forum Underground Cryptids Community (character RP/Chat)

Started December 20, 2023 by @Serenity88 group

tune

so ive got this winged guy, and I dont know much about him. thought it might be fun to have a RP or character chat specifically for characters that look, act and seem like humans but aren't. make sense? e.g., have wings, have horns, part animal, part insect, some eldritch horror that can disguise itself, ect.

my boi has wings, but he can hide them with some magic power thing that all those of his kind can; its like he can will them to disappear. he also has the voice of an angel; his singing skill is borderline witchcraft. ill post his character page, and I guess I'll see if anyone else is interested!

Name: Tommahud Straystone
Nicknames (if any): Tomma / Tommad
Age: ≈ 20-21 years old
Gender and Pronouns: Male - He/Him/His

Appearance

Skin Tone: Almost sickly-looking - ghostly pale with the faintest tan possible. He hasn't spent much time outside.
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 166 lbs
Eye Color: Sage-green
Hair Color: Near-black auburn - hard to tell until he's in the light
Hairstyle: A mess - his bangs hang loose, and the rest is tied back into the world's laziest ponytail
Scars: Many. He could probably tell you where they all came from, as long as you can stand a several-minute rant.
Other Blemishes: None
Body Type: Human. Muscular, built for working as a stonemason (aka carrying heavy stuff, like, always). Oddly hairy.
Usual Outfit: He tends to wear neutral colors like, tans, browns, and grays. He doesn't like to draw much attention with his clothes. Always practical - tends to have a ton of pockets. Ponchos are pretty cool, too. Always has leaves or berries or something on-hand.

Personality and Powers

Basic Personality: General pacifist, but he can hold his own when he needs to. He cares for his friends and will make them take care of themselves. He tends to worry about others before himself, though, and he doesn't really know how to accept help. Tommahud's generally well-meaning, and he has a strong "I can fix this" mentality. He blames himself for things going wrong unless it's blatantly someone else's fault. He's very social and outgoing, but he flusters easily.
Sexuality: Bisexual
Physical conditions: His left foot is twisted, so he often uses a cane. He can still move without it, but it's slower and more awkward.
Mental Conditions: Nothing too major outside of a general poor memory and attention span. I'm hesitant to call it ADHD, because he doesn't have compulsive behaviors, he just can't focus.
Other: Tommahud is Beastspeaker, and he has Silversight. In other words, he can speak to animals and the dead. These conversations are mostly done mentally, and are limited to him and his partner. What appears to be zoning out could instead be a heated conversation with a miffed spirit. How was he supposed to know that your spirit-garden just so happened to be in the middle of the sidewalk?
Tommahud's Beastspeak is weaker than his Silversight, and as such, his conversations with animals are strained and one-sided. He can hear the dead quite clearly, though, and it distracts him from daily tasks. Most notably, he can't converse with dead animals. It's unknown whether this is because the two powers don't stack or because his Beastspeak is just too weak. (Spoiler: They just don't stack.)
Theme Songs: Bohemian Rhapsody, Little Dark Age

(ahhh, I keep forgetting to post Einar)

Name: Stellalune
Nicknames (if any): Stella
Age: ≈ 16-19 yrs
Gender and Pronouns: Female- She/Her/Her's

Appearance

Skin Tone: silvery gray
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 140 lbs
Eye Color: black Scalia, brown iris, no pupil
Hair Color: darker gray than skin, very silvery
Hairstyle: Just longer than shoulder length, worn down, curtain bangs
Other Blemishes: None
Body Type: Human-ish, arms and legs end in points instead of hands or feet, nose doesn't exist, oddly shaped mouth, wings and antenna that's patterns glow.
Usual Outfit: She just puts on whatever someone will give her. She often has a goth or dark academia aesthetic, as that's what her girlfriend, Sylvya, has for her.

Personality and Powers

Basic Personality: Pacifist, although she will fight to protect the ones the loves, but she will never kill, just incapacitate. She's super sweet, always a good listener, and likes to help out when she can.
Sexuality: sexuality fluid. Right now, she considers herself to be lesbian.
Physical conditions: no feet, no hands, can't speak cause of the odd shape of her mouth. She buzzes and hums to convey emotion. She has custom shoes to make walking easier.
Mental Conditions: ADHD, dyslexia
Other: she's a moth hybrid, if it wasn't obvious. She's unsure of her age, because she ages differently than anyone else she's ever met.

Name: Sylvya
Nicknames (if any): Syl
Age: ≈ 18 -21 yrs
Gender and Pronouns: Female- She/Her/Her's

Appearance

Skin Tone: warm grey
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 160lbs
Eye Color: black Scalia, red iris, no pupil
Hair Color: darker gray than skin.
Hairstyle: Just longer than shoulder length, worn down, v shaped bangs
Other Blemishes: red hourglass shape in her chest
Body Type: Human-ish torso. Spider from the waist down.
Usual Outfit: Big, poofy skirts to fit all those legs, overbust corsets, mesh sleeves and top, nose-down mesh face veil. No shoes.

