[IC] *✧･ﾟ:* ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ *:･ﾟ✧*

[ThisIsFine]

Familiar/ 329 / Male
Location: Mansion grounds Tags: Ceobes, open

The warm autumn sun was just the right temperature for sun bathing. The morning was still new, but the sounds of the city echoed through the woods around the mansion like a ghostly reminder that human society was pressing ever inwards.

A black cat laid sprawled across a table, its black fur gleeming with red at the tips in the light. It lifted its head lazily and blinked as someone walked by. The man reached out and scratched the animal behind the ears, right before he seemed to remember that this was not actually a cat. Not that Ismael minded; he'd long since stopped getting hung up on things such as being petted. Besides, it felt nice.

The cat stood and slowly stretched. A wide yawn, and then he gracefully leapt down from the table. In the blink of an eye, the cat was now a man.

"Morning Ceobes. You're out early." Ismael straighted the hem of his pull over. He'd definitely gotten comfortable with modern clothing. Very few witches wore the traditional garbs outside of ceremonies now. Still, some held on to old habits. Ceobes, for example, was always dressed in black.

"I don't sleep well here," Ceobes admitted, "I don't see how anyone does with all the noise."

"You get used to it," Ismael offered. He paused before he shot his old friend a side glance. "Are you sure it's just the noise?"

Ceobes shrugged silently.

Ever since his return, Ismael had been trying to carefully probe for details on Ceobes's absence. Where had he been? What had he been doing? Why had he come back now of all times? It was like trying to draw blood from a stone.

The two started off at a leisurely pace down one of the many cobblestone paths. It was nice having an old friendship renewed, but the circumstances were certainly odd. "Whatever is bothering you, you can trust me with it. That's more or less the entire reason I exist."

"I'm not sure what you mean." Ceobes was playing dumb.

"You've been acting distant ever since you've come back."

"Well, I was gone for forty-five years. I don't recognize many faces here anymore."

"But it's not just that, is it?" It wasn't phrased like a question. Ceobes fell silent once more. Ismael sighed. "Whenever you are ready to talk, just know that I'm here, and forty-five years or not, our friendship still stands. In the mean time, I may have a favor to ask of you."

"Which would be...?" Ceobes looked back at him, an eyebrow raised.

"I'd like you to teach a class on defensive magic. There's been rumors going around about hunters in the city and I want to be sure our young ones are safe."

Ceobes smirked. "Ismael, are you signing me up for extracurricular activities?"

"No, yes...maybe. It would give you a chance to get reacquainted with the coven. And you know what they say about idle hands. Besides, you're one of the best duelers our coven's ever had."

"You flatter me. Okay. I suppose ensuring our future generations are protecting themselves is important. When is this class?"

Ismael chuckled to himself. "Today...in two hours..."

Witch / 401 / Male
Location: Mansion kitchen Tags: Ismael, open

The two men parted ways after some more exchange of words. Mostly Ceobes expressing his annoyance at Ismael being a mother hen. The coven's familiar hadn't changed a bit. He headed back inside to prepare for this sudden duty he'd been strapped with. And to get some coffee. Very strong coffee.

The mansion's kitchen was old, but cozy. The sun shined through the windows onto ancient cupboards and modern appliances mixed together. Ceobes fiddled with the moka pot, filling it with fresh grounds and water before setting it on the stove. While the espresso brewed, he silently went over his short notice lesson plan in his head. Teaching was no big deal; he'd done it before. It was more the youths that he was afraid of...

[CleverUsername]

Mira Andrul

Human / 26 / Female
Location: Kitchen

Those who asked the red-haired young woman where she was going, she'd tell them she was off to work. If anyone asked who she worked for, she answered that she was a private contractor. And if anyone asked why she was headed for a public landmark that served as little more than a weathered decoration, she simply told them she'd been hired by the city. She even had official papers to prove it! ...Or, well, papers that looked official. As long as no one looked too closely.

It was the same song and dance as ever, yet Mira found she never really got tired of it. It was fun, knowing a secret that the majority of the world never would! And even if she wasn't truly a part of it all herself, Mira still enjoyed watching the coven grow and change. Well, okay, only some parts changed. The older witches still didn't like her being there, even though her parents were full-blooded members. She didn't let it get to her, though. In her eyes, her humanity was an asset, something she could use to walk right through a group of hunters without them being able to do a thing.

