Now my heart is like an open door

Winter Hollis 24 years old The Cozy Quilt seamster Cardinal Hill, Washington I like bees

[coldxxwinter]

Walking through the picturesque streets of Cardinal Hill, you find Winter Hollis, the 25 year old seamster at the Cozy Quilt & beekeeper originally from Cardinal Hill, WA. Living alongside them in such a small town, you know that they're patient and reticent, but what you might not know is that they are a witch, and that they’re hiding something… George Sear, gay, cismale, he/him

Name: Winter Beckett Hollis Age: 25 years old Birthday: December 21, 1965 Zodiac sign: Sagittarius, on the cusp of Capricorn Witch or human: witch Hometown: Cardinal Hill, Washington Occupation: Beekeeper/seamster at The Cozy Quilt Sexuality: gay

It all started with bees.

Growing up in Cardinal Hill, Winter had heard about witches before. Of course he had. Even if you didn't know they were real for a fact, there were whispers, and while not quite a known secret, it wasn't hard to at least find some evidence to support your suspicions. But for Winter, he didn't have to look because when he was 12, he began showing signs of his powers.

As stated previously, it all started with bees. Winter had been learning the art of apiculture from the time he was 7 from his father, and by the time he was 12, he was doing it on his own as his parents used to be away from home more and more due to their work (both were environmental activists). Winter loved it, and for a long time he had felt such a strong bond with the bees. His parents loved him, but they were always so busy, and Winter had always been a little socially awkward. But the bees didn't expect him to be fun or witty or interesting; they didn't expect him to wear the trendiest clothes or be interested in what was considered cool. All they wanted from Winter was for him to be exactly who he was. So when he first started realizing they would listen to him, they would do as he asked, well...he just thought it spoke to the strong bond they had. And it did, but it was more than that. Winter could understand them, not in words but in feeling, could tell when they were calm or angry or when the hive was sick. And once other powers began to show themselves, Winter could no longer deny that he was one of the rumored witches he'd always heard about.

While Winter's parents had been loving, they had also been suspicious of witches. He remembered hearing his parents talking about the rumors they'd heard around town, and while they had taken it with a grain of salt, it was obvious that they wouldn't trust them if it turned out that witches were real. So Winter had hidden his powers, and he had learned everything he could on his own. Thanks to a kindly librarian witch who noticed the way Winter was always checking out books on the occult, he had learned the basics, such as that witchcraft spread through the mother's line but sometimes skipped generations. Winter's mother was adopted, so he had no way to know how many people in her bloodline had been witches as well, but he supposed it didn't really matter. Winter had always felt other, and that was even more true now.

But there was one person who had always made Winter feel whole, feel normal, or better yet, that all his differences made him perfectly imperfect. It was like with the bees: with Erik, he didn't have to be anything other than who he was, and that was enough. That was what made Winter fall in love with him. For two years, they'd been so happy, but then Winter started to overthink everything. Why was someone like Erik even interested in him? It didn't make any sense, and the more Winter thought about it, the less certain he was of anything. And the less certain he became, the more Winter began to question everything about their relationship. And things became even worse when Erik began spending a lot of time with another guy at their school. While he assured Winter that they were just friends, Winter let his insecurities get the best of him, let his paranoia make the decisions. Winter and Erik began fighting more and more, and one night at a party, Winter had too much to drink. He and Erik had gotten into their worst fight yet earlier that day, so when another guy at the party had asked Winter what was wrong, had been so nice to him, had began touching him so softly, well...Winter let it happen. It would have been the greatest regret of his life even if someone at the party hadn't seen them and hadn't told Erik, but someone did, and that made it so much worse.

Although Winter tried to explain, Erik wouldn't hear of it. He told Winter he needed space, needed time to think, but it didn't feel like there was any hope. And that's when Winter had an idea. He'd been researching and practicing magic for years, but he'd found a spell that could maybe fix everything. He'd gone to his bedroom, lit some candles, closed his eyes, and muttered the words that would change everything: "Tabula rasa, tabula rasa, tabula rasa." It was meant to make Erik forget what he had done, but Winter should have researched it more. He should have known it was better to be close to Erik, to have a line of sight on him. He should have known that this kind of magic was risky and unpredictable. But he didn't know any of these things, and he would pay for it. As it turned out, Winter's spell only had enough of an effect for Erik to realize that Winter had tried to cast a spell on him, and when he found Winter and saw the condition he was now in, when he found out what he had tried to do and how it had backfired on Winter himself instead, well...that was the end of their relationship.

Winter used to have a good memory, but now vast chunks of his past were missing. Some of the things were small, like the name of his first grade teacher or the cat he had when he was eight. But some things were huge, like his grandmother's face or most of the year he turned 11 or how to drive. Winter told his parents he was in an accident, and it wasn't a lie because the biggest thing Winter forgot was that he was a witch. Erik hadn't told Winter he had tried to cast a spell on him, deciding it was best that he not remember. After all, the last time Winter had tried to use his magic, this had happened, so why would Erik want him to remember anyway?

Now Winter's mind was a mess. In addition to forgetting so many things, he had trouble remembering new things now too, at least sometimes. And he was still a witch, even if he no longer remembered, so Winter had all these feelings he didn't understand, this charge he couldn't explain. How could he understand his bees so well? How could he explain the dreams he had, or the way things he'd say or wish for would seem to happen - like it was magic? It didn't make any sense, but honestly Winter had enough problems without trying to figure all that out. Yes, his mind was a mess, his memories jumbled, those of him being a witch among them, and now Winter was struggling just to live his life. He felt more other than ever before, and now he never truly felt as peace except for when he was with his bees - even if he couldn't understand the connection they had.

Now Winter just lives his life the best he can. His parents are almost never home or even in the country, and he's lost touch with many of his friends. A talented seamster, he works at The Cozy Quilt and sells his honey - which is well-known for its quality - in town to various shops and cafés, so he sees people, interacts with them. But Winter feels like none of them really know him. How could they when he doesn't even know himself?

Wanted connections

Ex-boyfriend: Winter’s boyfriend - who he tried to cast the forgetting spell on - still lives in Cardinal Hill, so it would be cool to have him in the RP. I don’t have any real restrictions on him otherwise. I have his name as Erik in the bio, but that’s more like a placeholder name. It can be whatever.

Ex-whatever: This is the guy Winter cheated on Erik with. This can be someone Winter barely knew, someone who genuinely cares about and likes him, someone who just wanted sex, whatever. Winter still remembers this person and the cheating and thinks that’s the only reason he and Erik broke up

The other guy: This is the guy Erik was spending time with who initially set Winter’s suspicions going wild. It would be a fun dynamic to play them interacting.

[veilxstars-deactivated20260327]

Puck approached Winter’s stall with a deliberate slowness, his sharp eyes taking in the setup, assessing every detail. He didn’t bother with small talk or pleasantries, just a flicker of acknowledgment before letting his gaze settle on the jars of honey. His expression was hard to read—amused, maybe, or just quietly bored - no one had forced him to come back to Cardinal Hill, but he wasn't sure how much his family had polluted the water.

