#like the red attracts and repels spirits at the same time

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ive been thinking about the red string superstition recently and also sol bufo always and it makes me sick how uncannily caldwell tanner has made sol to perfectly target me personally

(+ cropped versions !)

[mikavlcs]

Blonde

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Despite being opposites, your and Wednesday’s relationship is great. There’s only one problem: you’re not very smart. 

Warnings: you’re stupid, a (bad) attempt at comedy, ooc!wednesday but you guys should be used to that

Word count: 1.1k

Notes: someone asked for a story about a dumb, bubbly reader, i tried my best to deliver. so i hope the anon that requested this enjoys<3

Masterlist

Wednesday had never understood the phrase “opposites attract.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She understood what it meant in a scientific context. Two like magnetic poles repel each other but opposite poles attract. Thus is the Force of Attraction. But she could never grasp what the laws of magnetism had to do with romantic relationships.

Until she met you.

She was introduced to you, rather hesitantly on her part, by Enid. You and Enid were twin flames, two peas in a pod, soul sisters—and all the other stupid phrases Enid used to describe your bond. 

You and Enid were inseparable which meant that you were virtually inescapable for Wednesday.

And she hated it at first—hated you, at first. You were similar to Enid personality-wise, but somehow you managed to be even more bubbly and upbeat than her living rainbow of a roommate.

Wednesday couldn’t stand the way you were always smiling, always waving at and greeting people in the halls or the quad. She despised the way you always complimented everyone around you, including Wednesday. She loathed the fact that your giggles were a constant presence in her life now. And most infuriatingly, she hated the fact that nothing she ever said could phase you.

None of her subtle jabs, scathing insults, or even her most vile threats could dampen your spirits. You were unbreakable in your vivaciousness and in a weird way, she respected that.

But over time, Wednesday came to realize that it wasn’t hatred that brewed in her gut whenever you smiled at her. It wasn’t disgust that painted her cheeks a nearly imperceptible shade of red when you complimented her.

No, it was something else. Something downright reprehensible.

Wednesday…liked you.

She was positively repulsed at first (and to a degree, she still was) but she begrudgingly accepted these feelings and even embraced them when you confessed to experiencing the same terrible affections for her.

So over the months, she got used to your cheerfulness. She adapted to your compliments, your hugs, handholding, cheek kisses, and all the other sickening forms of affection you showed her.

(She would never, under any circumstances admit it, but she dared to say that she even began to enjoy them. Disgusting.)

The only problem she had was that you were…well…not the smartest. Like, at all.

It honestly astounded Wednesday how inept you could be at times. One time in class the teacher was showing a documentary about cavemen and about twenty minutes in, you leaned over and whispered, “How did they get the cameras back there if they hadn’t been invented yet?”

Wednesday could only stare.

She had been cooking with you once, teaching you how to make a traditional Addams family recipe and it called for a pinch of salt. You turned and, completely serious, asked, “Do the measurements of a pinch vary by hand size?”

It was one of the very few times in her life that Wednesday had been rendered completely speechless.

There were other, smaller things you said in passing sometimes that baffled her.

“Wednesday, if you eat peanuts really fast it tastes like peanut butter!”

“Hey, Wen, wouldn’t it be cool if Halloween was on Friday the 13th this year?”

“Wednesday, how do the birds not get confused during daylight savings time?”

It was truly mystifying.

Wednesday couldn’t help but wonder if her insults only never affected you because you simply didn’t understand them.

Surprisingly though, your intellectual inferiority was not a deal breaker for Wednesday. She usually prided herself on not wasting her time with what she deemed the lesser of her species, but with you it was different.

She would even say that, at times, she found it…somewhat cute.

(She shivered in despair the first time she caught herself mentally using that revolting word. The effect you had on her was truly disparaging.)

But that didn’t stop it from being bewildering and even worrying at times, no matter how comical it could be.

Wednesday figured that she would one day happen upon you endangering your life in some way—not on purpose, but because you simply didn’t even realize that you were doing something unsafe.

And, well, she was right.

-

Saturdays were quickly becoming Wednesday’s favorite day of the week.

The two of you had a tradition where you would go to the Weathervane every Saturday morning for a coffee outing then spend the rest of the day in Jericho together. You insisted on calling them “Saturday coffee dates” which Wednesday never approved of, but she didn’t have the heart to tell you to stop.

Like usual, Wednesday went to pick you up from your dorm but, unlike usual, you didn’t answer.

A pang of worry crept up in her stomach, but she pushed it down, deciding to search your dorm to see if you were around anywhere. And indeed, you were.

She found you in the small dorm kitchen. You looked to be fiddling with something—a toaster maybe—and Wednesday went to greet you but you moved over, granting her full view of what was happening. Wednesday’s eyes widened at the sight before her.

You were trying to get something out of the toaster…with a metal fork.

Wednesday immediately ran over and snatched the fork out of your hands. “What are you doing?”

“I-My toast is stuck. I was trying to get it out,” you explained slowly, glancing back and forth between Wednesday and the toaster.

“With a fork?!” She nearly shouted.

“…Yes?” You sounded genuinely perplexed by the panic Wednesday was displaying. Wednesday heaved a sigh.

“Listen,” she began slowly, “you can’t put metal in the toaster because it could cause a short circuit. If that happens, you will get an electric shock or even start a fire. It is extremely dangerous.”

Your eyes widened in realization, mouth dropping open as you leaned your head back. “Ohhhh, yeah I forgot about that.”

Wednesday said nothing, her disbelieving gaze boring into you. You shrunk.

“I-um, thank you. For stopping me,” you sputtered and looked away, cheeks darkening in shame. Against her will, Wednesday’s demeanor softened.

“You’re welcome. Now, how about you leave that,” she looked pointedly at the toaster, “here and I will buy you something to eat at the Weathervane.”

You brightened up instantly. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t serious about it.”

Wednesday felt her lips tug upwards at the way you clapped in excitement.

“Let’s go!” you squealed, your prior shame forgotten as you dragged Wednesday out of the kitchen by the hand.

Wednesday noted how you didn’t drop her hand once you entered the hall, instead interlacing your fingers together while you gleefully greeted every student that passed. The smaller girl was busy glaring at the people you greeted (a balancing act) when you looked back at her.

“I know I’m not the brightest knife in the drawer, but you still love me,” you giggled as you skipped down the halls, swinging your intertwined hands happily.

Wednesday couldn’t even bring herself to correct you.

[miniaturemoonheart]

PROTECTIVE AMULETS AGAINST ENVY

Envy is caused by the insecurity and frustration of not being able to get what others have, and it is one of the most common feelings among friends, relatives, colleagues and sometimes even neighbors, someone wants your partner, your work or simply envy your brightness etc ... Fortunately there are rituals and amulets within our reach that will help us drive away these bad energies, on this occasion I will tell you about some RITUALS AND AMULETS to fight envy and attract prosperity and protection..

HORSE SHOE

the horseshoe is an amulet, which has been used

For a long time to attract good luck and open paths, it had to be found and used by a horse to have all the energy that a free-spirited animal represents. the horseshoe is placed on the main door of the house and adorned with 7 different types of ribbons, some accompanied by the miraculous aloe vera.

TURKISH EYE

The Turkish eye or also known as nazar, possesses protective characteristics that will ward off any energy of envy and bad deeds around you.

Simply use this amulet, either in a bracelet or necklace.

RED RIBBON/ RED THREAD

This is one of the most common amulets against envy and bad vibes. It is part of the general culture, the awareness of using a red ribbon can ward off people full of pessimism and bad luck. For this, all you have to do is surround the left wrist with a red ribbon. This can be closed with 7 Franciscan knots, so you will have its protective effects. It is very important that you use the red ribbon on your left hand because from that hand you receive energy and from the other you deliver it.

There are different theories on how to place the red ribbon or thread, most say that it must be placed by another person with good energy and that he must tie 7 knots. This is undoubtedly a very popular anti-envy ritual that is simple to perform and will keep people with bad intentions away.

GARLIC

If you are looking for how to ward off the envy of the people around you, you should know that garlic is considered in esotericism as a great element to repel bad vibrations. If you have a wallet or a place where you can load a male garlic or a clove of garlic you can also put it inside a felt bag or similar material, do it, as it is a powerful amulet to ward off the envious to which they cause us negative effects.

If you don't like the idea of ​​walking around with a clove of garlic but you want to protect a particular space, you can also leave the garlic well hidden and covered to prevent it from giving off a bad smell. It is one of the best protection amulets to get rid of bad energy in your business or home. You can also combine garlic with other natural amulets against bad vibes, such as laurel and parsley in fact together they become a protection ritual.

RUE

Rue is the natural protective element par excellence. Carrying a twig in your wallet or pocket is said to be enough to counteract the bad energies of these dark and negative people. If you feel that people of these characteristics have passed by your home, prepare an herbal tea with rue and spray the environment with a sprayer. If you're looking for ways to keep bad vibes away from your home, plant two rue on each side of your front door. It is a very popular plant for these purposes.

You can also prepare a rue water to sprinkle around the room.

THYME

An old esoteric trick to protect yourself from people who bring bad luck is to place a drop of thyme essential oil behind each ear or on your wrists. Thus you will be able to drive away the negative vibes of envious people It camouflages itself as a perfume as it has a sweet pleasant aroma and at the same time protects you. Thyme can also be part of a bath to cleanse the body of bad energy along with rue and bay leaf.

If you're wondering how to ward off bad vibes you need to know that thyme is just one of many herbs that attract positive energy. Mint, bamboo, and jasmine are other plants that are considered magical that will help you purge negativity from your environment.

ONION

Cleaning your home from negative energies is very easy, you just need sliced ​​onions. If you have had an encounter with people with bad energy or somehow they have entered your home you can always count on the power of onions.

You have to carry out a simple ritual with onions which is done like this: cut them into slices and place them in ceramic dishes that you have to distribute throughout your house. Leave them to act with the windows open and then quickly throw them in a bag outside the house. It is one of those simple rituals and charms against envy that you can apply at any time.

ALOE VERA

Some hang an aloe vera plant by the root on the right side of the door of the house or attached to a red bow to protect themselves from the influence of negative energies or from envy.

CreditToTheOwner: Pietre: Bosco e Magia (Monya)



[samwisethewitch]

Building a Magical Home

One of my favorite quotes about the magic of homemaking comes from Cory Hutcheson, host of the New World Witchery podcast. He says, “Home is a transformational act. It is the thing you do to turn a space into a space… that is full of ritual and significance and meaning. So there is sort of this ongoing relationship you have with the space that makes it a home.”

The act of creating a home, of making a space your own, is inherently magical. But if you want to make your space feel a little more witchy, here are some ideas to get you started.

Charms and Talismans

Making your own magical objects can be a powerful way to bring magic into your space. The best thing about making your own charms is that you can make them look however you want, so it’s easy to disguise them as ordinary household objects. You can make a charm for any intention by combining objects based on their magical correspondences.

I’ve talked about protective charms in previous posts, so I’m not gonna spend a lot of time on it here. The simplest protective charm is keeping a large piece of iron under your bed to keep away nightmares, evil spirits, and negative energy. You could also make your own protection charm, like a witch bottle.

You can create a “happy home” charm to bring peace, harmony, and happiness into your home. This charm could include herbs like basil, rosemary, lavender, peppermint, and/or bay leaves, as well as other items that you associate with peace and good fortune, like lucky coins, crystals, or black cat fur. Write your desires for a harmonious and happy home on a piece of paper, fold it up, and add it to the charm. You could store these items in a green bag, bury them in your backyard (in this case, make sure you’re only using biodegradable plant matter — leave out the coins and crystals), or place it inside a household object like a lamp or an end table.

If you suffer from insomnia or other sleep issues, try making a dream charm to help you sleep well and have sweet dreams. To make a simple dream charm, fill a blue or purple bag with lavender, chamomile, peppermint, and any other objects that you associate with peace, restfulness, and sleep. If you want to have lucid dreams or receive psychic messages in your dreams, include a bit of mugwort. Place the charm in your pillow or under your mattress. (I personally swear by this one, as it’s helped a lot with my insomnia.)

Charms are great for homemaking magic because you’re actually creating a magical object, which can then become a permanent fixture of the space.

Magical Decor

You can use magical items to decorate your home to bring certain qualities into that space.

Hanging or displaying a broom is said to bring good fortune, protection from evil, and good hospitality. Cauldrons are used to represent the Goddess, rebirth, and raw potential. Horseshoes hung above door frames bring safety and luck to all who cross under them, and keep unwanted guests away. If you can get them legally and ethically, animal bones, teeth, claws, and feathers can represent the spirit and energy of that animal. You can also put up images of spiritual and occult symbols — I have an image of the Sun tarot card hanging in my bedroom to promote positivity and growth.

If you need to be a little more subtle with your witchy decorations, working with the magic of color is a great way to do that. Gathering a lot of items of a single color in one room changes the energy of that room. Here’s a quick guide to give you some ideas:

Yellow is associated with divination, mental clarity, the element of air, success, communication, and inspiration.

Purple is associated with divine power, spiritual awareness, mystery, astral travel, magic, and authority.

Blue is associated with healing, psychic abilities, the element of water, peace, truth, and patience.

Red is associated with protection, the fire element, sex, power, vitality, and love.

Orange is associated with ambition, creativity, breaking through blockages, and career success.

Pink is associated with romantic love, friendship, self love, compassion, and emotional well-being.

Green is associated with nature, herbalism, the earth element, money, wealth, prosperity, and luck.

Brown is associated with grounding, animal magic, stability, and balance.

White is associated with purification, cleansing, the full moon, new beginnings, healing, and spiritual growth.

Black is associated with protection, truth, outer space, banishing, and transition.

Decorating your home with colors that are meaningful to you can create a powerful magical space. You may also have your own color associations (for example, yellow is a very “happy” color for me), so feel free to incorporate those into your decor as well!

Growing Magical Houseplants

Most witches feel a very deep connection to nature and draw power from the natural world, but we can’t all live in a cottage in the heart of the forest. Even if you live in a tiny apartment in the city, you can still bring nature into your space by keeping houseplants. Many popular houseplants have magical uses, and many popular magic herbs can be grown inside. Here are a few to get you started.

Aloe. This is one of my favorite plants. Aloe brings luck and protection, especially protection on an energetic/spiritual level. I like to keep aloe in my bedroom to protect me while I sleep, as well as to bring luck and inspiration while I’m working at my desk.

Basil. Basil is very popular in money spells, and will attract prosperity and luck to your home. However, it also has protective properties — both spiritual protection and protection from bugs, since basil is a natural insect repellent! Basil can also be used in love spells, and is just generally a good plant to have around for good vibes.

African Violet. This flowering plant attracts positive spiritual energy into your space. It has associations with the moon and the water element, and is very good for promoting spirituality and psychic power.

Rosemary. Rosemary is one of those herbs that every witch should have on hand. It’s so darn versatile, it can be used as a substitute for virtually any other herb, and can be used for almost any intention. Some of the most common magical associations for rosemary include: cleansing, purification, protection, healing, mental activity, and enhancing memory. According to author Deborah J. Martin, there’s an old English saying that, “Where rosemary grows, the woman rules the house.” Like basil, rosemary is a natural insect repellent.

Lavender. Lavender brings peace, love, and gentleness, which makes it a perfect addition to any home. It can be used in spells for cleansing and purification, enhancing psychic abilities, and stress relief. Lavender is also a powerful addition to love spells. Keeping lavender in the bedroom can aid in restful sleep, while lavender in the kitchen will bring harmony to the home.

Sage. Sage is the most talked about cleansing herb, and with good reason. Unfortunately, a lot of the sage bundles you can buy at metaphysical stores are made with white sage (Salvia apiana), which is sacred to Native American peoples and is endangered due to overharvesting. Instead of buying those, why not grow your own garden sage (Salvia officinalis), which has a lot of the same magical properties? Growing sage in your home will purify the space and protect those who live there. Sage also has an association with wisdom and mental prowess.

Hoya. Hoya is a common houseplant that you’ve probably seen even if you don’t know it by name. It has a distinctive appearance with waxy, dark green leaves and clusters of white, star-shaped flowers. Hoya aligns and balances the energy centers within your body, as well as in the surrounding space. It’s associated both with grounding and with spiritual openness, so it can be great for balancing the two.

Peppermint. Peppermint has a variety of magical uses, but my favorite way to use it is for gently opening up blockages and getting things moving. It’s great for cleansing, but is more gentle than rosemary or sage. Place it in any room where you tend to do a lot of healing work, or where you could use some peace and love. Peppermint is also used in dream magic, so growing it in the bedroom may bring on vivid or lucid dreams.

Orchid. Orchids are used in magic for love and lust. Historically, orchid has been used in folk medicine to promote male virility and “Jezebel root,” used in American folk magic to attract wealthy male lovers, is a type of orchid root. If you live with a significant other, try growing an orchid in the bedroom to promote passion in your sex life. Otherwise, grow orchids in your home to promote love or to attract romance.

Catnip. If you have cats, they’ll love this one. Catnip is actually a type of mint, and has strong lunar associations. It’s said to make one more charming and attractive, and is especially useful for attracting women. At the same time, catnip promotes courage and fierceness. It is also, of course, associated with cats and feline deities, so this is definitely a plant you’ll want to keep around if the cat is one of your animal guides.

If you have a yard space that you can turn into an outdoor garden, your magical plant options are limited only by your local ecosystem. Some outdoor plants that have magical uses include roses, sunflowers, rue, lemon balm, and strawberries.

Creating an Altar

Altars are focal points of magical and spiritual energy. Many people, both witches and non-witches, find that having a designated space for their spiritual practice creates a deeper sense of sacredness and purpose.

An altar can serve lots of different purposes. Many witches use their altar as a magical work space to prepare spells, meditate, and do divination. You may choose to dedicate your altar to a deity, your ancestors, or some other spirit(s) you work with. You can also build altars for specific intentions, such as a money altar or a love altar — performing rituals at this altar everyday is a powerful method for manifestation. You altar may be some or all of these things, or it may just be a place to sit and connect with the spiritual.

You can set up an altar on any flat surface, like a shelf or table, or inside a container like a jewelry box. Your setup can be as simple or as elaborate as you like. An altar can be huge and complex, with statues and candles and flowers, or it can be as simple as a tealight and an incense burner. It’s all about what appeals to you.

Resources:

New World Witchery pocast, “Episode 143 — The Magical Home”

Southern Cunning: Folkloric Witchcraft in the American South by Aaron Oberon

Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner by Scott Cunningham

“Candle colors and their meanings” by Michelle Gruben on the Grove and Grotto blog

Green Witchcraft by Paige Vanderbeck

A Green Witch’s Cupboard by Deborah J. Martin

“The Magic of Orchids in Wiccan Love Spells & Rituals” on the Art of the Root blog

[navarroserra]

Loki Incense

Loki’s Incense will consist of 10 herbs, all of these in my opinion are easy to get a hold of and are very common in many magic or pagan stores, if you wish to make it at home. I also will be selling this item premade hopefully by next week if you wish to purchase it instead.

Ingredient List:

Dragon’s Blood: A red resin coming from a tree native to Africa, at my local store this runs at about 8$ a spice jar, make sure you get this from a trusted source, many places sell fake Dragon’s blood or a “watered” down version to save money. Dragon’s blood is known to enhance a spell, many practitioners use this resin to double their spells power. Many Practitioners also burn this resin to protect themselves while casting and invoking, and purify a space before and after a ritual.

Magical Properties:

Dispels Negativity, Exorcise Evil, Courage, Purification, Love, Protection, Enhancement, Good Luck, and Strength

Pepper: Pepper, a simple common herb, one commonly used in our homes every day, yet sadly many people don’t understand the properties and the benefits of using pepper, in this case Black Pepper. It has powerful antioxidant, and anti inflammatory properties, and is most often used in magical practices for warding and protection. Pepper is also useful when dispelling unwanted entities, negative energy, and unwelcome visitors. Pepper can also be used in curses, though remember do no harm, but also take no shit. I fully stand by one protecting themselves even if it's a curse, use pepper to give the spell an extra kick.

Magical properties:

Clarity of the mind, Strength, Courage, Clarity of Purpose, Alertness/Perception, Protection, Banishment, Curses, Abundance, Bind, Blessing, Vivid Dreams, Healing, Physical Energy, Success

Patchouli: An herb commonly associated with Hippies, but I promise there is much more to this herb than meets the eyes. This herb is excellent for grounding, and connecting to mother earth, i believe this is a reflection of Loki’s mother Laufey, though there is not much known about who Loki’s mother is Laufey is one many believe and is believed in many ways to represent birch trees and being a earth goddess. Patchouli can also be used as a substitute for Graveyard dirt according to some sources, This herb can also aid in treating inflammation, provide antibacterial properties, and even help protect the skin from sun damage, as well as being a powerful insect repellant.

Magical Properties: Clairvoyance, Prosperity, Boosting Magical Efficiency, Love, Growth, Mastery, Sensuality, Fertility, Attraction, Blessing, Creativity, Grounding, Love, Luck, Money, Banishing negativity, Success.

Cinnamon: This is another item commonly found in our pantry, and another item most people don’t know can be very helpful. Cinnamon is a bark, and for this as with all the ingredients listed here I suggest using Cinnamon Sticks, many Ground Cinnamon is made from Cinnamon Leaves, while this can produce the same thing, and they share the same properties, i personally believe grinding these ingredients yourself, going through the rough process, and spending the time to carefully crush this bark will allow your energy to become one with the ingredient and help power your spells. Cinnamon can Enhance spells, Speed up the spell time, protect a home and even bless a home or heal the spirit.

