🧑‍🦰 , 🧸 , 🎶

🧑‍🦰 - Have they ever dyed their hair? Ever cut it themself?

"dyed; i've tried to. every time it went wrong for some reason. even in the salon. almost like someone wanted me to keep the ginger an' never do anythin' else. cuttin' though? done that plenty. still do. grows back, don't it? nothin' to worry about."

🧸 - Do they have any stuffed animals? If so, are they decorative or do they sleep with them?

"uhh, got a stuffed dog i was given as a kid. think it's from my granny. usually just hangs out in the back of my truck now though."

🎶 - What’s a song they really like?

"easy; meet me in the woods by lord huron. such a good jam."

( x )

🐹 for "You? Intimidating? Hell no.” from Hasan *pat pat*

"... well, it's been a while. y'never know, might give you a run for your money now."

( x )

harper shrugs. "are many people?"

there's a few memories, soft and hazy in the back of her head if she thought hard enough. how her grandmother would sit in her chair beside the fire at night while harper perched on the arm of it, her toes tucked beneath her grandmother's leg. she'd listen to the praise, to the way her grandmother believed she'd be the most talented in all of the woods. how she would keep their family name a proud one. how their ancestors would walk beside her, sharing their knowledge and their own talents.

once upon a time, harper believed her. now though... it's another childish thought she'd rather bury in the cold, wet dirt.

and while her eyes remained fixed on the painting again, staring wholes into every little detail, harper listened intently to the man beside her, nodding at the right places and humming in others. "true, but once it's out there for the world to see, it ain't just yours any more. like this one; the artist coulda put a whole world of feelin' into it, a whole meanin', but i ain't gonna see it unless it's told to me. i'm already puttin' my own thought into it. an' the next person to come along will do the same."

"s'pose that's the human experience, too. tryin' to find somethin' that feels like somethin' else."

“Hmmm,” Ezhil muttered as he considered the word. “Perhaps you have not been treated well by the word,” he decided. He for one, had been. Too much probably. His mother had always called him talented, and vowed that the creative gene was passed down from her side of the family, and not his father. His father however, had given him the gene of business, because Ezhil knew he could not run art as simply an artist, he had to be smart about it. 

The Artist nodded. “Ah, that’s a good choice. Impressionism is an interesting art form,” he agreed. “I like the way you think: a painting as a way to believe history.” Art had an important role to play in history, that was for sure. “I find art to be the best way to express myself, and the best way to solidify someone’s presence in the world, all the things we cannot explain, all the feelings that are so vivid and strong we cannot describe them, I think they belong to art. There is an art to the human experience, and only through art can we convey it,” he mused.

harper had half the mind to believe her. one look at mei and most would take the knee, she reckoned. even herself, if mei asked enough. she didn't need to know the other girl long to understand that a pretty face and right words went a long way and harper, stubborn as she is, could be worn down for such simplicities and charm too. "where were you when i was jumpin' fences runnin' from the cops a few years back, huh? coulda saved me from some long nights in the cells."

and being bored out of her mind.

whatever karma had in store for the creep at the bar, she's sure it isn't enough. there's a wonder as to whether or not he'd return again at some point, sticking his nose where it didn't belong. at least she'd have reason to break his face in a little bit, then. the art of self defence and defending her fellow colleagues and all of that. 'sure, harper, but there's a bouncer for that.'

bouncers didn't swing hard enough though, did they?

"eh, somewhere we can pick up an' go. if i have to watch people gettin' spicy with each other any longer, i might just lose it."

mei’s smile faltered. she was proud of who she was, unafraid of the history that walked with her when she took each step. being alive was enough. a hundred years ago, she would have been vilified and executed for such a thing. now she could stand tall, with her chin lifted high, looking down her nose at those that had been born into normality. not everyone had that level of pride, she understood. her colleague seemed to be one that preferred to fly beneath the radar and pretend fenrirswood was a normal small, quaint, british village. she supposed it was easier to live life with her head buried in the sand. mei had never been that kind of woman. instead, she decided to temporarily shelf what she knew. a survival tactic. for the night her and harper could simply be colleagues, and pretend as though their largest problems were that of late shifts, of suffocating supervisors and perverted patrons. if only life was that simple. humans had it so easy. "you won't serve anything. one flutter of my eyelashes and the police will fall at my feet. it's karma," explained mei, "he should expect something to come back and bite him for being so damn creepy." they continued to walk. a silence fell upon them, but mei waved away the thick mist and interrupted, "where do you want to eat?"

👪 - What’s their relationship with their parents like? 💖 - How and how often do they try to impress their partner(s)? How and how often do their partner(s) impress them? Do they like bubble baths? Ever broken someone’s heart?

👪 - What’s their relationship with their parents like?

"ain't got one wit' either. it's better that way. can't say i'm missin' out on anythin' amazin'. their loss, not mine."

