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Rowe McDermott

It wasn't always a problem. Sometimes, it was a solution.

0 · 748 views · located in New Orleans, Louisiana

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




"I'm not a dangerous person. I'm a slightly unstable individual with efficient means of ending a life."

Name: Rowe

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Abilities: Concilium and "Mind Butchering", as its been referred

Height: 5’10”

Weight: 148 lb

Sexuality: Bisexual

FC: Dylan O'Brien
Rowe isn't exactly a quiet person, he talks often and acts confident around people, but he rarely actually says anything. Not in the sense that he never says words, but you can find yourself having an hour long conversation with him and still know nearly nothing about him. He's the opposite of someone who wears their heart on their sleeve- in fact, he'd probably bury his heart five feet under in a coffin. He's not heartless by any means, but its easy for him to come off that way since his intentions are rarely clear. He is easy to anger, but he doesn't express anger by yelling or seeming upset. When he gets angry, he gets calmer. Really, this is more of a self-imposed trait, since his anger has gotten him into more problems than its worth.
Rowe is also a very studious person and loves to read books on any subject. He doesn't like to listen to people much, especially people who act like they know more than him (even if they do), but is willing to listen if they are saying something he hasn't already learned. It doesn't matter if it has nothing to do with his interests, he simply does not like not knowing things. He's the same with puzzles and games. He will obsess with them endlessly until he understands it, and in some cases, can beat other people at it.
Despite not being the most charming person, he's by no means hateful. He has low tolerance for annoyance and isn't good with "peppy" people, but he by no means hates anyone for just being them. He only hates people who in his eyes have wronged him or wronged others unfairly. In a way, he almost hates himself for those reasons, but no one would be able to tell.
For how he talks to people he speaks carefully, sometimes sarcastically, and comes off as calm- almost too calm- in his interactions with people.
- Candy
-People Watching
-Fighting, with his actual hands

- Criticism
- Sunlight/Heat
- Birds
- The sight of his own blood
-Sleep Deprivation

Rowe isn't new to the world of schools for "different" people. His parents had quickly figured out he didn't fit in with other kids when he was younger, though he doesn't think they ever really knew why. He knew. They blamed him every time someone so much as had a head ache. He had thought they were just putting the blame on someone then because they were stupid kids, but when he got older he realized it could have been him.
His parents sent him to and all boys school, one for people who were showing signs of "gifts" like his. He never did figure out if they sent him because they thought it'd be good for him or if the school itself had reached out to them. Or maybe they just wanted him gone. That was probably the likelier of the bunch, at any rate.
He never really settled in there. No one enjoyed his company, which he was used to, but now he knew why and it made him angry. Angry that people with similar "gifts" were treating him like he was the only one with a problem. He hadn't meant to do it, he had hated the sight of blood as a kid and kept telling people he'd never actually want to hurt anyone. But he was angry all the time, and one day someone in his class- a bully of his- fell over having blacked out with a bloody nose and blood dripping from his ears. Obviously, Howe was the one blamed. He knew it was really him this time, but kept telling them he didn't mean to do it. But the guy apparently tormented him enough for others to notice, and instead of feeling sympathetic to the bully victim who finally fought back, they acted like he was some monster who was out of control.
It was a week later when he killed someone. He didn't even lay a hand on her, but she was barely recognizable when they found her later. He'd been horrified when he calmed down enough to realize what he did, and he had carried her corpse to the closest teacher for help. She was dead, he knew that, but he was clinging to stupid hope. He'd gotten blood all over him in the process, but blood no longer bothered him. It was only himself that bothered him. They obviously expelled him, he was surprised they didn't try to dispose of him completely. And then an academy reached out to him- one who actually knew what was going on and wanted him to join them, and so he did. He didn't even tell his parents that he was going, and they never reached out to him to ask.
Ability Description: Rowe’s abilities allow him to cause physical harm to other people with just his mind. He doesn’t have great control over the power, and used to only be able to do slight things like cause migraines and later nosebleeds. Now though, he can straight out hurt people physically without ever actually touching them.

Style: Rowe tends to stick to darker clothing choices, but this is restricted mainly to the color of clothing. For actually clothing types he usually dresses casually in a button up or tshirt and puts little thought into what outfit he throws on in the morning.

