Fantasy 𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖁𝖊𝖎𝖑

[stormcaller]

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  one x one tale by faerylunala & stormcaller
  
  
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  Betwixt the Veil​
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  Lore​

  
  

  
  "The valley green was so serene
  In the middle ran a stream so blue
  A maiden fair in despair
  Once had met her true love there and she told him
  
  She would say:
  "Promise me, when you see
  A white rose you'll think of me
  I love you so, never let go
  I will be your ghost of a rose"
  
  Her eyes believed in mysteries
  She would lay amongst the leaves of amber
  Her spirit wild, heart of a child yet gentle still
  And quiet and mild and he loved her
  
  When she would say:
  "Promise me, when you see
  A white rose you'll think of me
  I love you so, never let go
  I will be your ghost of a rose
  Ghost of a rose"
  
  When all was done, she turned to run
  Dancing to the setting sun as he watched her
  And ever more he thought he saw
  A glimpse of her upon the moors forever
  
  He'd hear her say:
  "Promise me, when you see
  A white rose you'll think of me
  I love you so, never let go
  I will be your ghost of a rose"
  
  Promise me, when you see
  A white rose you'll think of me
  I love you so, never let go
  I will be your ghost of a rose
  Ghost of a rose
  
  Ghost of a rose..."
  
  - Blackmore's Night
  
  
  
• ✤
  Through the Veil​

  
  
  
  
• ✤
  Beyond the Veil​

  
  
  

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code: @s e v e n​

closed one x one with faerylunala

 

[faerylunala]

time of day:

afternoon

location:

the Triton

interaction:

young woman

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream...

Early April was when she was born.

Taliesin remembered it reliably every year. Each year he had made the journey to the human realm, to visit the spot where he had first met her. It was a ritual for him, a reliable habit, and served to help him see the changes ongoing for the humans. It had been a year since he last visited, and he was distantly eager to be surrounded by the fond memories of her once more.

Getting ready to go had previously always been a process, however following her loss he had squared away this day in particular as one of mourning. He spent it alone, opting to dress himself where he would typically accept the help. It was no different today than any of the other anniversaries in the past. He had been sitting at his vanity for a while, thoughts consumed by just how much he missed her. Taliesin hadn’t been aware of how much he had been blankly looking at himself, only caught the glimpses of how absent he had been as it faded from his expression.

He figured now he should get ready, since he had taken his opportunity to idly think. It took a bit of effort to lift a brush, to comb through long auburn hair, before taking a band and tying it up into a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. He studied himself in the mirror, taking care to fix up his appearance and be at the very least presentable. Once he was satisfied with this, he stood to go and get dressed.

He had donned his white ruffled shirt first, black pants following shortly thereafter. The crimson tunic with golden trim followed shortly after, and a black belt with a golden buckle was wrapped around his waist to hold the clothing together and complete the look. Where he would typically adorn himself with his golden epaulets and emerald frilled cape on any other day, Taliesin opted to not wear them currently. He simply didn’t want to deal with it this day.

It had taken a moment for him to dress, and he had taken the moment after dressing to make sure his wings were comfortable. A quick flap, not enough to take him off the ground, was enough to tell him they were alright. He had left his room shortly after, making his way down to the dining room where he knew the servants had long since been waiting. Breakfast came and went quickly, with Taliesin taking care to eat only until he was comfortable. On these days, he was never terribly hungry and only ate out of a sense of necessity.

From here, he moved. Little things needed to be tended to before he left, notably notifying the servants of his absence for a fair bit this day. They hadn’t minded, simply bidding him safe travels and wishing him well, before they picked up their duties once more. He was grateful they had stopped asking questions, and instead simply left him be. He remembered a time when he had been given constant questions about this, why he persisted with this yearly ritual. He couldn’t realistically expect anyone other than his sister to understand his reasoning why.

Taliesin’s last order of business was to inform who he would be leaving in charge of his absence of what to tell anyone who came looking for him. With his instructions and expectations clearly set, he moved down a separate hallway, taking the turn necessary to meet the doors leading to his garden. He had stopped shortly outside the door, eyes drawn to a painted portrait was on the wall. It was of a blonde woman in a floor length blue, white, and gold trimmed dress. She had looked serene in the painting, and every time he passed it, he had to stop and admire it. He missed her dearly, knew it every time he saw the painting. The hurt and sorrow he felt in his heart was always sharp, painful. His grief had not eased throughout the years, instead only getting worse.

Which is why he had made the garden. A living memory of her. It had been filled to the brim with white roses and other flowers that complimented them, becoming something of a sanctuary for him. He had gone there often, a daily occurrence, to help him process and deal with the loss. He spent a moment longer admiring the portrait, eyes tracing the features on the canvas that he still could remember so clearly to this day. Finally, he pushed open the doors leading outside.

Taliesin stepped into his garden, taking a moment to admire the roses he had spent so long cultivating. He moved through it slowly, taking in as much as he could. He thought, knew, this is what she would have done. He stopped in the middle of the garden, beneath an intricately carved wooden archway. The same rose bushes curled in the detailing towards the bottom, covering it from view. Honeysuckle and ivy trailed up it as though it were a trellis, perfectly pruned so as to not cover the various sun, moon, and star decals.

His left hand raised after another moment spent admiring the garden. With a flick of his wrist, the dimensions in front of him shimmered and began to split. Taliesin watched it for a moment, allowing the portal a chance to stabilize. As the new tear between worlds settled, he saw the sight of where he had first met her. It was far beyond what it used to be, a tiny section of grass and trees in an otherwise concrete world. A small frown toyed at the corner of his lips, a feeling of disgust rising as he saw just how much the world had changed within this past year.

