#convo:maven

[virajxsoteira]

@mavenlockwood​

It was hard not to notice when someone was avoiding you, Viraj was used to it, but he and Maven were family. Siblings sired by the same vampire, she had nothing to fear from him, something that she would learn in time. When Viraj grew tired of waiting for the woman to simply manifest before him, he sought her out himself. What Viraj noticed first, pungent and alluring came the unmistakable stench of a witch - all at once he understood what had happened. “Maven - ?” Viraj spoke as he approached her, dark eyes were laden with sympathy, “what... What happened to you?” He thought of Patroclus turning Kiyoko human, what has he done to you?

[dantexlykos]

Tagging: Dante, Daphne, Saint, Maven, Enzo, and Valkyrie

Timeline: Early September 2021

Location: Temple of Apollo

Notes: Summoning Daddy

Trigger Warning: Blood and sacrifice

@daphneonassis @mavenlockwood @saintcorvin @vclkyric @enzoxcorsetti

Dante

Everything was set. The moon was in the right position and the witching hour was upon them. At the temple of Apollo where the veil was at its thinnest the genasi accompanied by Valkyrie gathered. With painstaking dedication the runes had been etched into the very earth, checked over by any who saw fit, the ritual was set to begin shortly. Their power was charged by blood and sacrifice and to reach Thanatos it would take an offering from each of them, a bit of their own essence would be shed in order for the call to succeed. The ritual was an invitation, designed initially for any spirit or creature on the other side of the veil, the purpose was to create a window so that they six may peer through to their guest without obstruction. Each had their own reasons for this undertaking, some wanted power, others sought redemption, but Dante’s own query was attuned to the preservation of the veil. His heart’s desire burned even deeper, but such a thing would not be possible if he had no magic to speak of. Dante’s runes were etched upon his split of the circle, an old Greek incantation fell from his lips as his power moved to meld with the other’s. Genasi were not known for cooperation, their personalities were the embodiment of their magic and too often there was conflict between them. Earth clashed with air but in this they had to work in synergy while also melding the temperamental power of fire and languid motions of water and shadow. A blade of silver reflected the light of the moon as Dante drew it across his palm and outstretched his hand over the circle, blood dribbled down and pooled through the crevices they’d made in the earth towards the epicenter. “Hear us Thanatos, daimon of peaceful death.”

Daphne

As one of the youngest genasi, Daphne felt great relief in the proximity to the sea and how easy she could harness the power from it. Just far enough in the distance to resemble a blue hue, but close enough to give her peace of mind. It wasn’t necessarily out of fear that she had concerns for it, but just having that added boost would help her greatly in the summoning. Necromancy hadn’t ended up being as natural to the water genasi as she had hoped, though many sleepless nights and advice from the fellow genasi, she managed to find comfort in her version of the spellwork. She held that very version in her left hand as the horizon of the meeting place came into her peripherals, the sea winds causing the corners to crinkle and make it harder to read. At this point, it was overkill to keep reading it and instead she shoved it into the same pocket as her ingredients. Veils of tonics and dried poppies clinked together as Daphne reached the temple, uncloaking herself from the darkness and into the dim street light.[3:28 PM]Boots crunched against loose gravel before emerging onto the familiar sight, noticing Dante had already begun to get things in order. It was fitting that the earth genasi had arrived early to the location and if it wasn’t for the sheer amount of focus, Daphne might actually be a little envious that it hadn’t been herself. Though now wasn’t the time for pettiness, which revealed itself in the water genasi’s expression as she got within the limits of the circle.  “I brought— ,” she began to state after giving a soft wave, then proceeded to pull the jar full of dried red petals and seed pods. There was more within the bag, but the moonlight only showed highlights of the items. A  spare butterfly, just in case, and had been one in which she raised herself. Along with a few swigs of bitter wine, some mandrake root, homemade incense, and snake skins Daphne found while out at the Onassis farmland. But before she could continue, the fellow genasi emerged in her sights and that meant the starting of the ritual. Soon she was repeating after the others, hazel eyes focused on the power surging within each of them as her own blood mixed in, “We are here to offer praise, Lord of Death, and seek your wisdom.”

