question everything

@cardinalhq

[boris-themenace]

𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙸𝚂 𝙰𝚅𝙸𝙻𝙰-𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙸𝙽 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚝 ⸻ 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚝𝚠𝚘 ;  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 / 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 ;  𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚜 [ 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘 / 𝚚𝚞𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 / 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 / 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 / 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 ]

[innocentcurse]

"Oh, I'd much rather a slow day than an overly busy day," Stoker shook his head, contorting his face in a way that showcased the exhaustion that was felt when too many people were after his services at the cinema. "At least when it's slow I can just take a seat inside a theatre, you know? But when it's too busy, I can barely hear myself think," and even worse, Stoker wasn't able to properly converse with customers when it was too busy, which was his favourite thing about his job - second to getting to watch films on the clock, of course.

"I do - but there's a limit," Stoker pointed their finger at the other, as if they were giving them the most serious warning. "If we abuse it in any way," something that Stoker had been spoken about before in warning, "they'll take it away from us, and we're really only allowed to use them for sessions that aren't so busy - no premieres, sadly," they frowned in the most dramatic manner. "But that's all only when the managers are looking," they added in a whisper, leaning in to be sure Boris heard, then shooting them a playful wink after letting them in on their secret.

[boris-themenace]

.

"Well, that's just unfair," they frowned. "You're breaking your back for the business, and they can't even let you have premiere privileges?" With a quick little tongue click, Boris turned around and looked at the rather empty place. Being so precious about that little cinema was just ridiculous to them: none of the customers cared if an employee caught a bit of a movie while on the clock.

Boris smiled at him and chuckled quietly. Back when they worked there, they had the misfortune of working under a particular manager that seemed to get off on bossing them around. She had once found them trying to get a peek of a new release, just a couple minutes before getting back to work, and had ended up almost getting sacked. Sometimes Boris did miss working there –but then they remembered that manager, and was all the more happy to be at Rewind.

"Watched any good movies recently?" Boris asked Stoker, giving a small glance at the posters on the wall behind them. "I feel I haven't been to a recent release in ages." Which wasn't all true, since they had been there about twelve days ago. Still –long enough.

[blackcatxmagic]

Winter couldn't help but smile at Boris's enthusiasm. But he had picked up on what he perceived to be a little anxiety surrounding this while thing. "Hey," Winter said, "it's okay if you're a little freaked out. I am too." It felt okay to admit that because there was no harm in being honest about this, though Winter didn't tell Boris exactly why he was so nervous, that he felt like he was about to find out something he had once known but was now buried in his fractured memory.

"She would probably be okay with that," Winter replied, "but you'll have to ask her. She probably does remember more than I do though." Of course, that wasn't exactly challenging. He listened to Boris speculate, and far from being put off by it, Winter liked it because these were a lot of the same questions he'd been asking. "Don't you think everyone probably has the capacity for magic?" he asked, though somehow Winter doubted that; he felt like some people were just naturally more able to tap into magical energy, or however it worked. He was still figuring all of that out and might never totally understand it. "I think they might not want to let the world in on it because of persecution," Winter reasoned. "I mean...it's happened throughout history, you know?" He'd learned about it in school, and Winter remembered a lot of that. "And besides, people might use the powers for nefarious purposes too, so that's another reason to keep it under wraps." Shaking his head, Winter smiled at Boris and assured them, "Hey, don't worry about it. I like that about you, the intensity."

[boris-themenace]

.

"I mean, if everyone had the capacity for magic, then why isn't magic more commonplace? Why doesn't everyone know, at least of the existence of magic, and of witches?" There were arguments against witches' existence becoming common knowledge, of course: the danger it could posit to witches, the hysteria and thirst of power that it could cause... But Boris was fixed on the idea that it would be better for everyone if the truth was revealed.

"I totally get the issue of people wanting to use magic for their own evil purposes, and keeping it hidden from them because of that, but... I think that there has to be evil witches, too. I feel like the fact that witches must be like everyone else, you got some good and some bad." They felt it was out of the question, that just as there had to be good witches, those with concerns for non-witches and who saw them as equals, there had to be those who actively wanted to harm those who used to hurt them. "That's why I think... I know that witches were prosecuted, that they were hunted, that they... That they must not trust non-witches, not fully. But imagine –wouldn't it be better if we could all live together in peace? They could be valued members of our communities, having the power to protect us all, to save lives." To quote their favorite superhero, with great power came great responsability. If witches had the capacity to help others, why wouldn't they use it? Why wouldn't they share it? Was the fear they could feel of others hunting them down again enough to stop them from sharing that gift they had?

Boris smiled and shook their head. "You're one of precious few," they chuckled again. "But, I mean... Thanks."

[wcirdo]

Open starter for @cardinalstart Location: Hometown Grocers on New Years Eve

Paul was making his trip to the store quick as he knew they were going to be closing early tonight due to the impending holiday tomorrow. Even though his birthday was tomorrow Paul wasn't doing much to celebrate it. He took today and tomorrow off for his birthday not wanting to work the New Years Eve crowd as his own real birthday present to himself this year. Now he found himself with a basket full of the few essentials he needed to have on hand tomorrow considering most things would be closed and he planned to stay in anyways.

He now found himself in the bakery section looking over the various dessert options they had on hand. Paul didn't need a full birthday cake for himself but some sort of treat would be nice. He was in the middle of deciding as he felt the presence of another person beside him. "Sorry, am I in your way?" Paul asked not wanting to block the dessert case if they were trying to grab something.

[boris-themenace]

.

"Yeah –excuse me," they said quietly. Boris glanced at the other, then stretched out an arm and picked up a slice of what looked like not-very-fresh chocolate cake. They tossed it into their basket, where they had also put some Pop-Rocks, two beer bottles and a pack of cigarettes. "Sorry."

