Link shrugged his shoulders, "Honestly, sometimes, I can't tell if you're joking or not." He only had a straight face for a couple seconds before he laughed. He knew that she was brilliant at her job. He was never going to question that. "No wonder you have such a good job. Must keep them all entertained up there." Her job was always something that intrigued him but he wasn't about to bore her by asking questions. He loved how passionate she was about it, though. Link had never felt that before. At least, not for a job.
As she lifted hers, Link lifted his and cheers Emilie before he took a sip. "I thought that you would." He laughed. "It just makes things easier to think like that. Keeps you from nagging." He lent over and nudged her gently. He was mostly teasing but there was a small part of him that knew it was the truth. It was always easier to agree with her - but most of the time, he just did agree with her.
"Why?" Link questioned, "If you're not my number one, would you be jealous?" He was laughing as he spoke though. Really, no-one else came close. If he wasn't with Emilie, he wanted to be around her. He didn't think that, that was something which she needed to know. He thought that it went without saying.
"That's how I like it," Emilie said with a laugh, though there was a hint of irony in her voice. It was true with most people, but Link? He could read her like the back of his hand. No matter how hard she tried, she could never hide what she was really thinking from him. Sometimes, it felt like he had a kind of clairvoyance. "Yep, that's me," she teased, rolling her eyes playfully. "A performing monkey up there. No wonder I'm always so exhausted." Link, of all people, knew how seriously she took her job. In fact, Emilie was certain that if anyone she worked with saw her here, laughing and drinking, they'd probably drop dead from shock. They thought she was incapable of cracking a smile.
"Nagging? I take great offense to that, Costella," she said with a sly grin, raising an eyebrow. "I prefer to think of it as continuously reminding you how right I am." She laughed as he nudged her, shaking her head. Emilie knew Link thought he lacked passion in the way she did, but she wasn’t buying it. To her, his passion was just different—it was in the way he cared for people, the way he loved her, Enzo, the people around him. If that wasn’t passion, she wasn’t sure what was.
"Oh, I’d absolutely be jealous," she said with a smirk, shrugging her shoulders. "And trust me, you don’t want to see that. It’s not pretty." She joked, but there was a flicker of truth behind her words, deep down, buried beneath the layers she never liked to admit. There were moments, small spikes of jealousy—like when Link talked about another girl or went on a date. But she reassured herself it was just the behavior of a possessive friend.
“There is no force more powerful than a woman determined to rise.”
Emilie Horowitz, 27 years old, clairvoyant witch, advisor to the mayor.
Born into a long line of powerful witches, Emilie was taught from a young age that her gift was both a blessing and a burden. Clairvoyance ran in her blood, but unlike most who saw only what might come, Emilie could also see what should be. She embraced her gift with an intensity that mirrored the fierce love her parents, Miriam and Jude, had always shown her. Their teachings weren't just about the craft—they were about forging one's own destiny, about choosing to shape the future, not just predict it.
By the time Emilie found herself in the mayor’s office, her reputation as someone who could balance the weight of prophecy with the grit of real-world action was solid. People saw her as indispensable—a voice for the voiceless, a fierce advocate, and a strategist who could see ten moves ahead. But behind that poised exterior, Emilie was a woman constantly at war with herself.
Growing up, Emilie was always determined. She’d never let her gifts define her or her path. But when it came to love, she was different. Fiercely loyal, deeply emotional, she loved with a depth that many couldn’t understand. And it was that love that nearly brought her to ruin. When she was sixteen, Emilie fell in love with a boy—a potions witch, charming in ways that made her heart race. Unlike most, he didn’t try to win her over with simple flattery or gifts. He appealed to the fire within her, the part that wanted to be more, to do more.
At first, everything seemed perfect. He told her he was from a new coven, one that didn’t follow the strict rules of light magic, one that would take her to places she couldn’t even imagine. He promised her power, love, and a future where they would rule together. Emilie, still young and searching for something bigger, was swept away by his words. But as their relationship deepened, he began to reveal darker truths. He came from a family of dark witches—people who caused harm, poisoned others, and thrived on chaos. He wanted her to join them, to embrace a darker path, promising that together they could change the world.
