fairywilds

[fairywilds]

Auberon was born on a stormy night in September, deep within the Carpathian Mountains, in a remote and crumbling castle-like estate. Their mother, Elira Rosenthal, a dragon exiled from her family, was fiercely proud yet bitter, her maternal instincts warped by years of her own rejection. Auberon's father, Caius Veltran, an incubus, viewed relationships as transactional, his attention more a weapon than a gift. Caius had wandered into Elira’s life during one of her many isolations. Their pairing was an unlikely one— dragons were solitary creatures who viewed hybrids as a dilution of their proud lineage, while incubi valued freedom and transient connections over permanence— and yet, their union gave way to Auberon.

Not being planned, Auberon’s existence was fraught with tension. Their arrival was marked by flames and destruction— scorching the help that was there for the birth, and filling the air with smoke. Instead of joy, Auberon's birth brought arguments between their parents. Auberon’s childhood was marked by division. His parents never married, but the relationship was passionate and volatile, with their vastly different natures creating constant discourse. Elira saw Auberon as a second chance to restore her tarnished legacy, while Caius regarded them as little more than an interesting product of his union with a dragon. The atmosphere in their home was cold, punctuated by bursts of fiery anger or biting manipulation.

Determined to mold Auberon into a dragon worthy of rejoining the Rosenthal lineage, Elira pushed them relentlessly. She trained Auberon rigorously in dragon skills, including shapeshifting and fire control. However, his smaller size and hybrid limitations frustrated her, creating a sense of inadequacy in Auberon. She was critical and demanding, quick to lash out when their limitations— like their inadequate dragon form or exhaustion from fire-breathing— failed to meet her impossible expectations. Her rare moments of tenderness felt conditional, leaving Auberon desperate for her approval but always falling short.

When Auberon's father was present, Caius gave him attention, but it always came at a cost. Caius' charm masked a subtle cruelty— affection weaponized to manipulate or control. He would poke at Auberon's insecurities, but in a more subtle and twisted way. He encouraged Auberon’s incubus instincts but never taught them how to handle the emotional fallout, leaving them ashamed of their growing hunger for love and attention. The result was a fractured sense of self. Auberon craved love but equated it with pain and unpredictability. They learned to suppress their emotions around Elira to avoid her wrath, while with Caius, they played the role of the eager-to-please child, hoping to earn a fleeting smile or kind word.

Auberon’s teenage years were defined by emotional turbulence. Their hybrid nature grew harder to control— fire-breathing and shapeshifting came with physical and mental strain, while their incubus aura began drawing people to them in ways they didn’t fully understand. Unable to process these changes, Auberon began dissociating, retreating into a fog when overwhelmed. These episodes became more frequent during moments of conflict or intense emotion, leaving them disconnected from their actions and surroundings. This led to several incidents that cemented their belief that destruction followed wherever they went.

During an argument with his mother— spurred by her disappointment— Auberon lost control of his fire-breathing, setting the family’s library ablaze. The inferno destroyed Elira's collection of knowledge before being tamed. Her fury was unparalleled, and left deep scars. Auberon dissociated, barely recalling the destruction they had caused or the aftermath that followed. From that point on, they internalized the belief that they were inherently destructive— a force that ruined everything it touched.

After years of escalating tension, Elira and Caius made the decision to send Auberon away. Though framed as an opportunity for them to find their place in the world, it was a thinly veiled exile. Auberon was sent to Northknot, under the pretense of independence, but not before he stole some of his mother's gold stash for his own purposes. In truth, Auberon was relieved to escape this suffocating cycle, but still carried the weight of unprocessed trauma with them during this new start.

Northknot offered Auberon a strange sort of solace, and he began to call this town home. The town’s acceptance of hybrids and its way of life intrigued them, though they often still feel like an outsider even among the supernatural. Auberon has thrown themselves into crafting, a skill they had begun developing in their isolation. Melting metal with their fire and shaping it into jewelry became a way to channel their obsessive tendencies, giving form to the chaos inside them.

