Amethyst

《 H. E. R. O. 》

_{Interacting: Starbright! @Jumbus}

Eliza took the proffered business card with a trembling hand, squinting nervously at it as Starbright spoke about being on stage in a month. Again, who did he think he even was, to suggest that she’d be able to perform…in a month? Terror filled her chest and made it hard to speak, so she offered a tiny terrified smile and a nod as the man swept off out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

Wordlessly, Eliza flopped down at the table, placing her instrument down carefully before she did. For several long moments, she sat there, staring blankly between the business card, her rosin cake, and the already overstuffed music binder in front of her, her thoughts racing far too fast to make heads or tails of.

After several moments of silent contemplation, she shook her head, mouthing something that could have been the word “stupid” and bringing the heel of her hand sharply against the side of her head. It ached, but her eyes refocused and she seemed to snap herself out of her stupor, placing the business card into the clear front pocket on the inside of her music binder, which had several other business cards in it. (Mostly of various violin instructors, and a few celebrity musicians she’d managed to get autographs of.)

Letting out a thin sigh, Eliza stretched her arms up behind her head, her back and shoulders popping. She rose from her seat once more, crouching down to finish organizing her looping pedals and plugging them into her laptop, absently shouldering her instrument and playing a few long tones to check and make sure that she’d gotten the setup done properly. If she’d been distracted before, she was completely absentminded now, her brain several years away on a very different stage.

The rising melody of Clara Schumann’s Allegretto began to slip out from her fingers, and she paused for a moment, breathless – it had been years since she’d even glanced at the music for it, the overly-ambitious piece having been intended for her eighth grade solo-ensemble festival, which she’d not even managed to perform at, having run away from the concert the night before… Her face colored at the memory and her bow slipped, a jarring screech between the delicate turns of the melody. She flinched, her body turning icy cold and invisible, and she had to take a moment to shake herself free from the thoughts, resetting and flipping through her notebook to the standard pop repertoire she was planning for the fundraiser. These melodies were simple enough at least, and floated easily from her fingertips, even without any real focus or effort.

---

---

_{Interacting:@canaryrose @Hitman @KaijuBaragon}

For precisely three quarters of a second, Angelica thought that her plan had worked. Her mouth leveled into a smile and she caught a breath, hoping that she’d saved them.

And then, in the next three quarters of a second, she watched it all unravel.

The first thing that registered was the pain, a throbbing ache at first that bloomed in her thigh and at first seemed to just be an incredibly intense cramp. She tried to take a step forward, she thought, and only realized the true nature of the injury as she toppled to the ground, the pain turning fiery and incredibly intense as the leg folded up under her and she clasped her hands around the injury, blood flowing out between her fingers and running down her leg. A ragged breath, of pain, or surprise, or something, rattled around in her ears, sharp and audible and pitiful, and it took several moments for her to realize that it was her own.

She realized, after some length of contemplating her own injury that might have been five seconds or five hours, that the battle raged around her. Grace knelt down beside her, trying to wrap her leg in a very fancy jacket – Angie tried, weakly, to push the other girl’s hands away, but she found that feeling in her arms and hands ended abruptly in static. As Grace tied the cloth around her leg, tight enough to try to stop the bleeding or slow it some, she flinched, biting down on her tongue to stifle the cry of pain as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She had no idea how to handle this kind of pain, and it was obvious. Grace was in pain too, she imagined, as her eyes refocused somewhat and she caught a glimpse of the flakey grey skin on the other woman’s hand. She just had to get it together, and put a brave face on and get in there and fight. Everyone else was being hurt and taking it. She was the weak link.

She managed her bravado for what felt like three seconds before Tom hoisted her up. Stars burst behind her eyes and she cried out, collapsing against his side. Thankfully, he could use gravity to help carry her, and probably was, given that she’d effectively turned to deadweight in his hands. Her whole body trembled against his side but she – she had to try. No sooner had she managed to begin hobbling along, or at least move her legs in a way that didn’t seem immediately detrimental, than she suddenly lost her balance and was grabbed by Grace, or Patricia, or someone? and pulled away, Vinnie crashing through the ceiling and inciting another fight…

She cursed, trying to hold herself upright, every instinct screaming at her to try to help even though she could scarcely see, her vision blurring just beyond her nose as she peered at Patricia- or was it Grace? She couldn’t see, but she mumbled out a slurred apology with a tongue that wouldn’t quite cooperate, her limbs refusing to function and even try to help them carry her.

Dead weight, literally.

Dimly, she recognized a snarky voice behind them, though the onslaught of noise rattling around her brain had become as tinny and distorted as it was through the office intercom. Blake. She’d know him anywhere. The heat in the room rose sharply, for a moment warding off even the chill and numbness that filled her limbs and the back of her mind. A laugh, a confused and bitter laugh, bubbled up from somewhere in her chest as she watched the fire blooming around his hands.

Blake was here to save them.

As she watched, her eyes drying and once again fading to a blur, the terrified laughter and tears continued to build, sending waves of pain through her body with every moment and stealing her breath. She found she couldn’t stop it, not until Blake approached them, the battle seemingly won. Tears streaming down her face, body shaking with hiccups and adrenaline and pain, she leaned into his touch for the brief moment he was there, trying to say something to the effect of, “Hi, cupcake,” but managing only a pitiful whimper.

And then, inevitably, Vinnie returned.

She choked on a cry as Blake pulled away from her, her body weakly, dumbly trying to follow him. Her weight settled firmly on the injured leg which buckled under her, pulling her (and likely Grace, who had so far done an admirable job of holding her up) down to the ground. She hit the floor hard, choking on a cry as pain bloomed in her thigh and hip, but she tried vainly to push herself up onto her hands, and quickly found that her body seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and her hands seemed made of rubber and utterly detached from the same plane of existence as the rest of her.

I have to help him. I have to.

She squirmed on the ground, fighting the waves of dizziness and nausea and pain that tried to keep her pinned, and in doing so rolled just wrong over the injury. Pain bloomed in white lightning bolts behind her eyes, and as Patricia began to sing, what was left of her vision darkened to black.

I’m sorry, everyone. I’ve let you all down.

《 H. E. R. O. 》

_{Interacting: Starbright! @Jumbus}

Eliza gawped at him, and how casually he mentioned announcing the album on her stream. Didn’t – didn’t he have PR people, and stuff, handling his image? Wouldn’t he have to – have to ask them, or something?

The color drained from her face, already fair complexion nearly matching the sheets of music strewn around. He really - he thought it would be this easy, to get her ready to be on stage? Really? Three years of therapy and a variety of techniques hadn’t been successful…but the promise of stardom was supposed to be. Right….

As he turned around to face her again, she stared at him blankly. “You want – me to announce the album. Your album. On my stream. I have – I m-m-mean I’d – I’d love to, but – but – I only – I only have two thousand, t-t-two thousand followers!” She could barely get the words out, she was so terrified (and some part of her, deep down, excited). “Won’t your, your – your PR people, won’t they b-be – don’t you have to announce it y-y-yourself?”

---

---

_{Interacting:@canaryrose @Hitman @KaijuBaragon}

In the moment when Tommy’s gaze met hers, his face morphed into some incomprehensible anger, Angie felt all hope leave her body, all of her usual rationality and pragmatics replaced by pure panic. Her arms and legs felt they’d turned to slush, and afforded little resistance to Tommy as he wrenched her arms behind her back, goons falling into line around them.

A liability. The word flitted around in Angie’s memory, lurking somewhere behind her apparently heartbroken stare. She’d done it, again.

Again.

Another fucked-up mission. The only kind of mission where she was any good in the field, and she’d fucked it up. Again.

This time, Powers probably wasn’t going to try to get her out. She remembered vividly how angry he’d been, the last time she’d messed up. That rescue had required Division X, and had generally been more of a headache than anyone had been ready for. At least this didn’t seem it would be that bad…hopefully.

Still. She’d thought she was getting better at her job since then… but apparently, not. Thoughts of Blake flitted in front of her mind’s eye – when they’d both been teens, he’d made fun of her for getting caught, and needing rescued. On her first mission, at that. Guilt overwhelmed her, and she glared over her shoulder at Tommy, furious at herself for even thinking to have used seduction for this part of the mission. How dare she betray Blake like that.

So lost in her thoughts was she that she was taken completely off-guard by the nauseating feeling of sharply losing her sense of “down”. As she drifted into a somersault from the force of Tommy’s push, unable to stop herself, she got a very good glimpse of Hero’s own Tom and Tommy struggling, hearing the crunch of Tom’s face behind Tommy’s knuckles. She winced, and then gasped out in pain herself as Tom turned the gravity back on, dropping both of them back to the floor. At least she didn’t fall nearly as hard as Tommy did, she noted, cringing at the cracking sound that came from his impact.

As she struggled to her feet, trying to force air back into her lungs, she glanced to Patricia, her gaze softening as she took in how worried the young teen was; poor thing seemed terrified and overwhelmed. It was her first undercover operation, and all, Angie knew, and she extended a hand and a soft smile in the moment, trying to offer some advice to help the younger girl keep a level head.

All of her reassurances died on her lips, however, as Vinnie Gugliano himself stepped into the corridor, a gun in his hand. Grace hit the floor pretty quickly, she saw, and Patricia soon followed, though the younger girl looked both terrified and furious… That wasn’t good.

She glanced to Tom, then back to Vinnie, weighing her options. Have to buy some time. I have to buy some time. If they separate us we’re done. I – what – what can I do? After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a second, a thought wormed its way into her mind.

