𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊 and 𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖞 water

Willow Byrne. Witch. 23. Place of Birth: Unknown Residence: Unknown Loyalty: Unknown

[whoiswillowbyrne]

goldendichotomy‌:

    “Seems we’re in agreement,” Alec replies, “worms are harmless.  Some fears I find absolutely viable though – spiders, centipedes, those are fair.  But worms I did find a bit funny.”  He was lucky he supposes, having a daughter who wasn’t afraid of anything growing up.  Just the type of child who would walk through the dirt carefully, picking up anything and everything that caught her eye for careful inspection.  Bugs and plants alike would find their way to her tiny palms, scrutinized before being set down into the dirt as Philomene moved on.  

As soon as the bucket is down it’s already almost a quarter filled.  She’s fast, a fearlessness to her even as dirt and the excess juice from overripe strawberries stain her fingertips red and brown.  “It’s definitely peaceful.  And you’re welcome.”  Alec adds the last bit with a smile.  Mimics her action, biting into the smallest of the berries that he’s collected and dropping the small remnants of fruit and stem back into the dirt.  

     “You’re very good at this, but the way you talk makes me think that you haven’t gardened in awhile.”  He’s not entirely surprised by the thought.  Gardens aren’t rare, but aren’t common in Deadwood from what Alec has experienced.  And very few for the public to use.  Though he’s not sure if the girl was born from here or had visited, the chances for anyone to cultivate something seemed few and far between in this part of the state.  A bit sorrowful, that.  The culture just didn’t exist.  “I’m Alec, by the way.  And I do appreciate the help more than you could imagine.”

Willow listened intently as the man spoke. “Spiders and centipedes have their place. But I suppose being with or without purpose is not why people fear things.” She smiled absentmindedly, trying to imagine seeing a spider and being frightened. It didn’t help. Willow knew better than to judge what she did not understand, but it happened anyway, and frequently.

When the man paid her gardening skills a compliment, a rosy flush appeared on her cheeks as Willow smiled at the ground. “Thanks,” she replied simply. “It has been awhile. Not a lot of prime gardening real estate around me anymore, I’m afraid.” That was one of the things she missed most about home. Having acres of land to tend to, however she pleased. There had never been much time for gardening things other than the ingredients necessary for certain spells and potions, but every so often if she had a moment to herself, she could sow seeds that would one day become flowers, simply to revel in their beauty.

Alec. She smiled again, making a mental note of his name. “I’m Willow,” she offered in return. “It’s really my pleasure. I’ve missed this.” She would happily do anything that required her to sit in the dirt with bits of earth beneath her fingernails. “I supposed we’re doing each other a favor.”

[whoiswillowbyrne]

bigddessa‌:

If anyone could have heard the thoughts in Dessa’s brain at that exact moment, they would have heard loud screaming and a slew of very fowl words, strung one after the other. She was terrified of this person that she hardly knew, and yet, did not trust even one bit. If she could have avoided the woman altogether, she might have. But she had Big F- she was almost certain. And yet, something took over Dessa- love, courage, fear, bravery, stupidity… something. 

“You know what I want to talk about,” She said, her words quick and sharp. When it was clear that she would get no further without specifying, her voice dropped a bit into a low hiss. “Big D. What did you do to him, and what do I have to do to get you to give him back.”

Willow looked around frantically, sure someone could hear them. “Let’s walk,” she said, shoving her way past Dessa and walking briskly in a random direction, not bothering to look to see if the girl was following her. She continued moving, her breath quickening, as she tried to assess the situation. Her hand lingered around her throat, fingers dancing around her crystal necklace as if for strength. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what I can say.” After a few moments, when she was finally satisfied that they were somewhere private, Willow stopped suddenly and turned to Dessa.

“I didn’t do anything to Cai- Big F. He did it to himself.” Willow sighed. This was stupid. She was being stupid. She needed to stop and think. She needed more time. After a moment, Willow let out a deep breath and smiled. “Everyone is reunited with those they love some day. You don’t need to worry about him. He’s in a better place now.”

