The Lure of the Gallows

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<<set $chapter to "1">><<if visited() is 1>><<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>>Notifications active!<</notify>><</if>><</if>> <CENTER><img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/689a7e2dabe00c3a30439928a56392c6/4d020e1d2b1978c2-b1/s1280x1920/8e5fe70a960e8c3045da8483725c3c2f7a49c825.pnj"/></center> <center>[[START|1.2]]</center>

<center><img src= "https://64.media.tumblr.com/0cb8106d7244b41ac3f1f9d0a5d160ba/854e4fdba76adb65-a1/s500x750/6712d21da870935a5677947e76421262a5c10630.pnj"/></center> Beyond the thick fog, there was only a flame It wavered in the distance faintly, shifting in the dark as a beacon that lured me further into the thick mist, where I could barely see the outline of my fingers in front of my face. I didn't know what was ahead, but I could feel my feet move regardless of any hesitation on my part. This wasn't a choice: it was a necessity, and my feet wouldn't waver from the clouded path ahead. The first steps were the hardest, the heaviest. My legs trembled under my own weight. I nearly tripped on my own feet, or what I assumed to be my feet. I couldn't see myself in the fog as it wrapped its long fingers around my figure tightly; I could only see the flame as it beckoned me closer to the brilliant light, shining through all of the dark clinging desperately to the air. It was going to suffocate me: I could feel the damp in the thick of my throat. I needed to clutch the light to banish all of that dark festering inside of me. I took another step, and suddenly the fog cleared. Instead of the dancing flame, I saw a figure standing motionless in its place. "Mom?" I said. My voice was everywhere and nowhere all at once, thundering and whispering and breathless. I recognized her as surely as my heart beat, even as she was hunched over, clutched in the invisible grip of agonized pain. She wasn't facing me. And yet I knew the ridge of her back, the set of her shoulders, the inexplicable warmth of her presence around me in the way that blood called to blood. I had always known when she was near; it was an intuition that existed in a sense beyond the abilities of two strange Seers crossing paths. <center>[[NEXT|1.3]]</center>

<> <li>[[STATS]]</li> <li>[[CODEX]]</li> <li>[[CREDITS]]</li> <>

<CENTER><img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/1afb611c891315eadb46ff639e2a75cc/89b3c1c6251024bd-12/s500x750/6982f965796a4130700268d93cab0e229c0e7e22.pnj"/> [[WASHINGTON BAY, DELAWARE, USA|C.S.1]] [[MELCHIOR, OREGON, USA|C.S.2]] [[NOTABLE FAMILIES|C.S.3]] <img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/1b4eff7265704f89494bb3cd9f61e198/89b3c1c6251024bd-c9/s500x750/af6f32731779b8d07a8b33dffe7742c2858d2672.pnj"/></center><CENTER> [[CLASS ONE: THE MANIPULATORS|C.C.1]] [[CLASS TWO: THE CREATURES|C.C.2]] [[CLASS THREE: THE SORCERERS|C.C.3]] [[CLASS FOUR: THE DIVINERS|C.C.4]] [[HALF BLOODS|C.C.5]] </center>

<center>C R E D I T S</center> Thank you for playing! TLOTG would not be the game it is today without all of the support I've had over the years. Thank you to the Tumblr community, for always being supportive and interactive with me. For amazing feedback, asks, fanart, and fanfiction to keep me inspired and engaged, even when writing seemed impossible. Thank you to the Discord channel, for being endlessly kind even when I call you all simps, and for the enthusasitc feedback for any spoilers I drop on your heads. The response is never something I will get used to. I am so honored to have you all there. Thank you, especially, to Mars, for being my contant cheerleader, a brilliant mod, a talented creator, and a genuinely amazing friend. I can always count on you for advice or a good whack on the head to knock some sense back into me. This game is for you all. Sincerely, Killian Faust - [[Written By Killian Faust|https://lureofthegallowsgame.tumblr.com]] [[Sugarcube 2 Documentation|https://www.motoslave.net/sugarcube/2/docs]] [[OpenDyslexic Font by Abbie Gonzalez|https://opendyslexic.org]] [[Notify Macro by Chapel|https://github.com/ChapelR/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2]] [[Live Update Macro by Cycy|https://github.com/cyrusfirheir/cycy-wrote-custom-macros]]

My intuition told me this was my mother, undeniably, and yet the rush of choice crashed down on me. The fog lingered so freshly damp in my memory. ✒ [[I walk towards her, every movement sluggish. My mother always told me not to interfere with visions, but she needed my help. She needed me.|1.3.1]] ✒ [[I walk towards her despite the weight tugging on me, even when her voice in the back of my mind warns me not to interfere. I needed to know what the point of this vision was. That was my purpose, after all.|1.3.2]] ✒ [[I call out to her, only half-expecting it to work. We were both seers, after all. Surely, our shared gift could help us decipher the vision together?|1.3.3]] ✒ [[I call out to her, more of an instinct than anything else. My vision is my own to tame, even as it snarls and bites, and it is my burden to bare. I am merely its witness.|1.3.4]] ✒[[I can't move, I can't speak. The fog swarms me, starving, seeking the vulnerable warmth of my flesh. I am useless here. I cannot do anything, and my fate unfolds before me with grim relief.|1.3.5]]

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the lure of the gallows

<<set $emotional %= 10>><<set $sybilr to "0">>She obviously needed my help, even if she wouldn't be able to see me. Instinctive dread crushed my ribcage in an iron grip, yet I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her in such a state. I had been alone in the fog, wander-lost and confused, and sharing the burden of the emptiness would be bearable together, not apart. Regardless of what my intuition warned me, I needed to see her, drawn to that firelight aura we shared through blood. My first step sent a wave of numbness through my legs, and the sensation of a thousand needles pricked my skin painfully, enough to draw blood that I didn't notice. I gritted my teeth and fought to remain upright, even as my muscles failed me, turned weak with sudden fatigue. I was afraid to fall in this unfamiliar place, afraid that I would never be able to stand back up if I did. My efforts to spare us both from lonely, lingering hurt seemed impossible, monumental, hanging far above my head in the midst of fog. I tried to take another step forward and crashed to the ground with a yelp as my knees gave out. My jaw clicked together on impact, rattling my teeth to the nerves of the roots, my joints brittle with it all. My mother jerked at the sound, and a sound as harsh as a gunshot cracked in the air as she opened her mouth to speak. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.6]]</center>

<<set $emotional %= 10>><<set $sybilr to "1">>She needed my help, even if she wouldn't be able to see me. Instinctive dread crushed my ribcage in an iron grip, yet I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her in such a state. I had been alone in the fog, wander-lost and confused, and sharing the burden of the emptiness would be bearable together, not apart. Regardless of what my intuition warned me, I needed to see her, drawn to that firelight aura we shared through our blood. My first step sent a wave of numbness through my legs, and the sensation of a thousand needles pricked my skin painfully, enough to draw blood that I didn't notice. I gritted my teeth and fought to remain upright, even as my muscles failed me, turned weak with sudden fatigue. I was afraid to fall in this unfamiliar place, afraid that I would never be able to stand back up if I did. My efforts to spare us both from lonely, lingering hurt seemed impossible, monumental, hanging far above my head in the midst of fog. I tried to take another step forward and crashed to the ground with a yelp as my knees gave out. My jaw clicked together on impact, rattling my teeth to the nerves of the roots, my joints brittle with it all. My mother jerked at the sound, and a sound as harsh as a gunshot cracked in the air as she opened her mouth to speak. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.6]]</center>

<<set $emotional %= 10>><<set $sybilr to "2">>"Mom!" I called louder. She was motionless, her stance crooked and... wrong. I had never seen her stand that way before, not in a vision and not in real life. People were very rarely motionless in visions. They weren't supposed to be standing like they were expecting someone to show up, silent sentinels in the world of hungry fog. She wasn't supposed to be standing like she was expecting me to show up. "Mom?" I repeated. There was a prickle of dread that crept across my scalp, a bitterly cold sensation that washed over my head like a bucket of ice water. For a moment, it felt like I was living a nightmare instead of a vision. My hands shook with fear just to see the unnatural stance of my mother, that uncharacteristic stillness in the curve of her bent spine. Slowly, my mother finally lifted her head. Her jaw cracked as loud as a gunshot in the silent fog as she opened her mouth to speak. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.6]]</center>

<<set $emotional %= 10>><<set $sybilr to "3">>"Mom!" I called louder. She was motionless, her stance crooked and... wrong. I had never seen her stand that way before, not in a vision and not in real life. People were very rarely motionless in visions. They weren't supposed to be standing like they were expecting someone to show up, silent sentinels in the world of hungry fog. She wasn't supposed to be standing like she was expecting me to show up. "Mom?" I repeated. There was a prickle of dread that crept across my scalp, a bitterly cold sensation that washed over my head like a bucket of ice water. For a moment, it felt like I was living a nightmare instead of a vision. My hands shook with fear just to see the unnatural stance of my mother, that uncharacteristic stillness in the curve of her bent spine. Slowly, my mother finally lifted her head. Her jaw cracked as loud as a gunshot in the silent fog as she opened her mouth to speak. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.6]]</center>

The fog was warm, almost. As if sinking deep under the surface of a heated pool, letting the surface tension mask my face in a gentle shroud. As if in answer, my mother made a soft, pained sound. Almost a whimper, a fleeting breath. I watched in rapt silence, the fog settling in around me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to reach out and ask her for help. I wanted to run far away and scrub the image of her body from my mind. Yet more than anything, I just wanted to... [[Wake Up.|1.3.end]]

"Is that you, love?" My mother said, her sightless, clouded eyes searching for mine. It was a grim mirror: we had the same <<cycle "$seyes" autoselect>> <<option "black">> <<option "brown">> <<option "amber">> <<option "gray">> <<option "blue">> <<option "green">> <<option "hazel">> <</cycle>> eyes. "Are you here with me?" I flinched. Her figure seemed to shift in and out of my focus, her image flickering from a familiar image to a grotesque one. In one moment, she looked exactly like my mother: her hair pulled up in a sleep-mussed bun, the edges of her fuzzy white bathrobe fading into the background of fog and haze. Then the smoke would shift, and I would see the truth. Her skin was mottled with harsh red burns, her hands burned down to nearly the bone. The fabric of her robe was blackened and ash-covered. Her hair was singed down close to the roots, almost to her scalp. "It's me, Mom," I managed to say. The words grated against my throat, choking me, the smoke burning in my lungs. I coughed out, "I'm here." She blinked, and her eyes narrowed in on me as if noticing my presence for the very first time. A brief flash of panic laced through my mind: how could she see me, talk to me? It made no sense, the blurred edges of it all running greyscale watercolors, ruining the fabric of the state around me. And despite the stark, panicked fear in her face, I still was not prepared for her next words. "Which one are you?" She whispered. I stared back at her, momentarily speechless. What did that even mean? <center>[[NEXT|1.3.7]]</center>

WASHINGTON BAY, DELAWARE is a fictional town near the coast of Delaware that was established in the earliest days of European colonization. The ratio of humans to paranormal beings are about 2:3 according to the Council’s annual mandatory census surveys, and there are approximately 27,000 residents in total. The most common supernatural populations in town are as follows: shapeshifters, vampires, half-bloods, and the spirited. THE COUNCIL OF THE PARANORMAL is the officially elected group of representatives for the paranormal population in town. There are currently four members to reflect the highest supernatural populations: a shapeshifter, a vampire, a half-blood, and a spirited. Rhys Gideon serves as the elected Head Councilor. He is responsible for presiding over the trial processes of both civil and criminal supernatural matters. In addition to the Council's duties, he also represents the best interests of the shapeshifter population as the local Alpha of the Gideon Pride. Sofia Abreu serves as the elected Diplomatic Councilor. She specializes in political collaboration on both a local and national scale, with connections in Delaware and as far away as California. She also represents the concerns and best interests of the vampire population, and serves as the figurehead of House Abreu. Josiah Reis serves as the elected Programs Councilor. He is involved in all community programs within the town, taking note of any curriculums used and managing budget expectations. He represents half blooded supernaturals, but has a notable history of favoring human affairs during keystone debates. Lincoln R. serves as the elected Divine Councilor. His role on the Council is highly debated due to his short term limits, however his expertise in all matters involving the veil between the dead and the living have proven invaluable for both civil and legal matters. He also serves as an advocate for the spirited, giving a voice to a population with nothing left to lose.

MELCHIOR, OREGON is a fictional town near the coast of Northern Oregon that was established in the early nineteenth century as a trading town for those crossing the national border. The town’s residents are overwhelmingly human compared to the supernatural population in a 3:1 ratio. Due to the high population density of humans, there is no official Council of the Paranormal. Rather, there are two representatives (a vampire and a shapeshifter, respectively) that conduct supernatural business on behalf of the entire town.

