elbow patches
Liberal Prophet
elbow patches
Liberal Prophet
" I was alone,
I never knew
What your love could do. "
I never knew
What your love could do. "
Tanner Carr
Tanner huffed to himself, shoving his hands deep into his jean pockets. Why the hell am I here, anyway!? Oh wait. ******** service hours. I hate my life. Tanner sighed as he kicked a pebble which tumbled aimlessly in the air, hitting the side of an obnoxiously colored tent with a plopping sound. He looked up from his Captain America - themed converse high tops, curiosity peaking. He hadn't seen a tent this color all day, and he'd made rounds around this stupid fair all day. Tanner furrowed his eyebrows and walked around the tent, making his way towards the door. Yes, a door. On a tent. What the hell? It was a wooden door attached in the dead-center of the front of the cloth tent. T shook his head, thinking about how advanced computer graphics were getting. He pulled his left hand out of his jeans and pulled the iron handle on the door, which resulted in a loud groan from the ebony wood. The door was finally pulled open, and Tanner brought himself inside the tent. It smelt of dust and old people, Tanner cringed, noticing that this was a book store.
Tanner was stumped, considering the fact that he was never told that there would be a bookstore (a dusty one at that) at a children's Renaissance fair. He found his quite humorous, actually. Tanner looked around for someone he knew, after all, usually only seniors were aloud to work the tents at these kind of events. Tanner scanned the isles of dusty old parchment, the tent seemed empty. Great. Tanner hear something shuffle behind him. He whipped around, expecting some creep in a freaky mask to be standing behind him with an axe in his hand, like how its done in a slasher movie. Too bad it was just a dusty old man in a satin velvet robe, tsking at him. "You know, sonny. You should never snoop into things you don't understand. Nothing good ever comes from it." The old man croaked out in a terrifyingly-raspy voice. Tanner half expected the man to pull a knife on him, but the elderly man just turned on his heel and walked off, back hunched over a wooden walking stick.
"This is just too freaking cliche." Tanner sighed and decided it best not to have a knife pulled on him, so he played it like he was actually looking to buy a book. He strolled casually to the isle across from where he was standing, which was labeled 'tomes'. Surprising. 'Magic' books in a fairy tale fair. If you would ask T, he would call all of this bullshit. I mean, really? Books that could summon thunderbolts from clear skies? Bull. Still, a certain book with gold embroidery on the spine caught his attention. Tanner pulled the 'tome' out of its place and looked at the cover. It was written in some fancy, golden font that he couldn't quite decipher, so he flipped it open. His eyebrow rose out of curiosity, finding that the book was in some different language. Gaelic? Nordic? Whatever it was, Tanner thought the letters looked cool. Tanner slapped the book closed and began walking around, looking for the old man. After about five minutes of isle-scanning, T found the old fart behind a desk with a pair of glasses, writing on a piece of yellow paper with a quill. A quill! People got too into their jobs these days.
"Excuse me, I'm going to go ahead and buy this." Tanner said nonchalantly as he dropped the book onto the desk. The old man looked up at the book and smiled, meeting Tanner's eye. he couldn't place it, but the look the old man gave Tanner was unsettling. It almost looked like he knew something that Tanner didnt. That's odd.
"Sure thing, young man. But, for a handsome young man as yourself, i shall give you this tome for no charge." The old man smiled eerily, showing a number of missing and blackened teeth. He held the book up for the younger male to take.
"Uh, sure. Thanks?" Tanner said as he pulled the so-called 'tome' out of the guys hand. Tanner turned around and nearly sprinted out of the tent, thankful to be out from under the bookkeepers watchful eye. Tanner walked around the fair, dodging screaming kids dressed as knights fighting with sticks, pretending like they were the real thing. Tanner sighed at their innocence, he remembered when he and his best friend used to be like that, playing with no sense of decency. They use to see who could scream at the top of their lungs to see who could be louder. After walking around for a while, Tanner tired of carrying the book in his hand, so he thought it best to put it in his bookbag which was conveniently slung over his shoulder. He opened the flap and placed the book in a side pocket, next to some pens and a pair of sunglasses.
Tanner spotted the picnic spot just in time, for his stomach began growling shortly after he put the book away. He furrowed his eyebrow at the disgusting sound and trudged towards the tables. "Hey! TANNER!" The male looked up from ground to see a girl waving at him. She had oak-brown hair and a strong nose. She could use a nose job, id you would ask Tanner. A boob job, too. Tanner smiled at his friend as he switched directions and began heading for the table where his group was.
"T-Monster!" Tanner whirled around as he heard someone calling his name. Not in time though. His best friend had already jumped and landed on his back. "T-Monster, they're stalking me." Cross whined, which made Tanner get pissy because he hated when people whined.
"Oh, hey there, Cross!" Tanner said in the general direction of his shoulder, which was currently being dug into by a certain someone's chin. "Wait, who!? Do you want me to rip their balls off and tie them in a not around said stalkers forehead?" Tanner threatened, speaking louder than needed. This threat got wild stares from little kids and from mothers who quickly escorted their children away from Tanner. Tanner carried Cross over to where their friends were. He rolled his eyes at Owen's remark. "Cross doesn't get fat. Now, you on the other hand..." Tanner was interrupted by a sound of someone screaming in the distance. Apparently, Cross was the only other person who heard it, because she darted off. And of course, as usual, Tanner sprinted after her. God, she was such a nuisance.
