Mafia The Third: The Seaside Town of Aifam Cove

[♥ Azzie]

The dawn was chilly and the fog thick in Aifam Cove that morning, but one person didn't seem to feel it. A young woman was wandering along the sidewalk, looking fascinated with the scenery and smiling vaguely. She was wearing only a long-sleeved t-shirt and soft blue pants with her boots, which would have made anyone looking at her think she was a bit mad, but Calla didn't know this. Compared to her home country, Aifam Cove was pleasantly warm and still, and she couldn't think why all the townsfolk wore thick feather parkas and uncomfortable-looking hats all the time.

She'd only been in town a few days, true, but she was already quite relaxed with navigating the little place. The little brochures were right; it really was the perfect tourist destination. She'd taken a walk every morning since she'd arrived, pleased with the quiet beauty of the place, and found the townspeople- in spite of their overreaction to the cold- a warm and friendly bunch.

Which was why, when she saw a crowd of them outside that lovely tea house, she smiled and started walking over. Just as she raised her hand to wave, though, she stopped.
This was not a happy crowd. This was a panic. She could see the signs easily, hear the frantic notes in conversation. With a knot turning in her stomach, she walked more quickly to the group and braced herself.
It wasn't enough. The sight of anybody dead was disturbing enough, but to see such a gruesome scene as the one that lay before her was too much. Her legs seemed to go numb from shock and she staggered over to the nearest wall to get her bearings.

There was a boy, scarcely more than a child, sitting against the wall and looking sick. Calla thought she knew exactly how he felt. Squatting down, she spoke to him in a thickly accented voice.

"Are you all right?"

[Jayeee]

He was a star. No. Not just any star – he was the star. Reality television was nothing without his presence on the screens of the world. And what a show his was. It was pioneering it's way into the minds of the masses – nobody could possibly have dreamt up such a concept. It wasn't just the everyday show of course. This one was special. Special not just because he was the main attraction, but because both he and it had so much more than anybody else. It was an amalgamation of every reality genre and trope in existence. And it was brilliant.

Travis Richem woke up with an exaggerated yawn, and then gasped with mock surprise. “Oh, hello there,” he said with a wave. “As you can see, I’m just waking up to begin yet another fabulous day.”

His every move was captured for an audience that he just knew was there, even if he'd never seem them before. He was sure that his whole life had been one huge show, and he loved every second of it. Aifam Cove was all completely fictional, just one giant set that he'd been placed into as a baby to entertain the entire world with his hilarious and stunningly handsome antics. And there was quite the cast of extras too, if he did say so himself. Obviously not exciting enough to overshadow his stature, but every single one of them was played by distinguished actors and actresses who never broke from their roles. It was the perfect scene.

Still in his pyjamas, he stepped out of his house and waved again. “Hey guys, it's been quite some time since we took a look around, right? So let's go – this is my crib!” he announced with a flourish of his hands before stepping back inside the way he came.

It was easy really – Travis was made to be in front of the camera. His smile not only bewitched his watchers, but it created that charming mix of cheerfulness and mystery. Perfect for when he got to pick out dates from a line-up. And naturally he never had to pay for anything either – nobody would make the star of a show do something so ridiculous. No, instead it was all part of the television magic. He could just run into a shop and the countdown would begin – because who didn't love a race against the clock to grab groceries? Supermarket Sweep eat your heart out!

Having introduced the nation to his house and given them a teasingly sensual peek at him changing his clothes, Travis stepped back outside for the second time. His neighbour, Linda was collecting her mail.

“Hi Linda, it's a wonderful day,” he called and gave her a bow. He'd dated her once as part of an 'older women can be sexy too' segment he'd come up with, but it didn't work out. They had a dramatic breakup and he slapped her in the face. It was gold.

“For the hundredth time, my name is Mary,” she replied, slamming her mail box closed.

“That's great, Linda, bye!”

Travis walked in front of his neighbour's house and looked straight ahead. “Linda has a severe case of dementia, caused by her abusive husband – it's quite tragic.” He turned back to Linda, who was glaring at him. “Give me those lusting eyes all you want Linda, you know it could never work between us!”

Linda had been a huge success with the audience – he came up with the dementia story overnight, and loved it. He tried it out the next day and it seemed perfect. At least, Linda never complained. “So let's get on down to main street,” he said over his shoulder and continued walking.

