i turned you into a secret

POSTED: Sat Aug 18, 2018 11:37 pm

Symre was wandering through the tombstones with a look of awe upon her face, her mulled-wine eyes curled gleefully as she dragged her fingers along the mossy stones. She had never seen anything like it, and made contented humming sounds in her throat as Brocade patrolled around her, his spear slung over his shoulder. He didn’t believe in coddling his nieces and nephews, and despite their youth still allowed them to join him on patrols.

He did not doubt his ability to protect them.

Symre stopped to inspect a large spiderweb that had been decorated with crystal-like dew, and she pushed a finger through a spoke curiously. ”Look Oncle Broc,” He grunted his response, inspecting a loose pile of stones that appeared to have been overturned to get at what lay beneath, ”I’ve never been to a place like this. Its beautiful.”

Brocade chuckled, kicking a stone so that it skittered hollowly, ”Your mother loved Springhill.” He smiled, ”She took me once to the church and told me it was haunted.”

His eyes grew hard, "But I do not believe in ghosts."

They had been with Hel, one of Lokies older daughters – and it had been there that Hyacinth had first begun her interest in magick. He scoffed, snorting roughly through his nostrils at the notion – and watched Symre carefully. He could see the interest there too, the way her eyes widened as they crept through the shadowy yard.

”See if you can find something over there,” He gestured with a scarred hand, ”I am going to patrol the perimeter.”

>:)

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you forget I have a gypsy heart
listen to the wild

POSTED: Sun Sep 16, 2018 12:32 pm

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The coven haunted the Blackwood, and Delfina could see why they chose such an ominous place as their central location for practice of the dark arts. But she also found it common and cliche, knowing that a true practitioner could perform their acts whenever and wherever. Honestly, it was all very predictable to her, so she chose to forsake the place, for all that it appealed to her inner soul in a way the open did not.

Instead, she sought herself a private space, a hallow place. Her first instinct had been the church and the human graveyard, where bones of the long dead lay beneath the dirt. Even that reeked of cliche, but the town was interesting in the way the stone looked forlorn yet looming. She liked the way the emptiness seemed to echo right back at her, like they had something in common. Soothing almost.

A stone echoed in the spaces between masonry. Delfina stiffened as the sound of voices reached in her in the solitary moment she had stolen for herself. The words that came made her bare her teeth, snickering at the stern way the man spoke. His voice was somewhat familiar, like an old itching memory, though she could not place it. A man and a child.

They interrupted her time and so she would grace them with her attention. They had come unbidden and so they would receive.

Gliding from her seclusion in a corner, her nails clacked on the remaining stones with an ominous tinkling. Her dress rustled as her hips swayed and her feminine form glided forward.

You should not speak of ghosts so, she warned, chuckling a laugh that sounded too close to the crescendo of glass about to shatter. Or at least not near anyone of the Coven. They won't take kindly to blaspheme, she added, smiling. But she was not of the Coven. She was something different.

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