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Greyson Ault

Give 'em a little edge, kid.

0 · 625 views · located in New Orleans, Louisiana

a character in “The Witching Hr”, as played by LindaRose

Description

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Greyson Sage Ault//: Birthname
20//: Age
Black Witch//: Rumored to be
Gemini//: Star Sign
Abandonment issues//: What’s the Damage?


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ImageImageImageImageLooking in from the outside..

Reputation ::
As a lifer of the academy, Greyson has a sense of unspoken seniority, she knows everything about the house up and down and the coven inside and out. She is selective about the company she keeps and isn’t shy about letting others know her opinion of them. Despite her cold demeanor, she’s known to let loose once in a while. One of the most unsettling things about Greyson is her polar behavior, one minute apathetic and menacing, and the next charming and shining. She is trusted by few of her peers and had shown herself as a skilled witch, which always sits at the front of people’s mind when considering to cross her.
Powers ::
Telekinesis - probably her strong suit, she was only a baby when she first managed to fling a spoon full of mashed carrots across the room in a fit. Over the years she has been able to spend a majority of time honing this ability, but it still easily becomes out of her control
Fear Reading - Mostly wanting to avoid this power, it can be hard when no one else is aware of how much their giving away. It’s not only irrational fears like spiders or butterflies that can show themselves, the very most personal fears are shown like a movie right behind her eyes. About the girl she sat next to during Ceremony who was terrified of going on a home visit because her dad drank and visited her room at night. About her mother trying to hold her daughter and giving a horror film of self loathing and a fear of a danger she posed to her family, aware of how she was ruining their lives. This power has probably taken the most mental toll on Greyson
Illusions - This is probably her weakest point and what she’s still attending school to master. She has set a high goal for herself she know she could reach, but there is still time she needs to invest.
Pastime ::
An herbalist by hobbie, Greyson is specializing in traditional alchemy with potions and serums. Her boat house has a roof deck she uses to plant seasonal herbs and her loft has been transitioned into a work shop. She also crafts special stones and crystals into simple pendants.
Dreams ::
All Greyson ever could focus on was surviving, and all she has ever known was being witch, it’s the only thing she’s ever excelled at. While she isn’t exactly sure what she’s striving for, she keeps to herself and just keeps working at what she knows to maintain a sense of direction.
Nightmares ::
To put it simply, becoming her mother.

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ImageLooking through it with a scope..
Fatal Flaws ::
Greyson isn’t an easy person to be around. She will say hurtful things, intentional or not, she has a way of deflecting everything off of her with layers of cynicism and sarcasm. She is known to hold a grudge, and to plan an elaborate revenge. History has shown she’s incapable of a healthy relationship, platonic romantic or otherwise. The worst part is she thinks nothing is wrong, all her motive has ever been was to make it, wherever that led. She knows all people ever want is to suck you dry until it’s no longer convenient for them to associate, and doesn’t find herself capable of having normal emotional attachments to others.
Redeeming Qualities ::
Given her circumstances, Greyson can sometimes be a breath of fresh air from most people. She doesn’t pretend to be happy, like some people. There isn’t a need to lie around her, because she’ll call it out. It isn’t a power, it’s just something she does. Her powers burden her with being able to see through others masks and read their fears, she can be an intense person to converse with, but she always provides new insight. She knows her thoughts can disturb people so she tries to censor herself - but she will never be a happy kind of person, but she’s okay with that.


A glimpse into the psyche ..

Greyson was never exposed to unconditional loving that a child could only receive from a loving parent. Her parents hardly registered her presence, she was more of a burden or a weapon against each other. Her father was from a prestigious blood line of male witches from Salem and, her mother was a powerful but mentally unstable witch from New Orleans. Marx Ault was born into privilege, although from a young age he showed a rebellious edge. He often would use magic against ordinary people as a form of trickery or amusement. His father was mean and favored his first born, Marcia.

When Marx went to the academy he met a spritely witch named Lillith. Lillith was social, beautiful and charming. They became the golden couple of their grade, were each other’s high school sweethearts. Marx inherited his trust at 25 and the two married and lived in a home nearby. Everything was seemingly ideal, until Greyson came along, then everything change - or more so Lillith changed. Her powers took a toll on her, after her pregnancy it was like a piece of her went missing. When she looked at her daughter she was reminded how she had lost her happiness and was given a liability instead.

Marx tried to bring back Lillith, he would romance her and shower her with gifts. Lillith would only push him away and bury her pain. As time would pass Lillith would crack, massively over reacting to petty things when everything would fall on her at once. She would attack Marx, using telekinesis, right in front of their daughter. Marx would use nothing but patience and understanding, he knew she couldn’t help herself.

Lillith wouldn’t allow Greyson out of her control, although she mostly ignored the girl. When Marx would dote on the girl, but it only seemed to make Lillith angrier. He distanced himself from his daughter for her own benefit from age one. The years went on and Lillith only became worse, often attacking Marx over seemingly nothing, and even threatening Greyson to control Marx. Greyson was 7 when her father sent her to the academy, where she stayed year round. Her parents lived nearby so she sometimes had day visits, but she never found a reason to unless she needed something.

Lillith had wasted away, she was a vile woman who hated everyone around her. Marx had grown tired of her ways, and although he loved their daughter she was convinced otherwise due to her early years of him distancing her. So Greyson grew up in the wonderful home of the Academy, and has always been a trouble maker. Since some of the older staff knew her parents personally and offered empathy, and could see the makes of a fine witch in Greyson. She was a lot like her mother at her age, rambunctious and charming. Often toeing the line, she stepped on the toes of many.

A bit more in touch with reality than most young girls, Greyson was a bit of an outsider from most people in her class. She was perceived as weak and targeted, which was a bad decision on their part. Her powers showed themselves at a young age, and in moments of high intensity she would lose control. At age 9 she lashed out a group of girls who trapped her in an empty classroom, desks were thrown across the room and one of the girl hit her head and lost consciousness. Her course load was immediately doubled and she was placed as a red alert student.

Things at home never got better, it came to no surprise to Greyson when she was 13 her mother eventually killed her dad. Her mother was sent to a mental institution and Greyson was to remain at the academy until she became of age when she would inherit her family’s estate. Through most of her school years Greyson was ostracized, she mouthed off to teachers and was disliked by many. Her peers would pick on her and she would become spiteful, planning elaborate revenge.

When she came of age, she took a gap year to settle out her financial situations and settle her assets. Her mother was still in the loony bin, and she never bothered to pay her a visit, the woman was nothing but bad news. She sold all her families real estate along with her parent’s furniture, clothes, cars and (most of) their jewelry. Leaving the stocks that were left in her name, she took what she had netted from selling all the evidence of her former life and bought a [url]boat house[/url] and a patch of land in the swamp lands.

She returned to the academy to pursue a higher rank in the coven. She stays on campus through the school week but goes to her boat house on the weekend, and still keeps a distance from most people. As she grew out of her awkward teenage phase, it seemed like the very same kids who used to bully her tried to befriend the promising witch. Burying herself into her studies, Greyson would only befriend those she could use as pawns and made enemies easily. Her tragic past has evoked the empathy of many, but rumor has it she gets more and more like her mother every day.

So begins...

Greyson Ault's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Lazarus Foreza Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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Cigarettes was a habit most people in the Academy shared, Greyson included. Taking refuge under a shady tree in the garden, Greyson was able to avoid the madness inside of the house. Propped up against the tree with a large text book opened beside her and her notebook in her lap, she seemed like the exemplary student. Each page had her own notes on each herb or flower the book described, along with drawings and notes of what could be paired with it to enhance its properties or redirect them. Her short dark bob was disheveled, as if she hadn't done anything to it since rolling out of bed, which was true.

It wasn't uncommon for Greyson to slip out of the house first thing in the morning, on top of generally not being a very social person, she especially wasn't social in the morning when so many others were so chipper. On top of that there were new arrivals today, and that was like catnip to the residents. Greyson had seen hundreds come and go in the thirteen years she had been there, she hardly bothered with names anymore. There was one shaggy haired blonde that was escorted in, and Hale made his rounds, missing her and yelling up to Aden to greet the new boy, she counted her blessings for remaining unseen.

For a moment the girl just closed her book and watched the house unfold around her as she smoked her cigarette down to the nub. Soon she was the only one outside, until she saw Pell leave. The girl bounced with a sense of determination, and if Pell was being Pell it was most likely with the determination to snub authoritative figures. Fair skinned and dressed in all white, she could've passed as a dream with her lavender hair chasing after her. Lighting another cigarette, she watched Pell carefully as she left, swishing her hips. Shaking her head, Greyson looked back at the front doors as Rowe spilled out, seeming confused as usual until he finally went in his own direction once outside of the gate. It was funny how she barely spoke to her peers, but by spending her time as the fly on the wall she felt like she knew them better than anyone else.

Gathering her things, Greyson flicked the cigarette into the trash, partly aiming and mostly using telekenisis to move the butt into the bin, walking smoothly toward the house. The beating sun gleamed against her tawny shoulders, exposed to the elements, slim hips sashaying. She moved through the common area as if she owned the room, barely registering Jaq and who she assumed was the other newcomer, beelining up the stairs to her room.

Aden and Kyle were in the hall with the blonde she saw entering the house earlier, briefly making eye contact, her face set in resting bitch face. With a small huff she opened her door, which was recognizable by the many stickers covering the door and taped up drawings she had made herself, along with eerie cut outs from magazines of hodgepodge bodies. She'd had her own room since she returned after her gap year, another perk of being a lifer of the Academy. The interior of the room was customized to her comfort with dark velvet drapes and large pillows thrown into a pile on the floor. She closed the windows and the drapes, turning her stereo up loud as Lisa Hall's voice crooned over the speakers, lighting her candles.

Ceremony would be soon, it was time for Greyson to cleanse herself. She lit a bundle of sage, pinching from the bundle and setting the sage in the corners of her room, facing each direction. Sitting in the center of the room, Greyson drew a chalk circle around herself and took a seat, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. She sat like this for maybe an hour before she was done, standing tall.

She collected her clothes and towel, going into the shower room. The sound of people could be heard in all directions of the house, she felt comforted knowing none of them were bothering her. Her life was simple - study, practice, observe. Her emotions ruled her, when she felt apathetic she did nothing but spend her time hovering over books or her potions, but when her emotions would peak in a sense of false euphoria she's lively and sensual, and often hit by the random mischievous mood she can become ornery and rebellious. Right now all she knew was that she couldn't face the monotony of small talk.

The water was steaming, hitting her skin with veracity, beating it pink. Rubbing a shampoo she made with jasmine and ginger she sang an old Simon and Garfunkel song her mother used to sing. Marx used to say there were glimpses of the old Lillith in the new one, that's what made him stick around so long. Sometimes when she was a little girl, Marx and Greyson would sit outside the bathroom door and hear Lillith sing:

Old friends,
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends.
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the 'round toes
On the high shoes
Of the old friends.

Old friends.
Winter companions,
The old men
Lost in their overcoats,
Waiting for the sunset.
The sounds of the city,
Sifting through trees,
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends

Can you imagine us
Years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy.
Old friends,
Memory brushes the same years,
Silently sharing the same fear.


The same song spilled from Greyson's lips like a lullaby from someone's youth. After the first run she hummed the tune to herself again she she exfoliated with the clay, charcoal and licorice soap she also made at her own workshop. Despite the certainty that other people would be waiting for the shower, Greyson took her time, emerging from the shower soft and smooth, rejuvenated. She changed into her all black garb and throwing on a jacket as she passed her room to throw her dirty clothes in the hamper and grabbing her cigarettes. She took a seat on the front steps and lit her ciggy, resting her chin in her hand as she leaned foward, watching the sun lower in the sky.

After her second cigarette, two heads of technicolor hair walked toward her, she recognized one as Pell. As they came closer she vaguely recognized the other girl from seeing her around town. She looked young, hopeful. Raising her eyebrows at Pell as she passed, Greyson gave a smirk - looking the girls up and down. "How cute, you've brought home a pet."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Althea Cambridge Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Arturo DeGari Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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//sorry I was gone so long, my grandpa died and I needed some time with the family. I have caught up on the posts since I left and will try my best to remain active.

Rather than going around making friends or dealing with ceremony -whatever the hell that is- Bambi decided to scurry back to her room and pretend she never met Madison. Pretend that the lavender-haired beauty had never seen her... Pretend she was home with her kid brother making fried ice-cream sandwiches.

She shuffled past many people, rather embarrassed that she had been so clueless. -Coward. say thank you to that nice girl. she bothered to tell you there wasn't class; which is more than I can say for the rest of these freaks.- Her mom's voice whispered in her ear.

"Shut up, bitch. You aren't even real." Bambi whispered to the voice scratching away at her sanity. She already had to listen to the booming voices of an entire school, the last thing that Bambi needed was a scolding from her dead mother. She ran outside of the crowded school. Bambi nodded at the occasional student -If only someone had bothered to tell you whether or not attendance at this so called ceremony is required. Looks like you will have to start up a conversation.- Her mom jested, causing Bambi to stop in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Pell, dragging along another girl she didn't recognize. Having already bothered Pell once today, Bambi went in search of someone else, anyone else...

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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Kyle gave tours a lot. A lot more than one would probably think. But despite giving tours to every newcomers that stops by, Kyle hardly ever knew where to start. Should he just start in the main entrance way, despite it being obvious that that was the entrance? Should he show the important places first and then go to all the knooks and crannies? Or should he just go to the next room and work his way around like a snake? Some people liked it one way and other liked it another, often times getting confused and having to ask again where the bathrooms were if Kyle ended up switching the two preferred ways of learning around. It was all very complicated to the young man, and it may not seem like much to just point and say what the room was, Kyle took it extremely seriously. Far more seriously than probably what was good for him.

He even had drawn out a small route on a picture of the basic floor plan to try and figure it out.

But they were starting in a weird spot this time. They weren't entering the house or passing the main gate. They were in the student hall already, which was almost always the last place Kyle showed. He liked showing their room last because that way they can unpack as soon as they felt somewhat familiar with the house. But this is simply backwards. Silas already knew his room and dropped off his stuff, and now Kyle was at a loss trying to figure out where to end this small journey and how to end it on a good note.

But first things were always first.

ImageAfter the small trio made their way out of Pell's room and into a less busy section of the student hallway, Kyle turned to Silas, flicking a thick curl of blonde hair away. He held his hand out flat, palm facing the floor and he swiped it back and forth slightly as if to level the air out. "First." The first floor that is. "Second floor." The f was a little delayed but it was fine, really. But Kyle held his other hand above the first, leveling out the particles in the air in the same manner as the first. "Students." He said with a hint of a smile. Before, Kyle had always said kids, because that was easy, but he recently had been forcing himself to use the correct terms. So 'student' was a new term he taught himself, at least speaking wise. Kyle, once he had stopped moving the second hand, removed his first hand from the 'first floor' and placed it over top of the second story. "Students." Silas could figure out the age system later. He didn't need to know that right at this moment.

Finally, Kyle placed the second story hand over top of the third story hand for the final floor of the building. "Fourth floor, Staff." Staff was clearly much harder to verbalize, seeing as the 'a' was long and somehow the 'f's gained a soft 'r' sound, but it was good enough.

