Autumn Valley (IC)

DrStein

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Luke Draven wiped the sweat from his brow after loading another crate of cider bottles with the distinctive Red Wolf logo into the pickup truck and stretched out his back to work out the tired muscles. His father came up behind him and patted him on the back before closing the truck bed. "Good work. I'll get this down to the market, and you go help your brothers finish setting up the pumpkin patch."

Luke smiled and nodded. "Sure thing, Dad." He strode off toward the pumpkin patch as his father drove to town. The Draven family had been in Autumn Valley from the beginning. Their farm was within eyeshot of the town and had been a fixture in the daily life of the locals. They had spent the last week preparing the farm for visitors. With the annual harvest festival starting today, Draven Farms turned into a combination farmer's market and fair for the community. Though the chores were all handled by the family, they hired a few local teenagers to fill in the extra labor every afternoon and evening.

Luke pulled the band off of his short ponytail and shook out his mane of sweaty, dark hair. His brothers all had dark brown hair like he did, but his was unusual in that it was streaked with natural red highlights, giving it the appearance of rust. He spotted his brothers over at the pumpkin patch. Nolan was setting up a pyramid of pumpkins while Carson was cutting stalks so that the farm visitors could pick them out. They both looked up when they smelled more than heard their elder brother's approach. There was another feature all three brothers had: mismatched eyes. They all had an icy blue left eye and yellow right eye. It was the most obvious sign of their family's lycanthropy. The Dravens had been werewolves for as long as they could trace their family tree. All the men in their family had those same mismatched eyes.

"How's it coming along?" Luke asked as he strode up to the pumpkin patch, retying his ponytail. He drew his knife and began helping Carson cut stalks on the pumpkins. This was usually the first stop families made, wanting to find good pumpkins for the jack-o-lanterns and for baking. Luke had a soft spot for the children in particular. He enjoyed telling them ghost stories around the fire pit in the evenings and playing his acoustic guitar for them.

"We're just about done," Nolan said as he capped the pyramid, took off his signature cowboy hat and used a bandana to wipe his face. It was only in the low 70's today, but the brothers had been working nonstop since dawn and it was now almost lunchtime. "Help us cut the last of the stalks here and you can take off." There were several more patches that they wouldn't be cutting stalks on yet. Those wouldn't be open to the public until the pumpkins in this one ran out.

Luke nodded and continued helping his brothers finish everything up. When the last of the stalks were cut, he went back to the house, hopped in the shower and changed into the archetypal denim and flannel ensemble. He let his hair drip dry as he pocketed his wallet, phone and keys. He grabbed a binder containing a copy of his play off his desk and headed downstairs. He was an aspiring writer and the Sons of Liberty theater company was putting on a production of his whodunit "The Murder of Judge Cooper."

Coming downstairs, he passed through the kitchen where his mother was preparing a pot of blackberry jam. She smiled over at her son when she looked up from the stove. "Going into town?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'm meeting with George for a late lunch and a production meeting." George Bronson was producing and directing the play. He had seen Luke's work when the young werewolf worked crew for him on a Christmas production last year.

Cora Draven beamed at her son and pulled him into a hug. They kissed one another on the cheek before pulling back. "I'm so proud of you. I can't wait for opening night."

"Thanks, Mom." Luke gave her another hug before heading out the door into his truck. He tossed the binder into the passenger seat and drove out into town. He passed by a mix of colonial, Victorian and modern architecture. Large chunks of the town appeared unchanged since they were first built. The whole town was decorated for the harvest festival with hawthorn wreaths, Halloween decor, garlands of leaves and branches and berries, and various folk charms. He parked on a street near Mason square at the heart of town that still had the old cobblestone paving. From there he could see the 7-foot-tall wicker man being constructed for the bonfire next week. A short walk away was his destination: Jenny's Den.

He had his meeting with George at the restaurant, and was thrilled to hear how wonderfully everything was coming together. Opening night was next week and the cast could barely wait. Donations and a thrift budget had given them enough money to have a run of three weeks with four shows a week. George then popped a little surprise on him. "Have you read the paper this morning?"

Luke looked up from his large bowl of beef and barley stew and shook his head as he used his napkin to wipe his lips. Tonight was a full moon and keeping a full-grown werewolf fed during one was a tall order. "No, we were too busy with chores and setting up the farm for the public this morning."

George's smile widened and he handed Luke a copy of the Autumn Valley Press opened to the entertainment section. "Take a look."

Luke looked at the paper and his eyes widened. He saw his picture beside a headline, "Rising Star: Local Farm Boy Makes His Big Debut in the Theater." He had given the interview to the paper not long after rehearsals began, but he didn't know it was printing today! "Well hot damn! I have to grab a copy on the way out."

After their meeting, Luke still had some time before he had to get back to the farm so he walked across the street to bakery to grab a little desert, snagging a copy of the newspaper on his way in. The post-lunch crowd meant there was a short line, but he didn't mind waiting. While he stood patiently, he looked again at the newspaper and couldn't keep the smile off his face. His parents had both told him they couldn't wait for opening night next Thursday. Neither could he.
 
Sig walked down Cherry Street not really having a specific goal in mind. He had finished his house chores for the day and no one had come to him looking for some help on a project so he largely had the day to himself.

He always enjoyed the peaceful air of Autumn Valley. When he first came there he had been jumping almost at every shadow or every creek but eventually he had gotten used to not losing control of himself and taking off running through a horrible forest. The sound of horses running behind him and armor clattering still occasionally filled his dreams but getting to know some of the townsfolk and enjoying the tranquil serenity of the area had helped him greatly.


So with the Harvest Festival closing Sig found he was quite excited to enjoy the event. He had heard much about it from the people he would call acquaintances or even friends in some cases and he'd looked forward to it for a while now.
 
Fiona

The thundering rumble of the truck’s engine idled for a few moments before Fiona Alden killed it. The keys jangled in her grasp as she slid them into her jacket pocket and slid from the cab with a graceful movement. Heavy combat boots thumped against the cobblestones and crunched against the few loose finger stones between. The light glinted harshly upon the reflective lenses of a pair of aviators sunglasses that did much to hide those expressive, cornflower blue eyes. Her mane of vivid and fiery red hair lay hidden underneath a green baseball cap with the word ‘Sheriff’ stitched in gold across it. A slender white stick jutted from the corner of plush lips, her check slightly bulged from the head of the sucker contained within. Slowly she rolled it from its present spot to the other side of her mouth, the hard candy clicking against her teeth as she gave an almost causal glance about Mason square.