“Pumpkin spice honey,” he said, his voice cutting through the space like a dry autumn wind. “Of course. Can’t let the season pass without turning pumpkin into everything.”

He didn’t wait for Winter’s response, his fingers casually brushing over the labels, taking in the options with a quiet sort of intensity. After a moment, he plucked a sample of the pumpkin honey, dipping just enough to taste without lingering too long.

“Better than I expected,” he admitted, though the compliment was subtle, almost like he begrudged saying anything at all. His eyes flicked up to meet Winter’s, something a little sharper in his gaze now. “About last time. I don’t make a habit of apologizing, but… I can see how I might’ve come off as— abrasive.” His tone had a hint of dry humor, but there was a slight edge to it too, like the words were more obligation than sentiment. “Not my finest hour. We can leave it there.”

He took another sample, slower this time, giving Winter a sideways glance. “So, are we good, or do I need to buy half the stall to make up for it?”

[coldxxwinter]

The moment he saw the man, Winter froze. Their last encounter had been tense to say the least, and Winter recalled how worked up he had gotten. It was just that Puck had struck a nerve, the one live wire inside him. And it had almost been like Puck was trying to poke that wound inside him, and that made Winter even angrier. What does he want? Winter thought. He truthfully never expected to see Puck again, or at the very least not to talk to him, mostly because he felt like the man wanted it that way. So Winter was more than a little surprised to see Puck deliberately heading in his direction.

As Puck got closer, Winter said, "Sorry, I've forgotten a lot of things, but not our last conversation." He crossed his arms, looking at Puck sternly, though he didn't make him leave. It wasn't like he hated the guy, though Winter was braced for another argument just in case. "I'll probably eventually forget though, so fingers crossed, right?" he added sardonically, holding up his hand and literally crossing his fingers. Of course Puck would have something to say about the honey, and Winter replied, "Just because pumpkin spice is popular doesn't mean it's bad. People love this honey, and I always sell out of it. I like giving them something they'll enjoy." He did agree that not everything had to be pumpkin spice this time of year, but honey was one of the things that complimented the flavor well. "Was that a compliment?" Winter asked, though he loosened up a big, smirking at the man. "I don't half-ass my honey," Winter told Puck. "If it's not good, it's not going out for sale."

If Winter had been surprised to see Puck coming toward him, it was nothing compared to how he felt by what the man said next. "You really don't make a habit of apologizing, do you?" Winter retorted, though there was a hint of a smile on his face, Puck's words quelling most of the tension inside him. "You know, since that wasn't what that was." He stared at Puck another moment, but then Winter just shook his head, his smile growing just a little. "Somehow despite barely knowing you, this almost-apology sort of...fits with what I would expect," Winter added, his words not a criticism, simply an observation. "Well...almost apology accepted, I guess," he added, and Winter decided to let bygones be bygones. And then he actually laughed at the man's question. "I think for us to be good, you're going to have to at least buy something," Winter responded. "You know, instead of just eating free samples. Though you should sample the pumpkin honey, which is different from the pumpkin spice, as I said."

[bitethvhand]

Eden had a list of which stalls she needed to visit and Winter's was on the top. She'd been a customer for several years, when he was much younger and this wasn't even a business. That was why she came back home after her incident, the familiarity of this town was all that she could possibly handle. Taking a quick look at all the flavors, the witch grabbed an apple slice and dipped it into the pumpkin honey. Closing her eyes with a smile, she let out a soft hum before opening them and smirking at her friend. "I really don't know how you do it! I mean of course pumpkin and honey go together but it tastes like you put a pie in there."

"I'll take a bottle of that and the lavender honey you know I love."

[coldxxwinter]

It had been a little bit since he had seen Eden, and Winter smiled at the sight of his friend. "Hey!" he greeted her, happy she'd come to his stall, but then Winter felt that familiar unease he felt with anyone he'd known for a long time (especially if they'd been close before his accident). With new people, Winter felt more free to be his messed up self, but with people from his past, he felt pressure to be the version of himself that was still whole. But that wasn't anyone else's fault, so Winter told himself to relax. He knew Eden, knew she was kind, and he didn't need to be worried. Maybe if he told himself that enough, he'd believe it.

"Well pumpkin honey is made when bees pollinate pumpkin flowers," Winter explained. "This honey is actually from last year when I grew pumpkins, which...was an experience." He laughed at the memory (and was happy that he actually remembered), recalling, "Yeah...the pumpkins kind of took over a big chunk of my yard, so that's definitely not an every year thing." Looking at the next honey selection, Winter told Eden, "Pumpkin spice is a bit more of a...manufactured flavor I guess. It's not just a natural flavor you get from bees pollinating certain flowers. You make it by blending raw honey with pumpkin pie spices, so that's probably why you feel like you taste pumpkin pie since...well, you kind of do."

Handing Eden the honey, Winter told her, "I saved some of the lavender especially for you." He hadn't even put it out for sale, instead taking it from behind his market stall where he'd placed it while setting up. He hadn't made lavender honey this year, but he had several bottles leftover from last year with a note that said, "Save for Eden," which Winter was glad for now. "No charge though, these are on the house," Winter insisted. He didn't sell his honey to make money, he just did it because he liked it, so his friends would never pay for theirs (well, within reason...he might charge if Eden wanted all his bottles or something). After bagging Eden's honey, Winter looked around at the other market stalls and asked, "Have you found anything else around here that's interesting - or tasty?"

[coldxxwinter]

Starter for: anyone ( @cardinalstart ) Event: Pumpkin Palooza

Having grown up in Cardinal Hill, Winter was well-accustomed to Pumpkin Palooza, and he loved it. Every year he went, with his family when they were around and alone or with friends when they weren't, and the only year he'd missed it was when he'd had mono during the festival when he was...well, Winter couldn't remember how old, just knew it was sometime in his early teens. And that had only been because his family had forced him to, once even catching him sneaking out of his bedroom window. Otherwise, Winter spent as much time at the festival as he could every year, with Pumpkin Palooza being one of the happiest things in his life right now. And honestly...Winter felt like he could use as many happy things as possible right now.

Ever since he'd begun beekeeping when he was 12, Winter had spent at least some of the time at the festival markets. He had stocked up on honey, some of it even from last year because it hadn't quite been ready for the market then, and now he had a variety. After setting up his stall, Winter sat down behind it and waited, proud of what he had to sell. And it didn't take long for someone to approach. "Hey!" Winter greeted the potential customer, smiling at them. "Are you looking for anything specific? If not, let me suggest the pumpkin honey or the pumpkin spice honey, which sound the same but actually aren't. And yes, I do free samples." As he said that last part, Winter gestured to the small bowls of honey with labels in front of them, along with a variety of dipping options such as bread, naan, crackers, and the like.

