Mafia The Third: The Seaside Town of Aifam Cove

[Avery]

Indeed, Sister Lucille and Kylie followed after Bea as the woman headed back towards the inn.

"Of course, Ms. Devon. I would be glad to listen to you concerning any spiritual matters you may...have..." said Sister Lucille-- before the nun's eyes fell instead on Kylie, and compliments about Bea's daughter began falling from Lucille's lips.

Bea twitched as Kylie blushed furiously and started stuttering responses to the nun. She knew her daughter well enough to know that the girl wasn't one who got tripped up, usually, when it came to talking-- Kylie was quiet, but articulate. She held her own in most social exchanges. But now... Bea stared at her daughter. Apart from just her flustered words, the girl's body mannerisms, too, were telling: the way she rolled her shoulders and fiddled nervously with her bright hair, how she was smiling at Lucille like the nun's compliment was the best thing she'd ever heard.

Bea's twitch turned into a bristle. She knew that by Kylie's age, some kids were involved in serious relationships, but Kylie had always been... different. Not that she hadn't had those requisite crushes during high school, but she'd always been so busy helping Bea with the inn and tending to the horses that she hadn't been involved in anything serious. Which had been fine by Bea. If she could have had it her way, her daughter would have remained sweet and innocent forever. So the way she was blushing and smiling at Lucille... and Lucille was ladling on the compliments...

Bea really needed a drink.

"Sister," she said to the nun. "I'd like to place an order with you. My usual. And if you could deliver to me as soon as possible..." Her voice trailed off; her head started to pound even worse. This was all too much! First the murder, then Kylie swooning over this woman. She felt dizzy and flushed, despite the frigid winds.

"Are you okay, Mother?" Kylie asked.

"Yes, yes, of course, Lenore."

Kylie frowned. "Lenore?"

"No, I meant--" Bea's stomach clenched. No. As much as she did not want to leave her daughter alone with Sister Lucille, Bea had to get away. At this point, they were only about a block from The Stallion; if she picked up her pace, Bea knew she could be in its comforting, familiar confines within a few minutes. And... no matter how much she disliked the googly eyes her daughter was giving Lucille, and vice versa, Bea trusted the nun. Their business relationship-- illicit as it was-- necessitated such a trust. And so if these mafias had escalated to murder... well, at least Kylie would be safe with Lucille.

"Come by the inn later and let me know when my order will be in," Bea murmured to Lucille. "And Kylie-- please stay safe, dear. Promise me."

As Kylie promised, Bea nodded and then nearly ran the rest of the way to The Stallion.

SPOILER: Click to show

Narrator Note: Round one (and the first player death) will occur on Monday afternoon. At this time, the story will have a time skip to the morning after Enna's death-- specifically, at Enna's funeral. Therefore, if you've any pressing business your character needs to attend to before then, make sure you get to it before Monday!

[Ginz ❤]

Lindsey had quickly looked away from Enna. She couldn’t handle seeing her like that. She was still in denial about the whole thing. She embraced Nathan for a moment and stayed as close as possible to him. Her twin’s presence comforted her a bit.

"Everybody, come inside for some tea, warm up and we discuss things further, and we can reflect on Enna's life," said Nathan. Lindsey thought that was a great idea, and said nothing, but she started following her brother inside.

"I'm sorry Linds," he said as they made their way into the teahouse. "I'll make you some Sirensong tea, your favorite."

Lindsey nodded, grateful. Sirensong tea was her favorite blend Nathan made, and it never failed to lift her spirits. She could definitely use a cup, or five.

But right before she stepped into Starlight Teahouse, Lindsey glanced back at the scene where her co-worker and friend had lost her life, and someone amongst the crowd caught her eye. Khiran, one of Enn’s best friends, was crouched down in the snow.

“Uh… Nathan?” she said, turning to her twin “Go ahead, I’ll join you inside in a bit.”

She made her way to where Khiran was and gently put a hand on their shoulder. “Hey,” she said softly.

Lindsey wasn’t very close to Khiran, but she knew them well enough through everything Enna told her about them, and by the moments they’d all spent together. Enna had been a link between them, and she felt the need to talk to them, because if there was anyone who understood what she was feeling, it was probably them.

There was some awkward silence, but finally, Lindsey was able to mutter, “would you like to have a cup of tea with me?” She wasn’t sure her offer would go over well, but she had to try.

As she awaited Khiran’s reply, a memory of her former boss Thomas Everington flashed through her head. She could almost hear his voice telling her, “You have to try, Lindsey, you always have to try. That’s why I try every endangered species at least once! Most often than not, they’re delicious!”

He had been infuriating most of the time, but maybe, just maybe, she missed him a bit.

