Holy Hills campground. In 1991, a baby appeared outside of the Holy Hills. Just a few months old, a local cops found him out of pure luck. He was brought into town, and while investigations were made, nobody had any missing child. He was fostered by a local family, and that was really where his story took a turn for the worst. He was the campground baby, the cursed child, and it didn’t help as he grew up and his own personal strangeness began to blossom. He heard voices that weren’t there, knew about things before they happened, spoke little and in riddle when he did. His foster parents told him to hide it. They already received strange looks for fostering *him*, they didn’t want the added stigma of him being special. So Alex learned to block it all out. He stayed by himself, avoided other kids, even the others in the house. At school, he kept to himself and struggled to keep up average grades. Forcing him to keep his otherness quiet was the least destructive thing his foster family did. They kept plenty of kids, mostly for the checks, all to pay for more alcohol. It was not a good home environment. It was the beginning of high school that things began to look up. He was sent to the school counselor, who happened to be a witch. She saw what he was right away and took him under her wing, teaching him about what he could do. He was not cursed, he was blessed with abilities. Suppressing them for so long had kept him dull and stupid, and as she taught him how to control them more properly, he sharpened considerably. His grades shot through the roof, immediately put into the gifted and talented program. He spent as much time as possible with the counselors family, finally finding hope for, if not a normal life, a good life. As college rolled around, Alex had his pick with his grades, and he went straight into medical school. The direction was easy, he wanted to help people. He wanted to go where he felt he could do the most good. He enlisted.  He was shipped off as soon as he was ready, introduced to a violently different lifestyle. Poor conditions, lack of supplies, men that had already been sick for weeks. His powers only made it worse, always hearing the pain with no escape. He somehow lasted two years until something inside of him just…broke. He stumbled away in the middle of the night after several men died from wounds in a firefight, wandering till morning. That was how he found an IUD. He was lucky enough that it didn’t take off any limbs, lucky enough to even survive. Not lucky enough to avoid any injury at all. What exactly happened is still a blur, but he woke up as a prisoner of war with a dent his head and an inability to shut off anything. He couldn’t suppress his powers, he couldn’t not think about anything. Simple things like breathing or blinking, he had to think about all of it at the same time. They patched him up just enough to stay alive and the next two years passed in a blur of hellish conditions and a mind that only slipped further and further down a rabbit hole. The rescue was unexpected to say the least, and he’s still not sure how they got him and the others out. He just remembers being told that he was a hero and he was going home. He didn’t feel like a hero. He was given an honorable discharge and several medals and shipped off back to Henrietta. Back in Henrietta, the label once again found him of ‘Campground Kid’, followed closely by ‘Disturbed Veteran’. The first few months he had no job and no home, living on the streets. It was one of the town wolves who eventually took pity on him. They cleaned him up, got him on his feet, helped him get a job. He slowly clawed his way to, not a good life, but a life. He got a crappy apartment, found a job at the local plant nursery where plants that had no thoughts or pain to share with him.

Personality

Character: Caiden Phillips Species: Witch Age: 35 Gender: Male Pronouns: He/him Occupation: Mechanic By: Katy

Biography

The first time Caiden used magic, he was 3, and his mother warned him to never let anyone see. It was just a bit of light, understandable for a toddler still frightened of the darkness around him in his room, but it was enough that she knew what would happen if anyone found out. Including his father. The first time Caiden killed someone, he was 16 and his mother had been dead for 12 years. He hadn’t used magic in 10 years, and while most of those things weren’t related, he couldn’t help but think of what his mother would say as he looked down at the body he had created. Still, his father’s voice was in his ear, telling him he’d done well, to come home and clean up and they would have a good dinner tonight. So he went home. Caiden was 20 when he used magic again, and had killed enough times by that point that he was far too used to it. His father had been training him as his own private soldier since he was a child, and Caiden had known even then that magic was too powerful to hand over to the man who couldn’t even look him in the eye. He was 20 now though, and he brought forth that bit of light again, laying in another hotel room in the dark. It was warm in his hands, and it seemed to cement the decision he’d only halfway made at that point. The decision to leave. Unsurprisingly, it was fairly easy to disappear. He knew, after all, every method his father would use to attempt to find him. He traveled, picking up whatever work he could, wherever he could. And he practiced. He found other witches, learned more about magic. He learned which part of things actually needed the fancy ingredients and the rituals, and which parts were mostly for show and peace of mind. He’s not the most conventional of witches now, more inclined to working with his hands than really using much magic. It’s been a little over fifteen years since he left, and Henrietta is just another stop. Maybe someday he’ll stop for good, but for right now this is a habit, spend a few months, a year, two years, in one spot, and then move on again. Attachments only get you in trouble, and even in a town like Henrietta, it’s better to hide the magic you have.

