[IC] The Return of Salem

♫Theme♫

_{click above}

In the small town of Salem, autumn had just blinked its wary eyes. A single golden leaf would detach from an undressed tree, pirouetting gracefully through chilled air. The day was young, the sun peeked shyly through thinned gray clouds like a stained glass window. Petals born in the spring and summer curl and wilt the color of dirt, leaving the earth bare and uncovered. Sidewalks lay slicked with the residue of last nights rain, the familiar scent of wet concrete mixing with airborne oils emitting the evocative fresh rain aroma.

An intense feeling of uncertainty would loom ominously, a feeling one could not pinpoint the source of. All seemed well, however rumors of an illness of sorts would spiral through the small town of Salem. Young girls were becoming defiant, boys disobeying their fathers. It was as if a disobedience bug had bitten at random. The instances would be hushed nearly as quickly as they had risen, no other case of said "illness" becoming known. Normal people would forget the rumors, moving on with their lives.. But those who knew too well the history of Salem would perk their ears, did this mean witches were nesting in Salem once more?

The possibility was not inconceivable, for Salem had been their ancestors home. The town was forever marked, almost as if the place sang out like a Siren to those who could listen, luring the children of sin out of hiding.

Come, little children
I'll take thee away
Into a land
Of enchantment

Come, little children
The time's come to play
Here in my garden
Of shadows

Follow, sweet children
I'll show thee the way
Through all the pain and
The sorrows

Weep not, poor children
For life is this way
Murdering beauty and
Passions

Hush now, dear children
It must be this way
To weary of life and
Deceptions

Rest now, my children
For soon we'll away
Into the calm and
The quiet

[Zoey Boey]

Mary Corwin

Mary Corwin rubbed her aching wrists, frowning as she glanced over her laptop. For the weekend her advanced placement history teacher had assigned her a paper on the fall of the Roman Republic, and she was almost done. History had always fascinated Mary- but 5 page essays never had. The worst part is she knew it would only get worse in college. Still, nothing beat the satisfaction of an education well earned- and if she wanted to get anywhere in this world she would have to work for it.

Her shoulder-length black hair had fallen into her face again.

"Pppht- ppht-" Mary blew the hair out of her face, frustrated. For some reason she had put this off, but that was the last straw. She reached into a drawer to find her vast and not-at-all tangled collection of elastic hair-ties. Her shoulders sank when there was none there. Reaching her white, un-calloused hands up to her face to try and wipe the exasperation off of it.

Pushing her rolly chair back, Mary walked next door to her brother's room, who was playing on his Play-Station 2.

"Paulie. Have you seen my hair-ties?"

"Nope." The ten year old said so overly casual it was borderline insulting.

"Haven't you out grown this yet?"

"Nope."

"It's not even clever."

Paul just giggled. Blowing the air through her lips, Mary glanced over her shoulder. Mom was probably in the living room, which was to the left of the small hall-way that lead into the three small bedrooms of their one storey house.

"Okay fine," Mary said, a playful meanness in her voice. She strode over to his Ps2 and unplugged the wired controller.

"Hey!" He protested in his high pitched voice that could easily melt her heart if he was ever anything but horrible.

"Where are they?" She said, holding the wire above his now grasping hands.

"Don't make me beat you up!"

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yeah!"

"I won't give it back until-" She swatted away a particularly lunging swipe. Soon he was going to be almost as tall as she was, but luckily she'd be out of the house by then so she wouldn't have to put up with this crap anymore.

"I won't give it back until you give me my hair ties."

"I'm trying to save the city!"

"I'm trying to save my essay."

Their mothers face rang out from the living room. "Is everything okay in there?"

The two froze, Mary's face stinging from being roped into another childish game by her little brother. She was trying to grow up over here and this little jerk always managed to make her feel like a stupid kid playing recess games. He had a poop-eating grin on his face despite the fact that *he* was the one currently being harassed.

Mary smiled tightly and tossed the wire into his arms. "Yeah, everything's good." She called out back to Mom. She pointed at him, eyes wide, as she began to leave the room.

"They're in that drawer, dummy." Paulie said, pointing.

"Thaaanks." Mary said totally 100% genuine, opening the drawer and expecting, she didn't know, a bomb to go off or something. Lo and behold it was her hair ties, all clumped on. Mary clicked her tongue. "Man, you got 'em all tangled up."

"They were already like that!" He said, offended, as if this accusation was one step too far. Mary squinted hard at him as she left the room. Getting back into her chair, the young woman successfully tied her hair into her 'signature' ponytail. It was the style she preferred.

Finishing up her work an hour later, Mary opened the closet. Inside were clothes hanging up, shoes, etc, but the two points of interest for regular people were the two back packs on the floor. A blue back-pack full of books, notes, school supplies... and a black one. Inside was a gun, 12 bullets, and a knife. Paying no mind, Mary grabbed the blue one and did a little skip out of her room.

"Hey mom, I'm heading out with friends." She called out behind her.

"Okay," She responded, wheeling herself from behind the counter with a tray of food in her lap. She had tired but friendly eyes and had maintained diet and exercise after her accident a few years back. She smiled.

"Just be back before midnight, okay?" They had built up quite a bit of trust over the years, and she knew that Mary was prepared for almost any threat. Despite being a thing statured teenager her daughter was proficient in self-defense for obvious reasons, and she knew that Mary wouldn't get into trouble.

"No problem, mom. Love ya,"

"Love you too."

Mary closed the door, closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh afternoon air. It smelled of possibility.

It certainly did. Perhaps not the kind of possibility Mary was looking for, but things were about to change in Salem. She began to open lift up the garage door to fetch her bike, by getting out her key and kneeling down to fiddle with the lock.

[BubblegumQueen]

Natalia

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

Ri -

“Mother, was expecting you an hour ago. Unless the Richards got into another argument?” Her tone was nonchalant, almost distracted as her light eyes remained narrowed in concentration.

“Natalia, have you made it to Salem?” Her mother ignored her last jab, remaining firm and on topic.

Pale lips quirked up.

“Made it yesterday morning, on schedule. The house is lovely, by the way.”

Her mother’s tone was noticeably more clipped. “And am I correct in assuming that you haven’t contacted Corwin yet?”

A pause.

“No, I haven’t spoken to Chris yet.” Natalia responded firmly, eyes narrowing even more as her brush carefully moved along the canvas.

Her mother let out an exhausted sigh. And if it was a younger Natalia, perhaps she would’ve asked what was wrong or would’ve at least stopped testing the woman. But, that’s not really her style these days.

“You’re painting, aren’t you?”

“It calms me.” Natalie stated simply, pushing away from the painting to look at it from a farther distance, head tilting a little in contemplation.

“Just get started.” Her mother retorted sharply, hanging up without a goodbye.

“Love you too.” Natalia muttered, only half paying attention, removing her phone from her ear as she studied her painting.

A small sigh escaping her, pale blue eyes drifted closed as Natalia slowly rolled her shoulders, stretching in place after being hunched over for nearly an hour. Finally looking at her phone, she took only a brief glance at the time before finally nodding to herself.

Guess it’s time, huh?

Long fingers quickly and deftly un-buttoned the oversized paint-splatter shirt she was wearing, revealing a surprisingly clean and normal outfit underneath. Carefully folding up the shirt, she set it down on her stool before leaving the room, with only a quick glance around the room as she did so.

Silently closing the door, she proceeded to hum under her breath as she wandered around her small one-story house, tidying up a little before eventually grabbing her purse from it’s place near the door, throwing it over her arm as she looked around once more.

Every room in her house was done deliberately, designed to be warm and inviting.

Nodding once, she slipped out of the front door, leaving quietly, like with everything.

I N T E R L U D E

“Come on kid, you can do better than that.”

A younger Natalia was bent over, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. A somewhat stern looking man with crossed arms stared down at her, eyebrow raised expectantly.

After a moment, Natalia looked up at him with darkened eyes, glaring all the while. Seeing this, the older man nodded, seemingly pleased.

“There we go. Actual emotion. Real emotion. None of that bullshit you use on your folks and the rest of the world.”

Natalia stood up straight, body tense as he took a few steps closer, staring down at her while she glared up at him. Lips curling up into a smirk, he tugged on her ponytail once, Natalia not flinching away, staring him down.

Chuckling, he bent down, hands on his knees in a mockery of her earlier position. Being a very tall man, this put them eye to eye.

“That. That right there. That spark. That fire inside you. I can see it. You’re not some little kid living off of mommy and daddy’s money, you’re in the game. Have you gone on your first hunt yet? Have you killed one?”

Her eyes narrowed a little and he hummed in surprise.

“You have killed one? Or...” He trailed off, a brief look of realization flashing on his face before he stood up straight and took a few steps back, eyeing her closer now. Natalia raised an eyebrow, not even pretending anymore, head tilting.

“Oh, you haven’t just killed one.” He deduced, crossing his large arms, an unreadable expression on his face. “You know what it feels like to have blood on your hands alright. But, you’ve done more than that. You cut the son of a bitch open, didn’t you? Cut him open to see what made him tick?”

Natalia stared back expressionless, face having smoothed out as he went on. But, the look in her eye silently asked him, ‘And what are you gonna do about that?’

Looking at her in a different light, the man nodded, scratching at his stubble, looking away for a moment.

It was silent for a few moments.

“Alright, let’s go again.”

Natalia’s blank expression broke a bit, genuine surprise appearing.

“You aren’t gonna tell them?”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “No point. I know your folks, have known them for years. Killing is one thing, but you? You’re something else. Something they aren’t ready to deal with. And when they do find out... well, I don’t think they’ll take it so well.” As he spoke, Natalia stared at him with a glint in her eyes, something like... respect.

Natalia didn’t say ‘Thank you’ and she never would. She simply bobbed her head in thanks, clenching and unclenching her fists.

Moment over, Christopher Corwin straightened, arms by his side as he hardened once more.

“Now, let’s go again. And don’t do that shit you do for your parents. It may look good for them but I know you can do better. Show me.”

Eyebrow arching at the challenge, Natalia’s lips quirked up into a smirk, eyes darkening in delight. They both moved into position, the distance between them seeming not so far.

“Now!”

Blinking quickly to snap herself out of her own memories, Natalia glanced around the familiar environment, having been walking in the right direction. Shaking her head to remind herself to focus, Natalia kept walking, her surroundings become more and more memorable as she did so.

And her good memory paid off as she arrived at a nice little house. Then again, I’m rather biased, she thought dryly, lips quirking up a tiny amount.

As she approached, she noticed a girl opening the garage. Head tilting, she briefly toyed with the idea of this being June. But, it was gone before it even partially formed. Is this...?

She’d seen Mary once the last time she was Christopher all those years ago. A small little thing with big eyes, ‘Little Mary’ Natalia would call her, just to see her puff up at the name. Natalia had never really liked kids but had always found her to be pretty decent apart from the whining she used to do. Natalia imagined the girl had grown out of that. Some idle curiosity at seeing the girl again caused her to open her mouth, speaking up to be heard.

“Little Mary?”

[Zoey Boey]

Natalia and Mary

---

Mary was about to enter the key into the slot when she heard a voice call her name from behind her. Not just her name though, a pet name. One she hadn’t heard in a long time, though she couldn’t quite place where.

Mary stood up, the garage still locked and turned over her shoulder at the woman who had called her name. A blonde woman a few inches taller than her was standing at the bottom of the driveway.

“Uh, hello?” Mary uncertainly greeted.

