Date Interrupted

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TennyoCeres84
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Date Interrupted

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October 28, 2025

Being done with his side of the Hauser case for the time being, Ciaran felt ready for a small break and wanted to focus his energies on pursuing something more heart-related. He had spent several weeks of heming and hawing over whether he had the right to ask a signature member of Hope out on a date. He'd known her from his childhood days of periodically hanging around Centennial Park and occasionally asking for her help on homework.

Now, the thought of dating a dryad would certainly seem unorthodox to most of the city's citizens. She was seen, by most, as a celibate protectress of the main nexus and a physical barometer of the power balance between Summer and Winter. However, he didn't see her that way; well, not entirely. The former dockworker viewed Sophia as a beautiful and intelligent woman who dutifully served the metropolis since its beginning, yet she seemed like someone who wanted more than that. At least, that was what Ciaran hoped.

He wanted to see if he could move past her prestige and simply get to know her, discover what lay behind the epic battles of city-saving and camaraderie.

He dialed the tree spirit's home phone number and waited for her to pick up.

Seeing the somewhat familiar number of Ciaran's home he shared with Aislinn, she picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hi Sophia, it's Ciaran," he answered, the faint sound of nervous sighing coming through her end of the line.

A tinge of warmth entered her voice as she responded, seeming to light up at hearing his voice. However, she was slightly concerned at the bit of tension coming through the phone. "Hello, Ciaran. How are you? Is everything alright?"

'Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for asking," he said sincerely, having managed to calm himself to move onto the intention of his call. He didn't want to seem like a younger and just as uptight version of Archibald when he had called Crystal, or so he had heard from Bucky. "Sophia, I was wondering, would you like to go out with me?"

A moment of stunned silence followed, and she replied, "You mean as a date?"

"Yes, a date. Just you and me, taking a stroll around the park in the evening. I know this is out of nowhere for you, but I thought you might like to hang out."

"Um, all right. That sounds like a good idea to me. When?" she asked.

"I know the Countess' big Samhain gala at the ballroom is in a few days, but would you be available before then?" he suggested.

Sophia was expected to attend Lady McLeod's parties, at least to speak with any visiting dignitaries from other Winter regions, but an entire night of talking, dancing, and drinking usually left her quite drained, the Dying Days leaving her with less energy to go on. She mused she had enough energy beforehand to go out with the selkie and have plenty of time to plan for the party.

"Yes, I'll be available tomorrow night," Sophia responded, a bit of uncharacteristic summertime liveliness in her voice. "Will 10 o'clock do? Even during the time before Halloween, there aren't many people in the park. However, Tom is supposed to be over tomorrow to pick up the requested staff he wanted. So, you may see him when you get here."

The selkie could almost be heard beaming through the phone. "Sure, that's fine, and ten's great."

Sophia smiled, feeling more excited at the thought of a relaxed pre-Halloween night with a friend. "See you then, Ciaran."

"See you!"

***

9:45 p.m.

Having taken his used pick-up truck, Ciaran parked it in a nearby lot and walked the rest of the way to Centennial Park's front gates. While some of the park's small, late-night venues were still filled with patrons, Sophia's area was relatively quiet. The larger-than average, pendunculate oak loomed over other trees in the vicinity, its colorful leaves still clinging to the branches and swaying gently in the crisp, nocturnal breeze. Even in the darkness, the green moss covering patches of the trunk, branches, and roots almost seemed to glow vibrantly. The Centennial Tree had just the slightest gloomy air to it, showing that it was getting ready for its winter slumber in a few months.

Going with the casual feel of the date, the roane had worn blue jeans, a dark green pullover shirt, and rugged sneakers. The clothes hung on his frame in a way that showed off his fit physique, but they didn't seem like he was posing as eyecandy for her.

Seeing that she was already outside her home, he could see that she was making the last touches to the long, sturdy branch the incubus had wished to have grown and then deadened, trapping a sliver of the nexus' power and his Hellfire within it.