Once that was done they stepped aside to let the other guy pick whatever he had come to pick, but remained there. They stared down at the cheery garnishes on top of the cakes, colorful sprinkles and whipped cream and sour cherry candy, glowing bright under the blinding lights of the store. Chocolate was their favorite, but the vanilla slice was in a slightly better shape. The chocolate slice was already a bit whacked from throwing it into their basket so haphazardly... But who cared? Boris let out a sigh. They raised a hand and rubbed their eyelids. It wasn't even that late yet, but they felt exhausted.

They turned to the other guy again. His look made them smile a bit. Boris had always been a fan of the punk style, especially the do-it-yourself aspect of it. That specific evening, though, Boris hadn't their oversized jean jacket on, nor their ripped jeans, nor their combat boots. They had put on whatever they had at hand before leaving home, a few layers of sweater and coat and scarf, the camera bag, and the old broken leather shoes they used as slippers. Next to the guy, Boris was sure they looked like an unintentional mess.

"Cool jacket," they told him, gesturing to it. "You got it from The Closet?"

[pandemoniumfm]

         Sujin watched the other closely, over time he had gotten quite good at observing others, they seemed like a fun person and they were more than happy they just so happened to have run into them out of all the people in the store at the time. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Boris," they said, secretly hoping this could be the start of a new friendship between the two.

He made sure to keep a close eye on the other's lips as they moved, at what seemed like a thousand miles a minute, yet the young witch knew that was just because the other was formulating long sentences. Catching most of the important words to give him the context he needed to take part in the conversation, Sujin took a moment to think over his answer.

"I think," he started, sentence getting cut off as he wasn't entirely sure how to answer the other's question. "I think I prefer sweaters," they finally answered, before humming. A frown took over their face, he suddenly wasn't as sure if his answer was true after thinking over the other's argument. "Actually, that does sound nice," they looked down at the sweater they were wearing that day. No pockets, no buttons, plain, no fun pattern. Good point.

"So do you wanna attract a seagull with your cool idea?" he then asked as he remember the other saying what they were looking for exactly. "It'd be super cool if you could actually domesticate one," he nodded, mind going back to him own parrot. "If you find one, let me know, maybe they can be friends with my bird."

He could feel his voice straining, but was determined to keep talking tot he other. "I think I wanna look for a fun pattern too," he looked back at the other with a smile.

[boris-themenace]

.

"I mean, you can go both ways. This isn't really an either-or matter, sorry if I made it seem like it was," they said, then gave the sweater they had picked another look. "My favorite sweater's this one that has this checkered pattern, with blue and green. But then I was a complete knucklehead and put it in the washing machine, so it shrunk, and now here I am." Boris huffed loudly. They liked this one they had selected, but they wanted one they could love. "You've got a more minimalistic style, it seems."

Boris kept looking around through the store, giving little glances behind them every once in a while to make sure Sujin was still around. Turning around once more, they found a sweater with a cute pattern of puppies running through a field, and they held it out for Sujin to see. Most of the sweaters they came across were too big for them, even the ones they actually really liked. Now, they were as adept to oversize fashion as much as the next person, but they didn't want to seem too small by wearing something that looked huge on them.

"A seagull, in Cardinal Hill?" Boris chuckled. "It would have to be a pretty lost seagull." They really liked animals, and they were all for having more pets –the more the merrier; but Ralph alone made such a mess, they couldn't even begin to imagine the sort of things birds could do if tried to keep in a closed environment. "Oh, you got a bird? What's their name? How long have you had them?"

[blackcatxmagic]

Winter was excited to investigate this with Boris. It was something he had been doing with Annette as well, and while it scared him - especially as it felt like they got closer to something - it excited him as well. Still, there was that fear there, and Winter told Boris, "If it feels like we're getting too deep into it, and if we get afraid, we can always stop." He wanted the other to know that they weren't the only ones who could feel afraid about the possibility of magic. Winter did too, even if he was deeply intrigued by that; he didn't quite know which of those impulses were more powerful. "I'll wait around until you're done with your shift, and then we can go to my house," Winter said, though he was worried about the fact that he wouldn't be able to go home and hide all his notes around the house first. But Boris didn't seem like the type to judge him.

"I don't know," Winter admitted. "That's something I've been wondering, but I feel like anyone can be a witch. My friend Annette and I...we tried a spell in the forest, and it felt like it worked. It was for protection, so I can't really be sure, but it was like I felt the power go through me. And neither of us had ever done magic before." Although Winter believed his words, there was something about them that also felt a little...false. It felt like Winter was lying to himself, like there were two versions of him, and only one of those versions believed what he was saying. But Winter wasn't a witch, he was just a normal guy. If he were, wouldn't he have shown other sides of his powers by now? He didn't totally know how this all worked, another reason he was eager to investigate it.

[boris-themenace]

.

"I know that, dude. We haven't even started!" they chuckled, hoping they didn't seem too nervous, before realizing their voice had cracked just a little. So often they wished they could keep it cool, stay calm and project that image of self-controlled composure they thought was so much better than what they had going on... But that just wasn't who Boris was. They cleared their throat and nodded, their face a bit more serious, even though their heel was still tapping anxiously. "Okay. Great... Thanks."

Boris frowned. Winter had felt something. It was hard to say if this feeling proved anything, with lack of concrete proof: it might be that whatever latent powers he did have were awakened, or it might just mean he was heavily influenced by the circumstances. Another thing to find out. "Annette –oh, I'll need to interview her –if that's okay," they said, making a mental note. "She might remember some stuff you don't." They scratched their cheek, thinking about what Winter had just said. "That's so interesting –so witches might be made, not exclusively born. In that case it's all the more curious, the secrecy, don't you think?" Their mind was racing, and it was hard to keep in mind that they needed Winter to follow along, too. "Because then it's kind of a closed practice. But if everyone could do magic, in theory, why would witches want to make sure others aren't let in on the secret? What are the dangers of using this knowledge—?" Boris kept thinking, now to themself. A moment passed, in which one could almost hear the whirring of the gears turning in their mind. Then they looked up at Winter, and chuckled. "Sorry. I know I can get a bit intense with this. I'm just... I'm so happy there's a chance now to finally get some real answers."