Magical Properties: 

Abundance, Health, Love, Lust, Prosperity, Attraction, Protection, Stimulate and strengthen psychic powers, healing, strength, Astral Realm, Clairvoyance, Creativity, Vivid Dreams, Luck, Banish Negativity, Passion, Physical Energy, Psychic Awareness, Success

Amber: Amber like Dragon’s blood is another resin made from tree sap, This resin is a natural purifier, and has the ability to pull pain away from the mind and ease depression, but it also brings about a Positive emotional state and aids creative expression. Just like dragon’s blood, make sure you get this from a trusted source as fakes can commonly be found all over in order to make more money.

Magical Properties: Love, Comfort, Happiness, Healing, Emotion balancer, Aid in meditation, Blessing

Mullein: This herb for a long time has been respected and has earned a place in a healer’s bag, also known as Wild Ice Leaf, this herb has a cool feeling and its flavor is said to be akined to salted vanilla. If you are starting out in herbalism Mullein is a great herb to start with and is very safe to use. Many practitioners feel that when this herb is carried it protects the healer from illness and guides them in their work, and it is also known to be a protective plant spirit.

Magical Properties:

Courage, Protection, Health, Love, Divination, Exorcism, Wards off Nightmares, Wards off unwelcome energies, Peace

Clove: When it comes to clove, much like the Cinnamon, I suggest using Whole Clove and crushing them yourself. Another good reason for crushing them yourself is the oils that are released, though a very small amount will also enhance your incense, at least this is what I have discovered through my work. Clove is known to strengthen the mind, and memory, as well as attract spiritual vibrations, which will aid in purifying the space and adding protection to the area. The vibrations will also prepare the room for a ritual, allowing it to ride on the spiritual vibrations, but importantly it also provides psychic protection.

Magical Properties:

Healing, Courage, Protection, Fertility, Purification, Safe Travels, Blessings, Memory, Intellect, Stopping Gossip, Psychic Enhancement, Divination 

Ginger: Ginger is a root spice that has the ability to help improve verbal communication, which helps people be more sociable. In Eastern cultures it is believed that ginger is a plant of power, good energies, and is a symbol of not only strength but ancient magical protection. Ginger came from the east and slowly worked its way into the culture among other spices and ingredients, the heat and spice of ginger gives a fiery nature to this herb.

Magical Properties:

Healing, Beauty, Courage, Energy, Strength, Love, Lust, Magical power, Astral Realm, Passion, Purification, Maintain Vitality

Dandelion: Dandelion, a herb also known by Loki’s bloom is not only edible but it also contains antioxidants, Reduces inflammation and bloating, Rich in Vitamins A, C, and K, May boost immune system and is also antibacterial and antiviral. The Ancient Greeks, Romans and Egyptians used this herb for healing, so I have no doubt the Norse did as well.

Magical Properties:

Calling Spirits, Divination, Wishes, Creativity, Inspiration, Sun Magic, Courage, Dispels Negativity, Banishment, Increases Psychic abilities, Dreams, Growth, Bravery, Prophetic Dreams, Transformation

Juniper: Juniper is a very good cleansing tool when it is bundled and burned within a space, The smoke clearing was commonly used in the springtime, and when one considers own endangered palo santo and white sage is Juniper is a good alternative and considering we all follow a (though varying from person to person) a Norse belief this herb is a great way to honor the gods, Jotunn, Goddess, etc with a native cleansing herb. Juniper was without a doubt used by the norse, and a good amount of documentation can be found within Trolldom, the folk magic tradition of Sweden, Denmark, and Norway, these documentations include many different uses for Juniper. The ash, oil, berries, and even branches would be used for removing curses. It is an herb that is heavily versatile.

Magical Properties: Psychic Powers, Breaking Curses, Hex Breaking, Exorcisms, Calming, Protection, Healing, Blessing, Consecration, Abundance, Banishment, Beginnings, Vivid Dreams, Fertility, Grounding, Banish Negativity, Prosperity, Purification, Success

Now that we have covered the Ingredients for this incense the next part is the easy part, as stated before I prefer to grind and crush my ingredients, if you wish to do as I do, take a mortar and pestle and start with the hardest ingredients first, this would be dragon’s blood and amber resin, these ingredients will leave a residue on the inside of your bowl, and when you grind your other ingredients they will help get that residue into the mixture to avoid as much waste as possible. I only grind one ingredient at a time, pouring it out onto a sheet of paper or in a bowl before moving on to the next, once they are all done, combine them in a bowl (if you already haven't) or their final container and shake or stir gently. Using a charcoal tablet and a cauldron or a fire safe bowl light the tablet and place it in the cauldron letting the tablet full activate before taking some of the loose incense, Now a word of warning, take a little bit, this will crate a lot of smoke so only do a little at a time, sprinkling the incense over the top of the charcoal. You can now leave it on your altar, or walk your space wafting the smoke into all the corners of your room using your hand, a feather, or any ritual tool you choose for your practice.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I saw your post about what the animatronic performances that animatronics rented from CBEAR do, and was wondering if you could do something like that but for AR?

Ooooo! Yes! This’ll be a long & frequently updated list as more animatronics/animatronic skins are added to the game, but here we go!

Freddy

As the most basic animatronic, he’s in high demand.

His primary function is playing the music box--which has numerous tunes that can be played.

Usually he’s recommended for people with restless children to help soothe them to sleep.

Bonnie

Entertains with music facts.

He's also well-equipped to deal with energetic/hyper individuals.

Did have his guitar at some point, but it was removed after complaints of Bonnies destroying stuff in people's homes.

Misses it, but will be happy if you gave him your guitar.

He'll treat it with care and automatically knows how to play it.

Chica

Encourages healthy eating.

Though she is programmed with the recipe for FFP's signature cheese pizza (which is in the shape of her head) and pink cupcakes.

Carl can come off the plate and be held (though anytime that happens, she's always nearby).

Foxy

Not very popular among users due to his difficulty capturing, mocking disposition, and his overall dangerous appearance.

There's some good to him, though.

He enjoys singing sea shanties and telling tales of mermaids, treasure, the kraken, etc.

You might wanna put a rubber cap on the tip of his hook so he doesn't accidentally scrape anyone or anything.

Balloon Boy

A balloon vendor, of course.

Not really much to him besides leaving balloons around the house.

They're all striped like the one he holds, but can be various colors.

A storage tank in his body is where he gets them from

Circus Baby

Has all her original functions (singing, dancing, inflating balloons, ice cream dispensing, etc).

Finally can live her dream as an entertainer again without having to wait till be rented or being stuck on a lonely stage.

Most of Elizabeth's spirit has gone to rest, so she's not a danger to her owner(s) after being shocked whatsoever.

Springtrap

Was originally programmed to just sing, but obviously...he is far from willing to or even capable of doing that.

He IS, however, willing to kill and kill again.

Being shocked does allow Springbonnie to be back in control. And no effort on William's part can override that.

So he begrudgingly goes out to salvage, though he does find joy in scaring other people.

That's the only way to really keep his spirit satisfied.

Endo-01

The standard animatronic that is used for plush suits.

On its own, though, it doesn’t really do much besides explore its owner’s house. Just to get a feel of its surroundings.

It’ll only readily perform salvaging/attacking duties afterwards.

Toy Freddy

Like Freddy, he takes song requests on his music box.

He's pretty much the same fun and goofy bear-- always cracking lighthearted jokes to get his owner(s)  to smile.

Very protective, though. So don't cross him or his owner(s). He won't play nice.

Toy Chica

Educates on healthy eating like Chica does, though she gets tired of going over the same programmed lines all the time.

She's more interested in keeping up her shiny and pristine looks if anything.

Reluctant to go out to salvage/attack, and freaks out if she returns broken.

Acts cold and sassy, but really she's just afraid to be abandoned.

Toy Bonnie

Takes song requests, usually rock or country.

His owner(s) can order his red guitar or banjo separately.

He’s more suitable for energetic/talkative individuals.

Craves constant validation.

Mangle

They're basically a take-apart-&-put-back-together attraction.

Though now they have more free will and actually CHOOSE to play with their owner(s).

Like in their encounter they'll scatter their parts and have you find them.

They can be mischievous and hide them in obscure places (fridge, under the bed, behind that one area of the dresser that you can't quite reach)

RXQ

A spirit that haunts phones after too much shadow remnant is collected.

He actually uses those to protect the light remnants--children's souls that are just wandering on their own.

Hates the idea of the FFS making ppl use them to power up their animatronics.

That's why he steals the most of it back if he isn't repelled

Frostbear

Made to keep people company during the holiday season.

Can make an ice-skating rink with his coolant spray if you wanted that in your house.

But for the most part he just likes to hum songs and play Christmas tunes programmed in his music box.

More info about him here!

Shamrock Freddy

Like Frostbear, he keeps his owners company with St. Patrick’s Day festivities and trivia.

More info about him here!

Choco-Bon & Easter Bonnie

Both of them were mascots of the Candy & Sweets Shop.

They have vast knowledge of Easter and encourage their owner(s) to partake in the traditions of egg hunting/painting.

If you had them both, sometimes they’ll argue over placement of the eggs and just have a sibling rivalry of some sort.

But for the most part, they get along well.

Arcade Toys

Video game-themed variants of the Toys (sans Baby) that act the same as their counterparts.

They do have their own personalities (VRTF, SETB, HSTC, & 8BB)

They aren't fully corporeal, and so they glitch on their own and can glitch around the house.

All have vast knowledge of gaming, especially arcade games.

[sky-moths]

Lore n headcanon junk

Patron Elders -

The Elders have followers. Every skykid has a patron Elder. Each skykid will call on their patron in times of unease or insecurity or even fear. There’s not much the Elders can do in this plane of existence but they do make sure to let their skykids know they are listening. Each Elder’s realm specializes in aspects to a skykid. Different capes from each realm allows for skykids from different Patrons to acquire these unique skills. Moth cape is universal and therefore all who wear it are always welcomed by an Elder.

Elders don’t fight, but their skykids hold competitions

Valley Skykids do not partake but do host these competitions

That’s just because they are very competitive and tend to be awful no matter who wins or loses. Valley Twins enjoy the extra flair their skykids will add

Extremely rarely will there be a skykid with no patron, at which it is up to the Skykid themselves to choose who they may call to.

It was once believed that these were the King’s skykids but seeing as he is no longer around, they tend to drift. Skykids can and will change patrons. There’s no bad blood between Elders for this but skykids may take personal offense. It’s not common practice, but it has happened before. In which case the skykid will change their cape, but keep a part of their old one to symbolize their past patron as a show of respect Ancestor Spirits -

The spirits are the closest thing the Skykids have to actual adults, so they tend to crowd around them a bit. Much like with Patrons, Skykids rely on them as a means of both knowledge and understanding of the world they’ve never known.

Unlike the Elders, the spirits are very much capable of being present and at times physical.

Spirits can move about freely should they choose to, but they prefer to stick close to their Patron’s realms. Vault Spirits are the only exceptions to this as they still are working with the Vault

Their beings are what power the Vault, and their connection to the vast knowledge within keeps them rather busy, though far more relaxed than it ever was in their living days.

Spirits though only have a limited amount of memory.

Hence why they require the Skykids to come with them to reclaim and relive some of it. Other Spirits come and go, but the ones with tombstones and graves are there to stay.

Skykids and Aging/ Realm magic -

Skykids do not age. Or rather not in the usual sense. A skykid can change shape, depending on how old they may feel, but they do not “grow” beyond that. A skykid who is 100 years old but feels and acts like a 10 year old will portray themselves as such. Due to some eternal magic none of the realms ever change.

However they are the embodiment growing.

Each realm is a phase of life as TGC has told us. [Isle = birth, Prairie = childhood, etc]

Being “born” is different than you’d think. Though you already would have a body and limbs, you would be completely alone and often found by others. A brown cape already drawn around the shoulders indicates the Isle Elder has asked others to look out for you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- All Sky kids that are "born" are created by the Elder of Isle.

He sculpts them, places a brown cape around their shoulders then will leave them to be found, either by another patron or by the skykids themselves. Why is unknown, but it's thought that the Elder of Isle holds a special connection to the world of Orbit and as such takes great care with the crafting of every sky child.

It takes magic and sunlight and thankfully his realm has plenty to offer. Only the most tenacious and stubborn of skykids will return and demand him to be their patron.

The Elder of Isle knows good and well those with his brown cape will surely change their colors and so he bids them safety with his peers, who always agree to watch over them. But if they return and surprise him, he'll try his best to shoo them away to find better patrons, but can't hold out for long. He's too old. You may even see him shed a tear of starlight.

In his temple, you may hear him reading to the sky children who stay or when he appears there may be one clinging to his back of his head. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And while they may not “grow” the Skykids do advance. Depending on how long they spend in any realm.

Eden is a tricky realm.

It is the embodiment of death, however Eden also works as a means to trap Sky children and steal their light. The magic that thrums through Eden is deadly and poisonous but requires light to keep itself “alive” without a patron to fuel it.

Patrons too need light, but never in the same manner. They use light to repair and care for the realm they inhabit

And oftentimes a Skykid will collect and give the light willingly.

This helps the patron grow stronger to aid that realm. Eden however is lawless and bound to no patron, the magic that surrounds it wild and uncared for. It is possible for Skykids to move from realm to realm and still honor their patron. Basically if you live in Isle but are from Vault, the Isle Elder will protect you under the guidance of the Vault Elder.

Capes and their abilities - Capes are the way that Skykids can distinguish where they are from. The fabric is something the Elders or their ancestors had to have woven from the magic of the sky and is often speculated as such despite there being no indications. Not even the Elders will deny or confirm this. But to each realm, a cape is crafted. If one is native to the realm or of that patron, they will wear a Native cape. If they are merely civilian and simply passing through, they may wear a Simple Cape. Native Capes are uncommon. Simple Capes are very common.

Each cape has its own brand of special abilities native to that particular realm. These are especially helpful for newcomers or moths who are exploring a realm for the first time. Until they can get the hang of things themselves, the most common of all the capes is the Brown Cape. Universally it is accepted to be a newcomers cape, or the cape of a newly born moth opening their eyes for the first time.

Cape List/Abilities -

Isle

Brown/Moth Cape - Standard flying abilities; Universal cape. Elders will welcome any who wear it.

Prairie

Yellow Cape - Healing charm/butterfly attraction.

Forest

Teal Cape - Rain cover/ repels rain water

Purple Cape - Wax burner/collects double wax

Valley

Red Cape - Speed boost/ Allows for fast movement but hiders steering

Pink Cape - Right-Way Tracker/ Allows for excellent control in flight but may result in poorer speed.

Wasteland

Green Cape - Echo/ Finds fellow Skykids who are in trouble or low on lights

Black Cape - Shadow Walk/ Allows for one to sneak past without being seen, but only for a few moments. Needs to recharge after use.

Vault

Blue Cape - Third’s Eye/ Allows for one to see moments ahead for only a few seconds

White Cape - Soft Light/ Gives wearer a chance to speak with an Elder or light creature at any given time, but requires a recharge immediately after use

Seasonal Capes

Special capes have better abilities however they are rare

[connan-l]

Skeletal Doll

Fandom: The House in Fata Morgana

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationship: Michel Bollinger & Morgana, slight Michel/Giselle in the background

Summary: Michel had met her as a soulless skeleton, hated her as a witch, saved her as a girl — so of course he would do his possible to keep helping her even a thousand years later.

Content Warnings: Death mention and depiction of a corpse, slight trauma, vague allusions to child abuse and Michel and Morgana’s pasts.

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Link on Archive of Our Own

______________________________________________________________

Notes: Michel and Morgana’s friendship means the world to me.

Takes place post-canon/Reincarnation, so spoilers for all the games.

______________________________________________________________

That place always smelled like death.

Whenever he would cross over the chapel, climb up those long, interminable stairs and open the door leading to the room on top of the tower, a suffocating odor of dust and mold and dried blood would flare up his nostrils.

To be honest, he didn’t really know what “death” smelt like, but if it had a smell it certainly would be this one.

This should be repelling — something that would make anyone run away with a grimace, but for some reason, it had the exact opposite on him. It drew him in.

The skeleton — the corpse — that rested there, immobile, at the bottom of the room had an unusual alluring attraction to it. An attraction that couldn’t help but makes him comes here regularly, once every few days.

He knew there was something deeply unhealthy about this routine he had created. Climbing a tower to spend time with a skeleton was deranged, creepy. Mad. In his darkest hours, he thought with irony that maybe his family had been right about his lack of sanity, after all.

Whenever he would go down the stairs and stir away from the tower, his stomach would turn and an urge to threw up would overwhelm him. He felt disgusting and unsightly. Taking comfort in the corpse of an abandoned mansion, how depraved was that?

And it was not a positive kind of comfort, either.

Even so, he still stepped forward towards the dead body. He stared at it in silence for a long time, then after some hesitation slowly sat next to it.

When he was a child, his mother would often gift him dolls. Pretty, girly little things, that were certainly made by skilled artisans and must’ve been quite expansive. He had played a bit with them when he was really young, but once he started growing up he began to actively hate them and to hid them away in their house, to his mother’s chagrin. He couldn’t help but think she seemed to love these dolls a lot more than he ever did.

At some point, he started to wonder what girls even found alluring to these — if he were to be honest, they looked more creepy than pretty to him. Those were miniature little girls who stared at you with glassy, vacant eyes without moving, without flinching no matter what happened to them. They were just like dead bodies.

He had came to hate dolls over the years, and yet, now almost an adult, he found himself playing with one, except the difference was that this one was a real dead body.

The skeleton wasn’t really all that different from a doll to him, he thought cynically. It wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing, wouldn’t flinch no matter what he would do to it. He played make believe with it, talking to it as if it could answer, embracing it as if it could understand his pain and loneliness.

He could pretend pitying the poor thing, look down on it for being more pitiful than him, and found some kind of sick comfort in it.

It was both his plaything and his companion, and the only thing in this manor that could bring him some sort of peace and solace.

Slowly, he extended his arm and brushed the dirty bones with his fingertips. They looked so frail, so feeble, that he thought he could break them just by doing so. Yet, when he reached out to the fleshless hand and hold it in his tightly, the bone stayed solid and firm.

It was cold, and lifeless, and rough. The doll didn’t flinch at his contact, like always.

He knew this was miserable and pitiful and creepy and insane.

But at this point he was just as broken and dead as this skeleton, and in the end it did not matter.

So he kept holding the bony hand in silence.

______________________________________________________________

Michel woke up with a start. Beads of sweat ran down his face, his messy hair clung to his skin disagreeably, and his chest struggled to get back a normal breathing.

In his upset, half-asleep state, his first reflex was to look around him, his eyes searching for Giselle — but she was just next to him, sound asleep, just like she had been when he first went to bed.

In the past year they had been together, he had noticed Giselle was a pretty heavy sleeper, unlike him. She never seemed to wake up in the middle of the night, or to have nightmares, for that matter. A part of him wondered if she slept so much to get back at all those centuries she had spent without experiencing tiredness.

Either way, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now. He looked at the clock on his bedside, which indicated ‘02:17’ of a faint red light, and sighed. He gently kissed his fiancée on the forehead, then got out of the bed as silently as he could so as to not wake her up.

His legs were still trembling when he stumbled into the kitchen, the emotions of his nightmare fresh in his mind. Now that he was awake, he couldn’t really remember what the dream had been about — his past life, definitely, but which part of it precisely was unclear… Usually it was those miserable months he spent suffering Aimée’s abuse, or his brothers’ betrayal, or the way his corpse had been crucified. Sometimes all of those blended in together and he couldn’t make any difference between the events anymore.

Having memories of his past life was odd — sometimes they felt like fibers of his imagination, something so far away he made it up himself and could almost forget it at any moment, and at other times it felt so vivid that it was almost like he was back there again. Dreams were when he had the most palpable experiences, almost as if he revived those moments in real time, but nowadays they weren’t all that frequent and happened rarely. He wondered if Giselle or Morgana felt the same too, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

His mind still a fuzzy mess, he grabbed a mug and turned on the machine coffee, which purred softly as it started to work. The sound felt reassuring somehow, grounding him in reality and reminding him he was in the 21 th century and not lost in a cursed mansion in the middle ages. When his coffee was finally ready, he felt the need to get some fresh air, so he snatched a vest and his mug and headed towards the door.

Michel stepped into the building’s courtyard and breathed the cold air of the night. The sky was still dark outside, but he couldn’t distinguish any stars, as per usual in Paris. That was something he missed from the mansion — being able to see a beautiful, black starry sky, which was impossible here in such a big, polluted city. He hadn’t cared at all about the sky or the stars during the ten years he’d been locked inside the cursed house, but when Giselle arrived this changed, and from times to times she would drag him outside in the middle of the night so they could watch the stars together. Michel had found this annoying at first, but little by little he’d started to secretly enjoy it, though he never admitted as such to her. So he was sad this was a habit they couldn’t reproduce here in their new home.