Now, Auberon has built a life of contradictions for himself. They may be a respected figure— a successful jeweler, a graduate from Northknot University, and a young business owner. Yet their personal life is still a storm of emotional highs and lows, shaped by the lingering effects of their upbringing. Although, at first, it may seem that Auberon is distant, his intense fear of abandonment leads him to cling fiercely to the people they grow close to, often overwhelming any romantic partners with their devotion. They have a habit of idolizing their lovers, believing in soulmates and eternal ties, but their relationships often burn out due to their possessiveness and emotional volatility.

This was actually the main reason for his breakup with another supernatural, a woman in Northknot, that he dated right before he graduated from university. This caused them to feel detached again, as though watching their life from a distance. Their self-esteem started fluctuated wildly. At times, they see themselves as a divine being— a vessel for something greater. At others, they are consumed by shame, convinced they are unworthy of love. They are someone of wealth (stolen and man-made) and influence, yet their personal life is unfortunately always defined by instability. They yearn for a love so deep it feels like drowning, though they fear their intensity will push others away.

Known for his cryptic speech and strange behavior, Auberon is both fascinating and unnerving to the people of Northknot. They often appear uninvited at gatherings, lurking in corners or making cryptic remarks that leave others guessing. Auberon is a keeper of secrets, a figure who listens without judgment and holds others’ vulnerabilities close to their chest.

[fairywilds]

Nimue Ayers was born into a lively and close-knit mermaid family, cherished as the youngest and only daughter among three protective older brothers. Her family often referred to her as “the pearl of the Ayers family,” a title that filled her with pride but also pressure. She was the only daughter in a household of three older half-brothers. Her mother, a mermaid, raised Nimue and her half-brothers with warmth and strength after their father— who was a merman— passed away after Nimue's youngest brother was born. Years later, Nimue’s father, a psychic, entered the picture during one of Nimue's mother's trips to the surface. Though her brothers often teased her about being the youngest and most doted on, Nimue relished the attention and had a strong bond with them.

As a child, she split her time between carefree days underwater and visits to land, where she marveled at flowers, technology, and the little joys of human life. By the time she was a teenager, Nimue’s extraordinary swimming ability and her psychic visions set her apart, leading her to dream of joining the elite mermaid racing leagues. But at 16, everything changed. While training for her first major competition, Nimue swam too close to an uncharted reef covered in fire coral, which left her with severe burns on her tail and weeks of recovery. The accident not only scarred her physically but also triggered a wave of overwhelming visions. Nimue began seeing flashes of her future— failures in races, injuries, and moments where her mistakes endangered others. Once a source of pride, her psychic abilities became a burden, filling her with dread every time she tried to swim.

Despite encouragement from her family, who believed she could overcome the trauma, Nimue grew too scared to continue and decided to quit the racing leagues entirely. Her decision strained her once-close bond with her brothers, who struggled to understand why she gave up. Feeling like a disappointment, Nimue began to withdraw from her family’s high expectations and their underwater world, becoming more defensive and guarded.

Nimue is a girl of dualities. On the surface, she is cheerful and approachable, often quick to offer comfort, meddle in harmless drama, or play matchmaker for her friends. Her love for tarot readings and divination tools adds to her charm, as she enjoys using her abilities to bring insight—or a little chaos—into others’ lives. However, beneath her sunny exterior lies a complicated mix of emotions. She is deeply insecure about her past and defensive when anyone brings it up, fearing judgment or pity. Her mischief can sometimes turn into trouble, especially when she tries too hard to mask her feelings with humor or drama. Though her brothers’ strained support lingers in her mind, she is determined to carve out a new path for herself and prove that she can still achieve something meaningful.

At 18, Nimue moved to Northknot to live with her psychic father, whom she had only visited sporadically during her childhood. The move marked a fresh start and a chance to reconnect with her psychic heritage. Nimue found work at Tout Sweet Ice Cream Parlor, a cheerful environment that fit her personality and gave her a chance to form new relationships. She also began to explore her psychic abilities in a more relaxed way, offering tarot readings and minor predictions for friends. Though she’s hesitant to dive too deeply into her visions, her connection to her psychic father has helped her feel more grounded. At the same time, Nimue struggles with a quiet longing for the ocean and the life she left behind, often taking long swims in the nearby saltwater caverns to clear her mind.

