Henry almost laughed at the cleanup remark, huffing instead as he leaned down to help the Wolf up.  "It'll provide work for a few of the other businesses in town, so..." He shrugged, trailing off. 

There was a pause of a moment, a breath, where Henry looked around around and realised that they - he, Vester and the Eaton twin, Wyatt - were the only living things still in the ruins of his store - three Sentinels, though Henry could never, rightfully, claim that title, having never been able to contribute.  It was how he'd ended up in the hardware store -- it'd belonged to old Davey Andrews, for decades, before Henry had come along as a kid, quietly working there, a ghost between the shelves.  Over the years Davey had let him handle more and more responsibility - mundane things, easy things, like stock-take and ordering and deliveries.  And then Henry had just as quietly bought it, old Andrews going into long-awaited retirement. 

The old man had been kind to Henry, in a rough way.  He had never questioned why the Sentinel boy was so interested in something as mundane as spare piping or copper wiring, or helping people find it.  But he had been, because he didn't like the mumbo jumbo of his kin -- the tarot cards, the tea leaves.  The palm reading.  When you couldn't See it in the same way, at best it all sounded like make believe.  At worst, it could keep you up at night in fear, in the Unknowing, the trap that was living life blind.  Either way -- the only way he could escape it was by slipping quietly into an average life.

"I'll call Micah." He said, out of the blue.  "He's back in town, working with Clark's Electrical.  He'll be able to help and keep things under wrap."

Micah Laurent.  Henry had only seen him a couple of times, in the store buying things for the jobs he did now, as an electrician, but he'd been friendly enough.  The Carver man had no idea what had brought the man back, but here he was, on Helter ground again.  This place disposed of - and renewed - Sentinels like rubbish.


It was quickly becoming a Sentinel meeting in the shop, Connie thought wryly, as Claudette sailed up to their their new guard like the small-town politician she was.  All the while keeping a polite - but cool - distance, probably from Noel. The Eatons and the Laurents had boundaries drawn by bad blood that both sides perpetuated.  Still, Connie nodded back to her, gently motioning for her friend to sit.

"I can offer tea." Connie called out wryly, already pouring a cup for her friend.  "Or a really great masque to rehydrate your skin."

Criton and Claudette were having their own aside, though, and amused Connie shared a secret smile with Noel.  Eatons and their guard-dogs, she guessed. 

Still, when they mentioned Henry's shop the smile did drop.  Even if he didn't have the sight, he was still apart of the family.  "Could the pack spare a few more hands?" Connie asked, interrupting Criton and Claudette.  "To help with the cleanup?" It was the least they all owed Henry.  It was the least they owed any of their families who were otherwise pushed aside.


Cassie tried her best not to wince every time she had to put her weight on her leg as she strode down the street to the now ruined hardware store, her hair swaying in it's ponytail.   Bev had finally calmed down just enough to mention seeing her brother - one of them, anyway, and Cassie had sat there, stewing, until the absence of chaotic noise meant it was safe to move.

She hated not being included in pack things, and it seemed like some stupid monster rolling around with her brother through the street was a pretty big pack thing. 

Pulling up just front of the ruined threshold of the shop, Cassie hesitated only for a moment -- and then she saw which brother it was, at the heart of it all, and stopped entirely. 

"Oh." She said, impressed despite herself. "Criton's definitely going to make you deal with this."

Startled, Connie paused for a moment before the pride of the Medici pack.  Criton looked the part of the rugged stand-in Alpha, hardened and battle-marked -- but something had shifted, in their ranks.  The bitterness in his voice, lingering over the name Super Pup, gave it away. 

She gently pushed Noel through the opened door.  "It's not like the creatures to come in so boldly." Connie remarked to them. "The rot of this town isn't usually so bad as to attract them that...  that desperately."

Meanwhile, standing in the wreckage of what had been an aisle of tape measures and surveyor equipment, Henry watched in grim silence as Vester deflated back to the deceptive, human shape, miserable for a moment.  Still, he met Henry's gaze with approval, and the Carver man felt his throat tighten with both pity and admiration.  Whatever had happened to Vester - whatever had transformed him - had broken him and remade him into the being on the floor, rising to meet Claudette as though he were serving her.


"Bev, shut up."

Beverly was still sobbing, crouched down against the wall, and annoyed, Cassie stretched out her legs, her bad one shaking a little from the stress of running through the bookstore.

Cassie Medici, seventeen and counting the days down til her 18th birthday, could not have picked a worse time to come into town.  She'd hitched a ride with Criton, promising she wouldn't be long - but that meant that in the resulting chaos, she now had no idea where he was.  Whatever it was that had happened, Cassie could smell it, the stink of it enough to make her want to retch, unpleasant enough to awaken the wolf inside her. 

