Bridgette Kingsley’s Phone (7/??)
Ali heard some concerning gossip.
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@bridgettekingsley
Bridgette Kingsley’s Phone (7/??)
Ali heard some concerning gossip.
Speed Meet | Bridgette & Cat
@bridgettekingsley
Valentine’s Event, 2020
Note: Each paragraph switches perspective, starting with Caterina
As the timer rang out, Caterina moved on to the next table, only to see a familiar face. “Oh, hello there. You look suspiciously familiar, have we met before?”
Bridgette smiles at the woman as she sat, reading her name tag. Caterina. “I think so, though I can’t quite place where,” she answered. “Hi, I’m Bridgette.” She gave a little wave, orange bracelet on display.
Keep reading
charlottexkingsley:
After an exhaustive morning of visits from her mom, unsanctioned field trips to the other end of the floor, scrying for strangers via a vampire’s intangible psychic connection, and once again relaying the previous night’s events to Miss Rosie, Charlie was way overdue for a nap. She’d overdone it and forgiveness was not coming anytime soon from any part of her body.
Too many questions were still buzzing around in her mind, and part of her was still afraid to see what awaited her if she went willingly into the dark. The knock on the door signaled a nurse’s arrival, but when her sister’s voice addressed her, it was pure music to her ears.
“Hey. I’m still here, more or less,” Charlie answered with a tired smile. With the last of her energy, she scooted over in the bed and beckoned Bridgette over with a pat on the small vacant space. “This’s given me a bit of perspective. I think I see now why you go looking for trouble instead of letting it find you.”
Bridgette made her way fully into the room as Charlie answered. Carefully, she climbed into the bed, laying down next to Charlotte the way she used to when they were little and she woke up from a bad dream. She reached over and linked her fingers with Charlotte’s, the anxiety in her stomach finally beginning to settle. Charlotte was here, in one piece, alive.
She smiled a little, turning her head against the pillow so she could see Charlotte when she spoke. “Trouble’s a lot more fun when you see it coming.” She squeezed Charlie’s hand gently. “Mom said you had to go over everything with Miss Rosie, too, so I’m not going to ask, but if you do want to talk, I’m right here.” Bridgette was content to just lay here with her sister in the quiet if that’s what she wanted. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
mcnicarcdriguez:
Monty was going to give her the biggest ‘I told you so’ when he found out about this debacle. She’d figured it’d be okay to give the ‘Baguel being an indoor/outdoor cat’ thing a go if she hung out in the yard with him. She was a werecoyote, faster than a cat. What could go wrong? And then she’d taken her eyes off of Baguel to throw Roscoe’s tennis ball, and Baguel had vanished.
At least she had her sense of smell going for her. After Monica had put Roscoe back inside, she’d started off after Baguel’s trail. It led her across Downtown to an apartment building.
“Baguel!” she hollered, scanning the area in search of the orange furball. She caught the sound of meowing before she shouted again, and it (and Baguel’s scent) led her to one of the apartments, where a woman and two orange tabbies were hanging out.
“Hi,” she greeted, offering a sheepish smile. Baguel seemed more invested in the other cat than her, but at least from this close, she knew it was him without having to pull him away. “Sorry, if he’s been a nuisance. He got away from me when I let him out into the yard with our dog. I’ve been following him for blocks.”
At the sound of the woman’s greeting, Bridgette looked up from where she’d been watching the two cats play fight. “Oh hi,” she returned with a smile. “He’s been fine. I think Bastard decided to adopt him though.” She turned back to where the two cats had curled up together, Orange Bastard licking the other cat on the head.
“You’re welcome to sit if you’ve got some time,” she offered, patting the blanket she’d gone inside to grab when it had become clear OB and the other cat weren’t going to run off together. “It took us a while to train Bastard to come home again when he ran off.”
montymcallister:
Monty nodded in understanding, a pang of sympathy echoing in his chest. What a thing to be able to relate to. He figured he probably didn’t need to mention seeing Katherine try to call someone (Bridgette or Dominic, he’d figured) several times before she’d fully registered that he’d still been there with her in the waiting room, then.
