forum Witch Trials // Closed

Started December 22, 2018 by Deleted user

tune

Edit topic

oof

oof
I can't wait for this to start!

I'll give @"Lex Has Thicc Hair And Is Still Technically Celebrating Christmas But Shhhh " a little bit more time, then we can start.

If they aren't on soon then we can start and they can complete their template then.

Alright

(I'm going to add one more character in..)

Name: Cyrus Aster Adler
Age: Appears to be around 19 years old, though is closer to 75 (witches age slowly compared to humans)
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Bisexual (Leans towards women more)
Species: Witch
Appearance: Lightly colored, almost honey brown hair that falls in messy curls and waves. Her skin is a paler tone with light freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, cheeks, shoulders and collarbone, aren't very noticeable unless you look closely. Flushed undertones on cheekbones and collarbone. Fuller lips that are usually cracked or chapped from how much she bites down on them, a lighter pink tone. Almond shaped, tawny brown eyes that reflect nearly everything, framed by thick, light lashes, darker brows compared to her hair. Around 5'6 with a leaner and petite build. Small scars on the bridge of her nose, raised white scars on her jawline and hands, and a small nick in her left ear. (can be referenced for her appearance https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9a/ad/38/9aad385119f5ec77997e5daf61cec374.jpg)
Usual Outfit: Cyrus usually wears mellower tan, creme, orange and pastel colors. Likes to wear small blouses or sweaters and a tan leather jacket or small coat, one side of the collar is usually popped up on accident. Only wears jeans, usually darker colors. Clear sunglasses, lots of silver bangles on her wrist, cassette player tucked into her pocket; follows almost all the new trends. Faded, short boots where the laces are almost always untied.
Personality: A bit quieter and withdrawn when first seen, more of an observer. Can be described as artistic, soulful and thoughtful, someone who notices smaller things in others. Charismatic, has an eye for causing trouble, mischievous. A dreamer and always looks a bit tired. Can be a little blind to other people's sensitivities, brash and impulsive at times, doesn't take great care of herself.
Familiar: Bast, a small, chirping bird.
Backstory: Cyrus originally lived in a town not far from Corbin Springs, though she had been excommunicated from her coven due to a series of events; most pertaining to people finding out that she was a witch. Instead of staying, she and her aunt moved in with her cousin, Smith Adler. (She had lost her mother when she was born, and her father was the high priest in the last coven and refused to leave. Also, she's so much older because when she signed the "Book of the Horned God" in her last coven, it had been in the early 1900's. Witches just age a lot slower, making her look about 19) There, she made her way into the new coven, and currently resides in the high school with her cousin.
Other: Studies more medicinal aspects of spells, though is also interested in charms and necromancy.

I'm so sorry Nessie
My friend got ahold of my laptop and asked to join.

I am not and was never a part of this.

I'm so sorry Nessie
My friend got ahold of my laptop and asked to join.

That's okay lex! Don't worry about it.
And yes, that means that we can start now.

yass

I'll post a starter, though it might take a few minutes.
Do you guys have any ideas for where they should all meet? Perhaps at night… that might be cool.

ooh yeah
uh
something supernatural calls to their attention? Or maybe it's an eclipse or something, so they're all drawn to some special clearing in the woods where they're directly under the moon? To absorb it's power? I'm just full of cheesy ideas lol
idk

ooh, I like those ideas.
maybe each character has a specific reason as to why they're in the woods, and they're probably wary of one another (either because people have suspected witches or are starting to)

yeah sure!

A frustrated sigh blew past Cyrus' lips as she threw her book onto her bed, realizing that the incantation hadn't worked. Again. It was nearly witching hour– midnight– and she hadn't gotten any further with the spell book that she had found in her aunt's trunk. Sure, they were complicated charms and topics about astral projection, though she still wanted to master it. Smith had already completed a necromancy ritual and the last thing she wanted was to be surpassed by him…even if he had gotten grounded in the process. She sat on the edge of her bed, brushing a few wispy strands of honey colored hair behind her ear as she bit her bottom lip, glancing around her room.

Smith. Why did something catch her mind when she thought of him? Didn't he need to do something tonight? Cyrus' brows drew together in thought before she realized that at witching hour…Smith was looking for a familiar, and had asked her to help. Oh shit, she thought to herself, glancing at the time before she began to rush around her room, grabbing a few things. Her spell book, a coat, scarf, and a few herbs if something went wrong. Hopefully Smith wouldn't be too mad that she was late. With that, Cyrus began to make her way down the staircase in her house, almost tripping over the brightly colored scarf in her hands before quickly making it to the door.