[ritualove]

Silas smiled at the person that had taken a seat across from them. So far, he hadn't met many people who were quite so talkative, and even though it was a silly and predictable (according to him) joke, it did make his day a dash brighter. He quickly stopped a waiter walking by, asking for a coffee on their trip back to the kitchen, and turn his attention to Boris. "Well," he said, with a laugh from their question, "I'm not necessarily going to write your story, I'm just searching for some good ideas. But, if it's particularly good I can give you the number of my agent, I've got the rights too all of my books because of him." He said to them, glad that his agent wasn't there, he definitely wouldn't hear the end of it if it got out he gave them that good of a compliment. He pointed to Boris and talked in a comedically sterner tone, "it's gotta be a good one though." He showed a grin, and settled in, excited to hear what they have to say.

[boris-themenace]

.

Boris was grinning from ear to ear –but they were definitely not joking. They didn't understand why Silas laughed, but was relieved when he said he could give them his agent's number. Small steps.

"Of course it's going to be a good one," Boris said, hands clasped together, leaning forward. "Okay, picture this: a, let's say, seven or eight year old kid in a plaid coat. Cute, but with a glint in their eyes that shows a certain level of knowledge, an unusual satisfaction with how they seem to understand what life throws at them... For now." They shifted in their seat, getting more comfortable. "So: they've slipped away from their mother's side one afternoon in January. It's cold as hell, about 4:45pm, and the sun is setting over the trees. Mom's been talking with a friend for what seems like forever, and they are fearless, they manage well on their own, even at such a young age. They decide to take a stroll through the nearby park, to, you know, have a slide, have a swing, move a bit and have a little fun before its time to join their mother. But," they raised their eyebrows and lifted one index finger. "Just as the sky turns purple and the light becomes a washed-out orange, the child stops right on their tracks. Just by the bushes, near the edge of the woods –this park is next to the woods –there's the figure of a girl with her back to them, a little older, dressed in a long black dress, hair in a braid tied with a white ribbon. The girl stretches her arms to the sides, and fire comes out or her palms. The dead leaves around her feet begin swirling and lifting in the air. The girl gets on her tiptoes, and then she's floating, slowly going higher, higher... The child is awed. But they need answers –they've got a practical mind. They step forward and try to approach the girl gently, so as not to scare her. But then –they step on a branch. The noise alerts the girl, who turns to look over her shoulder. She jumps back to earth and runs into the woods. There's a brief moment of doubt from the kid's part, but only lasts a second. They run after her. It's getting darker and darker, and the woods grow denser and denser, but the kid is too focused on the glow of the white ribbon whipping in the wind behind the girl's back to even notice..."

Boris could keep going. They would, in fact, if they didn't have the sudden need to have a sip of good coffee, and to make a little dramatic pause to generate anticipation. "Well, what do you think so far?"

[blackcatxmagic]

Winter thought about Boris's question. "I...I think so?" he said, his voice uncertain. There was a memory there, just flashes of it, of the wind in his hair, of arms on his shoulders, of laughter in his ear, and he thought that was his answer. But of course Winter couldn't clear the memory up no matter how hard he tried, so he told the other, "I guess we'll find out. I'm pretty sure though." Winter was resolved to make it work because he was just as eager to continue this conversation as Boris. Continuing to listen to Boris's recollection of what they had seen, Winter patted him the shoulder, saying encouragingly, "Hey, you saw someone making fire and levitating. I don't blame you for not doing anything. I mean...she was making fire and levitating. I probably would have run in the other direction." Winter laughed, but was that really true? Somehow it felt like he'd be drawn to it; magic in general felt that way. "Don't beat yourself up about it, Boris," Winter said, smiling at the other.

Shaking his head, Winter answered, "No, I don't remember." Of course he didn't. But Winter was too invested in this conversation to take the time to feel sorry for himself. He nodded at Boris and replied, "I didn't take photos, but I sketched those too. They're in the same notebook at home. But I...I forget if they were the same." Somehow he felt like they weren't, but Winter didn't know if that memory could be trusted, which could be said for many of his memories. "We'll check that out too at my place," he told Boris. "I also have a book I found at the library with like...spells and stuff. Maybe we could..." Winter trailed off; he'd been about to suggest that maybe they could try some of them, but he didn't know how Boris would feel about that. So he let his words just hang there between them, not continuing his thought.

[boris-themenace]

.

"Great," Boris nodded. They knew it could be done; they had wonderful memories of summers spent running in the woods, passing soft ice cream cones back and forth, and of course riding on the back of friends' bikes at full speed with their still-long hair whipping against their ears, rushing to get back home before too past curfew. They never had a bike of their own, but it was more fun anyway, to ride with someone else to do all that pedaling, leaving them to enjoy the trip.

Boris smiled back at Winter. It was something they were annoyed about themself, that perceived cowardice; but at the same time they knew it had been a bunch of years ago. Now they were older, and they knew that, if it happened again, they would be more prepared.

"A spellbook," they whispered in amazed delight. Of course they had combed through the Cardinal Hill library, searching up and down, devouring each single book related to mythology, supernatural activity and everything potentially related to witchcraft. There was always something they might have missed, however. They were glad it was Winter that had found it. "You think non-witches can do spells? If it's something you learn or you're born with?" That was one of the questions that kept Boris up at night. If they could become a witch, would they? Sounded like a big responsability, having that kind of power. But wouldn't it make life so much easier? Or would it become an extra effort, keeping that magic going? It was just a hypothesis, but extremely unlikely as it were, it was still a possibility. Until they got a proper witch to interview, it would remain just that –a hypothetical question.

