CHAPTER ONE - MAY THE DARKNESS BIND THEM
- SCENE ONE - WHAT LIES AHEAD & WHY YOU'VE BEEN CHOSEN
- SCENE TWO
- SCENE THREE
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CHAPTER ONE - MAY THE DARKNESS BIND THEM
THE SILVER HEART CIRCLE
CHAPTER ONE: MAY THE DARKNESS BIND THEM
CHAPTER ONE: MAY THE DARKNESS BIND THEM
EIGHT MONTHS AGO
PROLOGUE:
The stench of No-Maj machinery clung to the fabric of the city, no matter where you went within it. The poverty stricken neighborhoods smelled like desperation and violence, wealthy ones like greed, lust and deception. The wizard made his way down the boulevard, wand in hand. He held it loosely at his side as he prowled the streets. It was early morning, well past midnight; but no starlight permeated the bright-at-night city. He felt naked without their presence. Still he prowled, searching for something he knew was around.
Dark wizards. Terrorists. Members of the Red Serpent.
There was an attack, twelve hours prior that left seven No-Maj's dead and several fatally injured, including a few of their first responders. One witch lost her life and three MACUSA employees were sent to Saint Mary's Magical Medical Center in Massachusetts. MACUSA was still scrambling around modifying the memories of those who saw what had truly happened. No-Maj's who managed to witness the darkest of what magic had to offer.
And that was only a diversion.
Three states away from the catastrophe caused by the Twins, the real power behind the terror group had reared it's thrice-fanged head and infiltrated a MACUSA-restricted compound. No one lost their lives but the Three Sisters made way with countless of classified documents. What they were searching for eluded him and the entirety of the Magical Congress.
Shadow gripped his wand tighter, some primal instinct flaring within him. He raised his wand as he spun on the spot. In front of him stood a wizard he knew well; ebony skinned and dark eyed, broad of shoulder and stood a few inches taller than his own six-foot-two frame. Shadow's wand however, was still pointed directly between the man's eyes.
"What was the last thing Velle said to the pair of us?" Shadow asked viciously.
The man smirked and rubbed a hand across his salt and pepper goatee. "She told us to stop acting like children."
"And?" Shadow retorted.
"And that we're the last hope of finding what the Three Sisters want."
Shadow grunted in approval and lowered his wand. Not one to beat around the bush, Shade got straight to the point. "What have you learned?"
The ebony skinned man was silent for a moment, his eyes roving up and down the boulevard, catching sight of a pair of No-Maj's crossing the street a few blocks down. The man rubbed his beard in silence until the two were out of sight and they were once again alone. He crossed his arms, looking down his nose slightly as his eyes roved over his face too.
"You ever get any sleep Shadow?"
"Not when there's things to be done." Shadow replied simply. "Tell me what you know."
"MACUSA is saying nothing, officially that is." The man started slowly. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "They already suspect someone is leaking information… And not just to you guys -"
"You mean there's an informant within MACUSA?" Shadow said angrily.
"There's plenty of informants Shade," The man said with a brow raised. "Where do you think you get your information?"
"Enough games," Shadow said simply. "You know I meant them."
Dark eyes bore into his hazel ones before the man spoke again. "Yes, it seems the Red Serpent has infiltrated MACUSA. And no, I don't have any leads as of yet. I come with two warnings Shadow: both MACUSA and the Red Serpent want Silver Heart under control. There are some in MACUSA who say you've grown too bold within the past two years and others think you all ought to be brought in for questioning. From what the Senior Auror's have managed to gather in the past few hours is nothing if not telling. The Sisters stole documents from the Records Vault."
Shadow stared at him in shock, absorbing all the information to memory before opening his mouth to speak.
"They managed to reach the Records Vault?" He choked out, shocked and overcome with annoyance. "MACUSA isn't what it used to be…"
The man nodded his head in agreement, his dark eyes betraying nothing.
"Tell Rhassa to watch his back.... And you - make sure you watch your own." He gave Shadow a small, sad smile before speaking again. "Tell Velle I'll be by this Saturday, I want to see the list of new recruits she's gathered."
"Be careful Harwin, I won't always be there to watch your back."
And with that, both men apparated on the spot, disappearing from the wretched No-Maj city they were duty-bound to protect.
Dark wizards. Terrorists. Members of the Red Serpent.
There was an attack, twelve hours prior that left seven No-Maj's dead and several fatally injured, including a few of their first responders. One witch lost her life and three MACUSA employees were sent to Saint Mary's Magical Medical Center in Massachusetts. MACUSA was still scrambling around modifying the memories of those who saw what had truly happened. No-Maj's who managed to witness the darkest of what magic had to offer.
And that was only a diversion.
Three states away from the catastrophe caused by the Twins, the real power behind the terror group had reared it's thrice-fanged head and infiltrated a MACUSA-restricted compound. No one lost their lives but the Three Sisters made way with countless of classified documents. What they were searching for eluded him and the entirety of the Magical Congress.
Shadow gripped his wand tighter, some primal instinct flaring within him. He raised his wand as he spun on the spot. In front of him stood a wizard he knew well; ebony skinned and dark eyed, broad of shoulder and stood a few inches taller than his own six-foot-two frame. Shadow's wand however, was still pointed directly between the man's eyes.
"What was the last thing Velle said to the pair of us?" Shadow asked viciously.
The man smirked and rubbed a hand across his salt and pepper goatee. "She told us to stop acting like children."
"And?" Shadow retorted.
"And that we're the last hope of finding what the Three Sisters want."
Shadow grunted in approval and lowered his wand. Not one to beat around the bush, Shade got straight to the point. "What have you learned?"
The ebony skinned man was silent for a moment, his eyes roving up and down the boulevard, catching sight of a pair of No-Maj's crossing the street a few blocks down. The man rubbed his beard in silence until the two were out of sight and they were once again alone. He crossed his arms, looking down his nose slightly as his eyes roved over his face too.
"You ever get any sleep Shadow?"
"Not when there's things to be done." Shadow replied simply. "Tell me what you know."
"MACUSA is saying nothing, officially that is." The man started slowly. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "They already suspect someone is leaking information… And not just to you guys -"
"You mean there's an informant within MACUSA?" Shadow said angrily.
"There's plenty of informants Shade," The man said with a brow raised. "Where do you think you get your information?"
"Enough games," Shadow said simply. "You know I meant them."
Dark eyes bore into his hazel ones before the man spoke again. "Yes, it seems the Red Serpent has infiltrated MACUSA. And no, I don't have any leads as of yet. I come with two warnings Shadow: both MACUSA and the Red Serpent want Silver Heart under control. There are some in MACUSA who say you've grown too bold within the past two years and others think you all ought to be brought in for questioning. From what the Senior Auror's have managed to gather in the past few hours is nothing if not telling. The Sisters stole documents from the Records Vault."
Shadow stared at him in shock, absorbing all the information to memory before opening his mouth to speak.
"They managed to reach the Records Vault?" He choked out, shocked and overcome with annoyance. "MACUSA isn't what it used to be…"
The man nodded his head in agreement, his dark eyes betraying nothing.
"Tell Rhassa to watch his back.... And you - make sure you watch your own." He gave Shadow a small, sad smile before speaking again. "Tell Velle I'll be by this Saturday, I want to see the list of new recruits she's gathered."
"Be careful Harwin, I won't always be there to watch your back."
And with that, both men apparated on the spot, disappearing from the wretched No-Maj city they were duty-bound to protect.
CURRENTLY
SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK:
Torin Velle stood beneath the eaves of the Main Office, watching the rain come down in waves. The weather seemed to match her mood; a combination of doom and dread laced with misery. She crossed her arms and set her foot a-tapping. Feeling her wand against her hip gave her a smidgen of hope, something to focus on other than their doom. If MACUSA had caught wind of their plan, they'd surely be arrested. The soft weight against her hip comforted her against her own thoughts. They'd have to catch us first.
"Quit that," A familiar voice said beside her. "I can't stand that damn tapping."
"And I can't stand your tardiness. You said you'd be here twenty minutes ago."
Torin glanced to her side, her eyes drifting across Rhassa's form. He was wet from head to toe, and his long hair, so often tied up, was loose across his shoulders and soaked as well. His native features clashed with his bright green eyes and his square jaw was set tightly. She stopped tapping her foot momentarily, wondering why he was late and why he was covered in rain.
"Why're you soaked?"
"I was with Shadow," Rhassa said vaguely. "He's going to Atlanta to pick up his protegee and then following a lead I gave him."
Torin nodded slowly, absorbing the information quickly.
"Did you send the them?" Velle asked quickly, her foot tapping against the concrete once again.
"Yes, Rheya just sent the last of the invitations." Rhassa replied while looking intently at her stiletto-wearing foot.
"How many did you send?" She asked, remembering the length of the recruitment list.
"All of them." He replied simply. "Now we wait and see who shows up."
Tags: @Elle Joyner @Effervescent @Cloudily @SpaceCowboyEin @Doctor Jax @Folksy @monopoisoner @Mysty @Lulunopia @Kathairein
"Quit that," A familiar voice said beside her. "I can't stand that damn tapping."
"And I can't stand your tardiness. You said you'd be here twenty minutes ago."
Torin glanced to her side, her eyes drifting across Rhassa's form. He was wet from head to toe, and his long hair, so often tied up, was loose across his shoulders and soaked as well. His native features clashed with his bright green eyes and his square jaw was set tightly. She stopped tapping her foot momentarily, wondering why he was late and why he was covered in rain.
"Why're you soaked?"
"I was with Shadow," Rhassa said vaguely. "He's going to Atlanta to pick up his protegee and then following a lead I gave him."
Torin nodded slowly, absorbing the information quickly.
"Did you send the them?" Velle asked quickly, her foot tapping against the concrete once again.
"Yes, Rheya just sent the last of the invitations." Rhassa replied while looking intently at her stiletto-wearing foot.
"How many did you send?" She asked, remembering the length of the recruitment list.
"All of them." He replied simply. "Now we wait and see who shows up."
Tags: @Elle Joyner @Effervescent @Cloudily @SpaceCowboyEin @Doctor Jax @Folksy @monopoisoner @Mysty @Lulunopia @Kathairein
SOMEWHERE IN ATLANTA:
In downtown Atlanta, Shadow apparated to the shabby apartments he had set Jay up in nearly four years ago. It was more than a test, sending him here, and despite his lack of proper education Shadow was surprised at how well he was managing. The two had grown closer than Shade thought they could and Jay, barely more than a street rat when he first found him was becoming a wizard in his own right. He needed a new wand though, one that would meld to his ways and not question him. It was only a matter of time before Shadow broke down and brought him to his good friend Jonkers.
The point of his relocation was in part a test for both him and the unlearned wizard. Shadow had never taught another so much as he had taught Jay; and he was interested as to how his teaching would be executed. Despite being worried in the beginning - and checking in on him every few days - the ex-auror had been pleasantly surprised at how well the kid performed his duties. His task was to clear up the nastier parts of Atlanta and stay safe while doing so. Keep magical influences at bay and try to stay out of No-Maj problems unless in dire circumstances. The kid was doing flawlessly and during his stay, even No-Maj reporters were documenting the change.
Shadow reached out and knocked on the apartment door. It was almost seven in the evening and he could sense his presence within the apartment.
Tags: @Red Thunder
The point of his relocation was in part a test for both him and the unlearned wizard. Shadow had never taught another so much as he had taught Jay; and he was interested as to how his teaching would be executed. Despite being worried in the beginning - and checking in on him every few days - the ex-auror had been pleasantly surprised at how well the kid performed his duties. His task was to clear up the nastier parts of Atlanta and stay safe while doing so. Keep magical influences at bay and try to stay out of No-Maj problems unless in dire circumstances. The kid was doing flawlessly and during his stay, even No-Maj reporters were documenting the change.
Shadow reached out and knocked on the apartment door. It was almost seven in the evening and he could sense his presence within the apartment.
Tags: @Red Thunder
SOMEWHERE ON THE WEST COAST:
[spacer]Hours later….[/spacer]Shadow stalked the western wharf by rooftop; eyes sweeping left and right across the streets then up and down the boardwalk. A tip, from a valuable informant led him to this dreary coast town. Valuable the informant may be, but the tip itself had been quite vague. An inevitable attack, bound to happen this very night, in this very location. Shade huffed out his irritation, his eyes scanning the crowd below. Other than anything suspicious, he had nothing to go on. Nothing else to profile or search for directly. He apparated to the next roof, staying in the shadows as best he could. The wharf was busy despite the oncoming storm, and Shadow felt like raging at the people below. No-Maj's and their lack of safety measures.
It happened simultaneously; an arm raised with wand in hand, and a clap of thunder sounded from across the water. A single drop of rain fell as he raised his wand and apparated at the same time. Down on the wharf, where No-Maj's gathered thickly, he was barely seen as he reappeared behind a map of the surrounding location. Now that he was level with the wizard - witch - he could see her more clearly. Though her wand was aloft, her arm trembled like the grey dress she wore. The wind blew and Shadow uttered, "Expelliarmus!" before running the length that stood between them. He shouldered aside No-Maj's, not caring what they'd think or what they might see. He only had eyes for the bleach blonde in the woolen dress; a terrorist bent on killing.
Tags: @devil's 4DV0C473
TANSY BLACKWOOD
In the twilit forest, Tansy Blackwood made camp for the night. After casting protection charms around the woody campsite, she extracted her hand-me-down tent from her pack and waved her wand to erect it. Darkness grew and with it, starlight. In less than two heartbeats her home-on-the-go was ready for habitation. Climbing through the tent flap, Tansy breathed in deep, a smile caressing her lips. Her home smelled of everything she loved: the aroma of her potted honeysuckle drifting from the corner of the room, the last of her father's gumbo simmering on the stove, and the remnants of her morning fire.
She kicked off her boots and threw her scarf across the driftwood rack by the entrance. Placing her pack on the table gingerly, she waved her wand at the hearth and instantly a blazing fire blossomed to life. Taking a moment to freshen up, Tansy grabbed a bowl from the cupboards and ladled the rest of the gumbo into it. Flavor burst forth and she was momentarily transported back to her childhood home, to the swamps that she missed oh so much. When she was done, she waved her wand at the bowl and the pot, cleaning them with a simple scourgify.
Curling up on the futon, tired from a long day of curse-breaking, Tansy dozed underneath a pile of knitted blankets. The hearth crackled and hissed and candlelight danced across the rough fabric of the tent. An owl hooted outside her tent and the familiar sounds of nighttime insects rose. In the midst of falling asleep, Tansy woke to a sudden clap of thunder and a blast of wind inside her tent. The fire hissed and fed on the logs hungrily while a pile of parchment scattered into the air, drifting lazily back to the ground. Tansy glanced around in bewilderment.
A feather, un-kin to any she had seen before, fell slowly from the center of her tent. Attached to it was a tiny scroll of parchment. Tansy leaped up and almost crashed into her table as her feet got tangled in the blankets. Once out of their warm grasp, Tansy snatched both feather and parchment out of the air and glanced at it curiously. Who would send her a post in such an odd way? And what was that clap of thunder before it appeared? Walking to the entrance of her tent, she bent and peered outside. Nothing was out of the ordinary, except the lack of insect chirping. Attributing it to the thunder, Tansy sat back down upon the futon, recovered herself with blankets and stared at the scroll in wonder. Tansy unrolled it a heartbeat later, setting the feather down gently as she began reading it's content.
"The Silver Heart Circle invites you to attend an orientation in three days time. Further information regarding SHC and employment will be given at 7743 W. Highland Circle, NY, NY."
