The air buzzed with the excess of magic brought on by the importance of the day, or rather the importance of the night. Each day for the past few weeks seemed to pulse with more and more magic, bring an overall good mood to all magic users and bringing more strength to each spell. Tonight the planets Mars, Mercury, Venus, Jupiter, Saturn and our Moon will align once again, creating a whirlpool of magic. Once believed to be a replenishment of magic, only now brings more strength than anything.
A large gust of wind, often called the hawk, tore through the city chilling all those walking to the bone. Only the magic was lost on most of those who wandered through the maze of streets. The cool touch lapped against the skin of the lucky few before moving on to the next person in the chain. For celebration, the Magic Council announced a festival on the outskirts of the big city where only magic users and their family could attend the merriment. All Covens were invited to attend with their members, allowing all to interact with those they normally wouldn’t. This event, which only happens every 116 years, was the talk of the taverns. Almost every person was excited to attend the celebration.
Tonight is a night of celebration. Charming. That means a family reunion, one that I certainly don't have much enthusiasm for taking part in. Trust a bastard like my father to ignore everyone and everything, and then show his wrinkled face when there's a function of importance to attend. There was no doubt in my mind that he'd be there, along with my mother. And Isabelle? Perhaps. Although I wouldn't count on it. It would be nice to reunite with my sister, but I wouldn't be surprised if father left her at home. She had very little magical skill, so she was a disappointment to him. A disgrace to the family name, in his eyes.
And yet she loved him. She cared about him far more than I did, in fact. If it weren't for her, I swear I would have killed that arrogant scumbag years ago. No. I need to avoid thoughts like those. They serve as an uncomfortable reminder of the way my thoughts have become slightly more aggressive over the last few years. Just enough to notice. Just enough to worry. No matter, as far as everyone else was concerned I was a star student and a role model. For those who know of my magical prowess, I am a prodigy. The term is used by my sister, and the few acquaintances I have who understand the ways of magic.
I adjust my glasses, straighten my tie, and examine myself in the mirror. Fine. I look like myself. Although I see nothing particularly impressive about my appearance, others often claim to. Lickspittles, most likely. The only thing that I actually deserve praise for is my magical skill. Not that I'd let any of them know that. They can go on thinking I am meticulously proud of my appearance. It suits me that way.
On my way out of my house, I see a small black shape skittering across the ground. My immediate reaction is to jump back, but instead I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes. I concentrate momentarily, and the moisture in the air begins to condense into a small sphere of liquid. Water is everywhere, if you know where to look. One moment, the spider seems to be charging directly toward me, the next, it's drowning. Good. I take a few deep breaths, and calm the shuddering in my body. I put on my signature half-smile, and open the door.
Tobias sighed, pulling his hood low to cover his white, porcelain mask, which in turn hid his eyes behind black mesh. It hid his purple eyes, the sign of the Maleun Curse he carried, and ancient cure that went further back into his ancestry than anyone really knew. Some say even to the dawn of mankind, but those stories always seemed rather ridiculous to him. Whatever the reason, his Curse made it so that he could only take away from the world of magic, unable to give back to it. This made him someone that any coven would gladly destroy. The witches had almost destroyed his bloodline more times than any could count, but some bastard son always popped up somewhere. The few daughters that were taken in by the Council or a coven were usually not allowed to procreate, for fear of another cursed son. Many of the Maleuns took up breeding with human women for this very reason, whether on accident or on purpose. His father had been one of those men.
This night was not a night of celebration for Tobias. This was a night of fear. The increased activity of the witches and their magic made it much more likely for him to be caught, and he had spent the majority of his life avoiding that. He would be executed on the spot if he were found out. With a deep sigh he left his regular human bar in hopes of getting home before the witches were all about, clamoring to get out of the city and to their festival.
Talia paced absentmindedly around her cramped dorm room. Soon she feared, her feet would start wearing through the carpet. At first, she had thought the light touch of the wind had just been her magic acting up again. Yet, there was something unmistakable in the feel of it, like touching a mind. It was certainly an odd sensation, and not one Talia was particularly fond of, but she had to admit the draw it had. Even now, her stomach was in knots and her analytical mind ran possibilities through and through. What would happen if she did go? Would this Council hunt her down? She wondered, feeling the alien word fall clumsily from her mouth, sticking to her tongue It was inviting, not a summoning she argued with herself, yet feeling the itch in her blood willing her to go. Did she even have a choice in the matter? Unlikely.
