princess
Lemons
mickilennial
vietmyke
Pen Name
Kaithe Dame
High Moon
Snowdrops
Charley
SilverPaw@Doctor Belasco: Hmmm, seeing a week has passed, mind if I post before you?
@Adjectives: Oh, also, is it alright if I use Matthew for a split second to answer a question? I don't intend to control him, but for the sake of flow, I wanted him to tell Pazel his age so I can get Pazel moving. I wasn't going to make him do anything else (unless you count Pazel forcing him to sit down). If you'd rather me not, I can cut the post short and wait for your reply (or PM you of my post).
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Rosenkreuz is already at the party 
The real question is, how soon do we want hir target to die.
The real question is, how soon do we want hir target to die.OhmygodhowcouldyoudosuchaunspeakableandterriblethingtomeIwillneverforgiveyou!IdemandthatyousacrificeagoattoourgreatlordBabylios'chuaschuaghathisneverysinstant!
... I kid, of course :)
I personally did not think it was godmodding, so no worries at all!
... I kid, of course :)
I personally did not think it was godmodding, so no worries at all!
Pazel was stuffing his mouth full of sinfully delicious cheese cake when a familiar voice turned his head away from his plate towards Sebastian Jung. “Good to see you here. I had no idea you'd been invited! I recommend the truffles. Well, I recommend everything. Gloria always puts on a tremendous spread.” Pazel’s eyes widen in recognition. It was his counselor—…tutor—…professor? In all honesty, Pazel had no idea what Mr. Jung’s professional standing was in the University. As soon as his first academic semester began, Pazel was told that he was required to participate in private meetings with Mr. Jung. Considering his occasional academic struggles —who was he kidding, the presence of at least one failing grade each semester was as constant as the number of inches in a foot— Pazel believed that the University deemed him mentally retarded and decided that he needed all the help he could get. Even with a special counselor-teacher person and a graduate student tutor Pazel still failed some courses. Man. How in the world did he even get admitted into Anderson University? Not based on his SAT scores, that’s for sure. Maybe the private school did charity work.
Automatically, Pazel placed his fork onto the plate in his other hand, and firmly shook Mr. Jung’s open hand. He wanted to vocally respond to Mr. Jung, or at least give him a smile, but the contents in Pazel’s mouth prohibited him from doing either. Instead, Pazel made a few gestures and mumbling noises that made absolutely no sense. When Pazel discovered that he was possibly the worst person to play charades with, he pointed his index finger straight to ceiling. There was nothing on the ceiling, but Pazel’s hand remained in the same position while he attempted to quickly chew and swallow down the cake.
An awkward moment slowly inched its way by. With the exception of his jaw, Pazel was as still as a living statue and right behind him was his ever watchful Aunt Sophie, whose eyes narrowed at Sebastian. Without ever looking away, she passed a cup of water to Pazel when he started to cough from a piece of cake going down the wrong pipe. After thanking his aunt for the water, Pazel finally turned to Mr. Jung and gave him his best smile.
“Sorry about that Mr. Jung. I got kind of carried away with the sweets. You missed me orgasm over the chocolate truffles. Do you know where they get them? I need to know where they buy them… If you were talking about the fungus kind… well…” Pazel looked around his surrounding and leaned in to whisper. “Let’s just say I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Don’t get me wrong. The food was good. But I think truffles are over rated.” Pazel returned to his previous position and voice volume. “As for why I was invited… apparently for my Uncle to publicly humiliate his, or my, whole family.” Pazel turned to his aunt with a smile before she could restate her past comment. “I know that’s not what you meant. I’m just giving you a hard time.” He turned to Mr. Jung again. “As you can see, I’ve already succeeded in making some of the guests laugh at me. Oh and at my costume. Did you know there’s such things as a formal Halloween party---… Never mind, unless you dressed up as James Bond, you knew this was a formal party. You look dashing by the way.” Pazel tilted his head. “Actually. Why are you here Mr. Jung?” Suddenly Pazel’s caramel skin paled slightly. He took a few steps away from his counselor-tutor-teacher. “Don’t tell me you already got the results of my math test.”
Sophie’s eyebrow rose at the worried tone of voice. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one leg. Her eyes demanded Sebastian to tell her that IF he had the results of Pazel’s math exam that she would know it. Now.
Automatically, Pazel placed his fork onto the plate in his other hand, and firmly shook Mr. Jung’s open hand. He wanted to vocally respond to Mr. Jung, or at least give him a smile, but the contents in Pazel’s mouth prohibited him from doing either. Instead, Pazel made a few gestures and mumbling noises that made absolutely no sense. When Pazel discovered that he was possibly the worst person to play charades with, he pointed his index finger straight to ceiling. There was nothing on the ceiling, but Pazel’s hand remained in the same position while he attempted to quickly chew and swallow down the cake.