Her classmate's sobs were getting to her, and Cassie could imagine ripping the other girl's throat out.  "Beverly.  Shut. Up."

Henry did not have to be told twice. Heart hardening at the visible change in Vester Medici - a change that hadn't been possible a few years ago - Henry griped the axe tight as he he lifted it above his head and brought it down. 

The creature was more of an impression than a real beast, to him -- but he could define enough of it, even with his lack of Sight, and his strike dug deeply into the hardwood floors as he severed the antlers from its head, dust rising in a cloud. 

Claudette Eaton was waiting at the edges of the mess, amused.  Nothing went on in this town without an Eaton arriving to notarise it.  With a nod to her the Carver man straightened, not missing how her bright hair made her stand out in the store.  Eatons weren't the self-proclaimed town royalty for nothing.




As the fighting rolled into Henry's store, Connie hurriedly made her way across the street to her friend, her yellow coat a beacon.  "Noel!" She shouted.  "Come on, let's get out of here -- "

Looking back to Cleanse - and Wyatt - Connie hesitated.  The last thing she wanted to do was pull Noel headlong into the Smith brat -- but then he solved the equation for her by striding away from the store, fist clenched. Who knew what his problem was, but as long as he was taking it away, it didn't matter. 

"Come." She said, holding Noel's hand. "Leave it to the fighters, lets get out of here."

Tugging her gently, Connie started back to the store.

In adolescent petulance, Clarence set down the jar as though it had grown too-hot in his hands.  She thought maybe that same petulance, the teenage pride, would carry him out the door and away from her and Wyatt both, too old to deal with this, but then the boy stepped closer, a looming threat.  The Carver woman was suddenly made aware of just how tall he was, for a kid. 

"Maybe you should try it yourself.  Good for the colour of the skin, right?"

Her mouth tightened. "You don't come in here and talk shit at me, Clarence.  In fact, you can leave - "

A rolling calamity out front stopped her dead, the noise of something that didn't belong in town and a wolf tearing into each other, Connie looking past the bastard of a boy in front of her just in time to catch Vester chasing after a forest spirit.  "Jesus." She breathed, forgetting about the boy in front of her.  What was it doing here in town?  Now?  "Where's Noel!"

None of them missed the shattering of its wretched body being thrown through the glass windows of the Hardware store, Vester standing out front like a deranged victor before following in.  Connie had no idea what it must look like, to the townsfolk. 

In the store, Henry Carver - thirty-six, ungifted in the way of fortune-telling and generally a quiet man - leapt up when the forest monster was thrown so unceremoniously through the shop windows. 

The was a scream - Beverly, one of their shop girls, as useless as tits on a bull - but she was too far away to be hurt.  Shock, then.  Henry ignored her, instead following the thrashing of his shelves as bolts and tools and metal crashed around with whatever had been thrown in at them.  He saw deer-like antler, briefly, and then like a demon of misfortune a bleeding figure standing before it.  It too a moment before Henry realised it was Medici boy, one of the younger ones. 

Picking up a discarded axe handle, Henry lifted it up and swung it at the creature before them, as it tried to bear down on him.

With her hand in his, Connie kept her eyes downcast, smiling lazily.  All of Wyatt's teasing, their mutual flirtations -- a fun exercise in something that had almost been, the salve on an old hurt. 

"It's a good effort." She told him solemnly, trying not let her fingers curl with his touch. "You've reversed them, though."  Leaning in closer, she pointed out, "Look - this is the fate line.  And this is the head."

More parlour games, but they made for good supplement material when the townsfolk came to a Carver, wanting to know about their futures, their lives, their options. 

Connie breathed in deep, and let her eyes flicker up to Wyatt's face.  He'd only grown into it more, as an adult a far cry from the pretty-boy teen she had sobbed so bitterly over, when her Momma found out about them. 

The bell rang again, heralding a new visitor and Connie turned to the door, smiling pleasantly like she wasn't standing there, too close to her puppy love; only for her smile to imperceptibly hitch when she saw it who it was. 

The Smith boy had a chip on his shoulder that threatened to crack through his whole soul.  Maybe it was a teenager's passionate misery that made it worse, but on some days it snaked through the golden veneer he had, invisible to most. He would've made a glorious Eaton, careless and beautiful, now holding one of her Momma's creams in hand, turning it over.

Steeling herself, Connie tried to keep her smile bright. The Carvers had seen too many of his little classmates, all love-sick for him, coming to the shop and asking hushed questions about feelings that were never returned.  Cornelia didn't have the patience for them and their idiocy, and she didn't have the patience for him and the entitlement he wore like a cloak, though her shop manners won.  "That's an overnight mask, to brighten up tired skin."  She said brightly.  Amused despite herself, she added, "I don't think you need it, Clarence."