Saint

It was no idle task, to summon a god. Saint arrived at the temple, guided by the draw of power beginning to swell under the fullness of the moon. The time had come, and it had required preparation on the spirit genasi’s behalf. Clothed in the colour of ink, he was a formidable presence as he stepped onto the dais. While the others were mostly strangers to him, as were their intentions, Saint recognized Dante from across from him, already mouthing the words of the incantation. He stood at full height now, and his pockets were empty of trinkets— a purposeful notion that caused his upper lip lifted in a sneer as he saw the doe-eyed water genasi place her flowers and animal parts as her offering. He saw such things as an insult, curving into his segment of the circle with ease, drawing runes in shadow before bringing forth his own offering. Blood was required, but for his part, he would also gift their god something more. It would be twin witches, one of the element fire and the other water stood behind him, gripped at the scruff of the neck by a scowling werewolf; who stood as dark and sharp as the shadows that bound their arms and covered their mouths. “My offering,” he announced, his voice lifting through the dark, gravelled and commanding. He lead the witches to the edge of the circle, and he murmured the incantation as he drew a long, slender blade along their throats. Pale skin drenched crimson, staining down the front of starched white nightgowns before it pooled at their feet, making its way down to the centre of the circle. Saint tossed them forward, before bringing the tip of the knife along his own palm, squeezing to add his own blood to the garish swirl. “We bring you these offerings, this sacrifice— to beckon you to hear our call.”

Maven

There's still a part of Maven that kind of thinks this idea is batshit insane, trying to reach out to the god that gave them this power without knowing what will happen. But at the same time, Dante had made it clear her magic would be necessary to make it work, and she cannot deny the fact of being curious; of wanting to speak to Thanatos herself. She's one of the last to arrive at the temple, it seems, eyes scanning over the other genasi already around warily. Dante and Daphne are familiar, even if only by acquaintance, but the other is entirely a stranger, and she cannot help but look for Toni. Maven reaches inside the small bag around her waist, pulling out the deep blue enchanted candles she's brought, before setting them around the marked runes and lighting them with her magic. "For communication," she says, in answer to a question no one asked. This magic is still a bit new to her, but hopefully, it'll make the line of communication clearer to reach between the genasi and Thanatos. Blood and candles and runes, just like the night she became a genasi. The thought is of small amusement, as Maven pulls out a blade and cuts along the edge of her palm, allowing her blood to mix with the others. "We your loyal servants, your chosen followers, make this offering and ask for your guidance."

Enzo

Enzo reminded himself why he was doing this. A shot at meeting Thanatos, on his back, over an alter – the air genasi wasn't picky. Brushing off the idea that he would come face to face with a god, he made his way to the temple alongside Dante. The newest genasi was present; the fire witch who'd survived a hell of an ordeal. He'd yet to meet her, though this seemed to be a good time as any. He didn't say much, waiting until Maven was finished before he was rounding out the ritual. It was dangerous and presumptive to call upon a god. Whether or not he would answer would be one thing, and Enzo wasn't exactly confident. It'd get the god's attention, and the spirit witch's offering was a little violent for his own taste, and he wasn't sure what kind of attention that would bring. His own offering was less than, it seemed, as he placed the wood carving down. It acted as a channeler, and he remained silent as he used a knife to cut along the palm of his hand, mixing in his abilities with the other's. The air genasi was unsure of his own goal. Was it immortality to protect a failing heart like his? Perhaps, but there were many problems within the world, and he had little to give. "In you, the end of nature’s works is known, in you, all judgment is absolved alone. No vows revoke the purpose of our souls. Thanatos, regard our ardent prayer."

Freya

Freya was uncertain if this ritual would go over well, or whether it would be successful — a God’s moods were wispy like the wind, and did not so easily bend. But she would be damned if she let the genasi do this on their own. If something went wrong, she could save them. And even if half of them weren’t exactly fond of her, she was ready to do that for any of them. And so she stood still as she watched Dante start the ritual with the earth full of whispers as it reacted to his magic. Then she watched fondly as Daphne continued, with the strength of the sea in her back. The spirit genasi who had come to the stables was next, earning a slight frown from her side, but she did not even bat her lashes as his voice filled the air. A young woman stood in the circle she had not seen before, the fire genasi who looked as if she would go up in flames should anyone come too close. Last was the air genasi, offering his blood to Thanatos. As they worked, Freya’s magic washed over theirs like a blanket, knitting it together, and balancing it out where it was needed. They were strong, and she was the one to bring it all together. She protruded a slim dagger to pull it along her palm, balling her hand into a fist as she turned it around to let her blood drop onto the carved runes. It was the last puzzle piece, and her voice carried on the air as the ritual ended. “Thanatos, I stand here vouching for those worthy of your power. Hear their prayer, and be their guide.”