He was largely quiet throughout his trip to main street. Sometimes it was better to have a pensive look on his face and just stay silent – it really added to the believability of the whole show.

It didn't take Travis long to reach the main street though, and even less time to notice the crowd that was slowly forming close to the tea shop. He could spot some drama from a mile away – it was in his blood.

“It looks like something is happening,” he said in his announcer voice, and then gasped. “I think I see somebody lying on the floor!”

Travis ran. Ran while slightly turned to the side so that the audience could get a good shot of his disturbed-but-also-sexy-amidst-his-wavy-hair face.

Reaching the actors, he pushed them all aside and ran to the middle; the extras were there to be shoved around by him after all.

“What's all this commotion-” he paused mid sentence for dramatic effect, slowly lowering his gaze to the body in front of him, and then screamed as high-pitched as he could manage. “I CANNOT BELIEVE WHAT I AM SEEING HERE!”

Travis didn't actually know who the woman was, lying on the floor dead. There were so many extras needed to populate Aifam Cove that it was impossible to remember them all. That's why he was so good at making up characters on the spot.

“OH EM GEE,” he screamed, still high-pitched, “How could our precious Amy be dead?! I remember when she used to come to me in secret and talk about her raging alcoholism! And now SHE'S DEAD!” He fell to the ground and sobbed loudly into his hands, making sure to look up every now and again so that the audience could notice his tears clearly.

And then he stopped, stood up and turned around. Confession cams were his favourite part of the show, and he wouldn't miss a single chance.

“It was tragic, sure, but I wasn't all that surprised. I mean, she loved that booze like it was her best friend. Amy was pretty tacky if I’m being honest, but I never wanted her to die. She was like the girl you're secret friends with because she's so ugly that you can't really take her out in public. But I was just overcome with sadness, you know? That ugly face will never look at me again. But guuurl, let me say just one thing: red is definitely not your colour.”

He dropped to his knees and resumed sobbing. It appeared that Travis Richem IN YOUR FACE was about to get a whole new twist.

[Diana]

“Aaauuggh – noo – aaaaugh! I'm hit! I'm hit! I died! Blast it all, I’m dead!”

Winston Teakes jabbed at his controller, eyes narrowed in thinly-veiled fury. On the screen before him, his murderer ran over his character's corpse. This M4sT3rCH13F would pay for his insolence!

He’d been having a fine day owning noobs and generally ruling the roost in the latest Call of Duty's Xbox Live channels, but then this guy had shown up and failed to show the proper deference to a gamer of his caliber. Winston welcomed a challenge, provided they were challenges he ended up winning. This was not turning out to be one of those challenges, and his frustration was mounting. And come on. Master Chief? Wrong game, for Cthulhu’s sake! Nerds!

In a fit of pique, he threw the controller at the Xbox. Unfortunately, this had the effect of hitting the power button and dashing all hopes of timely retribution. He fumed at the blank screen for a few moments, fists clenching and unclenching, before he sighed and drew a hand across his roguishly-tousled sand-blonde hair, completing what surely was a devilishly handsome image. His wrathful judgement upon the dissenter known as M4sT3rCH13F would have to wait.

Winston settled back, propping himself on his elbows. He had a cramp in his leg. His stomach rumbled, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t eaten since he’d before entered his room, which might have been any length of time ago. He briefly rummaged through some empty bags and unearthed a handful of Cheetos, but soon it became dreadfully apparent that he was going to have to go outside.

Not outside as in, outside his room, and therefore away from his Xbox 360, Wii, N64, and Playstations one through three. That was bad enough, but this? This was outside as in... outside.

He grit his teeth. He was a plucky hero and a fierce warrior who'd saved the planet many times, but some tasks were daunting even to him.

Still, he needed… he glanced at the clock. Breakfast? Maybe last night’s missed dinner, too. Had it been last night? Protecting the world and the integrity of Call of Duty's multiplayer channels was demanding work. Stale Cheetos were not a proper breakfast for a lifestyle such as his (didn't heal much hp, either). Cake, on the other hand…

He yanked on a new sweater and snagged his 3DS and PSP before heading out the door. Wouldn’t do to face the outdoors unarmed, and that Shiny Yveltal wasn’t going to hunt itself on Pokemon Y.

