28-30 December 2024.

In the days that followed his Christmas celebration in London, Simon found himself on the train ride that departed from London Paddington, would make a stop in Par, and then he would request a stop at Luxulyan Railway Station. He had traveled it enough now to know the process without having to write down any notes to help him along the way. The English landscape changed as the train raced along the tracks and Simon hoped that this trip wouldn't be a repeat of last year's where he ended up in St. Mungo's with broken ribs and a head injury. He still didn't know cause for the accident but this time he would be cognizant and aware and this time he had his wand close - just in case.

When he got to the small platform with no amenities in sight, he made his way to the car park where a man stood with a sign with his last name upon it. It was the same man from other times and Simon smiled politely to him. "Greetings, Master Simon," he began - with that master business like he was the hired help or something. Simon supposed that he probably was, in essence, but still, it felt like too much. "Simon's fine. And Happy Christmas. I don't think I've ever got your name," he said to the man. The man opened back of the black Range Rover Evoque so Simon could place his suitcase inside and watched him. Had he said something wrong?

"Anders," he replied after what seemed like some thought. Simon nodded and Anders opened the back door for her and he got in, sliding his enchanted satchel onto the seat next to him. By the time the man had gotten into the driver's seat, Simon slid his way into the space between there and the front passenger seat. "Happy Christmas, Anders," he said as he help out a decorative bag towards the front filled with various baked goods. "Please don't hesitate to eat them. I promise they're not only safe but positively delicious. They're from my aunt's bakery and it's one of the best in all of London."

The man hesitated to watch him again before smiling. "Thank you, Mast..." but he paused and probably remembered what Simon had just told him. "Thank you, Simon," he said and opened up the bag. He brought out one of the cookies that was on the top and broke it in half, offering the other half to Simon. Simon was never one for sweet tasting things and while his aunt truly was a remarkable baker, that didn't mean his dhampir self could appreciate her talent as much as most. Still, to help demonstrate that they truly were safe and positively delicious - to most - he took the half, took a bite, and smiled. The man smiled and then took a bite from his own portion of the cookie and nodded in either appreciation or approval - or both - before bringing the car into gear and beginning their drive.

The man would eat two more cookies on their journey to that little area where they pulled over each time to park the SUV and Simon could see the carriage parked and two horses tethered to a tree, just like the other times he had visited. He always wondered who came eventually to get the SUV and where they parked it and why it couldn't be just driven his father's home, the Castle of Babilstow. They must have their reasons and Simon always figured perhaps the old historic roadways of the area couldn't quite handle the weight of newer vehicles.

Anders first removed Simon's suitcase from the one vehicle and placed it into the inside of the plush carriage, on the floor under the bench before standing at the foot of it to help Simon up into it. "Thank you, Anders, my good man," Simon said as he allowed the man to brace his arm to help him up - but he was pretty sure he could have done it without any assistance. He settled onto the bench as Anders closed the door and made his way to the front to hitch the horses before making his way to the driver's box. Before long they were in motion.

Simon peeked inside his enchanted satchel to check and see that the Christmas gifts he had brought with him were still undamaged and was happy to see each and every one of them still stacked nicely upon one another, bows and ribbons and all. His wrapping wasn't the best, but it was far from the worst and while he wasn't entirely sure that vampires even celebrated Christmas - he still wanted to bring gits regardless. He had brought one for his friend Clara who seemed assimilated from regular society. With those in place, he took out one of his books from the school library to read to pass the time.

The carriage came to a stop and Simon saw the Castle in view but he knew it would take Anders still a bit of time to get the horses settled before opening up the carriage so he continued to read, hoping to finish his current chapter. The door opened and he shut "Cunningham's Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs" by Scott Cunningham and quickly slid it into his satchel. Anders seemed to look from the book cover quickly to meet Simon's eyes with a surprised look but didn't say a thing. Had he read it? Did he gather anything from it?

Simon had done his very best to keep concealed that he was a wizard and intended for it to remain such. His girlfriend was a seer, and upon first meeting his father Adrian Hawthorne she had gotten such awful premonitions of him that Simon wanted to remain guarded. Being a wizard and having four and a half years of magical learning under him was something he could keep in his back pocket - just in case he should ever need it. ....Much like that wand that he had concealed close.

"Allow me to lead you inside, Master Simon," Anders said, his voice sounding level. Okay, so Simon was putting something into this situation that he didn't need to put into it. All was well. All was normal. .......As normal as going into the castle that your vampire father lived in with the coven of other vampires that he was leader of was normal.

The last time Simon was here was over almost the entirety of the summer and at the end of it, there was the annual Hawthorne Ball where Simon was announced to the vampiric community as being one of the leaders of the Hawthorne Coven, also known as the Chosen Ones of the One God. It seemed either name would suffice in the vampire world and those would know it meant Adrian Hawthorne's group. They seemed to be pretty high on the aristocratic hierarchy of covens. Other vampires at the ball had addressed Simon as if he were royalty. It was quite an odd evening.

And not just for that reason - but on how it seemed his father perceived him. Vanessa made it sound like having a dhampir son was something for vampires to be envious of, something for his father to flaunt to others - as if having wealth and longevity and prestige wasn't enough.

"Anders, Simon will do. No need for that Master Simon business," Simon reminded him. The man looked to the castle and then over his shoulder to Simon. "Understood, but I won't catch Master Hawthorne hear me call you merely Simon. I hope you understand, Master Simon." They were close enough to the Castle's entrance that Simon did understand. He had an ally there in Anders, whether he saw the book title or not and whether or not he placed any meaning to the book title. He had someone that had an agenda and had to play a part when it came to Adrian Hawthorne, just as Simon himself did.

"Lead the way, Anders my good man."

Anders led the way through that double door system that insured that the Castle of Babilstow remained light tight for the vampires that called it home. When the second door opened, the same stone corridor walls lit by sconces and other fire-lit lights greeted him as always. There was a harshness about the castle itself, but then if one looked they could see that there were rose embellishments everywhere and Simon knew that had been done in homage to his mother. Whatever his father's intentions had been with her, and no matter what had happened - Adrian Hawthorne had loved Arabella Kincaid and had loved her fiercely.

Simon thanked Anders, knowing he'd head his separate way and he'd most likely see him again now and then helping out around the castle during his stay or would at least see him at the end of his trip on his way back to the train station where they would reverse that odd little journey. He hoped these vampires were ready to celebrate Christmas because he brought Christmas. "Feliz Navidad. Feliz Navidad. Feliz Navidad, próspero año y felicidad," he began to sing as he headed down the main corridor. Normally his father was there to greet him by now and if not him, Gideon. He continued both onward and the song, "Feliz Navidad. Feliz Navidad. Feliz Navidad, próspero año y felicidad...."

There was a sort of gathering lounge not far from the front entrance of the castle and upon walking past the entrance he could see it lit more brighter than usual. Inside, the vampires that lived there were gathered and a Victorian looking Christmas tree stood in the corner, decorated and adorned for the holiday. His father had been glancing down at one of the many books that rested on the shelves in this room, Gideon was adjusting some of the decorations on the tree with Samael ranting next to him about how it looked better where it was before. Lilith seemed bored out of her mind and wishing she was elsewhere, - and then there was Vanessa, who smiled instantly when she saw him.

"I WANNA WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS, I WANNA WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS! I WANNA WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE BOTTOM - OF MY HEART!" he sang, giving it his all and startling the two at the tree. His father closed the book and returned it to the shelf and Simon missed if he seemed pleased by the song or to have him there at all for the holiday, distracted by the brunette that threw herself into his arms. "It's good to see you again, Simon," Vanessa said to him softly.