The Carver shop, Cleanse, was white-washed to make it brighter, with big glass windows to let in what light existed in their twilight-world.

Connie, ready for the day in her blue cotton pantsuit and clean linen apron walked past the candles on display - soy wax, organic with essential oils - lighting them as she passed with an airy wave of her fingers.  Hedgewitch magic, and nothing complicated - a gift from a Carver bride, brought into the family long ago. 

Overhead the warm lights lit the shop up, making it inviting, welcoming.   It was important, always, that they made the townspeople feel welcomed - that they could come in and browse, pick up things, sample them.  Ask questions.  All kinds.

Stacking little pottles of a new lip balm she and her mother had made - thick, creamy moisturiser that smelt of garden roses - Connie didn't notice the shadow at her door until it opened, and she turned to smile as the bell above it jingled.

"Welcome - oh." For a moment, she blinked at the guest in surprise, then smiled more widely.  "Wyatt, it's good to see you.  I thought you'd forgotten about us."

Wyatt Eaton, the hero of sixteen-year old Connie's dreams, was... an impression.  As if the charm of the Eaton's power and money weren't enough, he and his brother were both classically good-looking; sandy hair and winsome smiles. Tall and broad-shouldered.  But Wyatt -- Wyatt had always been the kinder of the pair, and it showed in his face, his eyes.

Today he looked tired.  But the nights were getting longer, and the things that demanded their attention - things that lived in the dark just outside the town, waiting - always grew more restless with the darker months.  As the self-appointed leaders of this town, Cornelia wouldn't have been surprised if that Eaton-created pressure was piling on him. 

Sympathetic, she said, "You look like you could use some decent sleep.  Knowing you, though..." She arched an eyebrow, turning back to the counter.  "Here, have some of this." 

On the wall above the counter was a rack of mugs - white, rounded, simple things.  Connie grabbed one, and opening a nearby jar added a tea bag.  There was a kettle on a warming plate, waiting -- it was a favourite way of her mother's, to greet people with a warm cup of tea.  They made the tea themselves; peppermint and chamomile.  It was one of their most popular items, and the least magical item in the store.  Sometimes even just the small ritual of holding a cup and drinking from it was enough.

"Here," She said at last, turning to him to hand him the cup. "It won't fix your problems, but it always helps to pause for a moment."

Her hands lingered on the white ceramic for a moment, and distracted, she looked out the windows to the street, catching a flash of yellow -- Noel.  The glass and the angle almost distorted the view, but Connie caught a dark shadow beside her friend, until it shifted and showed it was corporeal; Vester Medici.  Not completely one of Noel's corpses, then, but living.  Though, she mused, these days he was a far cry from the whelp of a pup that had followed Noel's brother around. 

Dark eyes flickered to Wyatt, and Connie smiled, "Try one of our new hand creams."  She suggested to him, brightly. "They're made with a rose butter Momma makes, she's trying to create a whole line out of it.  You'll never have softer hands."  She went to grab the sample jar, being playful, though she was thinking of her mother's cards that morning.  The Page of Cups, The Devil, The World, The Knight of Swords.  Who was who, today, she wondered.  Who was who.

Posted!! it's more of an intro than anything.... advancing, and just to throw Connie into the ring before you guys got bored waiting for me!!  I imagine that Verity and Connie run a family shop near Vera's Confectionery that sells... organic, homemade shampoos and soaps, things like that, and potions on the side, just quietly.  With some fortune telling thrown in.  At a price.  I like thinking the Carvers tend to keep their noses down and out of the way when it comes to...... town politics.

LOL, I love it!! I can't decide which family to throw my lot in with first.  D:  They're all so COOL.
 Medicis once being actual wolves though.... it's kinda the coolest, lmao. 

In! So in!  I'm thinking... the bastard daughter of one of the five who's now been claimed as a legitimate heir? 

And.... hmmmmmmmmm, I dunno!  But I'm excited to brain storm what we need!!! 

edit: I have a name for one of our families!!!  De Ste Croix.  Sounds fancy, right???

I edited in my character sheets! They're naked tho.  I'm also tempted to make another character...
a bad boy wolf perhaps?  A nazi?  Can I make a nazi werewolf?  C'monnnnnn.  It'd be greattttt.

 

I promise, if I am ever being molested, I shall try very hard not to entice them with my girlish fragility~

And I posted!! At last!!! I am sorry, there's no excuse.  I am enjoying this though - bring on more gore!  Murder one of mine, if you want!  I'll just make more, muhahahaha.  Oh wait... I have more!!

Ha!  I hope the perv fuel is adequate, I'm sorry for perv-blocking, but it will make it more fun?

I like Bogen Wolf though and I am very glad you guys didn't eat my characters yet! 