[veilxstars-deactivated20260327]

Puck leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, a sardonic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Ah, memory issues, eh?” he remarked, the coolness of his tone belying any sympathy he might have truly felt. “How terribly quaint. What a delightful little tragedy you’ve concocted for yourself, Winter.”

He flicked a glance at the younger man, eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s charming that you think writing other people’s thoughts is easier. I suppose it is—draping your own feelings over someone else’s narrative, avoiding the weight of your own truths.” A wry chuckle escaped him, the sound both mocking and introspective. “What a splendid escape, really. But I daresay, living with those thoughts jumbled in your head is an all-too-familiar plight.”

Puck tilted his head, surveying the landscape, shadows dancing across the ground as the sun began its descent. “I can’t help but wonder, Winter, do you ever think that maybe we’re not meant to sort it all out? Perhaps the chaos is just… who we are, tangled in the mess of our experiences.”

“Twenty-five years, and yet here you are, still seeking a sense of belonging in a place that never cared to remember you,” he continued, his voice now barely a whisper, heavy with unsaid emotions. “I left long before you arrived, seeking my own peace, but I suppose it always finds a way of eluding us, doesn’t it?”

Puck’s gaze lingered on Winter, an unexpected softness breaking through his usual aloof demeanor. “You want to talk? Fine. I won’t offer you hollow platitudes, nor will I pretend that I know what would make it better. But I’ll listen. Sometimes, that’s all we need—a sounding board for the thoughts that refuse to settle... so, talk... and if I look like I'm sleeping - I'm only closing my eyes to better build the image in my head."

[coldxxwinter]

Winter wasn’t sure how to take Puck’s tone. Truthfully he didn’t like the way the man responded…it seemed glib to him, almost mocking, but maybe that was just how he was perceiving it. Luckily Winter had learned not to jump to conclusions, so instead of getting angry, he replied, “It actually is a tragedy, or it feels like one at least. I don’t remember a lot of things. I don’t remember what my grandma looked like or how my favorite dog died when I was a kid or how to drive even. I don’t just mean I’m scatterbrained. I’m talking about serious lapses in memory too.” Maybe it was his fault for using the word “jumbled” to describe his memories. 

Now that he started, Winter couldn’t stop; this was a sensitive issue for him. “And you should see my house,” he went on. “I have to leave myself notes for everything, like even simple things I shouldn’t forget, like to lock the door when I leave.” Sometimes - often even - he would remember those things, but not always. “I’ve seen a lot of different doctors, but no one can figure it out, so I just have to live with it.” What Winter didn’t say was that in some deep, unexplainable way, he felt like he deserved it. 

Winter could feel himself getting worked up, and he didn’t want that. But it did feel like everything he said, Puck replied in some sort of mocking, condescending way, almost like he was baiting Winter. And he had chosen possibly the one thing to truly get him riled up, the one wound to poke, so Winter was having trouble keeping his cool. “I mean fictional people,” Winter clarified, “not like trying to transcribe what other real people in your life are feeling. And I don’t see it as avoidance. Sometimes it’s the only way to process things.” What did he know though? Winter wasn’t a writer himself, or at least he didn’t think he was. He also hadn’t been aware that he knew sign language either though until Mags had come into the shop. 

Even though Puck had offered to listen, Winter didn’t know if he wanted him to anymore. “I don’t really get the sense that you want to though,” Winter replied, a bit of a bite to his words. “It feels like you’re just saying that because I’m here and talking. So maybe I’ll just leave you to your thoughts.” That seemed to be what Puck really wanted, and truthfully Winter needed to work out his own right now, which he doubt he could do with the source of some of his frustration being right on the other side of his tree. 

[veilxstars-deactivated20260327]

Mags regarded Winter with a cautious gaze, her posture stiff as she watched him sign. Beneath her reserved exterior, a flicker of gratitude stirred within her. He had recognized her need for something beyond warmth, an unspoken understanding that resonated deeply. Mags could almost sense the gentle hum of energy emanating from him, a rare warmth that coaxed her walls to tremble ever so slightly.

She signed back, her movements deliberate and precise, "A quilt to keep the shadows at bay." There was a weight to her words, a hint of the burdens she carried. For years, she had learned to conceal her fears behind layers of detachment, and here, before this stranger, she felt the old instinct to retreat. Yet, Winter’s earnestness held her gaze. The thought of vulnerability pricked at her stubborn nature, but she fought against the impulse to turn away.

With a determined flick of her wrist, Mags retrieved a wad of cash from her pocket, slapping it down on the counter with an assertive thud. The crisp bills seemed to absorb the energy in the air, anchoring her in the moment.

“I need this quilt,” she signed, her fingers steady, each movement a reflection of her urgency. “The storms… they're bringing trouble.” Her heart raced slightly as she signed, the admission unfurling the tightly wound threads of her resolve.

The weight of her past threatened to surface, a tide of memories pulling her under. But the quilt—this simple creation—felt like a shield against those encroaching shadows. It would not just be a blanket; it would be a barrier, a way to guard against the darkness that lurked at the edges of her mind.

Mags locked eyes with Winter, a fierce determination sparking in her gaze. She had no intention of letting fear dictate her choices any longer. "It's stupid, and I know it. Any old quilt won't protect me, but I've seen your work. Yours might."

[coldxxwinter]

Winter had seen a lot of different kinds of customers since he began at The Cozy Quilt, and for all different reasons too. Sometimes they just wanted a quilt for warmth, or sometimes they wanted it for a gift. Sometimes the quilt had sentimental value. But right now with Mags, it felt like it went deeper than that, and - though it was no fault of Mags’s own - it made Winter feel uneasy. That thrum was stronger than ever, that unseen energy; it felt like it was crackling around him now. At the same time, Winter felt like Mags was thawing a little, not that he’d blame her if she didn’t. She wasn’t being rude, and that was all Winter really cared about in a customer. Still, it was always easier to work with them and make them the perfect quilt if they had an easy vibe between them. And besides, Winter understood not wanting to feel vulnerable either, especially around a stranger. Not everything needed to be said, and moreover, not everything could be easily put into words. Winter especially knew this. 

Mags handed Winter the needed cash for the deposit, and he moved to the nearby cash register, putting the money there and then writing the order in their log book. ‘Will you tell me a good phone number to reach you?’ Winter signed. The longer the pair talked, the more he got the sense that this quilt was definitely more than just a quilt. Even in sign language, Winter could tell that there was some urgency in this. But when Mags started signing about the storms, Winter stopped what he was doing and looked at her in surprise; he’d been thinking about this very thing a lot lately. ‘You think the storms are bad too?’ Winter signed. He knew they hadn’t really been talking about personal things, but he couldn’t not bring it up now. ‘I’ve been uneasy ever since’ he signed. ‘They feel…like more than storms.’ Now it was making more sense why Mags was so anxious to have her quilt, and Winter felt a sense of determination. ‘I will finish as quickly as I can,’ he promised. 