"Happy Christmas," he said to her and pulled back. "Happy Christmas," he said to the group. "And boy, I've brought it like I'm Father Christmas himself," he said and placed his bag down. "I've brought gifts for everyone," and he pulled out the wrapped presents and placed them down near the tree, and then went back to his bag to pull out his camera, "and a magical time pausing device that can visually record our festivities," and he smiled widely but then paused. "Wait. ....Can you all be...... seen - in a photograph?" Gideon seemed somewhat amused with the way his lips began to pull to a smile but he held composure pretty strong after that and Lilith scoffed as if Simon said something offensive. "Your boy child-thing insults us, Adrian," she said, sneering over at Simon. Adrian, if Simon would guess from what he could see from the low light, had a similar reaction to that of his friend Gideon. "Yes, Simon, we can be photographed. We are as real of a subject as any in front of your magical time pausing device that captures light."

"Excellent," Simon replied and quickly lifted his camera, snapping a photograph first of Lilith and catching her off guard. His flash went off brightly in her eyes and she grumbled some words under her breath. "I want one of you all together and then I'll set it up on the timer to get one of all of us together. Then we will open presents, open Christmas crackers, and then feast on Aunt Maggie's Christmas pudding and mince pies." As he said this, he was already guiding them in place where they should stand for the photograph. Once he liked the composition, he stood back and lifted the camera to take the photo and there was more under-the-breath muttering from the redhead. "Stay put, now," he said as he positioned the camera up on a stand that was used for a decorative vase and glanced through the viewfinder to get a preview. He then moved a lever before pushing a button and hurried over to stand with them all. The six of them stood, paused, like silly school children on stage for the Christmas Nativity before another bright light - and more under-the-breath muttering.

It was now that Simon got a good look at the tree. Red and white baubles and various other decorations hung from the branches, some shiny tinsel was scattered all around. Real candles were lit sporadically around and the flames danced like twinkling lights. His presents rested atop a couple others on a heavy red velvet like fabric. Someone had put some thought into this and time into the details.

Simon went to put his camera away and made sure to put the stand back into place and when he came back to the others, the other three presents had been pulled from the bottom of the tree. Adrian had one, Gideon held another, and Vanessa the third. "Oh, no. I'm Father Christmas, remember? You get my gifts first - and then I'll open mine," Simon protested and leaned down to get a couple of his.

One was held out to his father. What do you get someone who has practically everything? Lifetime after lifetime and never ending wealth - nearly anything Adrian Hawthorne has wanted he could easily obtain. Simon watched as he unwrapped his gift, a bronze-orange goblet. "I made it myself on one of those pottery wheels. It was my first time," Simon told him. "And it shows," Lilith muttered. Her words didn't phase his father though. "I think it's brilliantly fantastic. Thank you, Simon," he said as he seemed to admire the cup.

Simon looked up to Lilith. "Brilliantly fantastic," he mouthed to her silently. She rolled her eyes and looked over to Gideon. He was now the one presented with the next gift. Gideon unwrapped his present and inside a long flat black box was a fancy fountain pen, Apparently it would run for hundreds of dollars in regular stores but Simon found it at a resale shop in London at an affordable price despite it's new appearance. "Every writer needs something to write with," Simon told Gideon. "How right you are," Gideon said before bursting into that laughter of his. "Thank you, Simon."

Simon's next gift he handed out; and he was grateful that there were five others in the room to be potential witnesses while doing so in case the erratic redhead would choose to be temperamental. It was meant in good fun but as she took the wrapped present from his hand Simon held instant regret that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a good idea. She glared at him, her eyes staring into his own - or maybe staring into his soul - before finally casting her gaze down at the limp flat wrapping. She seemed annoyed that he got her anything and boy, was that only going to grow once she opened it. "So uhh....." he began to try and defend himself and hoped to say something to make the gift seem like a good idea but he had nothing. Now, resting in her hands, was a small soft brown teddy bear. "I thought you could use some softness in your life, Lil..." he stopped himself from saying Lily but now needed to continue to recover or it would sound like he was trying a new nickname out being Lil. "Lilith," he said quickly and cleared his throat. "Or uhh....., or uhh...., you know, maybe your raven will like it," he said of her pet. Did birds like to cuddle up against things like soft adorable teddy bears? Probably not - this wasn't just a bird, they were associated with death, grief, darkness. Such creatures of association, and one dedicated to a rather frightening redheaded vampire, surely didn't want things like soft teddy bears around - no matter how adorable. Simon just smiled. "Thank you. I shall name him Simon."

Simon's eyebrows rose though in a curious manner. So she did know his name.

Well, now that he had survived that.....

He presented his next gift to Samael. This gift too was a bit unconventional and he wasn't sure how it would go over. Simon watched as he unwrapped it, stared at a moment, glanced up to him, looked back down to the gift, and then looked to him again.

"I got you a tree tapping starter kit - for tree tapping," Simon clarified. Samael was still staing at him. "You know, tree tapping.....the process of collecting sap from a tree to make syrup or other products. I figured, you know, you like the outdoors and using her hands and this could be a new hobby that encompasses both." And it was a far better hobby then hunting - animals or otherwise, as it was a far better hobby than his taxidermy creations. This was manual labor that got one out into the fresh air and yielded a positive product.

Samael stared down to it for a long moment more before lifting it up and turning slightly to show the person to his left, but Lilith had already left that spot and there was nothing but an empty space. "Why, have you ever seen something like this, Greta? Have you ever heard of such a thing?" he asked to his imaginary female companion.

Simon smiled, glad that he was at least impressed enough to be talking to someone about it - even if he really wasn't talking to anyone at all. He moved down the line to the last vampire who was smiling to him, finding his gift to the last one quite amusing but she didn't say so. She didn't have to; Vanessa's smile gave her away. It was nice to see her smile and Simon wished that she did it more often.

"And now yours, dear Vanessa," he said as he held out a wrapped present. "It comes with the physical gift before you as well as an offer." He waited until she unwrapped the gift where she uncovered a new art set including an easel, paint, and paintbrushes. "The offer is my services, ma'am. An open modeling session of me presented to your talents. Clothed, completely clothed," he added, ensuring that she knew that this wasn't a sort of portrait painting experience they might do at some art school in France. Some of the other vampires still in the room groaned at that, not needing him to specify that or think of the alternative.

"Thank you, Simon, it's already an amazing gift. I'll have to take you up on your offer whilst you're here," she said and slipped the box of art supplies onto a small table beside her. "And there's a couple gifts for you. This one is from me," she said as she held out a rectangular lightweight gift. Simon was pretty sure it was a canvas and upon opening it, he discovered he was correct but when he turned it over, it wasn't an image he expected to see. "Vanessa, this is.... it's beautiful," he whispered, amazed at how she seemed to capture his mother's image into the painting, even without having ever met her.

"And this is from me," his father said as he approached, handing him another wrapped rectangular gift. This one was much heavier than the other and when Simon opened it, he discovered a framed photograph of his mother. "You are not the only one with a magical time pausing device that can visually record."

Simon looked up and scanned the room, taking in the Christmas tree and those that were inside and reminded himself that while this moment of gift exchanges hadn't been so bad - he had to remain vigilant of his surroundings. A package could be wrapped up in pretty paper and still conceal something dangerous. That's how he felt this Christmas at the Castle of Babilstow needed to be approached - handle with care.

The others had filtered out of the room to go elsewhere within the Castle and Simon was pretty sure it was either their own bedrooms or studies as that's where he normally could find them. The Christmas that happened in that lounge was more than he expected from the group, tenfold, and so far Christmas in Babilstow seemed to be a success. At one point he wasn't even entirely sure if they celebrated Christmas at all, not in the sense beyond the Bible's teachings of Jesus's birth, and he still wondered if it all hadn't been only for him. Still, maybe he could spark new traditions among them.

