Browsing their videos, it was obvious that the only Firebird-related work that Occult Ottawa did was badgering supposed fledglings, who were really just people they thought were strange. Nobody featured in their videos had gone missing; now their ignorance was beneficial to Cat. Not only did their website list the names and faces of “the team,” but they had a number for him to call as well. All he had to do was figure out whose eyes he’d been looking through.
When he dialed the number, the president herself--Abigail--answered him. Cat prayed this wasn’t her personal phone.
“I’m the head of another paranormal research organization,” he introduced himself, “We’re looking into the fledgling phenomenon as well, and were wondering if any of your investigations turned up conclusive evidence. I know sometimes there’s stuff you can’t show on camera.”
Abigail laughed. “Of course they haven’t.” Her laugh was light and airy, and he wasn’t prepared for it to turn ice cold at his next question.
“Then has your group encountered anything… odd? Odder than usual? We’ve-”
“One of our members was killed by a fae recently. Look, I know you’re calling because you heard about it,” she cut him off.
Cat’s heart dropped. From those words alone, he already knew which one had died. He already knew it hadn’t been a fae. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the wall, up at the mementos Dr. Morevna had collected throughout his life. A plate with a lacquer Firebird carefully painted on its surface, which had been a gift from his father. Another: A hand-woven scarf, decorated with feathers, from his in-laws. Next to both was Cat’s own addition to the wall, a corkboard of reminders and connections that no longer seemed to matter. He was too late again.
Stumbling over condolences, Cat muttered a “sure” when Abigail asked if he wanted to know what happened. She spilled her heart to him, and the more she described the situation, the more Cat wanted to reach out and take his condolences back.
Kirk had been her video editor. He was a little off, but he was skilled and always put out good work. It was the most terrible thing, Abigail said, because the fae hadn’t just killed him- it had stolen his voice as well.
With Abigail's design I wanted to explore one way that hair (fur?) dye could look in this universe. And also, I'd like to start including more characters with cosmetics and body mods.