nomadelaide

[nomadelaide]

Sources:

Chamberlain, Lisa. Runes for Beginners: A Guide to Reading Runes in Divination, Rune Magic, and the Meaning of the Elder Futhark Runes. Chamberlain Publications, 2018.

Kristen. “15 Best Herbs for Protection.” Schisandra & Bergamot, 19 Feb. 2023, schisandraandbergamot.com/herbs-for-protection/.

“Animal Symbology: Animal Spirit Guides: Shamanism.” Animal Symbology | Animal Spirit Guides | Shamanism, www.wicca.com/animal-guides/symbology.html. Accessed 21 Oct. 2023.

[nomadelaide]

She allowed for the silence stretch, the lamplight throwing shadows against the walls, flickering faintly from the draft sneaking in through the cracked window. Charles’s question pressed against her ribs like a bruise, tender and unignorable. She knew what he wanted her to say, some clean answer that would make the gnawing go quiet. But the truth didn’t come neat like that. The truth never did. Addie stayed quiet for a moment, gaze fixed on the way his fingers worried at the loose thread. The question of bad witches sat between them like smoke, curling and stubborn, refusing to dissipate. She let it hang there long enough to feel the weight of it in her chest before answering. “Yeah.” She said finally, voice low but steady. “There are.” No attempt to sugarcoat it, no deflection. If he was asking, he deserved the truth—or at least a fraction of the truth. She'd seen these 'bad witches' firsthand on more than one occasion. She knew 'bad' didn't begin to cover it for some of them; but now wasn't the time to tell Charles the truth about the darkness that lingered in the hearts of some magick-users, about how they'd twist shadows or hollow someone from the inside out like ghosts.

Her fingers drummed absently against the mattress, restless as they betrayed nerves she was trying to mask. “But, uh, that’s not the whole story.” She added after a beat, shifting how she was sat in order to scoot closer to him, hoping her presence would give him as much comfort as his presence gave her. "It's like with non-witches. There’s the ones who try to fix things, who try to keep the balance, even if it’s messy and awkward and no one ever thanks us for it.” She met his gaze then, trying to cut through that raw fear in his eyes with something steadier. “It’s not like all witches are waiting around to hex someone just because it's funny to make your childhood bully belch uncontrollable in the middle of McGuire's algebra final." Okay, but that hex had been completely justified according to her fourteen year old self. "Some of us are just… people. Flawed? Sure. Reckless? Sometimes. But we're not monsters." She swallowed, the word 'monsters' tasting too familiar on her tongue—a word she'd used once upon a time for people she so desperately wished she could forget.

“You’re right to be afraid, Charles.” She admitted, softer now. "N-No one can fault you for that." The confession carried its own weight, the kind that thickened the air. “Because when someone decides to use their magick to hurt instead of heal? It’s not like you can just call the authorities and have it sorted. There are witches out there who won’t blink twice at the ruin they leave behind. I-I-I wish I could tell you otherwise.” She drew in a long breath, eyes flicking to the sage bundle on her nightstand, its ash still clinging faintly to the dish. “But you’ve got me. And I'm not gonna ever let anything bad happen to you." A hand found its way to wrap around the tourmaline pendant she never took off. "Those bastards will have to get through me first." The words carried no bravado, just quiet conviction or maybe even a promise... even if she wasn’t sure how long she could keep it.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Charles laughed as he followed her to the bed, the sound a little too sharp, like it had been waiting just under his ribs for an excuse to spill out. He plopped down unceremoniously beside her, his weight making the mattress dip just enough to bump their knees together. He didn’t move away. One arm draped lazily across his stomach while the other propped him slightly upright, letting him turn his head to face her as she spoke.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Currents,” he echoed, grinning faintly. “Man, I must’ve been too fucking drunk to notice, I guess.” The grin came easy, but it didn’t land properly. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess that storm did feel like some kind of rip tide, though. Like something trying to crawl inside your skin.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He let the words hang for a moment, then dragged a hand through his hair, fingers catching on a few stubborn knots. The static buzz of unease still pressed against his chest, but Addie’s presence grounded it a little. It was always like that with her. Like the eye of the storm had a pulse and a sarcastic mouth.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Addie…” he started again, but this time it was different. The name came out soft. Careful. He wasn’t looking at her now. He was watching his fingers toy with the edge of the comforter, tracing a loose thread with too much focus. “Do you…”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He paused, then tried again. “I mean, there’s obviously asshole Witches out there. And I know you’re not one of them,” he said quickly, a little too quickly, like he needed to shove the words out before they crumbled. “But, like…” His throat worked around the question. It felt too heavy for the air between them.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “There’s bad Witches out there, right?” he asked, quieter now. ��Ones who do shit that hurts people. Who don’t give a damn who they mess with, or what it does to anyone else.” He looked at her finally and there was something raw in his gaze, like part of him already knew the answer and just needed her to say it out loud.

