Truenos y Relámpagos

Diego || 28 || Journalist Closed RP Blog for Wicked's Rest.

[bazzledazzle]

DIEGO

/ˈdje.ɣo/ noun. magical mess.

@gotabigdiego

[mollyhiatt]

Is the Wormhole the only normal bar in town? I have nothing against it, it was a fine bar! It's just no exactly close to downtown and I want to find somewhere closer to my apartment to enjoy a drink after work.

Also, like I've been a little extra emotional lately and need to bolt at a moment's notice to get home to process all of these new feelings. And safely wonder about where the fuck they're coming from!

[gotabigdiego]

Sounds like a stellar business opportunity for some enterprising mind. Can even make that part of the pitch.

... Though, knowing this town, pitching it as "the normal bar in town" would lead to a clientele dedicated to making sure it doesn't stay that way. Probably best to aim for "unusual in a way palatable to your personal tastes."

[enthrallinglyeden]

I know, I know. For some odd reason, some of you are tempted to consume the brown sludge that has been dripping from the library ceiling. PLEASE do not do so. The library does not condone these actions. If you INSIST on doing so, we hold 0 responsibility. Please do not make this my problem I will walk away

[gotabigdiego]

You know, I got the sense that I was on the more normal side of things, as far as your job goes, but it's really great to have concrete evidence that I'm not your strangest patron.

If you want to stop them, might I suggest the library fix the leak? Or is Mrs. Jones too scared to climb a ladder?

[taliasshaw]

Everyone, please be careful when hiking, walking, or just otherwise existing in the state park and surrounding forest. I've now gotten at least 10 reports of trees falling down completely out of nowhere. Big ones. Nearly got crushed by one myself.

Also, if you do witness one falling, please try to mark down an exact location. Kinda over by, like, that one really big rock, you know is actually not very helpful.

[gotabigdiego]

Old growth, do you think? Dried out by that last bout of heat we got, maybe?

Sorry to say, I think shoddy location-reporting is endemic to this town. Not to besmirch the reputations of my fellow professionals, but I've been combing over some history in my spare time, and you would be disappointed at how many locations have been hidden in riddles. Not even counting the time that an article told me that the location was hidden in reverse on the back of the previous week's paper.

[dirtwatchman]

Has anyone ever dealt with a haunted broom? Mine suddenly started trying to smush Billy every chance it gets. Trying to figure out what to do with it. I can't use fire, too dangerous

[gotabigdiego]

Is this a metaphor? I love metaphors. Please let it be a metaphor. Mind if I try my hand at interpreting? Sorry if I don't see your vision; it's been a little bit since my last literature course.

So, the "haunted" together with "broom" seems to suggest a... tie to the past? Almost like a take on the English idiom "sweep it under the rug"? Are you hiding something or trying to clean it up? "Billy," whatever it is, has a name, which we only give to things we're sentimental about (babies, pets, cars-during-a-midlife-crisis). Is trying to "smush Billy" a reference to... the broom of your past trying to harm your present or future? Let me know how I did. Happy to workshop this with you.

[twolittlefangs]

Any ideas of where I could find a gift basket or florist or something that screams gift from a stranger? I wish I could just tell them who I am, but how do I approach two elderly adults and say, "Surprise! Mommy's still here, and she looks better than you?!"

[gotabigdiego]

The only florist I know is [User realizes he does not know @oliver--fox's name.] the person who owns Everlasting Garden. And I say "know," but we've never met face-to-face. He's She's They're an e-buddy. And I don't know if they'd even go that far.

But they seem well-traveled and like they know a bit about the flowers of the world. Though, if you're trying for a surprise gift, best to think about if they're allergic. Been there. Not fun.

[junkyardjoel]

[ user has been stuck as a bear for two days and is fucking unhappy about it, but is thankfully the proud owner of thumbs again]

What the fuck is so weird about a bloke buyin' a bunch of honey? Bird at the till done looked at me like I'd grown two more heads. Told 'er I had a lot of tea drinkin' t'be doin' since Americans is so fond of dumpin' it in the water, didn't want it to go to waste... she didn't think it was very funny. Nobody in this country's got a bloody sense of humor.

[gotabigdiego]

... How much honey? I'm having a hard time imagining an amount of honey that'd make a customer service worker, especially an American one, even blink.

Strange luck for you, then. The Americans I've known love joking about history. Maybe it went over her head? Or she's got a conspiracy theory about how the Boston Tea Party was a new miracle from Jesus Christ, and she's upset that she missed the boat on the Second Coming. Americans love Jesus. And conspiracies. And Jesus-based conspiracies.

[gotabigdiego]

TIMING: May 31, 2025, Afternoon LOCATION: Wicked's Rest Public Library PARTIES: @gotabigdiego & @enthrallinglyeden SUMMARY: Eden meets one of the library's newest patrons, Diego, and gets a bit more than he bargained for. WARNINGS: None.

Nobody works at a library for the thrill of the unpredictable work day. Eden took this position because he liked the mundanity of the job. He liked knowing what unchanging sequence of events were going to unfold with every shift, especially right now. He was already working overtime to recover from the strange magic surge, and it was taking so much of his energy to keep his true form under wraps. Nothing seemed more appealing than sitting in his cushy chair all day in the peace and quiet of the library, which was probably what made the growing commotion all the more noticeable. 

The raised voices were coming from the archive room, and Eden could unmistakably identify one of them as Mrs. Jones. While she didn’t seem to be in a full-blown argument with the other individual just yet, the possibility of the situation was enough cause for a headache. Mrs. Jones was nice in the ways that old ladies were nice. For the most part. There was still something…off about her. Maybe it was the way that her eyes lit up in the dark or the way her smile sent shivers down his spine. He was far from the first person to notice this about her, or so he was told by his co-workers. Eden tried not to think about it too much, but he usually did avoid being alone with her. He couldn’t say the same about this individual.

He didn’t want to get involved. He really didn’t want to get involved. After all, it wasn’t his problem. But Eden knew that if this person riled Mrs. Jones up enough, she’d emerge from the archive room and end up making it his problem anyways. Might as well nip the problem in the bud now. With a sigh, Eden rose from the comfort of his desk and dragged himself to the dingy back room. “Is everything alright in here?” he asked as he poked his head through the door, his gaze landing on a man holding several documents and Mrs. Jones’ finger pointing in his face.

—

Snap judgments rarely reflected reality. Diego knew that. But, mouth growing tacky after minutes spent pointlessly arguing in the Wicked’s Rest Public Library, he allowed himself to make one about the detestable creature known as Mrs. Jones.

Okay, calling her a creature was a little unfair. It was her role to protect the books and documents that Diego needed access to, and it was Diego’s role to remind her that he knew what he was doing and, no, thank you, he did not need help with the microfilm reader. Microfiche and Diego were old pals, actually, served multiple tours together, again, thank you very much.

“Is it because I’m young?” Diego asked, an affected, offended, sniff that he had learned from his parents finding home in his tone. “I know I may not have the experience that you do, ma’am, but I have the utmost respect for all newsprint, no matter its age. A lesson that you could apply to me, maybe? A little respect?” Mind you, some of what he was most interested in was from the 1980s—not ancient, as these things went. But that proved his point! It was hardly anything that he needed help with, much less the overbearing, far-too-interested-in-his-work kind.

Diego spared barely a glance towards the new voice, locked in a standoff with his mortal enemy. “Depends,” he said, glaring at Mrs. Jones as she attempted to tidy what little he had gathered, almost as if she was ignoring him entirely. “Are you going to take her side or mine?”

—

“There will be no sides taken as I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding,” Eden said as calmly as he could, though Mrs. Jones’ finger didn’t waver nor did her gaze drop from the pile of documents. “Mrs. Jones, why don’t you let me handle this, hm?” He approached the elderly woman with a strained look, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder to try and calm her down.

“I doubt he knows what he’s doing! Those young people never do,” she grumbled, though she finally lowered her accusatory finger. Eden shot a wide-eyed look at the other man as if to silently remind him to shut his mouth, and he flashed that charming smile at Mrs. Jones that he knew all his co-workers liked. “But I know what I’m doing and you trust me, right? I will make sure he operates the reader with care and step in if I have to. Besides, the last thing you need is to let him rile you up before your granddaughter’s big recital tonight.”

The old lady immediately softened at the mention of her granddaughter and Eden mentally patted himself on the back for remembering that detail. Mrs. Jones still moved with apprehension towards the door, turning back to throw a dirty look at the man in question at the halfway point, but he was finally able to usher her out of the room successfully. Eden closed the door as quickly as he could, letting out the breath that he didn’t know he was holding as soon as they were in the clear.

“I don’t know what you did, but you managed to pick a fight with the worst possible person to pick a fight with in this building, and we have angry ghosts,” Eden said as he turned towards the man, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

—

No sides taken? Diego tamped down the annoyance he felt, choosing instead to watch as the other librarian went and, if you asked him, effectively and fully took Diego’s side. Because, obviously, he was in the right. It was good to see the other man had some sense.

Still, given that he had invented the reasoning purely for the sake of (petty) argument, the comment about his age had Diego biting his tongue. Was this woman really as rigid as the spines of the books under her care? The younger librarian was lucky Diego knew when to pick his battles, as otherwise it would only be natural for Diego to defend his own honor and the honor of his generation. Unproductive, sure, but just.

As the woman left, Diego flashed her his interview smile—just a bit too polished to be genuine. Take that, Jones. The smile softened as Diego fully took in his new chaperone. Frustration was more workable than obstinance, at least. “Look, I don’t get it either. She just kept turning up, always right when I was finally making some headway. I can appreciate that some patrons need help, really, and the librarians of the world have my utmost respect, but it was almost like she was trying to stop me outright? What deep, dark secrets could be hiding in,” he plucked an article at random from the table, “‘Deborah’s Casserole Corner’?”

Wait. What?

He flipped the article over, but the text on the other side was a jumbled mess of classifieds. Diego frowned at the newsprint. He had never seen this clipping, was the thing. So, when had it…? “You know,” he said, scanning his notes for a plausible explanation, “I’d prefer ghosts, actually. Easier to accept than losing my sanity. Do you think Jones would sabotage me?” Diego paused. Cleared his throat, fully aware of how that sounded. “I mean… Hi, I’m Diego. Please don’t kick me out of the library?”

—

The other man’s tone softened and Eden was relieved that the tension seemingly left the room with his co-worker. “I’m not surprised. That…” Old hag. “Lady has a way of sneaking up behind you. Just when you think you have a moment to yourself, she’s hovering over your shoulder like she’s got you under surveillance.” He ran a tired hand through his hair. No, he was not just projecting. 

“Anyways, I’d say don’t take it personally… but, she did seem to be a little more riled up than usual. Perhaps she thought you had a face of mischief. She hates mischief,” Eden said with a smirk. It was true — Mrs. Jones was always going on about how ‘mischief had no place in the library’ which, fair, especially in Wicked’s Rest. But Eden did a once-over of the stranger in front of him, and he didn’t seem to be up to anything nefarious. At least, for now. 