Personality and Powers

Basic Personality: Will attack if provoked, but will not start fights. More than willing to kill.
Sexuality: giant lesbian
Physical conditions: no feet, eight legs. Can stick to walls and ceilings, and can spin webs and spider silk. Fangs.
Mental Conditions: none
Other: She's unsure of her age, because she ages differently than anyone else she's ever met.

Name: Arthur Timmons, goes by Sixclaw as a wolf. Also responds to Fenrir, Carcharoth, and Lycaon. Likes Tim and Artie as nicknames.

Age: In his current incarnation, 22. In full, a couple thousand years.
Gender: Male

Species: Revenant Werewolf, formerly human.

Personality: Arthur is a rather intense person. He's not mean; it's just that whatever feeling he's experiencing, he feels it intensely. This leads to him being pretty easy to read, as well as fairly predictable. He's a giving individual, prone to protectiveness, and loves adventure with a little danger. As a wolf, that same intensity comes through. As a result of being crazy old, he's worldly wise, but his current youth often makes him rash and impetuous. He also is prone to flashbacks, which can be problematic.

Appearance: Arthur is of average build: 5'9", 160 lbs. Curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, fair complexion. Full lips, no facial hair, big smile. Average muscularity. The one identifying thing about Arthur is he has six fingers on his left hand.

Appearance (Werewolf): Sixclaw is the opposite of Arthur in every way. 7'6" at the shoulder on all 4's, 15' tall standing up, weighing in at 480lbs, densely muscled, thick shaggy vantablack fur, piercing blue eyes, with an extra toes/finger on has left fron paw/hand.

Backstory (Optional): Sixclaw is the name chosen for an ancient Revenant Werewolf. He is responsible for the myths of Fenrir, Carcharoth, and Lycaon. He started as a typical werewolf, but was killed in a fight with a demigod back in the day. However, his spirit was too strong, and so be became a Revenant, and has been effectively immortal since. When he dies, his spirit inhabits a new host, who becomes a werewolf and gains the extra claw which marks him. He's seen some stuff.

………………………………..
Name: Valiel Galcan. Goes by Val.

Age: 147, young adult
Gender: Female

Race/Species: Northern Hinterlands Skin-changer

Eye Color: Icy blue
Hair Color: Rich Auburn
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 135 lbs

Basic Personality: Valiel is a gentle soul. She avoids fights if she can, and is quick to help others. However, she's been through some garbage which has given her a heart of steel, and she will not shy away from violence to defend herself and those she loves, if she must.

Other: She shapeshifts with ease, as most Skin-changers do. Valiel will appear human most of the time, but she also favors wolves and crows as go-to forms. She also has a strong attachment to a power she simply calls 'The Light'.
…………………………………………..

Name: Veronica Ricci
Nicknames: Ronni
Age: 20
Species: Avian

Appearance: Ronni is roughly 5'/1.5m tall and weighs about 120lbs/54kg. She's slim and doesn't have much of a figure. Her hair is a dark brown, shaved down the sides and back, with about an inch on top she usually keeps spiked. Her nose is upturned, and her chin is pointy. Her eyes would be called blue, but they're closer to grey than blue. She has long, slim fingers and small feet, and at times appears more like some sort of human-sized fairy. She manages to keep her wings hidden by cramping them against her back and binding them there, most of the time. Her wings are a lovely shade of iridescent blue-grey, similar to her eyes.

Personality: Ronni is a bit rough around the edges. Constantly being in danger for most of her life has made her nervous and stand-offish. On top of that, an Incident several years ago damaged her vocal cords, meaning she has a hard time speaking, which makes friendships difficult.

In a forest, far from the humans and their yuckyness destructive nature, there is a hole. In the middle of a forgotten wood, amongst the ancient tress who protect their cryptic friends, there is a hill with a round, mossy door with no handle. There is a manhole cover, obscured by decades of undergrowth. There is an upright ring of naturally bending branches, the air shimmering inside with blurry lights. There is a waterfall, cascading down a small precipice, that no human has ever seen the backside of. These, my fellow inhuman humanoids, are the secret entrances to a special place, untouched by mankind.

If one of us were to take up the journey, to travel to the undiscovered wood, they could be free of the humans and free to live as their ancestors did; as cryptids should.

So raise your wings, flex your digging talons, prepare your multi-dimensional travel. Think of the sun, up obscured by pollution; think of dirt without chemicals. Think of the Cryptic Forest, and come home.

---

Hive hovered over his pilfered computer. They pressed keys, creating human words in pixels that could be seen over all the world. Humming, they considered how to phrase it. perhaps use a code? A secret code sentence? they needed to do it so that humans wouldn’t find it odd.

As the hive mind of strange insects crafted a webpage disguised as group therapy for the physically disabled/outcasted, a young man was gritting his teeth.

“Einar, I am so disappointed in you. After all that we do, all that we give, you go and get silly with your friends and almost expose us. Your wings almost came unveiled, Einar! Do you know what would happen if the humans found us? Well, do you?”

His jaw hurt. His eyes burned. His chest felt like it would explode. The floor was blurry under his feet. “Yes, mother.”

“Tell me what your folly would bring upon our family, on our people.”

He proceeded just as he’d been taught from the time he could speak. “The humans would take us all away, and they would pry into our history and our way of life would be lost in the tide of mankind’s misguided destruction of what they do not understand.”