Still riding the wave of bewilderment, Tansy stared at the parchment, wondering what the Silver Heart Circle, if indeed they were real, would be doing inviting her. Rereading the post several more times, Tansy couldn't help but feel… hopeful? Something stirred deep within her and she knew, no matter where it might lead, that Tansy would be at that location in three days time.
silver
Welcome to SHC! Players will receive their letters just as Tansy did: with a small clap of thunder and a whirl of wind. (Note: only two players will not receive a note and they have been tagged elsewhere in this first post.) With it, a small tail feather from Rhassa's thunderbird Rheya, and a small piece of rolled parchment. Written upon it in a loopy hand says:
Feel free to post and introduce your characters. In the end all characters should congregate at SHC's Main Office in New York where they'll receive further instructions from The Silver Heart Circle. Inside they'll be greeted by a friendly, nondescript witch who'll send them to a waiting room past a set of ancient-looking double doors. It's worth noting that there's a set of eyes inlaid upon them - they don't move, but they seem to follow your every move. The doors will reveal a well furnished room with an abundant amount of armchairs.
"The Silver Heart Circle invites you to attend an orientation in three days time. Further information regarding SHC and employment will be given at 7743 W. Highland Circle, NY, NY."
Feel free to post and introduce your characters. In the end all characters should congregate at SHC's Main Office in New York where they'll receive further instructions from The Silver Heart Circle. Inside they'll be greeted by a friendly, nondescript witch who'll send them to a waiting room past a set of ancient-looking double doors. It's worth noting that there's a set of eyes inlaid upon them - they don't move, but they seem to follow your every move. The doors will reveal a well furnished room with an abundant amount of armchairs.
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Guest
Liv stood on the precipice and stared down into the endless void below. For once in his meager life, the teen had strived to finally peel himself from the backdrop and become the center of attention. He was offered a chance to give meaning to his life. To become something greater than filler in the pages of someone's book. He could be something. He could be someone that leaves a permanent mark that everyone would remember him for. All he had to do was take the final step. Close his eyes and walk forward. Fall the edge and into the darkness below. Become a great light in the void for all to see. However, he couldn't make out the panic and anxiety that was taking over. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him, telling Liv that he could stop at anytime. Stop himself from going over the edge. Turn back and forget about this. Forget about the task at hand.
Stop himself from becoming a terrorist.
Maj and No-Maj alike passed through his vision, moving along the wharf like mindless insects. Their chatter was nothing more than high-pitched buzzing sounds, making Liv's ears ring painfully. They moved too damn fast for him to focus on. His focus drifted to the dark clouds above. It wouldn't be much longer before the storm started up and swept away the life on the wharf. The smell of freshly washed pavement filled Liv and curved some of the tension in Liv. He wouldn't know how real psychopaths get when they're about to commit heinous crimes. Maybe, they get as tense as him? Second guess their decision and pussy out?
But, he had no choice in the matter. Liv HAS to do this. It was his calling after all. There was no one else that would stop him. His family probably forgot he existed (again). Surrounding him were strangers that didn't even know he existed. He was just space. Filler to add to a scene to make the area seem packed and lively. Liv was a living stock image. A nobody.
Looking at his hands, he tried to keep himself from shaking so much. Thin and slender, the nails were well manicured and ended with blunt tips. Painted pink, the color reminded Liv of cotton candy. Just as fluffy as the dark overcast above him. Again, his eyes drifted away to the table. His chowder had gone stone cold and untouched. Looking at the chunks of potatoes and clams made his stomach churn and lurch.
Does the thought of killing someone make people physically ill?
Taking a deep breath, Liv forced himself up and grabbed his backpack by the handle. Knee-high boots clapped against the ground as he stepped forward and towards the thickest part of the wharf. As he moved passed different shops and attractions, his image was reflected in the shops' windows. He was a young woman that looked like she was a regular in the city. Probably someone that attended a university. A wool dress swayed in the wind as charcoal leggings clung to his figure. Dangling from his neck was a strange ornate necklace. Twin snakes twisted together in a diamond pattern. The garnet in their eyes gleamed too brightly. His hair was cropped short and bleached blonde. There wasn't a single blemish on his skin. He was… she was perfect.
Light green eyes settled on a group in front of him. A giant family taking pictures and wearing matching sweaters from a cheap souvenir shop. Green eyes soon turned dark in color. Ringed in black, he glared at the family and chose them to be a part of his final assignment as an initiate. Pulling his backpack up, he unzipped the bag and reached in. His hand gripped around something familiar. His hand pulled free and revealed his wand. Liv soon drew it out and pointed at the family. His arm shook. His eyes turned yellow. Cowardice. Sweat beaded his plucked brow as he tried to summon up the darkness within. To summon up the courage to take the final steps and utter those unforgivable words…
… only, Fate had other ideas for Oliver Hall.
As the thunder rumbled and the clouds gave way to the rain, a deep voice rumbled behind Liv. The word was foreign in No-Maj's ears, but he understood it perfectly. But, it was far too late to react. His wand was forced out of his hand and flew a few feet away. Many in the crowd was startled by the shouting. All of their attention turned to the source of the voice. Familiar friends filled Liv's mind: fear and dread. Right now, someone knew what was about to happen and decided to intervene. They were going to destroy Liv's chance at becoming something far greater than his damned existence.
Turning around quickly, his focus pinned on bleached piece of wood sitting on the ground. All of his instincts screamed to run. Run. Grab his wand. Run as far away as possible. Hide. Try again. These words repeated itself in Liv's head. It became his mantra as muscles in his legs bunched as he pushed off the ground. Running as fast as he could, Liv shoved anyone that was in his way. The rain picked up, turning from a drizzle to downpour. People parted to seek shelter, giving Liv the space needed to dart straight towards his wand. The wooden planks of the wharf squeaked and became slicked, causing the young man to lose traction.
He slipped and hit the ground hard. The charcoal leggings ripped. Something bit into his knee. A gruff noise escaped as he eyed the wand in front of him. Grabbing it, Liv turned to point it towards however was coming right after him. "Cru-! … Cru… Cru…!" Liv sputtered and tried to say it. Put everything he can into casting the Cruciatus Curse.
Liv couldn't.
Instead, Liv forced himself to get up and run.
Stop himself from becoming a terrorist.
Maj and No-Maj alike passed through his vision, moving along the wharf like mindless insects. Their chatter was nothing more than high-pitched buzzing sounds, making Liv's ears ring painfully. They moved too damn fast for him to focus on. His focus drifted to the dark clouds above. It wouldn't be much longer before the storm started up and swept away the life on the wharf. The smell of freshly washed pavement filled Liv and curved some of the tension in Liv. He wouldn't know how real psychopaths get when they're about to commit heinous crimes. Maybe, they get as tense as him? Second guess their decision and pussy out?
But, he had no choice in the matter. Liv HAS to do this. It was his calling after all. There was no one else that would stop him. His family probably forgot he existed (again). Surrounding him were strangers that didn't even know he existed. He was just space. Filler to add to a scene to make the area seem packed and lively. Liv was a living stock image. A nobody.
Looking at his hands, he tried to keep himself from shaking so much. Thin and slender, the nails were well manicured and ended with blunt tips. Painted pink, the color reminded Liv of cotton candy. Just as fluffy as the dark overcast above him. Again, his eyes drifted away to the table. His chowder had gone stone cold and untouched. Looking at the chunks of potatoes and clams made his stomach churn and lurch.
Does the thought of killing someone make people physically ill?
Taking a deep breath, Liv forced himself up and grabbed his backpack by the handle. Knee-high boots clapped against the ground as he stepped forward and towards the thickest part of the wharf. As he moved passed different shops and attractions, his image was reflected in the shops' windows. He was a young woman that looked like she was a regular in the city. Probably someone that attended a university. A wool dress swayed in the wind as charcoal leggings clung to his figure. Dangling from his neck was a strange ornate necklace. Twin snakes twisted together in a diamond pattern. The garnet in their eyes gleamed too brightly. His hair was cropped short and bleached blonde. There wasn't a single blemish on his skin. He was… she was perfect.
Light green eyes settled on a group in front of him. A giant family taking pictures and wearing matching sweaters from a cheap souvenir shop. Green eyes soon turned dark in color. Ringed in black, he glared at the family and chose them to be a part of his final assignment as an initiate. Pulling his backpack up, he unzipped the bag and reached in. His hand gripped around something familiar. His hand pulled free and revealed his wand. Liv soon drew it out and pointed at the family. His arm shook. His eyes turned yellow. Cowardice. Sweat beaded his plucked brow as he tried to summon up the darkness within. To summon up the courage to take the final steps and utter those unforgivable words…
… only, Fate had other ideas for Oliver Hall.
As the thunder rumbled and the clouds gave way to the rain, a deep voice rumbled behind Liv. The word was foreign in No-Maj's ears, but he understood it perfectly. But, it was far too late to react. His wand was forced out of his hand and flew a few feet away. Many in the crowd was startled by the shouting. All of their attention turned to the source of the voice. Familiar friends filled Liv's mind: fear and dread. Right now, someone knew what was about to happen and decided to intervene. They were going to destroy Liv's chance at becoming something far greater than his damned existence.
Turning around quickly, his focus pinned on bleached piece of wood sitting on the ground. All of his instincts screamed to run. Run. Grab his wand. Run as far away as possible. Hide. Try again. These words repeated itself in Liv's head. It became his mantra as muscles in his legs bunched as he pushed off the ground. Running as fast as he could, Liv shoved anyone that was in his way. The rain picked up, turning from a drizzle to downpour. People parted to seek shelter, giving Liv the space needed to dart straight towards his wand. The wooden planks of the wharf squeaked and became slicked, causing the young man to lose traction.
He slipped and hit the ground hard. The charcoal leggings ripped. Something bit into his knee. A gruff noise escaped as he eyed the wand in front of him. Grabbing it, Liv turned to point it towards however was coming right after him. "Cru-! … Cru… Cru…!" Liv sputtered and tried to say it. Put everything he can into casting the Cruciatus Curse.
Liv couldn't.
Instead, Liv forced himself to get up and run.
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Her words flowed from her lips in the dead of morning in a bland and groggy monotone. Avalyn Van Helsing battled the constant doubt to the point where self assurance no longer held its sway. Perhaps it was her mind's method of coping with the horrors of the world she fought so desperately as an Auror to keep well hidden from the No-Maj minds. Bits and pieces of her had crumbled from her mind's solidity over time, and each day she felt she would plunge into madness if she was not already there. So many things caused her to question life and envy the ignorance of not only her childhood, but of her No-Maj family living in bliss. Their daily trials and tribulations were centered around the next presidential election or job interviews. They did not know.
But was it all real?
"I exist. I am a witch."
Ava rose from her vanity, her hand clasping around her wand as she flicked it through the air. "Accio scarf," she called out, and from her bed the sheer printed scarf floated to her hand, and she wrapped it loosely around her neck and fluffed out her long brown hair. Surely she couldn't have fabricated this. Her fingers clutched the fabric as she situated it into place as if to cling to the notion. This is reality, she told herself quietly. Uttering the words would take them away from her.
And reality was filled with far darker things than she could ever imagine. Of all the creatures that lurked in the shadows and beasts that clawed through the dark recesses of the world, people were the worst. As a Van Helsing, she kept the monsters at bay, and it seemed as though she did the very same as an Auror, though these monsters were of her own kind.
A dark roasted coffee brewed in her kitchen filling the entirety of her studio loft. Its rich aroma awakened her tired soul for another day of being set to the grinding stone. It felt like being beaten to numbness. Ava found herself no longer shocked by the nature of insane witches and wizards. Her fears shifted to doubts that maybe, just maybe, it all was an elaborate fabrication. And how could she ever confirm her suspicions? That was the nature of delusions. And it was this that began to take its toll.
Coffee, creamer, two sugars.
This was the recipe that would allow Ava Van Helsing to take on another day adorning her title as Auror for MACUSA. But today was different, for three days prior she received a letter of invitation to West Highland Circle in the city. It was orientation into the Silver Heart Circle, or so it suggested. The singular feather was all she had been given as assurance that this was legitimate. She tucked the feather into her purse and gathered her phone within her slinder fingers. Her nails were short and clipped in a lopsided fashion as if to hastily trim what had broken off. One of her thumbnails was longer than the other and clacked against the touch screen as she plugged the address to the train station into her GPS app.
While she was very capable of aparating across distances, she held a preference to travel by No-Maj means. The steady hum of the bullet train rushing through the mountains leading up to the sprawling metropolis gave her a sense of awareness she craved. Ava could count the steps it took to get from point A to point B. Point B rested upon a set of ancient doors that peered at her through inset eyes. She stared back as a witch guided her into the room behind the doors. They felt judgmental in their unwavering stare even after the doors and the eyes with were shut out of sight.
And so she stood in the silent room alone, her feet almost incapable of carrying her to one of the many upholstered chairs. It was always the quiet she was taught not to trust.
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- Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
no-lightbox
Boston, Massachusetts
Frankie was an ugly crier. Tears tracked her cheeks in black ink lines, eyeliner and mascara pooling on pale skin, mingling with freckles like a marker, connecting the dots. With the back of her hand, she rubbed her nose, raw and red and dripping saline, a sniffle breaking the heavy, weighted silence in the small funeral parlor. The casket was white oak. This was supposed to mean something or signify something,but to Frankie it just looked like something a child ought to be placed in, and that felt somehow wrong for someone who was so responsible, so dignified.
Jim Taylor had been her mentor and trainer since her sixteenth birthday. They had met on the anniversary of her mother's death, when Frankie had stumbled into his gym, full of rage and bitterness and in desperate need of self control, and Jim had plucked her up off her backside and set her senses right again. He'd transformed her, given her purpose, drive... the motivation to go on, and there was no one on the planet that she was more grateful to have in her life. And the bastards had killed him... left him dead in an alley for the dogs to gnaw on. It make Frankie sick, and it made her angry. A pinch pulled her from her dark, dizzying thoughts and looking down she opened her fist to find she'd dug her nails into her palm, a scowl finding her lips as she wiped the tiny red crescent marks against her leg.
No identifying marks. That's what the police said. Looked like he'd just keeled over. EMTs were calling it a heart attack, but Frankie knew better. He'd been afraid, Jim. Afraid of something or someone, and he'd been on his way to the Pit to tell her what. Whatever it was, it got him killed.
In her other hand she held the letter, wrapped tightly around a long, narrow stark-white feather. On the front, her name, scrawled in delicate calligraphy and inside a small silver circle, within which was printed an address, an invitation. It had come that morning, like a sign… a crack like thunder, a world she hardly recognized anymore. Yet somehow, she was sure they were involved in all this. Jamming the invitation into the pocket of her coat, she looked up to see a rustling at the door, an odd pair entering the parlor. The first, tall and broad shouldered, her caramel hair pulled taut in a bun, the second olive skinned with a pronounced nasal bridge, lengthy dark mane pulled into a braid, rivulets of silver spiraling through black. At first glance there was nothing particularly intriguing about the mourners. There were plenty of people in Jim's life that Frankie had never met, and she'd expected strangers, so she barely paid mind to them until they approached the casket.
There was a muttered conversation, quiet and reverent, then the man turned to Frankie and smiled faintly and deftly, so quickly and jarring that she barely caught it, as the woman at his side reached into the casket and slid something out. Straightening upright, Frankie felt heat rise to her face, sudden fury, like a pulse, drumming against her temple, splintering along her jaw. She forgot herself, forgot all that Jim had taught her and swiftly, with a hiss, she rose.
Graciously though, anger had a way of clarifying. Whoever they were, these people, confronting them in the middle of a funeral was hardly the wisest move. Even as she rose, she knew it was an error in judgment to approach them, and gripping the chair in front of her, she willed herself to stay put, to remain still. Breath escaped in quick, short huffs that probably made her look like a wild rhinoceros, but slowly, the rage ebbed away and as her heart rate slowed against her rib cage, she turned and stalked to the door of the parlor, slipping through it.
