A Very English Magic Society (IC)

It was 6am. In the third floor study of Dai'sia's London Townhouse, a small light was flickering. Inside a fire was burning, and on the table, an expensive gas lamp. The light these sources shed fell onto a book, lying open on the table. The pages were old, thick parchment, with faded ink covering every available space, crawling around diagrams and strange symbols. The whole thing oozed with mystery and ancient knowledge.

A pale index finger traced the edge of a page, then, when it reached the bottom corner, turned it. The quiet of the room seemed blessed, with only the welcome sound of the fire, and the rustle of pages, to disturb the silence. The furniture was dark oak, with chairs upholstered with thick, red velvet and feather cushions. Bookcases lined the wall, neat and grand. The curtains were open, the pale netting just letting through the pale violet of dawn. It was autumn, and very cold outside. But not in here. In here the place was charged with magick, and the air seemed to hold it's breath, as the tall, regal form of Dai'sia sat with her books, and sipped her tea.

Of course this particular book was not just hers. It belonged to the Society of the Red Stone. She had asked to borrow it to study the intricacies of Dark Alchemy. It had been several years since the Three were expelled, and she was growing suspicious.

A small bell rung, and she calmly shut the book, placing it in her desk drawer before closing it. "Come in," she said, and the door opened, a housemaid standing there, smiling slightly, a letter in hand, "Your post ma'am.". Dai'sia beckoned her in, and the woman walked over, handing over a deep green envelope with glittering ink. "Anything else ma'am?" the housemaid asked. Dai'sia was transfixed by the letter, but managed to say, "more tea, please," without looking up. The housemaid took the tea, the tray rattling slightly, the sound homely and cosy, before exiting and shutting the door behind her.

Silence once again, as Dai'sia read the letter. A smile spread over her young yet wise face. Bernard was coming back to England. The Seven would soon be reunited in whole...



Tessandra blew onto the coals, trying to coax the fire into life. When it finally did blossom, she was loathe to leave it's warm glow, but she had to attend in the kitchen, where breakfast was being made for the family. Young Master Simon would be there, at the table, ignoring her of course, eating and laughing and reading the paper. Oh how she hated him. Hated him for the lies he had told, and the way he had mercilessly dropped her from his attentions, leaving her to coldly realise she had been seduced, then abandoned.

Kate must have seen the scowl on Tess's face when she wandered into the kitchen, for she whispered something to Ellis, and the two smirked. Suppressing a sigh, she composed herself and went to fetch the bacon from the pantry. She put the slab of cold meat on the table and began slicing carefully. When that was done she started frying it.

Breakfast was uncomfortable. Tessandra was forced to stand by the drafty window in case any of the family needed her. Young Master Simon was being particularly cruel, asking for more sugar for his tea, then smiling at her and her alone, proud of his terrible joke. 'More sugar indeed' she thought as she marched back into the kitchen, filled up the already nearly full pot, and then went back into the Breakfast room, placing it on the table with a barely audible, "There you are Sir,".

Oh how she hated this. How she absolutely hated this. And her woman's courses were late. Sometimes they were, if you were stressed enough. Ellis was never regular, and she never seemed bothered. Oh, but they had not sinned as she had... Suddenly her face flushed red with anger and embarrassment. Young Master Simon was not suffering at all. How was it that men could do what they liked? That their virginity was not held sacred. Why must a maiden be punished for being cold, then punished for being hot? It was all so unfair. Men scorned you for not giving them what they wanted, and then scorned you for when you did. And now... possibly... she was with child. She would have to confront the Young Master, ask him for help, to arrange quarters for her in her absence. Surely he would not be so cruel as to leave her to suffer...

Maybe that was the wrong attitude to take. For the one thing Young Masters held dear was their pride and reputation. And what a thing a bastard child would do to their reputation. Tessandra decided she would confront him that very night as she delivered supper to the rooms. Her heart was beating madly. She was afraid.

Recently, there has been some strange events occurring around town. Strange substances lying about, some bubbling and smoking. Odd symbols drawn and etched on walls and objects. Bloody loonies running about muttering incoherent phrases. All of which seem to be dismissed by most others, but not to Oswalt. Bradly looked at all of it as what it could be. Especially when he thinks it could be involved with a current crime.

Watching the burning embers in his stove, Bradly began to think about an imagine he found recently, some sort of snake shaped drawing. He closed the door of the stove and choked out the fire by closing the stove pipe as much as he could before he was breathing the gas. It was time to leave for work.