Kreios got up from the couch at the sound of the Intercom buzzing in.

"Good morning SCION. Would all field and research teams please report to Meeting Room B for a briefing in five minutes. Five minutes in Meeting Room B. Thank you!"

Well, it was something, at least. He hoped it would bring him out into the field again, he missed being able to let a little loose, really push his limits. He had been getting bored of the recent "Milk-runs" he'd been sent on. Combat was his specialty, and quite frankly, he held a lust for it. Some might have called it a bloodlust, but it wasn't the gore that drew Kreios in. It was, something far more primal.

As he approached the meeting room, he adjusted his shirt-sleeve, in a vein attempt to stretch it so it would comfortably hold his arm. He was beginning to find this a problem, and would need to have a meeting for a "New clothes" bonus. Not that it was news to the higher ups, they had this meeting once a year.

He walked in the room, sliding a few chairs over to avoid physical contact with his co-workers. Not that there aren't a few he wouldn't mind brushing up against, but this was a professional setting, no time for such thoughts. He sat down, and waited for his team-mates to arrive.

After the intercom blurb, the quiet clop clop clop of his own foot steps seemed to the only sound in the building for a short while. Here he was, carrying a werewolf to the medical wing. Ironic, in some sense anyways. He looked down at Kora. Just a co-worker... Not a loose cannon, and bloody monster. Just a girl, all be it one that could handle herself even without her affliction. Sure it was probably wrong to discriminate against those who were born like this. He still felt taunt as a bowstring, as if on the edge of sudden movement no matter what he told himself.

No, Just a girl who passed out...He snorted in frustration at himself. Why couldn't he let go..? It was years ago, fuck it wasn't even on this side of the hemisphere... well not the werewolf indecent anyways.


He looked up and noticed he had walked clear pasted the medical wing.

" 'cuse me" Isaac asked a nurse, he couldn't remember the young woman's name off the top of his head.
" I've got Ms Norrevinter, She's been hit with a .75 mg of M99---err uh-- Etorphine." He explained as he laid the werewolf carefully onto an empty hospital bed. " She should wake up in a moment or two. If I recall correctly Were's bounce back pretty quick. Please let her know we have a meeting going on."

With that he left to head off to the Meeting room.

“Look, if you’re gonna bang, ya mind not doin’ it out here where everyone can see it? It’s gay as fuck.” This exceedingly “eloquent” remark was provided by a certain silvette as she looked on at the spectacle before her, arms folded lazily over her chest as she watched from her spot against the wall. The use of the term to describe what was, in reality, the farthest thing one could be from “gay” was not an unusual one by Stride- in fact, by this point, it was quite commonplace. It was debatable whether she even knew the true definition of the word, or, if she did, she kept the knowledge in the back of her head. Tucked safely away, in a place that wouldn’t be bothering her anytime soon.

It didn’t seem to matter, at any rate- Stride used it either way.

The gorgon was mulling over further commentary to the scene between the two agents when, suddenly, a Ms. Botrelle had taken it upon herself to send the current subject of her flirtations toppling to the ground. Stride was struck silent for a moment, merely staring at the the aftermath with almost as much surprise as the victim himself.

Of course, she recovered quickly enough, and was soon slumped against the wall as gave a string of hearty guffaws. No words were necessary to show her appreciation of the action- although, after a few moments of laughter, she pulled herself together to give a breathless “That was priceless.”

It was only after a few more moments that Stride straightened up, and turned towards Issac to offer her help in the transportation of an unconscious werewolf- even in human form, the woman was undeniably massive. However, by the time she had composed herself, it seemed that the man had already left, Kora in tow.

Damn. For all that could be said about the man, she mused, he could at least work fast. She supposed there was no point in following, given how swift his departure had been, and, besides- Kora still owed her money. That in mind, Stride glanced up at the speakers, listening carefully as the announcement sounded out before rolling her shoulders and bringing her eyes to the door. Stride had no real knowledge of what, exactly, the meeting would be about, but a part of her wondered if it was another warning about painting over the bathroom mirrors with various condiments.

That had been a very interesting, very specific, and very eventful meeting, to say the least.