Now, Nimue is torn between the life she’s building on land and the part of her that still feels the pull of the sea. Her dual heritage as a mermaid and psychic reflects her internal conflict: a love of beauty and connection balanced against the unpredictability of her emotions and abilities. While she’s learned to appreciate the little joys of life, like indulging her sweet tooth or helping friends with their personal drama, she sometimes wonders if she’s running from the past or waiting for the right moment to face it. For now, she holds onto the belief that “if it is your calling, it will keep calling you,” quietly hoping that her best moments are still waiting just over the horizon.

[fairywilds]

Nimue tilted her head, catching the flicker of something wistful in Maj’s eyes. “You’re right,” she said softly, her voice gentle. “The sea always knows how to set things straight— if we’re willing to listen. Maybe I’ll drag you along for my next swim. Some ocean therapy might do us both some good, don’t you think?” Her smile turned playful, though her care for Maj was clear.

Maj let out a soft laugh, her smile warming slightly at Nimue’s response. “The sea’s always calling, isn’t it?” she replied, shifting the bag in her hand. “I think a long swim sounds like exactly what you need. Clear your head, recharge. You’ve been working so hard; it’s only fair to let yourself have that.” She tilted her head, her gaze softening as she added, “And hey, if you’re refining your abilities, maybe you’ll discover something new about yourself out there. The ocean always has a way of revealing things, doesn’t it?” There was a flicker of something wistful in her expression before she quickly covered it up with another smile.

[fairywilds]

Nimue’s face lit up as she turned toward Aurelie. “—You want me to be your model? I’m flattered,” she said with a wide grin, already stepping closer. “You know I can’t say no to you. Besides, I could use some dress-up fun today.” She glanced at the dress Aurelie was holding, tilting her head to study it with an appreciative eye. “This looks gorgeous already,” she added. “What kind of alterations were you thinking?" She questioned.

closed starter - aurelie & nimue ( @fairywilds )

Aurelie held up a dress she was working on designing. "Hey," she signed to Nimue, "I need to alter this a bit, care to be my model?"

[fairywilds]

Bael hesitated, the weight of her words hitting him harder than he wanted to admit. He shouldn’t be here— not like this, not after everything. He knew better, knew the scars he’d left behind. “I’m not on a mission,” he said quietly, his gaze softening as he glanced toward her plate again, then back to her face. “I just… ended up here.” He paused, his hands clenching briefly in his pockets before he forced them to relax. “It wasn’t planned," He looked down for a moment, then back up, a flicker of something close to regret passing through his eyes. "...But I’ve found myself chasing the memory of a good breakfast more than once.”

Gemma didn't know why this was happening. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to think about him. She had loved him with everything she had, and that left an ache in the pit of her stomach. "This has always been my spot," she stated. She still held on to her glass, needing something in her hands to keep them occupied. "Of course," she told him. "What, so you're just on a mission to try pancakes from every place in town then?" she asked.

[fairywilds]

Safiya nodded, her fingers curling tighter around the tea mug as if savoring its warmth. “You’re right,” she said. “Calm feels rare these days, doesn’t it? Almost like we have to fight for it, and even then, it’s fleeting.” Her gaze lingered on the person, studying them for a moment before continuing. “But maybe that’s why it’s worth it— because it’s not easy. It’s a reminder to slow down every now and then." She tilted her head slightly, offering a gentle smile. “...What’s been making it hard for you lately?" She questioned, sympathetically.

THE CALMNESS OF A CAFÉ AFTER A LONG SHIFT WAS EXACTLY WHAT SHE NEEDED. so far, she was e n j o y i n g the town. but it did have her on edge. she knew if people figured out what she was, she'd be banished (again) or worse. all she wanted was to be better... do more to help. it shouldn't be this– her inside rant was cut off by a gentle voice. looking over, the woman smiled at the person. pausing from taking another bit from her salad, she spoke. "i was honestly think about how it shouldn't be this hard to have calm moments." her voice was soft, to not interrupt the atmosphere.