Quriks: Rowe suffers from insomnia and often goes long periods without sleeping, creating almost permanent dark circles around his eyes.
Song: Wires

So begins...

Rowe McDermott's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott
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ImageHe growled, low and dark before he chucked his phone as hard as he could at the building, managing to smash it to tiny obliterated bits of useless plastic and metal. He drew a shaky breath before running a trembling hand over his face, silently willing himself to calm down. He let out the breath and straightened up, face stoic and relaxed. He wouldn't lose his temper over a stupid call.

But I already did, he reminded himself, glancing at the broken phone sprawled across the ground. He'd thrown it much harder than he needed to, and now there was no way he was going to be able to fix it. Not this time.

It had been a long time since anyone from his family had contacted him, but he still recognized his mother's number when he read it on his phone. She had actually tried to call him, actually had the nerve to act like she had the right to talk to him. He began tensing up but relaxed almost immediately.

Not worth it. Definitely not worth it. He'd gotten better at staying calm, and even better and forcing himself to become calm when he was on the verge of having an episode. His anger had gotten briefly worse after leaving his old school; he had fits of anger all the time and would randomly lash out. But he didn't do it anymore, usually he acted fine no matter how upset he really was. But of course his mother had ruined the calmness he'd surrounded himself in. If she could, she'd probably destroy a lot more than that.

Rowe knew he should be doing something productive, more productive than wandering around the back of the academy's building throwing phones at it. He had just noticed the call and knew he had to get away before he lost it. Before people saw him lose it. He physically flinched from the thought, trying to not think about the looks he'd have gotten if he had just thrown his phone while around other people. He'd learned quickly that it wasn't just violent acts toward people that could get people to be worried. Simply lashing out at an object freaked people out sometimes too, though people hear probably took it better than most.

He briefly considered picking up the shattered phone but couldn't be bothered in the end and just walked off, trying to look normal as he just emerged from behind a building. Completely normal.

The sun was out and happily roasting all of earth's inhabitants, much to Rowe's displeasure. He didn't like the sun, the light gave him a headache almost instantly, probably from the fact he was so sensitive to everything when he didn't sleep well. Which was always. Nightmares don't do much for encouraging sleep, apparently. Trying to keep his face turned away from the general direction of the sun, Howe walked off back to his dorm to grab the book he'd been reading. He'd already forgotten the title- it was a long one. "Playing the piano with a drunk" or "Bleeding Fingers Play Drunk Piano". Something about drunk, piano, and blood, that's all he could remember. Good thing he didn't have anyone asking him to recommend books he'd read, 'cause he was sure he'd get strange looks trying to explain what he was reading now.

His short walk was pretty quiet, no one was really around their rooms during Wednesday afternoon with the whole "Do whatever you please" policy that was in place for Wednesday. At least until later, with the Ceremony stuff. Then everyone would be herded back and would have to attend. Not that he was really complaining about the Ceremonies themselves, but the fact that they were mandatory and there wasn't a single rebellious student he knew of that went against the rule was simply unnerving to him. More unnerving then the amount of people in the academy with the power to kill everyone if they wanted.

Myself probably included, he added to himself, albeit a little bitterly. He didn't really have enough control to preform a mass killing, though he was sure if he was given enough reason he could manage to maim or kill a few people.

He only saw one guy who looked lost wandering around by the time he'd gotten to his room. Pell had pulled him away- so Rowe just assumed it was her roommate. Probably new roommate. Rowe slipped into his room and quickly grabbed his book- he always put his books on the same spot on his dresser- and his messenger bag. He shoved the book inside and dug around his dresser's drawer for his stash of little hard candies and tossing a few in the bag too. He slipped the bag over his head, before pausing to look around the room.

He hadn't gotten a roommate during his time here, at least not yet. He sometimes wondered if it was because of what happened at his previous school, but wasn't convinced they would keep him isolated for the one incident. The people who ran this place didn't seem all that concerned with it when they invited him here in the first place so why worry about it once he was actually here? And there had to be more dangerous people than him.

With a sigh he left the room and went back outside, immediately hightailing it to the shadiest area he saw within 100 feet. He sat down on the ground, not really worried about people seeing him and judging him for it. No one was really around, and he didn't expect anyone to show up. Rowe pulled out his book and a candy, popping the sugary treat into his mouth with one hand while he flipped through the pages to where he had left off with his other. He found his spot and started reading right there in the shade, eyes flicking over the words as he drew one knee to his chest to rest his chin on as he read.