[badgestay]

where: outside the deadwood sheriff’s department when:  11 a.m. who: open to anyone

another meeting with the mayor, and another furious drive back to the department. garrett doesn’t usually smoke. it’s a rare thing, and when it is it’s usually under duress. he doesn’t even buy cigarettes. instead, it’s one of the deputies who usually notices that a meeting with the mayor is on the schedule and prepares accordingly afterwards. it’s usually with a fresh cup of coffee, as good as they can force the office coffeemaker to actually produce, which doesn’t really have much to its name at all. it’s become something of a routine now.

so he finds himself standing outside the department, struggling with his deputy’s shitty lighter. the man needs a decent lighter. he grumbles a curse to himself, finally managing to light the cigarette after far too much struggling. he pockets the lighter with a sigh and a mental note to give it back, and then he leans against the side of the building, letting his eyes shut for a moment. 

it’s okay. he’s calm. he’s just fine. as much as a sheriff can be, anyway, when the mayor refuses to listen and has a stick up his ass. “stupid bastard,” he mumbles to himself, setting his coffee cup down on the low wall extending out from the front of the building. 

he isn’t really looking for company. but maybe someone willing to listen to him vent would be good right about now.

[whoiswillowbyrne]

Willow usually avoided the Deadwood Sheriff’s Department. Really, she avoided all buildings related to law enforcement. But there were things in Deadwood especially that she couldn’t be seen doing. She usually walked through the town at night, but with the curfew and her waitressing job, that had become increasingly difficult. 

As the Sheriff’s Department came into view, she went on high alert. She could hear rustling in the trees and the sputtering of a lighter. Out of the corner of her eye, Willow spotted the man whose breath was thick with the scent of tobacco. It was the sheriff himself. She had made a point to know who he was. Willow kept walking, intent on minding her own business. But as she heard the man sigh, she couldn’t help but turn her head to look at him.

His eyes were shut, and even without the coffee cup in his had Willow would have guessed he was tired. As he spoke, she smiled. For a moment she stood there, unsure if she was welcome. Willow knew it would be unwise to speak to him, and that he was surely speaking to himself, but something made her want to talk, despite her usual shyness, and before she could stop herself, her mouth was open.

“Who’s a bastard?” she asked.

[whoiswillowbyrne]

goldendichotomy‌:

alec smiles warmly as the young woman settles down besides him.  she seems sweet, he thinks – not afraid of the odd request for help from an absolute stranger in a way that he finds completely admirable.  she begins working like it’s a second nature, plucking bright red strawberries from their stems before alec so much as has time to think of a response.  a laugh breaks from his throat as he nods at her, barely able to wipe the smile from his face rather than let it keep growing.

    “you know the last person i offered that deal to told me they were too afraid of worms to help.”  alec says, plucking his own collection of strawberries up into his hand.  “i’m glad you’re not afraid of them as well, the things will never hurt anyone.”  it’s sort of funny how the town works.  further on the edges and this is a second nature; south dakota is choked with farmers who have land stretching for uncounted miles.  but deeper into deadwood proper and there’s a false sense of cleanliness, a belief of making something different.  alec gets it.  not everyone likes a country life,  but shit.  at times it feels like there’s no leaving once you’ve arrived in state.  

he blinks out of his thoughts, shaking his head a little.  “right, hang on, there’s uh–”  alec leans over to his right to grab a wide blue bucket, almost teetering flat across the ground as he stretches for it.  “shit.”  settling back onto his knees, alec sets the bucket between them and nestles it properly into loose dirt.  wipes the small mess on his arm off, before dropping his own strawberries into the bucket.  “this’ll work.  but you’re welcome to eat some if you’d like, this isn’t a business so much as something for fun.”

Willow knelt in the dirt and began plucking strawberries from the vine, an absent-minded smile on her face as she did so. She turned to smiled at the man as he laughed. She wasn’t entirely sure what was funny. That wasn’t uncommon, for her to miss the joke. But she didn’t feel like he was laughing at her, so she didn’t mind. Willow simply went back to picking berries. It was methodical, soothing even. 

“Oh, I love worms,” Willow exclaimed. “They’re vital to the health and stability of soil. And without healthy soil... Well, you know.” In truth, she loved all animals. Even mosquitos, for which she had significantly less patience than most things, served an important purpose. All flora and fauna did, and for that Willow loved them. She hadn’t had a garden in a couple of years, and while there was a small clearing in the forest in which she had been growing things, she couldn’t get to it often, and it never felt truly hers. It just wasn’t the same as having your own little piece of land to tend to.

