[M] Stirring The Pot

[The Gypsy Queen]

There was something wonderfully cathartic about oil painting.

Most of Ciara’s teachers at Butler U had looked down on her preference for the medium, calling it difficult, unwieldy, unrealistic, and archaic. But it was the first type of paint she’d ever worked with and it had always held a special place in her heart as a result. She still had the old ten color paint set her father had bought her for Christmas when she was fourteen – it was cheap and the colors were not easy to mix but she liked to use a little of it in every oil painting, so a piece of her who she was went into them all… especially when she was painting a numena.

Her white tee-shirt and torn denim shorts were spattered with painted, largely green and various shades of peach and beige. She had stepped away from her easel, giving her canvas a look over. It was nearly finished and she was glad. The numena it would call through was an impatient one and had been pushing at her mind incessantly for days. Rather than annoyance, Ciara felt a motherly affectionate for the entity, the barely audible girlish voice in her mind that pleaded and whined to be called into being. She was just struggling with the eyes a little, the little presence in her mind nipping at her to make them just so as she rubbed her jaw line, leaving a trail of black-brown pain from her hand over her cheek and chin.

In his basket next to her easel, Jersey chewed on an old paintbrush gleefully, watching her with curious, overly intelligent eyes. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought Jersey knew when she was calling a new numena and was careful to stay out of her way.

A sudden idea lit through Ciara and she strode back to the canvas, setting at the eyes of the girl she’d formed from charcoal sketch and paint with a renewed vigor. She stayed there for half an hour, not glancing away from her work. When she finally did step away, a euphoric sense of accomplishment and pleasure lit up her eyes. She grinned, waiting patiently for her new numena to materialize. Some of the shyer ones had come into the world elsewhere, but this one had felt anything but shy. She could hardly wait to meet her newest arrival and welcome her to the world.

There was no sound or warning, just the appearance of Midori, who now stood in front of the painting. She stared at Ciara for a moment and silently wondered how she got here. She tries to remember what she was before, as she must have been something before this. But all memory fo that was now gone; except for the recollection of being incredibly excited. Though right now, that lingering feeling of excitement was mixed with curiosity.

Midori took a few moments and looked herself over, stretching and wiggling her fingers and running her hands over her body. She stretched her arms over her head and continued to stare curiously at the woman in front of her. She noticed that she was as tall as the woman and found herself wondering if everyone was the same size. She also wondered what the woman’s name was and if this as where she lived. For that matter, where did Midori live? Did she have a home to call her own?

Midori examined her clothes for a moment, removing the goggles form around her neck. She held them to her eyes and looked through them, turning for a moment to look at the picture. She brought her hand up to the green mark on her face and rubbed her fingers lightly across it. For Midori, it was as though she were gazing into a mirror She smiled at it, before putting on the goggles and turning back to the woman, a wide grin on her face.

“Midori,” She gasped at the sound of her own voice. It surprised her and she had to take a second to be sure it actually came from her. Her voice had a sweet tone and a somewhat bubbly and girlish quality to it. It was pleasing to her ears.

“Midori on Grass,’ she smiled, tilting her head to the side. “That is my name.”

Ciara smiled softly at the girl, resisting the maternal urge to wipe the smudge on her face and admired the pretty young woman before her. She had short green hair, cut cutely, and delicate lips with a round nose. Her high cheekbones and slender neck gave her an air of grace and nobility. She wasn't admiring her work as much as she was appreciating the girl's beauty, the way a mother appreciates her young and sweet daughter.

" Hello, Midori. I'm Ciara." she said, smiling again. " Welcome."

“Ciara,” Midori said the name as if pondering it. “Thank you Ciara.” Midori smiled and stepped closer to Ciara, bringing a hand up to her cheek to feel her skin. It was soft in her hand and she touched her own cheek to see if it was just as soft. Once she was satisfied, she began to speak again.

“What am I?” She asked the question, but before Ciara had a chance to speak, Midori continued. “Why am I here? Is this your home? Do I have a home? Did you paint all these?” For the last question, Midori pointed at the paintings in the room. She found herself incredibly curious and wanted to learn everything she could from and about Ciara.

Despite the level of curiosity Midori had, she felt that she could trust Ciara. Even feel what she was thinking at the moment. It was a strange sensation to be able to tell that Ciara had a deep feeling of caring for her. And it was a little surprising to her that she felt the same way of Ciara

" This is my home, my studio. I paint here. And I did paint all of those." Ciara answered, still smiling. " See, this is Jersey." she added, showing Midori the little painting that hung near her workspace and then the happy puppy at their feet. " You're here because I called you here, and because I think you wanted to be. It felt like you wanted to be. I painted your source and you came into the world. Just like Jersey and most of the other paintings here. And... well, I'm not exactly sure what you are. We call you numena. You come from some other place, and I called you here because you wanted me to. This can be your home, if you want. We'll talk more about that later. How do you feel?"

“I don’t know,” Midori giggled, kneeling down to pet Jersey. “I feel like everything is all brand new. I want to see everything. I guess I feel…excited. And I would love to stay here with you.” Midori continued to play with the dog and looked up at Ciara.

“Before I came here,” Midori spoke softly. “Did I tell you anything?

Ciara knelt with Midrori, regarding the girl and Jersey together. It was a sweet picture, the kind that would stay in her head for a lifetime.

" No..." she started slowly. " It wasn't like actual talking. Just a feeling I got. I could feel you."

“I think I understand,” Midori shook her head. “I can feel you now. I think you are a part of me. I don’t know," Midori nodded. "But I am happy to be here.” Midori looked into Ciara’s eyes, smiling. She took the goggles off her eyes and hung them back around her neck.

“Do I have a purpose here?” Midori looked at Ciara curiously.

" Well you're the same as everyone else now. You have to find that out for yourself." Ciara said, smiling at the memory of all her numena, who had asked the same question and found their answer.

Midori frowned slightly, not really happy with the answer, She didn’t know what this life would hold for her. But she did know one thing for sure right now, she felt a closeness to Ciara.

“Can I stay with you? Will you show me your world? Your studio?” The smile had returned and her voice was soft and she stared at Ciara much the way a child would stare at her mother.

" You can stay as long as you want, Midori." Ciara said with a smile, standing. " But I have an appointment to keep. Wanna come?"

Midori thought for a moment to say no. It was the fear of being left alone that prevented her from saying it. She did want to examine her current surroundings more, but she felt an overwhelming need to stay by Ciara’s side.

“I would like that,” Midori smiled, shaking her head. “Where are we going?”

" We're going to see Jack at the Tombs." Ciara said. " He tells stories. Sometime he talks about the Long Ago, and he says that's where numena, like you, come from. I thought you might like to listen."

“I really want to go,” Midori shook her head smiling. “Will there be others there? Others like me?”

" Some of my other numena might come. Sometimes Paddy Jack and Solemn John come too, but their not my numena. But Paddy Jack is very shy and Solemn John has his work. So no telling." Ciara explained while pulling her sandals on. It was a hot summer this year. " Come on, we'd better go."

[roan]

This morning. . .

“You know what Dredge? Fuck you! I’m never helping you with shit, anymore. This is the last time you screwed me over, prick!” It wasn’t the first time Alisia had to cut ties with someone over pills. You can only give rainy days so many times before the “boss man” aka Dad starts taking away your own share. Dredge was a slim ball anyway, always trying to slap her backside and grab at her waist whenever she was on her runs. His advances disgusted the rodentea but she sold to him regardless. After he’d recently lost his job he relentlessly said, “I’ll pay you back, I swear. Just give me the goods.”