Personality

Character: Laurie May Johnson Species: Witch Age: 29 Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her Occupation: Palm Reader By: Jordan

Biography

Being the oldest biological child of a witch couple who ran a foster home for supernatural children, it was natural that Laurie May was going to grow up a bit quirky. When her mother was in the early stages of pregnancy with Laurie May’s brother Thomas, not even really knowing she was pregnant herself, Laurie May predicted that she was going to get a sibling—a baby brother. To her parents’ shock, she was entirely correct. From then on, her parents worked out that she had a very specific skill.

She was clairvoyant. Of course, her parents tried to teach her other skills, but she was uninterested. Laurie May became extremely interested in tarot and palm reading, which naturally made her a freak to the kids outside of her extensive family. But she developed thick skin and was definitely known as the weird kid who would scare people just to get a good laugh. And of course, she was very protective of her two younger siblings.

She tried out college for a while, and even got a degree in social work. Even with her job, she still ran a bit of a side business being a palm reader. But being a social worker took the spirit out of her, and she felt drained for a while. She loved helping people, but the work she did was very depressing. So, wanting a change in scenery, she quit her job, sold the business,  and followed her little brother Thomas to a small town with an established coven. That way, she could stay close to family and practice her gift.

Personality

Character: Sage Foster Species: Witch Age: 28 Gender: Female Pronouns: She/her Occupation: Owner of Odds and Dead Ends By: Caroline

Biography

7 years old.

She knew it wasn’t allowed but she didn’t care. Whatever silly seasons her parents gave her for avoiding Trixie Wilkinson at all costs meant nothing. Trixie was 9 years old and quite possible the coolest person Sage Foster had ever met in her entire life. Sometimes her annoying little brother tagged along and ruined their fun but she often put up with it just because Trixie was still there. The trio spent hours out behind the abandoned mill down on the outskirts of town, jumping from platform to platform, spooking each other from behind doors, and causing typical childish mischief. With one difference: this was inter-species play. The Wilkinson children were werewolves and she was a witch. This friendship was forbidden by her coven and yet, here she was. Sage didn’t know, though, during their final moments of play, that it would be the last time she saw the Wilkinson children outside of school for a very long time. 

When she arrived home, her father was waiting on the porch for her. She smiled her most convincing smile and walked up. “Hi, dad!”

He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Why were you with the Wilkinson kids again? You know you’re not supposed to play with them.”

Sage just blinked, trying to come up with a lie but she wasn’t fast enough. “Don’t tell me you weren’t. I did a locator spell.”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust and groaned. “Dad! They’re nice!”

“I don’t care if they’re nice, Sage. They’re wolves! Witches and wolves do not spend time together. End of story. You tell Bea and Trevor you’re —”

Muttering, she looked at the ground, “their names are Trixie and Mason.”

“Excuse me? I don’t care what their names are!”

“But—”

“NO. BUTS. Inside. Tomorrow, you tell The Wilkinsons you are DONE playing together. Understood?”

Defeated, “understood,” she walked up the front porch stairs and into the house.

10 years old.

Sage Foster was on her bed, sobbing. And not just 10-year-old sobbing, but truly, really, with reason sobbing. Her mother, the only witch in her life that treated her with a modicum of respect, was gone. And not gone, took a drive and moved to another state gone, but gone in the never coming back because of a spell gone wrong sort of way. Even at 8 years old, she was expected to have some basic magic skills under her belt — levitation spells for small objects, elemental control — but she didn’t. Her mother always nurtured her, telling her that it would come with time, practice, and focus. Despite her best efforts, the most she could do with a feather was make it wiggle around on her pillow. Her coven-mates were levitating cats at this point. 

Her father had always been the harshest on her lack of skills. He was a senior advisor within the coven and she was an embarrassment. Not only had he said those words to her face but he’d said them behind her back, well, screamed them really. Loud enough for her to hear from 2 floors away. Just because her bedroom was shoved into the attic did not mean she was deaf, especially when he was yelling as loud as he did.

In the middle of a crying lull, her bedroom door creaked open and a large fluffy black cat poked his head in, mewing softly. Sage reached out and grabbed at the air but the cat knew. He bolted forward, jumped onto the bed with ease and allowed Sage to pull him in tightly. “Monster, mommy’s died…” The cat, Monster, nuzzled Sage gently and mewed again, louder this time. And Sage broke down, yet again.

16 years old.