"Simon, before you go," his father began, still lingering there to place back anything that was out of place, "I have one more present for you." Simon had loved both the painted portrait of his mother done by Vanessa and the framed photograph of her by his father but he had been saturated with a reminiscing of memories that he couldn't quite reach and a desire to wish to have them brought forward. He looked at both of those gifts and could feel his mother's love though and he missed it - he missed her. How was it possible to not fully remember someone and miss them so immensely? Was it more merely a desire to remember? Simon didn't think so.

Just as everyone that met his Aunt Maggie loved her, it seemed the same for Arabella but while Margaret Kincaid was a spark of life, talkative and social and approaching others - an extrovert in the world, his mother Arabella Kincaid had been the more quiet and introspective sister. Still, she smiled easily and had just as big of a heart. How fortunate he had been to be raised by two such women.

"You didn't have to do that. None would have been more than sufficient and you already got me one. All I got you was a novice's pottery wheel practice," he said of his goblet but his father handed him a small box and shook his head slowly. "Novice, perhaps, but are we forgetting that it is brilliantly fantastic?" he asked, his eyebrow raised just slightly. Times like this, Simon could almost swear there was still a bit of emotion that remained within his father. "It is the best goblet that has ever come into my possession."

The gift wasn't wrapped so Simon was easily able to lift the lid of the box with no problem to reveal a Patek Philippe pocket watch within the box. Simon didn't know anything about pocket watches, but he knew this one was beyond beautiful.

"Treat it well, Simon; time, I do not speak of the pocket watch. Become a master of it and shape it and mold it and cherish it. You can have all the time in the world and realize that you have wasted moments, missed out on moments. Some should be used for work, for learning, for love, for rest. Everything, in time."

"Thank you," Simon said as he looked to his father who locked eyes with him before presenting a small smile then turned, took his brilliantly fantastic goblet, and left the room.

Her door wasn't latched closed like it normally was but it still was in such a position that it was more closed than opened so Simon knocked softly, careful not to move it from its position. It was helpful that such an expansive and old castle had solid wooden doors that were heavy. These weren't the sort of doors that would just blow open by a sudden breeze down the corridor. Simon wondered for a moment who first inhabited this castle. Perhaps it had always been his father's home.

"Come in!" he heard Vanessa call out and he opened the door to see her room. It wasn't as cluttered as it was the last time he was in there, the night of his debutante ball, so to speak. She still had just as many art supplies in the space but they were more organized. Her flower paintings still rested upright, supported by the wall but not hung, and one of his floral crowns that he made her when with Clara hung from the corner of the last one.

Over in the alcove, where once stood an easel with a portrait of him was drying was now a seating area for him with sconces of light surrounding the area and a decorative chair rested in the middle. "Either you're planning to paint me there or sacrifice me there," Simon said jokingly and the words came out before he really gave it much thought. Those words though - they brought him back to the most logical yet insane idea he had gathered about his last trip to Babilstow. There was "The Ritual" in which the vampires had conducted and Vanessa dragged him away from - to this very room.

He glanced to her, feeling sort of uneasy and wondered if he should ask her about it. She watched him and he wondered if she also felt uneasy about it. Was he correct? Had the coven really led and conducted such a heinous crime? "You're to sit over there," she said, pointing to chair, "and take that off," she said as she moved her finger up and down to him.

Simon glanced down, looking to his chosen attire for that day and looked back up to Vanessa quickly. He had a GIRLFRIEND and couldn't be, wouldn't be, posing for someone like that and without this chosen attire for the day! "Vanessa.... Ness.... look," he began and shifted.

"Are you self conscious? You never struck me as the self conscious type, Simon Kincaid," she said, folding her arms in front of him. "You don't want to do this anymore?" and she tilted her head and when he didn't move, didn't say a thing, she sighed. "Fine, we won't. It's not like I wanted to paint your ass anyway," she muttered and turned around to go to the easel set up where she removed the canvas in a swift, obviously annoyed, manner.

"Vanessa, I specifically said when I offered up my services that it was an open modeling session of me presented to your talents. Clothed, completely clothed." He remembered specifically stating it that way so she didn't get the wrong idea - like this; exactly like this.

"What?" she spat quickly. "I DIDN'T WANT TO PAINT YOUR LITERAL ASS, YOU ASS! I JUST WANTED YOU TO REMOVE YOUR SWEATSHIRT!"

Simon looked down again at his chosen attire for the day. "Oh," he said and glanced up to him. Vanessa was looking at him with both a slight glare and slight amusement. "Right," he said and nodded. He removed the sweatshirt and placed it onto the table where she had lots of other art materials and felt a tube of paint tossed at him, then a paintbrush.

Physical retaliation for the moment that had just occurred. Was Lilith rubbing off on this girl?

Simon dodged a couple of the next art supplies that came his way before tossing some back to her. Eventually they would get to their painting session - where he would sit on the comfortable chair surrounded by light - clothed, fully clothed; but for now, it was war.

“And why are we here again?” Lilith said as she looked around at the others before her eyes fell back on Simon. She looked unamused as she almost always did. Simon didn’t notice though, he was busy placing white paper strips around the low table near the sofa and then scattered some black ink pens around. Vanessa had just finished placing some books on the floor to make room and then patted the space on that sofa next to her, inviting Simon to take a seat.

Adrian looked up from the open book in his hands but didn’t scold her. Instead he went to take place on a chair that was next to Gideon’s, across from where Simon and Vanessa were. Lilith stood by herself for a moment, preoccupied with the decorative scarf she had with her.

“Well,” Simon began but felt a jabbing sort of prick pain in his forearm - almost like a doctor was giving him a shot with a rather large or dull needle. He quickly brought his hand to cover the spot but nothing was there - just his imagination.

Before he could continue, Samael - the last of the coven - arrived. “I KNEW WE WOULD BE THE LAST TO ARRIVE, GRETA. Didn’t I tell you? Why are we here again?” And the rest that followed was a series of incoherent words and murmurs as the white haired vampire took place on the two-seater settee.

“Yes, do tell, Simon. Why are we here again?” Gideon asked, repeating Lilith in that awkward sort of repeated mimicry that the vampires did so often. Many times they weren’t even in the same room to hear another say something and still were on the save wavelength enough that they still ended up making nearly a word-for-word statement that one had previously made.

“Game night,” Simon replied.

“My favorite sort of game at night is badgers. Or foxes. I shall grab my arsenal,” Samael said as he stood. Nearly just as quickly, Simon rose as well, placing his hands out before him indicating that Samael needed to stop. “And I shall grab mine,” Lilith said as he stepped over to him.

“No arsenal,” Simon protested.

“No, not game as in a wild animal hunted for recreation, but game as in - an activity to help bond and create a sense of togetherness." Lilith turned her attention to him, giving him a once over as if evaluating him and still appeared as disgusted as she had the day she first laid eyes on him. “And do you, Stetson, have to be part of this togetherness?” she asked. This time Simon’s father, Adrian Hawthorne, did not let such a remark go unnoticed and cleared his throat, giving clear indication that she needed to stop.

Once he realized no one seemed to be leaving or going anywhere, he returned to his place on the sofa. “How does one go about this sense of togetherness for a game night?” Gideon asked. It was as if the entire scenario was absolutely foreign to him and judging from most of the faces around him, Vanessa being the exception, they just stared at Simon with that sort of burn-through-your-soul sort of gaze that they had perfected so well.

"Okay, so our first game is going to be Charades," Simon said and he leaned forward due to what felt like a prick against the back of his neck and he moved his hand over the point of pain and withdrew it to see if there was any sort of blood but there hadn't been. He glanced around, not really sure what happened and looked to the others but his father and Gideon were just taking their seats, Gideon was still murmuring in the corner, and Lilith had just placed down some decorative scarf that she had been wearing; hopefully all were gearing up to play.

