The Aveline murder was the top headline on every local newspaper, blog and news station. How could it not be? The gruesome crime scene had the police force entirely boggled and questioning whether it even was a murder to begin with. The remains could hardly be called such, as the body was torn to shreds by what looked like claws. Flesh ripped clear off. Witnesses claimed that the man had an altercation with another individual that frequented the neighborhood's prized bar, the Crescent, and the two were seen arguing fiercely before they'd gone missing. However only one body was found several hours later, head ripped clean off its shoulders. And none could identify the other suspect. The entire ordeal was a paperwork nightmare and no one understood it. The autopsy only incriminated a predator, most likely a large canine of some sort or bear. And to top it off, Mr. Aveline had been a known public figure who'd been making many generous donations to local charities in order to help the city's economy. All close family and friends commented on how he'd been well liked and was cool tempered. Less than a week gone by, and the memorial on the street corner where the unimaginable had occurred was covered in candles and bouquets mourning the socialite just a few streets down from the bar.<br/><br/>Corinth sighed as he wiped the counter of his bar. Undoubtedly, these insane circumstances were going to be bad for business. Despite being a commodity of the neighborhood, even his regulars had lessened their evening visits. He'd been interviewed by police more times than he could recall, giving the same information each time. He remembered Mr. Aveline, he'd stayed briefly for a drink or two and left. Whatever occurred outside his doors, he was not privy to as he was busy taking care of his customers. What more could they expect from him? Besides ruining his business, he too was very confused and frustrated about the ordeal. He understood one huge implication it would have on the high society, and it didn't bode well for his business or his kind.... Not to mention the fact they were having their own internal issues.<br/><br/>His heavy sleepless eyes looked up as the door opened and a familiar face walked in, a grim look on her face.<br/><br/>"Afternoon Sun." He deep sigh escaped him as she sat on the stool across him. "Any news?"<br/><br/>She shook her head. "We're having a meeting at the loft tonight. The entire pack will be in attendance..." Regardless of the current events, Sun tended to have a gloomy demeanor when it came to pack-related things. She had no interest in taking it over like her father wanted and Corinth was one of the few people to be aware of that information. He knew she didn't want the responsibility, and with the murder on their doorstep there would be a lot of weight on her shoulders now more than ever. He gave her a reassuring squeeze and shake of her shoulder. "We'll get through this, we'll figure it out..."<br/><br/>Though his words were meant to encourage, they were somewhat hollow as their eyes met. There was darkness in the air and it didn't bode well. They could both feel that something wasn't quite right and it needed to be quickly and deftly handled or they would be in a world of troubles.<br/><br/>"Anyway, I only came to let you know. I have to make other rounds, unfortunately." She gave the man's hand a squeeze before taking her leave. She paused for a moment on the curb, rubbing her temples with two fingers. One might think that the police would be the real problem in this situation, but unbeknownst to the public, Mr. Aveline was part of a secret society that she happened to be privy to. And they would not take very lightly the murder of one of their own by those lowly werewolves they so despised. Any wolf could clearly see what this event could incite. Though things had generally be peaceful over the last few decades, anything could spark yet another unpleasant altercation between the two. She needed to know who might do such a thing, if one of their own was even capable of it. None of it made sense or added up. Deep down, her gut told her it was a setup. And that was even more fearful to her than catching one of her wolves redhanded. It would mean catching the culprit would be all the more difficult and making good with the Hallowed Society that much more complicated. As if things in her life didn't need more disruption than it already had...<br/><br/>--<br/><br/>The Tarot had been foreboding the last couple weeks, but Xavier couldn't have imagined what it would actually manifest into. If anything, he'd wished he hadn't asked. It was a silly question, peace mongering if anything. And it hadn't given him the answer he'd hoped for. For whatever reason though, his Supreme had made the request privately and of course he had to comply. And now here were those results, his hands folding the newspaper neatly on his desk in his study. Concern was very high on his list of emotions. As much as the witches hated them, would they take this as an opportunity to rid themselves of the supposed pests once and for all? The possibilities at this point were endless. With a blatant breaking of the accords, there were numerous outcomes and routes of action based on simply the whims of what one wanted to believe. And finding the truth, as it certainly wasn't the police who'd be solving this case. He knew that Kenta Roh was not that foolish of an Alpha. Though undoubtedly it could've been a stray, a wolf with ulterior motives was his likely guess if he were to guess. There were far too many questions and little to no answers. And he knew that the next question he asked the Tarot would not and could not be taken lightly.<br/><br/>Xavier didn't count himself as a very important or essential member of his clan, as he wasn't interested in the politics of power unlike their ancestors. He preferred running under the radar and thankfully their current Supreme didn't necessarily mind it. Though he suspected it wouldn't be long until he was paid another private visit by her. He wasn't sure how he felt about it in all honesty. He didn't like asking about the future, playing some hand in how events might occur or be interpreted. Interpreting the Tarot was always a tricky matter in that way and preferred to stick to something he could fully grasp. Something that was tangible and concrete, and in fact calmed his nervous energy.<br/><br/>So in that, he stood and quickly swept off to his magical greenhouse to keep his hands and mind busy. What the coven did about recent events was his concern, but as he was in the lower rungs in terms of power and didn't need to deal with it firsthand. He felt sorry of course about Mr. Aveline who happened to be several titles above him. But Xavier was also a bit of a recluse and didn't necessarily socialize much with other witches either. It was an emotionally fuddling event to say the least for Mr. Brodeur.