Yup, it’s her. No mistaking that face, Natalia thought to herself, face not betraying her thoughts. Instead, she gave a small smile, doing her best to be as normal as possible so as to not confuse or freak the kid out more than she already probably is.

Taking a few steps closer, eyes drifting to the house, she found herself wondering if Mary even had the faintest memory of her. It was quite a few years prior so it’s possible. She highly doubted Chris would tell Mary about Natalia, he wouldn’t do it so needlessly.

So, she decided a more direct approach would work, instead of saying something needlessly idiotic like, ‘Nice house’ or what have you.

Eyes returning to Mary, head tilting a little in question, Natalia responded with, “Hi, um, I’m Natalia. I’m actually here to speak with your father - oh, Chris.” She made herself sound a bit nervous, as she was unsure as to how Mary would take her presence.

Mary still felt a slightest sting when he was brought up.

“Oh, uh...he passed away some years back.” She said, keeping her voice steady. Fuck. Was the first thought to flash through Natalia’s mind at that, eyes darkening unknowingly to Mary. Speaking of which, thinking on the name ‘Natalia’, Mary did remember her a bit, especially because she remembered being annoyed at the name ‘Little Mary’ when she was, well, little. Eager to change the subject, Mary brought this up.

“Oh, yeah, I remember you. You were one of Dad’s Hunter friends, right?” Mary asked, quieting her voice a little bit. She crossed her arms behind her back, now very much intrigued by Natalia’s presence.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, was basically on repeat in Natalia’s head this entire time, as soon as the words ‘passed away’ were stated. It seems like those bastards were actually right. In the community, it was noted that Chris had been silent for a while, even for a hunter. And many had assumed that the hunter had finally died.

Of course, Natalia had heard the rumors but she just figured that he was off doing is own thing and didn’t think twice about it. Now, however, she is forced to deal with her own feelings about this situation… but, she’ll instead push them to the side for now, as there is more to be done.

She could practically hear her mother’s coo of approval and had to resist the urge to shiver in discomfort.

Now that the jig was up, so to speak, Natalia straightened from her previous more submissive posture, arms going to her sides as she stared at Mary with somewhat curious eyes. So, she’s definitely in on it. In what way, I’m not entirely sure. Her eyes briefly darted over exposed areas, curious if she’d had her hunters mark yet. Most preferred to have it in clear sight, taking pride in it. Of course, Natalia’s was hidden as her family honors poise over all else and having such a noticeable thing where it could be easily seen is… obscene.

Rolling thoughts in her head, Natalia pondered how to answer the question Mary had asked. She was wondering if she should even answer at all, even. After all, she came here to speak to Chris and he’s gone. She shouldn’t waste anymore time. And she was going to open her mouth to say so when she paused.

Squinting a little at Mary, Natalia eyed her carefully, the way Chris did to her years ago. And unlike the darkness he saw in her, she saw a spark. Not a flame, a spark. Relaxing a little, Natalia inwardly chuckled. Hasn’t killed yet, she confirmed with herself, attention already wavering from the girl. But, she was not rude.

“Yes, I am an… old friend of your father’s. I came here to speak with him but… it seems that my plans have changed.” Natalia stated in a matter-of-fact tone, eyes drifting off as she planned her next move. Shaking her head a little, she gave a polite smile to the obviously curious teen, already planning the easiest way to leave this conversation.

The girl tried not to reveal how excited she had become- here, dropped in front of her, was a link into Dad’s world. A world she had been training to enter for her whole life. Would she get a better chance than this?

”W-well, hey, what plans did you have? I mean, uh, do you need help with anything? I can help.” Not nearly as smooth as she had hoped. Mary could already sense the incoming dismissal, and cringed in dreadful anticipation.

She hadn’t even begun to think about what she would do if she got the veteran hunter’s approval. Would Mom even let her go? Would she have to lie? It would all be over if she couldn’t even get past step one. Natalia was easily in full control of the conversation and even Mary’s immediate future. Unconsciously she began to dig the heel of her shoe in the pavement, nervously twisting her leg back and forth.

What have I gotten myself into? Natalia thought with a sigh, rotating her shoulders a little, showing how over this interaction she was. Mary seemed like a sweet enough kid, would probably be a pretty decent hunter one day. After a couple of years of training, she might even get her first kill. But, as of right now?

Natalia’s eyes roamed over the girl, eyebrow arched as she took in the nervous girl’s every move and tick. It’s pretty textbook. Girl idolizes father and wants to be like him, father dies, and now the girl is missing something. Something she thinks she needs. Hunting. And who knows? Maybe the girl might become somebody in the community one day… or maybe she’ll get herself killed trying to run off and be a hunter like her old man. Basically, no matter how I look at it, this girl is of no use to me or my objective.

But, a small part in her brain lit up, idly poking at her, asking if she could really turn down the kid. Just dash their hopes as they just began. What would Chris say?

He’d probably say thanks for not killing his kid, Natalia responded dryly, unphased by her own conscious trying to sway her. With that in mind, Natalia returned her attention to the girl, holding in a sigh that wanted to escape. Glancing around, Natalia walked closer to the girl until they were a few feet apart. Mary took a few steps back as she approached.

Looking down at her, Natalia’s face was hard. “Look, I’m sure you’re a good kid. And who knows, maybe you’ll become a good hunter one of these days. It may take a while but it could happen. But right now? Now, I have an objective. And although I appreciate the offer, and no offense, but I don’t need someone who’s never even had to go up against a witch, trailing after me.”

Perhaps if Natalia’s mind wasn’t so flooded with pokes and prods from her emotions, asking her if she’s gonna ever react to Chris’ death, she would’ve been a bit kinder. But, now? She wasn’t in a kind mood. Giving a stiff nod to Mary, Natalia turned to walk away, mind already busy running through Plan B.

Just because Mary was anticipating it, doesn’t make it any less of a gut punch. Several gut punches in a row. Devastated, Mary let her eyes fall to the concrete as Natalia walked away. What would Dad want her to do? The veteran hunter was right. It was certainly more dangerous than going to the movies. But, if she never got to go on a first hunt, how would she get better and more experienced? Mom and Dad taught her everything she knows. Dad was raising her to become a person who could do good.

“Hey, wait a minute,” She said calling after Natalia, taking a sporadic step after her. Natalia rolled her eyes, sighing and reluctantly turning. Mary took a moment to collect her thoughts and celebrate that she hadn’t just kept walking.“I know I’m not what you expected, but I can still help. You came for backup- you knew my Dad, right? He taught me everything I know. I’ve got nothing to…” She hesitated, trying to figure out how to best beseech the obviously jaded woman.

“I can’t learn anything new without your help. I promise I won’t get in the way.” Mary was at least hoping to learn what her objective was- then she could explain how she could help. She knew she could help. If there was trouble, Mary wanted to be there, just like her parents.

Natalia toyed with the idea of saying ‘no’ and then walking away, further crushing the girl’s dreams. But, alas, and rather lucky for Mary, Natalia wasn’t so cruel. Well, she was. But, remembering Chris and considering the fact that this is his kid, it helped sway her decision.

After all, Natalia thought idly, staring the girl down with an arched brow. The girl must have some use in her. Chris wouldn’t have taught her poorly, he wouldn’t have. So, there must be something there that can be of use. And until I can see about backup, I’ll improvise and take what I can get. A little toy soldier. Natalia’s lips briefly twitched into what could be a smirk before her face smoothed out.

Briefly chewing on her tongue, Natalia gave a sigh of false resignment. “There may be some use in you, then. Fine. You can help. BUT, if you fuck up anything or even annoy me too much, you’re done, you hear me?” Her voice lowered daringly, eyes saying ‘Don’t mess with me, child’ before she straightened, giving her one more once over. Mary’s face lit up, and then went very somber, nodding to the conditions. On the inside, she couldn’t be more excited. This was her chance.

This had better be the end of the world, Natalia thought with an eye roll, turning on her heel and sauntering away without another glance at Mary. The girl followed a few steps, trying not to skip, then realized that she forgot her hunting backpack. A notebook about the environment would do no good against a witch.

“Oh, wait- uh…” When Natalia showed no signs of slowing down, Mary sprinted back into her house, frantically unlocking the door. Natalia, all the while, was lightly chuckling to herself at the sound of the girl’s frantic motions. Mary’s mother was in the living room. “Mary?” She said, concerned.

“It’s fine- it’s fine. I’ll call you later and explain everything. I just-” She ran out of ear shot and tossed her normal backpack, grabbing her other one and jogging quickly back out the door.

“I love you!”

“Mary-”

“I love you, bye!” The door closed behind her and she ran to the sidewalk. Relieved that Natalia was still in view and hadn’t vanished in a cloud of a smoke, she jogged back to get to her side- slightly trailing behind. A small smile on her face, Mary didn’t say anything for risk of making herself sound more like a child.

She’s determined, I’ll give the kid that, Natalia admitted to herself wearily.

[essends]

---

_{LOCATION: Apartment → Salem
INTERACTION(S): N/A}

---

L y r a ‍⛧ ‍ P r o c t o r

---

Somewhere in the small town of Salem, a potent iniquity would materialize. There sat a woman, encircled by candles of various heights, each flickering fervently in the otherwise blackened room. Her legs would rest beneath her bottom, knees embracing the old wood below them. She sat unclothed, hair the color of ink, spilling carelessly down her bare back. Her expression was still, eyes agape to reveal they had rolled back into her head. The woman's upper limbs laid purposefully across her thighs to expose the underside of her arms and palms, both of which had bright scarlet dispersed across them. The blood trickled off her pale skin, pooling heedlessly on either side of her fixed body. Once still lips would erupt in incomprehensible chanting, words of Latin origin echoing against the walls, a repetition forming. The relatively unperturbed candles would now lick forcefully at the air, their flame swelling with each word spoken.

A bloodcurdling scream would slice through the frigid air, the once lively flames dissipating to curtain the room in a shadow. The woman, known as Lyra, would collapse from her knelt posture, body void of motion for an instant. Her stillness would cease, heavy lids blinking away sleep as she heaved her body from the ground. The blood that painted her wrists and palms halted further draining, drying brittle over thinly lined cuts. Lyra examined the spiraling room before her, grasping the wall in attempt to regain composure. A hand would raise to swipe blood from beneath her nose, her face growing sickly in tone.

Salem was changing, reverting back to the days of the trial. Lyra could feel something lurking, as if her bloodline was in danger. The ever present feeling had led her to seek aid from anyone who would offer. The blood ritual she had performed had linked her with someone, but she was clueless as to who. All that Lyra knew was that the being was of great power, a ritual she had performed time and time again would now leave her body almost lifeless, a spell she had perfected, demanding excessive strain from her this day. Lyra knew she had come in contact with a figure of importance, revealing the uneasiness she felt to said figure. It was dangerous to expose weakness while spirit whispering, but Lyra was desperate, the fear of another execution like the one in 1692 fueled the woman's willingness to become vulnerable to the darkness that had connected with her.

Her body would sway momentarily, eyes sealing tightly to block out unnecessary light. Lyra drifted unsteadily through her compact apartment, stumbling into the shower where she would sit and allow scalding water to stab repetitively at her skin. The blood that had previously dried, would revert back to wispy streams, coiling around the drain before slinking into its darkness. Her body ached, stomach fighting off the urge to purge its contents. Lyra exhaled a trembling sigh, crawling forward across the showers floor in order to reach the faucet, turning the knob in order to bring the steady stream of water to a standstill. Lyra brought herself to bandage her wounded arms, clothing herself in bralette that had an intricate harness attached. Her lower half adorned a skirt matching in the tops black color, a rectangular-broad strip cut to expose her thigh, a garter resembling the harness - hugging her skin. Boots that trailed to the mid of her shin, enveloped her feet, ample lacing forcing great care and time before she was fully composed. Lyra clasped the talisman that embellished her neck, assuring its presence before abandoning her home to venture out into her hometown of Salem.

