Fantasy A Modern Coven (OPEN)

[immutableMirror]

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
______________
​

As a people, witches have two abilities that separate them from normal humans: 1. They have the ability to learn and practice various types of magic. 2. They are born with one or two abilities, allowing them to do things no normal human can. Because of this, witches have been feared and prosecuted throughout almost all of histoy. During the Salem witch trials, the real witches were smart enough not to get caught. They continued to move further and further South, eventually making their way to New Orleans. The wiccan witches there met with the priestesses of voodoo, and some of their practices began to overlap. As more people began to become suspicious of the practitioners, some of the witches (mostly wiccan descendants from Salem) split off to form a coven based on repressing powers.

______________
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and howlet's wing,
______________
​

A council was created, laws put in place, and an academy created to help young witches control their powers. As time went on, some witches created separate academies that focus on honing these powers, creating a society of their own that mostly lives in secret.

______________
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
______________​

However, another group became dissatisfied with the council's ruling, abandoning the laws all together and moving to the bayou, creating a coven of their own in the dark swamps. The witches that didn't join the original societies, mostly practitioners of voodoo, continued to live among society and use their magic.

______________
Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.
______________
​

As the generations go by, things stay the same. Witches are born into covens, or their powers are discovered by a coven, and the witch is recruited. As tensions between these covens rise and fall, the balance of power in this supernatural world continues to shift. One determining factor is the Supreme: a witch who possesses multiple talents and, with proper training, can manifest a near-infinite number. With the rising generation, it's uncertain where this supreme will appear, and how her presence will change the covens.
____________________________________________________________________________

Welcome to our roleplay! For anyone confused: this is a modern-fantasy roleplay about witches and witch covens, inspired mainly by the third season of American Horror Story (i't's totally fine if you haven't seen it!). In this roleplay, you can create a character from any coven, as a part of any generation. Please feel free to also create a character who's not a witch! Just as a note: this roleplay will be dark. It will likely have mature themes (such as swearing, violence, themes of dark magic, etc.)

Please go to our OOC chat (see above) to find the character sheet and submit a character!

Cody by @Beauty_Belle

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Witches (mostly wiccan) who suppress their magic, keep strict laws and rules in place, and use a limited amount of their magic to live in normal society. They have academies disguised as boarding schools to help teach young witches to help suppress their powers.


Council Ranks:
The Council (0/3)
Headmistresses (0/4)
Primaries [Ages 14-18] (1/∞)
Secondaries [Ages 10-13] (0/∞)
Elementaries [Ages 5-9] (0/∞)

[/div] [div class=Accordion2][div class=AccHeading]The Isolationists[/div]

]

Witches who were originally part of the council/academies. They still abide by the laws and work with the council, but they practice magic freely. They have no contact with society.


Isolationist Ranks:
High Mistress (0/1)
Misstresses (0/8)
Witches (0/∞)
Neophytes (0/6)

[/div] [div class=Accordion3][div class=AccHeading]The Assimilators[/div]

The witches (mostly voodoo) who didn't join the councils to begin with. Tension exists between them and the council/isolationists. They practice magic freely, and live among society. Oftentimes their covens are disguised as businesses. Sometimes the witches will hide in plain sight, as fortune tellers or potion makers.


Assimilator Ranks:
High Priestess (R/1)
Junior Priestess (1/3)
Flies (Peacekeepers; Overseers) (1/6)
Witch (0/∞)

[/div]

[div class=Accordion4][div class=AccHeading]The Exiles[/div]

View attachment 500358

Witches who were originally part of the council/academies who have split entirely with it. A small group of witches originally rebuked the laws and fled to make their own coven, practicing magic (Even dark magic) as they saw fit. They live in the bayou, and while no one is certain, there are rumors that their numbers are growing.


Exile Ranks:
Witches (2/10)
Apprentices (0/5)

[/div] Code by @AgWordSmith [/div]

 

[immutableMirror]

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[shadowz1995]

A bodyguard's day always started much earlier than his clients. If you ward was up at 6, you needed to be up at 4. Now, this wasn't needed As Marcus may put it but it was certainly what made him a cut above most protective services. Miss Margot was a bit of an early riser but that was well within his range of expertise.

Marcus had been up far before the crack of dawn and surveying the area around the young ladies domain for any possible threats and to dissuade any from cropping up. Luckily, that never seemed to happen round these parts. At least, nothing a stern, one-eyed glare couldn't take care of.

Once the former military was satisfied with his sweep of the area, he took up his casual position outside Margot's front door.

The man wasn't ready for a war but he certainly looked intimidating enough to deter any would-be scoundrels. Magical or otherwise. Marcus wore professional attire that day. A custom, three piece charcoal grey suit with a navy blue tie that matched the deep blue of his eyes.... or rather eye. The left one was nothing but milky white and scar tissue. Marcus wasn't like most and didn't bother to cover it up with an eyepatch or glasses. In fact, it rather benefitted his line of work... in a way.