"Grenades?" Lilith asked.
"Charades," Simon corrected.
"Blades?" she asked again.
"Charades," Simon said again.

"Shame," she muttered. Lilith was smirking now as she moved her chair a little closer to Adrian's and then took a seat.

“Charades is a game where someone acts out a word of phrase without words, without sounds - completely silent, and the others try to guess what it is they’re acting out. It’s a game of pantomimes.”

“Landmines?” Lilith asked.
This time Adrian looked over to her and that look alone instructed her to stop without any clearing of his voice. Yea, charades was kinda sorta like that, Simon thought.

“We’re going to write out some prompts on these little slips of paper. Something that someone can easily act out but also just a touch challenging, you know? We don’t want to guess it in two seconds or this game will last but minutes. Everyone get it?” and Simon began handing out some of the paper strips to all except Gideon, the writer, who already had taken some and a pen.

Simon thought about his prompts for a moment. He didn’t want to do anything that wasn’t related to a movie or any sort of pop culture reference because surely it would fall short from the vampires. He decided on ‘doing a cannonball,’ ‘brain freeze,’ and ‘shopping spree’ for his and wrote each one out on its own slip of paper. He glanced up at the others, all still seemed in deep compilation.

And it was then, as he looked over each of the vampires there within his father’s coven and his father himself that he wondered if he couldn’t possibly attempt to gain some insight as to what happened on his last visit to that castle at his debutante ball, if you will. The vampires held their annual Hawthone Ball in which at the end The Ritual was conducted and whatever The Ritual was, Vanessa seemed quite intent on shielding him from it.

Maybe Lilith would outright state something about it. Perhaps Gideon or Samael would act it out for him and give him some sort of clue because what he was gathering from it was insane and surely preposterous, wasn’t it? Surely there was no sort of sacrifices going on. That would just be wrong. That would just be evil. It was unfathomable.

Still, hoping to get some sort of information on the matter, Simon decided to take a leap and grabbed one more slip of white paper and wrote down ‘The Ritual’ upon it.

He then grabbed a medium sized velvet sort of bag and put his slips into and Vanessa, who was also now done writing hers, did the same. She then began to gather up the pens and extra paper slips to clear off the table while Simon walked around with the bag so that the others could drop their prompts inside. It seemed as though everyone had multiple entries - at least three, four, maybe even five.

“Okay, I’ll go first so I can sort of model the process for you. It’s easy. I’ll draw out one slip and read what is on it and act it out, wordlessly, silently, no sound at all. You then will all guess what it is being portrayed. One might even have the advantage if it is your prompt. Easy, right?” and he smiled, eager to get started and pulled out his first prompt.

‘a woman for all winters’

Simon stared down at the paper, rereading it several times over in case he missed something or misread. 'a woman for all winters' ……what did that even mean?

“Okay, so….” he paused, feeling like he needed to explain the game again. “We’re trying to get prompts that we can easily act out so that the others can guess. So when we wrote things down they needed to be something we can give movements to and try to convey.” Everyone was watching him as if he didn’t need to be explaining this again. “This prompt is… well, it just doesn’t really work. I’m going to skip it and move onto another.”

“As long as you get on with it, Sherlock.” Lilith sighed, leaning in to rest her elbow on her legs and her head in her palm, looking atrociously bored.

Simon didn’t let her mood ruin his though. He never did. He brought his hand into the bag and pulled out another prospect.

‘the clock runs green.’

“Okay….” he began again after contemplating that for a moment. Was it something like ‘now was the time to care about the environment?’ No, surely not. He was trying too hard to place meaning into something that wasn’t making any sense. “We want to be able to act them out, you know? With actions, movements, hand gestures, facial gestures. We all ‘do’ understand, correct? Yes?" Again they all just watched him as if he didn’t need to be explaining this again. Only Vanessa gave him an encouraging smile and nodded.

“Okay, let’s try this again…. We’ve got this. We’ve…. Totally got this,” Simon muttered. Oy. They didn’t get this at ALL.

‘procrastinate’

That was on the next slip of paper and this one, THIS ONE, he could perhaps achieve. Easy, no - but not impossible. Simon smiled. Okay, so there was hope. Not all was lost. “Alright, you ready? You better be ready, because I’m ready!” he smiled and tried to think in his head quickly how he could go about achieving a good depiction of procrastination.

Simon first leaned forward to grab one of the pens now stacked in the corner of the table and a paper slip, went to write something down, but instead dropped both and slooped onto the sofa where he had been previously sitting.

“Writer’s block! Despair! AGONY!” Gideon quickly shouted. His were all strung together as if his mind was thinking in rapid speed here. Simon decided to try again, taking the pen in his hand, acting as if he was thinking a moment, but then put it down again, this time picking up one of the books stacked on the floor and opened it; hoping to show that he was procrastinating with his current task by doing something else. Lilith was the next to speak up. “Anguish? Misery? Torment? Being a complete and total failure at life?!” Simon had hardly done anything at all and these guesses were absolutely insane!

“JUST TELL US ALREADY, DAMN YOU, SHE’S TIRED OF LOOKING AT YOU!” Samael gestured to the empty space beside him; probably indicating his invisible companion.

Ouch.

Wow, could these vampires turn a simple game into something ruthless.

A laugh escaped Vanessa. “Procrastinate,” she said and Simon looked over to her with a slight glare because what on EARTH kind of game of Charades was this becoming? Surely she only guessed because it was her prompt and she had the inside scoop.

“Correct. Your turn. The spotlight is yours. …..Good luck.” Simon hoped she’d get one of his prompts or one of her own because those other ones were incomprehensible.

Simon held up the bag to her and she slipped her hand inside for a moment before pulling out one of the white paper strips. She smiled, and the fact that it didn’t seem impossible made Simon think that it was either one of her own prompt suggestions or one of his.

Vanessa put the paper on the table and moved to the open area of the room. She then placed her index finger out and drew lines in the air in the shape of a star, over, diagonally down, diagonally up, diagonally down the other way, diagonally up again. She then stepped to the right, did the same, and repeated it a third time. She then looked up, as if admiring the invisible pictures in the air. “Thunder on the Canyon?” Gideon questioned. “”Dismantle….” Lilith said as she turned her head to Gideon, certain her answer had to be correct, “....although I would have portrayed it a bit - differently,” she said and now looked to Simon.

“No,” Gideon protested and then brought out his index finger and retraced the motions. “Admiring the stars!” he said and looked over to Adrian. He and Adrian were the two astronomy lovers of the vampire coven.


Vanessa clasped her hands together, seeming happy to be done with it and nodded, “Yes, looking at the stars,” she said, determining it was the same thing and then got the bag and walked over to Gideon so he could take the next turn. He reached in and pulled out a slip.

“Easiest one,” he said and stepped to that same open space Vanessa previously occupied. He stood there, still and straight, and then swooped to the side and remained there, motionless and straight.”Evil Doppelganger? Dismantle….although I would have portrayed it a bit - differently,” Lilith guessed and looked to Simon. Simon just raised an eyebrow to her like ‘really?’ and this time his father said her name in a snappy strict manner. “Lilith. Be done.”

“Well, you know him so well,” she said to Adrian and motioned to Gideon. “You guess. You haven’t participated once. Nor have…..they,” she said and looked to Samael. Every time she looked at him she had a disgusted look on her face.

Gideon smiled over to Adrian and did the action again, standing still and straight in one place and swooping to another and doing the same. “Duplication. Cloning.” Gideon shook his head.

“Twin? Mirror?” Simon asked, taking a couple of guesses. “Xerox machine!” and with that he was just met with a lot of blank stares like he had said something insane.