No, no it wasn't, actually.

" Staff." Kyle corrected himself, erasing the invisible 'r' this time around. The 'a' remained long.

He figured that that was a good place to start. Knowing which floor was generally used for what was good, basic information. Now the layout of the rest of his home would make at least a little more sense. The undead took only a moment out of his internal clock to wait for Silas' confirmation that he understood. But after that, Kyle didn't waste a second, seeing as he turned around and headed for the stairs.

There wasn't a whole lot going on down in the main entry way, seeing as Pell had already left for the store and all the commotion earlier had fizzled out. This didn't surprise Kyle at all, seeing as he was used to socialization generally being spontaneous and short lived. So Kyle didn't spend much time in the main entry way. Silas could figure what it was on his own. If he couldn't then Kyle would have some concerns. But they merely went by several of the basic rooms, the the large living area, the bathrooms, all of which only needed a title and thus only got as much.

But the three hit the dining room and Kyle stopped and starred. The table was set up for the five course meal that they all would have at 7, but of course the candles weren't lite and the plates and silverware weren't out yet. That was his job when the time came to it. There was a lot that Kyle wanted to say about the room, most of it having to do with ceremony, but as he stood there for several sends, he tried to filter out as much as possible as to not confuse the young man.

He should mention that ceremony is tonight, for sure. And he should probably tell him that it's at 7 and they'll eat in the dining room first. Those were a must. But he should probably leave the actual schedule of ceremony out. It'll generally be obvious once it starts, and he could always ask questions later. He should also mention wearing black, that was important too.

"Ceremon-" Wait, wait, you have to tell him this is the dining room you moron. Taking a sharp breath in, distinctly cutting off his previous babble, Kyle let it out slowly, turning to Silas with a smile, white teeth poking through his pale lips."This is dining hall." He held his hands out slightly to gesture to the space around him. Now you can talk about ceremony. "Ceremony starts here." Very rough around the edges, and it sounded as if Kyle was addressing someone named Sir E. Money rather than saying a word, and he stuttered ever so slightly in the spaces between the syllables, but it came out.

Stepping back a few paces, Kyle placed his hand on the back of one of the wooden chairs,"Meal," he then held up his hands, putting up one finger at a time until he reached,"Seven." Or rather, "At Seven. Wear black." Black was an easy word, and so was wear.

Nodding with a twitchy smile, Kyle let his hands fall back to his sides. His miscoloured eyes glanced at the tattooed young man with them. Aden was an interesting fellow. He wasn't the nicest student out of the small bunch that they had, but interesting nonetheless. The things he chose to say and the things he hose to do almost always confused him beyond belief. For instance, today. Out of all the time in the world for him to tag along on one of Kyle's tours, which he has never done before, mind you, why did Aden decide this one? Was Silas somehow different than any other newcomer to the lad? Or was Aden just getting fond of the idea of Kyle looking like a fool while trying to say something?

If Kyle thought about it, neither would be all too surprising, actually. After all, it's just like people to poke fun at someone who stumbles. New or not.

Lightly gripping his arm with his hand Kyle nodded briefly to Aden, but with a quick snap, he was locked onto the thin vine yet again. Vines were always more interesting than clouds anyway. It seemed like forever he stood there, chuckling in a shallow manner with nervous cheeks flinching into a smile. There were advantages to not having flowing blood. It saved you the embarrassment of turning tomato red at inopportune times.

With a sudden haste, Kyle practically launched himself into his wobbly stride. They exited the dining hall to continue on their tour, since there was still so much to show Silas. One of which was Kyle favourite. They passed through the main entrance area again, but this time, a rainbow, or perhaps a butterfly even, was somehow standing next to Pell. Who herself was carrying a obviously heavy bag. Eyebrows quirking up and down and his lips scrunched to the side of his face, the blonde walked over to the pair, seemingly forgetting Silas and Aden. He stopped and stood by Pell's side, putting his hands in his pockets and offering a curious smile at the rather startled young women who Pell apparently dragged here. Not the most opportune way of coming to the acedemy but he didn't know the circumstances so he shouldn't judge.

You really shouldn't judge at all but especially when you don't know the story.

But Pell's uncomfortable shifting with the bags drew Kyle's eyes to it instead. Leaning slightly over to see what's inside, he saw the butchered meat that he would have to help serve at ceremony. He was actually supposed to get it himself, the heavy lifting usually was his job after all, but Kyle always appreciated the help. But he didn't want the girl to kill herself doing it.

Grabbing the handles of the bags with a single hand, Kyle lifted the bag enough to allow Pell to not be the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Her wrists and hands were red as it is. From there, Kyle gently tugged the bag out of her grip. He needed to go to the kitchen to set up the table anyway. He could drop it off. Assuming Pell did let go, Kyle held both bags of sliced meat in his left hand, giving Pell a nod and a firm smile attached to his lips. He gave a very slight nod to the stranger, but he was kinda in a hurry now. He had to drop off the bags into the kitchen and finish up the tour with Silas in about a half an hour, and there was still a lot left to cover for the lad. He also had to get dressed and set up the table and he should probably shower. Augh, why didn't he think to get all of this done before the new vine arrived? Would have saved him all the trouble.

Just as Kyle turned around in a smooth circle, Greyson walked up to the pair and started making conversation. Kyle got a sudden chill down his spine. She was very different than everyone else, in a way that Kyle liked, actually, but he couldn't put his figure on why he always felt off when she appeared. It was as if he was expecting to be ridiculed or something similar.

But nevertheless, he smiled his signature grin to Silas and Aden, waving his free hand for them to follow him. He didn't normally show off the kitchen, not on the first tour anyway, but this was an odd situation. Why not show him? Would be kinda interesting at least. It was a pretty nice kitchen after all. At least in undead standards.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Bambi (Jess) Soullet Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Decimus King Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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Pell Laveau






The lack of explanation and abundance of haste had method behind it. Mistakes, slip-ups, that sort of thing, simply could not be afforded. Not for witches. Not for those whose blood was a bounty when spilled. Pell of course realized she’d haphazardly dragged a helpless girl, capable of phasing, almost a half mile back to the academy. But there must have been some common understanding or at least bare curiosity. Because the stranger with the vivid hair didn’t break away, slip through. Pell had to give her credit where it was due.

Shuffling discord was heard as she dropped all the shopping bags onto the ivory walkway. Pell turned back to face the other witch head on, whose questions grew more hyperbolic and avid, hints of accusation laced in the words. Above, daylight still lingered, but only in dying bands of violet and dusky hue. Her parallel had a stare that yelled, “What the fuck is going on here!” Pell knew that feeling all too well. A dark silence passed between them. Gunmetal gaze sweeping, some red light flashing in her brain, Pell back stepped. The unease wouldn’t surface on her skin. She couldn’t blunder with a new girl potentially on the hook. But something was off. It was a smell. A sensation. Like a stench of quietus and carnage in the air. She tried not to wrinkle her nose and instead pulled back her lips to gleamingly smile. Apparently that wasn’t enough for the other young woman. How was Pell going to word this? How would she make it seem safe to an outsider? What could she offer besides food? And the worst part - who was watching? Or, what?

“Look,” the word was inhaled, low in tone, sincerity in the pitch, “I know. What you are. This,” she gestured to the looming building behind her, “Place is safe.” Still, puzzlement was scrawling itself all over the harlequin ingenue, tensing her muscles, a humored chuckle and gasp here and there attempting to make light of the bizarre circumstances. Pell took her wrists into her own hands, squeezing them lightly and keeping her voice quiet, “We are not a cult. We don’t have any weird practice aside from what we were naturally given. For you, it’s passing through. For me…” Gray jade eyes closed, Pell scraping her lower lip with a row of square teeth. In a neat score, all of the shopping bags began to hover busily and sort of bob toward the entrance of the school. “Pay attention,” she purred, “Very closely.” The grand double doors opened wide, granting access to a very eager grocery bundle. Behind those doors were no strings. No people. No rigs.

“We’re an academy. Safe place.” She turned on her heel, again. A trail of hazeled hair like pixie dust swayed behind her. “Obviously you could have made a break for it by now if you really wanted to, you know? I don’t blame you, if you decide to. Something just tells me that you won’t. You want to see what’s inside, and I really think you should.” Slowly Pell sauntered up the brief front stairs, pulling some tresses into her palms, “I can’t sit here and tell you everyone is great and you’ll make friends, we actually are super abundant in bitches, bad attitudes and mind control. All that shit, really. But you’ll have me.” A dash of self doubt came in the latter statement. But Pell liked to think it was well veiled. She gave a shrug and weakly dimpled, “I’m not a half bad guide. My name is Pell, by the way.” Standing in the vast doorway, she glanced at her iPhone in a lukewarm fashion, “If you like what you see, you can stay the night and hang around. See if it’s worth the research. If you want to lead your life the way you’ve been, even with the threat of being kidnapped and killed by men who put all their trust into holy water and blessed bullets, that’s always an option. It’s your life. Know this, though…” She peered back, “If they find you, you won’t know it until you’re bound and taken from your bed in the middle of the night. They will disable you, your powers, and any means of escape you think you might have. This shit isn't just in movies. Unfortunately it's real. I don’t want to scare you, I just want you to be safe. We’re a dying breed.”

Whether or not the girl chose to follow now was entirely up to her alone. Pell wouldn’t further the persuasion. She’d taken it as far as it needed to go. Pell chuckled grimly, “The more you know.” Pausing when she accidentally brushed Kyle, putting off his undead balance (which was bad enough without her fluky shoulder checks), Pell offered a revitalized grin. Obviously stepping out for a couple hours helped her to decompress. Softly she patted Kyle’s square shoulder, much different in form than the other. This was the way she regarded him if she ever decided to touch him. She knew touch was often associated with trauma for him, so rough or abrupt approaches may not do him well. The trace of warmth left on his shoulder would disappear in seconds. Slowly her chest rose, then fell, as she looked over Aden and Silas as well. She felt another sigh coming on. But, she choked it back. Silas’ aura was a bit less frantic and bewildered. Not quite at home, yet, but surely getting some bearing. “Hope the tour is going well, roomie.” She added with a nudge of her arm that didn’t even touch him. She was sure if she did, he might hastily step back and put on elbow pads or something before contact was made. Aden as per usual, had a sequence of thick smoke pooling in his mouth. His expression was dead and unamused, but Pell knew that in his head, there was mischief at work. She followed the smoke with her eyes. It absconded in an erotic fashion, forming a pithy curtain around his face.

“Potential fresh meat,” she mentioned to the trio of male inhabitants, “caught her at the cafe in public. Fuckin’ phasing through the table. Thought she might be a good addition to Ceremony.” Pell’s fingers curled, thumb extended as she pointed with it back at the girl whose mane mirrored the image of something one might see through a kaleidoscope. The hall they stood in was so wide. All throughout, the echoes of their conversation could be heard. Past supremes’ eyes followed the occupants from their unmoving position on the wall. Pell realized this may at first be very, very creepy. But hopefully, one of the boys would at least say hello and help erase some doubt.

“Anyway, grocery shopping is done,” she commented to Kyle as she sort of skipped to the staircase, eager to put on her Ceremony garb, “Gotta’ go change, maybe play dress up with the new girl.” During her giddy little caper, she passed Bambi’s room and heard a few muffled, scathing remarks which momentarily perplexed Pell. Something about shutting up and, “You’re not real.” Pell simply rolled her shoulders and furrowed her brow. The academy had seen stranger things than arguments or imaginary friends. She was done being the moral support crusader, at least until she got dressed and had dinner. As she scaled the foyer, she was happy to know that the AC had been turned off. Bobbin lace curtains and fixtures billowed at either end of the vestibule as they moved with the oncoming evening gale. It was almost holy and celestial this way. All trimmed and adorned in ivory finery. It would give a wonderful contrast to its residents, dressed as black as a Sahara night.

ImageStill ajar, Pell’s room welcomed her home. The bag filled with Ceremony fashions beat her to the bed. It sat neatly there, begging her to put the pieces on already. There was no composure left in that moment. Pell eagerly peeled her daytime clothes off, not caring about the open door. Her arms shot toward the ceiling, candles that encircled the bed spaces bursting into glorious flame, “Ceremony in twenty minutes!” Her shout echoed throughout the entire academy and even put such a scare into the candles that their miniature infernos danced to the side with caution. Pell was quite the enthusiast of Ceremony. This was probably due to the everlasting supply of gourmet food and wine. But mostly the food. God, did she love the culinary divinity of that school.

The slope of her hips came to widen slightly at the waist, silhouette warmly complimented in the soft luminescence of the tiny tealights placed around both beds. Happily she flicked a pair of thigh highs out of sight. She’d simply go barefoot. Next came an A-cut maxi skirt, and then the crochet-inspired lace crop top which struck up an elegant divergence to her porcelain skin. The topper was a thick black choker, tied in a petite bow at the nape of her neck. Her fingers threaded themselves through her locks as she sort of paced around the room, thinking of anything else she could add. Charcoal and licorice herb filled her senses. A playful smirk met her reflection in the window, her own indication. Greyson was probably soaking that beautiful tawny skin of hers, taking her time, unfazed by time matters. Or she was nearby. With that, Pell remembered to roll on a faint lavender perfume and nonchalantly decided to call something out down the hallway, when Greyson appeared. Pell stammered for a moment, which was a rare occurrence. But Greyson’s beauty had a habit of doing that to her. Leaving her speechless, kind of in awe, looking for any way to get a grip on reality before completely dissolving into a blubbering puddle.

“How cute, you’ve brought home a pet.”

Typical. That was just like Greyson in her sort of not-interested-in-attendees-or-their-powers way. And it wasn’t even just guest listed girls with their colorful hair that kept at Pell’s heels like a puppy. It was everyone. Greyson had charm and social grace, but she didn’t need to exhibit it. People gravitated toward her and more often than not, she could care less. She was long term at the academy and maybe her passion and zeal had burnt out over time. Either way, Pell liked her just the way she was. Her stare crawled all over the dark-eyed girl. “Sounds like jealousy,” Pell countered in a humorous tone, grabbing Greyson’s hand and pressing a mild kiss to it. “Don’t worry, you won’t be replaced. Besides, this one might not make it through the night."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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The tour that ensued wasn't the best tour that Silas had ever been on, but that was perfectly understandable. He'd been guided through the halls and gardens of castles, oral stories and histories from passionate experts intertwining into an almost physical history that could be seen in each towering rampart and every torch-lit hallway. He'd traipsed through battlefields on day trips, heard the tales of the losses and victories that sank into the soil giving this stretch of grass an identity. Robichaux felt like one of those places, steeped in dark secrets and histories that hung heavy in the air and imposed on each new face with the glowering portraits of people he didn't know and the even more secretive faces of those he had yet to meet. This was a place where things had and still happened apart- things entirely different from teenage quarrels and burgeoning magical talents. Perhaps, if he thought about it, he was a bit disappointed not to learn the name of whoever was so important as to have a portrait framed in the halls or any of the juicy little tidbits that brought interesting places like this to life. Then again, this wasn't a for fun tour for the curious mind- this was, with all due respect, a school tour and Kyle was pulling through brilliantly.