An awkward moment slowly inched its way by. With the exception of his jaw, Pazel was as still as a living statue and right behind him was his ever watchful Aunt Sophie, whose eyes narrowed at Sebastian. Without ever looking away, she passed a cup of water to Pazel when he started to cough from a piece of cake going down the wrong pipe. After thanking his aunt for the water, Pazel finally turned to Mr. Jung and gave him his best smile.
“Sorry about that Mr. Jung. I got kind of carried away with the sweets. You missed me orgasm over the chocolate truffles. Do you know where they get them? I need to know where they buy them… If you were talking about the fungus kind… well…” Pazel looked around his surrounding and leaned in to whisper. “Let’s just say I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Don’t get me wrong. The food was good. But I think truffles are over rated.” Pazel returned to his previous position and voice volume. “As for why I was invited… apparently for my Uncle to publicly humiliate his, or my, whole family.” Pazel turned to his aunt with a smile before she could restate her past comment. “I know that’s not what you meant. I’m just giving you a hard time.” He turned to Mr. Jung again. “As you can see, I’ve already succeeded in making some of the guests laugh at me. Oh and at my costume. Did you know there’s such things as a formal Halloween party---… Never mind, unless you dressed up as James Bond, you knew this was a formal party. You look dashing by the way.” Pazel tilted his head. “Actually. Why are you here Mr. Jung?” Suddenly Pazel’s caramel skin paled slightly. He took a few steps away from his counselor-tutor-teacher. “Don’t tell me you already got the results of my math test.”
Sophie’s eyebrow rose at the worried tone of voice. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one leg. Her eyes demanded Sebastian to tell her that IF he had the results of Pazel’s math exam that she would know it. Now.
Sounds good to me!
ToskaO said *Psst*... she look's unhealthy because she has a drug problem... Not that she won't take your food... and repay you with a sharp tongue.Adelaide isn't likely a common patron of any cafe's, but is probably a regular at more than one bar. If that's the how Paz know's her, she probably wouldn't recognise him (but she'd act like she did if it meant a free drink!) If you want it to be a two way relationship, the apprentice thing is the only one I see working with both Paz and Adelaide's personalities.Sound's like a plan :) You can count on your new tattoo having some... interesting properties
Ah, well, it doesn't mean Paz knows about Adelaide's drug problem. He'd still want to feed her :) However after much debate, I think I'll just have Paz working at the cafe that turns into a bar at night place. Adelaide doesn't need to recognize him, but Pazel will remember her as the zombie chick... and want to feed her XD Adelaide can be one of the many victims of Pazel's cooking!
Moon said Something to think about: How do you guys want this party to end? I have a few thoughts of my own.1. It could end peacefully, with our characters leaving the occasion with at least one new connection in the magical world (as in, another player character/family). This offers a lot of time for dialogues between characters during the event and a chance to write as the leader of your family (during the actual peace meeting part of the party), but it lacks proper action and deception, which everyone loves.2. It could end with a fight between two or more families (maybe even started by player characters themselves). The peace treaty breaks down as blood is spilled, sides are chosen, and fancy mansions get trashed. This plays more into the families and would allow alliances between player families as they pick sides, eventually evolving into a kind of mini war between them. For the hunters among us, this option presents a chance to hit the witches while they are weak and divided and maybe even join forces with a family or two with the intent of wiping both sides out. The enemy of your enemy is your friend... until your enemy is dead.3. It could end with a fight between the witches and the hunters right now. A massive raid led by the Order (which could sweep up a few outcasts working the place as well) against this concentrated group of higher ups in the witch world. This gets us into the most action quickly. People will die, a lot of people. This could lead to the survivors of the party (our characters and maybe some stragglers) working towards revenge or even just to survive as the hunters seek to wipe the remnants of the even off the face of the earth.These are just a few options I came up with on the spot. If you guys like any of these, or any parts of these, let me know. And of course, if you have your own ideas don't hold back (do I say this enough?). Up to you guys what direction this story takes.
Fight! Fight! Fight!
I think I like them all, but prefer a mix of 2 and 3 or a mix of 1 and 2. I would like there to be time for dialogues between characters/leaders during the event.
If I remember correctly, didn't the idea of assassinating a witch leader come up previously? Is that idea out the window?
October 15, five minutes before midnight, Beauregard and Sophie were walking through a labyrinth made of books and bookshelves. The old library was dark and, at first glance, unoccupied. Something about the place felt as if it was abandoned many years ago, maybe it was the eerie silence, or how the moon and stars were the only source of light, or the lack of anything modern. Yet, all the books and Victorian antique furniture, the siblings occasionally passed by, looked much too clean and new. Someone must have loved this place: if everything in the library was new, they spent a lot of money to replicate the antiques; if everything was as old as it was assumed to be, someone had been taking good care of the place. Or possibly even time itself abandoned the library, never allowing anything in this place to deteriorate.