Then, there was her history to think about. After hiding like cowards for so long, how would a Smith be treated? In all her scenarios, open arms were not present. Talia felt that familiar sensation of a weight resting both on her shoulder and on her heart, if that even made sense. Rio, her familiar had appeared on her shoulder, judging her with a regal head, cocked to the side. After all these years, Talia barely noticed the weak connection Rio created, she was quite thankful for his company. "What do you think, boy?" She inquired, keeping any degrading or mocking tone from boy. She found Rio was not to be considered a pet, but seemed to rather enjoy the nickname. The falcon simply stared back, before twitched his head for a scratch. Talia sighed, diligently raising a hand to stroke the falcon's head gently.
After a few seconds, the falcon stirred again and glided gracefully to perch precariously on the old, yellowing lamp shade. Again, the falcon gazed deeply into Talia's eyes, and she felt that familiar reassurance in her mind. As if someone were guiding her down a path. A path that led to the celebration. "Are you sure?" She asked pointlessly, already knowing the answer. She sighed again and moved to scratch the falcon just behind his shoulder blade, to which the bird shrieked gently in glee. So it was decided, she would have to go and learn more about this odd side to her world, a place that felt strange and familiar all at once. She glanced down at her worn campus attire and smiled gently. "I guess I better go change" she uttered to the bird, but when she raised her head again he had gone.
An hour and a half later, she had changed into a sweet, yet formal dress with a delicate cherry blossom pattern. The skirt was not too short, and flared just enough. The neckline was family friendly, and the torso hugged her tightly in just the right places. Her eyes were adorned with subtle shadow and a gentle winged eyeliner, her lips a pretty rose pink, to match the delicate shade on her cheeks. Her hair had been upgraded from it's usual messy plait, to a slightly more planned messy bun, that sat low at the base of her head. Moving to the door, she opted for a pair of sensibly heeled, black boots. Then, grabbing her handbag as she went, she was on her way to possibly the most important evening of her life.
Last edited by MysticOtaku; 10-20-2016 at 09:38 PM.
This in itself is of course, an oversimplification. The Locke family is always busy. Jeremiah Locke runs the family business. The official family business, that is. The Locke shipping empire, running across the Atlantic from the US to Europe and West Africa, and occasionally down to South America. Aryana Locke runs the other family business. The Locke Artificiary, that is.
But they weren't busy with business, today. Today they were busy preparing their son for the night. Or trying to, at least. Brennan Locke was a descendant of two prominent witches, each a powerhouse in their own right. Jeremiah in Earth, and Aryana in Air, respectfully. And yet, at the age of 19, Brennan had demonstrated absolutely no proficiency in either of these, nor any schools of magic.
Wow. What a loser.
So in an effort to save face, the Lockes were finding a way to make their normal and inefficient son something that passed for magic and worthy of their legacy.
"No." Jeremiah's voice was flat, brusque, and smoky, like a glass of whiskey to the face. Immediately people were at attention and alarmed that someone had the money to throw whiskey around like water. "He can't carry that around because people will want him to demonstrate it."
"You're right." Aryana's voice was calm, but brisk, like being thrown into a pool of frigid water. People were at attention and alarmed because they didn't want to be the next to take a dip. Her English accent was a contrast to her American husbands. "Son, set that aside and try this." She held up a small black box with the Locke crest on one end of it.
"Yeah, okay mom. I mean, yes ma'am." Brennan's voice was normal. Like some guy talking. Some guy who apparently could afford to sass his mother and spend the day studying stupid amounts of lore. He set aside the focus he had been holding and took the box. The box would likely hold a temporary familiar of some kind. Aryana was good at that sort of thing, and the familiar would require no magic on his end whatsoever. This product was designed to teach children the fundamentals. Luckily it hadn't hit the market yet and thus would not give away Brennan's inadequacy.
"Yes. That will do. I'm going to wait in the car." Jeremiah turned on his heel smoothly and strode down the stairs, a solid model of perfection in his Armani suit. He pressed both hands against the grand double doors leading out of their home.