It took Silas a moment to get used to his speech, words short and syllables just off enough to confuse him when he first heard each carefully pieced together word. But any new person, Silas reasoned, was a bit of a learning curve, so he did just that- he learned. He listened carefully to every phrase that fell from Kyle's mouth, latching onto the words eagerly. Hands itched to jot down notes because right now he was getting the barest bones of the house from his determined tour guide, but also the most essential (he refrained partly because he knew that he'd remember and partly because he was self aware enough to know that flipping out a little notepad and matching pen from his pocket wasn't exactly "normal"). Aden chimed in every once in a while, his words adding background but dripping with a layer cynicism that left Silas anything but surprised.

They traipsed around the floors, some needing no introduction like the foyer that was magically just as deserted as when Silas had first arrived (perhaps, he thought, all of the students were hiding in their rooms? Or probably just out. Yes, that seemed far more likely). They stopped in one room, the dining hall, and what a room that was. It felt decadent, if he had to choose a word, despite being bereft of food it was a formal dining room with the same swirling energy that lingered in other parts of the house. It wasn't being surrounded by magic that did it- it felt like an atmosphere waiting, biding ones time until something, something that he had yet to learn about, happened.

Kyle was speaking in and Silas's focus was placed solely on the other boy, a picture of patience itself as he met Kyle's smile with his own as the other boy worked through the words to get his message across. Ah, there was that mysterious Ceremony again- Ms. Snow had mentioned it briefly on the ride over and he'd heard it thrown around since his arrival, mentioned but never explained. That must be what the room was waiting for, the event that gave it such an important feel in comparison to the others rooms he'd visited so far. The meal, what he assumed was the beginning of Ceremony, began at seven (only a short while away, he noted absently. Time really did fly when you were having fun or as close to fun as getting to know your new home could be) and the dress code was black. Not black tie, not gothic like a Halloween party, but black.

That was the moment where he lost Kyle's attention, the other boy focusing on something that Silas didn't quite understand. Was there something wrong in the room? Something funny from the way he was chuckling. Whatever it was, it bewitched the odd boy for a moment longer before he was hurriedly making his way out of the room with a confused Silas behind. Perhaps this was normal- yes, it probably was, Silas reasoned as he followed swiftly after Kyle. Just like curtains catching on fire, super model witches and warlocks, and mysterious "Ceremonies" with a dress code were normal here. He'd just have to put on a brave face and pretend that he thought it was normal as well until it was. As he moved along, he realized that he was feeling warm, warmer than he had before. It took him only a moment to realize that the quiet whir of the air-conditioning had been silenced. He plucked absently at his collar. Oh, dear.

They were moving through the entrance again when Kyle stopped once more. It was occupied now by Pell hefting large shopping bags, as friendly as she apparently ever was.

"Oh, yes, the tour's been very informative. Very good," He agreed and, really, it was a wonder he had yet to run out of enthusiasm. But any attention on him was lost when it was swiftly directed towards a girl Silas had not seen before (which, honestly, wasn't all that surprising). She was pretty in a way similar to Pell, petite in stature but apparently big in personality going by the brilliant rainbow colors dyed into her hair. Another indication would be the fact that she was apparently using magic in public, a societal no-no that even Silas understood (although there were quite a few additional reasons why he didn't use his particular talents in public that included "incredible trauma to all that surrounded him" and "a few visits to the family therapist for himself").

From there Pell left again, as she was apparently prone to do, with Kyle taking the grocery bags with ease and beckoning them to follow behind. Silas lingered for a moment, eyes darting to the new girl, who was in all reality just as lost as him, before offering her one of his patent crooked grins. Well, he might as well try to make her feel welcome.

"Well, welcome, I suppose. I, ah, really like your hair. The color's brilliant."

Or make her realize that he was socially awkward as quickly as possible, he thought as he hurried behind Kyle with a slight wave towards the stranded girl. Either way.

He followed towards the kitchen for a moment but just as his lips began to open with an offer to carry at least one of the shopping bags, Pell's voice rang throughout the house, the time echoing through the halls like the tolling of a grandfather clock.

Silas panicked just a bit (by that he meant a lot) because he had twenty minutes to make himself presentable again, twenty minutes to make himself ready for a first impression for an even he really didn't understand after traveling the entire day.

("First appearances are everything, Silas, " His Aunt's voice echoed in his mind. "You must look your best or they will assume the worst. That is the way of the world- now pass me that avocado.")

"I am so sorry," he blurted out, wringing his still-gloved hands together. " But I should probably go get ready for Ceremony. Thank you so much for the tour, Kyle. Really. I, um, I'll probably see you at the meal then? Thank you, again. Ah, thank you too, Aden." With that, he skittered away, walking as fast as propriety allowed without actually breaking into a jog or run.

He scurried up the stairs, only pure restraint keeping him from taking them two at a time. It never occurred to him that he had a roommate that had to get ready for Ceremony too. It never occurred to him to stop at that door since it was already open. It never occurred to him that Pell might not be alone. Which was exactly why he found himself in the doorway of his own room, frozen once more like a deer in the headlights. He rebooted a split second later, mortification painted on his face not because of what he was seeing but because he was seeing it- a private moment that involved nudity from his roommate and it was all such an invasion of her privacy. Oh, God, what if they thought he was some sort of- of- pervert.

The apology that followed was an extraordinary one. A wretched "I'm so sorry" and "please forgive me" slurred into a singular monosyllabic word as he twirled away from the entrance with a much clearer, "Take all the time you need. I'll just wait out here. Or somewhere else. It's all fine" paired with at least three more "sorry"s for good measure once he was safely unable to see them.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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The sun was starting to set by the time Rowe walked through the academy gates, a new phone in hand.. He knew he still had time, though he was sure it wasn't much. He kind of wondered what would happen if he didn't come back in time for Ceremony- would they just lock him out? As he walked to the building he spotted Greyson sitting on the steps, smoking.
"Hey," he said off handedly and half waving at her before going up the steps and inside.

He glanced at his phone on his way in, thinking about how he should try not to smash things in the future. The cell wasn't fancy- he was sticking to his plan to avoid expensive phones- but it would do if he, say, was being chased by an ax wielding maniac and needed to call the cops. He felt a little better than earlier too, the effects from his mom's call wearing off. He had tried, successfully, to block out any thoughts about her for another time. He couldn't lose his temper, especially not out and about in town where there were tons of helpless people he could brutally massacre.

But now he was back, and while he couldn't completely relax, he could ease up a little. Ceremony was starting soon. Really soon actually, he had cut it kind of close. People were moving about, either just getting back, getting ready, or already gathering. Rowe himself was not dressed right for Ceremony, and made his way up to his room. He glanced around but no one was really in the hall. He saw Silas, the new kid, standing outside his room looking flustered as hell, but didn't go investigate. With the blush that had worked its way onto the kids face, Rowe had a pretty good idea what had happened anyways.

Quickly stepping into his room and shutting the door, he let out a long breath and just let himself stand there for a moment. He always felt like he needed to be moving or doing something outside the academy, but when inside the house he felt somewhat more... relaxed. He tossed his bag onto his bed and dug through the pile of clothing that was on top, yes on top, of his dresser. He didn't really have a specific outfit he wore to Ceremony since his wardrobe had a fair amount of black items in it to begin with, but the outfits looked generally the same regardless. Mostly just choosing what seemed clean, he ended up throwing on a long sleeve black shirt and just plain black jeans. He was digging in his drawer for another candy when he heard Hale yell out to him.

“Mister McDermott! It would do you well not to be late for Ceremony, even if you are attempting to repair your phone!” the council scout said, causing Rowe to roll his eyes but abandon his search for candy nonetheless.

"I'm not fixing a damn thing, I bought a new one!" he shouted back, not really caring that anyone in the house could hear their conversation. He had hoped to keep the whole breaking his phone thing on the down low, but as long as no one knew why or how it broke, he supposed it was fine. With that thought, he headed back downstairs to meet everyone else for Ceremony.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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Greyson Ault
The house was lively again, people were returning from their activities, some seemed more annoyed than others. Ceremony was one of the few social events Greyson actually enjoyed, which Pell seemed to share the same amount of enthusiasm. The girl was practically glowing, or maybe that was her iridescent hair. While Greyson had obviously thrown the usually flawlessly smooth Pell out her train of thought, Pell recovered quickly, accusing Greyson of jealousy. A light titillating laugh sounded foreign coming from Greyson, but it was natural. Pell had a charm Greyson found difficult to ignore, she didn’t even wince when Pell took her hand to kiss.

While fear reading was a gift that made others fear her, Greyson found that it only made her fear intimacy. The most innocent touch could provide the most gruesome details of someone’s mind, and Greyson sometimes couldn’t turn it off. When she saw someones fear, it didn’t just appear like a picture in her mind, she witnessed the fear - felt it. In recent years she had been learning to turn it off, with Pell’s brief touch she hardly had to put any effort to block Pell’s fears from her own mind. She doubted Pell even had any fears, she carried herself with this sense of invincibility that everyone could admire, even Greyson.

Smirking, Greyson reached her index finger to trace along Pell’s jawline when the she had let go of Greyson’s hand. “Try not to sound so hopeful.” she joked along with Pell, although it did take tough skin to hang around this lot, they weren’t exactly the friendly type. People had already began to flock to Pell, it was like clockwork. Eyes shifting over the lot, studying their faces individually, yet to have introduced herself to the newcomers. There were to many people there for her liking, Greyson could feel herself withdraw. ”See you at ceremony, doll.” She said to Pell airily, actively avoiding social contact with anyone else.

She still had another ten minutes, and as much as it killed her, Greyson wanted another cigarette. Her stomach clenched as she glance back at Aden standing beside Kyle, when had those two become chums? Her fingers fiddled with her pack before pulling out a slim white cigarette. Dark locks fell forward as she lit the tobacco, she didn’t bother pushing them back. Again she looked at Kyle, an endless reminder of who she was becoming.

Biting her lip, Greyson looked back out, then taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out through pursed lips. Her fingers clenched, her skin began to crawl, there felt like there was a bubble growing from the center of her chest. As if her power was pulsing from her, stretching further and further, itching to pop - she paced her breathing to steady herself. They were like minor panic attacks, she started having them more and more as of recently. Mostly they would come and go, sometimes she would manage to run away fast enough to handle it on her own, one to many times she had found that she blacked out bits and pieces.

A dark figure appeared by the gate, as he approached closer Greyson recognized it as Rowe. He said a brief hello on his way in, obviously already in a different world than anyone else. Making obscene gestures behind his back as he walked away, Greyson straightened herself up. Tossing away the ciggy, Greyson could sense the anticipation for Ceremony. She left her jacket over the bannister on the front porch, stepping back into the house with the remainder of the black clad coven. Passing Arturo on her way to the dining room, Greyson allowed herself to get a proper look of the guard dog from head to toe. She never pretended to be subtle, plus the mans expression only showed stress-she doubted he even noticed her looking.

The dining room table was decorated lavishly, stark white flatware and polished glasses. Although there weren’t assigned seats so to speak, it seemed like there was a sense of unspoken heir achy with the students of higher esteem sitting closer in the center of the table. Greyson had spent the last two years sitting across from Madison, but recent company like Pell and Aden had also joined the center of the table, and while Greyson wasn’t much of a conversationist she enjoyed the entertainment. Walking past people who were grouping near the archway of the dining room she stood near the front of the crowd, waiting to be ushered in.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Lazarus Foreza Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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Pell Laveau






Pell hadn’t so much as blinked as far as accidental onlookers went. But she could feel their flitting eyes and immediate reserve they executed. If she was that concerned, or out for the attention, she would have gasped and clutched herself like something out of a Betty Boop animation. Maybe even throw in the fanning of the hand, making squeaky noises that might imply she was embarrassed, or something. But Pell wasn’t quite on that level of humility. Sometimes, she acted more like a shameless boy than a girl. Let alone a witch from an aseptic bloodline.

She glanced out while Silas and Hale pressed themselves into the hall, as though there were some sort of laser alarm system at the foot of the doorway they dared not touch. Kyle bounced in and right out again. Typical, for him. At least in the case of unanticipated nudity. Hale looked slightly less shocked, but still red in the face. Hale could not see it as anything less than a chuckle marathon. By now, he was a frequent audience member. He might have laughed with others, but Pell knew that in his solitary mistaken viewings before, he would sort of gawk and stumble away. Hale’s square jaw tensed, fighting back a smile. Silas on the other hand… If his cheeks had bloomed a more fervent color of rose, they might have swelled and popped, too. He was panicked and debased. It looked as though he was blaming himself. Pell had cast him a lukewarm expression, then a small smirk at its edge, “It’s okay, really, Abernathy.” Playfully, she waved a manilla folder with his title on it. That was something she would save for post-Ceremony entertainment. Pell might not have confessed it, but he was very strange and interesting. Which naturally, made a girl like herself, intrigued and committed to figuring out just what the hell was up with the guy.

Medium cooked steak was in the air. The scent was hot and fresh. If it weren’t for Greyson being so alluring and hard to pull from, Pell would have flew to the dining room like a rock from a slingshot. Naked, too. But in spite of her devotion to bloody meat, she cocked her hip at an angle to rest it on her door frame while she talked, or more so, watched, Greyson. Clothed. In the distance she could hear Hale guffawing and shouting out to Rowe about punctuality. Rowe ferociously yelled back and corrected the teacher. An arched brow quirked above gunmetal eyes. Pell grinned. The lavender haired girl edged from her room, reaching in a wayside manner to yank Violet with her. “Stick around as long as you like,” Pell crooned, looking over the array of color in the fresh meat’s locks. “We’ve got plenty of room.” Pausing, the Laveau girl’s scrutiny passed between her closet and Violet. “Oh…”

ImageHer white teeth flashed toward Greyson, who had her doubts about anyone who came in at Pell’s heels. Or, at all, really. Greyson didn’t get excited over newbies. She didn’t even bat an eye sarcastically. She just had her usually cold regard, with some ice in the daggers shot from her stare. Pell liked it, low-key. When the boys were out of sight, she snapped her fingers in response to Violet’s question about Ceremony. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she piped up suddenly as Greyson was stripped of everything but her bra and panties, “I don’t have time to sift through my closet with you and if you’re coming, you need to follow dress code.” Pell wasted no more time in the effort. Something black, something that would ‘fit’ to Violet’s style, even if just barely. In a matter of seconds, ebony garb manifested itself, sheer at the torso to give glimpses of Violet’s pale skin.

“Now you’re set,” Pell continued, wandering into the hallway and following Greyson’s finger which had only moments ago grazed Pell’s cheek. The girl must have looked like a little puppy in that moment. Snapping out of it, she watched Greyson go. It was a good opportunity to give Violet a moment to gather herself and maybe take a look at her reflection. The dorm hall became busy. In passing, Jacqueline might have noticed Pell with the new girl, but probably not. She had a bit of candy on her own arm, strolling around the school with her usual smooth demeanor, that cool dialect of hers probably wrapping him around her finger. He seemed content with the idea of her tour and it being more exclusive than the ones given by Kyle, head sort of bobbing happily, shaggy hair shifting as he listened to Jacqueline speak. Pell choked back a snide sexual remark at her own cousin, figuring she could save it for the wine segment of dinner. Besides, even if Jacqueline didn’t acknowledge Pell, she knew she was there, knew what she was thinking.