Today was the final straw. Alisia had even woke up early to see the man, only to be told: “I ain’t got a job yet. You got to wait.” Well Alisia had waited long enough. If the man didn’t pay soon he’d be dead and he knew it. When the front door to Dredges house slammed into his face after watching the short blonde bitch curse him like a dog he knew he had to do something.

The man rushed out of his house, catching the slender shoulder of Alisia. She knew he was right behind her, knew he was going to grab her. She let him. The movement of him turning her only gave her more momentum as she raised her small first to the left side of Dredge’s temple. He straightened stiff as a board before falling straight back onto the littered pavement.

“That’s what,” kick “you get” kick “you motherfucker!” Alisia could feel her blood pumping hard in her wrist and neck as she stood over him with balled first, the skin over her knuckles white from the anger she felt. The audacity! Never had anyone tried such a thing, no one ever dared. Being the daughter of a drug lord had its advantages.

Present. . .

Besides the everyday socializing that came with her day to day life Alisia found much pleasure in what most girls do: shopping. And why not? The girl had money out the wazoo! And after what she gone through this morning she had no wish to see any more the scum she sold to.

Alisia was browsing through jeans when she heard the voice of her cousin Xec outside the store. She immediately tried to duck out of sight, even going as far to snatch a pair of large sunglasses off a rack and slide the onto her face. It was to no avail though for Xec, after snapping closed his cell phone, walked into the store.

“Alisia!” He exclaimed as he walked towards her, “I heard about what happened this morning.”

“Yea, the whole fucking city knows.” Alisia snapped back. “So what?”

“I heard you gave him a concussion.”

“Right. I didn’t hit him that hard.” Adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder the short blonde leaned her hip against the cashier’s counter, placing a pair of earrings and a belt on it. A white leather wallet was thrown next to her items by Xec, a faux pout and batting blue eyes matching her own meet her narrowed gaze.

“Uncle Ket not paid you?” Alisia asked knowing Xec’s father to be a stickler.

“Yeah,” Her cousin replied softly, his eyes falling to the floor. “I’ll get back with you, cuz. I promise.”

After paying for her things and shoving the expensive wallet to Xec Alisia walked out the store without saying a word. Her next course of action: coffee, her legal addiction.

[Enigma]

Theo managed to hold it together when the pack leader dropped her off at the bus stop with a ticket and her belongings all stuffed into a duffel bag bag.

"He loves me," she told him fiercely as she climbed out of the cab.
James sighed, shaking his head.
"Change is hard on wolves," he said flatly with his warm, golden eyes. "Can't be pregnant and change, baby can't take it. But you're not a wolf. Jack doesn't love you - he wants children. Children you can give him. Ain't fair to you, ain't fair for him."
"Jack will come for me!"

James stared back at her silently. She could feel her face burning. James was the pack leader and his father, Jack was third in the pack. He wouldn't challenge.

Theo slammed the truck door and hefted her duffel bag, staggering over to the sign.

James sighed, glancing behind him. In the distance, the silvery bus came around the curve. Walking over, he reached into his pocket and handed her a check. She stared back at him, unmoving.

"Take it," he growled. "You'll need money until you find a job."

Theo took the check, folding it up and putting it in her jeans pocket, then looked away as the bus pulled up with a loud hiss. The door squeaked open and the driver stared down at her.

"Need help with that bag, Miss?" he drawled.
"I've got it," James replied, taking it from her, something in his voice making the driver lean back respectfully. He carried it over to the side door and slipped it in the storage compartment, then closed it shut firmly.

He stared at her, and with a swallow she stepped inside the bus, handing her ticket to the driver.
"Take any seat."

"Theodora," James said, his soft voice carrying over the soft rumble of the bus engine, "Take care of yourself."

The door squeaked shut behind her and she stumbled back until she found an empty seat half back and slid into it.

It was then she realized she was crying. She was glad the old wolf couldn't see her.

[Ryudo]

“Look, Old Tony, all I’m sayin’ is that I know the guy.” Adam hated sitting in Old Tony’s office, there was just something unsettling about it, something that you just could put your finger on.

“I mean I don’t know him well or anything, I jus' seen him around the block a couple of times.” Adam sat back in his chair, maybe it was the smell of the place, cheap cigars and old whiskey. Perhaps it was the fact that the chairs in front of Old Tony’s desk were tiny, in comparison to the big armoire that Tony lived in, making you feel small in comparison. In fact it could have been a myriad of things, but whatever it was didn’t matter, what did matter was the fact that Adam hated every minute of sitting in that room. Old Tony knocked the ashes of his cigar as he leaned forward,

“Adam, you tellin’ me you can’t whack Jon Fitzman just cause you seen him around a couple of times?”

Adam opened his mouth but the boss was already on a roll,

“OK, Adam, you know what? That’s totally fine, hey, I got an idea why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

“You kiddin’ Ol-”

“Of course I’m kidding you Fuck! Let’s follow your train of thought for a minute here,” Old Tony was standing at this point, he loved ridiculing Adam and he never missed an opportunity to do so, “You can’t kill Jon Fitzman because you saw him once or twice, fine...Well then who the Fuck else can you kill? Can’t kill Burt down the street, saw him two days ago, can’t kill Frank over on 5th cause I saw him at a bus stop today, can't kill fuckin' Charlton Heston cause you sam him in Ben Hur! Shit Adam, what do I gotta do? March you around with a fucking blind fold?”

Adam did everything to keep his temper in check, to the point where his knuckles were white and for a moment he could have sworn he tasted blood, “That’s not what I meant Tony, I mean, he looks like a nice guy.”

“Oh, he looks like a nice guy huh? Well then Mr. Fucking Nice Guy shouldn’t have taken out a loan from Old Tony and then thrown it away on cheap prostitutes!”

“Fine, I’ll rough him up, get you your money.” Adam didn’t like the idea of hurting Jon, he did after all seem like a nice guy, but he had to admit that a deals a deal.

“Rough him up? Shit, he’d be countin’ his lucky stars if you just roughed him up!” Old Tony began to laugh as he noisily opened up one of the drawers in his faux oak desk,

“A man like Jon Fitzman ain’t worth a fuckin’ dime anymore. And it’s a shame, I know, but Jon Fitzman can still be of some use, servin’ as a warning of sorts.” Tony rummaged through the desk for a few moments as if he didn’t know what he was looking for, but Adam knew without a doubt what Old Tony was doing,

“So you know this John Fitzman, fine, you don’t have t' kill him,” Tony paused for a moment as he withdrew a handgun from his drawer, “what I mean is you don’t have t’ kill him with you hands.” And with that Tony threw the gun on the desk, a gesture demonstrating that any and all conversation was over. Adam stood and took the gun, he turned to leave but before he could go Old Tony raised his voice one more time,

“And Adam, if my wife is out there, tell the bitch that I want minestrone for tonight.”


--------------------------------------------------

As soon as Adam entered the small apartment Jon Fitzman knew he was dead.

[Maple]

Caleb Green rolled into Newford on a warm southern breeze late one August evening. He drove a rusty old Chevrolet van nicknamed "Grandma" that seemed to be held together by nothing but spider silk and a prayer. He pulled up in front of the first tavern he came across, a little dive on the outskirts of town called The Toadstool.