[Birdy]

Hermia Smith had always had a nose for news. From the time she was a child, one of her favourite activities was waking up early, and reading the newspaper with her father in the morning. It had been tradition. Her love for the written word is most likely what inspired her to become a journalist. She started out small, but eventually worked her way up through the ranks, with promotions leading to transfers, and so on. Her best transfer by far, though, would have to be the transfer to Aifam Cove.

She’d always loved the place. Her family vacationed there every summer when she was a child, for as long as she could remember. So actually getting a job there was a dream come true.

Before the transfer, she’d visited as often as she could, finding any excuse to write a story about the place. (“Oh, readers will want to know about that festival coming up in March or April - you know, the one where they celebrate their Lord 'Woo’s defeat of the Grim Reapwoo,” she’d claim. Or, “But Boss! Our readers will surely want to hear about how beautiful their nature trails are beautiful this time of year. Don’t we need a story about that?” she’d plead. Anything to return. Any reason she could come up with, no matter how absurd.)

But now, she was living here; working at Channel 24 News Studio & Associates (with the newspaper being the “Associates” part).

Despite having moved to Aifam Cove back in the late spring, she hadn’t exactly found a permanent place to live yet. Instead, she’d taken up residence in The Stallion Inn – the place she always stayed when she came to Aifam Cove. (She even got her usual room; thank goodness she’d thought to call ahead and reserve it before the influx of summer tourists.)

She’d been glad once the tourists had left for the summer, however – and so had her cat, Puck. (He detested the screaming, grabby children who constantly tried to pet him or pick him up. As a result, he often stayed in Hermia’s room or sulked in the stables.)


On the morning of the murder, Hermia Smith woke up to find her cat sleeping soundly on her chest – his bottom naturally pointed at her face, as cats are so wont to do.

After awkwardly sitting up and removing the now-awake-and-glaring cat, Hermia slipped out of bed and walked over to the dresser, digging around it for some clothes to wear for the day: black jeans, grey t-shirt, blue denim jacket. After changing out of her nightclothes into her daytime clothes, she slipped on her socks and sneakers and ran a brush though her short black hair. It was time for breakfast.

She exited her room (making sure to close the door so Puck could not escape), and headed to the dining room to find something to eat.

As she popped a bagel into the toaster, her attention flicked to the TV in the room, which was running some prerecorded story about the history of Everington Cakes. Eh, nothing new. She’d seen that segment so many times over the summer she had it memorized.

The toaster had by now completed its job, and so she plucked the bagel out of it while mouthing along to the history being expositioned as she spread cream cheese over its toasty surface.

The dining room was empty, save for her, so she had her choice of seats. Holding the bagel in her mouth, she poured herself a glass of orange juice as the television switched to some sort of live news coverage – Hermia wasn’t really paying close attention.

Or she wan’t, at least, until one word jumped out at her.

Death.

“…a tragic accident that left blood smeared across the snow,” the reporter was saying, “or - I may need to retract my earlier statement regarding the vandals having found holiday spirit.”

The glass of orange juice Hermia had been holding slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, shattering on impact and sending shards and juice spilling everywhere.

As the reporter continued on, Hermia finally managed to find her voice, albeit muffled by the bagel.

“Well, crap.”

[Alyssa]

BOOM!

A small shop building shuddered as the sound of an explosion disrupted the previously calm morning. The front door slammed open, allowing clouds of thick purple smoke to spill out. A woman staggered through the strange gas, coughed violently as her lungs tried to get rid of the bad air, and collapsed face first into the snow. A silvery cat with an oddly mechanic-looking gait followed after her and settled himself under a nearby tree. A disgruntled mockingbird swooped down low to scold her for disrupting his breakfast, but she was apparently too dazed to notice his shrieking calls. After lying uncomfortably still for a few minutes, the woman had recovered enough to sit up shakily. She looked around and, noticing the cat sitting close to her, addressed it in a slightly breathless voice.

“Fritz,” she wheezed. “I think it worked!”

----

Dr. Marie Robinson was an extremely clumsy and scatterbrained ex-rocket scientist turned common inventor. Marie had moved to Aifam Cove only recently after retiring from her career as the engineer in charge of developing a very important secret weapon for the government. She’d been forced to retire after a particularly nasty accident involving an industrial sized vat of explosives and a handful of Goldfish crackers. Because of the severe injuries sustained from the incident, Marie had been unable to work and had been fired from the project. She’d traveled for as long as she could on the money she had saved, and eventually had to settle in Aifam.
The sole reminder of her previous life was a robot cat named Fritz. He was the prototype of the project she had been working on; she had managed to smuggle him home from work before she was fired. Fritz was Marie’s sole companion. When she opened a small repair shop in town, Fritz also served as her assistant when she had a particularly tricky job to finish. Marie and her cat lived fairly comfortably because of her business, and she was even able to begin some inventing of her own on the side, though that often didn’t turn out well.


