Noxious

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

@Hellis You think we should just stick with the same posting order as our first posts?

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

The bartender approached Varvara with her order. Doing the decent thing nad wiping the counter before putting the coaster and the glass down. "You know. I never though I'd see you in here again." The man spoke. With a voice like velvet smoke, and light brown eyes so intense they were almost smouldering ambers, there was something very wrong about him. Not fully human. "After what happened With Rune."

Vara smiled and beneath the large glasses you could see the pleased expression lighten her features. "Who is to say it is even me anymore, hmmm?" The smile remained as a brow raised up from beneath the glasses. She placed a few bills on the counter, pulled the customary straw from her drink and set it aside. "I mean, do we even know anymore?" She pressed the glass to lips and took a deep sip, before once again engaging the bartender. "How have we been?"

She really was just stalling, mostly, there was a hangover threatening somewhere in the background. She wasn't listening to it though. She took another sip before she spoke, "Who is here?"

"Some ukrainan postorder bribe. Shaman type. A Irish gal, feytouched.." The bartenders smiled. "You are still you. Rune didn't fuck that up.. yet." He nodded to the backdoor. "Yet." He said again and his smile was the worst kind of shit eating grin.

She followed his glance to the backdoor and sighed. “I know. I know.” She wiggled a few of her fingers at him like she was setting some sort of curse. It wasn’t funny, but he’d teased first. Her expression was nothing but exhaustion and forced happiness as she grabbed her drink and headed towards the back door.

She didn’t knock, but she did tap on it with her drink and then push it open. She slid past Morgana, her fingers touching across the girl’s side. She didn’t try and steal anything but memories, but she was empty handed either way. The madame obviously had some sort of protection for the room’s occupants. She wasn’t surprised. No bother, She slid to the opposite side of the wall and nodded to the other occupants of the room. “Names Vara.” She raised her glass in a semblance of cheers.

She bowed her head in respect towards M. Jones. “I’d love to say it was a pleasure, Madame Jones,” she smirked and took a sip of her drink before glancing at Johnny, and then back at the Madame, “but it doesn’t take a reader to see pleasure isn’t the prominent feeling.”

((Collab with **Hellis))

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

I am not 100% in love with my intro. :( I didn't want to make you guys wait while I tried to collab.

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

“Till a voice, as bad as conscience, rang interminable changes on one everlasting; whisper day and night repeated--so: 'Something hidden. Go and find it.'” It was Kippling; and there was more, but she failed to remember it at the moment.

She’d caught a ride with a local college student and they ended up in a dive bar, singing karaoke and taking shots with the regulars. She was forever chasing the easy distractions of the mundane; and in the blur of drink and smoke there was slurred laughter and she could swear she once even forgot about the dreams that ached without the aid of sleep. She retired to a hotel room with her new found companion, who passed out immediately.

She flipped through the channels, finding nothing relevant. She touched at the lines of fate leading to and from the snoring boy next to her. She had learned how to gingerly prick a line and gain glimpses of knowledge without entirely consuming. The arcane sent an ecstatic tremble whenever she did so and would favor her with a glimpse of his past or future, sometimes it was hard to tell. He was a sweet boy and her smile was genuine caring, but she was a fickle thing and soon she was rolling a few spliffs. She eventually pulled the bedside table up to the bed and spent the night propped up; alternating between swigging a bottle of Carlo Rossi, smoking cigarettes and spliffs, and always toying with the cards. Occasionally she glanced at her two day old phone. She knew a text was coming.

At first she thought she that this new nagging presence was because of her recent ventures. She’d been practicing, let’s say, tempting other people's fates in her favor; simple little nudges in a path that may benefit her own. She thought this was a punishment for that, at first. But she had begun to feel them, and the cards were leaning towards others. There was something else, and when the phone, whose number she had shared with no one, received a text there was no surprise. Her stomach fell a little, knotting with anxiety until she had taken a few strong pulls of the Carlo. She grabbed the phone from the bedside table and her face became unreadable.

She was quiet and careful as she slipped out of the bed. The sun had yet to even kiss the horizon and the boy slept deeply, untroubled. She took a moment to appreciate the boy’s situation. Her own envy was buried beneath a superiority earned through medling. She brushed her teeth, all in as much silence as she could muster. She didn’t want to shatter the moment.