It was a Wednesday night and The Toadstool was almost empty, just a few regulars talking quietly amongst themselves. But Caleb got their attention when he marched up to the bar and announced he was buying the next round. Soon he was sharing a table with a bunch of lumberjacks, drinking cheap whiskey and making conversation.

At one point, Caleb mentioned demurely that it just so happened to be his birthday.

The Toadstool erupted with fanfare! This noble stranger, alone at a bar on his birthday, became everybody's hero. Not only did all the lumberjacks insist on buying him drinks, they ordered him a slice of pie, which arrived with a lit candle and a wink from the waitress. People from neighboring tables gathered around to join the festivities, which included dancing as Caleb stood triumphantly on a chair and sang along to the jukebox.

By the time Caleb confessed, with sheepish laughter, that it wasn't really his birthday, everyone was so drunk and happy they all just laughed along with him. This lie had no ill consequences - Caleb had been repaid several times over for the round he'd bought, while everyone had the time of their lives.

Of course, no one made out quite so good as Caleb. As so often happened, at last call he found himself with a woman planted firmly in his lap. A brunette perhaps a few years older than Caleb, she had laid claim to him like a child claims a toy to play with. Caleb was happy enough to play along, and they wound up making love in the back of his van, on a weathered mattress perfumed with Nag Champa.

When morning crept in through the tie-dyed curtains pinned over the windows, Caleb awoke to find the woman already out of bed and dressed. She flashed him an awkward smile. "Sorry to run, but I've got work! I'll call you," she said, hopping out the back door. Before taking off she glanced over her shoulder and added, "Welcome to Newford!"

She was long gone by the time Caleb was awake enough to realize they hadn't exchanged numbers, or even names. And he didn't even have a phone. Not that it mattered. Even with the incense fumes getting in the way, his senses could tell she was lying. He shook his head, got dressed, and climbed into driver's seat. The day was young and he had a lot of exploring to do.

Driving into the city, Caleb headed straight for Little Bohemia, that neighborhood where the vibes felt just right. He chose a random parking spot and took to the streets, hunting for the perfect coffeehouse while he enjoyed his morning cigarette.

[Auki]

“You can see it?”
“…Yes.”

Lyia’s reply to her father was simple. She did not like to converse whilst she meditated. A thousand images flickered in the air behind closed eyelids, sometimes appearing like forest fires, crashing through her mind and blinding her of all other visions before being reduced to candle flames, so dim that the slightest movement of her head was enough to snuff them out. Colours; some displayed enough hues to overshadow the most magnificent of rainbows, streaks of vibrancy painted through her mind, swirls of energy like fireworks before her eyes – Sparking, burning, fading – imprinting upon her vision with a vividity that threatened to draw her attention from more important images.

For it was not always the most obvious or the brightest that held the most value. You had to see the shadows of the air, the imperfections of the empty space that housed a thousand fated memories to her mind - not yet seen, not yet known, not yet remembered. For some of the images were dulled, hiding in the shade of another, tentative and cautious in the presence of those far stronger than themselves. For most, to view them was like trying to read a book out the corner of one’s eye. However, those of Sidhe descent knew the pattern of time – like it was both their child and their creator – appreciating the knowledge they were given without attempt to force direction; as such, they saw the things that others struggled to find. The first thing to have been taught to Lyia was to not focus during meditations – The future was littered with events, infinite amounts, and to concentrate on one without reason was to be blind to the truth.

Her father was reflecting upon the future like she was and although neither wished to fixate upon it, there was one image that tempted them. It was barely noticeable, hidden within the cracks, blurred by uncertainty, but it was there. Lyia pressed her lips together tightly in apprehension – similar to how she always did when she foresaw something undesirable – but waited patiently for her father to speak first. He seemed to be struggling with the vision as much as she was though.

Silently, they waited three hours – a far shorter time to Sidhe than to mortals - viewing what else the future had to offer. One did not feel boredom in the presence of the pattern of time but the longer one observed it, the more overwhelming it became. That was why Lyia enjoyed deliberating it with her father; just knowing he was in the room kept her at peace, an anchor to remind her that although these visions would be, they were not now.

“It will all begin in Newford,” he murmured, “…No matter what you do, what will be will be.”
“Only because time knows my decision already,” she replied with a sigh, “What do you want of me?”
“To travel ther-…”
“No.” She bit off the word with an unneeded amount of force, “Running to the sea of cats and fiddles? - With children who cradle delusions of stardust heights bringing fortunes and cry when they find themselves clawing the ground. A dirt rainbow of water - brown, red and clear – and all of it fuelling their forbidden desires. Why must I go?”
Her father arched an eyebrow in her direction, “We both know how this discussion ends. Must we bitter the air with frivolities?”
“The mice which helplessly find themselves between the cats teeth acquire no merit from their enforced sacrifice,” she continued to mutter to herself, paying little heed to his argument. The future continued to flicker on the edge of her vision however, refusing to let her sink into denial.

“I will go to The Tombs. Pray that I have time to return before I get pulled into these events.” Kissing him lightly on the cheek in farewell, she was aware that she had little time to dawdle. The time was approaching and there was much distance to cover yet. She was able to grab a few items of human fashion – sunglasses in particular to cover her eyes – before she forced herself out the door and into a part of the unfolding events.

[roan]

Greg’s Ground was a small café downtown in little Bohemia. It had taken a long walk that gave the drug lord’s daughter a chance to cool down her somber mood before. It had started off terrible but was bound to brighten once the arrived at her destination.
The back way into the café was accessible through a small alleyway giving excess to two grungy looking couches, four grungy looking *cats* and one homemade hooka filling the air with a recognizable stench.
“You guys really need to get a job.” Alisia said with a small smirk played across her lips.
“Eh!” They all replied in unison, one young man with bowl hair cut in need of a trim held up the end of one hoes, thick gray smoke slowly snaking out of its end.
“Take a hit, Alis. We gotta go back to our job here soon. *Cash the bowl* for us.”
“Get some rubbing alcohol, clean that pipe off, and I will.”


After the marijuana laced with cocaine. . .


Alisia never intended on becoming blitzed so early in the day but after her third coffee, not like she needed the caffeine, thought out loud, “Fuck it.” She felt wonderful, like floating on air. She’d gotten a few looks from others in the café as her euphoric state emitted random giggles or a short, almost barked laugh, as she talked to herself within her head. The whites of her eyes had turned from red to pink as the herb passed out of her system as she indulged in the delicious coffee but the amphetamines were still pumping through her veins. The server *heads* inside were busy with cleaning something in their own drug educed state, or trying to take an order with a straight face.
Watching them screw up and catching their hyped mistakes was rather entertaining for a while, so was last month’s issue of Vouge for about twenty minutes, but after a while the runner grew inevitably bored. The entire day was unscheduled, which it rarely was such given her hard-ass of a father, so why not spend it in Greg’s?
Leaning forward on her table the petite young woman looked outside the sole window of the establishment that nearly encased the entirety of its thirty –two store face that looked out into the street. Not until now had Alis bothered to pay attention to the beehive of activity passing her view.
In this part of town the show was as eclectic as it got in Newford; quite colorful.

-----
cats- men/guys/dudes
heads- smokers/ potheads/"druggies"

[Maple]

It was an hour before Caleb finally found his destination, in part because he was very choosy, and in part because he took his time - ducking into galleries and head shops, chatting with street kids, and generally taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city. In fact, he identified the perfect coffeehouse by smell before he even came within sight of its shingle. The unmistakable odor of coffee beans, marijuana and day-old pastries beckoned him to a place called Greg's Ground.