“Ah,” he grimaced a little awkwardly, choosing to take a sip of his drink rather than answer immediately. “She didn’t want me staying.” Not that he really blamed her. She didn’t know him all that well, and he wasn’t family. He wasn’t sure she got along particularly well with his parents, either, which wouldn’t help any.
“How’s she doing? The doctors hadn’t had any updates to share before your mom showed up.”
Bridgette nodded in acknowledgement. That sounded like her mom. “I hope she at least thanked you. My mom I mean. You saved Charlie’s life.” Bridgette said it casually, but she meant it. Her whole life could be very different right now if Monty hadn’t been on the road that night. Charlotte would be dead. She took a long drink at the thought.
“She’s going to be fine, I think. BHM is good. That’s probably the best place you could have taken her,” she shrugged a little. “I guess it’s a good thing Memorial was locked down after all.” She thought again of the creature she’d seen slinking in the parking garage the night before. If Diaz hadn’t made his rounds just then, would she be laying in a hospital bed right now, too? Would she even be so lucky? She stared down at her drink while she contemplated how differently her night could have gone, lapsing into silence.
werewitchsimon:
From the other room –kettle already in hand, but Simon was finding other reasons to take their time– Bridgette’s voice was nothing but a hum, muffled by distance into a strange, not-quite-but-almost musical drone. If all truths were to be told, Simon probably could have understood it. It wasn’t that great of a distance, and there were certain perks to sharing your body with a creature who had significantly sharper senses. Simon, however, was intentionally not thinking about it, or focusing on it- they moved a book from one shelf to another and made sure that a bundle of herbs that looked a bit heavy was drying evenly on the line. Simon only began a return trip to the front of the store when it seemed like enough time had passed, and the hum of Bridgette’s voice had tapered down.
Though perhaps they had waited a little too long.
When Simon found Bridgette, the visiting witch was more or less where Simon had left her, only now she was sitting at the foot of one of the shelves. And she was crying. Crying? It was somewhat unclear. Regardless, Simon wasted no time on being surprised or doing something as absurd as asking if everything was okay. They simply knelt next to Bridgette (kettle still cradled in their arms, though largely forgotten) and offered ease through a hand resting on Bridgette’s shoulder. Simon would have liked, very much, to hug her, but thought that might be too forward, or too unwelcome, or something of that sort. Instead, Simon was just a hand on the shoulder and a steady, soft look, and the question-
“Can I help? Or would you rather be alone?” They understood both.
Bridgette didn’t often use her powers for personal gain, but at the sound of Simon’s gentle voice she let down her mental wards and allowed their calm to sooth over her frayed nerves. She sucked in a shaky breath and reached a hand up, covering Simon’s hand on her shoulder with one of her own. “Stay. Please,” she all but whispered.
She wasn’t crying, not really, but it was a near thing. “That was my-” she stopped. Sucked in a breath. She wouldn’t cry. “My mom called.” Finally, Bridgette looked up to Simon. She still had the kettle in her arms. Bridgette let out a little laugh, more a short puff of air than anything with real joy to it. “Maybe I needed tea more than I knew.”
maxinebeauchamp:
Maxine: I actually saw her the other day…like in town? Maxine: I don’t know if she sneaked out or not, but, yeah, she tried to lie to me about it Maxine: Do you know if she’s doing okay, like, mental state wise?