Smith hummed as he began to walk through the small Corbin Spring's cemetery, the only noise joining him was the crunching of autumn leaves below his feet. To most, no one would ever want to be near these graves, though he didn't really mind. After all, it was the perfect spot to find a familiar.

After walking around for a few more moments, he settled under an older, crooked, tree and leaned against it's wood, glancing around. Where was Cyrus? She had promised him that she would be here to help him find a familiar, and he didn't want to be alone out here at witching hour. Especially ever since the town had begun to circle with rumors of its past history; witches, warlocks, spells, covens and more. Not to mention witch hunters. Hopefully he wouldn't be running into any of that tonight. Smith shuddered at the thought and began to hum to calm his nerves, hoping that Cyrus would be on her way soon.

Whispers blew through the room, stirring the diaphanous curtains and shifting the gauzy scarf wrapped around Marla's shoulders. Only the seven Tarot cards spread out on the wooden floorboards in front of her did not shift, but stayed anchored in place as if rooted to the spot. Six facing upright, the middle one still facedown. Marla's finger drifted over The Moon, stalling above The Wheel of Fortune and moving on to The Magician. They passed over the only card that was yet to be revealed, grazed the surfaces of The Hanged Man and The Tower, stopped just above The Star. Trembling slightly, she returned to the middle card and turned it over.

Death. A soft whimper escaped from her lips. The first successful reading she'd done in months, and this was her result. The ornate face of the card seemed to wink at her. You should have known, she told herself bitterly and moved to gather the cards. Hadn't Death always followed her? Had she not been promised to him? This is out of your control. Marla slid the cards back into the deck, shuffling it. Each one was much heavier than it looked, though it was made of nothing but cardboard and gold leaf. And magic.. She ignored the thought.

But the whispers around her only got louder as she slipped the deck into a plum, velvet pouch and stashed it beneath her floorboards. Marla whipped around as something grazed the back of her neck– but there was no one there. Then, her eyes fell on the open window, and the moon hanging in the sky beyond it. The Moon… Hadn't she drawn that card from the deck? As if it could read her thoughts, it seemed to glow brighter, beckoning. Sighing, she grabbed her jacket off the hook in her wall and obeyed.

A sliver of moonlight fell across the floor where Fara sat, her knees drawn up to her chest. She flinched away, back to the safety of the inky shadows, studying her arm for any marks. There were no burns– yet– but it wouldn't be long. Her nightdress, pale as the moonlight itself, was cool against her hot skin, both a relief and a cause of distress. The cold. She hated it, and was drawn to it at the same time. Her flesh was always burning, was it not? The mark of the sun, of its god….

But Fara was done with hiding, particularly today. The afternoon had been awful, she was sick of warmth and golden sunshine and needed an escape. Her eyes drifted back to the window, to the forest beyond the town. This is a bad idea…. But she was already halfway out the door.

(thank you!)

Cyrus winced visibly as the door closed loudly, hoping that her aunt or Smith's mother hadn't heard that. She checked one last time before she turned and began down the porch's ochre steps. The wind was strong tonight, whipping her light colored hair every which way as she tried to tuck it behind her ears fruitlessly. Hopefully the coat she brought along would keep her warm while she was in the woods.

Dismissing her trivial thoughts, she glanced up towards the sky, noticing that it was a full moon, just liked Smith had planned. Perfect for casting a protection spell… Cyrus thought with a small hum and shake of her head as she began down a gravel path. Her home was rather close to the woods, so it wouldn't take that long, only that their meeting point was the small cemetery, which was a bit further and in the darker parts of the woods. Of course her cousin had chosen this…he was rarely scared of anything like death…or ghosts. Part of that leading him to go down the path of necromancy.

As her mind continued to rattle off different ideas and possible threats in the woods, a small crackle of wood snapped her out of her thoughts. Glancing up quickly and looking around, she soon realized that it had only been a squirrel scampering up an oak tree next to her. Pay attention, the noise seemed to taunt, and Cyrus listened. The last thing she wanted was to run into some sort of odd force or spirit.

Smith paced around the cemetery, growing impatient as the minutes passed. Where was Cyrus? He blew out a frustrated breath as he fingered the slip of paper in his hand, realizing that the time was about five minutes past witching hour. The moon was still high up, but he needed his cousin to help him. Cyrus had been a witch for much longer than he had, and she knew a lot more…not that he would admit it.

Fara might have been feeling reckless that night, but she definitely wasn't stupid. Before she'd slipped out the door of her little house, she'd made sure to grab a few charms. Dried herbs, flowers, and a few hidden sigils. She closed her eyes against the harsh moonlight, pulling her hooded shawl lower over her face and mentally listing off precautions. White heather, for protection. Sunflower petals for Sol. Pink carnation, for– Was it pathetic, that she carried around the flower of remembrance every day? Her siblings were long gone anyways… Dill and Rue. As for sigils, a few simple shielding charms and one for warmth and the sun had been enough.