Carefully, he took a moment to make sure he couldn’t see anyone step within the proximity of his portal. A few minutes passed and, when he saw no one come close, he felt himself comfortable enough to step out. Both of his hands moved, lifting the veil gently. It passed over the backs of his hands, a mix of shockingly cold yet oddly warm. He remained unphased, and as he stepped through the portal he had hidden his wings. The veil between planes fell behind him akin to curtains, and he found himself in the middle of a circle of mushrooms.

Taliesin stepped out of the circle, careful to not disrupt the ring, before half turning back to the veil. His left wrist flicked again, and the veil shuddered then shimmered again. The fabric between worlds corrected itself, the portal closing completely within seconds. As this happened, he had changed the appearance of his own attire into something he figured may work for this period. He was basing this off of something he had seen one of his fae come back wearing after their latest excursion to the human realm.

His older style clothing had been replaced, becoming a crimson three piece suit. It was styled with a double breasted waistcoat, donning beautifully embroidered golden and white roses upon the lapels. The undershirt was white, with a tie that was black. The buttons on the suit were gold, appearing to be made of the metal. His shoes had become black loafers, and internally he found himself annoyed at how annoying the clothing felt already. He much preferred what he typically wore.

As Taliesin’s clothes shifted, his features did as well. A face that had previously been a bit uncanny, with eyes slightly too large and a mouth too wide, became much more convincingly human. Eyes that had previously bordered on a shaded mix of emerald and gold had shifted, adopting a deeper hazel colour more reminiscent of the one seen in humans. Features that had otherwise been sharper had shifted, becoming overall softer on the human eye. He looked pretty, much too pretty for the average human, though he could say with all honesty he didn’t entirely care.

Looking around, Taliesin felt his disgust grow as he realized there was very little resemblance of the area that he had remembered so fondly. The park was, frankly, filthy. Trash littered the space, and he was too aware of how putrid the area smelled. The sound of cars had assaulted his senses, the horns of the vehicles honking both startlingly close and also further away distracting him from his mourning. The frown from earlier had returned, threatening to turn into a scowl. He didn’t like how the world had become, didn’t like how humans had so readily thrown away her memory. How they had replaced it with this industrial nightmare.

Still, he had gone through the effort to get here, so he figured he may as well stay. He moved easily through the handful of trees that existed, emerging from them as though he had been there this whole time. It was an action he had regretted nearly immediately, the sounds surrounding him having grown much louder to an overwhelming degree. Luckily, the park was empty for the moment, enabling him a moment to attempt to gather his bearings. He glanced up at the sky, attempting to figure out what time it was on this plane. He saw the sun, noticed it had been risen for a short while, and deduced it must’ve been sometime in the early morning. A better look around told him it was about mid-spring seasonally, reinforced by the mildly chilly air.

He was frustrated, of course, that nothing was how it was before. Taliesin had moved, deciding he would face this head on rather than do what he had wanted to do and retreat back into the trees. He had moved quickly, making his way to one of the benches where he promptly took a seat. Allowing himself the moment to adjust to the sights and sounds around him head on, he felt his anger lessening as he gathered his bearings.

Skyscrapers towered above him, surrounding the park in what he could only describe as a concrete prison. He was always astounded at how quickly human’s developed their new technology, their societies. He remembered the last time he had been here the town was growing into a city, though still remained small and down to earth. Quietly, he wondered why, exactly humans had chosen to develop in this way. This, he supposed, was something he would likely never be able to fully comprehend.

Taliesin had focused so much on the sights, on absorbing as much information as possible, that he had failed to notice the park had begun gathering some traction during this time. That the day had shifted along without him for a while, and it was now closer to mid-morning. He studied the humans as they took their walks around the park’s perimeters or took their children to the playground. He caught the glances he was given, offering pleasant smiles in their direction. Leaning back in his spot, he centered himself more in the present and began idly watching. This would be a short visit, he felt, as there was little to no privacy. Still, it wouldn’t stop him from seeing just how far, or even how little, humans had advanced.

Taliesin

code: @s e v e n​

 

[stormcaller]

time of day:

morning

location:

apartment; park

interaction:

goose

"It is written in the stars."

Early April was when they had died.

She didn’t like to think about it, much–and indeed, she didn’t, at least not consciously. However, there were some things that couldn’t be buried under thick drifts of useless thoughts or busy schedules. Without fail, somewhere in the corner of her mind, the date, the event was stuck like a nail, hemorrhaging still. Even without thinking about the date, she could always tell it was approaching, because she would start waking up to the smell of smoke–faint, but cloying. Then, the bones that had once fractured would begin to ache, as if the memory of the fall from the window was still etched into marrow. It was all a little gauche. She didn’t like to think about it, no, but without fail, once a year the world would refuse to let her stay ignorant.

So it was that when Seren woke in her bed, not quite twenty years removed from the fire, she woke with the trace of smoke in her nose and a dull ache in her right arm and leg. The sun was leaking through the slightly bent blinds, lying in too-bright slats across the sheets and her face. She cringed from it, tossing her arm across her face to shield herself from the intrusive light, but she knew it was too late. The stench of smoke, the ache in her bones–it had all registered, sinking into something hard in her gut, something that wouldn’t let her turn around and try to fall back asleep. The dark-haired young woman sprawled back out, staring defiantly up at the ceiling above her against the sunlight for a moment. There was no point staying in bed. It was better to get moving, keep busy–rather than let the silence invite unwanted thoughts. Her body felt heavy and a little clumsy as she roused herself, caving in on itself as she sat at the edge of her bed, head drooping. It’d been a late night yesterday, though practically all nights were late nights when one was a bartender. Stifling a yawn, she glanced at the clock with blurry eyes. 8:05 AM–far too early for a bartender, but just right for a college student.