---

[Lionhearted]

.

[murdoc]

_{ɪ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ
ɪ'ᴍ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴇᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ
ɪ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀsᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ}

---

For many, sleep is a welcome respite from life, from responsibilities, everything. They simply shut their eyes, then wake up the next morning, fully-rested and ready to face another day. Julian, however, often finds his dreams plagued by visions of men with heads of animals and voices like thunder. The air around him burns like hellfire, a dry, crackling heat that seeps right into his bones. These tall and terrible beings… their talons close around his neck, pressing deep enough through skin to draw blood. It hurts, and he wants to beg, cry, do anything at all, but there isn’t a breath he can spare when he feels his throat collapse and overflow with warm, viscous blood.

He finally wakes up tangled in bedsheets, skin clammy with sweat, and an ache in his jaw from a night of grinding teeth. Another day, another nightmare. Back when he was younger, Miriam would rush into his room when she heard him screaming; she’d stroke his hair, coo to him in a soft, comforting voice until he calmed down again. She stopped doing that after Julian gave her a nasty cut across the arm one night with the knife he kept under his pillow. And so, he avoids sleep as much as he can, filling his belly with straight black coffee to keep the sandman at bay. But for all his restraint, he’s not infallible, and he still has to sleep every now and then.

It’s easier, safer, he thinks, to fall asleep in school. All those people around him act as a shield of sorts. No one could attack him in broad daylight without drawing attention to themselves, and he wouldn’t be asleep long enough to dream. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looks over to the clock on the nightstand. 12:49 A.M. — the glowing LED states. Julian must’ve been truly exhausted to let himself sleep that long. It’s a little strange that Miriam didn’t come to wake him up, either. He reaches up to run a hand through his hair, but stops again, glancing at the bandages wrapped around his right palm. Part of it has grown dark with blood. Still fresh, from what he can tell. Frowning, he gives his hand an experimental flex. A lance of pain shoots through his arm as he does so, though he doesn’t react beyond a slight clenching of the jaw.

Julian swings his legs over the side of the bed, and pads over to the ensuite bathroom, while unraveling the bloody gauze from his hand. The gauze is quickly discarded. Twisting the tap on, he holds his hand under the water, palm side up. At first, the water that swirls down the drain runs red, but eventually, it turns clear. It’s an easy enough matter for Julian to disinfect and dress the cut again; it’s almost become part of his daily routine, by now. Regardless, he was going to have to rest a bit, take it easy with the rituals, at least for the next week or so. Miriam would surely be upset if he died from something as mundane as a festering wound.

At the thought, Julian can’t help but chuckle. It would certainly make a statement if after all these years, that was how he died. The look of Miriam’s face when she realised that the apothecary was going to fall to ruins lest she found someone else to help her spin straw into gold… Julian could only imagine. Still, it would be nice if he was the one who came out victorious at the end of all this. Miriam never saw him as her child, only as the one who would save her from a disappointing life. Many times, he had thought about choking the life out of that woman, and taking a deep, satisfying breath afterward just to spite her.

Peeling off his sweat-damp clothes, he steps into the shower. As always, the water is frigid, just the way he likes it. Soon, the pounding in his head fades into a more manageable thrum, though there’s still a slight tremor in his hand that refuses to go away. God, he needed a smoke. Once he’s completely dried off, and his teeth brushed, Julian starts to pull on a fresh set of clothes. It’s very much along the lines of his usual fare – a faded green sweater, jeans, sneakers – nothing special.

As Julian sits back down on the bed, his phone begins to buzz, ‘MIRIAM’ flashing on the screen in bright white letters. For a moment, he contemplates answering, but in the end, he just lets the call ring out to voicemail. He wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with her right now.

“Hi, Jules. It’s me, Aunt Miriam. Forgot to let you know that I’ll be out of town until tomorrow morning, so I’m gonna need you to drop by the apothecary soon. That new girl is holding down the fort, but I want you to help me keep an eye on her, okay? Make sure there’s no funny business and all that. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you!”

When the voicemail ends, Julian lets his eyes fall shut, and breathes in deeply. Leave it to Miriam to run off on such short notice. Sometimes, he had to wonder if the apothecary was that important to her at all. Of course, she left him no room to argue the matter either. Far from being a question, it was an order, one that would undoubtedly have consequences if he chose to ignore it.

Standing up once more, he starts to gather his things, depositing them into the canvas bag he always used. His grimoire, however, stays in its hiding spot in the dresser beneath his clothes. The recent upswing in magickal activity in town has left him a little on edge, as it did many others. Where there were witches, there were hunters, and much like sharks that have caught the scent of blood, they were nothing if not efficient.

With his bag slung over his shoulder, Julian makes to leave the house, though not before grabbing a granola bar from the fridge. Homemade, of course. Aunt Miriam loved baking. The kitchen, like the rest of the house, was decorated with kitschy touches — floral wallpaper, ceramic lamps shaped like animals, yard sale paintings, and so, so many doilies. Julian’s room, on the other hand, was curiously immaculate. The walls were painted beige, and unadorned apart from a painting Miriam had insisted on hanging over his bed. If nothing else, it served as a facade of normalcy. After all, no one who lived in such a quaint, lovely house could possibly be a witch or warlock, could they?

Hekate’s Crystals & Curios is only a ten-minute walk away from the Driscoll residence. Julian lights up a cigarette on the way there, and stomps the ashy remains into the curb when he reaches the apothecary. The bell above the door jingles as he steps inside, lips curling into a practiced smile when he spots a familiar face.

“Hey, Nyx. Sorry I’m late. Hope it hasn’t been too busy.” Shrugging, he circles around to where Cynthia was, and leaves his bag on a shelf under the counter. Julian even lets out a tiny huff of laughter as he does so, almost like he’s embarrassed. “I might’ve, uh, overslept a little.”

[cerozer0]

_{Place: Nyx's Apartment → Hekate’s Crystals & Curios
Interacting With: Julian @murdoc}

---

---

Cynthia woke up to the pounding of a cellar door and her father's accursed screams in her ear. Whatever dream that created them, these memories of sound-- no, ghosts, was forgotten the moment she made eye contact with the crumpled Swan Lake Ballet poster on the opposite end of the wall. It was a nostalgic piece, that poster; gotten when her father had once taken her to see a local performance of the show during her middle school years. It was the first and last gift he ever got her. The intense eyes of Odette stared down at Cynthia, almost poignant in their judgment, and Cynthia stared back with the levelheadedness of a teenager who could truly not care less. It's been two months since she put up that poster, two months since she settled her mattress down across from it, and two months since she had gotten used to Odette's endless, endless judgment. It had turned from a discomfort into a source of normalcy, somehow.

At least they weren't her father's eyes.

"Don't you miss him?" Odette asked, mouth unmoving, eyes unmoving. Judgment. Cythnia had learned to not grant her any sort of response until she had her morning coffee. She moved with the grace of routine, stepping over still-filled boxes and strewn about clothes until she was head to head with her favorite gadget, her 2014 Keurig Coffee Maker Trademarked. One cup of simple black coffee later and Cynthia was back on the foot of her bed, staring at Odette with benign attention.

"Don't you miss him?" Odette repeated. The glossy black sheen on her eye gave the illusion of shifting back and forth, and then Odette said, "He would hate for your room to be like this."

The room in question was the messy studio Cynthia had no interest in ever cleaning up. The rent was cheap due to the drafty factory style windows on the far left wall and the drippy bathroom, the floors were unpolished and cold no matter the temperature outside, and the ceiling was covered in a popcorn-like texture that made her vaguely uncomfortable when she looked at it. She only used the apartment to sleep and eat in any way; no work could be done here, so there was no point in giving it any order. It was a mess when she arrived and it would remain that way for the rest of its natural life.

"He's not here, so I don't care about that." Cynthia said, blinking only once as if to punctuate her disinterest. Odette made a sound similar to the scraping of metal against concrete, a disconcerting shrrrrk shrrrrk. Cynthia sipped her coffee, cursed when it burnt her tongue and lifted her head in time to catch Odette's whispered:

"I think you care a lot more than you want to admit." The scraping sound stopped. Cynthia frowned in a way that made her seem childish; she lowered her face, jutted out her lower jaw, and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Odette tutted, angry, maybe, or just disappointed, and Cynthia opened her eyes as the poster continued, "There is nothing wrong with missing your father, Cynthia."

"My name isn't Cynthia here, it's Nyx." Cynthia sipped her coffee.

"My comment still stands for Nyx as well."

"We aren't two different people."

Sip, sip.

"You certainly act like someone new, when you're out here alone, all alone.

"It's to fit in. I have to fit in, people need to trust me. Daddy won't let me come home unless I get a lot of work done--"

Sip.

"So you want to go home?"

"No! No, I like it outside. I like talking to people. I like drinking and doing the things I used to do. I did ballet last year and I was so good even, even after all the- all the. No. I like it here. There's work to be done here. I like to be busy."

Odette paused, her eyes almost appearing soft, comforting. She looked like a mother shrouded in pure white feathers and stark shadows; a monochrome painting of maternity, of protection, of love.

shrrrrk shrrrrrk

She said, "There is nothing wrong with missing your father, Cynthia."

And Cynthia stood up and threw her mug at the stained wall beneath the poster.

"I don't miss him! I don't miss that sorry fucker, that monster, I hate him! I hate him! I hate both of you!"

Coffee pooled across the hardwood floor, soaking a pair of already ruined underwear and a few old letters sent from her home address. The mug was shattered, green and white bits strewn across a field of other ruined ceramics. She would have to buy a new mug today, to replace it. Another chore to add to the list. Odette remained absolutely silent, a glossy, rumbled, coffee-stained poster as she always had been.

Her phone, which was still shrouded in her thick comforter, rang out shrilly. Her alarm. She had work in an hour. Cynthia stood and smoothed down her bedhead as she reached over and clicked it off. The cracked screen darkened, and she pulled the phone from its charger and moved silently toward the bathroom, collecting clothes as she walked along. Her shower was quick and cold, another downside to the apartment, and she finished her morning routine with a face of smokey makeup (the people who visited her workplace loved it, said she looked positively witchy, said she looked hot) and a mouth full of minty-cold toothpaste.

Back out in the studio, she dodged a few chips of ceramic and sat down on the foot of her bed to pull on her dark, dark combat boots. They were platformed and marked witch latin on the heel, a single phrase that meant "speed". Once clothed, she pulled her nearby backpack on to her lap and, as she did every morning, organized the items within. Black hair, vials of holy water, knives upon knives, bibles, spell books, teeth in ziplock bags, graveyard dirt, ash, and her favorite-- a rotted noose curled around everything in the bottom of the bag. Everything seemed to be ready for the day. Cynthia placed the spell books and more occult oddities on the top, just to keep prying eyes sated, and she stood and threw it over her shoulder.

"I'm going to work, mom. I'll be back after the witching hour." Cynthia said as she grabbed her keys and paused by the door. No response came. She left without another word.

The walk to Hekate's wasn't long. She lived a mere four blocks away, and autumn in Salem this year was cool enough for her to wear her self-patched leather jacket. Cynthia breathed in the fresh air and sighed, happy, truly, to be out and about and doing the things she was taught to do. Hunt Witches.