The red head finally stopped at a crossroad to turn at her brother. “I’ll be watching from the gallery. Call me if you need me.” She didn’t need to remind Beauregard where the non-representatives were at during the family meetings, but he smiled and nodded appreciatively. Sophie nodded back and turned to walk down one hallway. Beauregard watched his sister vanish into the shadows of the bookshelves, before walking down another hallway.
The path which Beauregard walked looked no different from the other hallways of the library and it remained as such for awhile. Slowly things began to change. With each step he took, the darkness lifted. The silver light was replaced with a brighter, warmer color of light. The covers of each book became more vibrant. Every dark wood transformed into white marble. Then, something impossible floated casually passed Beauregard: symbols. Everywhere, symbols, letters, numbers, and images in general roamed freely in the air, constantly moving and ever changing. Whenever a symbol merged into one another, they engendered something, only for it to disappear when the symbols drift apart. The more symbols that collided into one another, the more complex the “something” became. At one point, Beauregard witnessed a pod of miniature lime green whales singing the “Habanera” while performing synchronized swimming. That was until they collided into a group of other symbols and the pod of singing miniature lime green whales turned into a polar bear in a lime green T-shirt ballet dancing with a habanero chili shaped like a whale. For those who had no idea what this place was, they would have thought they had gone completely mad. For the Flamels, it was a sight they were forced to see at least once a month; nothing fazed them in this library.
Beauregard reached the end of the hallway and walked into a large open space. His destination. The place where the Flamel family meetings took place looked nothing like the dark and gloomy Victorian library Beauregard was just in some moments ago. Ignoring the hallways that lead to the room, the open space was circular with books and bookshelves covering all the walls. The white marble floorings were so polished it reflected everything like a mirror. The bookshelves made out of the same material as the floor was equally as polished and was so tall no one knew where it ended. Around the area which the ceiling should have been, a giant golden clock floated, emitting a warm golden light that was bright enough to illuminate the whole space. Right below the clock was a gold round table with a black orb imbedded in the center of it. The table was surrounded by twelve seats that were incongruous from each other and the design of the room. From how the seats ranged from a simple wooden dining chair to an exercise ball chair, it was obvious each seat was placed specifically for the individual who would sit on it. The only other place to sit was at a raised desk, which resembled a courtroom’s bench, made of emerald with cryptic golden writings on it.
Eleven of the twelve seats at the round table were occupied by colorful individuals. The eleven representatives were diverse in ethnicity, gender, age, overall appearance, and, most likely, personality. If there was something they had all in common, it was that they were witches. The witches of the Flamel family. Some talked amongst themselves while others silently entertained themselves with an activity. Beauregard was not acknowledged until he was half way across the room. “You’re late,” announced the oldest looking man. Beauregard looked up at the large clock in the sky. “No I’m not. I got here before midnight.” Beauregard found his comfortable leather armchair one seat away from the old man. The old man sighed as he watched Beauregard sit down. “You should have been here ten minutes before midnight.”
“Even Ojise got here before you,” an Asian woman wearing a summer dress added. Beauregard looked over to the Jamaican smoking something he wasn’t sure was legal. As soon as Beauregard visually confirmed his dark skinned kin, he heard someone mumbling. He turned to the pale not-undead man with jet black hair and eyes sitting next to him. Beauregard leaned toward the younger man in attempt to catch what few words that pasted the man’s lips. Most of the words were, unfortunately, blocked by the constant nail chewing. “You’ll have to speak up Evan.” Evan pulled his thumb away from his mouth and whispered in a voice barely audible. “We told him the meeting was two hours ago.”
“And when did he get here?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
“Ah.”
When he looked away from Evan, Beauregard met eyes with a businessman sitting across the table. The man was wearing glasses and a disheveled suit. His hair looked whiter than Beauregard remembered and, more importantly, there were obvious bald patches. He shouldn’t have asked, but he had to. “Did you age thirty years since this morning?” The man with the eyeglasses gave Beauregard a particularly nasty look. “I might as well have. I’m not sure if you heard about this, but SOMEONE didn’t show up for a meeting today and---...” Beauregard interrupted. “Wait! I know this story. The punch line is golden d***o.” As soon as the businessman stood up to scream his lungs out, the space in the air shifted: symbols started to gather around and create a golden object. With the velocity of the fastest pitch in recorded history, the object hit Beauregard across his face. He had completely forgotten Sophie was “here” with the other invisible spectators. “THIS is exactly why no man wants to be with you Sophie! You abusive---…”
The loud ringing of bells notified everyone in the library that the clock struck twelve. The bells beckoned nearby symbols to gather to the center of the golden table. The black orb at the center detached itself from the table and began to hover in the air, sucking all the symbols like a black hole. When the orb consumed the last symbol, a small galaxy was born within it.
