She was right in a way. He had been born and raised on a ship on the high seas, his only examples being the crew, which contributed to his lack of manners. The vampire raised his hands slightly “You’re right, I’m sorry, but try to spend basically your whole life on the high seas and you will see that good manners is left behind”
-
Anemone was torn between two very powerful, conflicting emotions; the first being indignation, she’d been isolated from society herself for quite some time and hadn’t abandoned her manners, the second feeling was curiosity. She knit her brows together a moment, sorting herself out before she finally said something. “So have you just recently...um...pulled into port?” she tried the nautical language. Di it make sense to say pull in or did that make it sound like he was driving a car, or...
“Oh,” she said, blinking, “wait, are you merfolk?” it would explain the rudeness, a quality she was a little more understanding of in their kind.
He was at the bar, his arms resting on the counter while his blue eyes watched the environment, the light made them shine while the black eyeliner at the bottom made them even more blue. The bartender gave him his dose of rum, and he raised the glass to his lips, turning his head in another direction and spitting out the liquid “I asked for Privateer, this is Banks, don’t think I can’t tell the difference”
-
Anemone wasn’t much of a drinker, she could handle her drink to be sure but she really wasn’t fond of it. Most of what was offered at the bar couldn’t compare to that of the unseen world but the mead was nice and usually it was nice to come for a cup or two or three of it. The company at the bar was usually pretty nice as well, though this night it seemed she wasn’t so lucky...
“Eep!” she squeaked, recoiling in her chair, away from the drink. She frowned at the man, “there are better ways of going about all that you know, you don’t need to spit things out onto the floor in public places.”
Agnes Aster’s home, known as the Lamb house or the Aster house, was vacant for many years outside of the town of Cresthill. The potions and spells she wasable to cast using parts of Anemone’s fae body made her quite rich. Anemone inherited the house after Agnes passed.
The phone cord had wrapped around the young woman’s leg in her pacing. “Oh for heaven’s sake”, she grumbled, swaying on on leg as she tried to untangle herself. As her luck would have it the bell signaling a customer chimed just as someone finally took her off hold. “I’ll be with you in just a second”, Grace called the phone still glued to her ear. “No, not you Emilio. You, you sent me a whole case of broken bottles! How the hell am I supposed to put tonics in shattered bottles?!”
Many plants grew outside of Anemone’s house but alas, many had been ruined in the flood. Herbs that Anemone used in her tea and incense were gone for now, at least until the waters receded. It was a shame but all it really meant was that she would have to venture forth to get what she needed.
She wondered if Agnes ever came to this store, the thought brought a dark cloud over her but that was alright, better to entertain the thought than bury it. She entered the store and smiled slightly at the busy woman behind the counter, looking up at the bell. she took stock of her surroundings, feeling a surge of sympathy for the clerk, broken bottles weren’t of much use to anyone. She nodded at her with a solemn expression. She could wait.
She wandered up and down little rows with herbs, raising her hand to brush against bunches hanging above her. She came across some potted plants, well cared for but perhaps a bit limp. She couldn’t fix the bottles but her magic could help take the pressure off when it came to the plants. Her fingers grazed the leaf of the first, the colour became more vibrant and the flowers perkier. “What a lovely little plant you are with very pretty petals” she said, encouraging the blooms.
New York city was an assault on the senses after having lived in Cresthill so long. Still, somehow, despite the rough edges, the smells and loud sounds, despite what happened there it still sparked wonder in the fae. She was seated out by the pond at her little estate when she’d gotten the call. The cell phone on the little glass and wrought iron table buzzed and buzzed, something that really hadn’t happened before. She answered, slowly, carefully, raising the little device to her ear.
“H-hello?” she said.
Then she heard it. The sound of someone screaming at someone else in the background, the sound of so many cars rushing past. It was New York. She smiled as tears ran down her cheeks unbidden. What a beautiful horrible city.
“Hello,”she said again, this time with more confidence.
“Anemone,” the caller said, “Arden here, in this world, right?”
“Yes,”she said, wiping some of the tears from her cheeks, “that would be me.”
“Are you alright? You sound…” the caller trailed off.
Anemone laughed a little, “I’m…” not alright, never really alright but, “I’m well. very well actually.” She pulled up her legs under her on on the chair, curling up. “You’re from the New York frollick, aren’t you? I don’t know your voice…”
“I’m Birch, I arrived here late last year, you were gone but,” the caller said, “well, I heard stories.”
Anemone straightened up and stood, eyes bulging,”stories?! Oh no, what did they tell you?” That I was some pathetic weakling?
“I heard about what happened to you,” the caller said, “how brave you were.”
She furrowed her brows, “brave?”
“Brave…and kind. After what you went through it’s amazing actually.”
Amazing was never a word she would use to describe herself, “oh…um…well thank you,” she said. They were a fae, so the caller couldn’t lie to her, on some level they must have meant it.