Swinging the door open, Caleb caught his reflection in the window and paused right there to examine himself for the first time that day. He looked like his usual shaggy self, wearing a rumpled short-sleeved plaid shirt and blue jeans, along with a conical straw hat that made him look like a Chinese farmer. He politely removed the hat and tucked it under his arm before proceeding into the cafe, whereupon he strolled right past the counter and into the bathroom.

After washing his face at the sink, Caleb dug a camping toothbrush and a travel-sized tube of toothpaste from his pocket and brushed his teeth thoroughly. Caleb wasn't in the habit of bathing often, but he was a devout believer in the importance of oral hygiene.

Feeling refreshed, Caleb emerged from the bathroom and lit up his second cigarette of the day as he stood at the counter. He ordered a large cup of coffee and then perused the pastry case, selecting a blueberry muffin the size of a softball. After paying and chuckling to himself as the stoned clerk carefully counted his change, Caleb turned and surveyed the seating options.

But before he even had a chance to consider, his attention was immediately drawn to the lone woman seated by the window. There was something about her he couldn't ignore, and it wasn't just her distinctive look or the fact that she was evidently high as a kite. Her smell simply intrigued him.

Following his instincts, he approached her table and gestured with his coffee cup to the empty seat across from her. He was carrying a full load - what with the coffee, the plate holding the muffin, the cigarette between his fingers and the hat beneath his arm - and he made a show of being overburdened, weighing the items in each hand as if preparing to juggle them.

"May I sit here?" he asked the stranger, smiling bashfully. He hoped she wouldn't notice there were plenty of empty tables in the house.

[John]

Midori felt anticipation and curiosity wash over her as her and Ciara headed towards the door. She had already wondered what Ciara’s world would hold, and was now looking forward to seeing it. She didn’t know what she expected to find. She hoped there would be so much to see. So many things to experience as it must hold many wonders. As the two of them stepped form the apartment and onto the street, Midori’s look of curiosity changed to one of confusion.

The first thing she noticed was the noise, which was being generated by the people that moved about on the streets Large metal boxes o wheels held even more people and raced along a black surface which seemed to stretch off endlessly. Occasional the boxes would stop and lights on the corners changed colours allowing more of the boxes to go in a different direction, perpendicular to those that had stopped.

The next thing Midori noticed were the people, many of whom seemed to be in a hurry for whatever reason. They were dressed differently and Midori regarded them curiously, her eyes falling on one man who was standing on the corner, cramming a red tube stuck inside a beige coloured thing into his mouth. Midori’s curiosity peaked and she turned to Ciara.

“Why is he doing that?” Midori’s tone was melodic as she pointed at the man.

Ciara laughed and started down the street for the bus stop. Some numena had a good idea of the world when they came through, others didn't.

" Probably because he's hungry. People eat when they're hungry."

Midori stayed close to Ciara as they moved down the street. She knew what hungry was, though she knew it was something she would never feel. Still, she smiled despite that, silently wondering if she could actually eat.

As the two walked, Midori became aware that some of the men and women walking down the street looked at her strangely. She didn’t know why they stared but it made her uncomfortable. The ones who eyed her were dressed differently than the ones who didn’t; they seemed to be neat and perfectly groomed. Wile the ones that paid her no mind, had long hair and some of the women, had flowers in their hair and painted on their faces. The clothes they wore were brightly coloured in some cases and she found herself slightly drawn to them.

“Why do some people stare at me?” Midori leaned in and whispered to Ciara.

" Well most people don't have green hair. And there are some people who think no one should, I guess." Ciara said, jogging the last few steps to the bus stop. " It's hard to say for sure, though."

“Does that mean-” Midori gasped as she saw two people, a man and a woman holding each other close and they appeared to be eating each other. She watched for a moment and came to the determination that they weren’t. But still the sight was strange and yet Midori found it hard to look away. There was something pleasant about the sight and it made her feel a little tingly.

“What are they doing?” Midori hoped that her endless barrage of questions wouldn’t annoy Ciara, but her curiosity was getting the better of her.

Ciara looked up and smiled at the oblivious couple, slightly envious of their obvious passion.

" Kissing. That's what people do when they love each other." she answered, glancing down the street. The bus was approaching now, she noticed happily.

“Can I try?” Midori chimed happily.

Ciara laughed as the bus pulled up, climbing and paying the toll for both herself and Midori.

" When you find someone you love." she answered as she led Midori to two free seats.

The moment she sat next to Ciara, Midori wrapped her arms around her and pressed her lips into Ciara’s. She did feel an incredibly strong connection to Ciara, and though she wasn’t sure if it was love, she knew they had a bond that transcended this world. Which for her, was enough.

Ciara blinked in surprise but didn't jerk away. Instead she gently pulled Midori off and smiled at her.

" It'll be a different kind of love." She advised quietly.

Midori wanted to protest, but instead, held her tongue. Her first thought was to try again due to the intense feeling of pleasure that the simple act of a kiss gave her. Her body tingled with excitement and she wanted more. But somehow she knew it would be wrong to attempt to force another kiss on Ciara. And despite the pleasure she felt from the act, she couldn’t help feeling that she had done something wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Midori smiled but her eyes seemed to hold remorse. “I won’t do it again.” Midori’s voice was low and she turned to gaze out the window of the long metal box known as a bus, watching the people and buildings and metal boxes which sped along.

" It's okay." Ciara said pleasantly. " Everyone makes mistakes."

Midori nodded her head and continued to gaze to the window, fascinated by the things she saw. The world she was in was so big and wondrous to her. However, her expression changed slightly as the bus drove into the area known as the tombs. Things looked different and far more run down than the other part of the town. The streets were cluttered with garbage which floated in the breeze and the people seemed to be dressed more shabbily than those she had seen before. In some ways, what Midori viewed, made her sad.

“Will there be many people at our destination?” the sadness was evident in Midori’s tone and she seemed to be speaking out loud to no one in particular.

" You never know." Ciara said, glancing out the window as other passengers left and new ones got on at the next stop. " Sometimes there's quite a few, and other times there's just one or two."

Midori turned to face Ciara. As she did, the smile faded from her face and her tone became sombre.

“Why does this part of your home look different?” Midori whispered.

Ciara blinked and laughed in surprise. " Oh this is the city of Newford, sweetie. It's a city I live in. My home was the studio, where we started."

“I understand that,” Midori whispered. “But it looks different from where your studio is. It saddens me. Everything seems so decrepit.”

" Oh." Ciara said, voice lowering softly. " This is the Tombs. People who live here have hard lives... but that doesn't necessarily mean they're sad." The bus stopped again, and this time Ciara stood and guided Midori off.

“Why do they call it the Tombs?” Midori’s curiosity was peaking again as she walked beside Ciara. She knew what a tomb was, and it didn’t make sense to her that people lived in them, let alone this place did not resemble anything like what Midori pictured as a place where people put the dead.

" Because that's what it looks like." Ciara said, stepping towards the expanse of dilapidated buildings, shacks, decaying cars, and other assorted junk. " We're a tad early... the bus is usually late."

"Do we have far to walk from here?" Midori tilted her head to the side, unable to see the school bus.

" Just a bit." Ciara replied, leading the way down a little path that snaked between Moth's junkyard and the Tombs, looking for the little hole in the fence that led to Jack's junked school bus and the little yard where he told stories.