Cynthia considered her workplace as she rounded the corner and saw it there, just a yard away. Working at an apothecary made the most sense; where there were components, there were witches. She got the job thanks to her efficiencies and seeming interest in the occultish aesthetic of everything in the store. Miriam was suspicious, a prime target for spying as of right now. Her son was nice and probably involved as well. She was playing it cool, for now.

Cynthia entered the store and immediately went to work to help with the opening. She took up the cashier area once everything was fine. Julian was nowhere to be seen, which was expected. He was often late. Sometimes Miriam complained in hushed whispers that he was "a bit lazy". Most children were these days. Cynthia settled down on the counter as she watched the day's first few costumes enter and begin to oogle the collections of herbs and crystals, and her only reprise from the boring action came as Julian slipped in through the front door.

"No problem at all, Jules." She said in lieu of greeting, "It's been pretty slow so far. It's bound to pick up soon though. Hopefully." She smiled, all trained friendliness and professionalism, and with her knee pushed her own bag further down the shelf, away from Julian's. ”Up late last night?"

[Fallenreaper]

Location: Al’s Chicken Joint
Time: Afternoon (2-3 pm)

---

Skylar’s movements were mechanical and routine.

Fingers curled about the frying basket’s handle, gently his wrist lifted it up then gave it a few good shakes. The fries inside gave a rustle at his gesture before he dumped them. Each little cut potato piece landed within a cardboard holder, neatly thanks to the metal funnel. He set that aside as he salted the fries. He paused long enough to gave a shout back they were ready to serve. Already he was moving onto deep frying another batch. He pulled out the frozen bag, sliced it open then poured a quarter of the bag in. He submerged the frozen fries under the piping hot oil as he finished up by wiping his hand on his apron. Finally, he reached for the timer and gave it a sharp click to set it, placing it on the counter next to the fry station.

He stepped away from the blistering heat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Considering taking his break now, someone interrupted his thoughts by calling his name.

“Skylar! Over here. Baby, can I talk to you?”

Instinctively he jerked around to find a borderline emaciated woman waving her arms in the air for him. She stood at the back of the growing line, smiling when he looked her way and increasing her antics. Ripely Reed appeared to be in her late thirties, her disheveled black hair graced with lighter red highlights. She had more striking blue eyes than him.

Skylar’s heart dropped into his stomach as he commented to Tom Skitters on his way toward the service counter, “I’m going on break, can you cover the fry station?”

“Uh… sure. You owe me though,” the middle-aged man agreed, shifting his large frame over.

Skylar ignored Tom’s furtive glances over at the woman still trying to get attention. He just mentally groaned in his mind on his route past the counter, his right arm reached to tug his mother alongside him. They came to a stop at the second exit in the restaurant when Skylar turned to face her. Her expression twisted into confusion over his behavior causing her to reach up her hand, tenderly stroking his cheek.

“Sweetheart, why are you upset with me? What do I do wrong?” She cooed softly, her words forced.

Skylar let her touch him, but he didn’t feel it was sincere. In fact, he knew it wasn’t. She came here wanting something because the addiction worked her like a puppet on a string. It drove her into seeking out ways to feed her fixes, either by playing a doting mother or pleading victim. Both churned his stomach inside out. To confirm his suspicions, he spotted a few puncture marks had new bruises.

He sighed then gently pulled her hand down from his face. His eyes took a moment to glance around and see if his manager was lurking, ready to reprimand him for slacking off. Callie Whetstone only stood at five foot and three inches, but her small frame and hazel eyes gave her impression of a lion when angered. Her long, wavy blond hair was tied into a neat ponytail. Like Skylar, she appeared to be fairly early in her twenties and filled with ambition for her life. How she wound up working at Al’s Chicken Joint baffled him.

A faint feminine shout erupted over the ding of the kitchens. It sounded like Callie was chewing out the new guy for his incompetence in his training. Relieved she was distracted, he returned to the problem at hand: his mother.

“I asked you to never to come to my workplace. How did you know my shift?” Skylar asked quietly.

Ripley paused. Her arm recoiled and fell back to her side, shoving into the clean but stained hoodie pockets. She melted into confusion over her child’s behavior.

“Sweetheart, I wanted to surprise you. I thought you would be happy to see me…,” She began, only to be interrupted by him.

“Have you eaten today?” He knew the answer as she bowed her head, avoiding his gaze.

“Well, you see… I haven’t gone grocery shopping because money’s been a little tight, you see. I was hoping,” she put her arms on Skylar’s chest as she continued, “could you give me a little cash to get by until payday? Please, baby. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

She bit her lip and hung on his next statement. He could easily see the silent plead for the cash to feed her addiction, the parasite squirming and wiggling underneath the vision of his mother. It was a common image in his nightmares. Not that he had them anymore since he learned to control the space in his head.

Skylar just stood there. Silent and stone-like, staring at her shuffling figure. He inhaled then exhaled, mentally choosing his words carefully.

“After I’m off work, we can order something to go. I’ll start making meals you can pick up before I leave for work.”

“Skylar, honey, I need more than just… food,” she quickly added.

“We’ll head to the convenient store afterward then.”

His mother appeared to protest only to deflate. They both knew why she was here, and she failed to convince him otherwise. He might’ve loved her, but he was done playing her little games.

Their conversation was interrupted when someone again called his name. This time the feminine voice held more authority and anger than his mother’s, drawing Skylar to look over his mom’s shoulder. Callie Whetstone’s figure frowned from as her long legs whipped around the counter, making a beeline toward him. Skylar quickly leaned over to kiss his mother’s greasy forehead then bid her a quiet goodbye.

Swiftly he met his manager halfway, bracing for the thunder to come down.

“Skylar, why are you taking your break now? You’re not even clocked out and you know business is steady right now,” Callie demanded, her voice low enough she didn’t disturb the customers.

“I’m sorry, I had to deal with family issues.”

“And you chose now to do that?” She belittled him, then gestured for him to follow her to the back.

He walked in her wake without another word. His hand adjusted the visor decorated with the restaurant’s logo, a chicken’s outline in a bucket. When they reached a location where the cameras couldn’t watch them, Callie whirled on her right foot and began her assault.

“Skylar, how long have you been working here?”

“Nearly two years now.”

“Good, you should know the ropes and I shouldn’t have to tell you what you did wrong,” Callie stated firmly, “Now go clock out, you’re done for the day.”

“Wait, you just got upset at me for taking a break and you’re sending me home?”

Bewilderment crossed over his features at this new turn of events.

“Yes, you heard me. Consider this a lesson for being inconsiderate of others and don’t bother coming until around 10 tomorrow. Tom will be covering your day shift.”

With that, Callie twisted about to return to the front leaving Skylar standing there in fuming silence. He shrugged it off, for now, moving toward the makeshift employee closet and retrieve his things. His grimoire fell out of his military jacket, one he got from his father, causing him to pause to pick it up. The sight of it gave him an idea for making Callie pay later. However, he needed to deal with his mother’s situation before he ever got to that. He quickly shoved it into the same pocket as his wallet then finished zipping up for the cold weather.

With a small meal bucket under his arm, Skylar shoved the glass door open and walked into the daylight. The chill of autumn hit him directly causing his breathing to still in his throat. His arm tightly clutching the bucket to his side on reflex. He quietly thanked the weather for being mild today then he used his eyes to quickly locate his mother and spotted her lurking nearby. She gripped her hoodie tightly about her. She finally turned to spot him with her lips curled into a warm smile. He let the warmth of her image melt away his pain for the moment.

He stepped closer to her, “Let’s sit over by the street bench while we eat. Then we’ll go get your essentials before heading to the apartment to clean up.”

[essends]

---

_{LOCATION: Salem Park → Apartment
INTERACTION(S): @blackdragon}

---

L y r a ‍& ‍ I v y

---

Ivy was relaxing in one of Salem’s many old parks. She wasn’t a fan of the town’s Puritan founders, for obvious reasons, but at least they knew something about urban planning. Her fellow witch Lyra had contacted her to meet here, but she hadn’t seen her yet. Still, an event that required two dark witches to see each other immediately left only a few possibilities, none of which were good. At last, another young woman came into view, her raven hair gently flowing in the breeze. “Good to see you, Lyra. How are things going for you?”

Lyra felt her body dispute the journey to the park, each step sending a dull wave of discomfort throughout her. Whatever she had contacted had depleted her of all energy, something that seldom occurred. As she approached the park, her olive eyes would carefully probe through the mass of faces, stopping on one in particular. Once she had located her acquaintance, she swiftly proceeded forward, offering a weak shrug in response to the other woman’s question. “They could be worse, could be better... “ Lyra moved to sit on a nearby bench, obvious unrest painting her features. “Something is wrong in our home of Salem.. I feel something.” Hands would raise, gesturing to the air around the woman before resting upon her bosom. “Something feels so off..I don’t know what. So today I contacted something, something powerful. I don’t know who or what it was, but I asked it for aid. I fear we may need it Ivy…” Lyra paused, glancing off towards the rest of the park to allow the other woman time for thought.

As Lyra spoke, Ivy’s eyes grew wider and wider. Calling up a specific spirit was one thing, but sending your voice into the aether indiscriminately? You never knew who… what would be listening. “So, let me get this straight. You spoke to some sort of being, without so much as asking for identification. You knew that the kind of things we deal with never give favors for free, but you asked it for aid.” The redhead let out a deep sigh of annoyance. “You know, I should let this thing drag you down for your stupidity, body and soul. Good thing I like you.”

“Do you know anything about this entity at all? Did it at least promise to help you? I need to know everything about this situation, before I can decide what the best course of action is.”

Ivy’s harsh words were met with an eye-roll from Lyra, she would alter her posture on the bench as the other woman spoke, scolding her for the reckless witchcraft. “I understand it’s dangerous, but I feel something even worse is lurking Ivy!” The raven haired woman would wrench her head in Ivy’s direction, hissing her words out with force. Upon realizing people were peering in their direction, Lyra would compose herself, lowering her voice to a passive volume. “I don’t care what consequences it may have, I care not of that but the well-being of my fellow witches.. So if it drags me to hell, so be it.” As soon as the words had slipped past her lips, Lyra would erupt in a fit of hacking into her palms, the once ivory skin now splattered with scarlet droplets, but her voice would continue in a croak, “It didn’t respond to me, but I felt its presence, I know it wasn’t trying to hurt me.. I could feel it was on our side.” An unstained hand would rise to her face, fingers raking through her hair, a tick that originated from her becoming overly engulfed with stress. “I need to go back home, heal… It took a lot from me.” Without another word, Lyra would stand, dismissing herself with a sluggish nod as she drifted off out of the park. She could feel her body quiver against the frigid air, something that never bothered her before. The connection had left her ailing, vulnerable, in a position she would not allow to progress.

It wasn’t long before Lyra had stumbled into her home, moving briskly to gather the materials she needed to rejuvenate her bodies energy. The incantation was rather straightforward, she would surround herself with natural sources of all kinds, such as crystals like clear quartz, selenite, hematite and herbs ground to a paste, slathered generously over the entirety of her body. Lyra placed candles beside each gem, exhaling a few words under her breath that would bring lifeless wicks ablaze. Her body would be positioned in the center of each source, the conjuration beginning, a chant ringing out on a continuous loop.

“Tui gratia lovis gratia sit cura.”

...

“Tui gratia lovis gratia sit cura.”

...

“Tui gratia lovis gratia sit cura.”