I'm still laughing at a wolf having the nerv to be so... upsetting.  LOL.

Did I ever mention that that wolf is terrifying? In the purest of ways, of course~

Just popping in, though, to say that I am writing a post, but if I fall asleep before finishing it I apologize, pls don't eat me (yet).

The fall leaves were bright on the pathway as Ivy walked into the school grounds, her black high heels shinning against the rot of them.   She'd walked from home, taking her time, smiling as small witches and princesses and zombies ran around her.  She was dressed as Red Riding Hood tonight, nothing little about her -- her mother had made the outfit for her, selecting the fabrics carefully from a boutique she liked to visit in the City.  Her cape tonight was dark, dark red, heavy satin that puffed out around her, complete with a deep hood and bow.   With a simple white dress underneath it, it was the cape that stole the show.

She hadn't brought a basket - instead, she'd gone with a cheap, plastic jack-o-lantern bucket to complete her outfit, filled with all the Paydays and Mars Bars she could fit.  There was a power to carrying around viable candy, she thought, pushing through the school doors.  The hallways were quiet, weirdly so, and Ivy tilted her head up to the ceiling, as though if she angle herself right, she'd be able to hear Charlotte.   

There was nothing, and Ivy shook out her inky, long pigtails, and made her way to the staircase, pulling out her phone to ring Charlotte and find where she was, exactly.


Aden smiled in response to Charlotte's, easy and small.   "I don't mind.  It beats waiting for Oliver alone." 

Unable to help himself, his eyes flickered to Noah and Lou, the former joking about needing a classmate to appear as a priest.  Could he really not see it? Aden thought, a little sadly.   Even he could, outsider to the drama as he was.   But maybe he was biased - Ivy made no secret of how horrified she'd been for her best friend.   "Who's in charge of the Haunted House?  Maybe they need more webs in there, or something."  He offered, as a phone began to ring.


Under her sheet, her white shield, Lacey stiffened at Mr. Adams voice, complimenting Amanda as the bloodied girl moved to leave.  The former dancer wanted to cry out, to stop her from leaving Lacey alone with him but she was frozen, her voice seized in fear.  This was a man who crept into her dreams and left her shaking when she woke from them.   She almost made a tiny, frightened sound as Amanda darted away -- how could the other girl stand being touched by him so, a firm hand on the shoulder?  Even the whisper of him going past her was enough to leave Lacey trembling with doe-like fear.

She stayed mute as he complimented her handiwork, suddenly aware of how small the room was, how much of a trap.  Would anyone hear her scream?  Would it just be taken as a Halloween scare tactic?  How was her heartbeat not filling the room?  When she felt his fingers glide along the sheet, on her shoulder, curled in tighter, trying to duck away from his touch.   Forcing herself to talk, she said, "I've been helping my mother."  He was an the devil himself, she thought desperately.

Lacey stiffened when Amanda stumbled in, swearing at her.  She hugged her arms around her.  "I didn't feel like wearing one."  She managed to say evenly.   It seemed ridiculous to say outloud, especially to someone like Amanda Banks.  The other girl had gone all out, this year, with her costume -- it made Lacey feel even smaller, and for a moment she hated her own defences, hated why she had to have them.  Damn you, she thought silently.  Damn you to hell. 

Scowling, the other girl grabbed one of the spare sheets they had, a luminous white one -- whoever had bundled up the sheets for the maze had just grabbed whatever they could spare.  Balled up, the sheet Amanda threw hit Lacey in the chest, her hands going to it, gathering it, automatically. 

"Well here, let me help you.  Now you have a costume."

Lacey looked down at the whiteness in her arms.  There was a pair of scissors laying near by -- she glanced up at Amanda, so proud and haughty, and then back down at them.  The other girl thought she was being funny, perhaps -- but a sheet ghost suited Lacey, covered her, and she reached out and took them, unfolding the sheet til she found where she could cut. 

Just as she slipped it over her head, sure she could hear a faint snort from Amanda, Lacey heard the unmistakable sounds of someone else in the room, a phone being touched , and froze under the brilliant white of her newly acquired shield.



Aden hovered closer to Charlotte, out of awkwardness, out of not knowing what to do with himself, his gangly limbs, as Noah - bright, friendly Noah, his face black and white like a skeleton - near bounded in.   Kramer was charming to everyone, a bit like Charlotte, though more easy-going than her bright need to make people happy.  They had dated, for a while, Aden watching from afar -- Oliver was the only one who knew about his quiet feelings for Charlotte, but even he didn't know just how surprised (and glad, might as well admit it) Aden had been when Ivy had started ranting about her best friend's breakup. 

Speaking of.  His mouth flattened, a reflex in thought, and as Lou and Noah traded comments, he asked, "I can help with anything else you need.  I've got time to kill."