Leaving her room, she made the three-step journey to the opposite side of the hall. “Goose, you up?” she called, rapping against the door.

“Mmmnno…” the muffled reply came.

She opened the door, sticking her head into the room. Lena, or rather, Goose, was still in bed–as she had expected–nearly formless under the covers. Only the telltale tangle of dark blonde hair was what indicated to her that it was indeed her roommate in the bed, instead of a pile of pillows. “You want breakfast?” she asked, to which Goose only uttered an intelligible groan. “Be out in fifteen,” Seren told her. Another groan came from the bed, this time seemingly punctuated by a question mark at the end. “French toast,” she replied.

At that, there was a reluctant rustling of the sheets, a turning of the body. “Mmkay…” she heard Goose say, and satisfied, she closed the door and headed into their kitchen. It was a cramped space, as to be expected of a low-budget apartment–the linoleum yellowed, the counters worn–but it was roach-free and the gas ran hot, and Seren figured that was more than enough. Cooking was a simple endeavor, a soothing routine of dipping stale toast into egg mixture and listening to it sizzle on the pan, the fragrance of cinnamon wafting to fill the small apartment to the brim. It was much better than the smell of smoke; much better than thinking about the past.

Goose was right on time as usual, shuffling out of her room fully dressed, her wavy blonde hair neatly styled. It was always a mystery how someone could go from near unresponsive to fully awake and dolled up in fifteen minutes flat, but perhaps it wasn’t that remarkable after all. Kids like them, kids who were bounced from home to home, picked up these strange skills and habits, often utterly lacking in one area and compensating it with another. It was a way of survival, if not a way of life. “Morning,” the younger girl offered, squeezing into the kitchen to get the plates. “You’re up early.”

Seren shrugged, turning to shovel the pieces of french toast onto Goose’s plate, and then her own. “I woke up.”

“Mm,” Goose remarked, setting down both their plates onto the flimsy table they had crammed into the corner of the kitchen. “When do you go in?” she asked, before promptly digging into the food before her.

“Two,” she answered, popping a piece of french toast into her own mouth. “Carlie’s leaving early today, so I’m going in a little early to cover.”

Goose shot her a knowing look. “Again?” The two young women traded smiles, lips curving in a sly way so similar that it made them look like siblings, even though they looked nothing alike.

“Again,” Seren echoed. “But before that, I was going to grab some groceries. You want anything?”

“Mmm…I’ll think about it and call you later,” the blonde girl said thoughtfully, eyeing the green numbers on the stove clock. She stuffed her mouth with the remaining french toast, shouldering her bag as she mumbled an ‘I gotta go’ around the mouthful.

“Catch you later, Goose,” Seren smiled, watching on as the younger girl left in a flurry of activity.

Now alone, she quickly finished her own meal and did the dishes, laying out the wet pan and dishes on the drying rack. She wanted to leave the apartment as soon as possible–she didn’t want to stay there in the quiet stillness. She dressed hurriedly, pulling on her black jeans and a simple striped shirt, then yanked her usual purple jacket on top. Struggling into her black boots, she grabbed her wallet and keys before leaving, descending the four flights of stairs with a practiced swiftness. As soon as she opened the lobby door, the sounds of the city enveloped her–the din of car engines, exhausts backfiring, dogs barking, and the clatter of construction. It was a familiar racket, and it put her buzzing nerves to ease as she joined the many people walking briskly to their destinations. The city had this tendency to swallow one up, to make one feel small, nameless, just one in a number.

She didn’t mind that. She didn’t mind that at all.

Turning into an alley, Seren walked up the cracked concrete steps that led to the small park around the block. She had played in this very park as a child, though it had not been well-maintained since then. The playground was old, the plastic’s color faded, the metal poles scratched with initials in hearts and obscene symbols alike. It drew a varied crowd in the daytime, but it had a decidedly less friendly population at night–druggies, teens trying to act tougher than they really were, and the occasional homeless man who decided that the armrest in the middle of the benches weren't going to deter him from precious sleep. As for Seren, it served as a very convenient shortcut to the grocery store, a direct path cutting through the crowded crosswalks.

She wasn’t sure what it was that caught her attention first. Maybe it had been the subtle fluttering movement of wings, or perhaps it had been the bold crimson tunic, or the gold buckle glinting in the sun–or no, maybe it had been the presence alone, something prickling under her skin like a gathering storm. Whatever it had been, it made her turn–turn and look, before she could quite stop herself. It had been only the flick of her amber eyes, the subtlest turn of her chin, but it was enough to take in the peculiar sight of a man who was not only dressed in a strange fashion, but whose features also seemed otherworldly. Too beautiful, too angular, too harsh–altogether fascinating and commanding attention.

Commanding her attention.