[eldritchxembers-deactivated2026]

For: Boris | @boris-themenace

Location: The Cemetery, Morning

Character: Percy

Percy woke slowly, her cheek pressed against the cold, rough stone of the mausoleum. Her neck ached in a way that suggested she’d been in the same awkward position for hours. Blinking groggily, she shifted, her stiff legs protesting as she stretched them out.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, bathing the cemetery in soft, golden light. Morning dew clung to the grass, and a damp chill settled into her bones.

“Oh no…” Percy muttered, groaning as she rubbed her neck. “I did it again, didn’t I? Fell asleep on a stakeout. Real professional, McIntyre. Top-tier work ethic.”

She brushed at her coat, which had collected bits of moss and dirt during the night, and squinted at the still-silent cemetery around her. “Nothing says ‘stealthy investigator’ like snoring against a tomb, huh? No wonder the ghosts didn’t want to come out. Probably thought I was one of them.”

Percy leaned back against the mossy stone, tilting her head to read the weathered surface. The name had long since faded, leaving only faint impressions of letters that might’ve been. She tapped the edge of the mausoleum thoughtfully.

“Sorry, Mr. or Mrs. Whoever-You-Are. Didn’t mean to use your place as a nap spot, but in my defense, I was watching for ghouls. I’ll owe you a coffee or something.”

She pushed herself to her feet with a dramatic groan, wincing as her body protested every movement. “I need to stop thinking I can pull off the ‘stoic detective’ thing. Clearly not in my skillset. Next time, I’m bringing a thermos and a blanket.”

Percy brushed her hands on her coat, then turned toward the sound of faint footsteps crunching on gravel behind her, a sheepish grin already forming. "Please tell me you didn’t see any of that... or hear any of that..."

[boris-themenace]

.

They had been told several times already that it was disrespectful to film in a cemetery. Boris understood that reasoning, they really did. That didn't mean they shared that reasoning, much less that they would stop any time soon. Early was it, then, when they would get to it undetected by mourners and gardeners, armed only with the handheld camera and a thermos with coffee.

Boris was filming quietly, stepping slowly and softly as to not wake up the dead, capturing fading names on stone, wilting flowers half-covered in ice crystals, the sunrise's early light peeking from between the graves. It was beautiful and peaceful, and they couldn't help but smile. They hadn't known anyone left to rest there, but they did think that, in such a nice place, their souls at least could find themselves at ease.

Thinking themself alone, they gasped and stopped right on their tracks when they saw a woman lying by a mausoleum. Is she dead?, was the first thought that rushed to their head, making them hold their breath, paralyzing them with the presence of an actual potential dead body and left between the choice to properly check and try to resucitate her themself or running away and get help.

Thankfully, after a few seconds the woman woke up and started stretching and grumbling, giving them time to run away and hide behind a tombstone. She said a few things they couldn't quite catch, but once she stood up and chided herself quite audibly, Boris decided that she wasn't a threat, and would reveal themself to her. They came out of hiding and slowly approached them, so as to not startle her. They wanted answers from her, after all.

"Sorry, I did," they said, though they weren't sorry at all. "You're a detective? From what agency?" She didn't look like what they imagined detectives looking like, all professional, with black suits and trenchcoats. Maybe she was undercover? "Are you here to, uh... To investigate these recent mysterious events?" There was always the chance they were there just to find out about some secret affair or some particular theft, which was much less interesting overall.

[eldritchxembers-deactivated2026]

Jack listened, leaning slightly forward, his curiosity piqued. Cardinal Hill wasn't what he had expected when he'd arrived; there was something off about the town, a sense of quiet unease that he'd been unable to shake since he got out of the truck that he had hitchhiked into town on. Boris's words confirmed it, though. There was something to this "weird activity."

He grinned. He loved weird.

"Strange, huh?" Jack mused, taking a long sip of his drink as he considered what to ask next. He wasn’t sure if it was just local lore or something deeper, of hidden mysteries, weird happenings, he knew some - whispers that he had picked up while he frequented the bars and cafes. "What kind of weird activity are we talking about? More... the kind that goes bump in the night, or something different?" His voice was casual, but there was an edge of curiosity in it. He didn’t want to pry too much, but he also didn’t want to miss out on the chance to learn something about this place he claimed as his hideout.

Still, until Boris could give him more information, he'd go along with whatever topic they wanted to talk about. He smiled at Boris’s description of their dad’s salsa lesson. "I’d say it sounds like the kind of bonding that sticks with you, even if it went tits up," Jack said. "Bet you have a good story to tell about it."

Then, the conversation shifted to music. Jack found himself nodding along with Boris’s list of influences. The names: Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden... familiar to him. This was a person who liked his music real. "Sounds like we’d get along in the music department."

He leaned back slightly, eyebrows raised when Boris mentioned Wrathchild. "I’ll check them out," Jack said with a nod. "Tunes, you said? I’ll swing by. You mentioned local bands; sounds like this town’s got more to it than meets the eye. Wrathchild - I'll look into them too, see if they're playing around here when I have time to crash a show." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "And what about the witches, though? You think there's something going on with them, or is it just... rumors?" Jack’s voice lowered, the casual air slipping a little as he focused more intently on Boris.

Boris hadn't mentioned witches. Just weird things. But Jack wanted to know about how much ... or how little ... was known about the magic that was in the town... because he had a feeling he hadn't chosen this town out of his own free will but had been led there.

Just like he'd been led to all the other towns before.

[boris-themenace]

.