[fairywilds]

“Flattery like that, and you’ll have me offering you VIP treatment." Ezra responded. His gaze flickered around the room for a moment, as if considering her question, before returning to her. “My secret, hm? Let’s just say it’s all about knowing the right mix— ambiance, discretion, and a little dash of intrigue,” he explained like it was some fancy drink recipe he'd made a thousand times before. “...People come here to feel like they’re stepping out of their everyday lives, and I'm more than happy to give them a space to be whoever they want to be for the night," Ezra paused, letting the hum of the lounge fill the silence for a moment. "But, maybe that’s the real secret— this place has a way of finding the right kind of people.” He expressed.

Kris couldn’t help but grin at the subtle compliment, lifting her glass slightly in acknowledgment before taking a sip. “First time, yeah,” she admitted, her tone light and conversational. “Figured I’d finally see what all the fuss was about. I’ve heard this place is kind of a hidden gem.” Her gaze swept briefly over the room, taking in the lively yet intimate ambiance before returning to Ezra. “Gotta say, it lives up to the hype. You’ve got something special here.” She leaned her forearm against the bar, her posture relaxed but with a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “So, what’s your secret? A place like this doesn’t just run on good drinks and great lighting. You’ve got a way of keeping people coming back,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “And I’m guessing it’s more than just making sure everyone behaves.”

[fairywilds]

Wolfgang raised an eyebrow at Miles’ remark. “None taken,” he said. “The cemetery’s not exactly everyone’s idea of therapy. Just happens to work for me... something about the dead not talking back, I guess.” He expressed. "Routine or not, everyone has their own way of keeping their shit together, yeah," he admitted. “...The lengths we go to to keep everything from spilling over, at least for a while.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck where the tension was starting to creep in. “As for yelling... hell, maybe I should give that a try. Probably better than bottling it all up.” His tone was tinged with a bit of self-deprecation. “But you— yelling out loud like that? Bet that’s a sight.” He tapped the side of his mug absentmindedly. “—You do that often, huh?" Wolfgang asked.

"Doesn't routine keep everyone together?" Miles asked. A lack of routine caused his own mind to become chaotic. The routine of a job kept him distracted from how he felt about Olivia dating his brother, which was still playing on his mind despite trying to make up with her, "Everybody hates not knowing," he added, thinking of the binder of research he had in his bag which he carried everywhere. He snorted, "If I want to yell at the world, I just yell. I have very little impulse control," he admitted and shrugged, "I don't mind that. To be honest, I'm not sure going to the cemetery would help me all that much. No offense, I know you work there."

[fairywilds]

Salem swallowed hard, nodding quickly as Alec took charge. He could see how steady she was, how her focus didn’t falter even amidst the chaos. It gave him a little more courage. “Okay,” he said, his voice quieter now, but still carrying that same slight edge of panic. “I’ll stay close. I trust you.” He kept his eyes moving, scanning every shadow, every movement. He didn’t trust himself to keep calm— not completely— but Alec’s presence helped and he was thankful he ran into her. “They were with me earlier,” he muttered, “but it’s like everything turned upside down so fast. I didn’t even see where they went.” As they moved toward the back, Salem glanced at Alec’s daggers, feeling a pang of inadequacy. He wasn’t a fighter. His mind jumped back to the scene of the arrows and the screams. His hands started shaking again, and he clenched them into fists, trying to ground himself. “What if…” he started, but his voice faltered. “What if they’re not— what if something’s already happened to them?” His pace slowed for a moment, caught up in his anxiety.

Alec gave a firm nod, her focus unwavering despite the chaos. "Don't worry, I'm not letting us get separated," she assured Salem, her tone steady but filled with resolve. She glanced back at Jon, who was still holding off attackers just a few feet away, and signaled for him to follow as she adjusted her stance protectively in front of Salem. "The back sounds like a good place to start," she said, her eyes darting around the room for any sign of Felicity or Salem’s sisters. "Stick close to us and keep your head down. If anything happens, we’ve got it covered." Alec tightened her grip on the twin daggers she always keeps on her person in her hands, her warrior instincts fully engaged now. She wasn’t just fighting to protect herself; she was fighting for everyone she loved.