She’d go quietly, alright. Though it was absolutely too late to go un-caught, she put her powers on fully, focused on Vinnie and Tommy alone, as well as any goons who might be about to enter the area. Her hands away from her sides as nonthreateningly as she could, she placed herself between the trio of other heroes and Vinnie, moving towards him slowly, trying not to flinch away from the gun. Her fear and anger and guilt and frustration at herself all bubbled up in the form of tears, spilling over her lower lashes and beginning to drag her mascara and eyeliner down her cheeks. “Please, you don’t have to do that. You don’t have to- you d-don’t have to be this violent.” Her voice shook heavily, the tears and emotion lacing her tone entirely authentic for once. “Please, you don’t have to take the rest of them. It’s my fault we’re even here. Let them go, just take – just take me, and let them go, and we won’t bring – they won’t bring ICOSA down on your head.” She did not really believe a word she said, and it was apparent in her tone that she had no real hope of rescue, but she had to get him talking and his men to not drag her friends away to such horrors as torture and certain death…

《 H. E. R. O. 》

_{Interacting: @canaryrose @Hitman @KaijuBaragon @Danvers @Infinite Cosmos}

Angelica filed away the knowledge about Zero, watching Tommy through her long eyelashes, her face arranged in an attentive expression. So he did have a heart… She felt a flash of very real sympathy. “I can understand that,” she murmured, gaze finding his. “Whenever human lives are involved it gets…more difficult, to be certain. Do you have any idea what happens to these heroes? When Zero takes them, I mean.”

At his joke about being old-fashioned, she laughed. Blake says the same thing, she wanted to say, but forced the thought of him out of her mind. A pang of guilt stabbed her through the heart as Tommy brought her hand to his face, and her smile ever so briefly faltered. Eager to brush that aside and continue convincing him with her acting, however, she somewhat bashfully nodded, ducking her face demurely. “You really are a gentleman, you know. A real charmer.” Sorry, Blake. I love you, cupcake, I love you so much.

A prickle of unease settled in her stomach as she agreed, but before she could dwell on it too long his lips brushed against the back of her hand. Warm and smooth and perfectly respectful. A knot of sadness settled in the back of her throat and tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered Blake doing the same not long after they had first begun seeing each other…

And then she felt her heart fall out of her body as he pulled his lips away from her knuckles. That’s his power, you imbecile. You read his file! How could you be so stupid?! I swear… he knows. You blew it.

You blew it.

The realization was a quiet one that settled in a numbness in her limbs. She forgot how to breathe. Arranging her face into a wide-eyed, breathless expression (that awfully betrayed how terrified she suddenly was!) she took half a step away from Tommy, attempting to gently retrieve her hand from his grasp. She could play this one off. She absolutely could just – play this one off, right? Right? A nervous tremor settled into her ankles and hands as she demurely eyed the young man, trying to posture herself as vulnerably and innocently as possible.

The Sisters of the Dying Branch

@sassy1085 HELL YES ANOTHER ENBY WITCHLING I AM H E R E F O R I T 💜

The Sisters of the Dying Branch

Rhys Lockhart

_{Faceclaim: Matthew Clavane || Color Code: #ffd9a8}

Name:
Soren Rhysande Lockhart
_{Usually they go by Rhys (pronounced “reese”) though they have a plethora of nicknames based off their first name.}

Gender / Preferred Pronouns:
Genderfluid (they/them)
_{Sometimes it changes between binary pronouns, too – they wear a leather cord necklace with a color-coded pendant for anyone who cares.}

Age:
Eighteen.
_{Being a smartass, four and a half.}

Birthday:
29th February.
_{Leap-day babe!}

Sexuality:
Pansexual
_{They like everyone and anyone, what else can be said?}

Appearance:
Tall and gangly at six feet, two inches, with knobbly limbs and a slender frame that lacks muscle definition entirely, Rhys perpetually conducts themself as though they have no idea where their limbs are. Their hair, brown and curly and almost always tamed into a bun, falls to their shoulder blades when it is freed from its prison. Well-defined brows and a delicately pointed, clean-shaven jaw frame soft lips, a strong nose, and expressive dark-brown eyes. Their face and the rest of their body are covered in a healthy sprinkling of freckles, and though their skin is of a shade that could tan easily it remains rather fair from a general lack of sunlight.

Regarding attire, the short answer is "it varies". They're usually clad in some hybrid of comfort and style, usually to about a business-casual standard, but what comprises the wardrobe varies tremendously in shape and cut. Much of it is comprised of solid color sweaters over white or cream button shirts, or sometimes a vest in place of the sweater, and a variety of trousers or knee-length pleated skirts. Overall, their silhouettes could best be described as somewhat old-fashioned. They're fond of neutrals and soft, desaturated warm colors, preferring brown and beige and warm grey over black or cool blue. Brown leather loafer shoes and a classy, gold-faced watch (a graduation present from their almost-twin) are staples of their wardrobe.

As mentioned above, they wear a thin leather cord necklace with a simple acrylic circle pendant threaded through it, for at-a-glance reference about preferred pronouns - a peach-pink one for feminine pronouns, pale green for neutral ones, and dark red for masculine ones. Most often they wear the green one, or none at all; if they have to go in public they rather like confusing strangers about their gender.

Personality:
Soft-spoken and gentle would be the first words most would use to describe Rhys. They're gently outgoing and very supportive of their clanmates, especially the younger ones. Growing up their whole life in a small town, they're quick to consider everyone as a friend or like family, and this has spilled over into the coven, though they've hardly been a part of it for very long. They're incredibly slow to anger and quick to forgive. Stubborn and deep-set in their non-confrontational patterns, others have said on occasion that it is impossible to get a rise out of them, save for when they're actively panicking.

Generally, Rhys is fairly assured of themself, moving through the world with the grace and confidence of someone unaware of the dark. There is little that has happened in their fairly insular world that has shaken their sense of self, and they've always been met with love and acceptance in their appearance and presentation. Because of this, they can seem a little bit naive or oblivious to how cruel the world can really be. Magic, similarly, has only ever been viewed through a positive and altruistic lens by them; they're entirely unaware of how badly it can be corrupted.

Moving so far across the world has turned their life upside down, but they confront the new situation optimistically and courageously all the same. After all, they've never had an experience like this that's turned out badly, right? And having a friendly face amid all the chaos certainly helps, too...

Biography:
Raised by a young single mother and an unknown father, one would have expected Rhys to have a hard early life. This could not have been further from the truth, however. They were born into the loving and tiny community of Tide Mills, a believed ghost town in England, to their parent Saige Lockhart. Saige was a first-generation witch, she believed, though had the lineage been traced back through several mundane generations there would have been clear ties to the still-powerful Lockhart family of the midwestern parts of Britain.

The town of Tide Mills had once been deemed unfit for human living, and evacuated, but by the time of Rhys's birth there was in fact a thriving miniature coven. After years and years of thankless tending, cleaning up the remains of human waste and expending an incredible amount of energy, it seemed the earth chose to give back. A sapling that had been planted in the foundations of the old mill had bloomed into a glistening wellspring, leaves of iridescent silver set on a trunk of bronze, the plant shaded from curious humans by the crumbling brick walls and general apparent squalor of the region, and from magical beings by the remoteness and small size of it. While some wellsprings could support several hundred members, theirs was clearly not one of such note, and left all but the most desperate eager to pass it by in pursuit of other targets.

By the time of Rhys's birth, the Miltide Sisterhood had drawn up about a dozen members, all of whom lived a very, very close-knit circle. Life was good, amid a glowing and brand-new village glamoured into apparent squalor. Rhys had a lovely, nurturing, doting upbringing, though they were dreadfully lonely as the only child for most of their early years. The witches of the sisterhood did their best to provide what they could by way of play and stimulation, and Rhys had no shortage of lovely charmed toys and things to experience and explore, but they still craved the contact of another person their age.

Their prayers for a playmate were answered when they were seven, with the arrival of a new witchling. Kai, they were called, and like Rhys in that they didn't have much of a fondness for roles and standards assigned at birth. The children formed a fast friendship, catalyzed by their matching given names, and further solidified when they realized that their birth dates matched to the hour.

For seven years, all went well, and then they didn't. The not-twins (as Saige had taken Kai in like they were her own child) got in trouble for going too far, exploring a forbidden part of the coastline. Kai had nearly drowned after a bridge had collapsed under them, which angered the coven elders as a needless and foolish injury. When they finally made it home and were faced down by the elders, Rhys accepted the punishment they were given quite placidly but Kai did not. The resulting argument and escalation to powers had the foster witchling expelled from the sisterhood and sent on to another.

After that, things were never quite the same; Saige grieved for her lost second child - as that had been what Kai had seemed to her - but was not allowed to publicly show it. It manifested, though, not in cruelty but in an almost smothering kindness both to Rhys and to the other children (of which there were by now three, ranging in age from two to six). Still, it wasn't enough to sate Saige's wandering maternal instinct.

Privately, Rhys believes that their parent went mad with the desire to search for Kai. About five months after their not!sibling was expelled, they quietly left the coven in the dead of night, too, turning their back on the only family they'd ever had. The following three years were spent on the road, dwelling a few days or weeks with a variety of covens throughout the United Kingdom - usually small sisterhoods; they knew better than to get involved with the biggest, it seemed. As they went, Rhys had the opportunity to dabble in many, many different kinds of magic, beyond the ones they'd been able to practice in the limited time and resources their tiny coven had had. They quickly fell in love with the art of threadwork, which they learned from a kindly old lady they'd briefly stayed with during their time in London.