She watches as the man searches for a container, and almost offered to help but her hands were filled with berries. When he placed the bucket down, Willow smiled at him gratefully before dropping the fruit in and enjoying the soft thud they made. “Oh,” Willow replied. “Seems like a nice hobby to have.” After a moments hesitation and picking a few more berries, Willow took one off the vine and tentatively took a bite. She immediately grinned at the taste, both tart and sweet. “They’re really good. Thanks,” Willow said. 

[gorefloral-deactivated20190603]

where: victorian garden ( garden inn ), deadwood. time: 1:02 AM open: to everyone.

the moon kissed the night sky. his feet relax in the cold kissed grass ; barefoot and one with nature. he stands in the crossroads of trees ; no matter where or when if one comes to the centre of four lines they may sell their soul to his maker. what might happen to those who retreat back? they might just turn into a prop for his garden. 

however, the early hours of the morning he felt as if the other wouldn’t be so easy to trick. the party had ended in drunkeness and lust. however, he rested in the victorian garden of his new home. his eyes draw to the person who appeared in the darkness. for once he lets curiosity tickle his entirety. 

        he steps from his crossroad ; not tonight. even demon’s deserve a night off. 

“are you lost?”  he speaks out, but with soft echoes. he wondered if the people he turned into trees could listen to his conversations: to ache and desire to scream out to the other? however, not even the screams of another. “how about I help you back to the building?” 

[whoiswillowbyrne]

Willow didn’t usually go to parties. Parties were for galavanting about, being free and making merry. Willow rarely did things without a motive. But she somehow been convinced by a coworker that it would be fun, and there she was. Unfortunately, her idea of fun was quite different, and Willow had spent most of the night seated in a corner watching people dance.

But that grew old, and Willow had wandered through empty corridors until she was outside and in a garden. It was something to behold, as was the man standing in it. “No, I’m not lost. Well, maybe I am. I guess I wasn’t really going anywhere in particular she confessed. 

She couldn’t help but notice that the man’s feet were bare, and it brought a smile to Willow’s face. That was her preferred method of being, with her feet firmly rooted in the ground. “Oh, no I can find my own way back. I just needed a little fresh air. But I don’t mean to intrude.”

[whoiswillowbyrne]

bigddessa‌:

She could barely hear what the girl was saying through the loud chaos of her thoughts. Every little bell and alarm inside her head was screaming and ringing at top volume. Dessa was literally standing in the way of the girl who she believed to be responsible for the disappearance of Big F. Blocking her exit. Was it socially acceptable to tackle people you were almost certain were responsible for the disappearance of your best friend? Probably not, no… 

Some unknown instinct would not let her move when the woman requested to get by. She was focused on trying to figure out how she was going to get Big F back. “Uh… no,” Dessa stammered after a moment. “No, I think we need to talk…. not about coffee though.”

There was a look in Dessa’s eyes that Willow couldn’t quite place. Fear. Anger. Desperation. Something else entirely. She couldn’t tell. She didn’t know what the appropriate emotion would be when seeing her, given the last time they were face to face. Sure, they had seen each other around town, Willow had glanced at her from the other side of the street on a handful of occasions and gone out of her way to avoid her. But the last time they had been this close, Big F was still... alive. 

Willow was taken aback by the girl’s initiative. Despite the slight stutter, there was an intensity behind her words. She sighed. “Fine. But not here. Not with people walking in and out.” Willow looked around, as if just the suggestion would make an unwanted observer appear. “Then what, exactly, do you want to talk about?” She knew, of course, exactly what Dessa’s quarrel with her was. But Willow wanted to hear her say it.

[magiccityfm]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Hill City, Corins Diner 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄: 05/12/19 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: open to all

Candon groaned to himself as a gaggle of kids ran past his table. He was still getting used to his new ‘home’. One of the pack members had mention Corins for lunch. “ They have the best corn beef sandwiches.”  Candon wasn’t sure anything was worth this. Apparently, it was family Sunday at the local diner and the place had been packed. Families piled into booths and empty tables throughout the restaurant. He had been lucky to find a place out of the way.

Near the back next to the kitchen. He sat at the small table. Black coffee in front of him as he went through some of the messages that he had received on his social media page. His old pack was checking in on him. A slight grin on his face as he looked at the comments they left for him when he posted the picture of ‘Family, fun, fun, fun day!”

texsrex: “What the fuck is that shit man!”