-----

Marie crawled over to the tree under which Fritz was sitting and pulled herself to her feet. Her experiment had been a success! She couldn’t exactly remember what she’d been testing for, but anything that resulted in such a cool explosion had to be pretty great. She leaned against the tree and thought fondly about her greatest experiments until her stomach let out a fierce growl. In the excitement of a new discovery, Marie hadn’t remembered to eat for the past day a half. She decided to celebrate her success and silence her stomach at the same time by buying a cake for breakfast. Either unaware or unfazed by the fact that she looked like she’d just run through the middle of a purple tornado, she headed off in the direction of the tea shop.

[Coaster]

Sometimes, chromosomes go terribly wrong.

"Why, ain't you an interesting little fella-AAAAH!!"

As the birth papers were begrudgingly signed by the then-bleeding doctor, little Fella C. (the initial being the name they would have intended for the human child they were expecting) officially became a member of the Rapture family.

His formative years were fairly good--after all, everyone loves dinosaurs--and after graduating top of his class from grade school, he successfully entered into the prestigious philosophy department of a university that must remain undisclosed for legal reasons.

(He never managed to get much done, as nobody was particularly certain of his species, and the professors spent much of the lecture time babbling about whether he was indeed a velociraptor--according to the physics majors--"Or perhaps a struthiomimus," said the biology majors.)

Fella was forcefully expelled after an incident that involved an evening study group, projectile bananas, and running into through a Windexed picture window. Save for the window and much of the library, none were seriously injured. (Philosophy majors are pretty emotionally resilient, to boot.)

Thus began the swift downward spiral that used to be his promising career as he rebelled against his parents, became addicted to eggs*, donned the leather jacket, and ran away from home, spending many months as a drifter, living on the edge. By the time he repented of his ways and collapsed in Aifam Cove, he was unrecognizable, having gone almost completely bald**--perhaps as punishment for blaspheming The Most Blessed Feathered One in a bar somewhere--and no longer had any money, reputation, or family rapport with his parents. Fortunately, one thing he had discovered as a drifter was a previously hidden, yet enduring love for cinematography.

SPOILER: Click to show

*(practically cannibalism from an evolutionary standpoint)
**(not like anyone would find it odd, because stereotypically velociraptors don't have feathers, and many biologically similar dinosaurs didn't)

His last chance at success was to enrol accordingly at the local Prettyboy College.

Fella presented an elaborate portfolio exploring cultural views towards body image juxtaposed with a combination of the "selfie" phenomenon and one of his childhood delights, search-and-find books.

Sadly, he didn't meet the enrolment requirements, being not technically human and, as he was told in detail in less plain terms, not pretty.

Despite the heartbreak, he was inspired by a magic show that had happened to pass by as he headed back down the road from the college that summer; Fella now knew he was destined to venture into the wide-open realm of espionage and independent film visual effects, and so he resolved to somehow purchase the nearest building, despite his severe lack of funds.

The nearest building happened to be 10 Main Street, a decrepit garage with holes in the stucco, rocks and litter throughout the yard, a dirt patch that passed for a parking lot, a short, red-capped hoodlum standing conveniently next to the door, and most infamously, a halfway-screwed plate with a sideways one and upside-down zero.

This was it--the place where dreams were woven, where his future would come back to life, where his destiny would finally be fulfilled!

Fella hurried to city hall nearby and sauntered up to the counter.

"I'd like to purchase, uh... building negative zero."*

SPOILER: Click to show

*(The name stuck.)

--> "SHRIEK-mrgrrgll-SQUAWK-SHRIEK!"*

SPOILER: Click to show

*(Debate class was never Fella's strong suit.)

SPOILER: Click to show

((as you may infer, the pointy arrow is what he actually says))

The receptionist backed away, and Fella followed the kind person into a back room (incidentally, in a town that small, perhaps the only room other than the lobby and meeting area); the receptionist offered him a very good deal on the property, and was even nice enough to send some townsfolk down shortly afterwards to welcome him, though at first, they didn't seem to be as friendly as the civil servant was. Go figure.

Business was surprisingly nimble, perhaps due to the indie film effects side project and his cheerful secretary*, the short, bearded, portly man who had been standing by the door that fateful day and always insisted on wearing a pointed red cap wherever he went.**

SPOILER: Click to show

*(as Fella's writing never did manage to look like anything other than a chicken scratch)
**(except on Casual Fridays, of course, but Fella happened to have Fridays off)

Besides, people always seemed to enjoy dealing with the spry fellow, even though the man was ever the strong, silent type, and furthermore, didn't seem to know how to keep the place clean--it always seemed to accrue all manner of soil and weeds, for some reason, despite much of their business being online. In fact, very few visitors actually came in person, other than the folks the town hall clerk had introduced him to; they'd occasionally drop in and look around while Fella played hide and seek. Unfortunately, they never visited during the winter months, so it tended to be just Fella and his secretary for company.


