#parastarter

Turned out, White Crest’s waters were a hell of a lot more dangerous than your average east coast. Colder too, than the range his family had called home way back when, but Dave was all sorts of used to the cold by now. While he’d walked the coast of White Crest as far as he could, if he was to find work here and be good at it, he also needed to know the water. The local seals had places they avoided hunting. It was moulting season now for them, so they were hauled out anyway, but it was good to know where to swim and where to play it safe. Find out where the fish gathered and where the seafloor was barren. 

And, apparently, find a dead corpse. She wasn’t moving, the white woman on the seafloor, near a coast not many humans went. He could feel her well before he could see her, the currents that curved around her unmoving body also curling his whiskers. 

Strange thing was, dead humans tended to float before they sunk, and when he swam close enough that he could see her, she didn’t look that long dead. Pale, sure. Nor could he feel her breathing, nor her heart pounding in her chest. Her body was silent in the waters, but it wasn’t bloating. Nor was she tangled in anything. Rusalka, maybe, which made him hesitate. Tricky creatures, but they weren’t normally... tangible, in the water. Aipoloovik were also an option, but she looked too complete for that too. Proceed with caution. Keeping his distance, Dave emerged from the surface to fill his lung with fresh salt air before diving down to her, circling cautiously as he felt her out with his whiskers. 

@mor-beck-more-problems

Cece had shown up at the diner way too early. Force of habit, she supposed. She sat her in car, the music playing quietly just to avoid sitting in complete silence. She watched people as people showed up, one after the other. Cece would not say she was necessarily suspicious of Morgan, but she was paranoid by nature. As unlikely as it was, Cece had to at least consider the possibility that this was a former member of the coven who had somehow tracked her down already.

But assuming that Morgan was who she claimed to be, Cece had to admit she was intrigued. Even as part of a coven, it was just an unspoken agreement that they did not use their magic in public and didn’t tell anybody the truth of what they were. To the public eye, they were just a bunch of weird, gypsy nomads. Cece needed to figure out if Morgan was claiming she was a witch in the sense that she burned incense and lived by her monthly horoscopes or if she truly was a practicing spell caster. Cece wasn’t sure what she would do once she knew, but if there were other witches in White Crest, Cece would like to know who they were.

Inviting her to move in had not been the plan, but Cece couldn’t really help herself. All she could picture was herself at sixteen. Being taken in by the coven when her own adopted family no longer wanted her. The coven had ended badly for Cece but that didn’t mean they had to end badly for others. Monsters or no, they had still offered Cece a home when she had none. The least Cece could do was extend that same olive branch to someone else in need. Besides, it wasn’t like the move would be permanent. Just a temporary roommate until Morgan figured out a new living situation.

Once the arranged meeting time came closer, Cece collected her things from her car and got them a table in the diner. She flipped through the menu absent-mindedly, taking note that they only served breakfast before ordering a black coffee. The place smelled of grease and syrup which wasn’t entirely unappetizing. It just served as a reminder that Cece was starving. But she could wait until Morgan arrived to order food.

While Cece waited, she flipped through the folder she brought to show Morgan. They weren’t professional photos but they highlighted enough of the home to give her an idea of where she would be staying. Cece had found a nice, two story cabin near the woods passed the East End. It didn’t fall in any neighborhoods, but on a road that lead directly into town one way or towards Harris Island the other. There were three bedrooms, two up on the second floor and once that Cece was currently using as storage on the main floor. Her grand idea was to turn it into an office space. The yard in the back was fairly small, cut off by the forest that Cece may or may not own a portion of. When she had purchased the land, she had really only cared about the house. All she knew was that the forest went back about half a mile before running into the river behind it.

Humans have such drastic change of emotions in such short time. Fascinating. This bushy haired male human was so happy moments ago and now he’s throwing a fit over some female he was interested in. But Jinaka understood. Emotions are fluid and often uncontrollable other than by some chemical intervention. It worked a lot like that with fantastical creatures too, but instead of chemical means, magic became involved.

Jinaka, the ever oddball, self-titled scholar, stranger conversation delving mirrorwalker had made himself home at a local bar for the last hour. Mostly watching, as he does, but the occasional bar-side neighbor would happen to rouse his attention. He was three drinks in but since alcohol does very little, he had partaken his own ‘bliss’ potion to ease any previous unease. Handing the bar’s cocktail menu to the man who had just sat beside (given he didn’t need it anymore), Jin grinned a pretty smile at the handsome face. “Hey there. Well, you’re certainly not human. From Insolitus I’m guessi- wait, don’t I know…”

Jinaka paused, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve sold potions to you before, haven’t I? Must have been going through a tough time, then.” His face fell to a somewhat solemn one. Perhaps a bit too forward, the mirrowalker wasn’t fully used to ‘manners’ in the way humanity knew it despite his age. “Can I buy you a drink?” And maybe sell you a potion? He mirrored the thought, holding back saying it aloud. For now. Besides, meeting a familiar face was always more interesting than a simple sale.