Alicieclaker: Aww look at our fearless leader a family man ❤️.

theredtjenny: 50 bucks says your back in a week.

betarico: when are you coming back?

A frown marred his features as he looked at Rico’s message. He didn’t have an answer for him. Had no clue how long he would be here. His brother had convinced him to stay longer. To help with the pack here but… Candon’s heart wasn’t in it. Even after two months of living here and making a few friends, this wasn’t his home. He didn’t know if that was because he wasn’t really making the effort or if it had something to do with the fact that his sister was the interim alpha; either way, he just wasn’t feeling this place but… there was something keeping him here and it wasn’t just his brother.

He let out a long sigh as he closed the app and placed his phone down on the table when the waitress brought his corn beef sandwich and Heineken to him. He gave her a smile and a nod as she went. Wondering if he should call her back so he could take his food to go- to many people in here to actually enjoy his lunch.  He watched the figure approach, pulling out the empty chair in front of him and took a seat. “ I mean, I normally ask first before I sit down at someone’s table but hey times are a changing I guess.” eyeing them expectingly. 

[whoiswillowbyrne]

Willow spent more time in Corins than she’d care to admit. It was nothing compared to gourmet food and pristine decor at the restaurant she waited tables at, but Manducare was far too expensive for Willow to eat at, even with an employee discount. The diner’s low budget suited her much better, and in the months since she had moved to South Dakota, Willow had developed a soft spot for their greasy food and stale coffee.

She was drinking a cup of coffee at the counter, nose scrunched in disgust at the sour taste left by a burnt pot. She grabbed the canister of sugar and poured in more than she had intended, stirring it in with a spoon that made a pleasant clacking sound against the din of the restaurant. After a few minutes, a waitress emerged with a paper bag containing her grilled cheese sandwich, already wet with grease. She poured her coffee into a to-go cup and Willow got up to leave. A couple small children ran past her and an elbow knocked her coffee cup out of her hand, spilling it’s contents onto her shirt.

“Well, fuck,” she mumbled, setting her bag of food down on the nearest table and grabbing some napkins to wipe herself off, ignoring the tables inhabitant. After futilely rubbing at the stain on her shirt for a minute, she sat down at the table in a huff. “Oh, right. Sorry. I’m about to leave, my food’s getting cold. I just need to sit for a minute, if that’s okay.”

[whoiswillowbyrne]

goldendichotomy‌:

WHERE: outside of alec’s home WHEN: early afternoon WHO: open

it’s been a long running joke between philomene and himself.  an excess of cost, of wealth, a sign of something unnecessary and one would sigh to the other: lawn culture.  alec knows he started it; one of few possibly bad habits or odd quirks installed into his daughter that he’s rather proud of.  from new york to now here, the quiet air of south dakota, every home they’ve owned he’s torn out the sod no matter how big or small a lawn.  fresh dirt, clean lines to make sure there’s no mud slide.  here there was room enough for a pathway of stones snaking between the types of plants that came last, chosen on one of the first days of spring when philomene ached too much to dance.

alec’s planted most of them.  it’s just maintenance now, chasing away the weeds and pruning the wild growths of daffodils and tulips that come back yearly with vengeance on their minds.  he finds it peaceful.  the feeling of dirt instead of paint on his skin a welcome change, and the work so mundane that even the golden thing grows still and sleepy inside of him.  it does not flare or twist around when he is surrounded by leaves or blossoming flowers.  bored, alec imagines, as he sits up and wipes his hands on his jeans.  i’ve made a monstrous thing bored.

cracking his neck left, right, alec pauses when he sees someone on the sidewalk peering his way.  a smile grows on his face – laughter barely held back as he knows how it must look.  an almost haphazard garden in place of the lawn his neighbors have cultivated, trimmed and then groaned about whenever alec’s in ear shot.  he raises a hand in greeting, stained dark with wet soil.

     “you can come closer, i doubt the plants will bite.”  alec says, crouching back down before a messy waterfall of strawberry vines down a small wooden trellis.  “actually i might be able to use the help collecting fruit, if you’re interested.  there’s food in it, and drink, i have muffins baking right now.  but if i’m honest, company is always nice and appreciated when working in a garden.”