She caught herself before she could stop in her gait, steeling her gaze straight ahead as she kept striding forward, trying to ignore the way her pulse had quickened. It wasn’t the strange sight of the man on the bench that had alarmed her–rather, it was the fact that she had slipped up. It had been a while since she’d made such a mistake. She’d gotten very good at pretending she didn’t see, didn’t hear. These things, after all, weren’t real. Something was wrong with her, had been since she was young–something wrong in her brain, maybe, or her eyes–she didn’t know what, but as long as she could keep up the pretense that she didn’t see anything different than those around her, she was safe. Seren swallowed, then let out a slow breath meant to calm herself down. It had only been a passing gaze, nothing too obvious. She could have just been admiring the trees–or been distracted by a bit of bird song. Even if that man hadn’t been there at all, it wasn’t suspicious for someone to look around a park, right? Right. She squared her shoulders and pressed a smile on her face. She was fine, she told herself. Her bones didn’t ache, she didn’t smell any smoke, and she was fine.

She was jolted to attention as her phone rang, vibrating in her jacket pocket. She retrieved her phone and was glad to see ‘GOOSE’ on the screen. Eager to be distracted from her mistake, she picked up readily. “Let me guess, kettle corn popcorn,” she immediately spoke into the receiver, a grin playing at her lips.

“Ding ding ding,” her roommate’s voice came from the other end, slightly distorted by the sounds of the city bus she was on. They both laughed, and Seren felt herself relax as they chattered together as she found her way to the usual grocery store. Yes, early April tasted like loss, smelled and felt like it, too, but it was only as bad as she let herself think. Otherwise, it was just another week, another mundane day, and she knew she would fare just fine. She always did.

Seren stayed with Goose on the phone until she had reached her first class–Introduction to Ethics and Philosophy. By then she had already grabbed half of the things she had meant to buy: eggs, bread, some fresh vegetables, and of course, the kettle corn popcorn. Goose had always been mad for the stuff, even though they hadn’t been allowed to eat it often–or perhaps that was exactly why she had loved it so much. Pausing, she threw an extra bag of popcorn into her basket before she headed to the checkout counter, a small smile lingering on her face. When she had first met Goose, she had been the same age she herself had been when she’d been put into the foster care system–six years old. Seeing that there had been quite the age gap between them, she had always seen Goose as a younger sister than a friend. There had been plenty of times when they’d been placed into different homes, but Morgan had always done her best to find a way to keep them together. And now–well, they didn’t have to worry about being put into different homes.

Having firmly decided that she would have a good day in spite of the impending anniversary still lingering in the corners of her mind, she kept busy. Upon returning to the apartment, she put away the groceries before doing two loads of laundry, making sure that she didn’t accidentally put her work clothes into the wash. Putting together a simple sandwich for lunch, she couch surfed for an hour before she realized it was time to get ready to go in for her shift.

The dress code at Triton’s was fairly lax, but they still had some standards. She traded her black-and-white striped shirt for a white dress shirt instead, though the black jeans and boots stayed. Her hair was short, but it still went into a small ponytail–not quite neat, but better than hair in a drink. Next, Seren fiddled with her make-up–some eyeliner and lipstick, which came together well enough. Finally satisfied, she left the apartment, moving along with the rest of the city until she reached a humble-looking bar at the corner of a busy street. The Triton–or Triton’s, as it was more widely known, was a watering hole with some history. It was quite old as bars in the cities went, boasting a history of a hundred years. Or, as the boss would often remind them, over a hundred years. A hundred and four years, to be exact. The sign boasted a merman with a trident, tipping the weapon into a pond. It was a neat sign, though perhaps a touch outdated–though no one dared tell the boss that. After all, this was a family business.

“Oi, Finnegan, cutting it close, are we?” the familiar voice greeted her as she stepped inside, apron in hand. Sitting at the bar along with a few regulars was Grant, the owner of the Triton, winked at her. He was a grizzled old man with a jovial twinkle in his eye at nearly all times. “Carlie’s been biting at the bit, tryin’ to clock out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not two yet, boss,” she tossed back with a crooked smile. “And Carlie just wants to be done with your bullshit for the day.”

“You can say that again,” Carlie joined in as she stepped out from behind the bar, already taking her apron off. She quirked her eyebrows at Seren meaningfully. “Thanks, by the way. Hope you get good tips.”

“At this hour?” Seren joked. “It’s dead and you know it.”

Then, as if the world had heard her and decided to prove her otherwise, she heard the merry jingling of the front door bell. Carlie laughed as Seren turned and hurried behind the bar, hastily tying the apron into place. “Welcome in!” she called, her fingers working away busily as she rolled up her sleeves and turned to wash her hands in the sink. It was rare for anyone to come in at this hour, but there were always exceptions to the rule, she supposed.

Seren

code: @s e v e n​

​

 

[faerylunala]

time of day:

afternoon

location:

the Triton

interaction:

young woman

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream...

Taliesin’s eyes had looked among the humans idly, noting how many opted to mind their own business. They had changed dramatically in the time since he had last been here, to a noticeable extent. It felt like just yesterday he could step foot in the human realm and immediately be met with constantly being watched. Here, in this more modern era, this was not the case. The difference was interesting, and he had a brief thought on how the technological advancement among humans may have made them less concerned with creatures such as him. It was a dangerous game to play, he felt. Though, ultimately convenient for him.

He had become all too aware when eyes had fallen upon him, leading him to turn his head slightly in the direction of the person to take a look at who had seen him. All thoughts had halted when he had caught a glimpse of her eyes; an amber so familiar it bordered too much on coincidence. She had looked away from him quickly—a bit too quickly. This alone was enough to tip him off, to tell him there was something more going on here.