So engrossed was he in a mire of cursing and soft resets that he didn’t notice the crowd until he’d bumped right into it. He pushed around a man – he vaguely recognized him as that TV star guy, the one with a ton of lines. Maybe. He couldn't be expected to remember all the NPCs.

“The way, dude. You’re blocking it.”

[icon]

If there's anything I've learned about vices, it's that folks 'round here don't take much stock in 'em. Alcohol? Keep your eyes open, kid, you'd be amazed what kinds of drinks you can have... served under the table. Gambling? Not as prevalent, but that antique store's got an old slot machine that packs a punch. Outside of that, let me tell you, I've got a pack-a-day problem myself...

-pfhhhh-ptak!-

...'Course, as far as addictions go, Firecracker's Minty Fresh Chewing Gum isn't too bad a gig.

I spend a lot of time out here on these old rocks. Most folks just see it as an extra promontory by the sea; hikers come up here during the summer sometimes, but in the winter, the wind and the waves drive them all out. Only the strong last around here, kid. I'll be the first to say that Aifam Cove's a tough town to walk, but someone's gotta-

"Ris!"

-Aifam's a tough beat, but-

"Ris! Something big's going down!"

"But SOMEONE's gotta- oh come on, Coena, way to interrupt my monologue! I'd been working on it all morning, too." The girl in the trenchcoat begrudgingly looked up as the footsteps came closer. She only glanced at the approaching mass of clothes for a few seconds before turning back to her gum. "What's the- pfhhhhhh-ptak! big news, then?"

Coena T. Bhaloid, Ris thought to herself as her informant climbed over the rocks. Poor kid gets dragged here every winter by a well-intentioned dad whose idea of fun consists of alphabetizing his calculators. Come to think of it, Ris observed, she'd never witnessed the kid wearing anything less than several dozen coats, jackets, ski caps, beanies, and scarves at the same time. Presumably there was a body underneath all those clothes, but whoever was underneath was surprisingly good at withholding personal information from the general populace of Aifam. Ris had taken to calling them 'the kid', even though they were probably only a year or two younger than she was.

"Something big happened in town this morning!" came Coena's volume-dampened voice through a half-dozen various scarves, hoods, and mufflers. "Heard it from L'il Gavin that someone got murdered," they added at the end, as if it were an afterthought. 

"Murder? That's a different story, Coen, geez!" Ris was already up on her feet. "I've told you before, anything that falls under the category of film noir is- pfhhhhhh-ptak! -directly up my alley. And by alley I mean Main Street. Aifam Cove doesn't really have a whole lot of alleys." She pulled up her trenchcoat and slid down the rocks, already starting to follow Coena on the pathway back into town.

As I was saying... these days, Aifam Cove is a tough town to walk. Murders, mysteries; the list never ends. But when justice takes the fall, someone's gotta be there to piece together the truth from the rubble.

My name is Ris Monaco. I'm a private eye.

"Ris, you're only, like, fourteen."

I'm a wannabe private eye.

[Avery]

Beatrix had yet to even receive an answer about what was going on when onto the scene stormed one Cheryl Roxanne Lewis. Bea bristled when she saw the reporter, even before the woman turned to the crowd and said far too glibly: "Perhaps... these onlookers can tell us what happened here."

"What do you think happened here!?" Beatrix groused, her head pounding even worse. Ever since an unfortunate undercover investigation Cheryl had headed a few years ago, she and the reporter had not gotten along particularly well. Bea supposed that snapping nastily at the reporter probably wouldn't help mend any bridges, but her social filter was a bit... dulled... on account of her headache and the dang body in the snowbank.

Anyway, it wasn't like Cheryl had much time to reply before suddenly the complete loon, Travis, appeared and settled in front of Enna's corpse. Crazy lout nearly shoved Sister Lucille, who was saying prayers over the body, out of the way and began eagerly narrating for his "viewers" the events of the day. He was calling Enna 'Amy' and... was he sobbing? Bea pressed a hand against her throbbing temple. Most of the time, she liked living in Aifam Cove. It was quiet and people left her alone. But they could also be barking mad, the entire lot of them.

"Kylie," she said, turning to her daughter. "Should we perhaps get out of here before this devolves into a riot?" Then, glancing over at Sister Lucille, she added to the nun: "Maybe Sister Lucille would like to come with us? We have some business to discuss, and everything."