Strolling over to the stack of articles, Eden craned his neck to get a better look at the document in the man’s hands. “What exactly is a casserole? I hear people recalling them fondly when talking about their childhood memories, but I can’t quite wrap my head around it,” he said, leaning back onto one of the cabinets. “Ah, spend enough time here and you might just eat your words. The ghosts feed on sanity, or so I’ve been told.” He always meant it in a joking manner for the sake of the library’s patrons, though the possibility of there being truth to the legends always made the hair on his neck stand. 

A little amused at the other’s sudden panic, Eden couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Hello Diego. I’m Eden. Mrs. Jones will not sabotage you and you won’t be kicked out of the library. But I will have to monitor you as you continue conducting your research about… ‘Deborah’s Casserole Corner’ and whatnot, if that’s okay with you.” The sudden image of Mrs. Jones barreling towards him flashed in his head, her yells about leaving this mystery man — Diego — alone already ringing. “Trust me, it is for both of our own goods.”

—

“Very Foucault of her,” Diego mused. “Though I would have thought librarians a bit more libertine than that. If she is always watching you, and you are always watching for her, then who is watching the books?”

Ah, that could be it. Mischief. It was one of the kinder things that had been said about Diego, but usually his actions landed him a label. Had he done anything? No. Perhaps Jones had a supernatural sense for it. “I have been known to revel. But I try to keep that away from prying eyes.” Well, usually. “I don’t want to become a problem for you, that much I can promise. Especially when it is much more fun to have a willing accomplice. Think you can keep up?” There was a mock challenge to it, an unserious kind of heat. Friendly company, even in Diego’s moments of greatest focus, was always welcome.

“That is the first question, isn’t it? For Deborah, it looks like a casserole meant… bacon. An alarming amount of bacon. Though, I can’t say that casseroles have ever featured heavily in my diet, so I can’t say if it is an abnormal amount of bacon.” Diego laughed and handed the article to the man. “Deborah, who I must assume is one of the ghosts in question, clearly wanted one of us to have this. I cannot imagine it was me, so you’re her lucky victim. Lose your mind as you try to figure out why this recipe calls for pickles and cucumbers.”

“Eden.” Diego rolled the name around in his mouth. Something familiar tugged at him, but he dismissed it. He had met many people across his travels, but never an Eden. Knew of a couple in the world, but they flew different paths, would never land in Wicked’s Rest of all places. “And how many awful pickup lines about taking you to paradise have you had to endure, Eden? Hopefully none of the loyal, orderly patrons of this fine library have assaulted your ears?”

Diego turned his attention back to his mismatched collection of articles. “I… might need a bit more than monitoring.”

—

Eden huffed at the other’s attempt at some humour. “Good thing you didn’t call her Foucault to her face. I’m almost certain she has no idea who that is and would’ve thought you were insulting her. Or implying that she doesn’t keep an eye on her precious books? Tsk, maybe you do want to be kicked out after all.” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the challenge in Diego’s tone, though it was more out of amusement than anything else. “Keep up? Please, it’s my job around here to set the pace.” For as much as he was planning to let the patron do his own thing, Eden was still the one in charge here, and he wasn’t exactly sure what Diego was up to with his plethora of articles.

Perhaps he was better off moments ago when he didn’t know what a casserole was. The description that Diego gave seemed far from appealing, and Eden’s suspicions were only confirmed when he skimmed over the ingredients list on the recipe. “I understand that people enjoy bacon, but anything in excess becomes unappetizing. And this… excess of cucumbers in different preparations. Combined with… cream cheese?” Eden couldn’t hold back his look of disgust, his nose wrinkling just at the thought of it. “Perhaps Deborah left this for Mrs. Jones. This seems more her speed,” he concluded, placing the recipe back on the table ever so gently, as if any mishandling of the paper would spite Deborah’s spirit. 

There hadn’t really been much thought process behind selecting his English name besides the fact that he liked it. Perhaps he should’ve picked something more generic if his goal was to fly under the radar, but then again, Eden likely would’ve hated waking up as a Bob or John every day. “Far more than I can count off the top of my head, though I can’t say it’s always unwelcome. Right time and place,” he said, the corner of his lip beginning to quirk upwards but falling into a grimace. “Not so much from the orderly patrons of this fine establishment, though. They assault my ears in different ways.” He never knew people could get so worked up over books until he started working here.

Following Diego’s gaze as he scanned over the strewn articles on the table, Eden crossed his arms. “Well, I’m happy to be of service beyond this little babysitting act, but it’ll require you telling me some more details about your research. I can’t imagine you came here looking for information on…” he trailed off, plucking another random article from the pile “… horse racing in the 1970s?”

—

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Diego said. He had been kicked out of libraries before, usually for trying to stay past closing. On occasion, he had gotten lucky, and a librarian had not noticed him hiding in the stacks, or they had forgotten to check the bathrooms before closing up for the night. Being locked down, with no distractions, was something of a luxury for Diego. At home—or wherever he called home, on the road—there was always more to do. The single-mindedness of a library grounded him.

Grounding, too, was the hum of Eden’s answers as a comfortable companionability settled over the two. Diego let out a hmm when appropriate, nose wrinkling in disgust at the culinary crimes, and nodded as Eden talked about the patrons. He hoped the other man would not consider it rude, that Diego’s own stream of chatter had died down despite Diego having been the one asking questions in the first place. He did this, sometimes, when working, got to thinking about a particular puzzle and lost his sense of manners. Had he not already asked for help, he might have waved Eden off, but there was something to be said for accountability, for focus.

“Horse racing? Not really my thing.” Understatement, really. Diego grimaced at the request for more information. It made sense, of course, but the specifics of his research were difficult to explain. Not without having to answer a litany of questions about, well, magic… and breaking several ancient vows to secrecy. So, instead, Diego decided to accept the loss and resigned himself to getting less accomplished today than he would have liked. “You know, if there’s something about horse racing, maybe, uh, maybe she had a point. So, let’s start by… putting everything back.” He winced. “And then, I can get you to help me find a… book. On, um, local history. Get a library card. Check out the book. Then, you know, come back when I have a better idea of where to… start.” He winced again and, with that flimsy reasoning locked in place, Diego set to work undoing his progress, hoping that Eden would not regret his intervention before the end of it.

[wickedsrest-rp]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Vicker’s Beach SUMMARY: Night 2 of the Wicked’s Rest Bondfire is here! There was a lot of discussion about what a proper bondfire was and the fact this was not a bonefire. Still with a Lullabird around this was a pleasant night with merriment and art sales. NOTE: Please be sure to reblog this thread if your character is in it, and we will count it as a thread for the next Activity Check.

Last week’s stunt with astomi didn’t go over too well with the town council. JAKE had never actually seen any members of said council, but his job as their advisor meant he did sometimes hear from them. Through tea leaves, sometimes, or by squinting just the right way at the steam rising up from his dinner plate. And after last week’s shenanigans, the grass clippings on his lawn told him that they were not pleased. Not in the least!

It was Jake’s job to combat that. It had been Jake’s job ever since the water stain on his ceiling told him so. That meant this week, everything was going to go perfectly. There would be no florists bringing in astomi to cause chaos. Not on Jake’s watch! He was going to make certain everything was smooth sailing. And tonight, when he got home, the town council would find some way to let him know what a great job he’d done. He’d probably get a promotion. 

He tapped on the birdcage in his backseat, grinning at the lullabird twittering behind the bars. Its song would keep the bonfire attendees calm and happy… so long as he could keep track of it. But Jake was a professional. Everything was going to be perfect. He was certain of that.

It was very quaint, wasn’t it? The bonfire of it all. BAZ hadn’t really been to anything like this before, which wasn’t entirely unexpected. Baz had never been to most things before unless the things in question were business events or whatever their father had lined up for them. Things like this — things that existed only for entertainment and fun — hadn’t been a part of the doppelganger’s life until now. This, of course, meant they planned to make the most of it.

They’d brought some sort of platter they’d bought from the local bakery. It was full of bagels, or donuts, or something round with a hole in the middle. Baz didn’t think it was entirely important. What was more important was the canvas bag slung over their shoulder, where they’d stored a few paintings. This could be a marketing event, if they played their cards right. They could sell a few works, get their name out there. It’d be grand!

Turning to the nearest person, they plastered a grin onto their face and sauntered over. “Hey! Are you an art lover, by chance?”

LUC had been quite pleased to find that the beaches of Wicked's Rest weren't half bad. They weren't as nice as the ones back in California but they definitely beat the 'no beaches at all' of London and so a beach event all about bringing together the community and having a nice time? Even though his roommate had been unable to join him, Luc just saw it as a chance to meet more new people! And keep an eye out for Seb, even if his hopes for just randomly spotting his fiance grew dimmer every day - the town wasn't that big nor crowded. Still, Luc wasn't the kind of person to foster a total absence of hope so he kept a watchful eye out, heart skipping a beat or two before the familiar sight of Baz registered. They were the only familiar face milling about the sand so far but he figured he'd give them a tiny bit of space to start with. Especially with how engrossed they seemed in conversation. 

Instead, Luc shifted closer to the inviting fire (but still at a safe distance, obviously), offering a soft smile to the closest bystander. "I've never been to one of these. Kind of thought the bonfire would be bigger, for some reason. Probably good that it isn't, right?"

HAZEL had seen the flyers around town for the bonfire. After the sandcastle building contest seemed to go better than she had initially thought, despite not winning, well aside from the weird Cheez-Its box that randomly showed up at her house, she figured a night of getting to know other members of the town could be fun. It’s not like her devil would be there to cause any problems either. So taking this opportunity to do something fun, she hopped on her bike and headed towards the town’s event.

When she arrived, she found herself faced with a decent sized group of people; something she hadn’t experienced for quite a while out of the fear of what her devil and short temper might do. And in a strange way, felt relieved to know she couldn’t hurt anybody tonight. Her life truly had become normal, and if it had stayed this way, maybe it meant she could go back home to her family soon.

Walking down to the beach, the young woman joined in on the festivities only to see a table full of different types of foods and drinks, “Were we supposed to bring somethin’?” She spoke to the person standing near her, “I feel so bad now…” Southern hospitality had always been something Hazel took pride in, but apparently not tonight.

CALEB really needed to stop coming to these things. Why he felt the need to attend events around town when every single one of them seemed to end in disaster was beyond him. Probably better to be seen around town anyway and keep an ear out just in case...someone had his face again, right? 

Still, the nerves coursed through him as he walked through the sand towards where the gathering would be held. What fresh hell awaited them all? But as he made his way closer and the music they were playing hit his ears he felt those nerves starting to melt away. For some reason he didn't quite believe that things would go awry anymore and he didn't really care that he didn't believe in that either. Little by little he was put at ease until those nerves completely dissipated, just in time for him to come up to Hazel and hear her question. "I don't think it was required. I didn't bring anything but I'm sure its fine." 

Spotting Luc, Caleb lifted a hand to wave at him, all thoughts of the night they'd switched bodies lost. It was fine, right?

Attending the bondfire had been a gametime decision for TALIA. She had been preoccupied lately, mostly with worry over Metzli, but also concern or entanglements with other Wicked's Rest citizens. But when the time came, she decided that some time out in the fresh air, on the beach, with some people she knew and potentially new friends, would be good for her. Hopefully it could just be a lowkey night with the town.