The horned female looked up as she saw his approach and smiled. "Good evening, Ciaran." She equally treated their outing as nothing especially serious, but her statuesque form couldn't hide behind the light purple sweater and brown skirt that reached to her knees. The leaves in her vine and moss hair matched the ones in the Tree's upper boughs; delicate frost crystals clung to the loose waves like tiny diamonds.

"Hey, Sophia. Thanks for inviting me. Is Tom still coming?" he asked.

"He should be here shortly. Then we can head out," she told him.

"Okay, then. By the way, you look lovely," he complimented, grinning at her.

Sophia was thankful for the darkness and hoped he couldn't see the faint, green blush spread over her cheeks. She nodded to him. "Thank you. You look really nice as well."

They continued talking for the time being, figuring they could go for a walk in a labyrinth that had been created as a symbol of peace after the Battle of Hope. Nowadays, it was typically frequented by contemplative types, arcane students, or even as a popular place to sit and eat one's lunch during the daytime, given its serene demeanor.
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Re: Date Interrupted

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The Dying Days were upon Hope. Where common practitioners between the skill levels of Aislinn and Meris were beginning to unconsciously pull more power out of their ley lines of choice in order to compensate for via's muted circulation; those who studied the Dark Arts found themselves blessed in the same way common mages were in summer. 

Things were dying everywhere you looked, and if things weren't dying, they were falling into a deep and seasonal slumber. The restless dead, some vampire breeds and Infernalists alike could all feel the increased flow of negative via, the natural runoff of all arcane activity, and drew power from it. Other energies sympathetic to the darker ends of the life cycle were surging as well, including Hellfire. If you were an Infernalist of the right stripe and proficiency, there were nights of the year where the air was filled with the pungent and acrid scents of the Pit's burning flames as well as their eternal bed of coals, Brimstone. Some nights were of crucial significance to you, in this case. Walpurgisnacht, for some, or Samhain to others. May's Eve, to those who were both Classic Satanists doubled with Neo-Pagans.

There was only one thing warlocks and mages tended to have in common, it being the day - or night - that saw them claim their first and strongest magical focus. The druidic staff of old had evolved over the years and had been turned to more subtle forms, anything between jewelry and focusing tattoos placed on your skin - but some, like the warthog, still favored the ages-old oak staff. It was natural, it would always have some core element of the Earth to it, and it had the benefit of doubling as a generally sturdy club.

Tom knew tonight was mostly Ciaran and Sophia's to enjoy, but his branch was beckoning him. His carefully-dosed corruption had reached a point of exquisite balance, where the blight that had twisted the length of wood was sufficiently spread out to allow for fine arcane control, but not so complete as to make the wood unworkable. He'd spent years keeping half of a spell in the corner of his mind, remotely sensing the branch as it grew gnarled and blackened, and as power thrummed within it. The junction point between it and the Tree was holding strong, and Sophia was also there to prevent Tom's ministrations from stretching out too far. 

Of course, the warlock had no intentions of letting his would-be staff taint the local Nexus; he'd simply asked for a favor. Said favor now hummed in the recesses of his mind, the monitoring spell making it quite clear that now was the right time to claim his focus. He felt like a kid on Christmas, if said kid's trepidation manifested as dark chuckles that could've tipped off especially naive angels or do-gooders.

In the years that had followed Leonard's possession, Tom had defiantly progressed in the creation of a new Iram. Hope was his oyster - the new supernatural crossroads for individuals of every planar persuasion. Only the Shadowlands proved to be difficult to link to the mortal world in a stable and continuous form, but it didn't matter. Troubled spirits didn't need free transsubstantiation, and Pandemonium's demons were still at least a year away from having a concerted declaration of intent to present to the Vienna Council. His angelic allies, as he understood it, had even more homework to handle. How did you present yourself before someone who'd have to vouch for you in front of dozens of opposing faiths and beliefs? The supposed Bad Guys stepping forth to claim they weren't so bad was one thing, the Good Guys being forced to pick a non-confrontational appearance was another. Even a carelessly-used religious term could have the risk of launching acrimonious religious debates!