“That’s right.”

A moment of silence left him wondering what would come next. Would he be yelled at more? Slapped again? His red cheek still throbbed from his father’s wing tip whisking across his face. Or they would ground him from school, and he wouldn’t ever see Juniper or Leen, his best friends, ever again. He focused on his breath, trying to keep his emotions from dumping out his eyes in a pathetic show of what they called ‘being human’— having feelings like a person.

“Go on. Up to your room.” His mother’s voice was tired, exasperated and still furious all at once. “Your father and I have to talk.”

He nodded, turned to go.

“What was that?”

“Yes ma’am.” He sounded scratchy and weak.

She huffed quietly. “Yes, go on now.”
………………..
Up in his room, the curtains drawn to block all the light, the mirrors all laying facedown on the floor so he didn’t see himself, Einar lay in his huge mattress nest with his wings wrapped around himself. His wings, which he couldn’t control because they were too big, too clumsy, too imperfect. The tears finally were released, spilled over his face in salty drips.

He was blasting music in his good headphones, the ones he hardly ever used because they were so nice and he didn’t want to be ‘the rich kid with all the nice stuff’. But they were very loud, and noise cancelling, and comfortable. So he had them on 50% volume while he deafened his ears with Dream on Dreamer and Solence.

A notification interrupted his tunes with an obnoxious ping! His phone screen blazed with blue light. Nose scrunched, he turned the brightness down with more aggression than strictly necessary. Tightening his sore jaw, he opened the notification just so it wouldn’t bother him again. What? Group therapy for socially estranged, physically disabled and/or mentally differing from the societal norm? Why…?

A link in blue print called the site “cryptic minds group therapy”.

Sylvya ran to Stella. "Stella! You know those hybrids who can pass as human? One of them just found something. Something really cool!"

Stellalune fluttered down from her perch in a branch, humming inquisitively. When Sylvya showed the site on their phone, Stella buzzed excitedly, seeming to say "we need to go!"

_.

This is cruel and unusual punishment, and I will not stand for it!

"Ya can't cuddle up to me smellin' like sausage links, Parda."

The heavy tabby squirmed in Tommahud's grasp, tearing his arms up in the struggle. It must've looked like he was trying to drown the poor thing, really, but Parda had been long overdue for a bath. Of course, she wasn't having it. He leaned forward and dunked her rear in the warm water.

_.

You can't make me!
_.

Parda struggled with a newfound ferocity, pulling at Tommahud's shirt and bunny-kicking his chest. She dredged herself from the bucket. He winced, feeling the claws dig into his shoulder, and by then, she had launched herself towards the door. He turned in time to see her soaked tail bolt into the hallway.

_.

Ha-ha! Parda has bested the bath for another day!

"An' you smell like oyster jerky!"

Urgh. Tommahud tipped the bucket over and watched the soapy water spill into the tub. At least she didn't claw him up as badly as she did last time. Oh well. He'd try again tomorrow if he remembered. His back cracked nicely as he stood, and he rolled his shoulders.

Parda swished her tail, glowering at Tommahud from beneath his dresser as he hobbled into the bedroom after her. He didn't mind it – she'd stay upset right until dinner time, and then she'd forget this all happened. He'd have to reschedule her bath, though. His phone was in his hand before he knew it, and he scrolling down an extensive list of reminders.

"Clean the kitchen at six..?" But he'd already cleaned it yesterday!

Oh dear. This list was out of date. He'd have to add a reminder to fix it. Tommahud's fingers tapped away at the screen, and he had entered a sort of trance. Another reminder list had to be made now-sap! He clutched his phone, scheduling, rescheduling, re-rescheduling…

A soft buzz snapped him from the stupor. A notification? This wasn't in the schedule!

With reluctance, he pressed on the notification and read the attached link.

"Cryptic Minds… Group Therapy?"

bzz bzz
The sound of her phone vibrating on the nightstand was just loud enough to wake her. Most things were, these days. A short roll, a quiet grunt of frustration at the notification, and she filed away the information. Another group therapy offer. Something about cryptic minds or some garbage. Just another thing she wouldn't be attending. More morons who thought they could sympathize with her. Not what she needed.
She noted the tiny bit of sunlight seeping through the small crack between her thick curtains, and decided the day was too far gone. No point in getting up now.
A quick roll tucked her back into the quiet darkness, heading back to sleep.

………………………………

Arthur had been at work when his phone went off. Everyone's phone went off, really. Several people ignored it, but the majority looked at each other in worry, thinking it was some kind of alert. The office went quiet for a moment as everyone pulled out their devices to check what this was.
What greeted Arthur made his eyebrows shoot up, but only for a second. That surprise had to be clamped down, for now. Lunch was in 10 minutes, and he could ask Val about this then.
Hmm, a group therapy session of some kind, targeted at cryptids? Sounds like a setup.
Arthur groaned quietly to himself as Six spoke up inside his head. It might well be a setup, or it might be someone lonely. Have a little faith.
The Revenant growled in Arthur's mind. Faith? That's rich. I have faith in mankind's constant ability to come up with new and exciting ways to hurt Others. I've survived long enough to smell a trap coming, boy.
Give it a rest, old man. He'd try to get to the bottom of this, if for no other reason than to prove Six wrong.
He watched as a few of his office mates chatted to each other about this weird alert, before going back to their tasks. Most of the rest of his coworkers had just ignored the notification once they'd realized it looked like an ad of some kind. Good. If this really was someone reaching out for help, they less attention it had, the better.