"OHHHH. YOU WANNA PLAY DIRTY, EH!?" Tanner yelled after the girl who remarked about him being the team's top midfielder. T followed Cross into the woods, the shrieking getting louder every second. They had to be close. "Oh, gee. Thanks." He said as he was handed a wrapper. He grimaced and dropped it on the ground. Global warming my a**. He sighed and looked up, catching one last glimpse of the girl before being completely surrounded by a blinding white light. "What the he-"
Tanner blinked several times, his eyes adjusting to the new lighting. "What the ******** was that!?" He said to himself, grimacing at the horrible taste he had in his mouth. He looked up, finally realizing he wasn't in the woods anymore. He was in an open field, surrounded by trees. He was pretty sure he wasn't back in the woods with Cross, because he was pretty damned sure that he hadn't taken a step since the blinding white light a few seconds ago. He cursed again and kicked a rock. Turns out that the rock was a lot bigger than he expected, because he shouted in pain. It felt like his big toe had been smashed in by a hammer.
A loud, scratch that. A very loud screech came from overhead. Tanner's eyes shot up just in time for him to see a ginormous shadow in the sky, directly overhead. He backed up when the shadow began to descend. Tanner backed into a large boulder, when the shadow finally descended. It was no shadow. Hell no. It was a freaking dragon. "It is I, Levanne, Wyvern Rider. Known as Deathstone, Rider of the West. Come with me, princeling, or be slaughtered at the hand of my lance." A deep, evil voice came from atop the dragon / wyvern animal.
"The ********? I inhaled to much dust at the bookstore." Tanner cursed himself and turned his back on the dragon. Wrong move. The black-clad knight aboard the wyvern picked up a javelin and chucked it. The metal tip of the lance barely missed Tanner's face, but managed to deeply gash the teenager's arm. "Ah! Dammit!" Tanner hissed, turning to look at the dragon man once more.
"Come with me, or death awaits you." The same, deep, gravely voice continued. The black knight outstretched a hand, waiting for Tanner to take it. Even though the knight was twenty feet away, T could hear the raspy breathing coming from inside the helm that covered the knight's face.
"The hell I won't!" Tanner yelled, sprinting off into the woods. "Cross!?" Tanner yelled, dodging branches and avoiding thickets with vines that held a numerous amount of thorns on their sides. Tanner clawed through bramble, "Cross!" was being yelled desperately as he hard an all-too familiar screech come from overhead. Tanner dared a glance overhead and saw the same shadow as before which made him run all the more faster. Finally peeling his eyes off of the wyvern, he ran straight into the girl he was looking for. He was knocked to the ground, as was Cross. He jumped up, pulling the female with him. "Cross! We've got to get out of here! It sounds crazy, but but but there's this guy chasing me on a dragon and we need to move, NOW!"
" Then we touched,
Then we sang
About the lovely things. "
Then we sang
About the lovely things. "
elbow patches
Liberal Prophet
Peter Armando was always reliable. Always hot. Always there when little Sammy needed a good make-out session. This session was a little different than usual. Instead of being in the back of the library, or in an abandoned hall, they were in the Gryffindor Common Room, and it was abandoned. As in, no one was there. Just the two young men. And things were getting quite heated. Peter was on top of Sam and things were starting to get very intimate right as there was a loud screech. A screech far too familiar to the perverse head of one Samuel Fitts. The young boy groaned as he shimmied out of Peter's grip. "Really, Juniper? What the hell could you possibly need. I thought I talked to everyone already about my special 'Sam Time'. I guess bitches didn't get the memo." Sam quipped as he put his shirt on. He glanced over at the older boy, who's face was now bright pink.
If he would have looked up he would've seen her roll her eyes. "Well, you should be more careful when you have your ' Slutty Sam Time'."
"S-s-sorry Sammy, I'll talk to you tomorrow..." Peter Armando said before he adjusted his belt and flew out of the Gryffindor tower.
"Dammit Juni. You seriously need to get better timing." He puffed as he picked his robe up and shifted into the mental security that the hideous robes actually gave him. He tipped his toes into his shoes and walked out of the room, making a note to bump his shoulder against Juni's. Hard. He hurried out of the door, remembering that there was a big feast tonight. That meant food. That meant guys would be there. And Sammy liked guys. His frown turned into a large grin as he padded down the twisting staircases. Man, were those a b***h to get the hang of when he first came here. He remembered being pushed over the edge of one, to thankfully be saved by another one that happened to be moving and was right under where he was falling from.
Sam was snapped out of his reverie by chiming giggle from across the large room, and his heart felt a heavy pang of sadness. His mind mentally splashed memories of his young sister, Claire, into his brain. His chagrin fell and was replaced by another frown. He was so homesick. For America. For Utah. For his Aunt's mansion in France. Claire was the best thing in his life, she was the reason he smiled quite often. She consistently wrote to him through owls, and kept him always waiting for those photographs of her soft brown curls and dimples. He missed her. A lot. He missed her cute freckles and way she would skip into his room and give him eskimo kisses to wake him up in the mornings. She was his happiness.
Sammy shook his head as he stepped onto the ground and headed into the main hall, which was nearly full by now. That was why Sammy was making out with Peter; because everyone was already in the Grand Hall getting ready to eat, no one was in the common rooms. But not ******** Juniper. That b***h was always where she wasn't supposed to be. Sam shrugged it off and plastered a smile onto his face as he walked down the isle of the Gryffindor table. Everyone was here, pretty much, from first years to seventh years. And they all looked the same to Sammy. Finally, he spotted a familiar face, a face that was currently shoving its face with food. Turkey. And mashed potatoes? Sam guessed. His name was Wolgang Baxter, and he was an exchange student just like Sam. But, while Sam was from Beauxbatons, Wolf was from Durmstrang.
