[on-the-track]

Name: Bowen Zhou Age: 27 Pronouns: He/Him Species: Witch (Mechanical) Faction: Underground Code name: The Shell Occupation: Train Engineer Hometown: Eden Ros Sexuality: Heterosexual Relationship Status: Single

Trigger warnings: Parental Death,

Headcannons:

Bowen great grandfather fled China with his wife and children to Scotland. There was a language barrier, but while he learned the gap his knowledge on how locomotives worked was put to use at lugh. Since then there has always been at least one Zhou family member keeping the trains running.

Bowen father had been working with the underground, making smuggling compartments on the coals of the train. Even placing and removing cargo for them. Bowen father and mother were punished for this with death. Bowen was left to be raised by his older sister. But in recent months Bowen has taken up his fathers mantle and is working with the underground.

Bowen is a mechanical witch who specialises in enchantments. He has his fathers old book of drawings, ideas, sigils.

Even with the fact that the family had a wealth of connections to the locomotives in Eden Ros Bowen had always loved them. Was proud that they still had a steam engine running.

Bio : tba

[thistle-and-kane]

It was only that morning Allie had informed Juniper that the Zhou family still tended the Thistle. She shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was, someone had to be maintaining the mechanical spells scattered around the property. At least they didn’t have anyone staying with them at the moment. It wasn’t impossible to pass off the magical maintenance as standard- humans didn’t like to pay attention and she had seen Grannie do it before. But that was years ago and she wasn’t exactly itching for the opportunity. 

She had just come in from the garden when she heard the front doors bell chime through the first floor. Ringing in her ears pleasantly, if Nettle wasn’t barking then it should be fine. She came out from the kitchen drying her hands after getting the dirt off. “Hello! Welcome to The Wandering Thistle. How can I-” She cut herself off when she saw who had actually come in. Eyeing the toolbox immediately. “Oh- Oh! You must be Bowen… Hi.” She smiled and approached more casually than if he was a customer. Holding her hand out to shake. “Allie told me you would be coming by today, I wasn’t sure when though, thank you so much for taking the time to stop by. I’m Juniper.” 

[on-the-track]

Hearing what must be a practised greeting but with such enthusiasm Bo couldn't help but smile. How many times has she repeated that phrase? Was it just her customer service persona or was this her? All the stories he had heard about Juniper both Isla and Allie had failed to mention that Juniper was cute, but maybe that was his subjective opinion.

"Yes... yes I am, though you can call me Bo... most people do, I only get my full name when I'm in trouble." he swapped the hand that was holing the tool box so he could shake her dainty hands in comparison to his. "My bad I should have rang ahead, guess I'm to used to this place. No need to thank me I'm repaying your grandmothers kindness. I've hear a lot about you from Allie."

[amoraldestructionchaoticcreation]

Where: Meadowlark Nursery When: Around noon With: Anyone

Leaning back in his chair, Bellamy glanced over the shop. It was empty at the moment, everyone was at lunch. He sat back in his chair, exhaling, thinking he might do the same. He dropped his right hand, currently lazily holding his phone, amazon with a shopping cart full of several items he really didn't need, but when he had all the money in the world and then some, who was going to stop him? No one. The library in his current home would always need more books. The garden he had been growing, started with his mother, would always need something or some such, too. A decoration as strange as he often felt. Lawn ornaments upon lawn ornaments. When you had such a vast yard, who could tell you what to put in it? No one.

Yet, the common ground that Meadowlark brought him down to. The feeling like anyone else adopted, with its being his. A feeling as if he were earning all that he had been given in life through mishap and tragedy, of course. But he didn't miss the looks some had given him growing up. The anger of those in a different wealth class lashed out at him when he showed up with the latest tech, and they barely had a phone with a perfect face. If he broke a phone, he could have it easily replaced that day. Not, however, without anger from his father. He was clumsy, useless, and didn't deserve such things if he didn't take care of them. But when you were the odd kid out, despite your wealth. Being a target of your things being trashed happened a lot. Because, 'your daddy's rich, he can replace this'. Before they threw his collector's edition of Little Nemo over a cliff, into oblivion.