THERE ARE FIVE NOTABLE FAMILIES within the town of Washington Bay, Delaware, who were responsible for establishing the beginning of the town's roots as a supernatural-tolerant community. - THE GIDEONS As one of the most prominent families in Washington Bay, Delaware, the Gideons are distinguished by two aspects: their role in supernatural politics and their dreadful, fatal curse. When the town was established in the late 1600s, it was under the helm of five prominent members of the local colony, including a shapeshifter named Daniel Gideon. Social unrest and discrimination towards the supernatural inspired Gideon and his four closest confidants - Ames Sinclair, Phila Webb-Sinclair, Nicolas Redding, and Lazarus Abernathy - to officially sever ties with the colony they helped build and establish their own. As a Council, they elected to name their new haven after the hope of a new beginning: Sanctum Bay. A century later, in a show of support for the young government, the town would be renamed to its current ‘Washington Bay’. At that time, it seemed, much of the town’s history was covered up as well. From what remained of the archives - over a century’s worth of journals, records, and other written testimonies - it is known that Anna Gideon, the great-granddaughter of founder Daniel Gideon, took over the duties of Alpha after her husband Henry Clement-Gideon was conscripted into the Union during the Civil War. From her personal accounts, Anna revealed that she was engaged in her own war: sensing that the Gideon Pride was vulnerable without Henry and other able-bodied men there to defend it, enemies closed in on all sides, seeking territory. From her extensive record-keeping, historians know that Anna Gideon was being harassed and threatened by rogue werewolves, many of whom were drawn to the violence of war and wandered down from further north - specifically New York and Pennsylvania. The self-elected leader of the seven werewolves that stalked the Gideons was known to Anna as Stokes, however, she often referred to him with more profane language in her journals. Stokes was eventually identified by later historians as a man from upstate New York, his birth name Lewis A. Stokes, who came from an affluent household and was the youngest of five children. He was born human, and only suffered through the debilitating process of the Change when he was attending the formerly-named Columbia College in his early twenties, seeking a law degree like his father and eldest brother before him. The wolf that Changed him was never identified, but through Anna’s writings, it is known that Stokes was left for dead by his attacker in the bowels of the city. Through grit and luck, Stokes survived and took vengeance for his curse, and then sought a new purpose upon being disgraced by his superstitious family. Stokes was specifically noted to be charismatic and confident in Anna’s writings; he wasn’t easily deterred by her defiance to his advances into her territory, but he took each minor defeat with a graceful amusement. He treated the invasion as if it was a game, and, notably, no casualty occurred directly due to his involvement. His presence was inconvenient, but not inherently violent However, upon the sudden death of Anna’s husband in the war, just two years into the conflict, the balance shifted. Each encounter became tenser and tenser - Stokes was growing bolder, hunting down the patrols that scouted the perimeter of Gideon territory - until Anna finally took a stance. Leaving the care of her two sons to a trusted family friend, she snuck into the wolves’ camping grounds in the dead of night, the dark darkness shadowing her werecat’s form. She managed to kill three of the seven werewolves in their sleep before a fourth wolf, a young man-turned-Stray named Jack Saunders, returned from patrol and discovered her hunt. By morning, the stray wolves had left Anna Gideon’s body on the lawn of her ancestral home, a spare blanket draped over her to hide the wounds. Their camping site had been meticulously cleared out of everything except one unexpected thing: Stokes himself. Or rather, his body, which was mutilated nearly beyond recognition. The Gideon werecats that discovered the remains buried him where he laid in an unmarked plot; later, in Anna’s journals, another person’s writing would detail the fact that his killing wounds were consistent with wolf attacks. Anna’s eldest son, James Leonard Gideon, later took command of the Gideon Pride upon reaching adulthood. In the history that follows, very few notable conflicts erupted, at least until the curse began. In the early nineties in Washington Bay, the town was thriving economically. Under the guiding hand of Alpha Leonardo Gideon, the pride was just as prosperous with new opportunities in the community and bountiful hunts. It seemed as though the future was bright, too, until Leonardo’s slow decline became more and more apparent. Suddenly, he couldn’t recall details about pride meetings. He was forgetting the faces of allies and misremembering the names of his own children and grandchildren. His youngest son, Rhys Gideon, was taking more responsibilities as the Alpha’s heir to stabilize the pride’s business. There didn’t seem to be an end in sight… until Leonardo nearly killed his eldest granddaughter in an unprovoked attack during a pride gathering. His fate was cut mercifully short by his own son and trusted second-in-command. Until the encounter, the truth of a curse in the pride was little more than grim rumors. Fear of the Gideons grew sharper as the story of Leonardo’s attack spread through the town, embellished with each telling until it twisted the once kindly, proud man’s reputation into a monstrous shadow of his former self. The true extent of the curse’s roots is carefully guarded and obscured, but it’s known that Leonardo was not the first to give in to violent instinct, and he would certainly not be the last. - THE ABERNATHYS In a prime example of how far the mighty can fall, the dying legacy of the Abernathy bloodline is a bitter tale in Washington Bay, Delaware. Once part of the first founders with a prominent local reputation, the Abernathy family lost everything in mere generations. Lazarus Abernathy, head of his family, was one of five supernaturals that officially severed ties with the colony they helped build in favor of establishing their own in the late 1600s. Despite the social unrest and discrimination from their first colony, Lazarus was well-respected for his abilities. His magician skill in healing was remarkably unique. His loss further divided the community he once cared for, and they turned more against the other four supernaturals he allied himself with. The growth of the then-Sanctum Bay was exponential with Lazarus’s influence; his reputation encouraged more supernaturals to follow his lead, and eventually, humans settled in the colony as well. The cause of his sudden death is unknown to modern historians, but speculation thrives. The murmurs of a curse would be harder and harder to dissuade as tragedy befell the Abernathy line, again and again. Lazarus’s three sons suffered similar young deaths, and their children too. The details remain lost to time, and much of the history of the then newly-christened Washington Bay remains unknown. In the archives that remain, it is clear that the Abernathy line has deep, hungry roots in tragedy. In the early 1900s, three centuries after the death of Lazarus, one of his few descendants showed promise with healing magic. Verna Abernathy is a remarkable figure in the town’s history: she was heavily involved in the politics of the Council, despite the disapproval of the more conservative members, and she took part in many activist movements during her time. She was responsible for cementing the position of a Court Seer in stone, with generous pay. Through petitions, she helped pass laws that further protected supernatural rights to manage their businesses and represent their best interests in a trial. She also owned a clinic in the center of town, where she conducted both medical and political business. Her patients claimed she was a stern but caring provider, and her opponents in the trial room declared her stubborn and a disgrace to her family’s name. Vicious rumors followed Verna’s wake; she never married, which further spurred on the criticism by her fellow townspeople. Her eldest brother, Cyril Abernathy, inherited the family’s ancestral home and most of their fortune before ultimately losing both to poor gambling. Verna and her older brother, Irving, managed to secure the property rights to their childhood home after a year-long legal battle. However, the damage to their reputation and family fortune was overwhelming and impossible to reconcile in their short lifetimes. Verna died at the age of thirty from a mysterious sickness that plagued the town for years afterward; Irving died just months after at the age of thirty-two in a robbery. The Abernathy line carried on through Cyril, who later died at the age of forty-five, and his children. The family history often repeats tragic young deaths and deadly vices. The once proud, well-regarded Abernathy name is darkened with a richly devastating history. The latest generation seems to be no stranger to their legacy, as Felicity Abernathy lost her husband to a car accident shortly after the birth of their only child. Her younger brother, Tobias, and his family died together in a tragic accident. Her eldest brother, Jonah, keeps to himself in the outskirts of Washington Bay, effectively cutting ties with his little remaining family. The Abernathy bloodline may be, without a doubt in any sound mind, truly cursed.

A MANIPULATOR is any type of being, usually human, that has the ability to alter elements or weather phenomena at will. The term Manipulator is an inclusive term for the entirety of Class One Supernaturals. As their name suggests, this class can manipulate their surroundings based on specific elements. Unlike the Sorcerer class, which relies on unnatural phenomena to conduct their magic, the Manipulators merely command the natural elements. Their kind was formally recognized before any other Class, however, their ranking is based on their considered threat to society; since Manipulators tend to have weaker abilities, they aren’t feared but merely accepted as mostly human. Of all the types of Manipulators recorded in history, the most common are hydrokinesis (control of water), pyrokinesis (control of fire), and aerokinesis (control of air). The majority of this Class has some control over these elements, but nothing is usually stronger than a gust of air or a flicker of a flame. Strangely, Manipulators tend to have specialties in certain aspects of their element rather than full control. For example, a pyrokinetic Manipulator may be able to detect and extinguish flames, but not generate them. Or an aerokinetic Manipulator may be able to alter air pressure to the point that they can crush objects at will, but cannot summon a gust of wind. Abilities are not particularly likely to pass through genetics. Even if both parents can manipulate a particular element, their offspring may have no abilities, and their grandchildren may not have them, either. It is statistically likely for non-Manipulator parents to have children with the power to manipulate elements not seen in generations; in one notable case, two human parents had twins with rare Manipulator abilities that could be traced back three generations. However, every descendant inherits some degree of immunity to a certain extent. For example, a person with merely ten percent ancestry to a pyrokinetic Manipulator can escape direct contact with flames with only mild damage. Famously, a Californian woman survived a week underwater, trapped in a shipwreck without air, because her great-great-great-grandmother was half Manipulator and had an affinity for water. Manipulators are fairly common and well-received in their communities. Most are involved in public services, such as firefighters or lifeguards, and others live normal lives without incident. Of course, there are always exceptions to the rule. Some have lived more explosively: some are more powerful than their class ranking would suggest.

A CREATURE is any type of being that can shapeshift or change their biology to access their abilities. This classification has a distinct level of sub-classifications which includes shapeshifters (werewolves, werecats, werebirds, etc), vampires, incubi/succubi, and other obscure beings. - WEREWOLVES Due to their population size, werewolves are the first subclass of the Creatures. By far the most well known of the shapeshifters, werewolves are most common in the Midwestern United States and the West Coast. Twelve werewolf packs reign in the United States dating back to the beginning of the Revolutionary War. Before the colonies revolted and cut off supply and connections with Great Britain, werewolves frequently traveled between both continents to trade pack members, traditional artifacts for rituals, and knowledge of medicine. When werewolves came to the American Colonies, they sought a cure for the painful transformation process known as the Shift. After the war, tensions rose and broke the bonds between the European and American wolves. Even in the modern-day, they are still divided by their traditions and knowledge. Werewolves are the only type of shapeshifter that is known to have the ability to infect humans and transfer the ability to Shift. Those that are born human and survive the violent Change into a werewolf are known as the Stray. Very few humans can live through the fever, aches, and sensory overload that comes from the process of the Change, which lasts up to two weeks. Every day is more dangerous than the last as the Changing experiences paranoia, fierce hunger, and sudden bursts of strength and clarity. On the very last day, at dusk, the Stray will Shift for the very first time. There have been many accounts of Strays that go completely insane to their inner creature and attack without remorse until they end up getting killed. Any Stray that survives the Change and can successfully Shift back into a human is well enough to join a pack. These wolves can be sponsored by an Alpha for pack membership. There are twelve werewolf packs and twenty-four Alphas, as each pack has two representatives for the best interest of keeping balance. - VAMPIRES Vampires are considered to be the strongest of the Creatures classification. As Class Two Supernaturals, they rely on changing their biology to access their powers, and the change is among the most deadly: swift, brutal, and without warning. The population of vampires are entirely descended from one common ancestor, who originated from an unassuming town in Southern Greece during the Dark Ages and vanished long before DNA tracing could identify them. Through folklore and speculation, vampires refer to them as the Host, and believe they were common born. Not even modern science can explain the reason for the Host’s initial vampirism, and not for lack of trying. Vampires distinguished themselves as scholars, scientists, and modern miracles early in their history. With a keen interest in their own immortality and the animalistic urge to consume blood, vampires dominate the highest levels of society with a reputation for being wise rulers. The greatest strength for vampires is by far their desire to appear as composed as possible. Younger vampires are Turned by a bite and deliberate infection from a host, and are kept controlled by the local coven. Every coven can have up to thirty vampires under its wing before the city’s Council of the Paranormal intervenes to reassess the population. To maintain their image as a controlled group, vampires strictly monitor and govern their own, and it is fairly often that a rogue fledgling gets no farther than town lines before the proper authorities sweep in and eliminate the problem.