Now that the topic of the storms had been brought up, Winter signed, ‘Did you…hear a voice during the storm? Like in your mind?’ He wasn’t sure how it would work for Mags since she was deaf, and he hoped he didn’t come across as ignorant. What Mags said about his work made Winter smile, and he said, ‘Thank you. I try to make each quilt feel…important. Special. I don’t know if it will help, but I hope it will.’ After thinking about it for a second, he added, ‘I wish I could infuse it with protective magic.’

[ritualove]

Winter's openess warmed Annette's heart, she really did care about him. When the bees crawled onto her hand, it gave her a feeling that she hasn't really felt before. It was really comforting, but in a strange way, Annette couldn't explain it. She slowly brought her hand up to the edge of the beekeeper suit, so she can look at them closer. "Hi little guys." She said, whispering to them. When Winter said he was glad, it made Annette smile.

The atmosphere had turned grim since they started talking about their experience with the storm, so Winter's suggestion of going inside was a welcome one. "God you read my mind." She said, stanidng back up. "I would love some hot chocolate right now." She also really wanted to take off the beekeeper suit, while it wasn't uncomfortable, it was still a bit stiffling, darkening the world around her with the mesh. She had turned back to the hives to say one last thing before walking to the shed with Winter. "Bye everyone! I hope I get to see you again soon."

[coldxxwinter]

It had been a good idea to share the bees with Annette, and Winter was happy to have shared this part of his life with his friend. He realized that Annette had become his best friend actually, which was a little funny given that they'd known each other for years and had only become friends relatively recently. Briefly Winter wondered if he had a best friend he had just forgotten, but if so, that friend hadn't reached out, so how good of a friend could they have been really? For a few more moments, he watched the bees crawling over Annette's arms, and they were so gentle with her that Winter knew she could have gone without the beekeeper's suit if she wanted to (though he also understood her caution). And it made Winter happy to see the way Annette spoke to them; it was the same way he did. "We'll be back soon," Winter told the bees after Annette had changed out of the suit, and then he headed inside with his friend.

A few minutes later, they were in Winter's kitchen, and he was rummaging through his pantry, hoping that he actually had hot chocolate. "Yes!" he exclaimed when he found it, emerging from the pantry triumphantly with the container held out like a trophy. He had put a kettle of water on the stove, and as it heated up, Winter got them both a mug. "I don't have any little marshmallows," he told Annette. "Sorry...I'm going to write myself a note to remember." Actually he thought he should do that now, so Winter pulled out the pack of sticky notes and the pen he always kept in his pocket and wrote it down. "If I don't do this right now, I'll forget," he explained, feeling a little embarrassed.

[ritualove]

Watching the bees swarm around Winter was strange, they really did have a connection with each other. They went out of their way to comfort him when he talked negatively about himself. It was strange, but Annette assumed it was kind of like how cats and dogs know when people are sad. "They don't look tired to me." She said with a smile. "I think you're too hard on yourself Winter, I don't know the 'old' Winter, but I do know the current Winter, and I think he is pretty cool." She reached out to place her hand on his shoulders, but being careful of the bees, it was more like a comforting three fingers.

Annette's outloud theorising might have been too certain, for what she intended. "I don't really know what I believe, and magic does sound a little silly. But I do think there is a possibility of something being up" she side, hoping to possibly relax the vibe. However, what Winter said about the windstorm shook something inside Annette, causing her to sit across from him. "Okay don't freak out, but... well... something similar also happened to me during that storm." She said, trying her hardest to fiddle with anything to get her mind to relax, being limited by the bulk of the beekeeper suit. "I also heard someone speaking to me... it said something that really got to me. That can't be a concidence." She said, looking to Winter, biting her lip in concern.

[coldxxwinter]

This was the most he had shared his bees with anyone for awhile. The only person he ever talked about them in depth with was Beau, and even he had never seen the way Winter interacted with his hives. But it felt nice showing this side of his life to someone, and who else if not Annette, who had become his closest friend? Winter was sure she wouldn't think all of this was weird. "Maybe not," he agreed, smiling at Annette. "I really feel like the bees and I have this connection," he continued. "It's...strange, but I don't really know what I would do without it." Winter smiled at Annette's words, glad that the two of them had become close after not really knowing each other in high school. When she touched his shoulder, some of the bees crawled from it onto her hand, and somehow Winter knew that they had decided that Annette was worth trusting. Somehow he knew that they liked her because of how kind she was to Winter. "I'm glad you like this version of me," Winter said, smiling appreciatively at Annette.

The turn in their conversation wasn't something Winter had expected, but now that they were talking about it, he thought it felt important, like this was something they needed to talk about. There had been all these little signs that something was strange about Cardinal Hill, especially since that first storm and the strange dream he had had, though...it felt familiar somehow too; Winter wondered if he had known anything before his accident. Even though what Annette was saying did admittedly sound kind of farfetched, Winter didn't think it was, and actually he was starting to think that his friend had a point. "The word 'magic' sounds so hard to take seriously, but...what if it's real?" Winter asked Annette. "I mean...we can't know everything about the world. That's impossible." Somehow Winter was readily accepting the notion that magic was real, and the fact that he so easily did so again made him wonder just what he had known before the accident. But this wasn't something he shared with Annette just yet; it felt like a thing he should keep to himself for now. When he heard that Annette had heard a voice too, Winter's eyes widened. "No, it can't be a coincidence," he agreed, shaken by this revelation. It felt...ominous. While he wasn't going to ask what the voice said, Winter did admit, "What I heard got to me too. It was like...like someone knew exactly what scared me the most and then gave voice to it." As he spoke about this, Winter realized he was shaking, unsure of where this sudden fear had come from. "Do you want to go inside?" Winter asked Annette. "I think maybe we need some hot chocolate, and I think I've got some." While Winter did believe that hot chocolate made everything better, mostly he needed to collect his thoughts for a moment.

[ritualove]

Annette grinned at his joke, but her smile turned into more of an attempt at a comforting smile. She had no way of properly understanding what he is going through emotionally, especially with such a dramatic accident. She did try her best to relate to him though, at least with what she can. "I don't think you should worry about how many people you hang out with, as long as it's people you like, yaknow?" She said. Annette did know a lot of people, and was quite a social person, so she feared that it would seem a little bit disingenous. "It's good to have a close connection with anything, even if they aren't people. You are these bee's caretaker of course, and without you they wouldn't be able to survive... I think, honestly I'm not sure bees seem pretty self sufficent but... well... you know what I mean!" She said, giving him a playful shove like he was the reason at her fumbling her words.

