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Salt Witch
human
21 years old
scryer
played by laika
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i've been stoned enough times to be called a martyr
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Post by IGGIE VAN ALLAN on Jan 16, 2015 7:35:55 GMT
he's burning incense. trying to clear the bad air, only filling the room with smoke and making his eyes water. he swishes his drink in its glass, knocks back another mouthful to make his throat burn and his mind open before hunching back over the spellbook. it's in an ancient language iggie's learned and forgotten - he knows a few familiar words - djinn the most prevalent, caution the least important. absently, he skims the next few pages, pausing to read diagrams, copy runes and compare the circle he's drawn, spread on a sheet over the whole table, sprinkled in salt and ancient sands. the vulture is perched on an arm of a chair, motionless, cocking its head. iggie meets its eyes, is struck by the suggestion of circumspection, and finishes his drink to counteract it. he puts the glass down, lights a cigarillo, sidles back over to the table, and proceeds to fumble through the chant. at least he's done the courtesy to rinse the emptied absinthe bottle in the estimated centre of his crooked circle. ZAYNAB IQBAL lol finally... srryyryy |
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Monster
DJINNI
327 years old
WANDERER
played by PISCES
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COLOR YOUR CARTOGRAPHY IN YOUR DREAMS OF ME; MAPS WILL NOT LIE WILL NOT LIE WILL NOT LIE IN ME
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Post by ZAYNAB IQBAL on Jan 21, 2015 2:58:54 GMT
[nospaces] we'll see creation[break]
come undone[break]
bones that bound[break]
us will be gone he forgets each master after the last, but he has never forgotten the pull of the summons—it’s a thousand fishhooks that catch hold from the inside and tug, insistent and unrelenting, until his body dematerializes against his will and the vacuum sucks him up. the last he knows of freedom is pine needles against the open sky, the dotted forms of circling birds. the colors blur, like a ruined painting. [break][break] the next he knows he’s in a smoke-filled room, clogged up with the sickly sweet smell of incense, of human-wrung magic. it’s a witch’s den, a considerable witch—the practice of djinni summonings has dwindled with the knowledge and the writings, become obscured with time. [break][break] the djinni tests the confines of the circle. an opaque smog, milky white, rises lazily from the center of the circle and out of nowhere, reaches out to the chalk line and pulls back. in the blink of an eye, the smog vanishes and the blue-haired boy stands in its place. the room is tangibly colder; the djinni draws in all the heat. the flames flicker, falter. [break][break] “you’ve summoned me.” zaynab glances down at the absinthe bottle at his feet and nudges it over with a toe. there’s no fight in his expression, in his posture. both things bode badly for the hapless witch, who has made a mistake. [break][break] and zaynab’s found it. [newclass=".pisces1"] margin-top: 5px; margin-left: 110px; background: #FF0000; width: 265px; padding: 5px 10px; text-align: right;[/newclass][newclass=".pisces1 a"]color: #000!important; font: 25px arial;[/newclass] |
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Salt Witch
human
21 years old
scryer
played by laika
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i've been stoned enough times to be called a martyr
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Post by IGGIE VAN ALLAN on Jan 26, 2015 5:30:34 GMT
magic always starts with a feeling of futility. sometimes iggie's had it described as power, deep-rooted and waiting to be harnessed. but iggie's magic is chanting in a monotone, feeling stupid, at first, until the air seems to vibrate with a presence. something stirs the smoke. he finishes the summon, watching in his peripherals for the figure to appear and then circling the table to examine it. "i guess so." he says. the cigarillo dangles lazily from his fingers; he doesn't look awed to be in the presence of an ancient and powerful being. he almost looks bored. truthfully, he was expecting something... cooler. something larger, more radiant. maybe thousand-eyed and thousand-voiced. this is just a child. he quirks a brow, watching as the bottle drops to its side and rolls, and reaching out in the last moment to catch it and put back into the circle. well, a bottled djinn is always good to have around. iggie's come back around the table, and he's watching the djinn from the corner of his eye as he flips a few pages forward in the tome. ZAYNAB IQBAL |
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Monster
DJINNI
327 years old
WANDERER
played by PISCES
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COLOR YOUR CARTOGRAPHY IN YOUR DREAMS OF ME; MAPS WILL NOT LIE WILL NOT LIE WILL NOT LIE IN ME