…………………………..

Valiel was in her truck, heading back into town from the Vega Family Ranch, when her phone went off. She ignored it, since it was her text alert, but a few minutes later, a phone call came through, and she answered it with her truck's bluetooth connection. "Galcan here, how can I help you?"

"Val, it's Tim. Did you get that text a while ago?"

"Oh, hey. Nah, I'm driving. Haven't checked my texts."

"Ah. Well. Take a look at it as soon as you get a chance and gimme a call back."

Valiel sighed. Arthur was a good guy, but he could be so dramatic sometimes. "Hold on, lemme look at it." She pulled off to the side of the road, parked, and opened her texts. The message waiting for her had her eyes widening as she read it. "Uh, that's-…"

"Either desperate or brazen." Arthur filled in for her. Valiel nodded slowly as he talked. "It came through on every phone with our area code all at the same time, like some kind of mass alert. I know there are places that you can do that, even ways to send messages online to whole area codes like that, but I wouldn't have thought to do this like this." He paused, and Valiel got back on the road. "You think it's legit? Any word of new groups?"

"Well…I did hear a ripple of something. Someone wanting to start one a bit closer, since the bigger group is a ways out, but… I didn't think they'd alert the entire area code… Either way, you know we have to show up to this, right?"

Arthur groaned. "Ugghh… I know. Cuz if it's not real, someone has to take these jerks down and protect anyone who shows up by accident-"

"And if it is real, Tim… the more help they have, the better." Valiel smiled just a bit. "Seeing people who've been alone for so long have a whole new world opened up to them is always my favorite part."

"You big softie…" Arthur chuckled quietly. "Fine. Be optimistic about this. Just make sure we show up separately. Lemme know what you're planning so I can work around that."

"Alrighty. Thanks for the heads up. Talk to you later." Valiel hung up the call, and drove the rest of the way home, lost in thought.
There were many such groups, intended to help young cryptids find community and help, and she and Arthur had even had a hand in helping a few get started, but… never in this area directly. In the underground community, there'd been rumblings about getting a group started here, and she was glad to see it moving forward.
However, there was always the chance of decoy groups, set up by conspiracy theorists and traitors. People hunting cryptids, especially the kind of hurting people who would show up to something advertised as therapy, were more common than she wanted to admit. And Arthur had helped her hunt down a few of those groups too.
However, Valiel hoped she was right about this one, and it would be good for this area. There was a small smile on her face as she finally pulled into her driveway.

(they're a work in progress, working on filling them in right now)

(ok im here, here we go…)

The sun. The bright, cheery sun. It lifted itself over the horizon, beaming brilliance into Aideen's eyes, chasing away dreams of fire, wrath and menacing skies. As was her habit, she breathed deeply into her belly, waking her body from slumber. She reached her arms over her head, stretching out her tense shoulders. After a few more deep breaths, she got out of her sleeping bag and looked to the other side of the campsite, where here adopted sister still slept. Astraea's eyelids flickered, her face twitched.
Concerned, Aideen reached out to brush Astraea's hand with her fingertips. She restrained from using her mind-sensing abilities in respect for her sister's privacy. The little girl's features relaxed almost instantly, her brows lifting from their scowl. Aideen smiled down at her. Snooze away, little star.
Rising silently to her feet, she crept to her pack and pulled out a dry biscuit. She had bought it at a gas station yesterday, and now wished she'd bought some orange juice too. But, oh well. Water would do just fine.
Halfway through the semi-fossilized biscuit, Astraea stirred and rubbed her eyes. "Deen… What time?" She often spoke in half-sentences, leading some people to confusion or frustration. But Aideen just checked the sun, now a bit higher in the sky.
"About eight fifteen, young'un." she grinned. "Why, you got somewhere to be?"
"Well there's a whole lot of others gathering over there." She lifted she arm and pointed to the northeast.
Aideen's heart sped up. Her eyes scanned the terrain, but even her mind-sensing powers didn't detect anything out of the ordinary animals. "Where are they?" She whispered. "Who…?" She made eye contact with Astraea, who just smiled a tiny smile.
"Not over there, silly. Waaaaay out there." Her arm swept grandly in that direction. "They are not humans, like us." With that, she turned away and dug out an apple from her own pack.
"Not human…" Aideen murmured. It wasn't unusual for Astraea to know things that she couldn't see or hear. Once, she had predicted the death of a policeman in a dream, then the funeral procession created a massive roadblock the next day. Another time, she gave a stranger a flower and said 'she's gonna be okay'. He looked at her a little strange, but hope gleamed in his eyes.
"Are they other Dragon Born?"
Astraea looked up, apple juice sticky on her cheeks. "Some. Many others aren't. But none of them are human."
Aideen nodded, her mind made up. "Alright. Onward."
They packed quickly, and began walking. They hitched a ride in a semi truck. After a month, they stood at the edge of a mighty forest.
Aideen felt as if she knew this place, as if she'd been there before. It tugged at her bones, puling at her heartbeat, calling her home.
She took Astraea's hand, and together they continued their trek; into the Cryptic Wood.

