Thank you for your reviews! I am so, so happy you are curious for more of my story, it really makes my day reading the comments.

I recieved my first question too! Answer: no, I don't have an actress in mind for Celia, but more details about her looks will come soon.

It's quite hard to understand the meaning of a phrase such as 'don't rain on my parade' when one simply loves the rain. The grey skies shielding the world from heat and blinding rays, the chill weather – perfect for a beautiful day inside by the fire, reading poetry and forcing letters on a smudged paper yourself – the wind that blows all worries away in an instant, soft yet firm touch – like magic. And the rain drops. Those little dancers, cold and wet, twirlling around and falling in musicals on the ground. Everything they hit on their way down creates a special sound: a lullaby for the heart.

Celia was no stranger to the beauty of rain. She enjoyed as much as any lost soul loves silent times when nature itself seems lost too. She felt at peace within, as water raced on her window and an old, classic rapsody filled her room, carrying her feet on the rhytm. When she tired herself, an ill scented book waited on her bad, but her small notebook is always more appealing when her own feelings are mirrored by wild emotions on display outside.

It's only been a couple of days since she arrived in New York. The quiet september from her small town, where one could hear leaves grow old and fall, suddenly replaced by crazy noises and crowded streets made her nervous. But she smiled when dancers broke off into a performance right there, in front of her. And the artistic voice of mostly teens or young adults filled the walls with pain and colors while in distance she could hear guitars in the subway station. Others walked with their heads in their phones, either editing photos or videos, either making them on the spot.

She got in an abroad studying program, which unfortunetly doesn't provide a place to live in. So here she was, in the big city, with dreams too vivid to not be real, but fears too much to not be only hopes. Her almost empty wallet scolded her from her pocket: she shouldn't have leave her safe, secure and stable home for an uncertain life. She ignored it as much as she could.

Not long before evening settled in, Celia knocked on the door of a small flower shop. "We're closed!" An old woman's voice shouted from inside, not even opening the door. Under any other circumstances, Celia would have left with her tail between her feet. But something told her to stay. Couldn't have been her gut, could it? She never really heard it before, yet there is a first for everything.

"I really, really need someplace to stay. I can be of good help, if you let me in."

Locks were broken and the girl smiled in delight. The owner of the shop, Ruella Scoalor, frowned up at her. She was a short woman with grey hair, small eyes and huge feet. What made up for her missing inches in height, seemingly added to her character, were very loud opinions, a vocabulary worthy of pirates and a mouth with no filter.

"And who are you, miss Chubby Cheeks?" The high pitched voice and the rudness in it made Celia flinch. She looked down at her body (perfectly normal feet for her size, touching tights, curvy hips and a little bumpy stomach ) suddenly feeling self concious.

Meanwhile, the old lady took in her appereance: round face with a softly sharpened chin, hair a bit longer than her shoulders, a medium sized neck, not too thick to look stuffed, fortunately. She noticed her outfit: cosy, casual, modest. But what seriously got her attention was the thin bracelet on her wrist. It made miss Scoalor to change her mind about letting the girl in. For only one coven in the world had the knowledge to make such a jewelry.

"I... I need somewhere to stay and..."

"Yes, yes, you said that already. Are you coming in or what?"

Everything screamed 'home!' inside Celia when they reached what is to be her new room for her stay in the city: the oval window by the size of a body mirror, the round wall above the bed, the piles of dusty books hidden carelessly away be Ruella when she entered the attic.

Celia will have a great time in New York, helping with the flower shop, hanging around in the overly lighted city and following her new found gut.

Celia Forbes learned many lessons in her abroad year. Not all academical related, truth be told, the likes of it were almost foreigned to her. She had a vast and deep package of enciclopedic knowledge when she first set foot in New York. During her stay in the big city, she found herself again between the scrapes of her endlessly grief and sorrow bind to her soul. And when she left, she did so with a true self shining with street smart and life inteligence in her dark brown eyes.

The most important thing she come face to face with was the simple, undebatable fact that it's never a place that brings happiness, nor a job or a thing to be bought and saled. It's the people. And Celia luckyly stumbled upon the best kind of people.

One day, when sun burned so hot one could heat up eggs on the front side of the car, the brunette girl entered a cafè. It was a small building on a shaded corner of the main street. Yet almost no one went there. Something to be expected since the coffee shop held no big brand on its market name.