"All kinds," Boris replied, opening their eyes wide. "Strange people walking around at night, almost like gliding over the ground, like some sort of ghost. Mysterious deaths, where nobody knows the cause and nobody seems to really want to find out. And..." They thought for a moment. He seemed like he would probably believe them, or at the very least listen to what they had to say. He had asked, after all. "... And girls floating in the park, making fire with her hands. All kinds of stuff, stuff that doesn't have a nice, clean explanation."

Boris fidgeted with their nails, scraping the already chipped black polish. "Nah, not really a story. Just something funny that happened." They had brought up the topic, but now found themself wanting to drop it. There really wasn't more to it, they believed, apart from what felt much like an attempt from Joe to share with them and still cling to something that, surely, had once made him happy. Boris could be a bit scatterbrained from time to time, sure, but they were more perceptive than people gave them credit for. "In any case, my mom's the one responsible for my early music education."

They smiled and nodded, happy to spread the good word of Wrathchild to others. There was a real hope they nursed that the band would someday make it big –at least bigger than Cardinal Hill. They were just finishing their beer when the guy mentioned that one subject they were really, supposedly, a specialist on. "The... The witches?" They leaned forward and lowered their voice. "So you know about them? Did you come here searching for them?" Boris gasped and held their breath. "Have you seen one?"

[eldritchxembers-deactivated2026]

He could see where Boris was coming from. Joe's stoicism wasn’t something Boris was likely to understand until they were older... if even then. He’d learned that about Joe, too, over the years, and the man’s refusal to ask for help was as much a part of him as his quiet strength. Still, that didn’t make it any easier for those left on the other side, trying to pull the words out of him.

“Yeah,” Rafe agreed with a slow nod. “Your dad’s not much for talking about stuff. You’re right, though; friends can do what family sometimes can’t. Maybe your dad’s just waiting for the right time, or for things to be ‘better’ before he’s willing to talk. But it never works like that." Rafe leaned back, stretching his arms, feeling the quiet hum of the shop around him, a steady backdrop to the conversation. He had the same kind of relationship with his father that Boris had with Joe lately ... and it sucked.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re just looking out for your dad. Nothing wrong with that. And don’t think you’ve gotta bottle everything up. You can always talk to me if you need to. You’ve got your own struggles, too.” People had a way of talking to their mechanic about their problems ... mechanics and barbers.

The shift in tone was noticeable when Boris asked about Rafe himself. The question was unexpected. Rafe rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Business was steady, but nothing extraordinary, especially with winter dragging on. The cold had a way of slowing things down, but there was always something to work on, even if it was just a minor fix or a vehicle in need of a tune-up. “There was that truck I had to fix last week. Old guy comes in, says his truck’s acting up. I’m thinking, ‘Alright, it’s probably something minor,’ and what do I find? A baby raccoon had made itself a little home in his engine. Chewed through some wires, too. Can’t say I expected that on the job.”

He chuckled, but there was a slight pause before he replied to the invitation. It was generous, and while Rafe wasn’t the type to impose, he did appreciate it.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” he said, “But if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything at your place. I'm not sayin' no. I just -- ah fuck, I'll come. Just let me know what I can bring."

He walked with them out of the garage and down to the main road so they could head to the cafe. "Seriously though, you want a baby raccoon for a pet?"

[boris-themenace]

.

"Yeah... Yeah," they said, scratching their cheek. Rafe was really like their honorary uncle, or step-father, or whatever. As if he was a member of the family. It made them think and remember back when they were close to their father, how happy they were each time he came from work, how they played baseball on his free time and how he would teach them about disassembling an engine part by part and fixing the constantly broken appliances around the trailer. Joe used to do all that even in his kid's late teens. They still remained pretty close after Boris grew into their own; but something, something unexplainable, had shifted, and there was nothing they felt they could do to get that great dad back.

With a small sigh, they wondered if they should have read the letter with his name and with the secret that had appeared by the door of their home. Maybe there had been the answer they were looking for.

But enough about family matters. Boris looked up at Rafe while he told the story, and chuckled. "Good thing the little guy was okay, though. Every winter I've been scared of finding a cat or something, hidden in between the wheels of the Maverick, looking for some heat. I still check every once in a while." Boris loved animals, especially those considered pests. There had even been an incident at school, back when they were in elementary, when they had found there was a rat family living behind the gym, and Boris had fed them and looked after them for almost a whole month. They could still remember the scream their teacher gave when she found out.

Boris grinned and made a little happy fist pump. "Yes...! Uh, I don't know. Whatever you want, really. Dad always makes codfish fritters and that rice dish with peas and olives for Christmas. I guess mom's going to take care of drinks... You can bring some beer, I guess? Or cider, we like cider too, or punch. Ah –do you like arroz con leche?" they asked, growing excited, their smile growing wider. "I'm making some, but with raisins, because they love it with raisins. But I can make another one, raisins-free, if you want."

As if the good news weren't enough, the offer really had Boris almost skipping out of the garage. Their face immediately lit up. It would be the most unexpected, most fun Christmas gift they ever had. "Of course I do. I'm just afraid it'd get anxious around Ralph, though." It couldn't be more unruly and hard to train than the bull terrier, after all. They immediately began wondering what would be a good name for a pet raccoon.

[wcirdo]

“Like I said, a baby,” Cubs stated. He firmly believed anyone younger than him was essentially a child and anyone older was the crypt keeper. It didn’t matter how few years there were between him and them. Being smack dab in the middle of his twenties was the perfect age to Cubs though that was subject to change every year he got old.

Cubs wasn't worried when they parted ways with Boris. He was sure he could find them again when he felt like leaving. Cubs really didn't intended to stay at the party long though he absolutely was making his presence know by every person he briefly encountered until finally someone was kind enough to get a beer in his hands. There really was never a wrong time in Cubs's mind to have a drink and even while he was supposed to be looking for his records he was taking his time.

