#( thread: oliver )

[longislandcharm]

PARTIES: Winter (@longislandcharm) and Oliver (@oliver--fox) TIMING: Current SUMMARY: Henry notices a familiar face in a shop window. Winter and Oliver are both suspicious and confused. WARNINGS: None

“Winter, what do you mean? The beak is not a beacon-” Henry cut off, stopping in his tracks which in turn caused Winter to do the same. She looked back at the ghost, eyebrow raised as she followed Henry’s line of sight to a shop window. There were a bunch of plants and a lone man working to rearrange them in a specific way but other than that she couldn’t see anything that would have caused Henry to stop the way he did. “What? Do you want me to get a ficus or something?” Instead of answering, Henry just moved forward towards the shop window, his eyes glued to the person standing just beyond. She was so confused that she didn’t even question the ghost she just followed.

Henry stood staring inside the shop. More specifically, he was staring at the man in the shop. Eyes wide, a small trace of desperation filling his pale features, his head suddenly turned in her direction which made Winter jump. “Dammit, Henry, what is going on? You look like you’re the one who’s seeing a ghost.” 

“I think I am, actually.” Both of them looked back inside the store, Henry with a longing in his eyes and Winter more confused than ever. “He’s not dead.” She only said it after some hesitation, waiting until she was absolutely sure that the guy wasn’t a specter. Henry shook his head at her and started to move towards the front door of the shop. “No, he’s not, but I know him. Or my wife knew him at least.” Okay, that was new. She hadn’t gotten the story of his family out of him yet, the medium only certain of a few facts. Henry lost track of his family a few months after his death and he didn’t like to talk about them much. A wife and two daughters, that was the extent of her knowledge. “He and my wife were friends, Winter. Maybe he knows what happened to her and the girls.” 

Well, this was going to be fun. The guy looked young, much younger than he should if he was friends with Henry’s wife back in the seventies. There was no telling what he was or if he could even see Henry or not but one look at Henry’s excited face and Winter knew she was a goner. He was pulling her into this and that was that. She rolled her eyes, yanked the front door open, and stomped inside before she could change her mind all while Henry yelled facts she could give this man. “Excuse me, Kevin? That’s right, right?” She looked back at her ghost, the man nodding at the question in her eyes, before she gave the shopkeeper a smile. “Do you believe in ghosts, Kevin?”

With the new school year starting and fall starting to creep into the air slowly; it meant that Wicked’s Rest would soon become home to not only the new college students coming through but also those who loved the spooky aesthetic that the town was known for. So, Oliver figured a sleepy afternoon was the best time to rearrange some of the store and get it prepped for whoever may be coming by. He was moving some of the flowers into a specific formation; a kind of ombre of colors. Penelope, one of his employees who had been a part of the store for the last year or so had suggested it, and he had to admit, it did look rather good. He was moving one of the larger pots when the door opened with what Oliver felt was perhaps a bit more force than needed. 

Oliver set the pot down and made his way to the front. He had just opened his mouth to welcome the stranger and see how he could help when they asked if he was Kevin and it caused him to freeze. He hadn’t been Kevin since the 70s, when he was living in Brooklyn and attending NYU for a master's in…French? Or was that when he got his doctorate in English? Something along those lines. Needless to say, the person standing in front of him didn’t immediately look familiar and it was unlikely that Oliver had met them back then, so he decided to go with the safer option: deny deny deny.  “Oh-” Oliver cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for, my name is Oliver” He added an apologetic smile before tilting his head at their follow-up question. 

“Ghosts?” Oliver asked, eyebrows crinkled for a moment before a possible explanation came to him. “Oh! Are you doing like, a ghost hunting video thing?” It wasn’t uncommon for these types to come through every once in a while; though summer wasn’t the typical season for them to come by. He supposed that the recent weirdness may have called some too early though. He didn’t see any cameras or microphones, but those always seemed to be getting smaller, so who knew? “To answer your question though, I think it is probably likely? I would rather not be on camera though…” Oliver trailed off. This didn’t seem like a TV show type of situation, but you could never be too careful. 

“Oliver?” Her eyes went to the ghost who was now moving to stand beside the shop employee and shaking his head at that name. “No, this is him. I know it’s him. He used to be Kevin. He would come home with Becky and join us for dinner sometimes, mostly nights when she was going to school.” Becky…that must have been his wife’s name. Winter pressed her lips together before taking a breath to try this again. “I think we both know you used to be Kevin.” Ever so blunt as always, she tilted her head at him, the look in her eye challenging as if she were daring him to argue. She was doing all of this purely through faith in Henry. She trusted that he wouldn’t lead her astray.

 She couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at her lips with his question. The irony of it all was too amusing. “God, I wish.” Winter briefly wondered if he had seen her show before but then shook the thought off. This wasn’t about her, it was about her ghost companion. “No cameras, you don’t have to worry about that.” Nor should he worry about the bitter tone she had when saying that. One day…one day she would have those cameras back in her own face and life would be right again.

“It’s not just likely, it’s a thing. There’s one next to you right now and he says he knew you in another life. I don’t think he’s lying.” She knew he wasn’t but that was a little bit too aggressive to say, right? Bringing a hand up to run her fingers over delicate petals, Winter shrugged a shoulder. “Did you know a Becky in the seventies? As well as her husband, Henry? They had two daughters, both younger I think.” She flicked her gaze to Henry, watching him nod but not take his eyes off of Oliver or Kevin or whoever he was. “They would have lived on Long Island. You went home and had dinner with them often.”

Oliver’s eyes widened a fraction at the other’s insistence that he was Kevin. It made him look at them closer. He hadn’t gotten the internal alarm that they were a fae; were they some other sort of long-living species he had dealings with in the 70s? As much as he tried not to make enemies, it was impossible to say that he hadn’t made a few along his journey. Her insistence that there were no cameras should have made him relax, but instead, it added even more tension to his body. If there were a camera, then it could be argued that she was just putting on this front, trying to get a reaction for clicks. Something seemed off about this whole interaction though, it almost felt like the other was reading off a teleprompter or something. 

At the statement that there was a ghost next to him, Oliver fought against every single one of his urges to jump and turn around. It would have been easy, but he also knew that it was very, very unlikely that he would be able to see anything; even if this person was telling the truth. He figured that if he was able to see ghosts, he would have stumbled upon this skill previously. Especially with how often he hung out in cemeteries. Instead, he kept his gaze on the actual human (?) in front of him. The weird sense that he had been getting was clicked into focus, the ghost was probably feeding her the information.  “Say I believe you.” Oliver started, eyes flicking to one of the plants near the door. He focused on it for a moment, watching as a root came out from the top of the soil and turned the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ before releasing it. This seemed like a conversation that was best handled in private. Even if he would likely be in for a headache later. 