She slipped into a front button knitted sweater that fell almost to her knees over a plain white t-shirt and jean cutoffs, shorter than the sweater. She pulled on some hiking boots sitting in a chair across from the bed. She took one last drink of the Carlo and grabbed a twenty from the boys wallet while placing a kiss on his forehead. He barely stirred as she grabbed her bulky hiker's pack and slipped out, easing the door closed.

Once outside she glanced at the sun and took a deep breath.

“So it begins…” ...it began so long ago.

She forced a smile and headed towards Station 7.

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

By the time she found the place the sun was proudly glaring upon New York City. Janis Joplin shades attempted to protect eyes that were sensitive due to inebriation and lack of sleep. She’d been here before, when she first got to New York. She’d even had the pleasure of meeting Madame Jones, albeit briefly. One of her cousins from the old country did work for her from time to time. Vavara had felt the woman was like breathing in the most fulfilling breath while suffocating. Her nerves and the arcane and the moment were twitching beneath her skin as she smiled past the bouncer and found her way to the bar. She hoped this meeting with Madame Jones would be more delightful, though she heavily doubted it. Even thinking of the woman made her need a drink. So she found her way to the bar closest to the far back room where destiny awaited. It could wait a few more moments.

“Beer and a shot of vodka please.” She batted lashes at the bartender, it was instinct because her eyes were still covered by the large sunglasses.

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

I've been training at work so I haven't had any free time. :( I should be able to get to this tonight.

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

Glad to see you Foxxie. I've been waiting with barely manageable anticipation to see what you'd bring, and you did not disappoint.

I will be posting tomorrow for sure.

:)

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

I may be off, but I imagine that in a place like New York there would be little "ghettos" of magic users.

In our last run of the RP there was a bar owned and visited by some of the better respected members of the community and I can imagine such a place would draw people to it.

I would even go so far as to imagine that there are hidden rooms in alleys marked with magic where people could go to hire or offer their services, or just to talk about the troubles and benefits of magic with people who actually understand.

I'm pregnant.

That is why I avoid other people. And then people are wondering why I haven't gotten sick for more than 10 years.

@MrLongSchlong

or pregnant.

HI KYUKI!

ςнαяαςтєяş × яøℓєρℓαчş

Varvara

“Jekh dilo kerel but dile hai but dile keren dilimata”
[One madman makes many madmen, and many madmen make madness]

True Name: Xari Chere [one who swallows stars]
Taken Name: Vara
Given Name: Varvara Shishkin

Appearance: ears laced in metal, lithe frame standing at 5’6”, pale eyes and a knowing smile, ink licked across her skin in many patterns and colors, the most entrancing sigil hidden beneath her hair at the base of her neck, it was a rune that appeared to pulse and move like worms beneath her skin.

Age: 24

Personality: She’s a wanderer by blood. Her outward personality is a bubbly and flighty thing. She is disgustingly optimistic, giggly and flirty. She has a difficult time taking anything too seriously, though she is oddly superstitious. She slips in and out of her own thoughts; though she often refers to the arcane as a separate entity within herself. Her lightheartedness is ultimately a safety mechanism to keep the arcane at bay; for any depressive states could trigger a downward spiral that has destroyed many of her kin. Favors the company of shamans; they always have the good drugs.

Nature of magic: Her family line touched arcane purity and infected all succeeding generations.

Magic practice: Ruska Roma; fortune teller

When you see the lines of past, present and future;
is that not proof that they are set?
The now is no less maneuverable to the fates than the then;
which also brings up troubling questions about tomorrow.

Brief bio:
Her destiny was aligned before her conception.

Varvara grew up watching, listening and absorbing all that was her people. She learned to treat others well and blend in communities they cohabited with. She learned to listen; she enjoys it. She would never want to hurt another; but there are gray areas that her upbringing instilled in her morality. She may steal on occasion and pray that it would be appreciated enough to be forgiven. Sometimes it wasn't exactly right, but they could make amends.

Her mother once told her, “The Gypsy way is a way that springs from the heart, and the deepest, most primitive instincts of man. It respects nature and man’s place in nature. It teaches us to take joy in the moment.”