Willow was meandering down the street, not quite paying attention to where to she was going, when a bright pop of color flashed into her periphery. Turning her attention to the scene in front of her, Willow’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. She had passed lawn after plain green lawn, and was now standing in front of a beautiful garden. She couldn’t help the grin that escaped from her lips as her eyes cascaded over unruly beds of flowers. It was messy, and it was perfect, the kind of chaos that Willow thrived on.

She had always loved plants. Perhaps being named after one had given her a special connection to the earth’s flora. She was never more content than when her bare feet were rooted in soil. Being at one with the elements meant being in control of her powers. It meant being at peace. Willow often ventured to the outer limits of town to get her nature fix. Stumbling upon a luscious garden in the middle of a residential neighborhood was like stumbling upon hidden treasure. 

As the man who Willow assumed was the garden’s proprietor came into view, she smiled. He seemed to be joking, though she would love to see plants with teeth. “I’d love to help,” she told him,” walking over to the strawberry plant and crouching beside him. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled at the mention of muffins and her cheeks flushed. “I guess I am hungry. But I promise not to eat the product,” she laughed. Willow wasn’t very good at keeping people company-conversation had never been a strong suit of hers. But the offer was too tempting to pass up. “Where should I put the berries?”

[whoiswillowbyrne]

bigddessa‌:

There were many faces that Dessa had seen walking out of Kaffeine before. Practically every face in town. But she hadn’t expected to practically walk into the one person in town that she’d been investigating since the moment Big F was ‘murdered’ kidnapped. She’d practically committed the woman’s face to memory. It haunted her thoughts- anything that reminded her of her best friend also brought to mind that face. At first she just gaped, her mouth hanging slightly ajar as she tried to process what the woman was saying to her. Her brain was churning with angry questions. Was interrogating someone right in front of her parent’s cafe a good move? She didn’t think so…

After a moment, she blinked and finally responded. “No- but my parent’s own this place so…” The young woman remarked, her mouth drawn into a thin line. What did you say to the person who was there? Who stole your friend from you? There was a piece of her that wanted to scream in front of the store until the woman gave her Big F back, but she wasn’t entirely certain that that would fix anything.

“Huh.” How had Willow not known that the Blakelys owned Kaffeine? Wasn’t it her job, her duty, to know these things? Willow silently chided herself, but now was not the time. She stood there, for what felt like a painfully long amount of time, just staring at the girl in front of her. “Well, they make good coffee,” she finally blurted out, instantly regretting it. The idea of the two engaging in small talk seemed almost laughable, but there was nothing of import that was actually concrete enough to discuss. Certainly nothing that Willow would be willing to discuss with Dessa.

Willow took a deep breath and regained her composure. It wasn’t like her to speak before thinking. Her words usually held purpose. But there was something about the girl that threw her off. She made everything more complicated, and that made Willow nervous. She grabbed her necklace, absent-mindedly rubbing the crystal between her fingers. A nervous habit. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around. If I could just get by,” she requested, gesturing for Dessa to move out of her way.

[whoiswillowbyrne]

hunteratropos‌:

As a hunter, Nick had a carefully trained eye. He knew to look for things instinctually, little details that painted a clearer picture than the one that presented itself initially. In his line of work, things were generally more complicated than they seemed — and he had a feeling it was the same in this town; everything had to be taken as suspect, or he’d miss something important, or worse. So, while a young woman going for a walk in the woods wouldn’t normally be anything questionable, he allowed himself a beat to read the situation.

She was a little… dirty. It certainly wasn’t some kind of metaphorical or moral judgement as much as it was a plain statement of fact; he wasn’t one for symbolism, and she had dirt on her. A leaf was tangled through her hair, and she seemed a bit dishevelled. She didn’t look like she was just out for a stroll — and she certainly wasn’t another runner, no workout clothes or sweat to be seen. She had another reason to be out here, that’s what Nick felt, and he’d heard the rumours about these woods; he supposed it was his duty to find out why.

He kept his distance, trying to soften his stare and relax his shoulders. Any woman had reason to feel nervous around a strange man in the woods, but he needed to know if there was more than that, something she needed to hide. He figured the best way to do that was to make himself as non-threatening as possible; difficult for a man like Nick, who cut an imposing figure and whose natural disposition wasn’t exactly the friendliest. “Aw, shit. Duh. I guess I got kinda, uh, turned around somewhere, and just kept going. I have the worst sense of direction.” (Absolute lie — but it didn’t matter. The dumber he looked, the safer she’d feel, he figured.)

