Tate (pre death):
you and Tate met at a music store. You were looking at all the Green Day records absentmindedly as you tried to keep your attention from the cute blonde boy looking at Nirvana records next to you. You finally decided on an album - Green Day's 39/Smooth - and were about to go pay for it, when the boy turned to look at you, smirking slightly.
"Hey," he said. You returned the favour with a simple smile. He complimented your taste in music, before going off on a long explanation about why you should also listen to Nirvana. Your smile widened, and when he stopped to breathe, you finally got to ask him his name.
You and Kit naturally met at the asylum, both framed for crimes you knew you didn't commit. You couldn't help but think that for a religious institute, the people working there were pretty godless. You met Kit on the first day he was thrown into that hellhole. He entered the common room, and the very limp in his step suggested sister Jude had already beaten him bloody. As per usual, 'Dominique' was giving you almost sane residents a headache, but nobody dared go near the record player to switch it off. Nobody but Kit. Your friend Grace chided him about his actions, and he nodded, looking to find a place to sit down. He found one right next to you.
A simple conversation started between you two, which naturally led to the discussion of how you were both brought here. Something inside you knew that Kit, like you, was innocent. And so, bonding over your natural hatred of the place, and your strong feelings of moral betrayal, you two became good friends.
It was - to say the least - a shock when you were told you were a witch. However, you barely had time to react, as you were near immediately being whisked off to Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. You and several other witches waited anxiously at the gate, which was - soon enough - opened by a handsome boy, around your age. You later learned his name was Kyle, and you two had an immediate connection.
Even Delia wouldn't dare interrupt the two of you laughing together, sending Queenie up to do so instead. You two were practically inseparable, and it wasn't hard to tell.
you never felt it right to go watch other humans being exploited for what God had given them. However, when your friend dragged you along to watch the freak show, you couldn't refuse. You saw some magnificent people with incredible deformities, but one in particular caught your eye. 'Lobster Boy' was his title, and the name certainly was accurate. Instead of five fingers, 'Lobster Boy's hands resembled claws.
He caught you looking at him, and winked at you, causing you to blush profusely. He smirked, looking away. 'Lobster Boy' didn't look at you once more until the show had finished, where he watched you leave. Moments later, he ran out of the tent to find you, wandering through the crowd.
"Hey;" you turned around, "name's Jimmy."
You were staying at the Hotel Cortez for the week. Much like the name gave off, the place was full of grandeur and elegance. The woman at the desk, however, was far from any of the whimsical aspects of this place. Short, stout, and scowling, she did not look like someone you would want to cross.
"I'd like a room, please." You said politely enough. "Most people do," she snapped back. The woman handed you a key, and you got away from her as quickly as possible.
On your way to 'Room 62' you bumped hard into a stranger you could've sworn wasn't there before.
"Oh; I'm so sorry!" You cried out. The man turned to face you, the angered expression on his face softening as he took you in. He was undeniably handsome, with a sort of 1920's vibe about him which intimidated you more than you cared to admit.
"Yes..." He licked his lips thoughtfully. "James March. Come, let me buy you a drink." His strange dialect was so enticing that you let him lead you down to the bar.