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Hale Bjarki

"This is going to be quite exciting!"

0 · 809 views · located in New Orleans, Louisiana

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

Description

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Image

Nickname/Alias:
Mr. B
Birth parents:
Helen Matsdotter & Lucius Bjarki
Hometown:
Salem, Massachusetts

”Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach. I’m just kidding, really… Seriously! Please don’t recite this to Miss Cordelia!”



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Age: 24
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 160 lbs
Abilities: Atmokinesis, Healing
Quirks: Letting students skip history, letting students arrive late to history, tranquility in hostile situations, extremely verbal, eccentric, perpetually delighted, undemanding, forgetting to teach history in history class.

Being from a long line of witch cruelty and divine bloodline itself, Hale Bjarki was elected as a preceptor and sleeper for the Council. From a young age, the gentleman was recognized for his cutting-edge use of personal craft and sage healing. It was no secret that even as a boy he excelled. Which, is saying a lot, considering that the academy was not open to male students when he was familiarizing himself with his newfound aptitude.

It is said that because the boy was kept in such a reclusive state as a child, he flourished in the most uncanny fashion when the Council sought him out for tea. Rumor has it that he threw his cup of chamomile over his shoulder, kissed Myrtle Snow on the mouth and declared, “I’m ready for the big time, baby!” Though Snow herself will pucker with distaste and attempt to disprove this ever happened… Well, Hale can tell you himself, that it indeed happened. He can describe still, in perfect detail, how Myrtle’s couture coral lipstick tasted. Not good, mind you.

As it stands, Hale works at the academy, teaching history and more or less ensuring everything goes smoothly. He often finds himself roaming the dorm halls or drinking Irish coffee in the ancestry room. When it comes to students, he is extremely outré and unconventional, frequently grinning and causing a ruckus.

So begins...

Hale Bjarki's Story

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Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki
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Mr. B

Image “What a strange, strange boy you have here.” Hale recalled Pembroke saying, clad in her Victorian hat, pursed and unappealing smirk on her smug face. In reply, Fleming, the only male of The Witches’ Council retorted, “Well I like him!” And of course Hale would garner Fleming’s immediate adoration. Fleming was quite the flamboyant eccentric himself. The day that Hale was bestowed with the honor of scouting for the Council, he may have acted foolishly. Yes, it could have been a bit overboard. But one couldn’t simply understand at a glance, what a lonely and dull life the young man had lived until that very moment. One couldn’t possibly fathom just what it meant to get out from under that roof. Where two doting parents constantly oozed and lulled in their babying and colorless voices about their son being just so extraordinary. The Bjarki boy never saw it that way, only jejunely recited his lessons, and knew he was no normal boy. In comparison to any other possible candidates, he was unadorned and unflashy. Hale was simple. Not pompous or fervently explaining every last word he remembered from an alleviating spell. Was that what the Council expected, maybe? An arrogant and less self aware being? Hale couldn't wrap his head around such a thing. He was a product of his environment. Nothing more, nothing less. There was no excessive pride, only severe, brain-suffocating boredom.

At present, Hale resided happily in the staff quarters of Miss Robichaux’s Academy for the gifted. What was initially given as an employment opportunity to sort of keep an eye on things, turned into a full scale almost vacation experience for Hale. No sooner than arriving did he volunteer to teach history, monitor students and very eagerly, at that. Someone as sheltered as he might have been struck wordless by the great hall. Or maybe the lovely courtyard. But not this Bjarki Boy. Instead he waltzed in, spinning like some schoolgirl who just got asked to prom, grinning and muttering under his breath about this and that’s. Dutifully he bowed his head to the portraits in the ancestry room, curtly murmuring, "Good day to you!"

His entrance did not gather immediate respect or even interest for that matter. Many of the existing students shrugged him off, and even less cracked a weak smile at his jokes or demonstrated oddity. He did find himself quite at home in the classroom, though, in spite of being late himself, and excusing so much lethargic muck within the roster. The reenactments of history as he saw it were a sight to see. Hale was fond of props and costumes to declaim lessons, and eventually became highly appreciated for his excessive patience and efforts with the most lukewarm of students. The time it took for Hale to gain a reasonable standing at the academy was less than pleasant, but he didn't complain a bit. Every damn day the young man would rise with a smile and trot along. Oh, the routine clearly would not stop. Not for beautiful young women, celebrities, sweet treats from the Robichaux kitchen, charming witches or their muses. Even with all the temptation, Hale knew he had a job to do.

Image On a quiet April afternoon, coincidentally a Wednesday, which meant no teaching, Hale sat on the front portico, Irish coffee in hand as he idly watched the road beyond the Robichaux property. With his dark eyes set low, he hummed something incoherent. The sun was awfully bright. Forced him to squint a few times, especially when an unfamiliar face edged toward the gate. Who was that there, suitcase in hand, wearing a crewneck in the Louisiana sun? Surely a crazy man, if a man at all.

Hale got to his feet, his looming height casting a shadow down the front stairs. He wore a hospitable grin, teeth glaring in the afternoon luster. Without a word from the newcomer, Hale dashed to the entryway, holding a door and ardently gesturing with a free hand for the presumed student to enter. His notions were confirmed when a cochineal matron poked her head out from the brick beyond the gate. She marched in front of a timid young man, a coal colored umbrella over her head as she nonchalantly declared, "Hale, Silas, vice versa. I hate to cut this short but I've got a rather pressing appointment. Do what you will, now?" Even her tone was high vogue at its best.

With that, she disappeared, only serving as a bleak reminder that Hale, too, had somewhere to be. In her wake the sound of a suitcase thudding on the pine floors echoed. Hale welcomed the young man. Nervously he itched at the faint stubble of his sloped cheeks, bobbing his head at 'Silas', "Down the hall you will find the staircase, and just above on the second floor is the main dorm hall." He sort of skittered in a sideways motion toward said grand steps, hurriedly, "Oh you will love it here! We have a great little family!" A pat to the newcomer's back was given, then Hale zipped out of sight.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki
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It wouldn't be fair to say that Louisiana was hot. No, a simple, three-letter word like "hot" didn't really hold enough weight in terms of words. It completely ignored the stifling humidity hanging thick in the air, the way that sweat pooled in every nook and cranny on the body, and even the way that the air was alive with bugs, whirring, humming, and circling lazily in search of exposed flesh to feat upon. Maybe sweltering was a better word. Either that or Hellish, but Silas was almost completely certain that Hell was something of a dry heat, which was far preferable to the muggy air that had somehow sneaked its way into the taxi.

Silas squirmed in his seat before reverting to a perfectly poised stillness, back straight, hands folded politely in his lap, and legs pressed firmly together to avoid taking up more space than necessary. He entertained the idea of shrugging off his jacket, had already done so with the maroon tie currently expertly folded in his shoulder bag, but after a lifetime living with his Auntie Lavinia, he could hear her scandalized voice echoing in his mind.

"Silas Alexander Abernathy, what have I always told you? First impressions matter. Now you keep that jacket on or so help me...".

He shifted again before his eyes wandered towards the window, eagerly drinking in the world passing him by. The familiar landscape of Maryland was far behind him, and while Louisiana certainly didn't seem alien, it was still a new and unexplored land to him. It was exciting, really, but also terrifying. He'd never been away from home for long, and he'd always been accompanied by his Aunt Lavinia. But here he was now, miles upon miles from the small portion of the world he'd called home with no Auntie Lavinia in sight. It was all terribly exciting. Well, that and terribly terrifying.

They'd arrived just after supper a week ago when the sun had already disappeared on the horizon. He'd mistaken them for friends of his aunt at first, their odd fashion and the way they seemed to draw all attention in the room had almost guaranteed it, before he'd seen the way her face went pale and her lips pinched together into a thin, severe line. They had been witches (and one warlock if you wanted to be politically correct), something Silas understood quite well, and members of some sort of council in Louisiana that he knew existed in the same vague way that he knew platypuses did (in that he'd never seen them but had heard that they were probably real).

He'd had work to attend to, scrolling through ancient tomes for some specific tidbits of information as a favor to Mr. Dabney, one of his Aunt's friends, and had left them alone for maybe an hour before his Aunt burst into his room with the familiar jangle of her too-large and too-busy earrings. She'd announced he was going away to Miss Robichaux's Academy for witches, warlocks, and apparently the generally magically inclined for a nice, long stay. He'd objected at first, however mildly, since he'd already graduated from university and, really, he was fine with not knowing how to brew potions or create magical fireworks or whatever it was they taught there. However, a heavily jeweled hand pressed lightly onto his left shoulder and a wide, crooked smile, strained around the edges had changed his mind.

His thoughts were slowly drawn from the past as the taxi came to a smooth halt. He blinked wide, hazel eyes before turning to his traveling companion, Myrtle Snow. Ms. Snow had been a delight and a half, just similar enough looking to his aunt to inspire an almost instantaneous respect (eventually, one was certain, he would learn that most people in society saw eccentric older women who dressed funny as less powerful and more crazy old cat lady). She caught his gaze and waved him on. He crawled out of his seat and was instantly assaulted by the full-force of Louisiana heat, not windows or meager air-conditioning to shield him from a sweltering day. It had been hot in Maryland, he thought as he tugged at his collar, but never this hot. The air was heavy with moisture, an almost physical weight that dampened his clothes and weighed him down. That didn't stop him from scurrying around the car to open Ms. Snow's door or taking his own shoulder-bag and suitcase, mind you.