Upon arriving, the first familiar face Talia saw was Baz but she steered clear. Mostly to avoid getting served with another invoice, but also because, if she were being honest, she felt a little bad about what she had said about him online. But Luc was there too and that lifted her spirits. "I've never seen one this big either," she enthused back. And then, teasingly, she added, "Be sure you keep plenty of space back, okay? I don't need to be rescuing from third degree burns, this time."

ELEANOR had gone back and forth with herself debating whether or not she wanted to attend the bonfire but ultimately decided that she’d check it out and if she found herself not having fun or unable to cope with being around so many others she would just simply leave. It wasn’t something she was obligated to be a part of which was a relief, unlike those immensely boring formal parties her family was always invited to that she had no choice but to attend. Perhaps she’d even make a new friend or two while there! That was the thought that finally got her out of her house and down to the beach.

Feeling incredibly out of place, she stood next to Hazel and smiled kindly as she responded, “I wasn’t aware that we had to bring anything but I suppose I should’ve. I’m not great in the kitchen so perhaps it’s a good thing I didn’t attempt to make something.” She held out her hand. “I’m Eleanor. Is this yer first bonfire too?”

It was a little early for a bonfire, as the equinox wasn't until the 22nd, but WYNNE also figured that you could have bonfire any time of the year. They were fun! And even though there was not as much chanting or naked dancing at the bonfires in Wicked's Rest, there was still plenty to like about these events. They had brought some marshmallows, one of the outside-world traditions they could get behind. When they spotted the doppelganger who had stolen their identity at the Motel, they hesitated for a moment, but charged on when they overheard what someone was saying to them. "It's okay! You weren't supposed to bring anything." They looked at the two people that weren't the doppelganger. "I'm Wynne."

As ready as LUC had been to talk to new people, try to make new friends, both for the joy of it and the prospect of having more eyes looking out for Sebastian (even though he still hadn't technically told anyone about his missing fiance which made it quite hard for anyone to help him), there was no hiding the relief as the familiar faces started making themselves known. So he waved back at Caleb, offering what he hoped was a comforting smile since the etiquette of body swapping with a zombie wasn't something inherently known to him. Laughing at Talia's comment, Luc gently bumped his shoulder into hers. "Yeah, yeah, I'm steering clear, no worries. You know anyone else here?" Luc noticed Wynne near the food, then, obviously having brought something, offering a smile once he caught their eye. He'd have to make sure to go and see what they'd brought in a bit, maybe Talia would join him.

HAZEL’s nerves were close to getting the better of her, until she heard a familiar voice. Looking over to see Caleb seemed to make everything seem not so scary, which was almost comical considering how much she had been in the public eye in high school. But life definitely had changed over the years, especially the way she had viewed herself and the monster inside of her that had caused her to unintentionally harm so many people, “Caleb! Hey! A familiar face. I was worried I’d be at this thing and not know a soul. And I’m glad to hear I’m not the only one who didn’t bring food.” She let out a soft sigh.

Letting her eyes scan the area, she started to see more and more familiar faces, until another voice standing next to her, caught her attention, “I love cookin’ but honestly most bonfires I’ve been to don’t typically involve food. Maybe beer. But I’m not much of a drinker myself.” Meeting Eleanor’s hand, she gave it a firm shake, “Nice to meet you, Eleanor. I’m Hazel. And this is my first bonfire in Wicked’s Rest.” She smiled softly, before looking back at Caleb, “And this is one of my good friend’s Caleb. Have you guys met?”

EDEN hated to admit it, but he was feeling somewhat lonely ever since Wren had locked herself in their basement. Maybe he had actually grown fond of having some company from time to time, and it was that moment of vulnerability that had him agreeing to show his face at the town bonfire. After all, he was never one to turn down a party, and he'd finally be able to enjoy the beauty of the beach without being on the lookout for drowned bodies. 

But as with all social gatherings, he was going to sit back and observe before diving headfirst into any conversation. Standing by the snack table, Eden's eyes scanned the growing crowd near the fire. He was relieved to recognize a few people who he remembered being largely normal. Suddenly, an elbow gently grazed his and Eden looked to his left. "Oh, sorry about that. Didn't mean to block the food."

DIEGO had been busy for much of the summer. Between arcane research and  occasional misadventures, often at the same time, there had not been a real chance to relax. (And his last attempt to do so had gone... poorly, to say the least.) So, a community event. Diego missed community. Missed having friends at all, really. He could count a number of acquaintances, since arriving in town, but even the friendliest of them had no real reason to consider him a friend (and he did not like to assume, when it came to matters of the heart).

(He might have enemies, maybe, probably, but better not to dwell on that at the fun community event.)

He made a beeline for the food, having not eaten since... well, great question, actually. In his haste, he bumped into another man and, oh, hey. He knew those cheekbones. "Eden! Hey, no. That was my fault, not yours. Nice to see you outside the library. Please, after you."

TALIA was pleased, a warm flush moving through her as Luc returned her gentle ribbing. It was nice to have that familiar camaraderie with someone. And it was always nice, in general, to be around Luc. "Hopefully someone brought an extinguisher and fire blanket, just in case." She cast her eyes around at his question, looking for more friends. At the sight of Caleb and Hazel, her smile broadened, brightened. She sent her own smile in greeting to the two of them. 

"Yeah, actually. You know Caleb, too?" She had seen the slightly stilted waves the two exchanged. "I know him and the girl he's talking to, Hazel. But that's it, really." Her eyes flickered to Baz. "Oh, and the other person near there. Baz. Though I don't know him too well, to be honest." She turned from the crowd back to face Luc, eyes reflecting the firelight. "How about you? I bet you're best friends with everyone here, huh?"

Another first timer. That made ELEANOR relax a little, even if the swell of emotions from the gathering crowd had started to make her mind a little fuzzy. “Pleasure meeting ya Hazel.” She turned her attention to Caleb with another smile. “We haven’t had the chance to meet yet, but it’s a pleasure meeting ye as well, Caleb.” She took a look around at the other people strolling around and felt a sense of pride for having decided to try something new. She couldn’t wait to tell her family that she’d gone to a social event on her own and even introduced herself to two people. “It’s nice that they’re doing something like this for everyone - it’s a great way for me to meet new people since I’ve just moved in.”

They struck out with the individual they were attempting to entice into buying a painting, which was rather unfortunate. But BAZ wasn’t one to be deterred! There were plenty of other potential patrons here. They spotted a good mix of familiar and new faces, ducking their head on instinct as Luc glanced their way. Best to avoid him, probably. Things with Seb’s fiance weren’t quite as awkward as they had been before, but seeing him still brought up feelings the doppelganger wasn’t quite ready to face. 

A few more faces chatting around the food, including the maid from the Motel. Baz made a face at them, but they figured they’d probably forgotten all about that little encounter, anyway. Things like that probably happened often around here; it was nothing to be concerned about. They were just about to shove their way into the conversation when they spotted a pair of familiar faces more enticing. Sliding over, they flashed Diego and Eden a bright grin. “Bit of a collision over here, hm? Watch the food. I’m sure everyone would be heartbroken not to try my bagels.” They were probably bagels. They thought they must have been bagels.

"It's a small town, I'm sure we'll run into even more familiar faces." CALEB smiled over at Hazel reassuringly, knowing that fact was already trued for him. When the she introduced him to the other girl that came up, he held out his hand to shake. "Nice to meet you too, Eleanor. If you guys haven't met Wynne, you should." Smiling over at them, he places a hand on their shoulder. "This is my niece's partner. They're super sweet."

SIOBHAN would never do anything as pedestrian as attend any beach-side party. Which was why she wasn’t attending, she was protesting. This bonefire was highly disrespectful—which was what her shirt said. Although, the cutout for her cleavage did mean that nothing on the shirt was actually legible. Her sign said: “don’t burn the bones! give them to me! boob”. The “boob” was a simple slip of the wrist; an honest mistake from a dishonest woman. Activism wasn’t Siobhan’s hobby usually, but why not turn over a new bone? Why not embrace an era of change? Why not become a nicer person? To Siobhan’s dismay, it was a bondfire (a bonfire with bonding, she assumed), and not a bonefire. And no one cared to witness her performance of goodness.

She grumbled into the party, looking around. There was a fae (gross), there was a dead person (extra gross), there was the cheese girl (okay), there was Wynne (delightful) and then, there was the fire… And those two bodies standing there, deliciously close. 

“Hello, sorry to disrupt your conversation,” she said as she approached. “I just can’t help but to notice that everyone is very clothed. That is a big burning fire is it not?” Slowly her hand went up behind the man, imagining how easy it would be to push him. For now, she did not attempt to murder the woman. For now.

HAZEL found herself already enjoying the event. Just within the first few minutes she had seen many familiar faces and was already on her way to making new friends, “Hey Wynne! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Hazel.” Scooting past Caleb, she stuck her hand out to shake Wynne’s, seeing the marshmallows, “Please tell me those are for s’mores. I haven’t had a s’more in a long time.” Maybe Hazel could bring something the next time there was a community event like this. Adjusting to a normal life would give her more time and a chance to find new hobbies and come back out of her shell more. 

It was a nice, warm feeling, watching both strangers and people LUC had come to care about (maybe a bit too quickly, being alone in a town apparently had that affect) mingling and smiling. Even with Talia throwing shade, which she did actually manage to do in a way that wasn't mean. Nodding as she asked about Caleb, Luc figured less was more when it came to the details of their... relationship? Just how much Talia knew about the weirdness of this town was still unknown, although she was smart enough to probably know more than she let on. Unsurprisingly, she knew Baz, too. They seemed the type to not leave a place until everyone was familiar with their name. 

Huffing a self-conscious laugh, Luc shrugged. "Relax. I'm familiar with Caleb and Hazel, too, and Baz. Also that one by the food, that's Wynne. They made me a good luck charm. I was scared to bring it to the beach, typical that it would get lost in the sand if I did, but they're really sweet! We can go over and--" Luc was cut off by a third person approaching, greeting her with a bright smile that barely faltered as she talked about... less clothing? His gaze shifted to Talia, notoriously unhappy with skinnydippers, before returning to the woman with a soft chuckle. Maybe she was joking! "Yeah, it is quite big. And sure, it does feel kinda weird to wear more than a swimsuit at the beach, right? I'm Luc."

"It is nice to meet you all," they said, as they felt tinge of red rise to their cheeks at being described as sweet. "Not as sweet as the marshmallows I brought. Have you guys ever tried them? Considering it's your first bonfire here ... maybe not?" They weren't sure how widespread marshmallows were. "This is my third Wicked's Rest one, but I am very experienced with them." WYNNE didn't mean to brag, though. "But the ones here are different than back home." 

A familiar voice said his name, and EDEN's shoulders relaxed as he recognized the other person. "Oh! Hello Diego. Don't worry about it. It's nice seeing you out here too. Good to know that you're not back at the library terrorizing Mrs. Jones in my absence," he said jokingly, offering a small smile to the other man. At Diego's instance, he picked up a cracker from one of the bowls and observed it carefully. There was no chance that he was going to eat any of this food not knowing where it came from, especially with his stalker on the loose. 

Eden opened his mouth to ask Diego something as a means of distracting from the food, but someone seemed to do that job for him. Thankfully, it was another familiar face. "Hi Baz," he said softly, his smile growing. "Not sure I would associate bagels with the beach but as long as someone's enjoying them, right?" He glanced between the two people in front of him. "Do you two know each other?"