But Emilie’s core, shaped by her family’s teachings, would not bend to such darkness. She saw through his manipulations, and with the strength of her convictions, she walked away. She knew what she had to do—tell her family, protect herself, and end it before it went any further. The boy didn’t take rejection well. He stalked her, threatened her, and though his family was eventually chased from town, Emilie was left with scars—deep, emotional ones that ran deeper than any vision of the future ever could.
Now, as an adult, Emilie has closed herself off. She carries love inside her, but it’s a love that she guards carefully, one she rarely lets others see. The fear of vulnerability, of being torn apart by another person she trusted, keeps her at arm’s length from anyone who might try to get too close. Emilie has built a reputation on her strength, her foresight, and her intellect, but beneath that exterior lies a woman who still bears the wounds of her past. Her love is no longer easily given. Instead, it’s earned—if anyone can earn it at all.
Emilie is a woman of contradictions: she is both the fierce protector and the guarded soul, the strategist and the passionate heart. Her role as the mayor’s advisor, as a witch, and as an advocate for justice are not separate—they are the threads of the same cloth, woven by the force of her visions and her drive to make things right. Whether fighting for the voiceless or standing on the front lines against those who would harm her coven, Emilie is a bridge between the realms, a force that refuses to bend or break, no matter how many times she is tested.
Emilie Horowitz is a woman who will stop at nothing to protect the future, even if it means sacrificing her own peace. And make no mistake: no matter how much she hides or how much she pulls away, Emilie is a force that cannot be ignored. She may have been broken, but she is still standing, and she will not fall again.
"Yeah, something tells me that sophisticated people don't swear as much as you do, Emilie." Link laughed. Though he was joking. Really, he thought that Emilie was probably the most sophisticated person that he knew. But he didn't think that she needed to hear that. She already knew what an incredible person he thought that she was. She had made this place feel like home, from the very first moment that he had seen her.
Link rolled his eyes but quickly nodded his head, "Yeah, alright. Whatever you say." He shrugged. He knew better than to argue with her, of course. Emilie was a forced to be reckoned with and he knew that there was no point, once she got an idea in her head.
"Exactly. I'm glad that you get it." Link laughed along with Emilie, nodding his head, "Yeah, yeah. I watch you like it's a documentary. It's supposed to be, isn't it? He teaches me all of my tricks." He didn't find it as easy to joke around with anyone else - as he did when he was with her.
"Oh, yeah? Well, I must’ve missed that memo," Emilie said with a teasing glint in her eye. "The mayor just loves when I drop F-bombs in the middle of his presentations." She laughed, her usual dry tone slipping into something lighter. Her sailor’s mouth was the one thing she had to reign in at work; everything else came naturally. But the urge to blurt out are you fucking kidding me? was always there, hovering just beneath the surface.
She smiled peacefully as Link agreed with her, lifting her margarita to clink it against his. "I like that," she said. "To Whatever Emilie Says." She chuckled, clearly joking. As much as she enjoyed getting her way, Link was one of the few who could make her pause, get her to consider things from a different angle. She knew he always had her back.
"Exactly! And as long as I'm your favorite TV show, I’m good," Emilie said with a grin. "I just can’t be second best to Gossip Girl or whatever else is on." She laughed again, the sound light and carefree. It was a rare thing for Emilie, but when she was around Link, her usual dry demeanor seemed to vanish, replaced by something softer, more genuine. Link was her safe space.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Em." Link chuckled. There hadn't really been a time where Emilies hard edge had deterred him. He always liked being around her. For as long as he had been in town, he had been drawn to her. And she'd quickly become his very best friend. Best friend. At least that was what he told himself, anyway.