After about ten minutes of his meandering, his travels lead him into the kitchen where he found Boris still to be in. By this point Cubs had almost completely forgotten he was trying to get his things back. "You enjoying yourself?" Cubs asked as he finished the beer he'd been drinking and crushed the empty can as he tossed it on top of the overflowing garbage in the corner of the room.

[boris-themenace]

.

By the point in which Cubs made his reappearance, Boris had decided to forget about making tea –it was warm enough in there anyway –and just go along with the crowd. They had found a bunch of beer cans and had a couple, and then found a half empty bottle of vodka, and had just a little sip when the owner of it wasn't looking. It wasn't that they were looking to get wasted, per se, just to find themselves a bit more comfortable in a place packed with people they didn't know. When their handful of friends organized parties, at the very least they knew a couple people there. Here, they were at a loss. Not that they went to that many parties in the first place. Really, it was exactly where they would expect Cubs to be at most of the time: meeting cool people, listening to cool music, partying until the sun came out, and then some.

After a while, though, Boris had the luck to stand next to a girl a bit more about their age, who was also, seemingly, on her own. They started talking about music, and soon enough, added to the beer they kept taking swigs of, they began feeling more at ease. The girl, Lisa, was quite nice and interested on them working at Rewind and making their 'film projects' –even teasing that she had always wanted to be a star. She even tolerated them yapping about witch activity in Cardinal Hill, though they had tried their best not to go too off the rails with it. It was even possible that she sort of flirted with them, but if she did, Boris had only a rather uncertain idea it was actually so. By the time she said she needed to go, and said goodbye with a quick kiss on the cheek, Boris just managed to blurt out a weirdly-worded sentence to ask for her number, and Lisa had actually given it to them, quickly writing it on their palm with a pen she found on the kitchen counter. Then Lisa was gone, and left Boris just realizing that she might have been the only girl they had met in a very long time that was so receptive to their theories.

"Yeah, kind of," they said to Cubs, already on their fourth beer. "What about you? Got those records yet?" The beginning of what could be a beautiful friendship, added to the increasing buzz they were catching, made them feel a bit giddy already.

[eldritchxembers-deactivated2026]

Rafe chuckled softly as Boris slapped their forehead, the gesture reminding him of how much they’d grown up over the years. He could still picture them as a kid, always running around with too much energy, too many questions, and enough sass to make their old man shake his head in mock disapproval. Rafe loved them - even though he had tried to keep his distance and not get himself in too deep.

“Junkyard, yeah,” he said. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Your dad’s got a habit of working through things in places where he doesn’t have to talk about it.”

Rafe glanced at Boris as they spoke, noticing the way their expression shifted from frustration to uncertainty. His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t push it. He knew when to step back. “Sapo,” he said, letting the nickname roll off his tongue as a gentle reminder of the years of familiarity between them. “You’re not wrong about your dad. He’s been… well... sometimes he disappears into his own head, and finds somewhere to disappear physically too. I think he’s got stuff that he's worked on". I don’t know what he’s said to you, but he’s never been good at admitting when he’s struggling." Pot calling Kettle black -- Rafe also didn't admit his struggles to others. Maybe that was why he and Joe had been friends for so long.

"I get that you’re worried, but you’re right too; he’s probably fine. Not saying that you shouldn't be worried - not me telling you how to feel about your pops." He shrugged. His relationship with his father was shot to hell - but he worried about his mother, and his sister. And the two mechanics he'd taken on. And Boris themself. So he kind of understood, in his own way.

When Boris asked about Christmas, Rafe felt a small ache in his chest. He hadn’t let himself think about the holidays; for him, they’d always been quiet, spent mostly in the garage; with no real plans to speak of.

“Christmas?” Rafe repeated. “I don’t know yet, Sapo. I’ll probably be here, you know, keeping the shop open for anyone who needs something fixed, but that’s about as festive as it’s gonna get for me." He grabbed his coat and slung it over his shoulders.

Subject change. Time to change the subject away from him.

No need to worry the kid with any of his bullshit lonely holiday plans.

"C'mon. Sandwiches because I'm starving, then let's go look for Joe."

[boris-themenace]

.

Boris nodded thoughtfully. Yes, their dad was that type. By that point in their lives they were used to it, even found a certain dignity to how stoic Joe could be. And still, sometimes they did just have to worry. They couldn't not to, when Joe's emotions eventually burst out at the worst of times.

"You're right... I mean, you're always sort of right," Boris shrugged. "It's just not his style... To ask for help. At least not with us." They imagined that was what friends were for. Boris sighed. "I just wish that, if that's what it takes for him to be less –I don't know –frustrated, I guess, with everyone and everything, that he'd just talk about stuff. With someone, anyone." More than once Boris had tried to reach out. More than once they had come out empty-handed, just embarrassed for even trying.

"Sorry, I keep talking about my dad... How've you been doing?" they asked Rafe, genuinely a bit ashamed of not being more considerate with him. "How's business going? Any interesting stories this winter so far?"

It made sense that Rafe would find ways to keep busy on the holiday: he was a hard worker, and it was easy to picture him enjoying some peace and quiet in that familiar space. But imagining him all alone, locked up in the garage, while everyone else in town was celebrating... It made them feel a bit sad for him, too.

"... Would you like to come over for Christmas? Or some day during the holidays, really," Boris said, their mind too busy insisting what a great idea this was to notice the blaring warning signs. "I mean, hopefully that'll make them way less depressing," they chuckled. Then their face dropped. Now they really shouldn't have said that –why on Earth did they say that? They didn't know how their parents would react to Boris just suggesting that, though they could imagine Reba at least becoming pretty annoyed at the fact she wasn't consulted first. And really, Boris had no right to say that about holidays at home, knowing how much their parents tried every year to make it somewhat worthwhile...

