<div style="text-align: left;"><strong>Name:</strong> Morgan Byrne<br/><strong>Scion of:</strong> The Morrigan<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong> Anyone present<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Lake Martin Rookery, Lafayette, Louisiana<br/><strong>Time:</strong> 10:45 PM</div><hr/><br/>For the most part, it was as quiet a night as you could get in the area. The full moon hung high in the sky, bathing Lake Martin's shallow waters and towering trees in pale blue light. This far from the city, there was little noise of civilization save the soft hum of the occasional streetlight. In its place was the dull roar of wildlife - the calls of birds, the buzzing and chittering of insects. The occasional cry or howl rang out from nocturnal predators on the prowl - or their prey, in their last moments of life. Here, a splash, a crocodile clamping down on a rodent gone astray. There, a murder of crows chattered about the carrion below.<br/><br/>Within the din, however, were a number of unique noises. The soft hum of a lone engine, the one car on this road at this hour. Presently, the faint but steady cadence of boot heels on pavement. A woman in a black full-length frock coat, loosely secured over a white babydoll dress of similar length. Her long, snowy hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back like an ashen waterfall, framing her clear blue eyes and unadorned lips. There was a tension to her air and her gait - her lips drawn, her eyes searching, and her pace as quick as it was steady. Something had her on edge, concern and caution warring somewhere behind her eyes.<br/><br/>That something was likely the cause of the other unique sounds this evening. Out on the lake, a fair distance from the road, stood a rather sizable beast. 'Sizable beast' was perhaps the easiest way to describe it, too, given its amalgam of features. It was a squat, pudgy thing,  bigger than nearly any passenger bus ever built. Its stubby limbs were scarcely long enough to keep its belly off the ground, let alone clear of the water's surface. Coarse brown fur covered it nearly end to end, trailing off into scaly skin on its lengthy black tail. A similarly stubby head was nonetheless possessed of a long jaw stuffed with large and wicked teeth. For all its quirks, one could hardly call it a platypus - rather, it was more like a cross between a beaver and a crocodile.<br/><br/><em>"That can't be it, can it?"</em>, Morgan thought to herself, as she came to a halt at the railing ringing the road.<em>"The afanc she was after?"</em><br/><br/><hr/><br/><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>Location:</strong> Aubergine's, Lafayette, Louisiana<br/><strong>Time:</strong> 4:17 PM<br/>Two weeks earlier</div><br/>"... you lost me. A what?"<br/><br/>"An afanc. Welsh lake monster? Mean, shaggy, big as a truck, likes to chomp on people who wander into its waters?"<br/><br/>Morgan couldn't help but tilt her head, a silver brow rising in perplexity. The expression caused her younger companion to only shake her head. Her name was Kelly Murphy. Nineteen, trim but pretty, and with a libertine streak that matched (if not exceeded) her own. Though she was only a few months out of high school, she didn't seem to have much direction in life. She was adrift, so to speak, still finding her course, and rather enjoying herself in the meantime. Her tawny skin was further tanned by the vast amount of time she spent outdoors, and framed by a shoulder-length bob of raven hair. A burgundy tanktop and black jeans hugged her lean frame, set off by golden bangles and earrings.<br/><br/>In their normal lives, the two women would likely have never met, let alone had reason to speak to each other. Even now, Morgan had some measure of trouble understanding just how Kelly's mind worked. But the two of them did at least have one thing in common. It was the reason she was here, the reason they had even met. You see, both of them were scions of the Tuatha de Danann: Morgan of The Morrigan, and Kelly of Manannán mac Lir. It was perhaps only natural the daughter of a psychopomp and the daughter of a carrion crow might get along, despite their differing stations in life.<br/><br/>"Can't say as I've heard of it before. But if it's that big, how exactly did you lose it?"<br/><br/>"I didn't<em>lose</em>it, I just haven't found it yet. Just gotta look in the right place, wherever that is."<br/><br/>"If it's a lake monster, shouldn't you look in a lake?"<br/><br/>"Probably, but which one?"<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>Location:</strong> Lake Martin Rookery, Lafayette, Louisiana<br/><strong>Time:</strong> 10:47 PM</div>The present<br/><br/>The girl's words all but rang in Morgan's ears - it seemed that now, in Lake Martin, she had found that answer. For all she had seen, all she had experienced in her time as a Scion, she couldn't really say she'd ever faced such a beast. Countless souls, certainly. Ghosts, imps, goblins, faerie both seelie and unseelie. But not since the night she had learned of her lineage had she seen anything so malevolent. Never before had she faced a beast of such a size, either. Was this was why her 'mother' had guided her here?