But these were hard times. Despite the lucrative industry he was involved in, or perhaps as a consequence, he went in and out of video game addiction (mostly out, ever since some troll stole his Guthix Platebody and faked giving it back), but his egg addiction never subsided, and he regularly made forays into the night, sneaking quietly to the big safe between the cake store and his own establishment, digging into the pile of black plastic, icing-covered paper, and eggshell fragments, and retrieving the goods, his fix, that his contact--one of their employees--periodically left for him. (They sure made it differently from when he lived with his parents, though.)
Of course, this was much the same manner as many of the other friendly locals deposited his meals when he ordered them online on these late, wintry nights, but this was different, since, y'know, since it was eggs, and he hadn't actually ordered them. And he'd been on the streets long enough to know when something was obviously illegal.

It seemed that rumours had finally come out regarding these heists, however, for on one such foray, he exited the office to the sight of a crowd waiting for him in front of his benevolent supplier next door.

He could only hope that it had something to do with that morsel lying on the road instead.

[Tiger]

Cheryl Roxanne Lewis, being the major reporter in a town that went stagnant but for the same population of locals every season, didn’t think it would be an exaggeration to say she knew everyone in this town. She knew some better than others – going undercover and infiltrating places of business and even homes would do that – but all of them she loved, for they were all people with stories of their own, and she was merely the anchorwoman who sought them out, gave them narrative structure, and dutifully reported them to the camera. Not everyone appreciated the exposure. Cheryl herself could become frustrated with her subjects – she carefully avoided any sort of eye contact with Beatrix even after the outburst, realizing this was not a good time to blend the smuggling story and that of the current death. There could be a connection, of course, but she was a responsible newswoman. She would check her facts before delivering any sort of verdict.

“I think the crowd’s too agitated for direct answers right now, no shock considering the scene here. I’d better take a look. Viewers, we will do our best to avoid any details shown on camera, but viewer discretion is advi- ”

A familiar voice rang down the street, and a muscle at the corner of Cheryl Roxanne Lewis’s mouth twitched, the only hint of a snarl that anyone watching the program shortly could have seen. “Just a moment, loyal viewers,” she said in a voice that wasn’t quite angry but was much more tense than usual. ”Travis Richem, the man who believes he is the star of a reality tv show despite the lack of any recording equipment, producers, or the actual ‘program’ itself appearing on any television, has just arrived on scene. Viewer discretion is highly advised at this time.”

Cheryl had tried to cover the lunatic’s reality show delusion. Once. It had been a complete disaster and she very nearly had told Pratchett to destroy all the footage so it never had even the barest possibility of going on air. The only thing that stopped her from giving the order was the thought of having to go through the ordeal again if she changed her mind later. She didn’t think she’d ever change her mind about giving Richem real screen time, of course.

He was good for one thing, and that was breaking up crowds. This one in particular he shoved through like a rhinocerous trampling bushes. Cheryl kept several paces back but tried to take advantage of the fresh gap.

“I CANNOT BELIEVE WHAT I AM SEEING HERE OH EM GEE - 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!”

Amy – not a name of any regular in town, though Cheryl remembered two tourists with that name. Neither had been a raging alcoholic. Past Richem’s dramatic gesturing, however, Cheryl finally saw the victim. Her heart pounded – being a news reporter in this peaceful town meant she hadn’t seen many bodies. And this…this was a violent death. It was all too easy to tell.

Swallowing, Cheryl motioned for Albert to back up a little before she herself edged out of the crowd and turned back to the camera. “Aifam Cove, I am – I am terribly sorry to report that Enna Tweff, baker at Everington Cakes, is dead.” Behind her, she could hear Travis talking in his narration voice.

“I mean, she loved that booze like it was her best friend.”

“It appears to have been an act of violence. Who committed the murder or why doesn’t seem clear at the time; nobody seems to be detaining anyone as a suspect or even naming potential perpetrators at this time.”

”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.”

“Enna was an excellent cook and a much-loved member of the Everington Cake family and our community, and she will be missed. More on this story, as we learn more.”

She and Albert took a moment’s rest on the hood of the news van. It was really Cheryl who needed the break; she could tell when Albert was only pretending to fiddle with the camera. Pratchett would be running the weather in the meantime. Even if her film crew was small, Cheryl was grateful to have them. Not only was it really quite impossible to run a live news show all by herself, but they knew each other so well they could tell when the duty of news-reporting had gotten to be overwhelming and they needed a minute to decompress.

Cheryl watched the people. She had always watched people. Their patterns were calming, and so, in an odd way, were their breaks from patterns. Maybe it was just abstracting things down… After a few minutes, Albert shifted the camera and looked to Cheryl. The newswoman nodded slightly. “Yes, let’s get back to it…Professor Bardsley seems to be having a progressive conversation over there, perhaps we can talk to him. Pratchett, please try to filter out as much of the background noise as you can. I don’t know if you can hear it, but Winston Teakes – the man who thinks we’re all in a computer game – and Leopold Endicott the hairdresser are here.” She and Albert had barely made it back to the edge of the crowd when the hairs on the back of Cheryl’s neck rose and when she glanced to the side she saw, to her horror, Travis Richem coming right for her.