Spending time with her quietened the noise in his brain. She was like some sort of clarity for him. "Wine?" Link questioned, "Doesn't sound like you. Sounds much too sophisticated." He teased. Sometimes, he forgot that she was a proper grown up, with a proper grown up job. He still felt as young as he had when he moved to this town - all those years ago now. "On me." He nodded, though he didn't think that needed to be said. "That's it. I've been stalking you. Thought i'd approach now you're on your own."
“Oh, please. I’m sophisticated as fuck—can’t you tell?” Emilie grinned, raising her shot of tequila to clink it against Link’s before throwing it back in one smooth motion. Truth be told, when she was at work, when she needed to turn it on, she felt like a slightly different version of herself. Loud, self-assured, fiery—she was always going to be those things. But around Link, she didn’t need it quite as much. With him, she could let her guard drop, just a little.
“Fine, next one’s on me,” she said, smirking. She knew Link knew her too well to argue. She hated uneven footing, even with her best friend. Giving back wasn’t an obligation; it was instinct.
“Oh, really?” she teased, arching a brow at his reply. “You know, I figured as much when I saw you lurking in the bushes yesterday. Looked a bit sketchy but I thought hey, he needs a hobby.” She laughed, shaking her head, her tone equal parts playful and sharp, the perfect balance they always struck.
OBVIOUSLY, VERONICA KNOWS AND RECOGNIZES THE WOMAN sitting at the bar by herself. It'd been a while since the last time they had crossed paths, but her presence also doesn't dissuade her from taking a seat even if it comes with a heavy sigh. Before she responds to the other, she orders herself an old fashioned while crossing her legs and interlacing fingers together in front of her on the bar top.
❝ Haven't decided yet. Figured I'd just start with a drink and see what happens. Never know with me, right? ❞ Then again, she hadn't stabbed anyone in a long while and the itch to do so was very prominent, especially now that she's recently obtained a brand new beautifully crafted dagger that she's just dying to use.
"Never know with you, Nica," Emilie said with a dry laugh, nodding slightly. She knew exactly what Veronica was capable of, but fear was never part of the equation—the other woman had never given her a reason for that. If anything, Emilie couldn’t help but admire her.
“I’ll get that,” she said, cutting in as Veronica ordered an Old Fashioned, tapping her card before the bartender could ask. “Seeing as you’ve saved me from looking like a total sad case, sitting alone at the bar, it’s the least I can do.” She rolled her eyes at herself, the gesture tinged with self-deprecation, though her smirk hinted at genuine gratitude.
It was a happy coincidence that the first person who he saw as he entered the bar was Emilie. But he certainly doesn't look a gift horse in the mouth. He's always happier whenever she was around. So he didn't wait for her to notice him before he started towards her.
He rolled his eyes, though, as he heard her. "Oh shut up." Link laughed, "We know either one of us is 'trouble' then it's you." He moved then, so he could sit on the stool beside her. "What're you drinking?" He asked, though he already ordered the two of them a shot of tequila. He was pretty sure that he knew her well enough for that, after all.
As soon as Emilie heard Link’s voice, her usual dry demeanor cracked, her face lighting up with a half-smirk that edged into a genuine smile. “And that's exactly how I like it,” she said with a playful laugh, rolling her eyes. “So don’t go trying to change things.”
There was no one whose company she preferred more than Link’s—not even her own, though she’d never admit it out loud. She lifted her nearly empty glass, a hint of self-deprecating humor in her voice. “I was sticking to red wine. It felt less pathetic for a solo post-work drink. But now that you’re here, I guess I can afford to be more fun.” She finished the last of her wine just as Link ordered the tequilas, her grin widening. “And two margaritas to go with those, please,” she added. "Why are you here, anyway? Couldn't keep away from me?"
The winter hadn't killed everything of use to her; hellebores and pansies grew well enough in the forest even under a blanket of snow. Though her fingers were beginning to freeze in her gloves. She needed to reup her ingredients; for purposes both personal and otherwise. What kind of potions witch would she be if she had no stock for her coven, right? But didn't have enough disposable money to be throwing around, not until her next paycheck came through, so she had to go about picking them by hand. It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't the first time, either.