Wolf looked up and smiled when he saw Sammy, which in turn made Sammy grin from ear to ear. Wolfgang wiped the small remains of food off of his face with his sleeve in the most disgusting way possible. Sam's eyebrow rose when Wolf licked his lips and winked suggestively at him. Sam rolled his eyes and sat down next to the Durmstrang student. "Hey sexy," Sam teased, enjoying the playful flirting. A plate appeared before him and he started loading a good amount of food onto it, as an idea slipped into his head. Of course, it was a sexual idea. It is Sammy we're talking about here.
He dropped his left hand from the table and slowly slid it up Wolf's leg, rubbing his thigh provacatively.Sam watched his hand, but slowly drew his eyes up to Wolfgang's own. They had a curious gleam to them, which turned playful as Wolf leaned down in a way to kiss Sammy. Their lips were an inch apart and Sam's eyes were closed when he felt something mildly warm and squishy on his nose. "WHAT THE ********] Sam hollered as his hand flew to his nose and wiped mashed potatoes off his nose. He huffed in aggravation as Wolf blew up in laughter, as did a good amount of others who happened to see what occurred. Sam dipped a finger in his own mashed potatoes and scraped them along Wolf's forehead, making it look like the Swede had a unibrow. Sam smiled sweetly and started eating the amazing food that somehow managed to keep pouring onto his plate.
╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
♫elbow patches
Liberal Prophet
Jonas St. Thomas
Being an openly gay male student sucked. Scratch that. It was gods-awful. Even worse than that, was being an openly gay guy at a public school in Long Island. Kids at this school weren't exactly the nicest. You'd even think that junior - grade level kids would be able to handle a little sexual orientation variance, but no. Not here, anyway. This was the primary reason that Jonas hated this school, hated Long Island. The intolerance was astounding. No, he didn't get gay bashed or anything, he just got the isolation and the dirty looks. The looks were the worst part, though. They were judgmental looks that said 'I'm better than you, and you're worth nothing.' Jonas was good though. Good at hiding things, good at keeping secrets. He was excellent about hiding the pain this school caused him, but even more so, he was good at hiding the fact that he was a demigod. At 16, kids dream of this. Of having special powers. And Jonas was every bit thankful that he had his.
Even better than having superpowers was the secret. He loved the secret. The thrill of having to control himself whenever he got angry. He loved the power he knew was surging through him, waiting for use. But he would never admit to it, no, no, no. Jonas was 'too cool' for it. He dismissed his powerful control of fire and anything related to the home and pulled the whole 'oh it’s no big deal' whenever he was at Camp. On the inside, though, he was like a five year old, bursting with excitement.
So here he was at the local mall, sitting at a table in the food court. Alone. Like usual, picking at his no-chicken salad from Bread Co., dwelling on his family and powers. He did this a lot, constantly wondering what went wrong and why his mother never talked to him. Ever. His mother, Hestia, the goddess of the hearth, was kind of stand - off - ish. She didn't concern herself with many people, which is where Jonas picked up on his habit of avoiding spotlight situations. He looked across the food court into the open mall and surveyed the space that was teeming with the other students in his Physics class, praying that a piano would fall on this cheerleader he was pretty sure spawned from the pits of Tartarus. To be completely honest, Jonas had stopped caring about his grades long ago. They remained at B's with little effort, but he just didn't really think they mattered that much. It was all about the SAT / ACT scores, right? This cheerleader b***h, Mia Jennings, just kept walking around, pretending to act dumb and flirt with all of the guys. Even though the majority of the guys in this class were ******** ugly. I mean, come on. It is Physics...
As Jonas forked down the last of his salad, he felt a crippling chill roll down his neck and down his spine. He shook it off and threw the plastic container in the trash, but not before having a vivid mental battle with himself over whether or not it was recyclable. He huffed in defeat as his teacher tried to wrangle in the 30+ students, but to no avail. The man just huffed, threw his hands up, and stalked off to some store in the south end of the mall. Jonas could have sworn on the River Styx that the man was the worst teacher in the world. The young man smirked as he picked up his bad and walked towards one of his favorite stores, bumping into Mia on accident. "Sorry, slut." He shot, smiling as he walked past her. He took the escalator up a level, entering the shop 'Earthbound'. It was an indie shop, full of foreign objects. This was wear Jonas got all of his jewelry: bracelets, necklaces, earrings, etc.. He smiled at the sales clerk, a young African American woman returned a warm smile and returned to busying herself with a magazine about new fashion. He walked around the store, the wooden flooring creaking with every step. The shop was so rustic that it just had this amazing homey feel to it that just seemed so inviting. He was leafing through the bracelets from Zimbabwe when he noticed it. The clerk was in mid - cough, when she stopped. He got the prickling sensation on the back of his neck again and he looked up, already knowing what was waiting for him.
Mia was standing in the open doorway, with a sadistic grin upon her face. Jonas blinked suspiciously and where Mia stood was a harpy; a creature with the face of Mia but the body of a bird. A bird of prey. "s**t, I knew you were a b***h." Jonas put the bracelet he was about to try on down and looked for an escape, some way out. The clerk was no help, the Mist was keeping her completely ignorant of the fugly creature 2- feet away from her. An idea hit him. As he focused his mind on the dust in the room, mentally bringing them all around him, Mia grew close. It was now or never. He set the dust ablaze, creating a black soot like substance with just his mind alone that set the room into a faux - darkness. He fled, much to 'Mia's' discontent. She screeched loudly, flapping her vulture wings to blow the blackened dust away.