Pell jerked her head in the direction of the stairs, knowing Violet would follow. She kept her at arm’s length, though. Didn’t want to lose her. “So this is Robichaux,” she briefed, “Established in some… Late 1800’s, maybe. It’s a school for witches. We have class schedules, our own rooms, freedom to roam if you’re legal, and every Wednesday we have ‘Ceremony.’ It’s kind of how we stay in touch with our roots. Or, at least that’s how I see it.”

Once they made it to the main floor, the dusky luster from candles had taken the place of electricity. Hundreds of smells were in the air. Most notably: sage, Delmonico, garlic, and a dash of Merlot. Even some Louisiana fruit aroma had crept through the windows. Pell loved these kind of nights, knowing that the fresh air was coming in, but nothing was getting out. It was a liberating sort of evening. Most of the students and household dreaded it. It forced them to maintain some kind of prompt schedule. To Pell it was an excuse to get drunk and set shit on fire, plainly. But of course there were other perks. Say… Like the possibility of yet another new student, learning advanced spells if Fiona herself was drunk enough, and just letting loose.

The vibrant duo approached the mouth of the dining room, where Hale and Kyle now stood side by side. Kyle’s sandy hair frisked itself as he eagerly requested permission to personally serve new students. And more specifically, Silas. Mostly everyone would be rolling their eyes at his enthusiasm. But Pell hoped that he’d keep that virtue and that people would embrace it. It helped him feel alive. Judging from Hale’s taut regard, there would be no special treatment or excepting meal serving. She frowned at his disapproval, but understood that there was good reason behind it. Hale encouraged and always backed proactive behaviors. Unfortunately, he was under strict surveillance especially during Ceremony hours. There was always business to attend to on Wednesday’s, and he followed protocol. It was bizarre to see him so upright and obedient. Pell might have even scoffed and giggled as she walked by him to find her seat at the center of the table, beside Greyson rather than parallel, to let Violet sit on the other side and have a taste of the ‘finer things’. If she did decide to stick around, she might not sit at this area for a long, long time.

Soon the seats were filled, and voices were low. Even Arturo's growling had ceased. The candle chandelier swung slowly above the buffet and its consumers. But no one dared touch a fork. Cordelia stood, glass of wine in hand, clouded eyes blinking as she waited for total silence. And then she dimpled politely, “Welcome to Ceremony. I know we have a few newcomers, and a visitor,” her smile wavered, probably in the event of Pell being so rushed she forgot to ask permission, “So let me be the first to say, don’t be scared.” A short laugh followed, and she went on, “I’ll save the long speech, I know you all must be starved. Regulations are the same. This area is sealed until midnight. You will not be able to leave unless asking permission.” Emphasis sunk into the last two words. Bowing her head, she smoothed her skirt and took a seat, “Dig in."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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Violet
Violet's head was practically in the clouds as she tried to keep up with everything go on around her, at some point a garb was thrown her way and she caught it within her small hands and smiled appreciatively at Pell, nodding lightly. "Thanks," She'd become more calm and less fascinated with time and was starting to regather the attitude Pell would have noticed in her when they first met but she didn't voice much. Violet slipped out of her previous outfit and into the garb which she silently adored, style wise it would seem her and Pell had a certain amount in common but she didn't bring it up as a conversation topic she still felt quite awkward in the situation and hated that she was having to stalk Pell like she was some kind of homeless dog desperate to be taken care of. She might have tried being more independent but she'd get lost too easily and end up in the wrong place, that was just her luck. So she stopped gazing in admiration of the black outfit and pulled it swiftly on discarding her previous clothing for the time being. It suited her quiet well and fitted perfectly around the hips but fell up an inch or so short on her legs and wrists but not so much one would notice or comment and to Violet's joy it was comfortable because she couldn't bear clothes that weren't comfortable and would often end up becoming distracted and foul-tempered because of it. With a quirky kind of grace, she moved over to the bag she'd been using down in town and folded her old clothes into it carefully before standing up and finally noticing that she'd fallen behind Pell but poking her head out of the door, she spotted her again and noticed she seemed to be lingering as if she were waiting, so Violet followed naturally.

As she looked around at her present company, she looked over at Pell with an arched brow. "Witches? So...I can do this phasing shit because I'm a witch?" She asked her biting her lip slightly. It was quite hard to believe but in the same sense it wasn't- she could walk through concrete at the end of the day, so it actually made sense it was just really, really weird. She found herself subconsciously biting her thumb nail and forced herself to stop because it was one of the things she hated most about herself, the way she nervously hacked down her thumb nails. It was a foul habit but one she'd had since she was a young child. No one had ever tried to make her stop doing it so she'd always gotten away with it until it got to the point where she'd have stubby fingers and they'd just bleed all the time. It wasn't that bad anymore but she still wishes hat she could work out how to stop. Image


Violet sat down as Pell did opposite her, obviously oblivious to the protocol and such of the evening but where Pell pointed out things like the dress code for instance, she was making the effort to be compliant which was rare for her. It'd gotten to that evening time where she was itching for a cigarette but she wouldn't be as rude to leave to go and smoke, so she gritted her teeth for a moment, took a breath and let it go. She didn't need it, she wasn't even really addicted as far as how often she'd smoke the only guaranteed thing was that she'd smoke once in the evening usually on her porch or sat in her bedroom window but her entire routine had been broken to day so she was going to have suck it up because this was bound to be an amazing experience and she could learn so much about who she was here if she gave it a shot.

She'd been here less than an hour and she'd already learnt what she was. A question she hadn't been able to answer herself as long as she'd lived- she'd gotten no where with it but in such a short amount of time, she'd been hit with the news like she should have known it all along.

Looking down the table she wondered if she ought to introduce herself, be sociable and polite but a part of her felt wary about sparking up a conversation. She was still bewildered about what she'd discovered but she didn't feel the need to freak out, she was surprised but it didn't seem ridiculous or unbelievable. To her, it felt like the most accurate truth and she didn't know if that was because she was basically bat shit insane or because part of her knew there was no way Pell could be lying. She had a strong sense of enlightenment now she finally knew and an uncontrolled smile had grown on her pale pink lips as she considered it to herself voicelessly. Plain and simple, she was a witch- not a mutant, freak, alien or anything else she'd ever told herself she could be. She was a witch and there was somewhere she potentially belonged. Looking down the array of faces in the room, it dawned on her she could finally relate to people and it felt amazing to know for once she was an outsider or something people should be disgusted and scared of because that's all she'd ever been in the past.




Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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It wasn't fair to say that Silas was embarrassed. Oh, no, no, no- "embarrassed" was far too gentle a word. Embarrassed was mispronouncing the name of a dish on a restaurant menu or laughing quite suddenly when no one else was. This particular emotion that colored his cheeks a brilliant scarlet and made his eyes as wide as a deer caught in the headlights was mortification pure and simple. Still, seeing his new roommate in a... a state of undress (which really felt like also watching his own fledgling social life at the Academy shrivel up and die) was no excuse to be blundering around the hallway, running into people like a lunatic.

It took him a moment to realize who his victim was- the same man who had greeted him at the beginning before throwing him to the metaphorical wolves (which really was unfair, Silas told himself, because surely he had important things to do and Madison wasn't really a wolf literally speaking). It took him less than a moment to send his gaze to the ground, a brief and jumbled apology tumbling from his lips and a few aborted attempts at explaining what exactly he'd been doing that ended with him flushing shades of red unknown to mankind and one hand scrabbling desperately for the stone in his pocket like a child clinging to a security blanket.

Any coherent warning would have come too late, however, as he heard the older man's own sputter of surprise because of course the door was still wide open. And for just a moment, just a short moment, Silas felt quite pleased that he wasn't the only person embarrassed for once. That is until Hale started informing him about Pell's apparent exhibitionist qualities as he guided Silas out of the danger zone, sporadic giggles and guffaws sneaking past his lips either at the situation ahead or the look on Silas's face(most likely both, Silas thought miserably) as he finally allowed himself to look up from the wooden floorboards and face his rescuer. And even though Hale was basically telling him that this was far from the last time he'd see Pell prancing about sans clothing no matter what he did about it, it was vaguely comforting that he was telling him at all and trying to keep his laughter in to boot. Bad news non-withstanding, this was perhaps his second normal interaction with a human-being since he'd gotten here.

But now Hale was swanning off again, laughing all the way as he disappeared down the corridor leaving Silas, for the umpteenth time, alone, a single truth left to keep him company.

"But we learn here, more than anywhere else, women… May be the rulers.”

If Silas had been one to snort, now would have been the perfect time. Of course women were the rulers. One couldn't spend their entire life with Auntie Lavinia and not know that particular little fact.

He stayed in the hall for a time, frozen like it would make him invisible despite Pell's claims that it was alright. Oh, sure, it was alright for her, but this was a lot more of his new roommate than he'd ever hoped or needed to view. Perhaps more disconcerting was the fact that she had his file which made him feel rather naked himself. He didn't really know what was in it, hadn't cared to take a peek, but there were chapters in his life that he'd rather keep tucked away, please and thank you.

"Right. Okay," He managed, eyes once more focused on the floor beneath his feet. He remained there until the girls left, Pell as calm confidence and the other two following her lead. The air was thick, the cloying smells of perfumes, herbs, and steak all swirling into a thick vapor that filled his lungs with an almost solid presence. He scrambled into the room, careful to shut and lock the door behind him because, really, he was not his roommate, before cracking the window. It was cooler now, a mild breeze cutting through the heat and humidity of the day. Ah. There. That was good.

He turned back to the task at hand, neatly unpacking what he needed from his suitcase. Black on black on black may not be his favorite color combination (in fact, his inner dandy was begging him to add a pop of color), but he could do it for the sake of... of not embarrassing himself further. Trousers were selected, a shirt distressingly wrinkled from travel was almost victim to a small travel iron before he reminded himself that he barely had time for this, and finally a fresh jacket not subjected to Louisiana heat and what it did to Silas's body was plucked out and the suitcase resolutely shut again. He was dying for a shower, but made do with a few swipes of a handkerchief that was carefully placed in the growing dirty clothes pile afterwards. Hair was combed back, shoes put back on, and he felt as ready as he would ever be.

He lingered for a moment, a mental crisis keeping him frozen to the spot, before he plucked the folder, his folder, rather, from Pell's side of the room and shoved it into his pillow case. Technically he wasn't taking it from her, he rationalized as he hid it away- he was just putting it somewhere. For safe keeping. That Pell didn't necessarily know of. It only occurred to him later that it was a folder about him and he could do with it what he darn well pleased.

It was a race against time now as he hurried towards the dining room. Students were already filtering in leaving Silas feeling overdressed (which was far better than feeling underdressed, he rationalized because he really didn't need anymore embarrassment today), and standing at the front of the room was Hale and Kyle. The older man stood up straight, body tense in a complete dichotomy to the Hale Silas had parted with moments ago, all giggles and exuberance. Kyle looked much the same and Silas gave him a relieved grin and a quick hello before he too was herded into the dining room.

The smell was even thicker here, as nauseatingly present as if a bottle of particularly interesting perfume had been tossed to the floor. Or perhaps that was the stress talking, Silas thought as he tugged at this collar, wondering distractedly if he should have forgone his tie, the same shadowy shade as everything else he currently wore. Oh, no. No, this was fine. He'd not put on a vest, after all- he couldn't let decorum break down so entirely as to forget his tie too.

It was quiet now, stifling really as he sat in the flickering glow of the candlelight chandelier swinging idly above their heads. Voices were a dull murmur until they vanished away as Cordelia stood, another vaguely recognizable face for Silas, glass of wine in hand. Her speech was short but her command strong, a woman not to be messed with. Regulations were introduced, or at least one about not leaving the Academy (like Silas would ever wander around a strange place at night anyways) but the rest a mystery. Perhaps he would ask over dinner, he thought as Cordelia invited them to dig in. Or not. No need to rock the boat this early on in the evening.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari Character Portrait: Decimus King Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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Mr. B

Cordelia had seated herself and made casual conversation while Hale eagerly helped himself to first a glass of Merlot, then of Bourbon. By the time she had acquainted herself with the new arrivals, asked Violet how long she knew she was ‘different’ and explained house rules, Hale had relaxed and relocated to a newly empty spot between Silas and Violet. Across the table Greyson and Pell eyed him suspiciously. He paid no mind. His usual uncanny sparkling smile was set in place, eyes slightly glassy, attire ironed to a paragon. Overhead, a primitive and ornate candle chandelier began to sway, surely the work of Pell’s boredom. Hale pivoted, resting one leg on the opposite knee as he turned to face Silas.

“… So, I’m thinking from your rather distressed body language - you are having second thoughts, hm?” A virile hand raised a glass, golden liquid sloshing. The routine grin had slackened into a sort of meticulous and stagnant smile, dimples fluctuating against the expression. In the background Cordelia’s distinct voice crooned with intrigue over new arrivals. Hale kept his gaze away from her and set it on a worthy understudy, writhing probably at the idea of wearing all black and feeling slightly isolated. Now the dining area was aglow with fieriness and laughter. Plates were clearing and conversation buzzed on while sorcery was at play, free and elated. Candles blew out and relit spontaneously. Wares moved about the table on their own. “Was it what I said? About the women being in charge?” Hearty chuckle released, Hale rocked on the embellished woodwork chair. Another swallow of fire water, another casual question and content regard on his lips.

“And you?” Hale jerked his head toward the rainbow trout, yes, that’s what he would call her, now. The flimsy inky fabric of her shirt was revealing but modest. Certainly a fitting choice for Ceremony. “Are you frightened by this?” His eyes lit up with mirth as he finished the beverage. “I suppose being ‘locked in’ is a little much for a newbie, but the nice thing is, it’s more of a perimeter type of screen. So, you can still step out and wander the grounds without being seen, without having to worry. You just can’t go beyond the gates. Which I,” he grinned and slid the glass onto the crimson table cloth, “Enjoy thoroughly.” The vague riddle was answered by the pack of cigarettes pushing themselves from the pocket of his slacks.

“Silas here is new, as well. So you have that in common, along with being helplessly thrown into a coven.” Patting his sweater, Hale tittered again. If anything was frightening to the craft immigrants, it was probably good old Mr. B and his preternatural way of being amused. Even about the grim, nudity, and the plain unusual. He could feel Fiona’s cold stare from the far end of the table. She was not so easily amused. That, and she had probably taken notice that Aden was nowhere to be found.

Everyone had scarfed down their meals and helped themselves happily to wine. Slowly they dispersed into the sitting room, where portraits hung and great pillars burned orange. Violet, Silas, Hale and Rowe lingered. The latter wasn’t long lasting. He was more of a lone wolf, McDermott. Hale had taken it upon himself to be his sort of guardian, but Rowe was not a fan of the supervision. It always showed in his tone and his narrowed eyes. Fortunately, not much fazed Mr. B in the way of standoffish people. He pervaded the known limits of those types of folk. Rowe cordoned himself off, hadn’t many friends, or any, at all. At least not that Hale had noticed or seen. Call it charity, call it Council work, but Hale did it for his own reasons. Perhaps empathizing. Who could say? The Council scout was tight lipped about his garnered impressions of others and his ultimate intentions. That was how he maintained his position at the academy.

