Anna was familiar with strange-looking creatures, having seen them on a semi-regular basis throughout her whole life. She was a blood-witch, and being brought up by her mother and aunt, knew not to engage with them. One of the creatures had killed her father when Anna had been small; shattering her family’s world and earning in Anna an intense hatred of all creatures such as the ones which currently were running through central park.

Power rushed to the tips of Anna’s fingertips, desperate to be released in the presence of the other, unwanted, supernatural creatures. Stifling the urge, Anna deliberately turned her back on the chase, her shoulders taunt with tension, all previous joy in the beautiful day, lost. She hated seeing the creatures, and had hoped that moving to New York would have prevented, at least the big, scary looking ones, from hanging about. However, to her annoyance, despite there not being an abundance of the big ones, the more humanoid creatures were even more common than where she had grown up. Since her father’s death, she had been taught to ignore them completely unless threatened, as they typically could not tell that she was a witch without her acknowledging it. If she pretended that she wasn’t seeing anything out of the ordinary, they wouldn’t bother her. There were, of course, exceptions, some of the creatures being able to sense her magic, but Anna was a very strong witch, and they typically didn’t bother her for long.

Turning her attention to her, still, unfinished painting, Anna stared at it, her eyes boring into the canvas as if she could force the two males behind her to disappear with thought alone. Unbeknownst to her, in her concentration a small flower sprouted and bloomed at her feet amid the lush grass, its delicate white petals brushing against her bare ankle in a soothing fashion, as if the plant were trying to comfort her, trying to offer her solace in its touch. If an expert were to look closely, the plant would have been a mystery, the climate of New York supposedly making growth impossible. However, no one was paying attention, and the little flower was so small that even if they had been, it would have been easily mistaken for a daisy instead of the exotic, healing, herb that it was.

People couldn't take a joke anymore these days.  Hell, he was surprised that Gludwit even understood the joke.  Wait, no, that was assuming too much.  He probably just understood that it was aimed at insulting him, not quite how it accomplished that.  Either way, Gludwit was now very much trying to squash him, and Trae wasn't very keen on the idea of being squashed, and so he was running.  

Fortunately, his fae half was that of a nymph, which granted him the extra agility that was very much so a necessity right now, as he was dipping in and around all the construction.  Unfortunately, it wasn't slowing Gludwit down much either.  Gludwit's approach was more simple.  He decided rather than move around the construction, he'd just smash through it.  With that in mind, Trae left the now half-demolished construction lot and headed towards more densely populated areas.  Even a full-fledged troll at his angriest wouldn't be dim enough to allow mortals to catch on to his true nature, and in having to hide what he was would make him considerably slower.  Which was good, because fatigue was catching up to Trae and he doubted he'd be moving so fast much longer.

The sun had recently risen as well, which is probably the only reason Trae was still alive.  Sure, trolls and other fae COULD come out during daytime without harm, but they weren't at full capacity.  This affected him as well, but being a changeling meant it did to a much lesser extent. He was half mortal, after all.  

Suddenly, an idea hit him.  One last advantage he could give himself, and he turned towards his next destination, glancing back just in time to dive out of the way of a cinder block thrown as if it were no more than a small stone.  Getting back up, he glanced to see two more headed his way and continued his retreat in a less direct fashion.  Only after Gludwit gave up on hitting him with a flying bludgeon of death did Trae make a beeline for Central Park, his fatigue affecting his haste far less than a couple seconds ago.  

Now that their cat and mouse game was more in the open, there were plenty of gasps and shouts stirring around them.  Just to be certain, Trae glanced back to confirm that Gludwit had indeed taken on a human visage, although he was certainly still a hulking figure.  Trae also found it fitting that even in a human disguise, Gludwit looked like little more than a dimwitted thug, albeit an effective one.

As he entered Central Park, a chill went down his back hearing Gludwit roar in anger.  The an oaf he might be, but he knew that Trae was half nymph, and could very well vanish in the wilderness.  Temporarily paralyzed in fear, Trae looked back to reaffirm the immediate danger.  There was still a veil disguising Gludwit, but barely.  To Trae, thanks to his far half, it was just a haze film hiding his true form.  It'd work for the mortals, but was still risky.  However, it'd allow Gludiwt to regain some of his supernatural strength, which meant speed as well.  At least in the flat out, on directional velocity department.  However, it was enough to be very concerning.  Trae went into a full-out panic.  To think Gludwit would go to these lengths, now he KNEW he hadn't understood the joke, and just assumed the worst, for even Trae would never be foolish enough to insult a troll enough to throw him into a rage.   In less than a heartbeat, both Trae and Gludwit had started moving again, in a flat out sprint as Trae prayed he'd make it to the trees in time, and failed to noticed the woman staring wide eyed at him and Gludwit, or the fact that she seemed to see more than the other mortals around them.  

A messy tangle of blonde curls spilled across the pillow, sunlight streaming through an open window and bathing Anna Sullivan in gold. Opening sleepy eyes, she blinked once, and then twice, attempting to reconcile her dreams with reality. Resisting the urge to pull the blankets over her head for another hour’s sleep, she stretched her arms high over her head, her green- stained fingertips brushing the headboard.

Bare feet slapped down onto hardwood, and within minutes the sound of the coffee maker could be heard humming away. True, it was early, but that was when the best light was. If she slept in, she would never finish her painting, and then she would never get paid.

Donning a pair of worn, comfortable jeans and a faded t-shirt, Anna hauled her easel and pack on to her shoulder, and taking a sip of coffee from her travel mug, she left the tiny apartment as quietly as possible. It was almost as if she was afraid to wake herself in an alternate universe, the one where she was still blissfully asleep with the sunshine across her face and her mind deeply enamoured with dreams.

The way was familiar, each twist and turn of the sidewalk as natural as breathing, and in no time she was standing at the edge of Central Park. It took a few minutes more for her to arrive at her favourite spot, a little patch of lush grass beneath the largest oak in the park.  Setting her things down about her and kicking off her shoes, she eyed the branches above her with affection. “Sleep well?” she asked the old tree quietly, her fingers busy unrolling canvas. The scene she had already begun on the cloth was one of the great branches above her, the dark limbs flowing across the page like water, the dappled sunlight streaming through them and bringing to mind lazy summer afternoons and the sound of leaves rustling against one another in the wind.

The slick feeling of the paint was intoxicating to Anna. Switching from brush to pallet knife, and even using her fingers when it felt right, she explored the tree, every curve and nook accounted for and documented with endless patience. Hours seemed to pass in an instant, the light slowly making its way higher and higher into the sky until the shadows were no longer cooperating and Anna was forced to stop. Biting her lip in annoyance, Anna glared up at the sky. Rolling her aching shoulders, she wiped her fingers on a handy rag and slid off of her little foldable stool and on to the cool grass.

Giving the paint time to dry, Anna lay on her back in the grass, her arm folded behind her head and her eyes taking in the clouds above. She had been reveling in one particular cloud, in the shape of a water buffalo, when something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Propping herself up, she turned in the direction of the commotion, her eyes growing wide.