03.2023 | WELCOME BACK! Hello friends old and new! I'm so excited to welcome you all back to SITW! I've made some changes to the plot and added the ability to play supernatural charcaters! So come and check it out! I can't wait to jump back into this little town with all of you!
A strange history surrounds the town, it is a place where mysterious and supernatural things have been known to happen. The reputation of the town reguarly draws in visitors and newcomers alike. While some residents avidly believe in the supernatural, others are far more skeptical. What do you believe?
Post by Lorelle Irving on May 23, 2024 7:36:16 GMT
Lorelle nodded in response. Definitely strange forces. "Everyone knows, but as far as I know, nobody is looking into it." She shrugged. "Makes me wonder what strange forces, to make this girl forget an entire month." She doubted vampires or werewolves were capable of it.
The man seemed to appreciate that she didn't ask, although she was curious why he was running alone. Werewolves tended to run in packs, and hearing one was alone was definitely odd.
Lorelle laughed when he said delicious wasn't the word. She knew a vampire's smell wasn't nice to other species. Luckily humans weren't able to pick up on it. She gestured at the shop. "Sure, go ahead", she said. There were all kinds of stuff in the store. Her favourite were the bird shapes scissors . She thought they were cute. She'd let him browse in peace for a while before curiosity got the best of her. "Can you describe the smell?" she asked with a smirk.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on May 23, 2024 15:20:23 GMT
The werewolf grunted thoughtfully and nodded at her words. What strange forces indeed. As much as he had gone to university, that had come much later in life and Tristan was no researcher. For all his curiosity and travels, he knew relatively little about any natural magic forces in the world. It had seemed a waste to worry about things he would never see or feel. But Sweetwater was different. Maybe, if he looked just right, he could feel something. Like how one could feel when they were being stared at. It was eerie and impossible to pinpoint. The werewolf grunted thoughtfully and nodded at her words.
Given free license to explore, he moved about the shop. Some ite.s were very expected, given what she had told him and that in general he considered fabrics and yarn “craft” items. But it was more than that. These were tools that the vampire was familiar with. Of course, not everything, like the bird shaped scissors. Those seemed more…vanity and home decor themed but much of it rolled into the quaint, homey feel of the store. Tristan didn't simply look, however. He was a very big fan of his other senses, especially touch and scent and taste. But while he picked up a few items for texture or closer inspection and smell, he refrained from licking anything he didn't own. Even if some of the time he was curious about the texture. He'd been told that was a wolf thing, and he had always been more intune with himself.
The woman spoke again and the werewolf righted himself, pulling his hand away from where he had been brushing sequin covered fabric back and forth. He cooked his head to the right, so he could hear her better. Something about describing a smell? He glanced about, unsure what she meant for a moment, though eventually understanding dawned on him. “Your scent?” He asked, not picking up on her smirk. No one else had entered the shop. “It is…”
A more polite individual might have sugar coated it. A more rude individual might have taken joy in telling her the truth. But Tristan was neither of those things. He was simply straightforward and his pause was merely an attempt to find the words he needed. “Like sweet fermenting death. With hints if iron the closer one gets,” he said. “Yours is less sharp. And a bit lighter. Not…floral or herbal but…” he shrugged, unable to find a fitting word for what he wanted. “Observant werewolves can guess relative age.”
Post by Lorelle Irving on May 24, 2024 10:31:05 GMT
Lorelle didn't look at him the entire time he was browsing, because she didn't want to make him feel watched. She picked up the embroidery hoop and the needle. She was in the process of stitching white and red flowers on the collar of one of her black dresses. Just a little detail. She liked things like that. They were subtle, yet pretty and decorative. It really changed a piece of clothing. It was also a hypnotising process. She could get lost in it, if she didn't pay attention.
So she distracted herself by asking the werewolf a question about her scent. She understood that the question was a bit odd, and didn't mind the somewhat confused look on his face. She placed the hoop down again, accidentally stabbing herself with the needle. She lifted her finger up to her lips and kissed it to get rid of the droplet of blood.