Her hands slid out to her slender waist, adjusting the thick leather belt that held her gear into a comfortable position. Her sleek, athletic frame was clad in its typical work attire, a forest green shirt and black trousers. A thick leather jacket hid most of her upper frame, a soft groan of leather resounding as she moved. The day had been like many others in the life of a deputy of Autumn Valley. After her patrol about the city and its outlying farms she caught a smoke near the Irving River, watching its rushing waters and losing herself in thought for a few minutes. It was the first day of the festival season or as Fi liked to think of it her busy season. It was the time of the year she actually felt useful even if it was just breaking up drunken brawls or finding a crying child’s parents. Hopefully it wouldn’t get that wild, some of the inhabitants had a very odd sense of humor during this time; with a shake of her head Fi recalled the time the fairies of Doodleberry farms thought it would be hilarious to launch water balloons filled with maple syrup into the crowds. She had been cleaning maple syrup out of her hair for days after that little fiasco.

Slowly Fiona strolled up onto the side walk, her thumbs hooking into her belt as she sauntered down the street. Her shapely hips swayed unconsciously as she walked, her trousers clung tightly to that rather firm and toned backside. The spitfire of a deputy was nothing if she was not ravishingly beautiful, though few ever did more than watch as she passed. Besides having a reputation for taking her job seriously, dark whispers spoke of those that had sought her embrace and burnt to a crisp shortly thereafter. She found her way before the wicker man being assembled in preparation of the bonfire that would attract a good crowd. While it was sure to be an intense time, Fi couldn’t help but feel a slight tingle of anticipation over it. She didn’t care about the religious or mystical connotations behind the fire, she just loved to watch it burn. It was one of the few moments she let herself enjoy even if it was just for a night.

“Good job boys,” Fi commented as she passed, smacking upon her candy before popping it back into her mouth. There was little for the deputy to do this time of the day, it was typically just a time to wander about and wait till lunch time. Thankfully the time passed rather quickly today and by the time Fi felt the rumble of hunger it was the right time. It was about then that the typical smile drifted out over her lips. More often than not the deputy wore it, a knowing smile that hinted as if she held some secret from the rest of the world. She tipped her head to a few citizens as they passed before she ended up at her destination, Fixer’s Deli. It wasn’t a big place and more often than not people got their food to go. Fi was nothing if not punctual and her meal was waiting for her. She took off her glasses and even offered a wink as she paid, idly chatting as change was given and her meal delivered. She took the brown paper sack and the Styrofoam cup, nodding her thanks before she departed as quickly as she had arrived.

Fi enjoyed her meal on the run, wolfing down the roast beef on rye heatedly. It was never a pretty sight to behold; Fi wasn’t one for the subtle manners a more ladylike woman would observe. She barely made an entire block before the sandwich was consumed and a resounding belch turned a few heads. As she came to the curb she paused for a moment, taking a sip from her drink as she observed the pedestrians going about on their way.

Renee

The day started early, as it always did. Few were as dedicated to the family business as Renee McClain. She was up at the break of dawn, washing up and eating a sound breakfast before she hurried off to the bakery to start the morning chores. She had always wished her parents would change the name of the bakery, McClain’s was just so boring for a name! Everyone in town knew who owned the shopped, a well-earned reputation lead to a constant and comfortable business. She wiggled into a baggy hoodie to stave off the morning chill as she started off down the street to the bakery. As she matured and grew her parents had given their second youngest child a great responsibility of getting the shop started. It was a great honor and one that the petite girl took seriously. Rich, chocolate orbs seemed to sparkle with their own radiance, perhaps drawing from her exuberant nature to fuel such. A mop of short black hair hung wildly about her head, several strands falling out over a face that was undeniable cute as it was beautiful. The young girl held a certain innocence in her look and even her mannerisms; though those that knew her became aware of a maturity and sense beyond her years.

At the moment she displayed none of that seriousness, Renee literally skipped down the road as she came before the backroom and threw open the locks. “Time ta shine,” She said to herself as she flicked the lights on and set about starting her duties. Hours later as the sun began to rise in full did the delicious scent of baked breads begin to waft into the morning air; a welcome wakeup call more subtle than a roaster’s call.

By lunchtime Renee was caked in flour and smudged with other confections, her dark hair spotted with flour as well. The hoodie was removed and left her in a pair of baggy jeans and a t-shirt, a cartoon kitten with some saying written under it. While her clothing was down to earth it hinted at the budding frame underneath. More than a few young men came in for one of the bakery’s delicious treats as they did to take in the sight of the young, lovely McClain. It was lunchtime and business was brisk, Renee found herself taking orders and working the register, something she did happily. Her smile was infectious, the light in her eyes enrapturing and her sweet voice endearing. She piled a few coins and bills into the hand of an elderly woman as she flashed her smile and bid her a good day. Only then did her eyes flick down to the register and she went into business mood until the next customer appeared.

“Next!”
 
Luke came up to the counter and smiled softly at Renee. As usual she was playing the part of the busy professional but still had flour all over her. The McClain bakery had been a haunt of his for years, so he had watched Renee and her siblings grow up alongside him. He seldom ordered their signature bread rolls however. He felt that knowing his future took some of the fun out of it, though if he thought it could help the farm, he'd take a chance on getting a peek into the coming days.

"Afternoon, Renee," he said pleasantly. He was always very soft-spoken. The occasions when he raised his voice were few and far between and people knew it was a sign that he'd been pushed too far. "I'll have two cannoli, three ladyfingers, a turtle brownie and... one of those cinnamon rolls." He knew she was accustomed to his appetite. His brothers weren't much better. Carson was known to order an entire pastry tray just for himself while Nolan during a full moon considered a dozen donuts to be a light breakfast.
 