Rowe split off, probably to go into the courtyard. Kyle wasn’t far from the dining room table, naturally fascinated with newcomers. Fiona lit a cigarette and rose with a glass of rusty liquid in hand. She wrinkled her nose and muttered to Hale in passing, “Don’t let your guard down. There is something in this house.” With that, she meandered into the sitting room to enjoy or manipulate students as they played with their birth-given gifts. A cerebral cackle left her mouth as she passed her guard dog and set her sights on Jacqueline and Pell, two curiosities worth all of her attention. Fiona had certainly tried her hardest to gather Pell’s trust, which proved to be less taxing than the chore of getting her cousin’s. A work in progress, much like all jobs at Robichaux. Pell soon disappeared, bored to death probably and needing her space for a secret cigarette and half a bottle of Apothic to herself. Hale only knew this because she so often followed the same patterns.

He didn’t tense at Fiona’s warning. He simply carried on conversation with remarks like, “Oh, please tell me more about your origins!” and “Do either of you see yourselves here for the long haul?” Truth be told, he was deeply fascinated with fear reading, certainly when it chose someone discrete and timid such as Silas.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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Pell Laveau






Dull. Everything was dull. Pell’s enthusiasm had evaporated like blood into hot concrete, ugly brown remnants chipping and disintegrating into the air. So long. Goodbye. Beside Greyson she had parked herself for the entire ‘table set’ portion of Ceremony. One hand on the thigh, other hand promptly refilling a wine glass every time less than an inch of fluid remained in the crystal ware. She cast the occasional smile to Violet and Silas, watching them sort of bob along with the flow of Hale’s adamant briefing and almost needy exchange. He was always so eager to know the students. Silas, on the other hand, would waver in comfort and confidence. His eyes would oscillate to the light fixture. Or to the table decor. He was not at home, and he absolutely knew that. The Laveau girl could feel it. Pell’s shameless scrutiny burned so immodestly into him she was surprised he didn’t rigidly pivot to face her and speak through clenched teeth.

Her friendly hand, though, worried about no such body language from Greyson. At least there was a common understanding between these two. In fact, if written more syrupy perhaps in a five hundred page novel, an audience might admire and swoon over the relationship. Wasn’t that just how it went with modern romance? The more twisted the story, the more attention and devotion it garnered? Well, well, well. Greyson and Pell would make for a great hardcover, then. Greyson naturally brushed Pell off of her shoulder upon their first encounter. Maybe that was a defense mechanism. Greyson didn’t like getting entirely too close to people. Anyone. Much less, new students. That barrier melted off in no time; dorm sleepovers became a regular thing, the partnership in crime, late nights in the garden drinking whiskey and warmly whispering about what could have been a beautiful love affair. It just never took off. There were way, way, too many road blocks. More than Pell cared to admit. But why would she? It wasn’t anyone’s business. The failed ardor wasn’t about to be gossip on anyone’s lips. It wouldn’t even make it that far. Luckily, Greyson and Pell had accepted that with steel resolve. Their colloquy and behavior, though, didn’t change. They gave credence to the fact that, every once in a while, everyone needed someone. Even if the flirting sometimes was a bit diabolical.

ImageKyle sat across the table, quiet as per usual, but with his same little cordial smile. Like he was perfectly up to speed and more than interested in every topic being discussed. Pell shook her head, not with disapproval, but a sort of reserved admiration. He was a sweet soul. Pell shifted and weighed her options for the evening. She found herself uninterested by the levitating objects and now room-temperature steak. When Fiona rose, bored with newcomers, and du jour as hell in her getup, Pell inhaled with tedium. Three wine glasses deep, she relinquished and kissed Greyson’s hair before exiting through the front doors to get some fresh air. She could hear the muffled excitement buzzing from within the walls of Robichaux, but tonight, that just wasn’t an ideal atmosphere.

Again she felt that strange sensation. It was like being watched. That wasn’t uncanny at the academy, but this peculiar feeling, was. It was uninvited. She looked around swiftly. How embarrassing. Getting jumpy and paranoid at a place she’d been residing for months. Clearing her throat, she stuck a cigarette between pouted lips, eyes narrowed in cynicism as she let the flame come on its own. What was the sense in practicing control? Sucking in the toxins, she lazily ambled toward the courtyard, stopping short and circling back in just a few seconds. She’d from there meander down the more clandestine paths between the rose bushes.

Shuffling footsteps. Whipping around, Pell pulled the cigarette from her mouth. It became clenched between two bony fingers, quavering. From the foot of the dingy passage, even in the night, she could make out his dark circles. They cut into his face like black holes. His skin was pale and his cheeks were taut and hollow. None other than Rowe. “Shit, you scared me, Rowe.” Pell rolled her eyes, strung a free hand through her lavender hair and blew smoke toward the sky. Goosebumps had made a home on her porcelain skin. He was quiet. Nothing unusual there. Stepping closer, Pell sort of squinted at him, “Are you okay? Or are you just doing that thing where you avoid everyone and eat candy and maybe, yell when spoken to?” … Silence, again. An irritated laugh escaped her throat, bare feet hinging a little on the dirtied gray-brick beneath her, “Alright, I can see that being the crypt keeper is way more satisfying to you than anything else. Excuse me.” She rolled her eyes again, stepping by him.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Papa Legba Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Decimus King Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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Greyson hadn’t been much of a lively dinner guest, but that was never her forte anyhow. Most of the meal consisted of her consuming to much wine and watching the new comers with the matching intensity of Pell. It was so pleasant to have someone who she could just know she was on the same page, but it had always been that way with Pell. She had been this wonderful possibility, but Greyson knew she couldn’t keep anyone close, for their own safety.

Biting her tongue to not make a comment that she might be reprimanded later as being rude, Greyson watched the painful exchange between Hale and Silas. She honestly pitied Hale for his genuine caring nature, he was still new to the Academy from her eyes. That being said, he had many other reasons that left her thinking of very many ways to be very, very, very nice to him. She pretended to be interested in what Silas and Pell’s pet had to say, still having Pell beside her to look over to every now and again, almost like a refresher.

Honestly, one of the main perks of dinner was usually the fact that all of the seasoned coven members would sit together, so Greyson didn’t have to tolerate the small talk bull shit. She wasn’t even sure how they had room for two people, when it clicked to her. The boy was usually so equally sullen and quiet, she hadn’t noticed his absence. Scanning the table for Aden, she made eye contact with Kyle, looking away quickly.

Everyone else had continued the conversation, the new comers professing a want to dive right into the coven, it took everything she had not to scoff. Pell took the BS queu as a moment to leave, she felt the girl lean in beside her, kissing the side of her head. Greyson had almost instinctually wrapped her arm around the girl, not phasing any other way, letting her hand linger as the girl walked away. Now she was alone, without an ally, which was not good.

While Silas did seem entirely endearing, there was almost this sickly naive part of him that just made Greyson want to vomit what little food she had consumed right onto his plate. The girl with the technicolor hair was tolerable, she just seemed sort of out of touch with the world, but Silas just had something about him that made her feel like he should know better than to appear so optimistic. As he spoke about his past and of wanting to stay, Greyson couldn’t help but groan. She received a stern glance from Hale, which caused her to smile briefly before straightening up in her chair.

“Wow, Silas, you are right. That was not interesting at all.” Greyson stood, shooting back the last of her wine and sleekly pulling out yet another cigarette. “Welcome to the coven, I suppose then.”

Hale was shooting daggers at her with his eyes, she wouldn’t be surprised if he stormed out after her in a rage, but she also knew he’d feel a sense of obligation to mend the damage. She could hear Madison behind her, “And I’m supposed to be the bitch around here?”

Yet again she found herself on the front porch, lighting her cigarette. She wasn’t able to pinpoint what it was that made her say the things she did, or feel the way she felt. She desperately wanted to want to be nice, but Greyson was pretty sure she was incapable of thinking outside of her own world most times. There were a few people in this world she found tolerable, Pell being one, Aden another - Kyle once upon a time.

As if someone had blown a breath on the back of her neck, Greyson felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She stared out onto the gate, stepping forward, slowly. ”Aden?” She called out, inching closer. Where was that kid? Movement on her left caught her eye, she jumped, spotting Rowe and Pell. “For fucks sake..” she mumbled under her breath, and for a moment - she smiled to herself.

Analyzing the situation, she could see the tension and body language between the two. Greyson rounded onto Pell’s side, burning cigarette still in hand, “Everything alright here?” She asked, looking between the two. There was something in Rowe she recognized, maybe in his eyes or from the way he stood, but she could sense the hostility growing from within him. She saw a bit of her own madness buried under his own layers, recognizing the demon that fueled his reactions. “You okay?” was all she asked, her voice monotonous as ever.

She would have asked Pell the same question, but the woman was stronger than steel, she was sure it would have been more offensive than caring. Eyes shifting to the windows of the house, she could see people head to the door, and while she had found the source of her noise she still had the sensation that someone else was out there. She looked back behind her, to the gate again, looking for someone. Goosebumps her rising up and down her arms. For the first time Greyson’s confidence wavered, her arm wrapping across her torso to run her fingers up and down her arms, perplexed by the way her body was strangely reacting to the situation.

With genuine confusion, Greyson looked up at the others. “Am I the only one that feels that?”

She risked sounded mad because the sliver of hope that it wasn’t all in her mind meant everything. She looked at Pell for the first time, searching her face. There was a look she had never seen on Pell's face....anger, fear? There was nothing to compare it to, so often Pell kept the same mild smirk or neutral expression. If it wasn't for the lavender hair, she almost wouldn't be able to recognize the girl. "Pell? What's up?" she asked softly.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Papa Legba Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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What was otherwise a good evening had turned sour in a way. The air smelt miasmic. Pell was starting to feel unwell in the evening isolation. The cigarette she was using for composure was flicked and left to the earth. She figured it was best to leave Rowe to his feelings and solitude. It occured to her that he was having a moment. The young man was volatile and it was no secret. After all, she had seen enough of him and his outbursts. Maybe she should have gone a little easier on her comments, but she hoped he would understand it was harmless. Maybe even a little flirty at times. Twilight had nearly swallowed his eyes and digested any fullness in his face. That was how he generally looked, but at this particular point, Pell was almost sure that his eyes had turned black. He was angry, and Pell was just having a playful jab. But as his frigid hand gripped her arm, she realized that it had gone a little too far.

“I don’t have a problem, Rowe. Learn how to take a friendly joke. I just mess with you, and you let stupid shit get to your head and then act like a psycho!”


She’d only gotten a couple or feet or so from Rowe when her hand instinctively shot toward her face. In spite of his grasp, she hauled herself away a touch. He still choked the circulation out of effect in her arm. Didn’t budge. Thumb and fore finger pressed agilely to her temples, she held her breath. The last thing she wanted to do was break under the pressure of a migraine in front of Rowe. Especially after making a moderately unpleasant remark. She was the stubborn type who didn’t like to look anything but secure, even in her most injured state. That’s just the way she was. But she could feel his shadowy examination on her as she adjourned and slightly wavered in posture. As she glanced back at him, eyes barely peeking over her shoulder, some thawed impression seeped to the curve of her upper lip. She dabbed a finger tip in it, vermilion smearing her digit. Her brow creased in confusion. She knew what was happening, but had trouble understanding why it was necessary. Then again, look at where she was enrolled.

Image“Are you for real right now?” She managed before it felt like her throat was closing. All she could focus on was the silence that consumed her surroundings. How the color of the world sort of drained and her pale purple hair danced on the breeze in front of her face. The sound was siphoned away by something unseen. Silence, nothing but. Strained, she exhaled to the best of her ability as she felt another presence approach her side. It smelt of mature lavender and tobacco. But Pell couldn’t manage to move her gaze while she started to crumple and slip from Rowe’s hold as gravity called her. Was that Greyson? Oh, god. If her conscious mind wasn’t snap, crackle, and popping, she might have groaned in agony or even managed to ask for some help. Control of her own body was seized and what came in its place was pangs and violent discomfort.

Fay tresses splayed about her head and shrouded her features. Final collapse. There was no poise left in the girl. Her back arched while her brain tried to make a final attempt at regaining authority. Her vision was soiled by inky incertitude, the blurred silhouette of rose bushes and pixie-colored strands. And regardless of all of her disappearing dominance and composure, she managed to lift her head enough to see someone else. Convulsions had pulled her out of her own body and left a jerking, barely breathing Laveau on the Robichaux walkway. Twigs snapped. It was such an acute sound that she was suddenly aware of exactly where it came from. Who it came from.

He blended into the night but she knew him well. As much as she’d hate to admit it, those hellish scarlet eyes fooled no one when they made themselves apparent. As warned he came in dire and sinister circumstances, top hat and all. “No,” she rasped as fate tugged her back into her helpless body. Funny how now, she wanted nothing more than to stay outside of it. Because if she were to go back, he could take her at will. He had finally come. All those years of folklore and warning. It was real. The denial she had subjected herself to was a defense mechanism, tearing itself down as his eyes burned into her. The sound of her own throbbing shrieks brought her into consciousness again, where hopefully he wouldn't be. Pell grappled along the floor of the earth until she found her footing and stared into the flora and hickory. Blood trickled down her face still. She heaved and tried to catch her breath, afraid to look away.

She thrashed to find Greyson and Rowe not far away. With trembling lips she managed, “Is this your idea of a fucking joke?” The girl fumbled as she backed away and barked, blood streaked fingers pointed at what used to be a sweetheart, and a new found enemy, “Watch your fucking backs.” Quavering, she wiped the back of her arm across the lower half of her now gory face. When she managed to pull herself onto the veranda of Robichaux, she tried to prepare herself for what would happen once anyone saw her.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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Pain. All there was in this dream was pain. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she had and awoken in a horrible dream, demons, running, fear, but mostly pain. She'd awoken with a start, having pulled herself violently from the dream, that was always a bad idea, Dreamwalkers should never pull themselves from a dream, it should be gradual, like slipping on a shoe, gently sliding back into her own mind, but no, she snapped back in like an arrow from a bow, and the result was a blinding headache and a residual feeling of paranoia.

Her watch beeped. It was time for ceremony, for a while now, and she was impossibly late. Groaning miserably, she pulled herself from the chair, she'd fallen asleep in, her memory of how she got there was fuzzy. She remembered she had been with Lazarus...she'd offered to help him with his dreams....or she had thought about it. That was the problem with shoving back into her body, her memories were now all askew and it was likely that she wouldn't get them back.

Stretching with a yawn, her body popped and cracked satisfyingly before she slowly made her way to her own room, far on the other side of the building. Once inside she peeled off her clothes, and prepared for Ceremony.

Drenched in all black, she wore a black dress that hugged her frame, she spun her dark hair over her shoulder and pinned it there, lined her eyes with a khol liner and kissed her lips with a crimson lipstick. She felt like shit but that certainly didn't mean she had to look like it.

She made her way toward the others, her head still pounding but stopped when she got an odd feeling, deep in her chest, that tingled her spine.