“Did Henry send you here for something specific?” Oliver asked, wracking his brain for whatever he possibly could have done to piss this ghost off. Hadn’t Henry died? Something to do with a factory accident? He could have sworn that he went to the funeral and everything. Oliver was pretty sure that he and the guy had been on pretty good terms. Oliver had been in some of his wife’s classes, and she seemed to sense that he was still grieving a previous loss and had invited him over for dinner a few times. “How did you even find me?” That was really what was setting him on edge; he was not looking to have others come slithering out of the shadows of his past to have a conversation. 

There was a rustle of some kind coming from behind her, Winter turning her head just enough to keep him in her periphery but also take in what was going on behind her. The sign had flipped somehow causing that familiar taste of fear to seep in. How in the hell? What was this guy? Why would he close the shop like that? It was the most ominous thing to happen to her in weeks and she wasn’t too thrilled to now be stuck in a room with him when their only other companion was a ghost. At least she hadn’t heard the lock click. One look at Henry told her that he had seen something troubling, at least to him anyway. Probably because it was just confirmed that he’d had no clue who this guy was in the seventies.

‘Does he know what happened to Becky? To the girls?’ Her lips parted, something akin to grief squeezing at her heart. What if Henry didn’t like this answer? Winter could see the desperation in his eyes and she knew he’d pushed away his own curiosity and confusion about what was going on with Oliver or Kevin or whoever he was to know if his family was still around. She had to ask no matter how bad the consequences of it may be. 

Before she could answer the first question that Kevin slung at her, she bristled at the second. “I live here.” The insinuation that he was important enough to Winter to go looking was enough to make her roll her eyes. She might have done so for Henry if he had even thought to contact people from his past but they’d literally gotten lucky. “I wasn’t seeking you out or anything. Henry just happened to see you through the window.” Of course, the man didn’t know that Henry was attached to her, that he went wherever she did, but he didn’t need to know that. He just needed to answer the next dreaded question. “He would like to know if you could tell him what happened to his family? Are his girls okay? Is Becky still alive?”

Oliver's eyebrows crinkled as she spoke. How would a ghost from Long Island have ended up in Wicked’s End with someone who lived here? This whole situation was a bit of a weird one. “How did Henry end up here?  He died down in New York” Oliver asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. He had always figured that ghosts existed, even if he couldn’t see them, but he had never really known anything about how they worked. The thought that ghosts could just wander the world looking for answers was a bit of a sad one, though Oliver supposed that being stuck in a specific area would be just as sad. Were there any ghosts stalking him? That wasn’t something he wanted to linger on for too long. 

At the question about Henry’s family, Oliver gave a gentle shrug. “I don’t know a ton, unfortunately. I moved away a year or two after he died. They were all ok at that point.” They had, obviously, been grieving, but Oliver had stopped by when he could to try and help out. It had consisted of mostly bringing meals over, occasionally babysitting, and being a shoulder for Becky to cry on when things got hard.  “I think Becky had talked about moving too? After she graduated, it was hard to stay on top of things financially as a single earner and everything.” Oliver explained. He had offered her money several times but had been refuted every time. “I feel like there was also a potential lawsuit that she was doing against his job?” Oliver was pretty sure there had been some sketchy things about the safety protocol. 

“I think she had talked about going to Michigan since I think her family was from around there? But we didn’t really keep in contact when I left.” There had been maybe a letter or two sent back and forth, but Oliver had basically perfected the essence of ghosting old friends at this point. It was easier than dealing with the questions that came with staying close. He hadn’t thought of Becky in a solid 20, maybe 25 years. It tended to just be easier to not linger too long on memories like that.

Winter tilted her head at his question, annoyance flaring in her eyes. “Okay, well if I answer that you have to answer a question of mine.” She was insanely curious about why he hadn’t seemed to age since the seventies, as was Henry, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t want to reveal that answer to her. If she could get out of sharing her own personal information by letting her curiosity fester than she would. “Such as, why do you still look exactly as you did in the past when Henry actually knew you?” An expectant look was sent his way, almost daring him to answer. “Whether or not we have an info dump session is your choice.”

Her face softened as Oliver spoke of Henry’s family, especially when she saw the ghost’s own face fall. He’d gotten so close to finding out and now it was being ripped away with every word. She should have realized this had been important to them. “Don’t worry, Henry, we’ll find out.” It was a promise. Oliver gave her a place to start at least and she had connections she could use if it came down to it. The medium was luckily very good at stuff like this. She would start with the lawsuit. There had to be articles or public records somewhere. It might even give Winter the push she needed to go back home.

Henry nodded his head but still looked so defeated. It broke her heart a little bit. ‘Can you tell him thank you? Or something along the lines of that. I know you’re not supposed to say that.’ Crossing her arms over her chest, she nodded softly before turning her gaze back to the shop owner. “He wants you to know how appreciative he is for the information you could give….I am too. If there was a lawsuit I can look into that and see if a forwarding address was provided.” Henry sighed which caught her attention again. ‘Also, tell him that I know he probably took care of them the best that he could. He was always nice like that.’ Well, now she felt bad for being rude earlier on. Her tongue came out to run awkwardly over her top lip before she repeated the words for Oliver, clearly uncomfortable.

Oliver hummed quietly. It was a fair question, one that he tried to avoid. There had only been a handful of times that he had run into someone a decade or two after he had seen them last. Most of the time, the person would look at him, eyebrows furrowed as they tried to figure out if he was truly the person they had been friends. Why they had aged into middle age but Oliver had stayed the same. Typically, Oliver’s next move would be to pull an accent out of a hat and act confused. He’d tell a story about how he had a second cousin somewhere in his family tree who could maybe be who they were talking about? Then he’d make a quick exit. It almost always worked. However, in this situation, he felt it wouldn’t stick the landing quite as nicely. “I have a long lifespan” Oliver landed on, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t even know the person in front of him’s name. He wasn’t keen on giving them any more information than needed. 

He moved his gaze to the ground when she spoke to Henry. It felt rude, to be part of this conversation when he could only hear half of it. Oliver couldn’t imagine being a medium and having this be the norm. He glanced back up when she started addressing himself again. “Oh, uh, yeah tell him it’s no problem” Oliver said, scratching the back of his head. “I, um, I hope you are able to find him the answers that he needs.” Did it work where after Henry got this, he would move on? Had he just been wandering around NYC since the 70s looking for answers? Again, it made Oliver wonder how the hell he ended up in Maine of all places. Oliver felt his face heat up at the compliments that she was obviously repeating from Henry, and she was also obviously uncomfortable in doing so. “I just did what anyone would do.” Oliver offered with a small smile. 

“Yea, I got that.” She rolled her eyes at his answer. Technically it had satisfied her question but it didn’t satisfy her in the least and therefore it didn’t count. Impatience laced her next question. “Are you undead or fae?” Those were the only two that could live that long, right? She wracked her brain to try and remember whether shapeshifters could or not but she couldn’t find the answer among her knowledge. That was the one she knew the least about. ‘Winter, be nice.’ Her gaze flicked to Henry as he scolded her like a child and her irritation only grew. But she supposed this was Henry’s friend and she supposed that she should be nicer to the person supplying information about the ghost’s family. Sighing, she continued. “Heny was at the warehouse when I was filming for a show. I accidentally somehow bound us together and now he goes where I go.”