The words would linger, as if the air were glue - the room growing heavier each time the chant was repeated. Lyra gasped, her back arching to force her head upward, facing the ceiling now. Hands would claw helplessly at the wooden floor beneath them, a great force tearing its way through her throat. Lyra sat paralyzed as a mass, sable in color, heaved itself from her agape mouth. The horrid sickness she had felt prior, diminishing to nothing after the dark being had evacuated her body. Lyra's body would slump once more, trembling from the violent sequence of events that had taken place. Muddled eyes would dart around the room, searching for whatever had withdrawn itself from her - but found no trace of the being. It was a different feeling from the one she had had while connecting during her earlier ritual. This being that had just left her body was weaker, likely something that had attached itself to her while she was vulnerable.

She felt much more robust, her body no longer quivering to the cold, the sickly paleness that cast itself over her skin waning to allow the rosiness her skin naturally held to return. Lyra drew herself to a stand, cleaning the mess that had occurred before slinking to rest upon the couch in her compact apartments living-room.

---

[dragonbutts]

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ⛧ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

&

⊱ ────── {⋅. ⛧ .⋅} ────── ⊰
_{collab with @Aamaya}

---

---

Salem. It felt strange, to place foot in this town again. It had been many years since Lucifer allowed himself to enter the boundaries of this town. This time was different, though. Salem was breathing again. A energy that hadn't been felt in many, many years heaved from the borders, curled out into the world, and wrapped around him in a heavy, warm blanket. It drew him back, tugged and pulled, persisted that he came back to the birthplace of his children. Not that it had to persist much. Lucifer and Lilith had been calling to their children off and on for many years; finally, finally, the shift in the air they had been waiting for happened. Salem was alive with his children's presence, and he was rushing to get home. Lucifer was a patient being, but his patience to see his children was wearing thin.

The moment his foot crossed the line from the outside world, and into the world of Salem, he fell to his knees in the forest. The sheer emotion he felt, from feeling his children back in this town, was overwhelming. He dug his fingers into the ground, softened by a recent rainfall, and threw his head back to breath in the chilling air. He could smell the power, swirling through the air, falling like the dying leaves to the ground, sinking back into the Earth, and making everything feel balanced once more. He pressed his forehead into the ground, breathing heavy, leaves crunching in his curling fingers. His heart was pounding as he breathed in the earthy scent beneath him. The forest that was once quiet, all the animals silent and hiding from his presence, filled with his labored breathing.

He slowly lifted his head, breathing in deeply, body shaking. He snapped upward suddenly, letting out a powerful roar, the Earth around him shaking. A wave of power left his body, his roar traveling through the forest in the form of a ball of energy that broke apart, seeking out his children, to wash them in his presence. "Worry no more, children," he said gruffly, settling on his knees and placing his hands on his thighs. His hair hung in his face, hiding his eyes, though a smile twisting his lips could be seen through the strands, a flash of teeth that gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the few leaves on the trees. "Daddy's home."

He got to his feet, so gracefully, it looked as if somebody picked him up and placed him upright. He walked through the forest, arms outstretched, fingertips catching onto the rough barks of trees, getting lost in bushes, collecting wetness from the areas the sun hadn't dried quite yet. The world seemed a little easier to walk through, because his children were back. He had a purpose on the Earth again. He couldn't stop breathing in the air, the air that held the promise that his children were out there, practicing their gifts. Suddenly, something cut through the air, something that smelt like sulfur and death. It sliced through the power his children were giving off, catching him off guard, and bringing him up short. He knew that smell, that feeling. A demon. His eyes darkened as he realized one of his children got mixed up in something they should not have.

His chest shook with a low rumble, his heightened emotional state causing a protective anger to whip through him. A father, who had been parted from his children for too long, was not one to trifle with. In the blink of an eye, Lucifer was gone, his clothes falling to the forest floor with a gentle rustle. A raven broke through the trees, black feathers glistening in the sun, one destination in mind. The bird did not take long to fly over Salem Park, children's laughter being carried by the rushing wind. The raven dove, seeking out the dark energy that did not belong near his children. Not until they could control that energy, at least. It was not hard to find; a nasty thing, swirling and pulsing outside an apartment window. The raven let out a deep croak, dive-bombing, and cutting through the dark energy. It dissipated immediately, the raven easily sending it back to where it belonged. The raven circled the apartment building a couple times before landing on a branch, near the window enough that he could peer inside. The raven tilted his head this way and that way, taking in the scene. One of his children laid inside the room. He could assume what had occurred. The raven flapped its wings some, slightly distressed, and settled on the branch. He closed his eyes, feeling his other children, and stayed perfectly still on the branch, checking in on all of them.

Lyra sat sprawled out on the leather sofa positioned parallel to the living room's window. Tired was an understatement, her body felt rejuvenated but she was still exceptionally worn from the prior events. Adorning her formerly nude body was a particularly sheer and elegant black robe trimmed with soft black fur. The robe was excessively long, if she were to stand it would trail behind her and pool at her feet, the sleeves following in a similar fashion. Lyra jerked upward into a sit, a sudden pulse of energy rousing her from her slumber. Eyes of sage would probe the room, landing on the window, curtains drawn to either side. A curious black sheen caught her attention, her body sliding from the couch to approach the window. Upon closer inspection, Lyra would realize the glimmer had originated from a large, black raven. The bird perched in a tree just outside, peering into the apartment. Something about the raven lured Lyra in, she unlatched the window and allowed it to swing outward, her arm extending to greet the bird. "Hey little raven, are you lost?" Lyra cooed out towards the bird as if it could respond, her head tilting to the side.

The raven's eyes snapped open when he heard the window unlatch. He had considered flying off when he was faced with one of his daughters. Though, the pure energy he felt from her, the closeness of one of his children... after not feeling that for so many years, he couldn't make himself leave. Not right now, at least. He had lost them in such a tragic way. He had felt their very life sources rip from them by a rope and a group of foolish humans. To have them back, oh, it would be hard to stay away. He eyed her hand, the way she extended her arm out to him, cooing. She could sense him, in some way, that had to be it. Or, she trusted strange animals that could hurt her. Lucifer wondered how much worry he could handle from his children, because this one was certainly worrying.

He hopped a little closer, leaning down towards her hand, watching her. The energy radiating off of her made her so beautiful. It was breathtaking. He was about to press his beak into her hand when he suddenly darted past her, straight into the apartment. Some of the dark energy from before lingered, like a bad smell, and he let out an unhappy croak. The raven did a quick circle of the room before landing in the middle of her gems and candles, where she had been when the demon was expelled from her. It caused his feathers to puff up some, his wings flapping in dissatisfaction. He hopped around, picking up a couple of the gems in his beak before tossing them back down. They were strong with energy, obviously real and not fakes, like many humans carried around their necks or in bracelets today. This child at least had the proper tools. He made a low sound in the back of his throat after he tossed another gem down, before taking flight again, circling the apartment. He darted for the window once more, intent on leaving, to go spy on his other children.

The sudden uproar in commotion received a gasp from Lyra, her back pressing against the wall beside the window. Her eyes darted across the room, following the large birds path, landing on her little circle of gems and other natural resources. 'What the hell is going on...?" Almost immediately after speaking, the raven took flight and she stood in awe as the bird dismissed itself back through the window. Something about the raven had drawn her in, but she was unsure what. Now she knew there was something peculiar about it, what was it? Why had it come here?

The raven did one more circle around the apartment building, assuring himself any dark presences were gone. Once the raven completed his circle, he let out a deep croak to his child, before disappearing into the sky. It did not take long for the raven to return to the forest, where he dived low, flying beneath the branches of the trees. The raven began to land, and human feet hit the soft ground. Lucifer shook his clothes out before putting them back on. He had only been in Salem for ten minutes and had to already deal with a demon summoned by one of his children. They were but children, though he still let out a sigh. After he was dressed and presentable to the human world once more, he left the forest. Soft ground and brittle leaves turned to hard cement and paved roads. The constant shift and change in the human world was something Lucifer never bothered to keep a deep knowledge of. He knew of the advancements, witnessed technology evolving, even learned how to utilize some of that technology. It had its uses, on Earth, though Lucifer would never see the appeal of most of it. Humans were such fickle and foolish creatures. It was a surprise they have pushed on for as long as they have. While one could argue his children were part of that world, Lucifer would argue they were above what a mere human was. They were something more. They were powerful and unique. They were not a mistake in creation. Lucifer breathed in, a buzz humming through the Salem air. He remembered this feeling, many, many years ago. He walked along the sidewalk, savoring the feeling, letting it soak through his clothes and into his skin. This was where he belonged. This was Salem. This was home.

[blackdragon]

Ivy returned to her little apartment and brought her summoning supplies out of a drawer. Mats with blasphemous symbols painted on them, black robes and a golden snake pendant, and a black candle for her blood offering. It wasn't her magical specialty by any means, so it took her quite a while, but she managed to get the candle lit with Hellfire. Melting the pendant in the flames, she called out, "Dominus invidiae! Magna colubrum! Est sicut vermis qui te quaerit vestra praesentia! Leviathan dominus glacie freta devorantem exercituum corruptor aether veni foras! Ego te rogamus!" A quick slash of her palm, and a few drops of oily, corrupted blood fell into the fire- just enough for the summoning. Ivy could feel a massive presence everywhere and nowhere, an entity that could only be described as... wrong.

"Hello little morsel- I mean mortal."

Ivy rolled her eyes at the comment. "Dad, that wasn't funny years ago, and it's not funny now. You need some new material."

"That will never stop being funny," Invidiel responded. "But I take it you did not ask me up from the pit to critique my sense of humor. What would you ask of me?"

"It's about Lyra. She was delving today, and came across some sort of spirit. She doesn't know what it was, only that it was vast and unfathomable. From her description, it sounds like it was on a par with you, at least. I need to know- are the other Lords stirring, or could it be something else? Something that makes even the Seven quake in fear?"

"Ah, Ivy, I'd love to tell you, but I'm still figuring things out myself. Hell is more active than I've seen in centuries, true, but I don't have the details yet. When I do, I'll let you know."

That in itself was disturbing news for Ivy. Invidiel was known to have the best spies among the Lords of Hell. If he didn't know what was happening, then nobody did. She waved a hand and cut the connection to the Inferno, shivering as she did. It's only the autumn chill, she lied to herself.

[Fallenreaper]

&

Location: Skylar's Apartment
Time: Noon (3 pm)

---

After the stop at the store, Skylar inserted his key into his apartment lock. He gave it a quick twist then pushed open the door, nudging his mother inside first. His other hand snatched the bag filled with shampoo, some pre-made sandwiches for later, and other mundane things. The day had been exhausting for him. From his recent change in schedule and pay cut to his mother’s fidgeting nature, it seemed nothing was destined to get better. As if to confirm the cosmos’ unwanted gift, his eyes spied the rental due notice among the growing mail pile inside his door.

Sighing, Skylar paused to pick up it up. His wallet peeked out of his back pocket and drew his mother’s attention, he figure edged closer. The thought never occurred to him that his mother might actually have picked up pickpocketing in her lifetime. With a surprisingly smooth motion, she leaned over beside him and helped to scoop up the papers. Meanwhile, her other hand gently pulled his wallet from its cozy home into her jacket. Skylar’s head jerked toward her direction as she smiled weakly, hiding her crime behind a mask.

“I just thought you needed some help, baby,” she cooed softly then gently pushed his bangs aside, straightening up.

Skylar chuckled, “Thanks. I could use it after today.”

His mother just kept smiling as he began to open the fridge, putting the sandwiches away. He snagged a coke then turned back to her.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, I’m fine. Honestly, I think I’ve taken up too much of your day already. I should get going,” his mother began, edging back toward the still open door.