Sam had awoken late that morning. It wasn't unusual as he didn't have a steady job and by his nature he was a bit of a night owl. Clambering from bed he wiped the sleep from his eyes and strolled out onto his balcony over-looking the river. Clad in nothing but boxers for the moment he smiled as he watched the flow of the river. The swirls and eddy's making a complex dance across the surface. A mother duck and her ducklings passed in a erratic group. Heads ducking underwater for a drink or to snatch at a bit of food. He could easily watch for hours but today he had some business to attend to.

After a quick shower and other hygenic duties, Sam walked downstairs dressed in a dark blue two-button shirt with the top button open. A white undershirt visible underneath. He wore black jeans and stylish black leather boots with a strap and elaborate silver buckles on the side that were no more than decorative.

He found Mrs. Tedescu sitting in her rocker, needles in hand and some bit of cloth growing from them to trail onto the floor. "Good Morning, Mrs. Ted." She was his landlord and a former Romanian gypsy with ties to nobility if her stories were to be believed. He had only been staying with her a month now, having rented the upper floor of her house. He got a good deal as she was a kind-hearted woman and could no longer climb the stairs.

"Good Morning, Sam. What are you up to today?" She watched him as he grabbed an apple from a table, her eyes flowed him yet her fingers never stopped working and never a stitch nor loop was dropped.

"Well it's the first so I owe you some rent." His jaw was puffed out from his first bite of apple as he tried to chew and talk at the same time. "I spent last week helping decorate the town for the festival so I figured I could drop by the clerks office an get you your rent money. Also figure I'd take a look at the bulletin board while I'm there. Post a flyer see if I can get some jobs cleaning gutters."

The exchanged a few more pleasentries as he ate his apple before he left to walk into town. It wasn't a terribly long walk as the town was far from a metropolis but still it was afternoon when he arrived at the bustling square where Town Hall and the clerk's office were located.

He was just about to toss his apple core onto the ground when he noticed the deputy. He couldn't help but grin as he angled his walk to approach her slightly from behind. "Hello officer. Got your eyes peeled for some ne'er-do-well's? If so I think one just snuck up on you." His eyes glinted with mirth as he knew she wasn't a woman to be trifled with but still he couldn't help himself. With a flourish he tossed the apple into a nearby bin, making sure the gesture wasn't missed by the red-headed deputy.
 
Teagan "Tig" McCormack --Dingleberry Farm, the B&B

Teagan woke early and wasn't happy about. She much rather stay up and hour later than wake an hour early. But it was her turn to take care of the horses. They had four and sometimes boarded others. Sometimes some of the highschool kids helped in exchange for riding for free.

Her hair was a mess of tangles. "Dammit, you guys." She whined. "Do I have to start putting salt around my room again?" Damned pixies. The horses manes and tails would probably be a mess too. She padded to the bathroom and sprayed de-tangler on her hair. Her grandmother called her bedhead faerylocks. She said it meant the faeries liked her. Well, they could like her a little less as far as she was concerned. She never saw any pixies, just their handiwork.

She finished in the bathroom and went back to her room to dress. She could smell coffee coming up form the kitchen. There was always a fresh cup to be had, they went through a lot of it. Dingleberry B&B was always full this time of year. Lots of people came in for the Autumn Fest. Mundanes, they called them. Not locals.

She bounced downstairs forgetting to keep quiet for the sleeping guests. She had on old jeans, tattered at the knees, with a rip at the top of the back of her thigh giving a peek of her pink striped panties, (not that she cared, who was going to see her mucking out the barn?), a teeshirt and an unbuttoned flannel shirt over it. She was still in her stocking feet.

"Hey mom! What's for breakfast?"

Moire looked up from her mixing bowl. "Omelets."

"Yum. Cheese and broccoli for me." She gave her mom a quick kiss good morning, grabbed a big cup of coffee, added lots of sugar and milk, and headed to the back door. "Looks like they ate all the cake and mead last night."

"They always do."

Ever since she could remember, her family put out treats for the faeries. Usually some leftover dessert and some mead or whiskey. When she and he cousin Mo were little, they used to make faery houses out of twigs and glitter and scraps of fabric, nuts, berries, anything that they thought the faeries would like, and put the houses in the garden. Not they they ever saw much of any of the fey. They kept to themselves. The McCormacks were the faces fo Dingleberry Farm for the most part, interacting with the locals and visitors. But some of them made themselves known during the big festivals. The big 'uns: the nymphs, and sylphs, pucks, and one year she saw a satyr. She was sure he was real and not some dude in furry pants. She wore every protection charm her family knew that year.

But now she was a bit more worldly. She was in college, even if it was only online. It enabled her to keep working on the farm and playing gigs. She was going to be a rock star some day. Bring her brand of Celtic fusion to the world.

She tugged on her Wellies and entered the barn. She fussed over the horses, especially Monster, the big gelding. he was her baby. She had been prepared to muck out the stalls, but it had already been done. "Hey, thanks!" She said to the air. "This more than makes up for messy up my hair. And the horses."

She sang a song she had been working on for this year's festival as she fed and watered the horses. They grew quiet as if they were listening.

((This woman writes lyrics and poems that I wish I had written. I can see Teagan writing things like this. If you can't get access to this link, let me know and I'll cut and paste her lyrics.))

She brushed their manes and tails and saw that everything was right in the barn. She led the horses outside to enjoy the day.

She toed off her Wellies outside the door. She refilled her coffee and sat at the table in the kitchen. She still didn't hear any guests, so she could relax a bit. Her mother presented her with a perfect omelet.

((And now I shall have to think of how to get Tig out of the house so she can interact with people. Sophia sleeps late, so she'll be along eventually.))
 
Renee

Renee’s eyes were busy with the register, pressing the buttons and ensuring that the drawer was properly closed. She had a habit of forgetting the simple things; her mind did like to wander at times. While she enjoyed her life and work she was still a young girl, sometimes flights of fancy and a vivid imagination would sweep her from this world. But that voice brought her crashing back down, breaking the easy pace she had lost herself in this work day. It was a voice she knew all too well and one she looked forward to more often than not. Luke was always so soft-spoken and kind. If he had spoken in a tone louder than he used now or in anger Renee was unaware.

Those chocolate pools flicked up instantly and found that easy smile directed at her. Ah, and those eyes, mis-matched as they were, they seemed perfect to Renee. It took all her willpower to force herself to speak and not simply stare, though there was no denying the flush to her cheeks even underneath the flour.