At the same time, everyone at the round table stood up when the sound of footsteps and a wheelchair echoed through the library. They continued to stand at attention as a tall man covered in tattoos in a black suit pushed a wheelchair with an old woman sitting on it. The old woman, Estelle, wore a white dress that looked as ancient as the wearer. The tattooed man, Alexander, pushed Estelle’s wheelchair up to the emerald desk. Once securing the wheelchair in place, Alexander stepped away from the founder and head of the Flamel family.
Estelle smiled at her children. A soft voice spoke from the heavens “<Shall we begin?>” The woman’s mouth did not move, but everyone knew who’s voice it was. With the sound of Estelle’s gavel hitting the sound block, the Flamels began their family meeting.
The air was heavy. Everyone had a grim expression on their face. Some looked like they were about to cry. Beauregard heard soft sniffles coming from the gallery, but no one talked. The old man sitting one seat away from Beauregard opened his dry mouth to talk. “H-h…” He began, then swallowed. He hesitated to speak up once again. “Let us change the question.” Beauregard said instead. Within the black orb, the starry sky appeared with a specific number of stars shining. “How many witch candidates are left who are yet to face their trial?” 6/7th of the stars fell from the sky. The morose atmosphere continued to linger in the library. Beauregard opened his mouth again and shut it momentarily when another star suddenly fell from the orb’s sky. “Show us the remaining candidates.” The remaining stars in the orb started to grow larger. The lights pulled itself out of the orb and started to change into a holographic profile with images and personal information of each candidate. The other witches’ discussion on future plans concerning the witch candidates became white noise as Beauregard’s attention focused on one person’s profile. He smiled in relief.
“I guess Brea’s boy is still a candidate.” A voice pulled Beauregard’s attention to the discussion at hand. “Considering the deal you made with her, I am going to assume you have already made preparations for his trial?” Beauregard grinned. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” The twelve witches stared at Beauregard. Twenty four eyes filled with the urge to make a complaint or a snappy comment stared Beauregard down so hard he thought he was about to spontaneously combust. He didn’t even see Sophia and he could feel her powerful death glare on him. “Aside from being the source of eustress for some people and distress for others, I have chosen someone. I was planning to have him face the trial tomorrow night.”
The still not-undead-but-looks-like-he-might-as-well-be man looked at Beauregard at the corner of his eye. “Tomorrow or today?”
Beauregard stared blankly in the air for a moment, before realizing what Evan meant. “It’s the 16th isn’t it?”
“Yeah, we have that party tonight.”
Ojise’s face lightened up excitement. “A bashment? Mi wa---…”
“You’re the last person who’d want to go.”
“Wha mek?”
“It’s going to be one of those formal parties. You know? The Anderson kind? ”
Ojise was instantly disappointed at the news. “Ahoa.”
Evan sank into the back of his chair, cradling his bent legs close to his body with one arm and placing his free hand’s nails close to his mouth. “Though I see no point in it,” he muttered. If anyone else heard the comment, no one gave a response.
“As usual, I will be going as Estelle’s replacement.” Alexander announced. “Ten had also requested to go with me. If anyone would also like to accompany us, please speak now.” Silence. “Then, I suppose that settles that matter.”
The head of the family had been observing Beauregard with interest since the subject of the party came up. “<Decem, you are planning to take Brea’s child with you to this party.>” The invisible crowd and the visible witches began to stir. “What!?” one witch yelled. “Are you crazy?” another added. “Isn’t that against the contract?” Beauregard grinned at the word contract. There was indeed a magical contract made between the Flamels and Beauregard’s daughter. As long as the contract existed, going against any of its terms meant certain death. “You don’t need to worry about that,” Beauregard reassured his family. “The contract allows us to get into direct contact with the lad during Emergence season. No members of the Flamel are allowed to tell him about his lineage or the magic community in general. However, the contract does not forbid individuals outside of the Flamel family from telling the lad anything.”
“You’re… going to have a normal human… participate in a party… full of powerful witches... who would more than likely annihilate other witch families in a heartbeat… to what end?”
“He’s going to be a witch.” Beauregard’s voice tone was intransigent. “I know he’s going to become a witch. It’s going to happen. When it does, he’ll need to learn everything that he can as fast as he can. The lad is too far behind the other witch candidates, all thanks to his mother. He needs to know his rivals. His enemies. This party is for him to put faces to names.” Beauregard shrugged. “Or names to faces. Whichever comes first.”
“I wish I had your confidence in this boy. What make you think he’ll become a witch?”
“He’s the brightest star I have seen in years.”