Lorelle chuckled melodically, quite satisfied with the description he gave her. The dark-haired woman didn't mind smelling like death. What he smelled was probably the perfume that she had sprayed on that morning. It was patchouli, so not quite floral or herbal. "I see", she said. "Interesting. Thank you." Now she wondered what humans smelled exactly when she walked by. Just the perfume, or also a hint of death? Tristan didn't smell only like a dog either. There were other smells mixed in with it, perhaps more human smells.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on May 24, 2024 13:26:41 GMT
Tristan was keenly aware that she was wearing perfume. He wasn't some pup, nor was he a werewolf who tried to ignore his senses. Although he didn't know the name of her perfume, he could tell what was her and what was…natural. The blood and death and lightly sweet aspect that he couldn't quite name…that was all natural.
“You are welcome. I suspect people only smell your perfume over all of that,” he said. Because as much as he could tell right away who she was and that she worked here, it wasn't just through his sense of smell but his attention to detail. The werewolf was much more attuned to his physical senses than his social ones. “It is nice,” he added. He meant her perfume.
He returned to browsing for a moment, winding his way through the rest of the store. Tristan paused near the counter, intending to make his exit, but the quick work of her needle and thread were mesmerizing. He found himself staring at her handiwork in silence.
Post by Lorelle Irving on May 26, 2024 11:08:13 GMT
Patchouli was a smell that some people loved, while others hated it. It was truly the cilantro of smells. She had started to notice that the people she didn't like tended to dislike the smell, which worked great for her, cause it meant they would stay away from her. It was truly a win-win situation. Tristan liked it, which confirmed her theory a little more. Something about the man intrigued him. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself, or the fact he truly didn't seem to mind that she was a vampire. He seemed mostly interested in her past, and not much about the vampire aspect of it all. It could be that she was totally wrong, but she trusted her gut, and it told her that Tristan was safe.
She smiled at his compliment, although it was perhaps not intended as a real compliment and more as an observation, but nevertheless, she saw it as a compliment. Compliments about clothes or perfume were always a little odd, she thought. You were meant to thank someone for having picked out something they liked as well, while it wasn't a talent or a personality trait, and not inherently you.
Lore noticed that the werewolf had come to a stop near her counter, and that he was watching her stitch-work. "Have you ever tried it?" she asked him, looking up briefly. She guessed he hadn't, but who knew? Maybe he would surprise her. "It's quite fun."
Post by Tristan Morrigan on May 26, 2024 14:40:47 GMT
Earthy scents quite appealed to the man. This one was almost damp and it wasn't a scent he was used to. That made it all the more interesting. He wondered if the rarity meant not many people liked the scent or if it was merely expensive. The finer points of perfumes were difficult for him to understand.
Once, he had cared quite deeply about what the woman before him was. He still ultimately saw them as ‘unnatural’ but having had time to formulate his own opinion, Tristan didn't consider them so much the affront to nature many of his kind did. He also took a strange sort of comfort in knowing that there was something out there that could best him in a fight. Though the system of checks and balances fell through when wondering what could stop a vampire reliably.
He held himself away from the counter slightly, leaving enough distance that despite the vampire's speed, he would have at least a fraction of a second to react. It was more of a subconscious distance, merely born of not wishing to be touched. He tilted his head at her question and shook his head. Stitching up his own clothes fell incredibly short of her tight, neat needlework that was evolving into some sort of flower. Tristan grunted softly. He was always curious what others found fun because he wasn't so good at applying the feeling to his own activities. “What do you enjoy about it?” He asked, eyes not leaving her work.
Post by Lorelle Irving on May 27, 2024 19:47:21 GMT
Lorelle didn't even notice that he left enough distance in case she was to suddenly move, because doing that didn't even cross her mind. Again, she really had no issues with werewolves unless they were actively looking for a fight. If they weren't, she didn't look at them as werewolves, but just as beings existing around her. The vampire asked him if he had ever tried embroidery himself. He didn't respond to the question, which she interpreted as a 'no'. Instead he asked what she enjoyed about it.