She found herself toward Madison's room and Jacqueline felt her stomach sink, something was wrong, she could feel it in her bones, and while she never liked Madison, she would a sparkly bitch but still, something was very wrong.

She knocked on the door. "Madison?" She called but silence was her reply. "Madison, Are you in dz'ere?" She called, worry evident in her voice. Something told her to just go inside, Her heart racing. Her head pounding even more so now, the paranoia from the dream washing over her like a violent wave. Her fingers curled around the doorknob, and slowly turned it.

She was hit first with the smell. Thick, coppery, being female, she knew the smell well, the feeling she got from it was not poor hygiene, this was something dark, malicious, hungry

"Madison, 'chere, you 'ave to say somet'ing." She said, fear thick in her throat and it was then she peeked around the corner, her booted foot slipped on something sticky and wet. She gripped the wall, so not to fall, her hand touched something sticky and wet as well, but that when she saw her.

Or, more correctly, what was left of her.

"Oh mon dieu!" Jacqueline clapped her hand over her mouth, at the horribly sight, blood was everywhere, Madison's bed was soaked in it, bits of bone, and cloth from her clothes lay scattered in the blood drenched bed, her phone lay covered in her blood, still shining from it's unfinished text. Jacqueline then remembered her dream.

It wasn't a dream...more like she'd projected in to Madison, as if she'd called out telepathically, in her final moments.

Who would do this?

Madison was a bitch, was...past tense, but she did not deserved to be butcher like this....

Just as she was about to run out of the room, she turned and saw in thick dripping letters the word...

Hello

Jacqueline felt sick, and dizzy, when she noticed her hand smeared the last letter when she slipped on the blood. She bolted out of the room and toward the common area.

"HELP!" she screamed out. Everyone had been seated for dinner. "Madison ... quelque chose est arrivé .... quelque chose d'horrible..." She stammered, her vision blurring, she was shaking violently, her hand still stained with Madison's blood. She closed her clean over her mouth, trying to will the bile back down her throat.


*Madison...something happened....something horrible.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Angel Zuniga

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There was an irritable twitch set into a jawline belonging to a young man standing just outside the gates of Robichaux. His hair was darker than the night, short on the sides, slicked back. Louisiana weather had the tossed strands on the top. But it looked intentional, even as it were, slightly messy. With a flick of his hand, he sniffed, a rasp cutting into his nostrils as he checked the time on his phone. He was late. He’d be sealed out, if it weren’t for the two sultry witches he’d met in downtown New Orleans a few weeks back. By now they’d forgotten about their intoxicated invitation. How at that point, they’d even gone above and beyond to welcome a stranger to Ceremony. 'Any week it worked for him'. He wondered how Greyson and Pell were doing, if they were still even enrolled. He saw a better chance of the two running off and eloping, but he didn’t dig too deep or care. All that mattered currently was the free ride and promise of excitement and sexual zest on the horizon.

A house. Just full of witches.

Angel could have used another bump but figured it would be best to wait. His girls might have forgotten about their drunken encounter, and the last thing he needed to was blaze in, acting like he was personally, closely affiliated with them. Angel dust wouldn’t necessarily render him particularly graceful either. He tugged at his black collar and casually strolled through the gates. His step broke off twice as he stopped to pat his torso. Still alive. Still whole. The enchantment the girls used was still in effect. Sick. With a satisfied Cheshire grin, he wove his way down the path and up the stairs.

ImageIt wasn’t long before he was stopped again. Familiar pale hair masked her features but he knew it was her. Her knuckles had turned white from both hands clenching the knob of the banister. She was only a few feet from the door. It almost looked like there was some invisible tug of war going on, as her body pulled itself back, in a downward motion, but she continued to hold onto the handrail and mewl almost silently to herself. Every now and again she would hiss, “Fuck”, but without looking up or moving in either direction much more. Her frame jolted with every breath. Angel decided to go on a whim and place a tattooed hand to her back. His fingers were softly pressed above the base of her spine, but no matter how gentle the approach, she still snapped upright and stared at him with the wildest eyes he’d ever seen.

What he remembered was not what stood before him. Her hair seemed to have turned to a graying purple in the past few weeks. The cool demeanor was not in progress. She looked terrified. Or strung out. But the matching ebony get up, the nose bleed and look of panic confirmed that it probably wasn’t drugs. The nether half of her face was sullied with her own blood. “Well, hey,” he said with a smile, disregarding her blatant dread, “You and your girlfriend invited me a few weeks back. Do you remember me?” She didn’t hesitate to nod, but she didn’t speak. “You okay?” Again, no hesitation to nod. “Let’s get you inside,” he crooned, wrapping an arm around her and helping her brave the stairs and face the institute which to be honest, stunk of herbs and rose petal. It was far too overdone for Angel to even lie and say it smelt remotely nice.

Together they walked past a male duo on the porch. One was a tattooed man, the other was a sheepish, overdressed man, considering the weather that was at play. Angel was forced to quirk an eyebrow at the hangdog and his chestnut hair, the way he fidgeted next to what looked like a teacher. In passing he bowed slightly, "Evening." With a shrug, he continued his unexpected journey.

They weren’t more than five inches past the threshold before the terrible screaming and perturbation hit their ears. Angel braced Pell and looked around, taking mental stock of the nice paintings and china while the rest of the inhabitants tried to constitute themselves. From a wide doorway across the way, an older blond woman paced without so much as a blink of confusion or concern. A glass of wine was perched between bony fingers. She must have been the Supreme. The Coven rushed past her, servants included, up the stairwell. Lastly a blond hobbling boy, more on tenterhooks about helping than anyone else. Unmoving, the Supreme just lingered. Angel couldn’t tell if she was looking at him directly, or just out the door while the sound of a terrified femme shrieked, “Help!”

“Always this crazy here? Heh,” he kept an arm around Pell’s shoulders, glancing between her and the Supreme while the merriment, alcohol and hexing was abandoned.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Angel Zuniga

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Rowe
"You okay?"
Rowe jerked back a bit, genuinely surprised to hear a new voice. Almost all at once any anger he had been feeling before vanished, he couldn't even really tell why he was so pissed off in the first place. His eyes focused on the person who had spoken. Greyson. It took a moment before he realized that Pell was kind of having a seizure, or the fact that her nose was bleeding. He felt himself involuntarily tense up, wondering if he had done that. Of course you did dick head, he thought to himself, grinding his teeth. Greyson had said something else but he wasn't paying attention. He was too busy having a mental struggle with himself over how to help Pell. And how to explain to others what happened. What had happened? He wasn't even sure. If someone thought he was just going to start lashing out at people... well, he didn't know what would happen really. He didn't want to know.

Pell got back up, seeming to recover but seeming really shaken. Actually, she looked petrified. Rowe shifted uneasily, eyeing her. Had he made that look in her eyes appear. No, he decided. It had been something else. She saw, or thought she saw, something. He was sure of it. But he didn't really have a chance to comment on it.

“Is this your idea of a fucking joke?” Pell yelled in his general direction, whatever fear he had seen before disappearing and being replaced with some rage he was sure he didn't want to face. But since her next words were telling him to not go near her, he supposed he wouldn't have to face it. He didn't feel any better.

She stumbled off, and Rowe saw some guy help her before he let himself turn away and start freaking out. Rowe ran a shaky hand through his hair, eyes darting as he tried to think about why he lost it. He was vaguely aware that Greyson might still be there, but wasn't really paying all that much attention to the fact. He was too wrapped up in his panic. "Fuck!" he screamed, hitting himself on the head with his fists. He kept swearing under his breath before finally just falling silent, going numb. He wondered if he was going to have to leave. Or if Pell would even say anything. She was a proud person, he wasn't sure she'd run to the Supreme or anything. Still, could he really let himself be around people, most of whom barely knew him, and trust he wouldn't pull another stunt like that?

Someone screamed. Loudly. Rowe looked up, but wasn't all that shocked by the sound. He still felt kind of numb to his surroundings, and it took him a moment to realize that he should be worried someone was hurt as others disappeared inside, but he found that he didn't have the will to go and look if everything was okay. Pell was with everyone else, and she had said to stay away. So that's what he did.

Fiona
Fiona sipped at her drink, eyes scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary while her face remained incredibly passive. It wouldn't help to let anyone think she was worried that something was wrong. Well, she wasn't really worried actually, so she didn't have to mask that. More she had to hide he interest in her surroundings, which would seem out of place from her usual nonchalance.

Her interest was proven justified though, when a sudden scream cut through the walls of the academy building. Fiona tensed very slightly, but other than that she showed no reaction to the sound. Still holding her glass, Fiona walked toward the noise, head held high with purpose. It was time to see what was amiss in her academy, and get rid of it if need be.

When she got there, Kyle had already shown up and looked like he was trying to help the screamer. Jacqueline. Other students and some staff also gathered in the room, trying to see what the commotion was. Fiona stared down her nose at Jacqueline, who was in tears and repeating something about Madison. "...Madison's dead," she finally caught the girl say, causing Fiona to raise an eyebrow. Dead? Good riddance, she thought, not phased by the death of the younger girl. The only thing Fiona was now interested in was how the girl died. And, if still around, would it kill anyone else.

"Make sure she's okay," Fiona said out loud, to no one specifically but more to everyone gathered in the room, and motioned to Jacqueline. Fiona began to turn, but then paused and called out, "Hale! Arturo! Gather the students and make sure they don't leave your sight!"
With that she turned and marched up to Madison's room, having to see her death for herself. And, by any luck, get an idea of what happened to the girl.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Papa Legba Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Angel Zuniga

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Greyson Ault
Neither of the pair answered her question, but Greyson couldn't shake the sick ominous feeling gnawing at her gut. There was too much going on, energies swirling around her. A pressure pushed into chest as she could feel something expand from within her, like the wings of some monster that flapped it's wings as a warning. She felt Pell go limp beside her before she began to seize, eyes rolling back.

"Pell!" She grabbed the girl, trying to stop her from hitting her head. Before she could even steady Pell in her arms, images flashed behind her eyes. Yelping as she jumped away, the burning image of blood red eyes imprinted in Pell's mind burned in Greyson. Her and Rowe stared onto Pell, frozen. She felt useless, unable to help the one person she ever had called a friend because of her inability to control her fear reading.

The look of confusion on Rowe's face was the only thing stopping Greyson from attacking him, after all mind butchering has his unfortunate speciality. She wasn't sure what she should do, run for help or stay and hope to be helpful, or to bind Rowe and feed him to the council. She couldn't get those red eyes out of her mind, menacing yet familiar - or had she only recognized them through Pell. Her hands gripped at the hair at her temples, looking back at the porch where she could see Hale along with Silas, still no sight of Aiden.

"What the fuck." Was all she could manage, still gripping her hair at the temples.

Pell had managed to straighten herself, ranting to no one particular. What did the girl just see? Greyson stepped forward, hands raised, "Pell, you're okay." Although anyone else would be able to tell otherwise. When Pell backed away, Greyson noticed a figure approach from the gate. She didn't recognize him until he spoke, the male witch they had ran into on one of their drunken nights out. It all came rushing back to her, them passing the invitation for him to drop in anytime - they must've been drunk to think that would fly by Cordelia.

She said nothing as he approached Pell, stepping back into the shadows, offering no explanation. Pell usually did the talking, otherwise Greyson wasn't much interested in the conversation. She watched Angel as he helped Pell, deeply wishing she could be the one being able to help her friend. He spoke softly, asked questions, handled the crisis very well. It took everything Greyson had just to stay standing, let alone assist the seizing girl. Leaving Rowe behind,Greyson walked up beside Hale. "Something just happened, don't freak out." She needed to tell him before he saw the state of Pell. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

Looking back, she could see Angel helping Pell up the stairs. She couldn't really say what happened, she wasn't sure what it was. A scream from upstairs saved her from butchering an explanation, she looked at Hale as if to say that part has nothing to do with me, following behind him as he dashed upstairs. There was a whirlwind of students around them, some just looking around in confusion, the rest rushing toward the scream. Tailing close behind Hale, she managed through the crowd as he pushed his way through, almost stumbling into the room.

Greyson could smell the fear before she could smell the blood. She only smelled fear one other time, although she only could remember pieces of that night. Jacqueline stood frozen, unable to look a away and overwhelmed, meanwhile Fiona stood with her glass in hand looking over the room and somehow managing to look calculating, menacing, cool. The smell drowned Greyson's senses, able to look around and catalog the damage but not really processing any of it. The noise of people at the door, screaming and even a few crying, rammed against her head like a hammer, and there was some annoying high pitched whistle in the background that pierced into her temples. Gathering her composure, taking a deep breath out, her hand moved gently from side to side, subtle yet effective. The bodies pressed through the door frame lurched back as if being pushed by an oversized hand, the door snapping behind them.

"Sorry," she said unapologetically.

Jacqueline remain trembling, cautiously Greyson approached her. Tentatively reaching a hand out, she flinched on contact, unable to filter the fear. Comforting others wasn't much of her specialty, although Jacqueline hadn't asked so she wasn't sure why to even bother. Because it's the nice thing to do. a voice rang in her head. Sighing in defeat, Greyson let her arms to her side, deeming herself useless. She was a hole in one if you needed her in a time of conflict, but she's fuck all when it comes to picking up the pieces after.

It was then she noticed a distraught Kyle, she could feel his levels of frustration bouncing off the walls. Before she could notice what she was doing, she was standing beside Kyle. Her hand rested on his arm, calmed by the stillness he gave. She couldn't tell if it was because he was dead or if Kyle genuinely had no fear, but for the first time all night she hadn't cringed at sort of human contact. Looking him in the eyes, she remembered what a soft brown they were, guilt twisted in her gut. "I'll help with Jacqueline." Greyson motioned to Kyle to gently lead her out, turning to face the doll face that was still twisted in horror. "Hey, come on, we're going to get you out of here and clean you up."

As her and Kyle escorted the girl out, Greyson motioned the open the door revealing the crowd that had pressed themselves against the wood to listen. "Move." She said curtly, it came out meaner than she intended but she was sick of how fascinated her fellow students would become by blood and gore. The crowd saw her expression and cleared a path down the hallway, knowing if they had declined she wouldn't have much problem forcing her way through. She helped Kyle get Jacqueline down to her room, "I'll be right back, get her settled."

Sweeping down the stairs where it had pretty much emptied, she went into the kitchen, setting out a tray. She filled two large metal bowls with warm water, one to use to clean Jacqueline and the other to wring out the soon to be blood stained rag, and grabbed a rag from the linen drawer, arranging the items just so on the tray. Order brought comfort to her, perhaps it was her way of suppressing her own feelings. Jacqueline seemed traumatized by the bloody scene and Greyson hardly offered more of a reaction than the zombie boy. Carrying the tray through the sitting room, she saw Pell still standing beside Angel. "Hey, Jacqueline is in her room, she was the one who screamed. Fiona is in Madison's room, I think we're on lock down." She said at an attempt to be discreet, not really wanting to share with the newcomer about the slaughtering of one of the witches in their coven.

