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MORE OR LESS.

@wrxn / wrxn.tumblr.com

wren fontaine. 22. owner of tequila mockingbird.
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lvurentb

bar nights & more / laurent + wren.

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wrxn
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                     His relationship with the Fontaine’s has always been rocky. During the past two years, Laurent never attempted to make things fixable; it served no purpose. The main issue he held with some of them were that they enjoyed sticking their noses in places it doesn’t belong. For the most part, Red Creek residents, particularly those that lived near him knew Laurent favored privacy. In his mind, the Fontaine’s did not know much about it. The extra addition of the mint leaves led his eyes to squint, trying his best to hide the annoyance beginning to creep through. “Perfect.” Sarcasm seeped, yearning to sulk lower in his chair. Had he predicted this would be the outcome, his footsteps would have been at a different bar elsewhere. “Are you asking because you truly want to know about their wellbeing or no? Because I don’t have time for the bullshit. I’ll make sure to tip for the extra mint leaves that I specifically did not request, by the way.” 
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          “Mustn’t’ve heard you,” his head dropped in response, eyes trained on the spick and span countertop he continued to wipe. Wren’s gaze could bore a hole into the surface, if Laurent just so happened to say the wrong thing. Any definite feelings he held for the man were not based on one on one interactions. The youngest of five kids didn’t take it lightly when any his siblings made an enemy. That might’ve been drawn a tad bit dramatic, but it got the point across. “I’m not making conversation in spite of your kids, Laurent.” He lied through his teeth, but the older witch had to know what he was getting at. A hard fist came down onto the countertop, rag in hand. “You wanna tell me why you’re in here? Couldn’t wait until I was gone?” Although he was there for closing, he wished Laurent could’ve given him business any other night. He could only imagine the disregard for the entire situation, by the look on his face, impatient stare, and overwhelmingly bored tone of voice.
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                         ❛   welcome to archer’s point .  ❜        giovanni rolled off the tip of his tongue in the least warmest tone  ,   handing a beer to a customer before frowning .  ❛  —-  are you here because of the lack of interaction we’ve had for the past several months ?  the love is blossoming , child . ❜       the smell and sight of a fontaine sickened him   ;    it’s unfortunate that they hold that much respect in red creek .        ❛   tell sarah or whatever your sister’s name is hello.  ❜    chin nodded towards a worker , indicating for whomever to whip out the finest bottle of wine available in the bar .                             ❛   château cheval blanc ?  ❜
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          Wren usually didn’t bother with neighboring bars; he had enough of his own conundrums to worry about. These days the environment of a lounge made him spiral back into work mode, like he was a functioning adult. Years of handling it all on your own would do that to you. “Shelby... Savannah? Their names start with the same letter, you’ve gotta give me more than that.” He had to wonder, with how known they were... after everything, how difficult it must be for anyone to remember their names. Only one name mattered, or so it seemed. Lately he’d been hearing it like a whip. Fontaine. It hissed as it took on another life, a much less savory one. “Can’t say I missed you— sure.” he nodded at the request.
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lvurentb

bar nights & more / laurent + wren.

