Basic Witches

M

Midnightbackup

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The Sea Witch surveys the beach. Sea foam rushes forward and churns, crabs in rock pools scuttle. Seagulls cry out, flying overhead in tight circles, watching over the figure on the sands. A lighthouse sits far away on the horizon. She picks up a cuttlefish bone and examines it, before pocketing it with a brief thanks to the shoreline. Her eyes are grey stormclouds, her breath is ocean mist.
Far away, a spade spears the earth. The Garden Witch wipes her brow. Her hands pat the soil down. Her flower bed is in full blossom, her herb garden strong and hardy. No insects will eat away the leaves of her plants, no animals will take the fruit from her trees. Of that she is certain. For the soil is blessed, and the wildlife know her well.

The City Witch walks with her hands in her pockets. She melts into the shadows with ease. Neon signs shine upon her, favouring her outline. Men step out of bars and call out to her, but she only smiles, grits her teeth. In the city, she is always followed, watched in the dark. The patter of rat feet is never far behind.



-hhh I forgot how to do RP threads so bare with me if this is done wrong and also feel free to kill me for the title-
 
The Forest Witch sits leaned against a tree. A squirrel sits in her palm, eating from a pile of nuts in her hand. The noise of birdsong fills her ears, the feel of the cool dirt between her fingers and tree bark against her back soothing her nerves. Sunlight filters through the leaves and bathes her dark skin in warmth. She remains still as the plants around her. Caring for nature, as it cares for her.

The River Witch stands in the fast-flowing waters. Toes wiggling amongst the stones, not feeling the chill. Her sandals lay on the bank, her light blue dress fluttering around her knees. Her face is calm, the waters around her serene. She knows she won't catch a chill; the spirits protect her.

Late in the night, a guitar's hum can be heard echoing through the dark. The Music Witch sits on her bed, strumming a heavy and dark tune. Her voice accompanies it, soft and lilting. The moonlight streams through the window and illuminates her pale face as she stares at the reed diffusers on her desk, the guitar's music filling the room. A perfect accompaniment to the faint smell of night flowers and firewood smoke.
 
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Mako Fletcher waltzes through the doors of the Old Boathouse. Her engineer boots stomp the wooden floors like an announcement. The other patrons; old, grislted fishermen and a few families, hardly turn at the noise. Some glance up at her and smile. The air of the Old Boathouse was always filled with a pleasant murmur, the clatter of plates and cutlery, the scraping of chairs, she noted. It was music to Mako's ears. She sat herself at a table, examining the menu as if she even intended to order anything different to what she usually ordered. The waitress, a pleasant, breezy girl called Emilie, takes her order with a smile and a grimace.
"I don't know how you can stand them, so early in the morning, I mean." She commented, scribbling the order down on a notepad and laughing.
"My grandma always says, kippers do the trick for hangovers. Kippers 'n orange juice." Mako tipped her hands up in a shrug, admitting how kooky it sounded with a soundless resignation.
Emilie chuckled.
"I'll get it over to you in a tick."

Luna waits for that damn Santiago to show up. He's always fashionably late, which is the source of almost all of her frustrations. Wants to tear her hair out just thinking about it. Throw a fit when he shows up and drop him like he's hot. She imagines herself saying with mock disappointment, how unfortunately, someone who couldn't commit themselves to time-keeping was hardly the type she could work with. Now, shoo. But then, she supposed, if she inadvertedly pissed him off, his adoring fans would be on her like vicious dogs.
She had to be lenient. Patient. When you're absconded by fashion journalists whenever you step out of a building, it was probably hard to show up to places on time.
Another thing which was didn't help the smitt she was in, was the location of the meeting. Santiago had picked it, and with a name like The Old Boathouse, she had been expecting a cute, maybe a little kitschy, seaside restaurant. Instead, the place turned out to be a run-down, unattractive little shack, where even the clientele matched its genera aura. Middle-aged men in raincoats and hats circled the counter, conversing in grunts and coarse language. Families sat in sullen silence. Even the waitresses didn't escape her scrutiny. They were far too blunt and chatty for her tastes.
She picked up her phone, scrolled through her social media, and then set it down again. She checked her nails, filed at them absently, fidgeted at her skirt. Her PR girl, some chick with a butch name like Johner, would have loved the place, she thought absently. Right down to the ugly decor and the pungent smell of smoked fish. Would've called it homely, cozy. Spun it another way, like she always did.
 