Jonas wasn't on the track team, but his summer classes at Camp taught him how to run pretty damn well. He booked for the exit of Earthbound and came out into a perfectly soot - less opening in the mall, with citizens flocking around. There weren't many people there, but that wouldn't stop the harpy. It knew the Mist protected them from mortal view. Jonas bee - lined straight for the exit. He pulled and pushed and tried everything to open the door. Nothing. And there wasn't something blocking the door. And harpies weren't telekinetic. There was something else in the mall. Something that wasn't the harpy, but was working with it. Maybe even its employer.
elbow patches
Liberal Prophet
Jonas St. Thomas
The doors wouldn't open. They wouldn't open. Accepting the fact that he was going to die actually wasn't that difficult. No, Jonas' life didn't flash before his eyes. He was somewhat calm in light of his apparent danger. He took a deep breath and turned around, just in time to see one of the kids in his Physics class burst up to the second floor. Jonas couldn't even remember his name. Great, someone I have to defend. Jonas huffed in frustration and shook his head, astounded at his lack of luck. He loved fighting, loved it. It was one of his few passions, along with clothes and beer. But not in public, he preferred the more quiet type. Even though he was a son of Hestia, a lesser known main goddess, and more of a kind one at that, Jonas was quick with the blade. This led him to practice with daggers, throwing knives, small projectiles. Broadswords and arrows weren't his thing.
Jonas sighed as he unhooked his necklace, pulling the two charms off of the chain. He shoved the chain in his back pocket, and the two silver bar charms grew in his hand. The metal expanded and reshaped into small daggers, the twin blades Latona and Ivaldi, the moment the skin of his palm touched the metal. Odd, the boy in his class looked at the Earthbound. First of all, that was wrong because Earthbound totally wasn't his style. Secondly, shouldn't the Mist cover the shop for the time being at ? The Mist shielded all mortals from anything that had to do with the gods and our abilities. "There's no w-" Duh. Jonas rolled his eyes when the guy moved the water from the fountain nearby and shattered the glass. The kid was a demigod. And not just any demigod, he could move water mentally. He was a son of Poseidon. Didn't he have enough kids?
He couldn't believe the nerve of rich kids. Even worse, demigod rich kids. Demigods were already impulsive enough, but when they have s**t tons of money to back them up, its just unbelievably dumb. Jonas assumed that the guy finished the harpy off - it would be back, most likely. Monsters never died, they would just be reincarnated. The kid strolled over and slumped into a cozy looking chair right next to him, making Jonas narrow his eyes.
" ' Am I okay? ' What kind of question is that? Do I look hurt? No. I could've handled that. I may be gay, but truth is I could probably kick your a** if I needed to and it came down to hand - to - hand combat, with no help from our parents. Oh, and also, I don't really know if your money has clouded your battle senses or what, but if you couldn't sense that there's another monster in here, than you're definitely dumber than you look, son of Poseidon." Jonas spat and fixed his shirt that was bunching up under the left sleeve. He placed Ivaldi and Latona in the back hem of his dress pants, not bothering to turn them back into charms. He would need them again, anyway.
Jonas turned on his heel and headed for the other end of the mall, the movie theater. He took the escalator down to the food court once more. It hadn't even been twenty minutes and he was already hungry again. Salads never held him, they were too light of a meal. He quickly chose Subway, and waited in line for a grand total of 2 minutes. Props of being in a mall during a school day. He hastily ordered a BLT, except without the bacon - props of being a vegetarian. He made sure to make eye contact with every person he passed, or at least, to look into their eyes. Monsters had this sort of eye twitch thing that they did whenever they were in the presence of a demigod. They also got this really big attitude that Jonas hated. Jonas smiled at the cashier and took his meal to a table, sitting down. Wrong move, he mentally cursed as his blades dug into the sensitive skin on his extremely lower back. He adjusted his seating in a more comfortable way, but he could still feel the twin daggers piercing his skin. That's probably going to bruise. The sandwich was reduced to crumbs in less than three minutes. He took the final slurp of the water that came with his sandwich and stood up to trash the food, ignoring the horrible glares from his peers that he was so used to getting. They would all get what's coming to them, some day.
Then a pang of guilt hit him out of nowhere. This kid had helped him with the harpy. Jonas shook his head and retraced his steps, going back up to the second store and in front of the exit. He located the son of Poseidon, and stood in front of him, putting on the most nonchalant face he could muster. "Are you gonna help me find this thing, or am I going to have to do this myself? I'm perfectly fine on my own, having a partner is just a better strategy."
elbow patches
Liberal Prophet
- █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █
❖
ＶＡＬ ＫＯＳＡＶ
It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon when Valentino stepped out of the dimly lit Oculus and into the harsh sunlight of the day. The sole of his flat shoes cracked as they met the cobblestone. This was one of the perks about being in a Romani caravan: the lightened clothing restrictions. The common people of New Orleans would normally walk around town in dressier fashions. But hailing from a strange culture to this part of the world, Val was very comfortable wearing his green pants that billowed and stopped in the middle of his shin with an off-white tunic that had seen better days. Val observed the busy street. People were shuffling around, the ladies usually clumped in small groups that he swore were always giggling at something. His attire, perhaps. He passed one of the groups of three young ladies around his age of 19. He smiled and nodded politely as they sneered at him. Get of here, gyspy. We don't want your 'services'." The obvious leader of the group, a tall red head named Clarissa spat at him.