Pazel Razi shifted uncomfortably under the mixed stares of his extended family. He had been waiting at the bus stop, as promised over the phone, until a sleek white limousine stopped in front of the bench. Three individuals in expensive looking suits came out of the car to greet Pazel, then froze in place when they saw what he was wearing. He had chosen to wear the sexy witch costume for s***s and giggles, but from how hard Uncle Beauregard laughed and how Aunt Sophie repeatedly hit her brother, demanding for an explanation, Pazel began to have second thoughts. It was when the four reached the Anderson estate, when he realized why his costume was a problem: it was a formal party. Nothing but suits and pretty dresses all around. Some random person accosted the four and asked whether or not Pazel’s outfit was to compensate for the lack of something. Pazel was not really sure what that something was, but it embarrassed him none the less. He regretted assumed the “Halloween party” was a costume party. While Sophie performed an impressive Northern Lights Suplex on Beauregard off on the side, Alexander comforted his nephew, informing him that they would call their house for someone to bring a suitable outfit for Pazel to wear if he felt out of place. Pazel respectfully declined the generous offer. It was late and he didn’t feel his momentary embarrassment was worth the trouble of finding a suit for him. Luckily for Pazel, the sight of a young man wearing a witch costume in a formal witch party wore out its novelty as the party continued. Eventually, a majority of the witches paid no heed to it.
Stationed beside the sweet buffet, Pazel watched the party guests socialize. If Pazel didn’t know any better, he would have thought they were all celebrities of some kind. Even the people who looked close to his age had a special aura about them. He saw Uncle Beauregard walking about in the crowd. Pazel was not really sure if his uncle was popular amongst the guests, but he did notice how Beauregard flirted with every man, woman, young, and old in the building. No one showed any resentment towards Beauregard’s advancements. At least, not while he was near them: some of the guests showed distaste only when Beauregard was out of their vicinity. He thought a fight would erupt when someone started an argument, but the longer the man interacted with Beauregard, the harder it seemed to be for the man to resist Beauregard’s charm, or something of that manner. In the end, the man looked love-struck, providing a window of opportunity for Beauregard to escape. Had the man genuinely fallen in love, it would have been all fine and dandy, however, a few beats after Beauregard left the man, he snapped out of his trance and was back to his previous temper, if not angrier than before.
Since the first time he heard his uncle over phone, many months ago, Pazel had felt something strange. The feeling became more frequent when he started meeting his mother’s family more often. It was not a bad feeling, in fact, it was very pleasant: he felt happy and comfortable with his uncle around. Then the magic would just disappear when Beauregard left. It was as if Beauregard presence alone pleased all five senses. Pazel wondered if the other guests felt the same thing he did. Some of them must have. Though, in some instances, people outright ignored Beauregard existence as if to avoid feeling the feeling. Only the exceptional few interacted with Beauregard normally.
“Are you having fun?” Sophie approached Pazel and stole a strawberry off of his plate.
“The food’s great.”
“And that’s always worth going to a party.”
“Speaking of which, you still haven’t told me what this party is about.”
“Do you see that group of important looking people Alexander is with?” Pazel glanced in the direction Sophie was pointing at and nodded. “They’re doing stuff that important people do.”
“Oh… so why am I here?”
“Beauregard wanted you to come.”
“Why?”
Sophie shrugged. “Knowing him as long as I do? Probably to humiliate our entire family.”
“I’m guessing that’s a common occurrence.”
“Don’t even get me started.”
The red head finally stopped at a crossroad to turn at her brother. “I’ll be watching from the gallery. Call me if you need me.” She didn’t need to remind Beauregard where the non-representatives were at during the family meetings, but he smiled and nodded appreciatively. Sophie nodded back and turned to walk down one hallway. Beauregard watched his sister vanish into the shadows of the bookshelves, before walking down another hallway.
The path which Beauregard walked looked no different from the other hallways of the library and it remained as such for awhile. Slowly things began to change. With each step he took, the darkness lifted. The silver light was replaced with a brighter, warmer color of light. The covers of each book became more vibrant. Every dark wood transformed into white marble. Then, something impossible floated casually passed Beauregard: symbols. Everywhere, symbols, letters, numbers, and images in general roamed freely in the air, constantly moving and ever changing. Whenever a symbol merged into one another, they engendered something, only for it to disappear when the symbols drift apart. The more symbols that collided into one another, the more complex the “something” became. At one point, Beauregard witnessed a pod of miniature lime green whales singing the “Habanera” while performing synchronized swimming. That was until they collided into a group of other symbols and the pod of singing miniature lime green whales turned into a polar bear in a lime green T-shirt ballet dancing with a habanero chili shaped like a whale. For those who had no idea what this place was, they would have thought they had gone completely mad. For the Flamels, it was a sight they were forced to see at least once a month; nothing fazed them in this library.