Characters Present

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


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki 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: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Papa Legba Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Lazarus Foreza Character Portrait: Arturo DeGari Character Portrait: Bambi (Jess) Soullet
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Pell Laveau

Pell’s distaste for her natural lineage was attempting to fight its way through her expression when she fully comprehended the powwow taking place in her bedroom. It stiffed its own efforts, making it as far as a two rows of gritted teeth. The cherry on her cigarette dimmed and disintegrated. Past supremes must have been rolling over in their graves. Craft was becoming a sullied social assembly. Not that Pell personally took any offense, she more or less hated feeling like she owed reverence and high standards to the governing coven queens before her. It was a force of habit. It was a lingering legacy from Andrea. Her mother. Respect your elders. Embrace your bloodline. That sort of thing. She could hear the romance and sincerity of a nearly forgotten maternal tone in her head, some longed for spirit she would never see again. It struck a nerve.

Why did you have to let him take you?

No, he wasn’t real. No way he could be.
Just seemed a little too batshit. Who sacrificed themselves to voodoo divinities anyway? Pell’s thoughts intensified. A curtain hissed as it went up in heated color. Pell nonchalantly pressed a thumb and forefinger to her temple, gaze suddenly sweeping the floor. She was anxious from the abundance of excitement in her room, and as she lifted her perspective so that it could find Fiona’s dog, she maintained this sort of cold temperament with little true emotion behind it. A sigh escaped her throat. Fingers relinquished their pity on her memories and snapped with a distinct ‘pop’. Ashes fell to the pine floorboards, window left bare. The spontaneous fire disappeared and took the curtains with it. The room sort of fell silent as she got to her feet, a slow draw bringing a coffin nail to her mouth so that she could pull the nicotine into her lungs. She inhaled deeply. Her cheeks further hollowed, quiet foot steps tugging the attention of Arturo. Her friendliness dissolved into the mood swing of a fleeting memory. There were those problems with authority again. A mass of thick smoke gushed over Arturo’s face as Pell exhaled and clouded his otherwise wolfish, handsome features.

Her air didn’t change when the tobacco and smog faded. She shrugged, some vague agreement on her cousin’s statement. Like telling a wolf not to howl. Dead silence. She pinched the cigarette and pressed its smoldering remainders into the pale flesh of her palm. Pell was resolute, her skin singed and blistered as a good three or four layers of it blistered and peeled away. “All bark,” she crooned, grabbing a purse and squeezing past Arturo and Kyle, no final looks exchanged with Aden or even Jacqueline, “and no bite.” Poor Silas, must have been terrified at that moment. His country corners, his ironed sweaters and handshake gloves. Would he last a week with Pell as a roommate?

There was no goodbye, no explanation, no beckon for those invited or interested to follow. If they wanted to come, they would. She was through with fine print invitations and congeniality. She just sidestepped and exited, fay lavender hair swaying behind her. Even though she thought to stop, to formally greet the other visitor, a shaggy haired serene individual who had no problem inserting himself, she realized at that point there was no point. The general flock of bedroom guests grew out of hand and attracted more than she bargained for. Or was it her own fault? Arturo had the nose of a bloodhound. Damn! It was her fault.

ImageThe breaks in what would be spiral stairs if not for grand landings every tenth step found Pell catching a doe-eyed redhead in her arms. Static music pooled in their brief haphazard clinch. Pell furrowed her brow, suddenly shrugging the girl away. Madison’s silhouette swayed and vanished in the distance. Pell noted the dangling headphones as she mused, “You should tell her to fuck herself if she even looks at you. Scampering away like a kicked puppy will only encourage her.” With a heavy breath Pell grabbed the girls fists and unballed them in spite of the fresh injury on her own hand that had started to slowly throb. Her expression softened. A half-smile yanked at her mouth and released a toothy grin, “You know there’s no class today, right? It’s Ceremony.” She laughed, nudged the girl and continued on her way out. When she passed the ancestry room, Rowe of course was isolated and binging on whatever, mumbling and sinking into a couch cushion.