She caught him looking towards the ground as she spoke with her friend and Winter had to wonder how weird this was for people who couldn’t see ghosts. She never really thought about how they could only see her talking to air. This also answered her question as Oliver would be able to see and hear Henry if he were undead, something she should have realized before. Fae then…if she wasn’t missing something. Suddenly, she was glad she hadn’t uttered that stupid ‘thank you’ even if it would have been on Henry’s behalf. Somehow she didn’t think the rules of a fae bind would care.

Shaking her head at his response, she crossed her arms over her chest, once again feeling uncomfortable. “No you didn’t. Too many people out there would have walked away without a second thought.” The sad part being that she wasn’t excluding herself from that either. It took a special person to have Winter care about those who cared for them. Mack was probably the only one, someone she would have checked on her family for if she hadn’t come back from the dead. “Give yourself some credit.”

Oliver’s eyebrow quirked up at her question. It was rare for him to run into someone bold enough to ask, and while he admired it; he also wasn’t keen to give out all his secrets. He supposed just giving his classification wasn’t too bad though, it wasn’t as if all fae were the same after all. “I’m fae.” He said simply. It seemed fair since he knew what she was as well. At her explanation, his eyes widened a fraction. “Huh, interesting. Guess you got a different wrap present than you were expecting.” He joked. While he had dabbled in research of ghosts and the like; it was always more fascinating to hear it from someone who dealt with it on a day-to-day basis. 

“Ah, well, you know-” Oliver shrugged. “I saw someone struggling, and I’ve always had trouble not helping in those situations.” It had bit him in the ass on several occasions, but it was also a flaw that he didn’t have much interest in fixing. Like the woman had said, people often shyed away from hard situations; and sometimes you just had to suck it up and be the one to walk towards the chaos then away from it. His eyes drifted to the space to which the other had been directing her comments; where he could only assume Henry was. “I um, I hope that you can find the peace you need.” It was strange, talking to air and hoping that whoever was there could hear him. 

“Anyway…” Oliver turned his attention back to the person he could actually see in the room. “Was there anything else you needed today?”

Surprised that he had actually answered, Winter eyed the fae curiously. Weren’t they all supposed to be tricky little bastards trying to goad people into some sort of bind? It didn’t seem like he had that motivation in him nor did it seem that he was cruel (not that all of them were). The medium had always had a high distrust for fae ever since she’d first learned about them. It came out of fear of her losing control over something in her life, of being controlled by something else, and she’d always tried to stay cautious around them. But for some reason this guy wasn’t giving off the impression that he did promise binds for fun. Anyone who befriended a family and then looked after the others after the patriarch had tragically passed had to be a little trustworthy, right?

It was only confirmed when he did his best to locate Henry to give his blessings. Her lips quirked just a little, the ghost of her amusement joining the ghost coming to stand at her side. He had only been a little off. “He says thank you…I do not, just so we’re clear.” Because he was still a fae and she wouldn’t be caught up in that business.  A dismissal had her head tilting, her amusement building. Impressed by his sudden brashness, she shook her head at him. “If I find them, I’ll let you know.” Henry lingered by one of the tables that held pre-made arrangements as Winter made her way to the door and she turned her head to him expectantly. He hesitated for a second before he gave her a look. “Buy some flowers. We should support his business.” She understood what the ghost was saying. He supported Henry’s family so Henry wanted to support him. It didn’t mean she wasn’t annoyed by the demand. Softly rolling her eyes, she bought one of the arrangements before she made her way out the door of the shop. At least it would look good on her kitchen counter.

[arthurxweaver]

Where: The Siren vendor booth When: anytime Status: closed. Oliver (@wiltedflwer)

Arthur was enjoying his time so far at the art and wine festival and had taken a break from The Salty Goat booth so he could explore the event that he had been going to since he was a baby, ironically the festival was turning how old he was. He had walked around the whole festival and found himself stopped at The Siren's booth, wanting to get himself a drink, watching people move around.

"I've always wanted to try some of these creative booths. maybe paint myself a flower pot or something." Arthur said as he looked over towards the person who was next to him. "I've got absolutely no artistic skills but it could be fun." He offered a smile towards the other, recognizing Oliver once he turned to look at who he had spoken to. "Can't say I would do it by myself though. You wanna try?" He asked, finishing off his drink."

[cairnivore]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Pines PARTIES: Cairn (@cairnivore) & Oliver (@oliver--fox) SUMMARY: Cairn and Oliver meet in the forest and talk briefly about a strange tree with golden leaves. CONTENT WARNING: N/A

Cairn stood in the soft quiet of the forest, her boots slightly sinking into the damp soil underneath. The trees before her were strange, different from the rest of the variety in the woods. She’d seen many Evergreens in the Pines (obviously) and noted some of the deciduous trees in the area as well. But this one… she had never encountered anything like it.

Their pales trunks, just like smooth birch but without the peeling bark, stood tall and silent before her. The golden vines spiraled around the base, tendrils wrapping tightly - Cairn wondered for a moment if they were holding the trees upright. The leaves were such an unusual - yet beautiful - shade of gold. They stayed clung to their branches, refusing to let go.

She recalled her first run in with the trees during her arrival into the town, back when winter had made a home in nature. The trees seemed untouched by the freeze, as if the seasons had no power over them. It was comforting in the cruel cold winter but also a bit unsettling as they didn’t follow the cycle of life, the normalcy of the rest of the trees.

In a way, it was just like her.

Cairn leaned closer to one of the trunks, her fingers grazing the smooth bark, then tracing the spiraling vines. Typically vines along the trees meant harm to them, but these vines weren’t ivy or bittersweet. Not to mention they hadn’t touched any of the other nearby trees. Perhaps instead, they protected the trees, but from what she wasn’t so sure about.

There was no real reason for her to be here, no specific answer she was seeking but the quiet of the place calmed the restlessness in her chest.

For now, that was enough.

---

At this point, Oliver could basically walk through the forest blindfolded and backwards. He would often step off the typical path, instead doing a trek that may take more time but allowed him to see more beauty that may otherwise be hidden. However, if he had ever just walked in without a clear idea of where he wanted to go, and just allowed his feet to take him wherever they saw fit? He would end up under the tree where he was found all those years ago. He had tested it in other areas, and he was always led to wherever his trees stood. It was a nice trick, though it unfortunately wasn’t all that useful in day-to-day life. Although there had been one time when he had been hiking with someone and had been able to find a clearing fit for sleeping one time. 

He knew that his trees were a tourist attraction, both from the general population for it’s coloring and also the occasional arborist who had been sent to look at one. It was good, he told himself, the more interest there was in his trees, maybe more people would plant them and care for him, and he would have more faith in them sticking around longer. However, it never failed to make him go on alert when he saw someone near one. As he entered the clearing, he spotted someone doing exactly that. 

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Oliver said softly so as not to spook the individual that much. 