Knowing Kyle and Jacqueline were expecting her back, she left it at that and continued up the stairs and into Jacqueline's room. She was sitting on the edge of her bed as Kyle stood there in silence. She set the tray on an end table, dipping the rag into one of the bowls and handing it to Kyle, "Can you do this part, I would but...." She felt uneasy about revealing her own weaknesses that she had with her powers, unable to touch another being, she let her sentence trail off.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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She could barely register what was going on. Fiona was there for a moment, saying something, but Jacqueline could barely make out the words. She felt her die, she had no memory of falling asleep but it didn't matter, she had been, she had to have been, how else was she able to feel Madison before she died.

Suddenly, cool hands curled around hers, breaking her from her thoughts. Kyle was kneeling before her, tending to her blood sodden hands. Jacqueline just watched the scarred boy as he blotted napkins over her hands. She was still shaking, she couldn't stop them, but he managed to work around them.

His hands were so cool...why?

Jacqueline then, and much to her own surprise, wondered why he was helping her? Everyone else seemed to not notice, or care...So she thought, because then, Greyson appeared, or had she already been there?

"Hey, come on, we're going to get you out of here and clean you up." She said and suddenly, Jacqueline was up and being helped to her room. Her mind still half in a daze, they were there before she knew it.

Her room was much like her, feminine, fashionable, French but subtle, It had a vintage feel, candles in place of what should have been a fireplace, a vintage mirror atop the mantle, french purple, black and white style wallpaper accented that wall purple painted walls with grey tree decals adorning it. Her bed was a simple much like everyone else, yet it had the same purple and grey color scheme, making it look somehow different.

Jacqueline always had a flare for design. Not that she would have noticed anything at the moment.

Finally, seated on her bed, swallowed, trying to regain herself and soon it was only her and Kyle, Greyson off doing who knows what. Jacqueline could barely focus at the time.

She looked up at him, and nodded. "T-T'ank you." She said, with a sniff, before they stood there in silence. Jacqueline's mind flashing back to her horrible discovery. What could do something like that?

and the Pain, Madison was in so much pain. Jacqueline's head began to ache, she wanted to hold her head, but she couldn't, not for the blood that still stained her skin.

Greyson reentered again, but with a bowl of water and Jacqueline was grateful.

"Can you do this part, I would but...." She asked Kyle, and Jacqueline shook her head.

"I-I can do ett." She said, her accent a bit stronger now, she wasn't trying to hide it like usual, typically she would damper it, make it easier for others to understand her, but now, it was a surprise she was even speaking English. It wasn't her first language.

She stood up, her head swam causing her to sit abrutly back down. She swallowed the dizziness and tried again, she found her footing, and took the bowl, she set it down, on a coffee table and began cleaning her hands, blood swirled around the formerly clean water, and soon the bowl was a deep red. Thankfully, she was clean now. Staring into the water, Jacqueline began to sob softly this time, once again.

She was in so much pain...

Image

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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In an incomprehensible way, Kyle was jealous of Madison.

He hasn't seen the corpse yet, but he already knew that once he did he would be jealous. He would be confused and frustrated. Because in reality, everyone knows she's not worth resurrecting. No one would want to and everyone would pity the poor soul that did if they must. She wasn't worth the time to put back together and get her ticking again, so she didn't have to worry about it anymore. She just had to be dead. She was forever at rest.

By why did the bitch deserve to rest?

Why did she get to stay dead? Why did she get to have a rest despite her abuse? Why was she free from her burden when he was brought back like Frankenstein's monster, even though he clearly deserved it more? Dammit, Kyle put up with everything. He Imageput up with pathetically stupid frat boys, he put up with his mother, he put up with not knowing what happened to him and why he was brought back to life. He put up with life after death! Yet that snobby pig who couldn't stand it when she wasn't the center of attention and couldn't put up with her hair being cut wrong got cut slack. Everyone would simply say that life wasn't fair, he was sure. But guess what.

Death wasn't fair either.

Forcing the infuriating thoughts to the back of his mind for later food for thought, the corpse continued to wash Jacqueline's hand the best he could without hurting her. He tend to forget his strength sometimes, especially when he as upset, so he was being extra careful to not grip her hand in any way as an extra precaution. And good thing too, because he almost jolted when he felt a hand land on his arm. Somehow he managed to keep himself together, but he could have swore it was someone scolding him or something for not going about business as he should be, even though he hasn't been told what to do by anyone. But it was simply Greyson, probably wanting to help. At least he hoped. She needed all the help she could get, he was sure.

Kyle looked up at the young woman with a default smile on his face, but he didn't linger to long, returning his foggy gaze to Jacquelin's hands. But really, the warmth of the lady's contact kept the smile on his face and started to overwhelm his angry thoughts. The cold thoughts melted into puddles and any thought of Madison had left his short term brain. He simply went on his way cleaning up the blood, switching hands and napkins to soak up the excess before Greyson offered to help. Without a second going by, Kyle nodded and helped Jacqueline up the best he could. But along the way, he did wonder if they should have stayed with Arturo and Hale, seeing as Fiona just told them to keep everyone in their sight.

But it was funny how you don't notice how many people actually are in this place until you need to leave a crowded area in a hurry. Greyson did a good job of dispersing the crowd so they could take her to her room so it didn't take all that much more time. Once they got to her room, it was almost like he gawked at it's interior, as if he never saw the colour purple before. Of Imagecourse he had, and it wasn't the colour at all that really surprised him, in actuality. It was just how well decorated it was. It was like it was an entirely different place. Kyle knew his room was about as plain as a bag of potatoes, but this was a lot nicer than many students' rooms. Was that just because their rooms had clothes all over the place or piles of ash under the window? Well, whatever it was that was different, it was spectacular.

The pair had set the traumatized witch on her bed, and it seems as soon as they did, Greyson left to do whatever Greyson did. Whether she was going to be back or not, he wasn't sure. Why was it that people left as soon as their task was done? Kyle simply ignored it and went on with what he figured was best. Starting with giving her the rest of the napkins he had taken with him up to her room. After that though, he wasn't sure.

Was she okay enough to do it on her own? Did she want to be alone or for him to stay? Did she even know what she wanted or what to do? Kyle, conflicted by his own thoughts, decided to wait until she said something otherwise. If she wanted him to leave, he will. If she wanted him to help then he would.

"T-T'ank you."

What?

Kyle blinked. Then smiled simply and nodded. He's always thought saying 'You're welcome' took away from the sincerity of it. Like he was taking credit for something because he wanted to be recognized. Smiles were worth more than a thousand words in his eyes. But Greyson came in just after that with two bowls of water and a towel. Much better than some napkins or sure. Why didn't he think of that? Because he was too busy thinking about a thank you.

Gripping his hands behind his back, Kyle watched Greyson set the bowls on the table, expecting her to help Jacqueline clean of her face and the rest of her hands. But she had surprisingly turned to him and held out the rags, asking if he would do it. For some reason, he felt uncomfortable saying yes. Maybe it was because he'd be cleaning a woman's face, maybe it was because he was just caught off guard, but no matter what it was, he hesitated. And it only took the few seconds he waited for Jacqueline to to step up and do it herself.

It was clear it wasn't easy for her, though. Her hands still shook as she wrung out the rags as she washed off the blood, and Kyle felt somewhat helpless just watching. Kinda like watching an amputee going up the stairs but they refuse help. It was awful, but if she wanted to do it herself, he wasn't going to take that away from her. He didn't realize it though, but even when he thought he had accepted it, he had managed to inch closer without even himself noticing. By the time she was sobbing, causing Kyle's smile to disappear, he was already close enough to sit beside her on the bed. His hands refused to move from his lap, even when he told them too, but they couldn't stay still forever and they finally gave in. Subtly, Kyle tried to stop her from continuing. Perhaps so he could help her or to simply get her to stop all together.

Because really, when you're traumatized, it really wasn't the best time to worry about your appearance, let alone having to work on it yourself. When you're traumatized, you're suppose to just stop what you're doing and just relax. That's why when someone witnesses a murder, the police give them a blanket and just have them sit. They don't make them go back inside and clean up the floor. It just doesn't happen. So why should she be forced to clean up by herself?

That was the logic behind it anyway.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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The touch stirred her. She hadn't expected it, and it gave her pause. His hands were cool, but soft, gentle, like a whisper. It was enough to make her look up and realize, she'd been scrubbing too hard. Her hands and face were nearly raw, red and sore, and his oddly cool hands were nice.

She wanted to be strong, she wanted to swallow this down, but she couldn't. She wanted--needed something, someone to tell her it was going to be okay, Madison wasn't suffering anymore, that surely the pain she was in was over and Jacqueline herself was going to be fine. Or maybe, she just needed not to be alone.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder,and sobbed, unabashed.

Kyle was cool, she thought, not cool as in an okay person, but literally, cool, to the touch, which was perfect for her at that moment. Like a cool rain after a hot day. That coolness eased her aching head, soothed her raw rubbed face, and cooled the fever that rose in her panic and stress.

Her hands came around him, and curled into his chest an after a moment, her sobbing slow into a soft sad weep, her chest huffing a bit as she breathed.

She didn't know why he was still there, she hardly knew him, she'd seen him around enough, and honestly today was the first time she'd truly noticed him, he was a friend of Pell's which that was a loose term given her cousin's social circle was pretty much the diameter of a period, she didn't know why, nor care, he was kind enough to help her, look after her, he hadn't left her side since he'd found her, and he didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon, after stopping her manic scrubbing, he seemed content enough to just be there she was grateful for it. She needed someone there. She didn't want to be alone. She didn't want to think about what she saw.

All that blood....

The image flashed through her mind and she whimpered against him.

She was awfully glad he was there.

A moment or two longer, she moved away, the panic had faded, and the sobbing ceased, She set her hands in her lap, her head down, but not before wiping away a few linger tears.

"Sorry," the french girl said softly, a southern belle once again "I... shouldn't 'ave done dz'at...but t'ank... you, ." She wiping a few more before looking up at him, and then to Greyson, she'd completely forgotten about her. "You... too." She said, small hiccup like huff still escaping her chest, she used to do that as a child, crying and hiccup gasp, but only when she cried very hard, she hadn't done that in years, but today, was just awful.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Greyson Ault

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Resurrection really messed with your head. Especially when that resurrection was pretty much the closest to a complete failure it could be. Kyle was fairly different than the rest of his peers, and much more so than just a lack of pulse and stitches around his neck. Before his death, Kyle noticed things like girls sitting alone or someone having cut their hair. Sometimes he may notice something someone ate that they didn't normally eat. But now, Kyle noticed things like a cloud's shadow on the ground, or maybe that ant running along the floor. And almost always he noticed how warm someone was.

Kyle knew for absolute certain that people got much warmer when they were upset. He didn't quite remember why, but he knew they did, and maybe it was because she was upset that Kyle noticed the significant different in temperature there was between her and the others. Or maybe it was just that others may lay their hand on his shoulder while she was hugging. That was significantly more contact than normal.

Well, whatever it was, Kyle noticed big time.

As a matter of fact, he almost shuddered with the sudden burst of warmth that started to swarm him, a surprised expression pinned on his lips. As her head lay on his shoulder, Kyle gave a wide eyed glance at Greyson, wondering if she had a clue on what to do. But seeing as most students were antisocial, he assumed she knew as much as he did. So the glance was a passing Imagethought and looked down at the dark hair on Jacqueline's head. Even her tears were warm as they started to soak through his dark shirt. Luckily Kyle didn't have to worry about his heart beating too loud, because if he actually had a tick to his tock, then she for sure would have heard it pounding in his mutilated chest.

His hand twitched into motion again and he raised his arm to wrap over her shoulder. But invitations will be accepted if offered, even if it was subtle, and Jacqueline took the opportunity to embrace the corpse fully. Kyle was thrown into another fit of warmth, tense muscles from his uncertainty giving away their cold posture. As a result, the blonde dead followed, his arms finishing the one sided hug and making it two.

Kyle's skin had been quick to receive the heat, a sensation he had grown accustomed to with various contact with others, but he was never able to keep it because it just evaporates like boiling water. But the hug held it there, and the Spencer boy couldn't help but cherish it because his chest slowed and his mind erased all thought besides it. It just enveloped him liked a blanket fresh from the dryer. No, it was gentler than that. It was more like a ray of sunlight. It was warm like sunlight. She felt like sunlight.

The moment ended on that note, and the young woman pulled away, finally composing herself to a calmer state. Kyle on the other hand had elevated from his previous neutral demeanor to one that couldn't stop smiling. If Kyle got paid for every time he smiled, he would be able to end poverty, but this one seriously wouldn't go away, even as he looked back at Greyson who was still there, probably awkwardly watching the whole thing. His gaze stuck to Jacqueline as she spoke, apologizing for her action in which brightened up Kyle quite a bit. "No." He shook his head, still smiling moronically. "Don't." It didn't hurt either of them so it was stupid to apologize. She should be happy if it helped her, not feeling sorry.

He sure was happy anyway.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Angel Zuniga

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Greyson Ault

Intimate was a word Greyson would use to describe the exchange between Kyle and Jacqueline. He was so gentle when he helped cleaned her, and did not protest when she took the rag herself. He watched her as if she were a frail little bird and all he wanted to do was help. Jacqueline was the type of girl guys wanted to help, they wanted to be her knight in shining armor.

Practically pressing herself against the wall, she could see Jacqueline struggle to remain still, hands shaking as she cleaned herself. She dipped the rag into the bowl, wringing red droplets back into the water and cleaning herself once again. The blood didn't seem to go away much at first, only spreading causing her usually golden skin to appear stained. All of this strangely fascinated Greyson, how the blood wouldn't just wash away, the way the water turned scarlet. She struggled to swallow, trying to avert her eyes, biting her lip. Could she just leave, or did she have to excuse herself? She wasn't sure what the protocol was when a school mate had her throat ripped out.

Taking in a breath, tip toeing toward the door, Jacqueline collapsed in tears causing Greyson to jump. Wether it was her sudden movement or shock from having a live beautiful girl with her arms around him, Kyle looked to her with eyes wide. Greyson couldn't help but smirk, almost giggle, but she always had a terrible sense of humor. Jacqueline only leaned into Kyle for a minute, but to Greyson it felt like hours, as most socializing went for her. Jacqueline composed herself, policing herself and Kyle alike, although Greyson didn't feel like she had helped much.

"Don't worry about it, anyone would've done it." She mumbled, averting her eyes to remain trained on the ground. Emotions probably terrified Greyson more than anything else, the unpredictability they came with - she couldn't handle it all very well. "I'm going to check out what's going on, stick together until we know more." All she could offer was hard, cold practical advice, "I'll let you two know if I hear anything."

She let herself out into the hallway, most of the students remained congregated around Madison's room. Sneering to herself, Greyson pivoted on the ball of her foot, walking in the opposite direction. No one ever liked Madison, she was self absorbed and a malicious twat, dying didn't make her a saint - hell it didn't even make her a decent person. At the end of the day everyone would be thinking, At least it was just Madison. Greyson preferred not to be a hypocrite.

The stairs were empty, but she still heard voices in the front room. She rounded the corner to see Pell still beside Angel, in much better condition than before. Greyson could see Pell's nerves still shaking underneath her cool, albeit rough exterior. She opened her mouth to pose a question, quieting herself. Gently cupping Pell's fair face, Greyson bit her lip, able to suppress Pell's fears from her own mind "I know this isn't a good time," she let that weight on its own first, hoping Pell could read that Greyson knew more than Pell might have assumed, "Someone, or something attacked Madison in her room."