Opting to wait before he moved, Taliesin had turned his gaze away enough so as to not be perceived as staring. Still, his focus and attention was settled firmly upon the young woman. Once she had walked past and was a fair bit away, he stood. Satisfied by no one seeming to give him the time of day, he followed several paces behind her. He had to get answers; had to figure out who she was.

He had followed her to the grocery store, kept his distance so as to avoid being seen. A steady eye had been maintained upon her, and while she busied herself with her shopping he had maintained an air of casualty as he perused the different items of food that were being sold. When she moved to a different area, he waited several seconds before he slowly followed. It went like this until she had left the building, and he had followed her the same distance behind to her apartment.

Here, Taliesin didn’t follow her inside the complex. Instead, he had opted to carefully cross the street, to wait to see if she would leave. A little cafe with outside seating was where he opted to stay for the moment. He had noted, through looking into the shop, what the currency now looked like and made the mental note to himself. Thankfully, no one had come to bother him, a relief in and of itself, and he had this time to himself to think. The likelihood of this being her seemed, perhaps, a bit too good to be true. Yet, he couldn’t help himself from feeling excited at the prospect that maybe, just maybe, she had come back. He felt a desperation claw within him, an overwhelming desire for this stranger to be her. Suppressing this, at least for the moment, he had taken to keeping a passive eye on the opposing building.

The wait wasn’t too long, at least not in his perspective. She had emerged from the complex after an hour, and once again Taliesin waited for a moment before he stood and followed. He had followed her all the way to a bar, one where he paused outside and mused over the choice of picture that had been chosen. Certainly, it was a creative choice. He had glanced around, focusing on a smaller tree that had been planted to add a bit of greenery to the otherwise grey city. Why humans would uproot greenery that had long since existed to plant new ones after presumably realizing their mistake was beyond him, really.

Moving to the tree, he had taken several leaves off of it far too quickly for the human eye to see. A bit of glamour made the leaves shift, adopting the look of the currency that he had seen used earlier. Pocketing it, he turned upon his heel to walk to the entrance of the bar. He had far, far too many questions, and a burning desire to understand if what he had seen was legitimate or if it was his imagination.

Taliesin had opened the door, heard the jingling of the bell. It was cute, quaint, he supposed. Stepping into the building, with the door shutting behind him, his eyes had fixated on the young woman. A smile crossed his face, placating and pleasant.

“Hello, how might you be doing today?” The question was clearly directed towards the young woman. His voice was deep, commanding, yet with a curious gentle, if not a bit persuasive, undertone. He felt formal, perhaps a bit too formal, and it subsequently made him appear very out of place. Even now, he noticed how his presence had caught the attention of some of the patrons currently at the bar.

Taliesin

code: @s e v e n​

 

[stormcaller]

time of day:

afternoon

location:

the Triton

interaction:

mysterious man

"It is written in the stars."

As she began to turn from the sink with her customer service smile in place, she felt the air in the familiar bar change. Goosebumps rose along her arms as she laid her eyes upon none other than the strange man she had seen in the park. Now at far closer of a distance, she could take in his features more clearly, the level of perfection that seemed unnatural on any human visage, the large wings reminiscent of a sunset sky. He smiled at her, eyes settled firmly upon her, showing the slightest hint of too-sharp teeth, and her pulse began to leap again–out of fear or rapture, she could not tell. Had he noticed her looking at him? What were chances that he would walk into this bar, after she’d encountered him this morning?

Pretty high, she reminded herself. The bar was a well-known one, listed as one of the city’s must-visit spots for its history. She was being paranoid for no reason. She needed to act normal, fit in–and for that, what was most important were the reactions of those around her. Carlie was staring openly from where she stood behind the customer, her jaw slightly slack–and when she met Seren’s subtle gaze, she made a wordless face that implied that she thought Seren had lucked out. Whether it was because she thought he was attractive or because she assumed he was wealthy, it was hard to say, but the way that Grant straightened up in his chair, she could tell that he thought that this customer was an important one.

And yet, this seemingly very important customer was not looking at anybody but her. “Hello, how might you be doing today?” he asked her, and if his presence alone hadn’t been commanding enough, his voice carried through the bar like that of an orator. Anyone who hadn’t already been aware of him, now certainly was. She could feel the weight of their gazes, the tension like a held breath. But for Seren, who had lived for years in the margins of wordless expectations and ever-changing stages, it was a pressure that she dealt with seamlessly.

“Very well, thank you, sir,” Seren responded politely, pleasantly, her smile brightening. “Welcome in.” She knew she had already greeted him, but the way he carried himself–the way the room reacted to him–made it feel like she ought to do so again. Something about him demanded propriety, ceremony, almost, and ever the mirror, she found herself reacting with a similar level of formality.

The tension seemed to soften slightly with her words, and Grant, as if he’d remembered himself, rose out of his chair to greet the customer personally. “Welcome to the Triton,” he said with a charming smile, gesturing to the bar accommodatingly. “Please, make yourself at home.”

“I hope you’re doing well today,” she remarked as she waited for him to get situated. “What can I get started for you?” she inquired, keeping her gaze squarely on his too-sharp face, no matter how much the slight movement of his wings snatched at her attention. She reached for the menus–something she didn’t often have to do, but she got the feeling that she should–and placed it carefully onto the bar before him. “Here’s a menu, if you’d like to peruse,” Seren offered. She could feel Grant watching her, watching them. Perhaps the rest of them didn’t see this man as how she did–but they certainly seemed to sense something different about him. Seren wondered what they saw–what he must really look like. She would never know, of course, so there was little use in wondering, she couldn’t help but wonder all the same.