Beauregard reached the end of the hallway and walked into a large open space. His destination. The place where the Flamel family meetings took place looked nothing like the dark and gloomy Victorian library Beauregard was just in some moments ago. Ignoring the hallways that lead to the room, the open space was circular with books and bookshelves covering all the walls. The white marble floorings were so polished it reflected everything like a mirror. The bookshelves made out of the same material as the floor was equally as polished and was so tall no one knew where it ended. Around the area which the ceiling should have been, a giant golden clock floated, emitting a warm golden light that was bright enough to illuminate the whole space. Right below the clock was a gold round table with a black orb imbedded in the center of it. The table was surrounded by twelve seats that were incongruous from each other and the design of the room. From how the seats ranged from a simple wooden dining chair to an exercise ball chair, it was obvious each seat was placed specifically for the individual who would sit on it. The only other place to sit was at a raised desk, which resembled a courtroom’s bench, made of emerald with cryptic golden writings on it.
Eleven of the twelve seats at the round table were occupied by colorful individuals. The eleven representatives were diverse in ethnicity, gender, age, overall appearance, and, most likely, personality. If there was something they had all in common, it was that they were witches. The witches of the Flamel family. Some talked amongst themselves while others silently entertained themselves with an activity. Beauregard was not acknowledged until he was half way across the room. “You’re late,” announced the oldest looking man. Beauregard looked up at the large clock in the sky. “No I’m not. I got here before midnight.” Beauregard found his comfortable leather armchair one seat away from the old man. The old man sighed as he watched Beauregard sit down. “You should have been here ten minutes before midnight.”
“Even Ojise got here before you,” an Asian woman wearing a summer dress added. Beauregard looked over to the Jamaican smoking something he wasn’t sure was legal. As soon as Beauregard visually confirmed his dark skinned kin, he heard someone mumbling. He turned to the pale not-undead man with jet black hair and eyes sitting next to him. Beauregard leaned toward the younger man in attempt to catch what few words that pasted the man’s lips. Most of the words were, unfortunately, blocked by the constant nail chewing. “You’ll have to speak up Evan.” Evan pulled his thumb away from his mouth and whispered in a voice barely audible. “We told him the meeting was two hours ago.”
“And when did he get here?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
“Ah.”
When he looked away from Evan, Beauregard met eyes with a businessman sitting across the table. The man was wearing glasses and a disheveled suit. His hair looked whiter than Beauregard remembered and, more importantly, there were obvious bald patches. He shouldn’t have asked, but he had to. “Did you age thirty years since this morning?” The man with the eyeglasses gave Beauregard a particularly nasty look. “I might as well have. I’m not sure if you heard about this, but SOMEONE didn’t show up for a meeting today and---...” Beauregard interrupted. “Wait! I know this story. The punch line is golden d***o.” As soon as the businessman stood up to scream his lungs out, the space in the air shifted: symbols started to gather around and create a golden object. With the velocity of the fastest pitch in recorded history, the object hit Beauregard across his face. He had completely forgotten Sophie was “here” with the other invisible spectators. “THIS is exactly why no man wants to be with you Sophie! You abusive---…”
The loud ringing of bells notified everyone in the library that the clock struck twelve. The bells beckoned nearby symbols to gather to the center of the golden table. The black orb at the center detached itself from the table and began to hover in the air, sucking all the symbols like a black hole. When the orb consumed the last symbol, a small galaxy was born within it.
At the same time, everyone at the round table stood up when the sound of footsteps and a wheelchair echoed through the library. They continued to stand at attention as a tall man covered in tattoos in a black suit pushed a wheelchair with an old woman sitting on it. The old woman, Estelle, wore a white dress that looked as ancient as the wearer. The tattooed man, Alexander, pushed Estelle’s wheelchair up to the emerald desk. Once securing the wheelchair in place, Alexander stepped away from the founder and head of the Flamel family.
Estelle smiled at her children. A soft voice spoke from the heavens “<Shall we begin?>” The woman’s mouth did not move, but everyone knew who’s voice it was. With the sound of Estelle’s gavel hitting the sound block, the Flamels began their family meeting.
The air was heavy. Everyone had a grim expression on their face. Some looked like they were about to cry. Beauregard heard soft sniffles coming from the gallery, but no one talked. The old man sitting one seat away from Beauregard opened his dry mouth to talk. “H-h…” He began, then swallowed. He hesitated to speak up once again. “Let us change the question.” Beauregard said instead. Within the black orb, the starry sky appeared with a specific number of stars shining. “How many witch candidates are left who are yet to face their trial?” 6/7th of the stars fell from the sky. The morose atmosphere continued to linger in the library. Beauregard opened his mouth again and shut it momentarily when another star suddenly fell from the orb’s sky. “Show us the remaining candidates.” The remaining stars in the orb started to grow larger. The lights pulled itself out of the orb and started to change into a holographic profile with images and personal information of each candidate. The other witches’ discussion on future plans concerning the witch candidates became white noise as Beauregard’s attention focused on one person’s profile. He smiled in relief.