Annette's watched in amusement as Winter responded to her question, letting him finish his thoughts before she replied. "I don't think it's stupid at all. I've seen lots of weird places in the woods, and while I haven't been there recently, I have been there after some really crazy storms and they were perfectly unharmed, while everything around it was in pieces." She said, walking closer to Winter, like she was trying to quieten her words in a large crowd. "Think about it, have any other weird phenomenons happened around here? Maybe something, or someone, wants your pretty yard to stay pretty." She murmured to Winter, before turning back to the beehives, ducking down to see them from a lower angle.

[coldxxwinter]

Right now Winter felt pretty vulnerable, but he also felt like that was okay. Even though they hadn't been close during high school, that had changed a lot since, and now Annette was someone Winter really trusted. If he couldn't talk about these things with her, then who could he talk to about them? Definitely not his parents, that was for sure, and he didn't have many other friends. "I think I wouldn't worry about it so much if things had always been like this," Winter admitted softly. "But I used to be so different, and now...I barely feel like the same Winter sometimes." What really troubled Winter about that statement was he didn't even fully remember the old Winter, and now it just felt more and more like he didn't exist, or at least that he was fading away. It was definitely easier to talk about the bees though, so Winter leaned into the change of topic. "They don't really need me to survive," Winter said, "but I get what you mean. They probably get tired of dealing with me though." As he said this, it was like the bees had heard him and came to reassure Winter that no, they didn't get tired of him, that they liked having him around: a swarm of them flew over to him, settling all over his arms, shoulders, chest, back, neck, and even a few on his face, as if to reassure him. Winter felt a surge of affection for his hives now; they really were his friends.

Winter had thought that Annette would say that of course magic wasn't real, that of course she didn't believe in it, and then they'd have a good laugh. But that's not what happened, and Winter was stunned. Did she really believe there was more to this? "Wait," he said, "are you saying that you...think magic might be real?" Even though Winter asked this as if he didn't himself believe it, there was not a small part of him that couldn't shake the thought of magic - or some sort of mystical energy at least - being real. He listened to Annette's theory, and Winter was suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed, something he couldn't explain. His heart started to race, and when Leo sat down (trying to make it look casual), more bees flew over and landed on him, as if to provide comfort. "Sorry," Winter apologized, "it's just...a big thought." Looking up at Annette, Winter continued, "It...it makes sense though. So many weird things happen around here, not least among them being the weird storms we've had recently." For a moment, Winter hesitated, but then he decided to reveal something to Annette. "During the windstorm," he said, "I...I heard a voice. It was so clear, like someone speaking directly into my mind, and...it just didn't feel like I was imagining it. Somehow I managed to convince myself I was, but now...I'm not so sure.

[twistxdcrafts]

beau blinked at winter's words. "you did? did i forget?" it was entirely possible, if beau didn't write things down in his diary or on his calendar, he was likely to forget it. he knew memory was a sore spot for winter, so he quickly made light of the situation.

"don't apologise. you probably did, and i just didn't write it down. at least you've got an excuse, i'm just getting old and senile." beau teased, giving him a wink. he reached out and put his hand on winter's shoulder affectionately, bringing winter inside. "you're very kind to this old man. c'mon, let's get you some coffee."

beau led winter through to the back of the house, where the kitchen was. it was quite traditional, dotted with 'modern' appliances that looked at least ten years old. beau didn't see the reason for replacing something when the older model worked just as well. it smelled of fresh coffee and dried lavender in the window. beau brought a second mug out of the cupboard and poured the coffee.

"you want some honey in that? or some creamer? i think i've got half and half..."

[coldxxwinter]

Though Beau was being nice about all of this, considering that he might have been the one to forget, Winter knew the truth. "No, it was probably me," he replied, feeling a little bitter - at himself, not Beau. This sort of thing happened a lot, but Winter still hadn't come to terms with it. "I should have verified with you before heading over here," he told Beau. "I didn't see a note confirming our meeting or that we'd talked, but I thought I'd just forgotten to write it. That would be just like me." Part of Winter's memory issues manifested as him being, well, scatterbrained, so it was totally possible for him to get sidetracked before writing a reminder note and then forgetting. That was what he had thought happened here, but now Winter knew it went deeper than that.

Even so, Winter appreciated that Beau was trying to make him feel better. "You don't have to do that," he told the other man. "It's okay...we both know this isn't an isolated occurrence for me." Beau said Winter had an excuse, and maybe that was true, but why did Winter feel like he was getting what he deserved? It wasn't all the time, but sometimes there was this lingering feeling like he had brought this on himself. Winter wished he could remember the accident more. But Winter didn't want to be too down on himself because he'd just dropped in on Beau unexpectedly, and he wasn't about to just start mopey around. So he managed a smile as he walked inside with his friend. "You're not old, by the way," Winter said, patting Beau on the back, "and you're not senile."

They sat in the kitchen, and Winter looked around, realizing this more or less matched the type of kitchen he had imagined for Beau. "I like your kitchen," Winter told his friend, smiling at him. "It feels so warm and homey. I'm a little surprised there's not more bee decor though." Winter was only half serious about this. At the man's question, Winter laughed and replied, "Well honey of course. But if you have creamer, I won't say no to that either." He waited for Beau to make the coffee, going through his bag he'd brought. "I hope this is enough beeswax," Winter said, still rummaging through the bag. "I know you've got candles to make. Honestly I don't know how you keep up."

[veilxstars-deactivated20260327]

Puck reclined against the rough bark, casting a sidelong glance at the guy speaking softly nearby. “It’s one of those days, isn’t it?” he remarked dryly, his tone more teasing than bitter. “I’m sure we’ve all been there. This place has a way of drawing out the heaviness in us.”

“Winter, huh? Well, I guess that’s fitting for someone who seems to understand solitude. It’s good to meet you,” he said. “And don’t worry; you’re not the only one struggling to articulate feelings. I’m a horror writer—you’d think I’d have a handle on words, but sometimes they betray me.” He chuckled softly, the sound a little hollow.

Puck rubbed the back of his neck, then waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nice to have someone willing to listen, but I’m not here to spill my guts. I prefer to keep things nice and bottled up. Like my family’s attempts at love—just a lot of pressure and potential for explosion.” He leaned forward, smirking slightly. “But I guess that’s part of the charm of this town. You’re never truly alone, even when you want to be.”

He took a moment, glancing around at the familiar surroundings before refocusing on Winter. “And no, I’m not new. Just back from a long time away. Let’s say the ghosts of my past have decided to rear their heads again. But I can’t say I’ve seen you here before either. How long have you been haunting these woods?”

Then Puck’s interest piqued slightly. “Memory issues, you say? If we’ve met before and you forgot me, I don't take it personally — I’m good at being forgettable.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his voice steady. “And if you ever want to talk about what you can’t make sense of, I’m not the worst company. Just don’t expect any heartwarming platitudes. I’m more of a dark humor and existential dread kind of guy.”

