There was nothing quite as jarring as being suddenly awoken from a deep, comfy sleep by an unexpected noise in your home. Thirteen could attest to this, for tonight just such an event happened. There she was, curled up beneath her favorite quilt, dreaming of whatever, when she startled back to the waking world. The loft was dark, only faint moonlight and the glow of her digital alarm clock to see by. Everything was still. Everything was qui--

There it was again! A strange rustling sound, from somewhere in the room. Yet as before, nothing moved. Mage Sight didn't take note of anything Supernal. The Acanthus took no chances, however. Nightstand drawer was opened and her small handgun was readied. Bare feet touched the cold, hardwood floor. She wore only a men's black t-shirt as pajamas, hem hanging to her thighs, the faded logo of AC/DC on the front. Slowly she crept about, careful not to stub her toes on anything in the dark. Thirteen had only moved into this small house very recently, and she wasn't confident in her ability to navigate the furniture my muscle memory.

"Show yerself!" she demanded, sounding braver than she felt.

Nothing.

After some time (half an hour?) of further silence, the Libertine shook her head and returned to bed. Maybe she'd imagined the sound, which reminded her of bird feathers. All the doors and windows were locked, though (she checked!), so nothing had gotten inside. Her crow friends nested outdoors.

-----------

Two days later, Thirteen was busy cooking at her stove. Or trying to cook, anyway. She'd never been great at it, but she wanted to practice some simple dishes, maybe eventually move up to her grandmother's Jamaican recipes. In this instance, she was preparing tomato soup. One of her favorites, even if it was just from a can. At least she had gone to the effort to heat it up on the stove top, rather than just nuke it in the microwave.

There was a clatter over by the TV area. The Enchantress jumped and spun about, wooden spoon wielded like a knife, drops of tomato soup splattering the floor. "Shit," she scowled, eyeing the mess. Stomping over to her sofa, she found that the television remote control had fallen off the end table. She blinked in surprise and stared at the electronic device for a moment, before picking it up and setting it back where it belonged. Thirteen returned to her soup, dismissing the incident as nothing to be concerned over.

She'd had bad luck her entire life. A fallen clicker was incredibly minor in comparison.

-----------

The next night. The Acanthus was in her shower, steam roiling out of the stall. She was humming to herself as she washed, when suddenly...

"AHHHH!! FOOK!!"

The water had turned ice cold at the same time she heard her toilet flush! A classic sort of prank, except no one else was here to pull it! Thirteen stormed out of the shower, naked, sopping wet and angry! She felt less vulnerable in this state than most people would, as she knew her Mage Armor was still active. The loft was quiet but for the sound of running water and the toilet tank refilling. She poked her head out the bathroom door. Still nothing. No Supernal magic detected.

"I'm fookin' jinxed!" she snarled.

The Libertine's assessment felt confirmed when she turned back and saw the mirror over the sink. There, in the foggy condensation, someone - or something - had awkwardly drawn some words.

Heh!
hEh!
heH!
NiCE tItS!

Thirteen glowered at the mirror and the juvenile message. Hands clenched into fists. She made no effort to cover herself. She was too mad to feel immodest, especially in the supposed privacy of her own home!

"Oh, you and I are gonnae have it out, ghostie!"

Was she, in fact, haunted? Maybe. This didn't feel scary, though. Not in the typical sense. It was more like someone just having fun. Less a malevolent wraith and more like a...

"Crow?"

This is what Thirteen asked herself a short time later, when she had finished her shower and exited the bathroom to find a small black feather on the floor. A quick check showed that no actual birds were in her home. So, this wasn't a ghost, but rather a spirit? it would explain why she couldn't see the damned thing. She was in no way versed in the proper Arcanum to perceive such entities.

The Enchantress stood there, clad in but a plain green towel, thinking to herself. Were there such a thing as crow spirits? And if so, was one playing games with her? Had it taken notice of her, due to her feeding the local crows and making friends with them? There was a lot she didn't know.

She needed an expert.

A small smile formed on Thirteen's lips as she quietly formulated a plan. Time to get some shortbread Scottie Dogs and pay a visit to a Thyrsus friend of hers.

As she went to get dressed, the feather dissolved back into the ephemera it was composed of.