“Comparison!” Adrian spoke quickly. Gideon shook his head again.

“No. No one is even close,” making Simon want to shush him since there was no talking by the player but was polite and didn’t. This was their first time playing - or well, attempting to play. He’d be kind.

“Then you’re not portraying it very well. Do better,” Adrian teased him.

Gideon looked to the head of the coven and narrowed his eyes at him before nodding, accepting the challenge.

He stood in one place, still and silent, and then swooped to the side just as he did before. This time he didn’t stop there and brought out an index finger one one hand the way Vanessa did, drawing a star as she had done, then another, then another, and another. He then did a more exaggerated sort of swoop where he distorted his body into a slithering like fashion to the side. It was almost as if a very awkward flamingo was trying to perform ballet. He then pointed to the clock that rested upon the mantle.

How was ANYONE supposed to get anything from that, Simon thought and glanced over to Vanessa who brought her hands out and gave her shoulders a shrug, indicating she was as perplexed as he was.

“Space-time continuum,” Adrian said, stating it as if it were obvious and not even questioning it, as if that was the only logical answer one could give for that.

“Of course,” Gideon sighed. “I do not know how you missed it the first time.”

It was going to be interesting to see his father attempt the game of Charades and Simon watched as he pulled a prompt from the bag and read it, focusing on it for a few moments before walking casually to the fireplace and dropping the paper slip down into the dancing flames. The action seemed a little drastic but then again, Simon knew how completely impossible some of the suggestions in the bag could be. His father then went and took another and this one he must have decided he could do because he moved to the open space.

So far, no one had attempted any of Simon’s prompts so he guessed there was a pretty good chance, when one factored out probability, that one of his would get chosen soon. It would be pretty interesting to see his father try to portray doing a cannonball into a pool.

His father began. Adrian stood there and placed out his index finger, hopefully NOT to draw a star. He didn’t. He pointed to Gideon, then Lilith, then Samael, over to Vanessa, then Simon, then he circled it back around, as if encompassing them all. “Togetherness!” Simon said jokingly with a big smile. “Misery,” Lilith repeated an earlier answer. He then pointed downward and jabbed his finger a couple of times. “Togetherness is Hell,” she tried again.

“The Russo-Japanese War!” Gideon shouted enthusiastically which caused a pause in the game as everyone glanced at him for the moment. “Justice?” he tried again, most likely naming one of his prompts.

Adrian continued, this time acting as if he was drawing stars in the air - there it was, and then he began to do some weird contortion-like movement. Was this a vampire thing? And then when he was finished, he went and sat down. Everyone seemed confused. At least it wasn't just him.

“....Do you give up?” Simon asked.

“I never give up,” Adrian answered. “That was it. That was enough.”

“...That was it? What was it?” Samael asked, glancing around. “Why are we here again?”

A few collective groans fill the room. “I’ve got another game to play, let’s check it out - unless either of you wanted to have a go at it,” he said to Lilith and Samael since they hadn’t gotten to act out anything yet. “A turn with what?” Samael asked. “God, no,” Lilith pleaded.

“So what was your prompt?” Simon asked his father out of curiosity. “Playing Charades,” he answered. Yep, it was definitely a good time for something new.

“Okay, the next game is Monopoly,” Simon said as he went and gathered the box and opened it, beginning to set up the game.

“Atrocity?” Lilith asked.
“Monopoly,” Simon corrected.
“Monstrosity?” she asked again.
“Monopoly," Simon said again.

“Shame,” she muttered.

“Monopoly is a board game where players compete to become the wealthiest player by buying and developing properties,” Simon explained. It didn’t sound very exciting, he had to admit. “Like domination?” Adrian clarified. “Uhh…. sort of,” Simon had to think about that a moment. Economic domination, perhaps.

Once set up, Simon grabbed the Scottish Terrier token for himself as homage to his favorite Scottish girl. “Everyone needs to pick a token to be their game piece.” Adrian was second to grab is, snatching up the top hat. Gideon took the racecar, Lilith the battleship, Samael the cannon, and Vanessa took the iron.

Simon explained how to play the game, some of the rules of the game, and the objective for winning. Hopefully this was a little easier to grasp in concept than Charades for the group he was with. “Alright, from Baltic to Boardwalk it’s about to get REAL ….estate, with hotels, railroads, DEALS,” he attempted to rap, allowing the words to flow. It wasn’t so much he was trying to appear cool but rather what he said at the start of every Monopoly game with his muggle friends back in London.

It was a pretty cut-throat game. The vampires seemed to understand it better and that meant that properties were being bought left and right. “No one’s ever going to get a full set - ever,” Gideon said at one point. “Getting smashed, every time! MUTINY is coming,” Samael would say any time he had to pay up. “Can you afford that?” Adrian said as he looked over to Lilith, landing on his dark blue properties - with hotels. She grumbled. “Can I declare bankruptcy yet? Be done?” But things looked up a bit more when she landed on Community Chest and won some money - only ten dollars. “Hmm,” Gideon tried his hand at some smack talk, “Your mum didn’t win ten dollars in a beauty contest, she was paid to leave,” he told Lilith. ….Ruthless.

In the end, Adrian Hawthorne dominated a good section of the board but so did Simon and the game went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth - trading who seemed to be more in control of the game than the other. “I do not think this game should be called Monopoly,” Adrian spoke up. “It should be called Monotony.”

And in the end Adrian Hawthorne won.

Lilith had already gone to do something else, as did Samael. Gideon stayed to cheer Adrian on and Vanessa remained for Simon. When he finally fell and there was nothing he could do to save himself, Adrian just shrugged. “The best man won, I do not know what else to tell you, Simon. This is just how it is. The victor remains victorious.”

Simon let his father take his win with pride and said he’d clean up. He put the board game away first so that he could have the table space, curious about something. That entire evening he wondered if the prompt written on the paper slip that got tossed into the fire was his and there was only one way to find out. He’d read all of them.

One by one, Simon removed the slips from the bag or from where they got placed and sorted them by their handwriting and came to the conclusion that each had written the following:

Adrian - playing charades, mount rushmore, pendulum, comparison
Gideon - thunder on the canyon, irony, the Russo-Japanese War, space-time continuum
Lilith - a woman for all winters, blade runs over him, the night of the stalker, dismantle
Samael - tomorrow comes next, the clock runs green, sudoku, parsley
Vanessa - procrastinate, haiku poetry, looking at the stars
And his - doing a cannonball, brain freeze, shopping spree ….and no the ritual.

Vanessa was trying to keep it from him
….And so was his father.

All he had to do was make it through the front entrance of the castle and he'd be in the clear. Granted, if he got caught, Simon could always claim he was going out for a bit of fresh air but somehow it seemed best to avoid any possible confrontation that morning. Truth be told, he was not headed out for some fresh air but some much needed fresh air. The space inside the Castle of Babilstow could be suffocating at times - especially when the occupants were keeping something from him.

He expected it from his father. The man had been guarded around him since the first time they met and getting any information out of him was like mining for gold - he had to make attempt after attempt before getting the smallest golden nugget of information. Certainly if Adrian Hawthorne didn't want him knowing anything about The Ritual then he wasn't going to hear it from him.'

But Vanessa? Vanessa was supposed to be his ally there in the castle - why was she hiding anything at all from him, especially something that felt so important? This lead to Simon doing a complete analysis on key reasons why someone might hide things and he scrutinized the details.

Perhaps there was a fear of judgement. Whatever The Ritual was and entailed, perhaps his father were worried about how he would react to it if he considered it negative. This seemed to perhaps be the most likely and when he allowed himself to gather his thoughts, he didn't like the scenario that played out in his mind. It was negative, if true, and in the very worst way possible. It was wrong. It was murder. ...But it also couldn't be true, could it?