Bridgette: damn, that sounds like something I’d be caught doing. Bridgette: not sure if I should be worried or proud Bridgette: You mean did I read her? I haven’t, but she just seemed kinda freaked out by everything. She didn’t really want to talk about it. Bridgette: single-incident trauma like her wreck can cause PTSD, but I’m not a mental health professional or anything so I’m not, like, diagnosing her. All we can really do is support her however she needs us to.
maxinebeauchamp:
Maxine: The accident??? Maxine: Sorry what happened? Maxine: Nic is out of town without much service so Spence and I don’t know what’s going on
Bridgette: shit Bridgette: I’m so fuckin sorry I thought u knew! Bridgette: Charlie was in a car accident. She’s okay! She’s at BHM and healing quickly. Mostly annoyed they won’t let her walk around unassisted yet.
montymcallister:
Monty hadn’t seen her come in, nor her approach to the bar, so Bridgette’s voice suddenly coming from beside him caused him to startle a little before he registered just who had stepped into his space. “Hey.”
“Not really. I’m still working on a proper buzz.” Maybe he should have just started with tequila. He downed the last of his drink—the bartender was there anyway—and ordered a refill. He’d walked to the bar, so it wasn’t like he had to actively avoid getting drunk. It wasn’t the best example to be setting—she was his baby sister’s friend, probably wasn’t he should be getting trashed around—but… well, it had been a Day.
He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug in answer to her question. “Sure.” He turned his phone over so it was face-down, then angled himself a little more toward her. “You heard about Charlie, right?”
Bridgette ordered another drink, no shots this time, just a glass of something strong that would settle warmly in her chest, before the bartender walked off to see to other customers.
Bridgette took a sip of her drink, enjoying the smooth burn as it slid down her throat, then set the glass down, adjusting in her seat so she could face Monty a little more as they spoke. “Yeah. Mom called me this morning,” she said, returning his half-shrug. “I dodged her a while; figured she wanted to lecture me about being the family disappointment again,” she gave a little self-deprecating smile. “Guess I was wrong.” She took another sip of her drink. “I’m assuming Queen Katherine has something to do with why you’re drinking alone on a Saturday night?” She tilted her head at him, eyebrow raised. Her mom could be... a lot. Imposing and intimidating to those who didn’t know her well.
@mcnicarcdriguez
Orange Bastard was following Bridgette around the kitchen, meowing at her heels. She frowned at him as she checked the food and water dishes- both full- as she worked out what exactly it was he wanted. She watched as he hopped in the window, still yowling when it dawned on her. He wanted out. She glanced at the other two lounging in the cat tree, content to stay in where it was warm. It had been a while since it had last snowed, and Sorcha had ordered Orange Bastard a new set of socks recently, so she figured he could have a little outside time now that Spring was on the horizon.
“Okay, wild thing, calm down,” she cooed at him soothingly as she made her way back to her room to grab the socks. She skillfully scooped him up from where he was rubbing her ankles, still begging to be let out, and sat on her bed to get the socks on his paws. They weren’t his favorite thing in the world, but he’d gone through enough winters with Bridgette now to know that the socks meant he was being allowed out. The moment she released him, he shot to the front door. She followed quickly behind him, opening the door. She followed him out, sure that he would take off like a shot after being cooped up inside for so long. Instead, she found Bastard gently sniffing at another cat sitting out on the balcony, nearly identical save for Bastard’s missing eye.
Bridgette sat down on the cold cement of the balcony after closing the door gently behind her so as not to spook the new cat. “Oh, hi buddy,” she said softly, offering out a hand. “Where’d you come from?”
montymcallister:
@bridgettekingsley
January 11, 6:30PM The Penalty Box, Downtown Edgewood
While Monty might have been the kind of guy to go into a bar for happy hour with friends, it was usually to grab some beers and dinner with friends. But after the events of the last forty-eight hours, he figured he’d earned the right to claim a seat off to the side at the bar and order drinks stronger than a beer without any serious thoughts about dinner.