While it had been years since she’d spent time with the Wilkinson’s, she still saw them everyday at school. At first, staying away from them had been a game; she’d dip into empty classrooms or the bathroom to avoid Trixie in the hallways. All she had to do was look at Mason the wrong way and he’d bug eyed turn around immediately. 

Today, though, it was one of those days that nostalgia hit hard. Trixie was at her locker, laughing with another wolf from her pack and Sage couldn’t stop staring at her. Eventually, it was too much and Trixie marched over, slamming her foot into the ground. “What do you want, Foster?”

“What makes you think I want anything from you?”

“You’re staring at me like you have something to say.”

“I have nothing to say to a flea ridden mongrel.”

That drew a snarl from Trixie as she stepped at Sage. Suddenly, a hand was on Trixie’s shoulder, pulling her back. “Hey…Trix…” Sage looked up and Mason was there, refusing to make eye contract with her.

“Let. Go.” Trixie was clearly upset that Mason had stepped in.

“We need to go. People are starting to stare. That was an impressive show but easy…” Trixie jerked her shoulder away from Mason, snarled again and bared her teeth, fangs glinting in the unforgiving hallway lights. Trixie turned sharply on her heels and b-lined for the exit to the parking lot.

Mason eventually relented, soft eyes landing on Sage. Smiling, Sage just shrugged. Mason shook his head and took off after his sister.

17 years old.

In just one calendar year, Mason Wilkinson had changed, significantly. While he had once been scrawny and kind of pathetic, he’d come into his own this past year. And Sage had certainly noticed. He was more confident, too, unabashedly making a point to intervene in her daily life whenever possible, if only to be an obnoxious pest. 

Today was no different. 

Leaning against her locker after first period, eating an apple in the most absurd way possible, Mason was there. Sage immediately frowned. “Awe, why the long face, Princess? I thought you’d be excited to see me. ”

“Move, mutt.”

“Ouch.” He kept a straight face, even if it stung a little. She hoped it did.

“Move.” She was smiling now, unable to stop the corners of her lips from turn upward.

“Ask nicely.”

“Move or I’ll spell you to the floor.” She wasn’t kidding, except, she’d never successfully cast that before. Or any spell, really.

“I’d like to see you try.” And there it was. The new smile. The one that made her stomach tumble. And God did she hate it. 

18 years old.

Three weeks. Three weeks was a long time to be late. She’d been two weeks late before; hell, she’d been 16 days late before. But 21 days? A full 3 weeks late on her period. And a few times during the last 6 weeks with Mason she’d been stupid, reckless, and fuck, so damn stupid. She buried her face in her knees, curled into herself on her bed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” She slammed her head against her knees. 

She needed to know for sure though, right? She needed a pregnancy test from the store. But she didn’t have a car and she couldn’t ask her dad to drive her. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Fumbling with her phone she dialed Mason and slowly explained the situation to what she thought might have been a dead line. After getting him to say that he would come pick her up, she stayed curled up in her bed. Mason knew the drill; he parked a block away, facing her house, called her when he got there and she’d start walking. All to avoid her father seeing them together. While he could still do a locator spell on her, the last time she had told her father she was seeing either of the Wilkinson children was when she was 7 years old. Mason wasn’t even on his radar anymore, at least, not right now. 

While she knew it took him over 15 minutes to get to her house from the trailer park, she had gone downstairs after only 5 minutes and good thing, too. Mason came flying down her driveway, gravel flying. She was so nervous though, that she didn’t even have the energy to yell at him for breaking their damn rules. 

Utter silence the entire way, but that was how she wanted it. Tears slid down her face and Mason reached for her hand. She immediately recoiled and pushed herself as close to the door as she could without opening it. Everything made her tremble: the thought of being pregnant at 18 years old, the thought of having to tell her father that she was pregnant at 18 years old, the thought of the look on Mason’s face when she told him she was pregnant at 18 years old. Spiraling wasn’t even an adequate word for what she was doing right now.

The car jamming into a motionless state was enough to shake her from her compulsive thought process; she threw the door open and nearly ran inside the store. She knew where the tests were: right next to the tampons she should have already finished using this month. But there were so many. Her heart was pumping 10,000 miles an hour as she looked at 2 shelves worth of pregnancy tests. She was going to vomit. 

Without thinking, she grabbed a pink box from the shelves of tests and went to the front, a hand absentmindedly on her stomach. After paying with cash she’d taken from her babysitting money, she asked for the bathroom. The older woman behind the counter offered an empathetic smile as she pointed to the back of the store. Sage simply nodded, flushed with embarrassment, before she turned and rushed off.