In that moment, Midori decided that when she died, she didn’t want to be in a tomb. She smiled as she walked next to Ciara, quietly examining her surroundings. She couldn’t wait to meet Jack and the others of her kind that may be there as well. She also wondered who else might show up. In fact, Midori was quite intrigued by the thought of meeting other people. After all, Ciara was the only person she knew.

[RubrisLibra]

The tiny bell tinkled above the door of Sugar Town Cakes, announcing a customer. In the back room, Shelby didn’t look up from her delicate work of adding the grass green piping on a birthday cake for one of her long-standing clients, her former Native American Legends professor at Butler University.

“Shelby,” her assistant called from the front of the store, “Ms. Stanish wants to talk to you about a wedding cake.”

Shelby blew her bangs up off her forehead and set down her tools. How many times was she going to have to tell Bev not to yell from the front counter. Couldn’t the girl just walk a few steps to the kitchen work area and talk to her like a civilized human being?

She swept up the stray hairs off her cheeks and back into her braid as walked to the front. “Ms. Stanish, how nice to see you. So DeeDee finally set a date?”

The matronly customer opened her mouth, but before she could reply the door burst open with a roar of laughing college students. One of them looked quietly dazed, another one, wearing a Peace not War T-shirt, was shaking silently, holding his stomach, then finally inhaling with a spastic gasp he began laughing again.

“Oh my god, there they are!” A girl with waist-length brown hair made a dive toward the glassed-in cupcake counter. “We want all of ‘em!”

Ms. Stanish looked frightened and stepped to one side, watching the group, clutching her purse tightly to her bosom.

Four young people, whom Shelby assumed were likely Butler students, gathered rapturously around the glassed-in shelves of assorted flavors of brightly decorated cupcakes, one kneeling worshipfully before them, and – Shelby did a double take – licking the glass!

Shelby spoke in a low voice to her original customer. “Let me just take care of them first and then I’ll have plenty of time to talk with you about your cake, all right? Bev, get Ms. Stanish some jasmine tea, will you?” Then, to the obviously stoned students who were deep into the munchie phase of their experience, she offered firmly, “Twenty cents each, two dollars a dozen.”

The tallest girl, with a paisley bandana around her head, handed Shelby a five dollar bill, then her reddened eyes rose to the slowly spinning ceiling fan. She stared at it, mouth agape, while her cohorts continued to ooh and aah over the cupcakes.

Shelby’s patience was wearing thin. “I have an idea, I’ll put one of each in a box. Twelve cupcakes, that’s three apiece, and you can sit outside at one of the café tables and decide which ones you want to eat.”

It was too easy. They beamed at her. One even clapped excitedly as Shelby tonged each cupcake off a shelf into the white box she balanced in her other hand. She quickly made change and sent them happily out the door.

“Hey, Bev,” she said as she headed for the table where Ms. Standish was sipping her tea and perusing the cake photo book, “do me a favor.” She handed her assistant the change she’d received from paisley bandana. “Run across the street to Greg’s Grounds and get us a couple of double espressos.”

Bev’s eyes widened. “Far out! Thanks, Shel.”

“We deserve it after the day we’ve had.” With that, Shelby pulled out a chair and sat down. “Now, Ms. Stanish, what can I do for you today?”

[Shepherd]

As Shane walked down the streets in the Tombs he felt nothing. Like most he viewed this place with disdain. It was filthy, run down, and not someplace that anyone every wanted to be. He was starting to regret bringing his new Polaroid with him, it had cost him almost half a month's rent, but it was the best fifty bucks he'd ever spent. No one argued with pictures.

He heard a sound from an abandoned old warehouse to his left and froze, instinctively reaching for his gun. He fingered his .45 (http://www.m1911.org/images/welcome.jpg) letting its cool weight calm his nerves. Broad day light didn't matter much here.

Shane looked at the sheer poverty around him and wondered how long people would endure living in this state. Last month there had been riots in Detroit, sure it was over race, not money, but the country seemed to be coming apart at the seems. How long till it reached here, till the forgotten and put upon rose up and took by force the rights denied to them? He started whistling as he walked. Ruby Tuesday. The Stones weren't bad for being British.

Katy had always been the quiet sort, the kind of girl with the ability to just not be noticed. Some of the women who came around and really knew her made a fuss over her, like her sister Kerry, but Katy never let it bother her much. She just when on with her life in Newford, squatting in the Tombs, never far from old Jack Daw.

Moth, Hank, and Lily worried about the new batch of drug dealers that had cropped up in the Tombs, that Katy and Jack wouldn't be safe there. But Jack was stubborn as a mule and wouldn't be moved, and Katy wouldn't go anywhere without Jack.

It was the afternoon, nearly two, and although Jack wouldn't really get going for another half hour, his deep rumbling voice washed over her like a gentle ocean wave. He wasn't telling stories, not yet, so much as he was talking about whatever came into his head. He was warming up, the way athletes did, and Katy could already tell today he would be talking about the Long Ago. He looked the same as he ever did, an old man with dark beyond dark skin and frizzy gray hair and scraggly beard, his eyes piercing and black with his sharp nose and strangely bird-like jaw. To look at him, she didn't share a single physical trait with him. Not a soul who didn't know what to look for could tell he'd fathered her, as sure as Raven stirred the world from his pot.

So Katy sat on the torn remains of the backseat of some junker, watching as Jack moved around his little "yard" in front of the school bus he called home during the summer months, what years he hadn't gotten itchy feet and wandered off, Katy always two steps in his wake. One of Moth's big dogs, Sweetwater, was laying her brick of a head on Katy's lap, tongue lolled out and panting in the heat, begging to be petted, while Jack went about brewing coffee on the fire in front of the bus.

" Too hot for coffee." Katy commented absently.

" Ain't never too hot for coffee, fool girl." Jack rumbled affectionately. " We civilized folk, we drink coffee. That the way it's done."

Katy didn't argue, but rather held perfectly still as she gazed through a crack in the wood fence that surrounded Jack's yard and marked the end of the Tombs and the beginning of Moth's junkyard. A stranger was passing by on the Tombs side, carrying a camera. Jack sensed her stillness and followed her gaze, bright eyes narrowing slightly.

Shane was getting annoyed... fast. He was getting nowhere on his investigation. These new dealers were an evasive bunch to be sure. It didn't help that the lot in the Tombs weren't the most talkative folk, and they sure as hell weren't singing to him when they did pipe up. Didn't they realize he was here to help?

Shane looked around and realized he was almost at the end of the "official" Tombs. Have I walked that far already? he asked himself, feels like I just started. He looked over to the fence that marked Moth's territory. He knew Moth might know what was up, but he also knew he didn't have enough scratch to make him talk.

As the sun beat down on Shane he stopped walking for a minute and rethought his strategy. He'd been hired to find out the identity of the new drug runners, but he was getting nowhere. Even his gifts weren't of any use at the moment cause he had nothing to work off of. What he needed was a starting point, if he found a user he could look for the seller. But trying to find out who in the Tombs was on something and who wasn't might be harder than finding the dealer.

Shane decided that a bit of guidance was in order and reached into his coat pocket. Shane withdrew a small bag of purple silk and reached into it almost reverently. From it he withdrew a small stack of cards similar to playing cards only larger, about the size of his hand. The backside of the cards was plain white except for a diamond like patter of crisscrossing blue and black lines. Shane gave a slight shudder as he stared at his deck, they always made his hair stand on end no matter how often he used them.