“I guess Brea’s boy is still a candidate.” A voice pulled Beauregard’s attention to the discussion at hand. “Considering the deal you made with her, I am going to assume you have already made preparations for his trial?” Beauregard grinned. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” The twelve witches stared at Beauregard. Twenty four eyes filled with the urge to make a complaint or a snappy comment stared Beauregard down so hard he thought he was about to spontaneously combust. He didn’t even see Sophia and he could feel her powerful death glare on him. “Aside from being the source of eustress for some people and distress for others, I have chosen someone. I was planning to have him face the trial tomorrow night.”
The still not-undead-but-looks-like-he-might-as-well-be man looked at Beauregard at the corner of his eye. “Tomorrow or today?”
Beauregard stared blankly in the air for a moment, before realizing what Evan meant. “It’s the 16th isn’t it?”
“Yeah, we have that party tonight.”
Ojise’s face lightened up excitement. “A bashment? Mi wa---…”
“You’re the last person who’d want to go.”
“Wha mek?”
“It’s going to be one of those formal parties. You know? The Anderson kind? ”
Ojise was instantly disappointed at the news. “Ahoa.”
Evan sank into the back of his chair, cradling his bent legs close to his body with one arm and placing his free hand’s nails close to his mouth. “Though I see no point in it,” he muttered. If anyone else heard the comment, no one gave a response.
“As usual, I will be going as Estelle’s replacement.” Alexander announced. “Ten had also requested to go with me. If anyone would also like to accompany us, please speak now.” Silence. “Then, I suppose that settles that matter.”
The head of the family had been observing Beauregard with interest since the subject of the party came up. “<Decem, you are planning to take Brea’s child with you to this party.>” The invisible crowd and the visible witches began to stir. “What!?” one witch yelled. “Are you crazy?” another added. “Isn’t that against the contract?” Beauregard grinned at the word contract. There was indeed a magical contract made between the Flamels and Beauregard’s daughter. As long as the contract existed, going against any of its terms meant certain death. “You don’t need to worry about that,” Beauregard reassured his family. “The contract allows us to get into direct contact with the lad during Emergence season. No members of the Flamel are allowed to tell him about his lineage or the magic community in general. However, the contract does not forbid individuals outside of the Flamel family from telling the lad anything.”
“You’re… going to have a normal human… participate in a party… full of powerful witches... who would more than likely annihilate other witch families in a heartbeat… to what end?”
“He’s going to be a witch.” Beauregard’s voice tone was intransigent. “I know he’s going to become a witch. It’s going to happen. When it does, he’ll need to learn everything that he can as fast as he can. The lad is too far behind the other witch candidates, all thanks to his mother. He needs to know his rivals. His enemies. This party is for him to put faces to names.” Beauregard shrugged. “Or names to faces. Whichever comes first.”
“I wish I had your confidence in this boy. What make you think he’ll become a witch?”
“He’s the brightest star I have seen in years.”
Pazel Razi shifted uncomfortably under the mixed stares of his extended family. He had been waiting at the bus stop, as promised over the phone, until a sleek white limousine stopped in front of the bench. Three individuals in expensive looking suits came out of the car to greet Pazel, then froze in place when they saw what he was wearing. He had chosen to wear the sexy witch costume for s***s and giggles, but from how hard Uncle Beauregard laughed and how Aunt Sophie repeatedly hit her brother, demanding for an explanation, Pazel began to have second thoughts. It was when the four reached the Anderson estate, when he realized why his costume was a problem: it was a formal party. Nothing but suits and pretty dresses all around. Some random person accosted the four and asked whether or not Pazel’s outfit was to compensate for the lack of something. Pazel was not really sure what that something was, but it embarrassed him none the less. He regretted assumed the “Halloween party” was a costume party. While Sophie performed an impressive Northern Lights Suplex on Beauregard off on the side, Alexander comforted his nephew, informing him that they would call their house for someone to bring a suitable outfit for Pazel to wear if he felt out of place. Pazel respectfully declined the generous offer. It was late and he didn’t feel his momentary embarrassment was worth the trouble of finding a suit for him. Luckily for Pazel, the sight of a young man wearing a witch costume in a formal witch party wore out its novelty as the party continued. Eventually, a majority of the witches paid no heed to it.
Stationed beside the sweet buffet, Pazel watched the party guests socialize. If Pazel didn’t know any better, he would have thought they were all celebrities of some kind. Even the people who looked close to his age had a special aura about them. He saw Uncle Beauregard walking about in the crowd. Pazel was not really sure if his uncle was popular amongst the guests, but he did notice how Beauregard flirted with every man, woman, young, and old in the building. No one showed any resentment towards Beauregard’s advancements. At least, not while he was near them: some of the guests showed distaste only when Beauregard was out of their vicinity. He thought a fight would erupt when someone started an argument, but the longer the man interacted with Beauregard, the harder it seemed to be for the man to resist Beauregard’s charm, or something of that manner. In the end, the man looked love-struck, providing a window of opportunity for Beauregard to escape. Had the man genuinely fallen in love, it would have been all fine and dandy, however, a few beats after Beauregard left the man, he snapped out of his trance and was back to his previous temper, if not angrier than before.