Some would call this excessive, all these measures. But Fara had been burned twice by the wicked silver light and had caught moonsickness no less than three times– she was not eager to repeat her mistakes.

Bathed in moonlight and the cool night air, Marla hurried through town. Slipping from shadow to shadow as to not be seen– it had been hard enough to end the rumours of her mother keeping Tarot cards, to be seen out at night would have its definite consequences– she allowed the moon to draw her away from her ramshackle house, past gardens and houses and shops, past the church, the clock of which read almost midnight. Witching hour. A thrill went through her. It was then that she realized where the moon was taking her.
The cemetery.

(Sorry if this sounds bad, I'm on a train heading back home right now and I felt like I needed to post something before I pass out from exhaustion)

If anything could be said about Cally's familiar, it was that he was never the most normal of creatures. He had climbed through her window and chosen to immediately start clawing at her. She rolled her eyes. "Come now, love," she whispered to him, "what's spooked you?" She reached over to pull Rat into her lap. He allowed it, for a moment, before hissing and arching his back once more. "Is it something outside?" She asked him. He bit onto her jacket's edge and started pulling her forward. "Love, stop it. This was Dad's jacket. I don't want you ruining it."

Rat looked to be even further agitated. He hissed at her and attempted to pull her forward once more. Callista sighed, weary. "Let's go outside, yeah? Would that make you less… like this?" Oh, her mother was going to kill her. But, what harm could befall her? She would have Rat by her side. "Fine. Let's go to the cemetery, alright, love?" Rat had already lept off her and strutted back towards the window. He lept out, not bothering to look back to see if Cally was truly coming. That damn thing's going to be the death of me, she thought, almost bitterly. She approached the windows edge, and with one final glance to her room, jumped out.

James winced as he trecked through his house. In one hand he held his shoes; the other clutched his jacket tightly. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back already. He wasn't even doing anything bad, per se, just trying to get some fresh air. So why did it feel like he was breaking the law by sneaking out? Why did-

"What's her name?" Asked a voice from behind him, and James flinched violently. He turned around slowly, his hands in the air. His older brother, Ryan, stared back, unimpressed.

"What?" James croaked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ryan snorted. "What's her name? The girl you're sneaking out to see?" He said it like it was obvious.

James winced. "I'm just getting some fresh air. I can't sleep." His head thrummed, singing along to a tune that he couldn't identify. He just felt like he needed to get out of the house. Like he needed to run.

His brother raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, alright, Romeo. For your sake, I'll pretend that was convincing. Wait here." He disappeared into his room for a moment before coming back out and throwing something at the younger. "Go get 'em, tiger," he said, winking. His gaze remained on his brother for a second longer before he promptly shut the door without another word.

James glanced down at the item, and his cheeks burned red. A condom? Really? He picked it up from the floor and pocketed it, his face a scarlet mess. He slowly walked out to the porch and shut the door behind him. Then, he slipped on his shoes and started to run.

(that was great!)

Cyrus pulled her tan colored coat closer to her body, still freezing under a few layers, not to mention the scarf that was wrapped haphazardly around her neck. If she had known that tonight would be this cold, she would have never agreed to coming out. As she continued down the path, Cyrus ignored the small creaks and rustles in the woods, and the creepy, icy feeling crawling down her back at every noise. They're just animals, she continued to tell herself, not letting any sort of concern seep onto her face. Just animals. Though, the more dark the woods seemed to get tried to tell her otherwise.

After a few more minutes of walking, she finally heard some sort of humming and the first peaks of crumbling wood from a few graves. Finally. Cyrus' walking picked up as she made it to the rusty entrance, forcing the gate open after a few tries, afraid that it would waste more time on the clock.

"You finally decided to show up, cous'." A deeper voice spoke up to the left of Cyrus, and her head snapped up before narrowing on the figure. She recognized the same messy, brown locks and crooked smile on the man's face before sighing.

"Nice to see you too, Smith," Cyrus replied curtly before she stepped into the graveyard, glancing around at the crumbling stone. "I just a little caught up in some of my aunt's spell books. Sorry," she added, feeling as if she owed her cousin some sort of apology, even if he bothered her most of the time. She grabbed her satchel that hung by her side and began to rifle through it for a small jar of salt.

"You have the things for the protection circle, right?" Smith spoke up, glancing down at Cyrus as he stuffed his hands in his jean's pockets.