Stepping into the mansion and closing the painfully creaky door behind her, Mira gave a big stretch and shook off her autumn coat. She liked to keep her outfits as varied as possible, but the old lavender coat was her favorite. Underneath, she wore a lovely semi-formal red blouse and black skirt. Normally she dressed down a bit for cleaning, but today was a class for the younger witches, so she tried to look professional for them. Plus, the elders had kind of insisted, saying they didn't want her "infecting the young ones with mortal apathy". With a grin, she wondered if there was a spell that could actually do that.

Regardless, she had cleaning to do and supplies to gather for the classroom, and she wouldn't accomplish either by standing here. So, off she went! The supplies were kept in the pantry, out of the way and conveniently located next to the food she'd be cooking later that day. While it was technically true that no one had made her the official maid of the mansion, she got a lot less attention from the elders when she made herself useful like this. Besides, it gave her an excuse to peek in on the world of witchcraft and mystery, so she saw it as a fair deal!

Stepping into the kitchen, she quickly made her way toward the pantry door... only to freeze in place and turn toward the most unexpected sight of a witch she hadn't seen before. She knew he was a witch right away; the one ability her diluted blood offered her was a finely hones sixth sense. She could tell a witch by sight alone, even if she couldn't sense anything else about them. "Oh! Good morning!" she offered with a bright smile and a polite bow. "I'm Mira. Lest you worry, I'm an ally. I don't think we've met before, though! Are you a new member? Or an old member, perhaps?" Immortality made it so hard to tell who was actually older than her sometimes.

[ThisIsFine]

Witch / 401 / Male
Location: Mansion kitchen Tags: Mira

Ceobes was leaned against the counter, listening to the moka pot slowly fill with fragrant espresso. His mind was caught in his class preparation, but that was quickly dashed by a woman entering and taking him by surprise. Ceobes turned, and almost instantly sneered down at her.

"What in Hecate's Wheel is a little human girl doing here." He spoke as if he'd just laid eyes on a rat. Ceobes had...opinions about humans. Opinions that most modern witches wouldn't approve of. But he felt they were fully justified, given his family's history with mankind.

Ceobes gave a short, cold laugh as he turned to the moka pot, now full. It lit up a bright fuschia as he levitated it off the stove. A mug floated over from a nearby cupboard, followed by a carton of creamer. The ingredients mixed themselves together in the mug while Ceobes observed. "I didn't think Ismael would approve of keeping servants. Seems a bit old fashioned of him."

With his words, the creamer floated back into the fridge and the pot settled on the counter. He picked up his coffee and took a brief sip. Finally, after taking his sweet time, he answered the question that he seemed to have ignored up until that point. "I am not new," There was just a hint of venom in those words, "I am an original coven member, not that you would understand the significance."

The change in his demeanor was alarming. Just minutes ago, he had been joking and chatting with Ismael in the garden. Now, his arrogance and prejudice was on full display.

[CleverUsername]

Mira Andrul

Human / 26 / Female
Location: Kitchen

Though the sneering man may not have seen it, Mira lowered herself in a very formal bow, still wearing her cheerful smile throughout the many insults. Such opinions were hardly new to her, nor did she imagine his would be the only sneers and jeers she would encounter that day. It was simply her lot in the coven. Certainly, she could have left at any time to start her own life... but who could possibly choose a boring "normal" life over one filled with magic and living history?

"Forgive me, sir, but I'm afraid you're mistaken on a few points," she answered, her tone still bright and friendly. "The fault lies with me, however, for not introducing myself properly. My name is Mira Andrul. That name, I believe, should better apprise you of who I am." Though they currently lived in hiding - witch hunters had gotten too close to them - Mira's parents were both long-standing members of the coven. They weren't original members, but her great grandparents were.

Or they had been, more accurately. They, too, had been claimed in the initial wave of hunts. Her grandparents had served in their place, but alas, neither had found the power to achieve immortality.

"Be assured, however, that I have no intention of waving my great grandparents' name about like a flag. I may not have magic, but I can still make myself useful." She stood once more, beaming her best "won't be brought down" smile. "So if you have need of anything, you need only say the word. As the unofficial servant girl, I'm happy to do my part." So saying, she opened the pantry door and quickly gathered up her cleaning supplies. After many years of practice, she was a master of carrying an uncomfortable amount of things at once!

[Inertia]

Location: Crowe household -> Mansion Grounds -> Kitchen

@CleverUsername - Mira, @ThisIsFine - Ceobes

---

---

Mark let out a breath, pale skin basking in the sun's piercing warmth. His black overcoat draped behind him as the wind blew it back with each step. He was dressed in his usual fare- a white turtleneck that clung to his form and black skinny jeans with not much else. His family informed him of a certain member's return- one he's read about in the history book for his 'unorthodox' methods of attaining power. If nothing else, he also heard he would be teaching a class. It was something that peaked the young witch's interest, to say the least.