Bea regretted the last sentence before it had even fully escaped her lips. If she'd been any less tired or frightened or annoyed, she wouldn't have risked such a gaffe-- especially not in front of freakin' Cheryl Roxanne Lewis. As if to stop the reporter from lobbing any more questions at her, Bea turned and began striding away, back towards The Stallion. She could only hope that Kylie and Lucille would follow-- and that Cheryl would not.

[Diana]

"Huh? Oh." Winston managed to shove his way to the front of the gaggle and found himself not at the cake store, but in front of a dead body. This was displeasing, as he was on a mission for cake and not dead bodies.

On the other hand, this was clearly either a quest or a scripted encounter, so he’d probably get some XP if he interacted with the townsfolk.

But they were all seriously overreacting. Had none of them ever run out of health before? He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, of course, but he’d had to resort to some save-scumming in his illustrious career as The Chosen One. Not in recent history, of course. That was back when he'd been a newbie.

"What's the fuss? Did she have good loot on her or something? I once pked a Guthix Platebody off some dude in the Wilderness," he added. "Awesome stuff. The kid threw such a hissy over it, too. I pretended like I was gonna give it back to him and then cancelled the trade. Priceless!"

[PFA]

Professor Leland G. Bardsley liked it in Aifam Cove. It was so full of character—during the summer, the tourists would come flocking, and they were always such an interesting pack. During the winter, you just had the locals, who were a colorful bunch in and of themselves. Professor Bardsley always found people so fascinating. After all, why else would he have gotten into anthropology?

He had lived here ever since he had been hired for a teaching position at the local college. It was much easier than commuting, especially since the Prettyboy College was close enough to his house that he could get there with time and to spare. He often liked to take a stroll through the town before class, to admire the scenery, and usually to stop by the Starlight Teahouse for a refreshing cup of tea. It was a popular spot, where quite the crowd would gather in the morning.

Today, though, it seemed quite the crowd was gathering at the cake shop next door. Apparently, some unfortunate young woman had been murdered. By the mafia, if he had to guess. There had already been rumors of mafias coming to their tiny town, but they had never murdered anyone before. Professor Bardsley, however, was not terribly surprised by this sudden twist. After all, if there really were mafias in their town, it was really only a matter of time before it came to this.

"Come now, everyone, try to remain calm," he spoke up, managing to stay collected through the chaos. "It won't do us any good to crowd around the poor woman's body. Clearly this incident needs to be properly investigated."

[RielCZ]

The sound of bustling commotion woke the mid-twenty-something. "Odd," he remarked. Usually, his alarm set for noon would prompt his daily mattress withdrawal, and only after repeated hits of the snooze button.

Rilen Forsythe, a lifelong resident of the mainland, had been staying in Aifam Cove since Christmas. But, he wasn't totally unfamiliar with the town, or his accommodations; the house athwart the school on Stalberry Road had belonged to his childless Great Aunt Matilda, and he and his sister paid annual visits to their aunt and the island in his youth. Part of every summer from Grade 2 to Grade 8 was spent here; then, he was sent to a prestigious boarding school. 

Graduating with 80%'s, he attended a university further south, deciding to study Engineering. There, he came to realize he had a talent for sand-boarding; boarding down dunes of sand. It was a "most excellent" sport.

Long story short; he got bored, flunked out, and returned to the city where he grew up. Working a series of odd and menial jobs throughout the next 5 years, Rilen managed to pay for food, monthly rent for a nice little apartment too far from anything really exciting, and even some leisure. Every once in a while he'd fly south and meet up with some old sand-boarding buddies... but they often paid for half the airfare in addition to accommodation.

A lot of his friends were wealthy; many had successfully graduated with an engineering degree. But, he refused to correlate the two facts.

Regardless...

Lora, his much more lucrative sister - she had some government job now, or something - had inherited the Aifam Cove abode from Aunt Matilda two years previous. Though she tried, the first year, to live there all year 'round, she found the winter much too harsh and vowed to only let the place be a summer home.

Score for Rilen! In the fall, she contacted him and asked if he wouldn't mind guarding the place for a few of the colder months; there was word of some illicit activity in the area, and she wanted the place protected... at the very least lived in. He agreed; after all, she'd supply the food, and he got a free place out of it. 

In addition, the beach held hills of snow... perhaps he could hone snowboarding in addition to sand-boarding? Maybe, with all his free time, he'd make that his goal. 