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Liavetta hadn't been here in a long time. The smell of saltwater messes with her balance, and she keeps a vial of fresh river water on a chain around her neck to keep her in check. Seeing the Old Boathouse now, still in a light blue dress and heels, she feels a familiar nostalgia in the warmth of the building. She wonders why, of all places, the coven has decided to gather here. It hasn't changed much from her childhood. Distantly, she muses over where the other members might be. Would they be nice, or sweet? How many different types would there be? Perhaps there'd be another River Witch, like herself. She could hope.

Aiyana feels very out of place here, so surrounded by blue instead of the soft greens and browns she's so used to. Still, the Old Boathouse is somewhere she's been called to as a result of this online coven she joined. They wanted to do a ritual for the Solstice, and of course, she's longed to be involved in a coven.
As she takes a seat at one of the round tables, crossing one of her legs over the other, she looks around and observes the miniature sanctuary. Its run-down, rustic appearance is oddly appealing in such a strange way. She can pick out the other witches fairly easily; there's a small girl whose hair is a reversed ombre of light blue down to navy, dressed in a blue-white dress that seems to almost float about her knees. There's another girl dressed like a fashionista, and one lady who looks like she belonged here, having a friendly chat with the waitress.
 
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Flo strides into the Old Boathouse after a few minutes outside - she got distracted by the stars again. They're just so beautiful tonight, each one sharply defined and twinkling alongside the wide face of the full moon. She hopes it's a good sign for the meeting to come.
Her mother had been part of a coven, and her grandmother before her. This whole 'online' thing confused them a little, but to Flo it seemed only logical. There were no local covens near her, but she wanted the unity and safety of one, so why not take that desire onto the Internet and make a variety of new friends while at it?
She pauses by the bar to scan the room, looking for the coven. She was going to make a proper effort to look nice tonight but work overran and there was traffic on the way, so she's stuck in her gym leggings and sports bra, paired unconventionally with her black fur coat. Her rich dark skin glows beneath the soft yellow light of the Old Boathouse. Her gaze finds the coven - a group of women around round tables - and she begins to walk over.
 
Aiyana sees the other girl stride into the Old Boathouse and watches her with hazel eyes. She looks like she'd just run out of work, and Aiyana can't help but wonder how busy the girl must be. Or posh, looking at the fur coat. She hopes it's fake fur.
She drums a dark hand on the table, sipping her water as she waits to see if the girl will join her.

Liavetta's noticed the dark-skinned girl at the table. She must be one of the others in the coven! Quickly, she wanders over and takes a seat at the same table, before noticing the other girl walking in. Possibly another member? She waves to her.
 
Flo sees someone wave at her, and offers a slight smile. She's glad that some of the awkwardness has dissolved now she's been noticed, and striding across to the table suddenly seems so much easier.
"Ah. Hi," she says, pausing for a moment with her eyes racing around the table. She slips into an empty seat.
 
Liavetta smiles. "Hi! Are you one of the coven as well?"
Aiyana gives the two girls a glance over. So the blue-haired girl is from the same coven, but hopefully the other girl was too. It wasn't good to let random people know of their existence, not with the current issue surrounding how they were viewed. Even so, she waits to be introduced.
 
Mako raises her head from the table nearby, cursing herself for having placed an order so quickly. There was something stirring in the Old Boathouse, an air of gathering. Her ears pick up the word "coven" amidst the low uttering in the room. She notices the tell tale signs of her fellow witches in her midst suddenly as she surveys the room.
The electric blue hair of one girl, the interesting choice of fashion in another girl, and the open secrecy surrounding them. Another girl comes through the door. She stands up aburptly, her chair scraping over wooden floor in an obnoxious screech. She winces. Could these be the girls from those endless online servers? The binary talk of forming a coven over countless websites? They had to be.
She rubs her face, wipes away the tired remenants of a night spent on open seas, hoping to look less hungover and more enthusiastic.
Mako walks over to the forming group, unsure of what to say. What if she was intruding on a private affair?
"Hi there." She swallows. Her voice comes out low and gritty, and she clears her throat.
"Are you folks with the coven?" She mentally crosses her fingers, hoping she isn't mistaken, hoping she doesn't come off as some fool.
 