The directions weren’t complicated but there were diagrams and other warnings and percentages all over the document in her hands. She squatted over the toilet and tried her best to aim onto the little white stick. After successfully covering the test strip, and her entire hand, in urine, she waited. 180 seconds wasn’t a long time but right now, it felt like the clock was frozen. Did the second hand on her watch just…stop? No, she was losing it. Her watch was fine.

Before she’d even hit the 60 second mark, a large pink plus sign was evident across the readout window. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she immediately turned and puked into the toilet. Granted, not much came up; she hadn’t eaten in almost 3 days. She dragged her hand across her mouth and tried to breathe.

Now she had to put on a show. She couldn’t tell Mason. She couldn’t tell her father. This baby could not happen. This baby was a product of everything her father had warned her against for years — babies with the blood of more than one supernatural creature were destined to be a problem as far as her coven was concerned. Especially when half of this baby was Wilkinson; her father had been against their friendship from day one so a baby? That was absolutely out of the question. No, this ended now. 

She put herself back together in the foggy bathroom mirror, wiping the mascara from her cheeks and pulling her hair back into a high ponytail. She exhaled and nodded, “you’ve got this.” 

She walked outside, saw the concern plastered across Mason’s face, and that solidified her choice. She wasn’t some brittle girl who needed to be taken care of or saved. She was strong, independent, and plenty capable of handling this herself. She forced a smile and laughed, “looks like we’re lucky; someone’s smilin’ down…pass me my coat?” She gritted her teeth as she reached out.

“So…you’re not…?”

Sage laughed and shook her head. “All clear.”

Mason exhaled heavily and a smile cracked across his face; that fucking smile. That smile did this to her, to them. “Damn, Sage, that scared the shit outta me.”

He was scared? HE was scared? Her face dropped and she nodded. “Jacket?” Mason passed her the jacket through the window. “See ya around…” Sage turned on her heels and started walking. 

“Y-yeah…alright. I’ll hit you up later?” She didn’t nod; she didn’t turn back around; she didn’t acknowledge him. The tears fell freely, but silently. Tomorrow. Or next week. She’d handle this later. For right now, she just wanted to get out of the bubble that Mason Wilkinson slowly pulled her into over and over again with that smile, his willingness to do whatever she asked him to…fuck… It was a bubble she willingly wandered into time and time again but she was through with it — she had to be. 

Personality

Character: Jamie Samhchair Species: Witch Age: 25 Gender: Genderfluid Pronouns: All Occupation: Cook/baker/bartender By: Winter

Biography

FOG

*Clink!*, Another piece of glass hit the small tin. *Clink* One more.*Clink!* 

The final piece of glass fell into the tin. Jamie sighed. 

She managed to get the last of the glass out of her face and pressed the rag to her face to stop the bleeding. "I was really lucky really, i could have lost her eye if it had hit just a little lower."

     It stung. If it was the rag or her heart she wasn’t sure, but it stung. 

“It’s only going to get worse.” She thought to herself as she cleaned the wounds. “He’s only going to get worse. You don’t do this to someone you love.”she mumbled 

Jamie took a seat by the window. 

“But what am I supposed to do?” Jamie Asked to the empty room.

The room filled with silence. The only thing that could be heard was the soft peck at the window. Jamie looked and saw a crow. 

“Death, Death” The crow squawked through the window. Jamie laughed at that. 

“That’s an idea.” Jamie laughed. She would never. She could never, Right? 

“Lost.” The crow stated. Jamie opened the window and offered the bird some bird seed. 

“Lost sounds about right.” She ran her hand over its head. It nipped at her in response. She gave it a dirty look. Jamie paced back and forth around the room. The night before playing over and over in her head. Yelling, things being thrown, the sound of glass shattering, her screams. She shook her head to rid herself of the memories. It only made it worse.

She set an old tattered book down on the counter. Maybe she could do something to calm him down? Wasn’t there a tea her dad used to make when mom was upset? Or was that for a bad stomach? Actually that might have just been some water with baking soda in it. She was pacing. She had to do something. But what? She couldn’t go home. Not after the fight of her moving out. Gods, had she been so stupid. She should have listened and stayed. But she never got along well with mom and now that her dad was gone. She sighed again shaking her head. 

“Move out? And go where? I can’t just leave, everyone in the area will know something is up. I hate this stupid town. No wonder he wanted to move here. The whole damn place loves him. I would have to date the pastor’s son . I could do something but what!?” She was going to wear a hole in the floor where she was pacing.

“End?” The crow asked cocking it's head to the side. Jamie stopped moving. She looked to the bird. 