As a sad smile rose up on his lips, he was about to take a sip of his hot coffee when suddenly he caught sight of something moving. His first thought was that it must be a stray cat or a dog, but quickly his imagination began working and he got worried. What if it was a thief? Or worse, what if the building was actually haunted and it was a ghost? Honestly, among the worst parts of having his past memories returned to him was that now he knew that stuff like ghosts and curses were real, and so sometimes he couldn’t help but be a little paranoid. He certainly had his fair share of bad spirits for the next hundreds of centuries.

Michel quickly surveyed the area, then tried to look for something to defend himself with — unfortunately the only tool he could find was an old broom Giselle must’ve forgotten here the day before. It certainly wouldn’t be very effective against an actual threat, but it was better than nothing, so he grabbed it tightly, slowly advanced towards where he heard the noise while brandishing his made-up weapon… and then a scream resounded.

There, he didn’t see a criminal or some supernatural creature… but just a young girl who looked at him with two wide golden eyes.

“M-Morgana?”

“Oh my God! Were you going to hit me with this thing?”

The girl stared at him with disbelieved eyes which quickly morphed into a glare, as Michel stood there with the broom still up in the air.

“I-I thought you were a thief!” Or a ghost — but that, he wasn’t going to tell her. He shook his head and quickly put down the broom. “A-Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” the girl replied dryly.

“Morgana. You’re pacing in the courtyard at two A.M.”

“So what? Is that illegal now or something?”

“No, but most people don’t do that. Most people sleep at two A.M.”

“Well, clearly, you’re not sleeping either.”

Well, she had a point, he supposed. But he wasn’t that much of an obtuse fool to not notice this was a way to try to deflect the conversation and put the matter on him.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“Why is that the conclusion you’re jumping to?” Morgana replied defensively, but somehow, Michel instantly knew he was right.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently.

“I did not have a bad dream. Good grief, do you even listen to people when they talk?”

She sighed in an annoyed way, then began to play with one of her long red lock with her finger. Her hair was let down and she was still in her nightgown — a strange sight to Michel, as he wasn’t used to see her without her braids like that. It made her seems a bit more vulnerable than usual somehow, an understanding he had caught her at a bad time he chooses to be considerate enough to not press the topic any further — he knew well enough that trying to make her talk would only close her off even more, anyway.

“Well, I had a bad dream.”

Morgana arched an eyebrow. “I’d guessed as much. And?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at Morgana’s cold indifference. “Usually when people tell you they had a nightmare, you ask if they’re all right and what the bad dream was about, you know.”

The girl eyed him from head to toe, then crossed her arms. “You seems fine. And I am not interested in knowing what your dream was about.”

Michel smiled wryly. “As expected of you.”

“I have always thought it was stupid to ask someone what their bad dream is about. They said ‘talking about it make you feel better,’ but it’s a lie, I have never felt better after talking about a nightmare. It is not going to erase it not matter what, so why bother?”

“Is that why you don’t want to talk about yours?”

Morgana narrowed her eyes, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to though, Michel already knew what she was thinking.

“It’s not the first time you wake up in the middle of the night because of one either, right?”

“And how would you know that? Are you stalking me?”

“No, I have ears, and I do notice you seem to make quite some noise while the sun isn’t up yet.”

Morgana seemed a little surprised at that. She probably didn’t know Michel was aware of her nocturnal walks — and to be fair, it did took him a lot of time before noticing them, given she was as discreet as a cat. It was only when he himself had sleep troubles he would remark that his neighbor wasn’t as asleep as she should be.

“Well,” the girl said after regaining her composure. “Again, I’m not the only one, am I?”

“That’s true, but I am not trying to hide it.”

“Me neither. That’s just none of your business to start with. Also, are you really not trying to hide it? I wonder if Giselle knows about these, hmm?”

Michel frowned, as the provocative voice tone of the teenager in front of him started to get under his skin. “She does know, actually.”

“Oh really? Then you don’t mind me asking her tomorrow?”

His frown deepened and he had to muster all he could to not glare at her. Most of the time, the three of them were getting along perfectly fine, but if Michel were to push Morgana a little too much about a topic she didn’t like, she would resort to some of her manipulative tactics from when she was a witch. Michel wondered sometimes if she did it in purpose or if it was just a habit hard to kill for her. Either way, he still didn’t appreciate her doing this, at all.

“In case you weren’t aware, after everything that happened I swore to not keep any secrets to Giselle anymore. You can ask her if you want, but I already told her all about my nightmares, so I’d rather you’d stop threatening this kind of underhanded blackmail, would you?”

“Then stop putting your nose in my business, and when I told you I have no bad dreams then that mean I have no bad dreams.”

She glared at him coldly, then turned around and disappeared inside the building, before almost slapping the door behind her.

Michel winced and let himself fall on the bench in front of the house, before staring at the sky with exhaustion. Morgana could be so annoying, but still he hadn’t meant to anger her — he genuinely was worried about her, and had thought that there was maybe a way he could soothe her nightmares. That certainly wasn’t healthy to wake up in the middle of the night so often.

He took a sip of his coffee — which was now lukewarm — and kept gazing at the pure black sky, trying to find any glimpses of some stars or of the moon.

But he couldn’t find any.

______________________________________________________________

“—and then she told me I didn’t need it! Can you believe that? How on earth does that makes any sense?”

“Hmm.”

Giselle was spacing around in the living room agitatedly while Michel stared outside the window and nodded vaguely to every sentences she uttered without actually understanding their meanings. He wasn’t sure what his fiancée was upset about — and he knew that he should listen to her, but somehow her words couldn’t manage to pierce through his thick skull that was currently engulfed by other worries.

“I mean, I like to think I’m a rather patient person, but there are still some limits, you know? What am I supposed to do now?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, Michel. Are you listening to me?”

“Mmhmm…”

“Michel, this morning I went out and killed your father so that we could eat him for dinner. Does that sounds good enough to you?”

“Hmm, perfect.”

Giselle suddenly placarded her hands on the table brusquely, almost knocking over the water pitcher and glasses that were on it. Michel jumped and practically fell off from his chair, before blinking with incredulity at the frustrated woman in front of him.

“I’ve been talking to you for at least half an hour!” She exclaimed, offended. “Did you even realize I was here at all?”

“Y-Yeah, of course… Sorry, I was… lost in thoughts.”

“Well, obviously,” Giselle said dryly before crossing her arms. “May I ask what’s worrying you so much that you’d dare to ignore your beautiful, lovely future wife?”

Michel smiled a little in an apologetic way, but thankfully Giselle didn’t seem all that angry. Maybe screaming in the void about what had frustrated her had been enough to soothe her mind, even with her partner not paying attention to her at all.

“Really, I’m sorry,” he added. “I was just… well, I didn’t sleep well last night, you know, so…”

Giselle hummed pensively, then took a seat at the table and sat in front of Michel, her face now serious.

“Another bad dream?”

Michel sighed and nodded vaguely, his gaze falling once again outside the window next to him.

“What was it about?” Giselle continued gently.

“I don’t really remember it… It felt too blurry and far away… I just know it wasn’t a good one. But that’s not actually the thing that’s bothering me right now, not really.”

Giselle arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“It’s Morgana.”

She narrowed her eyes at this, and her expression became unreadable. Michel wondered if that meant she had been expecting it, or if that was something else entirely.

For all the time they’d known each other, Giselle still felt like a mystery to him sometimes.

What he had told Morgana yesterday had been the truth — in the past year they’d been together, he had always tried his best to be as open with her as possible, even with things he’d rather keep to himself.

He just didn’t feel like Giselle tried her best to do the same in return. In fact, it felt like she would often actively shut him down and tried to hide things from him.

But that wasn’t an issue that mattered right now.

“I came across her last night after I woke up from my nightmare. You know how I told you I noticed she often wandered around in the middle of the night?”

“Yes. Well, her having nightmares wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I tried to talk to her then, but she just ended up getting angry at me.”

“Not surprising here either. Is that what’s bothering you?”

Michel sighed. “It might not be surprising, but that’s still worrying me. I wish she could be… more open about her problems, at least with me.”

“She might have said she wanted to move on with her life, but you can’t expect her to suddenly act like a whole new person. It’s only natural for her to want to keep some things to herself.”

Giselle’s jade eyes shined of an odd glow as she said this, and her mouth formed a tight line. Michel couldn’t help but vaguely wonder if she was talking about herself more than Morgana, but quickly chased the thought away.

“I’m aware, but still…”

“Well, if it bothers you that much, just go apologize to her the next time you see her and try asking her more subtly. Just don’t pressure her, or she’ll shut down completely again. She trusts you more than anyone, Michel, so I’m sure she’ll talk to you when she feels like it.”

Giselle smiled at him — the same kind smile that always managed to make his heart beat a little faster — and he slowly felt the knot in his stomach untangle itself. It was amazing how just a simple chat with her managed to instantly make him feel better.

“You’re right, I’ll do that,” he said while returning her smile. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“You’re welcome. Maybe next time do the same thing with me when I’m angrily complaining about clients.”

Michel grimaced. “Uh, right… Sorry about that.”

Giselle giggled and winked at him. “I forgive you. I still feel better now that I got to yell in to the void, even if you didn’t listen to a single word!”

Michel smiled again as he watched her head towards the kitchen, then heaved a sigh. He might also feel a bit better now, but Morgana still preoccupied his thoughts. He felt that he’d be unable to accomplish anything until he was able to see her again, so he decided to go talk to her as soon as possible.

Morgana was still at school at this hour, but her classes should end in two or three few hours. Michel didn’t know her exact schedule, but she generally came back around four or five in the afternoon. He could just wait for her here, but somehow he felt unable to stay put while doing nothing, so he had the strange impulse to go get her to her high school directly.

He didn’t realize how bad of an idea it was until he reached the building and saw the groups of teens hanging out all around. Michel had pretty much only bad memories of his high school years. He had been an awkward, introverted and solitary kid uncomfortable in his own skin — and this added to his growing body and newfound gender identity had created a lot of issues both at home and at school. His parents were thankfully decent people in this era, so there was no abuse, disownment or forced confinement involved, but it didn’t mean it had been easy for them to understand and adapt themselves to the situation. And that was without even including the weird dreams and flashback that sometimes plagued him from his past life, which at the time, without his full memories, he had no idea what this had been all about and was quite disturbing. Yeah, it had not been a fun period at all for him.

So somehow, setting foot once again near a high school and hearing some teenagers’ laughters and teasing revived some dreadful recollections and anxieties he hadn’t felt in about a decade, and it instantly made him feel like wanting to turn around and run away.

Don’t be ridiculous, he started to tell himself. You’re a twenty-eight year old grown ass man, why would you feel anxious approaching a bunch of high school kids?

He took a big inspiration, then got closer to the school’s gate with firm steps. He felt some the kids’ eyes fell on him questioningly, probably wondering what this weird, tall white-haired dude they’d never seen before was doing at a high school, and Michel couldn’t really blame them. Still, he tried his best to ignore them and his gaze darted left and right, desperately looking for some familiar red braids that would pop up at a corner. He kind of had the sensation of being like a father waiting to pick up his kid at the school’s gates, except Morgana wasn’t his kid and she wasn’t an elementary school child so it just felt doubly ridiculous and embarrassing.

He waited patiently for five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes. After twenty and still seeing no trace of the girl he was looking for, he started to question whether Morgana was actually finishing much later today. Or worst, maybe she had finished earlier and had already left. Michel bit his lip, and looked around at the group of high schoolers. At this point, he really couldn’t feel dumber than he already was, so he decided he might as well try to ask.

Trying to bury his nervousness about having to talk to some teenagers — except for Morgana, he hadn’t talked to one in years — he slowly approached the nearest group, constituted of two girls and three boys. The kids stopped chatting as soon as they realized the weird white-haired man wanted to talk to them, and they exchanged a confused glance with each others.

“Um, sorry to bother you,” Michel started, and he hated how awkward he sounded. “Would you happen to know a girl named Morgana? She’s short, with long red braided hair, and she kind of always have a glare that make her seems like she wants to kill you.”

At first, the kids’ faces scrunched up in bafflement, but one of the girls’ face lit up in understanding.

“Oh yeah. She’s in my class.”

Michel sighed in relief, then continued: “So are your classes finished already? Do you know where she is?”

The girl, Morgana’s classmate, tugged at one of her blonde locks while staring at Michel suspiciously. “We finished an hour ago, yeah… but, uh, who are you?”

“I’m—”

Michel opened his mouth, then realized suddenly he wasn’t sure what to answer. Her friend? He certainly was, but it sounded off to answer this somehow. Her landlord? True, but here again it didn’t sound like a good answer. The poor guy who found himself dragged into her thousand years revenge scheme against his will? Yeah, right.

“—her uncle,” he finally concluded. Right, that’ll do it for now. “I was supposed to meet her after she was finished, but…”

“Uncle?” One of the boys repeated in a joking tone. “Wow, so that weirdo isn’t some kind of cursed ghost and has an actual family? Ow!”

“Shut up, you’re not funny,” the blonde girl curtly replied while elbowing him in the ribs.

Michel looked at them and arched an eyebrow. “Are you friends with her?”

The boy chuckled. “Friends? No, we just see her from time to time.”

“She’s alone most of the time,” Morgana’s classmate added, shrugging. “I’ve never seen her hang out with anyone here. It’s not like we didn’t try to include her when she first came here, but… she either refused or ignored us. So, well, we left her alone.”

She added this in an annoyed tone, which meant Morgana’s cold behavior had slightly peeved her. Michel smiled wryly at this. It wasn’t really a surprise, as this was something he had kind of suspected already. Morgana never told them anything about her school life, but knowing her it wasn’t hard to guess she wasn’t especially looking for friends at her school. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but be a bit sad about this. As someone who had also been pretty much friendless during high school, he hoped Morgana would’ve been able to get at least a normal teenage life this time around.

“Either way, if you’re looking for her you won’t find her here. She left a while ago already,” the blonde girl continued.

“I see… Would you know where she went?”

The classmate winced. “Well, I’m not really sure, but… if I have to give it a guess, she’s probably at the graveyard again."

Michel kind of felt his brain shut down. "G-Graveyard...?"

He heard some of the boys snickering again, but they didn’t add anything when their friend shot them a glare.

“Yeah. There’s a small cemetery not far from here. From what I’ve seen, she goes there regularly, at least once a week.” She shrugged. “Gotta admit, it’s not a very common hobby. I think she gets along well with the graveyard caretaker too.”

Michel felt too stunned to say anything. Why on earth would Morgana go to the cemetery? And regularly, on top of that?

The only reason for that would be if someone she used to know was buried there… but Michel knew that both her mother and stepfather were still alive, and that she knew nothing about her birth father. So, her grandparents, maybe? She never talked about them. It was possible, but even so, it seemed a bit off for her to go visit them so frequently given how… distant she had seemed to be with her family.

“Well, uh… I see,” he finally added once more. “Thank you.”

He asked the teens where said graveyard was, and after they gave him directions he waved them good bye and finally left the high school. The place was indeed quite close from here, only about fifteen minutes of walk, right after a little church. Most of Paris’ cemeteries were quite big and carefully taken care of, but this one seemed to be the opposite of this; it was small, appeared badly maintained and almost abandoned, really. Michel stepped inside, and while looking for any trace of red he couldn’t help a shudder to spread through his body. It was desert and quiet, and almost felt like penetrating into some kind of eerie parallel world.

When he walked through the forest of large, gloomy tombs, a wind of nostalgia submerged him. He had only been to a graveyard a rare few times in his life, and the last was probably at least five or so years ago, when he went there with his mother to take care of his grandparents’ tombs. He had already lost all four of them — the last one was when he was three years old, and he had only brief, vague memories of the funerals. Even in his previous life, he had never known any of them either, as they all died long before he was even born — even before Georges was born, actually. Only Didier had known them, but even then he had been so young he had no recollections of them, according to what he had told him.

Lost in his own thoughts, it took him some time before realizing there was something off in his field of view. The place was completely empty, not a soul seemed to breath around, but then a few meters away from there he spotted what looked like a silhouette squatting on the ground. It was shaking and breathing heavily, as if hyperventilating, and curled up very tightly as if they tried to disappear. It would’ve been worrying and Michel would’ve intervened regardless of who this person was, but once he noticed the long burgundy braids falling behind the trembling shoulders his concern went up a notch and he ran towards the curled up girl.

“Morgana!” He exclaimed, his voice filled with panic as he kneeled down next to her and grabbed her shoulder. “Morgana, are you okay?”

However, the girl didn’t react at all to his questions, didn’t even glance at him. It was as if he wasn’t even here. Michel hesitated a moment, then tried to shake her gently and call her name once again — but nothing managed to get a response out of her. Her golden eyes were vacantly staring into the void, as if her soul itself had left her body, and an unpleasant feeling ran down Michel’s spine as the horrifying memory of that instant he had found the young girl dying on top of the tower flashed back into his mind. The sensation of her livid body in his arms felt as vivid as it had back then, and it unconsciously made him tighten his grip on her shoulder.

“Morgana!”

Finally, the girl tensed, and then she turned her head towards him. Her eyes very slowly regained some life and shine.

“You…” She uttered. “Ah…”

Michel wanted to feel relieved he’d managed to get her back, but… something felt off. The way she stared at him — it was like she was seeing a ghost or something. She didn’t seem to be here, even now.

“Morgana? Can you— Are you okay?”

“Um… I— Yes. Yes.”

All while talking, she eyed Michel from head to toe, then drifted her gaze on his hand on her shoulder, as if trying to analyze the situation bit by bit. Then she slowly started to get up, but her legs were trembling and she was clearly struggling to gather her strength, so he grabbed her arm firmly and helped her stand up. He didn’t let go until he was sure she stood steadily on her own two feet. She turned her head towards him, and then Michel thought he was the one hallucinating this time. Because she offered him a small smile, and gently uttered “Thank you,” as if it was the most natural thing in the world and not the most abnormal reaction he had ever seen. Since when Morgana could smile so sweetly and thanked people in such a genuine way?

“Morgana…? Are you okay?” He repeated once again, really doubting his eyes and mental health.

The girl tiled her eyes and looked up curiously at him.

“Yes? I am fine now. Thank you for asking.”

Once again, Michel felt a deep sensation of wrongness overwhelm him, but before he could open his mouth Morgana squinted her eyes and brought her hands to her head, as if her skull was suddenly aching. She stayed that way for a few long seconds, then rubbed her temples and shook her head. Finally she narrowed her eyes at him, and frowned.

“Michel…? What… What are you doing here?”

“What?” He replied, dumbfounded, because he really didn’t see what he could say much more.

“Since when are you here?”

“Since when…? Are you serious?”

Her frown deepened, and she stared at him as he was the one being unreasonable here.

“Of course I am. Have I never been anything but serious?” She asked coldly, and at least Michel was relieved to get back the normal Morgana he was used to. “So what are you doing here? Are you really stalking me after all?”

“Ah… no, um, I was… I wanted to talk to you, and some classmates of yours told me I could find you here… M-More importantly, are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” she said annoyingly, in a tone of voice that clearly showed that she wasn’t, in fact, fine at all.

But Michel felt he couldn’t press any further the topic without her snapping at him, and angering her was the last thing he wanted to do. She turned around and started to walk slowly among the tombstones, her feet steady despite the fact she was still trembling a little.

“You wanted to talk to me?” She brutally cut off the silence.

“Yes… I wanted to apologize for yesterday. Um… you were right, it was none of my business, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t. No need to apologize.”

Silence fell back between them again as Michel just kept on following her silently. Morgana didn’t seem to have a destination in mind, she just crossed the graveyards while her eyes wandered aimlessly among the silent, motionless tombs, and he wondered why she might be thinking about.

“Can I ask you a question?” Michel finally asked.

“Since when do you need permission?”

“What… What are you doing here? Did you come to… visit someone?”

“No. I don’t know anyone buried here,” she answered. “In fact, I’ve come to this cemetery for the first time when I moved in at your building.”

“What…? Then… why are you coming here regularly then…?”

Morgana heaved a long sigh, then finally came to a stop. They were in front of a particularly tall, elegant tombstone, which Michel guessed must belong to an old and wealthy family. But it also seemed to not have been maintained for quite some years, which made it seems lonely.

“Maybe that’s going to sound odd,” she finally said after some time. “But I… love graveyards.”

Michel blinked and looked curiously at the young girl next to him. She was staring at the old tombstone in front of them, but no expression crossed her face and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“I’ve loved them ever since I was a child. There was one not far away from my old home, and for as long as I can remember, I would sneak out of the house and go there, take care of the tombs and stuff.” She snorted. “Of course Mother hated it when I was doing that. She thought it was creepy and scolded me about it a lot of times, but I never listened when it came to this.”

Her eyes fell on the ground, and she mindlessly put one of her red locks behind her ear.

“That’s also where I went whenever things got too tough at home. Guess it’s a bit like my secret base. I always feel at peace and safe when I’m here. Dead people are easier to deal with than the living. At least I felt like I was doing something useful for once, by taking care of them. It felt… comfortable.”

She marked a pause, and then added, in a much smaller voice, almost a whisper:

“To be honest… I’ve always felt more at home in cemeteries than in my actual house.”

Michel stayed quiet. It was a very rare moment for Morgana to talk so freely about herself, and he felt that if he were to say something back to her, it would break the instant and make her shut down all over again. Furthermore, it wasn’t like he really know what to answer to what she was confessing to him right now.