Not wanting to leave in an entirely unceremonious way, Stride glanced over her shoulder, added, “Well, see ya guys there, if you’re done actin’ like ya haven’t fucked in weeks,” and sauntered out into the hall. She didn’t take long to reach the meeting room- having decided to use a few shortcuts she had picked up on through her years at the base- and took even less time to pick a chair and slide into it. Seeing that the room was still fairly empty, Stride used the opportunity to make herself comfortable- stretching out her legs under the table, arms slack on the polished surface.

"Of course." Montana's fingers touched the keyboard in front of him, with a lightness not unlike the comfortable way Damien had done against his skin. A long black bar was dragged across the longer sequences of his report, while the [expunged] tag replaced words that fit the theme of the Incubus's request. At the end of each correction, a point of reference was made as per Dami's wishes for a wardrobe replacement, in lieu of their most recent mission. Though he suspected a bit of time off sooner then his co workers request was filed, references for the future were always useful.

Montana straightened his back, which would cause Damien's hand to fall from his body, unless he made the special effort to keep it against his skin. He had come to expect passing contact like this, and didn't shy away from it. Cohesion between species required a sympathy that was effortless to his persona. Thus, he was never uncomfortable around his fellow Hunter.

"Ah. Thank you, I'll be sure to give my own hello to Mr.Lovette personally. Once base business has been attended to." Montana lifted a folder from his desk, along with a small black case containing his writing instruments. When all needed items were nestled in his arm, the loudspeaker went off, and with it, an announcement.

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind escorting me there Mr. Moore."

The duo left the office, and continued down the hallway without event. He choose a spot where his surroundings could be easily observed in their entirety and took a seat. As he settled, he made eye contact with Krieos, and nodded a hello. The files nestled under his arm were opened on his lap, and he spread the paper out evenly, fixing any creases on the surface.

It was not very long until the meeting room was graced by the presence of the first of the SCION officers, one of the three most senior members of the organization. Proven long ago in the field, they had come to serve as the strategic leaders, second only to their benefactor.

This one in question was a tall, dark-haired gentleman in a jacket with round brass buttons. Leofric Wyndham, a vampire that had been walking the earth since anglo-saxon times, and who headed up deployment and field operation.

He fofered a nod to those already present, but was not able to address any directly, as he had another conversation ongoing.

Pursuing Wyndham was the form of Oren, not looking terribly pleased.
"I thought we had come to the agreement that I was not expected to take part in field deployment. This was agreed upon in my conditions for my employment. No field work."

"And as I keep telling you Kovalenko, this is not field work. All staff are going to need to vacate the building during the placement of the wards. It's new security code. If you have a problem with it you can take it up with Elmessiri, but you'll get exactly the same response." Leo replied, a little dismissively as he took a set at the table against one wall and set down his files.

"This is totally unacceptable." came the vampress' response, her grip tightening around her set of files.

"Your contract covers not sending you into danger Kovalenko, it said nothing about you never leaving the building. We'll be putting all of you up somewhere. You can't honestly be complaining about getting paid holiday, can you?" Leo raised one eyebrow to regard the woman, whose expression implied that yes, she certainly could complain about it.

While Lulu took pride in being a true professional in her field, it was too much to deny herself a bit of fun at Makorai’s expense, especially when he had set himself up for the act with his teasing.

Childish? Going by Kovalenko’s expression, perhaps it was.



Worth it? Based on Saika’s face, undoubtedly.



She extended a hand to pull him to his feet, and dusted the shoulder of his shirt off with a quick swipe. “You know, if you make things that easy,” she said, grin broadening with Stride’s added laughter, “You’re going to make all of Hunter’s Moon think that you like being thrown on your back. And then you’ll have no problem with anyone thinking you haven’t— Well,” she trailed off and let the implied end of her comment dangle, casting a raised brow toward the gorgon.

Her gaze followed after Schofeild for a brief moment as he carried Norrevinter away, and her lips pouted into a question, but the thought was derailed by the intercom announcement. “Joy,” she muttered, and turned toward the door after one more adjustment of Makorai’s subtly disheveled shirt. “I’m going to rendezvous with Hunter’s Moon, speaking of. You two be kind to Schofield, now. Wouldn’t want to damage his ‘good spirits.’” 