Lucifer was well aware of the changes that the Earth had undergone. The cars, the paved roads, the technological advancements. Salem was not untouched by this change. The concrete underneath his dress shoes felt strange. The last time he had been here, it had been grass and dirt underneath his bare feet. A car drove by on the paved road, so much different from the horse and carriage that used to travel the paths in this town. Houses and businesses stood where trees once had, more feet walked on the cement-covered grass, wheels rolled on pavement when wooden wheels had once rolled through dirt. Salem might not look like it once had, but with the return of his children, it felt like it once had.

He took his time walking around, taking the changes in, refamiliarizing himself with the town that gave and took away something dear to him. One building caught his interest as he walked by it; it seemed to be an apartment building. He felt a power coming from inside, a power that spoke to him. One of his children resided here. He breathed in, eyelids fluttering. Ah, yes, one of his children, indeed. He moved into the alleyway that was beside the building, following the source of power. It wasn’t terribly strong, but it was strong enough that he could track it.

An open window was above his head, the power curling outside the window pane and beckoning him inside. Lucifer gave in. His clothes rustled to the ground in a small pile near the brick wall of the alleyway, a black cat sitting atop them. The black cat lazily stretched, tail flicking, before hopping up onto the nearby dumpster. The cat jumped onto the window sill easily from there, its dark eyes peering inside.Two bodies were inside. It seemed they had just arrived back. An older woman and younger man. The young man, he had the power. The cat stayed low as he moved inside, landing on the floor with no sound, and staying hidden beside the kitchen counter. Another beautiful child. He wondered about the older woman. Who was she to this young warlock? Lucifer did not like her, for he had a bad feeling about her.

His feeling was not wrong, either. He watched as the woman expertly slipped the wallet from the young man’s back pocket, playing it off as an act of caring. His mother, perhaps. Lucifer did not care. He would let nobody take advantage of his children in such a fashion. They were younglings, who still had to learn of the hardships that the world carried for them. Yet, Lucifer felt something hot and protective cut through him. He had not seen his children in so many years, and to see one being mistreated- he growled, darting from the shadows, and getting in the open doorway. He puffed up, hissing towards the woman, before he attempted to jump at her jacket pocket, his intent to make the young warlock concentrate on it.

Ripley Reed’s eyes widened in surprised when the cat sprang from the kitchen. Her hands jerked out of her jacket causing Skylar’s wallet to drop to the ground, making a sound thump on the wooden floor. She back pedaled to distance herself as her jacket ripped loudly from the claws. A scream erupted from her lips while she held her arms in front, protecting her face from any possible attack. Skylar turned around in time to see the animal fling itself at his mother.

He hadn’t noticed his wallet yet when he dropped the mail on the coffee table and rushed to her aid. How a cat had gotten in here was a mystery to him, but he wasn’t about to let it harm his mother. Instinctively he tugged her behind him as he placed himself between her and the cat. His arms raised and body hunched down. He readied to pin the animal into the ground, hoping to immobilizing it.

“Whoa fellow, stop. Hey, where the hell did you come from?!?”

“Is that thing yours, Skylar?” She asked in an accusing tone, her arms pressed tightly to her body and trying to make herself small as possible.

“No, mom. I don’t have a cat. I’m not sure where he came from, but give me a second.”

“Skylar, don’t get scratch…” his mother said, her eyes casually scanned for his wallet.

Humans were such dramatic creatures. That certainly hadn't changed about them. The scream made Lucifer's ears pin back against his head, his tail flicking in annoyance. Through the young warlock's words, he discovered that, yes, this was his mother. The cat backed up some, in the threshold of the apartment, and watched the scene unfold. Lucifer found it amusing how the young warlock spoke to him. Humans were always talking to animals, as if they understood each word of English.

Lucifer wondered which children knew of their true origin, and which didn't. He was curious as to which knew they weren't the humans Lucifer looked upon with such disdain. He did not enjoy the thought that his children grew up among these humans, not able to properly flourish and practice their arts. He would be sure that changed, though. He eyed the young man, certainly not wanting to be touched. He let out a low meow towards the warlock, sitting down and batting his paw in the direction of the wallet. Lucifer wanted to make sure that before he left, the young warlock realized what had transpired.

Skylar hovered in place.

His hands were still high and ready to smack down the cat should it launch itself at him, his eyes studying its movements. When the aggression evaporated from the feline’s body, he found himself relaxing. Gradually his figure straightened up after he spied the familiar shape of his wallet. He reached a hand into his back pocket in order to check something nagging at him. It was empty save for his grimoire.

He couldn’t understand how it could’ve ended up there…unless- His eyes twirled on his mother. She recoiled under his shocked expression, his mind linking the answers to his question. His sorrow twisted its thorns deeper into his heart until it felt close to bleeding out.

As if realizing the ruse was up, his mother began to apologize, “Skylar, please… I couldn’t-”

“Get Out.”

A coldness cut into her from his demand. She stood there, frozen in place by his reaction to her crime until he took a step toward her. Snapped out of it by the dangerous aura he emitted, her figure flipped about then fled out the open door. He slammed the door in her wake. The lock’s click echoed in the apartment as he twisted about, pressing his back against the wooden surface and gradually dropped to the floor.

For the moment, he appeared not to care about the wallet or the cat within his apartment. His eyes just stared ahead. It kept the pain at bay and from consuming him, remembering why he hated the real world more than his dreams.

Once the young warlock - Skylar, as his mother called him - told her to get out, Lucifer casually moved out of the doorway, watching the scene unfold. He felt the power roll off of his child, caught by the wave of it washing over him. A slight purr came from the cat, eyes slipping closed, savouring the potential he could sense from this warlock, Skylar. He heard rather than saw the door slam shut. The cat slowly opened his eyes, seeking out Skylar. The cat tilted his head curiously as the young warlock sat on the floor. He could tell his child was in pain, but alas, that was the world they lived in. Pain was natural, though it didn't mean Lucifer had to like seeing any of his children distraught. But, it was something they had to learn to push through, or else they would never become as powerful as Lucifer will teach them to be.

The cat looked around the apartment. Unlike the child he visited before, this one had nothing emitting power sitting out. Lucifer wondered how Skylar practiced his spells without these objects. Perhaps they were simply hidden. The cat darted into the living room, attempting to sense the power of anything that would prove to him this child had been busy practicing his spells. There was a power coming from Skylar, himself, but that was normal. The cat was careful as he made his way through the apartment, being sure to not knock into anything, or to not be loud in his exploration.

Skylar’s eyelids gradually fell close. His head leaned forward, coming to rest upon his chest, as his consciousness slipped away. The familiar energy licked across his skin causing it to tingle rapidly. His legs folded into each other creating a comfortable Indian style posture. The flare of his nostrils twitched, inhaling in then out slowly. Gradually his shallow breath seemed to no longer exist when he felt pulled into his domain. To the outside world, he appeared to have fallen asleep upright at his door. However, the energy that swirled around him and filled the room screamed otherwise.

The cat was on his hind legs, sniffing at a closed cabinet door, when the feeling in the room shifted. The air seemed to come alive, sparking with energy that made the cat whirl around to look at the young warlock. Skylar appeared to be asleep, but Lucifer could feel the truth. He was not sleeping; he was using his gifts. The cat took a few steps closer, peering at the young Skylar. The energy wrapped around Lucifer like a warm blanket. It had been so long since he had seen one of his children using their gifts. It was breathtaking. The cat sat down, dark eyes locked on Skylar. The cat became like a statue, unmoving, not even his tail sliding across the floor. Lucifer was completely taken by the energy hanging heavy in the air, weighing down on him, forcing him to stay and watch.

He wished he could know what his child was doing. Skylar must have something on his person that was giving him the ability to do this. Perhaps that was why Lucifer felt such strong power from him before. Either way, the cat was locked in place, the only thing indicating the cat was real the soft purring sounds swirling alongside the energy in the apartment. Lucifer was no stranger to the passage of time. He had spent many years not paying it any mind, for it could drive any being mad. Because of that, when he came back to himself, almost an hour had passed without his noticing. The young warlock was still radiating energy, yet Lucifer knew he had other children to visit. Perhaps they were practicing their arts now just as Skylar was. The cat lingered for a moment more, breathing in the air, and letting out a soft mewl. The cat didn't glance back as he jumped onto the kitchen counter, and disappeared out of the kitchen window.

[Zoey Boey]

Natalia and Mary

_{part 2}

So... how am I gonna handle this?

To say the least, Natalia could never have expected to be walking around with an 18 year old by her side. An 18 year old 'hunter'. Natalia is hesitant to call her one considering the kid hadn't even been on her first hunt yet. Chewing lightly on her lip, her eyes stared down at the hard pavement as she tried to figure out the best way to handle this. With Mary's dad now dead, that changes things for her. Natalia knows that she is a strong hunter and has the bodycount to match. But, she's not so stupid and reckless as to think she can go into all of this alone with only a baby hunter by her side. She likes to pride herself on intelligence, after all.

But, in the back of her mind she remembered reading about a hunter family that were in Salem. Specifically, last she checked, there should be a hunter in town. Natalia pondered the possible name for barely a moment before it occured to her. Cynthia. Cynthia Nox. Last she checked, the woman was in town working. But she was still active in the hunting community so, at the very least, she'd be worth trying to get onto their side and be of help and use. But, Natalia also needs some time to think and plan out her next moves and she doesn't wanna have someone trailing after her along the way.

Idea firm in mind, Natalia finally opened her mouth to speak to the other girl.

"Cynthia Nox. You know her?" Her tone was very direct and firm, eyes on Mary.

The younger girl had zoned out in in the meantime, nervousness and tension setting in on the walk to a location she didn't even know. Was this a mistake? She snapped back to reality, and looked back at Natalia.

"No, I don't." She said, hesitating for a brief moment after. "Ma'am." She finished. Another hunter, maybe? She might feel better if she was in a large group of people. Safety in numbers, right?

Natalia hummed lightly, a somewhat displeased frown on her face. But, she didn't comment on her displeasure, instead responding simply with, "She's a hunter and I believe she could be of some use to us. Find her and inform her that the hunters guild is looking into Salem and that another hunter is here to investigate." Sure, Natalia could maybe do it herself but why do that when she has an underling to do that for her? Besides, it'd be a good test for the girl. Hunters need to be good at finding other people and investigating. And in a town like this, there can't be too many place to hide. And if anything, Natalia could get some peace out of it.

Mary nodded eagerly, ready to go to work. "Okay, I will. Do you have any ideas on where she could be?" Mary asked, already thinking of ways she could try and find a hunter. Find their name in the phonebook, or something? Where would hunters hang out? Many questions. This, she thought, might be how she could prove herself if she didn't fail miserably and get lost. Then she would just have to find a way home and probably never be a real hunter.

Natalia had already been expecting this question and was able to mostly logic it out. "Well, she's not a newbie hunter so she does have some sense to her. And considering she actually lives here, she would need a source of income. And considering she is still active, she would hopefully be aware to watch her back and would likely work in a place that doesn't attract EVERYONE but would most likely talor it to a specific crowd. Most likely something that could lead her to other witches or would at least not have people coming in and out all day as I can imagine that being annoying. I don't know her personally so I can't say I know her personality. But, a somewhat chill or relaxed place without a large amount of people would be my best assumption." Natalia finished, eyes wandering around the streets idly.