When he heard rustling inside and determined it to be harmless in nature, Marcus politely knocked on the door and spoke in his usual gravelly voice, "Miss Montgomery, I'm just outside the door. As usual, if you need anything, just give me a shout."

Marcus was well aware that the young girl didn't trust and neither did the majority of coven but that was fine. The man had always conducted himself formally and professionally ever since his little.....involuntary mind trip. Most, if not all, already realized that Marcus was not an evil or malovelent man. Quiet and hard-headed for sure, but not bad. His conduct certainly proved that over the past few months.

That being said, its not as if Marcus could fault her. She was very young. Nearly three decades younger than he was and he HAD shot her. Brainwashing or not, thats not exactly one gets over so easily. The scar on her shoulder was still fresh.

The bodyguard reached beneath his suit jacket and felt the comfortable grip of his Sig Sauer P226. He had brought two spare magazines which was... honestly overkill for protection detail of an 22 year old witch but Marcus always prided himself in being prepared for anything. He had been put in situations where he wished he had brought spare magazines in the past and since then, has always carried spares when escorting a client.

The man adjusted his black leather gloves and clasped his hands behind his back. His chest was out, his eye(s) stared straight ahead and he carried a stone-like expression that meant nothing but business.

immutableMirror

 

[erzulie]

Name | Babette Duprè
Location | Duprè’s Hair Salon
Tags | None Yet

Her night had been a blur of dancing, drinking, and the sounds of drums being beaten in a furious pace. Babette could remember the beginning of night before as well as they end. Anything between those times were blank. A ceremony had took place the night before in hopes in dealing out justice and punishment. A housewife had come to sought, a rather cherished friend of her mothers, in hopes of taking revenge on her abusive spouse. Babette was more than happy to grant her wish, but with a small fee of course. That had been only three days ago, when she had commanded the woman to bring her anything of value that belonged to her husband. And last night they’d done the ritual.

The swamps had come alive in the night as they lit a fire and began. Babette had been accompanied by some members of her community. She remembered calling upon the Loa, Papa Legba, to ask for permission to content their wanted Loa and after they’d asked for Erzulie Dantor, drawing her Veve onto the ground and offering her a black big in hopes that she would listen. And they danced as the drums were beaten, singing her song. Babette had thrown the momento given to her by the housewife into the fire and an sense of rage washed over her and she was out. She had no idea of how long she had been unconscious, she had woken up to see the ritual coming to an end and the housewife thanking her.

Babette had returned home and refreshed herself with a long shower before going to bed. She was exhausted, being ridden by a Loa was never an easy task. So when morning arrived she was still sound asleep. She had slept in a little later than usual. Her mother and grandmother left her be, knowing why she was so tired. When she did awake up Babette was still tired but awake enough to get on with her day. She had driven to her mother salon, Duprè’s, greeting her usual customers as she went to grab her apron and take in some clients.

Babette thought about the upcoming ball while she installed some adorable braids into a client’s hair. The whole thing was a sham in her eyes, she didn’t see the point in attending when she didn’t like many of the people attending. Though she would admit that she loved to dress up so it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Her grandmother had made a dress for her but she hadn’t gotten a chance to see it yet. Babette had no fears as her grandma had perfected her craft many years ago.

 

[The Forgotten Host]

Rima sat on a pillow placed on a high shelf behind the counter. She gazed gleefully at the crowd of children who eagerly fought their way towards her familiar with knuckles clenching their allowances. There were a few adults wise enough to stay clear from the cascade of youngsters. Mustafa, Rima's demonic ward, patiently handed out treats with a smile on his face. Yesseri, it did not get better than this for her. There was nothing like the smile and laughter of youth to put her in a better mood. A particularly energetic little girl managed to fight her way through the see of young faces. Slamming thirty dollars on the table. Mustafa smiled at the uncommonly affluent youngster "Good Morning, Madame. What can I-"

"I wanna pet your cat!"

Rima's head arched up at the request. That was definitely new one. Mustafa, smiled warmly. "My apologies kiddo, but I'm afraid I can not allow-"

"Do you want my money?" She interjected, with an assertiveness unbecoming of a child.

"Well of course, but I-"

"Then lemme pet your cat!"

Mustafa glanced at Rima who was quite understandably not having any of this. He looked at the child, his smile as warm as ever. "I'm afraid I can't little miss. Rima is only eye dressing, if I let you pet her. That means I have to let everyone pet her."

"So let us pet her." A young boy in the crowd chimed in. The kid next to her nodded eagerly "Yeah, she's the most adorable kitty in town! And you keep her all to yourself. Poor thing is always on the counter top" More and more children were beginning to come into agreement with this initiative and very soon, every child in the store wanted part of the action. The parents did not dare come near their rabid off-springs.

Rima's eye twitched. "Oh dear."