He arrived at the foot of the mansion. His eyes scanned the building through sliding glasses. It was quite a sight everytime he saw it- something about the building oozed history and prestige. Still, he always thought that it stood out, in a kind of "Hey Witches are in here" way. He pushed his glasses up and entered, giving a curt nod and short greeting to those that met his eyes.

As if a ritual, he made his way to the kitchen and found two figures conversing. Not one to interrupt he fixed himself a glass of water and parked himself by a corner and quietly observed the two. One was clearly not a Witch, which was an odd sight. The other was a witch of quite some power. The male Witch reminded him of his parents in terms of the 'magic' he exuded, maybe even his grandparents. He might've been the 'returning' Coven member, but he couldn't be certain.

He took small sips and, if either of the two met his eyes, smiled around around his cup. "Oh~ don't mind me."

[ThisIsFine]

Witch / 401 / Male
Location: Mansion kitchen Tags: Mira, Mark

A single eyebrow hitched up on Ceobes's forehead at the mention of her family name. "The Andruls are producing lemons now? Perhaps the arts really are dying."

Ceobes turned to acknowledge the appearance of a young man, and suddenly it was like Mira had stopped existing. "Ah, a real member of the coven. It makes me most optimistic to see young people carrying on our traditions, when most of the world has forgotten." Ceobes sipped his coffee. "Which reminds me, I have a short notice class to work on." He turned to leave the kitchen, but paused to look back at Mark. "You are more than welcomed to attend of course."

Ceobes turned back around to offer Mark a gloved hand. "Ceobes Valcun. And who might you be?"

[Inertia]

Location: Mansion Kitchen

@CleverUsername - Mira, @ThisIsFine - Ceobes

---

---

Mark cringed internally at Ceobes' comment towards the girl but chose to not show it. So the man was 'the' infamous Ceobes. His parents allowed him to form his own opinion about the wayward witch. Mark finished his drink and placed his cup on the kitchen counter. "Naturally." He replied to his comment about young people keeping with keeping the magical arts alive. "I'll be sure to attend."

"I'm Mark," He said, "Mark Crowe."

[CleverUsername]

Mira Andrul

Human / 26 / Female
Location: Kitchen

A wide grin split Mira's expression as the two men turned to speak to one another. So this was the "famous" Ceobas, was it? She'd heard plenty of whispers about him. Powerful, proud, and opinionated on many a subject, humans especially. Which meant the game was afoot. Ceobas had made his opening move with his total disregard of Mira. Now it was her turn.

Naturally, she'd never dare raise a hand against a witch, and her loyalty was firmly rooted in the coven - hence her willingness to act as a maid. But she had her ways, learned over years of witches mistakenly believing that a lack of magic meant a lack of intellect. It was a small thing of little consequence; truly a game. It had no prizes, and on occasion, she lost.

But it was so fun to play.

Hefting her load of cleaning supplies, she turned and made for the exit, humming a cheerful tune as she went and making sure her path took her right past Ceobas's field of vision. She broke no rules and made no comment in her actions... but she did force the elder witch to see and hear her again, even if he didn't acknowledge such.

She had also dismissed herself without saying anything. While that wasn't against the rules, she found it often irked some of the more traditional witches. Whether Ceobas was the same way... Well, that was up to him.

It was a petty, childish, ultimately pointless game she played. But it was a fun game nevertheless.

[NoriWasHere]

Clara Jay

Location:

Gardens > Kitchen

Interactions:

Mark

"Finally," Clara muttered as she extended her hand and guided her knife across the flesh of her prey, "you look oh so delicious." She licked her lips as the section she cut fell from the body above. The blade glistened in the dimly lit room, covered in the juices from her prey. She drove her blade across the surface once, twice, and a third time more. All the while, a wicked smile crossed across her face as the thoughts of this soon-to-be meal crept into her mind. "Please be delicious," she whispered as she cut one final piece from the fruit in front of her.

"And if you're not, that is okay," she paused as she placed the final pound of flesh in the cloth bag beneath her. She took a cloth rag and cleaned the knife before placing it on the table to her side. "We will try again in a couple of weeks with a different incantation, alright?" She gave the log a simple pat before grabbing the bag, raising it up, and resting the strap on her shoulder. The log was initially from an oak, but it was stained dark with each incantation thrown into it. In its midsection rested layers upon layers of one particularly fun fungi. While the technical name was of no importance anymore, especially after all the spells Clara threw into it, it was a chicken of the forest. She took a step backward and gave the scene before her one final look.