Aryana took a moment to stand in front of Brennan. She was like a breath of fresh air to most, stunning in a grey cashmere Chanel. "Remember to be on your best behavior, today. You'll be the centerpiece, should you find the need to use that little box of yours tonight." She took a moment to adjust Brennan's red tie. It was the only thing he had done himself, and he had tied it in an Eldredge knot. "I don't know why you insist on these silly neck ties. Why can't you wear a bow tie like anyone else?"
"I need to stand out somehow, right?" Brennan managed not to shrug.
"Well that you do." She tugged the tie tight against his collar. "Come. We have places to be. You know what tonight is."
"The Conjunction."
"Yes. An event that only occurs every 116 years. And a wonderful business opportunity. Who knows, maybe you'll show some talent, tonight?" She said. She hadn't meant for it to hurt. Probably.
"That'd be nice, I'm sure."
"Quite. Now let's head after your father. We're heading down to the city."
As magic users rushed though the city, the normally bustling streets seemed darker, almost as if the final candle was blown out by a stray breath. It took many only an hour to get to the outskirts of the city, and arrive at the ten acre vineyard owned by Senator Blackwood, a well-known counselor of the magic counsel. He was kind enough to open his gates for this extravaganza, though if anyone asked, he’d blush and say that it was an honor to have the chance to do so. The vineyard gates were made of black tress, a rare sight to be seen and the crest of his coven.
For those who drove to the event, they were greeted by valet’s who promptly showed the visitors to a hoarse drawn carriage, before going to park the car. It’s a well-known fact that Blackwood came from a long line of prestigious earth magic users, but riding through the tree overhang enforced that fact. As magic users from the surrounding cities came closer to the mansion like home, they were graced by the sounds of music, as well as the feeling of gravity being lightened. Aether users were around, this can be the only explanation of the feeling of being light on one’s own feet.
Once at the mansion, guests were escorted into the colonial home, where they were greeted by thousands of others. It was rare that so many magic users came together so openly, but in times like this, it didn’t seem like the magical world was diminishing. Along with the music and merriment, there was a long row of tables filled with foods from around the world. Each room of the mansion held a different series of rich colors, many of which were different shades of golds. The ballroom, which seemed to be the center of the home, sparkled with gold and white finishing as others interacted.
“All foods, decorations, and gifts are provided by other magic users.” One of the greeters smiled, approaching with a bag for each person. “Drinks, food, and music are in the ballroom,” she paused to point in the room direction. “Upstairs are the shops, where Witches like yourself can sell their wares.” Her fingers briefly went to the stairs. “And outside there are a series of rides and a guided tour of the vineyard. If you need anything, there are guides like myself to help. About midnight all guests will be brought outside to watch the alignment. Have a great time.”
With that, she walked away to greet another group who came in.
The city quieted down, once the rush hour passed, well as quiet as a city that never sleeps is. The usual’s frequented their usual bars, satisfying the loud smoke filled room with more noise of conversation. Most people didn’t bother others, unless they knew them or were particularly drunk that evening, but Tobias did feel the eyes of strangers watching his movements. Even though it’s common for odd things to happen in a city filled with artist, sometimes something different happens that calls for attention, and wearing a mask in this area happened to one of those things. The bartender, a middle aged red head, glanced between the men and Tobias, before telling the small group to mind their own business. She didn’t like fights, and wouldn’t tolerate any bulling, though she didn’t offer any conversation to the man.
As he walked out of the bar, he felt a light pressure against his front, before watching as a young brunet fall to the pavement. The scent of Goat’s Rue touched his nose, as she flailed for something to grasp onto. There was a brief moment of silence from the woman, as she glanced around the area, as if searching for whatever she ran into.
“I’m so terribly sorry,” she breathed, glance up to Tobias. “Are you ok? I do believe that’s the worst accident I’ve been in today.” Her chuckle sounded like bells ringing, as she stood back up. “Now where is that package?” she questioned, glancing around the grounds once again. “My name is Rue Blackwood.” Her fingers absently pressed into Tobai’s gut into what was supposed to be a handshake.