He thought back to Summer and his conversation he had with Clara. She told him about an older sister who had been, in her words, chosen to be a messiah years ago and that while she should take honor in this, she missed her very much.

At the night of a celebration in the village, known as the Circle of Healing, Clara expressed concern that her best friend Rosceline might get chosen and she did not want to miss her. Simon's definition of messiah was a leader or a savior of a particular group or cause. Was she a savior for the villagers? The Hawthorne coven? Both? Maybe she was a chosen representative for the village to travel elsewhere and all was well. But no, he knew that wasn't the case. The villagers thought there was only the village and their leaders, the vampire coven that his father was head of. Adrian Hawthorne didn't want him knowing about the village and Vanessa, knowing he knew of it, had told him not to interact with any of villagers.

She wanted him kept away from the Village of Babilstow and all who occupied it. So did his father. Why? This wasn't just because of another theory on why some hide things which was to protect privacy. This wasn't simply wanting personal space and preferring to keep certain things private. No. It was something more.

It seemed to be a coalescence of his last three reasons on why someone would hide things - maintaining control, guilt or shame, and protecting others.

Yes, something big was going down in Babilstow, the little empire that Adrian Hawthorne had seemed to build for himself and the neighboring area and he had always been about maintaining control. He'd give small bits and pieces of information to Simon as his trust for his son built and something about The Ritual still proved to be privileged information that wasn't disclosed to him.

Because of guilt? Because of shame? Were they trying to protect him from pain? Concern? Simon thought back to the Hawthorne Ball that had been held that Summer. Just after his dance with Vanessa, Samael had stated that his father had gone to fetch their messiah and that they would soon be giving their final honor. It was then that Vanessa seemed quite determined on getting Simon far away from The Ritual.

She literally dragged him away and he followed due to her worry and sheer panic. Upon exiting he had heard his father say "On this night, let us pay tribute to dear Rosceline as she takes our message....." before his voice faded out to him in the quiet corridor. As she moved him further away, he was able to pick up on a collective “TO ROSCELINE!” by the many vampires that came to the annual ball.

So Rosceline was their messiah as well? The village, the villagers, and the vampires were somehow connected. Clara had often talked about her leaders and Simon thought about that same night, how his father had introduced him to the other vampire covens as 'a future leader of the Hawthorne Coven of Babilstow.'

Leader. Leader of a vampire coven. Leader of a village of innocent individuals, ignorant of the outside world making them unknowledgeable to the real world; weak.

Simon's heart began to race as he lifted his enchanted satchel further onto his shoulder and quickened his gate towards that front entrance. What good would a medieval sort of village and like-minded villagers provide for a coven of vampires?

His mind went back to the Circle of Healing as he remembered Clara had waited in line, a line in which every single villager had stood, so that they could enter a sort of tent and 'remit their sins' as Clara had called it. He had likened it to Confession or Penance within the Catholic Church but what exactly did one do to remit their sins? In his church it was simple, you merely told your sins simply and honestly to the priest. It usually took no more than five minutes. For the villagers, it had probably taken around ten minutes and Simon remembered them coming out of the tent, all with a sort of bracelet around their upper arm, somewhat resembling......

Simon couldn't believe it. No. He quickly made it to the first door of the two-door system and pushed it open, closing it swiftly and then hurrying through the next that allowed sunlight to pour on his face. The light hit him as did the realization.

It wasn't a bracelet, it was a pressure wrap; a bandage to apply pressure to a needle insertion site to prevent bleeding and bruising by stopping blood flow from the puncture wound of the donation site. Blood donation.

He thought about how on their fast retreat from the others when The Ritual began how he had stumbled into some wooden crates within the corridors that held blood bag after blood bag, stating the date in which they had been collected - the very same date of The Circle of Healing.

So the villagers were - what? Livestock? No, that couldn't be. Someone couldn't just take someone or a group of people and use them like that. They couldn't. Even his own father wouldn't..... Simon felt cold. He felt sick.

...His own father would.

This was the sort of individual that Adrian Hawthorne was. This was the sort of individual that AngelFyre had encompassed in her earliest visions and why she so strongly advised him on distancing himself from.

Were all the other vampires just like that? Vanessa included?

She had been so determined to keep him away from seeing any part of The Ritual, pulling him far away from the Ballroom and to her room to show her paintings which she had once been very adamant about not showing him before; having claimed she didn't think they were good enough.

They were good enough. Her paintings were phenomenal and he told her that they were, "like a visual rollercoaster, taking him on a wild ride through color, emotion and pure genius. That the brushstrokes practically danced across the canvas, creating a rhythm you could feel deep inside you. It was as if the painting was alive, whispering stories only the brave were ready to hear." And that's when he could hear what sounded like screams but he had dismissed it and they quickly silenced.

Still, that night he had remembered light dancing across the paint capturing his attention and he moved a curtain away from the window of her room to see flames outside reaching for the sky and the entire congregation of attendees from the Hawthorne Ball seemed to be there - with the exception of himself and Vanessa.

The Ritual. A messiah. Final honor. Flames.

Yes, he needed some fresh air.

Simon grabbed the strap of his satchel and took off running. He ran, and ran, and continued running until he was out of breath and stopped to rest on the trunk of a fallen tree. He was well past the grounds of the Castle which was against his father's rules. To HELL with his father's rules at this point.

His breath was short and he was pretty sure it would have been whether he had been running or not. The ideas that were swarming in his mind caused his heart to beat wildly regardless. He still felt cold. He still felt sick. He was frustrated. He was angry.

Simon screamed.

He screamed into the open air, causing a few birds on the trees to dart off into the sky.

With that release, he slowly placed his hand over his chest where he knew the binding mark rested over his heart. "Beshert," he whispered, almost silently. He needed to talk desperately to AngelFyre but forgot that this line of communication was already open -as it had been decided that it would be so any time and the entire time that he visited Babilstow. That meant he ultimately just turned it off just now and he shook his head, placing his hand to his heart again and this time leaving it there, although he needn't, but that is where that soulmate of his resided. "Beshert," he said softly again, this time practically worldlessly.

He drew in an unsteady breath.

"Darling? My love - are you there? I need you," he closed his eyes and thought, transmitting his message far away. This binding mark business was going to put tte Hogwarts' intra-dormitory Kincaid-McCubbin Telecommunication Network to shame.

The Dawn of Realization for @Simon Kincaid

29 December, 2024 - early morning

The aluminum bowls of food, meant for the ducks, became victims of gravity as AngelFyre let go of them in an act of self-protection. They clattered to the painted, cement floor as the explosion of sound within painfully detonated. She reflexively closed her eyes tightly shut and brought her hands up to her ears, unaware that two of the bowls were making wobbly circles as they traveled on their rims, continuing their tinny, metallic sounds that echoed throughout the clinic before finally coming to rest. Even as they had continued to add to the din, AngelFyre was not yet fully aware that the decibel level blasting all rational thought away was not caused from any external sound. At least, not any external sound near her in that moment. It took a few beats for her to recognize that what she was experiencing was the sound of Simon screaming... from hundreds of miles away... in her head.

Her blood turned to ice the moment that she recognized what she was hearing, so she called out to him, whether verbally or telepathically she would not have been able to say, because she was too busy fighting to keep panic at bay. She knew Simon was at Babilstow, with his father and the coven, and that meant she had no time to lose. She had only ever heard him scream once, and that was during one of her "visions". He had not called out for her specifically as he had then, but it did not matter in the moment. She knew she called out for him, forcefully at that point, because Hillary had come charging into the clinic, her wiry hackles raised, ready to protect her person. When the throbbing had begun to tone down in her ears, AngelFyre was able to ascertain that the low-level white noise she experienced whenever the binding mark was activated was no longer detectable. Her panic surged even more at that realization.