“This is my first time on this trail — you could probably guess that, though, huh? I just moved to town, and heard about these woods, that they’re nice to run in…” He trailed off, looking pensive for a moment. “During the daytime, anyways. Heard some nasty rumours ‘bout this place at night.” He wheedled for a moment, bouncing on his heel — trying to look like he was trying to make a decision, he supposed. “Hey, it looks like you’re heading back out of the trail. Would you mind if I followed along? I think I’d get, like, hopelessly lost again on my own. Even a ten minute straight-shot, haha.”

Willow’s shoulders tensed as the man looked at her. It was almost as if he was looking inside her, and it was a feeling she didn’t care for. No one needed to know anything about her. She felt his eyes linger for a moment on her hair and she quickly ran her fingers through her long and tangled hair, pulling a leaf out in the process. Willow could feel blood rushing to her cheeks. She didn’t know how to explain her appearance, certainly not at this time of day. Maybe if she had camping gear she would have a good excuse, but all she had was a mostly empty backpack. 

“Oh,” Willow murmured as the man explained his situation. She didn’t think the trails were particularly complicated, but she did have a knack for that sort of thing. Willow didn’t quite believe him, but something told her that she should. Willow looked around, then back to the man to size him up. She figured, if worst came to worst, she could take him. Not in a physical fight, of course, he was clearly bigger than she and even from a couple of yards away seemed strong. But Willow had met very few people who were on par with her battle magic. 

She relaxed her shoulders and smiled at the man. “Yeah, sure, we can walk together,” Willow said, and she began to move again. “I do like these woods. I’m more of a hiker than a runner, but I bet the hills would be great for that,” she trailed off, walking in silence. “It’s not so bad at night. That’s really just urban legend. As long as you look out for coyotes and wolves, you’ll be fine,” she figured. Yes, the wolves were weyrwolves, and Willow had run into a vaympire or two in the forest at night, but she didn’t think it was particularly dangerous. And she didn’t think this man would get in the way of her practicing magic, which was always deep in the woods and far off the path.

“My name is Willow, by the way,” she said, introducing herself. “How long have you been in Deadwood?”

[whoiswillowbyrne]

kxllian-me‌:

       “Ginger it is.” he broke away from Willow, lifting his hand to wave the bartender over to order. The thought of her not drinking didn’t even phase Killian, respecting her choice felt easy and just as quick as her drink was poured. “Here you go and nice to meet you, I’m Killian.” motioning to cheers, he lifted his glass and then sipped. For the wytch his intentions were fickle, wanting someone to be a distraction from himself. Normally if he was in a bar, he was trying to find a way to swindle someone out of their money or a cheap experience in a bathroom stall—both options far from noble. Though this night, he was at the mercy of his own mind, along with the psychic impressions that haunted this town. “So, as a fellow newbie to another, how’s Deadwood treating you? Is it living up to it’s hype?” asking, while waving his hand so they could take up one of the free tables closer to the pool tables.

“Nice to meet you too,” she responded, a knowing glint in her eye. As the drink was handed to her, Willow raised it to meet Killian’s glass, a soft clink echoing that disappeared into the din of the bar. She took a sip of the ginger ale, letting the bubbles and syrup linger on her tongue. How was the town treating her? Willow wasn’t sure how to answer. Things were falling into place, but the town itself still felt foreign to her. “I guess it’s treating me fine. I did’t listen to much hype, so there isn’t really anything to live up to,” she shrugged, following him to a table. “I like forests. And the woods are nice here.” Willow took another sip of her drink and looked around. She wasn’t good at making small talk. She didn’t like talking just for the sake of talking, or simply to hear the sound of her voice. Willow wanted each word to be carefully chosen and full of meaning. But that wasn’t always possible. So she turned back to Killian, a smile on her face. “Do you like it here?” she asked. “And where did you hear this hype?”

[whoiswillowbyrne]

who: @bigddessa

where: outside Kaffeine

when: 2:13 p.m.