 

[Demifailure]

Silvia moved through the market at a clipped pace, his eyes shifty in a searching way. Two half filled bags hanging from his shoulders, the tall young man took the time to mentally remind himself of the goals of his ever so rare outing.

One, he needed supplies. Supplies for alchemy, supplies for food, etc.

And two, he needed materials to experiment with his talent. It was different than the other supplies he was on the run for, given that what’s he needed was told to him in a vague, nearly kleptomaniac urge.

He’d just know when he’d found what he needed for that endeavor, and he’d accepted that that was just that.

Glancing in silent amusement at the kid crowded candy store, any thought of stopping in was redirected by an insistent burst of vibration at his hip. Eyes rolling, he nodded, continuing on his way.

However, the white haired man was brought to a stall at the front of a nearby jewelry shop, his black eyes flicking over the wares. When his eyes came upon a looping pair of silver earrings, his blood sang in confirmation.

It was with a put upon sigh that Silvia entered. He bet other witches didn’t need to go looking to buy seemingly random shit for their talents to work.

 

[immutableMirror]

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Frankly, she didn't care for him. Even three months after the incident, her eyes lingered on him whenever she turned around. She'd check on him periodically, and her eyes never left his face when he spoke to another witch from the coven. The high priestess had assured her that he could be trusted, but Margot didn't want him to get too comfortable. He annoyed her. She didn't need a bodyguard, and she certainly didn't need a human hanging around her shop. At the very least, he looked mysterious. Though, she thought she filled that role just fine.

As the minutes ticked by, Margot made herself busy in the back room. She went through the feeding routines for her plants, catering to each baby's specific needs. Some needed a specific concoction, some just needed water, each needed a specific amount of sunlight, which wasn't too hard to figure out. She was lucky this shop had a huge glass window that faced the sun. It was tinted to the point that passerby's could only see the elaborate designs of the windows, nothing else. It was perfect. She smiled to herself a bit as she finished with them. As if by magic, Bijou cooed softly from the front room right as she finished her routine.

She laid eyes on the customer as she walked out. Immediately, the young lady standing in front of her seemed a bit taken aback. That was normal. She was dressed in normal clothing for the most part, save for the various tools and trinkets hanging off her belt. It was her work belt, she really did use everything on it. "Yes?" she asked, seeming already bored by this person. Her lack of customer service didn't seem to hinder her ability to draw business. In fact, it seemed to aid her mysterious air.

She listened as the young girl blathered on about how she wanted some guy to pay attention to her. This girl couldn't have been older than 16, and she was already obsessed with the idea of love. It was a childish thing. If it wasn't such a nice morning, she might make her something to give her a nasty headache. However, the air seemed to do something for her soul... Margot was in a good mood. "A love potion, then. It will be ready in a short while. Please, sit. Do not touch anything." The last bit was accentuated with a lifted finger, warning her that she was serious. Then she went to the backroom, crushing up some powders and crystals, brewing liquids, even borrowing a few leaf shavings from her babies. Soon, she had a flask with a pale yellow liquid in it.

"Here you are." It was just a minor thing. The spell would help her confidence, and help her seem more attractive to others. It would wear off in a month or so, enough for the girl to get sick of it. If she wasn't, she could come back for more. After the girl paid and left, she followed her to the door and watched her walk down the street. She looked at the bodyguard once more, then let her eyes wander down the street again, looking at the various shops. [/div] [/div]

 

[shadowz1995]

When the young witch overseer poked her head out of her little magic shack, their eyes met briefly and Marcus nodded at her rather strange comment. It was a nice morning but that is a strange way to say hello.

Then again, what wasn't strange when it came to witches.

When a potential customer walked to the door, Marcus opened the door for the young teen and gave her a polite nod as she stepped in to Margot's shack.

....

Some time had gone by before the lady finally exited looking rather excited with her purchase. The bodyguard's blue hues quickly found the pale yellow liquid she carried and he couldn't help but crack a smile at that. "That's a love potion, right? Sounds about right for a girl her age. In love with the idea of love."

You could say what you want about the man's stubbornness but Marcus was a quick study. He learned every bit of knowledge the coven was willing to part with and learned it quickly. In his three months here, he had seen that particular tonic a fair amount of times.

"Hope it works out for her."

He looked down to see his ward looking up at him with suspicion clear as day in her ire. She turned her gaze straight ahead and Marcus merely chuckled. As cautious and untrusting as the day they had met. While it could wear on the nerves now and then, Marcus couldn't deny he appreciated the honesty. She truly didn't like him and she didn't bother to hide it.

At least he knew from the source.

"I'll be here."

immutableMirror

 

[The Forgotten Host]

Rima was not having a good day. In fact, you might even call it a bad day for her. A crowd of youngsters itching to stroke her soft fur had officially galvanized into a grass roots movement. Even some of the adults had joined the frey as joke. They were surprisingly into it, something that Rima did not find amusing at all. "Oh you rats are finding toad stool in your toothpaste tonight!" Suffice to say, the feline witch's mood had thoroughly been soured; all by a precocious little vixen who wanted to snuggle with her. Mustafa tried to quell the mob as best he could but everything he said was drowned out by the torrent of demands hurled his way.