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Luna nearly shouts in irritated shock when Johner comes through the doors, as if she'd inadvertently summoned the girl with her thoughts. So it was going to be that kind of morning, was it? Johner takes her sweet time approaching her table. She stops languidly at various picture frames on walls, hovers to admire ugly fishermen figureheads and nautical themed ornaments.
"He ain't coming!" She announces finally, as loud as you please, earning a side eye from the waitress and a couple men at the bar.
Luna hisses, manicured fingernails digging into the side of the table. She picks up her phone in a quick flourish, hellbent on dialing Santiago's number and leaving a nasty voicemail, something along the lines of Santiago you bastard before Johner suddenly appears at her side. A calloused hand gently lowers the phone to the table.
"Ah ah ah," Johner tuts, careful to reign in Luna's monstrous temper.
She had been upset since early morning, after her beloved Guennie hair-dryer had malfunctioned and damn near electrocuted her. Now, with Santiago's unfortunate no-show, her temper seemed at the point of boiling over. Thank heavens for PR girls, Johner thought dimly.
"Wouldn't do that if I were you." Luna was always surprised when Johner read her actions before she even attempted them.

"Santiago showing was out of the question from the start. Came here to tell you the bad news. And, to prevent any rash actions." Johner eyed the pink plastic encasing Luna's phone. She frowned.
"Poor sod was in a limo crash. Plowed right through a shop front."

"Are you kidding me?"
Luna could have laughed. No other living person could have had such a dramatic accident. Then, once she thought about the implications of such an event, she scowled. This would set back their collab for a good bit of time.
"I wish I was, babe. News is all over it. Guy's in critical condition. His wealthy teenage fanbase is threatening collective suicide if he, y'know," Johner shrugs. "Pulls the plug."
Johner always had the most delightful phrasing, Luna thought with a grimace.
"Now, let's get the hell out of here. You have to make a statement to the press within four hours. In the meantime, I've taken the liberty of crafting a Get Well Soon tweet."
"I'm not leaving." Luna said in her regal, deciding voice.
"Why ever not, honeybunch?" Johner said with the air of a disenfranchised jester.
"There's some other people I want to meet here."
"And who would they be?"
"The witches."
 
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Liavetta looks up at the newcomer. Looks like a sailor girl. Her blue eyes widen. A river witch, perhaps? Or a sea witch?
"Yes!" she answers with enthusiasm- perhaps a little too loud, as she draws a few stares. She gives a nervous smile and a little wave, before turning back to the newcomer and sticking her hand out.
"My name's Liavetta! What's yours?"

Nera saunters in, taking a seat across from Luna. The girl looks irritated (big surprise) and her PR girl is there too, hovering about as always. Nera doesn't mind the PR girl. Johner. She could be entertaining, and makes sure neither of them are late to places.
She's quick to pick up context clues from what she can see; Santiago isn't here, which means he won't be showing. Johner's here to break the bad news, and Luna's pissed.
Instead of making any comments, she simply pulls out a nail file, finalising the edges of her jet-black nails. Luna will probably get her to change them in a month or so, as the latest fashion trends go, but overall Nera's allowed to stay with more alternative and darker styles. Luna focuses on the main stuff. Nera's job is to stick with the "alternative guitarist" look, -which of course is done at Luna's discretion- and to weave her magic into her music. It enchants Luna's fans and any who happen to hear it, earning her an ever-growing fanbase.
She notes her coworker's glance over at the table of girls, and overhears "witches." It doesn't take much for her to piece it together, but she doesn't say anything. No point in wasting her words. Instead, she waits to see what Luna says.
 