Willow was walking out of Kaffeine, a steaming cup of Earl Grey in one hand, exhausted from a brunch shift at’ Manducare. Something about mimosas and Bloody Mary’s brought out the worst in their filthy rich customers. She hated having a normal job, hated waiting tables, hated the people. All Willow wanted was to burn her tongue on some scalding tea and curl up with an old book. Looking up, Willow stopped walking, startled. She was looking at a face, a face she had been avoiding for many moons. The face of a young girl who knew too much, despite the fact that she knew almost nothing. It was the face of Dessa Blakeley. 

Willow began to turn around, retreat into the cafe, but it occurred to her that inside she would be even more trapped. She could feign ignorance, as she had many times before. But there seemed to be no easy escape route, no way to get past the girl without making further eye contact. Resistance seemed futile. So she gave in. “You like coffee?” Willow asked, unsure what else to say.

[hunteratropos]

ATTN: * open LOCATION: the black hills TIME: mid-morning

Like cops have beef with procedural shows, or doctors don’t like medical dramas, Nick doesn’t particularly care for monster hunter shows. It’s not realistic. They don’t tell you how much of the job is… waiting. Just waiting. Waiting for information, waiting for leads, waiting to strike. He tries to keep himself occupied during these waiting periods, integrating into the community and doing what recon he can.

He’s only been in town a week, but he’s already heard whispers. One of the coven’s informants leaked some intel on hangouts, and he’s pursuing what leads he can, but it’s slow-going. He’s not Clothos. He can’t pick up all the things she can. Nevertheless, he’s trying, and this is one of the first spots he’s hitting. Nick has heard stories about the Black Hills; by day, a beautiful slice of nature — by night, something more disturbing. His father had told him that he’d find the nest if he followed the blood, and he’s read enough police reports to know that the earth under those hills are soaked in it.

He doesn’t know nearly enough about the threat levels yet to venture out at night, so he’s checking it out first under daylight’s cover. Dressed in jogging pants and a sticky, sweaty t-shirt, he looks like any other runner on the trails, and that’s exactly what he’s going for — he needs to integrate into the community, become a vaguely familiar face.

Towns like this notice distinct outsiders, so he’s trying to blend in. It’s not his strongest suit, by nature of his general surliness, but people don’t want to worry, so he slips by, most of the time. It’s hard, though, breaking into that first interaction — so when he sees another figure come down that path, he figures he might as well just jump into character. If not now, when, right?

“Hey,” he calls, waving the passerby over, panting slightly. “Do you know if that’s the way back to town? My phone died and I got, uh, a little lost.”

[whoiswillowbyrne]

Willow hadn’t meant to spend the night in the forest. She often went for hikes after dark, sometimes looking for the perfect place to practice magic, though frequently she went just to wander aimlessly through the woods. She had gone into the Black Hills with the intention only of clearing her mind, but when she spotted a large patch of moss, she couldn’t help but lie down. And though Willow tried to watch the stars through cracks in the forest’s canopy, her eyelids became heavy and her body sank into the cold ground. 

Camping without a tent or even a blanket was the kind of thing that reminded her of home, but that Willow knew she shouldn’t be doing. She kept reminding herself that there were consequences to her actions, and that if someone were to see a young woman curled up beneath a tree, questions that she wasn’t prepared to answer would be asked. She had woken suddenly, the charm she had cast for heat having worn off, and Willow became keen to leave.

She walked quickly towards the edge of the forest, half-heartedly brushing the dirt off her clothes. Willow was surprised to see someone coming towards her on the trail. She looked up, trying to gage where the sun was in the sky through the trees. Perhaps she had slept for longer than she realized. 

“Hey,” Willow replied to the jogger, a nervous smile on her face. “Uh, you’re going in the wrong direction. If you turn around, this trail will lead you out of the woods in about 10 minutes. Less if you’re running,” she offered. “Do you need a phone? Because I think mine has some battery. It’s not fancy, but it makes calls.” 

[fortescute]

it was early. not by regular day standards, but definitely early to be flipping over the cheery ‘WE’RE OPEN!’ sign hung carelessly against the front door of the entrance to her bar. sundays were not the optimal business day but working entertained the firey blondes thoughts better than anything else and as of late, she desperately craved the distraction. the four year anniversary of her arrival at deadwood was just around the corner - the notion that she’d still accomplished very little aside from opening up a mildly successful drinking hole haunting her day in and day out.  rather than wallow within a sea of doubts, HAZEL willed her attention towards the tedious tasks she’d usually hand off to one of her employee’s such as setting the chairs back onto the floor and cleaning off the odd ashtray that they’d missed the evening prior. just as she’d finished setting down the last fresh tray, a soft jingle hailing from the door called her attention, her soft brow arching upwards as she glanced back to see who’d walked in.  