After Ms. Kingsley had kicked him out of the BHM waiting room, Monty hadn’t heard anything about Charlie’s condition. Had he gotten her to medical care fast enough? Was she going to make a full recovery? Questions had plagued his thoughts after he’d gone home. He’d dozed fitfully on the couch, too exhausted to even think about going into work, sleep disturbed by nightmares stemming from the visions he’d had before the attacks. Monica letting him know that she was grabbing some others and investigating the creatures had only added to his mountain of stress.
He’d finally left the house and walked to the Penalty Box when his nerves had started to make poor Roscoe anxious. And there he sat, several drinks in, phone on the bar top, doing his best to just… not think about it all, even if only for a little while.
Bridgette checked her phone for the tenth time in as many minutes. She was supposed to have been at work tonight, but her supervisor had told her to take a few days off following the attack and news of Charlie’s accident. Now she was home, staring at the walls of her room and trying to ignore the itch she felt under her skin. She always wanted to use again when she got stressed. She unlocked her phone, thumbing over to her messages. She scrolled until she found her thread with Trevor, ready to message him to score again, but then, right under that, her message thread with Monty caught her eye.
She hesitated.
Monty had been the one to find Charlotte. He’d saved her life, but by the time Bridgette had been by to see her, there was no sign of him and Charlie hadn’t mentioned him coming by to check in on her. That didn’t sound like the guy Ali had always made him out to be. She wouldn’t be surprised to know that her mother had something to do with Monty not being there.
She clicked on the text thread from when she’d accidentally texted him in October. There hadn’t been much movement in the thread since. A few pictures of Teddy between the two of them when they saw him (and Ali) and not much else. Hey, she typed. Where are you right now? The three dots indicating a response popped up almost immediately.
~~~
Bridgette walked into the Penalty Box right around 6:30. It’s not that she’d never been to the bar before (she’d been to several trivia nights with Charlie, though she always kind of sucked at the trivia), its just that it wasn’t her first choice when she was looking to go out. It seemed to fit the mood of the evening perfectly. No party, just the low hum of people talking quietly with their friends and some muted NHL game playing on the tv mounted behind the bar.
Monty was easy to spot, sat off to one side of the bar alone. Even the other patrons in the bar seemed to be avoiding him, his nervous energy was palpable even without her getting a read on his mood. She walked up, taking in the near empty glass by his hand and the slump in his posture.
“Seems like I’m a few drinks behind,” she said as she slipped onto a stool next to him, waving the bar tender over and ordering a few shots of whiskey. She did two rapid shots before gently bumping shoulders with Monty. “You okay?”
darklighterxdemitri:
“Hm… a peck on the cheek? That hardly makes a sealed marriage.” Demitri chuckled, his eyes meeting hers as if to challenge her again. “But I can see my being a little too intimidating for you to actually give me a real kiss.” A smile formed on his lips as he watched her smile. He liked messing with Bridgette, almost more than other people. Almost.
“A serial killer? Really?” He couldn’t help but laugh at that. His smile widening as he shook his head back and forth. “You have some wild imagination, Bridgette. I like it.” Demitri leaned forward and grabbed one of the burgers. He took a large bite out of it and then let out a hum. “Criminal minds?” He suggested as he glanced towards her. “But I don’t mind talking, either.”
Bridgette rolled her eyes at him, though her voice was teasing. “You’ve got to earn a real kiss. I’m worth a little more than cheap diner food.” She reached over and grabbed her own burger, taking a bite. It really was good.
“How about we put the show on and then just see what happens. But you have to promise not to laugh at me if I get got by a jump scare.” She’d watched enough Criminal Minds to know some of the episode genuinely creeped her out.
maggie-see:
“Yeah well, why would you have? It’s not really like we were ever friends, why would you have noticed if I stopped showing up at parties?” Maggie was glad to see that her words were having an effect on Bridgette, even if she did feel slightly bad about stretching the truth.