Ohai, Luke!” She said, cringing at her own voice that seemed to squeak. Thankfully if he noticed he did not let her know. The man was five years her senior though she felt sometimes he was older than that. Despite the fact that he was a regular and that him and his brothers could easily clean them out when it got closer to a full moon Renee still felt a flutter within her stomach at the sight of him. She swallowed hard and listened to his order not even bothering to write it down.

“Must be a full moon soon. Gimme a sec,” She offered that sweet smile that hinted at a slight innocence. The girl disappeared from before the counter and snatched up his order herself, unfolding a box and filling it neatly. She made sure to keep them separate with paper and not get them squished. She hesitated for but a moment before she slid in a few extra ladyfingers and another cannoli into the box before closing it and bringing it back to the counter with her customary smile.

“Did you need some coffee? I mean...it’s late for coffee...I didn’t mean to say you looked tired or anything...you don’t! I mean...uh...” Renee began so easily and so swiftly began to trip over herself, the blush on her cheeks only darkening as she fumbled and stumbled.

Fiona

While Fiona stood there and let her food digest she was far from spacing out. It was not her habit to get lost in thought, at least not while on patrol. She had a little spot near the Irving that she would go from time to time to just sit and watch the waters, only at a time like that would she let her guard down. She heard his footsteps and briefly felt the heat of a body nearby. A subtle sense though nothing Fi would rely on. She didn’t react, after all she was on a busy street in the middle of town at lunchtime. It wasn’t until she hear that voice that she inwardly cringed. The very sound of Sam Vincent made her want to smoke though it wouldn’t be very professional. Slowly she turned, cocking her head to the side to take the man in before she turned fully. Those reflective shades did much to hide those cornflower blue eyes, though the look upon that beautiful visage was as stoic as ever.

“Well look at that. I didn’t know roaches much liked the sun. I trust you’re off to find a job and not searching for a cup to beg for quarters, Mr. Vincent? We have strict laws on loitering,” Her voice was low and cool, though there was a subtle threatening tone there. While the man before her had broken no law (at least not today) their first meeting had left a bitter taste in the deputy’s mouth. A new comer and without a solid job, he was just trouble awaiting to bubble over. At least in Fi’s mind. She didn’t look in the direction of the core as he tossed it aside, though she knew the show was entirely for her benefit at the moment.
 
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Sig continued on his brisk morning walk as the town slowly came to life around him. It seemed at every turn he found people moving about or were busy in the act of setting up decorations or preparations for the festival or just finding some food for their morning meal. His short black hair waved slightly as he kept his hands in his pockets and walked along the sidewalk giving smiles and small nods to those he passed.

Moving along he passed by another pedestrians and noticed the Sheriff, Fiona Alwin, no Alden if he recalled correctly speaking with Sam Vincent. He had never really spoke to either for an extended amount but knew both on sight due to Sam's darker skin tone that set him apart from some of the populace and Fiona was easy to spot given none of the other officer shared her hair or and other attributes for that matter.

Finding them both in the middle of conversation however Sig felt it rude to interrupt and instead offered a polite "Morning officer," and a wave before he moved forward towards past the pair in the same direction as Fiona had come from.

Eventually he stopped while still enjoying the gentle morning calm around him. Looking around he noticed the giant wicker man being built up and Sig paused to admire the work. Much of what he had seen or heard about in Autumn Valley was still so strange to him. But here and there people were willing to instruct him in a lesson here or an explanation it had helped boost his understanding immensely from where he had started out.


Here as with the dark forest where he had become acquainted with his own 'gift' he could feel the slight tingle of magic in the air. It was nothing so overt as to be perceivable by his sight other sense but it was there all the same.
 
Luke gave a soft laugh at Renee's awkwardness. He had seen lately how she was developing a crush on him. Nothing he wasn't used to. Throughout high school, he had gotten a lot of attention from girls. He was handsome, athletic, had a way with words. And he imagined his lycanthropy made him seem more dangerous than he actually was, creating something of a bad boy mystique to those who hadn't gotten to know the Dravens beyond their reputation as farmers and werewolves. Nolan had a similar experience high school. And Carson was going through the same thing. Though having watched how easy his brothers got female attention, Carson was much quicker to take advantage of it. Luke considered himself a gentleman and Nolan was always a bit reticent and reserved. But Carson was an incorrigible flirt. At least year's Harvest Festival he made out with three different girls in Mason Square during a dance and didn't even get their names. If he wasn't a werewolf, he probably would have gotten beaten up by jealous guys by now.

"Coffee this late in the day would just make me jittery." The very idea of a jittery Luke was bizarre. He was always so calm that it was difficult to imagine him being high strung. "But... That jasmine tea you recommended to me the other day? I'll take a large cup of that."

He thought about it for a second and then added, "Also, we're having our usual fair at the farm tonight. My dad and brothers and I will be playing music. Show up around 8 and save me a dance." He winked his yellow eye at her as he handed her the cash for his food.
 
Renee

A puff of nervous laughter finally came from her, one hand swept through her dark hair, a white dust of flour wafting out from the motion. Things never quite came out of her mouth the way she intended, either they were simply the wrong words or they sounded so much better in her head. All the Draven brothers were indeed handsome, the trio had more then there fair share of girls and women watching them. Renee and her two sisters could be described in similar ways, though the two older girls Amber and Jamie took their looks from their mother Cassy. Renee had her fathers dark hair and expressive brown eyes. Even her little brother Brian took after their mother, brown haired and with beautiful blue eyes.

Renee’s lips parted and she began to throw out another awkward apology though Luke easily laughed it off and spoke in that calm voice. She bit down on her bottom lip endearingly, thankful he spoke up before she could say something idiotic.

“One cup coming up,” Renee finally blurted, turning her back to the handsome werewolf and silently thankful she had a moment to compose herself. She grabbed a cup and filled it with the tea swiftly, fastening the spill-proof top into place before she sauntered back causally to the counter, well, at least she tried to. She tilted her head and offered a smile as she placed the cup down.

“And one tea,” Her causal tone was more awkward than she thought it would be, though she busied her hands with the money and quickly made change. It wasn’t until she was counting out the pennies that it dawned on her what he was talking about. She looked up just in time to see that yellow eye winking in her direction. Yet it was the word he said that stopped her heart, not the charming wink.