"One day you might, and I will recall this exchange and deny your services. Your beauty is only skin deep, m'lady." Val bowed dramatically and passed the group of girls that were now glaring at him with sheer hatred. He adjusted his small belt pouch that hung at his waste as he continued down the walkway. Buildings of all different colors zoomed by, each one offering something different. To his left was a small inlet that would lead to Hal's Public House and across the street was Emilia's Linens. He squinted his eyes to reduce the light's intensity and began to cross the street. He didn't bother to check the road for any coaches. He figured that if he was being called to death, he would rather it be a surprise. He approached the light pink clothing store and opened the yellow door. The store always had a peppy outlook, like it was caught in some perpetual springtime no matter what season it was out in the real world.
"Em?" He asked as his eyes scanned the small room. The walls were lined with wooden cupboards bursting with different colored fabrics. The smell of the old wood hit Val like a sack of bricks. He'd been back in New Orleans for a few months now, the smell of the ocean had become unnoticeable to him except for when he left Emilia's Linens.
"Val?" A woman yelled from the back room behind the counter. A young woman walked out carrying stacks of coats with wrapping over them. "I thought that was you. I was just finishing up these jackets." She put the stack down on the counter with a huff and wiped some sweat from her brow. Val had grown up with Emilia Van Stanten. Their mothers had been great friends when Val was about three. So, naturally, with children the same age, their mothers had brought them along and the two became quick friends. When he was eight, the Caravan had decided to move. All of the Romanis that were part of the Caravan were required to move with it. Val didn't want to leave his best friend, but with refusal came to risk of being isolated from your family and the culture itself.
"How's life for the most beautiful lady in all of New Orleans?" Valentino said in the fakest voice possible as he leaned over the counter. Emilia let out a loud laugh as she reached down and began folding the jackets.
"Terribly miserable, gentlesir. How has business been. Has anyone come in seeking out a curse for their adulterous husbands?" She joked at him.
"Surpringly no. But I did get an elderly man searching for the meaning of life. I told him to go get drunk and come back in an hour, so I don't have very long to be here. I locked the Oculus, so he won't be able to get in even if he was sober."
"Gosh darn it, there's a button missing! Well that's fine; was there something you needed from me?"
"Not really, just wanted to talk. Oh my goodness, guess what. I ran into Clarissa Devinshire on the way here. She was as high and mighty as ever, but I made it a point to insult her." Emilia grinned widely and punched him in the arm.
"You shouldn't have! She's still angry from when you 'put a curse on her' to get chicken pox when we were little! "
"Well she's going to have to deal with it now that I'm back in town! It was her own fault for being such a little tramp back then. But I really do need to be going now. That old man will be back in the shop any time." Val sighed and straightened up.
"Try to stay out of trouble until Sunday. I don't want you to be in jail for your birthday, Val. Apparently a ship full of pirates just docked. I don't want you hanging out with them. They're nothing but bad news."
"Calm down Em, I'll be fine. Plus, Sunday isn't for six more days. Bye now," Val waved to her as he walked out of the store. The sharp scent of saltwater clung to his nostrils as his eyes readjusted to the sunlight. He tightened the leather bracelet around his left wrist and started to walk towards Oculus. When he got to the store, there was only about ten minutes until the old man showed up. "I just wanna close up" Val groaned loudly as he stepped into the familiar store. The wind chimes whistled as he shut the door.
The deep red walls were adorned with dozens of odd eccentricities. Bookshelves lined the walls sporadically, housing books that looked like they were from the 1600's. Tables were scattered around the room, topped by foreign objects that held some sort of mystical power. Val was a powerful practicing witch, but some of the Eastern magics were tougher to perform. So, he stuck to selling them to the doubters just looking for something unique for their home. He struck a match and lit the seven oil lamps around the room, creating an eerie ambiance in the store. He snuffed the match out and maneuvered his way into the back room. He pushed back the pale purple curtains and grabbed a box of Taiwanese voodoo dolls. He had sold his last one the previous night and needed to restock them.
He carried the wooden box out into the front and went to the wall. He began filling the shelf with the macabre dolls. They were faceless, save for two black dots for eyes. He had never performed a ritual on one of the dolls, but he had seen it done by an elder in Philadelphia a few years ago.
The sound of the chimes rang again. The old guy's back. With his back to the door, he hollered "Just one second sir, I'll be right with you!"
elbow patches
Liberal Prophet
"God dammit."
Orion shuffled around the small room, the wooden floorboards creaking under his heavy footfalls. This was the second time that one of his rosemary plants died. If he was just a tad smarter, he would have realized it was because he kept snipping off pieces of the foliage so the flower wouldn't grow too much. He preferred to keep it maintained so that three individual rosemary plants could fit on a bench that was five feet long. Rustic blue flowers fell to the floor as he moved the dead plant towards a small crackling fire that was in the corner of the room. The fire was always blazing, no matter the hour or condition. He had enchanted it so that it would only put itself out if there was a malevolent presence in the room. The fire had gone out three times in the past week. This specific reason was why he was frantically growing rosemary. When burned, rosemary gives off a pleasant incense that smells a little like springtime but is used as a repellent of unfriendly spiritual activity. It might have just been a coincidence that the fire had been going out, Orion thought as he tossed the plant into the pit. It had been about three years since the fire went out last, back when his father took his life. That was when Orion cast the eternal flame to watch over the household.
