V
Vaila
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Original poster
In the mid-1600's a ceasefire of sorts was established between our kind and the witches. It wasn't exactly a war, but both sides killed great numbers of the other out of spite, pride and fear, and the list of casualties was becoming unbearably high on both sides. And so a bargain was struck that ensured peace between the coven and the church. But as the years passed, the ceasefire was all but forgotten and slowly witches began to attack humans once more. Not to kill them, but for sport. They found ways around the treaty. Like curses.
The curses varied of course, depending on who the witch was and what they intended to do, but always they would turn their victim's world upside down. And when other humans found out, they would kill their own kind out of fear.
In 1893, the Aldrertree Institute for the Magically Distressed was founded by one such victim. Martin Mayhew. He built it as a hospital of sorts for those humans who have been affected by those of a magical nature. Or at least, it was until it was shut down in 1998, due to a most unfortunate accident. They helped out dozens, if not hundreds, of patients with their ailments whether it was to cure them completely or to just help them to deal with the changes to their lives, or even just to give them a safe place to stay. A.I.M.D helped them all no matter what afflicted them.
But now after an eighteen-year break, the institute has opened again. And perhaps a dozen patients, whether they be new or old, have been invited to receive treatment whether they are forced to turn into an animal or catch on fire whenever they sneeze. And they may not know it yet, but perhaps their curses aren't so bad after all.
James Mayhew had thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. His family had owned the institute, the house and the surrounding grounds for centuries but since James had been a child, it had been empty. There had been an accident when he was around ten years old, almost too young to remember, that had seen nine cursed and two ordinaries injured or worse. His father had been one of them.
His mother and grandfather had refused to talk about it, stating that it had been nothing more than a misunderstanding. But they had had no choice but to close the institute. It had simply been too painful to sit day after day with the people who had caused such pain. James saw it as those in the cursed community being let down, because where else did they have to go? Who else could they turn to for help? The witches? The ordinary humans? Both would turn them away as soon as they had nothing to gain, and the cursed would be treated like freaks. But they weren't. Not to James. They were patients, and like any patients they just needed help.
So he'd written a letter. It was very simple, and very to the point, but revealed enough to know that this was a safe place where they could go to. And then he'd sent one to every cursed lead he could find. Although witches were the problem for most curses, not all witches were evil per se. Every species, every creature on the Earth has both good and evil qualities and witches were no exception. And the witch he'd used to track down members of the cursed community was considered almost good. Expensive, but good.
He hadn't had as many responses as he would have liked, but when people started showing up he knew he'd done the right thing. The house once abandoned was now buzzing with life, and there were plenty of curses to figure out, and patients to help out just like every generation had done since the beginning.
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