(as usual, I got carried away and wrote more than I planned!! oh well, at least I wrote. 1/10, what do you guys think?)

Sylvia and Stella arrived at the location sent to them, covered head to toe in clothing as to not look inhan. Honestly, they looked kinda weird, but everyone they passed assumed it was a religious thing. They looked around, waiting.

_.

Where the mours are you going? It's early.
_.

" 'M headin' out to this group therapy-thing. S'for folk like me, 'pparently – folk who don't fit in nowhere."

_.

No, you ain't. It's bait-and-a-half, and you're fallin' hook, line, an' sinker.

Tommahud winced at Gueltik's tone – still as sharp and acrid as it had been before she'd met her ancestors. In his mind's eye, he could see her short form cast in wispy silver, arms crossed and foot tapping, glaring at him like a mother goose. She flanked his left side, her anger split between him and the morning for being, in her words, "so damn sunny."

"Gullie, jus' hear me out, yeah?"

_.

You hear me out, m'kay? Y'can't go 'round trustin' damn near every'ne y'see. S'how y'get taken 'vantage of. Safest way to keep a secret is to die wif it, and second best is to jus' not tell any'ne. Which one'd you rather, 'uh?
_.

He had to admit, she had a point. Spirits never truly knew how they'd passed, merely harboring general ideas, if any. Gueltik had a right to worry about how easily Tommahud trusted, given how she went out. If she knew as much as he did, Gullie'd probably throw him into a vault for safekeeping for the rest of his life.

"Gullie, please. I can't jus' hang 'round wif ghosts an' my pets all day. No offense, but it's… despressin'."

The moony nimbus of Gueltik's face wavered, spiraling like a whirlpool.

"How 'bout a compromise? You be my eyes an' ears – tell me if anything's up."

_.

…

…

…Fine.
_.

"Right, then. Should be 'cross the street."

Gueltik blanched at the revelation, but Tommahud was already on the crosswalk, chuckling as her protests faded into a resigned "hmph."

Valiel parked her truck and got out, walking down the sidewalk towards the building they'd been supposed to meet at. She'd checked, and it was some kind of empty space, rented out for meetings and things just like this. Whoever had picked this spot had done their research, since there was also a portal in the park about a block over. It wouldn't be hard to send the real cryptids in the group to the right place, if they were interested.
She walked casually, trying not to look nervous, though internally, she was a bit nervous. New people were always nice to meet, but Val wanted to be liked, and you never could tell with someone new. Noting the people hanging around outside the building, she gave a small wave to a group of them, 2 tall dudes and a shorter one.
"Hey there, we all here for the same thing? Group therapy?" Val smiled, not trying to be overwhelming, but testing the waters.

……….
Arthur waited till several minutes after Valiel had texted him she was parked, before strolling up the street. They had coordinated to not arrive together, because if this was a trap, knowing each other would give them a slight edge. Arthur had been in fights before with just this kind of situation, where someone tried to trap "monsters" or something like that, and he'd had to fight his way out. He was hoping Valiel was right to be optimistic, but you never knew.
He walked up to the group, noting Valiel engaged in conversation with a few people. He looked at those left, noting two individuals who were very covered up, and one guy with a cane who seemed a bit distracted.
Distracted could mean he's plotting. Be wary. Cane might be a weapon.
Noted. But also, maybe not.
Could be the two who look like crazy zealots- they seem the type.
Nah. Likely covering up things that would out them.
If you say so, boy, but as soon as anything goes down, I'm taking over.
Arthur sighed quietly and approached the smaller group. "Hello. Anybody know where we're supposed to go from here?"

Valiel glanced up as Arthur approached the group, though she didn't make eye contact. His question got her attention, though. "Uh, I think it's inside? Lemme see if the door is open." She stepped up to the side door of the large building they were all standing near, and tugged on the handle. It was indeed open, and as she pulled it open, there was a small sign on poster board pointing them to "Group Therapy- Room 106".
"Looks like we're in the right place." She turned and smiled at the group. "Supposed to start in a couple minutes."
A few steps took her down a short hallway, with medium sized meeting rooms on both sides. 101, 103, and 105 were on the left. 102, 104, and finally, Room 106, were on the right. She stepped into the room and looked around.

Arthur stepped up and held the door to the building, waiting till everyone had gone in. With Valiel at the head and him at the rear, they could hopefully keep an eye on things. "After you, you're welcome, no problem-" he mumbled as everyone filed past and murmured 'thanks' or nodded at him, or any of the other little awkward interactions you have when a stranger holds the door. He was about to let the door close, when he noted 2 more people coming up the walk. It was a short girl, wearing a thick hoodie, with the hood up, and an older woman, clearly her mother. The mother saw him and hurried, just a little.
"Excuse me, is this the place for the group therapy? I know we're cutting it close but I was hoping Veronica would be able to join you."
Arthur gave her a polite smile and nodded. "You're in the right place, ma'am."
"Oh, good!" The mother beamed, and turned to Veronica, who very clearly didn't want to be there. "I'll be parked out here, waiting. Just give it a shot, ok?" The girl in the hoodie nodded slowly, and shuffled past Arthur. The mother gave him a grateful look, before turning and walking back up the street. Arthur turned and followed the group down the hall.