---

Cairn didn’t startle. She had already heard someone coming before she saw them.

It was almost like the forest shifted with his arrival, the way the birds quieted but not completely silenced, how this unusual tree almost leaned in his direction – as if the forest itself was welcoming him home. That was something she’d learned to pick up on.

She kept her gaze on him, measuring his gait, looking for visible weapons but didn’t notice any. That didn’t make him safe, even if the forest regarded him in a way Cairn had never seen.

“It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before.” Not that Cairn was relatively well-traveled but surely something as stunning as this would have been something she’d read about in books or something for her parent to take note of.

“Does it have a name?” Her hand dropped from the bark as her eyes returned to the tree. It was possible the stranger didn’t know the name either but Cairn felt like he would. He didn’t seem lost, he too came here intentionally and Cairn wanted to know why.

---

Oliver gave a small nod “They are rarer then they once were.” He said, eyes dancing between the different leaves of the trees. He could feel the other’s eyes trained on him, likely trying to see if he was friend or foe. 

Which was fair, conversations in the forest between strangers could come off as a bit weird. Oliver sometimes forgot that people didn’t feel as comfortable in them as he did. 

 “This is one of the only places they can still be found. It’s actually a protected species here in Maine.” Oliver often wondered if his father would have been surprised that a decision he made, one that could have been seen as silly and indeed was seen as such by those in the community at the time, would have instead have had such a great impact on his son’s life. 

“It’s called a Dusk Tree.” Oliver explained, “I’m Oliver by the way.”

—

Cairn didn’t answer right away.

Her eyes followed his, not to his face, but to the tree. Dusk Tree. She tasted the name in her head but didn’t repeat it aloud just yet. There was something reverent in how he said it, something careful. But that word he used “protected” made her wary.

Sometimes when people said protected, they meant owned. Claimed. Fenced off until something withered. Sometimes it meant no one came close until it was too late. Cairn had seen both kinds.

She stepped around it, her movement as quiet as breath through needles. Close, but not close enough to disturb the moss near its roots. Just enough to see.

“Who protects it?” she asked, the words almost more breath than sound. Not a challenge, not quite. But something just with a hint of suspicion, as though Cairn were asking not about the tree, but about him. Her head tilted, still watching him with the same unblinking quiet.

Names were power. Sometimes danger. She didn’t give hers easily. But he’d offered his with the same gentleness he gave the tree. She waited another beat. Then, just before turning back to the tree again, she murmured, “…Cairn.”

She didn’t say “nice to meet you.” She didn’t offer anything more. Just a name, returned.

—-

Oliver's eyes moved from the tree to the person near him at their question. “I suppose the answer would be the government? Though it’s more that if anyone tries to hurt one, that person will get in trouble.” He explained. Truthfully, the proper answer would be that Oliver was the one protecting them. He was the one who was impacted when one got hurt, the one who could feel them from within his being—the one who had been working to try to save the species, seemingly all on his own. 

Just because the trees were protected in Maine, they weren’t protected elsewhere. They never caught the interest of the environmental groups, likely because while they were very beautiful, they often got lost in the cluster of other pretty trees that the public paid attention to. People knew they existed in Maine, and would travel to see them, but there was a small flame of Oliver’s anger that burned over the fact that it was highly likely that his trees had at once existed in these people's hometowns, but no outcry had come from their disappearances. It was their disappearances that had forced Oliver to return to Wicked’s Rest to begin with. If he hadn’t had to do so, who knows where he would be now?

Oliver couldn’t very well explain all that to this random individual, though. Instead, he gave a small nod to their name, “Nice to meet you. I don’t think I’ve met a Cairn before.” He said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “Are you new in town?”

—

Government? Trouble? Hurt the trees? Cairn faintly understood the concept. The wild was being trampled on by people, moving into places that have yet to be touched by others. “Government,” she repeated, but the word didn’t seem to land. Her voice softened after a beat, tilting toward the tree again. “I’m not sure what that is but I hope they’re good protectors.” Her pama had briefly taught Cairn of how the outside world worked but things like that had been filed away as unimportant, forgotten, enough to add some context but not enough to fully understand. Right now Cairn wished she could recall more, and paid more attention. Maybe then she’d be able to understand this new world she was now becoming a part of.

She crouched briefly, fingers skimming over a patch of clover nestled near the tree’s roots. “These like damp soil. They close in storms.” A faint tilt of her head, testing. “Most people don’t notice.” Her fingers gently brushed the leaves before picking one. Four leaves. She gave a faint smile recalling her pama’s words about the luck this was said to have. Cairn didn’t believe in luck.

Cairn stood and fully faced him, even taking a stride to close the distance with a hand outstretched. Not to shake, unfamiliar with the custom, but to hand over this four-leafed clover. Offering a small gift for their conversation. “I am new. Still finding the quiet places.” Another glance over her shoulder at the tree, then at him. “Some things grow easier when no one’s watching.”

—-

Oliver raised an eyebrow at Cairn’s apparent confusion about the government. “I…You don’t know what the government is?” The question is out of his mouth before he can think of a way to rephrase it. Oliver is accustomed to encountering people who are happy about the government, as well as those who aren’t. He doesn’t even know the last time he ran into someone who seemed unsure of the very concept. Even those who lived away from typical society were usually doing it because they didn’t like the idea of government to begin with. 

Not to mention, Oliver isn’t even sure where to begin with the idea of the government being a good protector. Instead, he watches as she crouches next to the tree. This girl is…strange, that’s for sure. However, he doesn’t get the sense that she’s dangerous, at least not right at this moment. Oliver gives a small nod when she talks about the clover, opting not to bring up that he is very aware of the facts that she saying,  and offers a small smile, “I notice.” 

He watches as she strides back to him and holds his hand out to collect what she is giving him. Oliver’s eyes widen when he sees that it’s a four-leaf clover. What were the odds of that? “The woods are good for quiet places.” He says in agreement, his gaze moving from the clover back up to Cairn. “Things can also disappear if no one is looking for them.” He says softly, pocketing the clover. “Welcome to Wicked’s Rest.” Oliver adds, before turning and walking away the same way he had come. Whoever she is, Cairn seems like a bit of an odd duck. Though that could be said about just anyone who decides to willingly stay in Wicked’s Rest. 

—

Cairn didn’t answer the question about the government. Not sure how she could explain herself. But more than that, she doesn’t feel like the answer mattered—not here, not with him. She watched instead. Watched the way he took the clover. Folded it away with a soft kind of care, like someone who has handled delicate things before. When he said, “Welcome to Wicked’s Rest,” and then turned to leave, she didn’t follow. Just stood there for a breath, her boots rooted to moss and wet soil.

She didn’t quite understand him, but that was fine. Most things don’t need understanding to be noticed. The clover’s absence left a green ghostprint in her palm. So she stayed a little longer. Listening. Not for him. But to see if the trees would whisper something different now that he was gone.