He would not kill the children. Rima had made that abundantly clear, though that did not stop Mustafa from making the suggestion every two odd minutes. Rima assessed her options. "I try to run, I'll be torn apart. I stay, same thing. What to do, what to do." Her reverie was interrupted by a news van that screeched to a halt in front of the candy shop. "Of course this is news worthy. Mustafa, I'm astral projecting to see if I can get Camille. Maybe she has an out for me. Wake me up if there's a development."

"M-milady, you don't expect me to-"

"TO LATE!" And just like that, Rima's head went limp, prompting the crowd to collectively go "D'AWWWWWWWWWW". Truly, the most instagrammable of predicaments.

"Sir!" A female reporter shoved a microphone in front of Mustafa's face. "We would like to ask you a few questions."

Mustafa's eye twitched.

Shagranoz

 

[Shagranoz]

Camille was in her home, trying to keep up with her morning routine. It wasn't exactly normal- in addition to cooking breakfast and getting dressed, there were offerings of blood and pain for Mazakol, the memory of her sixth birthday party to Kalshazzak, and other ethereal bits and pieces to various demons and spirits. As she sat down to eat, Jikariel put her hand on her shoulder. "Going into town today?"

"Yeah, need to see Margot, get some distilled sunset." At that moment, the ghostly image of a cat appeared in front of them. "Or not. Hello, Rima. Good to see you again." She really needed to figure out how that worked.

The Forgotten Host

 

[eggsaladsandwitch]

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⠀♡coded by uxie♡

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[/div][div class=name]
★ eden ★
[/div][div class=info style=display:none][div class=scroll2]location: margot's store
mood: anxious
mentions: shadowz1995 immutableMirror
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[/div][/div][div class=content][div class=scroll1]
Eden hummed a small tune to herself as she laid out her cards on the table in front of her. She started every day with a self-reading--something that may seem silly for someone who could literally see into the future. Whichever card she picked would dictate her entire day. But she was pretty certain she knew exactly which card it would be. Delicate fingers flipped over her selected card, and, lo and behold, there it was.

Death.

This particular card was one that she had randomly selected every day for the last two weeks, ever since she was reminded of the yearly ball. No matter how she shuffled the deck, it was always Death. The card carried with it the connotations of change, or, specifically, ending, and something about the circumstance didn't seem like the indicated shift would be positive. Her divination powers hadn't been particularly helpful in her ventures to determine what was meant, which just led to greater worry on her behalf. With a sigh, the young witch stood up, going to change out of her dressing gown and into a "functioning human" outfit.

She wasn't one to let her anxieties dictate her life, so Eden was determined to make the most of the day, today and every morning since. She made her way down the stairs, out the door of the boarding school, into the great unknown.

Eventually, her feet carried her to her destination, that is, a potions shop, which she had heard about through whispers throughout academy. She had never been one to use potions, but, her situation was becoming rather unpleasant, and she was open to anything at this point. The ever-present "Death" lingering over her shoulder had her mind running wild, leaving her on edge and unable to sleep at night. While, typically, the girl was excellent at suppressing her negative feelings, she could do little to suppress the dark circles under her eyes, Dark circles that greatly contrasted with her sunny disposition.

So here she was, hoping for some sort of sleeping draught. A bit apprehensively, Eden stepped into the storefront. Her eyes went to the man first--how could they not?--and she sent a polite smile in his direction before approaching the obvious potions master. "Hi!" she greeted, waving a bit. Her hands instinctively when to the strap of her small bag--the one in which she kept her deck, for comfort--as she looked imploringly at the woman in front of her. "I was just wondering if you could maybe brew me up a dreamless sleep potion? Unless, somehow, we've come up with a magical cure for anxiety." While the self-depricating humor was typically an uncomfortable situation, somehow she always made it seem to sound like something charming. She only hoped her typical charisma could keep the line of conversation away from a Council witch going out to buy a sleep potion, especially when this sort of "substance abuse" was typically frowned upon at the academy. Oh well.
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[The True Plague]

Adam Prize murmured something sleepily as he rolled over within the comfort and safety of his bed, using a somewhat thin but comfortable sheet to cover his head. "Noooooo... Five more minutes pleeeeeeease..." If he were more conscious at the moment, he'd probably be a little bit embarrassed. He sounded like a damn child whinging about wanting more sleep before school. A few seconds later, and he practically flung his sheet away as he rushed to stand up, staring aghast at his alarm clock. He's late by a total of... Thirty minutes. Late for what, you might ask? Actually opening his store. Though... Considering he's practically running it alone, he doesn't have a time he has to open it. Just... Rather recommended suggestions. With a rather defeated sigh, he turned off the annoying alarm, and slammed the clock back down onto the nightstand. With a rather graceful turn on his heel, he strode forth to his closet. Thankfully nothing hiding in there for once. Plagus rather enjoyed... Leaving him presents. Sometimes he'd swear, the living rats are better than the dead ones left in his shoes when his familiar got a bit peeved with him.