But, apart from that, it wasn't that bad of an idea, right? The family loved Rafe. If he wanted to join, of course they'd welcome him with open arms... At least, that was what they hoped.

"Yes. Sandwiches," they muttered glumly, sinking their head between their shoulders. "I'm dying for a sandwich."

[eldritchxembers-deactivated2026]

Jack leaned back slightly on the barstool, taking in Boris’s attire an easygoing grin. Jack was worn jeans and a solid henley with a jean-jacket. He was equally worn boots. Long, dark, curly hair that had the older group shaking their heads and mutter about long-haired vagabonds. Well, he was a vagabond. And a drifter. And a trouble maker. “Rootin’-tootin’ type?” he echoed, shaking his head. “Well, don't own the title normally, but it felt right for tonight. I wanted something to do, I followed the music, and there's nothing better than to settle into a strange town and dance." He tipped his hat in mock solemnity before setting it back on his head, the brim casting a playful shadow over his expression. "Not that your town is strange. 'pose I'm the stranger. I'm sure your town is nice and normal."

Complete bullshit. Jack had a way of blowing into towns that were more paranormal than not, but hell, if he could lay low - he'd take the weirdness.

“Salsa, though...” Jack’s grin widened. “Sounds like your dad had high hopes. Nice that he wanted to spend time with you though?" He offered that, as he tilted his glass slightly toward Boris in a small toast.

At Boris’s mention of Cardinal Hill’s sparse music scene, Jack nodded thoughtfully, his curiosity piqued. “Underground bands, huh? Gotta admit, I’m a sucker for finding good music - hell, even bad music... as long as it's music.” He took another sip of his whiskey, his gaze steady on Boris. “What’s your go-to? Metal’s got a whole spectrum, some of it heavy enough to rattle your bones, some almost poetic. Iron Maiden, please -- now that's some shit to listen to."

Really though, Jack wanted to know the pulse of the town - not just the common places but the places that only those in the know would be drawn to. "Maybe you’ll point me in the right direction for one of those garage gigs.”

[boris-themenace]

.

"I mean... Cardinal Hill is strange. Not like constantly, but there's always been... Been this sort of weird activity." Boris was this close to start blabbering on and on about witches, but they promised themself only to do so if the guy kept showing interest. Which, luckily for them, he seemed like he was going to.

"Yeah, I guess... It was nice of him, sort of," they smiled. "It's just kind of an unusual way to spend some father-child bonding time, you know." They smiled wider at the little toast, and raised their beer, too.

"Um... Let's see, I was raised on Janis Joplin, Suzi Quatro, Led Zeppelin... Then a few friends introduced me to Black Sabbath, then Mötorhead, then Metallica –and yeah, of course Iron Maiden," they explained with a quick hand gesture. "I don't know, I just listen to what feels good. I listen to the car radio, I listen to stuff at a friend's place, I hit the local record store every once in a while to see what's new... The record store –'Tunes'! That's a good place to check for those little bands, they usually put up signs to announce next shows." Boris took a moment to think if there was any specific act they could recommend. "... Ah, and there's Wrathchild! It's this really awesome local band, my friend Cubs plays drums in it." Was Cubs really a friend of Boris? They certainly hoped so. In any case, whether he was or wasn't, this guy probably wouldn't care. "You should definitely give them a listen if you got the chance."

[blackcatxmagic]

So it turned out Boris was almost done with their shift, which was good because this was something Winter really wanted to discuss. Ever since he had begun looking into witches with Annette, Winter had felt ravenous for more information, and even if it turned out Boris wouldn't know any more about the symbols than Winter did, it would be nice to discuss them at least, to get another person's thoughts. "Do you want to come over then?" Winter asked Boris. "I could hang around until the end of your shift. I live in kind of on the edge of town, but it's within biking distance, which is how I got here." He wasn't sure if Boris could drive, though Winter assumed he could since most people their age were able to. "Or I could meet you there if you want. I can give you my address." And then Winter blushed because he wasn't sure he remembered it. This was something he usually did remember, but sometimes - especially when he had a lot of thoughts running through his head, like right now - he wasn't so sure. Unable to meet Boris's eyes as he did this, Winter paged through his notebook until he found where his address was. It turned out he'd mostly remembered it, though he had one number wrong.

As Boris described what they had seen, Winter listened with rapt attention. There was nothing in the other's tone or demeanor to suggest that they were lying, and their account definitely seemed credible. When Boris was finished, Winter replied, "Wow..." stunned by what he had just heard. A second later, he told Boris, "I believe you, and...I believe that might have been an actual witch." Sure, it was possible there was some logical explanation for what Boris had seen, but Winter couldn't think of anything. "Did you feel like...any weird energy?" he asked Boris. "I...I found this clearing in the woods the other day with my friend Annette, and there were symbols and things everywhere. And just standing there...I got a weird vibe. Like...really weird."

[boris-themenace]

.

"Yes, yes, I'll come over," they nodded enthusiastically. "Hm, do you think you could share your bike? I don't think I can run that far, especially not now that winter's upon us." Boris would usually walk everywhere, unless their dad felt in the mood to lend them the keys to the Maverick; but they needed to get to Winter's as soon as they could.

When Winter reassured them that he did believe their story, Boris shut their eyes and sighed in relief. Some of their friends said they believed them, but it rarely if ever sounded genuine. Winter's words did sound honest. "Of course I felt a weird energy, everything about it was weird," they said. "I'm still so angry at myself for not... For not doing something. I just froze, and even though I wanted to confront her, or call her attention, or say anything, I just..." They groaned, smacking the counter with their fist. They didn't even like to think about it. It had been their only chance at finding out more from the source –and they just did nothing.