The journey to the Blackwood Estate was tediously uneventful. Of course, there were numerous witches sauntering through the streets with their noses turned to the air, but they were of little interest to me. Why would I care to exchange words with a collection of self-important spellcasters? I had my family for that. Naturally, this celebration would be nothing but meaningless conversation - but I hoped I'd be able to find at least somebody decent to talk to. Someone who didn't bear the surname Von Krowe. Of course, father would haughtily embrace me, and inform me how proud he was of my achievements. I knew he didn't care. He only cares about the honour I would bring to the family name. Still... If that's the way he wanted it, I didn't see the harm in complying. At least for now.
The room I now find myself in is charged and alive, buzzing like a nest of thrice-damned hornets. A greeter approaches me, and I absently smile and nod as I accept a bag. My eyes are elsewhere, searching for the one who sired me. No luck. He'd probably be in the ballroom. Marvelous. After exchanging a few more polite words with the greeter I ensure that my smile is effectively plastered on my face, and stride toward the ballroom door. The esteemed and mighty Albrecht Von Krowe will be expecting my presence, and who am I to deny his excellency?
The sound of music and incessant chatter is setting my teeth on edge. Around me are tables piled with the most decadent foods one could imagine. Well, I suppose I might as well make the best of a bad situation. I help myself to a chocolate eclair, and exchange words with a young woman who stole a few glances in my direction. She is attractive enough, in her own girlish manner, but any charms she might possess are wasted on me. Still, there isn't any point in me being impolite - so I humour her for awhile.
After a short while there is still no sign of my father, nor anybody else in my family. My body starts to relax. I realise suddenly that I had been quite tense. My right hand is even trembling slightly. I quietly laugh at myself, and take a few moments to gain my composure. Why should I care what he thinks? My smile broadens slightly. Of course I don't care - what an absurd notion. Well... I suppose there must be somebody interesting to strike up conversation with. I pour myself a drink. Sparkling grape juice. Now I scan the crowd, looking for anyone who might attract my interest.
Last edited by Evening Rain; 10-21-2016 at 09:25 PM.
Much the same as the others, the Lockes would finish their ride in by horse drawn carriage. Because for some reason, riding in luxury in the Benz was less cool than the smelly weird poop machines. But hey, Brennan didn't write the rules of witch etiquette. If he had, horses wouldn't have been involved at all.
Their carriage rocked to a halt, and the caller announced their presence. "Monsieur Jeremiah Locke, and his wife and son, Aryana and Brennan."
"Try not to embarrass us," Jeremiah said. He exited the carriage with a wide grin and extended his arm for his wife.
"Come on, then. We've places to be seen." Aryana looped her arm in with her husbands and they made their way down to mingle with the crowds.
Brennan grimaced to himself, and checked his coat pocket. The box was still sitting there. It felt heavy. Like unwanted responsibilities. He wondered if he just sat really still inside the carriage, it would leave with him? No, best not to risk the scorn of his parents any further. He sighed and stepped out of the carriage. Bright lights and delicious smells immediately assaulted his senses. He hated it.
Talia's journey to the event was, in a word: human. She took a fast train to the outskirts of the city, catching a taxi at the station. The mundane taxi driver looked up only for a moment, when Talia mentioned her destination, to give that typical scoff of blatant jealousy hidden behind distaste. She was booted rather unceremoniously from the cab a good 10 minute walk from the manor gates, and spent at least 8 minutes of it grumbling to herself. As the manor came into view though, she was stunned into silence. People of all shapes, sizes and background, whom she could only assume to be witches, flowed through the gates.
Churning like a human sea, Talia felt gently mystified by the movement. Losing herself, she could have sworn she felt a slight pull behind her belly towards the group. She paused for a moment, gazing to her right and fully expecting Rio to be perched on her shoulder. Instead, she was met with the view of a damp hedge. No bird. Could she be drawn to the magic in these people? Talia's feet seemed to lead her towards the gates, all of her attention focused on the view. Drawn along by the crowd, she was snapped back to reality by the harsh words of a stout, grizzly witch "Close your mouth girl, honestly you'd think you were fishing for flies!" Talia snapped her lips shut obediently, flushing bright red beneath her powdered face. As Talia was forced forward again, she felt herself reaching steps leading to a magnificent horse-drawn carriage. The wonder soon faded as she was crammed in beside the stout old witch, a stunted man that appeared to be her husband and a wannabe royalist gentlemen, so arrogant that if he held his head any higher he would start to float.