TALIA smiled as Luc recounted who he knew among the group. She was glad to know that he had made friends in the town as well, and that one had even offered him a good luck charm. Before she could agree to going over to the other little knot of people, they were interrupted by an unfamiliar women. Talia couldn't help but raise her eyebrow at the woman's attire and... picket sign? What was there to protest about the bonfire?

"I guess it is unusual," she agreed with Luc, though she would not normally have been as kind as he was. "What does the bonfire have to do with that?" Again her eyes trailed along the sign. "And are you...protesting it?"

“You can eat any sort of food on the beach,” BAZ pointed out, still grinning. They weren’t sure if it was true or not. Perhaps there were some foods that were less beach appropriate than others, but it didn’t count as a lie if they weren’t certain. Their eyes slid over to Diego, though who would surely correct them if they were wrong. Best to change the subject before that happened. “Say, either of you interested in buying art?”

The young woman was trying her best to keep her attention on everyone near her, but Siobhan’s familiar shrill haggy voice had caught her attention, and she couldn’t help but side eye the woman. Looking back at Wynne, Caleb, and Eleanor, she smiled, “I’m sure you’re pretty sweet. And I think it’s a mighty good sign that these bonfires must be fun, if this is your third.” She was doing her best to keep her attention on people she actually liked, but somewhere, deep down a twinge of annoyance seemed to take over her body, “If you’ll excuse me a minute.”

Walking towards the group near the fire, HAZEL stopped next to Siobhan and stood there for a minute, “Hey, Talia. Hey, Luc. Nice seein’ you two here.” Her smile quickly fading, and that annoying nag still eating away at her, she shifted her attention to the other woman, “Hey Oldielocks. Still got them three chin hairs? Or did you pluck ‘em for one of your haggy rituals in the woods?” The smirk on her face widened.

“I haven’t tried the marshmallows yet but I would love to!” ELEANOR couldn’t stop smiling as she continued speaking with the small group of people she’d found herself amongst. With her own excitement washing over her in waves it helped to block out everyone else’s which certainly helped her remain calm. “Yer third?” She asked Wynne. “A good difference I hope? This is me first bonfire ever but it’s turning out to be quite enjoyable already. Who would have thought that people gathering ‘round a fire could be such a fun social event.” She watched as Hazel made her way to a different group, surprised to see how many people in town seemed to actually know one another quite well.

MATEO wasn't one for events that didn't involve a band playing obnoxiously loud on a shitty stage, but he'd take any chance to show off his cooking. With a big charola in a small wagon, he rolled over arroz con leche at the food table and arranged cups and spoons for people to take, propping the ladle for the arroz inside the charola. Then, to draw attention to it, he lit a small firework, threw it next to the wagon, and walked away before it popped sharply.

DIEGO let out a laugh. "Yeah, no. I avoid her, if I can. Makes it easier on all of us. I'd have just come out and asked for your shift schedule, but that's a bit... presumptuous." He winked, though could not be certain if the other man had even noticed, given the glare he was sending towards the cracker.

Another familiar face appeared between the men and, at their suggestion, Diego picked up a bagel... though not without glancing at Baz dubiously. There was no trusting them as a guide, of course, but this was a different context. Baking was safe. Safe enough, at least. And, honestly? He was hungry enough to suffer a five-alarm fire in his mouth, if the other had a terrible sense of humor in addition to their terrible efforts at education. "I agree with Baz, actually. Just don't drop it, and all's good. No one like sand in their mouth."

Around a mouth of (chewy, non-New York) bagel, Diego cocked his head at Baz and added, "I don't think you can sell off museum pieces, if you want to keep your job."

“I’m going to kill you,” she said, as though going-to-kill-you was her name. “Sorry, I mean I’m SIOBHAN.” Luc’s back was so pushable. She couldn’t stop smiling, imagining his ankle twisting in the sand and his oddly attractive body falling over like a domino. Then the woman spoke up and Siobhan snapped her attention to her, annoyed that her murder fantasy was being disrupted, despite the fact that she had disrupted their conversation first. 

“I’m protesting the… None of your business, actually.” Siobhan sneered. “A bonfire is for naked dancing, I would expect that the finer details would be lost on you. What’s your name, darling? Annoying?” Siobhan pointed to Luc. “You see this man? There is sense in his eyes. He understands the importance of nudity.”

When Hazel approached, Siobhan’s eye twitched. “I don’t know this child,” she said quickly. “Hazel, darling, child that I do not know… would you kindly step a little closer to the fire? Pushing distance, perhaps?”

WYNNE was quick to open up the bag. It was a very different kind of food from the things they had eaten back at the commune, which was often more hearty, meaty and bready. "Yes. They are a nice yearly occurrence. Please take one," they said, holding out the bag for Eleanor. They were fine with Caleb not taking any, as his brain-diet probably didn't include marshmallows. "I also brought some wooden skewers. You put them on them and then hold them close to the fire, but not in it!" They looked at where the woman called Hazel had gone off to, hearing Siobhan's voice. They hoped she wouldn't come for their bones tonight. "We should have some, though. I think it is a fun tradition."

Maybe not a great sign of LUC'S observational skills that he hadn't properly noticed, well, the sign, at first. Too busy greeting a new stranger, making sure she felt welcome in the conversation despite her interesting fashion choices. Now that Talia had brought attention to it, it did indeed seem like she was protesting this whole thing. Maybe for environmental reasons? Luc hadn't heard anything about any bones being put on the fire but again, there was a lot about this town and its traditions he was unfamiliar with. Although threatening murder probably wasn't a town tradition for a greeting? Luc, smile still in place but faltering just so, gravitated closer to Talia. 

Once insults started being thrown however, Luc's smile did fade. "Hey, there's no need for that," he tried gently, glancing at Talia as he wondered what the heck there was in his eyes that made it seem like nudity was important to him. 

The arrival of more people had to be a good thing, especially since it was Hazel who could both be nice yet also stand her own ground as it seemed Siobhan was... special. And prone to be a bit rude. Apparently, Hazel had met her before and experienced some of that rudeness as well, judging by her snappy insults. "I think it would be great if no one got pushed into the fire," Luc said with something that was almost a laugh but mostly a way to try and dispel some discomfort. Arguing, whether or not he was directly involved, wasn't really his thing.

"We pushing people into the fire?" MATEO planted himself next to a pale woman. Pretty, of course, but there was a certain murderous intent in her eyes. Interesting. Not interesting enough, though. Shaking a few more poppers from a small box, Mateo threw a few fireworks into the fire and walked away as a symphony of hard and wheezing pops went off as he found another crowd to bother someone who talked about chin hairs. He loved drama.

Ah! Diego was on their side. What a strange occurrence. Naturally, it didn’t last particularly long. BAZ made a face at the suggestion they’d sell museum pieces. It was such a ridiculous notion. Absolute slander. The pieces were much too heavy to carry from the museum unnoticed. “I’m not selling the museum pieces, don’t be daft. I’m selling my pieces. Original works.” Baz Bhati originals, they almost added, but their eyes slid over to Luc. They didn’t know if he was in hearing distance or not, but best not to use their — Sebastian’s — last name just in case. “They’re lovely. You want a look? I’d be happy to—” A loud noise caught their attention, and they started, glancing towards where a man had just set off some sort of firework. “Well, that’s a bit much, innit? No need for all that.”

The popping noises were loud enough to distract from the marshmallow talk, CALEB looking around to try and see what was going on. Fire wasn't his friend and if something was about to explode he probably should be trying to walk away. So why was he still standing there like nothing big was happening? He was too calm about this, he knew it, but really he didn't care. 

He didn't care so much that he agreed to go with Wynne towards the fire. "Fine, I'll have one. Maybe melting it will help it go down better." He was sure that would make it work for him. "Not too close to the fire though?"

TALIA shifted closer to Luc at the same time he edged toward her, so she linked their arms together. Half to comfort herself and half to ensure that neither of them ended up in the fire. Since that was apparently something to be concerned about. "No one," she added as another unfamiliar face asked about just that and, for no reason it seemed, tossed a firecracker into the bonfire. She jumped a little at the sound but could only shake her head. Something in her wanted to be more worked up about the fireworks and the...murderous woman, but she just felt fairly placid and at ease. Still, though, she found herself slipping away from Luc and neatly between Hazel and the fire. "We really ought to be careful. Especially with so many people around." There were more people milling about, marshmallows coming out for s'mores, and Talia didn't need anyone going into the fire, by accident or on purpose.

"Are you sure? You can also ... just give it to me. Then I'll have more." WYNNE offered a cheeky grin. "Or save them for Ariadne, when she arrives. She loves them." They handed over their skewered marshmallows and started on a new stick. "If you put it in the fire, it will light on fire. And burn. Maybe it will be nice for you? More crunchy." 

As they reached the edge of the fire, the warmth of it hit them in the face. The fireworks were scratching at their nervous system, but they'd seen worse things during bonfires, truly. They waved at Luc and Siobhan in stead, the hand holding their skewered marshmallows moving up and down. "I brought marshmallows!" With their other hand, they held out their bag.

HAZEL let a low unintended growl escape from her throat towards Siobhan. A weak reminder that her devil was still in her somewhere, just not strong enough to come out and play; which had probably been for the best. No one needed a Filet Siobhan in their lives tonight. Or maybe they did. Who knew in this town? “No, I think I’m fine just where I’m at. Steal any more cheese. Or was that just a fluke?”

Hazel shifted her attention back on Luc and smiled softly about to speak until she noticed someone else join them. He wasn’t there long, but just within that short amount of time, he had tossed fireworks into the bonfire which started popping and fizzing causing Hazel to jump; a stark reminder of something that had happened earlier in the summer as she shot a look over at Luc, but this time, one of fear, before turning her attention over to Talia hoping the pounding in her chest would subside sooner rather than later.

Far too used to a flashing a quick protective spell, and still not quite sure how to do more harm than good as a 'normal' citizen, DIEGO'S first instinct at a loud bang was to grab both Baz and Eden and yoink them... not towards the food table, at least?

Realizing, after he had shoved their little trio, that it was just a prank, Diego flushed. Rather than addressing it outright, Diego said, still standing very, very close to the other two, "Y-Your art, huh?"

"Was that a growl?" MATEO rose his brows. He was impressed. "Have you ever considered doing grunge music with that voice? Could make for a good sound." 

He eyed the marshmallows, then looked back at his arroz con leche, displeased. Did these people not have taste? Marshmallows are so...okay, they'll always have a place because they're pillows of sugary goodness, but he wanted his dish to shine. Finding another person, Mateo nudged Talia and asked, "You like good food?"

Before they could fully wrap their head around what had caused the loud sound, arms were quickly pulling them out of the… was there a line of fire here? BAZ wasn’t entirely sure, but it didn’t seem like something they’d need to worry about in any case. Strong arms pulled them to safety, however unnecessary it might have been, and Baz was more than happy to roll with that particular set of punches regardless of whether or not it was needed. 

They made no move to wriggle away from the close quarters, content to be pressed against other people’s bodies in any and all situations. “My art!” They confirmed. “I’ve brought a few paintings today, just to see if anyone might be interested in them. They’re quite good.” There was no need for false modesty; Baz wasn’t even capable of it. “Would you like to see?”