But first on today's agenda, there was the matter of scouting out the source of that commotion... Rilen put on his thick winter parka the morning of Jan. 2 and, grabbing his sand-turned-snowboard, left the house and walked down Stalberry Road and toward Fork Street. Soon, he turned onto main. 

Whatever was happening down there, a huge number of people were part of it. He walked a bit closer. There were clearly cameras and... someone on their knees wailing?

He shrugged; he really didn't want to get involved, and he'd find out about whatever it was later on through the news. Lora had replaced Aunt Matilda's ancient set of bunny-ears with a state of the art flat-panel; an added bonus.

So, Rilen continued toward the beach and the hills, his board in hand.

He paused... he could have sworn he heard someone yelling... maybe even for help.

Meh. It probably just came from the crowd on Main, if it was anything at all. 

[Draco]

((Note, for those who don't get it at first, Italic font is inner thoughts.))

Jack looked down and stared at the body. At this point he figured his routine for the day was ruined.

"Putting the tea shop being closed to the side. It looks like we need to do something about this body. The police won't be coming. They are currently on their yearly vacation. Which leaves no one to propery investigate."

He scans the crowd and spots Dakota.

"PINK PINK BUBBLEGUM PINK!!!!"

"You there. Morgue person. Cover the body and prepare to take her away for safe keeping. The snow can only do so much.  If you can do it, take a quick note on cause of death as well.  It's the best we can do for now."

Looking down the street he looks to Town Hall.

"Meanwhile I will go tell the mayor. If anyone would like to join me, they may. Just be aware that the Mayor is a important person and will not see any of you. I however, can speak to the mayor and for you."

He sets off walking down the street, with or without anyone following.

[Kozma]

Needless to say, Enna Tweff had been murdered. Looking around, Aaron could see many familiar faces; he saw Lindsey Lukas, Enna’s coworker at Everington Cakes Unlimited, shaking in horror and disbelief over the death. He saw Sister Erata praying over the deceased. Assistant mayor Jack Smith was making demands for Dakota Allen, a worker at the morgue, to remove the body and note the cause of death. He then stated that he inform the mayor of the murder.

“If anyone would like to join me, they may,” Jack announced. “Just be aware that the Mayor is a important person and will not see any of you. I however, can speak to the mayor and for you."

Aaron wasn’t too fond of Jack, given how the assistant was always so arrogant and smug due to his position.

Aaron noticed Travis Richem crying crocodile tears over Enna. No doubt the looney was acting out for the cameras that he imagined were watching him. Speaking of cameras, Aaron also noticed the Channel 24 News camera nearby; it was focused on newswoman Cheryl Lewis who was announcing the murder to the town’s televisions.

Trixie, meanwhile, noticed the snowman in front of the teahouse. It was a rather ordinary snowman with stick hands, coal eyes and a carrot nose, but in Trixie’s eyes it was a witness. She saw that same snowman yesterday sitting in the exact same spot and position – it never moved at all overnight. Thus it had to have seen the murder occur and thus it should be able to identify the culprits behind the deed.

Or not. Trixie tried to interrogate the snowman but as I stated earlier, she didn’t talk - neither did the snowman. Unfortunately, Trixie could not get any information from the snowman this way thus she came to a dead end in her little investigation. It was highly unlikely that anyone else would have the sense to interrogate this witness so she decided she would commit a little crime of her own.

She stole the snowman’s nose.

She happily munched on the snowman’s orange sniffer as she returned to Aaron. He was looking for her as he had noticed that she was no longer by his side. It was a real shame that Trixie was easy to lose in the snow.

“Darn it, Trixie,” Aaron scolded “you should not be disappearing on me like that - you had me worried!”

Aaron picked up Trixie; he wondered where she got the carrot.

Oh, I did mention that Trixie was Aaron’s magical rabbit?

[Selm]

Entranced in their bitter nostalgia, Khiran Chander didn't notice what road they were walking down. They would have turned heel if they knew the Starlight Teahouse was just ahead. Too much risk of running into the band—well, ex-band there, and they didn't feel like reliving the memories of past gigs. But by the time they'd realized where they were standing, they'd already caught sight of the crowd of townsfolk huddling outside the entrance of Everington Cakes Unlimited, and they were too curious to turn back.