Glancing out of the corner of her eye at Angel to observe his reaction, she looked back to Pell's face, searching it for any indication that what she experienced was related to Madison. When she found no answer, she let her hand fall from Pell's face, stepping back and placing her hand on her hip as her other hand ran through her hair, gripping the roots at the crown of her head. She looked at Angel, almost with a look of amusement. "You have quite the talent for timing, Angel."

Collapsing onto the couch, she withdrew her own cigarette, gently placing it between her lips before lighting it. She offered the pack to the other two, "It's going to be a long night, might as well do it in style."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Papa Legba Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Angel Zuniga

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Image What a lovely evening. Hale was peachy, pale flesh of his cheeks flushed with the rush of token intoxication as he stepped onto the front porch. A thin leather lace of his dress shoe had come undone during his stroll, elbows nearly rubbing betwixt himself and Silas. He paid no mind. Smoky clouds sidled across the sky and like raptorial snakes, wrapped themselves about the moon and shot the light from the front path of Robichaux. The night had become excellently dark. Unusual, though. Generally speaking, the subconscious urges at play kept the moon high and full, thanks to Hale. Allowed it to spill ivory luminescence freely for playful witches and warlock alike. But, tonight, it was disappearing. No work of his own. A sign? No, just his ability dimming because of whiskey. He laughed to himself. A virile hand slapped emptily at ebony slacks, until Hale’s eyes lowered to his feet and an ill-matched grin stole at the corner of his mouth. Silas had followed, studious and respectful. Lingered at the Council operative’s side.

The leggy young man, now Hale’s companion of the evening, rocked indiscriminately. His weight was rested in the soles of his feet. Hale turned his head slightly, height of his jaw slack as he sighed and tried to casually allude to his briefing of the Abernathy file, “As much as I would like to keep you the best kept secret, much to my own selfish pleasure, I do think that you should open up about banishment. It would make you an unusually strong ally, not to mentioned a desired essence to Council.” For a moment he locked stares with Silas. The student’s eyes widened at the comment, perhaps interest, and more so disbelief.

“Yes, that’s right. I think of myself as a modest and level man, most days. I do like to also consider myself aware and alert. It’s no secret that I work for Council, and that is mostly, my sole purpose of teaching here at Robichaux.” His eyebrows bounced at odds for a moment. Tendencies to be quirky broke through his composure and ate away at his inebriation. He placed a heavy and sincere hand on Silas’ generally cashmere shoulder, “Forgive me, Silas. I know this is coming off as boozy babble. But now that I’ve got some fresh air and silence around me, I’m pretty much levelheaded. I must admit that I’ve scanned your file more than once. Before, and after your arrival. What is most uncanny is you are roomed with another highly sought out ‘ally’. That is no coincidence. But you strike me as a more realistic and reserved student. Someone who would take all of this into careful appreciation and consideration before zipping away or rolling your eyes, or flipping your ridiculously purple, soft - - “ one of his eyes squinted. “Her hair it - it amazes me. It reminds me of a plush toy. I’m sorry. I get caught up in it. Leave it to me to be endlessly curious about how she keeps the color rather than why she takes midnight sandwich walks completely naked.”

His grip on Silas slackened as he burst into his usual zany fit of laughter. Hastily he constituted himself again. He pulled Silas close, lips almost pressed to the boy’s hair as he spoke, “You are much too extraordinary to simply study and be taught. You must teach and be known. Tell me, do you smell the necromancy in the air? See, I thought you might. You must be no stranger to the likes of the king of the underworld. You must have met him many times, whether you were keen to or not. So is it just I, who smells him here tonight, or do you, too?”

"This is quite fascinating!" He smiled cautiously. No sooner than he pulled away, expecting a reply, did Pell come sprawling about the stairs. First she scrabbled, then she swathed the banister and heaved. Hale remained silent, stood upright. His mandible now tensed. Rain began to fall around them, forcing all of the scents of the evening to pack into one steady flow of precipitation that coursed through the gardens and beneath the rose bushes. That was when it hit him. The smell of butchery, and the fading essence of Legba himself. The fear in Pell’s eyes wrote it all, and offhandedly, Hale glanced to his associate, and perhaps, new friend. Silas was bewildered, but certainly aware of the tone of what was happening. “You will find yourself very valuable soon.”

Someone had died, and someone had seen death itself.

He tried to approach Pell, even selfishly seizing the opportunity to touch the puck lavender locks as he cooed like a worried grandmother. With a ferocious back swing, she slapped his digits away before he could make a further advance on her comfort. The brief touch he had made, finger tips to her shoulder, told him what he needed to know. It wasn’t enough to heal her. But she had seized not more than five minutes earlier, and her brain cells were snapping into action, paranoia and anger fusing like a bad cocktail. He stepped back, nodding as a nonchalant young man, suave, came to her aid and wrapped an arm around her. “Very well, I do hope to speak with you later, Pell. I can’t imagine meeting with someone who was eager to take your soul, being remotely pleasant for you.” It was out of turn. Hale never spoke this way. But this was an exception.

Without caution or further empathy, he escorted Silas back into the madness, where neither would be surprised to hear the terror in Jacqueline’s shrieking. “She’s dead, eaten.” He whispered it, and repeated in passing to Cordelia. The staff would exercise no great fear or horror. They would treat it as a routine that was to be dealt with swiftly and cleanly. With an appreciative smirk, a secret and understanding between Silas and Hale, he stepped away from the Abernathy boy and attended to duty. Fiona’s stern voice echoed from above. Instructions were clear.

Cordelia had pressed Kyle, Greyson and Jacqueline into the hall. Madison’s door slammed, Fiona behind it, or, that was Hale’s best guess. The ferocity of the lock on the door rung out as deathly silence suddenly quaffed the academy. Whether anyone wanted to be or not, they were now all locked and stuck. Nobody was leaving Robichaux. Hale, with courteous grace, tying his shoe lace, muttered, “Alriightttty then.” Diverting and mystifying was not a choice. In spite of his personality, he stood rigid and austere. He watched Jacqueline crack under the coercion of seeing a partially devoured classmate, her tawny skin pricked with goosebumps as she melted into Kyle’s lifeless form. Hale did feel rather terrible. But it wasn't appropriate now, to hug and croon. “Everyone downstairs and into the lounge. I mean everyone.” Hale had managed to get behind them and steer them down the steps, where Aden still was nowhere to be found.

When Rowe was unhappily herded through the front door, the quandary involving a seemingly rootless seizure in Pell had come upon answers. Hale eyed the young boy, taking in his darkness and anxiety etched in his mouth. Guilty. Afraid. Something certainly wrong had taken place with Pell and Rowe knew something about it. Not to mention, a murderer was on the loose. Legba had even decided to drop in. Voices and cries arose among whispers again, the sound of panic. He would not maintain patience for this mass mania. A harrowing lick of thunder rumbled and shook the house as Hale shouted, “Everyone calm down!” Hale paced, packing a coffer of cigarettes while the heads of the household assessed damage on the floor above. “McDermott!” Hale yelled, commanding the boy to the front of the room. “Pell Laveau, we have some things to discuss. Unfortunately your twitching and bloody nose have given me reason to suspect you might know about something that Council, the Supreme, and Cordelia, do not. I will not spare you the humiliation of having the entire academy witness this, we all have jobs to uphold.” Hale seized the young woman’s arm, dragging her toward the foot of the stairs along with Rowe, leaving a flummoxed and frightened crowd behind.

He clutched Rowe’s shoulders, leaned into him with a grimace that meant nothing but business, “You do know that you sent a personal invitation to Legba by letting your rage get the better of you, don’t you? You are almost exclusively responsible for a seal being broken, not to mention the jeopardized safety of your classmates. And if that wasn’t bad enough, you let your emotions incapacitate and gravely wound Pell.” Stiffly he turned to face Pell, still broadly announcing all of this in front of the coven, “Your hands are not clean. You’ve allowed not one but two strangers to perforate Ceremony. And since you have had individual interaction with Papa Legba, you and Rowe will be meeting with Council. Tonight."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Angel Zuniga

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Pell shifted in Angel’s one-armed embrace. Uncontrollably, she could still feel her digits and joints twitching as if under some incurable hex. It began to strain her body. She almost wanted to wail out loud and pull on her hair. A splitting headache set into her temples, gouging out brain matter, or so it felt. A pair of familiar vermilion eyes flashed in her brain. Some undefined source of rage throbbed from her core as she was helped inside by Angel, whose timing truly was tragic. The Supreme didn’t miss this detail, either.

“It’s always,” Pell wheezed, wiping blood from her nose, still, “This fucking crazy.” There was no slight upward pitch in her voice, no hint of sarcasm or humor. What came from her mouth was more like a wretched reaction of disgust. She unintentionally leaned into Angel, the brawn in his sternum supporting her weight as she tried to get her posture to be fully vertical. The girl scoffed, mumbled about what a joke the academy was. She threshed her head for a moment and ground her teeth as she pulled the wan lavender tresses into a bun, “I wouldn’t stay here long, if I were you, Angel.” Pell couldn’t lie. She couldn’t foresee herself carrying on ‘scholarship’ or whatever it was, with Robichaux anymore. After what she had seen… What she had felt…

ImageThen, it was clear. What she had felt was not only fear, but demise itself. When Legba showed himself to her, she felt something change in the tenor of the evening. It wasn’t just her seizing brain function, either. It was surely death. If she hadn’t been escorted inside and regarded so carefully, she would have assumed the deceased party was herself. She supposed that’s how she always conceived death. Sometimes she felt it in the air, and with some dormant desire, wondered, or hoped it was coming for her. Had her existence been that lousy since coming into witchhood?

Yeah, it’d been a fucking train wreck. Every minor depressing detail since had been a drop in the bucket.

With enough scattered whispers in the academy, Pell didn’t need to inquire about who died. Clearly Madison had finally bitten her god damn bullet. In Pell’s state, she showed no sympathy. She’d grown tired of dealing with the bitch, anyway. She was rotten. Why make with the crocodile tears? Karma had taken its toll and Madison was not going to be skipped en route. One less silver-spoon fed bitch for Pell to defend the world against. Whoever or whatever had taken her could even reap a queue of high fives from Pell at this rate.

Wasn’t that the thing about someone dying? Everyone would mob the scene and be immersed in some spontaneous mutual sadness. Even if the deceased was a total dirt bag. Pell never followed that pattern. It was rare to even see her cry to begin with. What was it about death that made people bond? What was it that made them want to pretend?

The train of thought flickered and spasmed out of survival before she could process it further. Suddenly, the hall and the lounge was milled with all the inhabitants, guests, and staff of Robichaux. Jacqueline was driven solely by Kyle, down the stairs. In spite of his uneven gait, he took the utmost care in being steady and balanced. He appeared focused in his purpose. The other Laveau girl flinched uncomfortably, a quiver on her full lips. From the look in her cousin’s eyes and the smears of carmine all about her, Pell knew that she was who discovered Madison. Grisly. Someone had slaughtered the bitch. Pell cocked an unnaturally grim smile but washed it out with a disinterested expression whenever someone looked her way.

Hale shouted, terribly baritone for a man of his… Well, being. It shocked Pell. Greyson had rushed onto the scene, presumably from the murder discovery group. When she came into view, her wavy shocks of dark hair dancing above her equally dark eyes, Pell swallowed hard. There was some delusion there, now. More so than there was love or common understanding. Still sweet, Greyson’s elfin hands reached to cup the structure of Pell’s face. They were so warm, and the scent that came off of her skin was as glacé as ever. Pell always liked to think it was because she romanticized Greyson so much, not that she actually smelt like honey 24/7. As much as she wanted to linger there, she refrained. In one jerking motion, she withdrew from Greyson’s touch and disregarded her small verbalization. “I know,” Pell glanced away from her.

With her usual demeanor, Greyson took the hint. She turned to her closest companion, her cigarettes. In a luke warm fashion she plopped on the couch as Hale stood at the head of the crowd and made a surprisingly accusing speech. One of which Rowe and Pell were tied into. Beloved Mr. B, goofy and sympathetic, was by no means gentle as he towed her to the center of chaos, alongside Rowe. To no surprise, Rowe still had his usual snippy attitude, with no trace of guilt, not even in the dark circles below his eyes. Pell wasn’t a snitch, either. She’d deal with him on her own time.

But the thought of Council - she - she could actually be prosecuted in grave fashion for interacting with Legba. That broke a handful of house rules, not to mention marred the notion that Pell was not an informant for Marie Laveau. She could be in deep shit. They could burn her for this. Pell tried to maintain her composure, stone faced as she followed Hale and Rowe to the green house. When the men with milky skin and black suits came, she refused to enter the green house. If Myrtle’s entourage was at her heels, someone was going to pay the price.

“Kyle!” Pell screamed, uncertain of what to do. “Try to tell them! Tell them that I’d never summon him! Tell them!” He was out of sight, but she could only imagine the look of bewilderment and helplessness on his poor face. He was perhaps now, the only one, who knew her confessed fears. And fate so had it that he was the only one who could not convey these things to Council. A pale arm scooped under Pell’s and pulled her behind the closed door of the green house. Wishing subconsciously for an end now seemed so ridiculous. It wasn't like Pell wanted to be burned alive.

So, she acted. Tall potted plants at either exits burst into flame. The house filled with uncontrollable heat. It might have been panic, it might have been stupidity. With a hollow glance toward the main supporting beam in the green house, Pell stated, "I'm not going anywhere with you." She stepped in contrary motion to her proclamation, though. Toward Council, toward Rowe. Her unapologetic gaze set into the frames of Myrtle Snow's glasses. "Neither are you," she murmured as she gripped Rowe's wrist and made a break for the nearest exit. A severe 'crack' was heard as the center strut of the indoor garden began to collapse. "They're going to try to fucking burn us, Rowe!" She whined as she ran through the Robichaux garden, which started to look like a maze.

There was a ripple in the universe, small confirmation that, indeed, another seal was formed. Pell had to know there was no such thing as escaping Council, much less, the Supreme. They wouldn't be able to leave the grounds. Would Fiona try to weasel the students out of trouble as a sheer contradiction of what Myrtle Snow wanted?

The commotion brought the curiosities of the academy, the Supreme, and the headmistress onto the porch. A raging fire, set by Pell, was put out like it was nothing. The green house was resurrected, and from its dying flames came Myrtle Snow, Cecily, and Fleming. They were unfazed. "Fuck," Pell backed away instinctively, fingers still grasping at Rowe. They were somehow less menacing than Legba but, all together, frightening nonetheless.

"Well done, Miss Laveau," Myrtle crooned, a sardonic smile on her coral colored lips, "And Rowe McDermott. Truly, you are a sight to see when your malignancy is at work. We didn't think you would be a repeat offender, but sometimes, even Council is wrong. It's heartwarming, to see you two holding onto each other now, really. But we've got a mess to sort out and punishments to be divvied, surely you didn't think this would be overlooked." Her gloved hands came together, "Nothing to say? Well, that's alright. We've seen everything firsthand, anyway."