adairewestwood

[adairewestwood]

Adaire laughed at her joke, raising an amused eyebrow as the young deity looked past him. Feisty. He could see why Elio liked her. The liveliness in her eyes and the disrespect for her elders, although unwise, made Adaire think of a time long ago. When nothing in the world seemed to make sense, yet at the same time he'd known he held all the answers and this his actions were righteous.

Funny, the kind of perspective two milennia gave you.

Elena reaching for the glasses was taken by Adaire as a silent invitation, and the old elf hung up his coat. He walked over to the bar, effortlessly graceful, as if showing himself off to the world on a catwalk without even having to bother to try.

With that same almost uncanny grace he picked up one of the stools and set it at the bar, before sliding onto it. The comment about the gold flakes earned Elena a chuckle and another raise of Adaire's brow. Funny, yes, feisty, also yes, but most definitely pushing her luck too. Ah, the bliss of being young and stupid.

He let out a low whistle at Elena's trick. Amusing, albeit not that impressive for her ilk and perhaps a tad overdone. Then again, they were in a bar, and he could imagine the lass didn't want to explain to her bosses where a bottle of their most expensive whiskey went.

Speaking of, he drew back his lips and nodded, silently approving of her choice. Much better than he'd dared hope for; actual craftsmanship, opposed to blind consumerism and the rule of global, cheap brands.

"Don't need to soil good whiskey with gold or any other shite," Adaire chuckled again, raising the glass to take a small whif of the whiskey. Happy with the aroma filling his nose, the elf took a small sip, letting it swirl around his mouth and cover his tongue, before swallowing.

"As for your question - yes to both, in a way. There's about one-hundred-and-sixty of your kind in the city. A manageable number to meet, at the very least. Something I've always found reason to do, considering you're entrusted both with the ability to reshape reality, and not to use said ability, regardless how hard it might be."

"Why?" Elena cocked a brow, letting her gaze sweep over him before she leaned sideways as if to look past the man's admittedly well-built frame. "Did you bring your grandfather?" Within the supernatural community, age was an elusive, fickle thing. Most times, the lines or lack thereof on someone's face couldn't be trusted. But there he was, Adaire Westwood, trying to tempt her with money when Elena's time was either earned or given freely but it was never to be bought, and she just simply couldn't help herself.

Though his arrogance seemed to rival Matthew's, at least he had the common decency to introduce himself. And fine, yes, maybe she was going to serve him out of spite to the demon elder alone. Would Matthew ever know? Probably not. But grudges didn't bend to logic. His accent still humming in her ears, Elena wordlessly regarded him for a moment before she released a small sigh and motioned her chin at the line of bar stools on the opposite side of the counter.

"What makes you think I'd lie?" She questioned, briefly turning her back to him only to pluck two glasses from the shelf behind her. It was long past the end of her shift, like hell was she going to let him drink alone. "Balvenie DoubleWood? I'm afraid we're fresh out of gold flakes." As she held her palm out over her own glass, her attention still on Adaire, it slowly filled with whiskey — yes, she had been practicing. "Are you going to tell me why you decided to pay me a visit or is playing the welcoming comity some weird hobby of yours?"

[adairewestwood]

It took a long moment for Adaire's gaze to travel away from the cat he was petting to meet Seraphina's eyes. He did nothing to hide the resentment of that still lingered within. He had forgiven, but never forgotten.

How could he? To think a creature with the power of altering reality dancing upon her fingertips would aid the ever-encroaching, ever-growing human populace. For every one of them that fell, three more could take its place the next generation. Meanwhile his own people had seen their numbers dwindling and the forests, their kingdoms, razed and turned to human hands. Seraphina had never aided the cause against his lands perhaps, but she might as well have. All elves were his people, these days more so than ever, and two-thousand years were too short a time to forget their sorrows.

"Nature has always needed more protection than humanity, for humanity can't survive without chaining nature to its whims."

He turned back to the cat happily purring as he scratched under her chin. "These little ones could've lived and hunted in the forests and fields, hadn't humans seen fit to erase them to make way for their jungle of concrete and steel."