She had begun this particular experiment earlier in the year. She sought to grow a tasty, edible alternative to actual chicken for the coven. One that would produce its fruit throughout the whole year and grow back in weeks instead of months. Clara got the blessings to conduct this experiment from the elders. Thus allowing her to grow and cultivate her specimens in one of the magic gardens inside the mansion. As the experiments dragged on, and each iteration brought with it their own failures, it became less of a noble pursuit and instead became one driven by spite. If the elders could peer into her soul, they would see just how far she would fall if it meant she could get just one tasty, edible chicken strip from this mushroom.

What is simple for nature to create is complicated to enhance by magic. What is hard to enhance by magic is prone to failure and unforeseen consequences.

"You all be good," Clara spoke while gesturing towards the variety of plant life inside the garden. While her experiments were a passion, she still tended to every plant as professionally as she could. Not many witches came by the mansion, and fewer still lived within its walls. Still, many would need the various herbs and ingredients for their spells and incantations. Even if that was the only reason for them to return, Clara kept everything in stock, available, and healthy. "I will be back later."

With that, Clara left the room and began to make her way to the kitchen. The night prior, she had created a wet solution, and a dry rub, for this next step of her experimentation. She was going to fry the flesh like she had tried many times before. It would be a nice, crispy texture that allowed the mushroom underneath to steam inside the protective breading. Her belly rumbled as she walked, reminding her that she had actually not yet eaten anything today. Clara always liked to be up early to tend to the crops and get a few hours of the day free from other people, yet sometimes this morning routine avoided the kitchen as she focused her energy on her duties.

The chorus of a conversation underway filtered into her ears. Others were already in the kitchen. Clara quickly stopped in her tracks as she faced the dilemma fast approaching her. On the one hand, she needed to eat something. If her recent experiment failed, there was still a plethora of food to sample in the pantry. That would mean that she can continue her work with a full belly and energy. On the other hand, the possibility of socialization. That would mean actually socializing, and nobody likes that. Well, nobody but Ismael. He wanted her to get to know the witches in the coven more, even if they come and go. So, in a rehearsed motion, a pair of headphones found a home in her ears, and a soft song started playing. In a moment, she emerged into the kitchen and took stock of who was there.

She first caught sight of Mira, a human girl with a prestigious background. Mira was nice enough, even if she was a bit too in-the-know about the operations of the coven. Clara held no ill will towards the girl, and her eyes quickly shifted and landed on the frames of a second person. This one was more known to Clara. This was Mark and he also had a family history that carried weight. He was independent, rallied against the rigged nature of his family's traditions, and he sought to expand his craft in a unique way. Clara flashed Mark a weak smile as she lowered her bag on the countertop. As she reached for the fridge she shifted her eyes towards the last individual, quickly being taken aback by their powerful aura. Clara's smile faded as she took in the visage of this unknown witch. He was a stranger, but she suspected he might be the original coven member she heard so much about on the grapevine. She lingered her eyes on the stranger for just a moment before she turned her focus on preparing her food.

[ThisIsFine]

Familiar/ 329 / Male
Location: The great room Tags: Open

The French door creaked open as the old hinges fought the abuse of time. Ismael made a mental note to spray them with some oil. Not everything in this place needed to be fixed by magic.

He slunk into the shadows of the great room, casted by large bookcases and pillars, and a fire that perpetually burned in the stone fireplace. Among company, he was always personable. Everyone knew Ismael as being the glue that held them all together: he was the friendly and comfortable familiar that ensured the manor felt like home. He had broad and valuable connections across the magic community, to other covens and creatures. He had extensive knowledge of the inner workings and politics of the magical world. He was irreplaceable.

But alone, in his spare time, he was just a man with a forever broken heart; a wound that no spell or salve could heal.

Her emerald green eyes stared down at him from above the mantel. Her long, curly brown hair was captured beautifully within the ornate frame. Her smile was that of mischief and hidden knowledge. Even after three hundred years, the sight of her took him.

Agatha had been an extraordinary witch. No one would ever be able to replace her, and certainly not for Ismael. Oftentimes, he would sit on the leatherbound sofa in front of the fire and just stare at the embers, reminiscing.

Witch / 401 / Male
Location: The South Field Tags: Open

Ceobes nodded at the young man's response and looked over as another, meeker young member of the coven entered the kitchen. It was getting a bit too crowded for his taste, now.