Staring at his phone, he clicked his tongue, bought his current shopping cart of stuff, and moved to get up. Hungry enough now to take his own time to go to lunch. Moving across the store, he reached into the pocket of his jacket, digging out the keys to his motorcycle as he debated where he might have lunch today. Opening the door and exiting the shop, he changed the sign to tell people who dropped by while he was away that he was out to lunch. Moving across the sidewalk toward his motorcycle parked along it, he straddled it, put in the key, and about to put on his helmet before spotting someone approach, “Oh. Hey-” He offered a weak smile, putting his helmet down from where he was holding it, onto the motorcycle, between his legs, “What's up?”

[on-the-track]

Bo and Bellamy had gone to primary and secondary school together, had been thick as thieves spending their time together. Even as they aged their friendship had stayed. They weren't attached at the hip but when they did meet up it was like nothing had changed, like no time had gone by. It was a low maintained friendship Bo adored.

Perhaps they were lucky that the Nursery and rail yard were both in the highlands, that when the time for lunch came around they weren't that far from each other. They didn't always meet up for lunch as their schedules didn't always match up to allow for it. But today Bo risked the mismatch and rode his own bike down to see Bellamy.

Seeing that his friend was getting ready on his bike, Bo revved the engine to signal his approach. Sliding in next to Bellamy, only muffled sounds came out as he tried to talk to the other. Giving up Bowen removed his helmet "I said where are we off to lunch?"

[on-the-track]

Who: @dawnlings

Where: after a night of partying

Bo had agreed priori to the fact that he would pick Allie up once she was ready to come home. Why wasn’t he out partying with her? Well he had work tomorrow and he wasn’t willing to risk his job for a night. But he wasn’t going to let Allie travel the streets late a night when who what ever roamed the streets.

And while he eye lids were heaving when he got her cap to come get her, he wasn’t upset or annoyed that his sleep had been disrupted but happy that Allie did what they agreed. Slinging on the cloths from the day before he got in his car to go get the woman who was as close to a little sister as he could get.

When he arrived he could see her waiting outside but she wasn’t alone, there was a group around her laughing enjoying themself with Allie. Honking his horn a couple times to get the group’s attention “Allie come on!” He shout out the car window waving.

[orville-deighton]

"What was—" Orville glanced down, and saw his sodden sleeve. "Oh!" He exclaimed, followed by a laugh. It really was amusing to him — at best, he could send the shirt by a dry-cleaners, and at worse would just have the stained sleeve taken off. "Well, mon ami, that dickhead, as you've so called them, would have gotten away with it if not for your observation. How very unfortunate for him."

He caught a glimpse of the likely suspect, and saved that away for later. Even if he held no hard feelings for the spill, the greater offense came in the cover-up. The culprit could stand to lose a couple pints of blood later tonight, no? It was only fair.

Orville stood up straight, and straightened the prosthetic out from its bent positioning with his hand. "Consider your next drink on me, Monsieur...?" He was a bit bemused by the man's appearance; stiff, and what he would consider overly formal for a club like this. "I had not realized there was a funeral reception here tonight," he joked. "Toutes mes condoléances."

[on-the-track]

If the man who had barged his way around had a modicum of respect for other Bowen may have felt sorry for what would be coming his way. But it was odd to him was that the other hadn't noticed the liquid that had been split on his arm in the first place.

Bo wasn't going to refuse a free drink and it helped him blend in with the crowds around him if he was drinking with other patrons. "Thanks, I'll take a beer if that's okay." it was cheap and it didn't look like he was taking advantage of the others generosity. Bo looked flummoxed at the others statement "There is?" he didn't need to speak French to know what that last word was "Oh, no, I'm not part of funeral reception"

[fangs-and-fortune]

Chiara had always been a little bit too quiet when she walked. It was fun to lurk, sometimes, just to see how long it took for someone to realize they had an audience, to see them wonder just how much she’d seen, how much she knew. 