Talia stared down at her feet, or what she could see of them poking out beneath the old witches skirts. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the beautiful estate roll past, marvelling in the sheer... magic of the place. When the carriage finally came to rest right outside the manor doors, Talia couldn't get out quick enough. After being practically thrown back into her chair by the snobby gentleman however, she descended the steps more cautiously. Outside, magic seemed to tug at her very heart. A flutter would send her gaze in one direction, then the next her head swinging gently about as she took everything in. Then a wave came, and she was drifting into the manor. A bright and cheery greeter captured her attention, handing her a small parcel. Talia nodded dumbly to everything he said, barely managing to mumble a thank you as she was forced ahead. Not daring to embarrass herself with any of the odd things likely to be hiding in the party favour, she quickly stowed the whole parcel in her bag.
Now what? She thought desperately, her pet hate habit of biting her lips reminded her just how awful her lipstick tasted. Delving into her bag to restore her makeup, Talia moved to closest wall which took a ridiculously long amount of time. The feeling of something solid behind her was reassuring, and with freshly rouged lips she felt confident enough to venture towards the refreshments. Once there, her courage betrayed her and she opted for what she hoped was a plain glass of water. Feeling the delicate, quality glass between her fingers where flimsy plastic often was pushed her just beyond her comfort zone, and she scurried back to rest against the wall.
Closer inspection revealed the water to be just water and she began to calm herself down. She had hoped, stupidly, that her parents may be here. Straight away, she knew this would not be the case, from the way most of the witches held themselves she knew her parents showing up her would be social suicide. Sighing gently, she resolved to take things step by step, and for now just watch and try to learn from other, more established, witches just how one behaves at such an event. Already she felt so alien and completely out of her depth, as if she had been sent to explore some exotic new continent with nothing but a deep feeling in her gut screaming Go home! She hadn't intended it, but before she could stop herself Rio had appeared at her shoulder. The appearance of his elegant, amber eye meeting hers was enough for her to jump, quite literally, and drop her glass of water which, thankfully, bounced off the carpet with a gentle, dull thud still in one piece.
Feeling his weight alter, she clamped a hand down on his dexterous feet to keep him grounded, while kneeling down to retrieve the glass. "Don't even think about it" She muttered, it came off harsh but Talia knew Rio could feel her anxiety. With a gentle bow of his head, Rio folded his wings in tightly, shuffling to make a point I'll get comfortable then Talia returned the head bow in gratitude, without speaking as she didn't want to come off as anymore pathetic and weird. Standing up straight, Talia gripped the glass gently and did her best to blend in with the wall hoping dearly that no-one had noticed. Unlikely she thought, a bashful smile tweaking her lips.
Last edited by MysticOtaku; 10-21-2016 at 10:23 PM.
It's barely been thirty seconds before a newcomer catches my eye. She looks... Out of place. With large blue-grey eyes and a shy naivety to her. She looks nervous, but not unhappy. She really should do a better job of masking her fear. Well, at least she isn't a pompous ass like the rest of them. I somehow doubt she'll be treated particularly well by some of the more senior witches. If not for the hawk perched elegantly on her shoulder I'd doubt she were a witch at all. She strikes me as the sort of absentminded girl who might wander into a place like this quite on accident, and then after realising that she wasn't dreaming - do her best to not stick out.
And now she had dropped her cup. I smile to myself as she presses against the back wall, and decide I'd better introduce myself. I'm surprised she's made it this far without being eaten alive by one of the "nobility". I navigate the crowd with ease, stopping briefly to exchange words with a few other guests. Socialising is a game. If you can convince the person you're interacting with that you enjoy their company, you are the winner. And of course my faithful little familiar hasn't decided to grace me with her presence. She dislikes crowds too.
I incline my head to the girl as I approach her. Her hair is blonde, although a darker shade than mine. I smile, making myself appear as relaxed and casual as possible. I imagine she'd be intimidated by the sort of acting that would impress the nobility. "Hey there. I couldn't help but notice you spilled some water. Do you need a hand?" I catch myself. "Ah, forgive me - where are my manners? My name's Alex." I extend my hand.
[M]Decay of Magic[IC]
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