Dance?” She said hesitantly as she handed over the change. Renee was lots of things, sweet, honest, pretty and a hard worker but she lacked a certain level of balance. She dropped her fair share of trays or tumbled by simply walking down the street. The thought of dancing almost scared her though instead of staring at the handsome Draven like a deer in the headlights she simply said the first thing that came into her head.

“I’ll be there with bells on! Well...not real bells...I don’t have any...and I’m not sure where I would put them if I did...er...Yeah...Eight it is!” She started again, though caught herself as one hand awkwardly ruffled her short black hair, trying to pull off a confident look.
 
Sam couldn't help but laugh at the roach comment and greated her stoicism with a light-hearted grin. Fiona was like a polar opposite to Sam and he had an uncontrollable urge to try to ruffle her feathers since the moment they met. Although he had yet to succeed in getting more than a jibe from her sharp tongue. He recognized the threat implied as well but paid it no heed. Instead he allowed his eyes to wander lazily from her form to the activities in the square. Suruptitious glances giving him a greater appreciation of her physically. It was just too bad she didn't allow herself any humanity from what he had seen. He thought to ask her for a quarter so he could buy a cup but thought better of it. He really did need a new job. Not for any desire to work but most of his funds were going to go for rent when he got back home.

"Loitering? No Ma'am I would never. I'm just on my way to the town clerks office and was hoping for an escort across the street but I can see your busy keeping us safe. I'll just scurry off on my own, lonesome and roach-like." With that said he jogged to the corner and made his way into the square. Turning he blew her a kiss and gave her a wide grin. "Have a great day!"
 
Sophia Jensen

Sophia came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. "What are you still doing here?" She said to the lump in her bed. "I told you I had things to do. Out. Now." She turned her back on him and let the towel drop then opened her lingerie drawer to decide what to wear. She pulled on a black thong and a lacy wisp of a brasserie in a sort of reverse strip tease.

"I said get out." Her voice was firm. The older man got out of the bed and starting looking for his clothes. "Don't make me put you on the naughty list."

"Je suis désolé, mon amour. Je pars maintenant.

"And don't think you can sweet talk me with your high-school French." But she smiled at him.

She sat on the bed and slowly pulled on hose, thigh-highs in a nude color that matched her skin with elasticized lace at the top to hold them up. She added her signature black pencil skirt, this one with a slightly higher than necessary kick pleat in the back. Next was a crisp white blouse. She stepped into a pair of black Louboutins--shoes were her only vice. At least that's how she thought about it.

She tsk'd at the man. "You are still here."

"Sorry, watching you dress is almost as good as watching you undress."

"Flattery will get you nowhere...cash or jewelry however...." She smirked and smacked her thigh for emphasis.

She picked up her Prada handbag and followed after him. During the festival, they actually had fewer clients, but it was a wonderful networking opportunity so she needed to be out and about so she could see and be seen, hand out cards, chat up the visitors. That and she had a yen for Madeleines. It must be because Charles had spoken French.