[nomadelaide]

Addie let herself be steered to the bench, latte still dangling from her fingers like a prop. Her first instinct was to make light of the whole thing; but the faint sting at her lip and the way his expression stayed serious kept her quiet. She tipped her head obligingly as he looked her over, grey hues flicking off toward the kids with the frisbee still chasing each other through the park without a care in the world. The smear of red had already been forgotten until he pointed out how deceptively bad it looked, the thought doing nothing for the twist of unease that had been plaguing her since the storm.

At his concern, she gave a small huff and dragged the back of her hand across her mouth again like she was trying to prove it wasn’t a big deal. It came away streaked; and all she could do in return was exhale through her nose. “Figures.” She muttered, the word carrying equal parts resignation and amusement. Then he mention a clinic; and she grew silent again, taking a long moment to study him before deciding he seemed harmless enough. She nodded once, sharp and pragmatic, before introducing herself. “I'm Addie."

It was pretty clear that this stranger didn’t know that she was injured (just slightly, but still). Brook thought that made sense - it had just been a frisbee that had hit her, after all. But if it hit just right, it could cause minor injuries like this (and in one notable case, Brook had had a patient who’d been knocked out by one, but that had been unusual to say the least). Sure enough, the woman said she was fine, but then Brook saw the way she shifted when she realized what had him concerned. “Yeah…that’s why I wanted to take a look,” he told her, stepping closer. “Is that okay?”

Brook led the woman to a nearby bench, and once they were seated, he examined her injury. “Face wounds sometimes bleed a lot,” Brook said, “even when they’re minor, like this.” And this was definitely one of those times. It looked much worse than it was, but Brook didn’t have any of his supplies with him. “Listen, my clinic is right down the street,” he told the woman. “I can take you there and get this all cleaned up if you want. What’s your name?”

[nomadelaide]

For a split second, the stranger's words stuck sharper than she wanted them to—out of it. They were too on the nose, too close to the truth she was trying to keep tucked beneath a paper-thin smile. The last thing Addie needed was some stranger seeing through the cracks already; so after feeing as if her silence lingered for too long, she gave her head the smallest shake, as if that alone could scatter the static rattling around in her chest and pull her back into herself. “Not nervous.” She corrected softly, lips tugging into something almost wry. “Just, uh… My latte’s gone cold.” Her gaze dropped to the cup in her hand before flicking back up again, a hint of humor sneaking into her tone. She didn't say it aloud; but she thought maybe getting something to drink wasn't such a bad idea.

“Hardly anyone noticed,” he commented with a soft smile trying to ease her bruised ego.  As Diego stood there, his brown eyes watching her.  It appeared something else was going on behind the scenes, but first encounters and all it was not something you mention.  “Would you like to get something to drink?  Something to just soothe those nerves of yours?”  He questioned, figuring it would be the polite thing to do at the moment.  Perhaps on the way to the place, he could easily grab someone’s wallet without them noticing to pay for it.  “Or something else?  It just seems you’re a little out of it at the moment.”

[nomadelaide]

Addie tilted her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she watched the other examine the shelf with a frustrated frown. “Yeah… I guess you could call it that.” She began, voice low, almost conversational, like she was sharing a secret. “I’ve always liked the idea of doing things the simple way, letting nature do its part rather than slathering everything in chemicals. Makes life feel a little… lighter, y'know?” Her fingers absently brushed the ends of her own tamed curls, feeling the weight and texture as she spoke. “Even just a rinse or a little oil can change the way hair moves, smells, feels against your skin. There’s something satisfying about it too, like it’s actually alive." The way hair should be.

She gave a small laugh and leaned a little closer, as if offering more insight. “Honestly, though? I’m not, like, some herbal guru or anything. Most of what I know comes from my aunt. She’s a bit of an old hippie: wild curls, incense always burning somewhere in the house, dried herbs cluttering the kitchen. The whole nine yards... She taught me everything she knew about self-care, would drag me into the bathroom with bowls of I don't even know what and make me sniff and stir and mix, swearing it worked like magick." That's because it had, in fact, been magick. "I didn’t always believe her; but, uh, I guess some of it stuck with me all these years.” Her fingers unconsciously swirled a loose strand of hair, a small gesture that somehow made her feel connected to that memory. Her aunt had been the only one to never shame the way she looked, never press a straighter into her hand and forbid her from leaving the house until she looked 'presentable'.