And of course, Albert would be filming. Oh please let Pratchett know to cut this before it goes to live!

“Tiffany, darling. It looks like you could use some information.” Even before she could think of a way to shoo him off, the scoundrel kissed her on the cheeks. Kissed her! It was all she could do not to wipe furiously with her glove at where his lips had touched her face, but if Pratchett hadn’t cut the feed, anyone at home would have a good look at the most furious expression Cheryl Roxanne Lewis of Aifam Cove’s Channel 24 News had ever allowed to be captured on film.

“Puh-lease. I couldn't think of a more catty person than Tiffany if I tried. She's in this for herself and nobody else. I'm just trying to live my life, but Tiffany just refuses to leave anybody alone. Last month, she even got her co-star fired because she was having an affair with him. And his wife? It was her show's producer.”

“Richem, that’s impossible – I’ve never had a co-star."

“It's so great to see you, girlfriend. I couldn't help but notice you in this crowd, you are looking fantastic.”

“And turn…” Cheryl muttered.

Sure enough, “Talk about pretentious. Could she overuse that blusher any more?”

“Makeup needs to be heavy to show up on camera, of course.”

Richem’s arm around her shoulder made Cheryl’s skin crawl. She was suddenly very aware of how heavy the microphone in her hand was and how satisfying the sound of it knocking against Richem’s skull would be. But the camera’s on, of course…

“Is this about Amy?”

“Enna.”

“It was... it was terrible. I don't know what's happening, Tiffany, but whatever it is, we should discuss it in detail over a drink, don't you think? Amy thought of me as a confidante after all, it would be a shame to let her secrets go unheard! Not to mention letting this chemistry we have slip away, right?”

“Oh, yes, what a shame. I’m trying to film here, Mister Richem, so if you’ll please move along.” Pointedly speaking to the camera, fully intent on ignoring Richem, Cheryl said, “As you can see, loyal viewers, this incident has caused some of our townsfolk great distress. Consider this a reminder to please be cautious when dealing with people today, as their emotions may be unstabilized by this tragedy. Remember, when someone you know has been affected by a crisis…”

That would be the cue of Pratchett to switch to the list of tips for the aforementioned situation. Cheryl had recorded the voiceover and Pratchett had made the associated screens a long time ago, and it had been almost as long since Cheryl had needed to use it. But she needed a little buffer, to first make sure Richem was finished and to ask Professor Beardsly if he’d be willing to interview.

[Kristykimmy]

Miko seemed a little jumpier than the last few times she had been in there. Still, it had been a few months, and a murder had taken place down the street. Anna chalked it up to that. After a minute, Miko finally seemed to comprehend what she was saying.

"The most common flower for sympathy are the classics: pure white lilies, gladioli, snapdragons, or roses with accents of seeded eucalyptus." Talking about flowers was one of the few times Miko felt confident. "Of course, sometimes it's best to just send the type of flowers you think someone might prefer. Now, if you like I do have some beautiful lilies that would probably be very appropriate. Do you have a specific idea about an arrangement?" Miko said.

“Lilies sound lovely, Miko. I think something in a tall glass vase. Do you offer a delivery service? Also, I'd like to put in an order for a little arrangement of forget-me-nots to put on Enna's grave come the funeral. I suppose you're about to become very busy because of this. It's terrible, really. I didn't know her well, but who would want to harm Enna? This town was so safe when I arrived five years ago, I can't believe this could happen here,” Anna said.

Anna noticed on the TV that Travis Richem was accosting the newswoman. The volume was off, but she could tell he was up to his usual antics. Anna sincerely wished Cheryl would slap that man silly, but she was far too professional for that. At least, on camera.

She turned her attention away from the news and back to Miko.

[Sporty]

Generally speaking, Melanie Porter considered herself lucky to be an early riser.

There was the practical reason, of course: The animals in her little pet shop, Melanie's Menagerie, needed feeding and cleaning and love, after all. Melanie took a special pride in coming in early to give them the attention they needed before opening up shop, as well as making sure they were still well cared for when it was closed for a holiday. She sold pet supplies as well, of course. Tourists didn't often come to Aifam Cove to find a new family member, after all, and the locals that she normally saw only came in for a new pet every so often, so most of her money came in from sales of food, bedding, and other supplies.

That was just how Melanie liked it, though. Fewer animal purchases meant she had more time to gauge their personalities and prepare them for their future home, and the fact that most of her customers were familiar meant that she could usually figure out how well they treated their pets and advise them accordingly.

Ever since the... incident, though, Melanie had found another reason to be thankful for mornings: it meant that she didn't have to concern herself as much with the nights.