She would make the bakery her first stop.

~~~~~

She inhaled deeply when she entered the shop. She loved the cozy feeling she got from smelling fresh baked goods.
 
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Sig Iron

After pausing to watch the preparation for a few more minutes Sig felt his stomach growl ever so slightly and he could just pick up the sweet aroma of freshly backed foods from one the shops. Turning around he promptly headed back along the street noticed the Sheriff seemed to have lost her companion for the moment and then continued on to the bakery inside he found it slightly busier than he would have thought it would be this early and he took a spot in line

He spotted the younger cashier speaking to someone Sig knew by appearance and not by name. The beautiful woman in front of him however was much easier to notice both my appearance and reputation. Sig had talked with Sophia on occasion while enjoying himself at found her to be very good company on various occasions.

Feeling it would be rude to just stand their and gawk all day he steeled himself and leaned forward slightly as he waited in line behind her.

" Good morning Miss Jensen. I hope the day finds you well." Sig said politely as had been trained into him for years growing up in an orphanage in England. His tone was even and with the barest trace of an English accent given he had been to so many places over the years but always enjoyed the first one he had grown up speaking although in recent years it had become fainter though he felt the nuances could still be found in his mannerisms. It felt slightly weird conversing with her outside the Black Cat but Sig ignored the small bits of anxiety as he stood their in the bakery.
 
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Robert Vervloet leaned on his rake as the hot sun shone down on the pile of leaves. Though it was still hot enough to be summer, the leaves were starting to fall, and the old oaks and maples in the Raven Hill Cemetery seemed to produce far more than their share each fall. He knew getting one of the new blowers would speed things up for him, but it didn't seem right to run the noisy thing here. It was the final resting place for so many, and he knew well enough that some spirits could be downright spiteful if their rest was disturbed. So he raked them up into a big pile each morning before the sun got hot, and he'd probably have to do it again by the time the evening had cooled off a little.

He had a couple of big plastic yard bags to haul the leaves out to one of the farms for mulch, but he was waiting. A trickle of sweat down his neck made him lose patience, and he growled, "I haven't got all day, you know."

With a whoop and a giggle, Allison May threw herself into the pile, flailing and laughing and spreading leaves all over the place. The middle-aged caretaker sighed, but it was an indulgent sigh, and he leaned down to pull her out of the leaves. She was a curvy, lively girl in her early twenties, who took great pleasure in things like jumping into piles of leaves. She wore a low cut blouse with a fitted bodice, and an ankle length skirt that would have been reminiscent of the puritan era she was born in, had it not been slit high up on the left side, exposing her thigh nearly to the hip. She shook the bits of leaves out of the golden curls. One of the things she loved about being a ghost was that it would not take an hour's intent combing to clean the debris out.

Robert nodded a greeting to her and began raking, as though it was perfectly normal for a ghost to jump into his leaf pile. In fact, it was perfectly normal, at Raven Hill Cemetery, at least when Allison was between boyfriends. Keeping pretty young girls who had died in the 1790s company had not been a part of the job description, but it was hard to mind with a girl as full of life as Allison, who was hovering around him as he raked.

"Any plans for the festival this year?" he asked her.

"Well, the play's opening," she said, turning to look around her. She hated to gossip with the living about other ghosts when they might hear her, but most of them were strictly nocturnal. Still, when she went on, she whispered softly. "Judge Cooper said Luke got the facts all wrong and he's threatening to boycott, but all the ghosts in the theater say that the rehearsal's are going wonderfully, and that there's quite a lot of talent this year."

"Talent?" Robert chuckled, and handed her a bag. She held it as he used the rake to shovel leaves into it. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

Allison giggled and shrugged her shoulders, making her ghostly bosom shake in a way that he couldn't help being distracted by. Over the years, they had spent a few nights together, but as long as he was caretaker, she insisted that they could never be a couple. Robert had the sense to keep his relief to himself. Her passion was intense and furious, but as the man said, the flame that burns twice as bright, burns half as long. The rate she went through boyfriends was practically unbelievable.

"It probably means what you think it means," she said, pouting sweetly.

"So are all ghosts a bunch of perverted voyeurs, or just the ones you hang out with?"

"We're not all voyeurs," she teased, flaunting her cleavage at him.

He rolled his eyes, and tied off the bags that were full up now. He knew well enough that her flirtation was just innocent fun. Knowing how repressive the world was when she lived, and how young she had died, it was hard to hold it against her, so he tossed the bags in the back of the truck, and slipped a friendly arm around her shoulder.

"I'm heading by town on my way out to the farms. You want a lift?"

She grinned and kissed his cheek. "You wouldn't want me to wear myself out walking, would you?"

"Of course not," he said, opening the passenger-side door for her. He knew she could travel through the ether and be in town before he got the car started, but he also knew that she still found riding in cars a novel and exciting experience, and she almost always acted like she was still alive. She never flew, rarely made herself invisible, and always went through doors, though he had caught her forgetting to open them a few times. If you didn't know she was dead, he thought, you'd never believe it.
 
Sophia Jensen in the Bakery with Sig

"Is it still morning? I haven't looked at a clock today. I must be up early." Sophia gave him a smile. "Sig? Isn't it?"

She turned around all the way to face him. He was taller than she and this close he could look right down her white blouse to see the lace of her bra. She shifted her weight thrusting out a hip.

"You do odd jobs, right? I could use some things done around the house, gutters cleaned, cut back some branches in the front and back yard...there are probably other things, but I don't have my list with me." She glanced to see if it were her turn yet.

"I can pay cash, or...she looked him over, we can work out a trade." She gave him a subtle wink.
 
Sig's greyish eyes couldn't help but glance down for a moment spying the lace hidden beneath her blouse. A thin smile formed on his lips and he gave her a short nod returning his eyes to hers though they remained at an angle given their height difference.

When she mentioned working out a trade he had more then a few ideas of what might pop into his head for compensation. "I'm sure the two of us can come to an beneficial arrangement once I've seen to the jobs." He appreciated the offer on more levels then just that. It was hard to break the ice in a community that had lots of families with many generations about and everyone kind of knew each other. It set his mind at ease a bit though of course the anxiety remained.

"But I'd be happy to help make sure you're all set. I'm sure you get busy with the festival, everyone seems to be moving a bit faster today." Sig said noticing the movement outside on the crosswalk.
 
"You know where we are, come by anytime and ask for me. But you can wait until after the festival. I'm sure you want to enjoy it. This is your first Autumn here, isn't it?" Sophia looked up at him. She was rather tall herself, she wasn't used ot tipping her chin up quite so far.

"I'm sure we can accommodate anything you like, and if we can't--I can conjure up whatever it is that suits your fancy." She said slyly.

"Actually, the bar is busier, but the rest...with all the pretty girls flitting about drinking October Mead, why would someone pay for what they can most likely get for free. But I do like to circulate and pass out business cards, quite a few visitors come back to see us after the festival is over."

"The good side is, I get to enjoy the festival and not stay cooped up inside."She wondered if he would be interested in being a bouncer. He looked strong enough.
 
Beep....Beep....Beep....Beep