She'd urged him ahead while she dealt with the taxi driver, and with each step he felt a bit lighter, a bit freer. This was the beginning of a new adventure, something fun and interesting that he'd probably look fondly back on years to come. Not only that, but this was his first chance to really, truly socialize. Oh, he'd done it before, but he'd spent his entire life surrounded by adults with only a passing acquaintance to people his own age (sadly, it must be noted, even the adults he usually associated were rather bizarre. Only the professors he occasionally met with when pursuing an online degree had really been normal). Still, he was sure he could manage the transition because he was sure he understood the theory of young adult relationships. He'd read plenty about it, had a vague notion of television shows about the subject, and he'd even bought a cell-phone he didn't really know how to use just for the occasion.

He could see the building as he approached, peeking and then towering over the trees around it. It was aesthetically pleasing, all stark white and obviously well-maintained, but it was also big, like one of the grand homes that hosted those fancy-dress parties he and his aunt always had to attend in Maryland and occasionally Massachusetts. As he continued to move forward, that same airiness from a thrill of adventure began to fade as reality came closing in. He would be living here among strangers doing goodness-knows-what with goodness-knows-who. Oh, dear.

He was sidling towards the gate now, one hand escaping into his suit jacket to grasp the familiar, smooth stone hidden in the pocket, when he caught sight of someone on the front porch. The other man could only be a few years older- perhaps another student?- and was grinning at him, which was a nice change of pace from the odd looks he'd garnered since his arrival to the Southern states, gesturing widely for him to come inside. Hopefully inside meant air-conditioning, which was a very welcome thought.

Before he could say anything, or, rather, before he could come up with the perfect introduction ("Hello! My name is Silas Abernathy" "Silas. Silas Abernathy" "Some weather you have here- oh, by the way, my name's Silas" "The name's Silas, but you can call me Si. Everyone does[or they would if Silas had ever had close enough friends to actually be nicknamed anything pleasant]"), Ms. Snow had strode in front of him, the introduction lackadaisical at best before she turned on her heel and began to walk away.

"Ah, thank you! Ms. Snow. For everything," He called after her, lips pulling in what he hoped was a friendly grin before hurrying into the house. What happened next was a flurry of vague instructions and an enthused welcome paired with a pat on the back before Mr. Hale scurried away to goodness-knows-where leaving Silas very, very alone in the main entryway.

"Er, thank you..."

He entertained the idea of simply staying there for a while until someone else came along, which was a fine idea if not for the fact that standing alone in the middle of a strange place filled to the brim with magic gave him the heebie-jeebies(which was entirely ironic if he thought about it, so he didn't). After about five minutes that plan fell through, the room just as deserted as it had been when he'd been stranded. No, no now was the time to do something for himself. He straightened his posture, rolled his shoulders back, grabbed his luggage and set off for parts unknown.

The staircase was easy enough to find, and he ascended it quickly before realizing that he had a bit of a problem- he had no idea where his dorm actually was. Or who he was staying with. Or if he was staying with anyone. His hand slipped towards his jacket again, fingers briefly meeting the cool stone hidden away, before glancing around. There was one door slightly opened, an invitation if he'd ever seen one.

"Come on, Silas," He whispered under his breath. "You'll be fine." It still took him a full minute to sidle over to the door, compose himself, and then knock.

"Sorry! Hello. I'm new and, well, I think there's been some confusion about dorms. I was wondering if you could maybe help me?" He asked. His voice was filled with all the enthusiasm he could muster and an awkwardly charming, slightly crooked grin was on his face. Be approachable, be kind, and don't vomit on yourself. Check, check, and check.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu
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Pell Laveau





The air was still. On Wednesdays, it usually was. Without the demanding schedules of class, household was left to do really whatever they pleased. Even those under legal age. It was truly a one-of-a-kind school. In place of standard parenting came lenient supervision and the wave of a hand. Where most children would get slapped on the wrist, the academy’s were rewarded. Pell caught herself in a half eyeroll thinking about it, bulging sandwich in hand. From where she stood at the dining room table, she could hear no echoes or voices, not a single whisper. Eerily thawed by the afternoon gale, the motionless hallways were so hushed that they seemed to hum all on their own. Mostly everybody had cut and run for a bit of freedom. Wednesdays were a mid-week weekend up until Ceremony. The girls would clear out and break loose, a truly uninhibited flock of messy witches if Pell did say so herself. Not that she was tooting her own horn. She was just more reserved, with more humility forced into her by Marie Laveau, the voodoo queen herself. Pell wasn’t so brazenly audacious. It seemed to only be the girls, younger, mostly. Male inhabitants usually hung around and binged on food from the kitchen while mindlessly flipping through television channels in their rooms. Or in the case of Bjarki, a newer teacher, would douse their habitual cup of coffee with liquor and stroll around the property with a shit-eating grin, like all of this was just so normal, so peachy.

ImageSpeak of the devil, he was bizarrely chirring to himself as per usual when noise bled back into the Robichaux realm. If it weren’t for the open windows, Pell might not have acknowledged him. She padded into the main foyer, its palatial white walls somehow homely and heartening. Pell did love the place. It was so remarkably ivory. It just looked so clean. Like history hadn’t marred it a bit, not even with the bloodshed known to its former time. Pallid satin drapes billowed if not secured, summery Louisiana breeze seeping into the school and bringing the aroma of sweet lemon with it. In a half-assed saunter, Pell wandered toward the front door, a sandwich almost to her mouth when Mr. B burst back in. His inky eyes were alive with mirth. Naturally Pell couldn’t help but reciprocate the expression, even if in a slightly dryer manner. The young teacher was just so neighborly and as happy as a clam.

However, given the sight of the head of Council, Pell’s shiny beam slackened. What was she doing here? Pell leaned away, the muscles of her exposed torso tightening with ill pique. Unconcerned, Myrtle Snow marched past the defiant lavender-haired girl and her sandwich. In tow like some sort of tall, lanky puppy dog, came what Pell took as a new peer. Superintending the arrival, Mr. B was waggling and smiling, rigged out in a usual lightweight button up, tattooed arms exposed only because he couldn’t stand the humidity. Pell wondered how Myrtle Snow felt about all that body modification. She moved her gaze to the sheepish appearance again, diffident and apparently thinking way too hard. Pell gave him an uncurious nod, muttering, “Welcome to thunder dome,” sarcastically with a mouthful of food. Judging from the addled yet happily polite look in his eyes, he was without a doubt new to this. She didn’t hang around to investigate. Wasn’t her bag. Besides, new students were every other week lately, and she wasn’t on a hunt for friends.

The quiet echo of her walk’s rhythm reverberated briefly before she returned to the main dorming hall. At a snail’s pace she would scale the immense atrium, taking a cumbersome bite now and again from the bread and turkey grasped by her digits. Her elfin feet would wiggle some toes occasionally if the air conditioning was on high. For some reason, it was not. With a peek toward the floor, Pell wondered why she hadn’t dressed up or gone out. Could have been wearing a nice pair of creepers or a skirt. Sure, she was a bit worried about being exposed, but she’d been at the academy for weeks now. She could use a break. And if she kept up the boyish routine, she would be reduced to a bubbling mess of idiot just like all the others who parked themselves in front of a cable box rather than braving the New Orleans heat.

She pulled at the fabric of her cropped tank top, noting a familiar and elitist voice in the air. Pivoting on her heel, a small squeak emitted beneath, Pell wandered back to the entryway of the foyer, where she was not surprised to see the impotent puppy again. Anyone else would be astonished to see him braving a conversation with Madison. Let alone politely asking for guidance. But Pell? She knew the feeling of being a fresh face at Robichaux, how unyielding some of those bitches were. How it was similar to being thrown into a snake pit when you just wanted to know where the damn laundry room was. The worn fringe on her pale and torn jeans tickled her skin, gravity defied as she gently nudged a young man from the doorway, leaning in to smile smugly at the flaxen-haired big name. Unfazed Madison continued some biting speech, picking apart who she was calling a moron every other word. Pell grasped the door frame, allowing her to go on, even concluding finally with a deep respiration, as if she were going to extent the onslaught. Not inspired by Madison’s cliche take on a fashionable rebirth of ‘punk’ or her ridiculous diction that focused solely on belittling new arrivals, the Laveau girl remarked, “Wow! Madison! That skirt is so cute. You know something? It looks familiar…”

Madison paused to peer at Pell, a lip-pursing annoyance etched on her face as the purple haired girl proceeded. “Shit, I’d swear you wore it in a movie I saw. But,” Pell’s shapely lips slanted in a mock look of sympathy, “That’s right. You don’t get,” she paused and limply raised a finger, “parts in movies, do you?” Madison glared, a snarl on the tip of her tongue when Pell tossed a small remainder of sandwich at the bimbo, “You should probably eat. Cocaine catches up, you know?” Pell turned away with disinterest and gestured for the young man to follow.