Outside, the streets of Boston thrummed with life, traffic breezing by, voices carrying over the pulse of neon noise. A retaining wall ran along the sidewalk outside of the funeral home and pulling herself up onto it, Frankie produced a pack of Parliaments from her pocket, tapping them against her thigh. She'd quit, or so she told herself, but she'd yet to discard the pack and the temptation was always there, itching at her. Pulling a cigarette free, she twirled it through her fingers, breathed in the heady, musty scent of it and closing her eyes, she pinched it between her lips.
It wasn't long before the pair exited, moving swiftly through the door and down the walkway. Returning the cigarette to the pack, Frankie pushed off of her perch and hands tucked into the pockets of her grey refeer, she started after them, the heels of her boots clacking against the pavement. Despite moving with little purpose, the pair had speed to them, and keeping her distance was proving all too easy for the short-legged boxer. Picking up her pace, she rounded a corner and poured out into a crowd of movement, the city populace mulling through the main streets.
Swearing under her breath, Frankie pushed herself faster, peering around shoulders and heads, unfamiliar, unfocused faces, keen eyes targeting the two from the parlor. Without warning, they careened to the side, ducking into an alley and with another muttered curse, Frankie abandoned common sense and shoving through a small gaggle of well-dressed businessmen, she ran towards the odd couple. There was a snap in the air, a sound like an air cannon and rounding the same corner, Frankie found herself alone in that same alley, the lingering scent of ozone the only indication that she wasn't entirely mad. Dropping back against the wall, eyes stinging uncomfortable, she plucked the Parliaments from her pocket and hurled the pack across the alley where it struck the hunter-green dumpster with a barely perceptible clang.
no-lightbox
New York City, New York
There was a particular stench to Grand Central Station like no other on earth... The lingering bouquet of cement and urine, warm cinnamon pretzels and way too many people. Figures darted too and fro, most with unnecessary haste, dragging suitcases and hefting fat, greasy parchment wrapped burgers, oblivious to the world around them. Elbows and shoulders and knees were weapons here, both offensive and defensive, and Frankie was in little mood to spar.
It would've been easier, admittedly, to travel by less traditional methods, but as they often did these days, her mother's words revolved around in her brain, rattled like loose screws.
"Easy isn't always better, Francesca. Sometimes a quick wave of a wand just makes a bigger mess for someone else to clean up."
She'd taught herself to live the way the ordinary people... the No-Maj did, and frankly, she liked it. It wasn't simple, no. But that was what she most enjoyed about it. The complexity. The challenge. Sure, her hands bore callouses from clutching her suitcase, her stomach tensed from hunger and her body ached from a cramped seat on an overly crowded Amtrak train, but she'd done something on her own - she'd done something that some of them... her kind would never dream of, and that was more of an accomplishment than a hastily muttered spell.
Of course, the temptation was a whole lot more difficult to resist with every halfhearted grunt of apology as another stranger crashed into her or ran over her toe or sneezed down the back of her neck. By the time she'd reached the exit onto 42nd Street, her fingers were twitching over her wand, concealed in the waistband of her jeans.
Instead, she raised her hand and signaling for a cab, tucked herself in the bright yellow death trap.
"Where ya headed?" The racially ambiguous cabby barked and Frankie gave him directions to Highland Place in Yonkers. The cab carried an odd musk, a stale, sour scent that drove hunger from her mind and settling back for the lengthy trip she turned her eyes to the window, watching the city fade in a blur of traffic and lights. Roughly three-quarters of an hour later, the cab slowed at the corner of 62nd and Highland and paying the driver, Frankie slipped out, taking in a deep breath of relatively fresh air.
It was less than a block to the location on the invitation, but she took her time arriving there, tension knotting in her chest as she considered just what she was getting herself into. The fact was, she didn't believe in coincidences, and there was no way in her mind Jim's death was unrelated. How or why were mysteries, but with any luck they would be solved, soon enough.
The building was a grey-stone prewar establishment with rounded arches and wide, open windows. At the entrance was a polite young woman with slightly frizzy hair and a wide-toothed smile, who gestured towards a pair of doors that at second glance Frankie noticed were inlaid, rather fascinatingly, with a pair of peering eyes that even without moving, gave the impression of watchfulness all the same. Shaking her head, Frankie stepped through the doors and found herself in a comfortably furnished room. She was alone, save for another young woman, a weary looking creature with dark hair and a tightly set jaw, full mouth fixed in a frown. Somehow, Frankie felt less comfortable here, under that scrutinizing, piercing gaze, than she had moments earlier in front those unnervingly disembodied eyes.
Clearing her throat, she straightened and moving to a violently lime-green and purple tweed armchair that sat across from the woman, she sank into it before extended a hand, those all-too distinguishable notes of Boston reflective in her accent, "Frankie Ramone. Helluva thing, those doors, huh? Wicked."
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- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, SciFi, Modern, Magical
Jay Lee
~Atlanta~
~Atlanta~
The package dropped to his table with a thud. Jay collapsed into the lone wooden chair beside it with a sigh, staring with no small frustration at the knotted string that bound the paper wrapping that covered...whatever it was inside. It was heavy, that was for sure.
And heavy meant expensive.
Or important. The report was that whatever this thing was had been used in rituals of the Dark Arts, so removing it was pretty pressing. Brow furrowed, he yanked the glasses off his nose and ran his hand over his face. This had been difficult to find, even harder to actually Pull. He was lucky that he'd grown up learning to get past No-Maj locks and security; it had made obtaining this little treasure that much easier.
Not that it had been easy. A gated apartment complex, three separate locked doors, a rather stout Doberman, and a safe were all fairly elaborate measures to protect this thing, nevermind the innumerable magical protections it'd been given. The boggart that opening the safe had set loose was bad enough, but the two wizards that had then Apparated into the safe room with him when the klaxon started going off had only lead to further trouble. Pulling the short wand from his pocket, the young man shook his head, recalling the ensuing battle. He'd barely had time to throw up defensive charms against their incoming curses, all the while trying to protect the...Whatever from getting hit itself. Both his Petrificus curses were lucky shots, and he knew it. Out of fear they'd registered his face, Jay had cast Obliviate on each wizard. But he couldn't say for sure how effective it'd been. Probably not very. Blue eyes narrowed as he glared at the stolen wand in his hand. He was fortunate that whomever it was he'd just stolen from didn't want their status as wizards outed to the No-Majs and had not used visual recording devices in their security. The video would have traveled to an offsite location, and erasing that... Well, workable wand or no, he wouldn't have been able to pull that off.
His eyes wandered off the wand and back to the package. Just what did Shadow want it for? Was it a test of some kind? And what was it? Curiousity consumed the wizard, and eyed the package hungrily. If Shadow wanted it, it must be important. And if it was important, surely Jay should know about it, right? He sat up suddenly, realizing that he'd been leaning forward in his interest. His head swiveled about, suspicious of anything unfamiliar in his familiar sparsely furnished living room. But there was nothing: the window remained concealed behind heavy green curtains, his ancient couch still sat contentedly in its brown and yellow groovy fabric, and the bunny ears on his box TV still stood at easy attention. The front door received an especially hard look, but it too was secure. Besides the lock chain and deadbolt, Jay had reenforced its closure with several crude enchantments of his own from the books Shadow had given him to study. Satisfied, the wizard turned back to the package. It's twine knot sat almost precisely in the middle of the box shape, inviting an untying. So Jay obliged. Shoving his wand into his pocket, he stretched his arms before placing his fingers gingerly on the loops of twine. With a quick tug, he yanked them back.
Then the door rattled with the impatient knock of expectancy.
Then the package exploded.
Then Jay flipped out.
~the West Coast~
:several hours later:
:several hours later:
What a way to congratulate somebody.
Jay stood in the rain, looking as utterly dejected and miserable as an abandoned puppy. The wharf was teeming with people, which suited him just fine; his Disillusionment Charm worked better with a denser crowd. The past few hours had been a blur; Shadow had arrived at his door, chill and relaxed but with a twitch of distraction Jay had come to recognize. It meant the older wizard's mind was partially elsewhere, concerned with God knew what. The package, apparently, had been the final test, and that explosion had been by way of congratulations on completing Shadow's training program. There'd been a magically created mini firework display with music and whatnot, but Jay had been too surprised by the sudden arrival of his mentor, not to mention rendered partially deaf thanks to the great boom that happened in his face, to have given it much attention. Instead he'd say agast in his chair as Shadow had entered, seemingly with little care for the securities Jay had placed. He'd dropped instructions: they were leaving Atlanta for relocation. His apprentice had pricked his ears at that; as far as Jay knew, Shadow was freelance and answered to nobody. But if they were relocating... The packing had happened quickly, thanks in no small part to Jay's extremely small amount of possessions, and they'd Apparated away to...
Somewhere. Jay honestly didn't know. All he had to work with was that Shadow told him to wear a light sweater. And he mentioned something offhandedly about a terrorist. Then, just like his namesake, he'd disappeared practically as soon as he'd dropped his apprentice off, leaving Jay to figure things out. Which suited Jay just fine, to be honest. These things could be fun in their own way. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, he scanned the crowd, looking for anything of note. It's like completing a puzzle on your own. The satisfaction you g-
People were shouting, some aggressively but most in fear. Curious, Jay followed the crowd's flow. It was parting, trying to make way for someone. That Someone was barreling down the wharf's wooden floor, sprinting as if fleeing desperately, their, er, her woolen coat flying behind them as if it were a cape. Jay raised his eyebrows; surely not this blonde lady.
Sure enough, Shadow could be seen behind, trying to catch up. His prey was fifty feet in front of him. But 100 feet from where Jay stood hidden in the crowd and closing the gap fast. Shoving forward, the young man pushed to the crowd's edge and pulled his wand free, just in time to see the woman approach. With his wand arm beside him, he pointed it in her direction, aiming as best he could from the hip and hoping it hit his target.
"Locomotor Mortis!"
It was a whisper, but it was enough. The curse zipped out from his wand and impacted his target's legs. But it didn't work as it should have; his damn wand was being stubborn again. The curse made her legs far more difficult to move, to be sure, but it wasn't a complete Leg-Lock. Scowling, Jay shoved the wand back into his pocket. It was time for a new wand.
@fyrelily @devil's 4DV0C473
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- I check as often as I can.
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
ELEANOR ROSEWELL
The door slammed behind her; a little bit too harshly, actually, which made Eleanor flinch. Her own door slamming made her flinch. That was probably the best way you could've summed up Eleanor.
Her day at the clinic had been simply awful; it started out smooth, but one of the new employees decided it would be a good idea to let a grumpy Kneazle roam around. "She was cute!" They'd argued. "I thought she liked me." Eleanor scoffed at the memory, slumping against her apartment door and sliding all the way down. But not only was it that employee's stupidity that aggravated Eleanor so, it was that she ended up being the one to clean up the mess. The overtime pay was not worth it. Sure, this was damn near close to her dream job, but god, did anyone want to stay cleaning up the wreckage of a Kneazle?
Eleanor let out a sigh. An extra exaggerated one, because Eleanor let off steam by groaning and sighing. She needed a shower, and a nap. As soon as possible, for that matter. And some sort of a meal. Was there even anything left in the fridge? Eleanor finally forced herself to stand up from her place on the floor, but only made it as far as to the couch and then collapsed. Her apartment was small and cozy, not claustrophobic but certainly not gigantic. It was what one would call an organized mess in terms of cleanliness; the place was spotless if you were thinking dirt and grime, but stacks of books and strips of paper littered every surface; a quill over there, the bottle of ink halfway across the room, parchment behind the three book stacks on the dining table. Quills and ink were certainly a thing of the past but it was one part of the wizarding world Eleanor was happy to adopt. To someone else it would look chaotic, her living space. But Eleanor could find everything she needed faster than you could blink.
"Go take a shower, Eleanor." She muttered to herself, now working to pull herself up off the couch. She was about halfway to the bathroom when there was a clap of thunder and a gust of wind. In her tiny apartment on the second floor. Eleanor jumped, startled, watching the feather, attached to a piece of parchment, float to the ground. Eleanor stared at it for a little while, trying to decide if it was safe to move from her position, which was a hand over her scar, gripping the fabric of her shirt that laid over it. It was a spot she often clutched when something scared her; a habit she developed in her teen years.
Eventually, Eleanor picked up the letter, examining the feather. One from a thunderbird. interesting. She placed the feather on her desk and unrolled the parchment.
The door slammed behind her; a little bit too harshly, actually, which made Eleanor flinch. Her own door slamming made her flinch. That was probably the best way you could've summed up Eleanor.
Her day at the clinic had been simply awful; it started out smooth, but one of the new employees decided it would be a good idea to let a grumpy Kneazle roam around. "She was cute!" They'd argued. "I thought she liked me." Eleanor scoffed at the memory, slumping against her apartment door and sliding all the way down. But not only was it that employee's stupidity that aggravated Eleanor so, it was that she ended up being the one to clean up the mess. The overtime pay was not worth it. Sure, this was damn near close to her dream job, but god, did anyone want to stay cleaning up the wreckage of a Kneazle?
Eleanor let out a sigh. An extra exaggerated one, because Eleanor let off steam by groaning and sighing. She needed a shower, and a nap. As soon as possible, for that matter. And some sort of a meal. Was there even anything left in the fridge? Eleanor finally forced herself to stand up from her place on the floor, but only made it as far as to the couch and then collapsed. Her apartment was small and cozy, not claustrophobic but certainly not gigantic. It was what one would call an organized mess in terms of cleanliness; the place was spotless if you were thinking dirt and grime, but stacks of books and strips of paper littered every surface; a quill over there, the bottle of ink halfway across the room, parchment behind the three book stacks on the dining table. Quills and ink were certainly a thing of the past but it was one part of the wizarding world Eleanor was happy to adopt. To someone else it would look chaotic, her living space. But Eleanor could find everything she needed faster than you could blink.
"Go take a shower, Eleanor." She muttered to herself, now working to pull herself up off the couch. She was about halfway to the bathroom when there was a clap of thunder and a gust of wind. In her tiny apartment on the second floor. Eleanor jumped, startled, watching the feather, attached to a piece of parchment, float to the ground. Eleanor stared at it for a little while, trying to decide if it was safe to move from her position, which was a hand over her scar, gripping the fabric of her shirt that laid over it. It was a spot she often clutched when something scared her; a habit she developed in her teen years.
Eventually, Eleanor picked up the letter, examining the feather. One from a thunderbird. interesting. She placed the feather on her desk and unrolled the parchment.
"The Silver Heart Circle invites you to attend an orientation in three days time. Further information regarding SHC and employment will be given at 7743 W. Highland Circle, NY, NY."
She read it three times. Maybe more? Probably more. Eleanor took the letter and sat down in her one comfy sofa, the nicest she had. It was her thinking chair. She'd touch her lip with her hands and her brows would furrow. She knew about the Silver Heart Circle. Eleanor didn't live under any rock of any kind, except perhaps the emotional one. She knew it was invite only. That every member was handpicked. And that being a part of it was certainly dangerous.
And intriguing.
Eleanor finally put the letter down, only to close her eyes and rub her temple. I'll think about it later. I have time. She told herself, letting out another big groan, and forced herself up once more.
And intriguing.
Eleanor finally put the letter down, only to close her eyes and rub her temple. I'll think about it later. I have time. She told herself, letting out another big groan, and forced herself up once more.
~
The next three days were spent in back and forth limbo. It didn't help that her boss recognized the fact that her most recent day at work had been a catastrophe and given her the next few off, so all Eleanor was able to do was to sit and stare at that letter. I shouldn't, I should. Why? Why not. No. Yes?