LUC was relieved that there weren't more threats exchanged, and when Talia's arm looped into his. As long as everyone was on the same page that people getting pushed into the fire, even jokingly, wasn't a fun thing, this could continue to be nice, right? And it most likely was a joke, just like the firecrackers being thrown because some people enjoyed pranks and had a darker sense of humor! Which was fine, as long as people were comfortable. And having Talia between the fire and Hazel, who had been maybe overtly threatened to get pushed into the fire? It felt safer, for sure. Luc placed a hand on Hazel's shoulder in the hopes of calming her down, trying to glance where the cool looking man with the fireworks had vanished off to. Maybe it would be less shocking if there was a slight warning before he threw any more but then there he was, distracted with chatting for now. 

Stepping closer to Wynne, Luc was happy to accept a few marshmallows and a stick, intending one for himself and the rest for the women in their almost stand off by the fire. Luc still kept his distance from the flames but held out the stick as close to the fire as he dared. "I see you've done this before," he told Wynne, trying to mimick their movements so his own wouldn't catch on fire.

"That's not a bad idea, actually. I'll try a charred one, if it doesn't work you can have them all and save some for Aria." He took a marshmallow from them and a skewer, doing his best to stay as far back from the fire as he could while still letting the thing catch on fire. As he waited for it to char, CALEB looked over at the other group and smiled softly when his eye caught on Talia. 

He was distracted, the marshmallow melting enough that it was about to fall off the skewer when he looked back. Unfortunately it went flying off when he yanked it out of the flames, landing in the sand behind. "Okay, maybe I shouldn't be near an open flame, actually." He wasn't the only one who could get hurt.

SIOBHAN couldn’t believe that no one was advocating for murder. What kind of a party was this? As another man approached, Siobhan shivered; less because he was a man and more because the telltale trickle of heat in her chest told her he was probably undead. Or else maybe she was at that age that she was getting heartburn, but it was definitely not that. She sneered and stepped closer to Hazel, as if the girl could protect her—more likely, she intended to push Hazel into any danger. “You should be so lucky to have cheese stolen by me,” she said. “Not your reduced sodium nonsense.” Siobhan waved her hand in the air. 

“Someone will fall into the fire if they understand a good time,” she explained. “I’m going to grab marshmallows from Wynne. I expect nudity and-or murder when I return—not you Hazel.” As she moved, she brushed the woman. “You most of all,” she leaned down and whispered to her. “The murder I mean, not the nudity. Although…” She let the thought go as she walked off. 

“Lovely to see you, darling,” she said, taking a marshmallow and skewering it. There was another dead man here and Siobhan frowned. She just couldn’t escape then. Did he want to go in the fire? 

TALIA wanted to be there for Hazel, aware that the girl was likely still struggling with the absence of her beast. At the growl, she put a hand to the girl's arm, hoping to offer a steady and calming presence. Her eyes scattered, taking in the scene around them to assess if there was anyone else she should be aware of. She managed to find Caleb, smiling in her direction, and she returned it, offering a wave over her shoulder. If color found her cheeks, it was dark enough out to hide it.

Someone else drew her attention, though, the man she didn't know with the firecrackers. "I like most food, I'll be honest," she answered, attention straying from Hazel and Siobhan, and Caleb.

Just as EDEN was about to apologize for invading the others' personal space, he felt a rough tug as he was pulled away from the sound. Once they were a decent ways away from the food table, he looked down to see Diego's hand gripped tightly on his wrist, his other hand on Baz's. Fully brushing shoulders with the other two now, Eden looked away with flushed cheeks, yet made no attempt to step back for some reason. "Oh, thank you, Diego..."

More pops started to go off near the fire, which was when Eden spotted the individual throwing fireworks into the glowing pit. That was all the noise had been - a firework, just a prank. Not an attack on his life. He glared daggers into the back of that person's head as he allowed his pulse to calm, then turned back to Diego and Baz. "I respect your hustle, Baz. I would love to see them." Anything to distract his brain from imploding.

There were so many conversations happening at once, and with how metiche MATEO was, it was difficult to keep himself a single topic. His ears caught  several words that perked his ears, but he needed to keep focused on the star of the show.

"Okay, listen." He wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulder with a smile. "There's some arroz con leche over there. It's delicious. It's a delicacy in Mexico." It isn't. "You should go get some for you and your friends."

They nodded at Luc. "Yes, I learned a year or two ago! Have you never had marshmallows before?" Maybe they really were a Wicked's Rest delicacy... WYNNE looked back at Caleb. "Sounds like a good idea!"

They placed their bag and skewers on a chair, moving towards the fire with their own skewered candies and holding it in the proximity of the heat. Siobhan approached and they smiled at the banshee, all their confusing feelings for the woman fading somewhat at being called darling. Besides, no mention of bones yet. "Yes, you too! Did I hear you say something about nudity? I find these very ... clothed."

DIEGO glanced at his hands on the others' waists, ran an even deeper shade of red. But, for some reason, he could not find it in his heart to be actively embarrassed, the thoughts floating from his mind. The happy feelings surfaced, instead. He had done good, even if there had been no danger. Excellent. Diego unclenched his grip, but left his hands where they sat. If the others wanted to dismiss them, they would. No one had made to move. This was friendly, right? Very friendly.

"Yeah, Baz. C'mon. Show us what you've got. Sounds impressive." Diego flashed a smile to Baz, at his side, turned back to Eden to confirm that, yes, this was impressive. 

TALIA relaxed, at least for the moment, when Siobhan drifted away. She cast a steadying look to Hazel, before turning her attention to the man.

"Arroz con leche?" she asked, her rudimentary Spanish telling her what it was, at least literally. "Is it sweet?" she asked. Again her eyes slipped to Caleb. She could offer him some, make a joke about a better dessert than a peascake. "Okay. I'm in. And no we are not allowed to be nude. Oh my god." She headed in the direction the man had indicated and set about scooping out a few servings.

The mention of her growl from the man that had thrown the fireworks had caught her attention and irked her at the same time, but both Luc’s and Talia’s touch was calming. And as Siobhan’s words echoed in her mind, she realized tonight was not the night she wanted to be pushed into a bonfire, especially not being able to protect herself, “You know, I just forgot, I’ve got somethin’ I gotta take care of at home. It was lovely seein’ all of you tonight, old and new friends. We’ll all have to do this again sometime.” And maybe not with Siobhan.

With a reassuring touch on Talia’s hand, HAZEL nodded to everyone and decided she had been social enough for the evening. Not being able to defend herself felt odd, and she didn’t like it. In fact, it somewhat scared her. Little hints of her devil still lingered here and there, but not enough to make a huge difference in her life, and as she moved forward to back to her bike, she glanced back over her shoulder seeing everyone laughing and having a good time. Something she had truly missed and hoped she could soon have more of in her life, before heading back home to an empty quiet cabin.

Eden seemed a bit nervous, but BAZ figured their art would fix that. They started to pull out a canvas, glancing over as more fireworks went off near the fire, and — oh! That was the woman who’d tried to kill them talking to the Motel maid and Luc, wasn’t it? Lovely to see her with no knife to their throat. Baz shuffled a little closer to both Diego and Eden, even if the latter was likely a hair too anxious to protect them from any would-be murderers. 

“I’ve more at home, of course, but I’ve got this one…” They took out a canvas sporting a bird flying over the scrapyard, shedding painted feathers as it rose towards a colorful sky. “And this,” a smaller piece showing the outline of a person with no face, the canvas blank where their features might have gone. “And one more,” the London skyline, covered by a thin haze. “See any you’re interested in? You’d better act fast. I’ve had a lot of interest.” Their stomach twisted with the lie, but they kept their expression carefully schooled.

A part of LUC had been hoping to leave Siobhan behind, aware he wasn't the best equipped to deal with her barbs. But as she approached Wynne, she was... nice. Maybe Siobhan was just shy around strangers and it translated into murder humor and being a bit rude? "I've never heated them up over a fire before!" His moms were smart enough to have kept him away from an open flame. Something a bit sad turned in Luc's stomach as Caleb's marshmallow ran away, remembering how the zombie couldn't really taste but still, sandy food was always a tragedy. 

Surprisingly, Wynne was on board with the "less clothing at the bonfire" idea and Luc shifted back closer to Talia and Hazel, only to find the former being led away and the latter taking her leave. So now he had four almost warm marshmallows all to himself. All good, more time to try and melt them to that perfect consistency without getting too close to the fire. Taking a seat crosslegged a nice distance away, Luc continued warming the soft pillows of sugar, waiting for any of his friends to approach - or a friendly stranger. Once they did, they'd be offered one of the marshmallows. And maybe asked to snap a picture of him with the giant flame in the background, for the gram. 

For now, Luc enjoyed the warmth of the flames and the comforting sounds of people talking and laughing, what would have usually been quite a noticeable hole of loss in his chest subdued by something - maybe the people or the flames or the nice night sky. Definitely not a magical bird. But for a night, Luc's loss was a bit less heavy, especially when friendly faces returned to have melted sugar forced their way.

SIOBHAN smiled, for once, without any intent to murder. “Wynne, I knew we shared a connection—not at all related to the fact that I own your bones.” Wynne’s agreement was all Siobhan needed to take her shirt off and toss it into the fire, the flames gobbling it up. She worked her glamour harder to keep her scars and marks hidden, leaving only her original pristine skin. Fortunately, she was wearing a bra (or unfortunately, as Siobhan saw it). She stabbed her protest sign in the ground and waved her skewer around, more interested in the skewer than the marshmallow. “NUDITY!” Siobhan called out, hoping to entice more people, or, perhaps, hoping anything might happen that wasn’t so normal. She frowned as Hazel went away, missing the chance to insult her viciously, which she adored doing. A pant of loneliness ruptured through her. Who was there for her to mock and berate without mercy? She looked at Wynne. No, she couldn’t. She knew them too well. “Nudity…” she sad sadly, like a puppy that was not getting a second treat.

The woman left to get the best dish on the table, leaving the mare to loom around. He locked in on a guy showing off a few canvases, a little perplexed. "Who brings their art to a bonfire? Isn't that a bit desperate?" Oh. It was the British accent person. Makes sense.

 Man, MATEO was starting to get bored, but the fireworks were overplayed. He wished Xóchitl had been able to come, but she'd been pretty down since a friend of hers left. He grumbled to himself and found a chair to slump into lazily.

He decided to put the skewer away, not even attempt another marshmallow. Dangerous with the fire and all. Instead, he excused himself from the others and started to walk away from the flames so that CALEB didn't catch himself on fire and could get away from Wynne's friend who was eyeing him with a weird little glint. It was back to the food table for him, his eyes locked on one person. 

"Fancy seeing you here." He smiled over to Talia, not bothering to look at any of the food. "Having fun?"

Diego's hand on his waist did not move and Baz made no attempt at stepping back. EDEN was at a loss for words at how he got himself in this predicament, yet he was slightly comforted by the bodies surrounding him, god forbid anymore potential threats arose.