The women of her family communed with the spirits and the elements, each mother passing down their gift to their first born daughter. Even with powers, she relied on her mother to pass on her knowledge and stories that would lead her down the correct path. She was given lists of herbs and elements and combinations. On what should be a lazy sunny day she would be engrossed in the rituals of asking/taking/thanking; all day, her entire life, little bits of information continue until night when her mother would curl up next to her side. She tells Varvara of the deeper magic, the darkness that lines it, and she offers insight into “The Rite of Graves” showing her how to commune with the dead; She teaches her about the spectres of snares and how to win them over with offerings of your goodness…and Varvara listens, and absorbs. These were gray areas of the tainted knowledge, some of which hint at a darkness her people have attempted to forget. She couldn't forget though.

There were generations separating her from the kin that became tainted with power, but it had infected them all, a blood sickness. A greed had entered their souls. The tainted traveled in search of power and found it; arcane purity. A magic that could not be wielded, it consumed the soul, devoured by a strength that blinded and patronized its possessor until insanity and/or death.

After a particularly intense festival involving a couple of meditative shaman Vara videotaped herself mapping out a future using odd symbols and hallucinated truths whispered and strung together. She knew what had to happen. She packed up a small amount of belongings and left for America after she exchanged a teary and sorrowful goodbye with her family. She had never been without them before and it was difficult and thrilling. She traded and stole to buy her way and even got a job on a ship for the final leg.

She arrived in New York and made introductions with some Romani her family had connections with. It was through them that she found herself in one of the seedier bars that catered to the magically inclined. She was flirting with a gorgeous blonde and it seemed to be going well, and then very quickly it turned bad. She'd never felt a surge of power like the one Johan gave her. She remember puking, shaking, and her mind flooding, waves of time would drown her and then cease just long enough for her to gasp for air. A separate, hungry self entered her mind while Johan did what he could to fix her. He gave her a rune on the base of her neck that worked as a sort of filtration system. Hungry worms pulled some of the arcane from her, trying to create a suitable level for Vara to survive.

Varvara took quickly to the cards, even as a child. She found them soothing. She dealt for others, for a price. Girl has got to eat. Her mother had taught her at a young age that people rarely sought truth, what they needed was faith and comfort; so more often than not, that it was Varavara offered. They didn't offer solid facts anyways. She saw paths and choices; but now that Johnny had 'accidently supercharged' her, well, she saw a future and a past that riddled choices and consequences and human nature. She would spend hours dealing while meditating on choices.

She left New York and moved to Dunwich, Mass. She roomed with a quiet studious follower of the Hermetic Order of Golden Dawn. He was fascinated with her predicament and often times viewed Vara as an experiment as much as a friend. He was understanding though and didn't seem to mind that she would lock herself up for days at a time and go on heavy benders. The two were sharing a bottle of wine sitting on the floor and talking about Enochian magic when she first felt the prickling presence of the stranger. Then the dreams started, and followed her into her waking state. Sometimes it was just the feeling someone was watching, but it was getting stronger, more tormenting...

There was something there, something she was missing...

After her first dream with the man she spent days, restless and swaying between a drunken and lucid trance, dealing the cards, over and over.

She had to go back to New York.

Varvara Redux

_{.Jekh dilo kerel but dile hai but dile keren dilimata.}

^{// One madman makes many madmen, and many madmen make madness //}

Vαʀᴠαʀα Sʜịsʜᴋịɴ

^{Xari Chere // the one who swallows stars
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆}

[ ★ ] Age // Appearance

Twenty-four years had been kind to the provocative gypsy, at least on the exterior. Her skin was freckled with twinkling metal, lithe frame standing at 5’6”, pale eyes and an innocent yet knowing smile. Ink licked across her skin in many patterns and colors, the most entrancing sigil hidden beneath her hair at the base of her neck; a gifted rune that appeared to pulse and move like worms beneath her skin.

[ ★ ] Personality

She’s a wanderer by blood. Outwardly she is a bubbly and flighty thing, disgustingly optimistic, giggly and flirty. While she genuinely is a good person, morality in the gypsy community was always a bit gray. Sexuality, thievery and substance abuse fall into the aforementioned gray. She has a difficult time taking anything too seriously, though she is oddly superstitious. She slips in and out of her own thoughts, often referring to the arcane as a separate entity within. Her lightheartedness is ultimately a safety mechanism to keep the arcane at bay; for any depressive states could trigger a downward spiral that has destroyed many of her kin. Favors the company of shamans; they always have the good drugs.