Adaire let out a sad sigh. "Yet they treat strays and rodents and even birds as pests that're blocking their way, without a shred of responsibility."

He turned back to Seraphina. "Picking up a couple of 'em isn't going to help. One act of kindness will be lost upon a sea of apathy. True change has to be systematic, lest all your efforts be swept away."

The question, so obviously pointing out the irony in her statement, was enough to pull her lips into a smirk. The nature of the cats was hard to conceal, and the little rascals did nothing to help her cause. Even the ones who rubbed themselves against her could turn into a hissing ball of fury the next second. They reminded her of humans in that way. "They are once you earn their trust", Seraphina said lovingly as she stroked one of the nearby cats.

"What do you mean?" she exclaimed with feigned hurt. The cats bristled at her tone of voice and moved about unsettled. "They were abandoned. I couldn't just leave them," she continued in a calmer voice. She caught a cat, brought it into her lap and stroked it calmingly. Her eyes searched the elf's expression, trying to see if he carried any resentment of old against her. It hadn't been easy, choosing humans over all other creatures to protect, but she had always followed her beliefs. "I've learned that nature needs more protection than humans these days," she added solemnly.

[adairewestwood]

Adaire hummed in agreement. "Outlander, aye lad. With the same connotations I've heard people here talk about 'foreigners', or slurs that I shan't blight my tongue or your ears with."

Adaire did indeed have no idea what the wolf was referring to, though he could guess. Some halfwit with no culture of their own to pull on, so instead they opted to use another's for some dumb tale.

"And she is, yes," he hummed in agreement again. Easy as it would be to leave the wolf, he had resolved to being... Kinder. The reasoning for it were somewhat lost on him while he looked at the wolf, but he knew it would be for the betterment of his children. So he supposed he'd try, at the very least.

"She and I are both rather critical. Quite frankly picky. It's magical when you finally meet someone you can say you belong with though. Truly belong with. I can... Imagine that must be hard when meeting through an impersonal screen."

"It means Outlander." He'd read the book to see what all the fuss was about. It was pretty good for the most part, even if time traveling romance was not his genre of choice. Judging by how the other man was reacting, Will doubted that he'd even watched the TV show.

Taking a swig of his beer, Will ran a hand through his hair. "She must be pretty special to have passed your test." That was the nicest way that the old wolf could scold the other for being a tad too judgmental.

[adairewestwood]

"Even for an old man who tips well?" The reply carried a faint Scottish accent. Adaire stepped into the bar, hands covered against the cold outside in the pockets of his woolen coat.

He wasn't all that interested in a drink, in all honesty. Quaint as it was, the old elf had his doubts regarding whether this establishment would meet his frankly ridiculously high standards when it came to nigh anything. Too many humans these days were content to get drunk off overly processed drink, either unable to taste the foul aftertaste of industry as Adaire could, or not caring about the overwhelming taste of chemicals.

What he was interested in, was the girl in front of him. Elio's new ward. He looked her up and down. Even though the young deity could fold him in half if she had half a mind to, Adaire sized her up with the confidence of someone used to being in control of any room he walked into.

"Figured it was about time we met, Elena. My name is Adaire, head of the Westwood family, and the representative of the city's elves."

He pulled his hands out of his pockets. "Now, would you pour me a drink, or will you mask not wishing to speak to me by telling me you're tired?"

for: open (@vievecorcitystarters)

location: Chissob Hills, Shadow & Spirits

The glasses had been cleaned, the inventory restocked, the perishables thrown out. She had wiped down the counter and all the tables, including the hand-full of booths at the back. With the register secured all that was left to do, was put up the chairs and run the whole bar through with a mop and she'd be done for the night. Done and ready to tug her rolled up blankets and her sad excuse of a pillow from their hiding place behind the wine crates to settle in until morning, her exhaustion the ghost of a feeling rather than the real deal.

With her back to the open space of the bar, Elena draped the dish towel over its hanger to dry when the sound of the door opening and shutting behind her pricked at her eardrums. Had she forgotten to turn that damn sign around again?

