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Witch
Human
26 years old
Spell Weaver
played by Southie
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I'm a tulip in a cup, I stand no chance of growing up. I'm resigned to sail on through.
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Post by AERON CAERWYN on Jan 9, 2015 2:59:02 GMT
The mountain is loud today, the wind sounding as if it could swallow your cottage whole. There had been no chimes today. No one past the gate down the hill to wake the sigil, the mountain loud while everything else remains silent. You could've sworn you'd heard Marlene rustling about a bit earlier, but couldn't be sure. When you were working like this she was nowhere to be seen. You've seen her worried looks when you work through rituals; you don't know if they're worry for you, or for herself. Polar opposites, black and white with little gray inbetween your arts. If people could wonder, they would wonder about this. With a wave of your hand the candles in the room begin to flicker. Even with their light the room remains dim, the black mirror sitting before you only offering a faint reflection. It wasn't often you were paid to curse another witch, though it was nothing you couldn't handle. Or maybe it was your pride that made you approach this in such a callous way, you didn't mess up. At least, you couldn't remember the last time you had. You are a house of metal, garden of nettles, to those of wood and bellflowers. The candles flicker again as you begin to speak. Precisely, loud, not like the rest. With a small blade you cut across your finger, blood dropping onto the surface of the mirror before spreading across it. The mortar sitting beneath it begins to smolder as you continue. They'd ask for a binding, right? "Show yourself to me." you say, the image of the other coming into focus within the mirror. But before you can continue the candles flare, and the figure in the mirror turns to look back at you. Not quite. they seemed to mouth, before a flash of light filtered through the mirror. It shattered, your body was left feeling heavy, constricted, as if wrapped in wire. Tighter, tighter, you couldn't even begin to stand up. That little prick, you thought. "Marlene, I could use a hand." you shout in no particular direction, your voice already beginning to falter. Never had someone turned something back onto you, never. And god damnit, that had been your favourite black mirror. Maybe the mountain was loud for a reason.  There’s an ocean inside your chest We’ve been sleeping inside your head MARLENE RUSSELL |
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Witch
HUMAN
26 years old
SPELL WEAVER
played by STERRE
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Post by MARLENE RUSSELL on Jan 11, 2015 6:46:45 GMT
You do not like black magic. While it holds its many uses and conveniences, you have never been a fan. The feeling of it brings you back to a time in your life where you did not have much choice other than to use it as you were commanded. From the way words heavily sluiced like a thick molasses from your lips to the light static jolt that could make your shortest of hair stand on end, you just did not like it.
However, you were never completely opposed to its use. Don't arts do not just up and make a dark person. The school of magic is profitable and in high demand; those who create the supply are smart. It is the customers that ought to be brought into question when they come to your little mountainside home, wanting someone cursed for having seduced their precious son or daughter or another someone haunted just to keep them off their property.
You happen to live with one of the smart many individuals that make a living on black magic and are reminded of this when you hear him calling out to from deeper within the cottage. You stop for a moment, taking in his tone of voice. It is rare that Aeron calls you for help and it isn't the This is big and I need a second person here tone. Rather, it is the Some fucking fuck fucked up the fucking spell tone.
With a gentle sigh, you gather the blanket you've been carrying around over your shoulders (it is supposed to be your day for resting your magic today, so you've been milling about like a lazy, old king) and make your way towards Aeron.
He's a smudge worse off than you expected when you find him and immediately start mumbling the beginnings of something to reverse his curse. Having an adeptness in verbal magic, it isn't necessary for you to do so as much as it is something to let him know that you're on it as you dig through the cabinet for a few items and wait on him to explain what sort of curse he hit himself with. CARRY THE WEIGHT OF YOU LAIKA OF GS! |
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Witch
Human
26 years old
Spell Weaver
played by Southie
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I'm a tulip in a cup, I stand no chance of growing up. I'm resigned to sail on through.