Just two months ago, Rhys and Saige's paperwork for America came in, and they made the journey - Saige's intuition had said that they would find Kai across the ocean. And they did, in the arms of the Sisters of the Dying Branch. With no money, no power left from their wellspring, and their family reunited, they threw themselves upon the mercy of the coven, though its a far larger community than either of them have ever been involved in before.

Notable Rumors:
I: Rhys's mother killed a member of their old coven in a fit of jealousy, and that's why no one else has taken them in.
_{(This one is untrue, and Rhys is quick to defend their mother, always, though Saige seems to have just accepted it.)}

II: Rhys and Kai are actually dating.
_{(They're not. That's like dating your twin sibling. Ewwwww.)}

III: Rhys can talk to animals, and that's why they adore the bird flocks and so on so much.
_{(They're working on it, okay? It's a new skill and a new use of magic, as far as they know.)}

Greatest Fear:
Drowning.
_{Rhys is terrified of drowning (ironic, considering that the wellspring is a lake, and all of that.) Having watched their notsibling fall off the edge of a waterfall and nearly drown was the most traumatic experience of their life. Their anxiety around any body of water larger than a bathtub or deeper than a puddle is debilitating, or around any sort of ruunning water, to the point where they often need to ask one of the other coven members to retrieve the water they need for their recipes and charms.}

Magic:
Rhys is overall very fond of domestic applications of their skills. They care little for curses or flashy displays of glamour, and do not even practice the former. The latter they do with some minor charms, however.

Best Skill: Kitchencraft
The skill that comes easiest to Rhys is absolutely kitchencraft. It's their term for an intersection of enchanting, charms, and potionsmaking, in a sense, or more accurately the amalgamation of all of the above into the production of consumable goods. They make breads and crackers that are enchanted to provide a day's energy, herbal teas with all manner of calming or energizing effects, and beverages and dessert cakes that, at will, morph into whatever the consumer would like them to be. Other skills related include making a broth of scraps to be as tasty and filling as a hearty stew, and notably they have also worked with transmuting plant-based foods like tofu into animal-like ones, because they do not really have the heart to kill a living creature for food.

Favorite Skill: (Needlework) Charms
While others might find it tedious and attention- and energy-sapping, Rhys revels in the time they are able to spend in the library or in a well-shaded part of the garden, spinning threads drenched in wellspring water and stitching them carefully into intricate and layered designs with a variety of threadwork techniques. They've chosen to specialize in needlework charms, which few others do on account of the time commitment and attention to detail required.

Because of the possibilities of layering and wide nuances of effects (colors of threads, material of threads, spun clockwise or counterclockwise, types of stitches, and so on) in addition to the incredible time commitment each charm takes, Rhys's work is remarkably powerful and intricate. Due to the absorbent nature of the materials, as well, it is simple enough to recharge a spent charm with a generous sprinkling of wellspring water.

Neutral Skill: Elemental Casting
Rhys is remarkably average at elemental casting. They don't have great destructive power, but they're accurate enough when they choose to use it and have decent mastery over the four elements. Fire is their strongest, followed by earth, water, and lastly air, though the difference in their control between the four is rather minimal.

Least-Favorite Skill: Astral Projection
If Rhys could be said to HATE any magic skill, it would be anything to do with projection or teleportation. They get incredibly nauseous from the process and often end up laid-up with migraines as a result. The fear of the process and its effects have rendered them loathe to even try it unless it's life-or-death.

Worst Skill: Anything Divination
They can make awesome loose-leaf teas for anyone who asks, but - actually reading the remnants left in the cup? Ha. Hahahahaha. No. They managed to give themselves a papercut on every finger the last time they tried to use a tarot deck, and dropped a pendulum (and shattered it into thirteen pieces) the last time they tried THAT. The long and short of it is that they SUCK at divination, and will likely hurt themself and anyone else who's watching if they continue to try to master it.

Other:
Rhys does not have a familiar; however, they are quite fond of feeding the birds and other small wildlife in the vicinity of the coven house. Most mornings will find them out in the front garden with a satchet of birdseed and several sparrows perched on or around them - it's one of the only times they enjoy being outside.

Kai Gallagher

_{Faceclaim: Lachlan Watson || Color Code: #a570e0}

Name:
Seren Nikaia Gallagher
_{They go by Kai or rarely Nik, never ever EVER their first name.}

Gender / Preferred Pronouns:
Nonbinary (they/them)
_{They have been known to not correct people, for fear of retribution or misunderstandings, but if you use the right ones it'll make them VERY happy.}

Age:
Eighteen.
_{They've told people that they're four before, to make them fuck off, though.}

Birthday:
29th February.
_{Leap-day births are cool and magical!}

Sexuality:
Sapphic Asexual??
_{They think girls are the most beautiful and graceful thing to exist on the planet, but have no interest in ...canoodling.}

Appearance:
Whether or not it's true, one would be forgiven for thinking Kai is of fae descent. They're positively diminutive, standing a mere four feet and eight inches, with the slightest of gentle points to their ears and canine teeth that could as easily be a normal human mutation as a result of some other influence. Despite their tiny stature, however, they carry themself with a boisterous and optimistic energy; they're easily one of the most notable people in a room.

They have an impish grin and prominent dimples in both cheeks, a button nose, and wide set blue eyes, set under rather thin, high-arched brows. Their hair is curly and kept in a pixie cut or buzzed off entirely, usually swept away from their face and rarely pinned in place, more often gelled. It's a dark brown naturally, but depending on their mood they often glamour it to a tint of violet or blue. Their eyes naturally are a light blue, but they similarly will glamour them, for fun.

Their attire is all over the place, mostly favoring oversized and generally loose-fit sweaters and hoodies, vibrantly colored and often with some witticism or political statement emblazoned on the front. When they must dress up they have been known to wear dresses or suits with equal ease.

Personality:
Kai is a spunky and determined young person who is never afraid to speak their mind and make their voice heard. Fun-loving and stubborn, they're incredibly outgoing and are easily excitable by nearly any matter. While elders have named them argumentative and confrontational, they just consider themself self-assured and aware of what they want. They would say they are wise and well-adjusted to the world for their age, having lived in so many different places and traveled so much.

They have an insatiable thirst for adventure, and can make the most mundane things seem magical. It would be said that Kai has an infatuation with human cultures and politics, having had glancing contact with a HUGE variety of normal humans in the foster system and finding them altogether too fascinating to leave alone.

They crave independence, having bounced between foster homes and never been given the freedom to choose their future or family for themself. Even now being eighteen, they’ve had no opportunity to spread their wings and they’re chomping at the bit to get out of the coven house; hopefully, once one of the elders decides they’re ready for fully fledged witchhood, they’ll be allowed to go and explore more freely.

Biography:
Kai's story began with them a swaddled infant on the doorstep of a human orphanage, with only a birth certificate that had at first been deemed forged for the fantasy-like names of both mother and infant, signed from a hospital not in the city. Kai never knew their biological parents, and that was fine - they were in a busy home, for their first few years of consciousness, before the foster system swept them up. For the most part, it suited them well enough, and their early childhood was fairly uneventful, if scattered among several different families and lifestyles.

When they were seven, that changed dramatically. Their most recent placement was not a particularly great home, with a tense relationship between the biological children and the fostered ones. When one of the older children punched the youngest sibling for not surrendering a toy, Kai rushed to his aid. They held their grade-school recorder in their hand, having been practicing - music homework was the only thing they were motivated to do without prompting, even at this early age - and brought it to their lips, initially intending just to make the loudest squeak they could to hurt their older sister's sensitive hearing without touching her. But before they knew it, she was on the floor screaming in pain, blood trickling down the sides of her face from her ears.

After this, the foster family sent Kai away, and within a week, a young woman who said she was from the town of Tide Mills came seeking them by name. Eager to get rid of the troublemaker, paperwork was quickly signed and their custody was turned over to the Miltide Sisterhood.

It was the single-best thing that could have happened in Kai's life; they were suddenly surrounded by people who - though wary at first - supported and loved them and were completely understanding of what had happened. They were, in fact, a witch, and it had been the first manifestation of their magic when they had felt threatened by the older child. Under the watchful eye of the Sisterhood, they began to learn traditional forms of magic in addition to honing their skills (mostly self-taught) with voice and instrument.

More importantly, they formed a fast bond with their foster mother and (effectively) twin, settling easily into family life, though they chafed at the matriarchal and oligarchical leadership of their little coven. There was a friendly rivalry between the two young witchlings - with matching names, matching birthdates, and a similar role as the only two children, it was an easy leap for them to be competing in regard to all things magical.

The tensions with coven leadership came to a head when the twins were fourteen. Ignoring strict rules to not go beyond the coven's claimed and carefully-patrolled territory, Rhys and Kai went on an adventure. As misadventuring teens are prone to, an accident happened. A bridge over a slow-moving river collapsed, and Kai - who had never learned to swim - fell in, nearly drowning before Rhys got to them. Upon arriving back at home, strict punishment duties, and a removal of their magic privileges for a week, were placed on them. Kai, feeling all this was unfair, tried to argue and ended up escalating to an (exceptionally short-lived) duel with the coven elder. As per the charter, when magic was turned upon an elder, the wrongdoer was to be cast out.

Kai's mother had no say in the matter, and they were swiftly returned to the system, who now had NO idea what to do with them. They were belligerent and devastated at the loss of their found family, and were deemed difficult. They bounced around too many times to count, notably to a very, very wealthy do-gooder mundane family in London - upon seeing Kai's talent with the recorder (yes, the same school one they'd been issued nine years previously), they placed them in lessons with a very prestigious historical music school and commissioned custom instruments for their performing. The family seemed enamored by their foster child, and fully supportive of Kai's music, unknowing of the magic they practiced in secret. Their secret couldn't last, of course, and when the family eventually discovered Kai's peculiarity they were whisked off again to be replaced by a child who would be less of a liability. However, they were allowed to keep the instruments, and they're their most treasured possessions.