Room 106 was a decently large room, with plain colored walls. The lights were a blank white fluorescent color, but only half of them were on, leaving the room a bit dimly lit. There were small rectangular windows on one wall, but the sun was on the other side of the building, so they weren't providing a lot of light. There was a circle of chairs in the middle of the room, very similar to other group therapy settings that Valiel had seen.
So she went and sat down, smiling at her group mates. "I guess we just take a seat and wait."

(yo… I am actually loving how this is going!)
(ok heres the deal with my characters: the girls did go like I wrote cause I don't wanna re-write that, but Einar will join the group in the city.)

Ech, the city
Einar had had to pull a few magical strings to get to this place; he lived in a slightly different level of reality or whatever – he didn't ask questions about the inner workings of why he'd had to World Hop through a Dollar General bathroom to get here.
One big difference was, of course, the lack of magic. He could taste it, the utter lack of it, in the heavily polluted air. At his home, people are born with little magic, or simple powers, or abilities. Except for his friend Juniper, she was a little…
Not thinking about her, I have a thing to do
After the hustle, bustle and general unpleasantness of the busy streets, the address on his phone screen was in a surprisingly quiet spot. The road only had a few cars, only a couple people strolled along the sidewalk. Up ahead, about three blocks and on the other side of the road, he saw a small group of people entering a building, the door held open by a normal-looking guy.
Welp…better get moving.
His wings, fully veiled so they basically didn't exist physically or visibly, twitched nervously behind him. Although they couldn't touch anything, he instinctively kept them tucked tight, tight, tight against his back. His muscles started to ache from it. Taking a moment to stretch them out and try to relax his muscles, he stretched his arms too before crossing the road. He checked the traffic, crossing quickly with his long, fast legs when a gap came by.
The last person, the one who'd been holding the door for everyone else, was just about to go in after them. "Hey!" He called, just trying to get his attention. "Guess I'm a little late, aye?"
He slipped through as fast as possible, not making eye contact with the guy. He followed the sounds of footsteps and soft conversations down a hall, around a corner, and up a short flight of steps. The air in the stairs felt cooler, cleaner then anywhere else he'd been all day. He thought he felt a breeze, smelled moss and soil.
Stupid. We're in the city.
But what if it's a portal?
It isn't
Kay but why not?
He realized he was talking to himself in his head, and his face was probably making subtle expressions as he argued. Luckily he was at the back, only the door guy behind him, and no one was looking at him. He took a moment to observe the others in the group.
About two dozen, maybe a bit less. Some kids, some teens like him, some adults. Three of the older teens/young adults were standing in a tight-knit bunch, guiding each other like they had poor vision or were blind. A young girl without an adult by her side, who didn't look happy to be there. A teen in a wheelchair.
Einar could feel, like a tickle in his head or in his feathers, that there were some that weren't human.
Maybe this wasn't so much of a scam after all…

(whoopsies, look who got carried away and wrote a shit ton!! ahh, its fine. does this work? I'm going with Davadio's interpretation here, I'm following that, cause its a good idea and I don't have many good ideas :) ah crap hope I didn't go out of turn; having a difficult time keeping track of when I'm supposed to go)

Sylvya and Stella were trying to be inconspicuous, sitting in the corner. They certainly looked strange though, not even eyes visible. Sylvya was whispering to Stella, who stayed quiet. They looked around the room, unsure which people were also inhuman.

One of the people seemed to be holding himself as if he had wings, although it was barely noticeable. If Stella hasn't had wings, and met others who had wings occasionally, she wouldn't have been able to tell.

Sylvya could tell some of them had magic, she was more use to sensing even the slightest thing in the air. She couldn't tell which of them were cryptids though.

Tommahud stepped up the curb, and as he moved in on the promised venue, he came upon a thin scatter of people crowding a side door. Gueltik trailed a half-stride behind him, shooting warning glares as though these folk could see her. Was this it? His approach was slow and quiet as his heart thrummed in his chest.

"…This the group therapy?" It took a tremendous effort to keep his voice level, but his hands still trembled on the grip of his cane.

To his relief, he was met with light, affirming nods. Thank the stars. Someone pushed the door open – he hadn't gotten the chance to get a good look at them. They took the lead while a kindly man ushered Tommahud and another group member inside. Neither had an issue with waiting on him and his cane, it seemed. Tommahud simply puffed a "thankin' ya kindly" between weary breaths; the walk there had taken more out of him than he'd've liked to admit.

Gueltik's cloudy figure whirled beside him, her balled fists twisting into angry storms. She was a little gargoyle, really, hawk-eyed and resolute. Her gaze snapped to the slightest movements, piercing and probing for information. Tommahud could hear her mind working a thousand strides a second, searching for hints – subtle, subtle hints that could herald some greater danger. Tommahud himself was offput by the place's… everything. There was a distinct wrongness in the air, something he couldn't quite pin. Dim fluorescents and parched air hung about the hallways, and an acerb tang of citrusy cleaner itched his mind.