She moved out of the way with a good natured smile as Dinah rushed past, careful to dodge the rivalrous sibling exchange as she proceeded down the corridor.

Once in the hall, she found her teammate’s position within minutes and slipped behind them to a seat beside Montana, brushing her hand over Dami’s shoulder in greeting as she passed. “Strangers,” she greeted, as if she had not spent the past fifteen hours with the two. 

Her emerald green eyes scanned about the room, taking in the amassed collection of cryptids and humans alike, noting their tones and body language. For what it was worth, and for all of the issues the organization had, few could deny that there was a general air of camaraderie amongst the coworkers. Some, even, she’d venture to say behaved like family.



Lulu’s musings were interrupted as Wyndham and Kovalenko entered, and the field agent watched them both out of the corner of her eye, listening. She cast a glance toward Montana and Damien, respectively, with the statement on her face reading somewhere between, “What’s going on?” and “Get a load of that nonsense.” 



All things have cycles— The moon, civilizations, the growth and shedding of skin from a snake’s back. All things that go around will recur once more, and if they should not, it likely means that you have not waited long enough. The only question, really, is how or when the recurrence will come, and what prompting will occur to make it so.

Rebirth, as it were: A fascinating subject in the lives of men for millennia, for reasons both obvious and obscure. Phoenixes and reincarnation cycles feature regularly in Eastern historical records, and many creatures influencing the rebirth of seasons are revered as deities.

One of the most prominent symbols of rebirth across cultures, however, is the yew tree. Multiple cultures (see following doccumment for specifics regarding Greek vs Celt representation) have viewed this slow-growing tree with reverence, likely drawing the connection to rebirth from the tree's ability to spring new trunks from the original root bole. While it is possible to cut a yew down, failure to remove the full bole from the ground will only result in a later growth of the same tree.

Despite being an incredibly toxic —

The stream of written text was interrupted as by the sound of the intercom filling the library’s archival study sent a rather startled bearded dragon lizard dropping from the writer’s head and onto the page.

The creature scuttled onto its feet after a second or two of struggle, bit the pen previously inscribing the briefing text, and then crawled onto the hand holding it to nuzzle for warmth. She was promptly hissed away by a garden snake, however, who had been hiding up the writer’s coat sleeve. The hissing set a leopard gecko on the sleeve’s outer portion to jumping further up the arm, which displaced a formerly contented ball python who had been draped about the coat’s shoulder.

The python moved to coil around her perch’s neck, only to be intercepted by the hands of Doctor Silas Whitmore as he wound her coils away from his body. “None of that now, Harriet,” the historian chastised, letting her wrap herself around his other wrist, “You know that tickles.”

Harriet flicked her tongue out, but settled into her new place just as well. “Hopeless lot, all of you. Did you know?” Silas proceeded to say, adjusting a lizard clinging to the frame of his thick bottle-bottom glasses so that the animal's foot did not obstruct the view of his strigine blue eyes. He reached up and pressed down his unkempt mop of brown hair, more out of habit than hope that it would stay down, and seemed completely unfazed as yet another small reptile crawled from his sleeve and made itself a nest amongst the strands.

He then moved to lay three different bookmarks in his work, in case someone else should want to open the resources he had been prepared to cite in the briefing note, but fumbled as he stretched across the desk and knocked a globe off of its stand.

Though he did manage to catch it in a haphazard dive to the side.

Even though said dive may have cost him his balance.

Cue a crash onto the floor and a scuttling exodus of the creatures formerly existing on his person.

“Yes, yes— I know. I’m going to be late.” He pulled himself up and dusted himself off, relaxing the globe and grabbing a notepad and pen in the same motion. “If you’re so bothered by it, you ought to help” he quipped as he bounced toward the door— though the bounce was more an effort to recover from stumbling over a corner of the rug than any intentionally graceless motion.

As the Historical research head strode toward the hall (with no further mishaps, for the moment,) he pulled out his phone and shot a quick text message to another member of Harvest Moon, to be sure that Aconite was in attendance.