He screamed AND the mark was now off?!? Please, God, let him be okay. Let him be okay. Be with him.

"Besh -..." was as far as she got in her crazed attempt to activate it before Simon himself beat her to it. The comfort of the white noise was back, but more importantly, she could hear him clearly. There was no more screaming, and she was relieved, but his words and tone kept the spark of fear alive while breaking her heart at the same time.

"Darling? My love - are you there? I need you," she heard him plead.

"I am here, Simon. I am here. Are you hurt, love? In danger? Do you need me to come get you?"

She had already abandoned the clinic, leaving it in a regrettable mess, and had run straight to a golf cart which was kept parked at the side of the stone building. AngelFyre was followed closely by her gentle giant who had hopped onto the seat next to her immediately. The cart would get her up to the house much more quickly than she could run.

"I love you. I love you. I love you. Please be okay." Even though she had not uttered those words aloud, Hillary punctuated the sentiments with an intuitive bark of her own, not that Simon would be able to hear it, but it earned her darling girl a quick, reassuring pat behind the ear.

------- ----------- -------

Reducio

OOC: AngelFyre was invited to join what had been a Solo thread.

She was there. Instantly he felt himself calm a little - at least enough that he wasn't so filled with emotion and uproar and panic all at once. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the reality of this world that he new occupied, sitting alone on that fallen tree trunk in Babilstow where awful, awful things perhaps happened.

"I'm okay," he answered quickly, knowing that he needed to make sure she knew that first and foremost. Turning off the binding mark and turning it back on wasn't a good signal to send. It had been done by mistake but had probably frightened her to no end. "I'm not hurt and I'm not in danger," he assured her further. "I just.... I.... I think, I think I've pieced together everything that's been confusing about this place."

Simon paused to look around, feeling a little insecure. This was the binding mark that he was using to communicate with AngelFyre so it was done telepathically over 500 miles away. That, and it was daytime - so it wasn't as if his father or one o the other vampires would pop out behind one of these trees that towered around him. No one could hear him.

"And I think I might know what happens at the Ball. I think I know what everyone's been trying to keep from me. ...And it's all connected. All of it," his voice was a little shaky and it wasn't due to the cold temperatures that surrounded him.

This was big. Was he ready to make the accusation he was about to make? Had he pieced it together so quickly based on something as silly and a slippery slope? Had he just read into it, making connections when there really wasn't connections to be made? Could it be true?

Simon began to have his doubts quickly.

Already that doubt was bringing him down as he retraced his thoughts. It was absolutely insane to be thinking what he was thinking - and yet even with some consideration he found himself still thinking it. No, just because something was absolutely insane didn't mean it couldn't be true.

As usual, he wasn't sure where to start. "My apologies if I startled you," he said, thinking back to how distraught she sounded. Oh if he ever heard a scream come from her end he couldn't imagine the shock that would run through his very core. That's where he would start, with an apology and thinking of her who was there for him, who loved him, who supported him and who was his everything. And in doing just that, he was brought to more calmness.

And he continued.

"So, you know how I said that I thought Vanessa was trying to keep whatever it is that happens at the Ball from me? The Ritual as they called it? Well, I I wanted to ask her about it at one point but it was as if she intentionally carried on with what we were doing - like she didn't want to be discussing it. "

"So I prodded further," the boy was one who liked answers to the unknown. He was often writing down topics or questions about the wizarding world to look up later in the school library. He liked to gather knowledge and didn't like not knowing things.

"We had a game night, played Charades - myself and the coven, and I put 'The Ritual' as one of my prompts, hoping that whoever got it would give me some sort of insight. Well, my father had gotten one paper slip that he tossed into the fireplace and mine of 'The Ritual' was never chosen. I went back during cleanup to see all the paper slips, the ones we used in the game and the untouched. I don't know how many everyone did to know if it got misplaced or something but the one I had written 'The Ritual' on wasn't there. I think it's the one he threw in the fire."

"So they're both keeping it from me. And I spent all last night up thinking about the reasons why someone would hide something." It was time to retrace the thoughts he had race through his mind earlier but place them into words best he could.

He didn't have to ask if she was still listening; he knew she was. He could be reciting former British Prime Minister Boris Johnson's horrible final speech as he made his resignation word-for-word and she would still listen; just as he would do the same for her whatever it would be.

"There's fear of judgement if someone's worried that there's something negative or general guilt or shame. ....And you know, there was that conversation I had with Clara over the summer about how she had a sister who was chosen to be her village's messiah years ago and how she misses her. She then talked about her best friend who might be chosen to be the next and that she didn't want to miss her."

"Samael mentioned at the Ball that my father had gone to fetch their messiah and they would soon be giving their final honor. I heard my father state to all that they were to pay tribute to dear Rocseline as she takes their message..... I don't know where. His voice faded out as Vanessa dragged me away."

"It wasn't until she realized that my father nor Gideon had told me about 'The Ritual' that she freaked out and completely panicked and began to distance me as best she could - like I wasn't privy to that information."

"I heard all the vampires toast TO ROSCELINE in unison. Rosceline. Rosceline, AngelFyre. That's the name of Clara's best friend. That's not a common name. If she's the vampire's messiah and she's the village's messiah then they're linked. You know, Clara has often also talked about her leaders and then my father at the Ball introduced me as a future leader of the Hawthorne Coven. Leader. Same term again."

"I know it's a bit of a jump but if the coven and the village are connected then I fear that such a connection is an unfavorable one. I mean, what if the vampires are the leaders of the village? That's probably why Vanessa was at The Circle of Healing that night. What if they control the villagers? I mean, I've told you about Clara - she's so innocent and ignorant of the outside world. She's unknowledgeable, doesn't even know it exists. Doesn't that make someone like her weak and easily controlled?"

"At The Circle of Healing I thought the villagers all went into this tent-like hut to remit their sins like Confession with the Catholic Church. But what I didn't focus on was the bracelet that they all left with. I guess I thought of it like ashes for Ash Wednesday or palms for Palm Sunday, just a sort of physical reminder but I don't think it's a bracelet at all anymore. It was a pressure wrap that you get when you donate blood. What if they were giving blood for their leaders? I had stumbled into a wooden crate with so many blood bags in it during the night of the Ball when Vanessa was trying to drag me off and the only thing it said was the date in which it had been collected - and it was the very same date as The Circle of Healing."

"That makes the villagers like livestock. Livestock," it sickened him. "Animals kept for use. I'd like to think that NO one would be that cruel, but think about it. They don't kill for nourishment; they don't hunt. He falls under the radar of the Ministry because they needn't blood supply - because he has his own. He's not just in control of an aristocratic coven of vampires but he's in control of the village and all those who live there."

And it would be enough if it ended there, but it doesn't, does it? Your earliest vision when you knew that he was the sort of individual that one kept a distance from was because there's that and more. 'The Ritual.' That night Vanessa took me to show me her paintings. Every time I had asked she refused to show me because she didn't think she was good enough and now she was eager to show me. When we entered her room I thought I had heard screams but they stopped and I don't know, I guess I thought it was my imagination or maybe Lilith's crow from down the corridor. I dismissed it."

"When I was looking at one of the paintings, light was dancing across the canvas and that captured my attention. I moved the curtain away from the window to see that the entire congregation of vampires, ones from all covens, were outside. I think everyone was gathered there but Vanessa and I and they all stood around the biggest fire I'd ever seen.... - not like a wildfire, a controlled fire."

"When I snap back to reality and gather up my strength to walk I'm going to find Clara. I need to give her my Christmas present and I might ask her about her friend. I didn't see who was chosen that night; I hadn't stayed that long. Maybe all is well with her Rosceline."