A SORCERER is any type of being that relies on magic or unexplainable phenomenon to access their abilities. This classification has a distinct level of sub-classifications which includes the spirited, witches, magicians, and other obscure beings. - THE SPIRITED Unlike witches and magicians, who have ancestry dating back generations, and vampires, who have immortal lifespans, the spirited are fleeting, mortal creatures born human and returned from a state of decay. It is nearly impossible to predict which humans will return as one of the spirited. Children, men, and women have been known to disappear from their coffins after three days in an event known as the Lazarus Waking. In a tradition dating back to the Victorian Era, leaving the body of the deceased in a specialized coffin before burial was popularized to accommodate the newly spirited and reduce trauma from their awakening, as they would appear in a random location with no memory of death. The coffin was wired to restrict the body’s ability to travel post-mortem, yet in rare cases it has been known that one of the spirited have reappeared as far away as the next country over. It is not known how they manage to escape such distance, as the spirited hold no memory of their time deceased. Upon their awakening, the spirited are quickly initiated into their local Coterie. In even the largest cities, the spirited have a representative on the local Council of the Paranormal, yet their position is debated in smaller counties with fewer spirited populations. It is believed that the spirited fade too quickly to benefit from a career in politics, however spirited activists are fierce at campaigning. The laws and regulations protecting the spirited grow day by day, and change seeps slowly out to more isolated communities. Among the most debated treatment for the spirited involves their checkered past in partaking in medical experiments. Notable figures in the past have sought to find a way to utilize the second-chance life that the spirited represent with little success. As the spirited die within a decade of their awakening, it is difficult to observe the effects on their bodies, and as such rare for a spirited to offer their consent for often invasive procedures. The spirited often return to life in a state of euphoria, but with a lurking sadness, too. It is not known what they experience in their three days of death, however it doesn’t stem the endless speculation and research dedicated to understanding it all. In certain towns where the community is tight-knit and speculation festers, myths may begin to develop a mind all of their own. - WITCHES Considered as part of the Sorcerers and formally known as Class Three Supernaturals, witches have a rich and complicated history worldwide. Witches come from a long line of magic-inclined ancestors; though their power is well-known to the families that harness it, the curses and tribulations that accompany it have the spite of centuries within. Magic is far more dangerous when combined with the power of old feuds and family ties. Being a witch is hereditary and can be traced back to when the first twelve witches - each from a different social class and ancestry - struck a blood pact and were granted power beyond measure. Known as the Cursed Twelve, these witches burned magic through their blood and passed the knowledge on to their descendants. The pact ensured all witches have the same abilities. The greatest strength for any witch family is their history: they are dangerous because they have studied their power and can harness the full extent of its reach. Families are close-knit and often intermingle with witch families of other abilities. It’s common for multiple households to share the responsibility of raising the younger ones with teachings and, in some cases, discipline. Very rarely do witches escape the order of their families and establish their reputation: only four recorded witches have survived long enough to uphold an independent legacy. A lone witch is susceptible to a type of madness very few people know of, one that whispers poison in their minds and swallows the magic that burns in their veins until nothing is left but ruin. A witch is weak without family to support their magic, but they are absolutely nothing without a familiar. Familiars commonly take the form of an animal, whether it be a raven or a housecat, and they never stray far from their witches. Familiars are often regional; a witch in Australia is more likely to have a koala as a familiar compared to a witch in Siberia with a reindeer. Bound by magic tied to blood, a witch and their familiar cannot be separated without agony and eventually death. Over time, a familiar will decay and fade without their witch counterpart; a witch will lose their magic instantly without their familiar and eventually waste away from the inside out. It is considered impossible for a familiar to survive after their witch is gone, but in some towns, there is no such thing as impossible. - SEERS In the official registry, Seers are considered to be Sorcerers, or Class Three Supernaturals, however, their role is largely debated within the supernatural community. Unlike most of their class, Seers have abilities that rank on a spectrum of magnitude; in some cases, a Seer can be no more powerful than a human, and in others, they can be as influential as even the most ancient creatures of their class. The exact ancestry of the first Seer is largely unknown, and speculation is baseless. Through historic writings, however, the first recorded mention of a Seer was discovered in an archaeological site dating back to 2500 BCE, near what is now modern-day Eritrea. In the modern-day, there are Seers on every continent, and they are particularly prevalent in North America, yet not as powerful as their international counterparts. Seers typically can see the outcome of future significant events, and also read people’s emotions and thoughts based on the strength of those two things. A minority of Seers work in the government as consultants, which gives them respect in the eyes of high society, but some Seers scam customers by insisting they can help fix a person’s problems with divine intervention. The most infamous of their kind tend to be advisors to the greatest of kings, or the most vicious of scam artists intent on the deception of their ability. Since their abilities are based on a spectrum, Seers are often considered to be out of favor with the public as their true power cannot be accurately measured. Much like the myth of Cassandra, a Seer seeking to restore order through prophecy is often met with disbelief and hearsay. However, one particular type of supernatural has found kinship with the troubled reputation of Seers: vampires. It is common, in both metropolitan societies and isolated communities, for a person of Seer ancestry to have an alliance with the local vampire coven. In some cases, the Seer is even Turned into one of their own to establish a place of high ranking within the coven itself. Within a coven, the role of a Seer evolves to best serve their kind; some Seers continue to work within their government agency to gain a reputation for the coven while others turn to nightlife to promote the power of night-stalking vampires. In certain towns, specifically those with established bloodlines, a Seer serves the Council of the Paranormal through the vampire councilor as a Pulse Saint, yet this is an outdated title with little political value. In general, Seers have little clout within their communities, and as a result, have little standing among their supernatural peers. Not quite human but not monstrous enough to be supernatural, Seers have a distinct position in society, and it is not entirely a favorable one.

A DIVINER is any type of being with a particularly inexplicable influence on the world around them. There is very little known about this class.

HALF BLOODS The classification system for half-blooded supernaturals is often called into debate: do all half-blooded people get a ranking or only the few that demonstrate impressive power? Modern societies worldwide take to a sliding scale known as Ranks which vary based on local governments. In the United States, however, supernaturals are based purely on their ancestry class regardless of their inherited abilities. Any person with a quarter percent ancestry is considered to rank in one of the three classifications. For Class One Supernaturals, known as the Manipulators, every descendent inherits some degree of manipulation to a certain extent. For example, a person with merely ten percent ancestry to a pyrokinetic Manipulator can escape direct contact with flames with only mild damage. Famously, a Californian woman survived a week underwater, trapped in a shipwreck without air, because her great-great-great-grandmother was half Manipulator and had an affinity for water. For Class Two Supernaturals, or Creatures, the degree of inherited abilities ranks far lower. Shapeshifters particularly have trouble passing their abilities to offspring: two half-blooded parents with the ability to shift may not have a child that can do the same and appear entirely human. For other creatures such as vampires, their child appears as a different being altogether known as a dhampir, and their descendants lose any abilities altogether. One notable example is Anita Peri, the director of the S.B.I.’s Unnatural Deaths Division, who raised a dhampir child from early childhood and proved the theory that their development establishes them as a separate creature altogether. For Class Three Supernaturals, or Sorcerers, of certain bloodlines, it is guaranteed that any half-blooded offspring will inherit their full abilities. For witches and magicians, for example, their families have ancient ties to the first supernaturals and the magic carries through genetics. For other types, such as Seers, the genetic variation is more likely to increase the chances of having human offspring with no ties to their parent’s abilities. Every individual is different in this case. There is little known about the recently discovered Class Four Supernaturals, known as the Diviners, however, it is believed they cannot reproduce offspring. As every half-blood is distinctly different, their position on the Council is integral to supernatural communities. However, despite progressive leadership, not every half-blood can be properly represented without much debate. In smaller towns, the half-blood Councilor may even be a full-blooded supernatural, or may represent other groups who are too sparse to claim a spot on the Council themselves. In the United States, in particular, a country that boasts in its diverse supernatural communities, this lack of government representation may boil over tensions long-brewing...

<center> <img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/9bdbbedfbe9f08358db1bde72d067854/6d207ef62936c4eb-c7/s500x750/853254fd819969b7572e80c30242a7e3cb795599.pnj"/></center> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>GENERAL</center> NAME: $sname $slname NICKNAME: $sniname SPECIES: Class Three Supernatural - Seer AGE: 19 OCCUPATION: <> <<if $sact eq "my college classes">> College Student <</if>> <<if $sact eq "my job as a barista">> Barista at Gideon Bakery & Cafe <</if>> <<if $sact eq "my job at the restaurant">> Cook at Saint's Restaurant <</if>> <<if $sact eq "my mentorship at the courthouse">> Intern at the Washington Bay Courthouse <</if>> <><</if>> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>APPEARANCE</center> HEIGHT: <> <<if $sheight eq "was not taller than me">> Very Tall <</if>> <<if $sheight eq "was about my height">> Tall <</if>> <<if $sheight eq "was a little taller than me">> Average <</if>> <<if $sheight eq "was much taller than me">> Short <</if>> <> EYES: <> <<if $seyes eq "black">> Black <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "brown">> Brown <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "amber">> Amber <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "gray">> Gray <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "blue">> Blue <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "green">> Green <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "hazel">> Hazel <</if>> <> HAIR: <> <<if $shairc eq "black">> Black<</if>> <<if $shairc eq "brown">> Brown<</if>> <<if $shairc eq "red">> Red<</if>> <<if $shairc eq "blond">> Blond<</if>> <<if $shairc eq "dyed">> Dyed<</if>> <>, <> <<if $shairt eq "straight">> straight<</if>> <<if $shairt eq "wavy">> wavy<</if>> <<if $shairt eq "curly">> curly<</if>> <<if $shairt eq "kinky">> kinky<</if>><>, <> <<if $shairl eq "in a clean buzzcut">> clean buzzcut<</if>> <<if $shairl eq "in a mohawk">> mohawk<</if>> <<if $shairl eq "in a carefully trimmed short style">> short and neat<</if>> <<if $shairl eq "in a wild short style">> short and wild<</if>> <<if $shairl eq "in a shoulder-length style">> shoulder-length<</if>> <<if $shairl eq "in a long and neat style">> long and neat<</if>> <<if $shairl eq "in a long and unruly style">> long and unruly<</if>> <<if $shairl eq "in braids">> braided<</if>> <<if $shairl eq "in dreadlocks">> dreadlocks<</if>> <<if $shairl eq "tied back from my face">> tied back<</if>> <> <</if>> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>RELATIONSHIPS</center> Sybil $slname: <<if $sybilr is "0">>Tense relationship, due to her style of mentoring. You disagreed too often.<</if>><<if $sybilr is "1">>Distant relationship, yet you respect her ideals even if you don't believe in them yourself.<</if>><<if $sybilr is "2">>Friendly relationship, but you could have become closer over time.<</if>><<if $sybilr is "3">>Close relationship, as you believed in her way of thinking, but you never got that close.<</if>><<if $sybilr is "4">>Tight-knit relationship, and not even your disagreements could tear you apart.<</if>> Osric Dalton $slname: Uncertain relationship, as his behavior and absences changed him constantly. <</if>>

<center> <img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/267287d3eba62c65cd1fcec69be46179/6d207ef62936c4eb-2d/s500x750/006a24ef37ac313454eeb452886c5ea18dd05b0a.pnj"/></center> <center>IMPORTANT NOTICE: THE FOLLOWING DOSSIER IS CLASSIFIED UNDER THE ICARUS CONFIDENTIALITY ACT OF 1913. ANY DISTRIBUTION OF THIS MATERIAL WILL BE INVESTIGATED THOROUGHLY. THE PERPETRATOR(S) WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW.</center> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>GENERAL INFORMATION</center> NAME: $nname $nlname KNOWN ALIASES: $nniname <</if>><<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">>SPECIES: Class One Supernatural - Manipulator<</if>><<if $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">>SPECIES: <s>Class One Supernatural - Manipulator</s> Unknown AGE: 19 OCCUPATION: Barista at Divine Bakery and Cafe <</if>> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>LAST APPEARANCE</center> HEIGHT: <> <<if $sheight eq "was not taller than me">> Very Tall <</if>> <<if $sheight eq "was about my height">> Tall <</if>> <<if $sheight eq "was a little taller than me">> Average <</if>> <<if $sheight eq "was much taller than me">> Short <</if>> <> EYES: <> <<if $seyes eq "black">> Black <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "brown">> Brown <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "amber">> Amber <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "gray">> Gray <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "blue">> Blue <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "green">> Green <</if>> <<if $seyes eq "hazel">> Hazel <</if>> <> HAIR: <> <<if $nhairc eq "black">> Black <</if>> <<if $nhairc eq "brown">> Brown <</if>> <<if $nhairc eq "red">> Red <</if>> <<if $nhairc eq "blond">> Blond <</if>> <<if $nhairc eq "dyed">> Dyed <</if>> <>, <> <<if $nhairt eq "straight">> straight <</if>> <<if $nhairt eq "wavy">> wavy <</if>> <<if $nhairt eq "curly">> curly <</if>> <<if $nhairt eq "kinky">> kinky <</if>> <>, <> <<if $nhairl eq "in a clean buzzcut">> clean buzzcut <</if>> <<if $nhairl eq "in a mohawk">> mohawk <</if>> <<if $nhairl eq "in a carefully trimmed short style">> short and neat <</if>> <<if $nhairl eq "in a wild short style">> short and wild <</if>> <<if $nhairl eq "in a shoulder-length style">> shoulder-length <</if>> <<if $nhairl eq "in a long and neat style">> long and neat <</if>> <<if $nhairl eq "in a long and unruly style">> long and unruly <</if>> <<if $nhairl eq "in braids">> braided <</if>> <<if $nhairl eq "in dreadlocks">> dreadlocks <</if>> <<if $nhairl eq "tied back from my face">> tied back <</if>> <><</if>> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>RELATIONSHIPS</center> Memphis $nlname: Your father, who you never speak about. <</if>>

<center> <img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/5498ef3b16d33ec963477c015c56d0b5/6d207ef62936c4eb-85/s500x750/3e82e644aab58c57661c7fd8b075c9b3be43d631.pnj"/></center> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>GENERAL</center> NAME: Leone Gideon NICKNAME: Leo SPECIES: Class Two Supernatural - Shapeshifter AGE: 19 <</if>> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>APPEARANCE</center> HEIGHT: 6'2" DESCRIPTION: Tall and muscled build. Shoulder-length and wild kinky dark brown hair. Dark reddish-brown skin. Defined jaw and cheekbones. Warm dark amber/brown eyes. Wears comfortable, soft clothing: flannels, jeans, and boots. <</if>> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>RELATIONSHIPS</center> THE SEER ROMANTIC STATUS: <<if $lrels is "0">>Leo might have a crush on you<</if>><<if $lrels is "1">>Leo prefers to stick by your side.<</if>><<if $lrels is "2">>Leo has been giving you lingering looks.<</if>><<if $lrel is "3">>Leo loves you without reserve.<</if>><<if $lrels is "4">>Leo is devoted to you, and you only.<</if>><<if $lrels is "5">>You are Leo's mate, from now until the end of the world.<</if>> FRIENDSHIP STATUS: <<if $lfrs is "1">>Leo is your childhood best friend.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "2">>Leo trusts you explicitly.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "3">>Leo considers you to be part of the family.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "4">>Fin wants to stick by your side for as long as you let them.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "5">>Fin will walk through fire to help you, if you ask them to.<</if>> THE NATURALIST ROMANTIC STATUS: <<if $lreln is "0">>Unknown<</if>><<if $lreln is "1">>Leo is in love with $sname, no matter what.<</if>> FRIENDSHIP STATUS: <<if $lfrn is "0">>Unknown<</if>><<if $lfrn is "1">>Leo doesn't trust you much.<</if>><<if $lfrn is "2">>Leo seems less wary around you.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "3">>Leo considers you to be an ally.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "4">>Leo sees you as a friend.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "5">>Leo considers you to be family, just like $sname.<</if>> <</if>>