The crunch of snow sends her bolting upright from her crouched position, though she stumbles in her jolting. Losing a fistful of flowers in the process. Her hand instinctively going to the pocket of her puffy jacket, clutching around a yet unused bottle of pepper spray. "Holy shit, dude, you scared the crap out of me," She chuckles, the other hand going to her chest, where her heart pounded. But she doesn't release the pepper spray. In this town, who knows if she would need to use it, however innocuous the other person looked. She bends down to scoop up her discarded pansies "You a night hiker, or...?" As if she weren't also out here dangerously close to sundown.
"Are you seriously about to pepper spray me right now?" Emilie asked, her eyebrows shooting up as the girl reached into her jacket. "You’re the one crouched in the snow with your hands all over those pansies. If anything, I should be pepper spraying you." Her voice was sharp but laced with dry amusement as she watched the girl gather the scattered flowers.
"A night hiker?" Emilie scoffed, gesturing at her own outfit—sports leggings and an oversized hoodie that barely concealed the thermals keeping her from freezing. "I’m just jogging. I like going at night. Fewer people to bother me—well, most of the time." She smirked, a teasing glint in her eye. "But here you are, interrupting my perfectly peaceful run." Emilie tilted her head, letting her tone soften as curiosity crept in. "So, what are you actually doing?"
"The next drink's on the house," Aurelia leans across the bar, hand resting ever-so-lightly on the wrist of the person on the neighboring stool. Indicating exactly whose drink she was comping. If it wasn't clear who ran the establishment before, the unquestioning nod of the bartender before they ventured off to the next customer certainly gave it away. The smile on her face is dazzling as she turns to face her neighbor fully, head tipping with all the grace & curiosity of a cat on the prowl. "I don't see many people come in here alone, are you waiting on anybody?"
Emilie’s arm was already outstretched, her phone poised to tap the card machine, when a light touch on her wrist made her pause. She turned her head slightly, curious but unbothered, to find Aurelia watching her with a small, questioning smile. Emilie smirked, arching a brow. She had no clue why Aurelia was comping her drink, but she wasn’t about to argue—antagonising the owner of the club you were drinking in was never a good idea. “Thanks,” she said, raising her glass in a mock toast. “But just so you know, I’m not alone. I might hate people, but I’m not desperate enough to walk into a club solo.” Shaking her head, she took a measured sip, the faint trace of amusement still tugging at her lips.
It was rare that Caspian spent a night in. He often found himself with some sort of plan or another but if he didn't have plans - then he'd certainly make them. Which was why he had decided to go to the bar that night.
As he spotted Emilie, he couldn't help but smirk. He made his way over to her - figuring he wasn't going to spend time with anyone else there. "That doesn't sound like me, does it Em?" Cas chuckled as he slipped into the seat beside her. He ordered himself a drink and then another wine for Emilie before he turned to look at her again, "You here alone?"
Emilie rolled her eyes as Cas slid into the seat next to her, though the fondness in her expression was unmistakable. If she'd truly wanted to be alone, she’d have picked a spot where she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew. And truth be told, it had been a while since Cas had gotten under her skin, so she didn’t mind his presence tonight.
“Oh, of course. Trouble’s the last thing I’d expect from you.” She smirked, tipping her glass to catch the last drop of wine, just as she heard him ordering her another. “I was. And trust me, it wasn’t easy keeping it that way. The creepy new intern at work wouldn’t stop dropping hints that he was dying to grab a drink. Had to hit him with my signature death glare just to get him to shut up.”
Emilie sat at the bar, eyes scanning the crowd with quiet interest. The day’s weight was settling on her shoulders, but something in the air felt different—almost electric. She glanced up as a figure entered, a fleeting sense of recognition stirring in her mind.
She took a slow sip of her wine, her voice low as she murmured to herself, "This town’s never quiet for long." Her gaze shifted to the newcomer, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. "You’re not here to cause trouble, are you?" Her eyes glimmered, a spark of anticipation flickering beneath the surface. In truth, she almost hoped they were. Emilie never did like things to stay quiet for long.
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