[fairywilds]

Salem nodded slowly, leaning against the counter as he absorbed Alec’s words. “I get that,” he said after a moment, his voice was quiet but earnest. “The stories, the meaning behind all of it— I see it every day working here. It’s... beautiful in its own way.” He glanced around the shop, his gaze lingering on a vintage clock ticking softly in the corner. “But sometimes,” he continued, “I wonder if I’m holding on too tightly. Like if I let go of even one thing, everything else might fall apart. Does that make sense?" He questioned. “I mean, it’s not just the stuff in here. It’s... everything. My family, my sisters, the prophecies, even my ex-girlfriend." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "I don’t know how to let some of it go." Salem expressed.

Alec paused for a moment, considering Salem's words as she approached the counter, her gaze drifting over the shelves lined with items that held both history and memories. She set down the box she'd been carrying, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she took in the weight of his question. "Sometimes," she admitted, her voice soft yet steady. "I think about it; about how much of this place, and even what I carry with me, is tied to the past. But..." She shrugged slightly, the movement gentle. "I think it's more about preserving it than being weighed down by it. These things are part of who we are, whether we like it or not. They tell stories. My parents did everything together; ran the clan, the shop, all of it, and I think it’s important to keep that... even if it feels heavy sometimes. It’s like they’re still here in a way," she said as she glanced around the room, a hint of fondness in her expression. "But carrying it all doesn’t mean you have to carry it alone," she added, meeting his eyes. "We’re all in this together, Salem."

[fairywilds]

Aristotle let out a low chuckle, his hand moving instinctively to the back of his head as though to check if it was, in fact, still intact. “Glad to know my watermelon head inspires such mushy feelings,” he teased lightly, though there was a warm sincerity within him. “But really, thanks. Life's been... a trip, lately, I’ll give you that.” He looked out at the park, his expression growing thoughtful. “Running, though... I definitely get that. I've been known to catch a plane when things get too messy," he explained. "But, unfortunately, it's beginning to seem like no matter where I run, I always find new stupid shit to get into." He said.

Kris let out a dry chuckle at Aristotle’s quip, shaking her head slightly as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Alright, you caught me. ‘Fine’ is code for ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ but I guess you’ve got me cornered now,” she replied, glancing over at him with a small smirk of her own. “Still, I feel like you’ve got the better excuse for dodging questions. ‘A head that feels like a smashed watermelon’ isn’t exactly small potatoes.” She looked out over the park for a moment, letting the sounds of the morning fill the space between them before speaking again. “Truth is, I’ve been running more than usual, literally and figuratively... trying to outrun my own thoughts, I guess. Doesn’t really work, but it keeps me moving.” Her tone was light, almost self-deprecating, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in her expression. Turning her gaze back to Aristotle, she added, “And for the record, I’m glad you’re still here, watermelon head and all. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through but do know I'm here if you need anything."

[fairywilds]

Salem took Elena’s hand in a firm but warm shake, his smile softening at her easy demeanor. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. Her mention of Northknot’s ‘magic’ drew a faint chuckle from him. “Oh, it definitely has its own kind of... charm,” he agreed. As she confirmed her plans to stay, Salem nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Well, having family here is a good reason to stick around. My family lives here too." He responded. When she joked about not getting lost, Salem smirked. “You’re right about Main Street being near Town Hall, so you’re safe there. But Northknot can get a little... twisty, if you’re not used to it. If you ever do get turned around, just find someone like me wandering around." He joked.

Elena smiled warmly at Salem, appreciating his enthusiasm. “Italy has its charms, that’s for sure. But sometimes a change of scenery does wonders for the soul,” she said, keeping her tone light and avoiding going into the deeper reasons for her move. “Plus, I’ve heard Northknot has its own kind of magic.” She chuckled softly. When Salem introduced himself, she extended her hand in greeting. “Elena. It’s nice to meet you too.” After a moment’s pause, she added with a grin, “And for now, I’m planning to stay. My sister lives here, so I thought it was time to see what all the fuss was about.” As the line moved forward, she glanced ahead and then back at him. “Thanks for the coffee recommendation by the way. Cool Beans on Main Street,” she repeated, making a mental note again. “I’ll definitely check it out. And yes, Main Street is near Town Hall, right?” Her smile turned playful. “Just making sure I won’t end up lost on my second week here.”