Their first thought was that one of their old bandmates had decided to go the route of solo acoustic artist and attracted a large audience of listeners. At this, their heart sank. There was once a time when the four of them spoke about the golden days sometime in the future, after they'd managed to make it big. They were all supposed to have achieved their dreams together as best friends, and spend their years of fame talking about their college days and laughing at how they used to bring guitars to parties and pretend the touristing teahouse customers had come to Aifam just to hear them play. But things had since changed.

They approached the cluster of people hesitantly, but as they got closer the only music they heard was the crowd's frantic murmurring. They sensed an air of tense paranoia that was almost entirely foreign to the peaceful town... save for when there was talk of the mafia. A foreboding feeling overshadowed them and pushed all thoughts of old bandmates and lost friends from their mind. Had something happened concerning the mafia? Had they vandalized the cake shop? The blood pumping underneath Khiran's dark skin began to boil against the January chill as they thought about how kind Enna had always been to them, how hard-working and respectable. They knew that En had been on edge about the mafia lately(who wasn't?), worried about the business being a possible target for vandalism. She didn't deserve to have to clean up the mess after a midnight break-in.

Khiran's face fell as they considered how devastated she would be to arrive at work only to see a mess of window glass and cake, especially that she appeared to already be late—the cake shop was usually open by now. But perhaps they were getting ahead of themself. Maybe the crowd was looking not at the aftermath of a burglary, but a clue to the mafia's identity, a dropped identification card, a gang symbol. Anything. They stood a few inches taller than the average height, but the crowd was still too thick and too antsy to properly see past. They squinted their eyes against the spider-leg strays of their unbrushed black curls, but could see nothing.

Their jaw tightened in agitation, and they decided to take a different approach. They crouched down at the crowd's ankles, boots crunching against clean snow and ears of their woollen hat swinging like soft pendulums at either side. They searched the spaces in between the legs of the huddle and saw the scene in jagged fragments: some snow dyed red(perhaps the mafia had broken into storage and stolen the food colouring?), a metal ring of keys sprawled out(whose were those?), a hand with fingers curled like the legs of a beetle left to shrivel on its back in the sun...

Khiran's heart pounded as the scene before them began to register. No... that wasn't... it couldn't be... it couldn't be En, could it? Why was she lying there in the snow? Was she okay? Why was everyone gathered around her and gawking like she was nothing but a landmark? Why wasn't anyone calling an ambulance?

Because she's dead. Khiran hated to let themself even think those words in their head, but they knew it was true. Enna is dead.

"Come by later at closing time!" she said with a grin, a mischievous spark in her eyes. "I've got a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Khiran asked curiously. "What kind?"

"Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?" She winked. Khiran couldn't help but find themself smiling at her mysterious enthusiasm, despite their confusion.

"Don't forget!" she called over her shoulder as she was leaving, followed by the echo of a light-hearted chuckle.

Those words tugged gently at the back of Khiran's mind for the remainder of the day, like someone playfully pulling the sleeves of a sweater on someone they love. When closing time came and the last pale slivers of amber sun began to disappear beneath the ocean, Khiran made their way down Main Street with their mind racing. They knocked three times at the shop's door, shifting their weight in the small path leading up to the entrance. "Door's open!" A distant voice invited from inside.

Khiran pushed the door open tentatively, listening to the entrance bells twinkle throughout the shopfront. "I'm glad you made it," En called from the back room. "I was worried I'd have to keep this here overnight and I didn't want it getting mixed up with the stock."

A few moments later she came out of the room holding a dark tray with a polished glass lid, containing within a thick vanilla cake coated in white icing. A cornflower blue frosting spiralled around the border, with music note sprinkles scattered generously throughout. In smooth, elegant curves, the text in the center read: "Congrats on your first gig!" with a candle in the shape of a guitar resting below. Khiran looked at the dessert sitting on the table before him and then up at Enna. "You serious?"

"'Course I'm serious! You and your friends have put so much energy into this band of yours, and I really admire your passion. You guys deserve it. No need to thank me," she added.

"Wow. I... wow. That's so wicked sweet of you, En. I totally owe you. I don't really know what to say but I know the band's gonna love scarfing this down," they stuttered.

Enna waved her hand dismissively. "It's nothing, really. I have to close up shop now, but you're welcome back any time. See you around."

"Yeah," Khiran stumbled, slinging their backpack over one shoulder and taking the cake with both hands. "Yeah, totally. Thanks so much again. Stay cool."