“Don’t thank me just yet,” the caller sighed, “I was hoping you would come to New York, I need a favour.”
“A favour? What is it?” What could she possibly have to give? Except for mortal money.
“We just rescued two young ones from a coven of casters just outside of the city,” the caller explained. “We can’t get them to talk or eat. We’re desperate, we don’t know what to do…”
“I’m on my way,” she said, with certainty, without hesitation. “Text me the address. I will be there soon.”
“Thank you,”said the caller, heaving a sigh of relief.
Anemone smiled sadly, up at the sky, “don’t thank me just yet,” she said, “I will see you soon.”
Anemone rushed inside and packed a bag with a few necessary items, her phone, her wallet, toiletries, a change of clothes. She slipped out of her sundress and into shorts and a teeshirt. She put some socks on and some running shoes and left the house again, unfurling her wings and taking off. It would be a long flight, somewhat risky but it was the fastest way to get to the big apple.
Every hour or so, she would touch down in some forested area. She made friends with quite a few deers, left flowers at graves and took a nap up in a tree. Eight hours or so of small adventures later and she was finally there. Her senses assaulted, she had to laugh, this place was just so different from what she’d grown used to and with all of the space she’d had from it, the pain she felt being there was as bad as it ever had been but somehow it didn’t feel as big as it once had, maybe she just didn’t feel as small.
She visited a bakery and picked up a few boxes of donuts to bring with her before finally reaching her destination, a little redbrick townhouse. She climbed the steps and with a deep breath she rung the doorbell. It was early now, barely dawn, she was sure they’d be sleeping but the door was open in seconds. A fae face looked at her with desperation from beyond the glass door. “Are you Birch?” she said, “I brought donuts,” she lifted the boxes.
The fae opened the door for her and stepped aside, “Yes, please come in,” they said heading down the hall toward the kitchen, where a few more of their kind were waiting, some sitting at the little kitchen table, others on the counter and the floor. The place was much more spacious than the little apartment the New York frollick once occupied, she was glad for them. Birch turned to her, taking the boxes and placing them on the table, the sighed and turned back to her, “as you can see, hardly any of us can sleep.”
“It’s hard to rest when someone is in pain,” she said.
“Did you fly all the way here? Weren’t expecting you until noon,” said one of them at the table.
Anemone nodded, “yes, I did,” she said.
Birch’s eyes bulged, “but that’s such a long way and at night?!”
“It’s…hard to rest, when someone is in pain,” was all she said. There was a silence in the room, as they all understood exactly what she was saying, none of them could rest either.
She turned toward the stairs, “may I go see them?” she said.
Birch walked past her leading her up the stairs to a room with an opened door. Inside she saw two fae children laying on the bed together, facing away from one another, eyes half opened. They were tired, clearly, but afraid to sleep
Anemone walked up to the bed and sat down on the floor, crosslegged. She turned and gave Birch a nod, they nodded back and left them, going down the stairs.
Alone, she sighed and took stock of the room. The bed was wide, the sheets plain white, White curtains hung from the window on white blinds that let in some light. She got to her feet and walked over toward the door. “I don’t like to sleep with the door closed either,” she said, “I hate closed doors actually, closed anything. When I’m in a room with a closed door, my chest gets tight, the longer I’m there, the more it feels like I’m dying.”
She heard a rustling in the sheets. On the bed, one of the fae children, the one furthest from her sat up. He shook like a leaf, lip trembling. She couldn’t help but cry again, a single sob, followed by a smile, it was a single step forward, a small response but it was a response nonetheless. Maybe she could help them, she was doubtful but hopeful at first, now she was just hopeful.
If she could hide in a shell right now she proudly would, knowing that she was taking risks talking to spirits in public, but to get caught was probably the most embarrassing thing possible. But then she heard her question and furrowed her brow, “I, uh… oh no, was I talking that loud? I swear it’s always been a problem of mine,” she groaned, “but, uh, to answer your question no, I don’t. Don’t worry, I’ll find somewhere”
.
“No, no...you’re fine, you weren’t talking all that loud, it was just pure coincidence I walked by when you were talking...” she said. “Um...well, you can say no but I do have quite a bit of room at my house and if you needed somewhere to stay for a bit while you get on your feet, you’re quite welcome to use one of my rooms.”
“Perhaps it’s time for someone with the town’s best interests at heart to be in that position then.” She mused, the temptation to put herself up for it was huge, but she wasn’t sure if stepping into the shoes of a Mayor who was found dead was the best kind of omen. “I suppose we will have to wait and see, won’t we? You never know, there might be a last minute entry that shakes everything up and restores this town to the greatness we know it deserves.”
“Perhaps, regardless of who takes the position, we shouldn’t let them get in the way of making this place as good and nice as it can be,” she took the last shot, “because I for one, am super tired of being super scared all the time around this place.”
