Pilgrim Paige's moonlight madness

It's your call, but if you asking what I would do, I would keep the labels throughout. It's much easier for you, the writer, to memorize these colors rather than a reader, and with the labels in place throughout it reduces the chance of the reader getting pulled out of the RP to double check who's speaking.

Witch Hazel RP for Storm Front (episode dated March 19th, 2017)

*Writer's note: As of this RP, Hazel's colored text has been updated to "slate gray #3". (Hex code: #9FB6CD)

*Second note: To help get re-acclimated to writing for Hazel, I've made small corrections and tweaks to this RP.

All Aboard
Dec. 11th, 2008—Full Moon (98% visible)

On a crisp December morning on Vancouver Island, beneath a canopy of snow-coated oak trees, a pale teenage girl casts a sleek shadow along a narrow footpath. To her left, a tiny rivulet runs along the side of the path, not yet frozen over. The underbrush here is tinged with frost, as winter slowly begins to wrap its icy claws around autumn's delicate neck. A thin layer of freshly-fallen snow has covered the trail, such that the young lady's boots leave powdery footprints in her wake. She pauses for a moment, throws back her hood, shakes out her ashen hair, and breathes deep of the late-fall air. Just ahead, there is an underpass through which the trail continues. The narrow bridge above, like the trail, is for pedestrians only. A trio of teenage girls trot along the bridge, chattering amongst themselves. The tallest of the group, a lightly tanned and rosy-cheeked brunette wearing a custom-made fall jacket in teal, spots the black-clad trail walker as she nears the bridge. The tall girl leans over the rail. The others join her.

???: Well, look at this, girls! The witch has foregone her broomstick to walk amongst we mere mortals on this beautiful December morning!

The three all giggle childishly as they look—quite literally—down upon the subject of their derision. Their laughter is met with silence and a brief glance.

???: Aw, what's the matter, Hazel? None of your little bird friends wanna talk today?

More snickering from the ringleader, with the taller of her two allies taking the hint and joining in. The girl on the trail looks up at her tormentors again. Simultaneously, a song sparrow twitters from atop a tall oak, and a moment after that, a few unseen ravens pipe up as well.

Hazel: You were saying, Astrid...?

Astrid: Oh, please. How drôle! Some dumb crows conveniently happened to caw. It's not like you're their queen or something... not that it would help anything. Hang with all the animals you want, it won't change the fact you're still a sickly little Swedish meatball whose host family can't even stand to be around. Hell, I doubt you'll see them even once more before grad! ... If your daydreaming ass can keep up enough to graduate, that is.

An "Ooooooh" escapes the lips of Astrid's lackeys, in tandem. The taller of the two, dressed in a reddish-violet overcoat, is an athletically-built, olive-skinned girl of multiracial heritage. When she speaks, her voice is inflected with a moderate French-Canadian accent.

???: Oui, this petite femme, she has almost the same day schedule as I do. Many of the same programs. Her head is always in the clouds... I don't know how she is passing! Top of class, in some cases!

The long-legged young lady gazes down at Hazel with a curious, surprisingly innocent expression. She calls down to her loudly, as though Hazel is a mile beneath her.

???: Hazel, would you tell me how are you passing, s'il vous plaît?

Seeming surprised that someone else has spoken, let alone addressed her prey (relatively) politely, Astrid turns to her friend in a huff.

Astrid: What are you doing, hmm? Besides, that's BS, Ambry. She—

Ambry shakes her head vigorously in dispute. The shorter girl—quiet, mousy-haired and wearing a rosary—looks on awkwardly.

Astrid: Oh, yeah? Well, she's not anywhere near top dog in anything I have with her!

Appearing slightly ruffled, Astrid turns her attention back to Hazel, who has reached the underpass. She steps over the rivulet and begins to ascend the embankment, up to where the trio of girls are. As she climbs, Astrid continues...

Astrid: Using your mystical, magical energy to get ahead, Hazel?

Hazel concludes her ascent and walks over to stand on the bridge, keeping some distance from the other girls. She stares straight at Astrid with serious, intelligent green eyes.

Hazel: First: I am not Swedish; my roots are in Finland, which, frankly, you must already know—you've made remarks alluding to this in the past. Second: I do often have my head in the clouds. Anywhere is a better place for it than here with you and all the other high-class hyenas. How do I do so well? I listen when I need to, I study my own way, I learn my own way, and I excel my own way. That's not sorcery, that's using my brain. Third: all four of us have an earth science assignment coming up with a focus on the ecology of local wildlife. I had hoped you'd know some differences and similarities between Northwestern crows and common ravens by now—calls, plumage, diet, wing span, social behaviors... and yet, you call my raven friends "crows". Let me help you catch up: something crows and ravens have in common is intelligence; they're far from "dumb". They also seem to know more about fidelity than you do, from what I've heard.

Another "ooooooh" from the duo. Astrid loudly shushes them.

Astrid: Been listening to rumors, have we?

Hazel: No. I've seen you flirting with boys at the edge of the woods. Also, our dorm rooms are adjacent. I heard you sneak in with one after curfew just last week. Then, I heard other things...

A third "ooooooh".

Hazel: You always brag about being in a serious relationship with your long-distance boyfriend. But Andy isn't coming until winter holidays. He can't be the boy you snuck in. Are you polyamorous, perhaps?

Astrid: Poly-what-the-fuck? You know what? Who cares? I mean, seriously—jealous much, virgin? I get exactly what I want and who I want, whenever I want Your only friends have wings and the only action you get requires batteries! Ugh. I can't believe I'm even listening to some godless pagan, dumped off at a Catholic boarding school in a whole other country. What, were the Lutherans giving you too much shit, putting pressure on your poor mother? Oh yeah, I heard about her. No one so much as shits at this school without me knowing about it. And now I find out you're some kind of voyeuristic perv, watching me from out in the woods somewhere. Not only a witch, but a dyke, too? Oh, this is priceless!

Taken off-guard, Hazel's already pale face blanches.

Hazel: I-I'm not a dyke! Really, I d-... I don't... I...

A loud bell sounds out from a distance, somewhere beyond and left of the bridge.

Ambry: Oh, merde! Cinq minutes until next class. We must get going!

Astrid: Damn, and I just felt like I was getting to know our resident rugmuncher so much better!

From somewhere between flippant and oblivious, Ambry bids farewell to Hazel.

Ambry: Au revoir, triste gamine!

Astrid delivers a parting line as she turns on her heel...

Astrid: Seeya round, witch-bitch.

The mousy girl follows her brunette overlord closely, muttering hurriedly to Astrid while Ambry, trailing behind, smiles as she passes by Hazel.

Last edited by Pilgrim Paige (Mon-4-Dec-2017 07:22:02)

The Coven (Paige and Tsukiko) tag team RP for Storm Front (episode dated March 19th, 2017)

*Writer's note: As of this RP, Paige's colored text has been updated to "medium orchid". (Hex code: #BA55D3)

Echoes
March 12th, 2017—Full Moon (100% visible)

Paige, wearing a grey leather jacket and tight leather pull-on pants, descends the Moontower's stairwell in the early afternoon of an unseasonably mild winter day. The tall evergreens around her stand still in the calm air as they drip away yesterday's snow and ice. Traversing the short path to the familiar clearing, the glistening forest foliage paints a picturesque nature scene. Whipping a small tarpaulin off of the DIY firepit and lawn chairs, Paige sets about lighting a modest fire, then situates herself on the nearest chair. She sits a while, simply taking in her surroundings.

Paige (internal): Argh, so hungry! I wonder what's taking her so long...

Immediately after having this thought, Tsukiko appears on an adjoining trail, trotting merrily up to Paige and launching into her growingly-familiar spiel.

Tsukiko: Hey, girl! Look at you, rocking the leather! What a day, right? Whatcha doin' back here? Ooh! We should totally roast some weenies and make hot dogs! That can be our lunch! Oh, yeah, Hazel moved in and I—

Paige smirks and gestures with one hand in a "slow down" motion. Tsukiko resumes breathing normally.

First of all, hello to you, too. Secondly, I'm doing the same thing I do on Monday mornings—waiting on your slow ass to show up for ! Only difference is that today is a Sunday and we're having unseasonably warm weather, so I'm not holed up in my treehouse for once. I get kinda reclusive sometimes, and stay inside too much. Last up, did you say something about Hazel moving in with you?

Tsukiko: Sorry for rambling, you know how my mind goes—always changing gears! So, listen to this: Hazel got evicted last night. She was up with night terrors, nightmares, the works... one of her boarding school flashbacks really got to her. So, her asshole neighbor called the landlord with a noise complaint. She tried to explain, but... equally asshole-ish landlord told her to pack her shit and go. She asked to crash with me for the night, and I offered for her move in My apartment has a storage room, just big enough to get a bed into. She said yes, so we're flatmates now!

Paige: Damn, tough break. But, on the other hand, it's great that you helped her out like that. And now you have a roomie! Go you! We should have a kind of welcome party for her. Not that she's a stranger to the place or anything.

Tsukiko gives a thumbs up, smiles and breathes deeply of the mild, fresh air. She lets out an audible, "Aaaahhh" sound.

Paige: That's exactly what I said when I went outside this morning, haha! So nice to be outdoors like this. So much high wind lately, I've been sitting up in the Tower praying the damn thing doesn't blow away, into town somewhere...

Tsukiko: You are really not down to clown in the town, huh?

Paige: Nope. Way to bring it home on that rhyme, by the way.

Tsukiko winks at Paige, grinning from ear to ear.

Tsukiko: Sooo... about lunch? You kinda forgot that part.

Paige: Oh, yeah, sorry! Sure, sounds fun, Kiko. Let's go round up supplies!

Rising from her seat, Paige tosses back her long (and currently faded to a pastel ash/purple ombre) hair and starts her way back through the path to the garage.

Tsukiko: Right behind you, enjoying the view.

Tsukiko follows closely, with a spring in her step. Paige, just ahead, blushes briefly, feeling thankful that Tsukiko cannot see her face in that moment.

Paige (internal): Damn, this girl has no idea what she does to me! ... Or does she? Hmm...

Reaching the garage, the two young women set about ravaging the refrigerator and freezer: pork weiners; buns; bottles of water; seemingly random condiments...

Paige: Oh! I forgot, all the paper plates and forks are up in the Tower, not to mention my all my whole wheat buns!

Tsukiko: Whole wheat kinda gal, huh? Noted for future reference. Hey—you should swing by me and Haze's place next weekend, we'll do a taco/tortilla night!

Paige: I'm definitely up for that. I haven't made tortillas in aaages! Okay, you clue up gathering things here, and I'll meet you back at the clearing.

Tsukiko: Aye-aye, captain.

Paige ascends her spiral staircase and heads inside the Moontower to find the plates and buns. As she turns to exit, she finds Tsukiko standing in the doorway with a huge laundry basket filled with her collection of items. Paige eyes her curiously...

Tsukiko: This was the best thing I could find to transport everything. Your next batch of laundry might smell a bit like pork weenies... but I freaking love pork weenies, so... win-win, right?

Paige chuckles lightly and nods in agreement as the two begin their descent, chatting and laughing all the way to the clearing.

Last edited by Pilgrim Paige (Sat-18-Mar-2017 00:08:35)

Pilgrim Paige RP for 4CW Revival PPV event (April 23rd, 2017)

*Reminder: Paige's colored text has been updated to "medium orchid". (Hex code: #BA55D3)

Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes
April 13th, 2017—Waning gibbous moon (96% visible)

As Pilgrim Paige exits a laundromat in a small St. John's strip mall, the mild night air presents a subtle breeze that gently caresses her face. At the same time, a lanky young man comes walking up the sidewalk at a clip, seeming distracted. He holds an old flip phone in one hand, which he glances at every other second. Paige's boots have barely crossed the threshold and hit pavement when the tall fellow rams directly into her shoulder, bowling the both of them over. The man rolls through his fall rather smoothly, while Paige has found herself fallen against a boarded up shop window. Her purse—and laundry bag—land nearby. Before getting up, the guy sneaks a peak up Paige's skirt. She catches this out of her peripheral vision, but holds off on saying anything for now. Upon regaining his feet, the stranger grabs the items, breathes deep for a few moments, and then returns them to their rightful owner. Paige replaces her bag over her shoulder and accepts the stranger's help in getting back up. When the guy finally speaks, his voice is dry and reedy.

Man: I am so sorry about that! I swear I'm not always so careless. Are you alright?

The Lunar Pilgrim dusts herself off and faces the stranger. He has dirty brown hair and is wearing a faded olive sweatshirt.

Paige: I'm fine, don't sweat it. ... No pun intended. I mean, hey, these things happen, right? No use getting all worked up about it.

Man: Okay. Cool, cool.

Paige (internal): Something odd about this one...

The young man, with a strange expression, openly runs his eyes over her body. Feeling unusually confident this evening and enjoying the pleasant weather, Paige is dressed in a short skirt with tights; long leather boots; a tight mesh shirt over a sports bra; and a short leather jacket, worn open. Her hair is loosely curled and she wears her best jewelry. The man's already busy eyes occasionally scan the area, then back to her.

Man: Some weather we're having, huh?

Paige: Yeah, it's really something. Well, I'd better be leav—

She moves to step around the man, but he steps into her path and leans inappropriately close.

Man: Hey, what's your hurry? What, you think you're too good for me? Think I can't afford you?

Paige: Wait, what?

The guy is now in full macho mode, puffing out his chest and making exaggerated gestures, all the while taking up the whole sidewalk.

Man: What is it with you trans hoes, anyway? I don't mean the cost, either. I have a firm grip on supply and demand, believe me! But the attitude, that fucking attitude like you're on some kinda pedestal, as if just by not throwing up at the sight of me is a huge goddamn compliment! You freaks are the sideshow attraction, babe.
I'm just a paying customer, like any other.

Paige: Back the hell off, asshole! You're barking up the wrooong tree tonight. Way to assume. It's like, "How dare she have the audacity to be out in public at night!" Yes, I'm a trans woman and yeah, I like leather and skirts, so what? "She must be a prostitute! There's no other explanation!" So sick of that shit. It's 8PM and I just stepped out of a laundromat, idiot, not a brothel. God, now I just feel bad for whatever poor girl gets saddled with your sad, sorry ass! Now please, get your desperate self out of the way so I can get home to my hot girlfriend. And yes you heard that right.

Man: Ha! That's rich. A tranny and a rug muncher. What's this world coming to? Damn.

Pilgrim Paige loses all patience and poise at this point.

Paige: Alright, I asked nice once, now I'm pissed. Are you gonna move or do I have to move you myself?