She didn’t waste time making small talk, only asking his name, if he was excited, and his room number. Silas. He was excited, but there was some question on how convincing his statement was. And room 2D. A roommate had finally arrived, imagine that! Pell simpered, pushing open a white clone door which opened up into a fair sized space with two double beds, one decorated in ivory lace and a colorful quilt. “Hey sorry about Madison,” she chimed quietly as she seated herself on the embellished bed near one of two windows, “She comes from a big Hollywood family so she thinks she can be a snob to everyone. I’m actually amazed she’s home, usually on days off she’s somewhere getting sloshed or still sleeping at a frat.” Pell pulled a pair of shoes out from beneath her mattress’ frame, sliding into them as she peered toward the window, hollow cheeks sort of pulling in during a moment of thought, “Do you have any questions? Admittedly I’m not good at this stuff, to be honest, but I figure I’ll be more helpful than Madison. Plus it’s Ceremony, so no one will be home until they have to.”

"Well, regardless, I'm Pell," she extended her hand, "Guess we're roommates. I'm a Laveau, so don't let anyone tell you rumors without hearing it firsthand. Voodoo is not a dark art, it is not some... Rival-born race. I'm not part of the war, and neither is my cousin, Jacqueline. She also goes here." She could tell from the look on his face he was clueless. Sighing, she pinned a smile to her own, "Anyway, cheers to new roommates."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott
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Jacqueline lay in her bed, looking up at the ceiling, watching the fan spin slowly. There were too many people here to sleep. She didn’t know why Marie suggested she come to this school, a boarding school knowing her ‘gift’, but thankfully, the administrators gave her the room furthest from the other students so it was less likely that she would dreamwalk.

They were wrong. Her reach was a few hundred yards. She knew what the gardener dreamt about....that was fun...
She often found herself in another person’s dreams, wet dreams to nightmares, and most time, she didn’t know what was worse. There was one student that had a crush on her once; it was something else to find herself in a dream where he was ‘sleeping with her’, and that’s putting it mildly, when she woke up, she found his scrawny ass and gave him the slap of his life.

That did nothing for his dreams, only that time she was a dominatrix. That’s when they moved her. It didn’t help that much.

She sat up and sighed. “Fuck it.” She groaned, she decided she’d get ready for the day.

After about an hour of that, she made her way to the commons, they were getting new students today, and didn’t want Madison getting her claws into them first. Poor noobs wouldn’t stand a chance if that happened. There was a whole war between Wiccans and Voodooism that was just a bore, She nor her Cousin had nothing and wanted nothing do to with it. Pell way more so than Jacqueline. Marie raised them both, having been the only family they had. Jacqueline was more closely related then Pell, given her olive skin and dark hair. Maybe Marie was playing favorites? She didn’t know for sure but she adored Pell, and when she left for this school, it nearly killed her but then Marie suddenly decided, despite the colorful protesting she did when Pell decided to enrolled—or enlist depending on who you asked, that Jac should enroll as well, Jac was confused but overjoyed. Pell was her cousin by blood, sister by heart.


Jacqueline was dressed in her usual attire, the school uniform that hugged her body in a way that was probably illegal, high socks that gripped her dancer’s calf, a short skirt that caressed her hips and sway tantalizingly when she walked, a tight top that teased the bounty of her chest, her wavy raven tresses the hung down her back; She looked amazing, and she knew it.

That was the thing with her, she knew what she looked like, how most men, and some women looked at her, her exotic features and French Creole accent, but she cared not an ounce. Power that’s all she wanted, Control.

She made her way to the commons and smiled at the newcomers, waiting for someone to approach. They always did.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Aden Orchau
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Aden Orchau was no stranger to the Louisiana heat, despite what his preference for tight black clothing might suggest. Still, April brought with it a wave of sticky warmth that even he couldn't ignore. So the boy threw out his skinny jeans for once in favor of Tripp brand shorts and a loose tank top advertising some screamo rock band. His combat boots stayed in place though, untied, ratty old things.

From his spot sitting on top of the balcony railing (yes, on top, feet swinging below him wondering how long it would take for a shoe to slip off and hit someone [preferably Miss Foxx] on the head) he could both remain unseen and see everyone come and go from the main doors. Because it was a Wednesday though, there wasn't much to see. The academy was normally bubbling with energy and a collection of unruly young witches, but they'd been granted their freedom, which meant they were off to their own devices.

Usually Aden spent these days in the city with Lucius, which he cherished more than anything, but this particular day he wasn't so lucky. Which meant he was stuck inside, subjected to people watching, because he hated everyone and had no fun whatsoever. Or, so the rumors claimed. Aden just didn't care enough to dismiss them.

After maybe an hour of silence, Pell Laveau crossed the threshold, beautiful lavender hair really the only reason Aden could recognize her spot on. He liked Pell, about as much as he liked anyone...which wasn't a lot, really. Perhaps he just hated her a little less than the others.

The front door opening stole both of their attention, but Aden wasn't surprised to see Hale saunter in, shit-eating grin in place, looking much too happy like he usually did. Aden rolled his eyes, brought his cigarette to his mouth, and blew out smoke which only cleared to show something a little different in the daily proceedings. A new kid. Aden could tell immediately because he was not only escorted by Mertyl Snow's mess of bright red hair, but because of the way he was dressed. Fuck, one wouldn't know the kid was in Louisiana if Aden wasn't so sure of it himself. New Boy looked more out of place than some idiot wearing white during Ceremony.

Pell only lingered long enough to probably say hi in a creative Pell type way, Ms. Snow scurried off to do really annoying and pointless shit that would disrupt everyone's lives, and Mr. B...went to do whatever weird stuff he did. Which left the kid standing there alone for a good five or ten minutes, looking more lost than a girl in a boys bathroom, before he straightened his shoulders and made his way to the staircase. Aden watched with disinterest, moving one hand to bring the cigarette to his lips.

A good ten minutes later, somewhere in the halls behind him, an argument struck up. Aden recognized Madison and Pell's voices, which meant new kid had probably attempted to talk to the Head Bitch and Pell came to the rescue, because she was a good person like that. Aden blocked them out, watching a few more kids mill through the entrance way under him on occasion.

Sometimes he thought about lighting them on fire just for the hell of it. But he didn't. He was already in enough trouble this week.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer
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ıllıllı ⓚⓨⓛⓔ ⓢⓟⓔⓝⓒⓔⓡ ıllıllı


With the rays of the sun irritating the fibers of the grey fabric one could call a sweater, a young man smiled underneath it, rubbing the warmth into his pale, scarred skin. It seeped into his being in a sponge like fashion, but it lifted away back into the air just as easily. So he liked the sun, or rather, he liked being in the sun. The heat filling his pores was brilliantly magnificent to him, and thus, he had almost entirely spent his day outside or in the green house. Not that he didn't normally do that, but today was special. He couldn't quite put his finger as to why, but he knew it was. There was ceremony today, but there was something different, but not too different about it today.

What was it...

ImageKyle walked along sluggishly, one of his emaciated fingers tapping his chin as his eyes starred at the clear blue sky. His bare feet dragged purposefully along the ground through grass and dirt, making his way around the school in contemplation and thought. But he supposed if he couldn't remember it then it wasn't all too important. Because he'd remember if it was. So with a shrug of his shoulders and a swing with his arms he took in a deep breath and walked on to the front of his home.

There was a particular tree that he had always liked out in the front. It was smaller than some of the heftier spruce or oak trees, so he couldn't climb anything by the lowest branch, which hardly would support him anyway, but a small rose bush grew under it on one side and some of the branches of the bush went up into the leaves and twigs of the tree. It was an interesting combination of dark purple fruit and pink flower pedals. And the plumbs were always delicious, and especially the plumbs protected by the brambly thorns of the roses. Nothing hardly ever got to those ones except the occasional caterpillar, so usually they were the best and the most unscathed.

Kyle walked over to the harmonious couple and smiled, leaning on the dark, crisp bark of the tree that was free from bramble. His eyes drifted up through the branches, skimming for any dying branches he could trim off. It would be a shame for these two to waste their energy on such crippled twigs. But Kyle happened to do the same thing a few days ago and nothing seemed too out of place today, so it looked like his work was still done.

Sliding down the thin trunk to sit in the small amount of shade that the Methley Plum gave him, his attention and gaze turned to the main entrance gate. People came in and out of the gate all the time, so Kyle wasn't surprised, but the accompaniment of Ms. Snow and the optimistic Hale kept his duel coloured eyes locked onto them with only minor interest. A new student was supposed to come today and Kyle was actually surprised that he wasn't here yet. Well, maybe surprised wasn't the right word. Disappointed more like. He really enjoyed showing new students around, and since he didn't really have anything better to do than to micro manage the green house, it would be the high light of his day until Ceremony came around.

Oh! That's right, Ceremony was special today because a new student was coming! That's what he was trying to remember.

Lost in thought and his own soft smiles, Kyle's eye drifted along the path as the dressed figure moved on into the house and through the unknown threshold. Kyle knew better than anyone what it was like to walk into an unknown and strange place. Terrified for your undead life, unable to comprehend how you were alive after being torn to shreds as you were brought to an unnatural culture you've never seen before.

Okay, well, maybe they didn't know what that's like, and maybe he didn't know what it was like to come to the school as a relatively normal, unscarred person, but still. Being new sucked eggs. And believe him, sucking eggs wasn't fun at all.