As the woman spoke, Mary reached for her smart phone in back pocket and began taking notes, her thumbs quickly tapping digital buttons and writing shorthand the information that was being presented to her. She managed to get a rough approximation of what was being said in shorthand, enough for her to remember, anyway. Mary nodded again. "Okay, okay. Right. Job, specific crowd, witch related maybe, no large crowds. Probably." She smiled nervously pocketed her phone again, excited.

"Right! I guess...you're going to do something else? Where should we meet up if-", Mary corrected herself, adding more confidence to her sentence, "when I find Ms. Cynthia?"

Natalia eyed the girl with an arched brow, not sure how to feel about the girl's percieved confidence before eventually settling on pleased. The kid would get nowhere if she didn't at least pretend to know what she was doing.

"When you find her, meet me at the town library. I will be there doing some referencing to hopefully help narrow down our search for witches or potential bloodlines. And if you don't find her..." Natalia didn't finish her sentence, instead just giving a small smirk that should really be an answer in and of itself.

Mary couldn't stop nodding, apparently. Natalia smirked with confidence, though Mary had literaly no idea what she meant by it. "Okay. I'll see you there. I'll find her." She said, standing on the sidewalk, at the crossroads of both the street, and her life.

Natalia nodded, smirk fading into it's usual mask of indifference before she turned on her heel and walked away, not sparing another glance at Mary. The woman figured that if Mary actually found Cynthia, she'll be able to continue and hopefully sort everything out with an actual experienced hunter and she'll admit that maybe Mary does have use. But, if she can't find her... well... Natalia has a decent excuse to ignore the girl from now on. A win-win, so to speak.

[essends]

---

_{LOCATION: Apartment → Hekate’s Crystals & Curios
INTERACTION(S): @cerozer0@murdoc}

---

L y r a ‍⛧ ‍ P r o c t o r

---

After the incident with the raven, Lyra was left dumbfounded and bewildered, wondering where the bird had come from and why it had flown into her home with such drive. Almost as if it had a task, a goal that had required visiting her home. Lyra shook her head, thinking for a moment, she had an idea of what it had meant, that idea tugging at her lips to form a smirk. She would allow things to unfold themselves, stripping out of the robe that currently draped over her curves, a new, similarly sheer dress replacing it. Bare feet would find cover within a unique appearing set of heeled boots. Satisfied with her appearance, Lyra dismissed herself from her apartment, strolling off into the brisk weather Salem had to offer. Her target was a little shop that sold crystals and such, this that she could use to perform spells. It was a lovely little shop, one of the only ones she could find that carried real, authentic crystals and herbs. It was perfect for her and any other witch, providing a wide array of different utensils for witchcraft. Upon entering the store, the little bell above the door would jingle, alerting those inside of a new guest. Lyra hummed to herself absentmindedly, eyes wandering the store briefly before setting upon a section that held an assortment of crystals, herbs, candles, sage, tarot cards, and much more. Gentle hands would lift different objects, eyeing them with care before placing said object back in its home. Lyra had a set shopping list, needing more herbs and candles mostly due to the activities that had occurred earlier that day.

"Hello? Could either of you assist me in finding your Adder's Tongue, Angelica Leaves, Arabic Gum, and Asafetida? I have purchased them here before, but it looks as if you may be out. Do you have any in the back, or know when the next shipment will be in?" Lyra called out towards the front desk within the store, exiting the aisle she was in to approach the two workers behind said desk. A warm smile painted itself across the inky haired woman's features, head tilting curiously as she awaited a response. She was rather impatient however and would soon find her way around the store once again, glancing at other objects, fiddling with the other herbs that the store had to offer. Her attention would be captured by the crystals now, one could never have too many of them. They all provided such rich energy when mixed together, a wonderfully diverse source of power. Snatching one of the small baskets provided for customers, Lyra would begin to fill it with one or two larger crystals, shifting towards the herbs to grab those that did similar magic as the ones she could not find. Arbutus, Anise Seed and Alkanet would have to do for now, healing was an essential aspect to witchcraft. Many spells drained energy from a witch, leaving them fragile and susceptible to the dangers darker magic consisted of. Lyra knew her form of witchcraft required her to have herbs of healing nature, no matter the type, any healing would aid her after a rough or intense spell.

Candles would be next, most would assume any candle would do, but that was the furthest from the truth. While a normal candle could be used, it provided a weaker flame and less energy. Lyra preferred non-scented, red or white candles. The color was irrelevant but she loved the way the red and white wax mixed so wildly as the candle dripped. Finding four decently sized candles, Lyra would deposit them into her basket, satisfied with her decisions so far. While she knew she could stay in the store all day, she wanted to get the items back home and in place for the next time she would need them. Besides, she didn't much like being out in public with people she was unfamiliar with, while she had been to the store countless times, she was not friendly enough with the workers to get to know them. Lyra was careful not to get close to people, she knew the dangers that lurked within the world and especially Salem. People who despised her bloodline and abilities to perform witchcraft.. Part of her believed these people were envious, fickle hunters incapable of doing anything but killing... Pathetic.

With a soft exhale and shake of her head, Lyra would regather her thoughts, approaching the desk once more. There was a brief line, two or three other customers, likely posers, which was the majority that shopped here. It was a decent guise, shopping among teenagers or weird elderly folk, those who pretended to have powers or faked psychic abilities. It hid her well, those who worked there would likely assume she was some bat-shit insane cat lady who chanted nonsense, throwing lit sage around to rid her home of demons. The thought pulled a giggle from Lyra's lips, her free hand moving to conceal her mouth while her head shook is disbelief. Oh how dumb people could be, humans were so naive.

---

[Eviledd1984]

@Zoey White @BubblegumQueen

Edward Fish

Their was a strange man wearing a a black coat and thick brim hat walking towards Natalia, The coat covering most of his body and the hat covering most of his face. Their was some piece of paper in his hand and walking with a limp, Their was a gold pin on his coat jacket that was of a hawk holding the moon. "Miss Natalia? I have a letter for you" He said handing her the letter and waking away before she could question him why he gave her the letter, On the letter the material itself was brown in color and felt quite light. A seal that sealed the letter together was of the same symbol on the pin the man was wearing. Inside of the letter and on the note was written in cursive and in small lettering, "To whomever this concerns you and i have the same problem, A problem that needs to be eradicated and when unchecked can infest the world like a worm in a apple. This worm that needs to be dealt with are as you know called witches and warlocks, You are a hunter that is helping in the fight against these criminals. Meet me in a hour and a half at Queensbury street at the parking lot at Joe's Cream pie".

------------

A few miles away sitting inside of a 2007 Volkswagen Jetta, Sitting in the driver's side of the car listening to some music. ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2aeRg_yMSE ), Eating a long chocolate banana popsicle suggestively sucking on it. Looking though some files that was in a large envelope, Inside the envelope was files about the other hunters and some potential witches/ warlocks that was on his radar. Putting down the files and now flipping though his bible and reading though some of his favorite passages. Edward was humming along to the music while having his popsicle and reading the bible, He had hoped his letter had been delivered the the recipient would be coming soon. Although he was quite a patient man so he does not mind waiting for the other hunters to arrive.

His eyes scanning the area of the people walking passed them, Making mental notes of wither if they are witches or warlocks. He made some notes in a small red notebook of his mental notes.

[blackdragon]

Alright, next step. Ivy started looking over her collection of crystals. It was going to be tricky, making something that would ward off evil spirits, but not herself. Amethyst for defense, sodalite for spiritual clarity, gypsum for banishing evil- all were ground up and placed in a little thumb pouch. Next was a few drops of lavender oil for peace and a dash of crushed sage to protect against possession. The whole mess was well shaken, and then hung from a pentacle pendant. All Ivy had to do now was place a little energy into the charm- elementary for any witch. She could feel the protective power flowing through the crystals.

The half-demon took out her cell phone. “Hey, Ly. Made an amulet for you. Won’t protect against anything big, but should keep the lesser demons at bay. Come on by my place- I’ll make you dinner, too.”

[murdoc]

+

_{Collab between @cerozer0 & @murdoc
Interacting with: Lyra Proctor @Aamaya}

---

“You could say that. I was working on a paper.” Sounding suitably exhausted, Julian reaches beneath the counter to retrieve his laptop. “Got, like, six hundred words done before passing out.”

When he opens the laptop, an unfinished essay appears onscreen, the very last line cutting off abruptly in the middle as if he’d fallen asleep at his desk. It was a half-truth; he had been working on a paper, just not last night, though he couldn’t exactly tell Cynthia what he was really up to, could he? Even if she wasn’t privy to the world of witches, warlocks, and all things magical, this secret of his was something he’d prefer to keep.

The bandage around his hand, however, remained an unfortunate side-effect of last night’s activities. Already, he feels a thick, liquid warmth beginning to seep through again, a bloom of crimson slowly spreading across the surface. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should never have let it get this bad. But now, all he can do is distract, and hope that the other wouldn’t think anything of it.

“Ugh, I need some coffee.” Julian groans, stretching like a cat, before seeming to remember something. “Oh, wait. My mom told me to give you this.”

Rummaging through his bag once again, he eventually extricates an oat-and-pecan granola bar wrapped in cling film, and hands it to Cynthia. “She says you don’t eat enough.”

“Oh, your mother worries too much about me.” Cynthia smiles pleasantly as she takes the granola bar and looks it over. Nuts, ech– also made by the woman who she has a sneaking suspicion is a devil-summoning witch. “Ah, crap. I should have told her I’m allergic to nuts.” She lies in a soft mumble, loud enough for Julian to hear before slipping the snack into her bag.

“In any case, I feel she should be worried a little more about you, hon.” Cynthia rounds the corner of the counter and begins adjusting some misplaced crystals and labels, keeping her eyes on him, “Falling asleep while writing isn’t good for your health. And– did you hurt your hand too?”

She taps the back of her hand, as if indicating he should look down, and then turns to continue some restocking she had left over from yesterday.

Julian is a good kid. He’s the right amount of stressed a little college boy should be, and he seems to like her. That does not bar him from suspicion, though, but asking overly personal questions would blow away the tame and friendly persona she has built up over the past few weeks working here.

Julian doesn’t miss the comment Cynthia makes regarding her allergy, though he sees no need to interject. Truth be told, he did think it was a little strange how he’d never actually seen Cynthia eat any of the food they gave her, but it seemed as if it wasn’t anything worth worrying about. Not quite yet, at least.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing. Just cut myself making dinner, s’all. Like a dumbass.” Julian just rolls his eyes and shrugs, like he’s tired of the other babying him all the time. But slowly, his lips begin to stretch into a wry, impish smirk, and he leans closer to Cynthia. “You know, you’re kind of starting to sound like my mom.”

“I’ve always sounded like a mother, doesn’t necessarily have to be your mom.” Cynthia chuckles as she pinches his nose and rounds an aisle, turning out any out of place labels. Her expression masks the worming disgust she feels in the pit of her stomach. Sounding like a witch? Really? She’d rather die than hear such a thing again truthfully.

But Julian can’t know that. Not if he is just like his mother.

She returns to his side, ruffling his hair in a friendly but non-invasive way. “It’s good to have a ton of moms, kid. I wish I did.” Turning up the sympathy dial a tad, Cynthia projects a look of forlorn acceptance and stares out the window. Somehow, it feels a little like relief, allowing a small truth to slip out into her web, but she doesn’t cling too hard to such a feeling. It would maim her later if she let it stick around.

“Ah, I think we have a regular coming.” Cynthia says, skipping back around the counter as the shadow of Lyra approaches the door.