Man: I'd like to see you try! Bring it, bitch!

Paige charges forward and to one side, lowering her head as though to duck under his arm, but purposely doesn't duck low enough to pass under. She gets stopped up in the crook of his arm, and he pushes her back forcefully, just as anticipated. Grabbing an arm during the push, Paige locks her hands around his wrist, twists under his arm and reels the man in. She throws an elbow square into his face. The creep wobbles and falls to his knees, covered in blood and holding his now-broken nose. Feeling empowered, 4CW's resident moon maiden lean in to deliver a snappy one-liner. As she does, the crimson-faced moron actually grabs at her bag and pulls, but his bloody hands lose their grip. He returns to nursing his nose, slowly trying to regain his feet.

Paige: Frankly, you wouldn't want this, anyway. Nothin' but dildos. All shapes and sizes! Basically, this bag is home to a veritable Russian nesting doll of dummy dicks. Mess with me again and I'll add yours to the bag, dummy.

Man (muffled, holding nose): You're fucking crazy!

The creep staggers away in the opposite direction as Pilgrim Paige sets about heading home.

*****

Feeling a diverse mixture of emotions, Paige's face is difficult to read as she begins her ascent to the Moontower. A few steps up the spiral staircase, she stops abruptly to observe the railing. On both sides, just hours ago the rails had been adorned with only long, wound strings of purple lights. Now, they are intertwined with strings of blue and silver bulbs, lighting the way magnificently. The Lunar Pilgrim's strained visage slowly gives way to a look of joy and wonderment (and slight bewilderment). Paige lets her fingers dance over the lights as she climbs, stepping lightly as though walking on air. She reaches the door, turns the knob and enters.

Tsukiko: Hello, beautiful!

Paige shuts the door and enters. Tsukiko—who has sat herself down in Paige's corner chair and is awkwardly fumbling on her unplugged bass guitar by lamplight—gets a closer look at her stablemate as Paige walks to mid-room. A look of concern washes over Tsukiko's face as she sets the bass down on an instrument stand in the corner. She strides up to Paige.

Tsukiko: Whoa—your clothes look kinda worse for wear. You're all sweaty... what happened?

Paige waves her hand dismissively.

Paige: No need to worry yourself, Kiko. Trust me, it was nothing I couldn't—or didn't—handle. What brings you by so late?

Tsukiko: Hey, don't get all dismissive with me, I just care is all! And well... I thought we could, you know... talk. I thought you'd be glad to see me...

Paige breathes a deep sigh and finally lets her weary guard down for the night. In a bold moment, she motions for Tsukiko to sit with her on the couch. That said, her body language remains characteristically closed in and introverted, in contrast to Tsukiko's more open and inviting aura.

Paige: Damn. I'm sorry, Kiko. I'll tell you all about it when I'm finished what I need to say now. First of all, I am glad you're here. Really, really glad. Second: the lights... wow, that's just... so you! And, by the way, awesome!

Tsukiko beams at this.

Tsukiko: I know, right? You, me and Haze... our paths are interwoven now, for better or for worse. We provide light to each other's dark. It's a metaphor! ... Or something.

Paige smiles.

Paige: It's symbolism, girl. Hey, speaking of Hazel—how is life with your freaky new flatmate?

Tsukiko: Haze is a handful. She's set in her ways, half of which I don't understand, but... to each their own. Except when it interferes with my own weirdness, haha. It's mostly cool, though. We just need to learn to compromise. ASAP!

Paige: You'll get on each other's wavelength before long. Like you said; you have a connection. So, how come it's just you who's barged into my humble abode and made herself at home tonight?

Tsukiko: Well, for two reasons I guess. One is that she sleeps at the most random hours, and like the dead. She's already down for the night. The primary reason, though, is that this isn't Coven business, or ritual stuff, or a quest for a girls' night with my besties. I came to talk. With you. Just me... and you...

Her soft voice trails off. Paige's electric blue eyes glance around the room, at any space not being occupied by her blue-haired companion. Tsukiko's stunning golden browns gaze downward, ultimately settling on her own feet. A long moment passes, then they each risk a glance, making eye contact. Tsukiko holds Paige's gaze until she can't take it anymore and has to look away again.

Paige: So, uh... what would you like to talk about?

This is met with a coy smile as Paige manages another brief moment of meeting her trainer's eyes. This time, Tsukiko is first to look away.

Tsukiko: Oh, just... stuff. Stuff I've been scared to put out in the open. But I think I'm finally ready to talk directly with you. I can see pretty clearly that you've been wanting to talk, too.

Paige (internal): This is it! I think... I hope... maybe... I—

Tsukiko's sudden movement interrupts these thoughts. She stretches, then lifts her legs and spins on her cushion. She now sits facing Paige, with her lower back leaning against a large armrest and her hands locked around her elevated knees. Kiko's feet, Paige realizes, are bare—and now rest mere inches away from her thigh.

Tsukiko: But first, I want to hear all about what happened tonight. I bet there's a great story you're not telling me! And then, well...

She eases her left foot slowly under Paige's skirt, just a little, and caresses her thigh with her toes. The Lunar Pilgrim shudders slightly as the troubles of the day suddenly wash away, lost to Tsukiko's warm presence.

Tsukiko: Then, we can talk about anything you'd like...

Last edited by Pilgrim Paige (Fri-21-Apr-2017 18:06:40)

A lot of your RPs are focused on obstacles that Paige has to deal with in her personal life because of her not being "normal" as the general public would say. This is a good way to showcase her strengths and evolve as a character as she does so. They usually seem like situations that are of little consequence though, and while that's not necessarily a criticism, maybe obstacles that have higher stakes or greater consequences could add to the tension of the prejudice and daily struggles she deals with. There was some good character and relationship development between Paige and Tsukiko too.

The only word of caution I would offer is to ensure the RPs don't become too "fluffy" with perhaps entertaining but somewhat irrelevant scenes. Not that the scene with Paige and Tsukiko was irrelevant, it served it's purpose, just a tip to not fall into the trap of repeating those kind of scenes too often and perhaps consider to have them doing something else that is visually more stimulating for the reader to imagine and more memorable within the minds and lives of the characters. This could be something as simple as a visit to a carnival to something as complicated as visiting a dying loved one. Variety adds flavour to an RP or a continuous stream of stories like RPs tend to be. Overall it was a good RP that presented an obstacle, overcame it and presented a new aspect to the story which is all you can really ask for in a short piece of storytelling.

I actually missed this feedback altogether, sorry! Thanks very much for taking the time and for being—as usual—constructive with it.

I do struggle to find scenarios away from the Moontower or gym that work for me. It's something I really wanna work on and explore. The RP I did for Hazel's debut match was a fun stroll through the unfamiliar, actually.

I think another issue I face in writing for Paige is that more and more, I feel so close to her. I mean, she was always meant to be a reflection of me. The further I get into my transition, the harder it is to write conflicts for her—perhaps because I generally fear confrontation and the like in my real life.

Re: Paige/Tsukiko, their storyline is part of my long-term plans for my characters. I do realize their connection has been developing slowly and in low-energy scenarios. I'd meant to be teasing a will they/won't they, so as to hit harder when the time comes. Perhaps have not succeeded in that goal.

I'll see what I can do about shaking things up—in both major story elements you highlighted. Honestly, I'm kinda struggling lately. I love doing this, and really do put a lot of work and thought into the material. I love my characters and put an embarrassing amount of time into crafting them. I've been RPing this character fairly comfortably for over a year now and it's agonizing to feel kinda lost. There's a couple things just on the horizon, though, that I hope will breathe new life into this, and accelerate the advent of 2 long-term, interconnected story goals.

Last edited by Pilgrim Paige (Fri-19-May-2017 01:51:41)

Pilgrim Paige RP for 4CW Storm Front (May 21st, 2017)

Goodnight, Midnight
May 6th, 2017—Waxing gibbous moon (83% visible)

What? No way! No fucking way! I mean... just... AGH!

Pēiji...
("Paige")
––––––––
Hazel walks steadily forth through familiar woods, with her pale face turning occasionally towards the soon-to-be-full moon, taking in the mild night air on the way to Paige's dwelling(s). The text she'd received from Tsukiko, who was having a "sleepover" with Paige, was out-of-character for her dear friend/roomie. It was poorly written; messy. She had immediately sensed urgency upon merely receiving it, and so, she threw some things into an overnight bag and took off for Paige's little corner of the world. Approaching through the clearing and footpath, she sees that only the gym lights are on. Taking a deep breath, Hazel enters the converted garage. Pilgrim Paige sits at the left of a weather-worn picnic table's seat. Tsukiko and Hazel, respectively, sit to her right. Paige has set the table up in the far left corner of the room. Sitting on a plum-colored body pillow, they collectively stare at the screen of a scratched-up laptop. Paige's dear friends sit up as close as possible without knocking the poor girl off of her seat, huddled together to see the screen clearly. The room's atmosphere is a solemn one. Communicating via Skype, a somewhat disheveled-looking, young Japanese man sits in a small room. The raven-haired young man—a selective mute who at once never spoke at all—still chooses to only speak a rare word or two. To resolve the obvious communication difficulties, Oki-Kira holds up a small black chalkboard in one hand, and pale blue chalk in the other. Early in the conversation, Tsukiko had explained to her friends that Kira does not know how to write in English.

Paige clutches Tsukiko's arm tightly (and vice versa) while blinking rapidly and taking shallow breaths. She seems to be working through a panic attack. Tsukiko's lips are drawn tight. Hazel appears less affected than her compatriots, though appears tense and rests a hand on Tsukiko's shoulder, gently rubbing it for comfort. This all comes in response to Oki-Kira's news, which still lingers on the chalkboard, yet to be erased. Tsukiko has been acting as translator for Kira's written kanji. The chalkboard reads:

ラヴノーズは死んでいる

Barely a minute ago, Tsukiko—dumbfounded and tearful—had turned to Paige and translated for Kira...

Tsukiko: Kira says, "Ravunōzu wa shindeiru"... "Ravnos is dead".

Another long moment passes, and Kira erases the board. Paige's breathing becomes too short, so Tsukiko takes her aside. Tsukiko places Paige's slender hands on her shoulders, locks eyes with her, then rests her own hands upon Paige's shoulders. Hazel shimmies to the left, taking up Paige's former spot at the laptop. Tsukiko starts Paige in on some breathing exercises. Hazel eyes the two of them curiously for a second, then turns to the PC screen.

Hazel: When did this happen?

Hazel watches on as her friends' ex-mentor scribbles on the chalkboard.

木曜日

Giving Paige and Kiko time to collect themselves, an awkward moment passes between the two relative strangers. The hedge witch attempts to break the ice.

Hazel: So... I think it's safe to say our girls are definitely an item now, huh? You know—girlfriends?

Kira nods politely. From somewhere off-screen, he grabs a little desktop Rainbow Pride flag and waves it back and forth. Hazel smiles, then sighs, at a loss again. She mulls it over, and tries a different tact.

Hazel: I'm certain they don't have any idea we know. It's pretty obvious, but they haven't really come out and said anything. Let's let them go about it their own way, okay?

Another polite nod. Kira pushes his mess of hair aside and absently scratches his neck, looking uncomfortable and melancholic.

Hazel: So... I hear you like DDR. The girls and I have plans to visit Tokyo. You should take us to your favorite arcade sometime, so I can kick your Asian ass!

Kira manages a weak smile. Out of his line of view, so does Tsukiko. Paige doesn't quite get there, but observes Tsukiko with an expression that bears great endearment. Oki-Kira points a long index finger at Witch Hazel.

Kira: Dansu dansu kakumei? Hai, Hēzeru. Ganbarou! Hahaha!

Paige and Kiko rejoin Hazel, hovering over her shoulders.

Tsukiko: He says, "Yes, Hazel. Good luck!" He said the last part sarcastically.

Hazel: That I did get.

Paige whispers to Tsukiko: That's the most I've ever heard him speak!

Their attention falls back to the chalkboard, where a message still awaits.

Tsukiko translates: It says, "Mokuyōbi"... Thursday.

Gritting her teeth, Paige asks—though somehow, she already knows—the obvious.

Paige: How?

The board is erased, and Kira writes: 自殺

Tsukiko, a bit choked up with sorrow for the loss of her mentor of nearly five years, translates once more.

Tsukiko: ...Suicide...

The group collectively sigh. They decide to observe a moment of silence. Hazel whips up a makeshift shrine of candles, incense and the camera Rav had bestowed upon Paige, what felt like many moons ago now. Kira displays a modest new ikebana he has begun in an effort to center himself and stay in tune with the natural world... a value he has been struggling to maintain these past few days. With heads bowed, they sit in silence, with positive recollections, intentions and prayer for Ravnos Midnight's soul to rest in peace.

Afterward, Tsukiko pipes up...

Tsukiko: I learned so much at his shitty little gym back home. I even learned a little from him, when he actually showed up!

For the first time in the night, Pilgrim Paige manages a slight smile. Following Kiko's lead, she says...

Paige: Goth prick never did hit me up on Skype.

Tsukiko gives Paige a playful, if half-hearted punch on the shoulder. Hazel half-stands up to make room for Tsukiko to take her position on the body pillow. As she quietly shuffles to the far end to make room for her pals, Hazel leans toward the laptop, mouths "DDR" to Oki-Kira and brazenly sticks her tongue out. Kira, surprisingly, returns the gesture. Kiko gets in place in front of the computer to clue up with Kira. She encourages him to take some time for himself; to (please) keep in touch; and to keep everyone up-to-date on his living arrangements.
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May 18th, 2017—Last quarter moon (56% visible)

Continuing her generous home design work that she'd started with the colored staircase lights, Tsukiko has been working a project with Paige for weeks: updating the interior of the Moontower. The two women, wearing faded black longsleeves and sweatpants, set down the paintbrushes they each hold and glance at one another. Their faces beam brightly, sharing a mutual sense of accomplishment. Then, the two set about carrying paint cans, rollers and brushes out to the garage. The evening air is rather chilly; hurrying their pace. Together, they make quick work of it. Paige and Tsukiko, looking a bit dragged out, head back into the treehouse and silently observe their handiwork..