Orion looked out the windows of the apothecary, smiling as the sun crept above the horizon. He felt a connection to dawn; it was a new day, which meant a new opportunity to make the townsfolk like him. He needed to go into town to get new clasps for his shoes anyway, so he figured he may as well try to get some business while he was there. Orion made his revenue from offering people 'psychic readings' and giving customers magicked objects charmed to the customer's desires. Some of the more superstitious, or desperate, villagers came to him if they needed a cleansing, either medical or spiritual. He would put together a charm or gather a few herbs from his extensive garden and send the customer on their way. He was generally known for his low prices and enthusiastic demeanor - the townsfolk seemed to disregard that whenever they acted against him and his brother.
The Sutton twins were people of interest in the Seattle. Abel and Orion lived in an outlying forested area a few miles out of town, but that didn't stop the townspeople from talking about them. Everyone knew that they were witches, but no one exactly accused them, for fear of retaliation. Mainly from Abel who was known to be a little more testy than Orion.
Dull light began to filter through the walls of the apothecary, which were made of all glass. The sky was a deep grey color, not unusual for early October. Orion brushed his hands of potsoil and started over towards the broom to sweep up the dirt on the floor from the rosemary. The broom fell as he reached for it and a loud clack sounded through the room. Orion looked up and panic flooded through him. The familiar crackling of the fire suddenly halted and the panic grew to a deep fear. Visitors. This was good! This meant that the problem was human, not demonic or ethereal. Orion put on his best game-face and walked towards the french doors leading to the outside garden. The doors swung outward through mental command and Orion was greeted by a crisp gust of wind as the yellowed grass crunched under his feet. Something tugged at him in his mind. "Who's there? I can sense you."
Orion heard the same crunch he had made from stepping on the grass. He looked to the left and saw a black cloak disappear into the woods around the house. His lips curved into a smile. He was hoping the perpetrator would put up some semblance of a fight. His walk turned into a small trot as he picked up the walk to follow the caped person. He ducked and weaved through underbrush and trees, making sure to pick up some oak moss he hadn't noticed before. He could use that for love and protection spells. He followed the faint sound of the swishing cape and after a few minutes, he realized that he couldn't hear it anymore and had been misinterpreting it with the sound of his own movements. He rolled his eyes as he stepped into a clearing where he meditated during significant moon phases. This area was enchanted - no one besides Abel and he could find it. Orion sighed and turned around and trudged back to the house, suddenly aware of the cold that seemed to penetrate his lungs. He walked through the small garden, absentmindedly thinking that he ought to move some of the thermosensitive plants indoors. These thoughts were interrupted as a putrid odor reached him. He gagged as he looked around him. He didn't see anything until he made it to the apothecary doors which were now shut for some reason. A doe head was nailed to the left door, the blood dripping down the frame. It smelled as though it had been dead a week. On the right door,a string of sigils from a forgotten language were smeared in blood.
Orion stared at disbelief before him - what the actual hell? The townspeople never had the nerve to do this before, and the house wouldn't have allowed anyone without magical blood to enter without vocal invitation from either brother. So who had shut the doors? And who had the nerve to hang the head of a doe - an animal associated with peace and grace - on the door of a family of witches? It was gutsy - and it unnerved Orion. He looked at the sigils again, picking up a pattern that he hadn't seen at first. They were ancient Sumerian. That's strong magic... Orion huffed and opened the doors. He stormed through the house shouting for his brother. "Abel! Someone's trying to get our attention. Where in God's name are you, brother!?"
elbow patches
Liberal Prophet
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❖
PALLAS RHODES
Pallas skulked out of the minimalized lecture hall. Not many students at Edgemont were majoring in Classical Languages and Civilization, so there were only three other students in the class, most of whom maintained a sturdy B average. The teacher, Professor Naya, was a willowy woman of 53 who had an affinity for sun dresses even in the dead of winter. She was always smiling and something about her intrinsically put Pallas on edge. Pal, nursing his 102%, never bothered to talk to her outside of class – why should he? The other students, however, conversed with Naya whenever they saw her. He had no idea what any of their names were, only that they were incredible kiss-asses attempting to keep their scholarships. One girl, perhaps her name was Samantha?, was late to class every day and had a tattoo of an inverted triangle at the nape of her neck, yet somehow managed to have a 103%. She was the only other student who bothered participating in the discussions besides Pallas. Her Greek composition wasn’t terrible, but Pallas’ was better and he was completely dumbfounded as to how her grade was better than his.
Pallas glared at her as she walked aggressively past him, conversing with one of the other students from the class. She cackled at whatever her friend had said and Pallas rolled his eyes. This girl needed some humbling. He said a simple telekinetic spell and watched happily as the girl kicked the back of her own foot and stumbled forward, throwing her coffee thermos in an attempt to balance herself before failing miserably and landing on the concrete sidewalk face first. Pallas adjusted his white infinity scarf and passed the girl up. “You might want to be a little bit more careful.” He quipped as her friend helped her up. He conveniently didn’t see the thermos as he ambled past it.
Pal looked up at the sky, gauging the time to be a little after three. Naya had let them out of their Thursday Classical Composition class earlier than usual. Clem should be in the Rhodes library still, probably trying to find a way to suck away someone’s magic after they died. Lou had only died yesterday, but Pallas found himself entirely apathetic to the situation. He had never particularly liked Lou, so ‘accidentally killing’ him wasn’t that difficult for him to do. A quick sneeze to cover up a minor relocation charm to phase a candle one pace out of its proper position and the whole ritual went awry.