Conference room in five. Or five minutes ago. Not sure. -Dr. W

And then,

Also, please meet after. Need you to pull the tome on yew wood inscribing. -Dr. W

As he pushed through the door with his worn menagerie and took a seat in the back corner nearest the door (so that no late-coming reptiles would disturb anyone when they entered,) he shot out one more text message, stating,

Also, meet before meeting after. Thinking of ordering lunch. -Dr. W

Dami watched the report being edited, leaning further and further over Montana’s shoulder in the meantime until his boss straightened, the incubus moving fluidly in sync to avoid collisions and yet maintain contact before drawing back on his own terms.

“Not a problem, sir.” He replied quietly, while frowning at his attire. As he followed Montana through the halls, the incubus trailed a bit behind, quickly straightening and smoothing his clothing until he looked as professional as one possibly could in short shorts and any piece of clothing as tight as his shirt was, barely acknowledging Lulu with his short smile. Entering the meeting room, Dami took time to make eyes at the werewolf already in the room, followed by a more subtle look-over of Issac Schofield and the only male higher up. It was through this focus, he caught enough of the man’s conversation with Oren to hear “paid vacation” being mentioned, and the incubus pouted, his cabin fever barely lifted by the mission he had just been on with his team.

And speaking of his team…Dami looked around once more only to see that he had missed his chance to esconce himself on Montana’s lap, and the pout grew as he left his position lingering by the door to hover by his teammates’ shoulders.

I know, right? his expression said back to the blonde vampire- a small amount of jealousy evident in his eyes- before he circled around to take his own seat, briefly raising a hand in greeting to Silas.

The thin pick dragged in a smooth curve over the glass surface, scoring a barely noticeable line against the glass she was working with, and to Christina’s pleasure, some of the tightly coiled energy around the center of the charm was diverting into the new circle, spiraling into the center and stabilizing the hollow creation as intended. Delicately as was necessary, the mage set the tiny weapon onto the tree-like stand she had for storing freshly made charms until their magic settled, stepped back from her table, and blinked furiously, clearing the complex spell that let her “see” magic from her eyes. She then laid down her tools, flexed her hands, and removed the large headphones and cotton in her ears just in time to catch the announcement.

The mage smiled at her good fortune, because a few minutes more on her part or less on the announcement’s and she’d have missed the memo, and paused by her mirror to check her thickly coiled hair, today done up in multiple loops of braid. Seeing it was in place – she didn’t favour these hairstyles completely because of vanity, it was also because they tended to stay in place better than ordinary ones – she carefully locked her door after herself and hurried down the hall. It was good to get a chance to stretch her legs, because when creating charms or doing research, she often had to stay very still.

Some of her research coworkers greatly objected to fidgeting.

Then again, Oren greatly objected to almost everything that wasn't science related.

The young woman came into the room, looking at the assembled teams and scanned for a place to sit. Eventually, she decided on a fellow researcher, and settled beside Silas after waving to Montana, delicately checking to make sure no reptiles were on her intended seat. “Hello!” she said meanwhile. “Found anything interesting recently?”

Always a good bet with Silas, who found most of his research fascinating and often didn’t know when to stop talking about it.

Aconite’s thanks was dismissed with the wave of a hand, as if physically ushered away. “It’s the least I could do,” Madison chirped. “Besides, I pride myself on being a good host.” The vampire did not lie- he was a man that greatly enjoyed his company, and a man that greatly enjoyed conversation. Manners were as important to him as an instrument to a musician, and this was something he knew well enough.

It was only when he saw Aconite exit that Madison beamed brightly and turned to leave, heels clicking nicely against the tiled floor. “Well, considering that I haven’t heard much, either, I’m assuming that it’s the latter.” The bright, cheerful tone never faded as he strolled through the hall, following the various scratches and claw marks that had been left from Kora’s charge. “I do have to agree with you on them being a tad...rowdy at times.”

A true understatement of the year.

At Aconite’s question, the researcher gave a slight roll of the shoulders, then gestured at the markings scattered before them. “I’m not completely sure at the moment, but from the trail Ms. Norrevinter left for us, I’m assuming that she was heading towards the back.” Madison lapsed into silence, then, eyes back on the damage, although it was during this quiet that the announcement sounded out above them. Blinking in surprise, he glanced up at the speaker, glanced back to the hallway, then turned his focus back to Aconite with a slight laugh.