<center> <img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/20fba9e093d3399b64dd7f2140acc98a/6d207ef62936c4eb-05/s500x750/a99052406c295b4ad995446484cd11ef2c1e9ef5.pnj"/></center> <<if $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>GENERAL</center> NAME: Eli Abernathy NICKNAME: Eli SPECIES: Class Three Supernatural - Magician AGE: 20 <</if>> <<if $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>APPEARANCE</center> HEIGHT: 5'9" DESCRIPTION: Average and lean build. Short and dyed wavy blue-teal hair. Cool tawny skin. Slender jaw and soft cheekbones. Guarded hazel eyes. Wears dramatic, questionable clothing: sheer or lace fabrics, distinct silhouette or cutouts, prefers constellations or floral patterns. <</if>> <<if $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>RELATIONSHIPS</center> THE SEER ROMANTIC STATUS: <<if $lrels is "0">>Leo might have a crush on you<</if>> <<if $lrels is "1">>Leo prefers to stick by your side.<</if>> <<if $lrels is "2">>Leo has been giving you lingering looks.<</if>> <<if $lrel is "3">>Leo loves you without reserve.<</if>> <<if $lrels is "4">>Leo is devoted to you, and you only.<</if>> <<if $lrels is "5">>You are Leo's mate, from now until the end of the world.<</if>> FRIENDSHIP STATUS: <<if $lfrs is "1">>Leo is your childhood best friend.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "2">>Leo trusts you explicitly.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "3">>Leo considers you to be part of the family.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "4">>Fin wants to stick by your side for as long as you let them.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "5">>Fin will walk through fire to help you, if you ask them to.<</if>> THE NATURALIST ROMANTIC STATUS: <<if $lreln is "0">>Unknown<</if>> <<if $lreln is "1">>Leo is in love with $sname, no matter what.<</if>> FRIENDSHIP STATUS: <<if $lfrn is "0">>Unknown<</if>> <<if $lfrn is "1">>Leo doesn't trust you much.<</if>> <<if $lfrn is "2">>Leo seems less wary around you.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "3">>Leo considers you to be an ally.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "4">>Leo sees you as a friend.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "5">>Leo considers you to be family, just like $sname.<</if>> <</if>>

<center> <img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/8cfb7b6e09554fca533413a4e546b159/6d207ef62936c4eb-be/s500x750/0d23156b425b6312488eaefbae2e5659bdce30f6.pnj"/></center> <<if $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>GENERAL</center> NAME: Warren Sinclair NICKNAME: None SPECIES: Class Two Supernatural - Incubus AGE: 20 <</if>> <<if $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>APPEARANCE</center> HEIGHT: 6'1" DESCRIPTION: Tall and athletic build. Short and carefully trimmed straight black hair. Pale, clear skin. Sharp jawline and high cheekbones. Piercing light blue eyes. Wears simple, functional clothing: t-shirts, jeans, a jacket, and sneakers. <</if>> <<if $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>RELATIONSHIPS</center> THE SEER ROMANTIC STATUS: <<if $lrels is "0">>Leo might have a crush on you<</if>> <<if $lrels is "1">>Leo prefers to stick by your side.<</if>> <<if $lrels is "2">>Leo has been giving you lingering looks.<</if>> <<if $lrel is "3">>Leo loves you without reserve.<</if>> <<if $lrels is "4">>Leo is devoted to you, and you only.<</if>> <<if $lrels is "5">>You are Leo's mate, from now until the end of the world.<</if>> FRIENDSHIP STATUS: <<if $lfrs is "1">>Leo is your childhood best friend.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "2">>Leo trusts you explicitly.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "3">>Leo considers you to be part of the family.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "4">>Fin wants to stick by your side for as long as you let them.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "5">>Fin will walk through fire to help you, if you ask them to.<</if>> THE NATURALIST ROMANTIC STATUS: <<if $lreln is "0">>Unknown<</if>> <<if $lreln is "1">>Leo is in love with $sname, no matter what.<</if>> FRIENDSHIP STATUS: <<if $lfrn is "0">>Unknown<</if>> <<if $lfrn is "1">>Leo doesn't trust you much.<</if>> <<if $lfrn is "2">>Leo seems less wary around you.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "3">>Leo considers you to be an ally.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "4">>Leo sees you as a friend.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "5">>Leo considers you to be family, just like $sname.<</if>> <</if>>

<center> <img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/ac85ca7ad95a8f8da4377956433114d9/6d207ef62936c4eb-bc/s500x750/fac558320efad1701287a6d608c8bac6a1b78dbd.pnj"/></center> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>GENERAL</center> NAME: Finley Ramsey NICKNAME: Fin SPECIES: Human AGE: 19 <</if>> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>APPEARANCE</center> HEIGHT: 5'7" DESCRIPTION: Average height and lean build. Short dark curls that brush the top of their collar. Olive-toned skin. Round face with soft, chubby cheeks. Kind dark brown eyes. Wears oversized, casual clothing with many layers: graphic t-shirts, jackets/sweaters, sweatpants, and black platform boots with two-inch soles. <</if>> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>RELATIONSHIPS</center> THE SEER ROMANTIC STATUS: Unknown FRIENDSHIP STATUS: Unknown THE NATURALIST ROMANTIC STATUS: <<if $freln is "1">>Fin might have a crush on you.<</if>><<if $freln is "2">>Fin seems more nervous around you than usual...<</if>><<if $freln is "3">>Fin likes you. A lot.<</if>><<if $freln is "4">>Fin adores you, and they'll tell everyone within hearing distance, too.<</if>><<if $freln is "5">>Fin loves you more than anything. You are their world.<</if>> FRIENDSHIP STATUS: <<if $ffrn is "1">>Fin is a loyal childhood friend.<</if>><<if $ffrn is "2">>Fin trusts you to lead them.<</if>><<if $ffrn is "3">>Fin considers you to be family.<</if>><<if $ffrn is "4">>Fin wants to stick by your side for as long as you let them.<</if>><<if $ffrn is "5">>Fin will walk through fire to help you, if you asked them to.<</if>> <</if>>

<center> <img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/cf0138dfe0ea216f83c368c4ab9d989f/6d207ef62936c4eb-0c/s500x750/bc2f3e0529a074202586a7476bd7c90326b4a5c1.pnj"/></center> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>GENERAL</center> NAME: Ambrose Solomon NICKNAME: None SPECIES: Class One Supernatural - Manipulator AGE: 21 <</if>> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>APPEARANCE</center> HEIGHT: 6'3" DESCRIPTION: Tall and muscular build. Carefully trimmed pale blond curls. Bronze skin with sun-freckles. Sharp jaw and cheekbones. Wary dark eyes. Wears professional, practical clothing: dark button-down shirt, black sports jacket and trousers, black boots. <</if>> <<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>RELATIONSHIPS</center> THE SEER ROMANTIC STATUS: Unknown FRIENDSHIP STATUS: Unknown THE NATURALIST ROMANTIC STATUS: <<if $areln is "0">>Ambrose wants to kill you, and not in a nice way.<</if>><<if $areln is "1">>Ambrose seems to tolerate your presence, for now.<</if>><<if $areln is "2">>Ambrose appears nervous around you...<</if>><<if $areln is "3">>Ambrose made a dying love confession to you.<</if>><<if $areln is "4">>Ambrose doesn't seem to want to leave your side.<</if>><<if $areln is "5">>Ambrose, despite his initial hesitation, loves you. Very much so.<</if>> FRIENDSHIP STATUS: <<if $afrn is "0">>Ambrose wants to kill you. Very badly.<</if>><<if $afrn is "1">>Ambrose is now your reluctant ally. Very reluctant.<</if>><<if $afrn is "2">>Ambrose trusts you in a fight.<</if>><<if $afrn is "3">>Ambrose trusts you as a friend.<</if>><<if $afrn is "4">>Ambrose will protect you with his life.<</if>><<if $afrn is "5">>Ambrose sees you as family, which he has very little of.<</if>> <</if>>

<center> <img src="https://64.media.tumblr.com/557e58e5e9814894171f8cb748ec8d0e/6d207ef62936c4eb-3d/s500x750/4eb598867efb6f260890de373f74d0d70a6d71ff.pnj"/></center> <<if $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>GENERAL</center> NAME: Luna Morales NICKNAME: None SPECIES: Class Two Supernatural - Creature AGE: 20 <</if>> <<if $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>APPEARANCE</center> HEIGHT: 5'2" DESCRIPTION: Short and athletic, buff build. Shoulder-length light brown kinky hair with blonde highlights. Light brown skin. Defined jawline and round cheeks. Piercing dark hazel eyes. Wears sleek, nondescript clothing: plain black tank-top, long black leggings, and black sneakers. <</if>> <<if $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>RELATIONSHIPS</center> THE SEER ROMANTIC STATUS: <<if $lrels is "0">>Leo might have a crush on you<</if>> <<if $lrels is "1">>Leo prefers to stick by your side.<</if>> <<if $lrels is "2">>Leo has been giving you lingering looks.<</if>> <<if $lrel is "3">>Leo loves you without reserve.<</if>> <<if $lrels is "4">>Leo is devoted to you, and you only.<</if>> <<if $lrels is "5">>You are Leo's mate, from now until the end of the world.<</if>> FRIENDSHIP STATUS: <<if $lfrs is "1">>Leo is your childhood best friend.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "2">>Leo trusts you explicitly.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "3">>Leo considers you to be part of the family.<</if>><<if $lfrs is "4">>Fin wants to stick by your side for as long as you let them.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "5">>Fin will walk through fire to help you, if you ask them to.<</if>> THE NATURALIST ROMANTIC STATUS: <<if $lreln is "0">>Unknown<</if>> <<if $lreln is "1">>Leo is in love with $sname, no matter what.<</if>> FRIENDSHIP STATUS: <<if $lfrn is "0">>Unknown<</if>> <<if $lfrn is "1">>Leo doesn't trust you much.<</if>> <<if $lfrn is "2">>Leo seems less wary around you.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "3">>Leo considers you to be an ally.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "4">>Leo sees you as a friend.<</if>> <<if $lfrs is "5">>Leo considers you to be family, just like $sname.<</if>> <</if>>

I have to wake up. It was a needling, panicked thought. A desperate one. <center>wake up.</center> I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath seized up in short, painful gasps. The smoke was choking me, settling like dust in my lungs. I was dying here, and I needed to wake up - "Hey," a voice echoed from behind me. "What are you doing?" I tensed, pressing the heel of my palms into my eyes hard enough to hurt, sparking starbursts across my vision. I could taste copper in the back of my mouth, mingling with the burn of the smoke inhalation. "Stop, you're going to hurt yourself!" That voice was closer now, close enough that I could sense the burn of their presence. Like dousing yourself with a starving fire. "No," I whispered. My lips moved without sound, without a true breath. The taste of copper grew sharper. The smoke grew thicker. <center>wake up.</center> Distantly, I was aware of my name being shouted, echoing in the air with painful clarity, and the scorching warmth of a pair of hands shaking my shoulders. A stranger's voice, a stranger's touch. Worried, and gentle. Distantly, I heard an apology. And then there was nothing at all. <center>[[FINISH|1.1]]</center>

"What?" I said, my voice painfully faint. The smoke burned in my lungs, my single response swallowed by a harsh cough. Yet she was still waiting for my answer, seemingly unconcerned by all the smoke bearing down on us. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.8]]</center>

<center><<textbox "$sname" "(First Name)">></center> <center><<textbox "$slname" "Redding">></center> <center>[[NEXT|snamecheck]]</center>

My name is $sname $slname, right? ✒ [[Yes, of course.|snicknamecheck]] ✒ [[No, the smoke is affecting my memory|1.3.8]]

"You know me, right?" I said, a little too desperate. "I'm $sname. I'm your <<cycle "$sgender" autoselect>> <<option "daughter">> <<option "son">> <<option "child">> <<option "daughter, I transitioned">> <<option "son, I transitioned">> <<option "child, I transitioned">> <</cycle>>, remember?" "Oh, love," my mother said, and there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes that should have been a comfort me, knowing that she understood. That even in this moment of haze and smoke, she knew me. It was not a comfort. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.10]]</center>

Double-click this passage to edit it.