“Of course, back then I wasn’t sure why, but now that I remember my past life it makes sense. You know it, don’t you? That when I was still living at the brothel as a child, I made that… makeshift graveyard for all the nameless corpses we found in the slums.”

He didn’t answer, but yes, he was aware of that. He hadn’t witnessed a lot of Morgana’s past, admittedly, but he could still remember that moment when he saw Jacopo’s memories — of that disfigured little girl crouched down in front of those rough graves, taking care of them meticulously.

“Back then, I started doing that because… well, I felt it was my duty, as a saint. These people had no one else, so I couldn’t bear the idea of their souls not being able to reach purgatory. I couldn’t use my blood anymore, so I felt like I had to do something, at least. But, when I think back on it now… this wasn’t really out of selflessness. It’s just it made me feel… better about myself — it made me feel not so useless. In a way, maybe it was really pretty egoistical of me.” She smiled bitterly. “I was pretty pathetic, wasn’t I?”

“You were just a little girl, Morgana,” Michel replied gently. “A severely traumatized little girl, at that. And even if you doing that wasn’t absolutely out of selflessness, I don’t think it is something pathetic at all. In the end you still gave those people a proper burial and took care of them every day, right? I think it is more than worthy of respect.”

Morgana sighed. Michel knew his words probably wouldn’t do much to change her mind, but he still felt the need to say it.

“In any case, doing this became a comforting routine to me,” she said. “I guess it just stayed with me even all those centuries later. And I like doing that.”

Michel took a deep breath, and nodded. “Somehow, that does sound like you,” he simply added with a slight smile. “If you feel comfortable doing so, then that’s good.”

Morgana didn’t reply. Her eyes fell back once again on the tombstone erected in front of them, standing solemnly.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? A lot of things changed in a millennium, but cemeteries are always the same. They’re constant.”

This was certainly true. No matter the time period or culture, humans were always faced with death and grief, and had the need to honor their lost loved ones and gather around a place to think about them.

That was, unless they were bestowed with a particularly cruel fate where no one would bother to give them a proper burial, like it had happened with Morgana a thousand years ago.

Her body and soul had been left abandoned, and that entire cursed mansion had become her graveyard and prison.

None of them uttered a single word, but Michel instinctively got closer to Morgana and gently wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to him.

For a long time, the girl didn’t react, before finally slowly let her head fall on his shoulder.

And for what seemed like an eternity, none of them moved, lulled by the sound of the wind and the company of the dead.

______________________________________________________________

Things went relatively back to normal after this. In the following days, Michel got really busy at work and came back home pretty late, so he didn’t get the time to see Morgana much or have any more conversation with her. He also didn’t get any nightmares, which meant there was no secret night meeting with her either. In fact, the only time he got to really see her was the tomorrow of their graveyard encounter, when she burst out into their apartment angrily and wanted to know why on earth her classmates were now questioning her about her “weird, tall, white-haired uncle.” He tried to justify himself that this was the less odd explanation he could come up with, but then she retorted he should not have come to her high school to begin with — and, well, she actually had a point here. Giselle watched their argument from afar while giggling quietly, and then she teased him about being “Morgana’s weird uncle” for the next few days.

In any case, despite the heartfelt conversation they managed to have at the cemetery the other day, Michel’s worries about her still hadn’t decreased at all, at the contrary. From time to time, he thought about maybe visiting Morgana to her graveyard, but in the end could never bring himself to do so. After all, she had told him herself that this place was like a ‘secret base’ to her, so it felt wrong, somehow, to trespass this place without her consent.

However, these peaceful days came to an end about two weeks later when the phone suddenly rang one afternoon.

Michel was completely focused on writing an important email about an upcoming project to his superior, so it took him some time to realize the ringing, and when he did he caught sight of Giselle heading towards the phone before he could even get up. As her hands were already occupied with what seemed to be a big cardboard — maybe something from the café? — she hurriedly put on the loudspeaker and wedged the receiver between her ear and her shoulder in an elegant movement. Michel had always been in awe by the way she was able to take care of multiple things like that as if it was the most natural thing in the world, whereas in her place he would’ve just let the box fall on the ground.

“Hello?” Giselle asked, her voice politely playful.

“Hello, sorry to bother you,” a courteous, feminine voice resounded faintly from the phone. “Um, I would like to speak to Mr. Michel Bollinger… Are you Mrs. Bollinger?”

Michel frowned slightly upon hearing his name — the person’s informal and serious tone made him wonder if it was something work-related — but Giselle seemed unconcerned and only giggled.

“Um, well, not yet! Why?”

“You are the guardian of a seventeen-year-old girl named Morgana, aren’t you?”

Giselle blinked curiously, a little confused this time.

“Um, well, we do live with a girl like that but we’re not… Wait, what is this about?”

For a short moment, there seemed to be a bit of hesitation, before the person finally answered by saying something that made Giselle’s smile fell from her face.

“This is the police. We got her in custody. Could you please come pick her up at the station?”

______________________________________________________________

Michel had only went to a police station maybe two or three times in his life, always for trivial, unimportant things like retrieve lost objects, so that was why, when he stepped inside the big building and was greeted by a bunch of solemn-looking officers in uniforms, that he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious.

The woman on the phone hadn’t told them much about what had happened, just that apparently Morgana had gotten into trouble and that she had told them he was her legal guardian, so he was the one who had to come to get her. To be honest, Michel felt a bit annoyed by this and didn’t understand why Morgana had claimed such a thing given he was far from being her guardian, but he certainly couldn’t refuse to help his friend if she had problems.

So he headed towards the reception, trying to make himself as discreet as possible but as usual it wasn’t very effective, as his appearance always attracted looks wherever he went. When he presented himself, the woman at the desk sighed, and with tired eyes she lead him to a nearby room. The moment he opened the door, he heard angry yells fly out at him, and distinguished three persons: a police officer, a middle-aged man, and Morgana.

“Do you realize that this is all your fault to begin with, right?” The man shouted exasperatedly. “You’re the one who assaulted me! Stop playing the victim here!”

“I’m not playing the victim,” Morgana replied coldly with annoyance, before rolling her eyes. “And ‘assaulted’… No need to use such words. You’re oversensitive.”

“Oversensitive?” The man screamed in disbelief. “Are you saying that this—” He showed up his hand that was wrapped up in bandages. “—is me being oversensitive?”

Morgana eyed him, then shrugged. “Well, you still have your hand and it still moves, right? Not sure why you’re making such a big deal about it.”

The man’s face became completely red, and Michel honestly thought he was going to strangle the girl here and there if the cop hadn’t instantly stepped in, putting a strong hand on the guy’s shoulder and separating the two of them.

“All right, please keep your calm, sir… I see that her guardian has finally arrived, so let’s settle this peacefully.”

While saying this, the officer looked up at Michel, and suddenly all the attention was reported on him. A look of relief spread on Morgana’s face upon seeing him, while the middle-aged man’s face hardened and glared at him.

“You certainly took your sweet time! I swear, what kind of father are you, raising such a brat and letting her hang out in a police station for hours?”

“Um… that’s—”

“Well he’s not my father,” Morgana cut in annoyingly, and when she saw the questioning gazes of the two other men she quickly added: “He is my guardian, but we’re not blood related.”

“Well, fine, in any case could you all please sit down?” The cop asked, his voice straining and Michel could tell he had been taking care of this issue for a while now and was starting to get quite frustrated at it.

“Uh, I’m sorry but, we still didn’t explain to me what had happened? What did Morgana do?”

“Why would you instantly assume I’m the one who did something?” Morgana retorted while glaring at Michel.

“Because you are!” The man shouted yet again. “That kid, I swear…! Here’s what happened: your girl stabbed me in the hand!”

Michel had to admit, he was expecting a lot of things when he heard Morgana was at a police station, but this he still wasn’t prepared for that. He frowned in confusion, and threw a questioning glance at the concerned girl, who just sighed as if this was none of her business.

“So, wait,” Michel started, massaging his temples. “She… stabbed you? With a knife? Do you just walk around transporting a knife, Morgana?”

“Okay, first of all, it wasn’t a knife, it was a cutter,” she argued, as if this was a very important detail.

It doesn’t make it any better! Michel almost burst out, but did his best to control his temperament.

“It doesn’t matter what it was!” The man resumed. “I was just walking in the street when I saw she dropped her wallet, so I tried to tell her, but then when I grabbed her arm she suddenly pulled out that thing and stabbed me with it!”

“I thought it was a thief or something, so I panicked.”

“And when you panic you stab people?” Michel interfered.

“Well, that was just a reflex. Seriously, you should not accost young girls like that without warning. It’s your fault this ended up like this, really.”

The man seemed so taken aback by Morgana’s flippancy that he couldn’t even seem to be able to yell at her anymore. He just stared at the girl, eyes and mouth wide open, until Michel let out a sigh.

“Okay, I think I got the situation. I am genuinely sorry for what Morgana did to you. It wasn’t her intention, she’s just a very cautious person—”

“It was absolutely my intention,” Morgana cut him off. “And you don’t need to apologize to that man. I certainly won’t. He’s the one overreacting over nothing.”

“You’re not helping me here!”

The man stared at the both of them, then shook his head as if giving up protesting. “I don’t care about apologies at this point. “But I certainly won’t stand for that. She stabbed me. I want to file a claim and you owes me at the very least the treatment fees.”

“File a claim? Treatment fees? As if I would—”

“That’s understandable,” Michel interrupted in a serious voice. “I’ll make sure to see through that.”

“What? Michel—”

“Just let me take care of this and try not to make matters worse, please.”

Michel’s voice was not severe, but still firm enough to make the girl understand it was best to let him handle the situation from now on. Morgana sighed, then finally after a few moments of hesitation, she nodded, although she clearly wasn’t satisfied with this.

What followed was a very egregious, long hour of trying to salvage the situation somewhat despite Morgana’s icy jabs and the man’s punctual anger. Michel felt much more exhausted at the end of this than at the end of a heavy week full of work. When they finally managed to get out of the police station, his head was still full about the future appointment with his lawyer he’ll have to make and the treatment fees he’ll have to pay.

“You really didn’t need to do that,” Morgana said, and Michel really hoped this was her way of saying ‘thank you’ because he didn’t feel like dealing with any more jaded cynical retorts.

“You’re the one who told them to call me to start with. Actually, why did you say I was your guardian?”

“Well, I didn’t want to at first… but I’m not yet eighteen, and I didn’t want them to call my parents. If my stepfather had showed up, it would have gotten ugly.”

Michel suddenly felt a bit stupid for not having realized this by himself, and softening a little, he sighed. Morgana was pretty secretive about her family situation, but he knew she had a bad relationship with them — so it wasn’t hard to imagine that if her stepfather had been called because she was at a police station it would’ve indeed not ended well.

It truly was a cursed fate that this girl had ended up again with bad, uncaring parents in this era. She deserved to have an actual loving family… In a way, although he still felt a bit annoyed with her for this, he also was kind of happy she had not hesitated to rely on him when she was in trouble.

“All right, fine… Still, what a mess… Now I’ll have to talk to Giselle about all of this and organize our finances, huh…”

“Like I said, you don’t need to do this. I’ll take care of it.”

“And how, exactly? If you don’t want to contact your parents, then I fail to see how you’ll be able to deal with this… Is the association you’re in contact would really take care of something like this?”

“Oh, no, I would never ask them that even if they could help me. I’ll just call Jacopo.”

Michel stopped walking.

“Uh, what?”

“I’ll ask Jacopo to pay and handle this for me.”

“But, you… I thought you hadn’t talked to him since you came back from your trip in Italy?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“And you’re going to call him now just to ask him for money?”

“Yes.”

“Did you… Did you keep in contact with him just to extort him?”

“Is that a problem? He has to be useful for something, at least. Furthermore, he’s pretty rich, you know.”

Michel sighed deeply and put his face in his hands. “You’re impossible… Are you really serious?”

Morgana stopped in her trail brusquely. She turned around to face him, and her eyes suddenly turned cold.

“In case you forgot, I shall remind you it is the man who killed me we are talking about. So no, I have no problem at all in taking some of his money. I believe it is actually a pretty low price to pay for ruining my life. He owes me at least that much, don’t you think? Plus, he’s also the man who indirectly ruined your life too, so I’d say he really do not deserve your pity.”

“I wasn’t pitying him…”

And you had more of a hand in ruining my life than he did, is what he restrained himself from adding. Certainly, Jacopo was basically the cause of the whole mess that had happened in the cursed mansion, but Morgana had still been the one who spent all those years tormenting Michel. She’d been the one who had enslaved Giselle in the mansion until she broke her and destroy her very identity. Even if Morgana had been a victim and that some of her actions were rooted in rightful pain and anger, no one had forced her to do those things.

Michel had forgiven her and had a lot of deep affection for her now, but he still didn’t like the way she sometimes glossed over the very real harm she had done to instead push all the blame on her killers — and specifically on Jacopo.

Still, he didn’t want to have that peculiar argument with her right now, and on top of that… Even if Morgana had never been at the mansion, even if the place had never been cursed, unfortunately Michel’s life would have still likely ended in tragedy… This thought made him pause, though.

He wondered… what would have happened if he had never met Morgana?

If there had been no cursed witch at the mansion? No skeleton to hug and makes him feel better about himself — about his pain and loneliness? No mean spirit to abuse and drain him? How would he have spent those ten years completely alone? How would he have reacted to Iméon and to Giselle without a witch to whispers in his ears?

Things would have been… a bit different, maybe, but in the end it would still have ended up with him being pierced by his brother’s spears.

The biggest difference would have been… that Giselle wouldn’t have become the Maid. They never would have reunited centuries later as lost ghosts in this dark haunted mansion, and maybe they wouldn’t even have reincarnated together in this era at all… But that also meant Giselle wouldn’t have had to suffer during all of those centuries, so wouldn’t have been better…?

Or maybe there would have been no mansion at all, and he would have been sent in exile elsewhere. Maybe he wouldn’t even have met Giselle at all. He had no idea.

What he did know was that if none of that had happened, he wouldn’t be walking next to this young girl right now.

______________________________________________________________

The wind was raspy and the sky gray when he finally reached the cemetery, which made it looks even more gloomy and eerie than last time.

It looked the exact same as it did before, as if he was back a few weeks prior in time. The place was just as abandoned as ever, and it made Michel wonder if anyone even ever bothered to come here. Except for Morgana, that is.

He wouldn’t have bothered to come either, usually, but as strange as it may sound, it was actually Morgana herself who had asked him. He had tried to talk to her yesterday, but she evaded him before slipping “I’ll be at the graveyard again tomorrow after class,” and promptly disappeared. Implying, “You can come to me there to talk to me.” Well, that was how Michel had interpreted it at least, but with Morgana he was never sure of the exact meaning of her words.

“Oh, you’re here.”

He brusquely turned around, and Morgana was there, holding a pretty big watering can in her arms.

“Right in time,” she said. “See this tombstone? I’d need you to water the flowers next to it. I still have to clean those two others in the meantime.”

Michel arched an eyebrow, but didn’t have the time to ask anything that Morgana pushed the heavy can in his hands and headed towards another grave.

“What— Wait, what do you mean?”

“I don’t think I’ve said anything all that complicated?”

“No, what I mean is— why are you doing this?”

The girl narrowed her eyes at him.

“What? Did you think I just spent all my afternoon looking melancholically at those gravestones? Sorry to disappoint, but generally I actually take care of the place.”

“You… take care of the place?”

“Yes. You know, I clean up, arrange the plants, all that. That’s a small graveyard, but it still actually takes a lot of time.”

Michel felt more and more confused. Indeed, now that he thought about it, it seemed a bit weird that Morgana would spent hours hanging out in a cemetery just walking around the tombstones despite knowing no one buried here. But the idea of her cleaning up the place was even weirder.

“What are you, the graveyard caretaker?”

“No, though I talk to him from time to time.”

“He’s okay with you doing that?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

Well, Michel supposed it did remove some work for him, so of course he wouldn’t complain. “But why would you do this?”

She shrugged. “It relaxes me.”

“Taking care of a graveyard relaxes you?”

Morgana turned around without answering and kneeled down in front of a tomb a little further away. Michel sighed, looked at the water can in his hands — which was starting to feel pretty heavy — and decided to do as she said for now. While watering the daffodils and begonias that littered the ground, he threw slight glances at the girl behind him, who was very meticulously concentrated on her task, and that’s when their talk from a few weeks ago came back to him.

Right, Morgana had spend a good chunk of her time as a child taking care of a graveyard in her past life. With this in mind, then her behavior did makes sense. Maybe it’d seems odd from any other person, but Morgana loving to take care of such place wasn’t weird at all.

“You’re holding the can badly. You’re not used to gardening, are you?”

Michel got startled as the girl appeared by his side and grabbed the can, carefully bending it with expert hands.

“I don’t have much occasions to do this,” he admitted.

“Don’t Giselle loves gardening? At least she did back then.”

“She does, but… we’ve never done it together. Plus her family lives in an apartment…”

“Is that so…”

“I didn’t know you loved gardening, though?”

“I don’t really like it. But it’s necessary when taking care of a graveyard.”

Morgana kept arranging the flowers, and Michel’s mind wandered back to the roses Giselle had grown in the mansion, centuries ago. They didn’t have a garden in their current house, only a courtyard, but maybe he could arrange himself to make one… It would surely make her happy.

“Ugh, stop that.”

“S-Stop what?”

“Thinking about doing something ridiculously cheesy for Giselle. I hate when you do that.”

“How do you even know what I was thinking about?”

“Because you always make that stupid, disgusting face whenever you think about her.”

Michel sighed. “Well, do forgive me for being happy while thinking about the woman I love. I’ll try to do it discretely from now on.”

“Thank you.”

He rolled his eyes, and almost retorted another jaded reply before he just remembered that he had a reason, actually, for coming all the way here today, and it wasn’t just to bicker with Morgana.

“Did you call Jacopo?”

“Yes. He was kinda annoyed, but he’ll pay. I don’t have any worries about it.”

Michel grimaced, guessing she probably did her best to remind him all the horrible things he had done to her to make him feel as guilty as possible. Then again, a part of him couldn’t entirely reprehend her for that, because, like she had said before, it wasn’t much compared to what he had actually did to her. He couldn’t reproach her anger, but at the same time he didn’t like at all this unhealthy relationship she had started in this era with Jacopo. Maybe he’ll have to talk about it with her. Later.

“So, um…” Michel started, then hesitated.

He did come all the way here to talk to her, but now that he was actually there he couldn’t bring himself to find the right words. He was afraid of setting her off if he brought this in the wrong way. As if reading his thoughts, Morgana brusquely stood away from the flowers and turned towards him, brow burrowed.

“Yes?” She pressed on. “Stop beating around the bush and tell me already.”

Michel took a deep breath in, and nodded.

“All right. All right, um… So, I talked with Giselle about this for a bit, and I was wondering…” He paused, and eyed Morgana cautiously. “What would you think about going to see a therapist?”

Ar first, it seemed as if she didn’t understand the question. Then, as it sunk, her shoulders slumped, her mouth formed a tight line and she uttered the following with so much disdain it almost made Michel choke:

“What?”

“I, er… To tell you the truth, that’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while… but the recent events decided me it was, probably, really necessary.”

“What recent events?”

“Do you I really need to remind you your visit at the police station?”

“That has nothing to do with this, and it’s already solved.”

“That’s not the issue. And it’s not the first time something like this happen, either.”

There was the episode that happened the first time he came at this graveyard, and the frequent nightmares, but those weren’t just isolated incidents either. There were moments where Morgana would just stare off into the distance and didn’t seem to… respond to anything. As if she was just cut off from reality. And even without all of this, Michel thought it’d do her a lot of good to see a specialist, even just to talk. However, Morgana visibly thought very differently.

“I’m not crazy,” she dryly cut out, her eyes shooting daggers.

“It’s not about being ‘crazy’,” Michel replied patiently. “It’s about talking to someone about your problems, which you obviously really, really need.”

Her reaction was pretty ironic, Michel thought, given how many times she had tempted him to “just go insane” or to “join her in her madness” during their time at the mansion. But maybe she just didn’t remember that.

“No way,” she continued, her tone sharp. “I’m not going to see a shrink.”

She spat out the last word with so much vitriol Michel actually wondered if a ‘shrink’ had done something to her in the past or something.

“I’m not saying this to piss you off, Morgana,” Michel resumed in a more concerned, serious tone. “It’s because I’m worried about you. A therapist could actually help you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like hell they could. What would I even tell them, anyway? ‘Oh yeah I remember by entire past life where my life was a miserable hell and where I was killed horribly which turned me into a witch and made me curse my killers for centuries.’ How good they’d take that, you think?”

“Obviously, I’m not saying you need to tell every single details… You could start with your modern life, I believe there’s already enough things to work with here.”

“And with what money would I pay that? I certainly can’t ask my parents, and the association already do enough for me.”

“I could take care of that if you want. That’s not a problem.” Or you could extort Jacopo again, he almost said, but he thought it wasn’t a good idea to encourage her in this kind of behavior, even for a joke.

“Oh please, stop acting like you’re my father or something, it’s extremely annoying.”

Michel groaned. Of course he had expected her to react this way, but it didn’t mean it was any less annoying that she just completely refused to listen to him.

“Morgana. You are not okay. You realize that, right?”

“How am I not okay?”

“Oh, I don’t know, to me stabbing some guy’s hand in the street because you ‘freaked out’ is not something a person who’s perfectly okay would do.”