They went home that night and immediately assembled the rest of their bandmates. They spent the entire night eating cake and smoking and drinking and laughing and practicing for their upcoming gig in the form of screwing around and playing with the apartment's new Xbox. They showed up to class completely wasted and all four of them ended up bombing the final. It had been one of Khiran's fondest memories and one they had held onto dearly for over a year now. Up until recently, at least.

Enna is dead.

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

A breeze blew by, carrying the salty sea air directly to Alma as if it had willed it.

"Huh...?" Mrs. Fitzgibbon stirred. The air was chilly, yes, but it carried an element of peace on the windward side. Wrapping her scarf around her neck, she found strength return to her nerve-weakened muscles. She would be strong. Her fears would not restrict her. She was not some hapless tang blindly wandering into an anemone. She was going to find her missing daughter.

And yet...fear almost drowned her. Talk of mafias had sprung up like kelp all over Aifam Cove. That wouldn't stop her. She'd take care of her pseudo-children while continuing to search. She wouldn't be reduced to going sick.

Alma shakily rose from the doorway, turned around, and locked it with confidence, having been renewed by the sea once again.

Nothing had changed, though. Her lower back ached as if algae clung to it, her husband was working, she was housekeeping and taking care of all of the pets, and there were people screaming and running.

So naturally, she was more than a little curious as to what was going on.

Cradling her lower belly--vomiting so early in the morning hurt, after all--she slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and walked briskly towards Aifam Accounting. She did not feel very much like having breakfast.

She saw the crowd hovering over Enna's body and ice ran up her spine. Alma turned away, not bearing to look and throw up again in front of everyone.

"Now...I'm sure it won't happen again." She whispered to the crowd, but also to herself.

"Meanwhile I will go tell the mayor. If anyone would like to join me, they may. Just be aware that the Mayor is a important person and will not see any of you. I however, can speak to the mayor and for you."

Alma whirled around. "Wait!" she cried. "You say you can speak to the mayor for someone? Look, I need help...It...it's my daughter, Lynna. She didn't come home from school just before Christmas break. I'm sure you already know, but..." Alma trembled. Now was not a good time for the police to simply leave. The town needed help and so did she. "Can the mayor help with that? I haven't heard in several days. I know the mayor's busy but--" Images of a little girl smiling while being held in the water--she'd never been good at swimming--flashed through Alma's head. "I'm coming with you." Glancing at a bunny nibbling on a carrot, she shivered and ran after Jack.

It reminded her of a book she'd read to Lynna about a sort of vampire rabbit who sucked vegetables limp...

Worry gnawed at her nerves. "It won't happen again, it won't happen again..." she kept muttering to herself as the distance between Alma and Enna Tweff grew ever so slowly...

[Kristykimmy]

Anna had barely had time to learn that Enna was dead in the snow just across the street before things got even more chaotic. The news van showed up and so did Travis Richem. She shook her head in disgust at his antics. She'd lived in town for only five years, and she at least knew Enna's name. She figured he was insane, but it only helped her forgive his bizarre antics so far.

Looking at the red snow surrounding the body under the tarp made her feel cold. Enna had been killed right across the street from where Anna lived. She had slept peacefully while only a few yards away, someone had killed poor Enna and left her in the snow.

“I, I should do something,” Anna said aloud and uncertainly, wondering what she could do to make anything better in the face of such a tragedy.

Her eye was caught by the flower shop at the end of the street. She would get some flowers for Lindsey, that was the girl who worked with Enna, wasn't it? She'd also put in an order for flowers to put on Enna's grave whenever they buried her.

She reached into her pocket, making sure her wallet was in there, as she made the short walk down Main Street to Seeds of Love. She pushed open the door, stepping from the frosty morning into a soft, humid warmth. She looked around at the flowers, they were all gorgeous. She bought live flowers from here sometimes to spruce up the shop, and she kept Orchids for her own pleasure in her kitchen and living room.

Miko Shamen was watering plants while watching the news, despite the fact that it was happening live just down the street. But, Anna supposed, there were enough people out there already, and it was much warmer in here.

“Hello, Miko,” Anna called. “I suppose you're watching the news. Dreadful, isn't it? Anyway, I'm here on business, what would be proper to send to the poor girl who worked with Enna?”

[Chao]

For all that she lived such an extraordinary life, the morning routine of Siddhi Khaoti was as ordinary as could be. Get up, frequent the bathroom and watch a bit of TV over the first cup of tea of the day.