"Sorry, we're already closed," she offered up as she turned around to send whoever had entered back out into the night.

[adairewestwood]

"Atlas," came his response, more businesslike than fatherly. He'd come here for the gallery after all. If he were to only offer forced smiles and undeserved compliments, Atlas would gain nothing from his visit. He was a leading critic and advocate of art, and it would be wasteful not to let Atlas enjoy the fruits of that.

Still, he'd come to the conclusion that he could do with being more... Supportive, considering the way he was received upon his return and the state his children had been in. Adaire might have thought it unwise to open up early for him, better to teach yourself how to deal with such a situation while in the throng of business as usual, it was a sweet gesture nonetheless.

So he smiled. A subtle smile, though it was no less warm or fatherly for it.

"That's very kind of you, Berry," he stepped inside, "I'll make sure my next visit fits within your regular hours."

He shook off his coat.

"I've been well," he lied, not wishing to burden Atlas with his troubles. His approaching death and the gradual fading of their people shouldn't be his daughter's to worry about. Such were the duties of a father and king. Despite everything, he saw the future in them, and it was bright, and his own darkness should not dim it.

Adaire neatly folded his coat and draped it over his arm.

"Your mother and I haven't been in touch since she left the city," he answered curtly. Adaire realized it was a rather lackluster and cold answer, and aside from more supportive he'd decided upon being somewhat less aloof towards his own children. Despite their maturity, it seemed they still often did not recognize some things for what they were. He'd have to guide them still, as was his duty.

"Nothing's wrong, mind you. After a thousand years you just simply, well..." He chuckled, "sometimes you need some time to truly be by yourself, so as to better appreciate the other again."

He smiled, "I'm sure she's just fine though. Probably happy to be relieved of her duties," he chuckled again.

new business | atlas & adaire

for: @adairewestwood location: Crocus Art Gallery

The gallery was a few hours from opening but their Atlas stood, dressed sensibly and looking more put together than they normally did. There were cracks though, their nails were picked down to the wick and an ulcer had started to form on the inside of their lip where they continued biting down. Atlas didn't have to be nervous. So far the gallery had been a success, Judas's show had been popular and a few paintings had buyers inquiring after the vampire's work.

They should have been proud but all they felt was nerves. The tall, dark figure of their father stalking up the footpath felt like something to fear. If he didn't like this venture, Atlas knew they would be devastated. The young elf rushed to the door, pulling it open before Adaire approached.

"Hello, father," they greeted, stepping aside for him to enter. Normally the gallery would be buzzing with people roaming the floor but Atlas had kept it closed today until Adaire arrived. "It's normally busier but I opened up early for you so you can get an uninterrupted tour," they explained. "Umm, how've you been? How's mother?"

[adairewestwood]

"Are they now?" Adaire questioned the statement, quirking an eyebrow at two cats rolling on top of one another, paws flying, under the park bench. Natural behavior, he was well aware, yet a convincing sight it was now. He chuckled, squatting down, though his eyes did not trail from Seraphina. He held out a hand, and one of the cats was quick to rub her head against it.

"You never were quite the type to think these things through, were you?" Adaire teased, though as per usual there wasn't too much kindness lost on his voice.

Cats aplenty | open

@vievecorcitystarters

Animal shelters. She had never heard of such a thing before. All those poor creatures, trapped in cages, abandoned and unloved, except by the handful of workers who could hardly give each kitten the time it deserved. Seraphina's heart could not take it. She barged in, demanding that all cats be sold to her. It took almost half an hour to convince the workers that yes, she was serious, and yes, she could take care of all the cats. Eventually it was settled that she could take ten cats with her.

As she walked home with her ten-cat army, she started to feel that maybe this rash decisions had not been altogether the smartest one. Did she even have room in the apartment for all of them? She couldn't just release them to roam in the park, they'd get eaten by werewolves at the next full moon. Feeling defeated, she sat down on a park bench, putting a charm on the cats to keep them from straying too far.