Oftentimes, however, that didn’t end very well. She had a short fuse, one that was easy to light when she felt ignored or spurned, which never really combined well with that. It was a delicate balance, being in her presence and not being very aware of one’s surroundings. It was far too easy to end up caught unawares by a very angry vampire. 

She watched as Bowen looked over the runes she’d paid quite a lot of money to have etched over the main entrance of the hotel, a couple of decades ago, and waited. And waited. And finally, cleared her throat. “Well?”

[on-the-track]

Bowen was to busy analysis the work of his family to be able to perceive that the foot falls were approaching him, this was a hotel there was movement all around him how was he meant to pick up on her presence?

Bo wasn't much of a screamer but his body had a physical reaction to the sudden sound of her word. His body jerked involuntarily in the opposite way to where she came from, almost telling him to flee from her. But he said his grip tightening on the grimoire he had brought with him.

"They look in good condition." his eyes didn't leave her, thinking that if he kept his eyes on her she wouldn't be able to surprise him again. "But it hasn't been that long since they were last checked."

[on-the-track]

Who: @thistle-and-kane Where: the wandering thistle

Bowen knew the thistle well, the family had done work for Isla Kane for generations. He has played there as a kid while his sister worked, keeping an another promise made before their birth. But unlike the deal made with Chiara Rose, Bo didn’t mind this one, Isla had always been kind to him and his sister, his family.

Having spent his teens growing up with Allie, Bo was more then familiar with the Thistle but it's new owner less so. He had heard stories about Juniper, from grannie and Allie but he had never met the woman. And while he knew the layout of the inn he didn’t want to overstep and start off on the wrong foot with the owner.

Hiking his mobile tool box over the lip of a step onto the premises, unlatching the gate to allow himself in, he noticed Nettle watching those who come in and out. “Where is Juniper, Nettle? Inside?” He wasn’t expecting an answer back but instead went to the door and opened it up to the familiar room but not so familiar face.

[on-the-track]

[on-the-track]

Who: Open Where: Lugh rail yard (Any time)

The rail yard was where the all the trains stay when not in service or in need of maintenances. There were carries sat on track looking organised those who knew the difference. At the centair there is a warehouse with tracks coming out of it, this is where all the repairs took place, where there was a crane to suspend the trains in the air.

In that warehouse Bo sat on a beaten up spinning chair with his high visibility overall rolled down and the arms tie around his waits as he got ready to tuck into the rice and chicken he'd brought with him. As he was about to tuck into his first bite he heard a ruckus outside, he was the only one in, so this sent up alarm bells.

Arm folded as he came outside and saw the culprit climbing into one of the stationary carriages, "Hey! This is private land, you can't go in there."

[myahjoyner]

who: open! where: ahab's ferry (headed to the isle), mid-morning when: early july

(If you want to live here, you have to see the whole town.)

Myah leaned against the railing, watching the water wash against the side of the boat. It was... calming, actually. She hadn't been on many boats in the past, and the idea of this being the only transport to a part of the town was entirely bizarre. But the gentle rocking of the boat as it moved didn't make her ill, as she'd worried about - instead, she felt about as relaxed as she had been since making the move to Scotland. It was a clearly public place, and a hunter-affiliated one at that, so there wasn't a need to immediately stress about—

A hand settled on the railing, just in range of her peripheral vision, and the recoil was automatic.

(Danger— coming for you— what are you doing, you can't see anything here—)

She caught her breath, and gripped the railing again, metal rings clinking against metal rail. "I..." Myah took another deep breath. "Sorry. You startled me." She hated being jumpy— it was such a stupidly over-the-top reaction to something as mundane as someone standing near her. With her pulse back under control, she gave the stranger a once-over through her sunglasses.

(Not everyone is a danger, but you still need to be aware.)

[on-the-track]

When threatened Bo response was flee, he wasn't a fighter, he would rely on his own preparation, hidden escape routs, traps to give him an edge. The train station was littered with them for the eventual day he was found out.

He wasn't a fan of being of the ferry as there wasn't many places for him to run to, the lack of options worried him, the only things brining him peace was that he was pretty sure no hunters were onto him.