The door was closed when Kyle brought himself out of his memories, and the stranger was long gone from sight, but Kyle didn't mind. He was waiting for the new guy.

Wait-

"Oh shit!" Kyle exclaimed, bursting up from his seat by the tree and sprinted in his own hobbled way to the main entrance of the school. He skipped three steps in the staircase leading to it, and his disproportional hand lunged for the knob, his shoulder slamming into the wood to swing it open. But he missed the door knob entirely and with a loud thud, he crashed into the sturdy wood and collapsed onto the deck.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott
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Mr. B

Busily humming as he beetled down the dilated entryway, Hale ran a tattooed hand through his chestnut hair, spindly fingers snagging knots and promptly removing them. He was just short of a clean break when he nearly plunged toward the floor. One of his large hands clamped the ajar front door to steady himself. Straightening his bowtie, he flattened himself against the nearest wall, eyes wide at the source of his blunder, avoided by a hair’s breadth. Teeth happily clenched, the young scout beamed at the mess of sandy hair. Hale’s cheeks stretched thin, until he could smile no wider at the bare-eyed creation.

Kyle. A mocked ‘house dog’ by catty young witches (no pun intended), and a godsend by Cordelia. Anyone who understood his evolution in the slightest appreciated him. Simple comprehension seemed to be beyond even the most gifted at times, though. Kyle was at best, amateur witch work gone wrong. But over time with the molding of his mind, his own dedication and hard work, he became a gift to the academy, and nothing less. A diamond in the rough, as Hale saw it. Kyle was decorated in scars and aged lesions, physical narratives on his skin of the horrors he had suffered. He was best disguised in his clothes. Though underneath, Hale knew immaculate stitchwork kept him together. The limbs reattached were not all his own. Whether or not this was a secret, Hale treated it as a respected and unspoken matter. After all, it did not matter. The boy worked hard and whatever remnants of a prior life remained in him were to be cherished. Hale never fancied the idea of underestimating anyone, and disparaging blatantly weathered folk was a sin. Anyone who willingly worked their hands to the bone to stay at Robichaux and assist waspish young things was a saint. Hale treated him subtly as such with his usual inkling of bizarre joy in greeting. A kind soul resided in that boy, misunderstood, but kind nonetheless. Kyle was, after all, human. Even if he had no heartbeat.

Hale often wondered why the unsanctioned revival of a horribly disfigured college boy was not penalized… If something like that would have backfired, either girls involved with the haphazardly performed spell themselves could have died, or come back completely mindless without recollection of anything, let alone their past lives. Leave it to Cordelia to be the most forgiving witch in the universe. But really, what a beautiful spirit Miss Foxx was. He could picture her leniency and concern perfectly. He wished he had gotten more time to know the headmistress, but she seemed less enthused about him than most. Which struck a nerve, considering Cordelia seemed very fond of Myrtle Snow. Why was he frowned upon? Had he done something wrong?

There was no time to debate it internally. It wasn’t necessarily important with ‘the bigger picture’. With a starless stare, Hale noticed Jacqueline moving with her usual elegance, no doubt prepared to entertain a newcomer. Hale was granted, wholly curious about the very potent voodoo heir. Her business at the academy. There was also Pell Laveau, fair skinned and fairy-like, but Pell gave off an apathetic aura when it came to the study of voodoo itself. She did not spur much suspicion. Without control of his flitting eyes and mind, he stole glances also into the front yard, where Kyle had been dragging his nature-happy feet before stumbling into sight. Hale extended a large palm, wrapping drawn fingers around Kyle’s cold hand and helping him stand, “Lost in thought?” Hale mused it, the sun hitting his nearly black eyes and shrinking the sable pupil, “No worries. You work your ass off, deserve some downtime. I rather like the Methley’s myself…” Thoughtfully Hale moved to touch his own face, itching at stubble once again, “Silas Abernathy, room 2D. Pell Laveau is his roommate, you know the girl, don’t you? Ah, can’t chit chat… Must be on my way!” He tapped the face of his watch as he brushed past Kyle and made his descent to the front path.

“Don’t beat yourself up, I forget things all the time!” He called out to the Spencer boy, stopping mid-step to whip around momentarily. Naturally he felt the desire to look skyward, where he found a tepid boy swinging his feet about from the second story balcony. Dark hair complimented his otherwise dark features. Hale folded a pair of sunglasses in his grasp, squinting at the male witch, and the displeasure of sweating through a dress shirt, “Mr. Orchau, it wouldn’t kill you to get some sunlight! Or tie your boots…” Hating to sound nagging or remotely faux parental, he tilted his head with a silly grin, half-wink included, “I’m sure our new student could use some… Domestic guidance. If you feel so inclined. Either way, carry on. I look forward to seeing you at Ceremony!” Winding his way out of sight and rounding the substantial academy, Hale hurriedly tromped on his way.

Sweat created from both the temperature and anxious need to be on time, Hale finally threw his hands up, a huff escaping his mouth. The sky darkened only a hue or so, sun fleetingly hiding. A disarray of cold raindrops assaulted just New Orleans for about two minutes. Smitten with the cool-off, even the effect it left on his now sodden clothes, Hale carried on as the sun dared show its face again. This time, his path was not distracted by a lone boy perched beneath a tree for some shade. Still, greetings were a force of habit. Hale bowed his head, rushing past, metal crunching beneath his foot, “I do hope you can fix your cell phone!” With that, Hale hopped onto a six-speed, pedaled his way around the corner, and disappeared for some urban core business.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu
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With a face scrunched up like the wrinkled body of a Shar-Pei, Kyle groaned, hand grasping his throbbing shoulder which protested highly against his assault on the door. Which actually wasn't the first time, believe it or not, and it wasn't the first time that someone else was on the other side of the piece of wood either. Gosh, he hated it when it happened, but he never once came up with a way to prevent such. Though in all honesty, slowing down probably would solve the problem and solve it at it's source.

Puling himself to sit up with a grunt, eyebrows creased in minor pain, he looked up at the familiar accessorized skin that fell upon the young man's hand. He starred at it for a second, listening to Hale's curious, or rather assumptive, inquiry of his prior thought provoking session with the plumbs and roses. He let out a sigh but nodded in response, head hung down low as his the nippy hand took hold of the incandescence of Hale's own, quick to absorb what he could before had had to let go.

The light weight blonde hauled himself up with a smooth pull, letting the poor man's hand go before folding both of his under his arms. The grey sweater preserved the heat the best it could, but it was a sweater, not some sort of heater, and with that fact out of the way, it wasn't long before his hands returned to their frosty state. With a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, Kyle looked down, putting his weight on his slightly elongated leg, his toes grazing the ground with the other.

As much as Kyle liked being complimented on his work, and he really did like it, he appreciated it a lot more than some of the remarks or scowls he gets across the school, but he didn't think it was something that needed to be addressed. Unlike the rest of the students and teachers and witches who could go off and do whatever they want, and he meant anything, Kyle wasn't able to. Yeah, he could go to the store or go to a carnival or whatever the heck the other's did in their free time, but he couldn't do it without feeling like a criminal for being alive. The looks and stares he got and how he merely interacted with others made him feel like he did something wrong... or maybe it made him feel like he wasn't supposed to be alive. Which he really wasn't, technically, but it felt like he stole something he wasn't supposed to, so Kyle couldn't could out, or wouldn't go out, as often as they did. And with nothing to do at the school when classes were out besides chores and being the awkward tour guide, Kyle just did it. Not like he could do anything else.

So he appreciated the compliment, but it wasn't necessary.

He lifted his head to Hale, making brief eye contact when the Methley was mentioned, a low chuckle breaking past his lips. He smiled over his shoulder at the two again, letting his hands fall to his side. It always brought a smile to Kyle's face when people knew plants by name. Especially when it was something more specific than just "the plum tree" or "the rose bush". But Silas? He didn't recognize that plant. And he knew a lot of plants.

"...room 2D."

Oh! That wasn't a plant at all. It was the new student. If Kyle had blood that could reach his face, his cheeks would have lightened to a light pink. But thankfully it was all in his legs. Kyle merely smiled again, giving Hale a final, stern nod before the man walked past him to leave. About to step through the door to go find this Silas person, Kyle turned around as Hale did. Forgetting was a common occurrence, he knew that, and he didn't have the best memory in the world prior to his death anyway, but with his brain forgetting to string proper sentences together and not being able to remember or comprehend things as he probably should, forgetting dates and people were an annoyance that Kyle took seriously. Especially when it was a new person. New people meant new opportunities and new people deserved to have a guide. And that was his job. Well, part of it.

"Thanks." Kyle replied simply before disappearing into the house. His pace was just as rapid as before he had hit the door and he zoomed down the halls with loud thumps. He knew exactly where 2D was, and her knew Pell. Why wouldn't he know Pell? No one could get past meeting Kyle if their life depended on it, and this Silas guy wasn't going to get away with it either. Kyle wouldn't allow it.

Running around like the maniac he thought he was, Kyle eventually met the hall that turned into Pell's room. He came to a slow stop, and he blinked at the others in the hall.