Since the first time he heard his uncle over phone, many months ago, Pazel had felt something strange. The feeling became more frequent when he started meeting his mother’s family more often. It was not a bad feeling, in fact, it was very pleasant: he felt happy and comfortable with his uncle around. Then the magic would just disappear when Beauregard left. It was as if Beauregard presence alone pleased all five senses. Pazel wondered if the other guests felt the same thing he did. Some of them must have. Though, in some instances, people outright ignored Beauregard existence as if to avoid feeling the feeling. Only the exceptional few interacted with Beauregard normally.
“Are you having fun?” Sophie approached Pazel and stole a strawberry off of his plate.
“The food’s great.”
“And that’s always worth going to a party.”
“Speaking of which, you still haven’t told me what this party is about.”
“Do you see that group of important looking people Alexander is with?” Pazel glanced in the direction Sophie was pointing at and nodded. “They’re doing stuff that important people do.”
“Oh… so why am I here?”
“Beauregard wanted you to come.”
“Why?”
Sophie shrugged. “Knowing him as long as I do? Probably to humiliate our entire family.”
“I’m guessing that’s a common occurrence.”
“Don’t even get me started.”
@upscalerat: Cool! Tutor for the core classes it is then! … Good luck Emily…
@Teknopathetic: Depending on ToskaO's response, I think I will have Pazel working at a bar/cafe. Which at this point, I'm about to make it into a cafe that turns into a bar at night. Maximilienne may fall victim to Pazel's experimental dishes he makes (such as his mealworm bolognese sauce on arugula agar spaghetti).
As for Rosenkreuz, I didn't think they would be on good terms. That might change later, but not any time soon. I mean, for starters, Rosenkreuz is an assassin: not exactly the most honorable career. Ze has killed innocents for money, got in the way of the Order a number of times, and killed members of the Order, again, for money. I doubt Maximilienne would want to be buddy-buddy with Rosenkreuz.
@Teknopathetic: Depending on ToskaO's response, I think I will have Pazel working at a bar/cafe. Which at this point, I'm about to make it into a cafe that turns into a bar at night. Maximilienne may fall victim to Pazel's experimental dishes he makes (such as his mealworm bolognese sauce on arugula agar spaghetti).
As for Rosenkreuz, I didn't think they would be on good terms. That might change later, but not any time soon. I mean, for starters, Rosenkreuz is an assassin: not exactly the most honorable career. Ze has killed innocents for money, got in the way of the Order a number of times, and killed members of the Order, again, for money. I doubt Maximilienne would want to be buddy-buddy with Rosenkreuz.
upscalerat said If it's not too late to jump on the forming-relations bandwagon, I'd like to see if I can convince someone to perhaps have known li'l ol' Em for a bit? Especially someone who didn't know they were a witch or something? I don't know.Who knows? Maybe she'll form a nice friendship and [s]realize she's a racist[/i] come to terms with the idea of witches, or not. :'D
…
Oh wait, are you talking about Paz (the "especially someone who didn't know they were a witch or something" part)? Oh yeah, they can totally be acquaintances/friends.
Lets see… Em's a graduate student for astrology right? They have different majors and are not even on the same education level so… maybe she can be a tutor? Paz is not a complete idiot, but he can get horrendous grades if he's not interested in the subject matter.
Or they could became acquaintances/friends through something unrelated to school. Uh… maybe at a party? Through a mutual friend? At the part time job that I have yet to decide for Paz? Extra curricular activities?
I wonder, would she have met Rosenkreuz on a witch-hunting job?
@Teknopathetic: I'm starting to thinking Paz working part time at a bar/cafe is the best way to get aquatinted with non-student characters. Especially if the character is a regular customer.
Maximilienne would have probably ran into Rosenkreuz during a job a number of times (ze has killed witches and people from the Order). Rosenkreuz could bother her off duty (or vice versa).
@Doctor Belasco: Private schools tend to do whatever they want. If the Andersons want to keep tabs on every witch-affiliated individual they'd probably want Sebastian to keep an eye on Paz. The Flamels could have requested the Andersons to mask Sebastian's meetings as counseling sessions (and give some BS reason for Pazel to go the sessions... something psychology major related). The Flamels would pay extra (or provide a discount for their magic ingredients/artifacts) for Sebastian to report them about Pazel.
@ToskaO: …Actually that sounds kind of fun… *Thinks about it* Her unhealthy appearance probably would make Pazel want to feed her.
Oh, by any chance, would she go to a bar or cafe often? I'm debating if Pazel should work there instead (so he has the chance to meet other non-student characters) or as Adelaide's nanny apprentice---… or Pazel could work at the shop that supplies Adelaide's tattoo ink/supplies. I'm kind of leaning on the bar/cafe, but Adelaide's apprentice is appealing too.
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