💖 - How and how often do they try to impress their partner(s)?

"i don't, 'cause, i ain't had a real one. but if i'm just in it to mess around? one night kinda thing? ehh, my mouth does all the impressin' for me. no one's ever left my bed with a bad review, anyway."

Do they like bubble baths?

"oh ya. bubble bath, bath salts, candles, bottle of jack? mhm. can't ask for anythin' better."

Ever broken someone’s heart?

"sure, probably. ain't ever stuck around long enough to find out though."

( x )

"US, always. could never get into the UK version." mostly because it was old and half the actors who stared in it, she couldn't stomach. but, everyone liked what they liked and had their preferences and she wasn't going to beat that down vocally.

"ehh, bit of both. used to come here often as a kid, visitin' my granny. haven't been back in... well, a very long time." harper finishes making a fuss of his clothes which, in hindsight, might've been overstepping boundaries a fair bit if she didn't feel so at ease. an odd feeling to say the least. "came back with the intent to stay for a few days but, here i am, still stuck."

"what about you? you a local or a pretend local?"

“The UK or the US version?” he asked, when the other mentioned the Office. Still, he smiled. Nishant had a particular ability, one he never talked about, or shared. Some people had a photographic memory, some had very good muscle memory. Nishant had a lean and lanky build, but he could pick up physical exercises quickly. “I’m a natural,” he said instead, not sure how to explain photographic muscle memory. 

Back on his feet, he was surprised that the little red head helped him with his jacket. But he decided not to put any attention on it. “Yeah, that makes sense, I've gotten plenty of advice from my parents too, but I doubt I remember even half of it,” he joked himself, studying the other now she was closer. She did look very familiar. 

“Are you from here?” he asked. “Or new to this place?”

🐰 for barely intimidating

"yup. barely. spread that around for me, would ya? make sure everyone knows."

( x )

it's with a soft sigh when harper nods in agreement. there were few she'd met since her return who'd given her reason to pause and question their motive. most were kind, welcoming. almost delighted to meet someone new. then there were those who were as cursed as she is who shared their knowledge of the way of witches like it were ordinary gossip and it made harper's skin crawl.

she'd denied what she is all her life and yet, she couldn't get away with it here. not for long.

"you could," harper murmurs hesitantly. "ain't like i got anythin' better to do."

Helia hid how she felt loss as well. She could imagine how Harper’s grandmother would’ve loved for her life to live on through her granddaughter. But she had to respect the wishes of the granddaughter. Not everyone had a family that was radiant through love and respect for each other. 

She nodded. “Fenrir has changed much,” she agreed. Though she only saw the loss it had experienced, the people who had died at the hands of the Children of Loki, and everyone who had left since, escaping the dark cloud that lay over the city. They were only just rebuilding, but it felt heavy still. “But underneath, it is still the welcoming vibrant city it has always been, it simply needs some time to find that spirit.” 

She felt the nostalgia for her own youth as Harper spoke. “Perhaps I can help you find it?” she offered.

"huh? oh, no. absolutely not. would rather go lay down in the woods an' let whatever got those kids get me."

and it's an honest answer, too. the very idea of living up to her grandmother's great name is a far too intimidating thought to comprehend or even consider and with what it would cost harper to match the old hag's measure isn't something she'd ever pay. not that it didn't stop the universe from desperately trying to get her there, of course.

"noted," harper then nods. the police station still stood, so it'd be reasonable to think he worked there or with them, at least. helpful, should her penchant for ending up in places she shouldn't ever come to bite her in the ass, a thing that doesn't take bodhi long to question. "eh, we were all teenagers once, weren't we?"

and in their early twenties, their mid twenties and... but bodhi didn't need to know about that.

"that's really good question," harper sighs, a finger scratching at her cheek. "like... twenty years? nothin's really changed."

Bodhi studied her, the reluctance, the stress. Of course he couldn’t be sure of her internal thoughts, but at least he felt good for warning her. He felt like it was his duty, as someone who knew plenty now of this city, to tell people that it wasn't as nice and kind to everyone as it tried to be. Even if he stuck around, for Evanora mostly, other people shouldn't have to follow in his footsteps. 

He understood why a huge part of the population had left, why ⅕ of every citizen was no longer a citizen. 

He frowned slightly, but it was interesting not because the answer surprised him. He knew he had a way of helping people to open up to him, he wasn’t sure if that was what was happening right now. He nodded. “Is that something you want to be?” he asked. “A big deal like your grandmother?” 

The offer however, he wished to turn down instantly. 

“Bodhi,” he introduced himself. He’d given his first, second, and last name, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted her to track him down and help him with this. “Getting up to no good?” he asked. He wasn’t certain what kind of help she was offering. But if she did truly know the woods, he could perhaps request they walk the trails together. Not the trails hikers followed, but the ones the locals knew. “How long since you were last here?” he asked. 