Man, was the entire school here to see this guy? There were already two people with the guy, and to Kyle who was overly determined to show him around, that might as well be the entire school. Kyle quieted his steps as he limped slightly his way through the hall. He smiled briefly as he passed Jacqueline but didn't stop to even say hi. He moved himself until he made it to the frame of the door, and once he had reached that, Kyle poked his unruly head into the room, leaving his body out of it in case Pell didn't want him there. Not that she probably had any reason not want him there.

He hoped.

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Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott
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Rowe had zoned out at some point, staring at the same page in his book for several minutes now. He kept trying to reread the same paragraph, but his brain refused to process the words. Frustrated, he shoved the book back in his bag and ran a hand over his eyes. He was tired, he realized. And suddenly he couldn't remember the last time he slept. Which was never a good sign.

"I do hope you can fix your cell phone!" a chipper voice was suddenly saying, causing Rowe to literally jump and jerk his head up to see the owner of the voice. It was just Hale though, who had already moved on and was walking merrily away. Okay, so it wasn't really merrily, but with the energy Hale had you could be fooled that the guy was just buzzing with happy energy. But it usually was just energy, no "happy" in front.

He does know there is no conceivable way to fix my phone, right? Rowe thought bitterly, glancing at the pieces Hale managed to step on and the direction Hale had disappeared to. Shaking his head, Rowe stood up and stretched a bit, having sat unmoving for a bit too long. A sudden growl from his stomach reminded him that eating was kind of necessary, and that his stash of candy would not be enough to sustain him.

"Great," he muttered and yawned, heading back inside to the kitchen.

Jacqueline was inside in the commons, just hanging out apparently. She seemed to be waiting for something, or someone, actually. Newbies? he wondered, nodding a bit at her in passing and continuing his journey for food. He didn't know too much about Jacqueline, but he knew she was a dreamwalker. He personally couldn't recall her ever popping into his dreams, which he was actually kind of grateful for. He wasn't sure how the dream walker thing worked, but he didn't want anyone in his head. Sleeping was bad enough for him, he didn't need to add more to make in unpleasant.

As he dug through the cupboards he found, despite the fact he was obviously hungry, he had no appetite for anything. Everything either looked dry or old, though he vaguely acknowledged that it was just in his head. The kitchen was usually kept stocked with fresh food. Really, if his stomach wasn't starting to ache from the lack of food in it, he'd just walk away because nothing in the kitchen looked edible to him. Sighing, he settled for just grabbing a slice of bread. If it all looked bad, why waste his time trying to make a "good" meal?

He took a bite while glancing around the kitchen, resisting the urge to yawn again. He was starting to get sleepy, but no way in hell he'd sleep yet. He had a good amount of time before he was anywhere near needing to pass out, and he intended to wait to the very last minute. The nightmares weren't so bad really, they certainly didn't make him want to sleep but if they were it he'd be fine. It was just the fact that no matter how tired he felt he couldn't actually sleep until he was collapsing from exhaustion. He could feel like he hadn't slept for days and would lay down, but then would just lay there awake. It was frustrating really, and he'd come to resent the process of going to sleep at all. Now, he just waited till the exhaustion was kicking in and hope he happened to be in his room when he passed out.

He had barely even finished half of his lame slice of bread at this point and found himself walking away from the kitchen, just wandering around. He found himself sitting on a couch not to long after, drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch with one hand as he finished his last bite of bread. It didn't taste like anything, maybe just air, but his stomach felt better so he didn't really care that his food's taste wasn't up to par. Besides, Rowe had a way to fix the bitter taste in his mouth.

Digging through his bag he pulled out a another candy to eat. "Better," he murmured to himself, leaning back and glancing around the room he'd wandered into.

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
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Arturo had finished his patrol of the schools grounds, it gave him a chance to go outside. Of course He had his limitations. there was a border around the house that prevented him from going any further, like an invisible boundary that could force him back a few feet if he ran at full speed at it. He had done that many times when he was first cursed he wanted to get out and be free, after a long while he got used to it and found a place to call home even if it was his prison.

He watched as a new student entered the house, he watched from a distance like always. Seen and not heard. That was Arturo. He watched as Kyle almost took the front door off its hinges. That by was like a new born deer, unable to find his feet. Oh how he would love to chase down a deer and feast on the flesh, a soft growl erupted in his throat at the memory of hunting with his family. Arturo sighed softly and continued to walk around the school grounds, Hale disappeared on a bike.

He cam to the front door and checked the door that Kyle had more or less gone through, it looked okay no hinges broken or splintered wood. Arturo smirked a little and began to walk around the house his nostrils twitching at the smell of smoke, cigarette smoke. He rolled his eyes a little how many times had he told the students to not smoke inside. It made the house smell, with his enhanced smell it was a hideous odour.

Finding the source of the smell he knocked on the door frame with his knuckles lightly, looking at all the students in one room. " Good Afternoon everyone. Would you mind either putting those cigarettes out or stepping outside with them. Cigarettes both stink the house and are a fire hazard we don't want the school burning down do we?" He tilted his head a little.


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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Bambi (Jess) Soullet
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Jessica Bambi Soullet looked at the time, seeing that she was late. -Shit, I'm going to miss class again.- Bambi said, tying her greasy hair up and pulling on a clean shirt. She glanced down to see a diagram of the anatomy of a Pika printed across her chest. Bambi grinned and pulled on a pair of polka dot socks and along with her favorite Vans before hopping out of the room.

As Bambi jogged out of the boarding hall, she slipped on a pair of headphones. Turning up her music as loud as her phone would allow, Bambi slid down the stair's banister and out the door. Stressed, she didn't even notice that her coat was starting to burn. She suddenly felt a searing pain on her right shoulder. Bambi jumped and flailed her arms against her shoulders pitifully as she ran towards the main building.

As Bambi neared the school, she slipped off her headphones. She hid her face from the strange boy under the tree; Road? Something like that. As she hurried past him she racked her brain for a slight inclination but could not remember his name for the life of her. She said in his general direction before she burst through the front door.

The air of the place was full of noise. It was too loud, breath taking. She put her headphones back on, hiding herself from the distinct noise of the mind. It was like a constant buzzing in her ear. She had to shape and reshape the images that matched the muddled voices. Her clairvoyance was still too weak to hone in on one mind of silence the others, which often drove her mad. Out of all of these weirdos, she was possibly the least skilled...

Bambi glanced up in time to see Madison, discontent contorting her face. She caught Bambi staring and glared. Uninterested in arguments, Bambi adjusted her headphones, looked at the floor and scurried away. Bambi began to make scary faces at the floor; compensating for her cowardice in the heat of the moment. -You're pathetic. If you don't find courage, you won't grow.- her mother's voice rang in her ears. She clenched her fists in embarrassment, knowing that the stronger clairvoyants had surely heard her.

//Sorry I was away. Death in the family.

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: Arturo Christobel DeGari
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Lazarus rolled around in bed for a while, trying to sleep. He had slept all day prior to going to the school. It was surprising, actually, that he couldn't shut his eyes. Most of his days consisted of eating, drinking, and sleeping, with the occasional working on natural medicinal concoctions. He would need to work or off some energy first before sleep or at least stay up a bit longer, maybe check out the house a bit.

This place is weird, Lazarus kept thinking as he looked around, especially at the portraits. Not so much because it was a coven, Lazarus was from an old European House, which was as weird as it came, but because the coven was trying to mask itself as a normal boarding school. It was doing a poor job of appealing as normal school to other witches or even hunters. Especially with its long list of supremes hanging on the walls. In Europe there were versions of supremes in every coven, eventually answering to a grand supreme in either the west or the east. However, none were nearly as powerful as Fiona Good. This coven was renowned for power as well as a history of power vacuums during times of instability. That's just the way the American covens were though.

As he continued to walk around, Laz heard a lot of sound coming from one of the dorm rooms. Upon walking in front of the opened door room he found a ton of students inside. There were three that caught his attention particularly. The boy he had seen on the balcony prior to entering the house, a blonde guy who looked as sluggish as the dead, and an attractive beige skinned girl with gorgeous hazel eyes.

"There party in here or do you all just live in the same room?" He asked the group of people.

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: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott
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Daylight was on its deathbed when Hale strolled back into view. The academy glowed in the impending doom of Ceremony and its chosen evening. From seven PM forward, the night was held by the event. Nightfall would belong to the academy, just for those mere hours of darkness. Robichaux would cloak itself in an imperative and winsome shield, Cordelia would merely twist her wrist and crane a few fingers to make it so. Then, no one would make it in. And no one would get out.

His pout lips emitted smoke that crawled into the upper atmosphere to escape him. This was part of his plan, as he was already dressed for Ceremony with only five or so minutes left before the so called rite began. He’d hate to show up stinking of menthol, politely dapping kisses on hands and cheeks only to leave a lingering stain of tobacco. There was pep in his stride, nothing new there. There was a small flask in the pocket of his slim fit slacks, again, nothing new. A pressed crew neck sweater was pulled over his torso as he made it to the entrance, thinnest fabric possible, mind you. He liked to preserve a certain clean image for Ceremony, and Ceremony only. All that could be seen of his body illustration was a small trace of black cursive on his neck. The slicked back style of his hair paved the way for an open presentation of his pointed nose and azure eyes. He’d apparently scurried off to a barber during his mysterious outing, as well. The flesh of his face was even and smooth, glistening a bit and giving a faint aroma of sandalwood and cedar.