Alright, maybe you can at least tell me where to start. He placed the silk bag in his pocket and then drew his first card. The Chariot. Great. Travel. Wonderful, more walking. Means this is probably gonna be a difficult case. Who's next? Pulling a second card from the deck, Shane looked at it in disgust. He was not amused. The Hanged Man. Just what I need, patience. A new point of view. I thought that's what I was getting when I pulled these out. Apparently there's isn't the viewpoint I need. Useless freakin cards.

Shane placed the cards back in the bag and into his pocket. Now he was annoyed. His cards had pretty much said leave us the hell alone and ask someone else. Who else was he gonna ask? The cops? His employer? Moth? Yeah right. Now he was really irritated, what was he gonna do. He took a deep breath to relax himself and calm his nerves, but something was off. Did he smell coffee? Taking a deeper whiff he definitely noted the scent of coffee underneath the stagnant aroma of the Tombs. This confused him greatly. Who in the Tombs makes coffee?

[roan]

It seemed that everyone was busy this after noon, having somewhere to go, something to do. From her seat next to the large window Alisia gave names to everyone she saw. A old woman walking with a cane slow and careful was Olivia. The boy hanging tight to a froufrou poodle’s leash, an angry pinched look on his freckled face, was Victor.

When a tall man dressed in worn denim jeans and a faded plaid shirt groomed himself quickly within his reflection Alisia leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing over her chest as the runner scanned his lean form.

Scruff was his name.

After a quick brush of his hair with his fingers the strange man can into the café. It wasn’t often Alisia saw a new face in Newford. Their names might be unknown but a face she could never forget.

Watching as Scruff waltz into the building his posture full of self-confidence as he made his way to the bathroom. When the door closed behind him Alisia looked down at the luke-warm coffee before her on the worn oak table. ‘Ugh’, she thought while placing a hand over her full belly, ‘I can’t drink another ounce.’ Pushing the mug away the young woman sighed, closing her blue eyes for a moment in thought. It wasn’t often Alisia’s day wasn’t filled with pick-ups, drop-offs, and purchases. ‘Run, run, run little rabbit.’ It was almost as if she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“May I sit here?”

The sudden sound of another person’s voice made the blonde haired girl jump in her seat. How had she not noticed footsteps approach? It was very odd. Turning her head up Alis with her dilated pupils gazed at the one she named Scruff only minutes ago. Taking in his scent at this close proximity he smelled like Colgate and sex. And… something else she couldn't place immediatly.

“If you want, sure.” She said in response with a nod at the seat adjacent of her own.

Noticing his hands were rather full Alis reached for the plate that held a huge muffin. “Here, let me.” If he allowed the rodentea would slowly remove the dish from his hand and set it on the table for him.

“There is a fee, I might add. Can I get one of those from you?” She asked, gesturing with her eyes to the cigarette, “Trying to stop. But you know how that goes. The names Alisia. You?”

[Enigma]

Most of the trip passed in a blur - brown fields and dirt roads, green trees, white-painted houses, the clear blue of the sky, the shadowy dark of the bus, all blurred by her tears. But nobody bothered her - they couldn't see her if she didn't want them to. Only James, the Old Wolf, could.

Eventually the tears stopped and she could see her red puffy face in the faint reflection of the window. This was not the way to come to a city. She'd been to Newford before - a long trip with the Old Wolf and his sons to do some shopping and to practice their people skills. The city Jack had promised to take her away to. A place on the edge, where one could frolic in the grass in flesh or fur without anyone noticing.

She was going to need a place to stay. A place for herself, away from the others. Forget roommates - who'd know what they'd do if they caught her changing? But no roommates meant more cash for privacy. Who knew how far James' check would stretch - and for how long?

The brown fields began giving away to more concrete buildings and people walking on side walks. Newford wasn't much of a city, but it was more than the small town the Wolf Pack ran. Of course, they made sure it stayed that way.

Finally, the bus turned into the Bus Station and came to a halt. The driver stood up and called out, "Newford!". With a sigh, Theo climbed out of her seat and made her way off the bus to collect her bag. She'd need to take care of the check and find a cheap place to spend the night. The Tooms maybe - nobody noticed anything in the Tooms, James told her.

[Maple]

Caleb smiled gratefully when the girl took his plate, which freed him to position his cigarette in the ashtray on the table and grab a pack of Luckies from his back pocket. He shook one out and handed it to her. When she brought the filter to her lips he stood at the ready with his lighter ablaze.

"Don't quit while you're ahead," he quipped before dropping into his seat. "My name's Caleb." The Luckies and lighter back in his pocket, his plate and cup on table and his hat resting in his lap, Caleb took the opportunity to offer a handshake. His grip was warm and firm. "I'm new in town," he said.

Never breaking eye contact with Alisia, he resumed smoking while generously spooning sugar into his coffee cup. He took his coffee dark and sweet. When he took his first sip, his shoulders relaxed and the whole space around him seemed to change, as though he was emanating an aura of calm.

[Ryudo]

Whether it was because he was full of anger or full of remorse , Adam slammed Jon Fitzman’s, or to be more correct, what was once Jon Fitzman’s apartment door with great force. The door nearly fell off it’s hinges as it rattled loudly, shaking the flimsy apartment and its other inhabitants. Adam proceeded without looking back, he placed his hands firmly in his pockets as he increased his pace, wishing that he could just walk away. But in truth he knew that there was no escape, not for one in as deep as Adam.

Back when Adam was a kid, and even into his late teens, whenever he wanted to escape, he’d find a secluded spot and sing. Sadly, as the years wore on the singing became more and more infrequent, until one day it simply stopped. Occasionally, when Adam was at his lowest, he’d think back to those days; he wasn’t a beautiful tenor, but still it wasn’t about the music but more about the freedom and the release. Nevertheless, times had changed, and Adam feared that if he returned to singing it wouldn't be the same.

Just as Adam was about to turn and look at the apartment he realized that he had walked all the way down to the Tombs, home, sweet home. In truth, Adam would need to return to Old Tony before turning in for the night, and so he set off in that direction.

Adam passed his own ramshackle apartment, identical to the twenty other surrounding it, and continued on past four other run down complexes before he came to a stop. While Old Tony’s place was out of the Tombs and down a few more blocks, something had caught Adam’s attention. Standing in the front of what appeared to have once been a school bus was a haggard man meandering around the open patch of land. Adam brushed it off initially, but for some reason he lingered a bit longer, just to see what the old man was doing. As he watched the man move to and fro, and Adam started to receive the faintest inkling that he might have seen this man before, perhaps even in this very spot. As Adam’s curiosity grew larger he began to fear that someone would notice him staring, so he quietly maneuvered himself closer, taking refuge in the shade of a nearby elms tree. On one hand he wanted to stay out of sight, on the other hand he wanted to hear what the man had to say. And so Adam remained there, the large man attempting to remain hidden, all the while tentatively examining the situation before him. He hoped he was concealed, but for some strange reason Adam felt that it didn’t matter how well he hid himself from the old man.

[Auki]

She was going to be later than she’d hoped but she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Her mind queried whether she would be able to make it on time if she ran but she already knew she would not attempt to speed her pace. When one could see the path of time, life itself became scripted. Some might find it depressing. To her, it was a relief.

The most difficult part was learning to accept that you couldn’t change what you saw, that even a Sidhe was not powerful enough to alter what had already been foretold. After all, she knew she would fall in love even though she also knew it would end unhappily. If she could control fate, she would give herself a fairy-tale ending or force herself to never love in the first place but no matter what she did, when the time came, her logic would fall victim to her heart’s desires.