“Well, then.” Madison said, clasping his hands together. “It seems like we won’t have much time to go check up on the others, then.” He wasn’t particularly concerned by the sudden calm, at any rate- transformed cryptids running about was a common enough occurrence that it didn’t warrant too much alarm anymore. Turning on his heel, Madison made his way to the meeting room, purposefully walking in stride with his company.

Upon his arrival, he was quick to see several familiar faces among those who had already arrived. Giving a cheery wave towards his fellow researchers- and a few others- Madison made his way to a chair beside one Mr. Moore and settled himself down with a smile and a muted “hello”. Noting the current argument between Oren and one of the officers, Madison turned a curious look over to his tablemates- and finding with a certain amusement that he was not alone in the gesture.

He supposed he hadn’t missed much, then.

Ahhh yes. Makorai had been expecting a remark from the ever eminent Stride, which, in his experience, would be heavily sprinkled in expletives and insensitive words. 'Insensitive' being a word that didn't exist in Makorai's vocabulary until he joined SCION. The vampire imagined it was quite the same for his friend as well. Asking a Werewolf if the evolutionary practice of 'doggystyle' was something that carried over when they shifted into their human form was apparently grounds for a sensitivity class.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure who had attended more, he or Stride, but they were certainly neck and neck. Most recently, it had been a quip to a human co worker of his, regarding the Vampire he had been seeing, and the dangers of 'phallic objects and closely associating them with oral activities.'

Well. That's how the report had put it. He had used several more colloquial terms to highlight his point.

"Had it been weeks?" Makorai asked himself as Lulu hauled him to his feet with a strength veiled behind her slight....supple frame. It was difficult keeping track of how long Lulu was on a job. Mostly because of the day drinking. Made things blur together sometimes. Maybe not weeks then. Possibly a week. Too long anyhow. "I'm sure the entire base knows my policy on people and backs." The sniper ran his fingertips along her hands and their familiar touch, then parted with a mock salute.

"Schofield's psychological well being is third only to drink and damsels." He responded.

Speaking of day drinking.

Makorai cracked a fresh bottle of sake, put it too his lips, and tried his best to finish as much of it as he could during his walk to the meeting room.

Mission accomplished.

One bottle of alcohol in the trash, one Makorai Saika sat one chair across from Stride, and one foot hooking the chair between them so the other could rest on its seat.

"Stride." He leaned over, his voice down to a whisper.

"You're gay."

Issac walked along at his own pace and found his way to the office where everybody was waiting.

He felt eyes on him walking in, tho not just from being one of the last to enter the room. He scanned the room for a moment but didn't find who had been eyeing him. Issac moved to a wall a few paces off from Oren and Wyndham as to over hear their conversation. He wasn't attempting to be subtle at it, but figured it was rude to just join their circle of conversation. As his ears picked out bits of conversation his eyes watched the room, with a stony expression. He gave a nod of greeting to anyone who made eye contact with him, but otherwise stood there with his armed folded neatly across his chest. He was interested in seeing what this was all about as much as anyone.

At the sound of a familiar voice, Silas turned to find the always-lovely (and more notably, criminally brilliant,) Miss Eberhart-Taroni taking the seat beside him. “Christina!” A wide smile spread across his face at her question, which he nodded in response to even as he shooed a gecko away from her shoes.

“Oh, yes, quite a few things, really,” he said, shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a finger, “Not that there are ever really any new things, what with it being history and whathaveyou, but I have come across some fairly new re-found tidbits—” He broke off to brush another critter from trying to crawl into her lap, before continuing in his chipper tone. “A bit like finding money in a pocket you forgot you had, really. No idea how it got there, but quite nice to see again. For starters, I’ve been doing some research into the historical symbolism of the ah—“

His phone buzzed against the desk, and he reached to tap the screen. “On the um… Pardon me, Christina. I’m expecting a reply from Acon—“

Before he could manage to finish swiping his passcode, the aforementioned research assistant was bounding into the room with his usual air of sprightliness. “Speak of the Devil,” said Silas, responding with a far more subdued but no less genuine wave of greeting.