"Well, I'll best be going. I must prepare the south field for this class."

He finished off his mug of coffee and let go of it. It floated itself to the sink, glowing the same fuschia as before, and set down with a light tink.

Ceobes raised a gloved hand and drew his pointer finger down through the air, dragging open what looked like a hole in the very fabric of space and time. The edges of the portal sparked and crackled with the characteristic pink energy that his magic possessed. Ceobes stepped through it, and both disappeared. He may have been showing off just a bit, but also the south field was a long walk and he was running low on time.

The portal spat him out right where he wanted to be. The field was surrounded by a dense line of trees that would keep the prying eyes of the humans outside the grounds at bay. Ceobes opened another portal, but instead of going inside, he summoned several objects out. A dozen practice dummies floated from the hole, followed by their stakes. This hole lead directly to the educational supply room deep within the mansion. He withdrew several beginner and intermediate Magical Defense books, a few wands should any of the younger participants be unable to direct magic without a medium, and a couple emergency medical kits, just in case.

Ceobes stood, arms crossed and back straight, as he oversaw the supplies setting themselves up. The dummies staked themselves into the ground, the books stacked themselves neatly, and the medical kits sorted through the items inside each to ensure they weren't missing or expired.

Finally, it appeared as though he were ready. Ceobes pulled an ornate and antique looking pocket watch from his slacks and checked the time. His students would be arriving soon.

[psych0pomp]

𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓜𝓪𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷
𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟(𝕤): 𝓜𝓲𝓻𝓪, 𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓴, & 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓪

“If you don’t stop wiggling, I will break arm more. Eh?” Sterling stated, gripping the bloodied arm of a child that couldn’t have been more than twelve, but no younger than three. He was bad with ages. The child calmed down, and his doe-like blue eyes pushed against the witch’s pleading. His mother’s shadow loomed over them both, Sterling perched precariously on a short stool that barely supported him.

He wrapped the arm in an old satin blanket that had come from the “old country,” or at least that is what he said. It actually had wrapped some kolackzi from another client. Still, it was a good way to hide whatever he was doing. The mauve tassels of the blanket bobbed from the faint breeze that moved through the apartment, with its old wooden floors, oppressive marmalade-colored walls, heavy crown molding, and geometric wooden panels over the windows. It didn’t help that Sterling hung numerous herbs from the ceiling, not all of them medicinal. There was a faint scent of oud wood that hung in the air, but beyond that, there was sterility to everything. The child looked away from Sterling and back at his mother. The witch used that moment to grip the child’s arm and twist with his fingers. The child let out a yelp and jerked his arm from Sterling. His eyes were bubbling with tears. Sterling just tugged the blanket away to reveal the misshapen curve of his forearm was gone. There was no sound of grinding bones when the child moved it. The only tell that there was anything wrong with his arm before was the swelling. “Make sure he drinks plenty of juice. And none of that sugary głupie gadanie, eh?” The mother didn’t know whether to cover her son’s ears or not, but she fished some bills from her pockets and placed them on one of the ancient pieces of furniture before leaving.

Sterling stood and grabbed the wad of cash. He thumbed through it disgruntled. It was sad to say that he was cheaper than the American healthcare system, but he wasn’t that cheap. She’d shorted him twenty dollars. Fortunately, Val had decided to bunk down with him, and she was an endless fount of money. It wasn’t something he wished to take advantage of, but he was boarding her, feeding her, and training her. He’d be an idiot not to take anything. Still, he did pull out a ten-dollar bill and lay it on her schoolbooks.

Val was currently in the shower, the old pipes rumbling through the apartment. He knocked heavily on the door. “I’m off. Make sure to lock door. And keep water off of floor. I nearly died last night.”
“You nearly die all the time, GG. You’re old and fat. I’m surprised you don’t keel over just going up a hill.”
“I love you too, so I left you money on books. It’s not enough to fix attitude, though. So, just get burrito.”
“Should I stop by the coven after school?”

“Yes, but this time actually study. No flirting with girls.” Sterling yelled through the door before leaving, locking the front door on the way out. He sighed into it as the stout smell of old beer and vomit from the hall in the building hit his nostrils. He slid his shoe underneath the rug outside the door to see that his runes were still intact. It’d been some time since he’d seen witch hunters, but he’d been getting some troubling reports recently from the pigeons. He needed to keep both himself and Val safe.