Immediately apparent, of course, is the new paint: the byzantium purple has gone the way of the dodo, in favor of two fresh coats of wild orchid. Then, there's the lighting change. The intense, incandescent purple glow from the ceiling has been eliminated completely. Its two replacements are as follows: 1) A soft, warm glow from a vintage French sconce, dead-center in the wall opposite the window, and 2) Subtle blue-and-purple accents from above, provided by intertwined string lights which encircle the ceiling trim, akin to Kiko's work on the stairway. Beneath the antique sconce is a new futon, with a stained black wooden frame and armrests at each side. A stained-black coffee table sits in the middle of the small room. Upon it sits a high-end Bluetooth speaker, the girls' cell phones, and a cardboard box with some left-over pizza still in it. Even the familiar old table, which has seen much use as a makeshift cameraman, has been replaced by a solid wood writing desk, situated left of the door. The only things to stay are the circular purple rug by the window, and Paige's musical instruments—which are now displayed proudly on wooden wall hangers—and related items like her amp and cords, which now have their own little storage container. Above the wall-hung instruments, a small stained-black shelf bears a modest floral display. But what of the window-bearing wall?

The window frame and shutters have been stripped of the old matte black paint, and redone with the newly recurring stained-black theme. As usual, there is an incense holder sitting on the windowsill. However, the holder itself is also a new item. Then, there's the surrounding wall. It's an accent wall, painted in a flat, neutral taupe. But its surface has been painted upon by Tsukiko and Paige: two small areas of the wall, side-by-side, are emblazoned with their own personal artwork. Tsukiko's name is signed to a tiny, bluish-green dragonfly, painted with swirling circular brush strokes. Paige's is signed to a waving flag-like depiction of the Transgender Pride flag, using a large brush in swift, wavering strokes.

Paige: Damn, Kiko! We really spruced this place up! No way I could've done this without you. Great idea, girl.

Tsukiko beams some more.

Tsukiko: Thanks! Glad to be of service!

A week before, Paige had mentioned to Tsukiko that she'd been considering repainting, refurnishing and generally refreshing her branch-borne abode. She'd also told Tsukiko that she could use all the help she could get, and that it would be a fun bonding experience. These statements were both, in fact, very much sincere. And yet, Paige also hid an ulterior motive... with only the best of intentions for her dear friend, faction-mate and—though it was still unspoken and they hadn't yet kissed or been overly physical—significant other. In truth, though she herself was still feeling a sting in the wake of Ravnos' death, Paige had been extremely worried about her blue-haired belle. "She needs a damn good distraction, and fast!", Paige recalled thinking. Especially after being contacted by a legal representative ten days before today. He'd read out Rav's last will and testament over Skype. It shocked his students that he'd ever written one, frankly.. It was short and sweet, to say the least: His training facility had, of course, been left to Kira, as well as his tattered leather trenchcoat—which Kira had framed and displayed upon a wall of the dojo. Other personal effects were left to other students of Rav's. Paige already had the camera. All that remained were, well, his remains... Rav's cremated ashes were shipped to his native Newfoundland for dispersal in the Atlantic—a task bestowed upon his favorite student, Tsukiko Mizuno. Hazel, ever prepared for any morbid goings-on, was the sole arranger of a funeral procession that saw Tsukiko break down in uncontrollable sobs... her tears falling into the now-empty clay jar.

That was ten days ago. Today—after so much pain and tear-shedding—and later, much toil, paint and horseplay—Tsukiko was finally beginning to come back around to her old self again.

Tsukiko: Hey, daydreamer, get your skinny butt on over here!

Tsukiko has, in fact, been sprawled out on the new futon for a while now. She has surprised herself in that she feels simply and truly relaxed. For the first time in what feels to her like a decade, her mind is not a blur. Rather, Tsukiko's thoughts are only on the present; her eyes are Paige's form. Stirred from her reverie, Paige realizes she is staring absently at the newly painted artwork—sure to be the first of much, much more.

Paige: Be right there, Tsukiko.

Finally, she pulls herself away from the art wall and turns to face Tsukiko. Paige's eyebrows raise for just a moment: while woolgathering, she'd not only missed Kiko's epic Flair-flop onto the couch, but also that the girl had stripped down to just her panties and a tank top. Paige shrugs and does the same. She then hops onto the coffee table, leaps forward with a WOOO and playfully dives onto Tsukiko's midriff. Kiko lets out a quiet "Oomph!" sound. They get situated, cuddling up close. Paige plays the role of little spoon and grabs her phone. She powers up the speaker and fiddles with the Bluetooth and volume settings. Soon, a playlist of lo-fi hip-hop quietly fills the room with a peaceful, nostalgic atmosphere as Tsukiko and Paige fall asleep in each other's arms.
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Last edited by Pilgrim Paige (Mon-22-May-2017 01:11:03)

***Note: the following RP is a re-write. Much of it appeared in the original finished roleplay, but I have elected to scrap a new storyline that was introduced in said version.***

Pilgrim Paige RP for 4CW SummerFest (July 23rd, 2017)

A Witch's Tale in Two Fragments, Parts I & II

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Part I: Moon Above, Sea Below

July 9th, 2017—Full Moon (100% visible)

The scene opens a moment later onto Tsukiko sitting comfortably on the Moontower's new futon, awaiting what she hopes will be an elucidating monologue from her nervous belle. The Lunar Pilgrim is currently pacing back and forth in front of the recently-remodelled window of the Moontower. Tsukiko has grown used to this habit, knowing it helps her nervous sweetheart to think.  In the humid summer night's air, Kiko lightly dabs sweat from her brow. She's about to ask Paige to open the window, but as she opens her mouth to speak, a cool breeze comes wafting into the treehouse. Tsukiko can't help it: a smile takes over her lips. She's becoming more and more endeared by Paige's intuition each and every day. Striding back and forth the floor, the Lunar Pilgrim's long purple ponytail and black lace skirt bob about with each turn of her heel. At last, she stops pacing.

Paige: Okay, here goes nothing! I need to note ahead of this that it's hard to convey this stuff, and my dissociation from so much of the past doesn't help. Okay, so, when I refer to the past—the time before my transition began—you'll hear me say things like, "my former self" and "the before times." In lieu of using a name, I'll refer to my former self as "Deadname", which is the term many trans folks use for their pre-transition name. Also, I have to be clear: as far as I know, I do not have dissociative identity disorder. It's just really draining and painful to remember much of the past, so I feel disconnected—or sometimes need to consciously disconnect myself—from a lot of it. I'm a pretty extreme case when it comes to that part of gender dysphoria. It feels like it was a different life; someone else's... that' why I always refer to it that way. I hope this helps you better understand the way I've been spaking when sharing certain things with you.

Tsukiko: Hmm. I think so, yes. And hey—if it helps, I think I can kinda relate. It can really hurt to remember a painful past. And when so much of it felt so wrong for you... and in fact, the "you" that people knew back then was so fabricated... that makes it even more difficult to contend with the memories.

A few moments later, Paige's expression carries nothing but affection for her partner, overtaking her nervous awkwardness.

Paige: See, that's what I love most about you. Your heart. Always there for those you care about; always sympathetic; and incredibly empathetic, whenever possible. You have a gift.

Tsukiko playfully winks in response.

The Lunar Pilgrim flops onto the couch next to her seated sweetheart. Her crystalline blue eyes can't quite rest on one focal point; they insist on tracing over Kiko's form; hair; clothes. In Paige's mind, Tsukiko's every physical aspect is, in essence, flawless. Any apparent "flaws" cannot truly be seen as flaws, simply because they belong to a woman whose every element, to Paige, is a thing of absolute beauty; a work of art. These quiet ruminations are suddenly interrupted by the work of art shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Tsukiko: I think my butt is asleep!

Tsukiko catches Paige's eye—then both women burst into laughter. After a few moments, Tsukiko abruptly stops laughing and looks at her partner with an intense, tight expression.

Tsukiko: Seriously, help me get into a different position—my ass is totally numb and I'm stuck in my couch groove!

This time, the pair burst into hysterics as Paige wriggles the poor girl out of her butt-groove. Tsukiko gives a thumbs-up when she's loose and playfully pecks Paige on the cheek. Laying back upon her partner's body, Kiko begins absently humming to herself.

Paige: Is that what I think it is? Geez, my tastes must really be rubbing off on you, little miss "I don't really like any indie pop"!

Tsukiko: What can I say? This is kinda different! And I love that there's an actual, like... lesbian indie pop scene out there. But this song... play dumb all you like, I know you knew what you were doing every time you played it! As if I could miss the symbolism in those lyrics! "You tower over me / You are sky and I am sea... but we can be the horizon". Smooth stuff; but not exactly subtle, are you, dear?

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Part I: Moon Above, Sea Below (cont'd)

July 22nd, 2017—New Moon (2% visible)

On a dark, starry night, Tsukiko and Paige are roasting marshmallows in the fire pit beyond the Moontower. Kiko is looking at Paige with a serious expression, trying to read her focused, firelit face.

Tsukiko: So tell me, Miss "Golden Pilgrim"... how are you feeling about the triple cage match?

Paige slowly looks up from her roasting stick. When Tsukiko meets her eye, the gears start turning again and she considers this for a moment.

Paige: My initial reaction.., I was kinda surprised when news broke that Sery got it funded. It finally hit me that I'll be stepping into an environment borne from someone else's imagination. I kept thinking, "Oh, so this is what it's like to be waiting... and waiting... to participate in a new match type that isn't your own!" ...Doesn't feel as good from this side.

The Lunar Pilgrim looks thoughtful.

Paige: So... I gave you my initial reaction about the Custom Cup stipulation. Know what, though? The more I think about it, the less worried I feel. At this point, I'm not even sweating it anymore.

Tsukiko: Oooh! There's the confidence I was hoping to find in you tonight! Thought I might have to wrestle it out of you. Rawr! —But also not-rawr. Seriously, I wanna put in some eleventh-hour work with you before the match.

The fire burns out as Paige retrieves her stick—complete with blackened marshmallow—and sets off along the forest pathwith Tsukiko. They clasp their free hands together as they walk.

Paige: I know. Don't worry—the night is still young. There's plenty of time for all manner of grappling...

Tsukiko nudges Paige's shoulder playfully with a devilish grin.

Paige: True... and weird-but-true. So... I gave you my initial reaction about the Custom Cup match Know what, though? For once, the more I think about it, the less worried I feel. At this point, I'm not even sweating SummerFest anymore.

Tsukiko: So, where did this total flip in perspective come from, anyway?

Reaching the end of the path and entering the clearing, the night's Lunar Pilgrim gazes upon the elegant magnifence of her Moontower for a long moment.

Paige speaks without looking away from the gargantuan tree standing before her.

Paige: A memory... an experience.

The playful mood dissipates and both women's tone changes. When Paige speaks, it is from a place of focus and fond memory.

Tsukiko: Babe?

Paige: It wasn't always like this, you know...

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Part II: The Lunar Tree (A Memory)

August 17th, 2014—Last quarter moon (51% visible)

Paige: Dammit!

Paige—quite out of breath—stands at the bottom of a huge, ancient oak. She is bent forward with her hands on her knees, exhausted. The branches of this venerable wooden mammoth are not low-hanging, and the trunk—though knobbly enough to climb—seems to stretch upward for miles. Paige returns to a comfortable upright pose as her breathing steadies. The young woman studies the stubborn old oak.

Paige: Know what I don't get? I don't get how, out of all the suitable trees in this godforsaken thicket, my inner compass is drawn exclusively to your knobby old ass! Agggh!

Paige re-tapes her fingers, hands and wrists for what feels like the millionth time, smacks her palms together and lowers her stance, gearing up for yet another awkward ascent up the rough bark.

Paige: 12th time's the charm! Comin' at ya...

The fledgling Lunar Pilgrim charges towards the tree at a well-calculated angle and achieves a high vertical leap—high enough, at last, to rebound her worn left sneaker off of a narrow knot about 2 feet above ground level. Paige springs off of the knot with great momentum and finds herself standing on a wide knot another foot and a half up. She carefully turns her heels upon the knot, facing the lowest-hanging branch of the tree. She takes a deep breath and leaps from her perch, arms stretched as high as they can go. Paige's fingers and palms find purchase upon the low branch, but struggle to keep hold of the solid wood. She looks down upon the earth beneath her—then back up—and musters all of her strength to push herself up and onto the breadth of the branch. Paige rolls onto her back, panting heavily as she takes in the view of the huge oak tree's dense foliage and myriad upper branches.

Paige: Piece of cake.

Paige looks down again for a moment, then returns to her leisurely skygazing. She rests her head upon folded arms. smiling in satisfaction.

Some time later, the young athlete awakens from a brief, yet deep, sleep. She stretches, and begins to roll over as her eyes slowly open—and swiftly rolls back to her previous position when she nearly rolls off onto the tangle of hard roots below. Her heart races for only those few moments, then rapidly returns to normal once out of harm's way. In fact, a warm sense of serenity washes over the Lunar Pilgrim, the likes of which she's never experienced before.

Paige: Mmm. Y'know, Oakie, old boy... I don't think I've ever slept so well in my entire life.

Across the way, a rusty truck caked in mud exits an old garage—the only man-made structure in the area—barrels along a dirt path and onto a worn gravel road leading out of the forest. Paige's mind begins to wander, thinking odd, fanciful thoughts.

Paige: If I were the whimsical sort, I'd say right about now that this would be a lovely place to call home...

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Coda: Trees, Poles and Cages

Exterior Moontower—July 22nd, 2017

Tsukiko smiles as Paige concludes her story. Then, she swoons.

Tsukiko: Damn, my girl can climb like that?!

Paige: Hmm... I'm not sure. I kept it up for a while, but at this point it's really been a while...

Tsukiko: A little rusty, huh? No sweat! I can help you get back in the groove in no time. Ooh! Tomorrow, we'll go pick a huuuge tree with lots of branches and takes turns! I'll need to see your technique and speed. That intuition of yours is gonna come in handy, for sure. Ooh! And we can have a romantic picnic on a big, wide branch, waaay up high. Ooh, and—

Paige tries to humorously shush Tsukiko, but can't make her lips into the right shape for all of her giggling.

Paige: Okay, okay! Sounds like all the fun.

Tsukiko: Right? Argh, now I'm all hyper! Are we gonna wrassle soon? I'm gonna wrassle you so good! Ooh! Oh my god, Paige—did I tell you Hazel's taking pole dancing classes now?!

Paige: Hazel?! Really?! Despite the in-ring theatrics and hypersexuality, she doesn't really seem the outgoing type. Or the going out type. ...I'm guessing online, huh?

Tsukiko gets into story-telling mode, talking with her hands.