Seren

code: @s e v e n​

​

 

[faerylunala]

time of day:

afternoon

location:

the Triton

interaction:

young woman

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream...

The moment she had turned to look at him, Taliesin knew she saw him beyond what he had conjured with his glamour. His initial observation as to the colour of her eyes was correct, and after a moment of fixation he had turned his attention to map out the rest of her features. She resembled her, in some ways. Primarily, it was the shape of her face that was beginning to convince him. Her pleasantries, her kindness, was another point in favor of his theory. He felt himself grow more assured, and despite his momentary distraction he had continued on easily.

“That’s wonderful,” He had said, and his attention briefly left the woman to focus on the man. He had adapted quickly to the shift, utilizing his charm as he spoke, “Why, thank you. Your bar is quite nice, the quaint atmosphere is very comfortable.” He made a glance in the direction of the young woman behind the bar, adding, “Your bartender is excellent at helping upkeep the energy.”

Taliesin’s attention returned to the young bartender as he made his seat, tuning out the watchful eye of the bar’s owner and other patrons. They didn’t matter, not really. He was focused solely on her, noting how she had kept her eyes fixated on his face. With each small movement of his wings, he had noticed her force herself to keep her eyes upon his face. He was intrigued, knowing she could see him. He addressed her comment, saying, "I have been well today, also. Thank you."

Already, thoughts ran rampant in his mind. Someone with the Sight was rare, let alone one with the same eye colour as her. This alone was interesting; however with how her features had, even slightly, resembled her own as well… Taliesin felt himself growing more sure of what he had initially thought. More questions bubbled to the surface, and quickly. Notably, if she was her, why didn’t she remember him? Why didn’t she say anything when she had seen him earlier? A small realization had hit him, the idea that this young woman was her reincarnation. It was the only possible explanation.

The menu was placed before him, and he heard her say, “Here’s a menu, if you’d like to peruse.” Admittedly, there was not much perusing of alcohol he was terribly interested in. The only reason he was here was because of his interest in her. Still, to keep up appearances he had opted to at least take a glance at it. He found himself sorely out of his element here, seeing not a single word he recognized on it. It seemed as though the humans had advanced more than just their choice in buildings and transportation.

“With all of the options you have, I simply cannot decide. I will have to ask what your recommendations might be?” Taliesin had asked, directing the question strictly to the young woman. The menu had been set down, forgotten the second it had left his hands. He had no intention of really partaking in any of what he got here, only needing something to blend in with the other patrons. He wasn’t keen to take anything from humans, with the sole exception of one. While this one seemed to be her reborn, he wanted to make sure he had understood it correctly before accepting anything from her outside of courtesy and to upkeep appearances while in this human world.

Taliesin

code: @s e v e n​

​

 

[stormcaller]

time of day:

afternoon

location:

the Triton

interaction:

mysterious man

"It is written in the stars."

Grant seemed to puff up with pride at the compliments the stranger gave him. The Triton was his pride and joy, after all–she wondered if this man had picked up on that right away. “You take good care of him now,” he told Seren with a look of playful severity, and she only smiled back with a bemused innocence as the man looked over the menu she had placed before him.

It seemed, however, that there wasn’t a drink he’d had in mind. It struck her as a little odd–usually, those who came traipsing into a bar at this hour, especially without someone in their company, knew exactly what they wanted. Still, she hid her surprise as he asked for her recommendations, and her smile came a little easier. This was one of her favorite parts of the job–it was a nice feeling, to watch someone get a drink she had recommended to them and see their faces light up at first sip. “Well, it would depend on the kind of drinks you prefer, and how adventurous you’re feeling today,” she mused, resting her elbows against the solid wood of the bar. Before she could continue, however, Carlie came up to the bar–something she normally didn’t do when she was cut.

“Bye, Seren,” the other bartender said, though Seren could see that she was busy sneaking glances at the man seated at the bar. It almost made her smile, to see her stalling. Carlie was a sucker for a handsome face–they all knew that.“See you tomorrow. I cut extra lemons for you, they’re in the walk-in.”

“Thanks, see you,” she returned with a small wave. “Careful on your way.”

“Thanks,” Carlie said, lingering for a second too long as she took one last look at the customer. At the sound of Grant clearing his throat, she hurried off with a wave.

As the door closed with another jangle, Seren turned her attention back to the man before her, though in truth, he had never left her peripheral vision. Something about him kept her on edge, though it was not quite a sense of danger. Perhaps it had something to do with the way she could tell he was also watching her keenly. “If you’d like something light and citrusy, the Paloma is one of my favorites,” she began, leaning over slightly to point out the item on the menu. “If you’d like something with coffee, an Espresso Martini comes highly recommended. Otherwise, you can’t go wrong with something classic–Gin and Tonic, a Negroni…or a Sazerac, if you’re feeling fancy.” She pulled back as she finished guiding him through her picks on the menu, taking the opportunity to glance at his curiously pointy ears–long and tapered. “If none of that interests you, we have a beer and wine menu,” she added. “What kind of alcohol do you normally prefer?”

Seren

code: @s e v e n​

​

 

[faerylunala]

time of day:

afternoon

location:

the Triton

interaction:

Seren

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

When the young woman began to offer her recommendations, his eyes had glanced between her and the menu, though always keeping her to some degree within his sight. Briefly, he mused over what he would typically prefer to drink—if anything. Not typically one to partake in such things unless it was in specific circumstances, he moved to answer when the other woman had approached. The name he heard earned a momentary inner pause.