Sterling tapped his shoes on the mat right inside the Rosenthal Coven’s mansion door. There was nothing on them, but it was an old habit that he’d picked up from living in rundown houses most of his life. It was always muddy on his trek to the door. He glanced around, the odd hum of conversation tickling his ear. Usually, people were still mired in their cups of coffee during the morning, but the hum of energy was—different. He pulled his London Fog coat further onto his person, it was a brick red with thin gray lines running through it. He had a gray suit on underneath, with a black dress shirt and deep red tie cinched tightly around his neck. It all looked in order, but the fashion was that of a tenured professor at a community college—if that was something that existed. His tallow hair was less messy than usual but still came forward in slight waves—trimmed neatly on the sides. Those pale locks ran into his glasses which obscured his eyes. There was a bulge in his top left jacket pocket from his tarot deck, another bulge in his bottom right pocket from his wallet and keys, and then a general bulge of his midsection which pushed his gray waistcoat out making diamond-like gaps from his dress shirt between the buttons.

He moved through the hallway with deliberation, one hand in his coat pocket and the other holding an apple. Inevitably, he found the source of the conversation. His brows may have risen in surprise as he rounded the corner to see everyone gathered in the kitchen. “What in nine hells?” he asked under his breath. There was Clara, who was well-mannered and good-natured. He also got a good handful of ingredients from her. Then there was Mark. Mark from a long-standing family of blah blah blah. He didn’t care. Sterling didn’t have much regarding lineage to lean on here, his family old and blooded in Poland. But that didn’t mean he had to respect the young man. Then there was Mira, strapped with the unfortunate duty of dealing with a group of assholes—himself included.

“Ms. Andrul, you will let me know if you need me to get high spots again, eh?” He asked, noting her cleaning supplies. "Everyone seems to be standing around for reason, yes? Why?"

^{𝕋𝕒𝕘(𝕤): @CleverUsername @MagratheanWhale @Inertia}

[CleverUsername]

Mira Andrul

Human / 26 / Female
Location: Hallway, heading toward Great Room

Mira gave Clara a smile as she passed by. Clara was one of the few female witches that frequented the mansion, and she never scoffed or sneered at Mira. Granted, she almost never spoke to Mira, either, but hey. She was also a Floramancer with a unique take on the art, so Mira occasionally enjoyed watching her work. Others might find it dull, but Mira enjoyed every opportunity she had to observe magic in action. ...Even if it was just a mushroom.

Once the bustle of the kitchen was behind her, Mira set to work. It was a simple enough routine: she started just outside the kitchen and circled the first floor. Most of this floor was sweeping and dusting, with the occasional clean-up of a spell gone wrong. By the time she'd made it back to the kitchen, it was usually time to prepare lunch, so she'd clean up the breakfast mess and set the necessary pots and pans. Today promised to be even busier, given the need to feed all the coming students. Admittedly, she'd given herself a little cheat today and bought a lot of pre-made food. Some might complain, but no one would go hungry, and that was a win in her book!

After lunch, she'd move on to the upper floors. Normally, the upper rooms didn't see as much traffic, as they were primarily for private studies or conversations. Even so, she made sure they didn't get dirty. The more "important" witches were fond of having private rooms to hide away in for a time.

Also, they were great places for an afternoon nap.

"Good morning, Sterling!" she answered the man cheerfully, sweeping along as he spoke to her. Sterling was another "good" witch. Not that any of them were particularly bad of course, but he was one she liked. At first meeting, she'd thought he hated her for how gruffly he spoke to her. Upon further interaction, however, she'd come to realize that such was simply his default, and underneath all the grit and grizzle, he was a pretty nice person. Even if he denied it. "Today's a big day! Lord Ceobas, a founding member, has come to teach a class on defensive magic today, so everyone's pretty excited!" She still used Lord and Lady titles for the elder witches among coven members. "There's also fresh coffee ready if you want a mug."

[Inertia]

Location: Mansion Kitchen -> South Field

@psych0pomp - Sterling, @ThisIsFine - Ceobes

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---

Mark gave Clara a friendly nod in response to her smile. Clara Jay was a witch of his 'generation'. He thought of her focus and experiments as odd and interesting. There was no denying her skill in Floramancy, particularly with mycelium. Her recent experiments definitely have worth as they would replenish their food stocks without having to travel to groceries. Something that may be useful in the future when hunters eventually sniff their way to the mansion.

The raven-haired Witch would soon make his way to the South Field before his eyes met Stijn VanCise. Another Witch, his skill with Chirurgy and Alchemy were renowned within the coven. But beyond that, he didn't know much else about the man. Though, Mark did have the feeling that the towering man didn't quite like him. Mark, too, gave him a friendly nod and smile before making his exit.