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wrxn
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                          “Fontaine. I just want a mojito, light with the mint leaves.” Juggling between teaching summer classes and two kids, the man desperately needed an alcoholic beverage. Most of the time, Laurent was unable of getting proper time to himself — proper time to relax within his own realm. When the time did come, however, it was either home or at Tequila Mockingbird. Hours felt like minutes. As he sat in the bar, the environment around him became examined, sighing heavily. “It’s Wren, right?”
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        He’d be sure to add extra mint leaves after that comment. “Yeah,” he nodded in approval and toward one of the few barstools opposite him. Wren forgot faces, yeah, sure he did, but Laurent’s was not one of those he could. He had a rocky past with half his sisters, so of course the youngest Fontaine kept the man in the way back of his mind for days he may need a pinch of rage. “How’re the kids?” Remembering they adored Savannah, he asked out of politeness. Alright, maybe also out of spite to demonstrate that he remembered more about him than he bothered to remember about Wren.
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                         “Surprise.” Tongue flicked against white pearls, allowing the pads of her slender digits to slide against the top of the other’s shoulders. It’d be a lie to spread around Red Creek the Fontaine’s are her favorite clan —- perhaps the boringness stemmed from their lack of ability to spark up enough magic to keep her occupied. The materialistic value she’s capable to tantalize from them, however, kept the young werewolf intrigued. “I once fucked a man then left him for dead shortly afterwards. He bathed me in Tiffany diamonds,” she purred, flaunting the item wrapped around her neck purposely. “It’s unfortunate that he never got to see his true purpose beyond that. How come I never catch you around Scarlet’s Moon?” Curiosity oozed, allowing her free hand to caress the surface of her chest. “I think you’d enjoy yourself there. Imagine getting access to witness their best exotic dancer —- how stimulating. Your brothers always knew I favored you the most. It’s not polite to leave a customer waiting too long for a drink.” As features darkened due to high expectations, a hiss followed.  “Join me.”
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        The youngest Fontaine absentmindedly hopped, skipped, and jumped through the bar. Just on his way in to check on some things before he carried on with the rest of his day. He liked to think he wasn’t like a regular boss; he was a cool boss. Surely everyone knew that he wasn’t as heavy handed as he should’ve been, but the thought of chastising his employees for minor mistakes didn’t settle well in his gut. A familiar, predatory voice permeated his bubble of innocent self-absorption, one he hadn’t heard in what felt like months. “Elena,” he tipped his imaginary hat in greeting, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “I—-” there was but a small pause as the same old look of utter surprise briefly engulfed his every feature, “have a job. Here.” To hammer the point home, he pointed down to the hardwood floors of Tequila Mockingbird. She knew that, it’s why she had to be sitting at the counter as soon as he decided to come in on his day off, wasn’t it? If Wren could drink a big, tall, cold glass of un-hear juice he would. Damn, he hadn’t thought of making himself go temporarily deaf with a spell the moment he saw her. His old habit of giving the benefit of the doubt would die hard. Despite the ridiculous things she was saying, he remained his enjoyable self. He was, how you say, cuffed. Absolutely smitten with his best friend’s twin sister, something that would probably end more than one friendship out there. Good thing Benji knew he could never betray Diana. “Brother,” just one, he emphasized, as if somehow she'd forgotten. Ethan never let Wren forget it. Blood brothers, or whatever he called them. “Sure, but take it easy.” He swung himself around and behind the bar, reaching for a small scotch glass to match her own.
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                   The reassurance didn’t happen to make things better, shuffling through her pockets for a small pocket hand sanitizer to clean her hands, feeling the air around her bring the five foot two individual down. “But I don’t want a secret admirer that will poison me,” Anastasia calmly responded, now staring at her feet due to discomfort. Besides, who would develop feeling for her? She always found herself nothing but a boring individual. “You.. Wren, those cupcakes are poisonous. We can —-” Eyes widened, swallowing thickly. “ —- die.” The idea of a strawberry cupcake sounded lovely, however given the circumstances, the weighing of the pros and cons led her to politely refuse again. “Nuh-uh.”
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        Wren had to sigh in defeat. His shoulders drooped and the smile faded from his face, but only for a moment before he garnered an idea in that beautiful, wonderful, spectacular brain of his. “They could be the best cupcakes in the world— the best cupcakes known to man. And you’re gonna miss out on them. Anastasia Johnson will never know the flavor of these gorgeous little cakes.” He flipped the box lid open with speed and accuracy, letting the intricate designs on the desserts see the outside world for the first time. “Someone has to try them.” Speaking not even a half second before he reached into the box for the tastiest looking cake, he took a monumental bite out of it. Surely half the cupcake was missing. “I don’t feel like I’m poisoned.” He shrugged, his voice muffled by the sugary substance filling his mouth.

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“What’s the deal with your sister and pancakes?”
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        “They remind her of her youth. Y’know, like twenty years ago? Mom used to make them all the time.”
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“I understand your concern, but Savannah’s extended leave of absence was long overdue. We can track her if you really want to – as long as you agree you won’t try to convince me to hunt her down with you once we do.”
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        Wren knew his elder sister had a habit of skipping town every now and then. There were simply too many bad memories associated with the place; it didn’t make her absence any easier to stand. “I just want to know where she is. I swear I won’t drag you to Italy if we find out she’s there.”
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                      Anything involving sweets managed to capture her interest, although Anastasia’s unsure if the question didn’t have any harm or it was a form of bribery. “Cupcakes —- I sure do love cupcakes.” Except the moment he revealed the box might be poisoned happened to mortify her, unable to hold back to frightened expression now plastered across her features. “I don’t want them anymore! We should dump them before we catch something; I think safety’s important given our situation.”
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        Pearly whites gleamed in the afternoon sun as the witch let out a heart laugh. “Come on,” he had to pause, nudging her with his elbow. “What if they’re from a secret admirer?” Eyebrows raised far too high on his forehead. He was forever an optimist, happy with the treat life had thrown his way that fine day. “What if,” pointing a long finger at the girl, he continued, “someone left these at my apartment just so I’d deliver them to you? Think about it— there might be strawberry in here.” He tempted in a singsong voice, hoping to get her on board with him.

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        “Do you want some cupcakes?” Wren asked, head canted to the side in a questioning manner. A large white box occupied his palms. “Someone left them at my doorstep, think they’re poisoned?”