On the third day she was picking out an outfit, a look of defeat on her features as she rummaged through her closet. A lot of thought that went into her wardrobe was whether or not it would cover her scar, but she decided that maybe it'd be okay if it showed just a little. Everything about her appearance was dainty, and the scar was the only thing that broke that. Eleanor wanted to look strong, and intimidating. She chose a button down t-shirt, one that showed much more of her chest than she usually ever dared too. Turtle necks had become her best friends.
She apparated there; normally she'd take the train but Eleanor didn't think she could handle anymore waiting, sitting, and stewing. The building was beautiful, in her opinion. Inside, the wich that greeted her seemed to be quiet and friendly, with a simple look about her, nothing that caught Eleanor's eye. The eyes on the door, however, those did happen to catch her attention. One on each side, big and unblinking, causing Eleanor to halt at the door for a moment before pushing it open.
"Frankie Ramone. Helluva thing, those doors, huh? Wicked."
Eleanor looked about, only catching the tail end of what a conversation. Someone had just spoke. Frankie Ramone. A name Eleanor would not intend to forget. She gazed over the other two witches in the room, one looking a little frazzled and the other look a bit skeptical, but Eleanor probably looked like a combination of the two, stiff as a board, stunned and unsure.
"They are pretty interesting." Eleanor murmured in a quiet response, eyes flicking towards Frankie and then back towards the ground as she moved away from the door and closer to her favorite spot in a room; the corner.
@Elle Joyner @Effervescent @fyrelily
On the third day she was picking out an outfit, a look of defeat on her features as she rummaged through her closet. A lot of thought that went into her wardrobe was whether or not it would cover her scar, but she decided that maybe it'd be okay if it showed just a little. Everything about her appearance was dainty, and the scar was the only thing that broke that. Eleanor wanted to look strong, and intimidating. She chose a button down t-shirt, one that showed much more of her chest than she usually ever dared too. Turtle necks had become her best friends.
She apparated there; normally she'd take the train but Eleanor didn't think she could handle anymore waiting, sitting, and stewing. The building was beautiful, in her opinion. Inside, the wich that greeted her seemed to be quiet and friendly, with a simple look about her, nothing that caught Eleanor's eye. The eyes on the door, however, those did happen to catch her attention. One on each side, big and unblinking, causing Eleanor to halt at the door for a moment before pushing it open.
"Frankie Ramone. Helluva thing, those doors, huh? Wicked."
Eleanor looked about, only catching the tail end of what a conversation. Someone had just spoke. Frankie Ramone. A name Eleanor would not intend to forget. She gazed over the other two witches in the room, one looking a little frazzled and the other look a bit skeptical, but Eleanor probably looked like a combination of the two, stiff as a board, stunned and unsure.
"They are pretty interesting." Eleanor murmured in a quiet response, eyes flicking towards Frankie and then back towards the ground as she moved away from the door and closer to her favorite spot in a room; the corner.
@Elle Joyner @Effervescent @fyrelily
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monopoisoner
Guest
NICO MATSUMOTO
PRETTY BANNER COMING IN THE STORE NEAREST YOU
PRETTY BANNER COMING IN THE STORE NEAREST YOU
The clink of china and crystalware provided a lovely accompaniment to the sights in the garden. Overhead, woodland violets and deep red orchids tumbled on the pergola, held together by magic. The Myers mansion stood behind it all, regal in its structure yet with touches of fancy for the dreamer in all, providing a warm home to those it welcomed. The sun had yet to fully rise, and in this dawn the four friends partook in breakfast as they all outlined their plans for the day.
Or by Nico's interpretation, they bullied him into accepting the Silver Heart Circle's invitation.
"I'm sorry, but as much as I want I can't be absent from the Maj of Tennessee meeting." With her short red hair cut in a stylish bob, Leila took a small bite of her omelette before continuing. "Myers' responsibility and all. So just tell me all about it when you get back home. I've already written my reply in that letter, and so has Taylor I believe?"
With a tumble of black curls cascading past her shoulder, the young potions mistress nodded. "I'm really sorry, you know I can't turn down a request from Madame Smith, especially in this emergency." They all knew the story; some enterprising young student blew up a good portion of Ilvermony's potions supplies and they were in a mad scramble to replace the stock before the coming exams. Just last night she'd been informed of the news, and Taylor would spend today contacting her suppliers and checking her own stock to see how she could help.
The three letters stacked just ahead of his plate made him lose his appetite, and he absently pushed and poked at his food as he listened to the conversations occurring around him. While he realized they were all speaking to him, they also knew that he wouldn't talk more than he believed was really necessary. That was both a blessing and a curse, as no one really thought to ask if he even wanted to join the SHC. They simply assumed he would if they all did.
And it annoyed him that they were absolutely right.
Ryan, sensing his sullen mood, reached across the table to pat his head in a brotherly gesture. "Don't worry about it. They're generally nice people who can just be a little too... passionate at times."
[bcolor=#908b9f]"Like yourself."[/bcolor] Nico's dry tone brought a grin to his friend's face.
"Well, I am a passionate man." As if to prove his point, he greedily gulped down the entirety of his glass of orange juice. A pitcher on the table floated and approached him, gently pouring additional refreshments into everyone's glasses. "It's best to just enjoy things as they come, Nico. You spend too much time worrying; eat! I don't want to puking acid if you get sick from using the portkey. I'm not too good at the entire caring and comforting thing. And I don't want to have to clean that up off the carpet."
With a resigned sigh, he viciously speared a slice of sausage with his fork, forcing himself to eat. Ryan had a point; he would only be making himself more miserable by not eating. So he ate, and found himself slowly relaxing as the conversation turned away from the SHC and onto more typical struggles. There would be time enough later to feel anxious. And worried. And stressed. But he'd bury that for now.
- - - -
He'd forgotten how much he hated portkeys. Nico sat on the sofa, taking a moment to catch his breath and stop his stomach from recoiling in shock. They'd wound up in Ryan's New York apartment, only a couple of blocks away from the meeting place. The three letters sat in his coat pocket, and they felt heavier than the head currently accommodating a dizzying headache.
Eventually, he found his feet once again, and he headed downstairs with Ryan, who looked comfortable with the crowds as if he belonged there.
[bcolor=#908b9f]"Damn Yank."[/bcolor] Nico joined him on the street, saying it just loud enough for the native New Yorker to hear.
A glint of amusement shone in his eye before Ryan pocketed his hands, instinctively perusing the crowd for suspicious activity. This was, after all, a covert meeting. "For your information, New York was not part of New England. And you have to know that sounds really weird coming from your mouth considering you look just about as American as a kimono. Even if you do have that drawl."
They travelled the rest of the way in comfortable silence. Nico barely had a chance to study the building's impressive facade before being dragged inside, greeted by a woman whose face was a blur. Ryan simply led the way to a set of double doors inlaid with eyes that seemed to follow your every move even as they lay still.
"Alrighty, in you go." Ryan looked expectantly at his reluctant figure.
[bcolor=#908b9f]"Don't you think that door looks really suspicious?"[/bcolor] Gray eyes showed obvious fear and trepidation at having to enter.
"Nico, if you don't enter within three seconds, I'm blasting that door open for you. Three."
[bcolor=#908b9f]"Wait. Give me a moment to catch my bre-"[/bcolor]
"Two."
[bcolor=#908b9f]"Ryan!"[/bcolor]
"One!" Without even flinching, Ryan pushed the doors open with one large sweep. When the two had the rooms' occupants' full attention, he let out a grin in a comical disparity with Nico's clear embarrassment. Ryan simply greeted the three women already inside, then quickly bid farewell.
[bcolor=#908b9f]"You're leaving?"[/bcolor] Disbelief dripped from every word.
"Of course I am. I'm not going through that again." And with that statement in the air, he apparated out, leaving Nico stupefied and staring at the space he once occupied. After a moment or two, he closed his mouth and slunk into one of the chairs, burying his face in his hands in pure mortification. Leave it to Ryan to make a mess of things for him and find absolute delight in doing so.
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Folksy
Guest
MEMPHIS TEMOAK
Memphis didn't tell anyone that he'd received the invitation when it appeared. He'd never heard anything definite about The Silver Heart Circle, only half-cocked rumors. But he knew. He knew they were somehow connected or they somehow knew about the attack that devastated his tribe. He knew that if he went to them he'd get answers, maybe even retribution. He was conflicted. On the one hand, the offer of revenge, on the other, he knew that the tribe's leader was now dead and Memphis was silently expected to take his place because he was the most skilled wizard and the most knowledgeable of tradition. For three days, he rolled his options around in his head. Memphis could see his sister's worried looks as he stared into his book, obviously not reading. Memphis could ignore his sister's nagging at him to get some sleep, but he could never ignore her looks of worry. After the first day he was sure he would leave the tribe if not for his sister's dependence on him. After the second day, he knew his sister knew he was thinking about leaving. On the third day he was decided on leaving.He'd kept the letter on top of his dresser, and it wasn't visible from just standing anywhere around the room, but there his sister stood, holding the letter tightly, waiting for Memphis to show up. "Please don't go Memphis," she pleaded, "We need you here." Memphis just stared at the ground for a long moment. He needed to. "Okay then. Just promise me you'll be safe and come back eventually," She knew she couldn't sway him.
"I promise," he said, pulling her into a hug. She grabbed onto him tight like it might have been her last hug with her brother.
"Oh and another thing. If you find the monsters who did this…." she broke the hug and looked him deep in the eyes, "Kill the sons of bitches."
Memphis nodded, she handed him the invite, he looked at the address, he apparated to a street in New York in front of a building he found very comforting. The air was more biting than he expected, not bad, but a breeze in the air got to him every once in awhile. He headed inside and there was a lady who looked like she was waiting for him. She directed him to a pair of very big, very old doors which he barely gave a glance to as he stepped inside the room.
The room was filled with comfortable-looking couches and three other people. They looked normal enough, and kind of like they didn't belong there. He guessed they were there for the orientation. He made himself wary, this could end up somehow being a dangerous situation and he was very far from home. He was also suddenly very aware of how he looked. He was wearing a red button-down, old blue jeans, and his hair was in two perfect braids. It was obvious what kind of wizard he was. Native wizards often got odd looks in public because they'd become so rare, and Memphis hated answering questions (although he understood their curiosity).
In the room there were three witches, all who looked to be in their twenties, all very attractive. The one standing in the middle had long brown hair that curled, but looked like it was naturally straight. She seemed to be very uncomfortable. There was another with freckles, not confident, sitting in the back of the room, that Memphis found attractive. Not in the sexual way, but in the friendly way, like he could approach her and not ever have to be scared, which is not to say he would. The last one he saw was definitely more confident than the other two with deep black hair cut into a perfect bob. They all looked like they were from the city, and Memphis felt like an outsider. He sat down across from the freckle-y one without a word.
He wondered what his sister would say to everyone else about where he'd gone.
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[bg=black] JONATHON RIES
This is for real.
That was the only thought going through Joey's head as he stood in front of the building that he knew to be the Silver Heart Circle's headquarters. He fidgeted back and forth, looking to his right and to his left as if expecting someone to notice him just loitering on the sidewalk across from the building. Of course, no one paid any mind-- no doubt, the whole thing was enchanted out the yinyang. Only those were meant to see this place would ever catch a glimpse of it.
And that, somehow, included Jonathon Ries.
He looked down at the parchment in his hand, double checking the address. He was a bit old-fashioned, so he'd used a good old pen-and-paper map to find his way to the building, and he wanted to be extra sure. However, the enchanted map of New York he'd bought off a street vendor in Central Station showed that he was indeed at the right address, despite the fact that right across from him was supposed to be an empty shipyard.
His heart thudded in his chest as he thought about his wife at home, no doubt trying to placate his father and brothers about his whereabouts. The two had talked extensively about the letter that had appeared before him in a flash, a Thunderbird feather attached. He'd had mixed feelings about the whole thing; equal parts excitement, trepidation, fear, and curiosity. The Silver Heart Circle... His family was of old magic blood, and they had great faith in MACUSA -- and massive amounts of disdain for "vigilantes" who went out of their way to deal justice on their own. The Silver Heart Circle seemed anathema to them, a slap in the face to the great wizarding society their family had helped create.
But no one could deny the body count. Wizards, witches, No-Maj -- there was no discrimination. Those who associated with No-Maj were traitors, and those who didn't stand with the Red Serpent were little more than accessories to the crimes of their enemies. Isolated on their plot of land, hiding from the prying eyes of the No-Maj nearby, it was difficult to feel the aftereffects, but Jonathon had been to the outside world, unlike his brothers, who were content to stay within the confines of the Ries home. His friends and friends of friends had talked of nothing but the attacks and the worry that struck them all.
And so, with some reluctance, Jonathon had agreed to go. If they were asking him personally -- personally! -- there was a reason. So, his wife and he had come up with a ruse, that he was at some kind of wandmakers' get-together in New York and would be gone for a few days. His extended family, despite their advanced age, would pull their hair and gnash their teeth, but his brothers may swallow it easier. They were more aware of Jonathon's insatiable curiosity and would consider it well-within his bounds to take the 505 Eastbound, that special train made to carry wizards in style across the entirety of the continent in as few as five hours.
He shook his hands out and finally made the plunge, walking with a tentative stride into the building. After asking for directions, he was led to a set of double doors set with a pair of massive, unblinking eyes, and Jonathon bent down to stare at them momentarily, tapping them with his finger just out of curiosity. Of course, they did not move, and Jonathon found his curiosity piqued. They were obviously here for a reason, but for what? Unable to find an answer just by looking at them, he looked over his shoulder at the pretty, though forgettable, witch at the front. Better not bother her while she's working... he thought, and he walked into the room.
There seemed to already be something of a congregation there, three women and two men. Two of the women seemed to have started some conversation, one with a bob and the other with curled hair. A third, sitting at the back, seemed off to herself, sitting next to a native wizard (not something you saw everyday) and another wizard at a different armchair. Jonathon smiled and raised a hand, not deigning to sit.
"Hi there! Name's Jonathon Ries. Are you here for....?"
He made a noncommittal hand gesture, afraid to say it out loud, as if that would sincerely cement that he was about to try and enter a clandestine group intent on bringing down a wizarding scourge.
@Elle Joyner @monopoisoner @Effervescent @Cloudily[/bg]
This is for real.
That was the only thought going through Joey's head as he stood in front of the building that he knew to be the Silver Heart Circle's headquarters. He fidgeted back and forth, looking to his right and to his left as if expecting someone to notice him just loitering on the sidewalk across from the building. Of course, no one paid any mind-- no doubt, the whole thing was enchanted out the yinyang. Only those were meant to see this place would ever catch a glimpse of it.
And that, somehow, included Jonathon Ries.
He looked down at the parchment in his hand, double checking the address. He was a bit old-fashioned, so he'd used a good old pen-and-paper map to find his way to the building, and he wanted to be extra sure. However, the enchanted map of New York he'd bought off a street vendor in Central Station showed that he was indeed at the right address, despite the fact that right across from him was supposed to be an empty shipyard.
His heart thudded in his chest as he thought about his wife at home, no doubt trying to placate his father and brothers about his whereabouts. The two had talked extensively about the letter that had appeared before him in a flash, a Thunderbird feather attached. He'd had mixed feelings about the whole thing; equal parts excitement, trepidation, fear, and curiosity. The Silver Heart Circle... His family was of old magic blood, and they had great faith in MACUSA -- and massive amounts of disdain for "vigilantes" who went out of their way to deal justice on their own. The Silver Heart Circle seemed anathema to them, a slap in the face to the great wizarding society their family had helped create.