Mark exited the mansion, turning towards the South field. His experimental magic required alot of work. He picked up two rocks, wide enough to fit his shoes. He touched the rock, his hand hummed with magic as he 'imprinted' the object with two simple instructions. Float upwards slightly and movement. He jumped on the now floating rocks and tried to steer around. It was like using a very, very bad hoverboard but it was working well- until it didn't. The rocks went haywire flew sideways and he lost control, causing him to nearly faceplant into a nearby tree. Luckily he was able to push himself off the tree before impact.

"Oof," Mark said, pushing his sliding glasses back onto his slightly reddened face, "... Hope no one saw that."

He took out a small book from his pocket and wrote down some notes. After being satisfied, he closed the book and exhaled. Next, he began making his way to the South Field. He found Ceobes and gave him an affirmative greeting as his eyes scanned the books and dummies.

Seems that he was the first there.

[ThisIsFine]

Familiar/ 329 / Male
Location: The great roomTags:Mira

Ismael remained lost in his thoughts for a little while. In background, the fire crackled and the sound of conversation from the kitchen wandered over. Part of him wanted to join them, but having this quiet moment was nice too.

The sound of footsteps up the hall let him know that his time to reflect was coming to an end. Ismael looked over at the doorway just in time to see Mira enter. Her presence here was a bit controversial, but Ismael had significantly more say in coven affairs these days, and he thought it was silly to punish her for being born without magic capability. She had been coming to the mansion since before she could walk. Like many others in the coven, this was a second home.

"Good morning," Ismael said, his somber mood being tucked away once more. "I see you met Ceobes...I overheard a bit. I'll have a talk with him later about the treatment of guests." Ismael doubted it would help; Ceobes was stubborn and way past set in his ways. But he could at least try.

[CleverUsername]

Mira Andrul

Human / 26 / Female
Location: Great Room
Tag: @ThisIsFine

"I'm grateful, but please don't trouble yourself," she responded with her signature smile. "I'm fairly certain he and I aren't going to get along, and that's nothing new for me. Still, I appreciate the thought." Mira liked Ismael. Even with all his influence in the coven, he never really let it go to his head. Or, if he did, he never let it show. He'd been kind to Mira, and she had a firm respect for him.

She also found his various animal forms utterly adorable.

Making her way steadily through the room, sweeping and dusting along her familiar path, she paused only long enough to gaze up at the portrait above the fireplace. She knew the woman's name, of course - her parents made sure of it - but other than mentions of her greatness, Mira knew next to nothing about the mysterious Agatha. Still, to warrant a portrait like this, she must have been something extraordinary.

"Who was she?" Mira suddenly blurted out, turning back toward Ismael. She generally had a sense that no one wanted to talk about Agatha - or perhaps they just didn't want to talk to her about Agatha. Naturally, that had only served to further enflame her curiosity, a trait which was at once her greatest strength and greatest weakness. And it was a safe bet that even if Ismael didn't tell her anything, he probably wouldn't cast a curse on her for asking.

Probably.

[ThisIsFine]

Familiar/ 329 / Male
Location: The great roomTags: Mira

Ismael's smile turned down a bit when Mira asked about the painting. His eyes always held a mournfulness behind the friendly face. For a moment, that was ever more apparent. But Ismael had survived long enough to learn grace despite his feelings, and he usually had no problem talking about the greatest witch he'd ever known.

"She was the founder of this coven," He said, his tone less cheerful but still kind, "Agatha knew how important it was to make a home for witches as the feelings towards magic shifted. She helped craft this mansion a long, long time ago. Her power was all but unmatched, but she never let it get the best of her, as it does to some. But magic isn't a fix-all-end-all, and no one can beat death forever. We lost her during a long fought conflict with an old hunting clan. She made sure that her coven's safety was put first, mine included." His lips tugged upwards a little at the memory of his fierce but ever compassionate mistress.

"She made me a familiar, back when I was just a human man. We wanted to have forever together. That wasn't very realistic, of course. She's been gone for over a hundred years...and I'm still here."

Ismael couldn't deny that early on, his darker thoughts had wished that he'd perished alongside her. Carrying on indefinitely without her had seemed like a life sentence of torture. But he'd grown older and wiser, and he knew that his purpose was to more than Agatha. He'd raised more children of the coven than he could count. He'd made waves in the lives of his witches that he couldn't even fathom. He belonged here for as long as he could take. But that didn't stop his heart from longing.