When their next foster family moved to America, dragging a hapless Kai along until the familial relationship inevitably fell through, they were left kicked out and stranded, figuratively, up a creek without a paddle in a tiny town in the midwest. Like any plucky and resourceful teen, they began to try to hitchhike to a larger city, thinking they could somehow enroll themself in a music school and make a life that way with their magical heritage more on the side. They didn't get very far, of course, before they had to use their powers to defend themself, and in doing so were swiftly tracked down by a member of the Sisters of the Dying Branch.

Since then, they've lived in the coven house for the last eight months, both incredibly grateful for the rescue and seething that they fucked up their opportunity for freedom. With Rhys and Saige's arrival in the area, however, they're hoping to turn over a new leaf, having been reunited at long last with the closest thing they've ever had to family.

Notable Rumors:
I: They are a pureblooded fae of some sort, and to disguise this, their entire appearance is an elaborate network of glamours.
_{This one is false, but has a grain of truth. They might well be part-fae, they're not sure, but not more than half if they are (considering the human surname and being left with humans and all.) While their height and ear points and so on are natural, they glamour their frame into a more slender and androgynous shape than even the best affirming garments can. Also, they have been known to use glamours to alter their hair and eye color for fun.}

II: They fled England after committing an unspeakable crime.
_{Not true, at all. Any crimes committed there were petty teenage misdemeanors.}

III: Kai leaves the coven house for hours at a time to practice nefarious things in secret.
_{True, ish. They do their best performance when surrounded by the sounds of nature, and there's less chance of something going wrong. Regarding nefarious things... no? usually, at least.}

Greatest Fear:
Abandonment.
_{Their greatest fear is probably abandonment, closely followed by losing control of their magic again. Having seen their family torn apart too many times before, they're terrified that something will happen that will make the coven get rid of them (for all they wish they could leave of their own accord, this rebelliousness =/= not ever being able to come back.)}

Magic:
Kai's favorite application of magic is sonomancy, most often played through their recorders, though rarely they'll sing or speak, depending on what the application is.

Best Skill: Glamours and Illusion
The skill that most naturally comes to them is anything to do with visual illusion, ironically. These spells are the ones which they'll speak or sing - articulation, tone, and even the words they choose to use have subtle effects on the shape of the spell, so they'll have a more nuanced cast if they plan out their words ahead of time. Every day they practice on themself, shaping their form and styling their hair, but they can cast on inanimate objects or other people, too, altering shapes, colors, or even making someone or something appear nonexistent.

Steadily developing is their ability to create sounds and distort sounds with the same skill - for creation they prefer to use their recorders to generate the base pure tones, as its easier to modify a pure tone into more diverse other sounds. They're going to try using these skills if and when they get a chance to hop into a recording studio, also, but that's ages down the line.

Favorite Skill: Sonomantic Evocation
Kai's favorite application of magic is using evocation spells within the context of their music. With their already great nonmagical control over their instrument, it is easy for them to create sounds that can be shaped into a variety of force or elemental-adjacent attacks. Force spells are infinitely easier, of course, ranging from high notes that literally stab or slash to low ones that can rattle the ground or slam an opponent to the floor. With considerably more energy, they can additionally channel a mild elemental effect in alongside, though they're still experimenting with that.

Neutral Skill: Charms and Potions
Neither great nor awful at charms nor potions, their biggest limiting factor with the creation of them is their lack of patience. Generally, non-spontaneous crafting or creating in the context of magic has no interest for them.

Least-Favorite Skill: Mental Manipulation
While they could be good at mind control or manipulation of emotions, what with music already being a vulnerability for most people, Kai refuses to even try to unless it is literally life-or-death. Even then, they find it morally reprehensible to influence another's way of thinking directly.

Worst Skill: Herbalism / Ecomancy
They CANNOT keep a plant alive to save their life. One foster parent gave them a succulent garden as a stress relief / zen thing. They killed it (a succulent array that was supposed to be near impossible to kill, remember) in about four weeks. Trying to revive it with magic (using their best guess on how ecomancy was supposed to work) resulted in a half-animated tiny cactus that continued crawling along by the root ball even after it had been split in half with a trowel. Legend says the animated, decaying cactus still crawls beneath their old foster-mom's house... and they are NEVER trying that again.

Other:
Kai owns a partial consort of custom-made recorders - They own a sopranino, soprano, and alto of the same style, and for all intents and purposes these seem to be fairly standard baroque instruments, if carved from a peculiar reddish-purple toned wood (Purpleheart wood, for the curious) that produces a distinctive sound to the trained ear.

Their goal is to get into a human conservatory and receive a performance degree; they wish to be known not as a witch but as a performer. Their hands are too small to play tenor or bass recorder, so they'll be hard-pressed to make up for that come audition time.

They DO have a record of misdemanors from their teen years in London - mostly graffiti and one trespassing charge - but they haven't had any such records in America.

They enjoy creating art, especially abstract art (the kind made with spray cans and other less classy media) but they're fairly mediocre at it.

They have no familiar, having moved far too many times to take an animal with them.

NPC: Saige Lockhart

A witch in her early 40s, who became a parent very young due to recklessness but was able to create a good life for her child all the same thanks to the support of her coven. She's soft-spoken and well-mannered, kindly and warm-hearted, and very skilled at divination and futuresight. Currently resides in the coven house while she figures out housing in her new place of residence.

The Sisters of the Dying Branch

Here's my two friends, sorry I got carried away like I always do!! <3

Rhys Lockhart

_{Faceclaim: Matthew Clavane || Color Code: #ffd9a8}

Name:
Soren Rhysande Lockhart
_{Usually they go by Rhys (pronounced “reese”) though they have a plethora of nicknames based off their first name.}

Gender / Preferred Pronouns:
Genderfluid (they/them)
_{Sometimes it changes between binary pronouns, too – they wear a leather cord necklace with a color-coded pendant for anyone who cares.}

Age:
Eighteen.
_{Being a smartass, four and a half.}

Birthday:
29th February.
_{Leap-day babe!}

Sexuality:
Pansexual
_{They like everyone and anyone, what else can be said?}

Appearance:
Tall and gangly at six feet, two inches, with knobbly limbs and a slender frame that lacks muscle definition entirely, Rhys perpetually conducts themself as though they have no idea where their limbs are. Their hair, brown and curly and almost always tamed into a bun, falls to their shoulder blades when it is freed from its prison. Well-defined brows and a delicately pointed, clean-shaven jaw frame soft lips, a strong nose, and expressive dark-brown eyes. Their face and the rest of their body are covered in a healthy sprinkling of freckles, and though their skin is of a shade that could tan easily it remains rather fair from a general lack of sunlight.

Regarding attire, the short answer is "it varies". They're usually clad in some hybrid of comfort and style, usually to about a business-casual standard, but what comprises the wardrobe varies tremendously in shape and cut. Much of it is comprised of solid color sweaters over white or cream button shirts, or sometimes a vest in place of the sweater, and a variety of trousers or knee-length pleated skirts. Overall, their silhouettes could best be described as somewhat old-fashioned. They're fond of neutrals and soft, desaturated warm colors, preferring brown and beige and warm grey over black or cool blue. Brown leather loafer shoes and a classy, gold-faced watch (a graduation present from their almost-twin) are staples of their wardrobe.

As mentioned above, they wear a thin leather cord necklace with a simple acrylic circle pendant threaded through it, for at-a-glance reference about preferred pronouns - a peach-pink one for feminine pronouns, pale green for neutral ones, and dark red for masculine ones. Most often they wear the green one, or none at all; if they have to go in public they rather like confusing strangers about their gender.

Personality:
Soft-spoken and gentle would be the first words most would use to describe Rhys. They're gently outgoing and very supportive of their clanmates, especially the younger ones. Growing up their whole life in a small town, they're quick to consider everyone as a friend or like family, and this has spilled over into the coven, though they've hardly been a part of it for very long. They're incredibly slow to anger and quick to forgive. Stubborn and deep-set in their non-confrontational patterns, others have said on occasion that it is impossible to get a rise out of them, save for when they're actively panicking.

Generally, Rhys is fairly assured of themself, moving through the world with the grace and confidence of someone unaware of the dark. There is little that has happened in their fairly insular world that has shaken their sense of self, and they've always been met with love and acceptance in their appearance and presentation. Because of this, they can seem a little bit naive or oblivious to how cruel the world can really be. Magic, similarly, has only ever been viewed through a positive and altruistic lens by them; they're entirely unaware of how badly it can be corrupted.

Moving so far across the world has turned their life upside down, but they confront the new situation optimistically and courageously all the same. After all, they've never had an experience like this that's turned out badly, right? And having a friendly face amid all the chaos certainly helps, too...

Biography:
Raised by a young single mother and an unknown father, one would have expected Rhys to have a hard early life. This could not have been further from the truth, however. They were born into the loving and tiny community of Tide Mills, a believed ghost town in England, to their parent Saige Lockhart. Saige was a first-generation witch, she believed, though had the lineage been traced back through several mundane generations there would have been clear ties to the still-powerful Lockhart family of the midwestern parts of Britain.