[coldxxwinter]

It seemed like the man was more willing to talk than Winter had thought initially, and that made him feel a little bit better about disturbing him. "Yeah, exactly," he agreed. "I mean, I love Cardinal Hill, but...especially lately, I've just been thinking so much, ever since my accident." Realizing he'd mentioned what happened so casually, Winter explained, "I was in an accident awhile ago, and now...everything is just really jumbled, and it's really hard to make sense of everything when too many people are around." That was part of the reason Winter kept to himself so much these days.

"Yeah, Winter," he confirmed, and then he smiled; he liked the way that Puck described his name. "That's a really nice way to think of it, so thank you." Thinking about what Puck had said, Winter considered it carefully, and he said, "I think sometimes it's easier to write things like stories. Like...I think it's easier to write other people's thoughts than to articulate your own. I don't know if that makes sense." It definitely seemed like something was weighing on Puck, and that was something Winter could really understand, especially the part about not being able to articulate what he felt. "It's really hard when you don't know how you feel," Winter said softly. "It's like all the thoughts are all up here," he went on, tapping the side of his head, "but I can't sort them out. Do you know what that's like?"

Winter laughed, and he said, "Is it really charm if you want to be alone? Everyone means well, but...it puts pressure on you to be a certain way, to be alright, and sometimes I'm just...not." These were things that Winter hadn't told anyone before, secret thoughts he had never said aloud. Maybe it was because he felt like Puck had no stakes in this conversation that made Winter feel like he could be more open and honest than usual. A little surprised by Puck's answer, Winter asked, "How long ago did you leave? I've lived here...well, it'll be 25 years in December." But with his memory issues, Winter wouldn't have been surprised he just forgot Puck. "I've always kind of liked coming here," he answered a second later, "but I really started coming here a lot a little before my accident...I think." Really Winter couldn't remember, but that felt correct.

"Yeah, memory issues," Winter replied. He elaborated, "I had an accident a bit ago, and I lost a big chunk of my memories. And now I'm always forgetting things. You should see my house - notes everywhere to remind me of stuff." It was a little embarrassing, but this went along with feeling like Puck was a neutral party, a sounding board he could tell things too without fear of judgment. Surprised by Puck's offer, Winter said, "I really appreciate that. And I don't want platitudes. They don't ever do any good. I...I don't know what I want." And that was really true. What would make this better? What would make him less troubled by everything that had happened?

[wcirdo]

“Oh, sorry. I’m Elias, Elias Schwartz,” Elias said promptly stopping what he was doing to produce a hand for Winter to shake. He’d been caught off guard that someone was actually agreeing to be interviewed that he had forgotten his manners though often the people who actually agreed to speak with him were the type of people who cared greatly about themselves and to share themselves that they didn’t ask Elias any personal questions.

“Fitting name then,” Elias commented. He figured there had been a story behind a name like that. There almost always was in Elias’s experience. Neither him or his brother had very out there names, they just came from the Torah. Elias quickly jotted down Winter’s full name so he’d know how to spell it for the paper. He still didn’t know exactly what he planned to write but hopefully someone he talked to would have an interesting enough story to feature. “They should be easy questions though there’ll be a quiz once I’m done,” Elias joked. “So Winter,” Elias began again, “What do you do for a living?”

[coldxxwinter]

"It's nice to meet you, Elias," Winter replied warmly. Sometimes when he met someone, Winter worried that this was actually someone he knew already. It had happened so many times since the accident, not surprising given that Winter had lived in Cardinal Hill his entire life, so he had known a lot of people. In some ways, it was like moving here for the first time. Luckily though, it didn't seem like he had known Elias before now, or if he did, the man was at least trying not to make him feel bad about forgetting.

Shrugging, Winter replied, "Yeah, I guess it was. My parents had a different name picked out, but then they barely got to the hospital in the blizzard, so they went with this instead. Otherwise my name would have been..." Winter trailed off, and his stomach dropped as he realized he didn't remember what the name would have been. How could he forget? This was a story he had heard his entire life. Feeling completely dejected now, Winter forced a smile, saying, "Well it would have been something else." Deciding not to wallow in self-pity (Elias probably didn't want to deal with that anyway), Winter just focused on his questions. "Well, I'm a beekeeper, so I sell honey to various places in town, like shops and stuff," he answered. "And I also work at The Cozy Quilt as a seamster. I primarily work on, well, quilts, though I do other things like mend damaged items that people bring in like other blankets and things like that.

[veilxstars-deactivated20260327]

Mags felt a flicker of curiosity as Winter signed back, his movements smooth and becoming confident - like muscle memory. It was a refreshing change from the usual awkwardness she encountered.

His willingness to create the quilt allowed her to relax, but only for a second, and she reminded herself that it was his job to take commissioned work. “It needs to be big enough to wrap me up completely -- and how big can you make it? Bigger than king sized?" she signed, visualizing the quilt as a barrier between her and the world, a way to insulate herself from the chill of winter and the weight of her nightmares. “as big as can be made, really. I don’t want to feel exposed.” Plus, the attic was drafty.

When he mentioned he also had bad dreams, Mags raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing him for a moment. “Yes,,” she signed, her expression carefully neutral. “They’ve been persistent.” There was no need to delve deeper; vulnerability was not her strong suit. “A quilt might help, or at least it won’t hurt.”

She watched as he took notes, considering the way he focused on her words. “I need it to be special,” she added, her signing firm. “The colors of the flowers I mentioned. It's stupid, but they're important.” The quilt wasn’t just a decorative piece or even just for warmth; it was a means of protection, and she couldn't settle for less.

When he introduced himself as Winter, Mags gave a curt nod. “Mags,” she signed back, her fingers swift. “Like the magpie.” It was a name she had chosen deliberately—something sharp and quick, just like her.

Mags could sense the potential for a partnership here, but her instinct was to remain cautious. Trust was not easily given, and she was not about to drop her guard. If Winter wanted to help her, fine, but she’d keep her distance. She’d been hurt before, and she wouldn’t let that happen again. "I'll pay in cash - do you need it upfront?"

[coldxxwinter]

Winter stopped trying to figure out how he knew ASL and just decided to be glad that he did, that he could communicate so easily with this customer. As they talked, Winter started to get the sense that this blanket was more than a means to stay warm - it felt almost symbolic, like the way a kid might hide under a blanket at night. This of course wasn't something Winter was about to say (or sign) because he didn't know how to do so without coming across as condescending, which was the last thing he wanted. Honestly Winter understood; sometimes it would be nice to be able to shut out the world like that.

And as they talked, Winter started to feel a strange thrum of...something. This was a thing that happened to him sometimes, like there was some unseen energy, and Winter couldn't really explain it. His fingers felt almost twitchy too, like he was dying to get started on the quilt, and it felt like that desire went beyond simply doing right by the customer. It felt more important. 'I can make it as big as you want,' Winter signed back, and he could, though the bigger it was, the more expensive it would be, though he got the impression that didn't matter so much to the customer. 'It will just take longer,' Winter added. Smiling at the woman's response, Winter told her, 'I have a lot of quilts.' He was a seamster at a place called The Cozy Quilt, so of course he did. 'None of them like yours though,' he added. Maybe he would need to make a special one like the one this customer was describing. He continued taking notes, confident he could deliver what the customer wanted.