[CleverUsername]

Mira Andrul

Human / 26 / Female
Location: Great Room
Tag: @ThisIsFine

It was rare that Mira regretted asking a question, but just this once, she felt a pang of guilt. She had known Ismael was older than most of the coven, but she never knew he'd been the familiar of the woman who began it all. "She sounds incredible," Mira answered, her cheerful tone now one of somber respect. She gazed up at the portrait once again, a newfound appreciation for the woman within her, and gave a humble bow of her head. "I know this may not mean much coming from me, but I think she'd be proud of what you've done for us all so far." She turned her smile back to Ismael. "Even I know we'd fall apart without you."

Deciding she'd probably touched on this sore subject enough, she resumed her cleaning route through the room, carefully beating dust from the curtains and straining on her tiptoes to reach the higher places. She could have asked Sterling's aid, of course, but given the events of the day, it was probably best to leave the witches to their work and to focus on her own. After this room, she had only a few more to go before the first floor was done. After that would be the second, which - as always - filled her with a giddy excitement. The rooms upstairs were all enchanted in some way, which meant cleaning them was always a memorable experience. Of course, "memorable" included the few times she'd nearly been seriously injured and/or cursed by her own carelessness. A tea party with cursed dolls? Delightful! A swarm of books trying to beat her senseless? Not so much.

"Ah, that reminds me," she said, nearly through with the Grand Room. "I intend to step out during today's class and do some shopping. Do you need anything while I'm gone? I'll have the food ready before I go, of course." The handy thing about serving witches was that she rarely actually had to cook the food herself. It was something of an unofficial rule that witches should be able to magic their food to their desired tastes, so all she really did was set up individual plates and trays. She'd tried to cook with magic fire herself a few times, but as ever, she never managed even a spark. Sadness.

[ThisIsFine]

Familiar/ 329 / Male
Location: The great room Tags: Mira

Ismael gave her a sad smile at her words. He knew if Agatha could see him, she'd know she had made the right call. He was also glad for the subject to change. He tried not to dwell on his heartbreak too publicly.

"Oh, I don't believe so, but thank you, Mira. You remind me, I meant to go spy on Ceobes's class." He chuckled softly as he stood and made his way to the door. Ismael stepped outside, and in a flash, his human body was replaced with that of a shiny black crow and he flew off.

Witch / 401 / Male
Location: The South Field Tags: Mark

Ceobes greeted his first student, the young man from the kitchen. Mark, he believed the name had been. "We meet again," He said. "Ismael mentioned that the purpose of this class was to help prepare the younger coven members for a potential conflict with witchhunters in the city. Have you heard anything about it?"

He certainly hadn't. But then again, he also hadn't been around. The idea of having to face hunting clans again made him both anxious and angry. Had they not suffered long enough? Had they not proven themselves harmless enough to mankind to be left alone? This antagonizing was exactly why some turned to the dark arts as a means of defense.

[Inertia]

Location: Mansion Kitchen -> South Field

@ThisIsFine - Ceobes

---

---

Mark eyes Ceobes as he listened to his words. "It seems so," He replied. The boy took a short pause as if to consider his words. While his parents disapprove of his 'straying' from their family's arts, they still loved him greatly- perhaps too much. He's been sheltered from the daily on-goings of Witches. So him being able to know of their accursed conflict with Witchhunters was impossible.

"Sorry Sir Ceobes," Mark said apologetically, "My family leaves me in the dark about most things, so, aside from knowing that there's conflict, I don't know much more."

[ThisIsFine]

Witch / 401 / Male
Location: The South Field Tags: Mark, Ismael

"Please, just Ceobes is fine." He had hated when the elders before him had enforced such titles. He wasn't a knight or a lord, not by any stretch of the imagination. He nodded at the man's response. "I understand. I believe the modern term is "info diet"?" He gave a dry chuckle. "It's dangerous of them to leave you uninformed like that, especially given our past with these savages."

Being left in dark could make people turn to other sources for information. Ceobes had resented his coven for giving him the same treatment many years ago. To this day, he still didn't understand it, nor approve of it.

"If I find anything out, I'll be sure I won't leave you out of the loop."

He happened to glance over at a nearby tree just as a crow landed and looked back at him. Ceobes gained a mischievous smile. "Would you like a quick lesson in transfiguration, Marcus?"

Ceobes struck his arm out, and a crackling stream of fuschia flew from it and hit the crow square in the chest. It immediately turned into a black chicken, who clucked indignantly and flapped clumsily to the ground. The chicken quickly shifted into Ismael, who dusted himself off.

"You're hilarious," He griped at the witch.