With her head in her hands she tried to think of a solution, while the felines climbed on her shoulders and fought beneath the park bench. Someone approached her little cat-astrophe and received Seraphina's tired stare. "Would you care to adopt a cat?" she asked flatly, "They're very friendly."

[adairewestwood]

Adaire responded in kind by raising an eyebrow of his own. The wolf must've been well over 200 by the looks of him, yet it felt more like talking to some reckless pup in heat. Perhaps this one was better left to whatever app he was talking about rather than drunkenly hitting on others.

"I don't think you quite know what that word means," he answered. For a moment it seemed as if he were going to elaborate, but he left it at that.

It might be easier to simply take photos designated for this use than pick ones that he had in his camera roll. Most of the photographs were times he traveled around the world and played around with friends. The happier he was in the photograph, the more unusable it was.

"Lucky you. I'm guessing you two didn't meet through the apps." It was rarer to find a couple that married after meeting on Tinder than to see a mermaid these days. He desperately wished to believe that love existed, but so far he'd been unlucky in obtaining the romantic sort for any long period of time. It might be him. There were a few people who tried to spare his feelings by saying it wasn't him, and a few more who said that he was not mature enough. Either way, he didn't think they were the right person.

Will lifted a brow, looking Adaire up and down. The man was well-dressed, but he didn't think that was what helped him when it came to picking up people in bars. It was clear what gave the elf an advantage. "You don't count. You have the accent. They all go gaga for an accent. Probably daydream about you calling them Sassenach."

[adairewestwood]

"Hm," came Adaire's response. He hadn't been talking about 'ass' in the physical sense. Then again, he wasn't surprised this man hadn't picked up on that fact.

"I'm married," was the answer to the question, even if neither he was nor his wife had cared much for the rather human concept of monogamy. Then again, Adaire cared for modern technology even less, and he'd rather sleep with Vörös than engage in romance through one of those accursed smartphones the youth seemed glued to.

"And they do, people just don't stand for others going about it like a creep anymore."

"It mostly says 'ass'," Adaire answered dryly, casting an unimpressed look over the phone at the wolf holding it. He'd learned to recognize the different species for what they were countless years ago. The way they carried themselves, the subtle cues of their demeanor and bodies, even their scent.

He had no idea what 'all the right swipes' was supposed to mean, not one to keep up much with the specifics of modern technology. He figured it had something to do with dating though, considering the question posed by the wolf.

[adairewestwood]

He chuckled at her quip. Adaire might've caught onto some of the deeper meanings behind what she said, with his uncanny ability to see straight through a person, hadn't it been for the water's magic.

Another chuckle left him at her question. "Someone patching people back together rather than breaking them is always good, lass. As for your reputation..." He shrugged, "I simply like to know what goes on in the city. Besides, a vampire aiding the largest werewolf pack like that... Bound to turn some heads."

“Why thank you, it was a birthday present,” she teased playfully, but her smile was sincere. Viv chose to leave out the part where it was a birthday present from herself the day she changed her identity. Although she missed her true name, Nora, Vivian had grown on her. Vivian was about to ask him about his night at the festivities when she was caught off guard at his question. She hoped the flush of her cheeks from the warm spring water hid her deepeningly red cheeks as she considered how to answer.

“Ahh, yea, yes. That would be me,” she managed with a recovering smile. “I honestly hadn’t realized I was growing such a reputation. I hope the things you’ve heard of me are… good?”

[adairewestwood]

"It mostly says 'ass'," Adaire answered dryly, casting an unimpressed look over the phone at the wolf holding it. He'd learned to recognize the different species for what they were countless years ago. The way they carried themselves, the subtle cues of their demeanor and bodies, even their scent.

He had no idea what 'all the right swipes' was supposed to mean, not one to keep up much with the specifics of modern technology. He figured it had something to do with dating though, considering the question posed by the wolf.