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Post by ZAYNAB IQBAL on Feb 1, 2015 4:32:49 GMT
[nospaces] we'll see creation[break]
come undone[break]
bones that bound[break]
us will be gone zaynab patiently waits until the bottle’s been righted and the unsuspecting witch’s focused on his magic book to burst his bubble of complacency, of security. the djinni bends over as if to inspect the runes, drags a finger through one with especially shaky lines and smudges the chalk. “but you haven’t exactly bound me." he hums cheerily as he works, defacing more runes. “this circle’s a mess. you’re missing protective wards, for example, and this one,” he points to the offending sigil, “is drawn all wrong."[break][break] the summoning circle now effectively rendered useless at keeping anything in, djinni or otherwise, zaynab wipes chalky fingers on the fabric of his pants and wraps them around the neck of the absinthe bottle. [break][break] he picks it up and tests its weight in his palm, wrinkles his nose. “were you planning on trapping me in this thing?” a flick of the wrist and the bottle’s flung across the room to smash into the far wall. breaking glass sounds like uproarious laughter, dissonant and hideous. zaynab smiles at the discord—he’s only just begun. [break][break] “oops. what will you do now?”[newclass=".pisces1"] margin-top: 5px; margin-left: 110px; background: #FF0000; width: 265px; padding: 5px 10px; text-align: right;[/newclass][newclass=".pisces1 a"]color: #000!important; font: 25px arial;[/newclass] |
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Salt Witch
human
21 years old
scryer
played by laika
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i've been stoned enough times to be called a martyr
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Post by IGGIE VAN ALLAN on Feb 15, 2015 5:30:40 GMT
iggie lacks the precision and the discipline to be a good witch. he pays more mind to the wrong kind of demons (the demons, the mortal vices bound in mortal bodies). "uh, he glances up, as it if it's only just starting to dawn on him this is not just a child, but something powerful and ancient and dangerous in all its bratty hysterics. he looks at his handiwork, undone. "i guess i'll know for next time."the bird behind him is stirring up a wind, crying from its perch at the crash. starting, he drops the cigarillo onto the book, leaves an charred smear where a better witch might have scrawled a helpful note. where a better witch would have started to cast, iggie flounders. his expression stays remarkably unbothered – perhaps the mechanics of his mind are turning slowly, maybe he has a minute or two before the panic guts him. he takes a shaky step back from the book, realizing it won't help him much now. "you're like, twelve." he says, as if this is some sort of defence. how powerful can it be? the vulture alights – it's too large a bird in this cramped space, and the second crash – something or other knocked over, the crunch of the bottle's glass as it drops, is a second strike that finally urges him into action. he's muttering the first, simplest, spell that comes to mind. the summoning table alights, flames bursting to life among its perimeter. ZAYNAB IQBAL |
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Monster
DJINNI
327 years old
WANDERER
played by PISCES
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COLOR YOUR CARTOGRAPHY IN YOUR DREAMS OF ME; MAPS WILL NOT LIE WILL NOT LIE WILL NOT LIE IN ME
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Post by ZAYNAB IQBAL on Feb 22, 2015 21:44:28 GMT
[nospaces] we'll see creation[break]
come undone[break]
bones that bound[break]
us will be gone “oh, there won’t be a next time,” he corrects sweetly. the djinni’s smile widens as the witch backs away, abandoning his magic book (and best means of defense, but iggie doesn’t know that). [break][break] the witch’s spell of choice is so ridiculously idiotic zaynab freezes in momentary disbelief as the table catches fire. book and cigarillo go up in flames, and soon the entire table collapses in on itself, a burning wreckage in the center of the room. zaynab doubles over in hysterics where he now hovers in midair over the once-table, clutches his stomach and laughs freely like a child. the fire licks harmlessly at his ankles. [break][break] righting himself, there’s more mirth than malice in the watery sheen of his gaze. he can’t forgive the witch for summoning him, but now he knows the other’s incompetence poses no threat. [break][break] "what else would you like destroyed? or will you do it for me again?” zaynab pauses, tilts his head thoughtfully. “and would you prefer i take another form? if that’ll make you feel any better.”[newclass=".pisces1"] margin-top: 5px; margin-left: 110px; background: #FF0000; width: 265px; padding: 5px 10px; text-align: right;[/newclass][newclass=".pisces1 a"]color: #000!important; font: 25px arial;[/newclass] |
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