Seren. Judging by the way the woman helping him had answered to it, Taliesin could only presume that was her name. He thought her name over, sounding it over in his head a couple of times, before he attempted to put it on the back of his mind for later. While he had noticed the attention fixated upon him by the other woman, he ultimately paid not much mind to it. He was far, far too fixated upon her name, try as he might to keep it in the recesses of his mind for the moment. Seren. It was a beautiful name.

Admittedly, the casual dropping of her name had surprised him. It was so similar to hers, to the point that he felt convinced there was a correlation, and the way Seren had been helping him only further made him believe they were one in the same. Some part of him knew, figured this was a part of her job, but the other part of him that couldn’t let her go clung to it; believed she might know, as well. His doubt started to lift, and he attempted to make sense of it. Her pleasantries could be related to the job, however he felt there was potentially something more latched in there. Finally, after what felt like a bit too long, he had remembered himself.

“Typically, when I would partake in alcohol, it would be different types of mead,” Taliesin said, looking over the choices Seren had pointed out in more depth. The names of the alcohol didn’t sound familiar, to his internal frustration. He knew he should’ve partaken in human habits a bit more frequently, and hated how this made him feel distinctly out of control. There was a pause, before he continued, “Though, I’m guessing that is one thing you don’t carry here.”

Ultimately, he decided that trying to decipher what flavor would be what when mixed together wasn’t worth it in the end. His head shook, briefly, declining to see the other menu with a resounding, "No, thank you." There was another brief moment while he considered if he would’ve preferred something more sweet, dry, or in-between. Predictable to his species, he knew what the answer would be without thinking too much into it.

“So, in that case, something that has a sweeter profile will do,” Taliesin had continued on naturally, as though mentioning mead in this day and age was not an odd thing in and of itself. He lifted the menu, offering it back to Seren. There was no use trying to figure out what those names meant, he figured. “I’m feeling a bit adventurous. You may surprise me with whichever drink of your choosing.” There was a smile sent in her direction, one that showed the hints of his teeth. The gesture didn’t seem to quite reach his eyes fully, at least not at first. The more he had drawn his conclusions between Seren and her, the more he believed they were the same, the more his features lit up. Finally, he ended with, “I have the utmost faith in you to produce something that I would enjoy.”

Taliesin

code: @s e v e n​

​

 

[stormcaller]

time of day:

afternoon

location:

the Triton

interaction:

mysterious man

"It is written in the stars."

“Mead,” she repeated, a glimmer of amusement lighting up her eyes. Almost like a medieval viking lord, she thought. The strange man correctly guessed that they didn’t carry any mead, and she smiled, shooting a look towards Grant who was clearly eavesdropping. “Unfortunately, no. I promise to have a word with our boss man about that,” she quipped, and Grant rolled his eyes. She smiled sweetly back at the owner as she waited for the customer to make his choice–but in the end, it seemed that he would leave the choice up to her. She took the menu back as he handed it off to her, requesting something of a sweeter profile. If anything, he had looked mildly overwhelmed by all the choices on the menu, so Seren supposed this would be the better choice.

“I’m feeling a bit adventurous. You may surprise me with whichever drink of your choosing,” he told her, a smile spreading across his face. Ir revealed two rows of perfect, sharp teeth–too even to look real. “I have the utmost faith in you to produce something that I would enjoy.” Despite everything, the sentiment didn’t sound like it was said in lighthearted jest. It felt heavier, an expectation of some sort, but the young woman tried to brush off the feeling.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she smiled back, trying not to imagine whether his teeth were sharp enough to tear skin. After all, they weren’t really that sharp. She was just seeing things. Gathering her composure, she turned to the bar, her thoughtful demeanor soon turning decisive as she began to set out the tools of her trade, grabbing bottles of spirits and shakers. He’d mentioned mead, and asked for something sweet. While the Triton didn’t carry mead, she figured something with honey in it might be something that suited this man’s palette. Cocktail in mind, she placed a coup before and got to work, the strange red-headed customer never quite out of her sight. Before long, she placed the chilled drink down before him, a glass filled with a slightly frothy amber beverage. “It’s called the Bee’s Knees,” she explained, a current of anticipation running through her voice. “It’s gin, lemon, and honey–it’s certainly not mead, but maybe you’ll enjoy it. If not, I’ll make another for you on the house.”

As she waited for him to try the drink, her ears perked up at the familiar sound of a truck screeching to a halt in the back alley. “Stock’s here, Finnegan,” Grant called, already heading towards the back.

“I’ll be right out,” she answered, then turned back to the lone man sitting at her bar with an apologetic smile. “I’ll be just a minute.” With that, she untied her apron and hurried after Grant, casks of liquor on her mind.

Seren

code: @s e v e n​

​

 

[faerylunala]

time of day:

evening

location:

the Triton

interaction:

Seren

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

"There is no pressure to provide it," Taliesin had said, putting an emphasis on his tone to show how unimportant he found it. He had taken a glance to Grant during this, eyes leaving Seren for just a moment, in a manner that showed to him how he felt it was a non-issue. A type of suggestion magic had been attached to it, layering on to the owner to truly not worry about it. Having a surplus of something was truly unimportant, especially over stock such as this. After all, he would only be here for a little bit.

