[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/fae174e5-f546-46ab-a379-44d59fd5156f.png[/img][/center]

[right][code]Mourningdove Lane[/code][/right]
[hr]

[color=85B7EB]”What the fuck is this place?”[/color]

Mason stood in the lawn of the mansion, staring at all the windows and noting how many people were inside. He’d received a letter somehow, conveniently found on a nightstand when mom was out, outlining the fact that magic existed. [i]Come here at midnight.[/i] It didn’t sound like the safest thing in the world, but the last week had been [i]rough.[/i] Between his keys vanishing three days ago, and the fact that he’d lost count of how many times he had accidentally soaked himself trying to drink something in a cup that suddenly didn’t exist, this so-called “magic” was getting on his nerves.

And the longer Mason thought about it, the more it sounded like there was a bit of truth to it. Did he just get blessed with some weird superpower to delete things from the universe? It was he broken somehow? He really didn’t know, but if this weird house and the people inside it had something to offer him that could fix this? Then fuck it, he’d walk right into a fancy house at midnight.

Mason wasn’t exactly dressed for a rich neighborhood. He threw on some faded jeans and an old jacket, plus a tank top underneath. Compared to some of the houses on this street, he looked like someone’s drug dealer that laced all the products with nicotine to keep them coming back for more. Granted, nobody was even out here at an hour like this. Not that he’d be any less shady-looking, here in a fancy neighborhood at this hour looking like God’s gift to the crackheads. He stared down at the letter again while walking forward, to make sure he had the right address.

[indent]
[i]
Mason, I hope this letter finds you well enough, before you accidentally destroy it.

One does not create without destruction. And for the past week, you’ve found yourself quite acquainted with the latter half of that fact. You have the potential to wield magic, the likes of which has not been seen in centuries. You’ve taken your first steps in working to control it, and I can help you prosper in that.

Come to 13 Mourningdove Lane.  Midnight.

~The Archivist
[/i]
[/indent]

He really, really didn’t like that someone was stalking him. Mason had tried to keep this under wraps as best he could, making sure not to touch things around other people and making sure he didn’t lose track of what he was doing. Someone was going to have some explaining to do. He walked up to the door, grabbed the doorknob without knocking, and the doorknob flickered out of existence.

Mason stared down at where it was for a second.

[color=85B7EB]"...Yeah, I'm not paying fo-"[/color] The door swung open, without him touching it.

Yeah, that was weird.

This was going to be a long night.

[color=85B7EB]"Anybody home?"[/color] He asked, walking in.