Lorelle slowed down the process of putting the needle through the fabric and pressed her lips forward a bit while thinking. "The repetitiveness of it", she then said, picking up the pace again. "Creating subtle additions to a garment, while not having to pay too much attention. Unless you're trying something new, of course, or if you're not familiar with embroidery yet." She finished the flower and tied the yarn neatly so it would stay in shape. "This one is just for me, but we've recently added embroidery as a service here. The owner noticed how quick I'm able to add designs and wanted me to do it for clients, so we'll have to see how long I'll be able to enjoy it still." She chuckled.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on May 28, 2024 11:19:19 GMT
Tristan’s dark eyes tracked her handiwork. He noticed how she slowed down and got the feeling the woman did so for his benefit, rather than any particular need. She had maintained the craft through a large part of their conversing, proving her mastery. Practicing something for hundreds of years certainly had benefits. He could see the regularity of her stitches, the sheen of the thread, the artistic expression she imbued not just the flower but the article of clothing itself, bringing a vision to life on her clothes. More than that, however, the werewolf had a keen interest in the raised texture. He had always been a very physical sort. His kind might be gifted with better hearing and sense of smell in human form, but touch and taste would still be his favorites.
Tristan took a step closer, intrigued by her explanation. You have done this for a long time,” he noted from how sure her hands were. He understood similar work could be achieved by machines, but he had always highly valued the work people could achieve with their hands. He had never been good at making anything himself, drawing aside. Perhaps that was part of his fascination. “May I touch it?” He asked, gesturing at the finely stitched flower. He did recognize this as an odd request, enough to verbalize his desire rather than simply reach out and grab hold.
Post by Lorelle Irving on May 29, 2024 16:50:19 GMT
Tristan had turned out to be a little light that brightened her day. His curiosity and genuine interest was refreshing. She didn't feel like she was boring him, and he asked more questions when she had responded to his previous ones. She didn't mind that at all. It was nice to be able to share her interest with him.
The werewolf had come closer to inspect the embroidery even better. She nodded in response to his observation. "I did it even before I was turned. I would put little designs in my siblings' clothes so they would recognise what was theirs and what was their siblings'." For a moment she felt sad, but it passed quickly. She had stayed in New England until 1800. Her youngest sibling had been around 4 when she was turned in 1775, which meant she had seen them turn 29. The others had been in their thirties the last time she saw them. She was aware that they were dead now, but she hadn't stuck around to witness it. That was something her heart wouldn't have been able to handle.
"Of course", Lore said with a smile. She put the hoop down on the dress, which was already laying on the counter, so Tristan would be able to touch the embroidery. "Be careful with the needle, though", she warned him.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on May 30, 2024 21:54:47 GMT
Wolves were social creatures. Even Tristan. He was the sort who craved attention but had no earthly idea what to do when given attention. The sort who disliked being touched in a crowd but couldn't be close enough to those he cared about. One of those types that struggled with too many words and whose replies never quite had the right tone or didn't always fit into the natural flow of conversation but still wanted it. Someone who enjoyed silence and watched people's actions over their words. He had an immense appreciation for the window that the vampire provided him into her world and, from her candid answers, he felt she honestly didn't mind his strange, somewhat rough manners.
She spoke of siblings and he felt a pang in his chest. First for his own missing brother (or maybe Tristan was the missing one, he had never figured it out) and then for the understanding that her siblings were long gone. “They must have felt very special, having a sister like you,” he noted. People liked to feel unique and seen. Having that custom bit to their clothes likely meant a lot.
He waited until she had stopped her work and set it down. The werewolf brushed his fingers over the thread, touch surprisingly gentle. The fabric was stiffer where she had added the flower, the embroidery having a sleek sort of feel to it. It was a very pleasing texture, he decided, giving it a few strokes before pulling his hand away and nodding appreciatively.
“Have you…” he hesitated, then redirected his question that was originally a out family to be able something else. Not that he had a concept of it being too personal, he simply gathered from her own tone and scent and manner that it was an understandably sad topic. “Ever embroidered something for someone, then found that item again decades later, belonging to someone else?” He imagined the first clothes she did this with were long crumbling or out of fashion, but as she had said, it was a way to make something personal, special. Different than every other dress of that make. “Or in a museum?” He added as the thought occurred.