"Fortunately not," Lilith replied frankly, happy not to share terrible bird's hair troubles whenever it rained. "But if it makes you feel any better, my hair's been treated so many times that I don't even remember its natural color anymore." Not necessarily all true— she did recall how mousy brown and unremarkable it was, but the sentiment was the same. They all had their hair problems. The bottle in her hand was placed back on the shelf. "Serene Scissors," Lilith repeated the name, in an effort to commit it to memory. "Honestly, I wasn't aware they had a beauty salon here. It really doesn't offer much."

At least, she assumed they were speaking about one. She hoped so. Scissors, at the very least, implied it was some kind of haircut place. The woman likely would have found it on her own at some point.

"It was worth a shot," Lilith advised with a delicate shrug of the shoulders. "I may just have to travel to Seattle to get my usuals." Sadly, this wasn't something she would feel comfortable doing for a while yet— she needed to lay low. Besides, it wasn't like she had a car anymore to get there, either. The mention of several herbs brought her gaze back to the woman, with a different interest brewing. "Really?" she questioned, as if she didn't any knowledge of them. "So you're into the whole natural, herbal remedies schtick?" There was a certain kind of free vibe to the other, like if she had been born a few decades prior, she may have been a flower child.

[nomadelaide]

[nomadelaide]

Her laugh came quick, a little breathy, like she was shaking something loose. “Yes and no. I mean, I grew up here; but, like, I left after I graduated high school. Only been back—” Addie stopped herself, words snagging in her throat as her mind slipped sideways. This time last year, she’d been plotting every angle of escape, her nights spent imagining what freedom would feel like, what it would feel like to be stateside again after so long. The fact she hadn’t even been free a full year yet pressed heavy at her ribs like a bruise. She blinked, steadying herself with a drag of air, letting the pause dissolve into a shrug. “—I got back last December." She finished, tone light, as if the stutter hadn’t meant anything. Slender fingers drummed against the counter, quick and restless, before curling around the strap of her bag like some sort of anchor.

Her gaze slid back to the man, a smirk tugging at her mouth as though she could trade the heaviness for something easier. “You’re clearly not from here, monsieur. What’s that—Parisian?” The tease carried warmth; but her eyes were keen, genuinely curious. She'd spent some time in Paris. It was brief, but memorable. Looking back, she wished she'd lingered in the city longer, at least made the time to see a performance or three at the Paris Opera. Another beat passed before she tipped her head toward the cluster of empty tables. "I won't say no to good company. Beats dining alone like a total loser." All she had to do now was order her own sandwich; and once both their meals arrived, they could find a place to sit and eat.

he nods as she speaks, comfort foods were always a good choice. mushroom and gruyere definitely evoked feelings of home for him, several bistros in paris had sandwiches very similar. it wasn't common for him to indulge in those kinds of foods when he was a dancer. but, he wasn't in that career anymore, so things were different now. "if it's your go-to sandwich here, it must be good. if it isn't, at least i know who to blame." he replies, giving a playful grin as he speaks. he places his order with little hesitation, feeling confident in his choice.

"are you from here? i don't know that i've seen you around." he doesn't recognize her face from his time in town, but it's possible that he didn't remember meeting too. the past 5 years felt like a blur to hercule, between his career ending and moving to a different continent. he did enjoy his life in cardinal hill, it felt nice to be able to live somewhere he didn't feel constant pressure. it almost seemed like for the first time, he could actually breathe. "i don't mean to impose, but would you want to eat together?"

[nomadelaide]

The soy sauce clung sharp to the back of her tongue, grounding her in a way that almost startled her. For a second, Addie let the silence stretch, chopsticks suspended in midair as if weighing what he’d said against the flickering light above the register. He was proud of her—his word, not hers. The word settled uneasily in her chest, not unwelcomed but strange all the same. So much of her wandering had been about running, chasing, losing herself, finding something else. She wasn’t sure 'proud' was ever the word she’d have chosen. A wry little huff slipped through her nose as she dropped her spring roll back to its plate, letting the grease bloom across the napkin like an ink stain.

“I was only in Singapore for, like, maybe two weeks, okay?” Still, Addie knew two weeks anywhere abroad was a big thing. Most people didn't just get to up and leave their hometown—let alone their home state or country—like she had. She was a world traveler. It would forever be in her blood. “So I met this girl in Thailand. Ping... She offered to take me and Teagan and Cricket down to visit her family in the city. Wild, yeah? We ate chili crab on the street, got drunk on Tiger beer that I swear tasted more like soap than cilantro does. And we sweated through every fucking t-shirt we owned. Hardly glamorous.” Her smile flickered, faltering for a moment before she looked back at him. “So, no, not really a vision. Just me, probably smelling like fried noodles half the time... And before you ask, my year in Thailand was amazing as fuck but even less glamorous. Took a shower with a frog once. And, like, never get ice in your drink, no matter how hot out it is. Learned that one the hard way."