It was pretty clear to Winter that the customer - Mags - was not here to make friends, and that was okay; Winter was just an employee providing a service. 'I like it,' Winter signed when Mags introduced herself, a smile on his face. Even if they likely weren't going to become friends, he couldn't help but be friendly. Besides, Winter understood the caution as he usually kept to himself these days as well, ever since the accident. Shaking his head, Winter answered, 'No, you pay when the quilt is finished.' He wanted to make sure that she actually liked what he did, though Winter admitted, 'The shop does require a deposit though.'

[veilxstars-deactivated20260327]

Puck glanced up from his notebook, mildly annoyed at the interruption but not enough to snap. He wasn’t used to people encroaching on his space, especially not in a place like this, where he’d come specifically to think and get away from everything. The tree had been his quiet spot for years before he ran away, and the sudden presence of someone else—Winter, he’d said his name was—threw him off. Winter didn't belong in his thoughts because Winter hadn't existed when Puck left. But now he was here, and Puck adjusted.

He tried to refocus on his writing, but it was no use. Winter’s offer to talk hung in the air between them, and while Puck had no intention of spilling his problems to a stranger, he couldn’t exactly pretend the guy didn’t exist either. With a quiet sigh, Puck closed his notebook, letting it rest on his lap as he leaned back against the tree.

“I’m alright,” Puck finally said, his voice calm but distant, like someone used to deflecting concern. “Just trying to work through some things in peace.” He wasn’t angry, but there was a subtle undercurrent of leave it alone in his tone.

Puck tilted his head, giving Winter a brief glance. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but talking about it doesn’t usually help me much. Been around long enough to know that some things are better left unsaid.” His words were measured, not sharp, just… guarded.

He paused for a moment, then added with a small shrug, “Name’s Puck. Or Oberon, if you want to be formal. Most people just stick with Puck.”

He glanced out at the park, watching the leaves fall in quiet spirals, the colors vivid against the sky. After a beat of silence, he softened slightly, not wanting to come across as completely closed off. “What about you?” he asked, his tone a little lighter now. “You always make a habit of offering a listening ear to strangers, or is this just one of those days?”

It wasn’t quite an invitation for a deep conversation, but it was a gesture of civility—his way of acknowledging Winter’s presence without shutting him out completely. Puck knew the value of quiet, but maybe there was something to be said for sharing space, even if words weren’t exchanged.

[coldxxwinter]

What Winter should have done was turn around and walk in the other direction once he saw the man sitting under his tree. It was clear that this guy had come here to be alone, something Winter could relate to because he himself had done the same. And if he hadn't known that already, it was pretty clear that by how the man replied that he hadn't come here to talk. Great job, Winter, he told himself, sighing softly. Part of him thought about just standing up and leaving, but he worried that would be too awkward, so for now he decided to just give the man some privacy. "Sorry," he apologized quietly, his voice just above a whisper, as if by talking too loudly he would disturb the man further. "That's why I come here too, so I understand."

For a few moments, they sat there in silence, Winter thinking that the conversation between them was over, but then the man spoke again. "I understand," Winter replied. "And also...sometimes even if you want to talk about things, it's not always easy; sometimes it's hard to articulate a feeling. I definitely know what that's like." These days that was especially difficult for Winter, had been ever since his accident. "I think it makes it harder when you don't really know how you feel," he added, more to himself than to the man.

Feeling a little less uncomfortable the longer they talked, Winter decided, "I think I'll stick with Puck since that's what most people do." The man's question was a bit tricky to answer though. "It's not just one of those days," Winter responded finally. "I'm almost always willing to listen, and I...I know what it's like to not have anyone to talk to, so when I see someone who looks like they might have something going on, it's my instinct to be there for them. But...I also don't always want to talk about what's bothering me either, and a lot of the time that's because I can't really make sense of it. So I also get not wanting to talk." For a moment, the pair just sat there on opposite sides of the tree, and finally Winter broke the silence. "I haven't seen you here before," he stated, "and I come here a lot. Have we just missed each other, or are you new in town?" But then a thought occurred to Winter, and he went on, "I mean, I don't think I've seen you here before at least. I've been having some...memory issues I guess you could say, so I'm sorry if we actually have met before." His cheeks pinked a bit, and Winter was glad to be on the other side of the tree.

[veilxstars-deactivated20260327]

Mags approached Winter with purpose, her presence overbearing, though she didn't mean for it to be. She didn't fit in and she didn't know how she could try and belong in the town while still keeping herself safe. Still, she had seen him working on quilts before, admiring the way he transformed fabric into something warm and meaningful. Today, she felt the familiar buzz of determination as she stepped forward. She had thought about commissioning this for months now, and she was finally set on taking the plunge.

When he startled, she offered a smirk. “You really need to keep an ear out,” she signed, her tone light but smile sharp.

Winter signed back, and Mags felt a rush of excitement - a kind of excitement that came with the earnest need to connect with someone without the struggle of reading-lips or waiting for someone to write something down on a piece of paper. “I’m glad you understand me,” she signed, her fingers moving confidently. “I need something special—a thick, heavy winter quilt that can keep out the cold. But I want it to be pretty.... that sounds stupid but, I do. I want it to have flowers on it, flowers for protection and good dreams.”

She met his gaze directly, her expression serious. “I’m thinking guardian flowers like lavender for tranquility and restful sleep, rosemary for protection, and daisies."

Mags felt the fire inside her, driven by the importance of her request. “I need it to be strong; hopefully something that will hold up to bad dreams and the upcoming cold months.” She had been having too many bad dreams as of late.

[coldxxwinter]

Winter honestly had no idea where his ability to understand ASL was coming from. To his knowledge, he hadn't know anyone in his past who was deaf, but why else would he know this? It flowed so naturally to, like he didn't even need to think about it, and now he was wondering if there was someone in his past he was forgetting about, a thought that troubled him. That had to be why though, right? There was no other way this would be so innate.

Now wasn't the time to worry about that though when he had a customer. And he was glad they could communicate so easily, whatever the reason may be - it seemed like this customer was very pleased by that, and Winter could imagine how frustrating it might be having to struggle through communication with someone who couldn't sign. 'I'm glad I do to,' Winter signed back with a smile, and then he listened (so to speak) to the woman explain what she was looking for. What she was describing sounded both beautiful and intriguing, and it was unlike anything Winter would have worked on for awhile. It sounded almost mystical actually, and Winter felt the tug of something familiar, something he couldn't explain. This happened sometimes, had just happened during the windstorm the other day when the wind had somehow bypassed his entire yard and he'd heard that mysterious voice. It felt like something Winter was forgetting, an usual sensation, yeah, but in a more urgent way than usual.