Tsukiko: Mmhmm! Oh, you have to hear this! Three days ago some guy shows up on my doorstep with a 10-foot cardboard box. Our fine Finnish friend has since set up a big, chrome stripper pole in the middle of my kitchen. Every morning now, I wake up to the dulcet tones of an online teacher's voice and my roommate spraying Magic Grip on her palms. I do not do morning wells to begin with—but yesterday was a doozy .. I tumbled out of my big, cozy bed, being all groany and bleary-eyed, as per usual. When I zombied my ass to the kitchen, I nearly shambled straight into 9 feet of steel... which I narrowly avoided—of course—by blindly smacking into 6 feet of confused Finnish girl instead. Admittedly—a much softer impact, but still. Then the bathroom incident... argh! My sleepy-eyed self blindly wandered to the toilet and pulled her pants down, before realizing Hazel was already using it! At least I caught myself before I sat on the poor girl... but Haze has herself convinced I was actually just mooning her in protest against the pole!

Paige has been in hysterics for a solid minute. Kiko's cheeks redden deeply, and her partner attempts to collect herself.

Paige: All this pole-dancing and Sery-licking... yeah, she'd do quite well in the triple cage. She could recreate the upside-down kiss from Spiderman '02... except freaky and X-rated.

Both women laugh to tears, belly-laughing for a solid minute. Tsukiko collects herself first.

Tsukiko: Come on, Spider-Paige. Let's go train.

Last edited by Pilgrim Paige (Fri-8-Sep-2017 15:04:10)

Pilgrim Paige RP for 4CW Gallows End (Oct. 31st, 2017)

All Hazel's Eve
October 30th, 2017—Waxing gibbous moon (75% visible)

At the end of a dead-end gravel road, an abandoned cemetery is brought to life by the gentle glow of a gibbous moon. A starlit sky serves as a beautiful backdrop, suspended above the many maple, oak and birch trees beyond the small graveyard. All of their leaves have turned various shades of orange or yellow and many have fallen to the cool earth below.

Mötley Crüe's "Shout at the Devil" disturbs the peace, growing louder by the second. This is accompanied by the distinctive, droning crunch of truck tires rolling slowly over packed dirt and gravel breaks the night's silence. Soon, the graveyard gates are illuminated by the incandescent headlights of an old red pick-up truck as it creeps up and stops nearby. Paige and Hazel cease their headbanging for the first time of the entire drive; Tsukiko, in the driver's seat, has opted to nod her head and drum on the steering wheel. while Tsukiko shuts the engine off and the three women clamber out of the cab. Together, the three take stock of their surroundings. Paige and Hazel head round to the truck bed while Tsukiko busies herself with opening the heavy gates. Four garbage bags sit in the flatbed.

Hazel: I'll bring the comfy things!

Paige: Alright. I'll get the other bags.

The truck itself—a red '89 Toyota—is an odd, well-worn beast. On the one hand, it could use some work: a great deal of its body is peppered with rust and a decent helping of dings and dents. It's a simple-looking thing; clearly built for performance and not exactly destined for any beauty pageants, not even in its youth. On the other hand, it runs like a dream and has been given some Coven flair: colorful string lights all around the the original seating has been replaced with a brand new bench seat, which itself has been covered with a thick black quilt for the increasingly cold weather. The girls themselves are dressed for weather, wearing thick black jackets. Tsukiko dons a navy blue skull cap, as well. She completes her task and turns to the others.

Tsukiko: Everything under control?

Her friends both nod and meet Tsukiko at the gates. The cemetery is small and seems to have long since fallen into disuse. It takes about a minute to reach its center, so the girls get to walking and talking.

Paige: Y'know, you could be putting some of your hard-earned money into fixing poor Sam up, Kiko.

Tsukiko's face fills with mock indignation as the girls saunter along a stone footpath through the cemetery.

Tsukiko: But I did put money into her! That's how I got her!

She smirks and sticks her tongue out childishly at Paige.

Paige: Oh ha-ha. You know what I mean! Actual repairs. And paint. Hell, you could just get a new car. Why not jump into the modern world with me and Haze over here?

Tsukiko: Uh... Hazel is the next best thing to a luddite. Girl didn't even have a cell phone 'til she made roster. Anyway! Back your question. I keep my rust bucket rusty for the same reason you're a top draw and still spend your downtime in a tree-house. It's got character. History. And there's beauty in simplicity; in imperfection. A place is just a place... and a vehicle is just a vehicle. But the Moontower is so much more than that. And so is Big Sam! Besides—you love her and you know it!

Kiko and Paige playfully nudge each other as they walk side-by-side. Hazel is, as usual, quietly bringing up the rear. Grinning from ear to ear, she seems quite amused by the two lovebirds as they flit about, totally besotted with one another. The girls reach the middle of the cemetery and partially empty the bags. Hazel carefully spreads out a large, circular blanket and weighs down her empty bag with the other. Once this is done, the trio unload the bags Paige has brought over. They're both filled with numerous ritual items and a petite wooden table with foldable legs. The Coven sets about building a small shrine at the heart of the circle. Paige, Hazel and Tsukiko gather and sit, cross-legged, in a vague circle. All six hands are linked tightly together; all six eyes shine brilliantly by candlelight. The three women inhale deeply of a woody, potent incense—all three inhale and exhale in synchronicity.

Hazel: We gather here tonight on this, the 30th night of the year's 10th month, to give strength and courage to those within the circle. To sharpen our senses and focus our minds. To pay homage to Mother Nature as she is, was and shall yet be; to the cold, fragile beauty she now presents and her invariably strong will. May her hardiness enshroud us, such that we may one day become as sturdy as the mighty oaks that surround us this night. Bow, friends and pray.

The witchy trinity falls silent while ruminating on their stated intentions; honing their minds to find a place from which these wishes can be beckoned forth into the ether. With a shared intuition rather than spoken word, the group prayer ends. The silent women look upon one another and smile, feeling both rejuvenated and peaceful in mind and body. Hazel and Tsukiko stand and stride over to the remaining bag. Paige remains seated, looking thoughtful. Her thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a huge body pillow landing in her lap.

Tsukiko: Hey, space case. Pick a grave.

Paige wanders the rows and rows of graves, sizing them up one by one. She finally settles on a large, unmarked tombstone just a short walk from the girls' shrine. Kiko and Hazel join her in positioning the body pillows, then lie down together with their heads near to the base of the old stone monument. En masse, the girls cross their arms under their heads and gaze upon the starlit sky.

Tsukiko: When you were kids, what did you guys want to be when you grew up?

Hazel answers quickly, seemingly not needing to think it over.

Hazel: Wise... and brave. I have always sought knowledge, first and foremost. My younger self, she really could have used some courage. Also, a friend. In Vancouver, I always spent so much time at school alone, wishing I had a friend. Some of the girls, they saw me and would wish for my physique, or my hair. Others, they would wish for my hair to fall out while I slept. At that age, "beauty" guarantees nothing.

Paige: Damn, Haze. That's really... real. Hey—I know at least two girls who would never wish anything bad on you, okay? You're not alone anymore. You're with us! And you've definitely built some wisdom up in that weird brain of yours.
Plus, you're one of ballsiest bitches I've ever met!

Hazel grins—softly at first—then, what can only be described by adding "... like an idiot". She beams, then sticks her tongue out and throws the horns up to the night sky. Paige turns her head to her right, toward Tsukiko.

Paige: How about you, babe?

Tsukiko smiles.

Tsukiko: No surprises here: a professional wrestler. I've always been a wrestling fan. NJPW was the start of it all, growing up. My passion just grew and grew, 'til I couldn't take it anymore! I'll never forget my first day of training. It was hell... and I loved every second of it! Hmm. Oh! And when I was 12 I wanted to marry Willow. Yes, as in Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Paige: How'd that pan out?

Tsukiko sits up, resting her back against the gravestone. Paige follows suit and she makes eye contact with her ocean-haired partner.

Tsukiko: Pretty damn good, from where I'm sitting. RAWR!

Hazel, still stargazing, brings on the mock disgust.

Hazel: Blech! You two. Kissy-kiss, mwua-mwua-mwua! Cheesy lines. Horny like toads. It never ends!

Hazel joins her friends, propping herself up against the slab.

Hazel: So... Paige. Your kid self wanted to be... ?

Paige sighs heavily, staring off into nothing as she begins to speak.

Paige: Don't worry, I'm not gonna get all dramatic or anything like that. Just the raw truth; and it really is pretty raw, so consider yourselves warned. So, same old preface: my memory is kinda shitty and there's a lot of blur, mixed with a handful of really clear moments. So, in terms of what my kid self wanted to be, the first clear memory I think back and remember is kindergarten graduation. In my mind's eye, I see this awkward, too-quiet kid standing in... *sigh*... his—dammit—homeroom. All the other students are elsewhere: it's just my mother, talking with... okay, look. For me, I have to say "him"; I just can't seem to look back and recognize it as my own past. It's like first-hand memories of someone else. Like a brother who never really got to know me. Anyway. I can picture them standing there, talking about the graduation ceremony. All the kids have been talking about it... not to him, of course.

Paige dares a glance to ensure Hazel and Kiko are not asleep and/or dead. An idle thought runs across Paige's brain about the latter and that if such a horror did occur, it'd be easy to sort out afterward. A morbid, darkly humorous thought; Paige struggles to keep a straight face, so she clears her throat and—having confirmed that the other two yet draw breath—continues her story.

Paige: The big talking point was the same one we're having right now. This was at a small school, the kind where the gym doubles as the auditorium, with a small stage at one end. For graduation, all the kids are expected to go up on stage in front of all the parents/guardians, staff, each other... and say what they wanna be when they grow up. I can actually recall some answers. The stand-out being "When I grow up, I wanna be a fire truck!"

The girls share a belly laugh.

Paige: There's always one, right? Ha... that was great. Big laugh in the room. Anyway, something I think of now is how genuine so many replies were. Colorful and unfiltered, the way kids are supposed to see the world, y'know? That talk with my mom; I can see him in my head. He was upset, flustered... he really, truly had no idea what to say. Mom made suggestions, but nothing was fitting. Ultimately, time was running too short and a decision was made: carpentry. Simply because it was my father's job. Well, and 'cause—you know—man stuff. Time came; he went on stage, said the cutesy line... people love it when little kids wanna be like their parents. Well, presuming it's the parent of the same gender, at least. But it didn't mean anything. Now... you might be thinking, "Hey, that's just kindergarten, Paige!"  Well, I know neither of you are thinking that,
knowing me like you do. It was the same at the end, in the high school yearbook. "Journalist", it said. Heh. Closer to true now than it was then. Mostly, he just wanted to be dead most days.

Tsukiko squeezes Paige's hand. Paige squeezes back.

Paige: Too much stayed hidden for too long. It's not like people talked about trans stuff back then, or portrayed it as anything real in the movies. Hell, he was always in a fight with his father about wearing nail polish. Dad never saw the makeup, that's for damn sure. In kindergarten, you get asked who you wanna be when you grow up. Growing up and graduating, figuring things out... people have to ask themselves who they are, who they wanna be. Hell, you go to a job interview and you get that, "Where do you see yourself 5 years from now?" bullshit. The whole way along, my truth had to be hidden. Underneath the repression and guilt, I didn't need to ask myself what I wanted to be. When push came to shove... I just wanted to be her. Every burgeoning trans girl out there has a "her". It's about having an idealized vision of the you that you want to be. When I came out to myself, I could finally let myself see her. I would see her in my mind's eyes, and I'd smile a big, genuine smile. I was finally letting myself feel what I'd always hidden from myself. Then and only then did any of those self-searching questions mean anything.

Hazel and Tsukiko: Wow.

Paige: So, uh... I know I bang on about this kinda stuff a lot and—

Tsukiko: Don't even, girl. All golden. You should know that by now, little miss Golden Pilgrim herself!

Paige receives a playful noogie as "punishment" for her moment of self-doubt. Hazel—who has been bird-hopping back and forth on top of the tombstone since Paige finished her story—ceases her balancing game and drops to the dirt below.

Hazel: So I guess... the better question to ask is, "Who do you want to be after Gallows End?

Paige looks to to the moon and stars for advice as she thinks.

Paige: Hmm. You know what, Haze? Tomorrow night, above all else... I wanna be "best in show". Know what I mean? Whatever happens, I want to truly show just how far I've come. I want to put on an absolutely unforgettable performance. I want to leave Madison Square Garden a better competitor—a better me—than when I first enter the building.

Tsukiko: I like it. It's simple. Honest.

Tsukiko stands, looking at both Paige and Hazel.

Tsukiko: Ready to pack up and go?

Hazel: You go on ahead. I want to pay my respects.

Tsukiko: You literally just danced on an unmarked grave.

Hazel: You wouldn't understand. No offense, Kiko! Just... leave me to it—please.

Tsukiko: "So says Hazel", huh?

Kiko smirks. Hazel nods, stone-faced; she seems to have switched gears again.

Hazel: Yes. So says Hazel.

Paige and Tsukiko trudge along to the truck, lugging the garbage bags along. The girls dump the bags back into the flatbed and hop in the truck. This time, Paige sits at the wheel. They watch Hazel for a while, enjoying the relative silence.

Tsukiko: That girl is an enigma wrapped in a mystery.

Paige: Right? Never gonna be another Hazel like the one we've got, that's for sure!

Tsukiko lcatches Paige's eye.

Tsukiko: So, the other day, I accidentally dropped my toothbrush in the trash.

Paige: Ick! Please tell me you had a spare.

Tsukiko: I did. Anyway. When I dropped the old one, I noticed a pill bottle in the trash. Not mine. So, it seems Hazel has a prescription for lithium. Living with Haze is... interesting. I've been keeping track of behavioral and mood irregularities, that sort of stuff. On the whole, the girl is... hmm. She gets into some pretty intense moods and really overactive, hypersexual, impulsive. Doesn't sleep much. Looking all this up, I've found that lithium is a common go-to prescription for mania.
Haze is missing some key symptoms, but some are there, in varying degrees. Paige, I think Hazel may have hypomania. It's nothing to freak about, but I do want to get to the bottom of that pill bottle, so to speak. She doesn't know I know... I'll try to find a way to bring it up with her at home soon. We've gotta know whether she's taking her medication or not.

Paige: Damn. Well, hey... keep me in the loop, okay? Way in the loop. If you ever need my help, just say the word.

Tsukiko smiles. Paige frowns.

Tsukiko: ... babe?

Paige: Hmm? Oh, sorry! Lost in thought. Just was thinking about... *sigh*. About what Brian White said—or, y'know—barked at me. I mean... what if he's right?

Tsukiko: About what, exactly?

Hazel comes skipping along through the cemetery gates, merry as a lark.

Paige: About me. I mean, I've been kinda out of control myself lately. I haven't really wrapped my head around it, I just... I just got to wondering, you know? That phrase, over and over. "What if he's right?"