Technically, she was fine most nights. Had it not been for the occasional paranoid fantasy, she might have continued on, business as usual, so long as there wasn't a full moon out. But then again, it was better not to risk her shop assistants or anyone else picking up on a monthly pattern to the nights she spent holed up in her little house off of Chet Street.

Aifam Cove may have already been contending with a few... strange residents, but she knew it still had that small-town potential to start a riot if someone discovered a werewolf in their midst.

At the moment, though, Melanie wasn't giving much thought to her little problem. She still had some time before the next full moon, and there were animals to care for. First a general check-in (Spike the hedgehog was getting better, and the new parakeets seemed to be adjusting well), then feeding (cut back a bit on the hamster food; they're getting a bit pudgy) and cleaning (it was aquarium day, and with her last algae eater sold she had to be especially vigilant).

By the time the morning chores were done, one of her assistants had come in, flipped the sign to "open" and taken his place behind the counter. As Melanie gave Spike a few gentle strokes and checked to make sure he'd taken his morning medicine, she heard the small counter-side television flick on.

"Hey, boss, you need to see this!" the assistant, Damien, cried out to her after a few moments. Melanie spared him a quick glance – he was beckoning her over a bit anxiously, but his eyes were still glued to the set. She turned back around, settled the little hedgehog back in his pen, and walked over to the counter to see what was going on.

“It appears to have been an act of violence. Who committed the murder or why doesn’t seem clear at the time; nobody seems to be detaining anyone as a suspect or even naming potential perpetrators at this time.”

Melanie's blood froze. A violent murder? Automatically, her thoughts went to her little problem. Could it have been – no, she only turned when the moon forced her to, and even then she was pretty good wolf. She had self-control. And as far as she could tell, she was the only one in town – the one who'd bitten her kept to himself in the forest north of Aifam, and he seemed to be the only other werewolf nearby.

Who, then, could have done this in quiet little Aifam Cove? The scene on the news station had by now devolved into an episode of that insane Travis fellow harassing the reporter, but Melanie paid it little mind as her thoughts drifted toward the coming of the mafias and a sudden, almost primal fear for the town she called home.

[TJ Wagner]

Miko faltered for a moment. She hadn't actually delivered a flower in years not since before...

She wasn't going to even think about that. No one here even knew about that incident and a part of her irrationally feared just allowing those forbidden images to flash through her mind would allow someone to read her face and to figure out what she had done. No, she wasn't going to do that. She forced a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to tell Anna that she didn't offer a delivery service.

"That won't be a problem. I can deliver the flowers this evening."

She had no idea where that had come from, but she knew she couldn't take the offer back. On normal days she didn't want to step foot outside this shop and now, after there's been a murder, she was suddenly ready to venture out into the outside world. If she had any question that she was losing her grip on sanity it had vanished completely.

Turning, she selected one of her tallest, most elegant vases. It was clear class with a fluted top, and Miko had always thought it was lovey. She turned her attention back to Anna to check for approval. "I'll get started on your forget-me-not arrangement a little later. I wonder when the funeral will be and how many people will be ordering flowers."

Again, Miko froze. Anna was right that her little shop might soon be very busy. There were deaths in Aifam Cove just like everyone else, but murder was different. There was a good chance that poor Enna's funeral would be a bit of social event - a spectacle, so she suspected there would be a lot of flowers. Oddly enough, this actually made her feel a bit of excitement.

Maybe things were finally changing for her. Maybe it was that new plant, or perhaps it was something inside of her.

[Kristykimmy]

"That won't be a problem. I can deliver the flowers this evening," Miko told Anna.

She then turned and selected a tall, clear vase with a fluted top and held it out to Anna to see as she said, "I'll get started on your forget-me-not arrangement a little later. I wonder when the funeral will be and how many people will be ordering flowers."

“That will be perfect,” Anna said, looking at the vase. “I don't know, but I expect much of the town will be there. This kind of thing, it isn't natural. There will be her friends and family, and neighbors like myself, and then there will be the rest of the town, the gossips and the like. People love a spectacle, especially in sleepy towns, and Aifam is very quiet in the off season.”

Anna paid Miko for the flowers and then thanked her and wished her a good day before leaving. Stepping back out into the snow was a bit of a shock after the humid warmth of the flower shop. She stuffed her hands in her pockets to keep them warm as she walked back up the street. Some of the crowd was dispersing into the tea house. Anna considered going in, but with the crush of people from the murder, she doubted it would be easy to get a cup of tea.

She let herself back into her shop and turned the sign from closed to open. She didn't expect to get any customers, the townspeople usually came in to look, occasionally to buy, and with a murder on everyone's minds, but life had to go on.

She got out her dusting cloth and began to wipe down the front desk, it and its cash register the only antiques in the store not for sale. They helped set the atmosphere. Half the draw of an antique store was aesthetic. It had to be classy to draw people in.