Maggie couldn’t help but snort when Bridgette asked her question. What did she know about the supernatural? What didn’t she know at this point? She’s been able to see ghosts for as long as she can remember, she spends all her money and free time in magic shops, her little brother is a werewolf. And a little known fact about ghosts: they’re terrible gossips. She’s long stopped being oblivious to the fact that most residents of the town aren’t human. She wasn’t dumb, she knew that Bridgette was magic. But she also knew that magic took on different forms.
“Um, I’ve lived here my whole life. I’m at Miss Rosie’s once a week. I know that there are different kinds of magic users. I want to know what kind you are.” Maggie leveled at Bridgette with a challenging look. Would she be able to say the words aloud, she wondered?
“Humans go to Miss Rosie’s all the time,” Bridgette waved a hand dismissively. “Witchcraft is in these days.” Well, what passed for witchcraft anyway. Humans tended to get a lot right, but just enough wrong that their magic would never truly work.
Bridgette did her best to swallow down her annoyance at Maggie’s tone. She had every right to be snarky right now. She didn’t swallow it down very well. Still, Bridgette never backed down from a challenge. “Me?” she asked with an air of innocence before meeting Maggie’s eyes. “I’m the most powerful witch the Kingsley line has ever known.” Maybe it was a bit of an exaggeration, but Bridgette had a penchant for dramatics and she really had been a prodigy before Trevor Wells had entered her life.
@charlottexkingsley
January 11th, 3 p.m. BHM Private Physicians, Old Edgewood
Bridgette yawned as she walked through the automatic doors of the private medical center. She had spent the day home on Raven’s Way, mostly waiting anxiously by the phone with Bea for news, but also napping when the exhaustion had finally gotten the better of her. Finally, Katherine had texted to say that Charlotte was allowed visitors and Bridgette had slept enough that she didn’t feel completely dead on her feet.
“Hi,” she said, mustering up her “work face” as best she could, smiling at the woman at the information desk. “I’m looking for Charlotte Kingsley. She was brought in last night.”
“Relationship to the patient?” The receptionist sounded bored.
“I’m her sister.”
“Room 253″
“Thanks,” she said, tapping the desk twice and taking off around the corner without waiting for directions. She’d done an internship when she was still in undergrad with BHM and she still had a pretty solid map of the facility in her head. She took the stairs up to the second floor, not willing to wait on the elevator. She knew BHM worked fast (healing magic was unsurprisingly quicker than modern medicine), but she still needed to see Charlotte with her own two eyes to really believe that she was okay.
Bridgette slammed through the stairwell door onto the second floor, just short of jogging until she reached room 253. She raised her hand and knocked twice on the already cracked door before pushing it open enough to stick her head in. “Charlie? You alive in here?”
@beatricelarson
January 11th, 11 a.m. #3 Ravens Way, Kingsley Manor, Old Edgewood
Bridgette hadn’t necessarily made a conscious decision on her way out from Old World Witchery to go to Ravens Way. She’d been thinking about her talk with Miss Rosie and her phone call with her mom and before she knew it, she was pulling into the driveway of her childhood home. She turned off the ignition and sat staring up at the house she’d grown up in debating on if she should go in or not. Katherine had made it clear that all of her children were always welcome home, but now Bea and Wyatt lived there as well. Would she be in the way if she let herself inside? She had a key, but she hadn’t shown up unannounced since she’d move out to live on campus her freshman year of college.
She sat debating in her car long enough that the heat trapped inside has begun to dissipate. She shivered as she looked out at the snow-covered yard. Surely her mom had called to tell Bea and Wyatt what was going on... right? Bridgette didn’t know if she could bear being the one to tell them. That thought alone was almost enough to send her on her way to her own apartment, but the thought of being alone at home was strong enough to get her opening her door to the harsh winter air. She walked quickly up the front walk, fumbling to find the old, now-unfamiliar house key as she got to the door. She made quick work of the lock and let herself inside.
