Central Park
High standing stone walls surround the massive park, broken only for the gates that are situated every several blocks. While the hours to access them are highly restricted, four asphalt roads do cut across the area from east to west.
The remnants of the dense forestry are located in this area as paths lead from the woods to the more entertaining features of the park. Tall statues of famous novel characters are placed just beyond the trees and are surrounded by tiny arch fences.
Separating the trees from the busier points of the park is the lake. Designed for fun during the summer months, a rental hut is attached to a dock. Paddle boats and kayaks are available here, but are stored during the winter.
By far the largest building in the park is the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Over one hundred years old, the enormous building houses over four hundred thousand items and is the third largest museum in the world. In comparison to the rest of the park, security is massively heightened here, and for good reason.
Characters
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| Siobhan Knight | Chance Harper |
NOTE: This log was transcribed and fleshed out from an IM chat log. It's entirely in Siobhan's POV because of the transcription.
Siobhan hasn’t yet decided if she’s too damn curious or just too damned crazy and adventurous for her own good. It’s far too early to be awake, and slipping out of her condo at this ungodly hour had required some creative footwork and spellwork. It’s just before five o’ clock in the morning, the three quarter moon is lurking low in the sky as it waits to slip beneath the horizon, and the sun hasn’t yet started to light the sky with those pale hints of coming day. There’s enough of a hint of a crisp in the air, that the young witch is wearing one of her dance hoodies, this one a dark navy with a pair of ballet slippers emblazoned on the front in pale blue threading.
It rained the previous evening, but the unusually high and record heat of summer means the ground is barely damp and the grass is a bit brown and hard as it crunches under her tennis shoes. The witch is still as a statue where she leans against a tree, hands shoved in the pocket of her hoodie. Central Park after dark - or before dawn - isn’t the safest place to be, but she’s got herself well camouflaged. A privacy spell on top of a concealment spell, and the charm from Ansalem clutched in one of the hands hidden in the pocket of her hoodie.
It’s just the culmination of an interesting weekend, beginning with her mother taking her to Serenity Cove Friday night. It’s not really a cove, but a house in Brooklyn where three witches, two sisters and a cousin reside. The house has been in their family for years, and their grandmother’s name was Serenity and there’s some long story about the house getting its name, but truthfully Siobhan never paid much attention. The history wasn’t as important as the reason for going - to speed up Siobhan’s healing after the accident. Dawna might be a pretty good healer, but she wanted Siobhan to learn a bit and pick up some other techniques, particularly as they applied to self-healing.
It was educational and interesting. It was also challenging and draining, and the witch knew she shouldn’t really have gone to Amber Bardot’s party with Jenna. But Siobhan was restless and distracted and the party sounded like a good distraction.
She wasn’t wrong. It did prove to be a good distraction. She and Harper made inroads in their relationship. They might not have taken things to new heights of intimacy, but she thinks she made it clear where she stands on things. The witch isn’t pushing the young man toward anything, respecting his rules and boundaries, because she has been waiting so long for him that another month or three years isn’t going to make a difference to her.
Just because they didn’t have sex didn’t mean that they didn’t spend the entire night together. They walked and talked, and finally retired to a room at the hotel. Not with any pressure, but just for convenience sake. And privacy sake, because Siobhan didn’t think that either of them was quite ready to go home yet. Not that it was entirely chaste; there were some kisses, but it was low key and unstressful. No expectations, and probably some of the better sleep that Siobhan ever had.
She remembers waking up and looking down at Harper sleeping beside her, and how everything just clicked for her in that moment. Really, really clicked. That she was there, in the moment she wanted, with the man she wanted and she knew she would be happy waking up beside him every day for the rest of her life. The witch is perfectly content to wait for him too. It’s really no different than what she’s been doing except that now there are kisses and cuddles (and probably a few long showers or baths in her future).
Siobhan had the presence of mind to text her parents and let them know she’d be home sometime Saturday, that she was with Harper and to not worry. From the looks she got when she came in Saturday, with her dress in a garment bag on her arm and wearing new off the shelf clothes from the boutique in Gramercy Hotel, they were more curious than confused. Nothing was said, however, the unspoken Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell rule for Harper Donovan in place.
Movement down the path draws her attention and pulls her from her thoughts. She debates jumping out and startling the sorcerer headed in her direction, but changes her mind when she spots the drink carrier with the Starbucks cups and the little Starbucks branded brown bag in his hand.
Instead, she banishes the spells and though he gives a little start, Siobhan can tell that he’s pretending to not have been surprised by her stepping out of the shadows.
“Nice concealment,” Chance offers with a grin. He looks far more awake than she feels. “What did you do, sleep in the park? I was expecting to beat you here.”