She looked out the shop window at the bakery across the way and sighed.

“Poor Enna. What's become of this town...”

[Avery]

SPOILER: Click to show

Narrator Note: Just as a kind request, everyone-- while we're still in this initial super-fast stage of posting, to make things SLIGHTLY less hectic, if everyone could post no more than once per page or every 8-12 hours [use your discretion on this time range], whichever comes first, that would be fantastic. Once things slow down this provision will be lifted, but for now I think it'll help make everything easier for people to keep up on! Thank you. <3

[Celestial]

Lucille laughed a little as she saw Kylie's face burn. Clearly her words had had an impact. She nodded and listened attentively as the girl described her horse, paying attention but always making sure she was giving Kylie her best, most attractive smile and letting her soft, light brown eyes drift occassionally towards hers.

Most of her flings were tourists who passed through Aifam, people who moved on away from her once they had to. It usually did not matter, Lucille hardly took her relationships seriously. How could she, being a nun dedicated to the Lord Weewoo? Flings were all she could afford and the tourists, mostly ladies, were a good source for them. Compared to them, a resident, let alone a daughter of a business partner, was a bit risky. But, as Lucille looked up at Kylie again, she decided it would be worth it. She was a beautiful girl.

"You are so compassionate. I do admire people with such a love for their animals," Lucille said, lapping up Kylie's look, her mannerisms and the way she was paying attention to Lucille. In turn, she kept her cool, acting casual but not too aloof, lest the girl feel that her charms were falling on deaf ears.

They started leaving the crowd behind as they approached The Stallion Inn. It was there that Lucille noticed Bea bristling slightly. Clearly Kylie was not the only one who had picked up on her flirting. But so what? Bea needed Lucille, she could not cut herself off from her operation. And she would not turn her in to the police either because that meant implicating herself. So as far as Lucille was concerned, Bea could cope. It was hardly any of their faults that Bea had such a lovely girl for a daughter.

She could not reply to Bea before the woman ran off. So instead, Lucille turned to Kylie.

"Will you be a dear and not worry your old mother? I'll come by tomorrow morning to offer her my prayers, except for those in Latin and Russian*, which I will have memorised by tomorrow night and will bless her with the day after. Repeat those words to her exactly, alright?" she told Kylie, knowing that Bea would recognise the code. "I will keep your mother in my prayers and you in my thoughts. Stay safe."

She considered kissing the girl but so high on her horse, Kylie was out of reach and she seemed like somebody who would be spooked if Lucille was too forward. No, she needed a much more subtle touch. So instead, she brushed her hand over the girl's and gave her another wink before she turned and headed back into town. Hopefully by now the crowd would have thinned out a little and she could acquire everything she needed before she went back to the convent.

After all, it would be quite difficult to explain to the other Sisters what had happened. Lucille was much rather she did not worry them.

_{* Tequila and vodka, respectively.}

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

I swayed from side to side, appalled at the lack of attention. My caretaker, the one who fed me, covered me UP so that the customer couldn't see or hear me! How dare she! "I'm not through with you yet!" I screamed, shaking my leaves at her as she waltzed out the door with a vase that would hold one of my sisters.

I went limp, exhausted. Being angry for such a long time is hard work and really takes a toll on your luminosity. Plus, it makes your petals go black at the edges if it goes on too long. "Hey..." I moaned weakly. I coughed. She didn't turn around. I coughed harder. I pretended to be dying, swooning with one jagged leaf to my forehead. The room really began to spin. "I think I'm going to faint..." I yelped, and promptly wilted, dramatically releasing one petal with the rest of mine in a still-terrific display.

Elsewhere...

Alma heard something shatter after Jack went into the mayor's office. Each moment was agony. After what seemed like an eternity, he emerged, and she waited, hopeful. "The Mayor is busy, but I was put in charge. It's time to get down to business.""Oh." Alma sighed. "Thanks anyway...But...please, let me know if you see her? With the mafias about and it being in the dead of winter, it just wasn't safe for her to be out here!

She needed to find Lynna right away.

If the mayor wouldn't help...perhaps the townspeople would! Only...most everybody would be hovering around the body or the cake shop. She cringed. Alma didn't want to go back there, but what choice did she have? It was her throwing up, or her daughter. She hoped...she dearly hoped the vomiting wasn't a result of what she thought it was. Placing a hand on her lower belly, which did look slightly swollen despite her recent alarming weight loss, she strode towards the scene once more.

There were fewer people now. Not unexpected. Trembling, Alma walked past Enna, with the same fear and brokenheartedness she'd had when one of her fish got stuck in a filter and died. The flesh would be cold as she scooped it gently out of its prison and sent it back to sea.

Would Enna be sent back to the sea too? Alma wondered, shivering from both the cold and this thought. It was different for people to be sent back to where they came from. Why, Alma had told Lynna, young as she was, that all things came from the ocean and returned to it. Lynna had gazed up at her with sweet brown eyes, absorbing everything in like the greatest sea sponge in the world.