Inside, she was met with a delicate decor: french styled bouquets on round tables and coloured iron chairs. A tall, chubby afro-american man sat behind a long serving table, counting money. He seemed lost in his thoughts as a soft tune hummed silently in the empty place. His thick brows hid his eyes and his curly, short hair kept falling in his face. Before Celia could approach him and ask for an iced coffee, three teens ran inside the room from somewhere in the back.

"Cooper, man, what are you doing?" A short, black guy said. He wore a large white shirt and large sport pants paired with boots. By his side, another boy sipped from his pink drink – probably a red berries based one. This second young man was dressed all in dark colours: black turtle neck and maroon jeans, while his raven like messy hair brushed his shoulders.

The third teen, much younger than both her companions, could pass as the sporty dressed guy's little sister – if they had anything else in common than the color of their skin. Her long hair, pulled in dreadlocks, looked rather good with her metal strow half empty cup of iced tea.

"Coming right back in, K. Just a second." And the man start cunting again. No one noticed Celia so far. She changed it shortly afterwards.

"Excuse me, sir? Is it open?"

The owner looked up confused. Then, an impossible to describe joy took over his features. "Why, yes of course, chèrie." He gave her a toothy smile and hurried to sat her down on one of the tables.

K and his friends changed looks. Eventually, the one known as 'K' sat down next to Celia, leaving his crew behind.

"Hello there! I'm Keith."

"Celia."

"Nice, nice. So, how did you find about this place?"

Celia seemed confused at first, but then, it drowned to her: the fancy cafè was probably newly opened. "I'm sorry, I just stumbled upon it."

Keith's face fell,as well as his friends'. "It could use some advertising, you know. I can help." Celia offered kindly. The dissapointed gleams in their eyes, certainly mirrored in the owner's, pinched her heart.

Keith raised an eyebrow at her, doubting the words that just left her mouth. "You don't strike me as a bussiness woman, though."

"I don't have to be one. I can think of something, as an experienced buyer."

"Cool! Worth a try, Keith." The younger girl, probably twelve or thirteen said. As if this Keith was managing the shop and not the man who was yet to come back with Celia's order.

"What do you think, Dylan?"

"Sure. It is a smart idea, and it sounds artistic, so you know I'm in." The white boy said.

"Neat. You can come over at our place to brainstorm." Keith adressed the brunette newcomer.

"I don't think Ruella would agree..." Celia wishpered.

"Old Ruru?" The little girl screeched. "What is your deal with her?"

Dylan gave the girl a hard look, like a warning, before speaking up: "You'll have to excuse Lydia. That old witch scares her, but I am sure she is not as bad as she thinks."

'Old witch' could simply mean a rude, old woman. In this case, it didn't. Instead, the flower shop's proud owner was actually a witch, with magic and a strong connection to nature. Celia figured it out when she saw her rooftop garden, filled with rare plants and potion worthy herbs. But the fact that these people also knew it scared her a bit.

"How do you know that?"

"Oh, it's just a figure of speech." Dylan tried to save it.

"Wait a minute! How do you know it?" Keith cut in.

A few minutes later and all five people in the room sat and drank together, talking about many things like old friends reunited after a long time. The yankees learned that Celia is a siphoner and nothing more (for now). The brunette witch learned that Keith and Dylan were vampires, turned at the same time, dating since before immortality, Cooper was a profet (sphinx) and Lydya – a gorgon.

They haven't gathered at any of their homes that day, but the following weeks they planned the best advertising inside the most artistic attic of a flower shop.

There is a place for everyone and even though the right one may change from certain periods of time in life before settling, one shall remember the joy each gave them.

For her fifteen to sixteen years, that special place for Celia was the stage. She could only imagine how it could be one day: to shine on Broadway like a star. Untill that day come, the brunette witch sang and danced in an old disco club where many artists gathered to show off their talents. At day, it served as a reading/creative writing club and at night the dance floor came to life and the hallways were full of paintings and drawings. All styles, all opinions, welcomed under the same roof.

Keith and Dylan brought her to that place and Celia hardly left it. She felt full of life, something that never happened in long years. She rediscovered herself and became again the girl her blood siblings knew and loved.

"Snakes, you should come too!" Celia laughed as Dylan fixed her hair under the hard criticism of his boyfriend.

"Oh, no, C-witch ." Lydia replied. "I'm good." Both girls warmed up to each other really quick, if the nicknames were any indication of that.

Celia's day as an abroad year student ended a few days ago, but the brunette girl decided to stay some more time. Her new crew, consisting in her beloved Keith, the amazing Dylan, sweet Lydia, cringe Cooper and mean Ruru, offered to help her out, of course. So the small town girl officialy became a yankee.