She gave a small skip over a gutter as she knew she should, stopping mid-way across the road without glancing to either side to give way to the bicycle she knew would cross her path. The cyclist gave her a bewildered stare as he sped by, mouth half-open where he had begun to shout a warning, the words dying when she had randomly halted to allow him past. She smiled in amusement and trotted to the sidewalk as he disappeared around a corner, still looking confused.

It was a paradox in itself – She had stopped because she had seen herself stopping and in doing so had let her past self know to stop.

Her smile continued down the street as she pondered the concept of the paradox, a frequent past time for her, and she paid little heed to her changing environment. Even when she found herself hopping over numerous garbage bags, it took her a while to realise she had reached the area known to the locals as ‘The Tombs’. It had been a quicker walk than she had assumed but she would still be late…at least, in comparison to the time she’d wished to arrive. She enjoyed being the first to show up but she knew that others were already present in the junkyard - A shame but not something she could have avoided. If anything, she should count herself lucky that she had not destined to be harmed by the slum’s inhabitants that day.

She was about to cross the street when she found herself twisting a half-circle and cocking her head to one side, distracted by the flickering of a vision on the edge of her sight.

She would approach him and greet him, call him Shane and flash a grin.

It was easier to follow instinct than to think, weaving through the area and knowing that she would find him. It was luck in a sense, considering the random way in which she navigated herself, but more like throwing the dice and knowing the outcome before they landed. She had no control over the outcome but she knew when she was going to win.

As such, she found herself walking up behind the man as he appeared to sniff the air, adjusting her sunglasses to make sure they covered her eyes. She had never been one to sneak up on others – stealth not being her forte – and so spoke as soon as she knew he would hear her, keeping her voice low enough that she didn’t disturb those in the nearby yard. “Hey there, Shane. Having any luck?”
She inhaled tentatively through her nose, catching the obvious scent of coffee, “I wouldn’t stray too far. Events here may be far more beneficial to you.” She shot him the light-hearted grin she had predicted, curious what he would make of the situation.

[roan]

An almost pleased grin crossed over her façade, illuminating silver blue eyes lined in kohl. While running her free hand through choppy length blonde hair, a style she’d given herself sitting on her bathroom counter one heroine induced night.

“You sure as hell picked a place to rest your head in, pal.” Drawing on the cigarette she tapped off ashes into her empty coffee cup. “This is Crow City by the locals. It’s a beautiful place in the day,” With a small wave of her hand she gestured to the warm sun pouring into the streets outside their large window. “By night,” the petite young woman smiled devilishly, “well, lets say that’s when the animals come out.”

Leaning back in the worn wooden chair she occupied, the front legs coming up off the floor as the rabbit reclined. “If you’d like, I know of a party in my part of town this night. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

[Maple]

The coyote matched the rabbit's grin with a devilish one of his own - but his seemed an innocent brand of devilry, like a little boy caught up in some minor mischief. "Good thing I'm an animal lover," he said gamely. His eyes remained fixed on Alisia as he tore into the blueberry muffin as though it were a carcass. Crumbs rained down on his Chinese hat.

"A party?" Caleb echoed after washing down a mouthful of muffin with a swig of coffee. "Will there be any animals there?" As Alisia sat back he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. His eyebrows seemed to dance on his forehead as he nursed his cigarette and awaited her reply.

[Shepherd]

"Hey there Shane, having any luck?"

The words floated to him, soft and light as air and it took him a moment to realize that someone had actually spoken. Once his brian registered that there was indeed someone else there, he turned towards the words, his hand instinctively grabbing his gun.

“I wouldn’t stray too far. Events here may be far more beneficial to you.”

"Well thanks for the advice miss," Shane said, tipping his hat to the lady. "I haven't had much luck so your advice is just as good as anything else I have to go on." He flashed her his winning, if slightly sly, smile, all the while his mind was running in a thousand directions. Who is this woman to be so casual wandering through the Tombs? Didn't she know how dangerous this place could be? How does she know my name? Have we met before? Surely I'd remember meeting such a pretty girl.

"Now, if you don't mind my askin, miss, whats a lovely lady such as yourself doing wanderin around a place like this? Surely someone such as yourself knows the dangers this place holds." Shane couldn't help but feel some unease about her. She had this aloof, ethereal quality that he couldn't quite place, and between that and not being able to see her eyes he was clueless as to her intentions. A sensation that was quite for alien and unsettling for him.

"And have we met before? I apologize, but I know I would remember meeting a creature as charming as yourself, but you seem to know me, which puts me in quite a bind." He flashed another of his winning smile with a soft chuckle, playing off the discomfort that he felt with a casual mask of polite charm. Maybe playing the nice, dumb, PI will get some info out of her, he though. He couldn't get a read on her with his power either, one minute she was the High Priestess or the Star, the next Judgement and the Fool. Fate was quite fickle with this woman it seemed, which meant she was either rather important, or a complete nobody. He would have to explore more later, but the thought of either meeting him at such an odd place and time couldn't be a good sign.

He made sure his hand didn't stray from his gun and tried to draw her attention away from where his right hand rested by playing with his hat in his left. He wasn't about to take any chances. In Nam the women were just as lethal as the men, a lesson he'd learned the hard away. No amount of grace, beauty or innocent airs was gonna make him second guess his insticts. And his instincts said something wasn't quite right.

[Mirage]

Leta screamed. The sound tore from her throat before she even recognized what it was or why she was doing it. The moment she became conscious of the sound it dwindled and died, her mouth closing slowly. She searched her mind, trying to remember why she had been screaming but there was nothing. It wasn't as though she hit a wall but rather as though she stared into an abyss where she had once had memories. She tried to touch her to see if perhaps she had sustained some injury but a parcel in her arms stopped her hands and then she noticed the blood that was spattered over it and her.

Now the scream seemed justified. Leta stumbled backwards and her knees collided with a bench on which she abruptly sat. Slowly she unbent her arms and examined the object. It was small, the size of a piece of paper and covered in what was once a white cloth, now it was red from blood. As she gazed at the innocuous package a feeling of impending doom filled her, as though somehow this little thing would destroy her and all she knew. She knew so little that all was precious and the idea of destruction scared her silly. She laid the package on her lap with trembling hands.

She let her eyes travel away from herself to the surrounding area. "I'm in the Tombs!" she said softly in surprise. Surprise in both her location and the fact that she knew where she was. She remembered nothing and yet words and place names leaped into her mind. She was in Newford in the Tombs. She even knew her own name, Leta. Why couldn't she remember anything else? Then she looked at her blood-soaked t-shirt again and shuddered. Perhaps that was why...

Leta jumped to her feet and hugged the strange package to her chest. Things were so strange and she was so unsure...She began to walk away from the bench and into the maze of broken down buildings. The Tombs was only sad during the day, as it was now, but she wanted to be out of here by night. From the walk she began to jog and then to run. Before she knew it, she was running full out through the streets, her package pressed against her heaving chest. At some point she must have blacked out because suddenly she was standing before a chain-link fence and two women were staring at her. One had bright red hair and the other green. Leta stared back at them.

[The Gypsy Queen]

" Christ!" Ciara cried, hand going to her heart as she spotted the woman covered in blood. She immediately ran towards, hands outstretched in a calming, comforting manner. " Are you okay?" she asked. " What happened?"

Newford was no stranger to violent crimes.

It took her a moment to realize what the niggling feeling in the back of her mind was. The girl before her was a numena, like Midori.