The town of Tide Mills had once been deemed unfit for human living, and evacuated, but by the time of Rhys's birth there was in fact a thriving miniature coven. After years and years of thankless tending, cleaning up the remains of human waste and expending an incredible amount of energy, it seemed the earth chose to give back. A sapling that had been planted in the foundations of the old mill had bloomed into a glistening wellspring, leaves of iridescent silver set on a trunk of bronze, the plant shaded from curious humans by the crumbling brick walls and general apparent squalor of the region, and from magical beings by the remoteness and small size of it. While some wellsprings could support several hundred members, theirs was clearly not one of such note, and left all but the most desperate eager to pass it by in pursuit of other targets.

By the time of Rhys's birth, the Miltide Sisterhood had drawn up about a dozen members, all of whom lived a very, very close-knit circle. Life was good, amid a glowing and brand-new village glamoured into apparent squalor. Rhys had a lovely, nurturing, doting upbringing, though they were dreadfully lonely as the only child for most of their early years. The witches of the sisterhood did their best to provide what they could by way of play and stimulation, and Rhys had no shortage of lovely charmed toys and things to experience and explore, but they still craved the contact of another person their age.

Their prayers for a playmate were answered when they were seven, with the arrival of a new witchling. Kai, they were called, and like Rhys in that they didn't have much of a fondness for roles and standards assigned at birth. The children formed a fast friendship, catalyzed by their matching given names, and further solidified when they realized that their birth dates matched to the hour.

For seven years, all went well, and then they didn't. The not-twins (as Saige had taken Kai in like they were her own child) got in trouble for going too far, exploring a forbidden part of the coastline. Kai had nearly drowned after a bridge had collapsed under them, which angered the coven elders as a needless and foolish injury. When they finally made it home and were faced down by the elders, Rhys accepted the punishment they were given quite placidly but Kai did not. The resulting argument and escalation to powers had the foster witchling expelled from the sisterhood and sent on to another.

After that, things were never quite the same; Saige grieved for her lost second child - as that had been what Kai had seemed to her - but was not allowed to publicly show it. It manifested, though, not in cruelty but in an almost smothering kindness both to Rhys and to the other children (of which there were by now three, ranging in age from two to six). Still, it wasn't enough to sate Saige's wandering maternal instinct.

Privately, Rhys believes that their parent went mad with the desire to search for Kai. About five months after their not!sibling was expelled, they quietly left the coven in the dead of night, too, turning their back on the only family they'd ever had. The following three years were spent on the road, dwelling a few days or weeks with a variety of covens throughout the United Kingdom - usually small sisterhoods; they knew better than to get involved with the biggest, it seemed. As they went, Rhys had the opportunity to dabble in many, many different kinds of magic, beyond the ones they'd been able to practice in the limited time and resources their tiny coven had had. They quickly fell in love with the art of threadwork, which they learned from a kindly old lady they'd briefly stayed with during their time in London.

Just two months ago, Rhys and Saige's paperwork for America came in, and they made the journey - Saige's intuition had said that they would find Kai across the ocean. And they did, in the arms of the Sisters of the Dying Branch. With no money, no power left from their wellspring, and their family reunited, they threw themselves upon the mercy of the coven, though its a far larger community than either of them have ever been involved in before.

Notable Rumors:
I: Rhys's mother killed a member of their old coven in a fit of jealousy, and that's why no one else has taken them in.
_{(This one is untrue, and Rhys is quick to defend their mother, always, though Saige seems to have just accepted it.)}

II: Rhys and Kai are actually dating.
_{(They're not. That's like dating your twin sibling. Ewwwww.)}

III: Rhys can talk to animals, and that's why they adore the bird flocks and so on so much.
_{(They're working on it, okay? It's a new skill and a new use of magic, as far as they know.)}

Greatest Fear:
Drowning.
_{Rhys is terrified of drowning (ironic, considering that the wellspring is a lake, and all of that.) Having watched their notsibling fall off the edge of a waterfall and nearly drown was the most traumatic experience of their life. Their anxiety around any body of water larger than a bathtub or deeper than a puddle is debilitating, or around any sort of ruunning water, to the point where they often need to ask one of the other coven members to retrieve the water they need for their recipes and charms.}

Magic:
Rhys is overall very fond of domestic applications of their skills. They care little for curses or flashy displays of glamour, and do not even practice the former. The latter they do with some minor charms, however.

Best Skill: Kitchencraft
The skill that comes easiest to Rhys is absolutely kitchencraft. It's their term for an intersection of enchanting, charms, and potionsmaking, in a sense, or more accurately the amalgamation of all of the above into the production of consumable goods. They make breads and crackers that are enchanted to provide a day's energy, herbal teas with all manner of calming or energizing effects, and beverages and dessert cakes that, at will, morph into whatever the consumer would like them to be. Other skills related include making a broth of scraps to be as tasty and filling as a hearty stew, and notably they have also worked with transmuting plant-based foods like tofu into animal-like ones, because they do not really have the heart to kill a living creature for food.

Favorite Skill: (Needlework) Charms
While others might find it tedious and attention- and energy-sapping, Rhys revels in the time they are able to spend in the library or in a well-shaded part of the garden, spinning threads drenched in wellspring water and stitching them carefully into intricate and layered designs with a variety of threadwork techniques. They've chosen to specialize in needlework charms, which few others do on account of the time commitment and attention to detail required.

Because of the possibilities of layering and wide nuances of effects (colors of threads, material of threads, spun clockwise or counterclockwise, types of stitches, and so on) in addition to the incredible time commitment each charm takes, Rhys's work is remarkably powerful and intricate. Due to the absorbent nature of the materials, as well, it is simple enough to recharge a spent charm with a generous sprinkling of wellspring water.

Neutral Skill: Elemental Casting
Rhys is remarkably average at elemental casting. They don't have great destructive power, but they're accurate enough when they choose to use it and have decent mastery over the four elements. Fire is their strongest, followed by earth, water, and lastly air, though the difference in their control between the four is rather minimal.

Least-Favorite Skill: Astral Projection
If Rhys could be said to HATE any magic skill, it would be anything to do with projection or teleportation. They get incredibly nauseous from the process and often end up laid-up with migraines as a result. The fear of the process and its effects have rendered them loathe to even try it unless it's life-or-death.

Worst Skill: Anything Divination
They can make awesome loose-leaf teas for anyone who asks, but - actually reading the remnants left in the cup? Ha. Hahahahaha. No. They managed to give themselves a papercut on every finger the last time they tried to use a tarot deck, and dropped a pendulum (and shattered it into thirteen pieces) the last time they tried THAT. The long and short of it is that they SUCK at divination, and will likely hurt themself and anyone else who's watching if they continue to try to master it.

Other:
Rhys does not have a familiar; however, they are quite fond of feeding the birds and other small wildlife in the vicinity of the coven house. Most mornings will find them out in the front garden with a satchet of birdseed and several sparrows perched on or around them - it's one of the only times they enjoy being outside.

Kai Gallagher

_{Faceclaim: Lachlan Watson || Color Code: #a570e0}

Name:
Seren Nikaia Gallagher
_{They go by Kai or rarely Nik, never ever EVER their first name.}

Gender / Preferred Pronouns:
Nonbinary (they/them)
_{They have been known to not correct people, for fear of retribution or misunderstandings, but if you use the right ones it'll make them VERY happy.}

Age:
Eighteen.
_{They've told people that they're four before, to make them fuck off, though.}

Birthday:
29th February.
_{Leap-day births are cool and magical!}

Sexuality:
Sapphic Asexual??
_{They think girls are the most beautiful and graceful thing to exist on the planet, but have no interest in ...canoodling.}

Appearance:
Whether or not it's true, one would be forgiven for thinking Kai is of fae descent. They're positively diminutive, standing a mere four feet and eight inches, with the slightest of gentle points to their ears and canine teeth that could as easily be a normal human mutation as a result of some other influence. Despite their tiny stature, however, they carry themself with a boisterous and optimistic energy; they're easily one of the most notable people in a room.

They have an impish grin and prominent dimples in both cheeks, a button nose, and wide set blue eyes, set under rather thin, high-arched brows. Their hair is curly and kept in a pixie cut or buzzed off entirely, usually swept away from their face and rarely pinned in place, more often gelled. It's a dark brown naturally, but depending on their mood they often glamour it to a tint of violet or blue. Their eyes naturally are a light blue, but they similarly will glamour them, for fun.

Their attire is all over the place, mostly favoring oversized and generally loose-fit sweaters and hoodies, vibrantly colored and often with some witticism or political statement emblazoned on the front. When they must dress up they have been known to wear dresses or suits with equal ease.

Personality:
Kai is a spunky and determined young person who is never afraid to speak their mind and make their voice heard. Fun-loving and stubborn, they're incredibly outgoing and are easily excitable by nearly any matter. While elders have named them argumentative and confrontational, they just consider themself self-assured and aware of what they want. They would say they are wise and well-adjusted to the world for their age, having lived in so many different places and traveled so much.

They have an insatiable thirst for adventure, and can make the most mundane things seem magical. It would be said that Kai has an infatuation with human cultures and politics, having had glancing contact with a HUGE variety of normal humans in the foster system and finding them altogether too fascinating to leave alone.

They crave independence, having bounced between foster homes and never been given the freedom to choose their future or family for themself. Even now being eighteen, they’ve had no opportunity to spread their wings and they’re chomping at the bit to get out of the coven house; hopefully, once one of the elders decides they’re ready for fully fledged witchhood, they’ll be allowed to go and explore more freely.

Biography:
Kai's story began with them a swaddled infant on the doorstep of a human orphanage, with only a birth certificate that had at first been deemed forged for the fantasy-like names of both mother and infant, signed from a hospital not in the city. Kai never knew their biological parents, and that was fine - they were in a busy home, for their first few years of consciousness, before the foster system swept them up. For the most part, it suited them well enough, and their early childhood was fairly uneventful, if scattered among several different families and lifestyles.