"Ah so still dramatic as always, nice to see some things haven't changed," he teased. But he could appreciate what it was like to have a complicated relationship with family. He knew it well. His cousins endless feud had only been made worse by decisions from his family. Trying to shield his cousin, trying to see some goodness in him when there was no goodness left. Alex felt like he was sometimes talking to a wall when he spoke to his family and yet they all still expected him to protect them. It had been an endless battle and Alex was just happy for a brief moment to set his feet down, even if it felt temporary.

"Ah Singapore, okay word traveler. I bet you were quite the vision out there," Alex told her with a soft smile. He tried to imagine Addie out there in the world and it brought him joy to think of her far from here, living her life. "I'm glad you did what you did," he said after a moment as he looked at her. "Left, I mean, saw the world, met new people. I'm proud of you," he told her sincerely. He reached for his chopsticks again and took another bite. "But you're still here so something's making it worth it, right?"

[nomadelaide]

Yeah, they were far from Morocco, far from anything and everything that had transpired with Marcos... Addie tried to hold onto that thought like a lifeline, even as the memories pressed in—the heat, the music, his shadow always lingering too close, the sound of his voice when he'd anger. Lupe had been one of the few bright spots in that blur, a reminder that the brunette could still choose for herself, still feel something other than the weight of his hand at the back of her neck. Sitting here now, though, the past felt closer than she wanted it to, close enough that her pulse skipped as she finally allowed herself to fully take in the woman sat before her.

She cupped the mug in both hands, letting the steam curl up into her face, grounding herself in the present. The tea was good, earthy and warm; but it was Lupe she kept stealing glances at—Lupe, who made it too easy to remember the nights that bled into mornings. Addie huffed softly, shaking her head like she could scatter the ghosts of her mind. “Feels like another lifetime.” She admitted, voice low, almost rueful. “Maybe two.”

"And yet, lucky for me, here you are," she told her, appreciating the honesty but sure there was a lot behind Addie's words. It wasn't like Lupe was oblivious. This obviously wasn't where Addie thought she'd be back in and Lupe felt the same but if she had any sense of intuition, she could only assume that Addie's return had been as forced as her own had been. Choice taken from them. Maybe it was a projection but Lupe hoped they eventually could both find peace. Or at the very least forget whatever it was they were leaving behind them. Her smiled widened and she shrugged. "It's one of my many talents, what can I say? Even easier when you make it so easy." Lupe let her gaze moved slowly over Addie, taking in all the ways she had changed and yet stayed the same. The notion that she hand't changed made her laugh because it was true and yet in so many ways she felt it wasn't. She was changed, it was just hard for her to act like it.

Lupe's expression softened the more Addie spoke. "Yeah me too," she replied, her foot lightly nudging Addie's under the table. "But here we are. Far from Morocco," she added, the realization both a comfort and a reminder that Lupe could never go back to that time. She had to face what was in front of her now. As the tea finished, Lupe kept her eyes on Addie as she used her magic to serve it up but had to break contact when she almost dropped a dish. "I'm still rusty," she joked, but really it was her lack of focus, finding that the longer she looked at Addie, the longer she was drowning in the nostalgia of it all. She tried not to see it as more than it was, some kind of sign, her past returned but it was hard not to. "Enjoy," she said once the tea was in front of them. "My boss is pretty good at this tea thing, or well he's getting better and better each day so I think you'l like it."

[nomadelaide]

The table between them was a mess—magazine scraps curling at the edges, tape stuck to her elbow, Cyril sprawled right in the middle like he’d claimed the glossy pile for himself. Addie tore another page with a decisive rip, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of the house. She hadn’t thought about Halloween in years; but the way Charles said 'baby' like it was the most ordinary thing in the world made her glance up, her heart nearly skipping a beat. Their grin was broad enough to hide in; and for once she didn’t feel the urge to pick it apart. “A little hat?” She repeated, a soft chuckle spilling out before she could stop it. “He’ll look better than both of us combined.” She reached over to tug gently at Cyril’s ear, the fox stretching languidly like he knew he’d just been crowned the star of the show. "You sure you wanna be upstaged by a fox?" Even if it was no ordinary fox.

“Y'know, you're really leaning into this more than I expected, Stinky.” Addie spoke up again after a beat, softer now, grey hues flicking back down to the scattered clippings before finding theirs again. There was something earnest and restless in their energy that tugged at her—a mirror of the way she’d been searching for normal since coming home. The shadows, the smile, the storm... It all pressed in closer at night. But here? With Charles? Rambling about hats and costumes? The weight lifted for a moment, the unease no longer clouding her mind. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. No half-ass costumes. No cheap masks...” Her smile edged crooked, borderline conspiratorial. “This is gonna be my first real Samhain since high school. So if we're gonna lean into the costumes, I want them to mean something. I want people talking about how we looked into the new millennium.”