"Are you talking about meeeee?" A rather scratchy voice asked within Adam's mind, the offending creature finally making an appearance atop the closet door. "You know, I can see your thoughts. Really not useful for keeping your annoyance from me!" A rather rapid cawing started, almost like a cackle.

"I mean... It's thinking of you, but close enough I suppose. So tell me, why didn't you bother to wake me up?" He leaned into the closet, looking over his options. A few casual shirts with flower related jokes or iconography. Hmm... Probably not. As his hand wandered over to one of the more formal button-ups he had, he paused. Well... He kind of needed the more formal outfits for the ball. Wearing one might mean he'd not have enough time to clean it before the ball. He'd rather enjoy making an impression when he finally attended. Only took three years of minor monitoring until he was trusted enough to get invites. Guess that's what you get for joining the Witch equivalent of a cult... Actually, would the Exiles be considered a cult? Hmm...

"Not really, stupid child. What did I ever see in you..." Plagus swooped down, simply yanking out a simple button up shirt. A soft shade of green, almost akin to a newly formed leaf. Next, was a simple pair of jeans. "Just get up and get me to the store! At least I could do something more interesting than hunting rats there! Like play with the few plants you deem safe enough for me to play with!" Like swamp moss, or Adam's hair, because it seemed unnatural. Definitely a plant or something.

"Wow, just... Wow. I see how it is Plagus. Let you live in my home, and this is how you treat me? Be lucky that crow doesn't taste good." Adam huffed, stomping off to his bathroom to change into the somewhat simple but still refined enough for his tastes. A few minutes later, he was ready to take on the day... Or as ready as he could possibly be. With a single, sharp whistle, he lifted his arm and Plagus landed upon it. He simply ignored the persistent tapping against his head. Plagus could sulk all she wanted over this, he had things to do. Such as rushing out of his home, a crow on his shoulder and an apple in his hand. Idly, he waved to the few people out and about walking. Seemed a little thinner than usual... Maybe there was some sort of sale? Oh, or maybe, like most days, they were off to his unofficial competition selling... Potions. Only reason he says competition, is because of the plants. Like, okay, maybe he was a little jealous of the plants. From what he's heard, they're gorgeous. Though when they're brought up, he simply brushes it off as an admiration for plants he didn't grow... Publicly. After all, he ran more of a flower shop, instead of any form of potions. So the more magical plants had to be left in the back, in a section only for those who are authorized. Like himself, or the few witches he meets who don't immediately distrust him...

"Just open the door. You've been staring at the door for like, ten minutes now!" Plagus ruffled her feathers, whacking her partner in the side of the head. Gosh, why must she deal with this idiot?

With an exaggerated sigh, Adam opened the door and freed Plagus from the oh so horrid condition of being on his shoulder. As Plagus flapped away to the ceiling, Adam focused a little bit, eyes closed as he simply basked in the feeling of these simple plants. If someone were to look, they'd perhaps note they were glowing slightly, and he seemed to get a little paler as he used his own life energy to perk up the plants. It made them last so much longer. He'd need to eat a big lunch later... Maybe pizza? Eh, don't know. Details, details, he'll think on that later. For now, he had a shop to run, which means standing around in the hopes someone needs a bouquet or singular flowers that they didn't grow and couldn't just pluck on a jog. A simple sign flip later, and the Prized Flowers shop was open! Truly, an absolutely spectacular performance.

 

[Demifailure]

Bags containing a few half ounces of more jingle to their jangle, Silvia left the store, trying to ponder the significance of the wares. What, did someone die with the things on?

Damnit. That was kind of sad.

His thoughts were distracted, again, by an irritated buzz from his hip.

“Yes, yes, I know where to go.” He didn’t bother touching the knife to mumble the words, but his familiar seemed to get the message regardless, and quieted down.

From his initial curious walks through the city, he remembered a the local shops of import in a vague way.

He was cautious of witches of other covens, but not to any level of dislike.

Silvia looked around with a slight wariness as he entered the flower shop, his eyes resting on the absolutely vibrant flowers, before falling on the shop keeper. “Ah, hello!” He greeted the older man, his eyes already returning to the plants. He had a good stock.

The True Plague

 

[The True Plague]

"Ah. hello good sir!" Adam smiled brightly, brushing himself off in case any dirt from the assorted plants managed to get on him yet. He knew he couldn't prevent it all day, but just opening? He needs to look decent enough. "How might I help you today? Looking for common plants to brighten up your home, or perhaps something more practical?" He carefully placed his hands behind his back, head tilted slightly to the left as he looked at the newcomer. Somewhat plain, in his opinion. Interesting hair, but nothing too noticeable beyond that.