<<silently>> <<if $sgender is "daughter">> <<set $ssibling to "sister">> <<set $shim to "her">> <<set $shis to "her">> <<set $she to "she">> <<set $sboy to "girl">> <<set $sman to "lady">> <<set $sson to "daughter">> <<set $cssibling to "Sister">> <<set $cshim to "Her">> <<set $cshis to "Her">> <<set $cshe to "She">> <<set $csboy to "Girl">> <<set $csman to "Lady">> <<set $csson to "Daughter">> <</if>> <<if $sgender is "son">> <<set $ssibling to "brother">> <<set $shim to "him">> <<set $shis to "his">> <<set $she to "he">> <<set $sboy to "boy">> <<set $sman to "man">> <<set $sson to "son">> <<set $cssibling to "Brother">> <<set $cshim to "Him">> <<set $cshis to "His">> <<set $cshe to "He">> <<set $csboy to "Boy">> <<set $csman to "Man">> <<set $csson to "Son">> <</if>> <<if $sgender is "child">> <<set $ssibling to "sibling">> <<set $shim to "them">> <<set $shis to "their">> <<set $she to "they">> <<set $sboy to "child">> <<set $sman to "person">> <<set $sson to "child">> <<set $cssibling to "Sibling">> <<set $cshim to "Them">> <<set $cshis to "Their">> <<set $cshe to "They">> <<set $csboy to "Child">> <<set $csman to "Person">> <<set $csson to "Child">> <</if>> <<if $sgender is "daughter, I transitioned">> <<set $ssibling to "sister">> <<set $shim to "her">> <<set $shis to "her">> <<set $she to "she">> <<set $sboy to "girl">> <<set $sman to "lady">> <<set $sson to "daughter">> <<set $cssibling to "Sister">> <<set $cshim to "Her">> <<set $cshis to "Her">> <<set $cshe to "She">> <<set $csboy to "Girl">> <<set $csman to "Lady">> <<set $csson to "Daughter">> <<set $sgpast to "true">> <</if>> <<if $sgender is "son, I transitioned">> <<set $ssibling to "brother">> <<set $shim to "him">> <<set $shis to "his">> <<set $she to "he">> <<set $sboy to "boy">> <<set $sman to "man">> <<set $sson to "son">> <<set $cssibling to "Brother">> <<set $cshim to "Him">> <<set $cshis to "His">> <<set $cshe to "He">> <<set $csboy to "Boy">> <<set $csman to "Man">> <<set $csson to "Son">> <<set $sgpast to "true">> <</if>> <<if $sgender is "child, I transitioned">> <<set $ssibling to "sibling">> <<set $shim to "them">> <<set $shis to "their">> <<set $she to "they">> <<set $sboy to "child">> <<set $sman to "person">> <<set $sson to "child">> <<set $cssibling to "Sibling">> <<set $cshim to "Them">> <<set $cshis to "Their">> <<set $cshe to "They">> <<set $csboy to "Child">> <<set $csman to "Person">> <<set $csson to "Child">> <<set $sgpast to "true">> <</if>><</silently>>"You shouldn't be here," she said. Her voice was growing weaker, fainter. "Wake up, $sname. Right now." I flinched at the sound of her ruined voice as my mind spun. How could she see me, talk to me? It made no sense, the blurred edges of it all running greyscale watercolors, ruining the fabric of the state around me. "What's wrong? What happened?" I shook my head, seized by a sudden sense of fear. Reality crashed down upon my shoulders with furious panic. In my visions, no one ever spoke directly to me. I was always a specter, meant to observe the situation safely within my own phantom bubble. There was no intervention to maintain in these glimpses of the future, timeless moments I stood suspended within, beyond the choking grasp of true existence. I wasn't part of this moment, my atoms far from the fog and the figure of the familiar mother in front of me. I wasn't meant to remind her of who I was, and she wasn't meant to tell me to look away before the tragedy unfolded before my very eyes. Now that I was being addressed in my vision, I didn't know what to do, caught in that fathomless riptide of the unknown. All I knew was that my mother was hurt, and the fog around us was beginning to resemble smoke as it grew even thicker, dark swirls of burned wood racing through the dim gray. A phantom ache began in my throat from smoke inhalation, and panic grew alongside it. I shouldn't be choking on smoke and ash, not in a vision and not in a dream. My body wasn't here, it couldn't be harmed, it shouldn't hurt to stand here. Was this somehow neither a vision or a dream? Or was this vision more potent than usual because it was trying to tell me something more? Panic made it hard to think, and so did the fading figure of my mother as she was distorted by the thick black smoke around us. Was it growing even thicker? <center>[[NEXT|1.3.11]]</center>

"Wake up," My mother said, voice distant when swallowed by the dark smoke, far from my grasp. "Not until you tell me what's happening," I shouted and whispered. My voice was soundless to my ears, a faint call above the sea of smoke, the vibration in the pit of my throat more tangible than the sound. There was a brief pause, smoke faltering to dark gray wisps, and my mother slowly began to turn around. The air stirred suddenly around us, began to grow even thicker as plumes of black smoke swirled above our heads hungrily. "Don't look," my mother pleaded, pained. I wish I had listened to her. Within one blink and the next, her figure shrivelled and melted into a horrific shadow of her former self. Her skin was blackened and peeled, the flesh burned so severely that the damage revealed exposed patches of her skull. I would not have recognized her if it wasn't for her eyes; those bright, panicked $seyes eyes, dark-lit in the agony consuming her. Horror swelled within me, wave after wave of revulsion and pain breaking past my shock. I wanted to cry, or comfort her in her obvious pain, but when I opened my mouth all I could do was scream, over and over, a rattle in my chest growing to a tremor that swallowed me into darkness. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.12]]</center>

Then there was [[light|1.3.13]].

I woke up screaming. I couldn't remember where I was, even as soft daylight poured through the windows and cast a golden light across the room. My mind was still wrapped in the fog of slumber, the hooks of the vision turned nightmare firmly settled into my mind. It was impossible to mistake the frantic tapping of my pulse as anything other than pure terror. Terror fueled by the one thing I lacked for the first time in my life: intuition. A seer without intuition, terror-stricken and perhaps, just in the back of my mind, completely alone in the way no being should ever be alone. I hadn't even realized how loud I was screaming until I felt pressure on my shoulders, the weight of hands as they dragged me into consciousness, the only thing strong enough to weaken the veil draped over my mind. The only thing I could immediately recognize as I screamed myself into a state of waking, that steady safe harbor pulling me to shore, unwavering in the midst of turbulent waves and the sound of my screams. The only person in the world that had always been there, without fail and without remorse. Leo. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.14]]</center>

Their smooth voice washed over the roaring heartbeat in my ears. "Shh, you're okay, you're [[safe|1.3.14a]]."

The door swung open too quickly for me to react. I didn't even have the time to blink, still fog-blind, before Leo shifted their weight to shelter me behind them. I could feel the tension in their arms where I still clutched onto them, and I slowly peeled my fingers off of their wrist. My nails had left crescent-moon-shaped indentations on their skin, but I had never heard them complain about it before I let go on my own volition. Although it was Leo: the boundary line between my comfort and their discomfort was too fine to cross, an unspoken presence that never confronted us. Then again, I was grateful for it, at least right now. Still... the idea of pain staining the expression on Leo's face, caused by my own two hands, threatened to overwhelm me. I couldn't afford to even think about it, not after my vision. Some of the tension lining Leo's shoulders eased slightly at the sight of whoever was standing in the doorway, and I stole the chance to peer around their body and see who it was. The towering silhouette of Rhys Gideon was unmistakable. He filled the doorway of Leo's room to the point where the gleaming light from the hallway barely filtered into the room. The height of his shadow stretched beyond the length of the room. I couldn't see his face, his profile cast in the shadows, yet I didn't have to see his face to sense the devastation on the horizon. The dread from my vision was still wrapped around my ribcage, squeezing my heart as I struggled to remain calm. For a fleeting moment, I thought I could taste smoke in the thick of my throat. I felt Leo's hand as it slipped into mine and squeezed reassuringly. I didn't know how to tell them that nothing would ever be okay again. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.16]]</center>

I barely recognized my name when Rhys said it, his low voice rolling through the room as dark as a thunderstorm. A reply lodged itself in my throat. I stared at Rhys as I waited for the ground to drop out from under my feet. I knew what he would say, and not even the security from Leo's warming touch could wipe away the reality waiting for me. "$sname," Rhys began again, then trailed off. I released a breath that sent shivers through every nerve, before it all went painfully still. I no longer felt surrounded: the memory of smoke stopped swirling around me, the waves of terror settled into a quiet tremble, and my heartbeat faded slow in the cavity of my chest. "There was a fire," I whispered. Saying it aloud made it more true, almost. More deadly. Leo jerked their head back to look at me, concern glimmering in their eyes fiercely, and I could see the moment when understanding set in. The color in their irises grew even brighter, an amber maelstrom coaxed to raging life. Yet even as I watched the windows to their very soul, the concern and confusion melted into something I couldn't quite read by looking into their eyes. I couldn't read them, even if for the briefest moment. Like flash-paper, desperation seared through me at the revelation. I didn't even know how I felt, but I couldn't stand not knowing what Leo felt. They needed to be strong enough to carry both of us… and to remind me what I needed to feel in the wake of it all. I needed Leo to be my lighthouse, and without the guiding light of their irises, I felt like a ship crashing upon the rocks, over and over. ✒ [[Leo always guided me, after all.|1.3.17a]] ✒ [[I needed them to guide me, at least this once.|1.3.17b]]

<<set $emotional %= 10>><<set $collaborative %= 10>>I needed them to ground me once more. Even if it was selfish, I needed it. I needed the warmth of their body next to mine. To remind me of all that I was, right down to my every nerve and bone. Their presence had always been like this: a steady, crackling hearth fire. A rare sense of comfort and stability when my dreams were fog-smeared visions in disguise. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.17]]</center>

<<set $calculated %= 10>><<set $independent %= 10>>It was always different when it came to Leo. The warmth from their supernatural heritage always bordered on the verge of a bonfire's scorching touch, a constant flickering of my nerves that warned me to stay away. They could always sense it from the way I would turn away from their touch at my very first opportunity. But not tonight. Tonight, my world was bathed in smoke, and Leo was beginning to look a little less like a forest fire among the backdrop of the real flames. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.17]]</center>

Rhys, unlike his child, merely looked resigned by the revelation that I had already known. I didn't know whether to feel distraught or comforted by the understanding on his face. "Of course, you had a vision," Rhys said, almost to himself, a weary frown settling deep into the lines of his mouth. His dark eyes swept over me like he expected me to fracture into a million pieces and turn to dust on Leo's bed. I knew that look. He was wondering how much I knew about the fire. He couldn't have known what, exactly, I experienced in my vision. He didn't know about the creeping sense of dread wrapping itself tightly on the column of my spine, blooming on the foundation of my vertebrae in stark, undeniable spades... The vision of the smoke. The way my mother's body turned into dust the moment the fog turned too thick to see beyond. The look of quiet grief and loud concern on Rhys's face. I could feel my expression collapse on itself in true understanding. It truly hadn't been a terrible nightmare. It had been a vision, and I had witnessed it in full view. The peeling of her skin, her pleas for me to wake up and escape the vision entirely. I hardly felt Leo's arms as they pulled me into a tight embrace, warmth spilling into the hollow cavity of my chest. I could faintly make out the rustle of Leo's breath against my ear, whispering something unintelligible, and even that was lost to the violent thought thundering through my head on repeat: My mother is dead. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.18]]</center>

That morning, I could smell the trace of death on my palms again. I knew it was death because it carried the rich scent of oranges, ripe and rotten, and it twisted it with the earthy overtones of a foggy morning. Fog and citrus: the touch of death. Kicking back my bedsheets, I took a moment to recollect myself. I didn't get up from the bed because if I did, I would have only stumbled, still dizzy from crossing the Divide. It was easier to reorient myself when I wasn't worried about tripping and giving myself a new bruise. It honestly wasn't any less humiliating to fall on my face just because I could wipe away any evidence of an injury with merely a flick of my fingers. I stared up at the cracks in the ceiling as I steadied my breathing. In. Out. Again and again, until the familiar sting in my chest dulled to nothingness. Then, I had to admit to myself that I just watched my mother die. The Divide didn't reveal its secrets so easily - I couldn't be sure if it was a car accident or a long lingering sickness I never saw a trace of - but there was no mistaking the way her body fell to ashes, crumbled to nothing, gone from the mortal world. I let out a slow breath. The world didn't stop because another person died, and it certainly wouldn't stop for her. Life flourished and wilted and rotted in an unrelenting cycle. My mother was hardly the first person that I ever watched die. So why did I feel so paralyzed? I had never met her in the waking world, and we never spoke in the Divide. Even though she could see me, she never seemed able to summon the will to actually speak. What came so naturally to me - the rise and the fall of the veil into the Divide - was more complicated for those not as familiar with it. Besides, I suppose there wasn't much you could say to the child you gave away, anyway. I closed my eyes, then pressed the heel of my palms against my eyelids until I saw star-bursts in the darkness. The musk of oranges invaded my senses, drowning out the distant ringing in my ears. Ironically, it was the scent of death that grounded me to the present. One where I was very much alive. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.n2]]</center>

When I finally pulled back my hands and opened my eyes, I could breathe easier. A weight shifted and rested on my upper thigh, and I glanced down to find Utah's head resting there, watching me with dark, worried eyes. When he noticed my attention, the tip of his tail wiggled happily, growing into a full body wiggle when I scratched behind his ear. He crawled up to settle against my side, resting his head on my chest, and I took a few precious moments to scratch his head and reorient myself. I focused on the way his pale fur felt against the tips of my inked fingers, still soft from his recent grooming, and the content puff of his breathing against my chin was warm and smelled very much of dog breath. It was easier with Utah there to remember my own name and where I was: my bedroom, in an oversized two-story house at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac in Melchior, Oregon. As for my name? <center>[[NEXT|nnameenter]]</center>

My name is $nname $nlname, right? ✒ [[Yes, of course.|nnicknamecheck]] ✒ [[No, of course not.|nnameenter]]