His eyes had returned to Seren as she had prepared his drink, watching her work with a sort of piqued interest. She had clearly been doing this for a while, and when the drink was produced in front of Taliesin, he pondered over it for a moment. He listened to her describe it, took in it's general appearance, and inwardly laughed at the name of the beverage. 'Bee's Knees' felt fitting for something made with honey, if not very on the nose. He spoke after a moment, laying his left hand around the cool glass. Curiously, he didn't move to take a sip from it; at least not yet. Instead, he had said, "The name for it is quite charming. This will work fine, thank you."

Though there was obvious pressure for him to try it, Taliesin had opted to instead take his sweet time with it. As he did so, he had heard the sound of tires screeching and the response from Seren and Grant. Already, the main two who had kept their eyes on him were heading out, and he had caught her presumed last name. He held down his visible interest, merely taking the opportunity to watch them leave to go get their stock. Seren Finnegan was her name, he had deduced. Already, he had been thinking of how to proceed from here. He knew what he wanted to do, however he also knew it would be a force to pull off.

By the time they had returned, the drink had remained untouched. Still, he offered his compliments to the bartender for catering to his tastes well. He had kept an eye on the bar throughout the rest of the night, watching the different patrons who had come in and out. All the while, he thought carefully of how he wanted to proceed. Taliesin felt an internal war begin, knowing he could either leave her be to live out her life here... Or take her with him, back to where he lived. A dangerous thought, he knew, especially given the history of how she died. Even still, if she had come back, and was back, the last thing he wanted was to lose her again.

So he thought, wondering of how he could get away with a plan such as this. He would have to take a couple of days, try to gain at least a small semblance of her trust. Taliesin had all but ignored anyone who had shown him interest, instead pinpointing where exactly in the bar he could use to get away with what he wanted, where he could open the veil to take her with him. His eyes had found a hallway leading to the restrooms, and quickly he knew how he would do this. Gaining her trust was the first step, and if all else fails he would use deceit. He would have her again, this he knew, and by the end of the night his plan had solidified in his mind.

As patrons began to spill out of the bar, paying their various tabs, he had procured his glamoured money. Setting it down upon the counter, he had asked, "I assume this is an acceptable amount?" It was a test, first and foremost, for Seren. While it had looked like, to anyone else, to be a significant amount of money, to those with the Sight, like he presumed she had, she would see it for the leaves that they were. He had waited around, if only for a moment, to gauge the reaction both of them would have before he would ultimately leave.

Taliesin

code: @s e v e n​

​

 

[stormcaller]

time of day:

evening

location:

the Triton

interaction:

grant; mysterious man

"It is written in the stars."

Crates all carried into the back room, Seren gave a spirited wave to the truck driver, Julius, as he drove away. It was the little things that brightened her day, like getting to banter with a familiar face. Or getting to see that a customer enjoyed a drink that she had recommended, of course. As she returned to the floor, she couldn’t help but notice at once that the strange customer had not drunk much of the cocktail–if he’d touched it at all. Instead of frowning, she only offered him another smile. “How is it? If you’d prefer something else, I’ll whip one up right away,” she offered, but oddly, he refused, praising her for having sussed out a drink most suited to his tastes. Choosing not to argue with a customer, she thanked him–but even as more customers began coming into the bar, she couldn’t help but steal glances his way.

The drink never disappeared, nor did she ever catch him taking a sip. Instead, he seemed to be observing the bar and the people within, all the while appearing as if he was much lost in his own world. Some people had tried to come up to him and start a conversation–he possessed an aura, of sorts, that seemed to capture the interest of those around him–and yet she never saw him actually engaging in a proper exchange of words. Of course, as the evening rush hit properly, she was far too busy juggling drinks and orders to keep track of his exploits. Seeing how early in the evening he had come to the bar, one would assume he would also leave early, but as the other patrons began to tap out of their night, she noted with mute surprise that the mysterious man was still sitting at her bar. Not wanting to come off rude, she turned and busied herself with the side work, polishing glasses and rinsing out shakers–but there came the tell-tale sound of a barstool being pushed back, accompanied by his words:

“I assume this is an acceptable amount?”

She turned with an accommodating smile, ready to cash him out and bid him a goodnight–but when her gaze fell onto the counter, she only saw a neat stack of leaves sitting there. Caught off-guard, but unwilling to show her confusion too openly, she uttered a chuckle. “One maple leaf and two birch, of course,” she joked, taking the leaves and shuffling through them as if they were crisp bills. “Would you rather pay with card, sir? Though, if I’m honest, I’m not sure if I should be charging you for a drink you didn’t actually drink…”

“What are you on, Finnegan?” Grant’s gruff interjection stopped her, unexpectedly. It was unlike him to object when it came to providing top customer service, and she turned to the older man as he addressed her.

“Well, he didn’t touch much of it at all…” she began with a placating laugh, but the bar owner’s gaze wasn’t on the customer, or even the glass of honey-amber liquid still sitting on the counter.

Grant took the leaves from her, rifling through them with a practiced hand. “Twelve dollars, right there. Let me get you your change, sir,” he said to the tall man, the picture of politeness. Seren couldn’t help but blink as Grant placed the leaves into the till, as if nothing was wrong, grabbing coins. As if…the leaves really were bills. A streak of panic flitted through her, red and blaring, and she could practically feel her face draining of color. “She’s got a strange sense of humor when it gets late,” Grant was telling the winged man, who was surely not truly winged. He chuckled fondly. “It grows on you, though.”

“I figured I’d lighten the mood,” she managed to say with a smile, though something in her voice trembled ever-so-slightly. “Thanks for stopping by.”

The hallucinations–they were getting worse. Hard to hide. The thought scared her.

Seren

code: @s e v e n​

​