With a mildly soft caw, Plagus dove from the rafters above to fly past Silvia. A simply nod from Plagus later, Adam sighed softly. Plagus was at least useful for detecting traces of magic.

"There are also more... Exotic plants in the back, though I'd advise against handling those if you're not quite trained in taking care of them or making use of them. On a rather important note, any allergies?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "More importantly, any plant related ones? Don't quite want the law on me because of a bad reaction." Yes, he tried to be somewhat responsible. He still remembered the hassle of ordering an ambulance for a woman who waltzed in, and had let him lead her past the lavenders. Which she was allergic to. Like, severely. Wasn't any fun at all. "Anyways, I'm sure whatever you're looking for, I no doubt have it in stock. If I don't, I think I know someone I can recommend."

Demifailure

 

[Demifailure]

Silvia smiled at the reception, blinking at the mauled looking raven as it flew past.

Poor thing. He hoped it wasn’t in pain.

The man turned back to the store keep, nodding quickly. “No allergies, and I know how to take care of them. Not a botonist, but enough alchemy and you get a green thumb.”

His finger touched the edge of a pot, and he nodded slightly. Yes, this would do nicely. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see your exotic selection first.”

His hipped and sheathed familiar was silent and still, which usually meant he was on the right track.
The True Plague

 

[The True Plague]

If Adam knew what Silvia's familiar was, he'd probably ask him to keep it sheathed. He rather took exception to knives around his plants. Rather easy to snag a leaf or petal and hide it away with a knife. "Heh, every alchemist needs at least some knowledge on plant care. Hard to use herbs that rotted away, especially ones that get... Deadlier, the more rotten it gets." A small chuckle left him as he turned around and began to make his way towards the back of the store. "Now, I'll simply ask you follow a simple ruling of see, don't touch. I assure you, I take my exotic plants rather seriously, and am not in the market of lying to my customers. Injured customers tend to not come back, after all." Aww, he cared... Sort of. With an almost practiced ease, he moved his right hand up and pushed on a seemingly random section of the wall. With a little bit of pressure, it swung open into a slightly more humid room, with more wild plant growth. Along the edges of the room, one might notice cauldrons and what could vaguely be considered scientific equipment.

Plagus swooped past once more, before settling down in what could only be described as a nest, if made of small rags and sheets. If someone walked past at the moment, they'd see the store was closed. This section was more of a 1 on 1 sort of buy.

"So, any idea in specific on what you need? I try to grow a bit of everything, and with a bit of dabbling in alchemy and potion brewing, I could probably find you a few plants if you have none specifically in mind." As he spoke, he gently nudged a small vine out of the way, and leaned in close to press a finger to an almost transparent flower. A second later, it turned a deep crimson and he removed his finger with a smile. Some plants are great for security, you know?

Demifailure

 

[Demifailure]

Silvia nodded along amicably, his smile near infectious at the sight of the hidden door. It was like some kind of spy movie!

So, pretty damn cool, in his opinion.

“Oh, I’m fine with that! This is going to be easier if I can just point, anyways.” Eyes tracking over the overgrown hidden room, he took in a deep breath, and listened close to his talent. Usually, he got a sense of what he’d need for the next use, but if he really focused...

Silvia led the store owner through the room, careful not touch anything, pointing a good handful of seemingly completely unrelated plants. Seriously, one moment he picked out a plant meant to help clairvoyance when used in tea, the next choice was a potato shaped root known for its rediculously toxic composition. He even pointed to one of his familiars nest rags!

There was no reasonable combination to be made.

Either he had no idea what he was choosing, or he knew a concoction in alchemy that Adam didn’t. Regardless, Silvia seemed satisfied with his choices.

If he hadn’t been lead astray, this would all be good for a few experiments, and a way to the ball and back.

The True Plague

 

[The Forgotten Host]

"Good morning, deary. How is your- hold that thought." The feline's form flickered out of perception. When she came back, she was ending what was a very heated argument. "-OFF THE COUNTER!!" She turned back to Camille with an innocent smile. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaanyways, I was hoping you and your demon friends could waltz over my- Gimme a sec." She disappeared again for a moment longer than Camille expected, returning noticeably more disheveled. "Dropping the red tape. RABID MOB IN MY SHOP! HEEEEEEEEELP!" Was her identity as a witch outed? Did a war between the covens suddenly break? Did Mustafa come for her soul? Whatever the case, Camille had never seen Rima so distraught. Truly, the most taxing of predicaments for the feline witch.

Shagranoz

 

[The True Plague]

Adam was not one to question his customer's choices. After all, he made sure to let them know that if they've no idea what they're doing, they're better off avoiding the backroom. So, if this person made some deadly concoction to themselves or got injured outside of his store, not his fault. With a gentle whistle, Plagus swooped by and gave him a small pair of scissors. Due to his talent, he could get away with damaging the plants and simply growing them back at the cost of his own energy. With a few precise snips, each pointed out plant was freed, or at least, a reasonable amount of it. It was a little harder to get the nest rag, but in return for a small amount of letting Plagus go out and hunt later, he got the selected rag. "Will that be all? For these, I offer no charge beyond the seeds from the plants if they're not needed, and perhaps what exactly you did. Despite my training, I must admit, I don't see the purpose of all of these together. Individually, sure. Oh, except for the rag. That'll be a dollar."