But no one could deny the body count. Wizards, witches, No-Maj -- there was no discrimination. Those who associated with No-Maj were traitors, and those who didn't stand with the Red Serpent were little more than accessories to the crimes of their enemies. Isolated on their plot of land, hiding from the prying eyes of the No-Maj nearby, it was difficult to feel the aftereffects, but Jonathon had been to the outside world, unlike his brothers, who were content to stay within the confines of the Ries home. His friends and friends of friends had talked of nothing but the attacks and the worry that struck them all.
And so, with some reluctance, Jonathon had agreed to go. If they were asking him personally -- personally! -- there was a reason. So, his wife and he had come up with a ruse, that he was at some kind of wandmakers' get-together in New York and would be gone for a few days. His extended family, despite their advanced age, would pull their hair and gnash their teeth, but his brothers may swallow it easier. They were more aware of Jonathon's insatiable curiosity and would consider it well-within his bounds to take the 505 Eastbound, that special train made to carry wizards in style across the entirety of the continent in as few as five hours.
He shook his hands out and finally made the plunge, walking with a tentative stride into the building. After asking for directions, he was led to a set of double doors set with a pair of massive, unblinking eyes, and Jonathon bent down to stare at them momentarily, tapping them with his finger just out of curiosity. Of course, they did not move, and Jonathon found his curiosity piqued. They were obviously here for a reason, but for what? Unable to find an answer just by looking at them, he looked over his shoulder at the pretty, though forgettable, witch at the front. Better not bother her while she's working... he thought, and he walked into the room.
There seemed to already be something of a congregation there, three women and two men. Two of the women seemed to have started some conversation, one with a bob and the other with curled hair. A third, sitting at the back, seemed off to herself, sitting next to a native wizard (not something you saw everyday) and another wizard at a different armchair. Jonathon smiled and raised a hand, not deigning to sit.
"Hi there! Name's Jonathon Ries. Are you here for....?"
He made a noncommittal hand gesture, afraid to say it out loud, as if that would sincerely cement that he was about to try and enter a clandestine group intent on bringing down a wizarding scourge.
@Elle Joyner @monopoisoner @Effervescent @Cloudily[/bg]
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Ava had turned to watch the woman enter with a careful and thoughtful gaze, but it wasn't until she spoke that her shoulders began to relax. The woman fell into an armchair not too far from where Ava stood, and her feet slowly turned her about to face her more readily. A faint smile graced her wide mouth briefly as an airy huff of a laugh escaped her. She nodded and walked to an armchair adjacent to Frankie.
"I'm not all surprised something that strange is around here," Ava said. "But it is a hell of a thing. I'm Ava Van Helsing."
She barely sat down when the doors opened again, this time revealing a freckle-faced wisp of a girl that fluttered to a corner with a soft murmur of words. Ava smiled over at her in a cordial silent welcome, though her lips more pursed in the foreign action. This was the first time in years she was introduced to new people she would likely be working with. Formalities and etiquette were rusty endeavors. The girl looked to want to be off on her own, however, and so Ava left her to do so. She understood the nature and desire well.
Resting back in the chair, she looked back over at Frankie. The woman exuded confidence in both grace and an imposing fashion. It was a demeanor Ava could barely fathom carrying herself. Any intimidation she had placed upon her was only due to her name. She carried herself too stiffly, her posture hunched as if to constantly anticipate a lash of an attack. Her mouth opened up to continue the conversation only to be interrupted by the doors swinging open recklessly. Two men merrily walked in, and one man warily remained to slink over in the quiet corner. Where was the woman from before? She had guided everyone in but them, and the notion was of mild concern for Ava.
Her concerns were soon put to rest as the woman escorted a Native American into the room and shut the door behind her. Ava sat back into her seat once again having not even registered how tightly her fingers grasped the upholstered arms of her chair.
"Hi there! Name's Jonathon Ries. Are you here for....?"
It wasn't the Native American that spoke as he sat over near the wallflower. Instead, a giant of a man with a grizzly beard entered and hailed the gathered assortment of individuals with a friendly smile. With how tall he appeared, there was likely to be some strand of giant in his blood. His voice trailed off with hesitancy, though his implications were noted.
"Silver Heart Circle?" Ava said to complete his thought. Her hands trailed back on the armrests as she felt the smooth fabric under her palms. "You're in the right place."
@Elle Joyner @Doctor Jax
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no-lightbox
New York City, New York
The room filled up faster than anticipated as again and again the young witch at the front entrance appeared with a new face beside her. Almost as soon as Frankie had settled into her chair, the doors opened again, admitting a timid looking creature, who established herself as the resident wallflower nearly upon entry sinking into a seat with a look that begged anonymity. Behind her came the start of a bad joke as a vaguely Asian man, a Native American and the entirety of a professional football team mashed into one enormously tall individual entered the room. It was a bit of a mental trip, to say the least, but also not exactly unexpected, considering they were smack dab in the Melting Pot of America.
As the others settled in, in silence, she turned to the woman across from her, whistling through her teeth at the introduction, "Van Helsing? No joke? There's a name carries quite a bit of bulk to it." Frankie was well-known enough in her circuit, at least for those who followed boxing, but even with a few titles under her belt, she wouldn't consider herself exactly famous. At least in the Magical world the name Van Helsing, however, carried quite the dramatic association - Hell, in the world of No-Maj, it still held weight, even if it was only largely in fiction...
Turning in her seat, she looked up (way up) as the giant of a man addressed them and smiling faintly, a little dryly, she shrugged her shoulders. She'd spent sixty bucks on her train ticket, another thirty-five on the nauseating cab ride, all for a virtual assumption - a shot in the dark that this little private club had some correlation to what might've happened to Jim. That she could get an answer or two to the mystery...
But coincidences did happen, contrary to what people believed, and there was a good bet that it was in no way related to Jim... that she'd come all this way for nothing, "I'll be real with ya, Goliath, I ain't entirely sure why I'm here yet, but I guess I'll find out soon enough, anyway. Anyone know how many we're waitin' on here?"
@Effervescent, @Doctor Jax, @Everybody
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Theodore Candlebridge
Theodore was never a fan of The Big Apple. Maybe it was because of his vicinity to the city that made it loose its luster to him after so many visits. Or maybe that, finally, he was starting to look Harrisburg too much. It was about as country as a city could get in his neck of the Northeast and coming back into the fast-paced scene of a city that never slept was, different. But he braved New York City because of this hush-hush Silver Hear Circle. At first he thought it was a practical joke, played on him by his teammates, but when none of them fessed up to it, he figured it had to have been the real deal. The Circle was his best chance at finding his brother, and he knew it would be the right thing to do, especially with the American magical community being terrorized. And so here he was, in the middle of New York ready to embark on what he was sure would be a strange journey.
He entered the quaint office building and offered his name up to the secretary and was waved off towards a pair of doors that were....staring at him. Theo couldn't ignore the fact that they were, and yet were not, looking at him as he approached. Even as he opened the doors he half expected someone to be crouched down on the other side, head in front of where some eye holes would be. Unfortunately the only thing waiting for him on the other side of was an impressive waiting room with a whole cast of individuals already conversing with each other. It seemed that introductions were already being made and he had half a mind to simply slink off into a corner and wait on whomever it was that summoned them all here. Instead, he'd talk and likely make a fool of himself.
"Quite the crowd we've got here already, doubt we'd get many more." He interjected to one short-haired woman, having caught the back-end of her conversation with another man who was surprisingly taller than him. "And I thought I'd suffer through hours of power point presentations alone." He scanned the rest of the faces in the room and found a few somewhat familiar faces. Judging by the physical age, most were likely fellow students of his at some point in the past, but faces did change after some time. "I'm guessing our mysterious benefactor also hasn't shown up yet."
@Doctor Jax @Effervescent @Elle Joyner
Theodore was never a fan of The Big Apple. Maybe it was because of his vicinity to the city that made it loose its luster to him after so many visits. Or maybe that, finally, he was starting to look Harrisburg too much. It was about as country as a city could get in his neck of the Northeast and coming back into the fast-paced scene of a city that never slept was, different. But he braved New York City because of this hush-hush Silver Hear Circle. At first he thought it was a practical joke, played on him by his teammates, but when none of them fessed up to it, he figured it had to have been the real deal. The Circle was his best chance at finding his brother, and he knew it would be the right thing to do, especially with the American magical community being terrorized. And so here he was, in the middle of New York ready to embark on what he was sure would be a strange journey.
He entered the quaint office building and offered his name up to the secretary and was waved off towards a pair of doors that were....staring at him. Theo couldn't ignore the fact that they were, and yet were not, looking at him as he approached. Even as he opened the doors he half expected someone to be crouched down on the other side, head in front of where some eye holes would be. Unfortunately the only thing waiting for him on the other side of was an impressive waiting room with a whole cast of individuals already conversing with each other. It seemed that introductions were already being made and he had half a mind to simply slink off into a corner and wait on whomever it was that summoned them all here. Instead, he'd talk and likely make a fool of himself.
"Quite the crowd we've got here already, doubt we'd get many more." He interjected to one short-haired woman, having caught the back-end of her conversation with another man who was surprisingly taller than him. "And I thought I'd suffer through hours of power point presentations alone." He scanned the rest of the faces in the room and found a few somewhat familiar faces. Judging by the physical age, most were likely fellow students of his at some point in the past, but faces did change after some time. "I'm guessing our mysterious benefactor also hasn't shown up yet."
@Doctor Jax @Effervescent @Elle Joyner
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Breaking into a sprint, made difficult by the torrential rain pouring from the heavens above, Shadow kept his footing as he chased after the bleach-blonde. Water pelted against his face, his shaggy hair partially blocking his vision, and No-Maj's everywhere. His mind flitted to Jay, wondering if he had put him in a situation over his head. He countered his own thought with the memory of the kid performing a nifty Disillusionment charm before he began his own search via rooftops. Shadow had to admit the kid was pretty resourceful and useful. Still, the thought of something happening to him on his first hunt caused fury to rise into Shadow's chest. His eyes narrowed and the grip on his wand tightened and he ran after the blonde faster.
Still, something nagged at him. Was it the way he had seen the woman's arm outstretched and trembling, as if convincing herself that murder was the right thing to do? Or the way she had turned, attempting to curse him before giving up and fleeing? Resolute though he was, doubt creeped into Shadow's chest. His instincts were trying to tell him something…
Bulldozing past a small crowd of No-Maj's, Shade halted, sliding across the wooden planks ever so slightly. Had he be turned around? To his right was the Pacific Ocean, to his left the long row of shops and restaurants he had only moments before been striding atop of. From somewhere to his left he heard Jay's voice through the muffled crowd surrounding him. Some gave Shadow fearful looks, others stared and pointed at the wand he held aloft. Pushing through the throng in front of him he saw the blonde again, tripping - probably due to some curse Jay had casted - and regaining her footing.
Despite it going against the Statute of Secrecy, Shadow closed his eyes and focused, apparating with a small pop. Back on the rooftops, he could see the scene clearly, despite the rain still falling into his eyes and waited for the blonde to make her next move.
Seems like some things would never stop for Liv. He thought he left behind this pathetic display in Ilvermorny, but history was repeating itself all over again. The teen was running away, unable to gather what little courage he had and direct his wand at his pursuer. All he could do was lower his hand and run. Keep running until he's well hidden. Eventually, he'd curl up in a ball and the pity party would start up. How could this happen? Why him? Oh woe and all that bullshit that repeated itself in a vicious cycle of negativity and cliched angst.
He could already feel himself losing his resolve. The shape he chose spasmed and shifted slowly. Fair skin was turning dark in some spots. Hair turned a ghastly white. The soft, contour lines of femininity hardened and became sharp angles. Nails shortened and lengthened erratically. Every so often, Liv cocked his head behind and saw the shadowy figure. Whoever this stranger was, they clearly wanted Liv. There was no way in Hell he'd let that happen.
As he looked forward, something unexpected came out of of the blue.
Liv's legs stiffened and numbed, causing the young wizard's movement to cease. He and the ground were reacquainted as he landed on his other leg. His backpack smacked Liv in the face has he landed. The teen didn't feel the "pier burn" down his knee and shin from the force of the fall. Gritting his teeth, Liv cursed as he tried to get up. His knees screamed and squeaked as the stiffened joints rebelled. The rest of his body shook from the cold and rain, but the leg muscles bunched up and refused to relax. Liv's wand hand shook as he started to rotate the tip of his wand in his hand. One. Two. Three. It ended with Liv pointing the top of his wand to his legs. They loosened slightly. The countercurse did something, but the shaking made erratic circles.
Running was out of the question. Liv was forced to fast walk in the most awkward as manner as he ducked to the right towards the sea. Winds started to whip now as the storm intensified. His back pressed into the back of a storefront building as he tried to collect himself. He had to calm down. Focus in order to properly apparate without leaving anything behind. But, his mind was racing. He was far too cold and uncomfortable. His adrenaline was at an all time high. He can feel his face crumbling as it scrunched up. Sobbing breaths escaped as he realized how scared he was right now.
And, hating how weak he was.
The target was resourceful, whoever it was. It hasn't taken her long to counter the curse, and she was back on her feet before... wait, her? Or...
Jay squinted, trying to see what was happening to the, uh, person. Their form seemed to be shifting, altering. Sighing, Jay turned and began pushing through the crowd, trying to keep an eye on the target. As he ran, the wizard yanked his phone from his pocket. Dividing his attention was perhaps dangerous; if nothing else, the wool coated pursuant would disappear far more effectively than even he could. But Shadow had vanished, no longer in active pursuit; it was likely he'd lost sight. Jay might have, too, had cell phone technology not come as far as it had in the last decade. He keyed on the Voice to Text app.
"Metamorph. Red storefront, fish market. Will wait to make contact."
The metamorph had positioned themself against the building, facing out. And the crowd, put off by the commotion, was giving them a wide berth. So much for being secret about this. He keyed the phone to send the message, hoping that Shadow would get it, and moved toward the target with far less trepidation than he had before. The wand replaced the phone in his hand. Eyes narrow, he circled around, stopping some fifty feet away before he made contact, staying hidden in the crowd. He, well, he was still a rather novice wizard, after all. It was one thing to keep up with and an eye on their good friend here. But his lack of schooling was such a hindrance in these scenarios. Give him secrecy and cleverness any day; this open confrontation stuff was stupid.
Standing on the roof's edge, Shadow contemplated his options. Something was off with this so-called-terrorist. His instincts screamed and yet for once, he couldn't decipher them. Duty and responsibility clashed with what his mind was concocting.
Eliminate the threat was morphing, just as the terrorist did, into interrogate the threat.
"Metamorph. Red storefront, fish market. Will wait to make contact."
His receiver -mobile phone as Jay would call it- spoke from inside his pocket and a small smile graced Shadow's lips. The kid was doing well for his first hunt and he couldn't help but feel a smidgen of pride.
As the rain intensified, thunder clapping overhead, Shadow stared down at the scene before him. No-Maj's were finally starting to dissipate but some still lingered; no doubt in wonder of what they had just witnessed. He'd need to call Harwin and send him this way; memory spells went against his moral code.
Taking out his receiver, he took a moment to decipher what buttons were what before speaking into it. "Metamorphmagi in sight. Relocate to the corner of Barnes and Downs St. Will be there momentarily. Extinguish your Disillusionment."
Breathing deep, Shadow apparated in front of the Metamorph. He didn't even have to use expelliarmus to sever the wizard in front of him from his wand. Tucking the would-be terrorist's wand in his coat pocket, Shadow reached out and curled his hand around the wizard's wrist.
"Your actions will decide your fate."
And then he apparated to the corner of Barnes and Downs street.