“It was just an accident. It never happened before, and it won’t happen again.”

“But how can you know? Do you really realize how serious what you did is? You’re lucky you ended getting away with it this time, but maybe the next you’ll get in trouble with a much more dangerous person. What would you do then?”

Morgana lifted her head and grinned at him. “I’ll kill them and dispose of their body, obviously. See? That way, no problem.”

Michel stared at her blankly. Morgana stared back.

“I’m joking! Oh my God, you didn’t actually think I’d do that, right?”

“I mean… With you, I can never tell for sure.”

Morgana snorted. “Then what about you? Are you seeing a shrink?”

“Yes, I do, actually.”

Manifestly, Morgana wasn’t expecting this answer at all, because she just stared at him with her eyes wide and her mouth open.

“W-Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been in therapy since I was around fourteen, I think.” As Morgana was still staring at him with a confused look, Michel added, “Ever since I came out as a boy to my parents. They insisted because they… weren’t sure how to deal with this.”

“Oh.”

“And you know what? I thought like you at first, but I think it really helped me in the end. It still does.”

“Well, I’m not you. And again, you’re not my father, you can’t force me to do anything, so the conversation stop there.”

And as if giving more weight to her words, she turned around and started walking towards the back of the graveyard with steady steps. Michel sighed for what was probably the tenth times since he entered this place.

Dealing with Morgana was always a real headache, but he wouldn’t give up on her just yet. He hadn’t given up on her back when she was a cruel witch who had tormented him and Giselle, and he wouldn’t do it now that she was just a stubborn teenage girl.

“Morgana.”

He didn’t even had to grab her hand or to hold her back — the tone of his voice seemed to be enough to make her understand it was important, and she stopped.

“I am not going to force you if you really don’t want to,” he continued, then smiled wryly. “Like you said, I am not your father, and even if I was I still wouldn’t force you.”

This time, it was Morgana who sighed, and he could see her shoulders drop, in what seemed to be more tiredness than annoyance.

“When we met again in this era, you said… that you wanted to take your life back into your hands. Were you lying?”

The girl turned around and glared at him, her gaze shining determinedly.

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you so afraid of living and trying to be happy?” Michel took a step forward, ruby eyes not letting go of the golden ones for a second. “You have a life full of opportunities in front of you, but somehow you prefer to stay stuck in your suffering. Like you did back then.”

Morgana opened her mouth as if wanting to say something, but her lips trembled and no words could get out.

“You’re not locked up in that cursed mansion anymore. You can go wherever you want. Taking care of a graveyard is nice if that makes you happy, but… it’s not by staying with the dead that you’ll take back your life. It’s by being with the living.”

It hurts, sometimes, to look at the girl in front of him. It was a similar sensation as to stare in a mirror and seeing the reflection of a painful past self he had managed to overcome.

A child playing pretend with dead dolls when they were too old for that.

Morgana had done this since she was a little girl, but unlike him she had never let it go. He had left this behind in the past, but she was still desperately clinging to it.

Michel advanced once again, and stopped only a few centimeters away from her. Morgana was small and only barely reaching his chest, and the way she seemed to intensely stare at the ground in this moment made her seem even smaller.

He put both of his hands on her shoulders, making her look up at him, and when her eyes finally crossed his, he smiled softly.

“I love you and want you to be happy, because you deserves it. You don’t have to treat the entire world like it’s your enemy, so let people help you and love you. That’s all I really wanted to tell you.”

Morgana’s eyes widened as if not believing he had actually said this, and Michel had to admit he kind of felt the same. The words were like ashes in his mouth, and he had never been good at being open with people, not even after all those centuries. It was hard and uncomfortable and awkward, but he meant every single one of them, and he hoped Morgana could sense that, too.

Before the girl had the time to recover, he leaned in and gently kissed her forehead affectionately. He didn’t hear her gasp, but he could feel her shock and her body tense through his hands. He pulled away slowly, smiled one last time at her, before turning around.

He didn’t need to face her to know she was completely motionless and inert, but this was in a good kind of way this time.

______________________________________________________________

The odor of death was the thing that remained the most vivid in his dreams.

It wrapped and clung to his sense of smell and made him want to wince and gag. Even after he’d wake up, it would still linger with him, stuck to his skin. He had to really struggle to get it off and to fight the blurry images of the dark tower and of the soulless, dusty skeleton sitting next to him.

The unmoving, unbreathing dead doll.

But the doll wasn’t here when he came back to him, only the warm body of the black-haired woman he was going to marry in a few months. Her chest was slowly moving up and down, her lips ajar and eyelids closed. She was smiling and breathing and living, a far cry from the corpse that had been his only companion for years and years a long, lost time ago, and that was enough to bring him back in the present.

As he had often the habit by now, he stood up and headed in the kitchen, preparing his mug of coffee almost mechanically before getting outside. He noticed with regret as he sat on the courtyard’s bench that still no stars sprinkled the dark sky.

“Seems like meeting down there is starting to become a routine for us.”

There she stood in front of him, the skeletal doll.

But she wasn’t skeletal or unmoving or unbreathing anymore — with her golden eyes and long red hair slightly illuminated by the moon, she looked more like some sort of unworldly nymph.

“Seems like it,” Michel said quietly.

Morgana grimaced slightly in disappointment. “And here I thought I’d manage to pay you back and startle you like you did with me last time. Were you expecting me or something?”

“Something like that, I suppose. Maybe a part of me can always sort of tell your presence, like when we were in the mansion.”

“That’s not possible. You’re joking, right?”

“What do you think?”

Michel smiled mischievously at her, and the girl rolled her eyes, before simply sitting next to him. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

If he closed his eyes, maybe he could feel like he was still that barely adult young man in the tower seeking comfort from a corpse.

“That was kind of unfair, what you did at the cemetery,” Morgana finally said in a soft, quiet voice. “Leaving me all alone behind after saying something ridiculous like that.”

“It wasn’t ridiculous. I meant it.”

“I know. That’s what makes it ridiculous.”

She was staring at her feet now, and while there wasn’t any expression on her face, her voice was barely a murmur. Michel felt that Morgana wanted to talk for once, and it was a rare enough occasion that he kept his mouth shut as much as possible.

“You shouldn’t love me. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why not?”

“Not after… I don’t know. Everything.”

“Hmm… Could it be some backward way trying to apologize for what you did to me and Giselle? That’s quite something, coming from you. Did you hit your head or something?”

“It’s not. I just don’t get it. I don’t get you. You don’t make sense, that’s all.”

Michel sighed. It didn’t really surprise him. Forgiving Morgana and becoming her friend made sense to him, but it certainly was understandable that it wouldn’t really from her perspective. The sad thought of how a part of her probably would not believe anyone who’d say ‘I love you’ to her regardless of who it was crossed his mind…

“I did felt a lot of ways towards you during these years,” he finally said. “I hated you, and resented you, and pitied you. You did a lot of heinous things to me. But I think I myself did a lot of bad things to you. Though, well… you already know that, don’t you?”

No response came, but he didn’t need any, so he just let his eyes wander at the starless sky.

“My point is, that when I really started to see you as a person, when I really started to emphasize with you and wanted to save you, I’ve stopped resenting you and started loving you. I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, but that’s how it is. I hope you’ll be able to understand it one day.”

Morgana sighed, and also raised up her head. “I… will not make any promise,” she finally said. “But…”

She bit her lips. Looked away.

“But I’ll… I’ll think about it. The shrink.”

And then Michel couldn’t help but chuckle, because in this moment she sounded so much like the stubborn teen girl she was supposed to be and not like the centuries years old cruel, vengeful witch, and it was how things was supposed to be.

“You know, Morgana… some time earlier, I got myself wondering what would have happened if I had never met you.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

“How would that work…?”

“Well, I don’t know… Maybe if you never had died the way you did, and never put a curse on the three men. Maybe if Jacopo had never locked you up in that tower.”

Morgana snorted. “That indeed would have prevented a lot of annoying events, yes. But that would mean counting on the fact that this idiot can possess anything resembling human common sense.”

“Well, regardless… I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“Hmm… Well, if I had indeed never been killed that way… for starter, the mansion itself would have never been cursed. So maybe you would not even have been sent at that mansion at all. Or maybe you would have, but either way I do not think it would have changed much about what happened there, or changed anything about your death.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

“However, Giselle… would have never become the Maid.”

“Indeed…”

Morgana’s gaze seemed unfocused as she looked into the horizon, and Michel wondered what was going through her head. Maybe she reminisced all those centuries she spent in company of the Maid.

“Maybe… it would have been better for her,” she finally blurted out.

“That’s… also what I thought. But then… that might sound selfish of me, but… if she had never become the Maid and stayed in the mansion, then we likely… would have never been reunited. The both of us getting reincarnated here was principally thanks to your wish.”

“Heh, I’m not so sure about that. That’s going to sound cheesy, but I think your bond was strong enough for you to meet again.”

“Maybe… It’d be nice if it is the case…”

Michel put his gaze inside his cup of coffee, that was probably cold by now.

“But you know… while I do wish Giselle hadn’t gone through so much suffering during her time as the Maid, and that I would do anything to take it back… I still… do not regret meeting you.”

He turned his head towards the young girl sat next to him, and stared straight into her eyes.

“Despite everything, I am still glad to be your friend now.”

Michel smiled gently at her, and put a hand on the top of her head, gently ruffling her red hair. Morgana sighed and rolled her eyes. “I am not a child,” she grumbled, but even so she did nothing to put off his hand. So Michel chuckled, and despite her reluctance, Morgana joined in his laugh soon enough.

Years, decades, centuries ago, she was just a lifeless doll he’d shared an abandoned mansion with — a convenient plaything to make a desperate, broken boy feel less lonely.

And then when she started talking as a witch, she became an annoyance and he wanted nothing but to get rid of her.

But he was glad to not have given up on her in the end, so that he could now see into what kind of woman she would grow into.

And just like he had done an eternity before, he extended his arm and grabbed her hand, holding it gently but firmly.

This time, those were not cold, dusty bones that met his fingers, but warm, smooth skin.

This was not a skeleton sat next to him that he could play pretend with like a doll, but a dear friend he had pitied, hated, resented sympathized with and loved all at once.

[therootedcottage]

How To Make A Magical Home: FRONT DOORS, PROTECTIVE PLANTS, & CHARMS

Have you ever been to a witch’s home--or their room? If you have and you’re sensitive in any way you feel a difference. You might feel safe, or like there’s a lot of happy zippy energy, or deeply calm. In fact the moment you so much as glance at the front of their house or door you feel the magic. There’s just something...DIFFERENT.  I’ve experienced it myself! I was bringing a child I nannied to their newest guitar instructor who taught from her home. She lived in a tiny condo where home looked like the next. But over her front patio, where the gate was, was a whimsical arbor on which grew ivy. Hanging baskets full of flowers hung over the windows, a small wall mounted water fountain gurgled merrily, wind chimes danced, and prisms tied here and there twirled about and created little rainbows on the ground. Before I even stepped foot into it I KNEW it was a witch’s home. It felt magical and like life was different there--gentler, kinder, safe. So how does one do that? How do you inject that magical feeling into your own witchy home (or room)? I’m here to show you! I’ll be breaking it down here and on my pagan blog (linked below) in a series for how to make each part of your home more magical! And no, you don’t need to hang massive pentagrams all over the place. Nor do you need draw strange sigils in white paint on your driveway (I mean, you can, but you don’t have to--and I certainly can’t stop you!). To kick us off let’s start with where all homes (and rooms) begin: The front of your house! Doors are magical things, with all sorts of lore that I won’t even attempt to go into here on a tumblr post (but I’ll some on my blog post!). Needless to say doors are powerful. They keep negativity out, bring positivity in, and can help establish what sort of energy and person lives in the home. Purple is the color used to say ‘a witch lives here.’ It’s a color that implies magic, wisdom, and knowledge. I don’t know about you, but I’d love some of that energy to be constantly attracted to my door and home, wouldn’t you?! Of course you can choose whatever color you wish, and which makes you happy, but some other good choices are yellow, green, and blue (more details in my blog). If you can’t paint your door, consider hanging a poster or wall scroll with the colors in them! Magical Plants. For those of you who don’t have a green thumb, cactus are great plants to put outside your front door (or in your room) as their spiky energy repels negative energy. But if you’re like me and you love gardening and planting, some great plants to put outside your door in containers are chamomile, rue, basil, mint, ferns, bamboo, and artichokes (they’re a thistle and ‘spiky’ so keep negativity away). There’s honestly SO many plants that protect your home that can also be grown together in pots for a pleasing display (if say, you live in an apartment/flat with doors that aren’t in indoor hallways). Not only can you use these plants to protect you from all sorts of things, you can use many of them for teas, tinctures, offerings, and spells! Planting red geraniums was once used to silently inform other witches that a witch lived there!  Charms, sigils, and runes are a great way to keep your house safe, draw good things to you, and further helps fellow pagans realize they’re not alone in the world! There are so very many things you can do to protect your house that it’d take dozens of posts to list them all. But here are some simple and easy ideas: carve the Nordic rune symbol of Algiz and hang it on or next to your door, create a sigil (you can paint it on the ground or a piece of paper) for protection or whatever intent you want--such as to keep spirits or thieves out--and place it under your doormat. You can also line brick dust or black salt along your door to keep bad spirits and negative people from darkening your door (or at least from staying very long).  If you live in a home where witchcraft isn’t tolerated I know things can be tricky--I lived in such a home. Just know that magic isn’t in having magical tools you buy from a pagan store. Our ancestors didn’t have such stores. They relied on nature, their ability to tune into both the earth and spirit world, and used nature to protect them. Having cactus in your room, or herbs, doing spellwork, creating protective sigils on your doors and windows in oil--all of that can be done and be invisible at the same time, or look mundane to any passerby.  The front of your home says who you are. It can ward off the bad, invite the good, and bring relief and safety to you when you’ve had a bad day! As a last note, I think having wind chimes is a must, as the sound breaks up energy and keeps it from getting stagnant at your door, but I’m an air sign so I might be biased about that!  In the next post we’ll discuss the next big room: The living room!  If you have information or crafts or spells you’d like to share on how to make the front of your house more magical please let us know in the comments below! And of course, I have a more in depth blog post up on my blog, The Rooted Cottage! ( <-- click the title to go to blog!) )O( Merry Meet )O(

[makapatag]

A Silent Night Wind, a short story

A silent wind caressed the corpse of Sanlibutan, the All-Chief, and bellowed mournful cacophonies.

It was the night at its darkest. So dark that one wouldn’t be able to recognize the person standing before them. In this time, within the shadows between the trees and the calming winds that sighed through the boughs of bamboo, lived Igsinagan, the demon-god of the Silent Night Wind.

Igsinagan would, time and time again, take up the form of a dog. This dog’s hair would bristle and look as if constantly blown by winds, even if there were none. Its eyes burned bright red, even in the night’s unrecognizable darkness.

The Silent Night Wind roamed through the forest, even as corrupted earth spirits leapt out of the ground to scream with the voices of women and clawing at Igsinagan ineffectually. Even as bull-headed horses, with flames licking out of their noses, would charge at him. Even as long, humanoid beings, jaws dislodged, eyes hollow pits, skin stretched over black bones, tried to gather him for the slaughter. 

Each of them made a sound. The sound that one would hear if one were to stay awake until the littlest hours of the night.

Igsinagan silenced them all.

The commune the forest flanked was home to at least fifty families, all living in the safety of a warrior lady, a Kapitana. The great lady of violence protected them from dangers, such as malevolent spirits called sitan and bandits called tulisanes. This is the way of every commune upon Kalagitnaan. The Demon Wind Dog bounded through the leaves, leaped over fallen trunks, and turned into the wind to cross raging rivers of the black forest. As the dog ran, he ruminated, and he remembered a time when things were not so fractured, were not so small. He remembered a time when mortals would live as gods, upon palaces among the stars. A time when great sorceries would lift entire chunks of Sanlibutan’s body out of the sea. A time when powerful chiefs warred, lasting for thousands of years, and it was glorious.

That was a time so long ago that not even demon-gods like Igsinagan would remember them. Now all of that had changed. Three Periods of Decline followed before today, which is the lowest of the low in the history of the Archipelago. Even as Igsinagan flowed through the forest, he remembered them all, for he had lived through them.

In the Northern Isles of the Pearlescent Archipelago, those men of the lions, who wield rose and sword, staff and pentacle, bringing with them their Tortured God, colonized the northern isles in the name of Dyosveta. A hundred years later, the Northerners rebelled, with the Wielder of Gods accompanied by the Great Supremo of the Brotherhood, they overthrew the Captain-Generalcy of San Lazaranya and called themselves the great Republic of Lazaranyas. 

Of course, that didn’t last long until the imperialist Gunmetal Kingdom, with their huge machines of war and spirit-driven mecha, conquered the isles. They united all of the islands, both North and South, under their barbaric command. They named the archipelago The Pearlescent Islands. That lasted for half a century, before the horrid Steel Flower War, where the Chrysanthemum Empire to the north swept down and conquered the capital, Salurung. 

This ended in the joint forces of the Gunmetal Kingdom and the Pearlescent Injos repelling the occupying Chrysanthemum forces. The Gunmetal Kingdom then eventually relinquished the colony, and the injos were finally free once again, now named the Pearlescent Republic. Not all good things last, however, as the power-hungry Panginoon, named Panginoong Duruya, took all of the republic under him and turned himself into the Emperador of the Pearlescent Empire. He granted his closest allies special rights and land and money and power, and cared not for his own people, sinking the Empire into decadence and violence.

This was the land Igsinagan lived in the current. Once, before the Dark Ages, Igsinagan would’ve been revered, for the Silent Night Wind is something that gives and takes. He was a diwata, an elemental god in nature. However, the doctrine of the Tortured God taught that the diwata were simply nature nymphs and, if a certain diwata didn’t fit that description (as most diwata did not, for divine spirits do not simply have form and simply live within nature, for they are the soul of nature itself) then they were to be called demons and devils. And so, upon this broken land, he found himself called Demon. And he decided that if he were to be called a demon, then he would be a free one, and one not chained by the usual definitions of that much-maligned word.

Igsinagan leapt over a stream that was streaked with red, a river already blemished with blood. There, Igsinagan ventured upstream, until he arrived at the waterfall which the nearby villagers revered as Sijopoan. Upon that clearing, upon the pond where the waterfall crashed, there was a clean bank. And upon that bank, there was a boulder. And upon the boulder was a woman, stripped naked, but with her hair strewn about the air as if she was underwater, and her skin bright blue. The same color the pond glistened when the corpse sun laid its bleached eyes upon it.

Igsinagan knew that it was Sijopoan herself, the spirit of the pond, unmoving, eyes frozen with fear. And there, above her on the boulder, was a muscled ruffian, smelling as if he bathed with the boars. In fact, that’s what Igsinagan decided he was--a boar man, for his broad neck and broken teeth and shaved head did nothing to offer any other interpretation of his frame. 

Igsinagan found the man, in his repulsiveness, to be of utmost attraction. The folds of his fat, his musk emanating from him like pheromones… the dog Igsinagan writhed in arousal and presently turned into a dark voluptuous woman by virtue of his demonic thaumaturgy.

Igsinagan, now a woman, crept up to her would-be lover and ran a sensual finger down her spine.

At that, the man whipped around, and Igsinagan sent a whispering into Sijopoan’s ears by letting wind pass by them. The whisper was thus: Leave this place and find the commune to the west, only then will you be safe.

Sijopoan scrambled away, without any regard for covering herself up, and disappeared into the brush. The man who smelled like a boar, who by her touch, Igsinagan knew to be named Pablo, cursed. Dumb though he was, he chased after the girl, even as she disappeared into the darkness.

However, Igsinagan’s sorceries were one fed by desire, and thus, at her touch, the man turned to her, and he smiled with sensual pleasure. As a snake would stare proudly at a rat about to be caught in its fangs.

“You fucking witch!” 

Igsinagan put a finger on her lips, and invited him, and said, “Let worthless wenches fall away, like leaves when Habagat comes. I, your servant, your maiden, am the only one you deserve.”

And then, sent to flight by the soul of arousal, grabbed Igsinagan’s now womanly form in by her stringy hair and laid her down upon the stone, and he entered her. However, even as they wrapped around each other, as a leviathan burst into an undersea cave, Igsinagan felt no love. And even at the height of her pleasure, she was yet greatly displeased. Her lust was great, but it did not overwhelm her, in the way demons loved to be overwhelmed. 

“I’m sorry,” Igsinagan moaned.

“Huh?” said the man, dumbly, as he was. “What—” And upon that utterance did the woman of the night wind pulled him into her, and as his seed erupted, so did the wind from the trees suddenly burst. The winds had turned razor, and a single gale sliced the boar man into many pieces, so that he would never gain a good afterlife.

Igsinagan, seeing her new form upon the water and being pleased with the form desire had given her, decided herself different in this human form, and thus took up the name of Nagsi, for she was anew. Then, she took up the man’s leftover clothes--for he had taken them off when he deemed to violate the spirit of the pond--and would’ve made her way back to the pond… if she hadn’t felt something stir within her womb.

“Oh, a strange turn of events,” she said, and then thus decided to sleep within the ruins of a church that lay beside the moonlit lake, and there she promised that she would take care of the child that was to be born from her.