Luna's summons up a smile at the arrival of Nera. Johner offers an exasperated expression to the guitarist as she waltzes through the doors and sits next to Luna with a nonchalant air.
"Johner, I can see you're conflicted. But Nera said-" Luna pauses to acknowledge her musician, "That there's a few talented folk amongst this coven meetup, and if I get them on my good side we might have more regular little witches on our team." Luna seemed to be relaxing slightly at the idea of having the informational upper hand over Johner. To her, every discussion was a battlefield, something to win strategically. She sunk back into her chair, eyes half-lidded as she took pleasure in explaining to her PR girl just what she planned to do at the Old Boathouse. The ire regarding Santiago's absence was steadily blowing over.
Johner blinked.
"A coven meet up?" More magick? Didn't Luna have all the power and influence she wanted already? Johner recalled the blood witch Luna had recently recruited. All the pints of animal blood she had to send for, the powerful, binding crimson sigils- she shivered. Personally, Johner didn't buy into that stuff, but it felt unnatural all the same.
"Yes, Johner," Luna rolled her eyes, "Keep up. Santiago picked this place because it intersected with a witches gathering. We were all set to plan out some ideas regarding a collab, and then mix with a few of them."
"Right." Johner grunted. She dragged a chair over and sat down across from Nera and Luna.
"Also, I'm starving. Grab one of those waitresses, Johner." Johner moved to flag down a waitress, and when she scarcely noticed her, made a distinctly cad move of snagging at her pinafore.

"Mako." The girl said, matching Liavetta's enthusiasm with her own renewed excitement. "I'm mighty glad I got the right place. And the right people. Here I was thinking I was the only practicing witch in this area!" She laughed, her voice changing from unsure to hearty and warm.
 
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Liavetta responds with a light giggle, her dimples showing as she covers her lips with a pale hand. "No, you're definitely not the only one!" She pulls her hand away to look up at Mako again. "Though I'll admit, I didn't think any others were so close by! I'm a River Witch- what about yourself?"

Nera nods, already tuned in to the conversation a couple of tables away. She's used to listening to two things at once; she normally practises guitar while Luna talks to her, and has mastered the art of listening to Luna's conversations whilst also paying attention to something else. In this case, she's listening to the witches talk. The bright and bubbly girl, Liavetta- a River Witch. She's unsure if it'll help Luna any, but it's something to report all the same.
"Already found a River witch," she says, her voice that low, rich lilt it always is. "The girl in the baby blue dress. With the blue hair that needs re-dying. Is she useful?"
 
"A river witch, hm?" Luna smirked, watching the girl converse animatedly with another presumed witch in a yellow macintosh.
"Maybe. Depends on what she's good for." Luna leant back into her chair, wondering how she could extend her influence through the elements.
Anything that couldn't be capitalized on was of no interest to her.
Johner was conversing in low, muted tones with the waitress, a leery grin on her face. It was good, Luna noted, that she wasn't paying much attention to her and Nera's comments. Johner, despite having a vast understanding of what pissed the public off, and knowing full well how to mend and reconstruct a social image, couldn't comprehend even the most basic levels of magick that were weaved into her business. She saw it as a side project at best, something for her clearly deluded boss to focus on if it meant better results and a wider fanbase. Luna watched the waitress walk away, an uncomfortable look on her face. Johner seemed to have that effect on people. She could be the charm and dazzling personality behind all of Luna's PR stunts and campaigns, but on her own she was unpalatable.
"I've taken the liberty-" There was that constant phrase, "Of ordering the salmon and poached eggs for you, princess, just the way you like it. Considering you haven't had breakfast yet. Poor baby." Luna scowled, disliking Johner's simpering sarcasm, but not enough to say anything about it, comsidering it was so regular. That was how they operated. Johner eyed Nera from her periphery for a moment, feeling awkward at the idea of ordering for her. Luna was easy, if not spectacularly picky, but as long as you memorised her favorite foods things went smoothly enough. However, Johner barely knew Nera. The only thing that connected them together was Luna's love for the occult, and the fact that she was her boss' guitarist.
"Shit. Didn't know what you like. Should have kept the waitress around-" Luna snorted. The whole duration of Johner placing an order, the waitress had looked as if she might turn tail and run off. It was hardly expected of Johner to keep her around long enough for Nera to place her order.
"-Ordered breakfast tea and a muffin on the side. Will that do for you?" Johner's bluntness made sure she hadn't considered Nera's dietry preference.
 