[fairywilds]

Lux laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Fair enough, point taken. No more steamrolling, scout’s honor,” he said with an easy grin. Stepping ahead, he pulled the door open for her with a slight bow. “After you, but I'll have you know I would have held the door even if I wasn't guilty," He assured her. As they entered the cafe, the familiar aroma of coffee and pastries filled the air, and Lux glanced over at her. “—So, what’s your go-to order? Since I owe you one, might as well make sure I get it right. Don’t hold back either; you deserve the fancy stuff after dealing with me.” His tone was teasing, his grin widening a bit as he waited for her reply.

Kris raised an eyebrow at his sudden shift in tone, her initial annoyance softening just a bit. She waved a hand dismissively at the wallet. “It’s not a big deal, really. Accidents happen,” she said, though her voice carried the tiniest hint of playful sarcasm. “And yeah, I’ve got a little time. You don’t have to promise me anything; just maybe try not to steamroll the next person in your rush, alright?” Her lips quirked into a small smirk as she gestured toward the cafe door. “Go on, I’ll join you. I’ll even let you hold the door since you’re feeling so guilty.”

[fairywilds]

Auberon’s faint smile lingered, but it was hard to tell if it was meant for Natalie or some thought only he could see. “Control,” he murmured, “is a leash we hold to keep the beasts inside us tame. But leashes sometimes break, don’t they? And when they snap...” He trailed off, his gaze settling on her, unreadable. “Well, let’s hope you never have to see that.” He turned the ball over in his hands, his fingers brushing the surface. “You say you’re not much of a writer,” he said finally, his tone slow and deliberate, “but words are only the cage. It’s the emotions behind them that matter. Chaos dressed in ink is still chaos... but perhaps it’s easier to make peace with it that way.” Auberon gestured to her journal. “—You guard that closely,” he noted, his voice soft but pointed. “Strange how the things we try to create can feel like they own a piece of us.” He straightened, then tossed the ball back onto the nearby grass behind them. His posture relaxed, “You’re lucky, you know,” he added after a beat. “To have something to wrestle with. It makes us real, doesn't it? Without it, we’re just... empty shells.” He expressed. “Keep writing,” he said, his tone light but oddly weighted. “—Who knows? Maybe one day the journal will write back.” He gave her a slight nod, as though his words were meant to make perfect sense, offering no further explanation.

"Yeah, I guess it is like art. I haven't done much of the art I usually do recently, but I guess this is kind of similar," she agreed. Painting, sewing, drawing... all of it had calmed her in the past, taken her away from it all in a similar way. She just hadn't connected the two before now. "I'd never been much of a writer myself. I love to read, but getting that stuff down in words, even fictional stories, isn't a talent I have. But I guess that's why it's just a journal and I don't let others see it." She didn't have to worry if it sounded good or made sense to anyone else. "Well if there is one thing I know well, it is control. I'm a meticulous planner and can be very annoying when I am trying to bring my plans to life. Just ask my staff. But it is usually for a good reason. At least I tell myself that."

[fairywilds]

“Together, then,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “Stay close. The world is unkind to those who stray.” He moved forward, his steps deliberate and silent. “There’s an art to moving unnoticed," He told her. "Hold your breath when the air feels heavy, and trust that the shadows will favor you.” He hurried with Lilith carefully, his steps quiet, quick, and purposeful. His presence a steady anchor in the whirlwind around them. The sounds of fighting grew louder, then faded, as they weaved through the mess of what had once been a celebration. A sudden movement ahead stopped him in his tracks. He raised his free hand, signaling Lily to pause, and narrowed his eyes at the figure emerging from around the corner. He turned his head slightly toward Lily, his voice dipping into something quieter. “—Get ready to fight, or to run.” He whispered. ( @mcnstercus )