✿ Closed starter for Addie (@nomadelaide) at Charles' place.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ They completely ignored that fuck-ass flier. When they saw it, the color drained from their face, and the bright lettering felt mocking, a sugary sweet exclamation that felt like a punch to the gut. Beneath the cartoon version of himself, smiling like a fool, the truth lay printed in words that burned hotter than any confrontation ever had. They tossed the paper into the nearest trash can and rolled their shoulders back, smoothing a hand over his hair like they could brush away the guilt with it. Then, they slipped the smile back on. The one that always worked. The one people loved. “Carnivals,” they’d muttered, under their breath and without any of the usual charm. “What a joke.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ So instead, there they were, a few months too early, staring down at a ridiculous amount of magazines that they’d started clipping inspiration photos out of. “Baby,” they said, looking over at Addie with a grin, “We’re gonna be so cool. Hey, little dude, you wanna match with us?” Their gaze dropped down to the fox that had become an integral part of his life. If Addie loved Cyril, then Charles loved Cyril. “You wanna wear a little hat or some shit?” Charles hadn’t cared about dressing up or doing anything on Halloween other than getting shit-faced in a long time, but Addie was back, and for once, they felt a longing to do something normal with their best friend.

[nomadelaide]

Addie blinked at him, startled less by his sudden appearance than by the fact he looked like he’d just watched her get mauled by a wild animal instead of clobbered by some rogue playground equipment. Confusion knitted between her brows, quick to eclipse any embarrassment over being caught stumbling around the fountain. She straightened a little, the cold latte still in her grip, and shook her head. “I’m fine.” She insisted, brushing it off like the whole thing was nothing worth noticing. Her pulse was still trying to crawl out of her throat; but she figured that was more from the startle than anything else.

When he mentioned taking a look and tossed out the doctor card, her brow furrowed even further in confusion. “Look at what?” She asked, genuinely unaware as to what he was referring, tilting her head like maybe he’d mistaken her for someone else who’d actually been injured. But the words had barely left her mouth before she caught the faint copper tang on her tongue. Her face went still; and she glanced down, bringing the back of her hand up to swipe across her mouth. Sure enough—smear of red. "Oh."

Things had been tense in Cardinal Hill. Brook kept thinking that as he walked through the park. Everything seemed peaceful, and to an ordinary person, that might seem to be the case. But Brook wasn’t just the average person - he was a witch, and he could sense that things were off. It had started even before the recent attacks, but the feeling had just been building since. It was making Brook antsy, his fingers tingling; he wanted to use magic, to cast wards around the people he cared about. He’d already done that with a couple of people, but Brook was trying to refrain from using anymore magic. Even that little bit had him itching to do more, and he knew it truly was a slippery slope, at least for him. Still, his resolve was slipping as he walked through the park because it felt like there were unseen dangers everywhere. Every shadow, every rustling in the bushes, Brook felt like it was someone coming to attack. They probably wouldn’t do that in the middle of the day though, he thought, but who could tell for sure? Not Brook. 

Even so, Brook willed himself to calm down. Everything was fine, and he was just being silly. But apparently there was the risk of unseen dangers, just not the kind Brook had been anticipating: he saw the frisbee fly into a woman’s shoulder and saw her pitch forward, so he rushed to her aid. “Oh my God, are you alright?” he asked. The woman looked familiar, but he was more focused on her bleeding lip. “Come on, let’s go sit down and I’ll take a look,” he offered, gesturing a bench. Then Brook realized he was a stranger to this woman, so he explained, saying, “That’s not as weird as it sounds - I’m a doctor. My name is Brook.”

[nomadelaide]

Addie let out a huff that passed for a laugh, the sound a little thinner than she would’ve liked. “Yeah, I’m all good… Just a bruised ego, y’know.” She dusted her palm over the side of her jeans, not that it did anything except give her something to do with her hands. On the outside, it was easy enough to play it off like a clumsy moment; but inside she could still feel that jolt from when the frisbee came out of nowhere, her body ready to react like it had the night of the storm, the night of the smile. In reality, it was stupid; and she knew it. There was no threat here, just a bunch of kids playing in the park... But her nerves clearly hadn’t gotten the memo. If she could laugh about it, keep it light, then maybe she could convince herself it was nothing worth noticing. She tipped her coffee to her lips out of habit. It had long gone cold; but it gave her a reason to pause.

A fresh start for what seemed like the millionth time, but this time was different.  This time, he really got himself into some deep trouble and needed a place to hide until things settled.

Cardinal Hill, a place where his sister Matilda first settled, then later his brother Enzo.  Apparently it was a lovely place to settle down.  Not that Diego had plans for such things, but visiting family until he figured out his next move seemed like the logical choice.