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Post by AERON CAERWYN on Jan 12, 2015 20:12:21 GMT
You'd never been on the end of one of your own curses, you assumed they were powerful, but how were you to ever tell? If you weren't beyond furious right now, it might have been a good lesson The rule of three-fold didn't apply to you, or so you liked to think, but it might as well with how hard you had just been knocked on your ass. Wicked witches don't fuck up, Aeron. The room was still dimly lit when Marlene made her way in, a blanket draped around her. She looked like an old man walking towards a throne which they had no real concept of anymore. You opened your mouth to make a smart-ass comment, but no sound came out. It felt as if wire had stretched it's way to the inside of your mouth, wrapped around your vocal cords. This was the disadvantage of being a verbal based witch, it always came down to who could silence the other first. Luckily, you had Marlene, as she began to mumble the beginnings of what you assumed as white magic. You wouldn't even dare try to dispel this in silence. The chance of success would be minimum, even with your voice. It's not to say you didn't wish to use white magic from time to time, it was to say that the universe had ordained that it was not for you to use. You wondered if Marlene remembered the last time you'd tried a barrier spell; you nearly blew the cottage to bits. You were left with a soot covered face, wide-eyed. All you could do was give her a look, turning your eyes to the shattered mirror. You couldn't move, speak; do a damn thing. This was the risk of using mirrors as a medium, you knew this. The risk of what you're looking upon looking right back at you. A cough was forced out of you, the pressure wrapping around your body growing. There’s an ocean inside your chest We’ve been sleeping inside your head MARLENE RUSSELL |
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Witch
HUMAN
26 years old
SPELL WEAVER
played by STERRE
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Post by MARLENE RUSSELL on Jan 17, 2015 2:42:56 GMT
So, he can't make words. That's never a good sign. Who the hell was he trying to lay a curse upon and why? It was seldom that he was contacted to do anything to their on. You, on the other hand, have earned yourself some popularity with witches that don't do so well with white magic. What you have, by no means, is a dying art, but none to seem to have as much interest in it as they used to. You find it to be a shame; having someone to share ideas and spells with sounds like a good time.
You grab some sage, a bowl, a matchbook, and a handful of ashes mixed with salt from the cabinet. The mixture leaks between your fingers a little as you make your way around Aeron, leaving a then trail in a circle, then pressing the dust of it left on your palm into his face. Of course, you've dropped your blanket over near the cabinet by now so that you don't mess up your circle.
Sitting cross legged before him, set the sage you collected on fire inside the bowl. Sage is best known for being used to cleanse areas of all negative forces. It doesn't immediately break the curse as a whole, but is enough to get rid of residual magic and enable Aeron to speak once again as you try to pick apart whatever it is that he did.
"Protect your eyebrows," barely makes for a decent warning when you set the salt and ash circle aflame.
CARRY THE WEIGHT OF YOU LAIKA OF GS! |
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Witch
Human
26 years old
Spell Weaver
played by Southie
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I'm a tulip in a cup, I stand no chance of growing up. I'm resigned to sail on through.
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Post by AERON CAERWYN on Feb 1, 2015 22:55:44 GMT
It was true; rarely were witches called upon to curse each other. For fear of failure on part of the one asked, or for fear of being found out by the one who was to be cursed. Luckily, you had Marlene around. She had become known among the small circles of witches that sprung up; one of the very few that had exceptional talent with white magic. You, however, were not as well regarded. Your abilities, sure, you as a person, your character? Not so much. You watch Marlene grab everything she'll need from the cabinet, the guise of a lazy old king dropped to come save your ass. As usual. And it's always circles. No matter what kind of magic it may be, witches always worked in circles. You'd never really questioned it, it had come naturally. Perhaps it's that all encompassing nature that has made them a base of craft, who knew. You thoughts are interrupted as she baptizes you with the mixture. Your brows furrow as the pressure, only around your throat and mouth, recedes. "Binding curse. The son of a bitch broke my best black mirror, too." you tell her, the circle around your bursting into flame. You didn't need to tell her more, you thought. A binding curse, to silence a fellow witch and essentially leave them powerless. This one was to be temporary, but from how tight your body felt? You might've intended it more maliciously than you originally thought. There’s an ocean inside your chest We’ve been sleeping inside your head MARLENE RUSSELL |
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