The dryad may have been flighty, both literally and figuratively, and his frenetic energy was more than Silas typically cared for, but the Doctor had come to develop a fondness for Aconite nonetheless. The boy was a hard worker, and had both the patience and wit to follow Silas’s research instructions to a tee.

It was refreshing.

“Good to see you, Aconite! I was just telling Miss Christina here about the yew tree research we’ve been working on. It’s quite fascinating, isn’t it, Aconite?” He looked back to Chirstina just in time to catch a newt from making a leap for her shoulders.

He did not, however, pay any heed as a rather large monitor lizard (affectionately named Marie, for the time she liked to spend creeping around the labs,) sauntered through the door and settled itself under Aconite’s chair.

“But, yes. We’ve been making some intriguing connections between Gaelic and Greco-Roman mythos in regard to the tree. I could forward you the compiled papers, when we’re finished with them, if you like.”

Christina nodded along with Silas’s words, occasionally opening her mouth as if to say something before closing it as he barrelled on talking. Eventually, the mage settled for nodding, listening with genuine interest to the reports. She waved back to Aconite when he appeared, and smiled knowingly as she made the connection between the dryad and the topic of yew trees. Aconite’s unique powers could come in handy with this thread of research.

“Could you?” she asked Silas when he made his offer. “I’ve been running low on new reading material lately and my own library order isn’t here yet. I know in sorcery, yew is used a lot in rituals for transformation. Especially on the tides of the seasons. And funeral rites as well.”

Nothing she said was anything new, likely Silas had found it all already in his own. But it would prompt the conversation along, which was the goal, in the end.


Dami spared no time in snatching one of Madison’s hands into his own, playing with the fingers as he chirped a bright “Hello~” to the vampire as if they hadn’t just spoken not that long ago. His eyes becoming honey brown, Dami stared soulfully at his friend, then sent another cutting glance towards Oren arguing with their superior. The raised eyebrow conveyed his confusion rather clearly, since the incubus had no idea why that researcher would be mad about a paid vacation, of all things, and then shared another significant look with his teammates.

“Sooo, Madison~” he finally voiced, lowering his lashes until his eyes were half lidded, and peeping up through them in a fetching manner. “Did anything manage to change in the short time we suffered apart?”

Aconite, for a moment, was distracted by the various critters crawling over Silas. They always did grab his attention. He liked watching them and how they managed to all coexist on top of Silas's form. He was like a caring tree that harbored life upon it and protected them from the storms. Of course Silas did stop the creatures from being too disruptive to everyone else but he still found it rather amusing. If there was ever a human who cared about nature, it was Silas and he appreciated his time and his efforts in researching the plant life that surrounded him. Very few found the research worthy of their time. Most people didn't see the beauty in the intricately woven twigs and formation of bark. Even the veins on the leaves told a story and Silas would listen to the whispers. Aconite looked up at the man and offered him a bright smile.

So Silas had been telling Christina about the yew trees. The yew trees had always been his favorite specimens to investigate. They were so rich with knowledge. He could get lost in the lines for years. Many Dryads often took residence in the yew trees and he could see the allure of it. Maybe they should get a yew tree planted in the backyard somewhere. Yew trees did expand outward and connect to the other tress. It would be a network worth tapping into.

"I love exploring the lore. The yew tree we are studying in question, I think it once held Midir's secrets. He was once the Fae King in Irish lore as well. I am not actually sure what happened to him. The lore isn't clear, but I do feel the flashes and and the thrumming of the fae magic in the wood," he added. "I am eager to try and get at the root of the story it has to tell, pun intended," he chuckled. "The old lore simply says that when he got his lover Etain, they returned to the Fae palace but after that... nothing. There is very little written of Midir. Nothing about him or the bride he had sought through the human realm." Aconite shook his head from that particular vein of dreaming and turned his gaze to Christina.

"Well they were used in cycles or rebirth and funeral rites. Some poets used yews to inscribe their stories. I am sure I can delve into the runes of the tree and see if I can find what this particular tree has been used for. I am sure various people have cut bark from this tree. Since all of this happened so long ago, it may take a while to decipher it, but Silas and I will be be happy to look into it!" he volunteered.