Like many places he came through, he did his initial assessment going through the town and to find his next mark.  It is how he ended up Sunny Acres Park on this nice day, relaxing on a bench while he watched people from this quaint town.

Little did he expect to watch a scene unfold as a frisbee hurled at a young woman.  Slowly walking up, she quickly noticed him and he offered a smile.

“What’s in it for me?”  Diego gently teased.  “You okay though?  Not hurt or anything?”

[nomadelaide]

The knock pulled her from the thin veil of half-sleep she’d been stubbornly hovering in. She’d been lying on top of the covers with the lamp still on, staring at the water stain in the corner of the ceiling and letting her mind churn itself raw. Cardinal Hill was supposed to be familiar, a safe little snow globe of a town she could tuck herself back into. Instead, it felt like the glass had been cracked and no one was saying how. The storm the other night had only made it worse—loud, howling... Like something alive pounding at the walls. She hadn’t really shaken the feeling that it wasn't just ordinary weather. She knew the truth.

Addie pushed herself up, combing fingers through tangled curled before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “No. I'm asleep, Stinky.” She called back, voice low but amused. The door handle felt cool under her palm as she cracked it open, leaning against the frame. Charles looked about the same as ever; but she could see the restless energy humming in his shoulders. And, if she was honest, she wasn’t exactly radiating calm either.

“A sacrifice for demons, huh?” She echoed, quirking a brow at the bluntness of his question. “That’s one hell of a late-night icebreaker...” She stepped aside in wordless invitation, letting him into the dim, slightly cluttered room. The air smelled faintly of sage from the smudge stick she’d burned earlier—something to ward off the lingering darkness. “But… I won't say you’re completely off-base." She added, moving to plop back down on the end of her bed. "I mean, Cardinal Hill's has always had these… currents." Yeah, that was a good word for the weird energy that pulsed beneath the town's surface. "Lately, though? Feels we're caught in a fucking rip tide.”

She wasn't going to sugar coat things. Now that Charles knew the truth about her, about magick, it wouldn't be right to lie. She knew some dark shit had fallen over their sleepy little town; and unfortunately, he would be learning that too one way or another. "I-I wish I could say I knew more about what's going down; but I'm just as lost as you. Creepy smiles that steal powers. Backwards fucking storms... If I wanted nightmare fuel like that in my life, I'd've stayed in Brazil." Since he now knew a bit regarding the truth of her three years' radio silence, Addie had taken up joking about what she survived with the cult. It was easier to process that way. "At least they had goiaba."

✿ Closed starter for Addie (@nomadelaide) at Charles' house.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Addie had returned during an interesting time.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He wasn’t a stranger to the idea of unease–he’d lived with it like a roommate for most of his life–but lately, it had taken on a different flavor. More jagged, more surreal. When he thought back on some of the events that had happened over the last few months, the hindsight that it could have been a Witch weighed heavy in his mind. The idea that magic existed. That the creeping dread in the back of his skull might not have just been trauma or a bad high, but something true.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The night Addie left, the house had gone so quiet it rang. He’d found her note folded neatly on the kitchen table, scrawled in her familiar handwriting, and it had gutted him in a way he didn’t want to admit. No answers, no plan, just a hollow absence that settled like dust in his lungs. Without her around, the days blurred–mostly spent in the dim glow of TV static and bottle glass. Drinking had always been a vice, a coping mechanism, an old friend who overstayed its welcome. And with no one around to keep him honest, he'd spiraled. Hard.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Lately, though, he was trying. Clumsily. He hadn’t had a drink in a few days, which was something. Instead, he nursed a lingering high and a half-hearted craving for Chinese food. The craving lost to the buzzing in his chest–the itch that something was wrong.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It was late. Too late for casual conversation, really. But he knew Addie–she either wouldn’t be asleep, or she’d act annoyed that he woke her up and still let him talk anyway. He padded down the hall, the floor creaking softly beneath his feet. A yawn cracked his jaw as he knocked twice on her door, fingers curled loosely into a fist.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Addie?” he called, voice scratchy from smoke and not enough water. “You awake?” A pause. Then, quieter, half-laughing at himself: “I wanna ask if the town’s about to be a sacrifice for demons or some shit. Y’know. Casual.”

[nomadelaide]

Addie hadn’t realized how much she missed Eleanor until she saw her again in person. She was warmth wrapped in cardigans and concern, with that gentle steadiness that made everything feel less like chaos. Their phone call the other day had helped; but being near her again was different... Safer. Grounding. Since coming back from her little escape north, Addie had been teetering somewhere between clarity and collapse. The trip had helped—a kind of soul-stitching—but coming back the night of that storm had ripped a few seams loose. So when Nell suggested they hang out for a bit, Addie didn’t hesitate. She wasn’t great at asking for help; but she could show up when someone offered. And Nell always offered softly, without pressure.