 ❝ early morning or late night?  ❞ she mused, straightening her back before facing her potential customer.  ❝ full disclosure, the coffee here is pretty SHIT, if that’s what you’re after.  ❞

[whoiswillowbyrne]

Willow trudged down the street, eyes drooping and tired. She had spent most of the night hiking through the woods, trying to clear her mind. And though the fresh air livened her spirit, her brain was still in a fog. Yawning, Willow raked her hand through her wind-tangled hair and looked around. She was still far from where she needed to be, but she was ready to curl up by the side of the rode and sleep. Seeing the Tavern up ahead, she decided to stop in and rest, if only for a moment.

Walking through the door, she was greeted by a gust of warm air. “A late night,” Willow told the woman. “I’m not picky. One shit coffee, please,” she requested, the hint of a smile on her face. “Is it nice, when it’s quiet like this? Or do you get bored?” she asked, the bar feeling completely different than it had the few times Willow had been there at night.

[whoiswillowbyrne]

[whoiswillowbyrne]

kxllian-me‌:

     “If by a lot you mean twice, then yes.” chuckling in response. “I’m still fairly new to town.” She was definitely beautiful up close, the neon lights of the bar sign glowed well across his fair skin. Though even if she aesthetically looked like she belong, there was rigidity about her that made Killian think she wasn’t. Like a thought left to be forgotten, his whiskey came in time before he could offer any more attention to his wondering. “I’d ask if you come her too, but I’m if you were a regular you’d… well, I assume you aren’t?” It was a hunch, but if they two were going to stick to the lightly veiled bar conversation, Killian figured he’d at least add some depth to it. “All good if you are though, I mean…” pausing to sip his drink, “I owe you a shut the fuck up, and should offer you a drink.” another chuckle escaped his lips, this time teetering on laughter. It was hard to gauge the women, his powers seemed hazy at best in her presence—perhaps with a touch he could get a better feel, yet Kill stuck with his pale flirtation and his offer to see where their night could lead. 

“I haven’t been here long either,” Willow replied, though the sentiment wasn’t entirely true. “No, you’re right. I’m no regular.” She had been to the bar a few times, but not enough to count as one. Not even enough for the bartender to recognize her, just the way she liked it. Willow watched the man as he laughed, a pleasing sound that made the corner of her mouth flicker upwards. She was unsure what his intentions were, and being that they were in a bar, she assumed they were less than noble. But then again, her expectations of people had always been low. Perhaps she could just have a conversation with him. Sometimes interacting with another living soul could be more interesting than people watching. Sometimes. “Okay,” she acquiesced, “You don’t need to shut up, but a ginger ale would be nice. I don’t really drink,” she explained. “I’m Willow. It’s nice to meet you,” she added, offering out her hand to shake.

[whoiswillowbyrne]

lukexadams‌:

“That’s true. I guess I’m just used to people judging me for my appearance while I’m working.” Luke shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t care what others thought of him, appearance wise or other. He just always found himself trying to explain why he looked the way he did. It wasn’t a big deal to him, it was just the first thing that always came out of his mouth.

“Well I wish they were but unfortunately for me, they are not. Or… fortunately? I mean, it is my job.” He said as he glanced towards the nearest graves. He had just cleaned them with soap and water and used a fine tool to scratch out all of the letters, clearing the crevices of dirt and filth. “Are you visiting anyone in particular?”

“If people are judging you for being dirty while your working in a graveyard, you’re probably around unintelligent people,” Willow suggested. “Asshole, I think, is the word people use for them,” she smiled. Perhaps she shouldn’t be joking. They were in a cemetery, after all, and she didn’t know whether or not she’d be offending the man, though Willow wasn’t exactly known for being particularly thoughtful towards other people’s situations. 

She nodded along as the man spoke. “I guess if they could pick up after themselves you’d be out of work, huh?” Willow looked around, almost as if to find a particular person she could say she was visiting. But if the man before her cleaned the headstones, he probably knew them well, and a lie about visiting one of them could lead her down a tiresome path. “No, no one in particular. I guess I just like the feeling. It’s kind of peaceful here, in a way.”