As they scanned over Baz's art, Eden's eyes immediately went to the painting of a bird. There was a momentary pang in his chest as he admired its wings, its form, and the grace in its movement despite being nothing but a still image. "This one is wonderful," he said to Baz, though he kept his eyes fixed on the painting. "I can see why you have lots of interest. Would you take $15k for it?" He asked, assuming that was a completely normal starting price.

TALIA tasted some of the dessert before admitting to the man with the fireworks, "You're right, that's very good." She was just dropping off a serving to Luc when she spotted Caleb making his way over. As they met in the middle, Talia had a warm smile for him, her eyes catching the flames. "I...think so? A little weird, but that's par for the course with Wicked's Rest." She offered some of the arroz con leche out to him. "I already tried it," she promised, grinning. "Much better than any peascake, if you want some."

"It is very enjoyable. It tastes a little oaky." They smiled at Luc, feeling a little sad as he turned away. They wondered if it had something to do with Siobhan or that he'd rather hang out with the people he had been with before. On the other hand, these evenings often held people coming and going, and that was what WYNNE liked about them.

Back to Siobhan, they almost began to argue that they shared another connection. (The connection being Regan's wings, and how Siobhan had enacted the punishment Wynne had passed onto her, even if unintentionally.) They didn't want to think about that, lest they became too nauseous for the marshmallows. "You will own them," they corrected meekly, before watching with awe as Siobhan took off her shirt. They didn't follow suit, simply continuing to hold their marshmallows close to the fire and turning the skewer slowly. "I think these are the kinds of people that are prudish about nudity," they said. "Which is a shame, as the evening is still nice enough to be naked and let it all out. We should all dance and swim and come here to dry at the fire. Maybe another time we can have a proper bonfire?" But without sacrifices, that would be preferable.

SIOBHAN smiled. “A proper bonfire,” she repeated. It wasn’t home—considering Wynne’s history she imagined that they would be opposed to the tradition fae entertainment of human torture—but maybe it was just close enough. Just warm enough, just lovely enough, just enough to not be alone for moment. Siobhan watched the fire crack and the embers rise into the night sky. “Yes,” she said, “I would like that very much.” And though no one had died, and no one had been enticed by her demand for nudity, this party wasn’t so bad. 

Next time, she’d push someone in the fire though. Probably Luc, if she had to pick someone.

He laughed softly, nodding his head. "Yea, I don't think anything goes on around here without something weird happening. Billy is a good example." Looking down at the drink, CALEB hesitated for a second before taking it from her to try. He hoped he could guess at some of the flavors correctly, but wasn't too confident about it so he kept it vague as he told her how good it was.

Suddenly, he was pretty glad that he had come that night. Maybe it was time to venture out more if it meant more moments with the people he liked being around. It was turning into a good night.

Wait. Nudity. Nudity! He was lied to. It was on the table! Quickly, MATEO followed suit and threw his own shirt into the fire. The lady looked sad, after all. No way he was gonna let her frown when all she needed was a little skin and chaos to make her feel better. "Nudity!" He called out to her, tossing his pants over into it next. He kept his bottoms on though. Because unfortunately, laws, although a threat to citizens, still applied. So he sat there in a lawn chair, in his boxers and shades, and leaned back pleased.

WYNNE was glad that their professor/future bones owner/scholarship giver was in agreement that they should have a proper bonfire. "We can have it for the equinox. Bring some bones." As a voice cut through the air, they looked over to see someone pull off their trousers and throw them in the fire. They stared incredulously, before grinning. They loved this weird little town.

Despite their claim to talent, DIEGO was, admittedly, surprised that he was as taken with Baz's work as he found himself. Why was Baz wasting their time in a museum? Diego had been brought up with an appreciation for art, and, sure, his tastes were eclectic, a bit mismatched. Art was admittedly subjective. But when Eden offered Baz fifteen thousand, Diego's only frustration was that the bidding had started that high.

"Baz, wow," Diego said, voice soft, leaning in to inspect the art more closely. "I can see why people are after you. These are beautiful." Thinking it might be a bit too forward to squeeze Baz's waist, Diego moved his hand to their back, clapping it gently between their shoulders. "You do commissions, right? I'd be happy to talk more, somewhere less crowded." He glanced at Eden. "For now, I'll let our librarian here burn his salary. There'll be a bidding war next time, though, Eden. Mark my words."

$15k was… certainly far more than BAZ had ever been offered for any of their art before. There was no indication of this in their expression, however. The way Baz saw it, this was what their art was worth. More people ought to be offering them such a price for their work. Eden was smart. Eden was sensible. Eden had taste. If only everyone in this town could make the same claim.

Diego, too, was a sensible lad, with taste all his own. If the price Eden offered was exhilarating, the idea of a bidding war seemed even more so (even if that would need to be saved for next time). Now hyperaware of just how much value their work held, Baz became similarly aware of how close they stood to the fire, and the looks they were getting from some of the other bonfire attendees. Jealousy, no doubt. Best not to risk anyone doing anything untowards because of it. “Gentlemen!” The doppelganger grinned, gathering their canvases once more and ushering the pair of strapping young men to follow them. “Let’s step away to negotiate, yeah? I’m sure we can come to a proper agreement.” One that sufficiently lined Baz’s pockets and fed their ego. 

Now this was what they called a successful bonfire.

[gotabigdiego]

@roloraul answered your ask: "[pm] Did anything strange happen with your magic on Saturday evening?":

[pm] If you mean the latest etheric occlusion event? Yeah.

[pm] Alright. Going to need you to define your terms and your timeline, Raul.

How long has this been happening? What effects have you noticed? What effects did you experience on that Saturday, specifically? Don't bother dumbing it down. I can translate before I report out inform the hunter who asked me to look into it.

[technowarden]

[Eighteen hours later, but we don't have to worry about that]

[pm] Sure, but all of it is not natural. The constant is the supernaturalness. But I agree, it's weird. And it's weird that it keeps happening, even if it looks like it's changed a little.

So something's been happening for months, but I've got no idea what. Okay, that's good to hear. I can't believe that, I bet loads of people want to be friends with you.

I'd say it's important.

[gotabigdiego]

[User frequently responds days later, so the eighteen hour delay doesn't register as strange. ADHD strikes again.]

[pm] I get where you're coming from. But if it were all that similar, all arising from the same Great Source, why would there be a distinction between hunters? Put another way, the similarities, such as they are, seem to end at supernaturalness. I mean, hell, there are differences between my magic and fae magic. Never gotten close enough, emotionally, to a fae to chat and parse those differences out, mind you, but it's been a sticking point.

[User pauses, paces for a bit. He should tell her, right? He's going to tell her! ... But not today.]

Months? [...] Sorry. I believe you. Just [...] taken aback. If he's been hiding this from me for months, I'm going to kill him. That's definitely important. I'll look into it.

Yeah, maybe. But maybe I don't want to be friends with them. Maybe being friends will make it harder, when I have to skip town. Maybe being friends will put them in danger. You were in danger. I put you in danger. We barely know each other, Eve. But it's the truth.

[technowarden]

[pm] Okay, so we've got shifters shifting uncontrollably, and and then getting stucl. I've got reports of fae losing their glamours. Undead losing control of their hunger. That's all I've got at the moment.

That's what I'm doing. You got any spellcasters on your "Call a Friend" button that might have experienced something?

[gotabigdiego]

[pm] Huh. That really... runs the gamut. I'm not an expert in shifters, fae, or the undead, but aren't those problems usually... unrelated? Throw in magic, and you've got a fourth variable. What's the constant? You should really talk to Raul. He's better at this.

I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job. Is this a recent development? I haven't noticed anything strange about my magic since I arrived. [...] I don't really have [...] friends that I can ask, no. But, if it's important, I know where I can look. My apartment, for a start.

[gotabigdiego]

@technowarden replied to your post: "[pm] Hey! Hope you're doing okay and all after that date...":

[pm] Glad to hear it! There’s been some kind of weird magical event, seems to be affecting a lot of the supes, I was just wondering if it also affected any spellcasters!

[pm] Could you elaborate? I promise I won't go chasing after it, but I'd like to know what I we I could be dealing with.

[...] You should ask around. Test the hypothesis. I didn't cast any spells on Saturday, so I might be [...] a bad exemplar. Bad evidence.

[gotabigdiego]

[pm] Hey! Hope you're doing okay and all [del: after that date]. Out of curiosity, did you exerience any kind of weirdness with your magic on Saturday evening?

[pm] Eve, hey, hi. Doing fine. Hope things are well with you. Is this awkward?

Outside of the normal weirdness? I have no idea what you could mean, so I guess not. Why do you ask? Is something wrong? What did I do?

[gotabigdiego]

TIMING: August 30, 2025, Evening LOCATION: Dance Macabre PARTIES: @gotabigdiego, @pagingdoctorhart, & @roloraul SUMMARY: A night at the club for Raul and Diego goes sideways when Mickey shows up seemingly knowing more than he should. WARNINGS: Head Trauma (mentioned), Memory Loss (discussion), Substance Abuse, Unsanitary, Vomiting (mentioned)

Valeska Krol’s silvery voice suffused the Dance Macabre like rippling water, permeating every corner and wrapping around the dancers with such breathy intimacy that more than one patron glanced abruptly behind them, as if she’d murmured the last verse softly behind their ear. The stage lights diffused through fog wafting up from haze machines, slightly damping air that somehow remained chilled despite the packed club of dancers on a summer night. The mist glistened on Valeska’s waist-length tresses of riverine green hair as she seemed to dance with flicking afterimages of herself, each in a different state of joy, longing, confusion, dread, and gushing wounds. The crowds of fans, clubbing enthusiasts, and followers of the local music scene that’d flooded the Dance Macabre’s normally subdued atmosphere took it as a trademark display of Valeska’s knack for stage technology. Yet, Valeska hadn’t used such tricks for four hundred years, just as she’d no need of a microphone to engirdle every nook and shadow of this place in song. Every once in a while one of the dancing clubbers would glance up, only to meet Valeska’s pupiless grey eyes as she gave a wistful yet knowing smile.

Raul broke away from those heart-piercing pearl eyes with a shudder, chest rising and falling in deep breaths as if he’d been sinking into something deep, airless, and dark. He forced back that weird abyssal feeling and the club snapped back into focus. Raul disentangled himself from a dance partner and caressing fingers that traced longing lines down the veins of his neck and arms. He murmured apologies and made an excuse of asking tonight’s acquaintances if they wanted any drinks. Some just replied with muffled chuckles and pressed kisses against his bare shoulders, but Raul’s club buddies that still had both their wits and pulses made some groggy drink requests.

Raul eventually pushed and weaved his way past dancers to the bar. Turns out Diego was there. Given that his brother was both clothed and not crowd-surfing his way into some inexplicable Instagram moment, Raul concluded that this was one of Diego’s slow nights. Raul leaned against the bar beside him and gave him a jocular grin, face flushed with the adrenaline of dancing and skin damp from the stage mist. Raul’d lost his jacket somewhere and the tank top revealed a trickle of blood amidst the hickies on his neck and shoulders. “How’re you doing man?” Raul asked before rattling off some drink orders to the guy behind the bar.