She didn’t see anyone in the living room as she entered, so she quietly made her way tot he kitchen. It was nearly noon, but that didn’t stop her from setting about making a pot of coffee. Once the pot began to brew she called out a loud “hello?” up the stairs, waiting to see who, if anyone, would come down.
werewitchsimon:
Bridgette seemed… quiet. Not in comparison to any particular image or thought of her that Simon could conjure, or that Simon had a particular need for Bridgette to fill every little twist of spacetime with something. (This was true as a general rule, but especially so on an early morning the day after a shift.) Nevertheless, there was an air to the quietness, a quality that made Simon want to reach out and take her hand. Or hug her.
“Tea.” Simon agreed. There was a beat of jaunty silence as, somewhat comically, Simon disappeared directly behind the counter by dropping into a crouch. She had a habit of keeping relevant-but-not-technically-professional items directly behind the counter for easy access. As an added benefit, they were subtly hidden there, a place no many people beyond herself and Miss Rosie saw or even gave thought about. After a moment of rooting around, Simon resurfaced. In hand was a latched glass jar of loose-leaf tea– nothing magical or additional, just simple, honest tea.
By itself it was a balm; it needed nothing else.
“I think the kettle has escaped.” Or, more likely, been carried into the office or forgotten in the storeroom. Either way “I will bring it back. Um. If you needed to call someone..?” Simon gestured vaguely, trying to communicate an offer of privacy. If needed, Simon could spend several minutes searching for that which was easily found. “I will be back.”
Simon stepped away in pursuit of the kettle and –now that they were thinking about it– a mug or two.
Bridgette let out a soft snort of amusement as Simon unexpectedly dropped out of her line of sight to dig around behind the counter. She bounced up slightly on her toes, leaning slightly more on the counter as she attempted to see what exactly they were digging for. As Simon apparently found what they wanted and stood, she fell back on her heels. She smiled as she eyed the loose leaf blend. It looked homemade.
“I-” she began to brush off the call from earlier, when her phone began to buzz again. “Should probably get that,” she finished with a sigh, digging her phone out of her pocket once more as Simon left in search of the kettle.
“Hello?” she answered, stepping away from the counter to get a little more privacy in the quiet shop.
“Oh, so now you can answer your phone? I’ve been calling you all morning.” Katherine Kingsley was not a woman most would dare to dodge when she tried to contact them. Bridgette was not most people.
“I’ve been filing reports all morning, Mom. I can’t exactly answer personal calls while being questioned by the police.” Bridgette began pacing, making a circuitous path between the occult book shelves and the crystal displays, keeping an eye out for Simon.
“I don’t care about that right now.”
“Mom, I didn’t- what?” Bridgette cut herself off, shocked. Since when did her mom not care about Bridgette getting questioned by the police?
“It’s your sister,” Katherine began. Finally, Bridgette heard the stress in her mom’s voice. “There was an accident. She’s in the hospital.” Bridgette froze, thinking again of that... thing she’d seen last night. An accident. “B, did you hear me?”
“Yeah,” she said faintly. Bridgette cleared her throat, trying to find her voice as she resumed her pacing. “Yeah,” she tried again, stronger now. “I heard you. How bad?” She listened as her mom gave her a run down of everything the doctors at BHM could tell her. There wasn’t much to know except that Charlotte had been in critical condition when she’d been brought in and that no one was allowed in to see her for the time being. “Go home, get some rest, and answer my damn phone calls, yeah?” Katherine said in closing.
“Yeah, I will. Bye mom, love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Bridgette ended the call and sunk down amid the bookshelves, sitting on the floor and placing her head in her hands as she tried to process everything she’d just been told. God, this nightmare just would not seem to end.
maxinebeauchamp:
@bridgettekingsley
Maxine: Yo, Bridge Maxine: When was the last time you saw your sister? Maxine: Or spoke with her?
Bridgette: Uhhh, I’m not sure exactly. Bridgette: I mean, I think she lost her phone in the accident? Bridgette: I talked to mom tho. They aren’t really letting anyone in to see her yet.