Hazel: Right about what?

Hazel stands beside the truck, looking curious. Paige turns the ignition as Tsukiko opens the passenger side door for Hazel. She climbs into the truck.

Hazel: So, what did I miss? Or do I not want to know?

Paige: The latter. Mostly, we were just staring dreamily into each other's eyes for 5 straight minutes. Well... gay minutes, technically.

Tsukiko giggles.

Hazel: You are a bad liar, Paige. Just like Kiko. Maybe you're an asshole, too. It's midnight, and you both forgot my birthday! How is that even possible? It's Samhain!

Hazel mopes, staring out the window.

Hazel: Ugh, why is the truck not moving, hmm?

Kiko and Paige have big, toothy painted across their faces.

Tsukiko: Hey, Haze. Would you mind grabbing Paige's cap? It's in the glove box.

Hazel rolls her (currently green) eyes 'til they almost fall out of her pale head. Nonetheless, she opens the glove box, finding a small cardboard box covered in a pumpkin-y wrapping paper. She opens it, and Hazel's eyes light up like diamonds.

Hazel: EEEEEP! My favorite!

She carefully picks up the box and begins devouring a slice of chocolate marbled cheesecake, sprinkled with pumpkin spice and surrounded by big, red strawberries.

Tsukiko: We didn't forget, Haze. We were waiting for the clock to roll over from 11:59 to 12:00AM, to be sure it was officially Halloween.

Hazel (with a mouth full of cake): Mmnnnmmm. Argh! I love you, you jerks! You let me hate your guts for a whole minute just to surprise me?

Paige: Worth it.

Tsukiko: Happy birthday, Haze.

Paige: Happy birthday! And a delightful Samhain!

Paige puts the truck in reverse and swings it around to face the road. Tsukiko pops her "Halloween mix" tape back into the cassette deck and cranks the speakers as the girls drive off, howling at the bright October moon.

Paige's speech text = deep purple
Hazel's speech text = bluish grey
Tsukiko's speech text = aqua green

The Night Before Solstice
December 20th, 2017—waxing crescent moon (5% visible)

'Twas the night before solstice, when all through the flat;
Not a Wiccan was sleeping; they were having a chat.
About all the presents they never did get;
And all of the snow days their schools did not let.

Three witches talked on, long into the night;
Tsukiko's ghost story gave Paige quite a fright!
The couple, they giggled; young Hazel did not;
"Such a saccharine bond!" How she wished it would rot!

The wind brought a chill to the air all night long;
While the witches sang many a ritual song.
"Hocus! Pocus! The eye of the newt!";
A tree decorated with holiday fruit.

Witch Hazel cackled; no fucks did she give;
Mad, wild and free; what a life she did live!
She gathered up popcorn and ate it on bread;
As visions of War matches danced in her head!

"Big Bri is a fool!", Paige said with a sneer;
With knowledge the pay-per-view soon would be here.
"I have a plan!", she declared with great zeal;
"He won't know what hit him! Such pain shall he feel!"

Poor Kiko looked nervous, and rightfully so;
"You're not healed from the big match just two months ago!"
Paige took her hand and smiled into her eyes;
"You've just gotta trust me! There'll be a surprise!"

Then Hazel lit incense of cedar and pine;
And brought from the kitchen some glasses of wine.
Two women partook, while the other forewent;
"I hope that stuff's cheap; you still have to pay rent!"

Tsukiko just laughed and said, "What do you mean?"
Hazel then chuckled, "We're rolling in green!"
The business, 'tis true, did pay them quite well;
"We like living simply, my wise-cracking belle."

Hazel met eyes with the others to share;
That she'd made plans to move to a place new and fair.
Her friends looked surprised; they had not known at all;
"I love it here, too, but I've been antsy this fall."

Her dumbfounded pals simply nodded away;
"I'll do well on my own and must no longer stay."
With a glint in her eye, Hazel hugged her dear Coven;
And Paige trotted off to go check on the oven.

Then she returned to her friends in the den;
With a giant plate covered in gingerbread men.
This warm scene had also a crackling fire;
And Paige and Tsukiko's unyielding desire.

Soon, there arose from the roof such a clatter;
Hazel had escaped from her friends' cutesy chatter.
She declared to the stars that were out and alight:
"Happy solstice to all! So says Hazel."

————————————————

~☆~☆~Happy holidays, 4W~☆~☆~

Last edited by Pilgrim Paige (Sat-23-Dec-2017 05:31:12)

Witch Hazel's profile has been greatly updated and reformatted.

–Paige

Pilgrim Paige RP for character development before 4CW Revival (April 20th, 2018)

Stargazers
April 18th, 2018—New moon (2% visible)

On a lazy spring evening, Tsukiko's blood red '89 pickup sits in a small field; a field enshrouded from the rest of the world by a close-knit community of evergreens and maples. The tall grass—still pale with winter's frozen kiss—is being gently grazed by what little breeze that can pass through a narrow opening in the union of trees.

In the truck bed, Tsukiko and Paige are lying on a small mattress and conversing, facing each other; looking dreamily into each other's eyes. They are dressed similarly this evening, with blue jeans, black t-shirts and loose ponytails. Paige's left hand rests on Tsukiko's hip; Tsukiko's right hand is softly stroking her partner's hair. Paige has committed a shared favorite lofi hiphop mix to cassette tape for the pair to enjoy. It plays unobtrusively in the background, pouring through the open truck windows.

Paige breathes deeply, stretches her muscles and exhales contentedly. When she speaks, her voice bears that same dreamy quality as her eyes.

Paige: This is exactly what I needed today. You have the best ideas, Kiko!

Tsukiko grins.

Tsukiko: Happy to see you happy, babe. Seriously, it's been a while since I've seen a smile on that lovely face of yours.

Paige props herself up on her elbow. Her happy expression wanes slightly; she sighs.

Paige: It's been hard to be cheerful lately.

Tsukiko: I know. *she sighs as well* Believe me, I know.

The sunlight concludes its slow descent, hiding behind the distant mountains. The sky darkens to a purplish black.

Tsukiko: It's a new moon night. Whaddaya say to a little more light?

In the darkness, Paige giggles as Tsukiko crawls over her; Kiko unintentionally tickles her partner's face with the ends of her ocean blue hair in the process of reaching the open rear window. Tsukiko crawls halfway in through the truck window, turns her body 180° and feels around in the dark for something beside the driver's side head rest. A moment later, the interior of the truck is illuminated by the set of string lights Tsukiko has—in lieu of a working ceiling light—taped above the bench seat. With a triumphant howl, Kiko returns to the truck bed, which is now softly illuminated by the makeshift interior lighting.

Tsukiko: Et voila, madame!

Paige's eyes, like the truck, light up from within. She takes up a seated position beside her sea-loving sweetheart.

Paige[: Ooh! I like the French thing. A lot. More, please!

Kiko blushes.

Tsukiko: Er... "Bonjour, madame!"

Paige raises an eyebrow, bearing a comically pouty look on her face. Kiko heaves her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug.

Tsukiko: That's all I know!

Paige: Aww. I'm no expert or anything, but I so have to teach you more. Rawr!

They giggle girlishly.

Paige: Did you pick up some French back in Toronto? You don't hear a lot of it here, frankly.

Tsukiko[: Maybe a little. Nothing I'd remember—I was still getting English down pat as a teen. Mostly, I heard it from Haze.

Paige looks at Kiko inquisitively.

Paige: Wait... Hazel? Okay. But she's only lived in Finland and, well... here. With you. Where'd she pick it up?

Tsukiko: You're forgetting abut boarding school.

Paige: Oh, right! Huh. I mean, she never talks about boarding school, so it's no surprise I forgot.

Tsukiko: Well, I lived with her. And sometimes, she'd greet me at breakfast and pepper the conversation with French. No lapsing into Finnish, even—just French. In her, uh... let's say, "especially bubbly" moods.

The conversation falls into an awkward silence; both young women are quiet for a while. So is the tape; it's reached the end of side A. Then, uncomfortably meeting each other's eyes, they splutter at the same time:

Paige/Tsukiko: Ihavetoswitchthat!Wehavetotalkaboutit!

Tsukiko: Fine. Go ahead.

Paige hops down from the truck bed and opens the driver's side door, hopping inside to change the tape over to its B side. Afterward, she returns to the truck bed and sits across from Tsukiko, looking down and avoiding eye contact. Kiko reaches over and gently lifts Paige's head by the chin. She forces a smile, and gets a similar one in return.

Tsukiko: We still have to talk about it.

Paige: Dangit!

Tsukiko chuckles, then pauses; she sighs heavily.

Tsukiko: And yeah, we have already. But not really talked. Being sorry and knowing it was wrong, well, that's one thing. Then there's Hazel. And then there's us.

Paige: What do you mean?

Tsukiko: No matter what, I'm determined to make things right with Haze.

Paige: And so am I!

Tsukiko: Sure. But there's only one way that's gonna happen with her. She wants the Custom Cup title off your waist, and she wants to beat some sense into you—
Paige: And I'm gonna let her—
Tsukiko: NO, YOU'RE NOT!

Tsukiko places her hands on Paige's shoulders, staring right at her. Paige can't help but look right back at her flustered girlfriend.

Tsukiko: No, you're not. The Paige I know would never just throw herself into the fire like that. The Paige I know is the fire! Do you hear me?! Are you in there, Paige?

The Lunar Pilgrim is taken aback by this outburst. Still, she maintains eye contact and nods her head fervently.

Paige: Yeah. *she clears her throat* Yeah, I hear you. Every word. I'm here, Kiko.

Tsukiko: You heard that—good. Now, hear this: if you go into Revival and don't give it everything you've got, guess what happens?

Paige looks momentarily away, thinking to herself; struggling with something. She heaves a great sigh.

Paige: We lose Hazel forever. She never forgives either of us.

Tsukiko moves her hands from Paige's shoulders to Paige's cheeks. She nods, then winks at her significant other.

Tsukiko: Phew! You really are still in there.

Paige: Why do you keep saying that?

Tsukiko: Do you really not know, or are you shutting yourself off to the truth?

Paige now looks tense and agitated.

Paige: What truth?

Tsukiko: That our dear pal Brian White had you pegged right all along. Had us pegged right. We went too far. Over and over, we've taken things too far in 4CW, and then we went too far in our personal lives, and then it all fell through. Instead of "Big Bri" teaching us a lesson, it ended up being the last person we expected. Our best friend.

Paige's shoulders slump; she is no longer tense, but is looking a bit defeated. She lays back, staring at the stars while deep in thought. Tsukiko sits and watches her for a while, then lays herself down beside Paige, joining in on the stargazing. Kiko rests her hand on Paige's and Paige squeezes it gently with her own; Tsukiko squeezes back.

Tsukiko: On Sunday, you walk into Wembley Stadium as the Custom Cup champion. When you enter that ring, you enter as a fighting champion. And when you leave that arena—whether it's with the title or without it—you leave Wembley having re-introduced the world to the Pilgrim Paige that I know and love. Give them their money's worth by giving Hazel the best you that you can be. No punches pulled, no holding back, ... no interference. That's the only way we'll stand a chance of getting our friend back someday. Then, we can finally help her—y'know, really help her—the right way. You—

Paige: Okay, okay! I get it. Heh. And I agree with you.

Paige has a big grin on her face.

Tsukiko: There's that smile again!

They both giddily laugh for a bit. When done, Tsukiko has an odd expression on her face.

Paige: What's up?

Tsukiko's eyes dart back and forth from Paige's right to her left and then back again. Finally, she focuses her gaze and takes Paige by the hands. She takes a deep breath.

Tsukiko: I love you!

Paige is both awestruck by this and ready with her response.

Paige: I love you, too!

With these words finally shared between each other, the two young women embrace tightly and lock lips with great passion; a deep kiss that resonates throughout their entire bodies.

Tsukiko: Wow.

Paige: Wow.

Soon, this interaction gives way to yet more intense forms of expression. Afterward, Paige makes a suggestion to Tsukiko.

Paige: Wanna sleep under the stars tonight, babe?

Tsukiko: Mm-hmm! I'll get the blanket.

And with that, another slow crawl toward something great begins.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Pilgrim Paige RP for 4CW Storm Front event: "Rumble in the Storm" (episode dated August 26th, 2018)

Written on August 26th; submitted via PM that day.

————————————————————
Starting Over
May 1st, 2018—Full Moon (98% visible)
————————————————————

(You have to do this for yourself.)

A deep breath.

Paige: I have to do this for myself.

(Then go ahead and keep at it. Why are you stalling? Stop stalling. Just do it!)

The tears that have been threatening to throw themselves from the corners of Paige's eyes make good on their collective intent.

Paige: I'm trying. It's just really fucking hard, okay?!

~☆~☆~☆~

Paige stands in the middle of the Moontower, wearing casual clothes and her head of purple hair in a loose ponytail. She's absently staring at the far-from-filled rectangular black trash bin that will soon contain yet more memories: the kind of memories that have to be let go of in order to move on; and start over. Thus far, she's only managed to toss a handful of Tsukiko's things into the bin:

- Empty energy drink bottles from ten and eleven days before.

Good lord, that girl downed those things like it was going out of style.

- Candy wrappers that went undiscovered by Paige's (typically stalwart) broom over the last couple of sweepings.

(You missed these on purpose.) No I didn't! Yeah, maybe. So what?! ... "C'mon, girl. It's just trash."

Paige: Everything makes me remember. Even these.

(Remembering hurts. Rid of it. Move on.) I can't! (You've already got the bin in the middle of the floor.)

The Lunar—no longer Golden—Pilgrim's eyes search around the room, looking for some greater truth hidden in the repainted walls of her oak-bound prison in the sky. She and Kiko had painted these walls together on this same month, just a year ago. The wild orchid paint still looks as fresh to Paige as it did that day. She's still using the wall hangers that Kiko installed.

Paige: What goes and what stays, then? Which reminders are to be thrown out, and which will become as plain and inanimate as the trunk that holds this place aloft?

(Rid or pine? Choose, dammit!) No! There's a third option. Middle ground.

Her face tightens. Looking around, her eyes land on the writing desk by the door. Retrieving the phone and flicking the screen on, Paige's face is illuminated in the glow of the phone's bright lock screen. The faces of a smiling couple are partially covered by a text notification: Three missed messages from Mom. Paige swipes her right index finger across the screen, glimpsing her chipped, ocean blue nail polish in the process. She offers a curt "I'm fine" reply to her mother's string of concerned texts and clicks back out to the home screen: yet another place where cherished memories yet live.