#

Now as Igsinagan performed his demonic coupling, so did Sijopoan manage to venture into the deep forest, only to find that she was deadly lost in the darkness, which was not her friend. Slowly, eyes erupted from the dark, like frog eggs, clustered together and burning with velvet flame. With nothing to hold her hand but despair, she surrendered to the darkness.

A warm hand suddenly held her. She looked up to see a young man, strong, with the clothing of a farmer, and salakot atop his head, the broad rims of the wooden hat shading his face. He pulled the pond spirit up, and the girl couldn’t stop staring at him, even as he lifted the torch up above his head. 

“Are you okay? Come on, let’s get out of here.” His voice was soft, soothing, and it allured Sijopoan, and until now she never thought she could fall hopelessly for someone. His land-colored eyes begged her to rest, his strong arms promised safety. Being a spirit, she even saw the color of his heart, and saw that it was pure.

He brought her to his solitary home, which had no other beings within.

As she lay with him, she found that her skin’s blue hue had turned into a more human brown, similar to the color of the banks of the pond, and her eyes burned the turquoise of her pond. And there they stared at each other, and to Sijopoan it was strange, for it was her that felt bewitched by his soft and simple loving gaze. As she slowly healed from the assault, the man worked tirelessly to afford her safety, and even let her sleep in his bed, while he slept in front of a low wooden table. She negated that, and asked him to sleep with her, and he—with a smile as soft as the moon—acquiesced. It felt like butterflies lifted her clothings from her as he came upon her.

She smiled, and dimples blossomed. “Hi, Sijo.”

The man smiled as well, although he only had one dimple, and it was on the cheek that was pressed against the pillow, like a hidden cave. “Hi Sijo. I’m Isidro.” And flowers of affection and lust blossomed in her heart, and she knew, as she stared upon his eyes, that they blossomed in his as well.

And under their roof, they became as one, diwata coupling with a mortal.

#

And then moons passed, and eventually, that night borne twins. Dakul was the son of Igsinagan, who had taken upon the name of Nagsi, to the boar man. Dakul was not dark-skinned like his mother, but his hair was the darkest of dark, and his eyes burned with the orange of the setting sun, as if unsure whether he was a child of the day or of the night. Dakul then proceeded to live in that church-turned-home, living a blasphemy to God.

Within the village of Kapitana Unduya was born Cristina, to her mother Sijo (as was the mortal name she took up, to ease the strangeness and to hide her true nature, for the commune was Dyosvetan, and the diwata to them were cunning nymphs) and her father Isidro, whom the Datu thought would never find love. They were even more overjoyed when they realized that Cristina bore pure silver hair, like the scintillating spray of the pond on a hot summer day, and had eyes that took after the azure of her mother, albeit this one was turquoise. Taking this as a sign, they celebrated this birth with a great fiesta, a feast fit for the gods, for they said: “Surely, Isidro has been blessed by God!”

However, the priest of the commune, Padre Anselmo, did not take a liking to this omen. He preached in his seventh-day mass that the silver-haired one was an illegitimate coupling of man and demon. However, Fray Anselmo himself had his eyes, glinting and rapacious, upon the girl when she grew older, and years later changed his preaching to saying that even the children of the demons—anak ng sitan—can be led and purged of their demonic nature.

#

A few years passed by, and the young Dakul and Cristina grew up to become fine younglings. 

Cristina found her love in exploration, finding that she couldn’t stop herself from venturing into the forest. “I belong there!” she would always say, face dirtied with dead insects and muddy soil, her skirt and shirt torn by clawed branches. She always wrote upon palm leaves, recording what she saw during her expeditions into the forest, cataloging what was poisonous and what wasn’t, the birds that flew to and fro, and whatever strange animals she could find (of which she would always ask her mother the name, and her mother would reply with the perfect name every single time.) Due to this, she grew into a spritely young girl who had a tome--a gift from her father--kept to her side with a body sling made of gold.

Meanwhile, outside of the commune, Dakul held a certain curiosity, but for the most part, kept with his mother. His mother loved him dearly, and pampered him, although when he reached the ripe age of 12, she began teaching him in the ways of violence and harshness. There was even a time when, once, Dakul fell off a cliff, and had had his spine shattered. Nagsi wept, only to find that Dakul was alive and breathing, and was full and well after only a few meals of the largest thighs of the chicken. Afterward, Nagsi was not scared for her son and taught him how to fight, and how to use witchcraft, which she called the Black Secret. 

However, Nagsi realized that Dakul hadn’t inherited her ability to harness the Night Wind… that is, until she taught him the blade. Through sword forms and drills, he unconsciously summoned the Night Wind to carry his attacks, leap great distances, ans avoid inevitable strikes entirely. Thus, Nagsi taught her beloved son the ways of the sword, and he crafted his own martial art, the Night Wind Blade, which he honed until he became an undisputed adept of the sword, by his teenage years, after having lived through seventeen harvests. Thus, with his skill with the blade, knowledge of the occult, and uncanny ability to sustain the most mortal of injuries, he became a great fighter, and would regularly beat back the sitan, the malevolent spirits, that would plague the land.

Cristina, who grew up beautifully, like a flower blossoming, was then courted by most of the village boys. She brushed them off, as she wasn’t keen on relationships—or boys—during that time. She would usually ask them to search for her in the forest. She, having been there since she was a child, would always get them lost, and then tell them to turn their shirts inside out because a tikbalang has led them in circles. Eventually, however, she was called upon by Padre Anselmo into the church. There, within the stone walls, he gripped her hands and tried to kiss her, but her being of sturdy upbringing, pushed him away and ran. Padre Anselmo cursed her in the name of the Tortured God.

The next day, Padre Anselmo was gone.

One day with the clouds hiding the bleached sun’s rictus grin, Sijo grew sick.  

It was a time when Cristina had grown up, cut her silver hair short so that it didn’t snag upon the trees as she ventured (even as the Datu herself gnashed her teeth in regret). She wore clothes that didn’t drag her back, leaving behind the shirt and skirt for a vest and pants.

After she had returned from her daily ventures into the forests, carrying with her a strange crystallized beetle, she saw her mother splayed on the floor, a cup of melted chocolate seeping through the bamboo slat floor.

Cristina dropped the beetle and rushed to Sijo’s side. “Mother? Are you alright, Mother?” Cristina was frantic, but much to her terror, her mother wouldn’t answer. Her father Isidro arrived late that night after farming the fields and found what had happened to Sijo, with Cristina crying beside her.

Unlike Cristina, however, Isidro spared no tears, for knowledge had kept his tears. He hurriedly scooped Sijo up into his arms and told Cristina to follow him.

They ran through the forest, and Cristina, who hadn’t seen her father go through the forest before, was surprised at the speed her father dashed. He missed no beat, leaping over fallen trunks and not stopping for any shallow stream. It was as if he knew the very lay of the forest. As if it was drawn magically upon the backs of his eyelids.

Presently, they arrived at a narrow river, which flowed blue-green as if painted with verdigris, and they ran up it, their feet barely touching the ground at the speed of their strides. Eventually, they arrived at the pond that was the river’s head, and Cristina saw for the first time the wonderful waterfall that had made the pond. 

And in the midst of it, a bathing boy. Of the same age as Cristina, albeit with hair the opposite color and orange eyes seemingly crafted to combat her blue.

Isidro ran up to the pond and laid her down upon it, and she drifted across the pond and did not move, although she began breathing once again. The boy leaped out of the pond as Sijo’s body was laid down upon the pond. As he leapt out of the pond, the woman walked out of the church ruins.

Cristina had never been to this part of the forest. However, she knew of the Mad Priestess in the forest, who was said to have saved her mother when she was younger. When her fulminating dark eyes met Cristina’s turquoise, Cristina couldn’t help but look away.

“Priestess,” said Isidro. “I see that my wife was not wrong.”

“Do not doubt her,” said the Priestess. “We are rarely wrong.”

“Women?” asked Isidro.

The Priestess took a longing look at Sijo, with a wistful smile. “Spirits.” She then turned to the rest of them and smiled and said, “Isidro, I am Nagsi. Unfortunately, I am no priestess, but a witch.”

“I revere them all the same,” said Isidro, bowing by the waist. “Powerful one, I have been told by my wife to bring her here when she would feel ill. However, she refuses to tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” Nagsi pondered, and eventually, she was before Isidro, arms crossed across her chest, dark eyes still pondering and staring upon Sijo. Beside her was her--what Cristina thought, at least--son. Coming up to her, she found that she was taller than he, even as his own muscles bulged. While presently she wore a long-sleeved shirt and balloon pants, the boy wore square shorts and a vest that only served to show off his dark physique. His hair was cut short, unruly. “The truth about your wife?”

The man nodded, and something flamed within him, staring at the woman wrapped in dark robes and animal furs. 

“Do you pay fealty to Dyosveta, the Tortured? To God?”

Isidro nodded again, slower this time. He wasn’t sure what that amounted to. 

“Yet you believe in the spirits that dwell within everything?”

Isidro nodded again. 

“Then the answer must be simple. Your wife is a diwata. In truth, the spirit of this pond, of the waterfall, which you have named Sijopoan.” Nagsi smiled. “Huh, what a cheeky name.”

“I have lain with a diwata,” said Isidro, falling to his knees and hugging Cristina close. “Does this mean I will lose my daughter?”

Cristina blinked. Me? A daughter of a diwata? What does that mean? She looked down upon her hands, and then noticed a stray strand of her hair across her face. Silver.

The dark witch raised an eyebrow and examined the man. She wondered if it would be nice to trick him, to feed into his superstition… but then decided against it. “No, of course not. Your wife will heal, and you will not go anywhere.” She looked at Cristina. “She has grown to be a beautiful woman.”

“What shall I do? Shall I leave my wife to be here?”

“Range from her domicile, as the pond is her home, her altar, has caused her to weaken over the years. Give her a night and a day to heal, let her be, this is nature taking its course.”

“Oh, thank you, oh witch. You have saved my wife twice in her lifetime!”

“And not once will I suggest some sort of present for it. Come, I have cooked dinner within my abode. You may rest within and wait for your wife to heal.”

And they did, for the father was tired after a long day, and the corpse sun was descending into its coffin and letting the broken heaven rest after its unending vigil, letting way for a single serene moon, which was blind and mad and lonely.

As the darkness overcame them, Nagsi set a green witch-light to guard the body of Sijo. The same green witch light served as their torches in the church ruins.

Cristina made sure to stay by the side of her father, who kept staring at Sijo, for he was hopelessly in love with her. Cristina, on the other hand, was endlessly drawn to the boy, whose name she did not know, even as he ignored her. 

Within the church, she saw that they had somehow turned it into a comfortable enough living space. A second floor had been built, and the first floor was wide enough to fit a living room, a dining area and a kitchen, each overlayed with hand-embroidered drapings and decorations. From the corner of her eye, Cristina saw little imps bouncing away and hiding in the shadows, leaving behind their knitting tools.

The boy started preparing dinner. Cristina found that it was chicken and rice. The chicken was extravagantly spiced, with condiments and herbs she saw from the forest but never thought to put it upon food, much less chicken. 

Once that was done, they sat around a table, with chairs molded from the trunks of the surrounding trees of the pond. As they ate, the witch—Nagsi—couldn’t help but stare at Isidro, enraptured by his entirely too human appearance. Land-colored eyes, skin the color of clay, hair shaved so as to not get in the way of farming… she felt that the budding pain and flame in her heart was a curse laid upon her by the invisible spirits of affection. 

They ate mostly in silence, and then when they were all done, Cristina offered to wash the dishes. “I cannot in good conscience let you do all of this for nothing.”

“Then be my guest,” said Nagsi, and she set about helping. The boy, who might have been dumb for he hasn’t spoken, grabbed her by the wrist. 

“Let me,” he said, and his voice was deep and sweet like chocolate.

Cristina’s cheeks burned hot, but her principles were steadier than the strongest shield. “No, I must.”

The boy replied, “Then let me help you.” And he took some of the plates and brought it to the makeshift sink. Cristina used the pond water from a wooden bucket to rinse the wooden plates.

As they washed, Cristina said, “I’m sorry, I never quite got your name….”

“Dakul, Silver One, Spirit-kin,” said the boy.

“I… Dakul, right? Nice to meet you. Why do you call me those names?” she suddenly wondered if she was some sort of child of destiny. If she was a prophesied babe meant to save the world, as she was apparently a child of a strange nymph. Or was she meant to destroy it?

“I know not your name.”

“Ah,” she said, managing a smile and soaping the rest of the dishes. “Well, you may call me Cristina.”

“Cristina.” He looked up at her, despite their height difference being nary but an inch. “Your beauty captivates the soul, silvered one,” said the boy.

“O-Oh—”

“Your welcome,” said Dakul, returning to finishing his task. Cristina put a hand upon her round cheek and scrunched her nose up. Her chest fluttered.

#

One day with the clouds hiding the bleached sun’s rictus grin, Sijo grew sick.  

It was a time when Cristina had grown up, cut her silver hair short so that it didn’t snag upon the trees as she ventured (even as the Datu herself gnashed her teeth in regret). She wore clothes that didn’t drag her back, leaving behind the shirt and skirt for a vest and pants.

After she had returned from her daily ventures into the forests, carrying with her a strange crystallized beetle, she saw her mother splayed on the floor, a cup of melted chocolate seeping through the bamboo slat floor.

Cristina dropped the beetle and rushed to Sijo’s side. “Mother? Are you alright, Mother?” Cristina was frantic, but much to her terror, her mother wouldn’t answer. Her father Isidro arrived late that night after farming the fields and found what had happened to Sijo, with Cristina crying beside her.

Unlike Cristina, however, Isidro spared no tears, for knowledge had kept his tears. He hurriedly scooped Sijo up into his arms and told Cristina to follow him.

They ran through the forest, and Cristina, who hadn’t seen her father go through the forest before, was surprised at the speed her father dashed. He missed no beat, leaping over fallen trunks and not stopping for any shallow stream. It was as if he knew the very lay of the forest. As if it was drawn magically upon the backs of his eyelids.

Presently, they arrived at a narrow river, which flowed blue-green as if painted with verdigris, and they ran up it, their feet barely touching the ground at the speed of their strides. Eventually, they arrived at the pond that was the river’s head, and Cristina saw for the first time the wonderful waterfall that had made the pond. 

And in the midst of it, a bathing boy. Of the same age as Cristina, albeit with hair the opposite color and orange eyes seemingly crafted to combat her blue.

Isidro ran up to the pond and laid her down upon it, and she drifted across the pond and did not move, although she began breathing once again. The boy leaped out of the pond as Sijo’s body was laid down upon the pond. As he leapt out of the pond, the woman walked out of the church ruins.

Cristina had never been to this part of the forest. However, she knew of the Mad Priestess in the forest, who was said to have saved her mother when she was younger. When her fulminating dark eyes met Cristina’s turquoise, Cristina couldn’t help but look away.

“Priestess,” said Isidro. “I see that my wife was not wrong.”

“Do not doubt her,” said the Priestess. “We are rarely wrong.”

“Women?” asked Isidro.

The Priestess took a longing look at Sijo, with a wistful smile. “Spirits.” She then turned to the rest of them and smiled and said, “Isidro, I am Nagsi. Unfortunately, I am no priestess, but a witch.”

“I revere them all the same,” said Isidro, bowing by the waist. “Powerful one, I have been told by my wife to bring her here when she would feel ill. However, she refuses to tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” Nagsi pondered, and eventually, she was before Isidro, arms crossed across her chest, dark eyes still pondering and staring upon Sijo. Beside her was her--what Cristina thought, at least--son. Coming up to her, she found that she was taller than he, even as his own muscles bulged. While presently she wore a long-sleeved shirt and balloon pants, the boy wore square shorts and a vest that only served to show off his dark physique. His hair was cut short, unruly. “The truth about your wife?”

The man nodded, and something flamed within him, staring at the woman wrapped in dark robes and animal furs. 

“Do you pay fealty to Dyosveta, the Tortured? To God?”

Isidro nodded again, slower this time. He wasn’t sure what that amounted to. 

“Yet you believe in the spirits that dwell within everything?”

Isidro nodded again. 

“Then the answer must be simple. Your wife is a diwata. In truth, the spirit of this pond, of the waterfall, which you have named Sijopoan.” Nagsi smiled. “Huh, what a cheeky name.”

“I have lain with a diwata,” said Isidro, falling to his knees and hugging Cristina close. “Does this mean I will lose my daughter?”

Cristina blinked. Me? A daughter of a diwata? What does that mean? She looked down upon her hands, and then noticed a stray strand of her hair across her face. Silver.

The dark witch raised an eyebrow and examined the man. She wondered if it would be nice to trick him, to feed into his superstition… but then decided against it. “No, of course not. Your wife will heal, and you will not go anywhere.” She looked at Cristina. “She has grown to be a beautiful woman.”

“What shall I do? Shall I leave my wife to be here?”

“Range from her domicile, as the pond is her home, her altar, has caused her to weaken over the years. Give her a night and a day to heal, let her be, this is nature taking its course.”

“Oh, thank you, oh witch. You have saved my wife twice in her lifetime!”

“And not once will I suggest some sort of present for it. Come, I have cooked dinner within my abode. You may rest within and wait for your wife to heal.”

And they did, for the father was tired after a long day, and the corpse sun was descending into its coffin and letting the broken heaven rest after its unending vigil, letting way for a single serene moon, which was blind and mad and lonely.

As the darkness overcame them, Nagsi set a green witch-light to guard the body of Sijo. The same green witch light served as their torches in the church ruins.

Cristina made sure to stay by the side of her father, who kept staring at Sijo, for he was hopelessly in love with her. Cristina, on the other hand, was endlessly drawn to the boy, whose name she did not know, even as he ignored her. 

Within the church, she saw that they had somehow turned it into a comfortable enough living space. A second floor had been built, and the first floor was wide enough to fit a living room, a dining area and a kitchen, each overlayed with hand-embroidered drapings and decorations. From the corner of her eye, Cristina saw little imps bouncing away and hiding in the shadows, leaving behind their knitting tools.

The boy started preparing dinner. Cristina found that it was chicken and rice. The chicken was extravagantly spiced, with condiments and herbs she saw from the forest but never thought to put it upon food, much less chicken. 

Once that was done, they sat around a table, with chairs molded from the trunks of the surrounding trees of the pond. As they ate, the witch—Nagsi—couldn’t help but stare at Isidro, enraptured by his entirely too human appearance. Land-colored eyes, skin the color of clay, hair shaved so as to not get in the way of farming… she felt that the budding pain and flame in her heart was a curse laid upon her by the invisible spirits of affection. 

They ate mostly in silence, and then when they were all done, Cristina offered to wash the dishes. “I cannot in good conscience let you do all of this for nothing.”

“Then be my guest,” said Nagsi, and she set about helping. The boy, who might have been dumb for he hasn’t spoken, grabbed her by the wrist. 

“Let me,” he said, and his voice was deep and sweet like chocolate.

Cristina’s cheeks burned hot, but her principles were steadier than the strongest shield. “No, I must.”

The boy replied, “Then let me help you.” And he took some of the plates and brought it to the makeshift sink. Cristina used the pond water from a wooden bucket to rinse the wooden plates.

As they washed, Cristina said, “I’m sorry, I never quite got your name….”

“Dakul, Silver One,” said the boy.

“I… Dakul, right? Nice to meet you. Why do you call me those names?” she suddenly wondered if she was some sort of child of destiny. If she was a prophesied babe meant to save the world, as she was apparently a child of a strange nymph. Or was she meant to destroy it?

“I know not your name.”

“Ah,” she said, managing a smile and soaping the rest of the dishes. “Well, you may call me Cristina.”

“Cristina.” He looked up at her, despite their height difference being nary but an inch. “Your beauty captivates the soul, silvered one,” said the boy.

“Ha, like I haven’t heard that before. You sound like every other boy in the village.”

“You’re welcome,” said Dakul, returning to finishing his task. Cristin managed a smile.

#

“Cristina. Hey Cristina!” Cristina awoke. Crouching over her was Dakul, whose orange eyes seemed to have been lit ablaze. “We have to leave. Now.”

“What…? Why?”

“The Imperial Inquest arrives.”

And Dakul spoke the truth. When Cristina asked him to show her, he brought her to the only room that had a window that faced the front--the room of his witch mother. She noticed that there was no one there.

Cristina almost leaned out of the window, if it weren’t for Dakul pulling her back and pushing her down. Dakul gave her a look that said, ‘Careful!’ Cristina only nodded. Then, together, they raised their heads to peer out from the bottom of the window.

Outside, indeed, they saw, riding upon a great scaled horse with a snout turned to a beak, was a great soldier wearing a winged helm, and scaled armor adorned with cloths and golden laurels. Latched onto a hook sewn onto the armor upon his back was a zweihander. Behind him was a guard of seven other soldiers, four carrying spears, and the other three carrying rifles with the ends of the barrels fashioned to look like the open-mouthed heads of lions.

Isidro stood, wielding nothing, alongside Nagsi. “What business do you have here?” asked Nagsi.

“Devil Priestess,” yelled the man with the winged helmet. Cristina questioned if he could see anything from within it. “By decree of Emperador Duruya, and Hepe Mariano, every demon and very insurgent of the land must be expunged.” He put up an emblem, depicting kalasag with a triangle within it. And within that, an eye. “Surrender the silver-haired devil child.”