The wind shifted, gentle and strange. The leaves of the tree they’d stood beside didn’t rustle like the others. They settled. Still. Watching. Cairn tilted her head. She had spent her life surrounded by trees. She knew how they lean, how they reach, how they breathe. This one felt different. Steady and quietly she turned to walk the opposite way, not to leave, just to give the woods their silence back.

[cameraguyward]

WHERE: Lake Party WHO: Oliver (@lxvenderhxzehv)

Ward had a bittersweet smile on his face, watching Ava walk around the edge of the lake while recording herself on a camera. It has felt nice to give her it, working almost like a journal but it still reminded him of who wasn't here. Turning towards Oliver he took the offered drink, “Thanks, if you want me to take Ava for the night so you can meet with one of your…erm friends. I really don't mind,” he offered. 

[wildberrypunch]

back again

[ids in alt]

[anthrophobixx]

Whimsical

(click the image for higher quality yay)

[youllalwaysbemyporcelain]

Jackson rolls his eyes. "I have to disagree with that." His eyes widen. "You're also a doctor?" This is getting even more weird. "Where do you practice? I'm a plastic surgeon. I'm head of plastics at the hospital."

dr. oliver glanced up from his sandwich to take in the appearance of the stranger. "hm." his gaze fell over his figure, his face. yes, they did appear to look similar. it gave him an eerie feeling. "i don't know about twins. i'm clearly more attractive than you." he bit his sandwich and continued to eat his meal. after a burp, he looked at him again. "i'm doctor reid oliver."

[bypeau]

ian and oliver, thread #001. continued from discord !

for as long as ian could remember, he'd gotten more attention for his charmingly good looks than he knew what to do with. girls, boys, and everything in between had made a pass at him, and it'd gotten him into plenty of trouble with his girlfriends. julia, on the other hand, had never seemed bothered by it; she was secure, and that was one of the attributes ian loved most about her — so why did he have to go and ruin it? ian had violated her trust, and he would likely never get it back in full, but he was willing to do whatever it took to get their relationship back on track. however. . . he never, not even in his wildest dreams nightmares, thought that she would actually send oliver to facilitate her revenge! "i'm trying, dude. . . 's my first time! it's not easy," ian sighed. he jumped as the boy's lips pressed to his luscious cheek, though he couldn't help but notice how soft those lips were. ian was still mortified by his predicament, but he could at least find relief in that his first time would be with a guy who seemed to genuinely care about him. "n-no, i've never. . . that's never happened with a girl," he blubbered out, skin tingling as the boy's gentle fingers caressed his sweaty rim. "you've seriously gotten guys addicted to your cock? is that. . . is that what you're hoping to do t'me?" ian asked breathlessly. he'd entered the bedroom terrified and skeptical, but ian was beginning to wonder if he had fallen victim to the wrong concerns. ian hadn't even briefly considered the possibility that he would like it, that oliver chambers would make his past lovers pale in comparison — but, if the way his body responded to each and every touch was any indication, that was the direction they were headed in. "do you really like them?" he asked, glancing down at his chest. his tits, as oliver had so cleverly nicknamed them, protruded from his t-shirt; using one hand to give them a squeeze, ian could certainly understand the fascination. by the time he glanced over his shoulder, ian looked like a brand new person. his lips were puffy and glossy, brown eyes glazed over, and his cheeks flushed pink. he clung to oliver's every word, cock twitching as it hung heavy and untouched between his thighs. "he pissed himself? he just. . . couldn't control it? you fucked him up that much?" ian gulped, blinking too fast to go unnoticed. he snuck a hand between his thick, spread thighs, wrapping a fist around his achingly hard cock. "n-no way, oliver. you're not gonna do that to me. . . i don't even know what makes you think you can!"

while oliver hungrily ate his ass, ian was busy eating his words. that sinful tongue working over his taut rim was sending the straight boy into a total frenzy, feminine moans echoing off the walls around them. ian's cock twitched with every expert stroke of his tongue, and the saliva starting to drip down his thighs had a chill traveling down the length of his spine. he felt pliant and docile, like a toy for oliver to use however he pleased. . . it was a brand new, albeit addictive, sensation. "i highly doubt that, oliver. . . i still don't even understand what's so appealing about a guy's asshole, much less his feet!" ian chuckled softly. even if his nerves were tingling from oliver's tongue lathering his sweaty soles, ian would never admit it. . . not until he absolutely had to, at least. he could hardly believe how lost in his feet oliver had become, mouthing sloppily at his sweaty soles with unprecedented fervor. ian's toes wiggled against oliver's handsome face, back arching into the sinful stretch of his digits pumping into his virgin hole. "well, that's n-never going to happen. . . is it?" he asked breathily, a trickle of laughter falling from his lips. ian would deny it until he was blue in the face, but his interest was already piqued. he thought back to every time he kicked his shoes off after the gym, and the way he'd instinctively sniff the air — it wasn't until then he realized that was what oliver was basking in, what he was tasting. it was only natural that ian desire a little taste of his own, right? "oliver, i. . . you can't expect me to. . ." ian replied, voice soft and uncertain. but one look at oliver's face told him that he was very serious; so ian did what had to be done and swallowed his pride. "i'm your bitch, daddy. i'm nothing but— oh, f-fuck, your fingers— i'm nothing but daddy's bitch," he whined out, legs shaking with pleasure. ian's body seemed to be working on a totally different wavelength than his mind. it betrayed him, cheeks jiggling obscenely has he fucked himself on oliver's slender digits. "yeah, wreck it. . . wreck my pussy like that guy that pissed all over himself, d-daddy," ian plead, looking over his shoulder with lust consuming his gaze. his cock jumped, releasing creamy spurts all over oliver's knuckles and the mattress beneath them — he didn't even have to try.

as soon as he was given permission, he was unravelling for oliver's pleasure. "oh fuck— how many times, oliver? how long have you been t-thinking about my fat, sweaty pussy?" ian managed through staccato moans. as oliver's pace became more erratic, so did the noises slipping past ian's lips; he didn't care that he was giving himself away, or that he sounded like a girl blubbering for her boyfriend's cock. "eleven inches? s-seriously? i'm only packing about. . . seven," he gasped out. ian kept stroking the boy's cock with his soft, sweaty feet; his toes traced the fat tip, while his other foot worked along the unfathomably lengthy shaft. "oh, god. . . julia. she can't see me like this, bro— you can't show this to her!" ian cried. he'd forgotten about the camera entirely, though it'd been there the entire time. there was documented proof of ian begging for oliver's fingers, of his sloppy cunt squelching obscenely as the boy pounded into him. ian could hardly believe how stupid he'd been — or, perhaps more importantly, how desperately he wanted oliver to destroy his tight, virgin pussy. "your lips are. . . really soft," ian said softly, licking over his cherry-red lips. he swallowed around the lump in his throat, grappling with both the newfound desire to feel oliver's lips pressed to his own and the absurd request that fell from them. the thought of making out with his own feet should have disgusted him, but — strangely enough — he found that he wanted it, and not just because it was the only way to feel more of that delicious stretch. his arm, already hooked around his ankle, slowly brought his foot to his face; he took a moment to stare at it, glistening with sweat and oliver's saliva, before he leaned in to press a tentative kiss to the sole. he hummed softly, holding oliver's gaze as he dragged his tongue from heel to toe. his cock lurched against his abdomen, and his lips sealed around his sweaty toes with too much urgency to ever deny that he liked it. "like this, daddy? is this how you'd want me to make out with your sweaty feet?" ian asked softly, a feminine-like quality to his voice. his free hand dropped to his hole, sopping wet and gently stretched; he rubbed at the slightly swollen rim, sloppily making out with his foot. "give me a fourth finger, daddy. . . please," ian plead, tongue slipping between each and every toe. "i n-need more, need to be loose and sloppy if i'm ever going to take that fat fucking cock. can't you see that i'm fucking desperate, daddy? can't you see that you're turning my hole into a pocket pussy? give me more, daddy— i said don't take it easy on me, 'member?"