'I can do that,' Winter signed to the woman. Most of the shop's commissions were coming to an end, and the one Winter was working on would be finished in a couple of hours, so he asked, 'How big do you want it to be?' He thought about how much time he would need, and Winter signed, 'It might take a week or two if it's big.' If that was all Winter had to work on, he'd get it done as quickly as he could. It felt somewhat urgent, and it reminded Winter of what happened a couple of weeks ago. 'Bad dreams?' he signed. 'Maybe need one too. I had a really bad dream not long ago.' Thinking about it still made Winter shudder. Setting the quilt down, he grabbed a pen and notepad from a nearby table and began jotting down what the woman had told him, and he looked up and quickly signed, 'My name is Winter, like the season.' He had forgotten to wear his name badge today (what a shock), so this was the only way the customer would know.

[veilxstars-deactivated20260327]

For: Anyone | @cardinalstart Character: Puck Thorne Location: The Park

Puck Thorne glanced at the old oak tree, the same one where he had spent countless lonely hours, a wave of memories washing over him. He used to be able to climb so high ... he remembered, as he settled a hand against the park and looked up through the leaves. The rustle of leaves in the autumn breeze felt both familiar and foreign, a haunting reminder of the life he had tried to escape. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his return to Cardinal Hill settle heavily on his shoulders.

Leaning against the rough bark, he stared at the ground, unsure of what to do next. A part of him yearned to call out, to reach out to anyone who might remember him, but the fear of rejection gripped him. He was a successful horror novelist now, crafting stories that explored the darkest corners of the human experience, yet here, among the ghosts of his past, he felt like a child -- too scared to go home. Would anyone understand the pain of being the odd one out in a family of witches?

He sighed, contemplating his next move. Maybe he should just sit for a while and observe the life around him. The park was alive with the sounds of laughter and distant chatter, a stark reminder of the normalcy he had never known. A couple of children raced by, their carefree joy only deepening his sense of isolation. He wished someone would notice him, yet he was afraid of what it might mean if they did.

So, he decided to sit. The fading light cast long shadows across the ground, transforming the park into a place of both beauty and melancholy. It had once been a refuge, a place to escape into his imagination and the stories he wanted to tell. Now, it felt like a reminder of everything he had tried to leave behind, the ghosts of his childhood swirling around him like mist.

[coldxxwinter]

Well this was a first: someone was leaning against Winter's thinking tree. It wasn't really his per se because it was in a public park, but for awhile now, this was where Winter went to work through all of his thoughts. It was peaceful in this area of the park, kind of out of the way, which was probably why Winter never saw anyone here. And he couldn't even be angry that someone else was already using the tree for presumably the same purpose. He wasn't mad, really he wasn't; he couldn't blame this man for seeking comfort in the shade of the tree. It looked especially beautiful today with the leaves changing colors, and Winter walked toward it, deciding the tree was big enough for the both of them.

"Is this seat taken?" Winter asked, laughing for a moment as he sat down on one side of the tree, leaning back against it. Yes, plenty of room, though admittedly someone else's presence was a bit of a distraction, especially because it seemed like something was really troubling the man. For a few minutes, Winter tried to be respectful, tried to mind his own business, but Winter couldn't shake this sudden empathy. It felt almost supernatural, like he could feel the troubled thoughts emanating straight from his heart. He leaned around to toward the other side of the tree, deciding to just address the elephant in the room head on. "I don't mean to pry," Winter began, "but are you okay? I just...I get the sense that you might need someone to talk to, and, well...here I am, if you want." It was a bit of an awkward introduction, especially when he tacked on at the end, "My name is Winter by the way."

[ritualove]

Annette hit the jackpot, honey was expensive but if she played her cards right, she could get as much as she wanted. Now alongside long-term friendship and comfort, Winter can have a more viscous benefit, "Before I leave I definitely need to take a couple jars of that honey." She said, licking her lips, her mouth had started to salivate a little from all the honey talk. "Throw in some of that mummy honey," she said giggling. "In all honesty though, it's good to know that it dosen't go bad. I thought it did eventually but just after a very long time." Annette was horrible at eating food before it becomes inedible, she knew that very well. She knew about that fact of her a lot more than she knew about the half eaten cucumber in the back of her fridge, starting to push it's fourth week in the crisper.

Winter's tale perked Annette's ears. Winter wasn't wrong when he said it was the weirdest thing. She glanced around the yard with more observation was Winter recounted his statement of events. Then Winter said exactly what Annette wanted him to say. Magic. Annette has no concrete evidence of the existence of witches and magic, and she knew logically that it was not possible. However, she wasn't one to write it off. What Winter is saying is inexplicable with logic, so maybe it surpasses logic. Then she heard Winter's chuckle, might as well tell him what she is thinking, they've known each other for long enough that weird beliefs aren't able to drive a wedge in between them. "Maybe it was magic." She said without a chuckle, turning to Winter.

[coldxxwinter]

As he talked about honey and how much he had of it, Winter grinned at his friend. "I feel like I'm your dealer, only with honey," he joked, laughing. More seriously, Winter said, "I know this might seem kind of silly. I mean not the enjoying honey part, but this being such a huge part of my life. I mean, I'm only 24, so I should be getting out more and hanging out with people." Winter didn't even know why he was saying these things all of sudden; he had never said them to anyone else, but he trusted Annette. "Before my accident, I used to be more social, but now...it's different," he went on. "It's just hard when you're always forgetting everything." As he said this, Winter's cheeks pinked a bit, but he didn't want to dwell on his embarrassment and ruin the mood. So he just said, "The bees are my friends though, and I know that's another thing that is kind of silly to say, but it's the truth. I just feel...really closely bonded to them." It felt so special, the bond he had with his bees, and it had become one of the few constants in Winter's life. Laughing - and happy for the levity - Winter replied, "Yeah, you don't really have to worry about that, but you do need to be careful how you store it. Don't refrigerate it, and don't let it get close to anything hot, like the stove. It might cause it to crystalize or change its texture."

As he recounted the events that had happened with the windstorm, Winter knew it sounded silly, like make-believe. "I know, it's stupid," he said after he was finished. "I mean the wind is unpredictable, and maybe...I don't know, something was blocking it, like trees or something?" Winter didn't really know exactly how that worked, if the jetstream or something similar had an effect on it, things like that, so he shouldn't overthink it. For a moment when he heard Annette's reply, he thought she was making fun of him, but then he realized his friend wouldn't do that. Maybe it was just a joke, but Winter...well, he thought maybe there was more to her statement. He almost didn't ask, didn't want to sound like an idiot, but finally Winter questioned, "Do you...do you think it might have been?" He had heard rumors about Cardinal Hill his entire life, and he assumed Annette had at some point heard the same things. A moment later, Winter shook his head. "Wow, what a stupid thing to say," he said with a laugh, his cheeks tinged pink again.