When they were seven, that changed dramatically. Their most recent placement was not a particularly great home, with a tense relationship between the biological children and the fostered ones. When one of the older children punched the youngest sibling for not surrendering a toy, Kai rushed to his aid. They held their grade-school recorder in their hand, having been practicing - music homework was the only thing they were motivated to do without prompting, even at this early age - and brought it to their lips, initially intending just to make the loudest squeak they could to hurt their older sister's sensitive hearing without touching her. But before they knew it, she was on the floor screaming in pain, blood trickling down the sides of her face from her ears.

After this, the foster family sent Kai away, and within a week, a young woman who said she was from the town of Tide Mills came seeking them by name. Eager to get rid of the troublemaker, paperwork was quickly signed and their custody was turned over to the Miltide Sisterhood.

It was the single-best thing that could have happened in Kai's life; they were suddenly surrounded by people who - though wary at first - supported and loved them and were completely understanding of what had happened. They were, in fact, a witch, and it had been the first manifestation of their magic when they had felt threatened by the older child. Under the watchful eye of the Sisterhood, they began to learn traditional forms of magic in addition to honing their skills (mostly self-taught) with voice and instrument.

More importantly, they formed a fast bond with their foster mother and (effectively) twin, settling easily into family life, though they chafed at the matriarchal and oligarchical leadership of their little coven. There was a friendly rivalry between the two young witchlings - with matching names, matching birthdates, and a similar role as the only two children, it was an easy leap for them to be competing in regard to all things magical.

The tensions with coven leadership came to a head when the twins were fourteen. Ignoring strict rules to not go beyond the coven's claimed and carefully-patrolled territory, Rhys and Kai went on an adventure. As misadventuring teens are prone to, an accident happened. A bridge over a slow-moving river collapsed, and Kai - who had never learned to swim - fell in, nearly drowning before Rhys got to them. Upon arriving back at home, strict punishment duties, and a removal of their magic privileges for a week, were placed on them. Kai, feeling all this was unfair, tried to argue and ended up escalating to an (exceptionally short-lived) duel with the coven elder. As per the charter, when magic was turned upon an elder, the wrongdoer was to be cast out.

Kai's mother had no say in the matter, and they were swiftly returned to the system, who now had NO idea what to do with them. They were belligerent and devastated at the loss of their found family, and were deemed difficult. They bounced around too many times to count, notably to a very, very wealthy do-gooder mundane family in London - upon seeing Kai's talent with the recorder (yes, the same school one they'd been issued nine years previously), they placed them in lessons with a very prestigious historical music school and commissioned custom instruments for their performing. The family seemed enamored by their foster child, and fully supportive of Kai's music, unknowing of the magic they practiced in secret. Their secret couldn't last, of course, and when the family eventually discovered Kai's peculiarity they were whisked off again to be replaced by a child who would be less of a liability. However, they were allowed to keep the instruments, and they're their most treasured possessions.

When their next foster family moved to America, dragging a hapless Kai along until the familial relationship inevitably fell through, they were left kicked out and stranded, figuratively, up a creek without a paddle in a tiny town in the midwest. Like any plucky and resourceful teen, they began to try to hitchhike to a larger city, thinking they could somehow enroll themself in a music school and make a life that way with their magical heritage more on the side. They didn't get very far, of course, before they had to use their powers to defend themself, and in doing so were swiftly tracked down by a member of the Sisters of the Dying Branch.

Since then, they've lived in the coven house for the last eight months, both incredibly grateful for the rescue and seething that they fucked up their opportunity for freedom. With Rhys and Saige's arrival in the area, however, they're hoping to turn over a new leaf, having been reunited at long last with the closest thing they've ever had to family.

Notable Rumors:
I: They are a pureblooded fae of some sort, and to disguise this, their entire appearance is an elaborate network of glamours.
_{This one is false, but has a grain of truth. They might well be part-fae, they're not sure, but not more than half if they are (considering the human surname and being left with humans and all.) While their height and ear points and so on are natural, they glamour their frame into a more slender and androgynous shape than even the best affirming garments can. Also, they have been known to use glamours to alter their hair and eye color for fun.}

II: They fled England after committing an unspeakable crime.
_{Not true, at all. Any crimes committed there were petty teenage misdemeanors.}

III: Kai leaves the coven house for hours at a time to practice nefarious things in secret.
_{True, ish. They do their best performance when surrounded by the sounds of nature, and there's less chance of something going wrong. Regarding nefarious things... no? usually, at least.}

Greatest Fear:
Abandonment.
_{Their greatest fear is probably abandonment, closely followed by losing control of their magic again. Having seen their family torn apart too many times before, they're terrified that something will happen that will make the coven get rid of them (for all they wish they could leave of their own accord, this rebelliousness =/= not ever being able to come back.)}

Magic:
Kai's favorite application of magic is sonomancy, most often played through their recorders, though rarely they'll sing or speak, depending on what the application is.

Best Skill: Glamours and Illusion
The skill that most naturally comes to them is anything to do with visual illusion, ironically. These spells are the ones which they'll speak or sing - articulation, tone, and even the words they choose to use have subtle effects on the shape of the spell, so they'll have a more nuanced cast if they plan out their words ahead of time. Every day they practice on themself, shaping their form and styling their hair, but they can cast on inanimate objects or other people, too, altering shapes, colors, or even making someone or something appear nonexistent.

Steadily developing is their ability to create sounds and distort sounds with the same skill - for creation they prefer to use their recorders to generate the base pure tones, as its easier to modify a pure tone into more diverse other sounds. They're going to try using these skills if and when they get a chance to hop into a recording studio, also, but that's ages down the line.

Favorite Skill: Sonomantic Evocation
Kai's favorite application of magic is using evocation spells within the context of their music. With their already great nonmagical control over their instrument, it is easy for them to create sounds that can be shaped into a variety of force or elemental-adjacent attacks. Force spells are infinitely easier, of course, ranging from high notes that literally stab or slash to low ones that can rattle the ground or slam an opponent to the floor. With considerably more energy, they can additionally channel a mild elemental effect in alongside, though they're still experimenting with that.

Neutral Skill: Charms and Potions
Neither great nor awful at charms nor potions, their biggest limiting factor with the creation of them is their lack of patience. Generally, non-spontaneous crafting or creating in the context of magic has no interest for them.

Least-Favorite Skill: Mental Manipulation
While they could be good at mind control or manipulation of emotions, what with music already being a vulnerability for most people, Kai refuses to even try to unless it is literally life-or-death. Even then, they find it morally reprehensible to influence another's way of thinking directly.

Worst Skill: Herbalism / Ecomancy
They CANNOT keep a plant alive to save their life. One foster parent gave them a succulent garden as a stress relief / zen thing. They killed it (a succulent array that was supposed to be near impossible to kill, remember) in about four weeks. Trying to revive it with magic (using their best guess on how ecomancy was supposed to work) resulted in a half-animated tiny cactus that continued crawling along by the root ball even after it had been split in half with a trowel. Legend says the animated, decaying cactus still crawls beneath their old foster-mom's house... and they are NEVER trying that again.

Other:
Kai owns a partial consort of custom-made recorders - They own a sopranino, soprano, and alto of the same style, and for all intents and purposes these seem to be fairly standard baroque instruments, if carved from a peculiar reddish-purple toned wood (Purpleheart wood, for the curious) that produces a distinctive sound to the trained ear.

Their goal is to get into a human conservatory and receive a performance degree; they wish to be known not as a witch but as a performer. Their hands are too small to play tenor or bass recorder, so they'll be hard-pressed to make up for that come audition time.

They DO have a record of misdemanors from their teen years in London - mostly graffiti and one trespassing charge - but they haven't had any such records in America.

They enjoy creating art, especially abstract art (the kind made with spray cans and other less classy media) but they're fairly mediocre at it.

They have no familiar, having moved far too many times to take an animal with them.

NPC: Saige Lockhart

A witch in her early 40s, who became a parent very young due to recklessness but was able to create a good life for her child all the same thanks to the support of her coven. She's soft-spoken and well-mannered, kindly and warm-hearted, and very skilled at divination and futuresight. Currently resides in the coven house while she figures out housing in her new place of residence.

《 H. E. R. O. 》

_{Interacting: Starbright! @Jumbus}

For a long moment, it was all Eliza could do to stare at Starbright, her eyes wide and panicked. Had he not heard a word she’d said, about performing and all of that? At his smirk, her eyes narrowed briefly, as she wondered if it was a trick – was he setting her up for failure? To – well, surely, no, surely a famous musician wouldn’t do that to a well-meaning younger fan.

Maybe he was right, maybe a collaboration at this level would be just what she needed… she plastered a nervous, trembling smile on her face, listening to everything else he had to say. He spoke quickly about having her ready in a month, and she had to stifle a bitter laugh. Directors had been trying for three years, now, to get her back out of her shell, and had spectacularly failed at it.

Still. She wasn’t sure what part of her it was that spoke, but some childish eagerness bubbled up in her throat and quickly blurted, “Sure!” before the could think it through. “But I – I have a fundraiser stream I have to do, this Saturday. But I’m around after school every other day. Except Thursday nights, because I lead middle school sectionals. And then have my own sectional. And on Sundays, except I have quartet from 10am to noon. But Sunday afternoons!” She tripped over her words as she realized that she had no business telling Starbright what their rehearsal schedule had to be – surely he was even more busy than she was, and all of that.