Perhaps she was a Witch, it would explain why she thought she could still find her way around, even after all this time.

🥰 👗

🥰 - What pet names do their partner(s) use for them? How flustered do they get by them?

"uhh, well, about that - ain't ever had a partner to call me anythin'. been in my fair share of beds, but, ain't ever... committed, lets say."

👗 - How comfortable would they be wearing a skirt or dress?

"you ever seen those cats put in a harness an' then their owners try an' take 'em for a walk, but they don't get up an' just get dragged around? yeah. that's me."

( x )

Who are you gonna call?

"eh, now i know he's here for sure? hasan, probably. just like old times, i guess."

harper laughs with her chest now, a flush of red to her cheeks that she would blame on the whiskey she'd been sneaking a shot of here and there for most of her shift. "i dunno, might be a little grave beside ya. somethin' like, here lies reza, an' here lies little reza," she grins, holding up her little finger. she bends it repeatedly in a wiggle, a grin so wide on her face, the corners of her mouth ached. "i'd bring you flowers every day, i reckon."

or, perhaps in thought, anyway. harper couldn't remember the last time she'd set foot in a cemetery or a graveyard. it'd been... too loud.

perching her elbows on the bar again to meet reza in the middle with a lean of her own, harper shrugs. "eh, i could. clock says i got fifteen minutes left an' it ain't like anyone's gonna miss me when they've got their tongues shoved down each other's throats." her head tilts this way and that with a puppy like consideration, then her back snaps straight and she claps her hands together with a childlike enthusiasm.

"c'mon then, before i'm needed."

His eyes twinkled and his brows arched when he heard the laughter that managed to escape Harper’s lips despite her attempt at stifling it with her hand on her mouth, futile as it was. “I’ll be sure to bring us some snacks to celebrate the outcome.” Reza’s lips painted with a slow smile, his signature smirk when he was with others. If it were anywhere else, he doubted anyone that looked like Harper; innocent and naïve and far too kind, would win in a fistfight. But it was different in Fenrir’s Wood. The spirits buzzed excitedly around her despite her attempt at ignoring them, and despite Reza couldn’t make a lick of sense of what they were on about. She was favoured, that much he could tell.

He scoffed at the accusation. “Excuse you, but I’ll have you know that I wrap myself every time and got myself checked regularly.” He took a sip of his drink. “I may have a death wish sometimes, but dying by an STD is definitely somethin’ I don’t want to remember by. Can you imagine the writin’ on my tombstone would be? ‘Here lies Reza Harris, he had too much fun while livin’ ’.” He scrunched up his nose and was about to take a sip of his drink before he paused, thinking that the writing wasn’t so bad after all. But he definitely didn’t want to go out that way. Their government might be shit but at least the NHS is cheap.

“Then why don’t you ditch your work altogether.” Reza leaned in a whisper, though he doubted he needed to do so amidst the loud music. “I’m sure somebody can cover for you tonight. ‘Sides, don’t think you’re supposed to drink while at work, hm.” He looked at her pointedly. “Come on, live a little, will you?”

🍷, ☕, 🏳️‍🌈

🍷- How do they feel about alcohol?

"like it. don't like it enough to get stupid with it, but, eh, i like it."

☕ - Coffee or tea?

"coffee. not to be a stereotype, but if i don't get my coffee, i turn into a uncaffinated bitch."

🏳️‍🌈 - What do they identify as? What are their pronouns?

"uhhh she, they. whatever. i'm cis, but i also don't care enough, i guess."

( x )

regardless of position or his views on where he sat with his work, harper didn't like it. not the way he'd been watching, not his occupation and certainly not the fact she still deemed it fit to stand and talk to him. she could blame it on the fact that she she hadn't found a way out of the conversation yet, or that she felt if she ran off now, he'd find it suspicious.

but in truth, harper's lonely. and even when she hated the conversation, she stayed anyway.

in a curious fashion, her head tilts to the side as she listened, a sure sign that her attention is, in fact, all his. she couldn't recall any stories of people going missing when she were younger, even when she eavesdropped on her grandmother's conversations. being warned of the forest though, peaked her interest in a few ways. life among those trees felt more like home than anything ever would.

nothing would keep her away from them. not even herself.

"no... no, it's a good thing to know," she then says slowly, her eyes glazing over with thought. denial or no, there were powerful witches here. hadn't they done anything to help? to search? had her grandmother been here, she'd -

no, she wouldn't entertain that.

and yet harper's jaw begins to grind, the muscle pulsing as she fidgets on the spot in an obvious mental argument with herself and, when she finally looks back to the private investigator, she looks like she'd rather kick herself in the face than allow the words that do leave her mouth out.