But she hadn’t expected this.

When they stopped in front of the old studio, Addie blinked at the building like it might vanish if she stared too hard. Her boots crunched over the gravel; and for a second she was sixteen again, still limping from the fracture, still trying to act like the fact her dreams had been forever shattered wasn't taking over every fiber of her being. “Wait... This is where we’re going?” Her voice was somewhere between awe and disbelief. It smelled the same even from outside, that faint mix of sweat and floor polish and whatever else haunted the corners of a dance space. “You really pulled strings for this?” Addie turned toward her friend, eyes a little wide and glassy. “F-For me? Shit, Nell. This is… Fuck, I love you. But y'know you should probably give a girl a heads-up she's gonna be dancing. It's not like I just so happen to carry ballet slippers everywhere I go..." Yet, she did exactly that, the smirk curling at the corners of her lips as she reached into her bag and pulled out of a pair of Bloch slippers. She'd bought a new pair several months ago; but she'd yet to properly break them in. She'd almost been too afraid to dance.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind them felt strangely sacred. The mirrors, the barres, the scuff marks on the wood—it all looked exactly as her body remembered. Addie let out a sharp breath that almost turned into a laugh. “Eleanor Quinn, my first official dance student.” She said, spinning slowly on her heel to take it all in, wobbling slightly as rainboots and Marley flooring weren't the best of friends. “Oh my goddess. Can you picture me as a fucking dance instructor? Clipboard in one hand, screaming five, six, seven, eight at a bunch of preschoolers like I know what the hell I’m doing?” She grinned; but it was softer around the edges, grateful even. “Alright, Angelina Ballerina...” She began, gesturing toward the open floor with a mock-bow. “Let’s find out how many ways you can fall on your ass before you tire of my world."

❁ Location: The Stream Studio ❁ Closed Starter for @nomadelaide ❁ Muses: Addie & Nell

After a long phone call with Addie, Eleanor was filled in on all the changes in her friend's life. Many of them had been ones that she'd really hoped for; all Nell wanted for her friends was for them to be happy. To see themselves the same way she saw them. She knew that the people close to her would have to feel negative emotions, as being alive required a lot of hardship. The two of them grew much closer after their talk in her office. It was then that it was confirmed that magic was real, and all the lore that surrounded Cardinal Hill was so much more than that. Knowing now that it was history allowed Nell to go into one of her favorite modes, research. Looking into everything she could, the pieces fell into place.

A favor had been put in, something that Nell normally didn't try to do, but this one felt needed, and she had to use her perks of knowing so many people for something. She'd been helping with some wellness workshops and remembered Addie speaking about her past with dancing. It felt like the perfect time to ask to use the studio for a few hours and also continue helping with people's wellness. Although she pretended to be a ballerina, Eleanor was far from one. However, she thought it wouldn't hurt to try, and since she was so inexperienced, it might help Addie relax.

When the two made their way to the front doors, she smiled brightly at the other and took out the key. "I pulled some favors and got us the studio for a few hours. Thought you might want to teach me some tricks on how to be a sturdier dancer." Before placing the key in the lock, she turned to face Addie, her face softened as her head tilted. "Or is this too much? Cause we can do something else if you'd like."

[nomadelaide]

open starter @cardinalstart location: Sunny Acres Park

The town didn’t look different; but it felt different—as if someone had gone and rearranged the furniture while she was gone. But everything was still in its place, just as she remembered. Everything just felt… off, like the shadows were sharper than they'd once been and the quiet was a little too quiet when the wind died down. It had been days since that backwards storm; but Addie couldn’t quite shake the sense that something dark had greeted the moment she stepped off that bus.

She hadn’t been able to sit still all morning, mind racing and thoughts spiraling to the point she continued to see flashes of that smile in every corner. She had to get away again, had to get out; but as out wasn't truly an option she ended up wandering the edges of the park, fingers curled loosely around the half-drunk cup of what was now certainly a cold latte, grey hues flicking toward every crunch of gravel like she was expecting something—someone—to lunge out from the bushes. It was ridiculous. She knew that. Cardinal Hill was supposed to be safe; and yet the static in her chest hadn’t let up since the sky cracked open that night.

She was so caught up in it she didn’t see the frisbee until it nearly clipped her shoulder. She jolted backward, startled, and knocked straight into the concrete lip of the drinking fountain. “Shit. Fu—sorry!” She blurted out, breath catching in her throat as she instinctively reached to steady herself. When she looked up, it was just a group of kids playing... It was just a game. Still, her heart wouldn’t slow down. She glanced at the fountain, grimaced, and muttered a sheepish 'my bad' before turning and realizing someone had definitely seen all of that. Her eyes met theirs; and her mouth tugged into something almost like a smile. “Can, uh, can we pretend like you didn’t just see that disaster?”