My name was one of the few things I always carried with me, after all. There was nothing more sobering than remembering who I was. What I was, really. No nightmare could truly compare to me. Utah made a soft sound of complaint as I ruffled his ears one last time before squirming out from underneath his head, escaping my fate as a permanent dog-pillow. "Do you want to go meet Fin?" I asked Utah over my shoulder, shuffling across the room to my closet, avoiding the potted plants I had scattered around the floor. Even with my back turned, I could hear the skip in his heartbeat, followed by the rustle of his tail wagging on the comforter. I opened the door to my closet and peered inside, frowning. I hadn't had the time to do laundry this week, not with the extra hours I spent at the cafe. I was wearing my uniform more often than I was out of it, and as it turned out, that wasn't the ideal way to keep them clean. With a sigh, I snatched the cleanest of my options off the top of my laundry basket's towering pile and turned back to the bed. Utah watched me with dark, warm eyes, the tip of his tail wiggling happily when he noticed my attention. "Fin?" I reminded him, and he hopped off the bed with a soft yip, bending into a soft bow to stretch. He straightened up and gave me an expectant look. Aren't you coming, that look said, and I laughed, tugging on my shirt. "I'm coming, I'm coming." My nightmare would have to wait until after my shift, I decided. If it was true, my father would probably have a lot to say. And I had a shift to catch, one way or another. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.n4]]</center>

What is my name, again? <center><<textbox "$nname" "(First Name)">></center> <center><<textbox "$nlname" "Carter">></center> <center>[[NEXT|nnamecheck]]</center>

The hours blurred into nothingness, after that. It was all a rush of stifling emotion and a gnawing feeling of shock. The first moment of clarity only came when I was finally alone, hidden away in one of the bathrooms in Leo's house, only my shaking hands and dazed thoughts to keep me company. I wasn't entirely alone, though. It was merely an illusion of privacy. If I focused, I could hear the sound of Wyatt making sound effects for his toy airplanes in the living room, and the distant melody of Claudia practicing piano. Then there was Leo, just a few precious feet away, only the walls and locked door separating us. Leo had hovered over me for hours, a constant shadow intertwined with mine. It had been nearly six o'clock in the morning when I had woken the both of us up with my screaming, and I hadn't had enough will to muster up the strength to leave the illusion of safety that Leo's bed gave me. We had just huddled there together, and I had been shaking so hard that my jaw ached from keeping it clenched shut. A nervous, burning energy kept me awake, even with the threat of exhaustion from crying lingering over my shoulder. Leo didn't try to fall back asleep, either. Even though the skin under their amber eyes was dark and puffy from exhaustion, they stayed awake, the steady rise and fall of their chest keeping me stubbornly grounded to reality. At least for a little while. I stared at the toothbrush in my hand. The neon blue toothpaste had begun to seep over the side of the bristles from sitting so long, but I still didn't raise the brush to my mouth. I was also avoiding the spotless vanity mirror in front of my face. I know what I would have seen, anyway. There were dark bags under my eyes from sleepless nights and stress from <<cycle "$sact" autoselect>> <<option "my college classes">> <<option "my job as a barista">> <<option "my job at the restaurant">> <<option "my mentorship at the courthouse">> <</cycle>>. Yet my eyes were sharp and clear, despite being red-rimmed and dry from staying up so long. My mother's eyes. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.19]]</center>

<center>[[IN MELCHIOR, OREGON...|1.3.n1]]</center>

I swallowed back the nausea rising in my throat, and my gaze shifted focus from my tired eyes in the mirror to my hair. It was the only trait I didn't have from either of my parents: my hair was <<cycle "$shairt" autoselect>> <<option "straight">> <<option "wavy">> <<option "curly">> <<option "kinky">> <</cycle>> and <<cycle "$shairc" autoselect>> <<option "blond">> <<option "red">> <<option "brown">> <<option "black">> <<option "dyed">> <</cycle>>. I kept it <<cycle "$shairl" autoselect>> <<option "in a clean buzzcut">> <<option "in a mohawk">> <<option "in a carefully trimmed short style">> <<option "in a wild short style">> <<option "in a shoulder-length style">> <<option "in a long and neat style">> <<option "in a long and unruly style">> <<option "in braids">> <<option "in dreadlocks">> <<option "tied back from my face">> <</cycle>>. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.20]]</center>

My mother had always loved my hair. She would help me get ready for school by taming my hair into its usual style when I was young<<if $shairl is "in a clean buzzcut">> before I started to keep it shorter and shaved it<</if>>. She would take me to school before going to her job at the Council, and she would always kiss the crown of my head before I got out of the car, even when I grew older and tried to escape it out of embarrassment. I stopped getting a ride from her in middle school, when the trials she took grew too demanding, and I wanted more independence. My father had agreed with me, which had been a victory I savored at the time: he had said that she was spoiling me. Now, four hours since I woke up tasting smoke in the back of my throat, I was an orphan. No mother to spoil me, to kiss the top of my head and wish me a good day. No father to scoff at her attempts to stay a constant presence in my life, even when I tried to wiggle away. It was all just... gone. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.21]]</center>

Rhys had given me the information slowly, pacing in and out of his office and Leo's bedroom as he spoke on the phone with the rest of the Council and the authorities. Despite the horrified buzz in the back of my mind that mingled with the sound of my mother's last words to me, I knew this: the house was completely destroyed. The upper floor had collasped and crumbled the rest of the building into a heap of charred ash that actively burned for two hours straight. As far as I knew right now, it was still smoldering, even as the fire department searched the wreckage for surviving possessions and the police collected evidence. Rhys hadn't given me the details about the bodies they recovered, but I knew the horror of my mother's. I had witnessed it as it burned during my vision. A shudder ran through me at the thought, and I clutched the sink tightly to steady myself. I released a long breath a didn't realize I was holding, soft enough to avoid worrying Leo too much. I didn't need them to think I was in trouble and have them burst into the bathroom. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.22]]</center>

I gasped for breath, still drowning in faded ash. There was a scorching ache in my throat to match the pain in my head, the sensations blurring together into a symphony of mortal discomfort. The pains of existence, physical body with nerves and bones and adrenaline, flooded me senseless. My hands sought out Leo's arms as I was suddenly struck with the desire to feel another person beside me, another being capable of these same human pains. A sign that I was real and here, and I hadn't completely lost myself to the call of the smoke-filled void. I blamed the smoke that lingered thickly in the back of my throat for the way I gripped their arms, my fingertips digging in for purchase. I couldn't deny it another way; I was choked into pure instinct. Leo let me cling to their arms without protest, even when my nails dug into their soft skin. They whispered something I couldn't hear over the drumming of my heart, but it didn't matter, and Leo would never hold that fact against me. They could have been reciting a grocery list or confessing their deepest secret, but the cadence of their voice, so soft and familiar, lingered as a reminder of the childhood nights that slipped like sand from my fingers. It was safety, listening to Leo speak. A type of security that I shared with no one else. With that thought, another one followed, quiet, and rose only briefly. We've done this before, this ritual of whispered comfort in the near dark, blinded from the eye of the sun, its radiant spotlight far from our bodies as we laid side-by-side. Over and over, we had shared this moment. And I kept asking for more. I didn't let that thought linger. I couldn't think beyond the feeling of relief to have another human being beside me, an anchor firmly in the land of the living and the real. Blood and bone lived here, not fog and smoke and the burning gaze of a dying figure. The bitterly stilled air from the vision turned into a distant memory in the surrounding warmth Leo provided. Brilliant, constant hearth-fire warmth, a ward against the bitter plague of what lay for me in the other type of living. For tonight, I had survived a horrific and vague vision yet again. As for my mother... ... I had no earthly clue. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.15]]</center>

Although... I was in trouble. I lost everything in the span of one night. ✒ [[My entire life just collapsed before my eyes.|1.3.22a]] ✒ [[My entire life changed in just a blink.|1.3.22b]]

With that thought, I raised the toothbrush to my mouth and began to brush harshly. The sharp prickling of the bristles against my teeth brought a steady sense of grounding to my scattered mind. I was here, in Leo's bathroom, the sounds of the house alive and thriving around me. I was grateful to hear the childish explosion sounds coming from the living room as Wyatt played, so unaware of the chaos beyond the walls of his house. I could focus on the sounds of pretend, pitched in his little voice, instead of reliving the pained croak of my mother's voice for the first time in an eternity worth of hours. Or rather, four hours and twelve minutes according to my phone. I had checked it obsessively all night long. I told Leo that I was waiting to hear from Eli and Warren, but we both knew better. Part of me, still grounded in denial, was waiting for my mother to call and ask me when I would be coming home. Even when I slept over Leo's, an occurance that happened nearly every day, she still called to check on me, never quite comfortable until she saw me in person once again. I had slept over Leo's plenty of times, and although it annoyed me as a child, all I wanted now was for my phone to ring with a call from her. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.24]]</center>

<<set $pessimist %= 10>>The weight of that knowledge was fused to my shoulders, a burden that refused to budge under any comfort or distractions given to me. I had spent the past few hours living in a blur, cradling my head in my hands, my shoulders aching, my body shaking with shock. It was an invisible weight with a specific label: hopelessness. I was too young to have nothing within the span of one night. Yet I was old enough to know that life was never supposed to be fair, anyway. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.23]]</center>

<<set $optimist %= 10>>The scale of everything was huge enough to make my head spin in circles. Part of me felt suspended in time, to the moment I saw my mother die, with all the consequences too far in the future to fully grasp yet. It was the only reason I was still standing, I figured. I hadn't fully comprehended the amount of change that swept into my life. The only bright spot was that at least I had the rest of my life to figure it out. I would survive this. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.23]]</center>

I just wanted my mom. The grief rose in a wave, tightening the back of my throat with vehemence. I spat my toothpaste into the sink before the first sob escaped, and by then I was overtaken by it all. The swell was a tsunami, a staggering cascade of agony over my trembling shoulders, and I let the force take me down to the bathroom floor, sinking to my knees with ragged, mint-tinged breaths. Distantly, I was aware of the fact that I was still clutching my toothbrush in one hand like it was my lifeline, my curled fingers digging crescent moons into the flesh of my palm. I forced my hand apart, my toothbrush clattering to the floor with a muffled thud, overshadowed by the click of the bathroom door's lock disengaging. Then Leo was there, kneeling beside me in wordless, shared grief. I let them pull me into a bruising hug, tucking my face against the crook of their shoulder to muffle the sharp, keening cry that ripped its way out of my throat. I clutched onto them like a lifeline, curling my fists into the fabric on the back of their flannel shirt. They didn't speak. I couldn't; the sobs swelled and spilled from my mouth in endless waves, over and over again, and I could only hold onto Leo and let the grief carry me through the pain. Through the pain of the vision, the pain of the loneliness, the pain of my nail-bruised palm, the pain of being shattered on the bathroom floor. I cried until I couldn't breathe, hiccupping in bursts of hyperventilation, until the ragged fits settled into a hollow peace. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.25]]</center>

<center>W A R N I N G</center> Due to the content of this work, The Lure of the Gallows is recommended for an audience of 18 and over. The following fiction contains mature themes, including but not limited to: * Strong Language * Sexually Suggestive Scenes * Violence & Death * Light Body Horror * Unreality / Manipulation * Grief / Death Of A Parent(s) * Drug Use / Alcohol Use * Past Trauma / Depictions of PTSD * Past Domestic Abuse * Past Child Abuse / Neglect * Past Self-Harm (player's choice) * Character Death Please don't play this game if any of the aformentioned topics upset you. While light-hearted at times, TLOTG is ultimately a story about how the past may shape us, but it cannot control us. <center>[[NEXT|1.1]]</center>

I finally slumped against Leo, exhausted and numbed, and they held my weight without a word. The world slowly filtered back into focus. I could feel Leo gently rubbing circles on my back in a steady, slow rhythm. The bathroom rug was soft underneath me, yet still firm enough to ground me back down to earth. I could see trickles of sunlight peeking through the blinds on the window, tracing rays on the mirror above our heads to cast my shadow against the wall. My shadow was entangled hopelessly with Leo's in a black, formless blob. I watched our shadows as Leo gently rested their chin on top of my head, still rubbing those calming circles onto my back. I focused on breathing, watching the shifting of our shadows, matching my breathing rate to Leo's. When the worst of the shaking settled, I let myself melt further into Leo's arms, resting my temple against their shoulder with a sigh. Leo said nothing, simply holding me. But I needed to say something, surely. Anything except this awkward, deafening silence. ✒ [["Thank you, Leo."|1.3.25a]] ✒ [["I hope your mom hasn't done the laundry yet."|1.3.25b]] ♥ [["I don't know how you can put up with me like this."|1.3.25c]] ♥ [["How do you always know how to help me?"|1.3.25d]]

My mother, like all the adults in my life, call me $sname. What do my friends call me? <center><<textbox "$sniname" "(Nickname or First Name)">></center> <center>[[NEXT|snamecheck2]]</center>

My friends call me $sniname, right? ✒ [[Yes, of course.|1.3.9]] ✒ [[No, the smoke is affecting my memory|snicknamecheck]]