Jacob, lying prone atop his bed, his disheveled sheets tangled about his legs and torso as if he had spent the night thrashing about in his sleep, lifted his head from his pillow at the sound of the screeching alarm clock by his bedside. He thrust out his arm, blindly searching for the button atop the box that would halt the devices hellish claxoning. His hand brushed aside open bottles of beer that had been left there the night before in it's search for the button that would bring sweet silence, the empty containers clinking together loudly as they were jarred about, Jacob wincing as the sound joined with that of the alarm to form a cacophonous symphony. Finally his bumbling fingers found their target and slammed down atop the snooze button with far more force than was necessary to trigger it, the plastic creaking in protest. Unfortunately for him, it had not been enough to render the device broken and the sound of morning radio filtered into the room.

"Good Morning, New England...This is Rockin' Jim Johnson, greeting you on this lovely first of October..."

Jacob rolled away from the side of the bed, seizing the alarm in his fist and yanking the cord from the wall with an angry jerk as he went. The bedside table shook, the empty bottles once more rattling against each other as the cord was jerked through them. Apparently some forward-thinking individual had placed a reserve battery into the alarm clock, as despite it's lack of a direct power source, Jim Johnson kept right on Rockin'.

"That's right...October 1st folks...how about we start the morning off with one of my all-time favorites..."

Jacob snarled as he jerked upright in bed, slinging the clock-radio across the room to send it crashing against the wall. It shattered into half-a-dozen parts, and finally, blissfully, the room fell silent as pieces of the alarm clock spread across the carpeted floor of his bedroom. Well, externally silent.

Yesssss...

Jacob growled as the hairs along the back of his neck stood on end. The feeling of someone dragging a fingernail up his spine accompanied the voice in his head, it's tone gravely, sharp and distinctly non-human.

Come now, Jacob...is that any way to greet an old friend...

Jacob put a hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes closed as he focused on shutting out the unwelcome intruder. A few long moments passed in silence and he scrubbed his fingers through his hair from front to back with a sigh. "Fuck Jim Johnson...but most of all...fuck you." Despite the comical nature of the opening part of his statement, the last was spit out vehemently from between clenched teeth.

-*-

Jacob had showered and dressed uneventfully after his rude awakening before making his way to the kitchen in search of sustenance. He noticed a note tacked onto the freezer door by a magnet as he opened the refrigerator. He frowned and leaned closer as he attempted to make out his Grandmother's handwriting...

"Jacob,

We're out of rye, be a doll and run to McClain's for some in the morning. I left the keys to Grandpa's old truck and some money on the table. Truck's yours, I want my change.

- Love,
Grandma."


Jacob couldn't help but laugh as he finished the note. His Grandmother was a good woman, and he felt that he owed her for what he had put her through when he was growing up. It wasn't exactly morning, but if she asked why he hadn't gotten out until the afternoon, he'd blame it on a faulty alarm clock. His laughter resolved into a smile as he retrieved the orange juice from the fridge and closed the door, turning back towards the kitchen table as he opened the carton of juice. Lying there on top of a flowery place-mat was a set of keys holding down a crisp twenty-dollar bill, just as the note had described. Jacob took a swig of juice straight from the carton, but not before looking over his shoulder for sign of his grandmother, and retrieved the keys and bill from atop the table and shoved them into the right-hand pocket of his jeans. He returned the carton of juice to the refrigerator before heading out to the garage to get a look at his grandfather's old truck.

-*-

Jacob pulled into an open parking spot infront of the bakery, putting the transmission in park and shutting off the engine as his front tires connected with the curb. The truck was an all-black 1980 Ford F-150, and it had apparently been cared for well as it drove like a champ. No stereo, not even a tape deck, but Jacob could fix that. Fixin' cars was his business now, or would be once he found a job here in Autumn Valley. Apparently his Grandmother knew the local Mechanic's wife quite well, and she had assured him he was a shoe-in. He had an appointment to speak with the man regarding the topic of employment in a few days, but for now, he was apparently relegated to the role of errand boy.

Jacob sat in the truck for a few moments more, the sounds of the afternoon preparations for the evenings festivities carrying on the wind and into the cab through the open windows. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. This was the moment of truth, the first time he would be stepping out into Autumn Valley proper since his return. He wondered how many people would recognize his face, recall his troubled past and whisper behind his back as they warned their children against becoming "him." Well, he couldn't change his face, and if they wouldn't change their minds...well...fuck 'em.

His moment of solitude passed, Jacob exited the truck and walked across the sidewalk and into the bakery. He pushed the door open and walked inside, greeted by the sound of the door chime and the smells of the freshly baked pastries and breads. He couldn't recall anything about the shop's owners, but he did remember them making a particularly mean cinnamon roll. He slipped his hands into his back pockets as he walked along the displays, his eyes searching for the elusive loaf of rye his Grandmother had requested. As was typical of a male of the species, he didn't care for asking for directions, and hadn't bothered to check who was behind the counter before beginning his search.
 
"Yes hopefully my first of many. I have been looking forward to it for a while. Many people are always eager to talk of their exploits and revels during the time." Sig said slightly excited as he also nodded to her question of knowing where the Black Cat was located. He would be interested to help keep the place in good shape and what better place to meet knew people then working around the bar. He had to grin though at the comment of what her girls would be up to given the festivities.

"Well I for one am glad that that you get to enjoy same as the rest of us." Sig said though he had not missed the sly nature of her answers concerning making making certain accommodations for him. He doubted he would have to have her conjure up anything to out there but the thought did hold a certain almost seductive appeal to it as he gave her a small sly slightly embarrassed at his own thoughts.
 
Fiona

“You might want to find yourself a boyscout then,” Fi commented dryly, unwavering in her stance that Sam had first encountered her in. She knew the man loved to try and press her buttons, if only to get some kind of reaction out of the typical stoic deputy. Fiona took her job seriously, perhaps too seriously. Sam posed no obvious threat, he was new to town and had only a few issues when he first came to town. The fact he wasn’t from around here though seemed to just bug her, there was something intangible she couldn’t put her finger on. His attitude did nothing to change her opinion of the man; some people just wanted to burn things down for no other reason than to watch.

“See that you do,” She retorted as he retreated and began to jog across the street. She turned in place to watch him go, her lips pursing before she simply spat into the nearby gutter. “City slicker...” Fi muttered under her breath before she turned and proceeded in her initial direction. She crossed a few streets without incident, finishing her soda and tossing it into a trash bin. She caught a few kids crossing the street without looking both ways, to which she whistled sharply and informed them of their jolly, much to their chagrin at least before they turned the corner and made a joke of it. With a sigh Fiona leaned against the side of the general store she had come to stop before. At least tonight would offer some interest...

Renee


She was thankful the moment had passed, it gave her a moments respite before she fumbled over herself one to many times and made a complete idiot of herself. But her job was far from done, there was always another hungry customer to serve. With that same sweet smile and genuine personality Renee made short work of the bustling line, dwindling down to only three. She recognized only one of the three, the tall and beautiful woman that no doubt all young girls wanted to look like. She always held herself with an aura of confidence and mystery that anyone could find enthralling. The man behind her she didn’t recognize, though he had very beautiful gray eyes. The other gentleman behind him was mystery as well though he was handsome enough as well. Her heart was still aflutter from her encounter with Luke, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Hullo Ms. Jensen. Or is it Madam? I’m never sure what to say...er...so what can I get you?” Renee began as normal though she managed to stop herself by biting her bottom lip.
 