[nooonediesfromlove]

[ojacksonscohen]

If you'd have seen us, you'd have hated us. This perfect, happy couple. WILDERNESS (2023)

[cameraguyward]

Ward swallowed and shrugged his shoulders again, he hated going silent on Oliver like this but his thoughts were racing every way which. His jaw clenched when Andrew got mentioned, "Opinions...gets it from her mum," he mumbled a smile tugging at his lips. Rubbing his face, he nodded, "I appreciate it, just...being Uncle Ward to her is enough for me. I look into the therapist a little more, one of my friend's dad sees her. There's an ice skating thing coming up too, could all go together. See if we can drag Harvey."

"Perhaps, and this might be crazy...." His voice got low "That she loved both of you eventually?" He questioned furrowing brows. "I won't say anything to either of them! Though since meeting Andrew.....Ava has....opinions..." he couldn't help but chuckle "all I'm saying Ward, is you were always her first choice...it may not have seemed that way towards then end, I don't know I wasn't here...but she decided you would be the god father of Ava first with out any thought. Harvey took the other spot a little after...." He admitted. "I know it hurts, but I need you to know this. If anyone has a say in Ava's life here....its you Ward."

[stargiirl27]

walk with me here - Apocalypse Now takes place in 1968. Platoon takes place in 1968. The events of Platoon happen near the Cambodian border, while the Apocalypse Now crew journeys into Cambodia. The main character of Apocalypse Now is played by Martin Sheen, father to Charlie Sheen, the main character of Platoon. Both of the narration bits in these films were written by Michael Herr, a real-life Vietnam War correspondant who wrote the book Dispatches. The events in these films were happening at the same time, so while Chris Taylor (Charlie Sheen) was battling for his soul in Vietnam, Captain Benjamin Willard (Martin Sheen) was losing his sanity while also questioning the morality of war in Cambodia.

[tomorrowusa]

John Oliver did a major piece on Mark Zuckerberg's Meta. The main but not singular focus is content moderation. Zuck's total capitulation to MAGA means that real content moderation is now a thing of the past there.

In his typical way, John does a funny takedown of Mark Zuckerberg. It's worth watching the vid just for those bits.

Near the end he tells people who are still on Facebook, Instagram, and other Meta platforms how to make it less valuable to MAGA Meta Mark. It's your way to "defund Meta".

For your convenience, here's the link...

How to change your settings to make yourself less valuable to Meta

Of course you should just leave Meta entirely. But if you're still Zuck-curious then that's a fair first step. Share that link with people still using Zuck platforms.

One of the the things John Oliver also recommends at that link is using the Firefox browser. Firefox by Mozilla is the best general use browser for privacy and I use it myself. Chrome is just a vacuum cleaner for data for Google.

[reiremington]

olive leaves / isko&rei

@iskodeguzman

With a hint of magic making him a little more of a troublemaker than usual, Rei was finding himself enjoying the festival to the fullest. There were lots of people to talk to, and vampires all around. Even so, there weren't any olive leaves hanging around his neck. There was only one vampire he'd let bite him and besides, he didn't need his father seeing and giving his opinion on the matter. That would be a damper on things and he was here to have fun, not get lectured.

Seeing Isko across the way, his expression grew into a wide grin. He looked good in his Icarus outfit but, then again, he always looked good. Between that deadly vampiric beauty and his natural charm, it was impossible for Rei to stay away. It was why he always ended up leaving these events with him.

"Hey there, handsome," he hummed as he stepped into place next to him, arm slipping into his easily. "Miss me?"

[sawyer-bennett]

Sawyer glanced up from the small display of ornaments she’d been browsing, catching the question that had drifted her way. She spotted the guy holding up a hat, a faint, thoughtful smile on his face. There was something in the way he looked at it—like it wasn’t just a hat but something more. She shifted closer, curiosity getting the better of her. “Selfish?” she said, raising an eyebrow as she tucked her hands into her coat pockets. “Not even a little. I think it’s smart, actually. You’re guaranteed to get yourself exactly what you want.” She let her gaze flick to the hat for a moment, then back to him. “Besides, it looks like it’s got a story attached. That’s worth the splurge, right?” Sawyer smiled faintly, the corners of her lips quirking upward. “You’d probably regret it if you didn’t get it. Trust me—I’m speaking from personal experience in the ‘walking away and kicking myself later’ department.”

WHO: OPEN (3/4)

WHERE: Hideaway market

WHEN: Winter Market, 15th December 2024

Sawyer adjusted the collar of her jacket, pulling it tighter against the chilly December air as she stood behind the booth, staring at the spread of nautical-themed trinkets and boat accessories. It wasn’t supposed to be her job today—Scott had insisted she take the day off, but, of course, he’d roped her into manning the booth for Bennett’s Boat Works & Repairs at the Merrock Christmas Market. "Just for an hour," he’d said. "I’ll be back soon." That had been over an hour ago, and she was still standing here, surrounded by wind-up sailboats, life vests, and keychains shaped like anchors. She sighed, casting a glance at the small charity box next to the booth, the one for the charity that had helped her father during his final months. The guilt crept in again, a dull weight in her chest. There was no way Scott would have asked her to do this if their father was still around, and while Sawyer appreciated the sentiment, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it all just felt like one more thing she had to manage. A few customers wandered by, eyeing the items with mild interest, but no one stopped to buy. Sawyer was grateful for the quiet, though it only gave her more time to think—mostly about how she’d gotten stuck here instead of enjoying the holiday market like she’d planned. She glanced over the booth again, adjusting a few items as if the display could somehow fix her mood. "At least the donations are going to a good cause," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. A couple passed by, eyeing the keychains, and Sawyer put on a forced smile. She straightened up, trying to shake the nagging feeling that she should be anywhere but here. “Looking for something for the boating enthusiast in your life?” she offered, the words coming out more clipped than she’d intended. "We’ve got a variety of items, and all proceeds from the charity box go directly to the Foundation that helped my father." She hesitated before adding, “It’s a way to keep his memory alive.” As they nodded and moved on, Sawyer let out another sigh, glancing over at the street. Where was Scott with the rest of the stock? The market was busy, the holiday spirit in full swing, and yet here she was—still manning the booth, still waiting for him to show up. Just her luck.