"Symbols?" they frowned. "Do you remember if they were like those from the quilt?" Probably not. Those on the quilt must have been protection, yes, while those in the woods were most likely something akin to summoning forces, or performing spells... But they couldn't rule out that there might be some good witches that would want to protect the town in some way. "Did you take photos? Or know what those things you saw were like?" Boris knew they were probably overwhelming Winter with questions, but clearly he had seen a lot, and they might be closer than ever to getting some actual answers.

[eldritchxembers-deactivated2026]

Jack’s brow arched as he turned his whiskey glass thoughtfully, his grin widening at Boris’s reply. This wasn’t the kind of place he expected to meet someone with Boris’s edge. Sure, during a senior's citizen's dance, he would see a couple of begrudging teenagers and twenty-somethings hanging about, getting the last few desperate favorite grandchild points so they could get a bigger part of the inheritance but it didn't sound like Boris was there for brownie points.

The bar didn't even sell brownies. He had asked.

Instead, Boris was a headbanger tucked into the corner of a bar humming with twangy guitars and stomping boots. He couldn't write a story this good.

“Headbanging and thrashing, huh?” Jack drawled; he wasn't going to give up the cowboy twang while he had the hat. He had won it in a dart game the night before, the cowboy had come with it. Jack had spent hours trying to let him down gently. He really had just wanted the hat.. “Now that’s a visual. I’m trying to picture you in a pit at one of those shows - fits better than you being here but..." he looked over the bar. "Dunno if Cardinal Hill is the scene for EDM and heavy metal. It might make some old birds lay their last egg."

Jack raised his glass, tilting it in an almost cheers-like gesture before taking another sip. “How'd it go, the salsa lesson, I mean? You figure it out and bring it into the mosh pit?" He considered the thought for a moment. A salsa dancer arriving at a the stadium for the wrong show, brought into a metal concert, sticking around for the noise and the press of bodies. It had potential. "So, if you're not here for linedancin' - care to show me where the better music scene is in town? 'm new, and definitely finding myself in all sorts of places that I wouldn't normally. Like here."

[boris-themenace]

.

Boris knew they weren't exactly the image of a heavy metal fan. They didn't have the long messy hair, for starters; they had shaved their head last spring, and their hair grew rather slowly. Most of their rock t-shirts were buried under layers and layers of sweaters and coats, and their worn combat boots seemed more practical than a style choice –which they also were. "What's your scene? Are you a rootin'-tootin' type? Are you just aching to show these posers how it's done?" they said, gesturing at the funny hat and then at the dancing crowd.

"The salsa lesson? Awful. How else could it have gone?" Boris laughed and added a grimace. "I just told you, man, I have two left feet, I have no rhythm. But I can't say I didn't try my best... My dad was so disappointed, though. Said I was a disgrace to the Ávila name." It had been in jest, of course; his own father hadn't danced in years. Still, that little impromptu class had been pretty fun, even if deeply embarrassing for everyone involved.

Boris drank some more of their beer, glanced around, and looked back at the guy sitting beside them. "Oof... I mean, it's not easy, if you like actual good music. You got to know the right people. There's a few little underground bands going around, but really... There's not much of a music scene here in Cardinal Hill." Boris themself knew only of a couple small local bands, and one had to follow them closely to know when, if ever, they played at any venue –usually just someone's garage or backyard.

[blackcatxmagic]

Even though he had come here for movies, Winter was more than happy to discuss witches with Boris. It was a topic that had been on his mind quite a bit recently, even before he'd begun looking into it with Annette, even before they'd done that ritual in the clearing. Winter believed it when he said he wasn't a witch, but also...he kind of didn't believe it either; it kind of felt like a lie. That was something Winter couldn't quite make sense of. He couldn't actually be a witch. He assumed that everyone had some sort of connection to magic, even if it was buried deep down, and he figured he'd just sparked something inside himself recently, nothing more. But given that he had just met Boris, Winter wasn't about to tell them all of this.

"Would you like to come to my house and see it?" Winter asked. "When do you get off work?" Now that they were talking about this, Winter was eager to continue, to really dive into it and try and uncover some more information. It was like a need, like a desperation to learn everything he could, and the more Winter looked into it, the more ravenous he became. Now he felt like he was starving. Surprised by Boris's declaration, Winter's eyes widened as he asked, "Really? You did? How do you know?" He had a lot of questions, but Winter wanted to give Boris time to elaborate first.

[boris-themenace]

.

Rarely did people actually show any interest in their talk about witches. So, when Winter appeared to be at least a little curious, Boris took a deep breath and curled their hands into fists. Finally, they thought. Someone who might get what I'm actually talking about.

"Uh, in... About thirty minutes," Boris replied after a quick glance at the clock on the wall. They tapped their heel on the rental shop's carpet. Now they couldn't wait a second more. "Is that okay? You live far from here?" they asked him, leaning forward on the counter and lowering their voice, as if discussing secret matters. And, in a sense, they were.

"Well... I mean, I guess that you know it when you see it." Boris scratched their cheek. "There was this... Girl, I think? At the park, back when I was a kid. And this girl was standing there, by the swings. It was getting dark, I was coming back from school, and I passed through the park because it was, like, the scenic route... Anyways, what matters is: this girl had this little flame in her hands. No big deal, I thought, she's just smoking. But no, the flame grew bigger, out of her hands. And then it became this big fire going upwards, and I got scared, because I thought she would catch fire... But then she pressed her hands together, and the fire was put out. So far, weird." Boris swallowed. "But then I hid behind some bushes, and kept watching. She was clearly testing her powers. Because then she turned around, and... It took a moment, but I swear, I swear I saw her feet get off the ground." They had repeated this same story to everyone who wanted to hear, and to those who didn't care to hear it, too. Now, they could just wait to see if Winter believed them or not.