Jillian

Samara was charged with protection of the sacred forest. Since early childhood, she had been trained by the Coven in the ancient ways of her peoples' magic. The Dozen Mothers took turns guiding her through the dark woods, each imparting her own share of esoteric knowledge, gradually imbuing her with the power required to hear the breathing of the trees, to communicate in birdsong, to summon lightning from the clouds. Eventually, she began to feel the forest as an extension of herself, or rather, that she herself was an extension of the forest…

Farrah, walking home alone from the only club that still stays open until sunrise, wearing the black ring…

Dizonia was not fooled by the assorted spirits' blatant attempt to throw her off their scent…

Eunomia, in search of greener pastures…

Wren, wondering (or not wondering) what happened to her friend…

Like any artist in her gallery's stable who desired to remain as such, Xerew was required to attend all opening night celebrations during which at least one of her works hung on the walls. But instead of schmoozing & selling herself or her paintings (as the gallery would obviously prefer she do), she tended to find herself more interested in determining who amongst the crowd was actually human (and if so, just how human).

Pherusa doesn't yet own her own guitar, but finds that wherever she goes, she somehow always ends up with one anyway…

For as long as she could remember, Yarine had been able to lucid dream. Growing up with this inherent ability, for her, dreaming seemed like just another series of realities, and likewise, waking life often felt like merely her most persistent (and most obstinate) dream…

Cleo, performing a surprisingly effective creativity ritual in her studio…