“You’re going to get fat,” she called wayside, satire in her voice, twang on its extremity, “Throwing things and eating bread isn’t really a real regiment.” Apathetic to everyone, she kind of rolled her eyes. She made her way outside, sun scattering over her skin as she hopped down the front stairs and let the rhythm of her walk catch in her swinging hips. A pair of white sunglasses were pressed onto her face as she looked into the horizon, happy to just get out of the ‘house’ and get some shopping done.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Bambi (Jess) Soullet
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"You're going to get fat," were the words called out that brought him out of his stupor. He had been finally settling in to a sort of dazed state, not asleep but not quite all there, when Pell had come over and spotted him on the couch in his current antisocial glory. He bit back the urge to make a snide comment back and she began to explain her statement. “Throwing things and eating bread isn’t really a real regiment." Rowe rolled his eyes, leaning back and tilting his head so he was looking straight at her without having to get up. There was a group with her, more people than he was used to seeing in one group, but didn't think much of it. If these were the ones left at the school, it would make sense they would all be flocking together to leave. And they were leaving, he was sure of it. Pell wasn't passing by the ancestry room just to bug Rowe, after all.

"Lucky for me I wasn't going for a real regiment," he said, stressing the last word. "Whatever the hell you meant by that."
ImageWith that he pushed himself up off the couch and stretched, causing several bones in his arms and neck to crack. It would have probably grossed him out actually, if it wasn't his own body. Pell and her herd were already moving on, and in a last second decision Rowe found himself walking toward the front door himself. On the way out he saw a red headed girl, who looked a bit flustered if he was honest. He couldn't really say why, no one seemed to bugging her in that moment. He paused before nodding at the door and looking at her.
"You coming?" he asked before walking past her to the front door. He stepped out to see Pell bounding- yes, bounding- down the porch steps to the gate. Rowe was watching people leave when the sun caught his eyes, causing him to wince and look down. He hated the sun, mostly because it hurt his eyes. He never could get used to bright lights, and really needed to invest in some sun glasses. Especially here, where it was either straight up burning bright or completely murky. He rarely saw nice "medium" days.

It took him a moment but he finally managed to look somewhat up without having to squint against the light. He walked out the front gate before stopping, realizing he had no where to go. He could obviously follow Pell, but he had no idea where she was going and if he'd have any interest in it. Not to mention he didn't really like big groups of people, and he was sure people would follow her. He didn't mind talking to people, not at all, but when there was too many people he felt kind of overwhelmed. Rowe instinctively reached in his bag for his phone before realizing it wasn't in his bag, it was on the floor. Smashed. Groaning, he decided on where he was going. He was going to go buy a phone, and a cheap ass one at that. He had no doubts that he could end up smashing another phone if he lost his temper, and he wasn't going to go buy another nice phone for it to end up trash.

With a sigh, Rowe began his walk into town, trying in vain to not let the bright sun bother him too much.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Lazarus Foreza
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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: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki 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: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott
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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: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott
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Greyson Ault
The house was lively again, people were returning from their activities, some seemed more annoyed than others. Ceremony was one of the few social events Greyson actually enjoyed, which Pell seemed to share the same amount of enthusiasm. The girl was practically glowing, or maybe that was her iridescent hair. While Greyson had obviously thrown the usually flawlessly smooth Pell out her train of thought, Pell recovered quickly, accusing Greyson of jealousy. A light titillating laugh sounded foreign coming from Greyson, but it was natural. Pell had a charm Greyson found difficult to ignore, she didn’t even wince when Pell took her hand to kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Lazarus Foreza Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari
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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: Jacqueline Emilie-Marie Lavaeu Character Portrait: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Aden Orchau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Decimus King Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari
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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: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Arturo Christobel DeGari
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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 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: Fiona Goode Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Kyle Spencer Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott
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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: Rowe McDermott
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Rowe watched Pell slowly come closer, any hope he had of escaping without being noticed vanishing from his mind. He could probably just back away into the shadows, but then if she did see him she'd probably cause a bigger scene than if he was just creepily standing out in the open. She was smoking, but it didn't seem to have any calming effect on her. She seemed on edge, like she felt watched. She is being watched, Rowe reminded himself, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Suddenly she spun in to his direction and stared right at him. He saw immediate recognition in her eyes, only seconds for her to know it was him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Maybe nothing. Still, something about the way she looked at him made him feel unnerved and fidgety. But aside from a slight twitch of his fingers in his pockets her didn't move. He could still feel a dark cloud metaphorically over his head, darkness twisting inside him like a disease. He thought the episode with trying to, and then successfully, kill a spider had got the anger out of his system. But it hadn't. It only diluted the terrible wrath he buried inside.

