Beneath Truth is Magic

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by alint, Jan 10, 2016.

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    • A 1x1 between abalint and Shabriri.

      Let's just say something happens at the theatre.

    • abalint: Chavatangakwunua Everett Undergrove

    #1 alint, Jan 10, 2016
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 4, 2016
  1. Everett wasn't sure what he was looking for when he arrived in England, all he knew was that he loved being on solid ground again. With a small bag in hand, Everett walked through the streets of London and looked out for places to rest for the night. It wasn't that late, but Everett needed somewhere to rest. He pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and looked around for street names. He had no idea where he was going, but he did know that he had an aunt somewhere in the city who was willing to help him get situated in London. Thankfully, his father was still on speaking terms with her...better than his mother, who had cut him off completely.

    As he made his way through the streets, he eventually found a street that he recognized. There he found a police station and a map. It was after dark when he finally found his aunt's house. She was a nice woman of 32. Age hadn't done much to her looks. If Everett had to guess he'd say she was in her mid-twenties. With a slim figure and a bright smile, Aunt Roe was warm and welcoming. She started a bath for Everett and showed him the guest room. It didn't take long for him to find the bed and sleep. When he awoke the next day it was long past dawn.

    Everett got up and went through his bag. He only had one change of clothes and they weren't much better than the almost rags he had on. It was obvious that he didn't come from money, but that didn't bother him. Within the bag was a small leather pouch that held his valuables. His mother made it for him when he was young. It was something that he treasured. With the pouch tied to his person and his new change of clothes, Everett went on the hunt for a job. He went into the streets looking for anything that wouldn't be too physically strenuous. At first there was nothing that he could see himself doing.

    He was walking along a street under the evening glow when a shop caught his eye. It was rather flashy in its own right, but something more was talking to him. When he went inside to see what it was about, he found himself looking at some sort of thief-taking business. But this wasn't your average individual thief-taking business, rather it was something more than that. As he got further into the building he called out for anyone to answer. When someone did, Everett was rather surprised. It was a Hungarian man who answered his call. With full mutton chops and a healthy accent, the man introduced himself as Ignatius Paul Pollaky. Everett introduced himself as he asked if there was a job available. Sadly, Pollaky was actually retiring and was moving his stuff out of the shop. Pollaky was in a good mood and pulled out a chess board and pieces. Then the two sat and played a game. Pollaky eventually won, but not without a fight. With a smile on his face, Pollaky asked if there was anything he could do for Everett.

    At first Everett wasn't sure what to say. Finally, Everett said, "I just arrived to London from America and am dire need of a job. Could you assist me?" His request was ernest, which made Pollaky think for a moment. Everett was afraid Pollaky would tell him to move on, but instead, the man made him a deal. Everett could have the place as long as he worked as a private investigator. It appeared that Pollaky was rather fearful of what may become of London in his absence and wished someone would continue where he left off. Going further in depth with this deal, Pollaky offered his assistance and guidance for the years to come. Everett took the deal and made his own practice in that small building.

    Four Years Later

    Everett was seeing very little work. He took whatever jobs he could get which included a robbery, spying on an employee and finding a runaway. Nothing exciting had come his way in a while. The upside was that he could do more research into English magic. Already he found an old castor on Birdcage Walk. They talked for hours when both had the time. Everett had learned more Latin to fuel his castings while his own native Hopi took sideline. While his castings essentially worked the same way, wether he use Latin or Hopi, they had different effects, especially since the literal translations were different. This made learning so exciting for Everett. Sometimes he'd spend hours in his small office just making up spells and learning different phrases. Old James even suggested the Olde English language as a source of power.

    All of these languages held power within them, especially since they were spoken in the days of magic. As his castings became more powerful, Everett stopped using Hopi completely; these castings were too powerful for what he normally needed. Instead, he used Latin or Olde English to fuel his castings. Old James also told Everett about Eva who lived on Camwath Road. She was a powerful castor who had access to herbs and magical items, which she usually sold for a steep price. Despite her business personality, she was more than happy to help Everett when ever he needed advice. She was well versed in the Olde English incantations. She was the one who helped him perfect his pronunciation of the phrases and words. These castings and his magical abilities came in handy for many of his jobs. While he didn't use his powers foolishly, he used them frequently.

    Lately, he hasn't had the need to use his magic on anyone. It was rather disheartening when he couldn't find a reason to use his powers. As he walked down the streets in the theatre district, he felt a slight pulse of magic and turned around. Looking around hesitantly, Everett wondered if someone was following him. With his left hand clutching a few leaves of holly, Everett warded himself saying, "praesidio cum ilex" in a hushed voice, before heading in the direction of the magic. At first everything was quiet, then screams pierced the night air.