At the very least, the warlock was now the city's local Infernalist bruiser, the newest addition to the Commission, charged with keeping his renegade Pitspawn in line and properly socialized. Insofar, that hadn't been much of an issue. He was independently wealthy, he had power and a gorgeous and dangerously capable girlfriend - but he had no weapon to speak of. Rebranding the fading Nemeton to the Crossroads Club had paid out, as he now had front-row seats to the commendable faces and names in Hell, as well as the few problematic individuals in the Choir...

His purple and Hellfire-dependent Challenger GTX parted with one last defiant roar before coasting and purring its way to the curb, at the edge of the park. As the warthog stepped out - now freed of the obligation to wear Melmoth's pin - a middle-aged woman he could almost smell as being of the conservative end of things signed herself and hurried onwards. Her misdirected faith made him lightly wince and flatten his small ears against his skull, as if he'd been stuck with squealing audio feedback for a second. Still, he didn't begrudge her - people had the right to choose their beliefs, no matter how erroneous they were - and started across the park, his shoe covers crunching in the moist and chilly grass. The air was cold and felt sterile, winter already hanging in its crisp edge - but he loved it. All the death and decay he perceived was natural, as worthy of celebration as spring would later be. He was simply someone who'd latched onto the deep, belly-shaking low notes of Nature's symphony, whereas others would have preferred the light and jaunty tune of summertime.

Snout twitching, he almost unconsciously made his way through the sleeping hedge maze, following Ciaran and Sophia's scents without realizing he'd picked them up. All the while, he thoughtlessly whistled Strangers in the Night, even as his entire sensory array basked in the quiet beauty of autumn and of the stubborn nature of the Centennial Tree's foliage.

His plan for the evening was simple: he wanted to briefly stop by, cut the branch off himself, maybe share an aperitif with the couple if they offered, and then step away to whittle his staff back home. The lovebirds deserved some alone time, and it was honestly unfortunate that Ciaran's date and his focus' due date coincided. He'd never been the type to crash other friends' dates before, and he didn't want to start doing so now.
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Re: Date Interrupted

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Having picked up on Quint's recognizable presence, Sophia made note of this to Ciaran. She took the staff with them and headed off toward the maze, walking side by side with the selkie man. The dryad's senses were essentially as keen as any wild cousin of an anthro, and it allowed her to pick up on shifts in emotions. From what she could glean from Ciaran, there was physical attraction, but he was also drawn to her on a mental level. A quiet fellow who didn't need a flashy life to be happy. He was a stark contrast to Francis, but he was also more forward in a way than the other men in her life, who she viewed only as friends, weren't. Just by asking her on a date that didn't include lavish plans was a refreshing change of pace.

People's viewpoint of her as a chaste guardian had partially shaped her personal view of herself. She reflected on how nymphs were viewed in Greek myth and how it seemed the complete opposite of who she was to the public -not wild nor carnally libertine. She sensed this within her, especially at the peak of summer, but it wasn't something she had a great deal of experience expressing.

Ciaran broke her out of her train of thought by nudging her arm. "Tom's up ahead. I can tell by his personal theme song," he joked, as he had often heard the incubus whistle the melody.

She chuckled and followed the labyrinth's path until the warthog came into view. She waved to him. "Tom, over here!"
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Re: Date Interrupted

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"Ah," commented the warthog, "here are the lovebirds whose rendez-vous I'm interrupting... How are things, Ciaran?"
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Re: Date Interrupted

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"Things are relatively quiet, but they're good. Sophia will just be taking a stroll through the maze and around the park, maybe buy something to snack on at one of the venues," he said, smiling to the dryad.

Sophia scoffed in amusement. "If we're lucky, The Clarion won't catch wind of our date; if they do, they'll have an article for a slow news day," she added, then remembering the staff in her hand. She gave it to the warthog. "Here's your staff, as requested."
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Re: Date Interrupted

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For about half a second, Tom looked slightly like Bilbo Baggins setting a gleeful pair of eyes on the One Ring. He restrained himself, however, and drew in a sharp breath before respectfully taking it from the dryad's grasp. "Thank you," he said, "thank you so much, Sophia. This will make my and Aislinn's work that much safer, once I'll have properly carved it."