Siobhan shrugs. “I might have given myself too much extra time when I set my alarm.” The scent of glorious caffeine and coffee beans wafts on the breeze and Siobhan inhales deeply. Her gaze dances between the sorcerer and the Starbucks. “Is that for me?”
“No,” Chance grins and twists around. He frowns a bit when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for and shrugs. When he meets her gaze again, his dimpled smile is back in place and he’s teasingly smiling. “It’s for us. I told you last night on the phone that I was bringing breakfast.”
As he hands her one of the Starbucks cups, another glance around is given and the smile morphs back down into a frown. “You came alone?” Chance starts toward the tree where Siobhan concealed herself. “It’s dangerous to come to Central Park alone in the dark.”
Siobhan follows. “You came alone.” Beat. “Don’t tell me that you’re going to pull the I’m a man’ card on me.” The witch sniffs the coffee again and sighs. “You said you wanted to help with my sorcerer magic and that’s kind of off-limits with my parents.”
“Why?” Chance studies the ground for a moment, then makes a few gestures in the air. Loose leaves and twigs swirl around, settling atop of themselves until a nice soft spot for sitting is formed. “Your dad - I mean - they have to know you have sorcerer magic.”
Siobhan can’t help but grin. She thinks he might have been showing off, but doesn’t care. “Sweet.” The witch sits when Chance motions her to do so and takes a long swallow of the coffee. “Ohmigod, that’s so good.” It’s the perfect mocha latte, and she wonders if he has a spell for that. Knowing a person’s precise favorite type of drink. That would be a pretty damn handy spell to have.
“It’s a Coven thing,” Siobhan waves it off. Coven witches can’t use sorcerer magic. It’s very much frowned upon. In fact, the whole thing with the dead former Matriarch brought that restriction back to the forefront what with her son being ousted by her for being very public about it all. Of course, it’s foolish to think that witches won’t use all the magic they can get their hands on. It’s just a covert thing. “Dad taught me what I need to know and that’s good enough.”
“Except when it’s not enough.” Chance takes a long drink from his cup, blue eyes watching Siobhan. He’s inscrutable sometimes and it makes the witch squirm a bit.
Siobhan frowns. “It’s enough.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, the sorcerer shakes his head and sighs heavily. “You remember why I said I called you last night?”
“Yes, I may only be half-awake but I’m not that forgetful.” Siobhan takes another swallow of the heavenly ambrosia, closing her eyes as she savors it. When she opens them, she squirms again to find Chance studying her. Not the way she’s used to boys and men studying her, but as though she’s a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. “You were thinking about my little ’magical outbursts’ and you talked to your dad about them - and can I say, I still can’t believe you told you dad that I was messing with the wiring while making out with my boyfriend … he plays golf with my dad!”
Chance’s eyes widen as Siobhan goes from one topic to another and then he laughs. “Should I take away your mocha latte? You might have too much caffeine already.”
Siobhan huffs, rolls her eyes and for good measure, gives the sorcerer a magical shove. It’s not hard, but it earns her another wide eyed look of surprise and a bemused, lazy grin. Privately, or only to Jenna, she can admit that Chance Harper is good looking. He’s also charming. She’s not interested because she has Harper, but all things considered, she’s ready to give the sorcerer the opportunity to prove himself. Mostly because she doesn’t want to blow something up everytime she gets too overinvolved with her boyfriend.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here, sitting in Central Park drinking coffee from Starbucks before the sun has even risen.
She’s twenty years old and her parents would kill her if they knew. No matter how much they like Mr. Harper and apparently think highly of Chance as well.
“You said you could help me. Maybe.” Siobhan eyes the brown bag that Chance hasn’t opened yet. “Do we eat now or later?”
Her words make the blonde man laugh. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl who is as bold and honest about eating as you are, Siobhan.”
“Do you know a lot of witch-dancers?”
“No, I don’t.” Chance hands her the bag. “Ladies choice. Coffee cake, muffins, scones. Wasn’t sure what you would like.”
Siobhan shoots him a grateful, surprised and amused look. She hates to admit it, but it looks as though maybe Jenna has been right this whole time about the sorcerer.
You already figured that out, or else you wouldn’t be here, Siobhan reminds herself. She takes a blueberry scone, and can hear her father balking at the idea of the over sweetened pastry the American shops sell. He’s taught her to make proper scones from Britain and puftaloons, the deep friend version from Australia, which are more savory, but she doesn’t dislike the versions from the local bakeries either. (Where and how the pampered little rich boy learned to make scones growing up in a Dynastical power remains a mystery.)