[oneiroixnemesis]

@mavenlockwood

“Oh!” Ezio exclaimed as they scrutinized the woman a bit closer, they stepped in and forward and studied the vampire carefully. They recognized her from the cell, and they also recognized her from the time in the cell when she’d been led out and then murdered in front of everyone. The spirit had figured that the then-witch would have been turned into a vampire considering how much blood had been forced down all of their gullets, but what they hadn’t considered was that she’d stick around in the city that had unalived her in the first place. Ezio thought the whole situation was probably traumatic so they decided then to approach it with some tact. “You’re that dead girl from the hotel, aren’t you?”

[virajxsoteira]

@mavenlockwood​

While Viraj had been aware of others as they had died, Maven’s death had been particular sad. How many has she turned? That had been all Hektor cared for, but he wanted to make sure that Jamie’s insufferable influence didn’t overtake the much more important factor that she should have the chance to wish to turn others. In his mind it was far better to die with power than to scrape together whatever will to live was strong enough to make someone okay with being human. “Maven,” Viraj greeted, they hadn’t seen each other since his dinner party, a decent enough introduction. He thought still what he thought now, Maven had potential. “we never got to talk while we were trapped in damnation together, I thought now as good a time as any.”

[virajxsoteira]

@mavenlockwood​

Hektor’s direction was clear: kill the witch. Viraj might have had feelings for Maven that would have stayed his hand otherwise, but the original vampire wasn’t a man that Viraj cared to debate with. Besides, she was a thankless traitor, one who’d clearly rejected his hand of family in favour of fragility and a heartbeat. You let me die. The ethereal voice of his dead wife rang in his ear, haunted by her specter she was easy enough to ignore - at least at first. But her presence was ceaseless, her face, her taunting. Sometimes Amalie, and sometimes the comfort woman who’d called herself his mother centuries prior. Curr, bastard, fiend, the slights were endless but Viraj was no stranger to making enemies. He’d decimated covens and eviscerated wolves for little more than fleeting entertainment. Fear kept those who wished him harm at bay, and it was fear that protected him in a way - but this power was great, significant. The work of a genasi. When he was through with Maven he’d have to find the person responsible and make them pay, dearly. 

A late summer rain pelted the ground as the door of Maven’s home exploded open, the roof rang out with a cacophony of pellets as Viraj strode easily into the witch’s lair. Foolish, maybe, but arrogance had permeated the entirety of the man’s being for centuries. He’d modelled himself after his sire, Hektor feared no one, and neither did Viraj. Save for maybe the original himself. “Maven-” Viraj called out, his voice almost a singsong as the rich scent of magic permeated the air of the home. It was potent, powerful. He became aware quite quickly of the fact that it had been Maven herself who’d cast the curse, impressive, considering how recent she must have changed. Viraj would later credit himself with this, it had been he who had told her how pathetic she was. How weak. What was a witch to do except do what all desperate witches must? “There you are.” Viraj remarked simply, he would relish draining every bit of genasi blood from her veins, he would leave her an empty husk. A shell. Only then would he permit her to die. “You smell... Delicious.”

[virajxsoteira]

@anaxcavallero & @mavenlockwood​

Ana was like a sister to him, a much, much, older sister, and by all accounts that made Maven the younger of the two of them. If there was one thing progeny’s of Hektor’s seemed to have in common it was abandonment issues, trauma, and a slew of complexes that would drive most psychiatric professionals into madness. Viraj had never arranged a family reunion before, and while the beast within him was more inclined to rip both their heads clear from their shoulders out of pure jealousy and spite, his fear of Hektor, however, ran far deeper than his innate jealousy. Better to make friends, besides, Ana had a penchant for violence that he rather enjoyed - and Maven? Well, from what Viraj had gathered her death had been something of a spectacle, that was interesting enough for the moment. 

The handmade invitations  were written in a regal script over expensive paper, they were compelled to be delivered to Ana and Maven and doubled as gifts, upon delivery the pair of messengers were to slit their own throats before the women; an omen of the dinner party to come. 

The estate was not his, but it was one of the largest in the city, the owner was kind enough to let Viraj make use of it, and invite several of his friends over as well. The musicians were compelled, as were the guests, dressed for the ball, Viraj sat at the middle of the table and laughed at his own jokes while the mixture of humans, witches, and whatever else he’d come across and was able to compel into attendance laughed along with him. 

“At last,” Viraj smiled as large double doors opened, a partially bloodied, and pale looking butler led the pair of women into the ballroom. He stood with his arms extended, “our guests of honour have arrived - Ana, you look ravishing as ever.” Viraj mused before his eyes quickly fell on Maven. Viraj was a creature of excess, indulgence, selfish and vain desire - and this was an example of all that even she as a young vampire were capable of. Power, invulnerability, excess. The scent of blood was rich in the air, another point of temptation. “Which means, you, must be Maven. A pleasure.”