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"I do my practice by the sea. I guess you could call me a sea witch." Mako was surprised upon meeting Liavetta that they were so alike. Of course, rivers and seas were different beasts, but they both relied upon the same element for their magick. She found she had always gotten along with water elementals more than any other practitioners.
"Is it just us? Or are there other folks from the coven chat here?" Mako looked around, wondering if she had read the others wrong and it was just her and Liavetta.
 
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Aiyana waves a hand. "Aiyana. Forest Witch. A pleasure to meet the both of you."
Her forest-green eyes are serene, gentle, as she offers a hand for the other girls to shake.

Nera chuckles softly and nods. "That's fine for me. Thank you, Johner."
No use inconveniencing the waitress any further. She wants to make sure if they are recognised, they won't draw negative reviews.
She overhears the conversation and nods. "A sea witch, and a forest witch, too."
 
Mako steps forward to shake Aiyana's hand, finding the sudden introduction of a third witch surprising, but not unwelcome.
"I'm Mako." She found it necessary to introduce herself again, unsure if the forest witch had been listening in.
"I've never met a forest witch before." She said, hoping to prompt further discussion amidst their trio.

Luna rifles around in her handbag, giving no indication she'd heard. She plucked a stick of lip balm from it, twisting the bottom and applying it to plush lips. After sealing the cap and putting it back in her bag- a ritual Johner had witnessed many times- she turned to Nera with a question on her face.
"Nera. You know about this more than I do. How would one go about utilizing the power of such witches?" She could hardly see the practical use of a sea witch enchanting schools of fish and imbuing them with an urge to buy her latest products.
 
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Flo, having poured herself an iced water from the pitcher on the table, sips it casually and listens to the introductions with interest.
"I'm Flo," she says with a smile. "Cosmic Witch, if we're naming our crafts." She tries to discern the star signs of those around her in her head. Across from her, a window allows the night sky a view inside the Old Boathouse.
 
Liavetta smiles, looking around at her new companions. "We've got a lot of variety!"
Aiyana nods. "Forest witches like myself aren't the most common. We tend to take one forest to ourselves, and overlapping isn't a strong point of ours."

Nera frowns. "Well, when performing at events, the river or sea witch could probably enchant the water served there to make people think it tastes better. Associate it with you, want to see you more, and make them like you more favourably. Forest witch? Not sure. They tend to have a way with animals, and she could probably work that in with you somehow. Perhaps seeing animals like you would portray you in a more likeable light?" She knows the phrase- if animals trust a person, it's more likely for people to trust them too. Simple psychology. "Or if you perform near that environment, she could make it more of a memorable place. Honestly, I'm not too sure how elementalists can assist, but it'd have to be indirect."
 
"Interesting." There seemed some promise with those particular witches, if they could do what Nera claimed they could. She decided a forest witch would be the hardest to win over out of the three types of witches, what with their natural bond with animals. Already more than a few animal rights groups were steadily growing aware of just how many of her products they tested on animals in labaratories. It struck her it would be rather hypocritical if she claimed the cuddly visage of an animal lover, and had a witch who had an inclination for the furry creatures in her employment.
But, if that particular witch wasn't aware of what went on behind the scenes of her booming business, that was a different matter. It was entirely possible she could pull a few strings here and there, and convince them to come aboard her shining enterprise. After all, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. And she'd pay every one of her brood of aquired witches handsomely.
"Another question, if you'll permit it. How would one go about winning this bunch, and any future witches, over?" In the past, to hire a witch, she had appealed to their baser instincts, won them over with money and grand accommodating contracts, but elementals and nature witches were a harder bunch to convince. They were purer in morals somehow, and had a finer-tuned bullshit detector in comparison to witches who practiced purely for their own personal gain.

Johner looked away, bored and already tuning out of the conversation. She instead chose to admire the shapely curves on passing waitresses, and ponder when her breakfast was arriving.
 
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