---

---

_{Interacting: @canaryrose@Hitman@KaijuBaragon@Danvers@Infinite Cosmos}

Angelica smiled softly up at Tommy, nodding at his comment. She was about to suggest adjourning somewhere less discernible, but her comment died on her tongue as Patricia was abruptly slammed against the table.

It was incredibly difficult to resist crying out in terror as all eyes drifted to the scene, but she just covered her mouth docilely, glancing wide-eyed between Vinnie, the guard, Tommy, and Kat, who spoke quietly, and venomously, standing up to Vinnie in a way that none of the goons would have even dreamed of. Wow. She slammed down the tiny bit of fear that wondered if Patricia was really in with whatever Katharine and her father were up to – Patricia was too sweet, and a bit too blunt, of a girl to be an undercover agent, surely. Besides, she and Eliza were close enough, and spent so much time together, that the younger girl would’ve surely found out about a secret identity by now… she should just be grateful that Patricia seemed to have been given an out.

Ceasing to entertain that plausibility, she focused her attention on Tommy, doing her best to seem relaxed into his embrace, letting him guide the two of them gently from the room. It’s fine. It’s fine. He’ll think you’re just nervous about all this. Organizing her thoughts, she nodded. “If you think it would be best, I can sneak out once the worst of this blows over. I would hate for you to get in trouble on account of me… I’ve heard stories of your father’s anger.” She also would hate to have this nice man tangled up in the rescue mission – it would NOT be a good thing for him and Blake to have an altercation, that was certain. “I was hoping to get a jump on the game by being here, but I’ll just come to the next recruiting day at the bar, I suppose.” She laughed lightly, hoping the joke would take some of the edge off of her comment. “Why is he on edge? Not that it’s my business, of course, but if there’s anything a concerned community member could do, well – I have my resources.” She did her best to flash him a knowing and capable look, easing up on the seductivish vibes that she’d been channeling so hard just a moment ago.

《 H. E. R. O. 》

_{Interacting: @canaryrose @Hitman @KaijuBaragon@Danvers@Infinite Cosmos}

Angelica batted her eyelashes at the pretty man who settled beside her, taking the offered business card with a flirtatious comment and biting down on the guilt she was feeling in regard to Blake as she slipped the card into her bra cup, the only pocket that she had. Sorry, cupcake. It’s just for a mission. Tommy Gugliano, her knowledge supplied...an important contact to have access to, for certain. She just pretended she didn’t feel awful, meeting Patricia’s gaze very very briefly and trying for a sweet smile.

She tried not to flinch at Vinnie’s treatment of Will. don’t blow your cover don’t blow your cover. She was mildly reassured by Tommy’s discomfort, at least, glancing to him sympathetically, trying to relax back into her flirty persona.

All sense of peace and comfort completely shattered as Brie’s voice echoed in from the next room over, and then she stalked into the room in an awful facsimile of calm. She internally flinched, casting a brief, panicked look at Patricia before slamming her mask back into place, peering up at Tommy flirtatiously and steadying her breath, a hand resting delicately against her low neckline at a convenient height to draw the gaze. She pretended to be unfazed by Vinnie’s posturing, the cruelty with which he had Malady handle Brie and the goons dragging William away, forcing herself not to pay attention to anything except her racing thoughts.

She had to buy herself some time. She couldn’t compromise the mission... she had to do this right. She had to get their intel, and get Brie and Will and then, eventually, herself out - it would take her a LOT of time, and care, but if she was careful enough she could... she could make this work until Grace and Tom and that could get to them and help. She had no idea how to tell Patricia what she was thinking; she just hoped the younger girl was good at rolling with the punches. Ideally, Patricia would try to get herself out, discreetly, while Angie tried still to get in.

Adjusting her posture to lean in towards Tommy, letting her sheer wrap fall off a shoulder flirtatiously, she glanced up to him a bit bashfully. ”Had I known this event was so exciting, I would have come more prepared,” she murmured to him, a bit embarrassed. ”I don’t have an ID on me,” she gestured to the skin-tight outfit she wore and the lack of a purse or wristlet, ”But I am here on an invitation from Martino Bernadino...he can’t keep his mouth shut when he’s, ehem.” With a soft, flirty laugh, she mimed raising a drink to her lips, adjusting her posture again. ”Talking about all kinds of money and grandeur and excitement and even, this business of dealing with heroes... it’s enough to enamor anyone, I’m sure you understand. And so I asked to tag along and see what all of this was about.” Once again she trailed off, biting her lip and trying to size up Tommy’s reaction under the guise of briefly, somewhat modestly checking him out.

”I fear Mister Bernadino might be - feeling his drink, a bit; he excused himself to the washroom when we got here and I haven’t seen him since. Would it be possible that you could...vouch for me, in his stead? While I might appear to be a simple escort, I assure you, I have plenty of ...assets that may prove invaluable.” She bit her lip, deliberately letting some of her very real nervousness seep through and offering a smile that was equal parts sweet and sensual.

Sorry, Cupcake. I’m so sorry. She tried and failed to convince herself that she didn’t have to feel bad for acting like this while trying to salvage her cover. It’s just for a mission. Just a mission. I don’t want anyone but my Cupcake. I don’t want this. It’s not - I’m not cheating, am I?

A Pairing Beloved

The morning dawned bright, clear, and cold over the city, the sun filtering in through the high, arched windows of the guest suite.

Miry awoke to birdsong, blinking in the rosy light. She was warm, almost uncomfortably so, rolled in a thick bedspread and encased securely in Lord Zakroti’s embrace. The sleeping lord was tangled around her still, arms twined around her back and neck and lips near her temple. She shifted in place, realizing that her legs still tangled through the lord’s. Images of the previous night flitted sleepily through her mind and she blushed deeply, a twinge between her hips a further reminder of what had transpired. She ducked her head in shame, though she couldn’t say she’d regretted the night… after a moment of enjoying the embrace, she gently leaned up to kiss her lord, beginning to extricate herself from the blankets, ideally without waking Zakroti or making much undue noise. It would be unseemly if she took too long to make herself ready, she knew…

Fetching a comb from her bags, she set about organizing her unruly hair, which had hopelessly tangled in the night’s activities. She ended up retrieving some water from the pitcher on the nightstand, just a few drops, which she worked through the length of her hair to tame the worst of the frizz as she detangled it, smoothing it out into its usual glossy sheet that could then be braided. Though yesterday she had worn it in a simple plait extending down her shoulders, she elected to pin it today, circling her braid tightly around the back of her head twice and sticking it into place with a myriad of straight pins pressed tight against her scalp to be barely-showing. It was more befitting now, she supposed, to not leave her dusty, dark lavender hair flowing free in any way. After a length of thought, she did still decide to forgo the veil that her mother had insisted upon packing. It had been included as a tongue-in-cheek commentary, though one meant well, about her eventual becoming of a proper woman, but the sudden change in appearance would cause more questions than she cared to answer. Not to mention, veils were incredibly hot and itchy, and she was sure to be on the road for a while and get all manner of dust trapped beneath it…

She refolded the veil, rolling it within its circlet band so as not to risk damaging the fabric, and set about dressing for the day. Though ordinarily she wouldn’t dare have two part-dirty sets of clothing, travelling in respectable clothes had been a dreadful mistake. The dress she picked for today was thus the simplest one she had brought, a dusty blue under dress held up by the barest of straps, and a dark charcoal layer over the top, modestly embroidered in silver around the rather low collar and tightly lacing narrow sleeves. The skirts were less voluminous and shorter than most of her other gowns, settling at the narrowest part of her ankle rather than trailing the floor – she put on thin silk stockings and her usual soft leather booties, which barely peeked out beneath the hem.

After glancing around to ensure she had gathered all her belongings, and that the lord was not yet awake, she retrieved her embroidering hoop and purse from the side of her saddlebags, settling primly into the seat beside the bed with a posture too precise to be natural. Her fingers deftly retrieved and threaded the needle in one of several colors she worked with, passing the needle through the hoop and back again in a variety of complex and intricate knots with an almost mechanical precision. It was clear her mind was elsewhere, though to a casual look she may seem engrossed in the careful work of threads.
=-=-=-=-=
Nenra grumbled awake, from her bed in the guest dormitory, to the sound of a cheery conversation among the men-at-arms, who busily worked to assemble a breakfast out of their rations and gather up the belongings they had brought into the space the previous night, readying saddlebags and donning their armor for the journey. Though now sober and considerably more conscious of herself, she chose to think of readying for the day as though she were in the bunkroom she shared with her siblings. It was a simple matter to pull her underthings and trousers on under her shift, then take the dress off and replace it with her shirt. Feeling quite pleased with the lack of compromise of her modesty, she returned her attention to the group, half-listening to their conversation as she rolled stockings onto her feet and laced her boots, trouser legs tucked into the tops as she often did for work or hard riding at home.

She was feeling considerably more herself today, the sleep on a respectable bed having done more good for her than she cared to admit. As she listened to the men at arms speak, her hands itched to be in control of a horse again. From the way the party spoke, it seemed they were glad to be returning too, though whether they were speaking of returning to their familiar mounts or to their homeland, or both, she could not quite be certain.

The one called Gaikus gave her a soft smile and passed her a metal mug of a steaming beverage. Tea, right, that’s what the lord said. The tea had a spicy, herbal smell, similar enough – if distinct – from a kind of tea they often made at home. She took the mug appreciatively, and the piece of bread she had been handed, munching down the food with little regard for table manners or decorum.