Dakul’s eyes widened, and he looked at her. Cristina looked at him, as confused as he was, if not even more so. And then it hit her, and she bit her lip. “Padre Anselmo.”

Dakul shot her a confused look

Down beside the waterfall, Nagsi said, “We have her not.”

“Lies.”

“What have you done to our commune?” yelled Isidro, even as the first few droplets of rain created ripples upon the pond.

“Burned it to the ground,” said the  “Now give the accursed devil child, and you may be free to wander the wilderness until your death.”

“I think not,” said Nagsi, and she summoned a wind of anger, a wind of blood. That wind raked across the rest of his entourage, and they all tumbled to the ground, along with their weak horses, which immediately fell upon their sides, crushing the corpses that once rode upon them. “You will pray to me.”

“Fool. The fires of God burn in my heart!”

“Then let it consume you, and burn you from within!” And Nagsi summoned another wind, razor-sharp, and it cut against the black stone armor of the zweihander wielder.

“Fool,” said the wielder, and he raised his weapon. “Know you not who I am?”

“I know not every worthless insect that comes upon my pond.” And she summoned green witch fire from her fingertips and sent it streaming forth like an unending torrent upon the black stone soldier.

“I am Ser Ayunescarro, Kapitan of Imperial Army!” And he surged through the green flames upon jetstream wings which blew from openings on the back of his armor, and his zweihander—shining with the burning runes of his Faith and Loyalty—came down upon Nagsi. “Taste the blade of God and Emperor.”

Nagsi, for the first time in seventeen harvests, became once again the Wind, for she disappeared. The forgotten name, Igsinagan, vanished into the wind.

Many things happened at once, then:

Isidro screamed in terror, even as a bolt of lightning struck the floating body of Sijo, and the waterfall itself came to life, becoming a torrential serpent with eyes burning like stars.

Dakul, screaming in anguish, leaped out of the window, grabbing the rusted sword that lay out front, and lunged at the Kapitan. The Kapitan roared in… was that joy? Perhaps it was his bloodlust, bringing him to greater heights of ecstasy, even as he swung at the boy. The boy parried with his rusted blade—despite being rusted, its wavy blade form signified it to be a kalis. 

With a quick movement, Dakul flipped ontop of the blade—the divinely sharp edges cutting into the soles of his feet—and he ran up it before cutting at the Kapitan’s armor. The rusted blade did not cut. Instead, it dented the armor, sending concussive blows through out the giant man. Dakul flipped over the Kapitan, and the Kapitan swung his sword once again. Each sword was parried, and deftly countered by Dakul. A devastating dance of rust and steel.

Roaring, the Kapitan grabbed Dakul right as he brought his blade down, before Dakul could provide a counterstrike. Lifting the boy high into the air—Dakul’s feet and arms bled with slashes—he threw Dakul to the ground and then brought his blade down upon him. An execution.

Despite the pain now surging through the boy, and the jarring, numbing pain flowering from his skull, Dakul stopped the giant sword with his hand.

With his hand bleeding, he lifted the blade up and struck the faith-blessed Zweihander. 

Once, 

twice, 

thrice, 

until his putrid hate 

dented, 

cracked, 

shattered the bullshit blade. 

“Learn the Sword Psalm,” he growled. “False angel, Dog of the Idiot Emperor, and let God bleed.”

The Kapitan could not find his voice. How could he say anything more, when Dakul found an opening in the seams between his armor and helmet, and plunged the rusted blade straight through it, severing the head from the armor?

As if a death curse, or a triggered malfeasance, stone angels flew in, carried upon jetstream wings.

The pond serpent that was Sijopoan lunged up to face them, even as another head sprouted from the pond and fell upon Isidro.

Cristina, during this mad rush, had run down the stairs and burst out of the door, only to see the smaller serpent that had split off from the larger head embracing with her father in the form of her mother.

“Mother?”

Sijo looked at her then, and said, “Daughter, my beloved starshine, my light in darkness. I am sorry, I must leave you. But let this scar your heart, and let me fill that scar, and let us change the world.”  She created a necklace of teardrops, which solidified like glass and wrapped around her neck. “This brings with it my blessing. I love you, to the ends of my water.”

And as she said that, the angels struck at the water serpent. Lightning was her pain, and thunder was her agony.

Dakul, tears filling his eyes, and his hair burning a horrid orange as if he was a magician and he was conjuring up magic flame light, ran toward Cristina and grabbed her hand. “We must go. We must! I know a safe place south. Come!”

“Dakul! My mother, my father!”

And even as she screamed, Isidro and Sijo turned to her, and smiled, and waved, and loved, even as they became one with the pond, and the pond serpent became the wavering wall to stop the wrath of the Idiot God and the Incompetent Emperor.

#

The rains only strengthened, falling like a vengeful star god poured a pot of freshwater upon their ruined world. Through it, Dakul pulled a crying, screaming Cristina to safety. 

[thesunlitnerd]

Heal Your Aura: 7 Common Aura Problems and How To Solve Them

All of us possess unique auric fields which interacts with the auras of others we meet. Auras are a colorful kaleidoscopic of electromagnetic field of energy which rhythmically vibrates around our body. Our aura is also connected with our health, emotions and other external factors. This is a technicolor, multi-layered coat that we wear at all times and is attuned with our spiritual body, mental body, casual body, higher mental body, astral body and etheric body. Combined together, these look like a psychedelic blend of colors & light around your skin. Your aura is an extension of your physical being. 

But often, there might be some problems with our energy fields that affect our aura and our physical, mental and emotional health. Hence, it becomes crucial to know about the basic aura problems and how to cleanse them.

What is Aura?

“’AURA‘ IS WHAT ONE REFLECTS IN THE HEART, WHAT YOU BRING INTO THE WORLD, AND WHAT PEOPLE WANT TO LEARN FROM YOU.” – OZUNA

Aura is the energy matrix that surrounds all living (and not only living) creatures. Particularly for humans, the aura is something that many occultists and scientists tried to study. From Kirlian photos to scrying with crystals, all who take aura as a fact attempted to analyze aura, or even detect possible aura problems. You see, the aura is not just an energy field. But, also, a matrix of information, which can potentially be used to diagnose, or even predict information.

7 Common Aura Problems

“THE AURA GIVEN OUT BY A PERSON OR OBJECT IS AS MUCH A PART OF THEM AS THEIR FLESH.” – LUCIAN FREUD

In this article we will try to present to you the most common Aura Problems and, of course, remind you how to overcome them. One of our favorite recipes we use is now available and is called ‘cleansing

1.Insufficient connection with the Divine

It is a very common problem, especially nowadays. As many people turn away from spirituality and religion, they forget a very important piece of information about themselves. They are part of something greater, something unique and magical. According to all ancient sources, we have the divine spark within. Thus, we are always in touch with the Great Spirit / God / Goddess.

Reason:

Our energy is mainly replenished bythe divine source. Additionally, we take energy from food/water and the environment, whilst the earth supports and grounds us. When we neglect our divine source, we actually block the gate of divine energy intake. This makes our aura week. We feel disorientated, sad and uninspired.

Solution:

What we have to do is re-establish the connection with the divine, by either praying or spell-casting. Call upon your guardian Angel. Benzoin was believed to invite Angels and welcome them to stay around! You can always burn some Benzoin while calling upon your Guardian Angel.

2. Parasitic Cords

Over time, we socialize and engage in different kinds of relationships. This actually helps humans, a lot, by learning important lessons throughout life’s experiences. The same lessons probably appear again and again until the message is clear and received. However, not all relationships are helpful.

Reason:

There are times when we hang out or even are closer to people who have lost their way. Temporarily or not, these people have a lack of energy. This negative energy balance creates a ‘thirst’ or ‘craving’ of energy. To appease that, one needs to ‘connect’ with the victim. However, this is always a challenge for them, as we are gifted with several defense mechanisms. Therefore, these people try to develop a pathological relationship, with mood swings, in an effort to poison our hearts with guilt and pain. This creates a ‘sick bond’ or a parasitic cord, from which these people feast on our vital energy. What modern people call ‘toxic relationships’, witches call parasitic cords for centuries.

Solution:

Cord-cutting rituals are the best way to free yourself (spiritually and mentally) from these parasitic cords. Of course, when is needed, psychological assistance should be received, too. The toxic effect may be deep. You may need additional help. It was believed that Pure Frankincense can help you smite the dark energies that suck your spiritual energy. Additionally, peppermint is known to heal the auric wounds, after we cut off such bonds.

3. Cracks in Aura’s Matrix

Aura has a thick – energy shield. This is a very effective defense mechanism we use against lower vibrations, curses and the dark arts. However, sometimes, this shield may crack.

Reason:

These rips are usually created after a psychic attack. However, this attack may be psychic in nature, but it can occur in the material plane, in a form of quarrel drenched with psychological weapons. Pain and sorrow create a weakness and these psychic attacks can actually penetrate our shield and eventually crack it. This creates a scar, which opens the door to future attacks.

Solution:

Fortify your aura with love and light. One healing word you can use is ‘Ra(m)’. This is the sound of Fire (and light) which can be mastered to feed and shield your aura once again. Sandalwood was used by Witches since ancient times to help in healing the cracks in one’s aura. Additionally, we would propose Palo Santo.

“LET YOUR AURA PRESENT ITSELF TO THE WORLD.” ANONYMOUS

4. Watchers

We’ve never tried to hide it. Magic is not always good. In Witchcraft and Arcane arts, there are things we love and things we despise. Thus, some practitioners prefer to spy upon their victims, prior to dark spell casting. Therefore, they love to create “the Watchers”. Some of us may have them on our aura.

Reason:

Watchers are intelligent remnants of Spiritual attack, forced to feed on the target’s aura, while simultaneously reporting for everything the target does or thinks. Therefore, this is one of the darkest forms of Witchcraft. Have you ever felt that someone is always watching you? Knowing what you do? Spying on you? Creating a Watcher is very popular amongst the dark arts.

Solution:

As this is actually not an entity but a part of another’s an entity, one needs to exorcise it out of its aura. To do that, Witches used to burn Dragon’s Blood, one of the most potent magical materials ever found, according to the old books of Shadows. Usually, Witches burned Dragon’s Blood alone or mixed with bay laurel leaves, clove buds and a dash of red cayenne pepper (do not exaggerate with the cayenne pepper).

5. Chakra Blocks

In our bodies, there are several mechanisms that help the divine energy flow through us. The most well-known mechanisms are the Chakras – wheels that help the energy flow. There are seven major chakras, but many more secondary ones exist all over our bodies.

Reason:

For many reasons, these chakras may be blocked or severely poisoned by our feelings, traumas and other reasons. Unfortunately, this may bring out many problems. We have actually created a specific article for this issue. You may want to check it, here!

Solution:

Witches during their training were taught that they should periodically cleanse the chakras and help the energy flow! This is not always easy. However, they did believe that there are some recipes that can help them with this issue. Myrrh and Palo Santo (the holy Wood), were amongst the most beloved ingredients for unblocking the chakras.

“WHEN YOU SMILE AND PROJECT AN AURA OF WARMTH, KINDNESS, AND FRIENDLINESS, YOU WILL ATTRACT WARMTH, KINDNESS, AND FRIENDLINESS. HAPPY PEOPLE WILL BE DRAWN TO YOU.”  – JOEL OSTEEN

6. Energy Debris

Our aura is a unique and intelligent matrix of energy. Important information comes and goes. Moreover, this intelligent matrix is not static, for it reacts with anything around. Some times, bad things happen, and the aura reacts by producing defensive energy.

Reason:

Aura can help us deflect a psychic attack. Some times, information is stored from a previous attack, in order to understand what happened and know how to deal with it in the future. This is called ‘energy debris’. It is not ‘bad energy’ is it just the memory stored in astral energy inside our aura. However, this energy might make us feel stagnant and ‘heavy’. This lack of fresh spiritual energy may actually be caused by this debris. We need to periodically abolish it.

Solution:

To do so, we need first to meditate and understand the nature of this debris. What caused it? Later, witches used to burn dried agrimony, in order to repel all stagnant and malevolent energy, stuck in our aura.

7. Insufficient Grounding

It’s no secret that as we interact with this plane, we engage in overwhelming activities. This is why we are often flooded by excessive energy. Although this excessive energy is part of a defense mechanism, we should always balance this energy.

Reason:

As this energy may cause several imbalances in our chakras and aura, we need to abolish it regularly. This is why grounding is needed. Grounding is a technique which is used by all witches, especially after a ritual, or an overwhelming experience.

Solution:

To do so, a witch might employ some herbs and resins to create and multiply the effects. Patchouli has been used extensively for this matter. Furthermore, witches have used Patchouli for smudging to call upon spirits of healing and help them ground. It was considered to aid in meditation and was has been used in all procedures which need mental and spiritual clarity.

“WORDS WERE NEVER INVENTED TO FULLY EXPLAIN THE PEACEFUL AURA THAT SURROUNDS US WHEN WE ARE IN COMMUNION WITH MINDS OF THE SAME THOUGHTS.” – EDDIE MYERS

Your aura is a pulsating energy field that is impenetrable, compact and a rainbow of gorgeous colors. This your own internal and external energy that you need to protect and care for at all times. By taking the right steps you can effectively solve all problems related to your aura to enjoy a healthy mind, body and spirit. By improving your auric senses you can experience better emotions and enhanced energy everyday.

[graveyard-in-the-void]

- A masterclass in worlds between worlds - (Hey, what do you get if you put every Henry into a designated bar? A very bad time and not only because of the theoretical possibility that Hans Dsaftale might be there with the others. Now, what do you get if you LOCK one of the Henry’s into the bar as punishment for almost getting his own universe destroyed? A very exhausted Henry who’s just trying to make sense of the things he is seeing. If he hates it, at least he wants to understand it.)

- - - “Okay.” Henry started. Everyone was listening up as soon as that simple word was leaving his lips. This would be entertaining. It always was. Sure, there was some groaning in the back, but even they knew that would be hilarious. Lengthy, but hilarious. Well, maybe they would be the only ones laughing, but they don’t count their losses. Free entertainment is free entertainment. Henry stared into the people around him, before scoffing and pulling out an incredibly large board, with multiple pins on it, as well as notes and photos. “Hear me out. I have cracked the code.” Ah, one of these. “This will be one of the more lengthy of these, so you will need to bear with me.” One final cough from the audience and he was good to go. “Fantastic. Now, I want to introduce a concept to you. And I think it is something groundbreaking, as it is connecting to the very concept of souls. Alright, let us start off with the core concept of a soul. If it is an imprint of our very self, of our deepest emotions, desires and motivation, what truly moves us… then it is not only logical conclusion, that it also what dictates what draws us in or repels us? Of course it is. Thus, we can easily conclude that our soul ITSELF has needs and desires. “We like what we like” and “you should not fight over taste” are very wise statements indeed, absolutely true. But where do these tastes even come from? From our soul? Our liking for colors, aesthetics, for food and for music? Yes, surely there is a very psychological connection to it, due to experience, but… I think it runs deeper. What does this imply? That our souls comes inherently with NEEDS, with desires coming from our deepest core that we cannot possibly satisfy ourselves. This is further proven by our DEPENDANCE on other people. “The human is a social animal”- but what does that mean? How can a creature perish merely because of lack of contact? Perhaps it is hardwired into our spirits to need the interaction of ideas, the essence of others, because we cannot provide this for ourselves.“ The place broke out in quiet mumbling, while Henry adjusted the board behind him, to connect the dots visually. “Now, that we have established that every soul has needs, I think we can directly move onto the concept that every soul has DIFFERENT needs. It would make sense to try to find similarities in the needs from soul to soul, as you would assume it has the same baseline… but due to our experiences with souls, we have to accept that in terms of needs, souls differentiate severely from each other. Much like plants are awfully different based on species, I am willing to admit that souls CAN be similar in their nature and have similar needs, but souls exist in borderline endless versions, meaning most souls widely differentiate from another.” He paused, dramatically. The room was silent. “What does it mean, you ask?” Nobody actually asked anything. “I am glad you asked. Why is this important? Simple. Self-control and optimization. During my studies of multiple different multiverses, I realized an abhorrent flaw in the mental system that is me. Mainly, and believe me dear audience, I hate to say it, my draw to what I tend to consider “weakness”. Yes, I know, I know. Implausible. Impossible! But it is true. Except, it is not WEAKNESS." He smashed both of his hands on the bar in front of him. "It certainly seems like it and technically speaking IS weakness, but it is not outright weakness. It is not cowardice, it is not indecisiveness, it is not ignorance, which I all would call true symptoms of weakness. Fragility might also be a part of it, but not necessarily. That is what makes it so intriguing. And by fragility I do not quite mean instantaneous shattering. It is more a mixture of dependence and- okay, I think there is a lot of it to do with dependence. But what is there to dependence? Whatever would make that alluring? I will tell you. It took me a while, but my working theory is this: There is some sort of... resonance, dare I say. An echo of our own fear and worry, we see in them something we fear to be in us! And thus, caring for that person, defeating the weakness within them, satisfying the dependence, it proves to us we can defeat it within ourselves as well!" One of the attendance rose his hand. "Okay, but what about simple narcissist function? Occam's razor. The easiest answer is that we are simply searching for supply for our ego." The presenting Henry wildly waved his hand around in disgust. "No! That is not what it is. Obviously. Otherwise, the codependency that at least somewhat evolves even from our side would not grow WORSE. We would grow tired of it. But that is not happening. No, the longer it goes on, the worse it gets! The only reasonable solution is to assume that our traits are calling out for those that will COVER them. Our loyalty and capability calls for NEED in the other soul, for insecurity and reliability. Trustworthiness, for our loyalty. Our detachment from any given reality calls out for something that we directly can control and influence, a real, breathing example of our effect that we can have. There is an incredibly fragile balance to be struck, of need and trustworthy purity, as well as absolute willingness to give up everything that makes them themselves in the first place, as we have some sort of all-consuming ego, with our individuality being our most important part, so important in fact that we need to be able to impose it onto others to feel secure-" He was interrupted. "So you are saying we are some sort of former eldritch abomination given human flesh for some reason still trying to live out or former desires?" Henry paused a bit irritated. "I mean... maybe? Unlikely, but-" Another voice. "Hey, does this "calling out" thing not imply that people who get attracted to people who torment them deserve it? Because if so, that is pretty fucked up of you." "No! I mean- well, we are talking about underlying NEEDS, that does not necessary equate to it being lived out in-" A pink Naga leaned back. "No, no, I agree. Prey isss prey. It cannot bear being anything different. It needsss to feel like it." "Shut up, nobody asked you." A bit annoyed Henry tried to dismiss him. Desperately he tried to get back to the point he was trying to make for what felt like an hour by now. "I propose the following: There is not actually such a thing as soulmate, but it is more akin to a spiritual form of chemical bonding. Some bond easier than others, like hydrogen. For souls that mean they have less specific requirements to keep up a truly fulfilling bond, or have an easier time filling the other's lacking traits without needing much back. What is needed from their bond is what we call out via our souls, creating a type, but said type is intended to cover the things our souls cannot satisfy or eradicate within itself. Thus, my conclusion is that a soul bond forms for a soul much more on what people lack than their strength. If the lacks fit well with the lacking of the other person, they manage to fall into place-" This time he wasn't even allowed to rant. The bartender Henry next to him gave him a flick with his demonic tail and poured himself a drink. "I love it when people who never had a relationship try to explain them. Very cute." "I- TECHNICALLY speaking you can become an expert on everything via the theory, I did a lot of studies-" "Oh god, wait, so you cucked yourself?" The succubus watched with delight as the most annoying Henry's face went from pale to red. "Cut it out you filthy whore." "You are merely jealous that unlike you, I not only get to fuck my boyfriend all day, but also get magical abilities for it." That was enough, the poor Henry, who was just trying to find answers, held his ears closed like some sort of child and had a silent breakdown. It wasn't easy hanging out with such an awful version of yourself. Especially if that version couldn't stand you and loved to tease you about shortcomings that he would of course know by heart. The other Henrys lost interest at that point. Show's over. And nobody learned anything. No, it wasn't quite the void, but Henry surely wished to get back there instead of being stuck here, serving drinks to his much more pathetic, yet somehow much more successful versions. Oh, hell had many faces. For now he had to deal.

[distractedhistotech]

Before MSA + 1: Halloween

Arthur had managed to put together something that acted like a diaper but which fitted into his pocket instead of around the hamster.  “It takes a little bit to put them together though…”

Cadence seemed happy with the pocket diaper considering how much time she was spending in Arthur’s shirt and coat pockets.

“I wonder if you could incorporate it into your Halloween costume,” mused Vivi.

“Uh…What’s Halloween?” asked Arthur.

Sydney and Lewis gave Arthur startled looks.  “You don’t know what Halloween is?!”

Arthur panicked a bit as he realized this was something everyone was supposed to know about. “My parents were super religious,” he said quickly.  Sydney and Lewis seemed to accept it.

“Halloween evolved from the Celtic celebration of Samhain,” explained Vivi.  “It was the ending of the year at sun down, but the new year didn’t start until the sun rose.  Being outside of time as it were meant that ghosts and the like had an easier time manifesting. It probably makes magic easier and stronger too.  At some point, people started wearing scary outfits to try and blend in or scare away the spirits.  That ritual eventually became putting on costumes for fun and, in the case of kids, going around to houses and asking for treats.”