(Kiko painted your nails last, girl.) I know, I know! So what?

Paige inhales deeply, then exhales slowly.

Paige: I'm so sick of the pressure around moving on. It isn't all so black and white, so why should I pretend like it is?! I can move on in my own way, goddammit!

She looks about to throw her cell phone at the far wall, but stops. Instead, Paige opts to change her phone's Home and Lock screen wallpapers to typical summer scenery, and deletes the entire folder containing photos of she and her ex.

(You have every last one of those on backup and you know it.) And that's fine, too.

Paige: Right. Fuck sitting around and pining. I'll deal with that shit when the depression has a firmer grip. And fuck ridding of everything, too. I can keep things that help me remember and not obsess over them every day. Relationships end. And sometimes you lose friends. Everyone fucks up sometimes. Everyone is just as prone to wearing the emotional blinders that come with being in a committed relationship; especially in their first. If I get a chance to make up for it, cool. If not, well—live and learn!

(Who are you talking to? There's no one around—)

Paige: IT'S GOOD TO EXTERNALIZE THINGS!!!

She chuckles to herself, a touch of bitterness in the sound.

Paige: I used to do it all the time! Thinking out loud is good for you; helps put you more fully in touch with what you're thinking and feeling. I stopped buying into that whole, "Only crazy people talk to themselves" thing a long time ago. And only stopped talking to myself this year. And it fucking sucks. Giving voice to what you feel even when you don't want anyone to hear— or think no one would listen—is a powerful thing. It's something that anxiety, depression, the intrusive thoughts—all of it—can't do on their own. I'd rather express it my way than stay inside my own head, battling demons that win out all too much. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have shit to do.

Paige connects her phone auxiliary port into the back of a small subwoofer, which is similarly joined to a set of satellite speakers.

Song: From Hell They Came
Artist: Misfits
Album: American Psycho
Release date: 1994

With newfound determination and a song to rock out to, Paige bops her head to the beat, aimlessly throwing herself around the glorified treehouse she calls the Moontower; calls home. After a while, chest heaving, she looks determinedly at the door. She pulls it open and stands at the top of the newly constructed spiral ramp, which is lined off with blue and purple string lights, just as it had been in its past life as a staircase. This was the very last project she had worked on with Tsukiko and Hazel, in the last few days before Revival; before everything changed. It was Kiko's idea. Paige's muscle memory guides her hand to the switch for the string lights and shuts them off. In a generic black t-shirt and blue jeans, with only her violet lipstick on, she bathes in the light of the full moon. She stares up at it for a few moments, during which a nameless kind of longing accompanies her mood.

Paige: I'm glad you're here to help guide my path. Always been in love with the full moon nights.

"You'll thank me when your crazy ass ends up in a wheelchair, babe," Tsukiko had declared with a saucy wink, looking pleased with the trio's handiwork. Behind her, Hazel had comically rolled her eyes. Paige grins while remembering this. And with a shrug, she slips her hands between the string lights and the wooden railing; grabs hold of them tight; and proceeds to walk the length of the spiral staircase, ripping the lights free of their staples. Setting boots to bare ground at the bottom of the ramp, Paige works the string lights into a messy ball that will surely bring future untangling-related nightmares.

Walking ten feet as the crow flies, Paige opens the door to the garage and hurls the bundled lights across the room. Satisfied, she exits, closes the door behind her and returns to the Moontower. Her phone's music app has since grown restless and shuffled off to visit some half-remembered indie song. Paige isn't interested in it at all right now, so she stops the song, reminding her phone who's boss. Electing to make some noise of her own, she summons the wolf within her to come out and play. The Lunar Pilgrim runs to the windows, throws them open, and leans out.

Paige: WOOOOOOOOO!!!

Breathing a heavy, satisfied sigh, Paige picks out another song to listen to.

Song: A Message to Pretty
Artist: Groovie Ghoulies
Album: Born in the Basement
Release date: 1994

Having found just the right tune, Paige throws herself at her wood-framed futon, turning along the way to land on her back. She splays out, emotionally and physically exhausted. She stares up at the antique sconce on the wall behind her head, thinking aloud to herself.

Paige: A lot of hands have helped build this place. It doesn't matter that mine are the only two remaining here right now. I won't let this beautiful place, my little corner of the world, become a prison. The Moon Maiden is alive and well; her abode is a stronghold against the darkness that torments even her own mind. With the renewed contract and a clean bill of health, the bird whose wings were clipped can take flight once more. In fact, she will take flight just tomorrow. All the way to Rosemont, Virginia. And the wolf who wants to come out and play has the element of surprise. No one will see her coming through the storm.

Her lips curl upward as she muses about tomorrow, drawing her thoughts back inside of herself as she happily hums along to the song's final chorus.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Last edited by Pilgrim Paige (Mon-10-Sep-2018 05:47:02)

Pilgrim Paige RP for 4CW Storm Front (episode dated Sept. 30th, 2018)

————————————————————
Up, Up and Away!
Sept. 26th, 2018—Full Moon (99% visible)
————————————————————

(You should curl your hair tonight.) It's fine as it is. (Is it? How do you expect to feel feminine without putting in the effort? Look at yourself. Don't you think you need it?)

Paige: In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Paige takes a deep breath, adhering to the technique she's grown accustomed to for combatting anxiety.

(Yeah, good luck with that. I'm not going anywhere.) We'll see about that.

More deep breathing; a few repetitions. It gets 0.1% percent better.

~☆~☆~☆~

Sitting in a chair in front of what she now affectionately refers to as her Swiss Army Desk, Pilgrim Paige fights the familiar wave of dysphoria and anxiety that so often hits her just ahead of going out. In the days months since Tsukiko moved out, Paige has become a bit of a recluse—or rather—even more so than usual, let's say. Now, she finds herself getting ready to go to a local carnival on its last night in town. Tonight's casual look consists of black skinny jeans, faux leather boots and a fitted purple t-shirt. Paige stands, slips on a navy fall jacket and pockets some cash, as well as her old iPod Nano.

(You should wear your purse more often.) Ehh, I feel like travelling extra light tonight. What's more, it's a carnival. All sorts of sketchy fuckers milling around. I also don't feel like bringing it on the rides and I have no one to hold it, so. (And whose fault is that?)

Paige dismisses this intrusive thought as best she can and grabs the nearby door handle. Before turning it, she leans to her left and chances one last glance in the mirror.

(Hmm.) Shut up. Not going over this again tonight. (You really need more makeup.) Fuck that. It's fine. So's the hair, before you start again. I look fine.

Paige moves to stand in front of the mirror proper, leans forward slightly and gives her hair a tousle.

Paige: Y'know what? I'm looking pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.

With a grin, the Lunar Pilgrim approaches the Moontower's lone window and throws the old black shutters—the one thing to dodge the Great Repainting of 2018—wide open.

Paige: WOOOOOO!!!

She chuckles to herself for a moment.

I'm good at that.

After a decidedly less cool moment of closing the window and checking to ensure she has her keys, Paige flicks the lights off and heads out the door, throwing it shut. Standing on the landing just outside the door, she admires her recently concluded handiwork: the restoration of the staircase, the rails of which have been refitted with Paige's purple string lights.

A steep, spiral ramp. What was Kiko thinking?! It's Newfoundland! When winter comes, it always freezes over. I don't feel like slipping down and subjecting myself to rock salt acupuncture.

Paige puts her earphones in and—with an air of hard-earned confidence—walks down the staircase and onto the trail that leads to civilization.

~☆~☆~☆~

Later that night...

A bored young woman stands at the gate in front of a colourfully lit Ferris Wheel, wearing weather-inappropriate clothing and a mandatory smile. It's a smile so thin it would look drawn on if not for a pair of deceivingly full lips. She looks like someone Paige can't immediately place.

Disenchanted carnival worker: Hey.

She looks decidedly ready for quitting time. Paige hands her a pink Admit One.

Paige: Hey.

Paige's mind drifts as she awaits her turn.

A young Tori Amos, that's the one. Young Tori Amos earning spare change at a travelling fair and slowly losing the will to live. There's a song in that somewhere...

Paige stares up at the towering structure standing before her and gulps.

(You can do this, girl. You've always wanted to ride the Ferris Wheel. Don't you think it's a bit late in the game to get scared of heights all over again? You got past that when you were like, twenty. Six months ago you swung from a spotlight in the rafters at Wembley like swinging from spotlights is a thing people do. YOU CAN DO THIS!)
Oh, hello Positive Paige. Where the hell were you an hour ago? (...) Well anyway, it's like this: 4CW Paige isn't the same as day-to-day Paige, and right now, day-to-day Paige is scared shitless. (So do it anyway.) It's hard to turn my brain off to the fear and shut it out like that. (Of course it is. But you can do it.) How do you know? (.... because if you couldn't, you wouldn't be here at all.)

Disenchanted carnival worker: Hey, are you getting on?

No response.

Disenchanted carnival worker: Uh... hello? Earth to Purple Hair! ... Hey, are you okay?

Paige blinks a few times and looks to the red-haired ticket-taker, glancing now and then at the people who've just got off the ride as they exit through the gate.

Oh shit—how long did I space out?

Disenchanted Young Tori Amos raises an eyebrow and is about to speak again—

Paige: Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.

~☆~☆~☆~

As the Ferris Wheel begins to move, a wave of anxiety hits Paige. She slips her earbuds on, hits shuffle on the iPod and grabs onto her chair's rail for dear life. By the time she's halfway up, her knuckles have turned ghostly white.

Song: Cornflake Girl
Artist: Tori Amos
Album: Under the Pink
Release date: 1993

(Okay, girl. You're almost at the top now. Nowhere to go but up. Breathe.) In through the nose out, through the mouth. I know.

As Paige reaches the top, her tightened expression falters. Looking out over the city from so high up, taking in all the lights and the moving cars, a surprising calm washes over her. She chances taking one hand from the rail and takes her earphones out. Her face—lit up by the changing colours of the Ferris Wheel's innumerable LEDS—softens, and a broad grin overtakes her glossed lips.

This... is... amazing! It really is, isn't it?

At the very peak of the Ferris Wheel, Paige releases the bar and raises her arms triumphantly into the air.

Paige: WOOOOOO!!!

She blinks a few times, searching her thoughts, not clearly aware of what just happened. All at once, it comes flooding back to her.

Wait... what?!

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Last edited by Pilgrim Paige (Mon-8-Oct-2018 17:57:12)

Pilgrim Paige RP for 4CW Gallows End (PPV dated Oct. 31st, 2018)

————————————————————
Night Flight: A Tale in Two Parts
————————————————————
Part I: The Life and Death of a Marshmallow
Oct. 16th, 2018—First quarter moon (48% visible)
————————————————————

On a crisp, dark October evening, Paige sits cross-legged on the grass in her backyard, stoking the fire pit. Every so often, she sighs to herself, appearing to be lost in thought. Grabbing a long stick from beside her, she jabs an open bag of marshmallows and absently begins roasting it in the flames that illuminate her pale face.

Alright, girl. Try to think this through logically. (There's nothing logical about it!) Well... ugh, I dunno! (Aren't you supposed to believe in this spiritual connection mumbo-jumbo?) In a way, yeah. But this is beyond anything I ever conjured up!

She sighs again, a bit more deeply this time, and zips her fall jacket up closer round her neck.

Paige: It's been a month now and nothing. Just that one time. Did I imagine it? It definitely felt real! Like she was right there, inside my head with me!

(Maybe you're going crazy.) Ha. Yeah. Craziest bitch in 4CW, no doubt about it. (Uh-huh. Whatever you say, dear.)

It's now been just shy of a month since the night Paige "heard" Hazel's voice inside her head. For the first few days thereafter, Paige thought about little else, trying to make sense of the experience. She then refocused her attention on the primary goal she'd had in mind since the day she was cleared for competition: to earn back her place in 4CW.

And you did exactly that, girl. (Don't get cocky.) I'm not. Just confident.

Her mind wanders back to last month. And from there, slowly, a memory begins to come back to her.

Interior Moontower, two years ago
Hazel: Something else troubles your mind. I can't quite determine what it is. Something... familiar. Very intense...

Paige: Stay out of my head, Hazel. Goodnight.

Hazel: Apologies. Of course, dear. I'd not meant to pry. Goodnight.

Was she just reading things like my body language and other non-verbal things? Or was literally trying to read my thoughts? I recall it all being kind of vague, the way she spoke. So what is this, now? Just a weird kind of intrusive thought? (Sure sounds like you.) But it didn't feel like that. A guilt thing, for what went down last fall?

A shocked expression overtakes Paige's face.

Paige: Shit!

She draws her stick back out of the fire pit and twirls it, observing her marshmallow—totally blackened, burnt to a crisp. A moment later, she chuckles to herself.

Paige: Yeesh! Way to focus, girl.

With an exaggerated grimace, Paige removes her burnt marshmallow from the end of the stick and pokes "eye sockets" for it.

Paige: I'm gonna call you Marsha.

She tosses it into the flames.

Paige: There ya go, buddy. Not exactly a Viking burial, but it's the best I can do. So long, Marsha!

Apparently done amusing herself for the moment, Paige jabs another marshmallow and eases it into the flames.

Paige: Alright. Round two!

~☆~☆~☆~

A short while later...

As the last log of tonight's nature outing crackles away, a muffled electronic PING! goes off as Paige peacefully watches the log blaze and the embers glow. Without looking away, she pulls her phone out of her jacket's right pocket and flicks the screen on. Her eyes widen as she reads the notification text.

Paige: No fucking way!

sosayshazel@gmail.com   9:52PM
Mail message
Unlock to read

Paige unlocks her phone and brings up the email, nodding to herself as she reads.

What are the odds of that?

She takes a deep breath, then types up a short reply.

Paige: Okay, then.

The last log has by now burned down to just embers. For a little while, Paige just sits there in the dark, staring at the words on the screen. Finally, she hits Send, and trots on back to the garage, bag of marshmallows in tow.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

————————————————————
Part II: Safe Travels, Lunar Pilgrim
Oct. 24th, 2018—Full Moon (100% visible)
————————————————————

Standing in a fairly short line at a Tim Horton's location she's most certainly never been to, Paige unzips her jacket, fixes her ponytail and pops her earbuds in, picking out a song on her old iPod and pressing Play.

Song: Föhn
Artist: Kauan
Album: Aava Tuulen Maa
Release date: 2009

I hope her bus gets here soon. (She's not coming.) Yes, she is. (You came all this way for nothing.)

Soon enough, Paige's turn in line comes up. She removes her earphones, stuffs them into her pocket and walks up to the counter, being greeted by an attractive barista.