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Liv was not safe. The odds were stacked against him. Only a slip up would allow the teen to slip away and escape. But, like everything else in Liv's life, things were never fair to him. With a sharp pop, the dark man from earlier was right in front of his face. Letting out a sharp yelp, he tried to lift his wand to cast him away. The stranger was too quick on the draw. He was disarmed of his wand and apprehended. Pulling his arm about, the stranger had locked him into a vice-like grip. And, soon… haunting words filled Liv's head.
"Your actions will decide your fate."
Fate? … his fate?! What did that even mean? Why was the stranger being fucking "dark and mysterious" instead of quickly ending this? Fighting did little as Liv's body was tugged and pulled like a fish on a line. The world of the wharf had disappeared. When the sensation disappeared, the teen blinked. He was… somewhere. Liv didn't recognize the surrounding area, putting the teen on further edge. Trying to yank his arm away, the teen used his backpack to swing it at the stranger to hit him.
"Let me fuckin' go right now!" he screamed, "Jus' let me fuckin' go!" The voice wasn't feminine anymore… nor was it masculine. It was a strange combination of low and high pitched growls. The petite and blonde form was no more. Rather, Liv looked like some sort of horror-esque monster. A fusion of many faces, solid and melting. But, there's only one constant in this form. Liv's eyes remained bright yellow.
Fearful.
"Nope."
The backpack had halted mid-arc, stopped by a hand that suddenly appeared. Jay had gotten Shadow's message moments before his mentor had Apparated to and then away with their target. Likewise, he'd been moments behind in traveling to the rendezvous, and had only just managed to drop the Disillusionment and sprint up and grab the bag. The phone had been hastily shoved into his wand hand, which now vaguely struggled to maintain a securing grip while his offhand clutched the backpack. The thief was by no means a strong man, but he was several stone heavier than the boy, and comparably little of it was fat, so hopefully that would help him there.
Jay gave the bag a shake, trying to estimate its weight despite the teenager's hold on it.
"Watcha got in here, kid, and how much is it worth to ya?" he asked placidly, the disinterest in his voice betrayed by the hungry look in his eyes. Even the tint of his glasses didn't hide that; despite years now of training under Shadow, a thief's mindset was hard to break.
The wizard whose wrist he clung to morphed in and out and between forms. One second this, the other second that. It was nauseating and intriguing at the same time. It was hard to tear his eyes off the morphing face until he realized that everything was changing, except the kid's yellow eyes. Shadow listened to the metamorph's pleaded screams but his grip never wavered, even as Jay caught up and snatched hold of the bag that was about to make contact with the side of his face.
Shadow's instincts whispered what he already knew: metamorphmagi's were rare and incredibly useful and not only did he and Jay stop this one from crossing a threshold none should cross, but he had a feeling the young man could be turned against the dark path he had chosen.
Ignoring Jay's comment, Shadow reached out with his free hand and snatched the serpentine pendant from around the kid's neck. He glared at the garnet eyes, venom pooling in his gut. He swallowed back painful memories that rose to the surface of his mind and stuffed the thing deep in his pocket. They definitely had the right person.
"You're gunna tell me where you got that pendant kid and we're gunna have a nice long chat about it." He glanced over his shoulder as sirens wailed not too far away. "Just not here."
He looked over at apprentice, his grip tightening around the metamorph's wrist.
"Jay, grab my arm. Now."
The moment he did Shadow apparated them halfway across the country, to a large, empty field devoid of anything but waist high grass. He let go of the kid's arm then; Shade had his wand and he had no way of escaping both he and Jay. Little did the pair know they were a few short minutes away from Silver Heart's headquarters.
The backpack never made contact with the stranger. Instead, someone else appeared at the scene. An accomplice? A partner? It didn't matter. Liv was outnumbered as he tried to get his backpack back and break the other's grip from his wrist. He needed his wand. He needed his backpack. He needed that. The scruffy man's mocking tone and antics caused Liv to grind his teeth and growl back. The yellow in his eyes dimmed slightly. The other stranger had his bag. Had it.He can always find a different want, but that...!
Liv tried to lunge forward to grab his back and yank himself free. "I'll kill you!!! Give it back now! AND, LET ME GO! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!" But, it wasn't going to be that easy. No… rather… it was clear how deep in trouble Liv was. The pendant was ripped from his neck and disappeared into the dark man's pocket. A chat? No… no no no no no! If they expected Liv to talk, they had another thing together. Two faces became one. Then three. His shift was a horror display, unable to stabilize and find common ground anymore. What he is… what he was… hell, right now, he needed that backpack and-!
That fish hook sensation occurred once more. Again, he was moved to an unknown location. The world cleared and revealed… farmland? The grass covered his bloody knees. There was only a lone, shadowy building in the distance. Where was he? Where was this? The vice grip disappeared soon… he was released?! Stupid! Spinning around, he face the other stranger that had his bag. He lunged forward to push the other down in order to grab his bag. "Worth to me, huh?! JUST GIVE IT NOW!"
Well that figured.
The Apparation had thrown Jay off. He was ashamed to admit it, but it happened. Magic, precise magic, was still not second nature to him, despite the years with Shadow; Majs who grew up learning the stuff didn't realize just how lucky they were. And to be dependent on someone else'd ability? Jay had traveled with Shadow in that manner before, of course. But dammit if he always felt off for a few moments afterwards. They had all arrived with the customary whoosh, and he gaped, blinking as he tried to regain his orientation.
It was the chance the kid needed. Hands contacted Jay's chest and shoved with the strength of desperation. And Jay, caught off guard with one hand full of backpack and the other trying to maintain its hold on his wand and phone, was left with tragically few options. Fine, let the kid have the bag; he wasn't going anywhere with it. He dropped it and shot the now free arm out for balance. Miraculously he found it, in spite of the long grass, and pulling the phone into his free hand, the thief pointed his wand into the would-be terrorist's face.
"Seems like the boss wanted to know about that necklace." His eyebrows lifted as he glanced once again at the backpack. Interesting, that the kid had chosen to go after it instead of the wand. Jay's instinct was right; there was something of interest in there. "And I sure as hell wanna know what it is you've got in that pack."
Watching the pair of younger wizards squabble in front of him, Shadow took a moment to decipher his instincts. The kid was obviously a new recruit and going off what he and jay prevented tonight, Shadow could easily assume his Initiation had been thwarted. The kid was lucky. He'd met many a Red Serpent recruit and none trembled and contemplated before spelling their victims to death. Not even their first kills. The RS recruited hardened criminals, what was this measly kid doing caught up with the terrorist group, the Red Serpent?
His gaze sought after the metamorphmagi in front of him and he had inklings as to why. Wizards like him were incredibly rare and incredibly useful. Fresh out of Ilvermorny, the kid seemed to be, and extremely susceptible to manipulation. Not only did it work for the Red Serpent but Shadow would risk a wager and bet that it'd work in favor for the Silver Heart Circle. Information, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem, was needed to combat the terrorist group.
"Tell me something kid," Shadow said after his introspection. "Do you want to live?"
Finally, something was going his way! The backpack was his prize as he stumbled back. Legs still stiff from the leg-binding curse, he didn't want to think how stupid his action was in lunging at one of his kidnappers. Now, all he had to do was run off. Get his ass out of there as quickly as possible! Forget his wand. Slinging it over his shoulders, the mesh of different ethnicities and gender stumbled away from them with a twisted smile on his face. He was free! Liv responded with the larger man's comments with a middle finger. He was…
Do you want to live?
Liv stilled now. Drenched in dry weather, he looked like a literal drowned rat. For whatever reason, that question stopped him. Live… yeah he wanted to live! Joining the Red Serpents was his way to finally live the way he wanted. But, failing… and the pendent!!! He needed that pendent! Why wasn't he thinking straight? Hell! Why wasn't he able to say those words? Be able to wipe out that stupid and happy family. These guys… why… why…?! Why was life complicated and hard?! Why did it have to be like this for him?! Always screwing up… but, even then…
A rough sob broke as he turned around. A hand came up to wipe away tears from his face. "Yea-Yeah! … yeah I wanna… I wanna live…" All the stresses of this day. The previous week. His life… he felt like a giant baby that didn't know how to do anything else except cry. "You gonna kill me the-then?" His voice cracked, changing octaves rapidly.
Liv's eyes were colored in a sickly swirl of yellow and dark blues. Fear and sadness. Loneliness.
K
Kathairein
Guest
"You're joking!" Whispered an excited, female voice.
"You're joshing!" Added a second, far more incredulous voice.
"He's invited?"
"More like he's summoned ooooOOooo-"
"-but it doesn't say he has to go…"
"Tosh, he totally has to!"
"-but it says right here…"
"Oh, c'mon, like he'd say no. Think about it!"
A momentary pause of three seconds, like an exclamation mark between dramatic Shakespearian quotes, were followed by a feminine sigh:
"-oh, the fame, the fortune..."
"-the ladies-"
"-Who are supposed to be handling the new group of Clabberts, not snooping about their brother's private business, I think." Added a new, less impressed voice.
"Yes, true, but Mum wants to inspect them first…"
"He's busy with Gibby, we saw…"
"…Oh."
"Ohh…."
"Oh?" Leaning against the doorjamb, Matthew lifted a brow, "That's all? How about, 'Oh no, we're caught!' or 'This isn't what you think?'… No? Nothing?"
The unamused scowls sent his way made Matthew clear his throat and enter the room proper, moving to stand over the redhanded duo, "So. What's the reason for breakin' and enterin' this time?"
Two pairs of hazel eyes stared up at him, then darted away in opposite directions. Both girls snickered and that, he supposed, was the end of his attempt to be cross with them. He'd discovered them nestled like hens on the worn armchair that had sat in the corner of his room for longer than he'd been alive. Clutched between them — a familiar note, along with the very lovely and rare white feather that'd come with it.
Eulalia and Luciana, twins, seventeen and, worst of all, gossips, had known he was leaving today. The whole family knew he was leaving and only those who'd needed to know just why and where — namely, their parents — were shown the letter. He should have known it wouldn't stay that way. One or two or all six of his siblings would have eventually hunted down the real reason for his leaving. Except maybe Thomas, whom rarely cared about anything but his work at MACUSA these days. That promotion had gone to his head, just a little, but it was hard to poke fun when Thomas was the oldest sibling and had lost three stones winning the new position. Three stones! Poor man loved to eat, too...
An hour later, the twins were still in full scandalized uproar. Matthew made his way downstairs with the pair hot on his heels. He carried a worn leather backpack in hand, brushed wool coat in a deep blue over an arm and a scuffed wand holster clipped onto his belt. Skipping over the trick second to last step to avoid landing on his arse instead of his feet, he ignored Stefan's narrowed stare in the passing. The twins carried on so loudly that it brought the whole household around as he walked outside. Gibby the griffin chomped from a bucket of pieced rabbit and squirrel meat, calm even as Nadia's sweet, sensitive voice rose up, quickly followed by those of Grammy Banks and Grammy Lila. A pair of thestrals rooted about the thick trees several yards from the back of the house. Multitudes of other creatures, seen and unseen, moved about the large clearing and beyond, far into the hills and cliffs and valleys that made up Matthew's home.
Adams Bestiary & Safe Haven, set on a sprawling six hundred and twelve acres, was unique to itself as the family that owned it. Meeting the eyes of his father and mother, Matthew's mouth quirked into a telltale grin that, for whatever reason, calmed the upset hoard of Adams. Curious, furious and baffled, his family knew he was leaving, without a doubt. But now they knew where, if not why, and with the edges of darkness having spread even so far north as remote Libby, Montana… they had good reason to discourage him from going.
"C'mon, now. I'll be back," Matthew said, smiling. A sniffle told him Nadia wasn't going to last through a long farewell. The twins were back to scowling at him, braids and skirts and every inch as bad at explaining their own emotions as they were good at sniffing out secrets of others. Stefan peeked around from their father's broad shoulders, blond where they were all dark-haired or auburn. His tense look was afraid as it was considering — Stefan hated to be left in the dark, but feared saying everything on his mind. Their mother, a famous Mediwitch, winked as Matthew peered at her. Abelia, the youngest sister of them all, stepped forward and tossed a neatly knitted scarf around his neck. "I want a full report when you do. New York, Matt, New Yooooork! I bet they have a million bookstores. And tea shops. Oh, bring me one of those No-Maj magazines, alright? I can use it for my report next week," she said, fourteen and very much her own individual and brighter than the lot of them already. Serious blue eyes gazed up at him and Matthew wound the scarf on more securely. "Alright, Hen, but keep your sisters' in line for me, 'kay?" he whispered between them, then promptly pulled her up into a hug, laughing as she squealed when her feet left the ground. When she clung on tighter and kissed his cheek, Matthew felt his stomach hollow out. He was leaving Libby, his family, his work and Merlin knows what would happen when he got to New York.
Hugged by one and all, twice by Grammy Banks (whom tried to tuck a meat pie into his pocket) and fending off the twins' furious demands for their own souvenirs, Matthew clapped hands with his father and —
— APPARATED across the street from 7743 West Highland Circle. Stepping from the shadow of the building, he was glad he'd taken his mother's advice and not just shown up in front of his real destination. Throngs of No-Maj's moved up and down the street, swollen up like an overfilled river lapping at its banks. Waves of dark coats and umbrellas carried the tide in two directions. Perhaps it was luck, but the air was diluted enough by the rain that he didn't immediate keel over from the smells and sounds of the city. He'd tamped down hard on those two senses just before leaving. Matthew had known he'd need a minute or two to adjust to the huge influx of information such a place would provide his senses, but the rain did most of the work for him. It was strangely reassuring to be half deaf and only have to worry about the other issue at hand…
"Through the doors there, dear," instructed a mousy-haired witch, patiently indicating beyond her desk. Rubbing a hand through his hair, damp with rain, Matthew thanked her and approached the doors. Through them laid the answers to all of his questions. He'd kept up a confident facade for his family, but inside, Matthew churned with uncertainties built on unanswered what-ifs.
Imagine his surprise, three days previous, to be interrupted while feeding daisies to a group of Knarls by a small thunderclap and the appearance of a letter. More so, to find an invitation written in the letter to join a group he'd heard so many whispers about. Even his parents, important to the Maj community as they were in North America, were shocked to read the letter's contents. "You've none of the background for this kind of work, Matt," his mother had murmured, cheek in hand while examining the parchment as if it would reveal untold secrets to her. His father, however, had boomed a great laugh and clapped him on the back. "Merlin! The lad's got morrethwn enough in his head to do t'job, m'Sweet. More 'an that, he's an Adams! An' tisn't like they 'ave anyone widd his skills, I'll bet! Burnin' to 'ave ya, reckon. Go'won boy!" And like that, he'd packed his things, made arrangements for Bernie (Nadia's not so secret boyfriend) to cover a few of his responsibilities and put his whole life on hold.
After all, the twins were right. Who would tell the Silver Heart Circle… no?
There was so much happening in the news that didn't add up — so much turmoil in the places he visited during rescues — and heartbreak in the voices of those that talked about it all. Libby wasn't a big city, cast up in the mountains of Montana, but fear had a way of spreading even to the most remote places. The rise in black-market products meant a greater number of creatures caught up in the chaos. Even sapient beasts were showing up far from their normal terrain and territory. If the Red Serpents really were increasing their use of banned ingredients and items from magical creatures…
With something of a resigned sigh, Matthew gave the unmoving eyes a nod and then pushed through the doors. It was then that he realized he hadn't thought ahead as to what to expect — certainly, that there'd be others. Rather, that there'd be so... few. Barely half a dozen, excluding himself.