He then exchanged a look between the two. "I know you were probably about to hit the town, but would you mind if we stopped by your place, Sophia? A lot's happened, it's a bit nippy out here, so maybe you wouldn't mind sharing a drink back home before leaving, hm?"

He raised a reassuring - and gloved - hand. "Just five minutes and I'm out of your hair."
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Re: Date Interrupted

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While really wanting to get onto their date, Sophia smiled at the warthog and nodded. ""I'm glad to know that branch will suit your arcane purposes. Starting things out with a drink would be nice. I have some mead from Evergloam that Mother Deirdre sent me recently, if you're both interested," she explained.

Recalling the potent and flavorful alcohol that the Fae produced, Ciaran's mood lifted away from slight and restrained annoyance and to that of a jovial one. "Of course you can join us, Tom! A few minutes of drinks between friends is a good way to start the night off."

The dryad turned around and headed back for the Tree, followed by Ciaran. Unlocking the circular hobbit door to her home, she let both men in and gestured for them to have a seat on the couch. Her residence below the Tree's roots had the feel of a Celtic roundhouse blended with a basement apartment. The living room area's coffee table was a flattop steamer trunk, while the light gray couch was L-shaped and came with a chaise. All the light fixtures were modern, while the room carried a feeling of warmth, as though warmed by a rustic hearth somewhere unseen. Her bedroom was in a loft above the main area, and the single bathroom stood off to a corner in the rear of the home. It felt plenty spacious, yet cozy for herself and the people she chose to invite in.
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Re: Date Interrupted

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Tom set his staff next to an window that was slightly ajar, taking a moment to appreciate Sophia's personal space. He slid a hand against the window's edge, appreciating the grain of the wood.

"It might pass for a bad dryad-specific pun," he said, "but I really love how you've let wood essences accentuate your contemporary fixtures. It's like you got yourself a slightly urbane forest cabin. Do all Nexus trees develop a kind of nook their dryad can put to use?"
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Re: Date Interrupted

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Sophia poured the mead from a tap into a couple of wooden mugs, something that had probably been made in Faerie and kept over the years. She handed them to Ciaran and Tom before getting herself another mug to drink the amber-colored alcohol. The dryad scoffed in response to his assessment of her home while sitting down.

"They do. Since our bodies take a while to grow, the initial sapling creates a space beneath the roots to allow the tutelary spirit to "grow", sort of like a subterranean womb. Once we mature enough, we leave it as the tree really starts to gestate our bodies. The size of the space varies depending on the species of tree, the power of the nexus, and so on. Once I was separate from it, I'd come down here if I wanted to hide from locals or have time to myself. Archibald was really the one to help me turn it into a residence. He had workers expand to make it feel more like a home, adding the door, windows, and furniture. Over time, I've donated certain pieces; others I have kept, like the trunk in front of you. I've tried to keep things up to date, but mortals' tastes in furnishings occasionally leave something to be desired."

Her nose crinkled in distaste. "The 1970s and '80s were especially memorable," she commented, chuckling and then sipping her beverage.

Ciaran snorted. "Yeah, I don't think a disco ball or neon lights really fit your aesthetic. Might've been more Francis' thing," he replied, grinning at her.

His smile seemed infectious to her, which shifted her chuckles to heartier laughs based from her stomach. A few, green tears of mirth clung to her lashes, which she dabbed away. "Yeah, close enough," she admitted, trying to keep from breaking out into further peals of laughter.
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Re: Date Interrupted

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The warlock had added his own dark chuckles. "I don't know about the seventies, though," he noted, sipping from his flagon. "There were still a few hippies around and, well, burnt orange is very fitting considering the time of year. Add to that the fact that Sophia's pretty much the quintessential Girl with Flowers in Her Hair by nature of what she is..."

He shrugged lightly. "Ask Chief Alderan and I'm sure he'd tell you the first thing that came out of Sophia's home speakers after Elysium packed its bags was Iron Butterfly's In a Gadda Da Vida."
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