"Does this photo say sexy yet sensitive?" He flipped his phone around displaying the photo of him that showed a bit too much. "I'm trying to get all the right swipes." When he'd first heard that the newest way to find a bae was with the apps, Will ordered everything on the menu. Then a young person had to explain to him that apps were not in fact appetizers. Instead he was stuck with the best darn mozzarella sticks he'd ever had and a rough decision on which profile picture to use. At least he could tempt public opinion with onion rings and chicken wings

@vievecorcitystarters

[adairewestwood]

"Pretty name, that is," Adaire replied, a hint of his Scottish accent shining through. Staring off into the sky, he racked his brain for a moment, trying to remember if she was someone he'd heard about before. His eyes widened a little and he turned back to her as he remembered.

"You're that doctor with the Lycaons, aren't ya, lass?"

As Viv began treading the water lightly, she watched Adaire enter the pool, unable to help herself. Her eyes were transfixed on the near-glimmering skin as lamplight bounced off the pool and reflected on his bare skin. A part of her wondered if her hunger wasn't just of the vampire variety, forcing herself to look away as he got settled less she start drooling over a married man. Vivian went back to allowing her drunkenly calm thoughts to take in the scenery, leaning against the pool not far from him to ease the conversation.

She couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips, shaking her head a bit as she watched the others having fun in their own pools closer to the lodge. "It's very possible. I only hope it's not both, because then that might be trouble for me," she teased back, glancing his way as he asked for her name. "Ah, it's Vivian, though most just call me Viv," she mused, hoping the heat from the pool hid any sign of a potential blush on her features.

[adairewestwood]

Adaire knew the look of recognition in the vampire's eyes for what it was the moment it came upon her. He wondered if he should recognize her face. If she'd been one of the thousands of those faceless ones he'd seen drift by when the wear of two thousand years fell upon him. A student, an actress, a journalist. Perhaps instead she was one of the vampires his children had been frolicking about with instead. Could've done worse for themselves if she was.

He smiled a little to himself, though he raised an eyebrow at her teasing and the mention of magical water. Adaire preferred to keep natural things as they were, to let them be for their own purpose. He supposed it was in the deities' nature to play, well, gods though.

Relaxing into the water, the elf let himself indulge in the calming magics worked into the water. He draped his arms over the edge of the spring, wet skin glistening in the lamplight. The change had been made. Any reluctance to use it now would be mere stubbornness, and he needed to preserve that to discuss council matters.

"Are you sure it's not just my calming presence?" Adaire quipped, voice teasing and lips curling up. "I've heard it helps other's minds settle."

He let out a breath, watching it condense against the cold air. "Tell me; what's your name?"

The vampiress recognized the elven elder as soon as she smoother the excess eater and hair from her face. She could definitely see where Atlas and Artus got there looks from, the patriarch of the family almost glowing from the lanterns around the various spring pools. Considering Vivian was still a very young vampire, a part of her wondered how much she’d be able to control herself, as elven blood had always been such a weakness for her. Memories passed of the times she’d fed on Atrus coming to her mind, pushing them away quickly before her mouth could water. She thanked whatever gods were watching that she’d fed before coming to the springs.

“Oh yea, yes, of course,” she added as nonchalantly as she could muster, adjusting her bikini to ensure everything was in its place. “I guess great minds really do think alike,” she teased as she looked over to the various crowds of people in pother pools far off from the pool she was currently in. “Plus, I heard a rumor that this pool has this, like, calming, relaxing effect. I gotta say, so far they’re not wrong…” Vivian giggled before leaning back to float on her back, blissfully relaxed from the effects of the water.

[adairewestwood]

"Hiya, lass," Adaire nodded at the... Vampire, if his gut was right. It usually was.

He'd spent the day like days of yore, tracking through the snowy forests, racing other elves over the frozen lake, and skiing down the mountainside with not a thought in the world but the cold wind against his face and rushing through his ears. Mount Paean felt like pure and radiant nature. It felt like home. Unlike the nightmarish jungle of concrete and steel of the city, the mountain felt real.

And yet it didn't. Like a painting so hauntingly lifelike, so hauntingly beautiful that taking your eyes off it felt like losing a part of yourself. But you had to, lest the picture became everything as the real world passed you by. One couldn't lose themself to dreams.