“Shit, you scared me, Rowe.” He didn't reply. She rolled her eyes, taking her surprise in stride. He admired that in way, the way she didn't let things bother her. But it also was infuriating. He took so much effort to not act on his emotions, and it seemed she took everything so easily and without a single thought. Rowe ground his teeth, keeping the bitterness down. Her hair blew wildly as the wind picked up, but she barely seemed to notice. Instead she moved closer, making Rowe want to take a step back. But he found his legs wouldn't move easily, like he was rooted where he stood. She squinted.
“Are you okay? Or are you just doing that thing where you avoid everyone and eat candy and maybe, yell when spoken to?”
He felt his mouth twitch, only a little, into a ghost of a smile. A bitter, hateful smile, but still a smile. The change was so small he doubted she even picked up on it in the dim light. She let out a laugh. A biting one that made Rowe want to flinch. He didn't mind Pell usually. For all her teasing and caustic remarks, he didn't really feel all that bothered by her. But despite the fact that he told himself she was fine, hate had been building inside him. He kept it all in, yelling sarcastic remarks now and then but never actually doing anything about her. She's not worth my hate, Rowe thought to himself bitterly. But even as he thought it, he found himself numbing to things around him. The only thing he could focus on was Pell and how much she put him down. And for that moment, he hated her. He really did.

“Alright, I can see that being the crypt keeper is way more satisfying to you than anything else. Excuse me," she spoke, rolling her eyes again. He had a sudden urge to pluck those pretty eyes right out of her head. His fingers curled almost claw like in his pockets, and one hand came up to grab her as she tried to step past him. His grip on her arm tightened, and he was vaguely aware that he was holding her tight enough to bruise. He didn't care.

"What is your problem with me Pell?" he bit out, grip tightening even more. The same cruel thrill filled him as it had when he tore the spider to shreds, but it felt much more demanding. Even as a part of his mind screamed at him that he was acting irrational, cruel, his eyes still turned cold as a smirk spread across his face. He wasn't sure when he started using his powers, he hadn't actually meant to. Only the familiar sight of her nose suddenly bleeding set him off. But at that point he couldn't stop it. He didn't have control. All he could feel was the uncontrollable anger and the need to kill. He didn't pay attention to anything she said or did, his mind clouded. Rowe suddenly yanked Pell by her arm and shoved her to the ground, staring down at her. "What's your problem?!" he screamed, all traces of rational Rowe gone.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Papa Legba Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott
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Man or Myth?


Ah, Hell. They say that Hell is what you make for yourself...and, they weren't wrong. The darkness swirled about a tall man who walked the dry and cracked plains of a forever gloomy, overcast day. The dust lifted and created a fog as it blocked a grey sun, leaving this desert forever a grainy, monochromatic color. He walked down the sooty path as he cut through the thick fog of dust, never once, not a single particle of dirt clinged to his body. He walked up to a single tree in the vast expanse of an endless desert, it was black and dead, not a single leaf hanged from it's twisted and crooked branches. The only thing things upon it was a single crow and around it's roots, a man.

A man dressed in ragged clothing, and dirty beyond compare. He hugged the tree as he sought an escape from the stifling sun, he clinged on hoping beyond hope that tree will provide a canopy of leaves the shield him from the rays of a hotter than Hell Sun. Papa Legba looked down at this wretched and scraggy piece of Human raggedness. The Man was so hot he could no longer perspire and it would seem eventually he would melt away and become one with the dead tree. Papa Legba laughed at his misery. Alone in the desert with no food and water and all he asks for is a little shade. Well Papa Legba did tell him that there was a tree, a tree filled with leaves that would provide him with a much needed retreat.

Finally the man looked up. "So den, I see you found da tree." He spoke as calm as lake.

"B-but," The man could hardley speak. His lips were caked and cracking and his voice as dry a seven year drought. The man could not even produce spit to help ease the pain of speaking. Mustering with all the might he could, "Y-you said...this...tree was full of l-leaves." As soon as he finished the man had one serious bout of a coughing attack. The man hacked and wheezed as it pained him. Each time a little more of the grainy particles entered his lungs as soon as he could cough it out.