[ ★ ] ]Nature of magic

Her family line touched arcane purity infecting all succeeding generations.

[ ★ ] Magic practice

Ruska Roma; fortune teller

_{⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆
When you see the lines of past, present and future;}
^{is that not proof that they are set?}

_{The now is no less maneuverable to the fates than the then;}
^{which also brings up troubling questions about tomorrow.
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆}

[ ★ ] Biography

Her mother once told her, “The Gypsy way is a way that springs from the heart, and the deepest, most primitive instincts of man. It respects nature and man’s place in nature. It teaches us to take joy in the moment.” Beyond the defining aspects of her already prolific heritage there was an addition, a darkness that had weaved it’s way into their family line and taken root within her unborn soul, for her destiny was aligned before her conception.

The women of her family communed with the natural leylines, the breathing fates, each mother passing down their gift to their first born daughter. Varvara relied on her mother to pass down more than untrained skill, as those before her had. She needed her knowledge, her stories, as they were the only thing capable of providing a lit path in the twisted over-growth of arcane. On what should be a lazy sunny day she would be engrossed in the rituals of asking-taking-thanking, herbs, talismans, superstitions: a continuous burden. After the sun fell her mother would curl up next to her in whatever makeshift bed they shared and tell Vara of the deeper magic, the darkness that lines it and Varvara listens, and absorbs. These were gray areas of the tainted knowledge, some of which hint at a darkness her people have attempted to forget. She couldn't forget though.

There were generations separating her from the kin that became tainted with power, but it had infected them all, a blood sickness. A greed had entered their souls. The tainted traveled in search of power and found it; arcane purity. A magic that could not be wielded, it consumed the soul, devoured by a strength that blinded and patronized its possessor until insanity and/or death.

After a particularly intense festival involving a couple of meditative shaman Vara videotaped herself mapping out a future using odd symbols and hallucinated truths whispered and strung together. She knew what had to happen. She packed up a small amount of belongings and left for America after she exchanged a teary and sorrowful goodbye with her family. She had never been without them before and it was difficult, and thrilling. She traded and stole to buy her way and even got a job on a ship for the final leg.

She arrived in New York and made introductions with some Romani her family had connections with. It was through them that she found herself in one of the seedier bars that catered to the magically inclined. She was flirting with a gorgeous blonde and it seemed to be going well, and then very quickly it turned bad. She'd never felt a surge of power like the one Johan gave her. She remember puking, shaking, and her mind flooding, waves of time would drown her and then cease just long enough for her to gasp for air. A separate, hungry self entered her mind while Johan did what he could to fix her. He gave her a rune on the base of her neck that worked as a sort of filtration system. Hungry worms pulled some of the arcane from her, trying to create a suitable level for Vara to survive.

Varvara took quickly to the cards, even as a child. She found them soothing. She dealt for others, for a price. Girl has got to eat. Her mother had taught her at a young age that people rarely sought truth, what they needed was faith and comfort; so more often than not, that it was Varavara offered. They didn't offer solid facts anyways. She saw paths and choices; but now that Johan had 'accidently supercharged' her, well, she saw a future and a past that riddled choices and consequences and human nature. She would spend hours dealing while meditating on choices.

She was sitting at a bar, sharing a bottle of wine with a voodoo chick and talking about Enochian magic when she first felt a prickling “wrongness”. Then the dreams started, and followed her into her waking state. Sometimes it was just the feeling that something was off, but it was getting stronger, more tormenting...

After hearing about Remi she spent days, restless and swaying between a drunken and lucid trance, dealing the cards, over and over.

There was something there, something she was missing...

She had to go to New Orleans.

Battletech: Forlorn Hope (Mechwarrior universe; big stompy robots)

I think you still have my email to share google docs, right?

I have to work Saturday morning at 5:30AM so I wont be up to late tonight but I will have plenty of time tomorrow. Saturday is mostly just me babysitting and holding down the office. :)