"Am I mental? Tell me I'm completely mental."

I Wish I Could Say You Are Mental, @Simon Kincaid, But....

29 December, 2024 - early morning

She calmed down as soon as Simon told her he was okay, not hurt, and not in any danger. She then pulled the golf cart off to the side of the asphalt pathway and gave him her undivided attention while petting Hillary.

None of what he said said alleviated her fears for too long. All that he relayed to her only confirmed her worst nightmares. She had wanted to be wrong about Adrian. For Simon's sake, she truly had wanted to be wrong, but she knew she had not been. Meeting him summer before last had done nothing but help solidify her thoughts and fears about him. She knew that night in the ice cream shop that Adrian had a plan and it was to groom Simon to be his successor... his own Little Prince... his own mini me. The question had remained, however, was to groom him for what exactly? She had not factored any of the villagers into this danse macabre, largely because Simon had had so few interactions with them. He had not even meet Clara until 4 months or so after AngelFyre met Adrian, and even a year later, he seemed to know less about them than he did the vampires.

But snippets of information slid into place bit by bit, reinforcing suspicions, possibly more quickly for AngelFyre than Simon. Clara lived in a medieval village and lived a medieval lifestyle. Who did that these days? I mean really... who? And why did they? Simon often spoke of them as something akin to Mennonites, but even Mennonites were aware of the outside world. They had made the conscious choice to turn their backs on the modern, secular world and try to live a more Godly one. There was a simplistic beauty to it that AngelFyre could definitely appreciate, but she was also of the belief that not everything in her world was of the devil.

Her spidey senses tingled when Simon told her about his summer while they were at Diagon Alley before school started. His description of Clara and her concerns about geographical boundaries while displaying an ignorance of not just the world around her, but the world beyond her hectares of known existence were concerning, and AngelFyre suspected immediately it all had to do with Adrian and his coven. They were keeping them ignorant, but why? And then Simon mentioned messiahs, and remittances of sin and, missing people. Were the people actually missing, as in gone, or were the villagers just missing folks acting as temporary emissaries elsewhere?

This part made little sense to AngelFyre. Adrian had lived for centuries and knew much of the world. He kept a very low profile, for obvious reasons, and probably for a lot of unknown reasons, but what, exactly, was the job of these messiahs? As well educated and articulate as Adrian was, why would he send out ignorant people into the world on his... or the coven's... behalf? It did not seem like the kind of thing he would relinquish to "inferiors".

She had her first inkling of the why sitting on that bench in front of Flourish and Blotts in August. As Simon spoke to her, she could not get Shirley Jackson's, The Lottery, out of her mind. She had not mentioned her thoughts to him on the subject because she had no proof, but also because it was the area of discussion that was the touchiest for them as a couple. Anything having to do with Adrian Hawthorne was almost always guaranteed to make things tense and awkward, and that was on a good day. If they were not having a good day, they butted heads like the stubborn badgers they were. Thankfully those times were fewer and fewer as they had grown into healthier communication habits.

He ended with another plea. "Am I mental? Tell me I'm completely mental." She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, rubbing the middle of her forehead in small circles as she collected her own thoughts for a moment.

Simon's voice had been shaking, and AngelFyre knew he was under a tremendous amount of worry and stress in the face of what he could no longer continue to disbelieve. She knew it was important to be as calming as possible for him right now, so she cleared her throat softly and answered him in silence on her end.

"Love, I wish I could, but you and I both know you are not. We have long wondered where the coven got its blood, and how, and now I think you solved that mystery, or part of it anyway. I also think you are, unfortunately, on the right track with your thinking concerning rituals. That part still puzzles me a bit, as it does you, but Simon, I am begging you, more now than I ever have, to be careful of what you say and do there. I know you want answers, but even what seems like a simple question to Clara may have unintended consequences. Do the messiahs ever come back? CAN they ever come back? What is the messiah's purpose? Be gentle when trolling for answers. It is clearly a touchy subject for her, and your language barrier does not help the situation, I am certain."

"I know you feel betrayed by Vanessa right now, but this is where you need to be doubly cautious. Perhaps she kept you away in an an honest attempt to keep you safe, but whatever you do, try not to anger her. I know you are strong, by human standards, and fast, but she IS a vampire. Assume she is stronger and faster. I suspect she is. Also, I know you may keep your cool, but she may not. Fights can be heard by others, and you definitely do not want Adrian to know you know anything, but I am sad to say he probably already realizes you do. He had to know it was you who scripted out "The Ritual" last night."

"If Vanessa is in league with Adrian, and her whole spiel has simply been an act to lure you in, be careful of every word you utter. You said you played Charades last night. You keep on playing. Play detective if you have to, but try to show as little anger as you can. Your safety could depend upon it."

She took in a deep sigh, exhaling it slowly. "Simon, one more thing. Please get back to the castle tonight before sunset. This is imperative. Remember the vision I had in the Duck and Waffle? I feel compelled to remind you, love, it took place in a medieval looking village, at night time. Please do not tarry with Clara for too awfully long in her village. Besides, your being back at the castle when they awaken is less likely to arouse suspicions. And come up with answers as to what you did today, sticking to the truth as closely as possible, just in case Adrian is looking to test you out in any way."

"You cannot get back home to London soon enough for me. Keeping the mark open is going to be especially important right now, so trust that I am with you through all of it. You know nothing on the face of this earth could stop me from getting to you if you need me. Believe that. I am with you and I love you, Simon."

My hand to your heart, I love you."

She sat at the wheel of the golf cart for a few moments, thinking back over the vision of the scene at the medieval village. There was a great fire, and everything, including the night sky, seemed to be aflame. What she remembered most clearly, however, was Simon screaming out for her. If that vision ever came to pass, would it be because he actually was in danger at that point. Possibly already hurt?

Dying?

She had no answers to those questions, but if Professor Clairmont was right, the future could be changed. What AngelFyre did not know was whether or not her warning to Simon, that night in the Library, about his father had been the point in time when that trajectory may have already changed, and maybe not for the better? What if he had been on a path to simply knowing his father as a father, but knowing none of this craziness? Would he have been safer? What if by meeting AngelFyre, Adrian had decided his son could not... would not... end up with her. He definitely had big plans for Simon. He had made that plain enough, at least to her, and they certainly did not include her.

Simon saw none of this at the time it was all happening. He was too excited to have a blood parent around, and he desperately wanted to know more about himself through experiencing that relationship. He was trying to see it through rose colored glasses, and she had seen it though nothing but blood-spattered glasses. Could it be possible that her negativity along the way had made the whole situation more dangerous for him and for those in the village? Or had she done any good? Those were questions she would never have the answers to.

God, please let me have been a help to him. I have this sight for a reason. I believe it comes from You, so help me to use it wisely; for Simon, for myself, and for everyone concerned. Amen.

"Okay Hillary, my love" she cooed to her big beast of a dawg as that powerful tail slowly began to wag uncertainly. "Are you ready to go back to the clinic and help me clean up the mess I left? The sooner we get that done and everyone fed, the sooner we can get back up to the house and get you your bacon."

Yeah, she said the "b" word. Hillary drawled out a sing-songy yowl and that tail thwacked a little more feverishly than a mere 20 seconds earlier. AngelFyre laughed and reached into her pouch. Hillary's eyes were focused on every miniscule movement as she kept smacking her lips in anticipation of what might be coming forth from that pouch. Her girl was not disappointed as a crispy strip was offered and was politely accepted.

AngelFyre shortly thereafter pulled up to the clinic and could only hope the mess Simon would be trying to clean up in Babilstow would prove to be as easy as the mess she had before her in the clinic, but she knew that was asking too much.

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