The hot springs felt like a good place to contemplate such matters, but the ones Adaire had passed by before were bustling with too many souls. He'd needed some peace and quiet. Then again, he could imagine the woman wishing for some as well.

"Hope you don't mind me joining ya here, the other springs were... Rather too convivial for my tastes," he explained, his slight Scottish accent shining through.

Who: Vivian x Open ( @vievecorcitystarters ) Where: The Lodge Hot Springs, Smallest pool. When: VC Christmas Event.

Vivian was excited for the distraction that was the Christmas Event. Her family used to always make such a big deal of the holiday, and the vampire had continued to keep that tradition going, even if she often spent them alone. Despite her holiday cheer, she couldn't shake the paranoia that followed her to the resort, especially considering what had transpired during Halloween.

After mingling and doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, Vivian felt it was time to indulge her curiosities about the hot springs. She'd heard a few rumors around the lodge that there was a small pool far out of the way that offered a tranquil spell that Vivian desperately craved, wanting to unburden her mind of all of its recent worries. After some searching, she'd found the small spring, slowly dipping herself in and welcoming its relaxing aura. After a while, Vivian dipped her head in, eyes closed to fully consume herself in peace of mind. She'd been under a few minutes, before the vampire appeared above the surface, startled to see that someone else had joined her in the spring. "Oh. Hi," she managed, a slightly embarrassed, almost tipsy smile on her lips.

[adairewestwood]

For some godsforsaken reason, Adaire's first thought as Atlas climbed out of bed was that they wanted to run away. Away from him and the stern words he had always spoken to them. Away from any form of confrontation, mused a part of him that he realized he'd listened to all too much during his time as a father.

Instead they hugged him, and Adaire froze for but a moment. For all the mistakes of his past, he could do this one thing right. So he wrapped his arms around his daughter, embracing them tightly as he let them rest their weary head against his chest.

"Berry," he whispered, placing a kiss atop their head.

Atlas felt like they were challenging him to admit his guilt and tell them why they needed to apologise. In the time that Atlas had waited for her father to return, it felt like they were owed the words even if they had to be pulled from his lips. The young elf did not have the fire their father did, but in the hospital bed and arms wrapped around themselves, they felt filled with fire.

For a moment her stern expression stayed in place but it began to fall. That fire was quick to peter out when he spoke again. No matter how angry Atlas wanted to be, they were his child and they wanted him to care. "Dad," they murmured. Climbing out of bed, Atlas hesitantly wrapped their arms around her father's waist, hoping he would hug her back.

[adairewestwood]

Adaire snorted. It wasn't the first time the boy had asked him that. Wouldn't be the last either, he wagered. It was the first time within this context though. Not merely the death of a loved one; the death of a loved one gone too soon. A grief Adaire knew all too well, one that stung so fiercely and clung onto you too long.

Interesting to note the lad's strategy was to distract himself.

"An expression of grief. A wish for you to take care, together with a gratitude for that which was." His voice was calm and soft, his tone sincere. Adaire paused, laying the flowers down on the table. It hardened as he continued. "A promise that justice shall be done."

Hard to believe a deity had taken a life, even if it weren't the first time he'd heard of it happen. In some twisted way, it was a relief to Adaire that not just the elves were facing... Internal struggles. Though he supposed that one misbegotten deity, unworthy of the power he yielded, wasn't as much of a concern to the high lords in the Divine Realm as the extinction of their species was to elven elders across the globe.

Funny how even that seemed so irrelevant when met with the overwhelming grief of a man in love. He continued to watch Eli, waiting to see if he had anything to say about the matter.

Elijah only half shrugged in reply. Adaire was right. If he hadn't been here in the living room he would have been in his bedroom or sitting at the kitchen table in about the same condition. "Thanks." He sighed, letting the elf's natural calming aura wash over him without trying to fight it the way he normally would.