A tall, dark-skinned man stood just inside the door, as though he'd arrived just before Matthew. Catching his last few words, Matthew let the door shut behind him, smiling in a friendly manner at the room in general. The number of armchairs suggested that there could be more people to come, but for some reason… he doubted there would be. "Glad I'm not late, from the sounds of it," he said, voice drifting between his mother's clipped Italian and his father's rolling, broken English. Low, but mild, his tone was easy-going despite what it was that had brought them all to this place. Matthew's curious stare flicked from face to face, but politely kept from holding too long on any one individual. Stepping around the other man, he chose a plain armchair in an unsightly maroon just off to the side. Not to be unsociable, as surely they'd soon get to know one another, but to steal a moment to file away what his nose was telling him.
"You're joshing!" Added a second, far more incredulous voice.
"He's invited?"
"More like he's summoned ooooOOooo-"
"-but it doesn't say he has to go…"
"Tosh, he totally has to!"
"-but it says right here…"
"Oh, c'mon, like he'd say no. Think about it!"
A momentary pause of three seconds, like an exclamation mark between dramatic Shakespearian quotes, were followed by a feminine sigh:
"-oh, the fame, the fortune..."
"-the ladies-"
"-Who are supposed to be handling the new group of Clabberts, not snooping about their brother's private business, I think." Added a new, less impressed voice.
"Yes, true, but Mum wants to inspect them first…"
"He's busy with Gibby, we saw…"
"…Oh."
"Ohh…."
"Oh?" Leaning against the doorjamb, Matthew lifted a brow, "That's all? How about, 'Oh no, we're caught!' or 'This isn't what you think?'… No? Nothing?"
The unamused scowls sent his way made Matthew clear his throat and enter the room proper, moving to stand over the redhanded duo, "So. What's the reason for breakin' and enterin' this time?"
Two pairs of hazel eyes stared up at him, then darted away in opposite directions. Both girls snickered and that, he supposed, was the end of his attempt to be cross with them. He'd discovered them nestled like hens on the worn armchair that had sat in the corner of his room for longer than he'd been alive. Clutched between them — a familiar note, along with the very lovely and rare white feather that'd come with it.
Eulalia and Luciana, twins, seventeen and, worst of all, gossips, had known he was leaving today. The whole family knew he was leaving and only those who'd needed to know just why and where — namely, their parents — were shown the letter. He should have known it wouldn't stay that way. One or two or all six of his siblings would have eventually hunted down the real reason for his leaving. Except maybe Thomas, whom rarely cared about anything but his work at MACUSA these days. That promotion had gone to his head, just a little, but it was hard to poke fun when Thomas was the oldest sibling and had lost three stones winning the new position. Three stones! Poor man loved to eat, too...
An hour later, the twins were still in full scandalized uproar. Matthew made his way downstairs with the pair hot on his heels. He carried a worn leather backpack in hand, brushed wool coat in a deep blue over an arm and a scuffed wand holster clipped onto his belt. Skipping over the trick second to last step to avoid landing on his arse instead of his feet, he ignored Stefan's narrowed stare in the passing. The twins carried on so loudly that it brought the whole household around as he walked outside. Gibby the griffin chomped from a bucket of pieced rabbit and squirrel meat, calm even as Nadia's sweet, sensitive voice rose up, quickly followed by those of Grammy Banks and Grammy Lila. A pair of thestrals rooted about the thick trees several yards from the back of the house. Multitudes of other creatures, seen and unseen, moved about the large clearing and beyond, far into the hills and cliffs and valleys that made up Matthew's home.
Adams Bestiary & Safe Haven, set on a sprawling six hundred and twelve acres, was unique to itself as the family that owned it. Meeting the eyes of his father and mother, Matthew's mouth quirked into a telltale grin that, for whatever reason, calmed the upset hoard of Adams. Curious, furious and baffled, his family knew he was leaving, without a doubt. But now they knew where, if not why, and with the edges of darkness having spread even so far north as remote Libby, Montana… they had good reason to discourage him from going.
"C'mon, now. I'll be back," Matthew said, smiling. A sniffle told him Nadia wasn't going to last through a long farewell. The twins were back to scowling at him, braids and skirts and every inch as bad at explaining their own emotions as they were good at sniffing out secrets of others. Stefan peeked around from their father's broad shoulders, blond where they were all dark-haired or auburn. His tense look was afraid as it was considering — Stefan hated to be left in the dark, but feared saying everything on his mind. Their mother, a famous Mediwitch, winked as Matthew peered at her. Abelia, the youngest sister of them all, stepped forward and tossed a neatly knitted scarf around his neck. "I want a full report when you do. New York, Matt, New Yooooork! I bet they have a million bookstores. And tea shops. Oh, bring me one of those No-Maj magazines, alright? I can use it for my report next week," she said, fourteen and very much her own individual and brighter than the lot of them already. Serious blue eyes gazed up at him and Matthew wound the scarf on more securely. "Alright, Hen, but keep your sisters' in line for me, 'kay?" he whispered between them, then promptly pulled her up into a hug, laughing as she squealed when her feet left the ground. When she clung on tighter and kissed his cheek, Matthew felt his stomach hollow out. He was leaving Libby, his family, his work and Merlin knows what would happen when he got to New York.
Hugged by one and all, twice by Grammy Banks (whom tried to tuck a meat pie into his pocket) and fending off the twins' furious demands for their own souvenirs, Matthew clapped hands with his father and —
— APPARATED across the street from 7743 West Highland Circle. Stepping from the shadow of the building, he was glad he'd taken his mother's advice and not just shown up in front of his real destination. Throngs of No-Maj's moved up and down the street, swollen up like an overfilled river lapping at its banks. Waves of dark coats and umbrellas carried the tide in two directions. Perhaps it was luck, but the air was diluted enough by the rain that he didn't immediate keel over from the smells and sounds of the city. He'd tamped down hard on those two senses just before leaving. Matthew had known he'd need a minute or two to adjust to the huge influx of information such a place would provide his senses, but the rain did most of the work for him. It was strangely reassuring to be half deaf and only have to worry about the other issue at hand…
"Through the doors there, dear," instructed a mousy-haired witch, patiently indicating beyond her desk. Rubbing a hand through his hair, damp with rain, Matthew thanked her and approached the doors. Through them laid the answers to all of his questions. He'd kept up a confident facade for his family, but inside, Matthew churned with uncertainties built on unanswered what-ifs.
Imagine his surprise, three days previous, to be interrupted while feeding daisies to a group of Knarls by a small thunderclap and the appearance of a letter. More so, to find an invitation written in the letter to join a group he'd heard so many whispers about. Even his parents, important to the Maj community as they were in North America, were shocked to read the letter's contents. "You've none of the background for this kind of work, Matt," his mother had murmured, cheek in hand while examining the parchment as if it would reveal untold secrets to her. His father, however, had boomed a great laugh and clapped him on the back. "Merlin! The lad's got morrethwn enough in his head to do t'job, m'Sweet. More 'an that, he's an Adams! An' tisn't like they 'ave anyone widd his skills, I'll bet! Burnin' to 'ave ya, reckon. Go'won boy!" And like that, he'd packed his things, made arrangements for Bernie (Nadia's not so secret boyfriend) to cover a few of his responsibilities and put his whole life on hold.
After all, the twins were right. Who would tell the Silver Heart Circle… no?
There was so much happening in the news that didn't add up — so much turmoil in the places he visited during rescues — and heartbreak in the voices of those that talked about it all. Libby wasn't a big city, cast up in the mountains of Montana, but fear had a way of spreading even to the most remote places. The rise in black-market products meant a greater number of creatures caught up in the chaos. Even sapient beasts were showing up far from their normal terrain and territory. If the Red Serpents really were increasing their use of banned ingredients and items from magical creatures…
With something of a resigned sigh, Matthew gave the unmoving eyes a nod and then pushed through the doors. It was then that he realized he hadn't thought ahead as to what to expect — certainly, that there'd be others. Rather, that there'd be so... few. Barely half a dozen, excluding himself.
A tall, dark-skinned man stood just inside the door, as though he'd arrived just before Matthew. Catching his last few words, Matthew let the door shut behind him, smiling in a friendly manner at the room in general. The number of armchairs suggested that there could be more people to come, but for some reason… he doubted there would be. "Glad I'm not late, from the sounds of it," he said, voice drifting between his mother's clipped Italian and his father's rolling, broken English. Low, but mild, his tone was easy-going despite what it was that had brought them all to this place. Matthew's curious stare flicked from face to face, but politely kept from holding too long on any one individual. Stepping around the other man, he chose a plain armchair in an unsightly maroon just off to the side. Not to be unsociable, as surely they'd soon get to know one another, but to steal a moment to file away what his nose was telling him.
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THE SILVER HEART CIRCLE
CH. 1, SCENE 1: WHAT LIES AHEAD
CH. 1, SCENE 1: WHAT LIES AHEAD
The main office was busy, as usual, and the arrival of potential new members only added to the day-to-day stress. In the topmost room, a quaint little hideaway in the sprawling building, Torin Velle sat in an enormous leather armchair. To her left was an ashtray litter with cigarette butts and to her right was an outrageous stack of files filled with slips of parchment, recommendations, and school files. In the mirrored glass monitor on the cherry wood desk in front of her, Tor watched as Belle pointed another young man through the double doors. She sighed, plucked his file from the stack and dropped it onto the small pile in front of her. Disappointment and anxiety mingled and clashed while she refused to believe only so few accepted the invitation.
Torin grabbed another cigarette, pinched it between her lips and lit it with a strike of a match and a deep inhale. She counted the files in front of her, eight in total, and took another disappointed drag. The pile was so small she could lay them all along the desk in front of her with room to spare. She grabbed a file at random and flipped it open. She recognized the young woman staring at her from the moving photograph. She had been at Taylor's funeral and indeed, referred to them by the old man before he was murdered by the Red Serpent. She'd been hard to find, seeming to have dropped off the magical radar after graduating from Ilvermorny.
Taking another drag off her cigarette, Torin sighed and watched the cloud of smoke twist and twirl around her. For a moment she was transported back to her childhood, watching the smoke rings dance across her living room as her father puffed on his tobacco pipe. How she loved those quiet moments before life intervened and took him from her. Coming back from her reverie, Tor glanced back at the mirror and saw a straggler, broomstick still tucked under her arm, make her way towards the front desk. She smiled, searched through the pile for her file and added it to the small stack on the desk. Even one extra member could make a difference between the Red Serpents fall or continued rise.
She stubbed out her cigarette, grabbed the files from the desk and made her way from the out of sight, out of mind room. The staircase creaked and moaned as her heeled shoes tapped their way down them. The fourth floor, sleeping quarters, were relatively silent; the only noise came from room four. Wails sounded from the closed door and Torin's heartstrings pulled. The poor woman had lost her husband not even a night ago to another RS related attack. Rhassa had found her and brought her and her children to a safe place. She held onto the woman's grief and let it fuel her purpose.
The second and third floors were busy with witches and wizards walking to and fro, hands filled with parchment and objects to be examined. She nodded at each in turn and continued her trek through the magically enlarged building. Once on the first floor, Torin smiled towards Belle and glanced at the enchanted eyes inlaid within the double doors. When she first joined and walked through those same doors, they had caused her nausea to sevenfold and unsettled Tor down to her core. Nowadays, she'd come to love them. Not only were they useful, but they held a certain kind of beauty once you got used to them.
Taking a deep breath, Torin pushed through the doors and walked into the room. Nine potential members sat before her and she took the time to look each each in the eye. Nine potential members to help save the world against the tyranny of the Red Serpent. Nine potential members willing to sacrifice it all for peace and prosperity.
"Good morning," Torin said in her short, clipped voice. "Welcome to the Silver Heart Circle."
She took a moment to glance at the younger witches and wizards gathered before her and then cleared her throat. If Rhassa was around, he'd be the one making the speech, but he was following a lead and the task was delegated to her as second-in-command. Clearing her throat from the half a pack of cigarettes she'd just smoked, she began in a strong but meaningful voice.
"Silver Heart was founded over a century ago and our mission has stayed the same since our inception: to protect the streets of Wizarding and No-Maj America. Some of you may have heard of us, some may haven't. The reason is simple, we like our privacy and our anonymity." She eyed the populus of the room. "I think it's clear to remind you all, that if you do not wish to join us, your silence will be appreciated. Not only for our sakes, but for yours as well." The room seemed to still around her, seeming to sense what was coming next.
"The Red Serpent has spies everywhere and they're desperate to reveal our next move. Do not fool yourselves into believing that they won't come after you… In the past few years, the Red Serpent has grown in numbers, in strength, and in ferocity. There is a woman up stairs, at this very moment, whose husband was brutally murdered by the RS not even two nights ago.
"We exist to stand up against the wizarding terrors, against the witches and wizards who mean the world harm… and you've been selected to join us." She slapped the files down on the faded blue armchair to her left. "Silver Heart needs men and women of all different expertises and backgrounds. Each and everyone of you were handpicked. Some of you were referred to us," She glanced at each of the women seated before her. "While others were chosen specifically by members of our team.
"Either way, you've been chosen to join our centuries old fold. To join a tight-knit group of fighters hell bent on protecting the ones we love, the one's we don't know, and the country we love."
Torin took a seat next to the faded blue armchair, crossed her legs, and cocked a brow.
"I'm willing to answer all your questions before we get to business."
@Effervescent @Elle Joyner @CloudyBlueDay @monopoisoner @Folksy @Doctor Jax @Kathairein
"You gonna kill me the-then?"
Shadow looked at the kid in front of him and was brought back to his past, and he wondered if his sister had asked the same thing before she was murdered. He raised his wand and aimed at the metamorph's heart. He shook his head no in reply before he spelled the kid. A simple stupefy rendered him unconscious and he watched as the kid crumbled to the earth. Shade forced down unbidden memories and took a moment to compose himself.
He glanced over at Jay, contemplating his next move. Silver Heart's headquarters was less than two miles away, but he had suspicions regarding the pendant he'd taken from Liv. If the Red Serpent had placed a tracking spell on it, headquarters location could potentially be compromised. He needed to examine it first and break the spells laid upon it.
Grabbing a piece of parchment from his back pocket, he handed it to Jay with a nod of his head. "Read it. Memorize it. Destroy it. It grants access to the Silver Heart Circle's headquarters." Shadow pointed to the large mansion in the distance. "There'll be a woman on the first floor, named AJ. She has dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She's the resident Healer. Tell her I sent you and to put him up on the fifth floor." He removed the pendant from his pocket, glared at the garnet red eyes, and flashed it at Jay. "This might be spelled with a tracker and I'm taking no risks. Oh, and tell AJ you're the one she's been waiting for, she'll know what you mean."
And with that, Shadow apparated on the spot, leaving the grassy field with a small pop.
@Red Thunder @devil's 4DV0C473
Torin grabbed another cigarette, pinched it between her lips and lit it with a strike of a match and a deep inhale. She counted the files in front of her, eight in total, and took another disappointed drag. The pile was so small she could lay them all along the desk in front of her with room to spare. She grabbed a file at random and flipped it open. She recognized the young woman staring at her from the moving photograph. She had been at Taylor's funeral and indeed, referred to them by the old man before he was murdered by the Red Serpent. She'd been hard to find, seeming to have dropped off the magical radar after graduating from Ilvermorny.
Taking another drag off her cigarette, Torin sighed and watched the cloud of smoke twist and twirl around her. For a moment she was transported back to her childhood, watching the smoke rings dance across her living room as her father puffed on his tobacco pipe. How she loved those quiet moments before life intervened and took him from her. Coming back from her reverie, Tor glanced back at the mirror and saw a straggler, broomstick still tucked under her arm, make her way towards the front desk. She smiled, searched through the pile for her file and added it to the small stack on the desk. Even one extra member could make a difference between the Red Serpents fall or continued rise.