<<set $emotional %= 10>><<set $genuine %= 10>><<set $lrels to "0">><<set $lfrs to "1">><<set $lreln to "0">><<set $lfrn to "0">>Leo gave me a smile tinged with more worry than their eyes could reveal, even as their irises swirled in a frantic pace. "You don't have to thank me, $sniname." Their arms slipped from their loosened embrace so they could gently grasp my forearms, instead. Enough to steady me, and enough to let me pulled away if I wanted. I let the moment soak into my mind for a second longer, then gently pulled myself from their personal space. The house was always warmer than I was accustomed to and I had always suspected that they kept it that way for my sake. And yet goosebumps still prickled harshly across my skin when I was out of Leo's space. I had to force myself to stand, to get away from the moment we shared. To establish myself back to reality, as grim as it was. The goosebumps didn't fade. I wondered if I would always feel this much colder with them gone. I wondered if it had always been that way; Leo couldn't have been the only thing standing between me and the chill of reality, right? I wasn't sure how I felt about that. And now, after I had just finished crying my eyes out onto the shirt of my best friend, I didn't feel the slightest bit of pressure to remember. Trying to remember was the last thing I wanted to do. The bright voice of Leo's mom rang out from the kitchen, and I turned away from Leo with the aching desire to see a glimpse of their face before I crossed the threshold. I wondered if their eyes would reveal anything. Would their eyes reveal that they felt just as lost as I was? I glanced over my shoulder, briefly enough to see Leo watching me with a carefully neutral expression. Frustration simmered underneath my skin, and I turned away without another thought. If Leo didn't want me to see what they felt, then I wouldn't let them see what I felt, either. Even if my emotions were a tempest unknown to even myself, brewing on the brink of something terrible... <center>[[NEXT|1.3.N]]</center>

<<set $sarcastic %= 10>><<set $lrels to "0">><<set $lfrs to "1">><<set $lreln to "0">><<set $lfrn to "0">>Leo frowned, then smoothed their disapproving expression into a tense, faux-amused one. They gave me a long look, with steady eyes, that were saturated in worry and exasperation. Leo had the good grace not to acknowledge either of those feelings, though. At least not to me, when my eyes still burned with the echo of all the tears I cried. Of all the tears I would cry later. It was a wonder I even had any eyes left, that I was more than ash and smoke. "I'll have you know that I can, and have done, my own laundry," Leo sounded genuinely offended by my sarcastic reply, at least deep into the swirling windows of their soul. On the surface, it was more complex than that. I focused on the large dark stain on the shoulder of their flannel shirt to avoid having them see any emotions on my face. It was a poor atempt to hide, and yet it was instinctive. "I hope you can put your money where your mouth is." I didn't know how well tears and snot washed out, and I wasn't keen on paying for dry-cleaning. Besides the clothes on my back and whatever I had packed for my impromptu sleepover at Leo's, I had very little else to pay for professional cleaning of Leo's faded old flannel shirt. The lines of Leo's face seemed to deepen at that. I could see the inner struggle of their pride and desire to cheer me up before they settled on several shades of over-dramatic offense. "I can and will," Leo insisted. I fought a smile as I climbed to my feet, Leo rising to join me instantly. A fleeting comment about how they had such a bad history with household appliances lingered on the tip of my tongue. It was something so common that I didn't even have to think deeply about what would make them flush with indignation. But I didn't have the chance before a muffled shout floated up towards us. "Leone Gideon! Come down for breakfast right now!" Leah Gideon's voice left little room for argument. She must have called us before, and we were too distracted by laundry talk to hear her. With that, the spell was broken. I stepped away from Leo and headed towards the bathroom door, torn between relief and... something I couldn't decipher. Not yet, anyway. Maybe not ever, if the doubt in the pit of my stomach had anything to say about it... <center>[[NEXT|1.3.N]]</center>

<<set $pessimist %= 10>><<set $lrels to "1">><<set $lfrs to "1">><<set $lreln to "0">><<set $lfrn to "0">>For one long moment, Leo didn't answer. They only watched me, their eyes roaming over my face, studying me. I shifted my weight, uncomfortable by the scrutiny, and it broke whatever spell Leo was stuck in. They leaned forward to capture my attention, and I startled when I felt warm hands grip mine tightly. I hadn't even seen them move, too absorbed in the furious churning of emotions in their eyes. I knew the look of agony when I saw it. "$sniname," Leo said sternly. Reflexively, I squeezed their hands in answer, but Leo didn't look like they could wait for my answer even if I hadn't acknowledged them. I still didn't know how I felt about this side of Leo: the one that saw nothing completely wrong when everything was unbearable, including me. Part of my mind hissed that they never knew pain, but part of me was glad to be able to hold such warm hands in a very cold world. "You are allowed to be sad and cry," Leo continued, and I couldn't make any words form in my mouth, my throat closing against the string of excuses on my mind. Even my body could see the edge of the boundary I lingered on, one I couldn't cross. "Just because you cry doesn't mean you aren't just as strong as before. You're only human." Leo squeezed my hands firmly, but I could only sense the same question lingering in the back of my mind. One caked in ash and ghosts older than I was. You're only human. What kind of human saw a premonition of $shis mother's death? Leo's eyes swirled with shades of dark amber, sincerity flickering throughout the waves of steady threads of concern. Both emotions were weaved into something deeper I couldn't see, even from this close. I swallowed hard, gently pulled my hands from theirs, and rose to my feet. As if on cue, the clear call for breakfast by their mother rang through the house, shattering the small world of personal space we had created between the two of us. Turning away left the most bitter taste in my mouth. It almost tasted like the smoke from my dreams. Almost, because this time, I knew that no one was more responsible for that feeling than myself. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.N]]</center>

<<set $optimist %= 10>><<set $lrels to "1">><<set $lfrs to "1">><<set $lreln to "0">><<set $lfrn to "0">>I had the strength to manage a soft almost-smile. "How do you always know how to help me?" I asked. I hadn't expected an answer, but Leo looked suddenly thoughtful. I waited patiently, watching as their eyes swirled slowly. They took this seriously, heart and soul, because it was me. And Leo acted as if there was nothing else in the world that was more important than me. "I don't always know at first," Leo admitted. It sparked my curiosity like flint and steel, and I found myself leaning forward as if I could coax the words out of their mouth. Of course, Leo didn't need encouragement. Yet their eyes glimmered with elation in response, the dark amber irises churning like the waves on a turbulent ocean. It was like they thrived on my attention alone. "I just think about what worked before," Leo said. "Whenever you got hurt as a kid you liked being held." I could feel my face grow warm at the memories that flooded to the surface. The hazy mid-summer I broke my arm after slipping down the stairs, Leo's cry of alarm louder than my own had been. The winter it snowed and turned into ice overnight, and I had slipped in the school parking lot with an indignant yelp, except Leo was there to catch me before impact. Both times, and many others, Leo had been there first, and they had pulled me into a tight hug. I had held them back just as tightly, just as fiercely. Just as relieved. "You remember that?" I asked. Leo grinned. "I remember everything, $sniname." I pushed at their shoulder, and although I was nowhere near strong enough to move them, they leaned back, laughing. I could feel my smile growing, but I didn't have the energy to laugh as brightly as Leo could. "You're terrible," I said, and we both knew I was lying. Leo looked like they wanted to tease me further by the smile on their face, but we were mercifully interrupted. "Leone! $sname! Come get breakfast before it's gone!" Leah Gideon's voice floated throughout the house, above the constant buzz of the younger kids fighting for breakfast and chattering. Everything felt blissfully domestic, and for one moment I smiled without seeing ash and fire in my mind. The peace lingered for a brief moment. Until Leo gripped my hand and pulled me to my feet, frantic energy racing through their pulse and scorching the outline of their palms onto my flesh. "Come on! We should get there before Wyatt tries to eat it all, again." Leo pulled me towards the kitchen, slow for their species but perfect for my stride, and I almost laughed, almost free from the tempest brewing furiously around me, ready to descend and consume me whole. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.N]]</center>

<center><<textbox "$nname" "(First Name)">></center> <center><<textbox "$nlname" "Carter">></center> <center>[[NEXT|nnamecheck]]</center>

I usually rode a skateboard to work, and the weather was nice enough today that I didn't immediately regret it, either. Melchior wasn't known for nice weather. It rained more than it shined, but the rain wasn't usually much of a bother to me. It wasn't like I could get sick from it, and the minor inconvience was worth avoiding the hassle of getting a driver's license. Plus, my best friend only lived two houses down. Utah took the lead as I locked up the house behind me and dropped the keys into the front pocket of my backpack with an ominous clatter. I paused, taking care to zip it back up, listening. The hair on the back of my neck tingled in warning. I could hear Utah's frantic heartbeat on my peripheral, and the clicking of his nails as he excitedly paced the walkway, waiting for me to give the command to start running. I could sense no one was home in the house to the left, but I could sense the neighbors next door on the right were home, sitting in their ktichen; an elderly couple lived there, and no one else. So why could I feel three heartbeats? I thought of my dream - the crossing into the Divide, the ashen collapse of my mother. I turned to Utah. "Go." He didn't wait for anything else. He took off to Fin's house, his tongue rolling out of his mouth with happy pants as he tore down the sidewalk, with me riding on my skateboard right behind him, fighting every urge to turn around and find out who the hell was stalking me. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.n5]]</center>

Finley Ramsey was waiting for me as I rode up to their house. They were sitting on their front step, and their face lit up when they noticed Utah barreling towards them. They opened their arms and accepted a sudden lapful of a very excited dog, scrunching their face up as he licked their face insistently. "It was one night," I said idly, slowly rolling to a stop in front of the pair. Fin slung their arms around Utah's body and shot me a quick grin before they had to shut their mouth to avoid Utah's tongue, still looking smug. "We were just cuddling in bed. He didn't even miss you." "Lies!" Fin interjected, and Utah took the opportunity to lick the inside of their mouth. Fin pulled back, spluttering. Seemingly satisfied, Utah bounded off them and slipped through the crack in the front door. No doubt looking for breakfast. Fin wiped an sleeve over their mouth and peered up at me with amused dark eyes. "Nice hair, by the way." I ran a hand over my head. I had <<cycle "$nhairt" autoselect>> <<option "straight">> <<option "wavy">> <<option "curly">> <<option "kinky">> <</cycle>> and <<cycle "$nhairc" autoselect>> <<option "blond">> <<option "red">> <<option "brown">> <<option "black">> <<option "dyed">> <</cycle>> hair, and I always had it <<cycle "$nhairl" autoselect>> <<option "in a clean buzzcut">> <<option "in a mohawk">> <<option "in a carefully trimmed short style">> <<option "in a wild short style">> <<option "in a shoulder-length style">> <<option "in a long and neat style">> <<option "in a long and unruly style">> <<option "in braids">> <<option "in dreadlocks">> <<option "tied back from my face">> <</cycle>>. The hair comment never seemed to get old; it was one time that I accidentally lost it all after a nightmare. I had to grow it out naturally after that, and Fin took great pleasure in teasing me about it. "Nice shirt," I said back, nodding to the flour-smeared front of their cafe uniform. The words 'Divine Bakery and Cafe' were whited out and nearly unreadable. Trust Fin to make me feel better about wearing a dirty uniform. Fin grinned up at me. "What're they gonna do, fire me?" "If they knew what was good for them," I joked. Fin merely laughed at that and stood up, taking the time to stretch their shoulders. They called a goodbye to their mom through the crack in the door, and then we set off down the street to work, Fin sliding into place beside me on their skateboard. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.n6]]</center>

We rode together in silence, falling into our routine of unlocking the cafe's back door and beginning the opening checklist. It was a mindless task, and it was one I was grateful for: filling the empty cups and priming the espresso machine for the day didn't require magical powers or intimate knowledge of the living and the dead. It onyl required two hands and my full attention, and I was glad to give it. I didn't even complain when Fin finally claimed control of the cafe's stereo speakers and set a playlist for the day. It was comforting to hear them mumble along - off-beat and out of tune - as they stocked the bar and set up the cash register. It was the sounds of my life, peaceful in its familiarity. A playlist of bad early 2000's pop music, the hum of the coffee machines whirling to life, and a heartbeat. No. Two heartbeats. I nearly dropped the espresso shot glass I was holding in my fumbling attempt to locate the sound. My senses narrowed into a pinprick, sharpening, honing. Hunting. Two heartbeats. Fin, singing off-key under their breath at the register, and someone else. Someone in the back room, coming our way. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.n7]]</center>

My first thought was Fin, and how the hell was I supposed to protect them? I had no clue what was coming my way. It could be a supernatural that caught wind of my presence in town, or worse, it could be my father. I focused on that second heartbeat - steady and calm, purposeful - and stepped closer to Fin, absently reaching out in my mind to soothe the small flare of confusion that ran down their spine when they realized I was staring intently at the closed door of the back room, waiting. Fin said nothing, and I was grateful, even as the door opened. I reached out to that flame of life that called from the deep, instinctive recesses of my mind, and took hold of the heartbeat, wrapping its pulse tightly in the palm of my hand. My second thought was much simpler: I would do what I always did to [[survive|1.3.n8]].