He had been built for the wild – for nature's fickle swings – so the hospital-esque ambience grated his soul. But his heart kept doing that fluttery double-beat – that awkward middle-ground between heartburn and a heart attack. What was this place, anyways? Gueltik was too busy pulling faces at strangers and muttering about "six fingers" to answer.

"Gueltik, focus."

_.

Tha'sa first comin' from ya, Tomma. What ticked ya?
_.

"Iunno. This place jus' makes me itch."

One more young man squeezed in as Arthur was letting the door close. He had the same mildly-hunted expression that some of the rest had on their faces.
The inside of the conference building didn't really help. A counter out front with a secretary behind it greeted them, though the secretary did not look up. Arthur assumed you could reserve rooms and get information there if you needed it. A stairway lead up to a second story auditorium with a lot more seating than some of the smaller rooms. He'd been here once before, for a charity event, so it wasn't jarring to him, but…
He could certainly see how others might feel hemmed in.

The door to Room 106 was open, but other than Valiel, and the two figures covered from head to toe, everyone was kinda loitering by the door. There was a clear reluctance to have a seat, and years ago, Arthur had been exactly the same way. It had taken a long time for him to open up to this kind of situation. So this time, he nudged past people just a bit, and sat down across the circle from Valiel. He looked up at the fella with the cane and patted the chair next to him. "Care to have a seat?"

Valiel watched Arthur mosey on in, and smiled at him. She then looked to the group of three at the door and gestured around her. "Yeah, all of you, take a seat. I'm sure we'll get started soon." There were enough seats for the group of 3 to sit together, similar to the two off on their own in the circle. A quick look around had Valiel noticing something her eyes had just kinda skipped over before: there was a small cart on wheels, and on it was an old monitor. It was a big CRT, like the kind this place would have used a long time ago for a dinosaur computer. What it was doing there, she wasn't sure, but it was facing the circle.

Veronica wordlessly stepped past Einar and went into the room, sitting kinda by herself. Something about the way she was holding her body tugged at his sense of familiarity, like he'd seen it before. For her part, Veronica was just hoping her thick hoodie was doing a decent job of hiding her wings. She didn't to have to explain, for sure, and fighting out of here was not how she wanted this to go.

Einar was second last to sit; a hoodie-wearing girl stepped past him, her shoulders either really muscular under her hoodie, or…

Don't get your hopes up, stupid.

He sat near the door, shifting uncomfortably in the awkward atmosphere. A monitor at the front of the room started whirring, the screen glowing blue and white. A typing line blinked in the upper left corner.

Welcome, fellow cryptic minds.

The words typed themselves across the large, old-fashioned screen.

I understand some of you are familiar with these type of things, but most of you are at your first ever group therapy session. As for why I am not here in person–

The fast typing paused, the writer seeming to consider his words.

I have a rare condition, one without a name, one with many, many limitations. I feel more comfortable typing remotely, as you see here. I am also much easier to understand, as I have some communication limitations. You may call me Hive.

Another pause. Einar watched the other reactions around the room; surprise, confusion, frustration, struggle to read. He himself was mostly confused and hopeful this really was what he thought it was..

---

Hive watched the people in their camera monitors. They didn't seem to be freaking out, or starting away. That was good. They could identify several that were almost certainly the kind of people they was looking for.

I have cameras and microphones, so I may see and hear you. You can address me directly.

*(yo idk how to write what happens next cause I don't know anything about group therapy except what I see on tv and read and I don't trust that stuff! I can keep going with some direction, or someone else can take on this scene.)

Sylvya started talking. "We should share our names, right? And why we came?" She said, in a thick Transylvanian accent.

"I'll start. My name is Sylvya, and I came because I wanted to meet other people who were like me."

She pointed to Stella, who hummed and waved. "This is Stellalune, but you can call her Stella. She can't talk. She came for the same reason."

(yes yes that sounds good. thanks!)

Now, we can't very well have any therapy if we don't know each other, can we? I'd like to know your names and what brings you here, if you don't mind. We can start in the back, near the door, and go forward.

Einar's mouth tightened as everyone looked back to see who would be introducing themselves first.

You just had to choose the seat close to the door.
shut up.

Breathing deeply and preparing his words, he stood.

He cleared his throat, feeling dozens of eyes on his face. His wings, still hidden, twitched and fluttered. "Hi, um. My name is Einar, (Pronounced AY-nar) Einar Luctum-Columbae. My last name means Mourning Dove. I…Im here because…" his words petered out, then reappeared. "Because my family doesn't make me feel safe or loved, and I was hoping that by coming here today I could find some new friends." He almost gave a tiny bow, but stopped himself at a dip of his head.

They don't have aristocratic standards. They don't care how polite you are. Stop trying to impress them.
Did they notice how formal I sounded? Oh gosh, I sounded so stuck-up and nobility. Stupid.

He sat quickly, thinking over his words so much he almost missed the next person's intro.

Stupid…

He could do this. Greetings were a cinch.