Plagus, despite the agreement, continued to look a little dejected, gently pecking at the edge of her nest where the rag was taken. She's going to leave a rat in Adam's shoe for that. Oh, and probably tear one of his blankets or something to get a replacement rag. That should teach him!

Adam hummed softly. "Whenever you're ready, please, lead us to the entrance again. Sadly don't keep bags for all of this back here."

Demifailure

 

[eggsaladsandwitch]

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☣ riley ☣
[/div][div class=info style=display:none][div class=scroll2]location: across the street from duprè's
mood: defeated
mentions: erzulie
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[/div][/div][div class=content][div class=scroll1]So, everything was awful.

But what else was new?

Here he was, homeless, wandering through the streets of New Orleans while nervously flicking his Zippo lighter on and off. The nervous tic was irritating, often causing arguments between father and son.

At least that wouldn't be much of an issue anymore.

Absently, he chewed at his thumbnail as he walked with his brows furrowed. All he had to his name were the clothes on his back and a cruddy old backpack, packed with only a handful of dollars and whatever schoolwork had been in it when he had split town. He had come here searching for his own kind, and he had found them... sort of? The witches in the bayou had heard his story and told him to 'wait patiently,' that they would 'find someone to take him on as an apprentice.' When they offered him a play to stay, he refused, not wanting to owe anything to anyone, which was oddly selective, seeing as how he felt like he would owe them anyways for helping him control his... mess.

His stomach rumbled and he sighed as he came to a stop at a bench, resting a foot on it so he could prop open his backpack and see how much money he had left. Sadly, all he managed to find were two crumpled $1 bills and some change, which was concerning. Shit...

An idea came to him--granted a not very smart idea--and he looked around for a good spot. He perched himself in the doorway of an unassuming building, across from a rather fancy hair salon. He'd only managed it a couple of times but, hey, people tipped street performers, even if they were garbage at what they did, right?

Eventually he was crouched in the doorway, juggling what appeared to be balls of fire. A group of kids slowly approached, looks of awe on their face. One of them held a crisp dollar bill in her hand, and she shyly laid it on the ground, as close as she was willing to go to a lanky teen juggling literal fire. Just as he was about to thank her, his concentration slipped and all of the orbs of fire, save for one fizzled out, and the remaining one landed and caught flame on the sleeve of his jacket. He blanched, blinking dumbly at it before he felt the heat on his skin and then suddenly scrambled, waving it in an attempt to put it out. The group of children dispersed, yelling in fear, many of them retreating to the hair salon to their mothers with tears in their eyes.

A few moments later, the flame was put out, the only remnants being the burn mark on his jacket and the smell of burning fabric. Glumly, Riley reached over and grabbed the dollar the little girl had tipped him, before crunching it up in his hand. Both of his hands raised up to his face as he put his head in his hands, feeling both defeated and frustrated, but most of all, willing himself to not get too upset. When he gave himself into his anger, bad things tended to happen.
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[Demifailure]

Silvia nodded amicably, handing over the dollar once they’d left the secret room. That’s was a damn good deal.

“Well, to make a long explanation short, my talent has some... Material requirements. It’s kinda ritualistic? I would show you, but...” He hedged off.

He looked around the room, taking in some of the more delicate plants.

“It can be a little unreliable at times, and I wouldn’t want to be the reason you had to replace some of your stock. I’ve become very sick of sea water.” Silvia chuckled ruefully that. There was a reason he didn’t frack open portals inside his house anymore.

The True Plague

 

[The True Plague]

Adam was well aware it was a good deal. However, it was a deal with a purpose. He kind of needs the seeds back so he could continue to grow his stock of the more exotic plants. Not to mention they sometimes made great snacks. With great care, he shut the door behind him, running his hands over the edge to make sure there wasn't any clue that the wall was actually a door. "Well, that much I get. My talent requires there to be some plants around." He smiled politely, eyes wandering his store as he took note of the more delicate plants. "Yeah, that is rather reasonable. I dislike having to regrow and replace my stock as much as you'd hate to be the reason I have to." He rather pointedly ignored the sound of a thump behind the wall. Stupid bird.

Plagus huffed, flapping back to her nest. So rude of Adam to lock her in there... Even if it was where she had wanted to be. Still rude. Oh well, maybe she deserved it. After all, Adam could find out what she was thinking as easily as she could with him.

With an almost practiced ease, Adam reached behind the counter and produced four bags, which were about two more than necessary, but he simply put one inside of another. Much more concealed, and less likely to suddenly rip. "Will that be all for today, or do you also want to pick out some flowers? Hard to go wrong with a beautiful flower to brighten up a place." He casually rested an elbow on the counter, smiling brightly.