Post by Lorelle Irving on Jun 6, 2024 20:31:49 GMT
His words were kind, but she doubted her siblings had appreciated the embroidery, and hadn't seen it as anything more than an indication of which clothes were whose. Yet Lorelle smiled slightly at Tristan, nodding slightly.
She then stopped embroidering so she could hand the dress to the man, watching him as he slid his fingers along the stitches. Over the years, she had managed to really get the technique down, and her embroidery was smooth and flat, without bumps and knots or thread that had split from being pushed through the cloth. She cocked her head to the side when he started a question and paused, curious to know what he was going to ask. She felt as if the follow up go his question wasn't what he had originally planned to ask, but didn't think too much of it.
Lore chuckled and shook her head slightly at the same time, thoroughly amused. "A museum?", she responded with a little grin on her face. She was pretty, always, but especially when that amused half-smile half-grin shone through. It showed that she was amused, but at the same time it gave her an air of mystique, because it was never quite clear what amused her so much. "You flatter me, sir." She smiled, small dimples forming near the corners of her mouth. "No, not in a museum. As for clothes, most don't last this long, so no. Maybe fabric these days is more durable, so who knows... In a century or so, I might just find this dress again." She stroked the embroidery on the collar and looked at it, almost nostalgically. "Those old dresses in museums always fascinate me, though. People come look at them, trying to imagine what it must have been like to wear them... And I can't tell them I know."
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jun 9, 2024 21:42:16 GMT
The vampire's questions of his words made him wonder if he had perhaps said something wrong. She had to know what a museum was, so the question wasn't about the word he used but about why he thought her work would be thought there. Perhaps it was quite a leap, but humans had the strangest things in museums, after all, and her work on this dress was absolutely something he could imagine seeing making it into such a place.
Until she used the word 'flatter' he would have guessed she was insulted. Hearing as much was a bit of a relief. His dark eyes swept over her face, that gentle but happy smile, how her dimples made her look even younger. Tristan grunted in understanding about the fabric not holding up for very long in the past. "You might," he agreed, tucking his hands back in his pockets.
The werewolf knew some of how she felt. He only looked to be in his thirties or forties, but being ninety years old, he had memories of the second world war and many other events that he couldn't simply share without being ridiculed or worse. "Are there any...reenactment groups close by?" He asked because he was curious for himself but also if it was something she had ever thought about. It wasn't the same, but he had visited places that had clubs who took part in such activities. Even rarely, 'living museums' where people worked, pretending to be a farmer or doctor or housewife from various times in the past in order to teach and preserve how the world worked at the time.
Post by Lorelle Irving on Jun 26, 2024 9:36:25 GMT
He was a wolf of little words, but Lorelle didn't mind. When you had lived as long as she had, you got less sensitive to silenced in conversations. People tried to say as much as possible in their short lifespan, but being quiet had a beauty to it. Not saying more than necessary was a gift few people possessed.
She mentioned the clothes she would see and think about how she had worn them. He mentioned something unfamiliar to her. "Reenactment?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. It wasn't difficult to understand what it was, but... "I didn't know such a thing existed." She then smiled because she amused herself with a thought she had. "I think they would kick me out for nitpicking details. But I could look into making clothes for these groups, maybe."
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jun 27, 2024 3:12:53 GMT
He had come to terms with quiet a lot. Mostly in his travels alone, but also in general. Often there was a lot to be learned in how people appreciated and handled silence.
For a location with such a massive werewolf population, he was actually surprised. The vampires he supposed this could be much harder for, as most countries based reenacting on their own history. But knowing when she was turned and her enjoyment of embroidery and her knowledge and yearning for simpler times long past, it seemed a perfect fit. To know this was something Sweetwater did not have was...surprising. A missed opportunity. "I think 'nitpicking details' is preferable?" he mused. Of course, her social skills in such a situation were important. He didn't have the social ability personally. "Most I have seen in America are based on battles," he explained, forcing himself to use a bit more explanation. The vampire seemed to understand, but her saying she had never seen such a group, Tristan felt compelled. "Some are historical organizations, with towns designed for educational purposes. People wear period clothes and...act from the time." Though he supposed she wouldn't have to act.