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Jacob loitered about the bakery for a few moments before giving up his search for the elusive loaf of rye. Truth be told he hadn't put much effort into it, especially after noting the queue of customers lined up before him. One of the cons of a small town, only one of any given type of shop. He stood for a few moments at the back, arms crossed, before deciding that he would come back for what he needed later. He wasn't the patient type, and besides, the cute young thing behind the counter looked like she could use a break.

And so Jacob found himself following the sidewalk outside, eyes downcast as if in thought. He counted the lines in the sidewalk as they rolled past, and an old children's rhyme was recalled from the depths of his memory...Step on a crack...

...Break your mother's back...but we both know that's not going to happen, right Jacob...?

His head jerked up, hands curling into fists at his side. The Passenger was becoming anxious, it had been some time since he had given in to it's influence. And today wouldn't be the day that he did...he hoped.

As of this morning he found himself in need of a new alarm clock, so the General Store was his destination. A few blocks down and he was already there, one of the pros of small town living. He could make out a figure leaning against the side of the building as he approached, clad in the uniform of local law enforcement, a sight he was painfully familiar with from days passed. And this was not just any old police officer, this one was a lady cop. Just his luck.

Jacob stuffed his hands into his front pockets as he drew closer to the store's entrance. Now that he was close enough to make out her facial features...something about them seemed familiar somehow, but he couldn't quite place her. Whatever it was he just let it pass as quickly as it had come, he didn't want to stare and make it look like he was sizing her up. He knew that just ignoring her would seem even more suspicious, so once he had drawn to within speaking distance he offered a simple, non-committal greeting as if in passing. "Afternoon..."
 
Fiona

She wasn’t as lost in thought as she seemed to be. While Sam hadn’t succeeded in ruffling her feathers, she still felt like a smoke was in order. Those piercing blue eyes, lost behind the reflective lenses lingered upon the street before her watching the traffic as it passed. Yet a curious sight caught her attention. She wasn’t exactly sure what it had been, just a subtle hint of recognition that she could not deny. Fiona wasn’t one for coincidence, not being brought up in Autumn Valley. She studied the man with a trained eye, taking in details that a normal person might overlook. That handsome face, the way he held himself and even the way he clenched his jaw, but the clincher was that voice.

A vivid flash of memory overtook Fi for but a moment and the words filtered past her lips before she even realized she was speaking.

“Jacob Harrington,” It was not a question, no, Fiona’s tone did not waver in disbelief. She knew this man, or at least she knew the boy that he had sprung from. Confident, brash, a bit arrogant and a hundred percent hell-raiser; he had been everything that Fiona wanted to be but couldn’t. There had been an attraction there in her youth, to the headstrong boy with handsome features who did as he pleased. He was a year her senior, Fi remembered that much, but that life seemed ages past back before her father had passed. The bitter memories came with the good and only caused the deputy to steel herself lest she actually show some emotion. With a smooth easy motion she reached up and pulled off those aviators and tucked them into her breast pocket.

“You’re a sight I’d never thought to see again. Still shaving cats and covering them in barbecue sauce?” Her voice held that calm, tempered tone she used all too often. The young girl Jacob had known had blossomed into a athletic woman with a certain air of superiority, or perhaps that was because she was dressed the part of a peace officer. Those cornflower blue eyes shimmered in the daylight, a hint of something in their depths even as that sarcastic smile tugged at her lips; just what did she know?
 
Sophia with Sig in the Bakery (with a candlestick?) at the counter

"The Autumn Fest does lend itself to frivolity. Nature's last gasp before she sleeps for the winter. She goes to bed a crone and awakes as a Maiden. Not a bad trade at all." Sophia said to Sig, although she thought she rather preferred Sigmund, it had an old world charm to it and made her think of stalwart knights and damsels in distress. "I am sure you will see me out and about during the festival."

Sophia turned back to the counter and let out a mellifluous laugh. "Oh, my dear, no. Madam is so...antiquated. Call me Sophia. I would dearly love a few Madeleines--the ones dipped in chocolate." She bent down to point at the ones she wanted behind the glass. Anyone looking her way would see the firm cruve of her bottom and perhaps a glimpse of the tops of her stockings. "Chocolate is so sensuous, don't you think? And a cup of tea--the chai, I think will do."
 
Sig nodded back to Sophia with a warm smile. He had to agree with her statement concerning the inherent frivolity since he knew he would not be against enjoy himself during the celebration and he raised an eyebrow slightly at her mention of Nature and her transformation. Privately he hoped to always end up meeting Nature at the after point of the transformation though he kept that to himself.

"And I look forward to it." When she turned around Sig raised his eyes up so as not to be looking right down her back not wishing to have the people around him catching him but it was hard not to have his grey eyes glance forward a bit before he cleared his mind of such thoughts

Settling in he waited for Sophia to get her own order and gave the young shopkeeper a polite smile if she ever looked past Sophia towards him.
 
Teagan and Mo at the Farm

Teagan finished with the horses, left her Wellies by the back door and went to her room to grab a shower. The family lived in one upstairs wing of the old farmhouse. It was a sprawling jumble of a place having been added onto by the generations living here.

Her own room was a mix of high tech and antiques, with a few childhood things she couldn't part with. Like her old worn stuffed Tigger who sat on her bed. She had an IKEA desk for her laptop (the farm had free wi-fi in case any guests needed it), an old oak bonnet chest, a oak armoire, and a mahogany dresser. Her room was a mish-mash of styles. One the wall over her bed was a large painting on tin of "The Storm" by some French artist, a boy and girl running from the nasty clouds. Some framed photos of her and friends, a rubbing from one of her ancestors gravestones, and some old vinyl albums propped on the moulding that went around the room. She had some posters of favorite bands that changed periodically with her tastes.

She showered and changed into nicer jeans, a long-sleeve tee and grabbed a pale green hoodie with a dark green greenman face on it.

She went downstairs for a quick bite of lunch. Her cousin Mo was there finishing up the guests' dishes with Teagan's mother. Mo's mom was probably overseeing the vegetable garden or checking on the mead. Working with the fey was fun and all, but they could get scatterbrained.

"I want to go into town and see how the Wickerman is coming along, want to come, Mo?" Pretty much once all the morning chores were out of the way, she and Mo were on their own.

"Sure, I'll grab my coat." Mo had on what looked like men's pin-striped trousers, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to do dishes and a wool suit vest complete with pocket watch.

Where Teagan had longish thick red curls, Mo kept her hair short and spikey, and currently shaved at the temples. With Teagan, there was never a doubt she was a girl. She had a tiny waist that bloomed into hips. Her bust still hadn't quite filled out yet, so she was a tad pear-shaped versus the hourglass shape her mother had, even though her mom had put on some pounds over the years. Mo worked at her androgynous look. Currently, Mo preferred girls, but she wasn't adverse to the right guy that might catch her fancy. She seemed to prefer men with more of an androgynous look, maybe because she grew up with the slim and mostly body hairless male fey.

The two loaded up the van with mead to deliver to the Black Cat. Then they could wander.

((Mo and the McCormack Mom's are more or less NPC's, but if someone takes a liking to them, I can play them, no problem. Mo is actually based on a friend of mine.))
 
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