Demifailure

 

[erzulie]

Name | Babette Duprè
Location | Across from Duprè’s Hair Salon
Tags | Riley eggsaladsandwitch

Babette had always loved doing hair, it was fun to learn new styles and too see the looks of admiration on her clients’ faces when she was done. Babette chatted with her current client. Duprè’s was always filled with a lively and friendly atmosphere. The older ladies gossiped about things going on around their neighborhoods. Babette listened closely, something her mother had taught her to do. Babette could use that information in a variety of ways, she preferred blackmail personally though. From the corner of her eye she noticed something happened across the street. Babette’s station was the closest to the door and with the clear glass doors she could clearly see what was going on. She paused for a moment, watching the person quite literally play with fire. The children watched in awe, that was until the fire spiraled out of control and sent them running. “I’ll be right back cher.” She said to her client.

Babette was walking out of the door when they children ran in. She took a moment to soothe them. Her mother had swiftly made her way to their mothers before complaints could be made. The familiar bond between the mother and daughter had alerted Adelè of what had gone on. She trusted that her daughter would handle things. Babette walked over to the fire starter. As she got closer she could see that it was a man, he looked around her age and he was quite tall. He wasn’t that bad to look at even with his skinny frame. Babette crossed her arms over her chest as she stood in front of him. “Ain’t never seen you around here before. You’re gonna scary the customers away with your tricks skinny.” She eyed him critically. Babette was more than sure that he was magical. The way he’d controlled the flame was to advanced for any mortal. Babette took note of the backpack he carried. “Which coven did you run away from? I don’t want any mess if they come lookin’ for you.” She narrowed her eyes as she gazed at him.

 

[eggsaladsandwitch]

[div class=container]

⠀♡coded by uxie♡

[div class=sidebar][div class=border1]

[/div][div class=name]
☣ riley ☣
[/div][div class=info style=display:none][div class=scroll2]location: across the street from duprè's
mood: defeated
mentions: erzulie
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[/div][/div][div class=content][div class=scroll1]
Riley looked up at the sound of a voice, blinking up at the woman standing in front of him. She looked sternly at him, and probably untrusting--which was for the best, he assumed. "Sorry," he mumbled, staring sadly at the burnt sleeve of his jacket, feeling a bit too anxious to really look her in they eye while speaking. She was quite beautiful, which only made him more reluctant to glance her way.

He almost laughed at her question, feeling a bit bitter. "Don't worry. I'm an Exile. No one's coming to look for me," he responded, before standing up, shouldering his backpack and pocketing the dollar he had been holding in his hand. His other hand continued to nervously flick his lighter on and off unconsciously. "I'll go," he started, already looking down the street, "So you won't have to worry about losing any business, okay? I just..." he trailed off, his brows furrowing. "Never mind. Sorry." And with that, he shifted his bag, making to leave the street behind and get out of the woman's hair.
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[erzulie]

Name | Babette Duprè
Location | Across from Duprè’s Hair Salon
Tags | Riley eggsaladsandwitch

Babette continue to watch the man before her. She tried to catch his eye but he seemed keen on avoiding her gaze. The young woman seemed to relax once he apologized, but only slightly. Frankly he looked like a kicked puppy with that way he was acting. “Don’t worry about it none, just don’t let it happen again. We don’t like people stirrin’ up trouble around here.” Babette placed a hand on her hip. She was silent for a few moments, just taking in his appearance and feeling for the type of vibe he was giving off. Babette highly doubted that he belonged to the council. They wouldn’t let their coven members openly show their abilities off in such a way and the Isolationist rarely showed their faces at all. That left only one group left or he could simply be a nomad. Babette’s suspicions were confirmed when he spoke once again.

Her family didn’t have any problem with the Exiles despite their penchant for dark magic. Babette was a firm believer in balance and so she accepted both dark and light magic equally. One couldn’t exist without the other after all. When the Exile began toying with the lighter in his hand she raised a brow. “Careful there cher. And an Exile huh? Shouldn’t you be down in the bayou with the rest of them? ” Babette glanced at the lighter for a moment. When he began to be on his way she took a step towards him. “You just what? Finish you sentence.” Babette was equal parts curious and suspicious. She’d never seen him around before and she wondered why he wasn’t with the other Exiles.

Suddenly Babette felt a presence in her head, the bond between her mother and herself was a strong one. As her daughter’s familiar Adelè could talk to her telepathically. “Betty, what’s the hold up over there…?” Babette have her mother a quick run down. “Well then, I see no harm in socializing. It could be worth somethin’ in the future. That boy is all skin and bones...be a dear and offer him some food?” Without another word she cut the link.

Babette sighed, her mother was her usual demanding self. “Hold up there skinny. Let’s get some food in you before you go. My mama thinks that you could use a good meal and fighting her is pointless. She’s like a mule…”