A/N: Just some quick things I wrote about events that happened somewhat recently in the rp…

~~ Caspian and Finn~~

Getting increasingly frustrated after he'd checked yet another tavern, Caspian gritted his teeth, his eyes darting around the street. He'd still seen no sign of Aspen, and he'd already snapped at quite a number of Downworlders, in his apprehension. Finally, he resorted to turning towards the place of exhibits were Finn worked, despite his disgust of both the place, and the other faerie. When he reached it, he pulled the door open and stalked inside.

Looking up at the sound of the bell, Finn smiled out of habit, as he turned to look at the door, before his smile fell when he recognised the cloak figure. "Ah, you probably shouldn't be here-…" he started, before taking a step backwards, when the other faerie continued towards him.

"Tell me where Aspen is," Caspian demanded, his silver eye now a stormy grey as he advanced towards Finn.

"I would if I could, but I don't know where he is," Finn replied quickly, nervous when he couldn't back away any further. "If I knew, then I'd go there and-…"

"Shut up," Caspian growled, pushing him up against the wall roughly, his hand knotting in Finn's shirt, and a dagger pressed against his neck. "I'm not interested in your lies. Just tell me what you know."

"Shit," Finn swore, as he stared into the other faerie's wild eyes, and he tried to hold up a hand. "Okay, okay, I don't know where he is, but I know he's with Nyx. Nyx told me so. I don't know if he's in trouble, but…" Breathing a sigh in relief when Caspian let him go, he slid away, heading back behind the counter, to keep some distance between them.

"Nyx?" Caspian spat, narrowing his eyes. "Why would he be there? Where the hell is Nyx?"

"I don't know, I swear. He wouldn't tell me, and there wasn't anything I could do," Finn replied, rubbing his neck. He could sense the other faerie was worried, despite his anger, and he hoped that maybe he'd be more successful in finding out where Aspen was. For all his joking around, Finn did still care. Clearing his throat, he looked over at him tentatively. "Maybe you can do something."

"I'll find him," Caspian replied firmly, starting away quickly, towards the door. Slipping outside, he tried to calm his racing thoughts. "I won't stop looking until I do," he muttered, under his breath.

~~ Kellan ~~

Kellan tossed and turned at the flashes of memories and faces in his dreams. There were faces he could have sworn he'd never seen before, and yet they seemed increasingly familiar. Sweat stuck his red curls to his forehead, and he felt trapped, merely an observer on the outside.

Again! There was the young girl with the brown pigtails, and the innocent face. The boy, not much younger than him, who looked different, but had the same coloured hazel eyes as his own eye, the one that had not darkened from the Hunt. There was birds and blood and people calling his name desperately, as he lay there.

With a gasp, he finally managed to claw himself out of his dream, sitting up quickly. He was disorientated, not on the usual soft grass of the Hunt base. Taking a few breaths to calm himself, he reached for the demon tooth at his neck, clasping his fingers around it and letting the tip dig into his palm, until it drew blood. The sharp ache helped to ground him, as his eyes adjusted to the light, and his memories came back to him. He was visiting the Seelie Court, he reminded himself, and he stood up, walking over to run his fingers against the cool wall of the grotto. The Queen had kindly set it up for him to stay in while he visited and waited for her, although with the constant guard out the front, it felt more like a prison.

Focusing on his breathing, he tried to sort through the confusing dreams. Lately the dreams had increased, after the first time he'd visited the Seelie Court, and the Queen had showed him some things. But that night had been worse than normal, and he froze at a sudden thought. Had the Queen invaded his dreams, through magic or other means? Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to pull himself together. Now he was being paranoid, and that certainly wasn't going to get him anywhere.

He'd been anxious enough, worrying about the Hunt and what was happening there while he was gone. The Queen had seen him once, only briefly, before insisting he stay longer.

Pacing for a little while, he then walked over to the grotto entrance, looking at the guard standing there. "Excuse me, do you know when the Queen will be free?" he asked, keeping his tone polite.

"I'm afraid not," was all the guard replied, and Kellan tried not to look disheartened, as he glanced around the grotto again.

The way he saw it, the Seelie Court didn't owe him anything, and neither did he owe it anything in return.

~~ Mason ~~

Working on some papers at a desk in his study, Mason looked up at a knock on the door. Just in time, he thought, calling out for them to come in. The Tides – Stephanie's parents - walked in, and Mason watched them carefully, from his seat, where he remained sitting. He could see the resemblance to Stephanie and Loki, and he kept his expression detached, sitting up a little straighter.

"You must be the Tides. Have a seat," he said, gesturing towards the two chairs on the other side of his desk. It was a form of power play, and he suspected the father would be annoyed that Mason didn't stand up when they arrived. They were both the Heads of an Institute, so technically they were at a similar level. However, Mason's ties to the Clave were much stronger, and he was the only one in the room taught to the Academy's standard. Not to mention, the rumours that surrounded the London Institute…

Hiding a self-satisfied smile, he decided to take matters into his own hands and start them off, always liking to have the advantage. "I received your correspondence, and I assume you have come, as you stated, to look into the details of your son's death."

"The report is rubbish," Stephanie's father leaned forward in his seat to say. "Our son would never die in such a way. He's not stupid-"

Mason held up a hand, to stop him. "And yet, as the report said, he had clearly had a lot to drink. That can impair your thinking and your balance."

"Our son would not have just tripped," was the father's retort, and he started to look angry. "He was a good Shadowhunter, and such a thought is ridiculous. Staining his name like that… it's appalling."

"Many here can testify to his drinking habits," Mason said, keeping his voice calm and unbothered, careful not to let his distaste at the topic of conversation show. He'd never liked Loki, never finding him a particularly adept or diligent Shadowhunter. "And I myself found him, and saw his state. It happened right near a tavern, and the wound to his head was consistent with what I saw there at the surroundings. There was no sign of a struggle, or any other injuries."

"I don't believe you," the father argued, and Mason raised an eyebrow, tapping his foot against the ground.

"Are you implying I'm lying?" Mason asked, his tone low, in a warning.

"I'm not sure yet. But we'll soon find out," the father replied, the chair making a grating sound against the ground, as he pushed it back.

"You understand, we're just upset, don't you?" the mother said, standing up after him, and resting a hand on her husband's arm, as if to calm him, her voice quiet. "Loki was a good boy. We owe it to him to find out what really happened… Maybe it was made to look like that."

"Of course," Mason replied, resisting the urge to sigh. Picking up a stack of papers on his desk, he passed it to them. "Here are the notes on the case. You can read through them and return them when you're finished. I have other matters to attend to, but I hope you find the accommodation to your satisfaction." He'd made sure they had decent rooms – they were the Head of an Institute, after all, and maybe if they felt satisfied, they'd hurry up and leave sooner. He didn't need to deal with any of their problems or trouble. Besides, they were undesirable to have there, with the habits and low morals of the London Institute. The rumours of drinking, gambling, and Downworld parties and associations. The sooner they left, the better.

Standing up, he led them to the door, holding it open. "Let me know if you have any questions," he said, watching them carefully as they started out into the hallway.

"We'll let the Clave know if we do," Loki's father replied, as they left, clutching the papers in his hands.