Barista: Hi, can I take your order?

Paige: Green tea with milk.

Barista: Living on the edge, eh? *she giggles* Is that everything?

Paige: Uhh...

Hazel: Oh, come on! You didn't come all this way to not have hot chocolate with Hazel!

Paige turns on her heel and yes indeed, there she is: Hazel herself, garbed in a red leather jacket like it isn't 5° celsius outside.

Paige: Whoa. Uh—Hey, you! Hot chocolate, right you are. My treat.

The barista raises an eyebrow.

Barista: So...

Paige: Two hot chocolates with whipped cream—

Hazel: And two pumpkin spice donuts!

Barista: Nice! Will that be all?

Paige nods and pays for the order. She and Hazel then step aside and wait, in their own fashions: Paige leans quietly against the near wall and does some discreet people-watching, while Hazel bounces on her heels, giggling like a schoolgirl. A mere minute passes, but by the time the girls' order is being brought their way, Hazel looks about to bubble over with giddiness at the prospect of her pumpkin-flavoured sugar rush. Paige can't help but grin, and her people-watching discretion is broken. They grab the goods, stroll over to a free window seat and sit across from one another. Hazel's eyes—showing mostly brown pigmentation in this light—are lively and intense.

Hazel: So—welcome to Victoria, B.C.!

Paige: Thanks. I kinda sorta napped on the cab ride here, so I haven't seen much of this place yet, unless you wanna hear all about my fascinating hotel check-in experience.

Hazel snickers at this as she picks up her cup of hot chocolate. She nods at Paige's cup, and Paige raises hers as well.

Hazel: Cheers!

Paige: Cheers.

Simultaneously, they each take a sip. Hazel makes an exaggerated "ahh" sound.

Paige: This is so strange, hanging out with you after all this time.

Hazel thinks about that for a moment, looking off to one side. She shrugs and faces Paige again.

Hazel: Paige just spent time with Hazel last month, face-to-face and everything, right there in the ring!

Paige's face tenses somewhat; an expression somewhere between pained and endeared.

Paige: Haze. Please.

Hazel briefly looks confused, but eventually nods gently.

Hazel: Yes; things are different now. Everyone is on their own path.

Yeah, you can say that again. / No need, you heard it fine the first time!

Paige half-chokes on her hot chocolate, nodding sociably at the same time. As she clears her throat and she sets her cup down, Hazel places her hands over Paige's. The two lock eyes.

Hazel: Everyone is on a new path—and each one is good, in Hazel's eyes. Valuable journeys. *she pauses for a moment, observing Paige's body language* ... You look so nervous sitting here, but Hazel isn't mad about how the old paths diverged anymore. She's just enjoying her own!

Paige's nervous tension eases somewhat, and she manages a thin smile.

Paige: Kiko's certainly on a whole different path, huh?

Hazel: Moving in with ol' Oki-Doki was a wise life decision, it seems.

Paige: They've got a new lease on life, eh? Or, at least, a new contract—and you've got an "interesting" part to play in that, heh. The whole "No talking" thing is a sliiight change of pace for that girl! How long do you think you'll keep that card up your sleeve?

Hazel removes her hands from over Paige's, smiles and replies in a matter-of-fact tone.

Hazel: Until it is no longer her path.

Well, that's not cryptic or anything.

In typically abrupt fashion, Hazel's demeanour shifts back to bubbly mode all at once, merrily licking away at the remaining whipped cream atop her hot chocolate. For the first time since entering the coffee shop, she does a bit of people watching of her own.

Hazel: That barista is really cute, huh?

Out of practice, Paige takes a moment to shift gears with Hazel.

Paige: Yeah, she's really pretty.

Hazel cocks an eyebrow up, then reaches across the table and raps her knuckles playfully on Paige's forehead.

Hazel: Hello, anyone in there? Come on! She's a hottie hot hottie! You were gawking like a goof ten minutes ago, now she's just "pretty?"

Paige's cheeks redden slightly. She's about to come back with a saucy reply when Hazel shifts gears yet again.

Hazel: Come on! There's something you need to see. Better yet, somewhere you need to be. And someone you might like to meet. Hazel will call a cab.

~☆~☆~☆~

Later that night, elsewhere...

Hazel and Paige sit in a tiny, grassy field on a massive blanket before a blazing fire pit. All around them are tall Western redcedar trees, forming a, dense circle around the area. Overhead, the moon shines full and bright. The girls merrily devour their donuts in relative silence, grinning like idiots. Hazel finishes hers as a newly familiar (to Paige) brunette woman enters the clearing via a narrow path between two tree trunks. She carries a tray with three Halloween-themed mugs on it.

Astrid: I figured you two have had your fill of sweets for the night and I know you both like it, so I made us all some green tea.

Paige and Hazel: Thank you.

Astrid joins the girls on the big blanket and turns to Paige.

Astrid: So how are you liking the "Magic Circle", Paige?

Paige: I love it. I'm not used to being amidst trees that grow this high! More used to the island dwarfism of Newfoundland, I guess. It's so quiet and peaceful here. It feels... "wild but safe", if that makes sense.

Hazel's eyes light up.

Hazel: That's almost exactly how Astrid described it when Hazel showed it to her!

Astrid: Huh. That's right, I did! God, I wish I had a memory like yours!

Hazel shifts uncomfortably.

Hazel: Sometimes, Hazel does not.

She seems to lose herself in thought for a minute, but quickly recovers, perking right back up.

Hazel: Hazel knew Paige would love this place. This is Hazel's favourite place in the whole wide world, ever since she found it years and years ago! And last December, Astrid and Daniel built their cottage here, so Hazel can come visit anytime she wants! Right, Astrid?

Astrid: You're always welcome with us, Hazel.

Hazel smiles.

Hazel: Astrid, Hazel needs to talk to Paige alone for a few minutes, okay?

Astrid nods and takes off through the clearing with her Halloween mug in hand. Once she's gone, Hazel stares intensely into Paige's bright blue eyes.

Hazel: So... you've been struggling an awful lot with intrusive thoughts lately, and you're worried about it affecting all the focus you've fought so hard for. Right?

Paige blinks repeatedly, stunned.

Paige: Wait, what? I—you... HOW?!

Hazel shrugs, and for the second time tonight, she speaks oddly matter-of-factly.

Hazel: This is Hazel's very favourite place to unwind and meditate. It's very special, in many, many ways. Even more than Pori, or the Moontower, or Astrid's cottage, or Hazel's new cabin. Hazel calls this place her Magic Circle for all of the ways it's so special!

Paige's jaw practically hits the blanket.

Holy shit!

Paige: You are in my head!

Hazel: Sometimes. It happens the most right here, in this pretty little place between the cedars. Hazel doesn't even have to try here. It just sort of happens organically!

Paige: Uhh... not to undersell the craziness of all this, but how am I supposed to keep up my focus with someone else's voice occasionally taking up residence in my head without warning?!

Hazel's tone becomes a little more serious.

Hazel: Sort of the same way you combat intrusive thoughts, maybe? Which—and this is just observing, not criticizing—you've been struggling with. Because at the end of the day—and Hazel knows how hard this is—to combat intrusive thoughts, you first have to stop fighting them. That's how they become persistent. The more you try to fight a scary bad thought, the more it comes—it feeds on how much the opposite thought, the positive, healthy one, must mean to you. That's roooughly on track, right? So in turn, don't fight your "inner Hazel". If anything, she's there to help you!

She pauses and clasps Paige's hand.

Hazel: At home, you have a place that, for you, is kinda like Hazel's "Magic Circle", right there in your own backyard. From now on, when you go there, think of it as your own magic circle, and remember how it felt tonight, the first time you ever came here. "Wild, but safe"—hang on to that. And now , you can keep in touch with Hazel online to find out when she'll be here—that way, you can actively encourage your inner Hazel to appear and actually help you focus! Yay!

That... makes perfect sense.Or maybe "imperfect sense"? Hmm.

Paige, with a half-repressed look of bewilderment, can't help herself from laughing out loud, mainly from the wave of incredible calm washing over her.

Paige: This has been, uh... an interesting night, to say the least. I don't quite know what to say other than, "Wow!" I figure a thank-you fits in decently, too. Thanks for bringing me here. At the risk of making things awkward all over again, I have to ask—after everything that's happened, why are you doing all this for me? And why, do you think, are we do connected?

Hazel shrugs, releases Paige's hands and stands up.

Hazel: No idea. But Hazel does know one more thing: Paige is in Hazel's head, too.

She beams down at Paige.

Hazel: You should stay here yourself and meditate a while. This is the perfect place to do so.

And with that, Hazel leaves Paige on her own in the clearing.

Alright, girl. This is all a bit nuts, but also really, really cool. Heh. So try to calm your mind, close your eyes, breathe and let whatever thoughts come up do their thing in the background, and focus your mind. The sound of the wood crackling. The smell of the logs burning. The taste of the pumpkin spice. Okay, good. Let your senses do their thing, and just be here in this moment. Ever present; ever ready for whatever the world's gonna bring you.

Ten minutes later, she opens her eyes once more; but also, as if for the first time in weeks. Once wholly alert, she rises to her feet and raises her head to the full moon sky.

Paige: WOOOOOO!!!

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Pilgrim Paige RP for 4CW War II (Dec. 31st, 2018)

————————————————————
Tipping the Scale
Dec. 21st, 2018—Full Moon (98% visible)
————————————————————

Well, then. This is a fine way to spend the solstice.

Paige steps away from the front door of her newly rented winter cottage and sits, frustrated, on the steps of the veranda. She watches the last hint of the cab's tail lights disappear through the distant trees as its tires leave behind the gravel and find purchase on the narrow road. With a sigh, Paige pulls her cell phone out of her coat's right pocket, along with a crumpled scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled on it. With a sigh, Paige pulls up a new message, removes her gloves and punches in the number.

Hey, it's Paige. Your dad said to text this number if I run into any trouble. Unfortunately, I have: not one of the keys your mother provided fits the front door! Could you track that one down for me? Thanks.

Paige hits send and hastily puts her gloves back on, already feeling the cold bite into her hands. For a while, she just stares up at the brilliant full moon, absently fidgeting with the little ring of keys—not one of which works in the front—and only—door.

Well, girl, you can't feel your nose anymore and you don't know when this girl will get here, but ya can't deny that view.

~☆~☆~☆~

A whirring sound overtakes her ears, replacing the wind's whistling with something decidedly more mechanical. A shaft of yellowish light appears through a break in the tree line, just off in the distance, catching Paige's eye. A few moments later, a sleek black snowmobile pulls up in front of the cottage, piloted by a very warmly dressed woman whose head is protected by a shiny black-and-pink helmet. She turns the key in the ignition and yanks her helmet off in one swift motion, unleashing a mass of long, chestnut afro curls. The wind quickly gets to task whipping her hair about in the frosty air. The young woman stands, adjusts her pine green coat and trudges through snow to the rear of the snowmobile. After pulling a large flashlight out of the snowmobile's mounted cargo box, she approaches Paige, who looks absolutely defeated by now. The woman's side-parted hair quickly settles into place, framing a classically attractive face. Her skin—which is a dark caramel shade—comes complete with cute dimples and intelligent eyes that match the colour of her hair... not to mention the sparse freckles just beneath said orbs.

Are you staring? Stop staring, girl!

???: Hey there! I'm Kinsey—Margaret and Sam's daughter. I found the spare copy of your front door key. No idea what happened to the original, it should be on that key ring you've been showing a good time to.

Kinsey smirks at her own remark. Paige continues staring, just a moment or two too long.

Dammit. (Way to go, dumbass. She's gonna think you're stupid.) Bullshit. It's fine. I'm fine.

Paige: Hi. Uh—nice to meet you, Kinsey. You're, uh—

Kinsey: Less Snow White and more Princess Tiana? Yeah, Sam and Margaret adopted me at six years old. Me, I mean. They weren't six. That would be weird. So yep, my folks are whiter than rice in a blizzard—which, thankfully, we don't have tonight. But I mean, you probably weren't even thinking that about all that, so. I just thought of that joke and couldn't help myself. If that even counts as a joke...

Oh god, she's just your kind of rambly dork! Say something, idiot!

Paige: *ahem* Uh—no, no, that's not what I was thinking at all. I just get lost off in my own world y'know?

Kinsey grins and nods in fervent agreement.

Kinsey: Me too, 100%! And the stars. And the moonlight. And in my own words sometimes, apparently!

She then turns to one side and gestures in the direction of the moon, which Paige's eyes occasionally drift back to.

Kinsey: You get lost in the moon, too, huh?

Paige is quicker on the draw this time.

Paige: Constantly! I'm kinda obsessed, frankly.

Kinsey laughs softly.

Kinsey: Yeah, I know. I'm kind of a fan. Kind of a big fan, actually! But let's get you in from the cold first; we can talk more when you're all warmed up. Take this for me and shine it on the doorknob, okay?

She hands the huge flashlight over to Paige, and the two heads up the steps together. Paige does as instructed and soon, Kinsey opens the newly unlocked door. She darts inside and to her left, just out of sight of Paige. The ceiling lights all come on with the quick flick of a switch.

Kinsey: Et voila!

Paige stands in the threshold for a long moment as she marvels (for the second time) at the beautifully rustic, too-cozy-for-words interior.

Kinsey: Right. Here's the key. I'll help you with the bags.

Paige and Kinsey set about lugging each bag into the little one-story cottage. After about a minute of this, Paige collects the last of the bags, steps inside and absently closes the door behind her. She turns to Kinsey.

Paige: Thanks for the help. Come on in, I'll put the kettle on.

Kinsey: No problem. And thanks, sounds good.

Finding the thermostat, Paige cranks up the electric heat and eyes the big grey sofa across from the barren fireplace. Finally, she tracks down the remote for the TV mounted on the fireplace mantel and drops heavily into its seat, flicking the TV on in the process.

What a place to spend the winter. This is just what you needed this year. You did good, girl.

Kinsey appears at her side. A tired Paige reluctantly rallies herself enough to give her peripheral vision a rest, turning her head in the young woman's direction. Kinsey stands up unnaturally straight and wraps her hands around her own back, then clears her throat and puts on her best radio advertiser's voice.

Kinsey: Thank you for choosing Kane Cottages. We hope you enjoy your stay!

Paige: I already am. I never wanna leave this chair!

Kinsey giggles at this.

Kinsey: Never? I guess that means I'll be boiling the kettle, then?

Paige: Oh—shit, sorry! Forgot myself for a minute there.

D'oh!