@yongsun-ia

@actual-fairy-sunshine-princess

Amane Wilson was a bit of a nerd most of the time but like most college students, she liked to let loose. She liked to live a little. What better way to live than to go out, dance and flirt with cute boys? When she was set upon going out, she pulled out her phone and invited her new friend, Aine...

***

“It’s the hottest new club in town!” Amane shouted to Aine as they made their way through the front doors of Le Soleil. Amane liked it because it was a clever play on words. It was French for ‘the sun’ but it was said like le soul, which made it a perfect fit for Crossroads. 

James spent his Saturday morning, in his room, going through papers, not really understanding why he had to work on such a day. He sighed heavily and took his glasses off. It wasn’t much later that he heard a knock on the door and pouted, jumping excitedly off the bed, hating it that his roomate was making him react like that. It was more than a month ago, whatever started and James could say that he didn’t like it at all. Or partly, when it was for his benefit. 

While Devon had been recently working double to make ends meet, he barely noticed if he did or didn’t have a roommate. His mind was solely on working and not really talking to anyone. Sure it wasn’t the best thing to do and he was down right stressing himself out but this week would be good for him.Getting away from Denver and enjoying the beaches and drinks. He really could use it. As he was in his seat on the plane he had one ear bud in listening to music and also texting one of the new guys that was helping him with the club. 

There was a sign of invasion if he thought correctly. Like the person next to him was either watching over or just breathing down his neck. Turning his face to the person he curved an eyebrow. “Is there something I can help you with? Or do you like hovering over?” Doubling his question as the sass was slipping off his tongue 

But this time it would not hit her unprepared. “It is too early to blame someone for what has happened. If this is a trick to lure us into fighting again it is working just well. We need to focus, save the children if they are still alive. They need to be our number one priority. After all we turned to one another for protection!” She shook her head, fighting the visions that appeared in her head again. Visions of blood, of the things she had done, the people she had to kill... She knew it was a mistake to listen to those angry voices inside her head again, she knew it would be the wrong path. But she could not stop herself. How could they do such a thing? Who dared to rise against them now? To take those poor little children and turn them into pawns for such a deadly game? Like they had done the pagans so many times before. Her anger burned like a blinding fire inside her and Brynja could not do something else than giving in. She was tired of acting as if she knew what she was doing, tired of everyone turning towards her for help, tired of thinking everything through so many times over and over again. The time for such thinking was not now. Now was the time to act. So she found herself giving in once more and her instincts began to take over once again. “I survived a rebellion, I lead a rebellion. I will not let these people destroy what I have built...” The former thief reached for her sword as her breath quickened. 

“We survived worse, we defeated worse. We will search for them now. And we will find them! Are you with me, or do you turn against me now? For everyone who does not help us on this quest is helping my enemies - is helping those I will defeat.”

Nala’s right foot searched for the first sturdy limb closest to the ground and hoisted her weight upwards with a grunt. She continued with surprising efficiency, carrying her balance from one leg to the other, until she was ten or fifteen feet above ground. As Nala turned to sit upon the branch she had just reached, she felt a searing pain slash across her left palm. “Ah, damn!” She flipped her palm upwards just in time to watch a violent red seep into the newly formed pale gash that started below her pinky finger and ended abruptly two inches from her thumb. “Shit.” She swung her backpack around to her lap and clenched it between her knees, scrambling blindly through its interior with her better hand for first aid supplies. Her fingers recognized the spongey feel of gauze, and she quickly pulled out the roll and wrapped it around her left hand. “What on earth could’ve gashed me like that....” And suddenly it hit her. One of the freshmen girls at school had been smacking her gum while rattling on about some old legend that had been passed around for what, like, decades now? Something about a special tree with really sharp leaves...”Oh right, the Suerton tree! That’s it.” Without thinking, she must have brushed her left palm against one of the leave’s flesh-cutting ridges. Not wanting to abandon any chances of receiving the good-luck that was supposed to accompany ownership of the leaf that gave the cut, Nala cautiously pocketed the blade using a sweatshirt sleeve-covered hand. As soon as the leaf was secured inside the makeshift vessel also known as Nala’s sweatpants pocket, panic began to trickle into the pit of her stomach; if Nala reached the top of the tree with one injury, could she reach the bottom without acquiring additional cuts? “Ah...damn.”  She was stuck.