[hollow--sun]

🕒 When: Sunday morning - Two weeks after Dead Men Don’t Flinch📍 Where: The pond from Dead Men Don’t Flinch 👥 With Whom: Oliver Fox @oliver--fox and Henri O’Dea @hollow--sun 🔹 Summary: Henri returns to the pond to reflect on Emilio's words and finds Oliver there. They're both looking for answers to different questions, but will they find any ?

Oliver had been gathering information based on the research that Owen had given for the last few weeks. It meant doing a lot of listening, sitting in old smokey bars and eavesdropping on others whispered conversations; sifting through sites online (and only struggling a little with the navigation of it all) of apparent spottings and the paragraphs and paragraphs of comments that came with them; as well as the ever present police scanner that he had gotten his hands on decades ago. He rarely turned it on in Wicked’s Rest, holding onto it more for sentimental reasons than for actual usage, but there were times, like this, when he had it on when he was home. Technically, he knew that there was probably an app now that he could download, but there was something about having the actual scanner that he preferred. He had kept notes on anything that sounded vaguely similar to what Owen had presented, with another section being dedicated to things that sounded interesting, and a final section was on anything that felt like it was encroaching a little too close to home for Oliver. 

It turned out, none of the ways Oliver was using to gather information ended up giving him his first big break. It had, instead, been the normal act of watching the local news. Placed between the lead story of there being an uptick in birds in the common and the weather, there was a quick, maybe 5-minute segment on a number of missing people. Oliver almost didn’t pay attention; people going missing in Wicked’s Rest wasn’t exactly a new phenomenon after all. However, what caught his attention was the newscaster having the picture of a pond on the screen behind him. Apparently, there was a cluster of missing people who had all disappeared near the pond; a connection was found by their cell phones having pinged off a nearby tower. While none of those reported missing had been found, there hadn’t been any new disappearances in a few days that could be linked to the pond for about two weeks, which was apparently enough to make the local police think whoever was taking these people had stopped, for now. The missing people flashed up on the screen, and Oliver frowned. None of them were the people Owen had mentioned. Oliver was also very aware that Owen’s people had been found, deceased, but they were found. It also wasn’t the same pond. 

That was what was bothering Oliver the most. He knew that a Nix wasn’t going to go between two ponds separated by miles and miles. They were going to stick to their own. Which meant that there were likely two Nix’s currently killing at the same time. One is going after Hunter’s, and one is going after Humans. What was the statistic? There was always at least 2 serial killers working at the same time in the United States? Maybe that was also true for supernatural creatures. One seemed to stop, though, which begged the question as to what had changed. 

Oliver had gotten to the pond mid-morning. It was a serene little area; a nice place to relax and enjoy the sun. It was also currently deserted, though Oliver figured that it being both when people were currently at work and also the location of several disappearances both played a role in that. He had just started to examine the edge of the water, when he suddenly got the sense that he was being watched. Oliver turned his head over his shoulder casually, catching sight of someone nearby. “Oh, hey, sorry, were you trying to get a picture?”

___

Henri hadn’t planned on coming back.

But ever since that conversation with Emilio, the lake had been gnawing at the edges of his mind. Not the place itself—though it was strange, still and half-forgotten—but the weight of what had been said there. The kind of weight that didn’t go away, even in sleep. Emilio’s words remained.

Henri hadn’t expected company.

He’d parked half a mile down and cut through the trees on foot, making sure not to be seen. Because he wasn’t supposed to be here. He was not supposed to be back. He hadn’t planned to approach the water, but from the distance, he saw a figure by the water. The man crouched near the water’s edge looked too casual to be a hiker and too careful to be a tourist. Henri’s grip on his knife loosened slightly once he got a clearer look. That did not look like the sort of person who just happened to be unlucky enough to stumble upon a dangerous lake. 

Then the man turned, not startled. Not aggressive.

“Oh, hey, sorry, were you trying to get a picture?”

Henri blinked once, then twice. The question was friendly. Disarming, Henri thought, as he put his knife away, for now.

He stepped out of the trees fully, arms relaxed at his sides, though his body stayed angled like someone ready to pivot. "No," he said, flat but polite. "Not a tourist." And he doubted that man was a tourist either, which was precisely why he decided to cut through the crap immediately.

"You’re not here for the view," Henri added. It wasn’t a question.

He made it all the way down to the water's edge before pausing beside him. The pond lapped gently against the earth, pretending it hadn’t dragged people under just weeks ago.

Henri looked over at the man again. “What are you looking for?”

—-

Oliver gave a small nod, planning to turn his attention back to the water around him. What the other person was doing here was of little concern to him after all. However, at the man’s comment about Oliver’s reasoning for being here, he raised an eyebrow, “Oh?” Oliver asked, standing up from where he was perched. He didn’t get any sort of internal indication that the person in front of him was fae, which made it so he couldn’t be the Nix. He hadn’t felt anything since arriving, which likely meant that if the Nix was around, it was probably too far away; whether that be under the water or simply in another location altogether. 

There was something about the way the other were holding themselves. Not quite a fight position, but a body that was ready for something to happen. Oliver couldn’t help but wonder if they had been expecting someone else to be here when they came by. 

Oliver didn’t move as the other male came up beside him, maintaining eye contact. “Wanted to check it out.” Technically, it was the truth. “What are you here looking for?”

___

Henri glanced at the surface again before returning his attention to the man beside him. He didn’t look like a hunter. Not by gear, not by posture. But he carried himself like someone who’d survived something, and Henri didn’t discount that. Not anymore.

“I’m following a thread,” Henri said simply, eyes narrowed as he scanned the reeds just beyond their feet. “Someone I know came out here not long ago. Though they found something. I wanted to see for myself.” The half-lie came out easily, and it was still more than what he usually gave a stranger. But this man didn’t feel like a stranger. Not exactly. Not a threat either. Henri’s instincts weren’t screaming at him to beware.

Crouching down, he held up a finger, inviting the other to stay quiet. The frogs had fallen quiet, as had the birds. If Henri wondered what that meant (and he had learned to pay attention to those sorts of details, through the years), he imagined easily that the nyx might have been closer than he thought, listening. “Do you keep tabs on other lakes?”

—-

Oliver hums quietly at the other’s answer. Perhaps this is another hunter, and  Owen has sent someone else around to search for answers. Though there was something about the other’s behavior that told Oliver that this was more of a personal visit than a business one. Technically, it could be just a random human who has stumbled upon the truth about supernaturals. That doesn’t seem as likely.  “Did they happen to see a creature? One they couldn’t explain?” Oliver asks, deciding that it isn’t worth keeping all of his cards close to his chest. Dancing around the subject doesn’t feel necessary. “Perhaps one that is in the business of drowning others?” 

