Rat only followed Cyrus' steps. He settled directly onto her feet and stared up at Callista. She stared back, frustrated. "Yes," she said, gritting her teeth. "He's my cat." She looked up at the other witches. Did they all know each other? It didn't seem so. They all looked to be just as confused as the rest. "Sorry about this," she muttered. She reached down and picked him up, ignoring his meowls and hisses. She let go of the other's wrist to stop Rat from scratching and biting her face.
James could feel his breaths coming faster. Panic spiraled inside his body, racing from his chest to his head, threatening to consume him. He could barely register Callista releasing him, though it was a minor relief. He ran a hand, shakily through his hair. He opened his eyes, finally, but kept them trained to the ground. He refused to look at any of the witches. They were unnatural. Even worse than him.
"It's…it's fine," Cyrus answered, a bit confused as to why this cat was following her around. Usually, animals disliked her, from her aunt's familiars to any other family member's. Watching the girl pick the mangy cat up, she remembered what they had called it. Rat. It seemed rather suitable for its brown tinted coat, though she enjoyed the humour in it. The faintest smile tilted the corners of her mouth up, though it was barely noticeable, as she quickly replaced it with her usual, thoughtful frown.
"He seems like a ray of sunshine," Smith spoke up, motioning towards the cat as it scratched and nipped as the dark haired girl. Cyrus shot him a look, even if she had to admit that her cousin's quick humor lifted her mood a bit. "What about him–" He started once again, his gaze trained on the boy across from them, though Cyrus' glare hardened, cutting him off entirely. The last thing they needed was affiliating themselves with more people.
Marla tightened her hold on Fara’s slim wrist and pulled her back, giving her a multi-layered look laced with both caution and assurance. Her eyes flickered between each person on the scene, and she closed her eyes for just a moment to balance herself and calm her racing heart. “Wait— who is everyone here? What are your names?” If anything, she was not going to just stand around in a graveyard at witching hour with a group of strangers without knowing who said strangers were.
Alex stumbled into a large group of people gathering in the graveyard.
Wondering what was going on?
"They call my Lyra. Where I lived before here, they called me the Storm Witch." She smiled, fixing her black and green cloak. By that time, Aquos had returned back to her and flew in wide circles around the group of people. "Might i ask what each of you are doing here?" She asked, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. She glanced up at the moon and saw an ominous grey shadow, creeping closet and over to the bright circle of light.
(I'm gonna step out of this rp, my internet router was broken and it's going to be another week until it gets fixed.)
(Aw bye)
Fara paused, giving ‘Lyra’ a quizzical look. Was she really that stupid, to confess being a witch in a superstitious town like this? Wishing she had just left when she’d had the chance, she steeled herself and replied, praying she wouldn’t be punished for her audacity towards a white person. “We could ask the same of you, witch.”
(Aw, I'm so sorry to hear that. If you'd still like to stay and step in later in the role play, feel free to do that.)
Lyra grinned maliciously "Darling, I was called The Storm Witch after my house blew up after being hit with lightning. I survived, as you can see, and as for me being here," She paused and ran her fingers across the back of her Familiar "You'd be better off not knowing that. What I do is my own business."
Fara bit back several retorts on her mind, telling herself to be cautious. What kind of insane coloured woman would snap at a white one? “If what you do is your business, then what we do is ours.”
"I must say I do like your fiery spirit." She smiled. Aquos flew down and his wings retracted. He walked over to where Fara was and sniffed the air around her before sitting infront of her
Marla tightened her hold on Fara’s slim wrist and pulled her back, giving her a multi-layered look laced with both caution and assurance. Her eyes flickered between each person on the scene, and she closed her eyes for just a moment to balance herself and calm her racing heart. “Wait— who is everyone here? What are your names?” If anything, she was not going to just stand around in a graveyard at witching hour with a group of strangers without knowing who said strangers were.
"Cyrus. And this is Smith," the woman responded as she motioned to the taller boy next to her, brushing a few curly locks of tawny colored hair away from her face. She glanced over towards the conversation between the darker skinned woman and the so called 'Storm Witch,' listening curiously before she looked back towards the blonde. "And you?"
Fara flinched away from the creature in front of her, eyes flickering between the two who had just introduced themselves. She took a step back from the ‘Storm Witch’, clearing her throat to reply. “I’m Fara.” The pale girl beside her spoke up, though her eyes were suddenly lit up by fear. “I’m Marla.”
"Yall can call me Lyra." She said simply
"We should be going," Callista said, quickly. Introducing herself would mean introducing him as well, and if she did that she would have to admit that he was human. She didn't know these witches; for all she knew they might just kill him. Of course, she didn't know him, she wouldn't mourn him, but it still didn't feel right to let him die.
"James," he said. Their magic had become almost bearable as the time passed. It was like a buzz in the back of his mind. It still felt odd, though. He glanced over at Callista, then at the witches, then back at the ground. "Don't let my name be forgotten when I die, alright?"
Cally glared at him. "James," she seethed, "be quiet! You're not going to die!"
alex watched
"safely" hidden behind a tree.
(I'm wondering what's going to happen next. We have been introducing ourselves for a few days lol)
"We should be going," Callista said, quickly. Introducing herself would mean introducing him as well, and if she did that she would have to admit that he was human. She didn't know these witches; for all she knew they might just kill him. Of course, she didn't know him, she wouldn't mourn him, but it still didn't feel right to let him die.
"James," he said. Their magic had become almost bearable as the time passed. It was like a buzz in the back of his mind. It still felt odd, though. He glanced over at Callista, then at the witches, then back at the ground. "Don't let my name be forgotten when I die, alright?"
Cally glared at him. "James," she seethed, "be quiet! You're not going to die!"
"Die?" Smith said, raising a brow in question as his gaze flickered between the dark haired witch and the boy, who's name was now known as James. He exchanged a glance with Cyrus, who's expression seemed to get grimmer by the moment. This so called James was starting to make some assumptions…which were going to be revealed as true.
"I think–I think we need to go, Smith," Cyrus spoke up as she pulled her coat closer towards her body, the wind picking up around the cemetery. "My aunts are waiting." Perhaps the other people, and witches, would let them go, mistaking them as simple, lost people. At least, she hoped it would be that easy.