She stubbed out her cigarette, grabbed the files from the desk and made her way from the out of sight, out of mind room. The staircase creaked and moaned as her heeled shoes tapped their way down them. The fourth floor, sleeping quarters, were relatively silent; the only noise came from room four. Wails sounded from the closed door and Torin's heartstrings pulled. The poor woman had lost her husband not even a night ago to another RS related attack. Rhassa had found her and brought her and her children to a safe place. She held onto the woman's grief and let it fuel her purpose.
The second and third floors were busy with witches and wizards walking to and fro, hands filled with parchment and objects to be examined. She nodded at each in turn and continued her trek through the magically enlarged building. Once on the first floor, Torin smiled towards Belle and glanced at the enchanted eyes inlaid within the double doors. When she first joined and walked through those same doors, they had caused her nausea to sevenfold and unsettled Tor down to her core. Nowadays, she'd come to love them. Not only were they useful, but they held a certain kind of beauty once you got used to them.
Taking a deep breath, Torin pushed through the doors and walked into the room. Nine potential members sat before her and she took the time to look each each in the eye. Nine potential members to help save the world against the tyranny of the Red Serpent. Nine potential members willing to sacrifice it all for peace and prosperity.
"Good morning," Torin said in her short, clipped voice. "Welcome to the Silver Heart Circle."
She took a moment to glance at the younger witches and wizards gathered before her and then cleared her throat. If Rhassa was around, he'd be the one making the speech, but he was following a lead and the task was delegated to her as second-in-command. Clearing her throat from the half a pack of cigarettes she'd just smoked, she began in a strong but meaningful voice.
"Silver Heart was founded over a century ago and our mission has stayed the same since our inception: to protect the streets of Wizarding and No-Maj America. Some of you may have heard of us, some may haven't. The reason is simple, we like our privacy and our anonymity." She eyed the populus of the room. "I think it's clear to remind you all, that if you do not wish to join us, your silence will be appreciated. Not only for our sakes, but for yours as well." The room seemed to still around her, seeming to sense what was coming next.
"The Red Serpent has spies everywhere and they're desperate to reveal our next move. Do not fool yourselves into believing that they won't come after you… In the past few years, the Red Serpent has grown in numbers, in strength, and in ferocity. There is a woman up stairs, at this very moment, whose husband was brutally murdered by the RS not even two nights ago.
"We exist to stand up against the wizarding terrors, against the witches and wizards who mean the world harm… and you've been selected to join us." She slapped the files down on the faded blue armchair to her left. "Silver Heart needs men and women of all different expertises and backgrounds. Each and everyone of you were handpicked. Some of you were referred to us," She glanced at each of the women seated before her. "While others were chosen specifically by members of our team.
"Either way, you've been chosen to join our centuries old fold. To join a tight-knit group of fighters hell bent on protecting the ones we love, the one's we don't know, and the country we love."
Torin took a seat next to the faded blue armchair, crossed her legs, and cocked a brow.
"I'm willing to answer all your questions before we get to business."
@Effervescent @Elle Joyner @CloudyBlueDay @monopoisoner @Folksy @Doctor Jax @Kathairein
SOMEWHERE IN MISSOURI
THE SHADOW
THE SHADOW
"You gonna kill me the-then?"
Shadow looked at the kid in front of him and was brought back to his past, and he wondered if his sister had asked the same thing before she was murdered. He raised his wand and aimed at the metamorph's heart. He shook his head no in reply before he spelled the kid. A simple stupefy rendered him unconscious and he watched as the kid crumbled to the earth. Shade forced down unbidden memories and took a moment to compose himself.
He glanced over at Jay, contemplating his next move. Silver Heart's headquarters was less than two miles away, but he had suspicions regarding the pendant he'd taken from Liv. If the Red Serpent had placed a tracking spell on it, headquarters location could potentially be compromised. He needed to examine it first and break the spells laid upon it.
Grabbing a piece of parchment from his back pocket, he handed it to Jay with a nod of his head. "Read it. Memorize it. Destroy it. It grants access to the Silver Heart Circle's headquarters." Shadow pointed to the large mansion in the distance. "There'll be a woman on the first floor, named AJ. She has dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She's the resident Healer. Tell her I sent you and to put him up on the fifth floor." He removed the pendant from his pocket, glared at the garnet red eyes, and flashed it at Jay. "This might be spelled with a tracker and I'm taking no risks. Oh, and tell AJ you're the one she's been waiting for, she'll know what you mean."
And with that, Shadow apparated on the spot, leaving the grassy field with a small pop.
@Red Thunder @devil's 4DV0C473
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M
monopoisoner
Guest
NICO MATSUMOTO
PRETTY BANNER COMING IN THE STORE NEAREST YOU
PRETTY BANNER COMING IN THE STORE NEAREST YOU
No one paid him any mind, to which he was thankful for. It was rare that no one tried to play the super social butterfly that tried to befriend everyone, but considering the circumstances, he doubted it was hardly the appropriate time for such behavior. So he sat, muted gray eyes perusing faces and trying to recall of any were familiar. They could be, but Nico had rarely spent time with people outside his group that it was quite likely he'd been classmates with some at one point and simply did not remember.
With each newcomer, he felt more and more out of place. Everyone seemed to carry a sort of confidence in themselves, as if they knew exactly what they were heading into despite remarks that said the contrary. He envied that, their simple comfort in themselves. They didn't fear being studied by others.
The very air seemed to still and everyone fell to hush as a woman came in, looking at each of them with a gaze that saw everything before moving to the next to do the same. He felt his gut turn to ice at her stare. Without being told, they all knew she represented the exclusive circle. No one dared interrupt when she began her speech, and Nico could freely absorb the tale she gave. It was all said with conviction, and a genuine belief in what they did. Closing his eyes, he could immediately picture Ryan falling for the same spell she cast on him now. Except both this and Ryan's own experience had nothing to do with magic, and all to do with a sense of what's right.
No wonder Ryan was convinced.
She finally took a seat and allowed any of them to take the floor. A quick reach into his pocket reassured him that the letters were where they should be, and he cleared his throat to call for attention. When eyes turned towards him, he felt unease set in, but he steeled himself to bring out the letters that weighed like lead in his palms. Oh, why didn't they just pass this job off to Ryan?
He stood, held out the two envelopes to her commanding presence. Each was marked with the personal seal of the receivers, who'd attached their replies to the invitation. Leila and Taylor had fancied them as nice touches. His fingers shook ever so slightly when he passed them, but his voice was audible enough for most to hear. [bcolor=#908b9f]"It's not a question, but the two I'm supposed to be with currently have their hands tied with other matters, though they're interested in joining."[/bcolor] He paused a beat, then introduced himself almost instinctively, as if to simply fill the silence that followed after his statement. [bcolor=#908b9f]"Nico Matsumoto... Rye's friend."[/bcolor]
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- Online Availability
- 8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
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- Male
- Primarily Prefer Female
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- Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
no-lightbox
New York City, New York
As the last few stragglers arrived, Frankie sank back almost comfortably in her lime green chair, allowing herself a moment - if only a moment - to relax. Maybe it would be a total loss, as far as information was concerned. Maybe it was a waste of some cash, a waste of time... but even if she didn't get answers, with a group like this, it was worth sticking around, just to find out what the fuss was for. It had been too long, frankly, since she'd been around this particular breed of people, and a part of her was reminded of that thrill that came, knowing you were special... different.
She hadn't always rejected the idea of being a Witch. When her letter had come that first year, and her mother had explained to her what it had meant, she'd been fairly excited, and that excitement had only grown as she did. Through her first few years of school, she had blossomed - learning everything she could, with the uttermost exuberance and dedication. It was her fifteenth year, when her mother had died that everything changed. What good was magic if she couldn't use it to save the people that mattered most to her? What was the point if in the end she still lost...
She'd pulled away. Away from magic, from the community, from the very nature of that world... and she'd had no intention of getting wrapped up in it again. Yet here she was, and she couldn't help it... it felt good. It felt good and intriguing and thrilling... and...
The door opened and a woman walked in and for a split second or two, Frankie paid her little mind, assuming she was just another latecomer. It was upon second glance, as the woman began to speak and Frankie glanced up to see her that realization struck... Struck like a cast iron skillet to the teeth, "Son of a bitch..." She hissed, and without meaning to, she rose from her seat. It was the woman... the same woman from Jim's funeral, that she had chased through Boston streets to little avail... The woman had stolen something from Jim, and Frankie wasn't about to let her get away with it twice.
"I got a question..." She all but growled, cutting across the Asian man's introduction. Fingers gripping the hilt of her wand and Frankie edged it from it's hiding space, but didn't yet produce it. She wanted answers, but she had enough common sense to know pulling a wand in a room full of magical folks was a mistake, "'The hell did you and Tonto take out of Jim Taylor's casket..."
@Fyrelily, @Everybody
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
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- Advanced
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- Primarily Prefer Male
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Liv & Jay Lee
~Somewhere In Missouri~
~Somewhere In Missouri~
All the things Liv had heard about what happens when you're about to die was a lie. There's no time to see your life flash before your eyes. There's no chance to think of any regrets you had. Mistakes you made. Instead, you freeze on the spot and make the dumbest expression in the world. The last thing people will see of Liv is the twisted and horrid mixtures of different people. Tall and large. Masculine and feminine. A rainbow of ethnicities shifting in and out quickly. Long and butched hair. A multitude of colored strands. But, the blues and yellows in his gaze never left. Liv was doe-eyed. Mouth twisted as he brought his hand up as if it could anything to stop the inevitable.
Then, there was nothing.
Liv collapsed on the ground. His body disappeared in the thick weeds of the fields. Beneath the foliage, a transformation was taking place. The monstrous proportions shrank and became compact. His features hardened slightly as masculinity took over. His hair shortened into a damp mop of dark blonde hair. The clothing didn't fit properly and snapped. Some places was way too big while others were too small to fit Liv.
via @devil's 4DV0C473
~
Parchment in hand, mouth drawn back in bewilderment, Jay stared at the empty spot Shadow had just vacated. When they get you involved, they really get you involved, don't they? Grumbling to himself, he lifted the paper to read it. It was as his mentor said: the location to the SHC's headquarters, address and everything. Satisfied that he knew the information, he held his wand to the paper's edge and with a whispered Incendio it dissolved into ashes. Smiling, he shoved his wand into his back pocket and dusted off his hands. There was just something about knowing something that most people didn't that made the thief feel special. And for someone who'd rarely felt that in his life, it was a feeling he cherished.
And regularly pursued. Jay glanced down, staring at...well, at his prisoner. And at that backpack the blonde had fought so hard for. He, definitely a 'he' now, was face down in the tall grass, sprawled out as he'd fallen in reaction to the stun spell he'd been hit with. It would have been nice to not have to lug the kid around. But it made sense why Shadow Stunned him: it wouldn't do to have the kid know where the HQ was. Glancing around suspiciously, as if someone where there watching in the open field, Jay pulled the pack from the boy's clutches and slung it across his own shoulders. It wasn't any heavier than it might have been when filled with school books. But it was light compared to what the kid would weigh. Once again the thief cursed his lack of proper schooling; any fifth grader in Ilvermorny could almost certainly have worked a lifting spell on the body. But he definitely could not. So he bent down and slung the kid over his shoulder with a grunt. Getting back up to standing was almost impossible, and Jay only barely managed to not dump his burden on his head. Finally he gained his footing, and with another paranoid glance around, stepped off toward the mansion.
It didn't take long, thank God; whether it was part of the camouflage spells or just a trick of the eye, the building was a far bit closer than it had first looked. Without pausing long to assess the place, Jay pushed right inside. There seemed to be a sort of bar or desk, similar to what a hotel contains; behind it was a fairly frazzled looking older gentleman. His salt and pepper hair was combed haphazardly to one side, a thick mustache dropped on one end while the other curled tightly in a nice twist, and the green sweater vest he wore over a brown collared shirt bore what looked to be a fairly recent coffee stain. At the sound of the opening door he looked up, only to start and gasp at the sight of the unconscious fellow on Jay's shoulders. Jay looked up at the noise.
"Hey there, would you grab AJ please? ASAP? That'd be great. Thanks."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned away and proceeded to drop the kid to the ground. The doorman, one Gerald by name, sputtered and stammered. This wasn't the way things happened, there were protocols to follow, what did this new fellow mean by bringing in some Stunned nobody into their sacred headquarters? But it quickly became apparent that the newcomer was not going to pay the least amount of attention. Huffing, Gerald turned and walked briskly out of the room, grumbling about the new generation quite unhappily to himself.
It wasn't long before AJ appeared. Her brown hair fell across her shoulders, the curls causing it to bounce a bit with her step. She wore a very plain robe, easily cleaned and discarded, and her hazel eyes were examining the metamorph before she ever spoke a word. Gerald, notably, did not follow. Jay stood up at her approach.
"Shadow sent me. 'I'm the one you've been waiting for', apparently. He said to put this," Jay nudged Liv's form with his foot where it lay upon the floor, "on the fifth floor. Not sure what happens after that."
Eyebrow raised in skepticism, AJ looked up to regard Jay before looking down again at Liv. She gestured at his body; her wand was evidently hidden in the large sleeves, for it rose into the air. With a curt "Wait here", she turned and began ascending a flight of stairs, the kid floating along closely behind. Sucking on his teeth in his impatience, Jay shrugged and looked around.
It seemed a reasonably stately place, for the headquarters of an underground resistance. If he were honest with himself, he wouldn't know the difference. Jay wouldn't recognize 'fancy' if it punched him in the mouth. All the same, it was something he'd never seen before. And, inevitably, curiousity got the better of his. That doorman had seemed very preoccupied with whatever he had behind he welcoming desk countertop. Hands in his pockets, Jay sauntered over and peeked over. There was little to see: accounting books, staff entry and exit logs, and resource receipts covered the old wooden desktop. Basically, nothing of interest.
At least, not to him. The unwelcome face of Gerald rounded the corner from where he'd disappeared. His bespeckled eyes locked into Jay's curious activity, and a diatribe launched forth from the man like a bullet from a gun.
"You have absolutely no manners and no regard for things! Where the devil were you raised: the street?" He slapped the desk as he rounded it in his perturbation. "And just who are you, to come in here demanding things of me? Do you know how long I've worked here? I know everyone in this place, and I'll retire before I let some young punk-"
Eyes alight with contained retort but face calm and blasé, Jay looked on as he leaned against the countertop, his hidden hand seeking his wand unsuccessfully. It was fortunate that he was; a hand suddenly grasped his, halting his search and Gerald's rant, and AJ looked at Jay knowingly. Glancing at Gerald with a smile and a nod of the head, she released Jay's hand and gestured with her own.
"Come. You need some rest, I imagine." With a look back at the now silent and work focused doorman, Jay turned and followed, stopping their ascent up the stairs only when she did before a door on the third floor. She nodded her head and smiled. "Here is yours. Shadow, I imagine, will be by before too long. Wait for him inside."
"Thanks," Jay muttered, grasping the handle. He turned to ask when she thought Shadow might be back, but AJ was already descending the stairs. Shrugging, he opened the door.
Inside was a kind of greeting area, furnished with armchairs and a table between them. In a back corner squatted a desk and bookcase, two items he'd almost certainly have no use for. To one side was the bathroom, opposite the bedroom. Smiling wearily at the thought of rest, Jay immediately turned the corner and tossed the backpack onto the floor at the corner of the bed. With a long groan he fell forward onto the quilted bed, careful to keep his face up to avoid smashing his glasses into his face. He opened his eyes lazily, only to have them fall onto the bedside table. There, sitting prominently and rather proudly, was a pair of dark, aviator style sunglasses, with the lenses facing him like two cocky eyes. Jay groaned again.
"'Shades', Shadow? Really?"
After the congratulatory explosion in Atlanta, this took the cake. Jay would have to pay the bastard back; he just had to figure out how.
@fyrelily
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