He doesn’t know whether to roll his eyes at the other holding up a finger to silence him or laugh. However, at the tug that Oliver feels within him, he moves his attention from the man next to him to the pond in front of them. He knows that the Nix has come closer. Oliver's eyes move towards the area of the pond where he can feel the other at, and wonders what they are thinking. 

“No, not typically” Oliver answers easily. “Doing a little bit of investigating on my own. Well. On the ask of someone else, really, but it wasn’t a situation where I could turn it down all that easily.” He shrugs. “I am fairly certain this isn’t the lake that has the answers I want; but after seeing the news reports, I thought I should still come check it out.”

__

Henri reached toward his coat cuff, adjusting it casually. And yet, each of his muscles felt tense as he looked at the water in front of them. Exhaling quietly through his nose, he finally replied, his voice low, as though he was still concerned with someone else hearing them. “Yeah. Someone coming from the water, someone who felt very protective of the lake.” He turned his head to cast a glance on Oliver, taking him in properly. 

He didn’t look much older than Henri, yet the slayer felt as though they had a few things in common. Something in the way they spoke gave him the impression of someone who was tired, who had seen a lot, who wasn’t scared so easily. 

“Really? Why can’t you turn them down? ”That certainly had ticked his interest, the potential danger that laid beneath those words, or perhaps the thrill of having someone he could look into. When it came to doing research, Henri would always be insatiable. 

His gaze shifted toward the water again. “I don’t think this is the lake where you’ll find your answers, no.” Because the nyx had stopped killing, and Henri took the fact that they weren’t attacking either of them now, as a sign that he had made the right choice. “What is it you’re looking for then?”

—-

“Sounds about right. Nixes are protective of their domains. Most fae tend to be” Oliver explained quietly. He kept his focus on the lake; the Nix hadn’t come any closer or moved away. It seemed content to just watch the two currently. Oliver wondered which of them it was more interested in. From the way the other spoke, it would appear that they had certainly had some sort of run-in. Had the Nix tried to attack him? Or had he tried to attack it? It wasn’t really any of Oliver’s business, he supposed. Oliver was now almost positive that the male standing in front of him was a hunter, which was unfortunate because now, up close, Oliver absolutely recognized him. Estella liked to show Oliver pictures of things she was doing, and would often fill him in on the other people in the photos. Which meant that he knew that this was Henri, one of her close friends. He wondered, did Estella know the danger that she was flirting with, being close to someone whose whole profession was centered around going after supernaturals? At the very least, it didn’t appear that he was a Warden, since he hadn’t seemed to react to Oliver or the Nix’s fae presence. Still, it was another worry for him to add to his ever-growing collection.

“They aren’t the type to accept the answer ‘no’ without a really good explanation, not if I want my life to stay as it is” Oliver said with a shrug. Not that he had never told Cecil no; there were certain lines that he wouldn’t cross. Cecil had seemed to understand that he could only push Oliver so far, ask him to do so much. It made Oliver wonder if the same could be said for Owen, or if that would be a fight they would have to have out one day. “They likely work in the same field as you.” He joked with a wry grin.

Oliver glanced between the water and Henri. “Yeah, I think so too.” His eyes flicked down to the water, where a piece of trash floated by. It was a water bottle, probably dropped by someone who had walked by at some point. Kneeling, Oliver picked it up and walked over to the nearby trash can, tossing it in. “There’s a similar situation happening, a more targeted one, it seems. It’s been going on for a while.” Oliver said, turning back towards Henri. “I don’t have a ton of answers yet, but now I at least know where to head next.”

___

The slayer watched as Oliver moved toward the trash can, watched as he removed something that didn’t belong. He looked back to the water, to the still surface. The nix was still there — he couldn’t know for sure, but he had a gut feeling— but Henri knew by now that it would stay where it was, hiding, waiting. If he couldn’t sense fear the way a mare could, he had a pretty good idea of why the nyx would not show. He also knew that he should not have felt so smug about it. 

“Ah yeah. Plenty of people work in my field around town,” he replied, his tone flat but not hostile at all. He glanced at Oliver, studying him with purpose. “If you ever need help from someone like me,” he paused, “don’t hesitate. Many are misguided, but at the end of the day, we only want to make sure everyone is safe. And I do mean everyone.” 

He let the words settle a moment before adding, “If someone—or something—is targeting specific people, that’s a pattern. Patterns can be broken. Or used.”

Henri stepped forward, closer to the edge of the pond again. His eyes didn’t leave the water. “I don’t know who sent you. Doesn’t really matter. What matters is the fact that two fae in two different ponds decided now was the time to act. That’s not just hunger. That’s not just territory.”

He turned his head just enough to glance at Oliver again. “So if you’re going to follow this lead… watch your back. If you’re asking questions, someone’s already noticed.”

—-

Oliver laughed dryly at the other’s suggestion. “I have no interest in interacting with anymore of you than absolutely necessary.” Why on earth would he trust one hunter to stop another? His gaze hardened as he turned to face the other again. “Keep everyone safe?” Oliver’s tone was icy. “You do nothing but bring harm to others.” They could scream until they were blue in the face that they hunted down the supernatural because it was a threat to the humans, but Oliver had seen the glee that came with the hunt. The laughter mixed with the screams, the way they would go after everyone, even those who had done nothing to disturb the peace. 

He bit his tongue, hard enough to taste blood as the hunter spoke. Do they think that he’s stupid? Everything the other is saying is something Oliver already knows. It’s why he’s come to check things out. Perhaps the other just likes to listen to himself talk. That’s always a possibility. Hunters tend to be a bit narcissistic. He briefly considered pointing out that he knew how patterns worked, how nixes worked, but opted not to. He didn’t see the point. 

Oliver started to walk away, pausing for just a moment at the warning the other gave him. He glanced over his shoulder. “Better watch yours too, no? Like you said, people are starting to notice things. Just as you hunters talk to each other, so do the supernaturals.” Oliver’s gaze flickered back to the water before he turned his attention back to the path in front of him. He walked away from the pond at a casual pace, though his mind was already buzzing, running through what his next steps would be. Though he hadn’t gotten the sense that the hunter would follow him, Oliver took care to step off the typical path and disappear into the forest's shadows.

----

Henri didn’t respond to the bite in Oliver’s voice. He didn’t flinch at the accusation, either. He simply watched.

The fae’s words weren’t new. He had heard worse before. Deep down, Henri knew he deserved worse, both as a person and as a member of the hunting community. 

He didn’t follow. Just shifted his weight slightly and looked back toward the water. Henri stayed where he was, eyes on the ripples in the lake long after Oliver had disappeared into the trees. The parting words echoed, sharper than intended. 

He chose not to argue with him. It had been a while since he decided he would never beg to be seen differently. But it still burned, being mistaken for the kind of hunter he was trying to put an end to.

For a long moment, he just stood there, jaw clenched, pulse ticking quiet and slow. Then he looked back at the lake. Still no movement. Still watching.

"Doesn’t matter," he murmured to himself. "Keep your head down, Henri. Do the work."

He turned and walked away—not angry, not bitter. Just resolute. Quiet. Alone.

Still trying.