"What is playing on the speakers right now?" I let the heartbeat slip from my fingers, horror plunging into the pit of my stomach, followed by bitter relief as a familiar face stepped through the door. It was only Hanna Hughes, another day-shift barista at the cafe. She usually worked the weekend, but there she was, frowning at the two of us as the Black Eyed Peas blasted on the overhead speakers. "You know it's like... six in the morning, right?" Hanna said to me, clear disapproval in her tone. She tied her dark hair up in a frazzled bun, slipping past Fin and I to inspect the cold bar. "No one got ice yet?" "Nem fodendo..." Fin muttered, annoyed. They shot me an exasperated look and slid their gaze from Hanna to me, as if to say, what's her problem? I agreed with a quiet shrug. My powers worked as a lie detector, if I was paying close enough attention, but I couldn't dig into minds and read thoughts. No idea. You tell me. "I was getting to it. Why are you here?" Fin watched Hanna as she moved to check the espresso machines next, a permanent frown etched on her face. She wasn't much older than Fin and I, a mere 21 years to our 19 years, but she commanded the cafe with an iron fist, wielding her extra half year of experience over us with a delighted ego. "To open," Hanna said, as if it was obvious. "It's Thursday," Fin said, as if it was obvious. It sort of was obvious: Fin and I always opened the cafe during the weekdays. It was easier after we graduated high school and we had no classes to take. Morning shifts left our nights completely free, which worked in our favor. Working with Hanna Hughes was certainly not in our favor. Not today. I had yet to tell Fin about last night's experience in the Divide, and what happened to my mother. ✒ [[I use my power to influence her to leave for the day.|1.3.n81]] ✒ [[I try to convince her to let us set up alone.|1.3.n82]]

I could't control minds. The human mind was a fragile, elusive creature. But a human body? I caould twist it to my will with merely a snap of my fingers. "Hanna," I said, catching her attention. She turned to give me a look, annoyed at being interrupted, and I let a warm rush of the Divide seep into my veins, sending goosebumps up my arms. I soothed her irritation, first. Made her pliable, willing. Her shoulders untensed, and her expression softened at me. Fin made a soft noise of disbelief, but kept silent. I kept working. I let her heartbeat calm, made her endorphins rise and brighten. Improve her mood, and improve her willingness to listen to suggestions. I found that stubborn scar of exhaustion on the back of her mind, mingled with stress from her classes and early work schedule. By then, it was easy to soothe the ache, and I offered her a smile for good measure, too. "Why don't you go home?" I said, calmly. Her pulse was steady in my hands. "Fin and I can open by ourselves today." She looked to Fin, still hesitant, and I forced her exhaustion to flare up as they nodded back to her in agreement. Hanna yawned, rubbing a hand over her now-puffy pale green eyes. Oops. I had sent her exhaustion too high. Still, I couldn't resist a thrill of satisfaction as she nodded, already escaping out the back door. "Fine. Just don't burn the place down." And just like that, we were alone once more. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.n81.1]]</center>

"You know, Hanna," I started, and she brushed right past me, uninterested. "Did you count the safe, yet?" "Yes," Fin said, their tone very, very careful and very, very calm. An illusion of control, and an impressive one. "I even stocked the register. You're welcome." Hanna turned the key to check anyway, flipping up the bars in the drawer to check the cash, one by one. "Hanna," I started again, "Fin and I could handle opening." She didn't dignify that with a response. She finished her inspection of the register, seemingly satisfied, and moved on to check the pastry case. She tsked in disapproval. "Did anyone sanitize this, yet? It has to be stocked." Fin mumbled a curse under their breath, then spoke up, "The closers do it. $nniname hasn't gotten there yet so it isn't stocked." She made an unimpressed 'hm' under her breath. "Of course." I had her full attention, even for a moment, so I managed a smile. "Why don't you head home? Let Fin and I handle today." She looked at Fin, then me. "Seriously?" "Hey," Fin interjected. "We always open on Thursdays. What's your problem?" "My problem?" Hanna repeated, narrowing her irritation in on them. She almost seemed thrilled to have a target. "You two are a problem, for one. You always slack off when you work together, and Zahara's starting to notice." Zahara al-Salem was the owner of the cafe, and one we rarely saw. She seemed content to let business run without her constant hovering, but she had come over to help the handful of times we called and begged her to. Even Fin seemed taken aback by that. "What? Zahara's never mentioned anything." "Figures," Hanna scoffed. "She's probably busy putting out your fires." That last part she aimed directly at me. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.n82.1]]</center>

"I still can't get used to that," Fin mumbled. They wandered over to the stereo controls and adjusted the volume higher, relaxing as the familiar rattle of music poured out above us. That was a sore point between us. After all, if your best friend could change your will with the manipulation of your body and the flick of their fingers, how can you build trust? How can you believe your own freedom? Fin believed me, though. Some days I wasn't sure if was a blessing or a curse. Some days, it certainly was both at once. "It worked," I shrugged, looking away. I surveyed the cafe around us. "So, what's [[next|1.3.n9]]?"

The morning rush came in a lazy pace. Our chance to talk didn't come; as soon as the sign flipped to 'OPEN', the usual group of regulars began to stagger in, and we both threw ourselves into our safe, sacred routine. By the time is slowed down and the cafe was empty, it was nearly 10 A.M. I took advantage of our break and began wiping down counters, and Fin took the chance to snag two cups to make up our next round of shift drinks. "You're gonna love what I have planned," Fin told me, their hand already poised with a Sharpie, hovering over the plastic cup's label. "I'm thinking the classic - " "Please don't say the Kitchen - " " - Kitchen Sink!" Fin finished, grinning. I groaned, tilting my head back. "God, please, save me," I told the ceiling. "God is answering," Fin said cheerfully, loudly jamming the ice scoop into the ice machine to fill our cups. "They're saying... Kitchen Sink!" "You're sick." I deadpanned, scrubbing at a sticky spot on the countertop. Fin winked. "You're so charming." "I try. You're up to clean the bathrooms, by the way. God said so." Fin set their mouth into a thin line. "Are you being serious?" "Deathly," I replied, barely suppressing a smile. I broke when Fin flung an empty coffee cup in my direction, taking cover behind the counter with a laugh. "Come on! That was a good one." "At what cost," Fin lamented in response. "Now we gotta restock the cups." "We?" I repeated innocently. I barely dodged the next one that sailed my way. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.n10]]</center>

"Fires?" I repeated, my throat going dry. "I haven't done anything." "Yeah, whatever," Hanna scoffed. She gestured to the cafe around us. "If you two idiots want to open alone, be my guest. I'm going home. Don't burn the place down." With that, she tugged her hair out of its tie and escaped out the back door, leaving Fin and I staring after her in dumbfounded silence. And just like that, we were alone once more. "What the hell was that about?" Fin mumbled. Suddenly, as if needing to move, they wandered over to the stereo controls and fiddled with it until the volume turned higher. They relaxed as the familiar rattle of music poured out above us. "It worked," I shrugged, looking away. If I thought too long about fire, I thought about my mother turning to ash, and that made my stomach turn in violent rebellion. Instead, I surveyed the cafe around us. "So, what's [[next|1.3.n9]]?"

Strangers and adults call me $nname, at least. What about my friends in general? <center><<textbox "$nniname" "(Nickname or First Name)">></center> <center>[[NEXT|nnicknamecheck2]]</center>

My friends call me $nniname, right? ✒ [[Yes, of course.|1.3.n3]] ✒ [[No, they don't.|nnicknamecheck]]

The front door chimed cheerfully, and I forced a bland smile across my face, steeling myself for another customer service interaction as I straighted up and slipped into place behind the register. Fin slipped into the backroom, stifling a laugh into their hand, and I mentally cursed them for abandoning me to serve customers alone. At least, until I heard the familiar grinding and shopping of the ice machine being emptied. Getting ice was not a task I envied them for. I focused on the man that stepped into the cafe, and my heart stopped in my chest. He was tall, at least six feet, but maybe a little more. He <<cycle "$sheight" autoselect>> <<option "was not taller than me">> <<option "was about my height">> <<option "was a little taller than me">> <<option "was much taller than me">> <</cycle>>, that much I was certain. He was dressed in strangely professional clothing for a Thursday mid-morning in little Melchior, from the black button down shirt and sport jacket to the shiny black boots. Even his blond curls were carefully trimmed out of his face, smoothed back with some sort of hair product. It was his face that gave me pause. Bronze, sun-freckled skin, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and the darkest eyes I had ever seen. In my head, a thought rang in quiet trepidation. Monster. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.n11]]</center>

In the sudden quiet, he spoke. "Hello," he said. His heartbeat was a calming rush in the back of my mind as he approached the counter, approached me. Too calm, I thought, and my gaze dropped to the familiar outline on the side of his hip. It was a holster for a gun. I thought about the third heartbeat at my neighbor's house that morning. Was this one familiar to me? Was this the same heartbeat that warned me earlier? "Hi," I managed to say. My tone was just as calm as his ever-thumping heartbeat, a constant drumline in the back of my mind. The next sentence was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. "What brings you in today?" Our eyes met again. "Not coffee," He said, a mirthless little smile touching the corner of his mouth. Not a trace of humor glinted in his dark eyes. "I have something to ask you, actually." I never got the chance to even consider my answer. One moment we were standing before one another, a silent tension simmering furiously between us, and in the next moment, Fin was there, clapping their hands loud enough that I nearly flinched. I hadn't even heard their heartbeat enter the room, too consumed by the war drumming of the stranger's pulse still rattling in my skull. "Okay," Fin said brightly. "That's fun and all, but I'm gonna have to ask you not to harass the employees, right, sir?" The stranger didn't even look in Fin's direction. His eyes burned into me with a hunter's intent. With the gun and the steady heartrate, I knew there was only one thing that he could be. He was a supernatural, either as a bounty hunter or sent by someone who knew my father, and he was here for me. "Do you have a moment to speak with me, perhaps?" He asked. "You're speaking," Fin said. "Not to you," the stranger said tensely, shooting Fin a dark look. A surge of indignant protectiveness rose in my chest. "Let's talk, then." I avoided looking at Fin. The stranger looked back to me, and I tilted my head towards the backroom. "Privately." <center>[[NEXT|1.3.n12]]</center>

He followed me to the backroom. I was hyper aware of his presence at my back; his calm breathing, his needling heartrate. His pulse coaxed into the palm of my hand, threaded within my fingers. One pull, and he would be caught in my snare. I lead us to the very back of the room, next to the supply closet and emergency escape door. The stranger took his place closer to the emergency door, and I settled comfortably against the supply closet door. My pulse was pounding in my throat. "Who are you?" I asked. I sounded far calmer than I felt. He considered me for a moment, and I did the same for him. He looked otherworldly in the dim light of the backroom, as if the shadows glided away from his very presence. His face was sharper, his eyes were darker. If I didn't know what monsters lived in the Divide, I would have asked if he came from there, himself. "Ambrose Solomon," he finally said. "You are $nname $nlname." It wasn't a question, so I didn't react to it. Instead, I said, "I know you were at the Fleming's house this morning." "I came here to ask you a simple question, $nlname," Solomon said. I knew what I said wasn't a question, and he chose to gloss over it. It was more annoying when he did it. "Right," I said. I could feel the tension in his shoulders, now. His hand was inching towards the holster of his gun, his heart rate flooded with the rush of adrenaline. He was getting ready to shoot me. "I just have one question for you, though," I continued. I threaded his pulse to mine, just to watch the flicker of confusion on his face. "Aren't you tired from standing on your feet all day?" Then, I yanked our connection apart. He collasped as if he were a puppet with his strings snapped, tumbling to the floor in a heavy, unconscious heap. His heart rate was thin and thready, but it was enough. He wasn't dead, but he also was in no condition to follow after me when I escaped. <center>[[NEXT|1.3.n13]]</center>

<<set $freln to "1">><<set $ffrn to "1">><<set $areln to "0">><<set $afrn to "0">>"Holy shit," Fin said from behind me. They wandered closer, brushing their shoulder against mine in silent acknowledgement that I was alright. They admired the crumpled figure at our feet. "You knocked his shit out without touching him." "He was going to shoot me," I said grimly. "Help me move him into the closet." "Okay," Fin said, still sounding awestruck. They leaned down at Solomon's feet, gripping his ankles, and I took two fistfuls of his jacket on the other side. Together, we managed to drag him into the closet, and Fin double checked the lock with a dubious look, wiggling the handle to test it. "What do we do when he wakes up?" "We?" I echoed. I flexed my inked hands, frowning. "We need to leave. If they know I'm here... they'll kill me." Fin's pressed their lips together. That shining humor drained from their face and settled into worry. "Anyone in particular?" I considered that for a moment. "No. If he found me, then anyone can." And if I was attracting every supernatural in the country... I was a walking pipe bomb. <center>[[FINISH|1.3.nend]]</center>

<<set $chapter to "2">><<if visited() is 1>><<notify 3s>>Stats Updated!<</notify>><</if>> Thank you for playing the demo! Keep up to date on the offical Tumblr blog [[here|https://lureofthegallowsgame.tumblr.com]].

<<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>[[CHARACTERISTICS|seerchara]]</center><</if>><<if $chapter is "2" or $chapter is "3" or $chapter is "4" or $chapter is "5">><center>CHARACTERISTICS</center> <<set $independent to 50>><<set $collaborative to 50>><<set $persuasive to 50>><<set $honest to 50>><<set $sarcastic to 50>><<set $genuine to 50>><<set $emotional to 50>><<set $calculated to 50>><<set $optimist to 50>><<set $pessimist to 50>> <div class="stat-bar-group"> <div class="stat-bar-container"> <div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">INDEPENDENT $independent%</div> <div class="stat-bar-overlay-right">COLLABORATIVE $collaborative%</div> <div class="stat-bar" id="independent-stat"></div> </div></div> <div class="stat-bar-group"> <div class="stat-bar-container"> <div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">PERSUASIVE $persuasive%</div> <div class="stat-bar-overlay-right">HONEST $honest%</div> <div class="stat-bar" id="persuasive-stat"></div> </div></div> <div class="stat-bar-group"> <div class="stat-bar-container"> <div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">SARCASTIC $sarcastic%</div> <div class="stat-bar-overlay-right">GENUINE $genuine%</div> <div class="stat-bar" id="sarcastic-stat"></div> </div></div> <div class="stat-bar-group"> <div class="stat-bar-container"> <div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">EMOTIONAL $emotional%</div> <div class="stat-bar-overlay-right">CALCULATED $calculated%</div> <div class="stat-bar" id="emotional-stat"></div> </div></div> <div class="stat-bar-group"> <div class="stat-bar-container"> <div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">OPTIMIST $optimist%</div> <div class="stat-bar-overlay-right">PESSIMIST $pessimist%</div> <div class="stat-bar" id="optimist-stat"></div> </div></div><</if>>