There were several reasons, why Siddhi's life would considered extraordinary. First of all she was a painter. A rather good painter, considering that she was able to make a living off her art. She specialised in seascape paintings of the impressionistic variety, which was what had brought her to Aifam Cove a few years ago and since the sea was exceptionally pretty here, she had stayed. In summer she sold most of her pictures at a local souvenier shop, in winter through an online platform.
Second point of extraordinariness - at least in a place such as Aifam Cove, was that she was of Indian descent. Her grandparents still lived in good old Amritsar... And while Siddhi herself had adopted a lot of the western traits of the country she was born in, she still preferred the colourful clothes of her forefather's country. As such, she could easily be considered a colourful oddity, being seldomly seen in anything other than the Shalwar Kameez and the Dupata, that was customary for the North-West of India.
And last but not least she was mute since birth. A genetic defect. Which was perhaps the reason, why her family was quite supportive regarding her somewhat unusual choice of career and not all that pushy when it came to marriage. At 25 Siddhi was considered on the brink of spinsterhood where Indian families were concerned, but while Siddhi was not against marriage per se, all candidates her parents had presented to her had been lacking. Either they had backed out as soon as they learned that she was mute, or they had known it but had expected her to be of a meek personality and had backed out as soon as they found out that she was rather selfassured and anything but meek. The people of Aifam Cove however had been surprisingly accepting, even if Siddhi would either sign or write answers, or not answer at all, because her hands were occupied by her paint brushes - which they were quite often.

As was her custom, the first channel to check out on the TV was the local news station. Not that anything exciting ever happened here, but that was o...
What? Someone had been murdered? Siddhi gasped, though of course no sound escaped her throat. How horrible! Shuddering she finished her tea, then walked out to see the place for herself. She knew that it was perhaps not right, but she also knew that she wouldn't be able to paint anything this day if she had not seen it with her own eyes.

[Rosalie Dylas (Maddy)]

Too many voices. So many voices. Too many people. Christopher wanted to hide in his bed. Although the bed that came to mind wasn't the one at Dakota's house but the one far away in his little apartment. It was his go to bed he supposed. It was home. Dakota's house was nice, but it wasn't home. He didn't miss home that much, only when he wanted to hide under the covers. Everyone needed to talk one at a time. Everyone was talking over everyone else and he couldn't decipher who was who and who was different from another person and it was making his chest clench up. Hearing was all he had it was the only way he could know what was going on around him.

Someone was dead. Enna... or Amy. Someone. They were definitely dead. The mafia. Or mafias. They wouldn't be quiet forever and they started killing.
Someone who worked for... Everington Cakes.
That was a fun day when he had first heard there was an Everington Cakes in town. Fun being sarcasm. His breathing had become impossible, he had started to shake. Thankfully no one was around to bother him. He managed to shake it out. But he heard his voice echoing in his head. Voices were one of the only things Christopher had, and boy did that man like to talk. He was a little annoying but he hadn't deserved to...
The workers seemed to wonder what his fate was, Christopher could tell them, but he didn't. Not like they'd believe him. No one ever did. Doubt it would be much comfort to them anyway.

Maybe Everington cakes had a curse on them. Or maybe it was him. Death seemed to follow him around. He should have died on the ship sinking into the ocean. He should have died when he wandered into the street with traffic speeding towards him. But he didn't. It was exhausting.

If there was a body then...they had to get it somewhere safe. To the morgue, Kota worked at the morgue they'd get the body there and it'd be safe. Away from people who'd want to...

You're such a good cook, Christopher

Don't think about that. Don't think about that.

He looked towards the voice that asked if someone was alright. He assumed the voice was asking him seeing how close it was. They voice sounded very different from the other voices around.

"I'm alright." he said, but his voice shaked. Way to go Christopher, you sound super alright. Though saying you were alright was more of a thing you did. You say you're alright even though you aren't. He wasn't alright, he wanted to be, he wanted to pretend he was ok. But everyone was going to die. And not in a sense of everyone eventually dies, it was a very close problem. Maybe... Maybe it was a fluke, maybe it was a one time thing. Maybe everything would be alright. Maybe he wouldn't be lying. Maybe him and Kota would take the body and keep it safe and everything would be alright. He just had to tell himself that, everyone was going to be alright.