“You brought me food and coffee. You’ve got my attention for now.” Siobhan sets her cup gently down between her legs and bites into the scone. She chews, swallows and motions toward the Texan. “Tell me why you’re so sure you can help me get a hold of my wild magic.”
As soon as she chose a scone, Chance helped himself to one of the cranberry muffins. He’s chewing when her question comes up and holds up a finger as he swallows and washes it down with coffee. “Because it’s not wild magic. I think it’s sorcerer magic and my father agrees.” Chance holds up a hand, which amounts to holding up his coffee cup, to forestall argument. “Think about it Siobhan. We come into our power at puberty. That’s when we have odd bursts and power surges, and those only last a few weeks or months, right?
“You’re a full grown witch. You came into your power when? Twelve? Thirteen?”
“Ten,” Siobhan says quietly. She can tell her answer surprises him by the way he pauses and stares at her for a moment. The witch nods. “I was an early bloomer all over the place.”
“I can imagine that,” Chance responds slowly, a lingering pause between each word. It’s not mean or rude, but she gets that feeling from him again that she’s an interesting specimen for study. He takes another bite of his muffin and follows it with more coffee. If he’s waiting for Siobhan to say something she’s not volunteering any more information, and he continues. “So, you come into your witch powers and you learn to recognize it and control it - “
“You don’t control it,” Siobhan frowns. “You embrace it.”
Chance shakes his head, leaning toward her. His blue eyes are darkly intense and somber. “Not if it’s sorcerer magic. That’s a witch thing. Witch power seems to rely most strongly on earth and water, right? Sorcerer magic is based in fire and air. We don’t embrace our magic, we grab it and control it.
“I think you’ve got both Siobhan. You’re not just a witch who can cast sorcerer spells, but you’re a witch who’s a sorcerer, too.” Chance pauses and lets her think about that, then adds softly, “Your sorcerer magic is developing and blossoming and maybe it’s been doing it for years. You try to embrace it and treat it like witch magic, but it just keeps fighting back. You need to take a different approach before you cause a blackout that will rival the one from when we were kids.”
Siobhan has been frowning, her attention turning inward as Chance speaks. Part of her wants to argue with him, but another part of her wonders … it’s always been so hard for her to learn anything about that part of her. Her father has been careful and limited with what he teaches her and how, and her development for so long was under the watchful eye of Regina and The Coven.
“My father - “ Siobhan begins. She stops, shakes her head and tries again. “The Coven would know.”
“Would they share it with you?” Chance asks. He offers the bag to her, making Siobhan blink as she realizes she’s finished the scone. She takes another pastry at random, not registering the coffee cake until she’s bitten into it. “There’s so much animosity between our two groups that … you’re already powerful, Siobhan. That charm you made Quin? I can sense it when he’s across the room from me. When you and Harper were behind that privacy spell? Quin said that he couldn’t even smell the two of you.”
Chance rubs the back of his neck and scruffles through his hair. “I’m not saying that I feed into all the political shit between our two groups, but it would be a huge coup for The Coven to claim you as theirs.” Beat. “Easy too, because the Knightleys aren’t.”
Again, Siobhan recognizes that the words aren’t being said meanly, just matter-of-factly. She can’t offer an argument, not right now, and she quietly nibbles on her coffee cake, taking in what Chance has said for a good five minutes. “You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. It’s a little … creepy?”
The sorcerer’s cheek twitches and he laughs. “Why? Because you’re the most interesting spell caster that I’ve ever met?” He tilts back his coffee and drains it to half-full, watching her over the rim as he does so. “I’ve been damn curious about you since I first found out your father is a sorcerer.”
Tilting his head, Chance gives her a playful, boyish grin. “It just so happens that you’re also pretty damn fun and good looking too.” The witch’s eyes narrow at him and he holds up his hand and coffee cup in defense. “I’m not hitting on you, Piper. Just sayin’ is all. I was there Friday night and I know that no matter what you and Harper say, the two of you are pretty much the hot new couple.”
That brings a smile to Siobhan’s face. She’s beyond denying that anything is going on between her and Harper. There might not be any sort of official announcement, but she’s considering them to be together at least as far as dating aspirations are concerned.
“Okay, so you say I’m powerful and you think I’ve got sorcerer magic, so …” It’s the witch’s turn to give a curious head tilt. She waves a hand toward Central Park around them. “Why are we in the middle of Central Park before the crack of dawn?”
“Because it’s the safest place for what we’re going to be doing.”
“Which is?”
“Finish your breakfast, Piper and you’ll see.” Chance reaches into the bag and pulls out another scone. “Patience is a virtue.”
Siobhan wants to hit him. For some reason, she doesn’t.