“Joy attracts joy.” Zachary repeated after her, something that he hadn’t really considered. His life had been misery since his sister’s passing, but he hadn’t thought that it might be because he was keeping himself that way. “I hope so. It seems like there is so much sadness around. Maybe you and I need to try and get that joy into everyone else and the world will start to pick up.”
“I think that’s a very good idea,” she sighed, leaning back in the seat, “but where to start? Have you ever seen buried alive? Cresthill is like that but with bad vibes instead of stuff.”
“To get an apartment I need a job and to get a job I need documentation,” she told the spirit sitting across from her. “I have 500 dollars, that was all I was able to muster with small jobs, do you have any better ideas?” she groaned, putting her head on the table. Feeling a presence nearby, she slowly looked up, “sorry, did I disturb you?”
She’d called in and made an order, a burger and fries with a soda on the side. She walked out to Debbie’s dinner and passed by a young woman talking...to herself? She paused and listened in, just to make sure she was alright and found, well, quite the opposite.
“Oh...um...no, not quite...” she said. “I just couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Do you maybe need a place to stay?”
“I think my mother would agree with that too.” Marie said with a laugh, her mother almost refusing to acknowledge the career that she had chosen to pursue. “I think it’s going to be incredibly interesting. I’m tempted to throw my hat in the ring myself, although whether I want to put myself under that much scrutiny yet I don’t know.” She mused, having not really discussed her thoughts about the election to anyone other than her cat. “Elections always end up far too messy. More messy than they should be - don’t you think?”
“From what I’ve experienced...yeah,” she said, “I don’t know that I would wish the job on anyone and it seems like most people who want the job want it for the wrong reasons...I hope though...that it isn’t a Marsh or a Windham...or anyone connected to them.”
Zachary’s eyes watched Anemone closely, the information that he had learned about the town only supported the idea that there was too much grief in the town already. He’d heard more of battles than he had of happiness. “But why? Why is there so much, here of all places? I know there’s a war between families but even still. It seems unnecessary.”
“Terrible things happen for no good reason,” she said, “it took me a long time to realize that there usually isn’t a greater purpose to it all, no grand design, it isn’t fate...not really, even if it feels like it. Misery attracts misery but...” she tried to smile, “but...joy attracts joy. It started for no reason...maybe it doesn’t need a reason to end, maybe we can all just...make it.”
Carsyn’s eyes darted over to the blonde. For a second she bit her lip, wondering if she should admit what she was doing. She could be vague, she decided. “Studying for a test. Or trying to at least,” she said, flashing the girl a smile.
“A test? Are you in school?”she asked, suddenly she really wanted to go but she was a little lacking in paperwork. “If you’re studying American history I may be able to help with that, I’ve seen quite a bit of it...”
Joseph couldn’t lie, he got a bit of a kick out of hearing this Seelie stammer.
“I hope,” Joseph said. “That’s true. And yes, there is a way that no one has to be hurt. That being said….” Joseph clapped his hands together and put the tips of his fingers to his lips, as if thinking. “Will I guarantee that no one is hurt? Hmmmmm…..” he hummed for a long time, and then abruptly nodded his head to the side, giving her a funny look. “No. I won’t.”
She was taken aback mostly by how she couldn’t reason with him or at least, she didn’t think she could. “Please don’t,” she said, “If you do, I’ll warn people, I’ll scream and yell and draw far too much attention.”
“I’ve never been one to drink mead, I tend to be a tequila girl through and through. Present event excluded.” Marie said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. Tequila had been her go-to drink for as long as she could remember. “Every day but today. I’ll answer to Marie, as well as sheriff.”
“Marie is much nicer than Sheriff I think,” she said decisively, downing another shot to clear them away. “So, there’s to be an election? What do you think of the candidates so far?”
As she apologized, Phillip shook his head and dismissed it. “I understand; please, feel free to stay.” He took a sip of his own drink. The man didn’t know who he could and couldn’t trust with the information that he had found; it wasn’t that he thought people wouldn’t believe him, he just didn’t want his reputation to be tarnished if people thought him crazy. This was a small town and word traveled fast when it needed to. “It’s hard to predict when a shop like this will become busy, and I don’t want to be the one impeding on comfort.”
“No, no,” she said quickly, “of course not...and I’m so sorry if I interupted something important...I mean it had to have been for you to close up your computer so fast.” She blinked and winced, “I’m sorry, it’s super rude to speculate like that.”
She cleared her throat, “um, anyway, my name is Anemone Arden, what’s yours?”
Zachary hadn’t heard much about the Windham side of the story - most of his information about the town had come from Franklin Marsh, which had omitted the fact one of his family members had killed what he assumed to have been regular humans. “Well I didn’t know that much about it.” He commented, almost taken aback with how violent this war seemed to be. “Do you think? That things will change, when the new Windham comes in?”
She let out a long sigh, “oh, I hope so...I really truly do...there’s too much grief and chaos in the air,” she said, closing her eyes tight and leaning back, “I know you cant really feel it but its there, all over everything like a greasy sheen.”