The variety of weaponry around made her long for her staff again – simple, smoothed lengths of wood, such as handles of long-ago-stripped farm implements, made remarkably effective weapons against would-be bandits or intrudors. In her village, children and teens often practiced with them, in addition to their more standard play weapons like clay or wooden swords and far more functional ones like simple slings, which were often carried by shepherds and the like. She knew that asking for such items was far, far beyond anything the lord or his men would be willing to do, and understandably so! But someday she would very much like to have a chance to practice, or maybe even a round of sparring or two. Her eyes flitted over the men who gathered in the courtyard, sizing them up as potential opponents. Someday, yes…

A Pairing Beloved

Miry practically needed to be pulled from the saddle, her legs locking up with cramps the moment she touched solid ground. Nenra had little patience for her discomfort, pulling her along by the arm and half carrying her weight as the party moved quite briskly through the city, re-energized by promise of beds and a warm meal. The smaller girl whimpered in pain as she struggled to keep up, but bit her lip and tried to look tough and well-adjusted, which she decidedly failed at.

She tried to place the city that Lord Zakroti spoke of, but was too exhausted – exhausted from doing what? There’s nothing of worth you’ve done… to properly consider it. She’d read something about it, at one point, some sort of siege and great infighting? or something. She made a mental note to ask the lord about it when they had a moment. If he wouldn’t think her an imbecile for not already knowing, that was.

The old woman looked rather grandmotherly, Nenra thought; the sun-worn leathery skin and silvered tresses of age were not so different between their two people, really. Following Zakroti’s example, she stooped into an awkward (and clearly hastily learned, given the mumbling of steps under her breath that accompanied it) curtsy-turned-bow as she remembered that she was finally, once again, wearing the trousers she was most comfortable in.

Miry sank into a pretty curtsy in turn, though somewhat less assured than her presentation would normally be, her knees shaking under her skirts as she forced saddle-sore legs to comply. She clasped her hands behind her back, the speaking-screen nested behind her as unobtrusively as possible – even if Zakroti understood her handsign, she cared to keep it close until she could ascertain that about the rest of his household… but she also heard her mother’s voice, sharply in her ear, demanding that she hide it as much as she could around the company of high society. The tips of her ears brightened with her shame, and she adjusted her hold on it, wobbling and appearing to wish to melt into the ground.

Clouded by her discomfort and desire to sleep, she couldn’t be certain, but she was fairly confident that the words exchanged (and the passing of the lord’s sword) were a traditional greeting of hospitality used by Drakkan lords visiting the holdings of one…usually of the same status, or slightly less, but not all that much less?... Drakkan titles were …confusing, to say the least. She’d read about them all as a matter of her education in history, though some of those readings had been several years before the present… none of their systems made much of any sense to her, or cared to settle that well into her memory. Far easier to remember were courtly bows and spoken cues, the ways of tuning one’s voice to be a respectful mimicry of the timbre and dynamic of the host. Some part of her longed for that, the simplicity of her home, or even the imperial city; she conveniently forgot the meltdown-inducing terror that had been the weeks of decorum and etiquette (and “pretending to be normal”, but that was beside the point) instruction prior to her sister’s presentation.

Upon the sword being given back, they rose from their assorted positions of deference, one of the guards splitting off from the others to stand beside the lord while the others drifted a short distance away, towards the dormitory that had been mentioned. Lord Zakroti held up his hand with a gentle flame to create enough light for the party; Miry took note of this being one of his elemental powers, as it had been a detail skipped over entirely during their first meeting.

Nenra’s overwhelming urge was to ask to sleep alone in the stable, but she held her tongue, weighing her options. She had no desire to sleep in Zakroti’s bed; gods only knew what a lecherous lord might do with that opportunity, and she’d had far too much of Qeynate’s eyes at the Choosing to think for a moment that Zakroti would not have similar sentiments towards her form. Sleeping in a room with Narlemaewel, whom she had gathered was the lord’s chosen man – perhaps even his protégé? Seemed little better. The perversions of these sorts were impossible to overstate, and if she was to be alone with one of them…he could easily take an act against her safety, and it would be her word against his. Her, a Bride well-known for her aura of trouble, against his favored bodyguard.

“I think I should bunk with the men-at-arms,” she said plainly. Miry glanced at her, and she tacked on a cursory, “if it shouldn’t displease you,” though she thought it very much a waste of words – surely he would not have offered the choice if he would be displeased with either option! “Another night on a soft mattress may ruin my shoulders.” She was accustomed to the comforts of home, a straw-and-wool contraption laid across a frame of rope and wooden slats, a linen sheet over it and a wool blanket to ward off the chill. It had been quite enough at home, but when she became a lord’s prize, apparently that standard went up considerably – since arriving in Shadow Wroth, she’d had nothing less than feather toppers on a soft wool mattress, and it had thrown the muscles in her back and shoulders all out of alignment.

A handful of the retainer chuckled at her comment, and she flashed the men a grateful smile for their defusing of the statement. Even Narlemaewel seemed wryly amused, though she didn’t dare make eye contact with Zakroti himself. Miry, meanwhile, said nothing, edging closer to Zakroti’s left side and inching her fingers into his hand tentatively, almost as though she expected to be smacked away. Honestly, she did half-expect to be smacked away, having spent the last weeks with her head being filled with only tales (and experiences, when she’d been too slow to understand and act) of their brutality. Even Zakroti’s courtesy and pleasantries could not be enough to completely dash that from her memory.
At some length of time, both groups had made it to their quarters only to realize that in their haste, they had made no plans for feeding themselves. Among the men-at-arms, it was quickly decided to pay a visit to a tavern nearby; Nenra was pulled along before she could argue, a steaming bowl of mutton stew and large mug of ale placed before her before she could remind them that she had no currency with which to pay.

The men-at-arms, thankfully, afforded her remarkably few of those same slimy stares that she’d grown to associate with the nobles of their kind. Their party was not left without stares; a group of armed and armored men and one, conspicuously un-armored, woman among them was not an unnoteworthy group by any stretch of the imagination. Upon facing down an onlooker who could not hold his tongue (a poor sod who’d seemingly had more ale that night than brain juice, if he thought he could confront a party of a dozen-odd soldiers) and threatening to lay him into the pavement using only a dinner fork, the oversized guardsman called Kzaar gave her a hearty smack between the shoulder blades and told her that she’d fit in with them, at least, just fine.

She tried not to show how much the compliment meant. Some part of her cautioned that word of her bravado might make it back to Zakroti, and that there might be hell in the morning if whoever-this-was made a stink about it, but she drowned her caution with another sip of the ale. The flavor was already beginning to grow on her.

After they had eaten and drunk their fill, they returned to the dormitory building, the hour late but not disrespectfully or irresponsibly so. Nenra found herself a bunk alongside the men-at-arms, mildly inebriated and tired enough to have foregone her care about modesty or respectability – she shed her day clothes and donned a shift, mostly as a layer of protection against whomever might have previously slept in the bunk she claimed.

Miry, meanwhile, had a considerably quieter night at a rather fancy eatinghouse on the high street, the table served by a pretty and overly-enthusiastic young drakkan woman, who took one glance at the scene and immediately read what was going on. There were several innuendos too heavily veiled for her to catch, plus a suggestion of a certain, probably-alcoholic drink, “to make the night easier” – she respectfully refused it, of course. The dinner conversation was over her head both literally and metaphorically – after much thought she’d ended up settling into the chair on her knees, when the food actually came, as otherwise her chin was on a level with her plate in the oversized Drakken furniture. Zakroti and Vain seemed to prefer their mother tongue, though they switched in and out of a variety of languages seemingly at a whim. Miry caught traces of High Drakkan, which she understood parts of, a few interspersed snippets from a variety of Mannish tongues that she knew near-fluently, and several that she could not make heads or tails of in all eighteen of her own languages. Periodically, a question was phrased in such a way that she felt inclined to answer, a glance from the lord or his guard pricking behind her eyes and almost begging a reply, even – she made herself sit on her hands so that she wouldn’t, though, not wishing to derail their fluid bandying of debate with her own inability to comprehend the context that had preceded the question.

In due time they retired to their rooms as well, though only a few cordial words were exchanged between Miry and Zakroti – she hardly wished to bother the lord with more idle chatter, for all that she moved stiffly and uncertainly and her nervousness grew more palpable with every step into their quarters. She shed her bodice and skirts fairly quickly upon realizing they were turning in for the night, her fingers deft at undoing the lacings behind her back. She pulled her hair down from its braided crown, letting it fluff up around her head as it was wont to do, and after a moment of hesitation loosened the ties on her shift, to, the fine linen clinging over her shoulders and bust in such a way that a soft tug might remove them. Look ready, but not too ready, the other brides had said. She mussed her hair up a bit further and chewed on her lips for a moment, remembering that others had said it was a way to get them to look plump and moist and – “kissable”, without needing to fumble for cosmetics, and then went to perch on the edge of Lord Zakroti’s side of the bed. She arranged her shift, suggestively bunched up, over the very tops of her thighs, letting her hair messily tumble down over her shoulders as she waited for him to emerge from the washroom. As she waited for him, she practiced an expression of desire, though without a mirror to tell she couldn’t be sure that it even worked at all.

Truthfully, she couldn’t even say that she wanted to be taken to his bed in this particular moment, but she’d heard enough stories to know that it was usually better the sooner it happened – and better if she was the one to initiate it. Her heart fluttered in her chest, but she tried to steady her breathing, arranging her face into a pretty pout once again. If she did well enough at this, if she could just do what she was supposed to for once in her gods-cursed life, he’d eventually fall in love with her, and then – everything would work out like it did in the fairy tales. Right?