The room temperature settles to Paige's liking—somewhere between the Earth's Core and Literal Hellfire settings, seemingly—and she hops up out of the chair to get the kettle going. Paige clumsily wriggles out of her coat along the way and grabs one of her bags along the way to the kitchenette. Once there, she sets about putting away the food items she's brought and calls out to Kinsey.

Paige: Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?

Kinsey: I always have hot chocolate on the first night of winter, it's a personal tradition that goes all the way back to my high school Wicca phase! I had some before I left but I'd be on board for a second cup.

Paige smiles to herself as she fills an electric kettle with water and flicks it on.

Paige: Hot chocolate it is, then. My solstice tradition, as it were, is to have a big bowl of buttery popcorn. Some people find that a weird mix to go with hot chocolate—will I save it for later or..?

Kinsey: You know what? Weird is good. Bring it on!

As the kettle starts boiling, Paige tosses a cup of corn kernels into her hot air popper, gets it going and—

Darkness. Silence.

Kinsey: And that is a tripped breaker, guaranteed! Don't move; I've got my light, I'm comin' to you.

Well this night is going swimmingly.

A few moments later, Kinsey stands in the kitchen with Paige.

Paige: I think Sam said the breaker box for this cottage is in the attached garage. Door is in the rear, right before the bedroom.

Kinsey: Okay. Let's go grab those keys and get this sorted out.

A minute later, Paige and Kinsey stand in in front of the interior garage door, faces illuminated by the LED flashlight. Just as she did with the front door earlier, Paige tries every key on the ring. When the last one fails her, the two girls let out a tandem sigh. Despite the defeat, Paige laughs.

Paige: Y'know, I think Sam may have given me the wrong set of keys.

Kinsey grins.

Kinsey: Yeeep. I'd be fine to go get 'em, but in a fun little twist, Dad keeps all the cabin keys in his office and I have no idea where the key for that is! Direct approach won't work either; he'll be fast asleep by now, and good luck waking that man. Sleeps like a dead man on vacation. I think the dead dude in that old Weekend at Bernie's movie is secretly his idol.

Paige: The dead dude in that is Bernie. More you know.

Paige sighs and leans heavily against the wall in defeat. She remains silent for a long moment, absently staring at Kinsey. This time, however, the context is completely different.

Paige: So ultimately, what you're saying is...

Kinsey smirks.

Kinsey: What do you know about chopping wood, Moon Maiden?

~☆~☆~☆~

Twenty minutes and two decent stacks of wood junks later, Paige and Kinsey stand on the porch, work finished. Kinsey straps her wood axe back on to her snowmobile's cargo rack and the two head inside once more, with Paige handling the flashlight this time. The two set about waking the fireplace up with some burning paper, kindling and a handful of the just-cut logs. Soon, a decent fire is crackling away, warming and lighting up the cold cottage. Paige gets some candles burning and throws on an acoustic mix on her old iPod, providing some relaxing (if tinny) background music.

Song: Mykonos
Artist: Fleet Foxes
Album: Sun Giant (EP)
Release date: 2008

Rummaging through the kitchen cupboards, Kinsey calls out to Paige.

Kinsey: So how are you enjoying your first night at your swanky new cottage?

Paige can't help but laugh.

Paige: Ya know what? It isn't quite what I imagined, but it's definitely been a memorable experience thus far!

Kinsey: Well it'll be all the better if I can—aha! Found it!

After a few more banging and rattling noises, Kinsey enters the room and strolls over to the fireplace, carrying a small pot of water and another small cookware item that Paige has never seen before.

Paige: That's one hell of a fly swatter, Kinsey. Get a lot of drones spying on you up here?

Kinsey guffaws.

Kinsey: Heh. Dad said you were saucy. This is no fly swatter. This old boy is a popcorn popper, the oldschool kind. See? All set to keep your solstice tradition alive. This is how we always do it at home, gives it a mild smoky quality. We like things natural and rough around here, Paige. Our tenants don't always take to it, but that doesn't stop my father stocking these cottages up with the more.. simple living types of things.

Paige looks a little embarrassed. Kinsey doesn't seem to notice. Paige gets up and takes the pot from Kinsey, holding it by the handle. Together, they hunker down in front of the fireplace, heating the water and kernels.

Paige: Meanwhile, I think I'm good at going it rough, heh. I mean, I mostly live out of a glorified treehouse. I know a thing or two, sure. The way your dad talked, though, made me think maybe I don't know shit! Or just lost my sense of balance between modern comfort and the simpler side. Look at that thing. I have a big fire pit out back, I should've had one of those poppers years ago! Hell, an old pot and some tinfoil would do the trick, right?

Kinsey: You got it. So. Can I ask you a question?

Paige: Shoot.

Kinsey: That was intense, at Gallows End. Crazy stuff. So I'm curious. How does it feel to be top dog?

Paige's mind shifts gears.

Paige: Did you see those tears pouring off my face? Heh. Oh and the interview afterward - the new thing. MoreCW. Did you catch that?

Kinsey: I did. I'm sure you meant that stuff, too. It was in your voice. I just figured while I have the opportunity, you know—live and in person—what's it like, especially now you've had some time to really take it in?

Paige thinks about that for a short moment before replying. She raises her voice as she speaks, compensating for the noise of the corn kernels as they begin to pop.

Paige: Well first, yeah, I meant the stuff I said in the moment. Since then, well. I dunno... it's surreal. I don't know if I feel like the top dog or anything like that. I don't like to think that way. I don't wanna fall back into the ego I had last year, y'know? The belt... frankly, I've been taking the belt with me everywhere I go like I'm afraid it'll disappear if I get too far away from it!

Kinsey laughs.

Kinsey: Well that was an honest answer if I ever heard one. My own little exclusive interview with the 4CW champion!

Paige: You're a big 4CW fan, huh?

Kinsey nods with such intensity she briefly looks like a bobblehead.

Kinsey: That's Dad's influence, all the way. He's a lifelong wrestling fan, so it was always there in the background of things for me 'til one day, I sat and watched with him. Instantly hooked. Been years since I've been to a show, though. Busy days, especially since mom got sick.

Paige: I can't imagine. I can tell your dad appreciates everything you're doing to help, Kinsey.

The popcorn ceases popping and the pot of water is now bubbling merrily away, so the two stand together and head to the kitchen, getting to task on their solstice snack. Retrieving a stick of butter from the silent refrigerator, a thoughtful expression etches itself onto Paige's face.

Paige: Y'know, there's plenty great tickets left for War Two. It sounds like you could really use a little escapism and what better way than to dive into the wild world of 4CW, right there in-person?

Kinsey thinks on this as she stirs sugar into her tea. Her lips form into a thin smile for the first time since she brought up her mom.

Kinsey: You know, I just might try and do that, Pilgrim Paige. I just might.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Pilgrim Paige RP for 4CW Rumble in the Storm II (July 2019)

————————————————————
Sugar and Spice
July 21st, 2019—Waning gibbous moon (82% visible)
————————————————————

2:00 AM—Moontower

In the Moontower on a calm and quiet night, Paige lies supine on her futon, absently fingering its stained-black wooden frame. In her other hand, she holds her cell phone up to one ear.

Paige (talking on cell phone): (...) I'd be happy to! Sounds like a good time.

Kinsey (other end of phone line): It will be! Y'know, I think I'm beginning to break down the skeptic in you.

Paige: Maybe. Or maybe you just have really good taste.

Kinsey: Well, that's indisputable. What's more, I think, is that I just know mah gurl.

Paige: D'aw. Going deciduous on me, Kinz?

Kinsey: Eh?

Paige: Y'know—'cause you're so damn sappy lately.

Kinsey's chortling laughter overtakes the line for a moment.

Kinsey: Okay—I gotta get to bed if I want any hope of getting up driving that old beast tomorrow. Hope you can get some good rest too, girl. I know it's not easy for you.

Paige: Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow, Kinz. Goodnight!

Kinsey: 'Night!

~☆~☆~☆~

11:00 AM—Paige's garage / the open road

Kinsey: C'MON, GIRL! GET THAT SKINNY ASS IN GEAR!

Bursting out through her garage side door with a backpack and an overflowing plastic bag in tow, Paige kicks it closed behind her and giddily runs up the short, tree-shrouded dirt road that leads to and from her home. From the driver's seat of her blue '98 Jeep Wrangler, Kinsey opens Paige's door for her. Together, they sling Paige's bags into the trunk. On this sunny Sunday morning, Kinsey has the Jeep's PVC soft-top removed to let the summer breeze flow through. Paige has a faux-offended expression on her face.

Paige: "Skinny ass", eh? Since when?

Kinsey puts on a playful smile.

Kinsey: Gotcha movin', didn't it? And besides—you know I know better.

Paige: Damn straight ya do.

Kinsey shifts into reverse and swings the car around. Soon, the two are cruising down a stretch of highway, enjoying some music on a mixed CD with their hair whipping in the wind; heads haloed by shafts of sunlight.

Song: Do What You Do
Artist: Soichi Noriki (ft. Yurie Kokubu)
Album: Noriki
Year: 1983

Kinsey addresses her passenger while keeping her eyes on the road.

Kinsey: So what do you have in your bag of tricks today, champ? Over-prepared, as usual?

Paige: Naturally, Miss Kane.

Kinsey nods knowingly.

Kinsey: Uh-huh. And?

Paige clears her throat in dramatic fashion.

Paige: *ahem* Four bottles of ozonated water + two bottles of lemon-lime Gatorade in an insulated bag, complete with ice pack; two spicy chicken subs, sealed in Tupperware for freshness; two granola bars; two disposable ponchos in case of the forecast failing us; one throw blanket, emblazoned with unicorns; and finally, two slices of mystery cake.. also in the aforementioned insulated bag.

Kinsey raises her eyebrows in mock alarm.

Kinsey: Mystery cake, you say? What the hell is that? Doesn't sound appetizing.

Paige: Nah, no cake-child of neglect in my bag, so don't worry. It's only mystery cake because I'm not telling you what it is 'til it's time to have some, Kinz. And when you do, you'll see that all your fears are unfounded.

Kinsey: They better be. You do not promise me cake without something damn good to back it up with, girl!

~☆~☆~☆~

12:10 PM

Just off the peak point of a long, winding mountain path, Paige and Kinsey sit on a blanket, feverishly tearing into their chicken sandwiches.

Kinsey (with a mouthful of food): Shogud!

Paige (with a mouthful of food): Gladjuhlike'em.

Upon finishing their sandwiches and downing some Gatorade, Kinsey eyes Paige's backpack.

Kinsey: Alright, Miss Mystery Cake. Show me whatcha got.

Paige produces a cake-filled plastic tub from her bag and places her hand on one corner of the lid.

Paige: Drumroll, please.

Kinsey obligingly drums her palms against her knees as Paige peels back the lid at an excruiatingly slow pace, making a show of it. Kinsey stops drumming when Paige sets the lid aside.

Kinsey: Oh you glorious oven queen.. that's—

Paige: Two slices of dark chocolate pie, complete with Oreo crust and a generous middle layer of salted caramel. How do ya like me now, Kinsey Kane?

When Paige turns to her hiking buddy, a third of Kinsey's slice has already been sent on a one-way trip to her taste buds. Once both slices have been devoured, the fledgling couple looks out over their marvelous view of vast, open fields, each and all framed by dense woodland.

Kinsey: How about that view?

Paige turns her head to look at Kinsey Kinsey turns hers as well.

Paige: Can't beat it.

Kinsey's face screws up as she tries not to laugh, but Paige breaks first, letting out a poorly suppressed chortle. In turn, Kinsey cracks right up.

Kinsey: And I'm the sap, huh? Hahahaaa. Ah, man. Good stuff.

Paige smiles, though seems rather distracted now. Kinsey sidles up alongside her, searching her face.

Kinsey: So.. you wanna talk about it now?

Paige nods. With a light sigh, she collects her many thoughts.

Paige: So for the past year, I've been carving my own path in my career. It's mesmerizing to look back on everything that's happened, from that first Rumble in the Storm to just a couple months ago. I mean.. damn. I didn't just come out of that match as the world champion—I wrestled one of 4CW's all-time best talents in what turned out to be his last match. I've got no words for what an honour that was. Now it's two months later, and there's a whole new challenge ahead of me.

Kinsey: And you've been doubting yourself?

Paige sighs.

Paige: I mean... yeah, sorta. I dunno. I think that—more than anything—it's just gotten harder going it alone, y'know? I mean, yeah.. it's a singles path I've been on, and am on top of, and I love it to death, and I'm grateful. It's also a lotta pressure. Everyone's gunning for you, you have to watch your own back... unless you're that bastard, Cain, mind. Hell, even Scott Phoenix's daughter has allies on the roster that clearly care about her. Allies that, as it happens, were once mine. Heh.

She turns her whole body towards Kinsey, making better eye contact now.

Paige: So.. I don't have nor want a legion of lackies on either side of me, because I'm not a monomaniacal asshole. But I also don't have anyone on the roster I can turn to and say, "Hey, I could really use some moral support, a pat on the back, whatever", either.

Kinsey: What about Hazel? Hell, you even had her back at Gallows End.

Paige: Well that's.. that's complicated. I'm still trying to process the fact she's even a little bit back in my personal life, let alone anything else. And she's got her own shit to deal with and figure out, too, and professionals to help her do that safely, constructively. Me and Hazel—Witch Hazel—well... I'm just not there yet.

Kinsey: How about you meet yourself halfway?

Paige looks puzzled.

Paige: What do you mean?

Kinsey smiles,

Kinsey: Well, Career Mode Paige is feeling all alone on top of the mountain, unable to turn to other 4CWers for moral support. And it's got Personal Life Paige all in a tizzy, and struggling to think outside of that unhelpful thought bubble. So now, I ask: How about Personal Life Paige asks the girl she's literally sitting atop a mountain with, whether or not she can attend the show as the one and only Moon Maiden's number one fan?

Paige blinks a few times, processing this. (And wondering why she hadn't thought of it herself.)

Paige: Uhh.. huh. So.. can you come to the supershow as my number one fan, Miss Kane?

Kinsey: I already bought a front row ticket this morning.

Paige beams and blushes.

Paige: You... are amazing, Kinz! I mean.. DUH! HELLO PAIGE'S BRAIN! I must be a damn fool.

They both giggle.

Kinsey: You are! Heh. So whaddaya say you make it up to me by being giving it your very all come Sunday, and having me right there to support you no matter what?

Paige pretends to need to think about this for a moment, prolonging the moment.

Paige: Alright—you got it. It's a date!

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Last edited by Pilgrim Paige (Mon-12-Aug-2019 03:13:13)