[nomadelaide]

The bell over the door gave a delicate jingle as she stepped inside, the scent of dark roast and toasted bread wrapping around her like a warm shawl; though unlike most days, it didn’t quite settle the prickle at the base of her neck. Something about that storm still clung to her like damp clothes she hadn’t managed to peel off. Her boots squeaked faintly against the tiled floor as she moved toward the counter, grey hues sweeping the room in that instinctual way one does to check for exits when the world feels off-kilter. Addie hadn’t planned on any actual conversation that day—she just wanted something hot in her hands and familiar in her stomach—but the voice beside her caught her off guard, foreign and accented.

She glanced over, lips twitching at the question. She was grateful for something mundane to focus on. “Mushroom and gruyere.” There was zero hesitance to her words, the answer soft but certain. “It’s kinda my go-to comfort sandwich. Hits the spot when the world feels a little sideways, y'know?” Slender fingers drifted to her necklace absently, the black tourmaline cool against her fingers, pulsating with that welcomed energy. “I was just about to order one myself. So if you’re into cozy, earthy, maybe a little decadent? Definitely go with that one. Otherwise, stick with the caprese. You can't strike out with anything on the menu.”

status: open @cardinalstart

where: the ceramic cup

the ceramic cup had become one of hercule's favorite spots in town. he'd tried most of their menu items and found all of them were rather tasty. today, he decided that it might be a good idea to go out for lunch rather than cook at home. he just wasn't in the mood to make something himself, so what better place than a local cafe?

he stared at the menu, pondering if he should get something new or a dish he's already tried. soup doesn't sound appealing, given that it's summer in cardinal hill, so he think that a sandwich would be a good choice. but now he faced the biggest question yet: which sandwich? he turns to the figure next to him, hoping they might have some input.

"pardon, do you have a preference between the caprese and the mushroom and gruyere? i haven't tried the latter, but i know the caprese is good. i was hoping you might help me decide."

[nomadelaide]

Plotdrop Response: Too Late to Turn Around (7/28/1991)

Addie didn’t scare easy. But this? This wasn’t fear. This was knowing.

The Greyhound wheezed into Cardinal Hill like it was gasping its last breath. Addie shifted in her seat, forehead pressed to the cool glass, eyes tracing the familiar curve of the town as it emerged from the tree line like half-remembered dreams. Rain-specked windows blurred the town’s edges—telephone wires sagging, storefronts bleached out by late-summer sun. She’d only been gone a few weeks; but something felt… Off? It didn't feel like the usual weight of coming home. It felt... Heavier. The air seemed denser somehow, like it was holding its breath. Even the birds were quiet. No welcome committee, no dogs barking, just the hiss of the brakes and the whisper of rubber on wet pavement as the bus came to a stop.

She stepped off with her backpack slung low on her shoulder, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a hug she didn't ask for. Though the moment her boots hit the sidewalk, thunder cracked—not the distant, polite roll of storms she'd grown up with, but rather sharp and immediate, as if the sky had just broken its back. Addie flinched at the sound. Her hand went instinctively to her sternum like it might slow her heart down; but it was already racing, threatening to be heard over the roaring skies. It hadn’t looked like storm weather when the bus rolled into town, hadn't felt like storm weather; but now, clouds were curling in fast, like someone had hit rewind on the heavens. Thunder again, then lightning. Backwards. The storm didn’t care about rules.

She stayed under the bus terminal awning longer than she meant to, one foot half off the curb like her body couldn’t decide if it was ready to move forward or sprint to the schedule board in hopes of catching the next bus back out of town. Her breath fogged slightly in the air; but the back of her neck remained damp. It wasn’t just the weather, wasn't just this sudden storm. Something had shifted, deep and ancient; the sky was just the first thing to show it. She could feel the shift in in her skin, in her bones... In the place she usually kept locked up tight, sealed shut like the night she clawed her way free from her own personal hell.

Addie didn’t scare easy. But this? This wasn’t fear. This was knowing.

She blinked hard, trying to will the sidewalk into focus; but the light from the streetlamps shimmered wrong, warping like heat haze though the air. The edges of things pulsed—bus tires, lampposts, even the graffiti scrawled across the payphone booth nearby. And for a second, she swore she saw that smile again, saw it in the way the clouds swirled overhead, in the way the lightning lit up the unnaturally darkened sky. Thunder rolled again, a long, slow rumble that seemed to crawl beneath the deepest parts of her being. Slender fingers twitched toward the tourmaline around her neck before she stopped herself. It was futile. She didn’t need protection right now. She needed clarity.

What the fuck had she returned to?