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“Because fishing takes patience and more importantly silence, neither of those are your strong suit.” Ethan didn’t think it needed explaining, yet here he was. “You also have to wake up before the sun rises if you expect to catch anything.” He had no idea where this was coming from all of a sudden, but then again he rarely knew where Wren got these ideas. They seemed to pop into his head out of nowhere and be forgotten just as quickly. “Have you been smoking something? Haven’t I told you to stay away from Jamie Knight? The twins are fine, but he’s bad news. Don’t take anything from him.”
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        “I can be silent,” he nodded, pressing his lips firmly together in an action that would surely flatten them for good. “And I can wake up early. The sun is my alarm clock, I’m like Cinderella but with a beautiful brother instead of two annoying step-sisters. Have more faith in me, I’m just wondering when our brother bonding fishing trip is happening. We should make it annual, right when summer starts so we don’t freeze our nuts off.”
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           “Oh yes, get me on the sugar high of a century and we’ll see what’ll happen next — maybe I’ll blow up the kitchen this time? Or dare we start from the basement; really destroy the foundation from the get go,” a pitiful bout of jokes that spoke volumes for her insecurity of magic. She was the eldest, meant to be the support system to lift her siblings up in this grave time of need where they no longer had doting parents to lean on; and yet she failed, on every level imaginable. “Well, dear brother, you’re only just beginning to see the inner workings of my mind; I’d beat Savannah in a crazy competition any day,” a further sense of self deprecating mirth, brows wiggling as if it could add to her stretch of humor. She near resisted the pull away from all the items she had near meticulously spread out, under the impression that the time to get a grip on her magic was ever fleeting. 
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        “Maybe,” he pointed a finger at her, “you’ll levitate the toaster.” Arms spread out in their natural wide span. “Huh? Sounds like a good idea to me. Just a little sugar to get us going, sugar.” The younger Fontaine winked. “It’s an unfinished basement just waiting to be blown up. What do we keep down there, anyway, the washer? Ethan’s marble collection? Stuff that’s barely worth a penny.” Exaggeration may as well have been his middle name. “Alright, you’re no mystery Shelby Mariah Fontaine.” He put special emphasis on her middle name, leaning forward into her personal space. “To me you’re just Shelby. Good old Shelbs, coming home from her thirty six hour shift at the hospital, then ghosting me for three days while she recuperates. Good old Shelby. And you’re not like Savannah, maybe that’s why I’m both of your favorites, huh?” Or why they were constantly on different wavelengths.

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“Yeah, you need to stop doing that. One day you’re going to annoy her so much she’ll combust and take us all with her.” Savannah snorted at the memory of how frustrated Tatum could get when left to the whim of their brother. Relentless as he was. “I..– left a message, but I only called once.” Which she knew wasn’t really good enough, but for whatever reason, Shelby and her had never really.. clicked. “You want to locator spell our sister? Your funeral.” A haphazard comment that caught her in the chest harder than anticipated after their all too recent loss. Tucking blonde locks behind her ear, she went back to busying herself all too quickly. “I uh.– you call them. If they come, great if not..– that’s fine too.”
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        “She can’t. I’m her slave apparently.” Getting up from the couch to retrieve the remote when it was a mere two inches from her hand was a killer. She’d done stuff like that since they were kids. Needless to say, Tatum was high maintenance. “Once? Sav, come on. It’s not a Fontaine family fun night without Shelby. Her and Ethan are pros at Taboo, you know he won’t play without her. What? What’s she gonna do, throw a feather at us?” The eldest witch’s magic was not up to par with the rest of the siblings’, that much was clear. If a locator spell really irked her as much as Savannah seemed to think it would, well, maybe she’d never come around. “I will. We all took it differently,” their parents’s death. “You can’t make them see it the way we do.” Optimistically, unfortunately. After all this time, finally.

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“Think it’ll snow soon? Remember last winter, when we went out to that clearing and made snow people? I think we should maybe give that another go. Whatcha think? I mean, I know my snowman will never be taller than yours, ‘cause you’re enormous, but I think I could try. Maybe I’ll bring a step stool this year.”
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        “Another set of snow people? That took us hours last time, my fingers turned blue.” But the sculptures looked like they belonged in a museum after some refining and detail orienting. “Where are you getting this material from? Been watching a lot of standup lately?” He joked, his eyebrows pulling in closely for a moment as he reached forward to grab a dust bunny out of her hair. “But yeah, for you I will.”

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                “So —– you’re telling me that she’s practicing dark magic and has been here —- how long?” An eyebrow raised instantly with a smirk finally forming on her lips. She had been right in front of Abi’s eyes, someone that Abigail bought drinks and bonded with one night in a crowded bar. Looking at the Fontaine, Abi finally took in a deep breath and tilted her head to the side. “Alright, look, you got any alcohol laying around here that’s stronger than some weak ass vodka? We need some story time before we begin to bust our asses with my magic.”
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        “—- yeah, you know what? Not the wildest thing I’ve said today.” What a life. After mulling over it for about a century and a half, Wren was finally prepared to do something about Lenny’s unexpected dark magic. “A couple years. I don’t know how she flew under the radar for so long.” She was smart. Capable of handling herself to the point of fending off a Fontaine, who’d seemed to be inferior in her presence. “Top cabinet. Let me get it,” he said last minute, realizing her height would be an obstacle. “Though if you wanna... you know,” he gestured, indicating for her to levitate the bottle of jack down to them.

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