"Ah yes, I did, and it was alive last I saw it." He then chuckled. "I'm afraid you just didn't make it in time, da tree dried up a long time ago." He spoke as he looked up. More crows had come to roost upon the tree.

"P-please...Papa...Legba...let me have a drink of water." He begged. The man would be in tears if he had any tears he could shed.

"Ah, no, I can't be givin' you water," Legba paused as the tortured soul leaned against the tree, all hope fading from his eyes, "but, I do know where you can get some." He spoke with a smirk. The man perked up as happiness began to flood within him.
"Yes, on my way to see you I passed another tree, one that is lush with da greenest leaves I have seen, but that is not all...dere is water, a small oasis in da middle of dis accursed desert." He then laughed, "And all you need to do is go dat way." Papa Legba then pointed left. "But I would hurry if I was you, who knows how long you have until the Sun dries it all up."

The man then showed a look of sheer horror upon his face. "B-but, P-Papa Legba! I-I don't have the strength to run, a-and the crows, they'll hurt me...p-please help me t-to the water!" He pleaded.

"No! I cannot help you on your journey, you must make it on your own, now go! Unless your perfectly fine cookin' out 'ere in da Sun." Papa Legba then laughed as the man weakly stood up. "I told ya to hurry, now run ya fool or dere will be no shade and water for you!" Legba spoke as he raised his voice. The man, with whatever strength he had left took up in limping jog. Soon a whole murder of crows left the branches of the tree and began to swoop down pecking at the poor wretch. Papa Legba couldn't help but laugh.

Then suddenly his head turned upwards to the sky. He is rather happy disposition disappeared as he looked intensity at the grey sky. "It seems I must make another visit." He spoke as he disappeared.

Earth- New Olreans, Louisiana- Miss Robicaux's Academy

"Hm, so wat is wrong wit my favorite Coven of witches?" He spoke with amusement. He knew perfectly what was wrong, but he had no interest in directly involving himself. He could tell that the people of this school are gonna have a rather entertaining night on their hands. But he wasn't here to concern himself with all of the witches here, no, a particular one he had his attention on. Out in the grounds, in the quiet of the courtyard, it would appear unnoticeable to all but Pell. If her attention was not too terribly absorbed by the rampaging Rowe, the wind started to pick up. It wheezed and whistled between the rose bushes. It was very chilling breeze, one that is far too cold for this time of year. The shadows around her and Rowe began to move on their own, without anything moving the objects the shadows are casted from. Then came the sounds of rattling bones and a dark, but almost velvety laugh pierced the silence of the courtyard.

Papa Legba decided to help Pell, but indirectly of course. Becoming physically involved just isn't this God's style. Images would soon enter the mind of Pell is she so chooses to acknowledge them, images of her life when her mother was still alive. All the joy and all the pain that came with it. They would come like flashes from camera, flickering on and off and in rapid succession. Then at the end of this subliminal slideshow came a laugh and pair of red eyes behind a pale face. The visions suddenly ended and in the darkness merely a few feet away stood a tall man in black as a pair of bright red eyes bore deep into her soul. Yet all he gave her was a glimpse, and in a blink he disappeared. Was it real? Or just a figment of the imagination? It does not matter, he could feel the deep seated fear of him. A fear he hoped would push Pell, a shot of adrenaline, one to help her out of her current predicament. Even if it was not fear that would drive her, then perhaps curiosity...curiosity about a mystery that has long since haunted the girl...the truth about her mother and perhaps the truth about her? And he hoped it would work, after all he has plans for her.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Papa Legba Character Portrait: Silas Abernathy Character Portrait: Pell Laveau Character Portrait: Greyson Ault Character Portrait: Hale Bjarki Character Portrait: Violet Khiara Character Portrait: Rowe McDermott Character Portrait: Decimus King
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Greyson hadn’t been much of a lively dinner guest, but that was never her forte anyhow. Most of the meal consisted of her consuming to much wine and watching the new comers with the matching intensity of Pell. It was so pleasant to have someone who she could just know she was on the same page, but it had always been that way with Pell. She had been this wonderful possibility, but Greyson knew she couldn’t keep anyone close, for their own safety.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Characters Present

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

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

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

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

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

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

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