Numena don't bleed, she remembered.

" What happened?" she repeated, taking an involuntary step back from the girl. As she did, her foot caught on a bit of pipe and she tripped. To her good fortune, a pair of hands caught her. She looked up and found herself being supported by a pair or identical redheads, Katy and Kerry. Only Katy's short cropped hair and silver pendant set her apart from her sister. The two were close but Katy was a sure sign Jack Daw was nearby, as the she was never separate from him.

Other people had begun to arrive as well, if one used the term "people" loosely. A few rooks and jays, and lovely mockingbird girl named Marguerite whom Ciara had come to know. A few of Ray's kids and grandkids were arriving as well, all sporting brilliant red hair, a sign of the growing amiability between the corbae and canidae families. Marguerite was heading that front, and had been seen regularly in Cody's own company. The sky above had begun to fill with crows, and those of Newford whose eyes had been opened were arriving.

She got back onto her own feet and kept Midori close. Isabel made a fuss over Midori, and it was no wonder. Isabel was a creator as well, and had a soft spot for numena, if her lover and first numena John was any hint. Jilly was around as well, a bouncing ball of happiness as always. The crowd slipped into a nearby lot, where the crows harassed a couple of dogs that sat with Moth, the owner of the Junkyard.

And in the middle of it all was old Jack Daw, sitting in front of a fire and stirring a big pot of coffee. He was humming to himself and the chatter of his audience began to die down. Even the crows settled on their perches, waiting to hear what stories Jack had to tell today.

Ciara sat down on the ground as near to Jack as she could get and pulled out her tape recorder from her pack. It cost a near fortune, but Jack's tales were so precious, she couldn't bear the thought that someday he might leave and take them with her. She hit the record button and watched the gathering crowd peacefully, though the memory of the numena girl covered in blood haunted her.

[hyacinthgirl]

Ran had slept in quite late that day. It wasn't a particularly uncommon practice for her, although it occasionally ate into her profits when she missed the lunch crowd. Busking in any of the nicer parts of the city while all of the office workers in their suits were walking the streets could make Ran enough money to eat off of for a few days. People tended to be more stingy in the evenings.

Still, Ran didn't let it get her down as she blinked at the early afternoon sunlight falling into her little hole. She'd slept in some backyard the night before, smushed between a ratty old picket fence and a rusting shed in the Tombs. The Tombs didn't scare Ran, not anymore. Enough people knew and liked her now that she felt safe, even safe sleeping in someone's back yard. No one had chased her with a stick or a gun for a few years now.

She had combed her hair with her fingers and smoothed her clothes with her palms as she did every morning. Every couple of days she would ask this or that family or business if she could please use their shower, did the have an old toothbrush, things like that. Right now her spare clothes and few other personal effects were stashed in the back of another shed a few streets over. And so she survived. The only thing that Ran carried with her was her guitar, safely stored in a waterproof gig bag that she had begged off of Moth down at the junkyard. She couldn't bear to part with the instrument. It was her closest friend.

Even so, Ran didn't pity herself, and it was with a smile that she began to meander the Tombs that afternoon, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of the grey zip up hoodie she was wearing. She was just walking to feel the ground under her feet. Streets passed by, and faces and voices, barely breaking into Ran's consciousness--though she returned waves and smiles as if she were paying attention. Really, though, she was writing a new song in her head, a swaying and happy lullaby of a song. So she almost didn't notice her own feet slowing down until she had come to a stop and looked down at her toes peaking out from beneath her jeans. Catching herself staring, she let out a little laugh. Good old feet. They knew that she had just about run out of road, even if she wasn't paying attention. She'd come to the end of the Tombs, just by the junkyard.

Ran was about to turn around when she noticed a man and a woman standing by the junkyard fence across the street. It was an odd place for people to congregate, and they looked more than a little out of place, hanging in the shadows in their nice clothes. Deciding took no time. Stepping off the curb, Ran crossed the street briskly, waving at them with a bright smile drawn all over her face. "Hello!," she called. "Are you two lost?" Her only thought was to help them out, of course. Well, maybe not her only thought. Didn't well dressed strangers in the Tombs tip for help finding their way out of the dangerous area? Ran was hoping so.

[Mirage]

Leta let out a little sob of relief as the woman approached her, worry in her voice, but then she was backing away with suspicion in her eyes and then she was gone, whisked away by two young women. "No!" Leta cried, stepping forward and reaching out as though she could return the woman to the spot she had been taken from simply from her own will. She didn't know what the hell had happened to her but she needed someone right now and there wasn't anyone!

She moaned and sank to the sidewalk, the object still crushed to her chest as she drew her knees up and began to cry. She was covered in blood and sticky and hot and out of breath and she didn't know who she was or where she lived. All she knew was that she was in the Tombs and that her name was Leta and that she was probably in trouble. She didn't know what to do! The woman had shown her sympathy but something had made her afraid...Was it the blood? Leta looked down at herself through a blur of tears and sniffled. She looked a fair sight but she didn't know where to go or what to do... "Please...someone help me...," she whispered. She curled up on the sidewalk, the object tucked up against her.

[roan]

*Alisia was amused by whom she had sit with her this evening. Something about him was… more. There was a moment where she saw her mind’s eye; lush green folige and rich brown dirt was a forest. The vision lasted but a flash second but reveled a sand brown coyote as it ran it’s long pink tongue over ivory fangs.

“Will there be any animals there?” Caleb asked almost in tune with this sight. Alis moved a hand to her brow acting as if moving those blonde bangs; yet truly she had to close and blink her eyes to gather her wits, so to speak.

“Oh yes, my newly aquatinted friend.” A playful smile had dimples showing in her cheeks as her small pale hand snatched, given he not stop her, and placed the filtered end to Alisia’s own lips and inhaling.

“It’s a real jungle where I’m from.”

*After Caleb had devoured his fruity baked good in the most manly way possible, he sat back and downed another gulp of coffee. As Alisia paused to adjust her hair he squinted, sensing something hidden in that gesture; he cocked his head slightly but said nothing.

"Well then, sounds like I came to the right place." He set down his mug and began fiddling with the leftover muffin liner, like a predator toying with the ravaged bones of his prey. "When is this party? I can bring along some... party favors." He smiled with pure, saintly benevolence and took a long drag from his cigarette.

*”Party favors, huh?” Alisia smirked and chuckled, leaning forward on the table to rest his dainty shin in the palm of her left hand.

“I think I know what you’re talk about and there is no need. Keep if for you own stash. We’re where going there will be plenty,” her exaggerated emphasis on the word was joined with closed eyes and a small wag of her head. “already there. Plus, it’s part of my business. Can’t have you fucking with that, can I?”

Maybe twenty minutes passed as Caleb finished his meal of muffin and coffee before Alisia suggested they leave. “If you’re up for it. The party won’t be for a while, so we have some time to spare if you care for a walk.”

[Maple]

Caleb arched an eyebrow when Alisia mentioned her business, but didn't comment on it. At the mention of a walk he literally began bouncing in his seat.

"Walks are my specialty!" He leaned forward in a conspiratorial fashion, his face coming quite close to hers, but he continued to speak casually. "Hey, think you could show me around town? I could use a good tour. So far I've seen a few art galleries, some bars, a couple head shops, lots of coffeehouses, a bookstore, a nice looking park, and uh... a McDonald's." Caleb flashed a grin, then sat up straight and clapped his hands on the table excitedly. The caffeine must be kicking in. "Maybe you can help me find a good record store!"