"I'm, uh – wow it's dry in here – urk, Tomma's the name."

_.

Smooth as sixty-grit sandpaper.
_.

"Hush up, I'm talkin'," A beat of silence, and then, "I'm, uh, here. 'Cause…"

He was fidgeting with his cane grip, his gaze flicking from person to person. Stars, he hadn't thought this far ahead. What was the least concerning way to say this?

" 'M jus' here to have someone to talk to, y'know? Someone who isn't…"

_.

Dead?
_.

He grit his teeth.

"Someone who don't bring my mood down so much. S'all."

Gueltik shot a few daggers at him before turning back to the group. Hells was she mad at? No, now that he thought on it, she had a reason to be mad. Sorry, Gullie. Tommahud settled back into his chair before he could make any more of a fool of himself.

Arthur immediately tensed as someone began typing, and admitted to having the room bugged. His vision blurred, for just a second, and anybody looking closely would have seen his eyes change color, just slightly, to a blend of amber and green. He could suddenly see the electronics, the cameras and mic's, as well as see the heat signatures of the people in the room.

Some of them were very interesting.

I didn't ask for help.
And I don't care. We're not getting ambushed in here, I will bring down the building, so help me Arthur-
Ok, ok! Just-… play it cool for now…
He could feel the Revenant Werewolf growling internally at the thought of being watched, and also, seemingly, lured here, but… nobody was causing problems yet.

Valiel noted the names, committing them to memory quickly and doing her best to take note of the few details folks shared. The group was an interesting assortment. She also cauht Arthur's reaction to the admission they were being watched. Understandably, he wasn't happy about it.
Still, their host was odd, but not threatening so far. So maybe they could just go with it for now. She gave a small wave around the circle. "Hi, my name is Valiel, and I'm here to make friends where I can. Always nice to have more people to share experiences with."

The attention of the circle glided to the two people yet to introduce themselves. Arthur, because of where he was seated, would go last, but. The girl a chair away from him didn't seem interested in saying anything.
After a long moment, of silence, he sat up a little taller in his chair, and gave half a smile. "Name's Arthur. I'm here to try and better myself." Technically true, but that was a longer explanation. He glanced at the girl, his expression that of someone trying to remember something. Her mother had said a name… "Veronica, right?"

The girl didn't make eye contact with him, just nodded a little bit.

Valiel smiled at the final introduction. "Great! Maybe we can give a little blurb about ourselves, some kind of interesting fact, or a hobby, just to kind of get to know each other. For instance, I'm a veterinarian, specializing in large animals, which means I do a lot of work for zoos and ranches, though I love helping with smaller animals like pets and-…" She stopped short as she realized she'd kinda taken over, and looked at the screen. "I mean-… we could do that if our group leader thinks it's ok?"

(mornin'! just got up a little while ago.)

Yes, thats a great idea! Thank you, Valiel. I can start, as I'm aware some of you are unsure about this whole thing since I won't make myself present. I have a rare condition that prohibits much coordination with my major motor functions, other than typing keys. I can't speak, not in a way that most people could understand, and I have tried to learn sign language but I physically am unable to make signs. I am around 30 years old, but I age differently due to my condition so its difficult to say exactly what my age is.

We can add some info about ourselves, going in the opposite direction this time. Terribly sorry, Einar. I understand that was quite uncomfortable for you to go first. Arthur?

Einar was surprised the mysterious leader of the thing had spelled his name right. Most people, when spelling this name, tried a-y-n-a-r or a-I-n-a-r or something like that. He was also very grateful he had chosen to go from the front backwards; very considerate on his part.

Arthur nodded slowly. So far, this seemed to be going ok. "Well… I work for a security company, doing a lot of night shift work, I've done some martial arts as hobbies, umm…. oh. Yeah." He held up his left hand, which looked perfectly normal other than what looked like a totally functional extra thumb on the other side from usual. "I have 6 fingers on my left hand. Some kind of random genetic mutation, but-" he rippled his fingers, showing the extra one moved normally- "-it's a healthy finger, so. Gets weird looks sometimes, and occasionally, people don't wanna shake my other hand, cuz they're afraid they'll 'catch it' or something like that." He shrugged and put his hand back in his lap. "Other than that, umm… I'm 22? Don't know if that counts as interesting info but. That's me." He shrugged and glanced at Veronica, who was next.

The girl had yet to move from her slouched position, and just shook her head when he looked her way.

Valiel gently tried to help. "Veronica, you don't have to share anything you don't want to, but… anything about yourself you like and would like us to know? We're here to support each other, nobody is going to laugh at you or anything like that." She kept her voice soft, non-confrontational, and her expression hopeful.

Veronica looked over at her, silent for a long moment, before shifting just slightly. "Don't like to talk…" she rasped, her voice rough and raw and ugly, sounding more like a loud ragged whisper than spoken words. Still, she'd spoken, and Valiel was quick to smile at the contribution.

"And that's fine. Though the opportunity remains open." She kept the smile on her face even as Veronica slouched back into her position, before looking at Tomma.

Arthur looked over at Tomma as well, his watchful expression cracking just a little as he gave half a smile. "You're up, friend."