It was a regular ritual, too, and he was caught off guard at how no one had noticed the Northern candle had been moved after. Granted, the others were preoccupied with Lou dying. He did need to speak to Clem about the possibility of Lyric figuring out just what had happened. Mark for mark, Lyric was the only one who could outmatch Pallas at ritual magic, and therefore she would be the only one able to notice the atmospheric change of a relocation spell being activated.
Pallas strolled casually along the paved sidewalk to the Rhodes building, smiling to himself as onlookers whispered as they saw him. He suspected as much – his so-called friend had died the day before and he was still at school. As soon as he shot a glance at the clusters of students talking about him, they would immediately turn away and pretend to engage in small talk.
Pal opened the door to the lecture hall building, grateful of the hot blast of air that greeted him as the concrete turned to soft carpet. He turned right at the first painting, an original Monet that his family had donated several years back. The painting belonged to a collection of dozens of rare artifacts that the Rhodes family had donated to Edgemont within the past two hundred years. Pallas hummed one of Taylor Swift’s new songs under his breath as he reached a dead end of the hall. “Monstre tu ipse” He sighed offhandedly. He was extremely tired of the basic cover-up enchantments that hid the Circle libraries from the school – they were nothing but bothersome to get around.
Glass French doors formed on the wall where previously nothing had been. Pallas pushed them open and took a deep breath of the air that just tasted archaic. Over a hundred shelves of books lined the dome-shaped room. The ceiling was entirely covered by a mural of the night sky, complete with a constellation map that rotated according to the lunar cycle - a basic mobilizing spell his great grandfather had enchanted the ceiling with in the 60s. On the right side of the room were the study tables and the Parisian cream-colored loveseats.
Pallas spotted Clem sitting in the back of the library in the sunroom. The sunroom had a temperature modifying spell on it so it always felt like a breezy summer morning on this inside – a great escape from the harsh Maine winter. It wasn’t even a pretty winter – there were no flurries, just gray skies and a melancholy feeling in the air. Pal hopped over to Clem “Bonjour, mon ami. Are you looking at siphoning spells? I already told you that you won’t find anything in Rhodes. The western Europeans weren’t into life magic – but you could check in Vaduva. The Romanians were into that shit.”
Clem grunted a reply.
Pallas dropped his backpack to the floor and slid into the chair at the head of the table. He propped his feet up onto the glass. He took a swig of the coffee that Clem had in front of him. “Jesus, Clem! Put some ******** sugar in that.” His face scrunched up as the bitter aftertaste settled in his mouth. “Also, we need to discuss who exactly we’re framing this on. My vote goes for Iris. She’s new and we don’t even like her.”
elbow patches
Liberal Prophet
Kyle sprinted down the hallway half-dressed in his uniform suit. With the gloves between his teeth, he shouted muffled apologies as he knocked into students. Evading as many as he could, he occasionally caught the shoulder of one of the kids who didn't get out of the way quick enough. He hopped his left leg into the other hole as he rounded the hall corner. He paused for a quick leather-infused breath. He jumped as the period bell sounded directly above him. "Oh... my god." He glanced around sheepishly at the students roaming the halls. They stared at him, just as confused as he was. I could've sworn I was late... Kyle huffed as he stumbled over to a staircase and sat on the last step. He grumbled to himself while he finished getting dressed. Dismissed students poured around him, yelling and laughing as the academic week ended.
Standing up, Kyle slid his black gloves on. He looked at the grandfather clock across the foyer - about 10 minutes until Danger Room training started. It had been a while since he had led a capture the flag simulation - most of the time he was denied based on his power. But, this time, he had somehow managed to lock in his role as squad leader, and it was against Devon! When he found out he would be leading a team in the simulation against her, he seethed with excitement - a chance to totally show up one of his best friends!
With his gloves on and combat suit ready, Kyle gave himself a once-over to make sure he wasn't missing anything and walked out through the front doors. He had ten minutes to kill - he sure as hell wasn't going to just stand around outside of the Danger Room door and wait like new students did. The courtyard was bustling with excited chatter as students flitted around discussing the coming capture the flag training. Not all of the students got to participate, but they were all eager to watch and hear about it. Kyle strolled through the courtyard smiling and saying hellos to some of the kids he knew. Some of the kids that came to train with him either for hand-to-hand combat or for some sort of psychic power training gave him little shoves or high fives.
Finally breaking his way through the small mobs of teenagers, he found his way to the garden on the side of the school. He looked around for Leiv, scanning the fountain and the taller plants. Normally, the gigantic Norwegian would be tending to the garden right now. Having 0 luck finding him, Kyle pictured Leiv in his mind and quickly mentally examined the area. Within a split-second he discovered Leiv over by the rock formations.
"You know, those rocks aren't going to talk back to you, Leiv." He grinned as he found Leiv talking to the rocks while he situated him to their liking. Kyle rolled his eyes when he realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt
Leiv turned around with an eyebrow raised "With you around I have enough things sassing me."
"WELL I was going to tell you to come watch me lead a capture the flag mission in the Danger Room against Devon but nevermind."
"Oh you mean see devon's team kick your teams a**? I think I've seen that somewhere before." Leiv countered as he grabbed the shirt from his belt and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Kyle pursed his lips. "Two things. First - that sass is unnecessary. Second - put a shirt on and come watch us, asshole." He said, glaring at Leiv.