"So what do the flowers mean?" Over the years he'd picked up on the fact that Adaire's bouquets always had some sort of meaning, but Elijah had never been able to remember what all the flowers were supposed to symbolize and he couldn't keep half of them straight anyway. Besides, at the moment he would prefer to listen to Adaire explain it to take his mind off everything.

[adairewestwood]

Adaire continued playing as his son chastised him. Funny. It felt like yesterday when he'd done the same to the little boy Artus had once been. When he'd spoken to him of leadership and responsibilities, and how we portray ourselves to the world. It was good to see he hadn't forgotten.

A final note struck the air after Artus' question had left his lips, filling the silence of the cave. There was a pause, and Adaire lowered his hands from the keys to rest them on his thighs.

"You make it sound like I'm putting on some sort of act, lad," he scoffed. "This isn't a play, I'm afraid. All the world's a stage, save for this place. This sanctum. Only here there is no need for me to play any parts, and I can simply be."

He sighed, looking around the cave. Artus would take good care of it, when the time came. He was certain of it.

"I've never shirked my duties, Artus." He turned his head to look at his boy over his shoulder. "For I left them in the care of a man who I knew would fulfill them to the best of his abilities."

Now that his father was home again, there was a different air to the city. It was something he had always noticed, a trait that had always led him to wherever his father was. These days, even after his extended absence, he knew where to look for him. The thing was that it was a hideaway. Even after coming back to the city, the elder elf was still avoiding his duties and obligations and now it was falling on Artus to remind him.

Here he was, hiding in what he viewed these days as a sort of terrarium. The plant life grew as it pleased, the place was able to maintain itself in Adaire's absence, and yet the elf sometimes seemed to be part of the ecosystem at times, unable to leave lest he break the illusion. But they couldn't keep indulging in their flights of fancy for long.

"Is this how you intend to spend all your days? Portraying yourself as some ingénue and not the respected leader whose responsibilities you continually shirk at every given turn?" Not that Artus hadn't been spending the majority of his recent years learning from him, observing, and, most recently, filling in the role in his absence. Despite how much he loathed to admit it, he wasn't ready for that level of responsibility. Knowing it would be on his shoulders to find out what was causing the sudden downturn in elf numbers and finding a solution was far too much to handle, never mind the guilt he had for not having an answer.

[adairewestwood]

Adaire stepped through the door, his expression solemn. In his hand he held a bouquet of flowers; marigold, azalea, and some coltsfoot. He'd grown them himself, of course. Not much meaning behind flowers if you hadn't, especially for the likes of Adaire. The flowers themselves were fitting for the situation, even if their vibrant colors weren't. Like a flash of light, dispelling the comforting darkness of grief that simply needed time to pass on. Some pain needed to be felt, before the wound that caused it could ever truly heal.

"Figured I'd find ya here, lad," he spoke as a manner of greeting, his voice soft like the rustling of autumn leaves. He took a moment to look Eli over. He looked pitiful, to put it bluntly. Adaire doubted he'd fare any better himself under the same circumstances. If this was the witch's way of letting grief grip him so tightly that it couldn't hold onto him forever, so be it.

"My condolences." The words lingered in the air for a moment, before Adaire sighed and put the flowers down on the nearest table.

He could ask Elijah a million questions, but not a single one he neither didn't know the answer to already, nor didn't want to bother Elijah with right now. Instead, he simply walked over, pulled up a chair, and silently sat down across from the witch.

@vievecorcitystarters

After the timeline was reset.

He remembered meeting with Persy's children to arrange the funeral and feeling his heart clench every time he saw her in one of their faces. He'd met them a few times before and they had gotten along. They had chosen not to clear out her house so they could visit the city or eventually if their children wanted to move there. It was nice to have that promise, but Elijah still avoided the neighborhood. Even though it had happened over the course of a month, the memories seemed to have hit him all at once.

In between fulfilling his obligations to the coven and VU, he would almost just... stop. It was hard to find the motivation to work on any of his passion projects or anything else. He was half dozing and listening to whatever was on npr when someone knocked on the door. He reached out with magic to unlock the door and flick the radio off, not getting up from his place curled on the couch. "Come in."