—

Since arriving in Wicked’s Rest, Diego had been avoiding his brother—a real feat, given their shared apartment. It was not… intentional, not really. It was just easier for Diego to communicate in quick asides, in half-conversations held as one of them passed the other in the entryway. For him to leave concise messages on the refrigerator, scrawled warnings to avoid opening the cupboard between the hours of midnight and three o’clock, bits of cypher left where Raul would see (only after Diego had made himself scarce). There was no real reason for it, right? At least, none that Diego was prepared to admit to anyone. Luckily, Raul had not called him on the pattern and, by all appearances, seemed to be on the same page. (Though, would he have been able to tell?)

All that in mind, it would have made sense, then, if Diego had vacated the Dance Macabre tonight as quickly as he had arrived. If he had seen his brother on the crowded dancefloor and left Raul to his own madcap devices—Diego had a decade of practice, after all. Instead, he had ordered a single glass of water, no ice, and lurked at the bar, waiting out the inevitability of Raul’s notice. As the man ambled over, Diego took stock of the state of him. A little ruffled, but mostly in order. Well, except for a bit of bleeding, barely noticeable in the dim light. He guessed, more than heard, Raul’s question, only reading about half of the words from his lips, the rest scattered by the strobe and sound. “Sober, if that’s what you’re asking,” Diego said over the music, shooting an apologetic grimace at the bartender. “You don’t need to worry about me, promise. Just needed to stretch my legs.”

The blood caught his eye again. Diego could never remember if vampires and their ilk had enhanced hearing. Facts slurried together in his head with what almost had to be fiction. Fear, maybe pride, led to stories about the undead, especially among the younger sorcerers. Late at night, watching for flickers in the aether, it was difficult to tell what was learned experience and what was a base attempt to distract, to frighten. And so, Diego kept his voice low as he leaned in to offer Raul a glug of the water, exaggerating the word as he said it: “Neck.” For good measure, he tapped the side of his own, hidden pointedly under a turtleneck tank top. Fashion, to the uninitiated. Warning, to the rest. 

… And a warning that he was more than happy to give to the man who had appeared over Raul’s shoulder, if it came to it.

—

Ah, home sweet… whatever this place was. Mickey was certain he had been in here before, though he couldn’t quite recall the name. It hadn’t helped that he had been distracted on his way in the building, ignoring the name on the outside in favor of talking someone’s ear off. He was pretty sure the conversation had been about hockey, and could only look back now and hope that the conversation had been at least partially more than completely one-sided. He had long since lost the acquaintance that he had walked in with, a random stranger he had met at the previous bar where he had lost the actual friends he had originally shown up with. Luckily, this was par for the course for this particular couple of friends. They had formed a partnership on not necessarily wanting to spend a night alone but not liking to be tied down to each other either. They really just used each other as an excuse to get out of the house and in the door of a club. After that, it was the Wild West.

Or whatever the goth equivalent of the Wild West was, judging by the vibe of this club. Mickey was in the know about the supernatural enough to know there was something going on with this bar. He had spotted more than a few necks that seemed freshly bitten, and not in a kinky hickey way. Well, maybe in a kinky way, actually, but not in the hickey way at least. Despite how hot the place ran, he also spotted more than a few turtlenecks. Mickey had always run hot, a side effect he could only attribute to spending so much of his childhood on the ice and in ice rinks. He had worn a mesh football shirt in an attempt to keep some circulation going but suddenly felt incredibly exposed compared to the general population.

Mickey hadn’t quite decided where the night was going to take him, at least until he spotted a vaguely familiar face. Running into people that he had treated at the hospital wasn’t uncommon, especially in this town. But for the most part they were forgettable. This guy hadn’t been forgettable. Sure, the concussion-induced rambling was entertaining, but it was the offhanded comment that had intrigued Mickey the most. A quick remark about magic. He pushed through the crowd, figuring he could at least say hello and see where the conversation went. They locked eyes before he got close enough to be heard over the crowd, so he settled for waving wildly instead. “How’s your head?” Mickey yelled out once he thought he was close enough, rethinking the words quickly. “Scratch that. Hi there! Not sure if you remember me, but I wanted to ask about your concussion,” he rephrased and realized quickly that Diego may have already been locked in a conversation. He gave a small wave to the stranger. “Hi, sorry if I’m interrupting.”

—

Raul had run a napkin down his neck with the unhurried impreciseness of muscles relaxed by a liquid buzz. “Thanks,” he murmured back, but whether Raul intended to promise caution or mock Diego’s chic vibes with horny bravado was cut off by… uh, whoever this dude was.

“Concussion,” Raul mouthed in confusion with a quick glance at Diego before shaking his head at the newcomer. “Nah man, it’s fine… Did you blackjack Diego for his Z-bucks or something?” he asked with a smirk.

—

Diego felt his lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile. How’s your head? Points for being direct. But his amusement morphed quickly to confusion, then embarrassment. Ah. He had hoped not to run into Doctor Hartmann again. Diego had been teased by the nurse who had checked in the next morning. For things he had said while he was delirious, things he could not remember, not even a little bit. “I’m, uh, fine. But a bit late on the checkup there, Doc. You’re not even dressed the part.”

Catching the smirk, the implication, in Raul’s question, Diego hastened to add, “Absolutely not, man. Shut up. You remember when I first got here, I…” Damn. Had he actually told Raul any of the details? Not like he had needed help with it. Hopefully Raul had enough of a buzz going that any tension would be smoothed out. He waved a hand between the doctor and his brother. “Nevermind. Doctor Hartmann, this is Raul, my brother. Raul, this is Doctor Hartmann. He patched me up, once.”

—

Mickey had definitely interrupted. Tact was not a strength he was putting on a resume anytime soon. Too late now though, it seemed. Maybe he was just drunk, but he couldn’t begin to process whatever Diego’s pal had just said to him. “I couldn’t begin to tell you what that means, but sounds fun. Count me in.” His grin was wide, partially fueled from the alcohol and mainly fueled by the possibility of new friends for conversation.

“I’m multitasking,” Mickey assured. He didn’t currently have a drink in hand, but he did have a sucker in his mouth that had been passed to him somewhere between the entrance and now. “And please don’t call me Doctor Hartmann here. Not outside of the hospital walls. I’m Mickey!” He redirected his attention to Raul, apparently deciding that the name being yelled wasn’t enough and a personal introduction was in order. “Hi Diego’s brother, Raul. I’m Mickey. It was mostly just a minor check up. He even assured me that protection was used.” Sure, the lack of context was chaotic. But it was also fun.

—

Raul’s buzzed brain puzzled over the start of Diego trying to remind him of something they talked about on first coming to this podunk town full of prehistoric god blood. Wait, what? Which was he talking about, touch my toothbrush and die…? The sock on the doorknob rule…?

Oh, Jersey-Casual over here had a name apparently.

Raul’s lazy smirk became nonplussed as MickyD awkwardly confirmed Diego apparently got a quickie after getting concussed at the doctor or something. TMI, but unsurprising. “Well, uh, glad he wasn’t a fool and wrapped his tool, I guess,” Raul commented with a stretching roll of his bare shoulders. 

Quite content to not hear anything else about his dumbass brother’s turn and cough with Dr. Mick, Raul busied himself with bothering the waiter about the drink order. Soon a collection of drinks that varied between pale liquors and suspiciously dark crimson were plopped on the counter. Raul clapped his brother on the shoulder with a jocular air. “Well, have fun with the prostate exam, man. Hope the doc gets you to unpucker and actually fucking relaaaaax,” Raul murmured with a squeeze of Diego’s tense shoulder before moving to start picking up his friends’ drinks to head out.

—

“Protection?” Diego said to neither man in particular, incredulous and unimpressed with his concussed self. The latest, thrumming song had ended and Valeska Krol took a moment to slow her set down, to work the crowd. It gave Diego the slimmest moment of, well, not quiet, it was never quiet in a place like this, but enough space to let his brain work, to let his brain think. It occurred to him that Raul was right; he was tense. But why? It made no sense, his being uncomfortable. It usually took more than an insinuation, even a false one, to get under his skin. And Doctor Hartma— Mickey was no threat, had done nothing to raise his hackles. As far as he knew, the doctor had done his job and left before Diego had even woken up. Their running into each other was a coincidence. Another month or two, and Diego would have forgotten Mickey’s face entirely.

It begged the question, though: Why did Mickey remember Diego? Had he just been that memorable? (An irony, that.) And, if he had been, why? What about Diego, about their interaction, made Mickey bother to ask about a concussion, a months-old one at that, in the middle of a club? A part of him wanted to ignore the twisting feeling in his gut. Let Mickey have his fun, let Raul make some assumptions. If he had a few drinks in him, Diego might have done just that. Might have papered over the hole in his memory with some news ones. After all, feelings were not facts, or truths, and, much as his magic was emotive, Diego did not like to let his feelings make his decisions for him. Even so…

“You’re going to drop those. Let me help before I head out,” Diego said to Raul, picking up a few of the assembled drinks. He turned a tight smile at Mickey, trying to summon up some of his usual charm. “Mickey, it was,” a pause, “unexpected. Thanks for patching up my foot, seriously, but I’ll try my best to stay out of your exam room. If I’m not careful, next time it’ll be my hands, and I’m bad enough at typing as it is.” (... Had he said that before?)

—

This Raul guy seemed pretty direct. Mickey appreciated that, from a conversational standpoint. Based on the flippancy he had towards whatever acts of indecency he thought Mickey and his brother had gotten up to, he was probably a pretty fun guy to hang around the club with. Especially if the secret Diego had accidentally spilled applied to both him and his brother. Admittedly, Mickey had no idea if spellcasting was genetic or random or born from a blood sacrifice.

It had come to Mickey’s attention that bringing it up wasn’t the best idea. If he had been any good at minding his business he would have forgotten about the moment entirely and moved on. In his defense, he had mostly done that. It wasn’t like he had sought Diego out or anything. This was purely coincidental, and therefore a hard opportunity to pass up. In his current state of inebriation, Mickey wasn’t super confident in his ability to ask anything subtly. “Oh yeah! I think you mentioned something similar when you came in that night. About it being better the feet than the hands? You bad at spelling or something?” He tried to put just enough emphasis on the word that it would care some suggestive weight, but as the room started spinning around him he wasn’t sure that being too subtle was the issue here.

—

Figuring he’d misjudged the vibes, Raul accepted Diego’s help with the drinks with the normal ‘nah I got it… okay fine’ routine. “Hey, I mean you don’t have to head out just yet, got a friend here, think she’d like to…”

The attempt to wingman for Diego was cut short by Mickey going on about something. “Wait,” Raul murmured with a look back at Mickey over his shoulder, something about the exchange needling at his brain. “What’d he…”

—

If anyone asked Diego to pick the moment where the situation had veered sharply out of his control—if he was ever forced to explain this to, say, a jury of his peers, spellcasting or otherwise—this would be the moment. No sooner had the word spelling left Mickey’s mouth than Diego was pushing the last of the beverages into the hands of one of Raul’s disjointed entourage with nary a flinch. Panic would only complicate things.

There was still time to salvage this, though. Diego had certain advantages here. Namely: “Huh. Doc, I think the drinks are getting to your head. Let’s get you to the bathrooms, okay?” There was no need to lie; Mickey did look a bit pale. But there was nothing altruistic about the tight nod Diego sent to Raul. No kindness in how Diego slung his arm around the doctor’s waist and guided him to the rear of the club. If Mickey said anything on their little march, Diego did not hear it.