Leiv rolled his eyes and draped the shirt around his neck. "If your sass is necessary then so is mine. And give me a few minutes to clean up my mess. I would hate for you to lose without an audience."
Kyle snorted and turned on his heel. "Fine then - I'll see you afterwards, Gigantor. And I'll be the winner, so be prepared to apologize!" He called as he strutted away. Kyle quickly walked back to the courtyard and into the school, excitement bubbling in his gut. He had to contain his enthusiasm as he punched the elevator button to take him down to the basement corridors. The doors opened and Kyle could hear the excited chatter from students waiting outside the Danger Room. He put on a relaxed face and slowed his walking speed - he had to look calm in front of the students. His eyes darted around the crowd looking for psychic students, his brain automatically compartmentalizing and storing the students' powers. The simulation hadn't even started and he was already beginning to strategize.
"Oh hey! Man, are you excited or WHAT!?" Kyle finally gushed as he found his way next to the new student, Eli.
elbow patches
Liberal Prophet
elbow patches
Liberal Prophet
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There were few times that Kit was thankful that he had dabbled in spirit-work in his life; this morning is one of those times. The talent for spirit-work turned out to be lost on him, but nevertheless Kit, mostly due to the adrenaline he got from disobeying his parents who were very put-off about necromancy, persisted in communicating with spirits. On a cold November day when he was 8, he sat alone in his room and made contact over a Ouija board. There wasn’t much of a conversation, and not once was Kit frightened, but since that day he has never been able to sleep past exactly 5:49 in the morning. He had gotten accustomed to the early mornings, and today is the third in a row where he actually benefitted from the early rise.
Kit leans against a greenhouse bench, combing his hand through his long hair. He has a lot to do this morning, and he didn’t know how he was going to find the time to do it all. If only he could do his work in the Lake Tower, he kept thinking. Time seemed to inch past a little slower there, and Kit needed every second he could take. Mrs. Peters was sure that three men in suits had been watching her house for a few days now, and had paid a hefty price to have Kit enchant her wrist-watch for protection, but protection-work required mugwort and he hated the smell of mugwort. Alternating between gagging and grumbling a forgotten language, Kit grinds the emerald green leaves in a pewter bowl with a pumice and throws some aniseed into the bowl for good measure. He dips the leather watch into the debris, mumbling more words under his breath, and washes the watch off in the sink across the room.
It is nearly 7:30 by the time he had finished, and he still has to make the wreaths that Waffle House had ordered for tonight’s festival. The idea of a festival still confused Kit – why is there a hole in front of the City Hall in the first place? He was never one to complain about cats, but the hole appeared out of nowhere a week and a half ago, and the mayor didn’t know much about it either. “Well we can’t just leave it there!” He told Kit in passing one day at the Lucky’s Market. The man's smile was slightly too wide, too toothy.
“No, I suppose we can’t.” Kit had replied dryly. He never liked the man in the first place. Mayor Reed was short, with a head just a little too large for his body. He barely came up to Kit’s chest, and Kit never trusts short people.
Weaving the wreaths went by quickly in the stillness and dim light of the floral studio’s design room. He silently curses his parents for leaving him to do this alone. They had left just before he had woken this morning, off to set up the Perkins' Floral Studio tent for the festival being held at the Old Town Square. As he worked, sunlight began streaming through the grand window facing the Coriander Road, and the cars rushing by didn’t drag Kit out of his morning grog. He could smell the mugwort on his fingers as he deftly pins leaf to leaf to twine to wood, making his stomach lurch. The indigo gingham ribbons tie themselves neatly on the top of the wreaths as he finishes each wreath.
The back of his neck bristles as he feels someone walking near the building. This wasn’t atypical, but there is something familiar about the approaching presence: somber, earthy. Kit rolls his eyes – it’s Ralph. Before he could ask the door to lock itself, Ralph jimmies the handle in the way only Ralph knows how to and he walks into the studio.
Kit, pulling a pin out his clenched teeth, looks up from his pile of finished wreaths and makes eye contact with Ralph.
"Just wanted to check in on those wreaths. I have to stop by the gas station before I clock in for real, I could pick something up for you.... if you want."
As Ralph speaks, Kit takes in the sight of the older boy. Kit has seen him three times since he’s been home – and this fourth encounter is just as awkward as the others. Things just aren't the same since Ellie went missing, and Ralph had asked Kit to help find her. Kit had sincerely tried every location method he knew of – all that ever came from it was a vague answer that pinned Ellie to still being in Pine Falls. Ellie’s disappearance was, and is, taking a toll on his friend.
”Well, I, uh, actually just finished them. My mom liked the dark blue bow, but I thought that indigo is way too ‘winter’ for these,” he makes air-quotes around ‘winter’ “Just for the record, a deep amber would have been better.” Kit declares as he holds up one of the wreaths. ”But yeah, I would actually love coffee. Our machine is broken and, well, you know, our stuff never works well with electricity. Can I come with you?” He doesn't wait for an answer; he knows that Ralph won't say no to him, so he quickly works his fingers through his hair to craft a messy bun out of the heavy locks. ”We can go see the big hole that everyone’s talking about. Swatch has been sneaking off there every night.” Kit gestures to the fat Turkish Van cat that is sprawled on his back in a patch of sunlight. Swatch lifts his head awkwardly at the sound of his name, cooing a disapproving meow.