“End? End what? His life?” She couldn’t. She didn’t kill. Never let your magic hurt others. That had been what dad had said. But dad also said those you love would never truly hurt you.

The crow pecked at her book. She flipped through the pages. She found the page she was looking for. She almost wished she hadn’t.

She started simple. Dinner of course. Always a good place to start. She settled on a broccoli and chicken casserole. It was simple enough and something he would enjoy. She watched the clock as she baked. Two hours till he got home. she had fifteen minutes before she realized it. She started brewing tea. The tea finished just as she heard his old truck pull into the driveway. 

She wasn’t sure she had truly been ready for what happened. The way his body convulsed. How the bodily fluids seeped out of him, The sound of him fighting and gasping for air, The look of him reaching for her just before he passed out. She just stood there, emotionless as she watched. She wondered what she looked like from his eyes. Then again, maybe she should be glad she couldn’t. 

The cops had been easy enough to deal with. She hadn’t been home and he choked. Or at least that was the official story. Though they had questioned her about her eye more than once. 

Maybe they figured it out, maybe they didn’t. She wasn’t going to stick around and find out. She was already packed. 

She stared at herself in the mirror but she could almost swear it wasn’t her who was staring  back. In fact, now that she tried to think about it, when did she pack? Did she use magic? Her magic didn’t work like that.

She grabbed her head in pain. Why was everything starting to blur? What was she doing? She had to leave. She needed to leave. 

She grabbed her bag and headed out the door. Behind, at the open door, a crow landed. 

“Lost.” it cawed staring at Janine as she ran.

Personality

Character: Scarlet Species: Witch Age: 25 Gender: Male Pronouns: He/him Occupation: Tracker By: Maddie

Biography

Scarlet grew up with human parents and began to learn magic from a local witch , he moved to a big city and began to learn more magic on his own through old books he found in antique shops. He began to work for an underground agency trying to keep magic away from humans He does not have a favorable view of other beings since he has seen what they can do from his time in the city. But he is also willing to give everyone a chance, but he is always looking over his shoulder just in case

Personality

Character: Thomas Johnson Species: Witch Age: 26 Gender: Male Pronouns: He/him Occupation: [fake] Witchcraft By: Tabs

Biography

Thomas grew up in a foster home. He wasn’t an orphan, not given up or unwanted. Rather, he was one of three biological children of a witch couple. Two people who had been hurt by the foster system themselves, growing up freaks of every group home they were sent to. As adults, they chose to open up their home to similar children, seek out the supernatural kids who had nowhere else to go. They were good parents with big hearts and not enough time to go around. As a stable child with a quiet demeanor and no visible supernatural traits or special abilities, it was easy for Thomas to slip through the cracks.

He didn’t mind. He knew that the other kids generally needed them more, and he was always a self-sufficient child. It was easier to stay out of the way. He was eight when he found out that he wasn’t so normal. One of the new foster kids was afraid and hiding under their bed. All he knew was that he wanted to help take the fear away from them. He touched them, and the next thing he knew, he was terrified. The other child was not. They adapted into the family and learned to trust, while suddenly the people that Thomas knew would never hurt him seemed like monsters. It took some time to figure out what had happened, but eventually his parents worked out that Thomas had a very specific skill.

He could absorb fear. It was a process after that, more attention than he was used to, working out all the little details of his ability. He first learned how to work through his own fears, conquer them and move on. While his parents never pushed him to, he moved rom that onto working with other people to help them. Mostly the fosters kids and the fears and anxieties they inevitably had picked up in the system or their past homes. He had to learn how to control what he took, and how much. How to put things back, how to avoid letting his own fears backwash into the person he was working with. He could give fear too, it just happened. Only fears that he already possessed. Pass them along to someone else through touch, though that was not something he practiced.

His parents also tried to teach him other, more classic magic. He never took to it, though he did learn some of the basics, and how to put on a show at the very least. To say he was viewed as strange in school was an understatement. Most of the kids outside of his extensive ‘family’ avoided him, causing no disappointment on his part. He always found it easier to be alone than to be around other people, something that stuck with him past high school.

He didn’t bother with college. He smart enough, of course, but there wasn’t much point with his ability. He had the perfect opportunity to help people, he only had to be very picky about his clients. Hear from people first, listen to their situation, suggest other treatments before he ever used his own gift. The ‘business’ was lucrative, but left him with near crippling anxieties as it became a little too popular. Working through fears is a tricky business and could get overwhelming with too many clients. When his location was leaked, people started coming to his house, harassing him for help, until it became unbearable.