Several single-occupancy restrooms lined the wall. Diego could decide, later, if he felt bad about depositing Mickey unceremoniously into the one at the farthest end of the line. At least someone had scrubbed it clean of blood. The deed done, Diego slumped against the door, body a soft barricade. With any luck, Mickey would assume it was magically locked long enough for Raul to actually lock it. Though Diego could not trust that luck was on his side.

After all, if his luck were any good, Diego would not be sitting here at all.

—

Mickey was pretty sure he wasn’t nauseous, but he did also know that the room had started spinning and his body felt a lot lighter than it had before. Sure, Diego wasn’t a doctor or anything, but he certainly seemed more sober than Mickey was currently. So he let himself be ushered towards the bathroom, finding out that being dragged across a club floor was not fun against the multiple bodies he bumped against as they made their way through the crowd. Inside the bathroom, Mickey was quickly deposited into a stall and left alone. Nobody to hold his hair back, rude. Not that Diego knew the man well enough to need to help with the alleged puking and Mickey’s hair wasn’t long enough to warrant being held back anyways, but neither of those factors were the point.

Still, in an abundance of caution, Mickey obliged Diego’s warnings and lowered himself to the ground in preparation. He pulled the sucker from his mouth and held it with his hand straight into the air. He listened to the ambient noise of the club, focusing on the pulsating beats leftover from music he couldn’t quite make out from here. He figured if he just focused on that rhythmic thumping he could get this part of the night over with. He wasn’t unfamiliar with puking in a bathroom, he had just never had to think so hard about doing it. 

—

Raul had continued dancing, giving his brother and Mickey space to do whatever for a time. Going tearing off after them just because of some weird vibes sounded like a drag. Better to act casual. The group of friends Raul was hanging with tonight were a blast to be sure, but Raul never forgot for a moment that many were still predators beneath the skin.

Sure enough, Zinaidia paused in the dance, letting her perfect yet cold lips drift playfully up Raul’s shoulder and neck before whispering in his ear. “Where’d your adorable brother and the golden retriever boy go?” she asked in her rich contralto.

“Dunno,” Raul said, letting Valeska Krol latest song, something about freedom in loss, roll over him. “Think he had too many,” he answered but instantly regretted it.

“Oh?” Zinaidia tensed with excitement in Raul’s arms, the anticipation of a hunter who’d scented wounded prey. “Does he need help…? We could go over and…”

Mickey had given weird vibes and affected Diego in a way that felt like drama, but there was no way in hell that Raul would leave him at the mercy of Zin’s ‘bedside manner.’ There was a line between jackass and soulless bastard after all. “Nah, he’s probably painting the stall walls from his ass or mouth right now,” Raul said with intentional coarseness, causing the risen heretic in his arms to sneer in disgust, fun ruined. “I’ll see what’s up,” said Raul, ducking out of Zin’s embrace before a new form of sanguine mischief occurred to her.

Raul made his way through the dancers and around milling throngs at the dance floors periphery. He kept his pace casual and unhurried, but ignored lingering touches on his shoulder or murmured offers that tried to redirect him to discreet corners. Raul kept them at bay with a purposeful stride and smirking mask of indifference.

Eventually he found his brother guarding the stalls as if trying to protect the club from a hungry velociraptor he’d trapped inside. Sadly, Raul’s buzz was ebbing slightly without any new drinks in a bit. He leaned against a nearby wall and regarded Diego with the mournful annoyance of a man forced to turn on his brain cells too soon. “If there’s an extradimensional parasite bursting out of Mic in there,” he began with a smile that was gentler than the gin-heated one earlier, “we’ll probably need to grab some silver calipers first.”

—

It took Raul fractionally longer to find them than Diego had expected. Enough time for Diego to piece together, then immediately discard, several elaborate plans to ‘handle’ the situation. Most required some… light interrogation and, without knowing where, exactly, he had misstepped, asking further questions would be a non-starter. And, besides, what use were plans, were questions, anyway? It was unthinkable that the Pacto Áurico had softened their protocols on interlopers in Diego’s decade of absence. Raul was of the coven. Ergo…

Diego barked out a laugh despite himself. “Afraid not. Only thing bursting out of him is secrets.” He let the implication hang in the air for a moment, before gesturing at the handle to the side of his head. “He hasn’t tried anything yet, but you might want to stick the lock. Happy to walk you through it, if you’re rusty. I just didn’t want to add dimensional instability to our problems.” He mimicked an explosion. “Or worse.”

—

Raul hmmed in thought, the regretful buzz-down expression on his face deepening as it started to become clear that the rest of tonight’s thrill wasn't in the cards. The sorcerer took some time to center, opening himself up to the currents of energy that flowed into this plane from the Ether. He didn’t hurry, as that could go sideways with alcohol still in his system while in a place so saturated with necromantic… guests. A slight pressure built in the air as power pooled and Raul fixed his intention firmly in mind.

Raul reached into a pocket and retrieved a piece of chalk from his wallet. Made from prey fossilized by a basilisk, Raul let the life-transfixed mineral become his conduit to the cosmic principle of Stasis, systemic cohesion and retention of form. Walking to a place beside his brother, Raul sang in a soft harmony of inhumanly precise notes, as if geometry had become music. The stanza concluded as Raul completed a perfect circle of interlocking circles around the lock. It was a minor thing on stasis, commanding the pieces within the lock to retain their state and position. Even sound shouldn’t be able to travel through the door now, as molecules would refuse to vibrate.

Unless, of course, Mickey was some sort of mighty Doctor Demon, in which case that little stasis lock was about to shatter like freeze-dried pork.

“‘Kay,” said Raul as he released his hold on the local ether and the unseen pressure faded. “Now why would this guy be spilling secrets? ‘Specially the kind that’d warrant a ward.”

—

The moment never came for Mickey. He had sat in silence for a while now, an accomplishment far greater than either of the new friends he had made tonight could comprehend. He had almost chalked the moment up to Mickey just being too sober for his own good. At least until he had tried to leave the stall and couldn’t figure out how to get the door open. “Door: 1, Mickey: 0,” he mumbled to himself, trying one last push against the door before giving up on it. So maybe he wasn’t quite as sober as he thought he was a few minutes ago. He was stuck in limbo. Too sober to puke and too drunk to escape the bathroom stall. A predicament he was sure that many had faced over the years.

Admitting defeat and accepting that he apparently did need a minute to re-center himself, Mickey rested his back against the door and slid onto the ground. He pressed the flat of his feet against the opposite wall and stuck the sucker back in his mouth, only mildly aware of how gross it was to have a sucker while in the bathroom. He tried to listen for other noise, but it was surprisingly quiet now. Unable to handle this prolonged silence, Mickey began tapping his shoes against the wall and humming to himself to pass the time.

—

“Thanks,” Diego mumbled, standing from the floor. His hand went to the door handle, testing it the old-fashioned way. It held firm—the ward simple, but effective. Diego had known that, had long since stopped questioning Raul’s warding, but he had picked up a bit of a nervous habit after the accident, avoiding his own gifts and relying on covenless freelancers with loose fundamentals. Better some offense to a stranger than his fingers blown off because of misdrawn figures.

Injuries, though, reminded Diego of his—their—predicament. He sighed, cocking his head at his brother. Raul seemed to be taking this all more calmly than Diego had anticipated. Were the rules more lax in Wicked’s Rest? Eve had made it seem like secrecy was still paramount, at least to the hunters. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t remember. Seems like I had looser lips while concussed. Doubt he knows much, but… I don’t want to spill anything else. Instructors always told us one memory is safer to cut out than a mess of them.” 

“Unless…” Diego started, glancing askance at the door. “I mean, we could wait until he sobers up. You could talk to him. Convince him that… I don’t know, man. Something else.” It was a weak effort, and Diego knew it. But Raul had always been the more… clever one—and better at lying. Half as a joke, he added, “Could leave him locked up.”

—

“No need,” Raul assured with a light tone and dismissive shrug, but with enough force to actually rule that option out. He would’ve preferred Diego take care of this, as he was the one who broke the veil in a daze. However, Raul could see how uncomfortable this made him, with the panic lock-up of it all.

Also, Raul knew he would do whatever it takes, should Mickey not prove biddable. It wasn’t the most positive trait about himself, kind of scary at times, but it had its uses.

Raul put a hand on Diego’s shoulder and gave reassuring pressure. “Don’t worry, man. I can take care of this. I’ll find out what he knows, see if it needs solving.”

—

“Okay,” Diego said, voice dull. “Alright.” He should be grateful, really. For once, there was a problem that could actually be solved. But his heart thumped a staccato beat anyway, one too dissimilar from the music to be mistaken for the bass. Did it make it better, if he was scared for Mickey? Probably not. But he hoped that whatever Mickey said was enough to convince Raul to stay his hand.

“I’ll stick around for a bit. Let me know if you… need anything.” With a stiff nod, Diego wandered back into the club, unwilling to watch the fallout. (Unwilling to witness the consequences.) He let himself be carried into the music, into the crowd.

[stonekey]

Hi! I need some help. I may have been cursed. I received this message: "OH EM GEE 😱😈 you naughty WORM 🔥 have been WORM-SELECTED to receive a SLITHERY gift 🍆💦 are you SQUIRMING yet? Accept this gift DEEP into your garden HOLE 🕳️💀⛓️ If you want to REJECT 🙅 this OFFER send this message to 5 of your garden HOES 🤪😛 if you want to ACCEPT this GIFT into your SOGGY SOIL-BED 🛏️🌊😏😏👅 do NOTHING and join the worms in the JUICY 💦💦 dirt as a MASSIVE, THICK worm 🥵🍆🥵‼️" I've analyzed the text and I believe that "garden hoes" refers to promiscuous individuals, but I am unsure. Does anyone have any insight? I would like to not be a "massive, thick" worm.

[gotabigdiego]

[User has vivid flashbacks to Fiego. User exits the page immediately, worried that this person has been infected. User will not be purchasing a new computer again, no way, no how.]

[Hours later, using a public computer.]

[pm] Delete that message immediately, or he'll get you. Do not send it on. Change your password. Protect yourself.

[roloraul]

Yeah it was an actual artistic possum

[pm] I originally thought it could be used as a metamorphic vessel to summon a Stakikar, given their similar trash badger natures. However it molted, then...Squonked, swelled, and then un-Squonked. I'm unsure if it's tendency to draw patterns afterward was a result of absorbing the ritual diagrams, ....or a therapeutic method to express its experiences.

I mean, all currency is an arbitrary abstraction, so yeah man I'd reinvest into whatever fake currency you are most able to get someone else to work for.

[gotabigdiego]

Awesome possum. Do people still say that?

[pm] Stakichar, huh? Those are the little disease-ridden blobs, right? What, were you just testing your limits, then? [...] If you needed components from one of those that badly, you could've just broken into someone's attic. Could have asked me for help, even. Little less dangerous reckless of a hassle. Think I can manage a few sigils without tearing a hole in reality. Glad the possum is [...] alright.

Remind me to tell the super that when I go to wire my half of the rent. "Currency is an arbitrary abstraction, it's all fake. In fact, I should absolutely be exempt from a couple months' rent, since I called in several favors to have this place warded. Call it bartering."