Before she could reflect on that and break down once more, she heard a voice that snapped her out her thoughts. "Everybody, come inside for some tea, warm up and we discuss things further, and we can reflect on Enna's life," Alma straightened, feeling jolts of pain run down her lower back. "That sounds like a capital idea," Alma walked inside the tea shop, which was considerably warmer but did nothing to ease her shivering. "Can I have a tea that will temporarily stop dreaming...?" she murmured, placing her arms on the table and laying her head on it.

She simply didn't feel like taking a trip to the sea in her sleep...

[Stal]

((So many posts to catch up on... I'm just going to post an isolated intro and then catch up on the rest))

Mr Stal stood behind the bar and smiled. He was an odd one, Mr Stal, said to be part of a large and somewhat enigmatic family that always incorporated the word Stal in there somewhere.

No one was quite sure how old Mr Stal was. Or if that was his first name or last name. Or even how long he had been in Aifam Cove. No one could remember when he arrived, his pub had just always been there.

Oh yes, the pub. "And To Think I Saw It..." on Stalberry Street (Mr Stal knew it was actually Stalberry Road but he always preferred the alliterative name instead, and so that was what he went with). The pub was the center of his nexus. Here in the pub it was like he was king of his own little empire.

It had a musical stage. Musicians could pay for the ability to entertain guests. It had three levels, the main floor, the second floor, and the third, each one getting quieter, darker, more intimate. The third level was reservations only and usually booked for dates, business meals, and other clientele.

The entire atmosphere was very warm, inviting, and even family friendly. The cuisine was gourmet, the drink selection was varied and second to none. It was always bound to be an enjoyable experience, especially in tourist season when the place was packed. But right now, one could always find a stool and a drink to warm them up.

Or a game of cards in the back rooms that may not have been strictly legal.

For Mr Stal loved money. He was not an evil man, but he was always looking out for himself. Anyone coming to him for help would get exactly what they wanted, but it would come with a price... That price being sometimes just an unspecified favor at a later date.

Mr Stal was afraid of nothing in Aifam Cove.

Nothing except for the mafia.

He knew they must frequent his pub. He'd tried to discern their identities. But so far it had been useless.

Still no one had come knocking for any money or favors from him yet. So he stayed out of their way as long they stayed out of his. Which is why when he heard the news of that poor girl Enna, he barely reacted but for the chill down his spine, and went about his business. They were just about to open.

"I guess I should consider hiring another barmaid." He said as he flipped the sign to 'open.'

[Liou]

"A mafia in our little Aifam Cove?" Leopold nearly dropped his handkerchief. "Aw, Sistah, are you feeling tired these days, with all your work? It can't be that bad! Not here. Oh, I just can't stand the idea of some loony from the forest lurking around our streets!" He shuddered and wiggled his tongue in disgust.

He squealed when he saw Travis giving Cheryl a nice big smooch. How adorable! He wished that he had his accordion with him, to provide them with appropriate background music. Cheryl would need a nice, simple style with soft curls and a red rose behind her ear. Travis's hair could be slicked back just a tad, with rebellious locks blowing in the wind behind him. They would dance a tango, then a wild charleston in front of a night view of the Eiffel Tower.

He snapped out of his instant mental film when he heard the promise of tea. Mmm, tea. He usually preferred the pub or the inn's type of drink, but tea was wonderfully fancy. He sashayed into the teahouse right after Nathan Lukas and slumped dramatically over the counter.
"Ooooh such strong emotions, Mistah Lukas! I'd like your sweetest brew to go, if you please! With eight sugars and extra cuh-rrreammm. So awful for this to happen right next to your place."
In the middle of applying fresh mascara, he suddenly gasped and posed with his hands on the sides of his face. "What if they were sent by a rival cake store and poor Enna loyally refused to give up her secret ingredients? What if they go for your delightful recipes next?" Leo leaned towards Nathan in a cloud of glitter and hairspray. "Be careful!" he hissed in a loud whisper. "How about setting cameras in front of your store?" He winked in a flutter of electric blue lashes.

Once his tea was ready, Leo peeked out of the teahouse and at the crowd again. It hurt him to see Alma's confusion and distress. He disliked that whole post-murder atmosphere, as a matter of fact. The town had been so cheerful over the past week, for 'Woo's sake! Trouble belonged in the big city, and he was so done with that. The TV cameras were still drawing too much attention for his liking, but there was a little group off to the side and oh my 'Woo... they looked absolutely fabulous. He quickly pulled a miniature comb out of a pocket to rearrange his tiny mustache. He arrived in time to hear the Professor mention searching for evidence.
"Oooh you two will make such a fantastic team!" he squealed. "I could style you something epic! Now all you need is a cool group pose."