The tip of his nose quirked after discarding his cigarette. Something smelt strange. The unforgiving ‘tick tock’ of a looming tower clock inside shook Hale’s brain. Never mind it, for now. With a shrug, he chalked it up to the busy kitchen and beauty soaking and scrubs performed by the female witches of the household. By the time he’d reached the kitchen, mostly everything was cleaned and already put on the dining room table. Kyle passed nearby, surely busy as usual, eager with the promise of new students and an exciting evening. Perhaps Hale would take it upon himself to ensure everyone was on time?

Hale scuttled happily toward the main dorming floor, throwing his head back to catch a launched mint on his tongue. As he rounded the initial landing, he found himself glancing along the stairwell, grasping a ceramic knob at the peak of the polished banister. Ardently he shook his head, straightened his sweater, swallowed the mint and grinned. He marched on up, calling out, “Students! Stuuuu-uuuu-deeent-sss!” The hall was quiet, but immersed in the smell of various herbs and minerals, clogged to the brim with perfumes. This was something the women typically did. Even if they showed up in a black paper bag, they still felt the need to drench their bodies in fragrance and more often than not, home made soaps from Cordelia. Which, to be honest, Hale couldn’t blame them for. The woman was extraordinary with her concoctions and plants.

ImageHe followed the pungent scents until losing ‘sight’ so to speak, and strictly following his nose until it caught him grabbing an unfamiliar frame by the shoulders. “Oh, dear, sorry ‘bout that…” Hale stepped back, pressing his large hands to his sweater, blue inspection meeting the new student he hardly got to speak to earlier in the afternoon. But it seemed the young man was preoccupied with his own thoughts, nearly not acknowledging that Hale had plowed him over. In silence the two gathered themselves, stepping aside almost harmoniously, one looking down and perhaps berating themselves for ungentlemanly ways, while the other stole a glance into the open doorway, unprepared for what would meet him next.

The clean limbed shadow snuck into the hall while its host stood just a few feet away. Her body smelt of lavender and looked of dainty china. The shape of her body - oh. No. No, no, no. “Hmm!” Hale burst out loud, spinning abruptly to face Silas head on and distract himself. “To be perfectly honest I - I would apologize, either to her, or you… But eh, ahem…” He cleared his throat, raking fingers through his dark hair, “She does this quite often she, um… Is apparently exceedingly… Liberal… About…” Suddenly he coughed, lightly pressing a hand to Silas’ back and escorting him away, “The bare… Anatomy?” Hale stole a look at Silas’ reddened face, his distressed wide eyes. He felt his sides splitting as he unraveled into hysterics, “You are in for quite the journey, my friend.” Avidly he waved a hand in front of him, as if trying to sweep away oncoming fits of laughter.

“If you are disturbed by that, you may want to request a room change. Though, it may not help. She’s not limited to bedroom strolls. She also fancies herself a midnight sandwich or two in the nude.” His nose wrinkled, “Yes, so imagine what you are feeling, tenfold. And then having her face you and shrug, dissecting the contents of her snack, and asking what the big deal is. Well of course, the big deal is manners! But we learn here, more than anywhere else, women… May be the rulers.” Hale’s mouth puckered, and he burst into another fit of laughter as he disappeared down the stairwell, leaving a flustered and panicked new student in his wake.

“Mister McDermott!” He called out, loud enough that the entire school would hear, “It would do you well not to be late for Ceremony, even if you are attempting to repair your phone!” A bizarre and playful chortle erupted from the tall Council scout as he made his way to the dining room.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari Character Portrait: Fiona Goode
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Arturo walked around the school, making sure everything wass in order and that people were making they're way to the ceremony hall. He adjusted his collar and his jacket, he had to at least look presentable even if he didn't do anything he just stood there. As usual watching over everything, making sure no one left without permission. Someone always tried to.

He growled softly as his chest began to hurt the closer he got to the room, the prickly heat rising up to his neck and settling in his head almost cooling down the wolf inside. He rubbed his chest and hands as he stepped into the room, the wall of magic almost knocked him off his feet. He opened up the multiple set of french windows, allowing a smooth flow of air into the room. Grabbing a set of matches he lit the candles in the room, he growled again as memories of his binding by magic.

So many candles and so much pain, the threat of Silver being forced into his skin at anytime ending his life unless he continued to serve. A tremendous weight on his body, he couldn't move he felt so angry wanting to kill Fiona for all she had done to him. Denying his wolf to be released...to be free. Arturo groaned softly his eyes glowing watching as his fingernails elongated into short claws. But before they could reach their full length they retracted back painfully, sending electrical shocks up his arms sparking out in his head.

Shaking his head he walked to the corner he always stood his hands behind his back, faithful as always. Arturo growled softly his stare intent at the floor his mind swirling.




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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: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Violet Khiara
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It is said that those who are blind see more than those who can see. And sometimes it's said that those who don't possess any particular sense, whether that is deafness or blindness or any number of things, the other senses become amplified. If this idea was true then that would explain why Kyle had the knack to pick words and conversations out in a large crowd or in an extremely loud place. He was a man of few words but what he lacked in verbal communication he made up for with attentive and keen ears. His hearing wasn't of course amplified in any way, but picking out a certain voice or conversation was fairly easy to him. Even if there were dozens of others shouting or if music was blaring. He blamed it on the fact that he was practically obsessed with conversation, but he did use this acquired skill, so to speak, quite a lot.

ImageWhen Greyson and Pell started making conversation about the new 'pet', as she was referred to, Kyle tuned his attention to channel Silas and his awkward greetings. More specifically his extraordinary vocabulary. Silas hadn't said more than ten sentences since Kyle had met him and he already was using words that he only really heard Mr. B say. Things like 'informative' and 'brilliant'. He knew what they meant, of course. He's heard them used before, why wouldn't he remember? Informative meant- well- of course it meant- okay, maybe not informative. It was familiar but maybe that slipped his mind. But he knew what brilliant meant for sure. It meant...um... er... it meant... uh.

Kyle's nose startled to crinkle and his eyebrow began to raise. He knew what it meant, he knew it. He did, he really did, Mr. B used it in class a few times and he looked it up, he remembered. It was- it was- augh- it was something to do with-with-augh. Tongue clicking in his mouth, Kyle exhaled an inaudible 'brilliant'. It was something to do with being... something. It was saying that whatever you were talking about was something. Something.

"Ceremony in twenty minutes!"

Kyle looked up, his face turning into a blank slate. Silas and Aden were there in the kitchen with him now instead of talking to the girl with a rainbow for hair. Kyle glanced at the two, his mind flipping through his to-do list. Take a shower, change into black attire, light all the candles, prepare the plates and the silverware- wow the list was getting extensive. How was he supposed to do all of this in twenty minutes?

Kyle shifted his weight between his legs, lips clamped shut by his white teeth. Kyle has never been late to ceremony, and he's never had to cut a tour short. It just didn't happen. Kyle was always good about leaving enough time for a tour and getting ready. Now he had to choose. Spinning the bags in his hand back and forth, he contemplated the situation, but he never came up to a solid conclusion. At least not before Silas chimed in and set Kyle go.

A smile peaked onto his face, showing through the relief and enthusiasm. Good. So he wouldn't be late for ceremony after all. Kyle will have to show him the rest of the place later. In the morning probably. That seemed good, no? Unless he's not a morning person. Was he a morning person? Kyle was.

Silas left promptly like he was on official business, leaving Kyle and Aden alone. Didn't leave much of a good bye, but it was good enough for him, and Kyle merely waved at Aden before setting down the bags onto the counter. He left Aden be without another word and he passed by Mr. B, who at some point came inside. He had a habit of sneaking in and out like that. If Kyle hadn't run into him when he left, he wouldn't have even realized he was gone in the first place. But Kyle gave him a brief wave as he marched his way upstairs to go get his proper clothes.

But he couldn't really do everything on his to-do list all before ceremony. He had to cut a few things. Coming to a halt, the blonde pondered. A shower could wait, so he won't take a shower. If he dressed real quick he could have time to set everything up. He was good. Nodding to the air around him in approval of his solid plan, he finished the steps leading to the second floor. He passed by Silas and Hale who both sounded like they were stumbling over their own words. That was strange. Wasn't that his job? To stumble over words? What's got them both so flustered?

Kyle inched his way past the two bodies, walking on until he met the open frame of Pell's room. That wasn't unusual. Was it the burnt curtains? Kyle's hand gripped the frame of the door and he practically swung himself into the door frame.

It was a very brief interaction, if you could call it that.

ImageKyle's original curious gaze remained unwavered as his eyes fell onto Pell changing. But as quickly as he had swung in, he was out, his foot catching the door and pulling it closed. He then moved on, the image leaving his mind through his exhale.

Kyle's room wasn't much. It wasn't elaborate or decorated unlike many other students. His was plain with a dresser, two bed (of of which was empty), a laptop and headphones, and countless holes and dents in the walls that had been covered in a thick coat of plaster. The off-white plaster did give an interesting texture to the pure white walls. So maybe it wasn't entirely too plain. But still. It was a very still room. Still and quite.