"i... ah, shit - look, i grew up in those woods. know 'em like the back of my hand, even now after bein' gone for so long, weirdly. an', yeah, my grandmother was kinda a big deal back in the day an' i'm... well, i'm not, but that doesn't mean i ain't got some pull somewhere." or so she hoped. granddaughter of one of the most powerful ghost whispers in town? of the witch who adored the dead and welcomed them into her life like family? who cared for the graveyards and the cemeteries and all that passed? surely she could do something.

as long as it didn't involve magic.

"my name's harper. an' if you want some help, like a fresh set of eyes... i guess i'd be willin' to give it a go. don't know much about investigatin' but i do know enough about... gettin'... up to no good..." harper clears her throat. "so... yeah."

Bodhi smiled. “Perhaps some are,” he agreed. “I’m more small time, a lot more boring tasks. Like Victor in the Thief Lord.” Not his comparison, but one a child had once made after he’d helped them find their cat again. He offered a genuine smile. It was also not a well-paid job. But Bodhi had started over once in his life, and as a result he’d learnt how to life off of little. 

From her lack of an answer, Bodhi figured there was more to it, he decided not to ask again, if he felt it was important: he could look it up. If he figured it wasn’t, he’d leave it to a personal matter. He was curious, but he also accepted that some things were better left alone. 

“Since November 2022,” he said. “Three kids, they went out into the forest during the University welcome weekend, and they didn’t return.” It had been a full moon too, but only to Supernaturals that meant something. “They’re not the only missing person case in Fenrir’s Wood. “You might do well to stay away from the forest at night,” he warned her. 

“I have some, not a lot. People are opening up finally after the last two years.” He smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, I’m sure that’s not what you’d want to hear coming to a new place,” because he figured she was new to the place, not even the most sheltered individuals would have not known about the disappearances.

"i s'pose. i just ain't fond of the word, i guess."

not when her grandmother had said it over and over again, anyway. like a spell in itself being cast every time they spoke. great expectations and all of the things that harper, once upon a time, lapped up like an eager dog.

now she'd do anything to avoid it.

"ehh, bit of everywhere. traveled around home for a time; uh, ireland. then came here not so long ago. all the big cities, all the quaint little towns." harper looks over with a small smile, a hand combing back the curtain of hair often used to hide her face. "i like impressionism the most. all the brush strokes? i like seein' that someone, at some other point in time, really did sit down an' paint somethin'." she shrugs. "have a hard time believin' in history sometimes."

or anything, really.

"what about you?" she then asks. "what's art do for you?"

Ezhil beamed, but still didn't comment about being the artist himself. “Ah, but there’s a combination there, isn’t there? Between talent and hard work, people can have talent, but they won’t come far if they don’t also work hard.” Unless they were talented and had parents with a lot of money… or if they were talentless but had parents with a lot of money. Not that Ezhil couldn’t say he didn’t have the parent with a lot of money, but he’d never dreamt of using his father’s money for that, only for the tools and canvas. 

He watched her further survey the painting, eyes scanning her face as she did his sketch. He didn’t find art hard to make, he liked to paint those he knew, the people around him, the passions they expressed. He rarely did self portraits, at least not in the traditional way, he liked to use blue. For obvious reasons. 

“Ah, so where have you been on your travels? Which museums and what type of art have you appreciated the most?” he asked. He swallowed any slang he might fell in the back of his throat, because he knew he was better off talking fancy in these kind of places. He was two kinds of people: the Artist making his work and the Artist selling his work.

it appeared harper's list of regrets would never stop growing, wouldn't it?

she half wished she hadn't let the racing of her thoughts get the better of her, that she hadn't stopped them in their tracks and had simply taken the conversation she'd so blatantly eavesdropped at face value, or perhaps even a warning that there were those who searched for the very thing she ran from.

a sign to avoid them at all costs. and yet, here she is.

"oh, i'm sure you have," harper sighs, reaching for her milkshake just for something to hold. it's only when they lean in closer that she pauses, watching the other from the corner of her eye. another person with magic in their aura, or so she thought anyway. she'd never been good at picking witches out of a crowd.

"nope. i ain't ever lookin'," the witch grumbles, unable to stop herself from adding a very bitter and quiet "they usually find me" to the end of the sentence.

Fabio shrugged. “Well, not for me at least. I don’t think anyone taking the tour actually expects me to talk with actual ghosts either,” they added. They’d seen a few ghosts through fever dreams, but none of those seemed to be interested in being included in a ghost tour, or even have stories that were interesting enough for those. 

They grinned. “What? You really thought I had seen a ghost? Are you one of those ghost hunters? Because Fenrir is the perfect spot for that, there are so many ghosts here, I can’t see them, but I’ve heard people speaking of them, stories that will make your hair stand on end,” they explained, putting their hands on the other’s table as they leaned closer, eyes shiny. 

“Or…. are you looking for a particular ghost?”