Bo had brought a mobile tool kit with him, it wasn't stubble he was practically dragging around a large suitcase in size with him. He was a bit of a handy man to obscure his underground tasks, today he was heading to see Juniper, something about a leaking tap.

But in short he was obviously there, not trying to hide, not trying to be quite. It's why he looked so confused at the other "You must have been deep in thought. Just don't jump in it looks cold down there." he was trying to make light of this.

[on-the-track]

Who: @fangs-and-fortune Where: The Mercury

Generations ago a deal was made with the owner of the hotel. The Zhou family would impalement and upkeep a magic security system for the hotel and in return they would be granted safety. The implementation happened long before he was born and it was now up to Bo and his sister to keep them working. It was a deal that couldn't save his parents, he believed it a hollow deal and that Mrs Rose was taking advantage of them. Of his sister belief that the vampire would honour the deal.

Bowen wasn't the best at wards in comparison to enactments but he's not inept and he had the family grimoire for where he lacked. It was normally his sister who re-upped the defences, but she was busy. The ward weren't even due to be inspected but the owner, the vampire his family made a deal was requesting it and how does one say no to her?

Bo wasn't even sure he had been in the hotel before this and was captivated by it's architecture, so much so he didn't know that Chiara was stood behind him.

[orville-deighton]

who: open! where: crossroads when: early july, sometime after the sun sets

In a way, vampirism hadn't much changed the pattern of his life. Daytime was for working in the studio, maintaining the home, and exploring the latest in human culture; the night was for him, time to live and to roam the city, to socialize and enjoy himself. Restricted for the day, free at night... not all that different from the constraints most had to live with.

The night was his time to indulge in the world, and revel in the life he got to live. Eden Ros was no Paris or Marrakech, but it had plenty enough to entertain if you looked in the right places. Tonight, he was hoping for a quick feed, and that brought him to the floor of the Crossroads. Full of oblivious, intoxicated humans (and a few supernaturals, if he was lucky) that could handle losing a pint or two of blood.

Orville leaned against the bar, watching the party rage out on the dance floor. His drink sat next to him on a napkin, catching beads of condensation from making a mess of the countertop. Despite his hopes for a meal tonight, he'd opted for style over function in prosthetic choice. It didn't quite hold up under close inspection, but no one passing by would give a second glance, and he preferred that in a setting like this.

That, of course, meant he didn't notice a drink splashed onto his sleeve. Instead, his attention moved to the person now next to him as they said... something. He couldn't quite tell over the music. "Apologies," he said, breaking into an easy smile. "What did you say?"

[on-the-track]

Bowen wouldn't come to the crossroads voluntarily alone but to him what was worse would be leaving the letter that had arrive on the train in the yard, that would point to him being a member of the underground if the hunters came knocking.

Part of delivering the letter was to be discreet, he couldn't just walk in pass it to the recipient and walk straight out, that would look to suspicious under review. So he had to bide time in the feeding grounds of vampires.

A non-alcoholic drink in his hand maybe it was his fault that he stood in the way of people coming and going to the bar, but he wasn't going to take the blame when his drink spiled on the other, who knows how much that shirt cost with the wealth that normally came with vampires. "I said it that dickheads fault" Bowen was trying to blend in with his suit that he had wore to a wedding and a funeral once.

[on-the-track]

Who: @crows-and-tomes Where: Talon's Tome

Working at the train yard was Bowens day to day, it paid his bills but the national rail service didn't pay astoundingly well. He wasn't with the underground for money he actually refused all of their blood money, he was with them because he believed in what they were meant to stand for. Liberation from the hunters. In turn he took odd jobs just like this one.

He had this consolation scheduled in for sometime, he had apologies for moving it twice as an emergency with a train braking down on the track took priority. He hoped the woman he had spoken to on the phone wasn't annoyed with him. Approaching the counter of the book shop he inquired with the woman behind the till "Miss, is Mcneiven around? I'm Bo we have an appointment"

[kojiandrew]

Justin Chien - Man About Town Magazine (Spring/Summer 2024) 📸: Jeren Yesul