Flinging open his dresser and pulling out the first black clothes he laid eyes on. He stripped as quickly as his body and head would allow him and he pulled on the shirt, the pants, the jacket, Kyle even put his shoes on. Ceremony was important and it was important enough for shoes. The black shoes were tied into a hefty knot and his fingers acted as comb bristles, gathering all the stray strands of hair on his head and clumping the together in a neater fashion. And once that formality was over, Kyle bounced down the hall, jumped down the stairs, and ran into the dining hall, practically flinging himself beside Hale. "Mister B." Kyle said with a bright smile, looking up to Council member. "Can I serve?"

Kyle didn't always serve the food during ceremony. Sometimes the food was already served, sometimes people served themselves. It really depends on what was going on and the circumstances behind the food and ceremony and the announcements and such. Really, it depended on everything. But sometimes they did let him, and Kyle had made it a habit to ask every week if he could. Because he was the butler, after all. If he wasn't going to serve food then what sort of butler was he? If he didn't serve food then he was practically an ugly, unpaid maid. And he didn't want to be a maid. Because he was a butler. There was a very big difference. Huge difference.

Besides, there was a new kid today, and based off of what Pell was telling the rainbow haired leprechaun she brought home, it seemed like there was going to be a guest. What better way to greet them then to serve them their first ceremony dinner? "For Silas?" He mispronounced it didn't he? "Please?"

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: 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: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari Character Portrait: Fiona Goode
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Rowe
Rowe being uncomfortable was an understatement. It wasn't like he felt like he wasn't supposed to be there, he just didn't know what to do with himself. And he wasn't hungry again. The food around made his stomach turn, like he was looking at swamp muck rather than freshly cooked meals. Cordelia was sitting at the head of the table, chatting up Hale, while the other students finished up and began to split up to do their own thing. Rowe himself also go up, but didn't really leave the table. He just stood there for a minute before picking up his mostly empty glass. It was only water, he had a feeling anything else wouldn't agree with him.

Someone was looking at him, he could tell. He glances around casually, not trying to seem like he was looking for anything. It was just Hale, he decided, who always seemed to be interested in his tendency to be alone. Rowe tried to act like he had taken no notice of Hale, avoiding attracting more of his attention. It's not that he didn't like Hale, the man was kind for the most part and had good intentions. He just wished he'd be lest interested in helping Rowe. He didn't need help. In fact, he hated getting help. It was like an admittance of weakness. Rowe slowly put his glass back on the table and began to walk out of the room, unsure where exactly he was going. Most everyone else had already dispersed, leaving only a few lingerers about. Fiona had finally made an appearance as well, with her usual caustic and cold attitude. Rowe had been avoiding her eyes since she showed up, he didn't like being someone in her sight. She was the type to use people as pawns, and Rowe would go to great lengths to not be one of those pawns.

After a lonely walk about he found himself out in the courtyard. He walked off near the fence, to where there were some bushes and sat in front of them on the grass. He hadn't looked around to see if anyone was around, but he could usually tell when no one was around. It was when he was alone, really alone, that he started to feel anxious and like he was being watched. Really at this point it was more a numb feeling in the back of his head, but it still bothered him and at times made him rather irritable. Right now he felt more shut off and distant, but he didn't mind that feeling. It kept his powers under control for one.

Rowe found himself staring at a spider as it crawled along a branch in the bush. It was pretty big, about half a hand wide, and he immediately felt the need to get away from it. He hated things with more than four legs. Instead though, he found himself put his hand out and coaxing the creature onto his hand. He could vaguely hear people in the house behind him but didn't pay any mind. Rowe's eyes turned cold as he stared at the thing crawling around his fingers and then up his hand. His first thought was to try and kill it, but nothing happened at first as he stared intently at it. His inability to use his powers at will sparked anger in him, and just before he was about to crush the damned spider in his hand its body convulsed and actually ripped apart on its own. Rowe slowly brushed off the remaining parts of the spider that were on his hand and started to stand as he heard the door to outside open. Turning, he saw it was Pell. He wasn't quite sure why she would be outside, she tended to be a crowd pleaser. People seemed to just like her, whether she liked them or not. He looked at her carefully, unsure if he should try to sneak off without her noticing or walk into her line of sight.

Fiona
Fiona loved being fashionably late. Especially since no one would dare say anything to her, besides her pesky daughter. Head Mistress or not, Fiona was still Supreme, and therefore could do whatever the hell she wanted. She was dressed in her typical black outfit and had a glass in hand, filled with whatever alcoholic beverage she happened to find laying about the building. She hadn't even waited till Ceremony started to fill her own glass, and had showed up with it already half empty. By the time most students were going off to execute their own plans for the night though, Fiona felt something was wrong. Off, somehow. She had been getting feelings like that a lot recently, feelings of paranoia. Usually it was just that her powers were fading, or that someone else was going to become Supreme. She'd have moments of such surety that she would be replaced, but then the feeling would be gone by morning. But this was a different feeling than those, this wasn't about her own power, but like the presence of something darker was headed their way.

She found herself standing and wandering over to Hale, mumbling to him, “Don’t let your guard down. There is something in this house,” before walking on to the next room. There were students here and there, but she was too distracted by the feeling that something was wrong. So instead she went to find Arturo, the guard dog. She smiled smugly, remembering the powerful magic that kept him bound to her will. She loved anything that reminded her of her power, and that spell was a certain pride of hers. She eventually found him, standing around with candles lit. Fiona glanced about, her expression seemingly uninterested.

"I need you to monitor the house. Something might be wrong, and on the off chance there's a problem I don't want it having any advantage over us," she said to him, though the way she said 'us' clearly meant just herself.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari
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With phantom white fingers rubbing the black cuffs of his crisp jacket, the enthusiastic blonde listened with too much attentiveness as Hale gave him the response that he was familiar with, yet hated. Again with the whole maid thing, he really didn't like having to sit and eat when he could be doing something to make something- he didn't really know- special? Not that getting a meal served was very special, but it was something. Better than doing nothing. But as always Kyle merely nodded with a simple smile and left Hale be. He was a busy man after all, and the undead was never fond of making a big deal over requests. And because of such, he's never really asked why either. So sometimes when he laid down at night the thought lingered in his mind like a small math bubble that he couldn't pop. But then it would float away because knowing how things worked around here, which was hardly ever consistent, it could be because of any little thing. Literally, anything at all. Any excuse at all was good enough for pretty much everyone here except him. Whether that was because he was dead or not, he didn't know, but nevertheless he tried not to question it.

That usually led no where. Especially no place good.

But as Kyle scurried along his way with his shoes clunking like weights on the floors, he did what he could to help Arturo light the candles throughout the coven, even though most of the work had already been done. Why did everyone have to do his job for him? Again, Butler. Butler. But no matter. What was done was done and he wasn't about to go around tampering Arturo's Imagehandy work. That would just be childish. So instead he finished up what very little he had done and headed back for the dining room and took a free seat. Most everyone had already took a seat before he did, so he didn't have to wait around too long like he normally did. He liked letting people sit where they wanted to. Which was typically in the same spot most days since people were creatures of habit, but there were one- no, two- newcomers today. He didn't think the rainbow in these thunder clouds would stay or dinner, but he was glad she did. Even though he didn't even know her name.

He should probably introduce himself once everyone's done eating.

Sitting in his seat with his pearly white plate only slightly dirtied by a couple of mouthfuls of meats and vegetables, the butler smile widely at the cheerful conversations that filled the room. As usual, the young man didn't speak an entire word unless he was directly spoken too, which frankly didn't happen all too much. But despite the lack of verbal communication, Kyle felt just as connected to the group and it's chit chat as if he was. He laughed when others did, nodded eagerly at stories and comments, and even maintained eye contact which hardly was ever returned. He was basically the the closest thing someone could get to a wallflower without feeling excluded in any way.

Playing with the sparkling silverware next to his plate and tentatively nibbling at his food, Kyle perked his head ever so slightly as one of the conversations switched to the newcomers and their comfortability. Naturally, he took special note of their responses and twirled his fork in his meaty food and took a few gulps of his beverage.

Kyle had gotten into a habit of hardly ever finishing his food. In that aspect, as much as he hated to admit it, he was like a child. However, it wasn't because he was a picky eater. He was very open minded about new ideas and foods and like some adventurers says, he's willing to try everything once. But seeing as he wasn't sure if eating was necessarily essential for him or not, unlike all the souls in the room, he felt like he would be wasting food. Kyle never actually tested whether he could last without food, but he had thought about it. Because food was supposed to give you energy by nutrience being absorbed into the blood stream and then that was distributed throughout the body and such, but seeing that he didn't have any stream of blood flowing through his veins, he wasn't sure if it would make a difference. He didn't even know how it worked at all. He defied the basic law of nature that privileged the living to die and stay dead, and he lived despite having no heart beat. Yet he was still stronger than most people. That didn't make any sense. He wasn't sure if he would be surprised or not if he could go without eating either. Did he just defy all logic or was he still human in some way?

Maybe that's why he still ate, even if it wasn't a lot. Why he hadn't tested it out at all. Because he felt more human doing so. He felt more... Real.

Or maybe it was just a bad habit.