“Alright, fine. You sound like a mom — hey!” Julian makes to swat away Cynthia’s hand, though not before she makes a quick retreat behind some shelves.

Despite himself, he feels his skin start to crawl, almost painfully. Julian never liked people touching him, even in the most innocuous of ways. It made him… uncomfortable, made him want to rip and tear and bite at whoever it was that touched him, but happy, normal, well-adjusted Julian couldn’t do that, could he? That Julian would simply laugh it off, maybe sulk a little if he was feeling kind of crabby, but none of that compared to what he really wanted to do.

So instead, he just takes a deep, steadying breath, and holds it until he feels the wrongness in his chest begin to die down. Cynthia would be back any second now; he couldn’t afford to let her see through his facade. By the time she returns, he’s tapping away at his laptop — the very image of a hard-working college student. But when Cynthia reaches over to ruffle his hair, Julian draws back in an involuntary flinch, like he’d been burnt. Thankfully, she appeared distracted by her own worries, and he just plays it off with an exasperated huff of laughter. “Stop, c’mon. I need to write this stupid paper.”

“Well, either way, we’re both glad you’re here.” Julian shoots Cynthia a shy, furtive glance, lips quirking into a smile, before returning his attention to the essay. But just as he’s about to type his first word, the bell above the front door jingles, and a familiar face steps inside. Lyra.

“I’ll help her.” Hopping off his chair, he walks around to where Lyra was. As usual, she had a whole laundry list of ingredients she wanted to purchase, some of which were terribly difficult to come by in this day and age, and would be hell to find in the backroom. Still, he just plasters a pleasant smile on his face, and accedes to her request. “Sure, let me look in the back. It’ll just take a minute.”

As he makes his way to the back of the store, Julian lets some of the tension drain out of his shoulders. It’s kind of a mystery how Lyra has managed to get this far without arousing suspicion. Perhaps no one believed she was a witch because she looked and behaved too much like one — that was one way to hide in plain sight, he supposed.

Cynthia’s back straightened when she catches sight of Lyra. Yes, yes— she’s seen this one around before. Her attire, her knowledge, even her way of speaking seemed to ooze sin. It was tantalizing, sitting in the same room as a woman just asking to be hanged from the rafters.

“Julian will be back soon, Lyra.” Cynthia smiles. She only knows her name from Miriam and Julian’s calling of her, but she has seen the woman come in once or twice in search of some sweet smelling herbs. “In the meantime, though– how have you been? We haven’t really gotten to know each other, hmm~?”

[Zoey Boey]

Mary

@murdoc@Aamaya@cerozer0

Mary watched Natalia walk away for a little bit as she contemplated her task. Okay. Well, she thought, why were they walking this whole time if she was just going to tell Mary to walk away once they got halfway down the block? Now she had to walk all the way back and get her bike. Which she was about to do anyway; but then Natalia started walking away...this wasn't nearly as cool as she imagined. Mary wondered if this awkward stuff ever happened to her father.

With nothing but the rattling song of crickets to keep her company, Mary made her way back to her bike, her footsteps echoing off the suburban walls. She texted her friends that she couldn't make it, and their responses all seemed so terribly boring now. It was like she had entered a dimension, parellel and besides to her own. Where things worked differently. Like, after all this time, she had finally realized some fundamental truth everyone else was missing.

She reached the garage and began to undo the lock. Lifting it up with a metallic groan, she saw the dusty family car and her bike leaned up against a pile of boxes. The garage was mostly a pile of boxes, if she was being honest.

The front door opened. It around the corner, for the garage stuck out a little farther than the front door.

"Mary?" Her mother's concerned voice called out. "Is that you?"

Crap! What should she do? What if she forbid her from joining the hunters? Mary realized they never really had this talk. Mom continued her training probably as a...obligation to Dad. Mary and June had a trust, Mary actually didn't lie to her about much of anything. This would be a huge break in that trust.

With a growing lump in her throat, Mary said nothing.

"Hello?" Her mother called out again. Please, just shut the door and go back inside, Mary thought. Let this be easy. After a while, there was nothing but the sound of the door shutting, and no further noise. Carefully, quietly, Mary wheeled her bicycle out the garage and quietly lowered it behind her as to not disturb her mother. The guilt was strong, but Mary figured she had to take risks at some point, right? What else was she supposed to do? Grow up, go to college, get a degree, get a job, meet a nice guy, have some kids, grow old and die after her husband? Mary didn't like the idea of already having her whole life planned out in front of her. Unless, of course, she never met anyone nice and instead got hit by a bus and died.

God had to have more in mind for her, didn't He? Otherwise, her father wouldn't have been a hunter. Otherwise, she would be happy going on trips to impoverished nations and building a church, or going on parades, or things most people do. He wouldn't have placed this opportunities in front of her, for her to just ignore them, right? Maybe mother wouldn't understand. She would be so worried.

But if Mary got hurt...no. She wouldn't get hurt. Simple as that. She had a job to do.

Finding Ms. Cynthia Nox might be difficult. With her resources (Google) it might be impossible if she wasn't using her real name.

Still, Mary figured it was worth a go. Searching Cythia Nox, a few results came up. First, was Cynthia Nixon, an actress. Not what she was looking for. The teenager followed up with "Cynthia Nox, Salem". Ah, there. She highly doubted it was a coincidence- it was the only name that came up.

Some people had mentioned her online, and it looked like she was in a ballet show at some point. Pretty, pale, and blonde. Okay, that's what she looked like back then. She might look a little different now. Still, it was better than nothing. What was a little more helpful was a few scattering mentions of her among other people's profiles. Some of her co-workers, maybe? One of them worked at a...Hekate's Crystals and Curiosities?

Well, it was a start. She supposed she would have to try some where, first. Plus, this place fit the list of criteria mentioned by Natalia. It was weird, for sure. Witchy sounding. Crystals and all that crap.

The bike ride was quiet. Mary didn't really see anyone, save for the cars that whirred by as she waited at various intersections. Plenty of time to think. To regret, and to be excited. This was the most emotionally turbulent think to ever happen to her since...well, her dad died. At least the weather was nice.

A little out of breathe, Mary coasted into the parking lot of the Crystal place. Hooking her vehicle up to a bicycle rack, she hesitated at the glass door of the place. Taking a question glance inside. Strange artifacts were all over the place. She spotted an unfortunately dressed woman inside, with a black dress. It didn't look like Cynthia, though.

The tiny little bell once again rang to announce Mary's arrival. Timidly, she creeped inside. There was a young woman at a desk. Pretty, pale, and blonde...was that her? She wasn't wearing a uniform, so no badge or anything. Mary poorly pretended to consider some of the bits and bobs and creeped closer to the conversation with the strangely dressed customer. Mary would wait for them to be alone, and then inform Cynthia of...what? Would Ms. Cynthia believe her? She had too. They were both hunters. Mary began to feel awkward and uncomfortable. Hopefully this woman would just go away and she could talk to Cynthia...if that was Cynthia. What if it wasn't?

Fear of social encounters wasn't usually Mary's deal, but this situation was extremely tense. The young hunter in training tried to focus and calm down, and went back to looking at the underside of a rock that had some writing on it. Apparently, this one helped a person to have good dreams. Nonetheless, Mary was waiting for a moment for the alleged Ms. Cynthia to be alone.

[Fallenreaper]

Location: Sklyar’s apartment
Time: Afternoon (4pm)

---

Skylar didn’t have to use his magic to enter his domain. Over the last few years, he had designed it within his own mind and prepare it for when he brought others into it. He only expended his energy in three instances. When he brought in others into his domain, entered another’s dream or altered theirs against the subconscious’ design. Depending on the amount used, he had collapsed into a dreamless coma-like state. He was careful to avoid such instances.

However, today he needed the comfort.

He drew onto the familiar sensation of his magic. It embraced him like an old friend and edged into his core, creating a settling comfort. There it bloomed within his veins then dragged him willingly from the conscious world into the dream one. His pain forgotten for the moment.

With some effort, his mind’s eye opened to his own emotional state. He awed silently at the symbolism surrounding him. It never ceased to surprise him what often greeted him on entering.

Skylar looked downward to see where he stood, noting the smooth and flawless marble stairs. An ocean lapped at his heels causing him to glance over his shoulder. A shallow and vast sea of water spread across the horizon to meet the darkness above. The dull rumbling drew his vision back to the front. Ahead of him stood a swirling galaxy close enough that tore apart the stairs end, leaving nothing in its wake.

It all reflected his personal conflict and how he felt about it. His mother’s attempt at thievery had brought an issue he had hoped to avoid into focus. While it appeared minor to an outsider, for him it was a heavy topic.

To a dreamer like himself, it was all too clear how to solve this or risk it becoming something worse.

Casually he stepped upward, scaling the stairs to the end. Pieces of rock, ice, and more pelleted him slightly along the way. He flinched at the impact, silently enduring it all, knowing only faint bruises would show up where it connected. Skylar slowly came to a stop at the disappearing edge then peered over it.

When the hour ended, Skylar’s eyes opened. His magic dissipated into the air as he sat there a moment longer to collect himself. The silence passed in fading time until he couldn’t stand it any longer. Slowly he began to push upright, his feet finding purchase under his figure and steadying himself. His hand pressed against the door for balance.

After finding it, Skylar walked toward the kitchen area. His hand tugged open the built-in refrigerator then he leaned inside. He snatched a cola can as his fingers cracked the tab. It came open with a soft hiss before he chugged a quarter down. Skylar’s foot snapped the door shut, sealing away the fridge air licking at his back. He finally noticed the open window where he assumed the cat had likely used earlier to enter.

He let out a soft sigh as he turned to shut it and prevent any more unwelcome visitors. The day had been miserable enough already.

The landline phone rang, catching his attention. His figured paused near the shelving unit and picked it up. Cradling it against his shoulder, Skylar listened to the voice over the earpiece. He couldn’t help but smirk when Kristie’s voice addressed him.

“Sky, you’re home? I was about ready to leave a message on your answering machine,” She sounded terrible like her flu had moved into her throat and decided to settle there.

Skylar tried not to flinch while he lied to her, “Yeah, I got off early.”

He took another swig of his drink before he continued.

“You sound like you’re eating gravel, you know that right?”

“Oh shut up, I do not. I’m still getting over the flu asshole,” he could sense the mirth in her tone.

It made his grin wider. He set down his drink, ignoring it for the moment.

“So, why did you call?”

She sighed, subtly hinting to another reason other than the company. He could feel her forming the next words and silently waited to judge his luck.

“Well, you see. I was hoping to be better today, but instead I got worse. Now I can’t stand long enough to DJ at Tavern tonight.”

“So you need me to do it?”

“I’ll let you use my gear and split the cash with you. Please? I really need this favor.”

Skylar bit his lip in thought. His mind toyed over the positives and negatives before finally making up his mind, his heart taking the wheel in this. He was never good at leaving a friend hanging out to dry. It got him into more trouble than it was worth sometimes.

“Sure, but a few questions.”

She interrupted him, “I’ll give you the details when you get over here. And yes, I got a gothic costume already picked out for you.”

“You don’t even have my measurements, how do you know it will even fit me?”

“Last Halloween. I kept the measurements when I had to tailor your suit when we went as vampires of the masquerade. Remember? I joked your-”

“I’m not sure if I should be creeped out or impressed,” Skylar answered, recalling the adult joke and preventing it from being conjured into the conversation.

“Anyways, just get your ass over here. We need to make sure it fits and you need to make some mixes before eight tonight.”

“See you shortly.”

Skylar hung up then finished up his can before leaving the apartment, locking the door behind him.