They all continied their routine, as usual, now impossible to imagine life without one another. Keith woke up the whole house with carefully selected tweets for each while Dylan cooked their meals, every day something different, but always tasty. Lydia delivered them on her way to school or, as the case came to be, summer school. Cooper started to try new drink mixes, waiting for the teens eagerly to taste them and surprisingly approve. Old Ruella didn't change much during these dreamy times. She tend to her garden, made acid comments and behaved evasivly. But she made it sure they all could see how much she cared for them in truth.

It wasn't untill one of Celia's big days when her phone ranged for bad news. Few people from that artistic club mentioned above decided to put on stage Beauty and the Beast, with marvelous coreagraphys and its classic songs. Celia got casted as Belle. As she put on the vibtage suit for a rehearsel, Jeremy called her.

"Hey, Celia!" He greeted.

"Hi, Jer."

"So, when are you coming home? I miss my girlfriend."

"I told you I'll stick around for a while. Like, maybe for good. But I will come visit as soon as I can," she smiled to him through the camera of a video call.

"And when it will be?"

"I really don't know. Listen I gotta go, okay? But talk to you later."

"You mean never. You are so absorbed by whatever you are doing there. Vicky thinks you found someone else."

Celia loudly gasped, very offended. "First, I am not a cheater, Jeremy Gilbert! And second, who is Vicky?"

"Matt's sister. You know her." The boy answered mattematter-of-factly. "We started to hang out after you left."

The girl frowned. She knew Matt's sister, of course, still only from rumors. She never met her in person. What she has heard placed that older lass in a group of people Celia would rather not deal with. Far from judging Vicky for her life choices, the brunette teen knew how friends like her can badly influence someone and she feared she would not be able to resist. Now she feared Jeremy couldn't. Rightfully so, as she noticed his tired, red and puffy eyes.

"Hang out to smoke weird stuff?"

"You're in New York, don't tell me you're clean." Jeremy scoffed.

"Oh, but I am. I don't think it's a good decision to..."

"Well, you are not here so why don't you just leave me alone to live my life as I want to?!"

"Jeremy Gilbert, are you breaking up with me?"

"Uh, yes, I guess. It's for the best anyway. Relasionship don't work when there are miles in between."

Celia hanged up immediatly in shock. She stared at her phone for a second, trying to wrapp her mind around what happened. That is when Keith, Dylan and Snakes bursted in. They have been listening at the door and now wanted to support their friend.

"Hey, Cece. It's his loss, really."

"If you need some girl night out to talk, or a shlulder to cry on..."

"I will not see you sad over some stupid boy, Cece! You are amazing and if he can't see, than I'm glad he's out. And so should you!"

"Thanks, guys. But I am fine. For real."

All three knitted their eyebrowd in confusion. She seemed to say the truth: no tears stained her face, no heart break stinged her chest, no self depicted thoughts ran through her mind to tear her down. Celia said she was alright, she meant it.

So, Dylan and Snaked brushed it off and proceed to leave her get ready for her reharsal. Keith stayed behind.

"You're good, girl. Too good. Why?"

"Stop it, I don't know."

The black vampire raised an eyebrow, showing his disbelief concerning the witch's words. "Okay, fine!" She exclaimed. "Maybe I am fine because I got in a relationship with the first boy who had a crush on me when I hated myself. He was the proof that I am enjoyable, that I am not all those boring, stupif stuff my mind made me believ I am. But now I don't depend on anyone to power me up, because I am super cool and sexy and I know it." Celia joked to push her point across.

As her break up proved to be less concerning than expected, faith send the siphoner home using a funeral. News that Jeremy's parents perished came to her attention and Celia had to return home. If not for obligation as friend or girlfriend anymore, at least from sympathy since she knew too well how losing a parent felt like.

As expected, everyone whined and moped. Who would help Snakes with homework anymore, bonding with her over missing pieces of information and completating her (Celia sufficed means to see it through at foreign languages and elglish assignments and Lydia supplied her lack of artistic interest with multiple ways of solving the most complicated logical tasks)? Who would watch and critisize movies and shows with Keith, morphing him into a better screen writer and scene set up man to be? Who would respect Cooper's decision to not look into future for any cost and defend it if Celia left? Who would appreciate Dylan's many talents? Who would keep old flower lady delightful, kind company?

Such questions are not meant to recieve answers. And yet, they unfortunately did.