Ignoring the thoughts in his head, Kyle filled his wonder with the tasty words of the dinner table, having froze briefly as the candles went out. His mind was as blank as the darkness, but once the flames lit again, that didn't last long and he was full of giddy once again.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Violet Khiara
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The food must have been amazing, Silas thought as the majority of the table tucked into the feast laid out in front of them. Expensive alcohol tumbled from stylish bottles, flowing freely for all around the table to partake in. It was quite unfortunately all lost on Silas. When he finally stopped himself from picking at the food in front of him (because, honestly, he wasn't a savage) and gave in to the temptation laid out in front of him, each bite tasted bland and ashy on his tongue, every sip an uncomfortable burn with no ability to savor what was before him. Nerves and the same sparks of anxiety that had thrummed through his body for the past few hours made it impossible to enjoy. The evening seemed fairly innocuous, but an underlying pressure and dark, warm atmosphere filled the air as thickly as the heavily perfumed world around him. Sitting there, cutting tasteless meat with all the precision of someone defusing a bomb, body just as tense, Silas was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For something, anything, to happen that would make this ordinary Wednesday evening any different, for the true nature of the Ceremony to unveil itself to his virgin eyes.

Or, he was quite aware as he took another sip of Merlot (he would have preferred water or even soda, but that hardly seemed to be the thing to ask for, so he settled for delicately pretending that he was an alcohol connoisseur), he was putting far too much thought into this, which was, in all reality, just as likely if not more so. He kept his eyes determinedly focused on his plate, too embarrassed to even chance a glance towards the two girls across from him and too anxious to even attempt to speak with the rainbow-haired girl only one seat away. He was apparently the only one who felt that way as warm conversation filtered throughout the room, odds and ends of sentences unknown drifting his direction. He nodded ever so slightly every once in a while, just in case the crooned words were directed towards him or he was expected to chime in. The dim candlelight winked in and out of existence, usually paired with mirthful laughter from unknown faces.

He tensed a fraction more, an almost physical impossibility, when Hale plopped down beside him, a glass of some alcohol he didn't have currently have the presence of mind to identify sloshing gently. To make matters even worse, he seemed bound and determined to be sociable. Silas didn't mind social people- he himself had been known to flourish at the dinner parties hosted back home in Maryland- but right now... No. No, he really had no excuse. He had to give it the old college try, extend the proverbial olive branch to a friendly face. He steeled himself.

"Oh, haha, no. I'm just a little overwhelmed," Silas admitted with a hesitant, slightly pained smile. He didn't bother mentioning that being here wasn't exactly a choice so much as an order. It seemed rude to bring up and fell clearly on the "TMI" scale of things.

Now that the words were tumbling from his lips, he felt himself falling into old habits, wielding his weapon of polite small talk with the same precision and skill that a master fencer wielded their foil.

"But if I were to leave, it wouldn't be because of that. I've known that for years." The attempt at humor fell flat, perhaps, but it was clear that he was trying, lips tilting upwards into something a little more authentic. He let himself finish his meal as the conversation drifted to the other fish out of water seated beside Hale- Violet, he recalled now that his thoughts were settling either from the fact that people were now filtering out of the room or because of his general lack of experience with drinking any even slightly large quantity of alcohol.

Hale was clearly having a good time, giggles punctuating each remark. Silas allowed the other man's mirth to infect him, feeling the weight on his shoulders lighten slightly. This- this he could do. He could ignore the chandelier swinging, the lights flickering, the thick aroma of herbs and perfumes, and even his own ignorance just for now and have something of a good time. Hopefully. It helped that now they were nearly alone, even Silas's roommate wandering off for sites more pretty and scenes more fascinating than the two wide-eyed newbies attempting to adjust.

The questions flowed steadily from Hale's mouth, and Silas moved to answer each one, although now his mind was a bit fuzzy. It was his third glass, the alcohol flowing as steadily as the conversation as additional new faces insisted on refilling his cup and he was too polite to brush off any attempted hospitality (it was obvious to everyone else, however, that it was more of an attempt to get him to either loosen up or see what kind of drunk the stiff new kid was).

The question of his own origins brought nothing to mind, his own life seeming so normal when looking back. That was the thing about perspective- his life was filled with oddities of a different breed then those residing or working here, but he thought he was perhaps the most normal boy in the world. Besides, he had no idea who had seen that so highly disconcerting file Pell had brandished at him earlier, or even what was in it. He'd hate to repeat information- information, the stubborn part of him added, that he didn't exactly want spread about thank you very much- anyone already knew.

"I'm not that interesting," Silas offered with a mild sort of smile. He adjusted his gloves, tugging at the finger tips. He was warm, too warm, and they were terribly stifling. "I grew up in Maryland with my aunt Lavinia. I graduated college... I've never seen- never done... this. It's all very... interesting." His eyes fluttered around to the world around him and his audience was left to decide if that was a critique on of the Academy's activities or a comment of wonder.

The gloves were finally removed almost unconsciously, placed on his lap. The air, although as warm as the night outside, was a blessing compared to the confines of the soft material swaddling his hands. This was fine, he reasoned. It wasn't as if anyone was going to try to shake his hand at this point.

"I think- I think you'll have me here as long as you want me? Not you- not you specifically. I mean the... Those..." He grasped for words to describe the three who had appeared in his aunt's house quite suddenly one day and sent him on this ridiculous journey. "Whoever wants me here." He finished lamely, tugging at his collar. The alcohol, the air, the people- it was stifling. Even his gloves falling to the wayside was only a momentary relief.

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: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Decimus King Character Portrait: Fiona Goode
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Mr. B

With Fiona’s gaunt warning in mind, the council scout had risen to his feet with haste. But he didn’t move much. Instead Hale yanked Kyle to his side, a large hand clasping the boys bony shoulder. With a hearty shake, he sighed and spoke into blond tresses, “You should interact more freely, you are not just an academy ornament. You are also someone people want to know.” A reassuring, but goofy grin spread across Hale’s face. The happy haze of being buzzed became bleached and nonexistent. There indeed, was something in the air. Something not right. Not human, nor witch, nor warlock. Hale would let it roll off his square shoulders like nothing. But it did bother him. Ate at him in a frustrating way that he simple had to get to the bottom of before the night was up. That was, if some disaster didn’t strike before then.

Oh, stop thinking that way! The shield was set. The veil is unflawed. Cordelia has been doing this for years. With the help of the Supreme, she can pull off anything. Without fail or a single glitch. Why would you assume something would go wrong? Tonight of all nights? Why? Ceremony is always the safest night of the week, don’t you know that from teaching at Robichaux? Have you learned nothing?

Spastically, Hale beat a flat palm to his left ear, as if hoping to empty bad thoughts out of the right. Suddenly his eyes widened. Scanned his surroundings. Kyle’s confused eyes, rainbow trout twitching, Silas anxiously trying to resume conversation as if nothing strange had happened. Speaking hesitantly about being overwhelmed. A mawkish and priceless beam settled into Hale’s toothy mouth, eyes so narrow they were nearly slits. He must have looked the way a dog did when putting its head out the window of a car. A car doing fifty five miles an hour. Instead of flapping, his cheeks stayed pinned by the corners of his mouth, “Nonsense, that will go away in a little while. Soon you will settle right into the swing of it all, and feel no sense of hierarchy. It’s really a cozy little system - err, family, almost, if you will. I find Cordelia to be quite accommodating, and really such a great teacher.” His eyes twinkled and he caught himself, “And you, you…” His gaze inhabited Silas’ soul, “You strike me as someone who might have a lot to teach others, as well. How exactly do you feel about your gifts, Silas Abernathy?”

ImageHe felt the ridge in the ambiance. It was like this chill cut into the warmth of Ceremony. Something uninvited had arrived. “Hmmm,” Hale rubbed idly at the clean shaven flesh of his chin. The same hand that had perched itself below his mouth struck Kyle’s wrist momentarily, “Go get Arturo. We need to scale some… Of the property. Indoor and out.” He tried to lower his voice as to avoid causing alarm. Quickly he turned away, the height of his cheeks once again shining with rapture, peering at Silas again. Who, was, tugging at his collar and murmuring gradually about only remaining at the academy if he was wanted. Who, was he wanted by - if anyone? That sort of insecurity seemed to be a common theme with newbies. Adorable, really.

As if it weren’t enough that something or someone was intruding, there was now blood slicking the air. And it was by no means some voluntary mishap, an innocent bit of experimentation. It smelt like Pell, burned into existence as a combined redolence of menthol and ichor. Where on earth was Jacqueline? She hadn’t been nearby in what felt like hours. Hale became a bit tense, knees locking as he glanced around the dining room and into the lounge. The chandeliers began to swing at a more rapid pace, an obvious but subtle alarm that had been triggered. Cordelia was out of sight and, from the looks of it, had alerted nor bothered no one else. Truthfully, Hale would have hated to be any more impolite or caused any more broken and perhaps annoying conversation. Even if it were for the good of the academy. He may have then, found it appropriate, to bend some rules.

“Silas would you care to join me on the terrace? I’d like to get some fresh air and maybe see if any of our students have wandered outside. I have a feeling Fiona would like everyone to regroup tonight rather than dispersing and sort of, well, doing their own thing. There might be some general knowledge to be shared.” Graciously he offered a hand, if Silas would accept.

And what would he find beyond the doors? Nothing at all, right?