Lily looked at Auberon’s outstretched hand, hesitating for a moment as his words washed over her. The weight of his calm presence steadied her trembling resolve. “You’re right,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. Her fingers brushed against his, taking his hand as she drew in a deep, grounding breath. “Thank you, Auberon. I… I needed that reminder.” Her grip firmed slightly, a spark of determination reigniting in her eyes. “Hen’s counting on me… we can’t lose each other in this chaos,” she said, glancing at the chaos beyond their hiding spot, the screams and sounds of fighting echoing faintly in the distance. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take really, but I won’t stop until we’re all out of here.” Her gaze shifted back to him, gratitude mingling with the faintest glimmer of hope. “Let’s go. Together.” She released his hand but stayed close, trusting his instincts and steady presence to guide her as they ventured back into the fray.

[fairywilds]

Seated at a corner table inside Cool Beans café, Safiya cradled a cup of chamomile tea, its warmth spreading through her fingers. She glanced toward the person nearby and smiled faintly. "...Long day?" she asked, her tone gentle but knowing. "Sometimes I think the hardest part of living here isn't everything that's been happening lately, it's balancing it all and still finding time to breathe," she exhaled. It was nice to find some sort of calm in this moment, even if she wasn't sure it would last. "—What's on your mind tonight?" She questioned.

[fairywilds]

Born to respected psychics in Northknot, Salem Cromwell grew up surrounded by the supernatural. His mother’s talent for mediumship and his father’s solar channeling expertise created high expectations for him from an early age. Salem’s own abilities manifested when he was six years old in the form of unsettling visions, which initially frightened him. This often leaves him juggling the complexities of being a psychic and also his personal issues with anxiety, self-doubt, and his own identity.

Guided by visions that often foretell tragedy, and rarely good fortune, Salem interprets his prophecies as warnings, shouldering the weight of responsibility for preventing misfortune. His tired hazel eyes seem to carry the weight of his prophecies. Though he appears dependable and composed, his inner world is a whirlwind of apprehension, hyperfixations, and small joys that keep him grounded.

As he grew, Salem learned to manage his prophetic gifts, though they often left him drained and anxious. In his teenage years, he developed a love for history and storytelling, which eventually led him to his job as an appraiser at Remember, Remember. Here, he found a sense of purpose in connecting people with objects tied to the past. His day-to-day life often involves blending his unique abilities with his practical work as he's always surrounded by items of magical and mundane history.

However, his life is far from ordinary— he is in training to become the Councilor of Apollo, a prestigious role within the psychic community. His parents, recognizing his unique affinity for solar energy, encouraged him to train for the Councilor of Apollo position. Despite his reservations, Salem agreed, finding solace in the structure and the hope that he could make a difference in the psychic community.

Around this time, Salem’s romantic life took a profound turn when he met an elf he frequently ran into while grabbing coffee. Their relationship blossomed into a deep and meaningful connection, lasting four years. Salem believed she was his soulmate, but their differences— both personal and cultural— eventually drove them apart. Their breakup, just four months ago, left Salem feeling adrift and questioning his belief in fate.

Currently, Salem is balancing his work with the demands of his Councilor training. He’s trying to rebuild his sense of self after his breakup with his ex-girlfriend. Despite his efforts to appear put-together, he’s frequently seen with coffee stains on his shirt and mismatched socks, a testament to his flaws. Salem’s wardrobe alternates between cozy cable-knit sweaters and more practical, vintage-inspired clothing.

His aesthetic is a blend of modern and nostalgic: old skeleton keys collections in boxes back home, vinyl music spinning in the background on an old record player, and retro arcade games lighting up his evenings. He writes in messy cursive in notebooks brimming with cryptic notes, making them look like they're from another era, and some have often called him an old soul. He’s the friend who carries band-aids and offers a listening ear, even when he’s overwhelmed himself.

His catastrophizing tendencies can leave him paralyzed by fear of making the wrong choice. Salem thrives on nostalgia and comfort. He finds solace in vinyl records, retro arcade games, and curling up with a book he’s hyper fixated on. His quirky habits— like laying on the floor when stressed or drinking orange juice straight from the jug— show he's not always put-together as others may assume.