  2. Looking within the mirror and seeing more than a
    reflection of yourself is a horrid thought. Or not seeing your reflection at all on the brightest of days. Would that mean one does not exist nor hold even the smallest of fragments of themselves? There are many questions in this world that need to be answered but the past nor the present hold any logical answer, or any answer at all. Presently, Queen Elizabeth is the one men idolized over, woman grew jealous of and England as a whole tossed themselves into flames just for her sweet words. Edmund Spenser, a brilliant poet, wrote a poem about our faithful Queen giving her the name "Faerie Queene". Strangely fitting for someone who supposedly grants wishes. Yet, she held no true answers either. 'Oh Faerie Queene, are you the reason for this horrid disaster? One could only wonder with a name like that, one so magical...'

    Upon sitting on a velvet chair made specifically for a well-known being, a woman of the creative arts, chattering could be heard past the walls. Her chambers decorated in calming darkness with only a candle to give her proper light, aging brown hair fell to the ground like a river of ashen waves. The woman slowly brushed her long waves of hair as she stared at herself in a dresser mirror. Her reflection distorted, unrealistic and fearsome, one that only herself could see. A body inflamed in a bright scarlet like that of a Cardinal Lobelia, or worse, that of Hell's flames. Fueled by sorrow, anger, and self hate. Staring blankly as if this was nothing new, she lived with it for so long. Long lived the sorrow. As she put down the wooden, hand made brush; the woman let out a soft sigh and touched the left eye. Slowly running her fingers along some creases, the rough feeling of this specific area, damaged. Everyday, she hoped this was a horrible dream but it's been seven years too long.

    A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts, three small hits upon her wooden door.
    "M'Lady, are you ready for me to do your hair now?"

    The voice of a young woman, intimidated and cautious. It was almost humorous. Staring towards a bright crimson mask decorated with long, unique feathers and the golden designs captured from Venice; the woman slowly grabbed for it placing it on her face. Staring at herself as the mask was placed, hiding all that was wrong and giving her a new image that made men gasp in astonishment. 'She's like a burning, passionate flame of love.' One once said to her. Silence was her response. The mask covered her whole face revealing nothing other than the color of her eyes. Golden Hazels piercing through the dark, like the center of life of a flame.

    "Come in..." The woman said suddenly.

    As the young woman stepped in through the door, the mask tightened around the other woman's head. Making sure it was secure, she placed down her arms and watched in the mirror as her hair begun to shift in style. Pinning up the long waves took nearly an hour, but thanks the young woman's talent they were able to accomplish this sooner and still look as elegant. During the hair styling, the young woman never dared to say too much to the woman, only what was needed. Many feared her and not because of the way she acted towards other. The world was judging by appearance, this she knew far too well. At first, she thought it was money that made her likable, or perhaps engaging with the community. No. It was the looks, of course, how could she have been so foolish. As the young woman finished up her hair, another knock came from outside. Though no one spoke, it signified their time to proceed to the view of the town. Like a broken doll on display in the toy workshop's window. One that sang and played but never made any friends.

    Crimson silk that matched her mask, rustled as she stood from her chair. The elegant fluff shimmer like fresh blood in the night, swaying with each step, dragging slowly behind her. Opening the door, the young woman followed out and quickly turned the other way down a hall. Now it was just her, the escort, and the mysterious violin. The man was in a dark tailed coat guiding her down the hall and into the lights of fame, he stopped at the edge letting her to step out and take a seat on her own. White wooden boards, and bright chandelier lights guided her to a simple chair on stage. Next to the chair sat a black piano with a man waiting patiently. As she sat down, the lights dimmed and the crowd grew silent. Taking a deep breath, she begun to play without any instructions and the man on the piano followed.

    Closing her eyes, she imagined there was no one else in the room other than her and piano's master. Each note carried softly, like a gentle breeze guiding a leaf to it's resting place. As the song carried on for a few minuets, guiding this leaf around the room, her body grew warm and the hands ached. Three minuets passing and the leaf fell upon a woman in the front row, the notes of the violin picked up rapidly. The violinist could here chattering where the leaf fell but refused to open her eyes and continued playing. Fighting back each moment of curiosity with a more aggressive note, playing until the warmth of her body became a smoldering heat wave. The disturbance was broken as screams broke loose throughout the room, the violinist stood looking down with her violin in hand. Where the leaf fell, the flames grew as the woman combusted into flames screaming for her dear life. Some tried to help her, but the flames spread and most ran. One could not help but to watch the woman burn as if tranced by her emotions.

    "Sophia!" A man cried out from behind the velvet curtains, reaching out for her hand in the distance.

    The violinist, Sophia, ran towards the man grabbing his hand and quickly followed him out through the back exit. Running like children, they quickly busted out through the back with other cast members following behind them. The crowd of the panic grew, firemen arrived, police shouted, and the two of them were quickly separated. Gasping in fear, she was alone and could not find the man. He saved her, but left her. That is how it always was. Sophia attempted to push through the crowd, not to find the man but to run away. Run home and never look at a theater again, but she had not much of a choice. Upon pushing through the crowd like a fish pushing against the current, shoulders bumped with man in particular causing her to glance towards the person. Golden hazel met the man's but continued to rush off heading out of the crowd into the night, down an alleyway. She did not stop to look back, and continued to run in and out of connected ally paths eventually collapsing to her knees heaving.

    The violin fell to the ground shimmering as if staring right at her. It was damp, but not extremely cold. Nothing she was afraid of. Leaning on the stone wall, she attempted to ease her breathing but the echos of city rats in the distance made it difficult to hear herself. Touching the mask that was still secured on her face, she paused for a moment wishing to remove it so she could breath better but hesitated. Instead, she removed her hand and looked up towards the night sky. How beautiful it was, yet so deadly. Is this how Sophia was? No, she would never be beautiful....
    #3 Shabriri, Jan 11, 2016
    Last edited: Jan 11, 2016
  3. The pulse of the magic spread through the ground and shook him to the very core. While it wasn't extremely powerful magic, it was strong. Unlike magic from another being, which had a distinct accent specific to the castor, this magic was bland. Like a blanket of white snow; nothing spectacular, just crushing. As Everett made his way towards the theatre where the magic originated, screams of people erupted. Caught off guard, Everett hesitated before closing his eyes and concentrating. It wasn't difficult to pinpoint the source of the magic, but something was off. There was an interference in the pulse wave and the aftershock. Despite the interference, Everett was able to feel the magic's power.

    At first it was warm and welcoming, but it quickly turned into a searing pain that touched every nerve in his body. Clenching his teeth, Everett kept from screaming out in pain. With his mind clear, Everett attempted to trace the magic as it moved. Obviously, it came from an artifact. Everett looked around for any sign of the object. Like all magical objects it'd have a shimmer to it that only those with magic or those touched by magic could recognize. In the chaos of the crowd, Everett caught a glimpse of the item, a violin, as well as its holder. Her hazel eyes met his own. Everett saw fear within those beautiful eyes. He tried to hold her gaze for a moment longer, but she disappeared into the crowd. Everett kept his eye on the girl for as long as he could before getting swept away by the crowd. There was talk of explosions and fire and someone dying. The numerous different voices made it hard for Everett to listen to one specific account. With the girl out of sights, Everett had to resort to a finding spell. He ran with the crowd until he could find a safe place to cast.

    Everett slipped into one of the narrow back streets as the rest of the crowd hurried towards the larger open streets. Knowing that he needed a strong spell to find the girl, Everett pulled out a blade. He cut his right palm and placed it on the cobble stone saying, "ábeþecian mid ærning". Beside him a ghostly figure appeared beside him. Dressed in ancient flowing garbs similar to those of ancient Greece, the being eyed Everett. Everett didn't acknowledge the being, instead letting his blood fuel the magic. Soon Everett was able to sense the violin and its wielder. The artifact pulsed which gave away its location.

    With a pep in his step, Everett found his way to the violin. It really wasn't hard since he had the tracking spell. Thankfully, Everett was able to confine the spell to only himself, so no one else could feel the subtle pulse. A light sweat had appeared on his forehead and beaded in the dim moon light. His hair was damp as well, but not from sweat, instead from a light mist that began. His simple suit absorbed light, yet reflected the magic within Everett's body. While slight, the aura around him was a deep forest green. This happened when he used magic in the rain. At this moment it was obvious that he was a castor. Good thing no one was around.

    He turned the corner to see the young woman collapsed on the ground along with the violin. He looked down at her for a moment before taking a knee himself. "Hello my name is Everett Undergrove," Everett said in a soft voice, "do you need any help?" With a friendly smile, Everett offered a hand to the young woman. He paused to give her a minute to compose her herself before asking, "What happened back there? I can't seem to find a concrete story." Everett didn't want to scare the girl since she was probably unable to control the magic that she held. Too bad something bad had come about it. By now Everett knew the police were on the scene asking questions and suspecting magic. This would probably lead to a serious investigation that Everett didn't want to get involved in. Despite that, he still wanted to help the girl, who seemed a bit lost.
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