The other kids were staring at her in surprise at the info dump, while Arthur was wondering if this meant Halloween was technically a pagan holiday.

“Actually, the Catholic church took a lot of pagan holidays and incorporated them into their religion.  Christmas takes place in December because that’s when a big festival called Saturnalia took place in the Roman empire.  Evidence suggests that Jesus was actually born in Spring,” continued Vivi as if she’d predicted Arthur’s thoughts.

The more Arthur learned the more he wondered if the adults in his early life knew what they were doing.

“Anyway…My dad makes cosplay as a side job so if you want he can make you guys costumes too,” said Sydney.

Lewis nodded. “He always makes costumes for us.”

Vivi perked up.  “Really?”

Sydney nodded. “But nothing super complicated, okay? He’s gotta budget.”

“What’s cosplay?” asked Arthur.

“Costume play,” explained Lewis.  “People dress up like characters from anime or videogames that they love.  Some of the outfits are really complicated or accurate.”

“We usually do a theme for Halloween,” continued Sydney.

“We did Sailor Moon for a couple of years,” said Lewis.

“Another time we were Ed and Al Elric,” said Sydney.  “I’m not sure what we could do with four people.”

“Power Rangers?” suggested Vivi.

“There’s usually five of ‘em though,” said Sydney.

“Is that a big deal?” asked Arthur.

“Not really,” said Lewis.  “It would just seem a little weird to be short a ranger.”

“So, we need a group of four people,” muttered Sydney.  “All I can think of are Transformers, but that might be too complicated.”

“All I can think of is the Scooby Doo gang,” said Vivi.

Silence.  The kids turned to stare at Ben.  “Would Ben let us dye his fur?” asked Lewis.

“I have no idea,” admitted Vivi.  “Would the dye be safe?”

“I have no idea,” repeated Sydney.  “Dad knows a bit about hair dye…”

“I think you could get away with leaving him white and black,” said Arthur.

“So, who would be who?” asked Lewis.

Vivi and Sydney promptly pointed at Lewis.  “Fred.” Then they pointed towards Arthur. “Shaggy.”

“You do have the muscle tone going on,” agreed Arthur.

And Lewis blushed because he was somehow the biggest one there despite (probably) being the youngest.  “W-well, who’s gonna be Velma and Daphne?”

Sydney and Vivi exchanged looks.  That was…less obvious.  Both wore glasses, had relatively short statures, and were fairly tomboyish.

“You’re shorter,” said Vivi.

Sydney pouted. “Yeah, I am.  Guess that makes me Velma…What kind of name is Velma?”

“I dunno.”

“Will we need a van?”

“None of us can drive,” pointed out Arthur.

“Maybe a toy or something,” suggested Lewis.

“Oh, yeah, that makes more sense,” admitted Arthur.

The four kids (and dog and hamster) just lay there for several minutes.  It hadn’t been a particularly odd conversation, but something in the air seemed heavy, as if something life changing had just happened.

Then Ben started licking Arthur’s face, ending the moment.  Arthur let out a laugh.  “H-hey! Stop!  Stop!”

Vivi grinned. “You’re saying ‘stop’, but you’re laughing.”  Ben decided to switch targets and started licking Vivi instead.  She giggled.  “Ben!”

“We should teach him how to talk!”  Ben turned his attention to Sydney.  “Hey! Ew!  Your breath smells like fish!  Why does it smell like fish?  You’re not a cat!”

“Ben’ll eat anything if you give him the chance,” said Vivi.

Lewis pulled a bag of chips out from somewhere and grinned.  “Like this?”  He popped the bag open.  He was immediately tackled by the dog.  “Ack!” Ben quickly stuck his head in the bag and quickly snapped up the contents before transferring his ministrations to Lewis.  “Oh yuck! Your breath really does smell like fish!”

“Hold him for me,” said Vivi.  “I’ll brush his teeth!”

The whole thing devolved into a wrestling match.  No teeth were cleaned.  Everyone needed a bath afterwards.

 Sydney had been right about the Scooby Doo costumes being fairly simple to make.  She hadn’t stopped to think about make-up and hairstyling though.

“Are you almost done?” asked Sydney Jr.

“Almost…Just one more pin…and done!”  Sydney Sr stepped back to admire how Sydney looked with the brown bob wig in addition to the rest of her costume.  “The shape of the glasses aren’t the same, but I don’t think anyone will care.”

Sydney Jr. twirled and did a hop-skip over to Vivi, who was messing with her noticeably longer orange wig.  “How ‘bout you?”

“I prefer shorter hair.  Hair this long just…gets in the way,” said Vivi as she glared distastefully at a lock of orange hair.

Sydney nodded. “I hear ya.  I just want it long enough to ponytail it.”  She glanced at the boys.  “How ‘bout you two?”

Unlike the girls, the boys weren’t wearing wigs.  They’d just had their hair styled into a close approximation of their chosen characters. Sydney Sr claimed this was because the wigs would look too bulky unless the boys were willing to shave their hair. They weren’t.

Arthur fingered his hair.  “This doesn’t feel too different from usual besides the colors.”  He was wearing green and red.  He was coming to prefer bright colors like orange and yellow.

Lewis was happily studying his reflection.  “I kind of like this hairstyle.”  He turned to Sydney Sr.  “Will you teach me how to do this?”

Sydney Sr gave him a grin.  “Sure! I’ll get you some decent hair mousse. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna go change into my costume.”  On his way out, he ran into Hiro.  “So, how’d Ben like the vegetable dye?”

“He tolerated it.” That was a lie.  Ben had taken one look at the dye, snorted, and changed his fur color to the proper brown color.

“I’m leaving you alone with Noelle and the kids for a bit.  Behave now.”  And Sydney Sr hurried down the hallway.

Hiro raised an eyebrow.  The Sydneys were pretty darn odd.  Still, they got along with the rest of the family and friends, and Hiro did like them…in reasonable amounts.

He walked Ben over to the kids, who all started petting him.  “Wow, this dye is really realistic,” said Lewis.

Sydney nodded. “My dad knows what he’s doing.”

“How you holding up boy?” asked Vivi.  Ben licked her in response.  “Good to know.”

“Oh, you kids look so cute like that,” said Noelle.  “Let me get my camera!”

Hiro let the kids pose for the camera for several moments before clearing his throat. “Now, I don’t know how much you know about the holiday, but it is easier to come into contact with the supernatural starting tonight and lasting until November 2.  It’s most intense on Halloween though.  So, Mr. Scoville and I will be escorting you tonight.  I have tools prepared to chase off anything that may take an untoward interest in your group, and you will all be spending the night here.  Mr. Scoville also has some sort of repelling ability, so I’d imagine this is one of the safest places in the county.”

Arthur let out a sigh of relief.  “That’s a relief.”

“Had some bad experiences?” asked Vivi.

Arthur nodded. “I just knew they were at the end of October.  I didn’t know about the Halloween thing.  Why does it get so much worse anyway?”

“That’s not something with a simple answer,” said Hiro.  “Something makes…magic for lack of a better word more potent during these days, which makes it easier for people to see ghosts and for ghosts, along with other normally invisible entities, to become visible to people.  It’s a good time for them to be heard if there’s something they want to get across to the mundane, living population.”  Hiro glowered.  “Although I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a tradition among the supernatural to have fun and try to scare humans.  It’s what people are expecting to happen after all.”

Ben gave a barely noticeable shrug.  Hiro wasn’t wrong, but it was more of a ‘teenagers messing around and doing things their parents won’t necessarily approve of’ sort of thing.

Arthur crossed his arms.  “Well, I don’t like it, whatever it is…”

Vivi turned to Sydney and Lewis.  “Have you guys ever noticed anything weird around this time of year?”

“I haven’t ever noticed anything,” said Sydney.  “Lewis says there are ghosts all over the place though.”

Lewis nodded. “Yeah, some are pretty scary. It’s a lot more active in the cemetery and house.  Sydney always spends the night since some of them look pretty scary.”  Lewis made a face as something suddenly occurred to him. “Uh, this is the first Halloween we haven’t slept over at my house.  Do you think Mom and Dad and Belle will be okay?”

“I put some ofudas up at your house that should keep away most dangerous entities,” reassured Hiro. “Honestly, you probably attract half of the activity so just spending time away from them will put a stop to a portion of the paranormal activity.”

“Huh, really?  I had no idea,” said Lewis.

“Oh, yes, once ghosts figure out someone can see them word spreads very quickly.”

“Wait.  I can’t see ghosts, so why do they keep following me around?” asked Arthur.

Hiro shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure why, but you…leak energy.  Being around you is like it being Halloween all the time,” said Hiro.  “You also have an aura that the supernatural find pleasing, like how kids will gravitate to a kitchen where cookies have just been cooked.”

“I could go for some cookies,” said Vivi.

“You’re going to be getting plenty of candy tonight,” said Noelle.  “You can see about having cookies after you finish off the candy.”

Vivi grinned. “Challenge accepted.”

“No,” said Hiro.

“Aw…but-”

“No, you remember what happened last time,” said Hiro.

“Ooh, what happened last time?” asked Sydney.

“When she was five she ate all of her Halloween candy at once and didn’t sleep for three days,” explained Hiro.  “She tried to feed Ben chocolate.  Dogs can’t eat chocolate.”

Ben huffed because he could eat chocolate, thank you very much.  Stupid need to hold up the illusion all the time.  He couldn’t wait until Vivi was mature enough to know what he really was so he could relax at home.  Not to mention it would be easier to snatch some of whatever that was Noelle was cooking.

Lewis must have noticed how Ben was staring longingly towards the kitchen because he grabbed a treat out of his pocket.  “Would you like a Scooby Snack?”

Eh, it’ll do. Ben snapped it up and gave Lewis a lick of thanks.

“What’s taking your dad so long?” asked Vivi.  “He said he was going to be a zombie.  It can’t take that long to put on some torn clothing and fake blood.”

Sydney grinned. “Dad put in way more effort than that. There’s latex and make-up and contact lenses…”

“Mr. Scoville’s costumes are really complicated,” agreed Lewis.

Any further conversation was interrupted by a groaning sound.  Everyone turned to see…a zombie.  It was covered in bite marks, half rotten, had clouded over eyes, and dirty, torn clothing.  It was completely unrecognizable as Sydney Sr.

“…Okay, that is a convincing zombie costume,” admitted Vivi.

“Thank you,” said Sydney Sr, briefly breaking character before going back to groaning.

“You look like a dead body!” said Arthur.  “Which I guess is the point, but it’s creepy.”

Sydney Scoville groaned again.  He sure was taking the zombie thing seriously.

“So…”  Sydney Jr held up her treat bag.  “Can we go trick-or-treating now?”

“Unnngh!”

“Taking that as a yes!”

Thankfully, the other adults decided to agree with the translation so the kids were able to head out. “There are a lot of costumes,” commented Arthur.

Vivi nodded. “Yep, it’s a popular holiday.”

“What a cute baby!” cooed Lewis at a young couple and their baby, all of them dressed like dinosaurs.

“Thank you!”

“But most of them seem to be younger than us,” continued Arthur.

“That guy’s older than us,” pointing at a guy dressed like a robot.

“People just prefer to go to parties once they get older.  I don’t know why.  They’re sooo boring,” complained Vivi.  “Where’s the darkness?  Where’s the creepy shadows?  Where’s the questioning of if there’s a ghost around the corner or if that’s a really good werewolf costume or some werewolf decided to go to the store to pick up milk?”

“There are some ghosts following us,” commented Lewis.

Arthur tensed up. “Why?”

Lewis glanced towards the ghosts.  “Are you sure he’s not a zombie?  He looks pretty dead.”

“It’s Halloween. It’s obviously a very good costume.”

“He smells like a zombie though.”

“We’re ghosts! We can’t smell!”

“Oh yeah.”

“Besides, wasn’t there a Scooby-Doo movie with zombies?”

“Since when are there Scooby-Doo movies?”

“Mr. Scoville’s costume is really convincing,” said Lewis.

“Unngh!”

“Are zombies real?” asked Sydney.

“Yes,” said Hiro. “Under very specific circumstances. It takes one of a few specific rituals. It’s very dangerous and is not something that should ever be done unless you have prior permission from the subject of interest.  Even then, it’s not recommended because of the possible side effects.”  He paused.  “Actually, this is a very complicated subject.  Let’s talk about it when we have more time.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it at all,” muttered Arthur as they walked up to a house.

They took a moment to ring the doorbell, ask for treats, and thank the woman handing out the treats. Ben tried to beg for treats.  This wasn’t allowed, and the group went on their way.

“Do ghost hunters have a lot of work on Halloween?” asked Sydney.

“Paranormal investigators,” corrected Hiro.  “While we do look for ghosts, calling us ‘hunters’ suggests we intend to hurt ghosts in some way.  That’s a last resort in cases where the ghosts in question seek to harm the living and cannot be convinced otherwise.  And whether an investigator works on Halloween or not varies.  Most will take the time off because they might get false positives.  Some like working on Halloween though since they might get results they wouldn’t usually come by.”

“That doesn’t sound very professional,” muttered Arthur.

“I agree,” said Hiro. “Personally, I feel that circumstances that modify magical strengths can be dangerous, even if it’s something to your advantage.”

“Wouldn’t that make things easier?” asked Sydney.

“Yes, which might be good in an emergency, but it can make you under or overestimate a situation.”

“How is overestimating bad?” questioned Arthur.

Hiro took a minute to think about how to describe what he was thinking.  “It’s like using a hand grenade to make a hole when a drill will suffice.”

Vivi, Lewis, both Sydneys, and even Arthur laughed.  Hiro had to admit it wasn’t the best analogy, but it’s what he came up with on short notice.

“It’s like you thought the corn was sweet so you put in the wrong amount of salt,” said Lewis.

“That’s a better analogy,” admitted Hiro.  “Anyway, once you outgrow trick-or-treating, you should find some way to spend Halloween that doesn’t involve the supernatural.  Maybe go to a party or stay home and watch movies.”

“Watching movies would be nice,” said Arthur.

“Ooh!  We could watch the Nightmare Before Christmas again!” said Vivi.

“You will not. It’s a school night,” said Hiro.  “As it is the only reason you’re spending the night together is for safety’s sake.”  He looked to Sydney Sr.  “I’m trusting you and Mrs. Scoville to get the children to sleep and awake on time.”

“Nggggh!”

“That means yes,” said Sydney Jr.

“I still wish we could spend the night at Lewis’ house,” said Vivi.  “There’s a lot more space, and it seems more fitting to spend Halloween in a haunted house.”

“Belle sometimes cries at night.  She might wake you up,” said Lewis.

“Or we might wake her up,” countered Arthur.

“I don’t wanna wake Baby Belle up!” agreed Sydney Jr.  “She’s cute when she’s sleeping.”

The subject of conversation rapidly changed to siblings and sleepovers.  Hiro watched them absentmindedly before feeling something brush against his side.

It was just Ben, who gave him a smile unseen by anyone else.  Hiro found himself smiling back.  It was nice…seeing the children all so happy like this.

It would be nice if it would last forever.

[fablesrpg]

SPECIES - PART ONE. 

fables - and the city of st. ostara - is home to twenty-nine species, all inspired by myths and folklore from multiple cultures and countries. these are the first eleven. 

GENERAL INFO.

species within the city are categorized into different groups based on shared characteristics. these species are so commonly associated together, that over time, they have shared reputations, class ranking, and social mobility within the city. 

characters of each species can have any and all powers listed under their species info, in addition to one power of their writer’s choosing. characters do not need to have all the listed powers and do not need to have the allotted extra power if it is unwanted. the application has a section to list and detail your character’s powers. descriptions for powers are purposely loose and open to interpretation, feel free to be as creative with the presentation of what is listed. 

hybrids (half one species, half another) typically identify with one species more than the other - usually the species they more physically resemble -  and that is the species that will go on their profile. they may have half of both species' listed powers as well as one unique power. hybrids will have an average of their parent’s lifespans - immortal hybrids may span thousands of years, but will never know true immortality. some species cannot reproduce or do not reproduce through normal means, and cannot be part of a hybrid. this list will be posted once all the species are revealed, but we will answer questions on this as needed.

BEASTS

beasts are those in the city who stick out against mortal life forms like sore thumbs - horns, tails, and fangs giving away their true nature. although well respected for not losing their own odd form of magic over the years of human influence, beasts are wondrous and strange, and not everyone is always sure how to regard them. 

FAMILIARS

familiars began as animals who were considered spirit guides - creatures who held the power to assist other beings of magic and amplify their powers. over time, to show gratitude for their help, the other species helped them develop the ability to have a human form as well. while once they were merely used as companions, familiars have become highly independent, to mixed reviews from their st. ostara peers. familiars have the unique ability to bond with a non-familiar, that links them physically and psychologically. familiars can change into any non-extinct animal up until they form a bond, in which they will settle on a form that matches both them and their partner’s personality and needs.

+ enhanced senses sight, smell, touch, sound, and taste are all intensified.

+ animal form the ability to transform into their animal counterpart.

+ claw retraction the ability to extend and retract claws from one’s hands.

+ magic amplification the ability to strengthen the abilities of their bonded partner

familiars have mortal lifespans.

once bonded, they are ‘on call’ to the whims and beckonings of their partner.

breaking a bond, or their partner dying, can potentially result in the loss of their ability to shift. 

WEAVERS

once primarily a cave-dwelling species, weavers are descended from an ancient breed of spiders that eventually gained a human form. commonly tall and slender, the only thing that gives their species away is their ability to generate multiple limbs and eyes. they excel at attracting others so that they may partake in their blood-based diet at their prey’s expense. being simply bitten by a weaver has no long-term negative health effects, but weavers can murder their prey - although most consider it overkill. weavers can turn humans into weavers, however, their bloodlines are connected - if the weaver that turned someone dies or is killed, any weaver they have turned will also die. 

+ web generation the ability to create and place spider webbing.

+ pheromone generation the ability to consciously produce and release specific pheromones.

+ enhanced balance proficient ability to stay stable on small or uneven surfaces.

+ multiple limb generation the power to produce extra limbs from one’s body.

+ enhanced bite the ability to have an especially powerful, deep, or damaging bite.

weavers can live up to 500 years.

weavers get extremely sickly and weak when they go too long with sating their appetite. 

DRAGONS

dragons, fearsome guardians in ancient lore, were once revered for their ability to secure and protect treasure for the old gods. over time, however, they have shed their loyalties and are now known to err on the side of neutrality, preferring to isolate themselves on the fringes of the city.  but eons of having power and wealth at their claws draw these keen-eyed beasts from their faraway caverns towards thrones of glass and gold sitting tall in the heart of st. ostara - craving to even further their riches and power - although their poor impulse control and compulsive need to hoard usually get in the way of this. 

+ social magnetism the ability to attract or repel others.

+ fear inducement the ability to provoke irrational fear in others.

+ wing manifestation the power to develop or form wings.

+ electricity OR ice manipulation the ability to control and generate electricity OR ice.

+ dragon physiology the ability to gain dragon-like features at will.

dragons can live upwards of 2,000 years.

dragons have an impulsive need to hoard. 

FAE FOLK

high pitched giggles usually mark the entrance of one of the fair folk, and trouble is never far off from them, either. they are captivating creatures, lively and entertaining - and they know it. unlike many of the other categories in st. ostara, the fae folk are all incredibly close and regard each other as one and the same. is it well known that you do not wrong one of these sharp-tongued creatures, or else you’ll have to answer to hundreds of their ‘cousins’.

FAERIES

the most common of the fae, faeries are generally depicted as free-spirited, joyous creatures who overrun the city with their constant chattering. able to shrink down to just a few inches tall, many faeries prefer homes that fit this true size, and it’s easy to spot small doors around town that lead to equally small alcoves for them to live in. their cute demeanor and oftentimes flirty disposition are dangerous for the rest of the city, however, as faeries are generally self-serving and jump at the chance to trick others. even those of the sharpest wit that come to them with favors or demands will be left tongue-tied and somehow indebted to the fairy instead.

+ size manipulation the power to shrink in size as well as return to one’s normal size.

+ oath bestowal the ability to create oaths and promises that others must follow through on.

+ wing manifestation the ability to grow or manifest fairy wings.

+ flight the power to fly with the help of one’s wings.

+ conjuration the ability to cast spells that summon creatures, items, etc.

faeries can live up to 200 years.

GOBLINS

the black sheep of the fae family, goblins are chaotic, mischievous beings who were once thought to be created to punish the fae for their well-documented indecency when it came to human lovers and stealing human children. much to the world’s chagrin, however, the rest of the fae adored their cousins from the very beginning. considered a pest by anyone outside of the fae family, goblins tend to accept their reputation gleefully. their unique powers require an incredible amount of energy to keep up with, however and thus require a special diet - for goblins have the ability to devour the souls of both humans and monsters alike. not eating will turn them into horrific monsters over time - graying their skin, elongating the tips of their ears, and turning their eyes completely red.

+ bad luck inducement the ability to make bad fortune more likely.

+ enhanced dexterity the power to control one’s muscles, limbs, and overall body above normal capability.

+ invisibility the ability to make oneself unseen.

+ magical immunity the power to be unaffected by magic.

+ supernatural speed the ability to move at a highly enhanced speed.

goblins can live up to 200 years.

SPRIGGANS

boasting a slightly taller stature than most fae and able to grow leaves, flowers, and vines through their hair, spriggans are known as perhaps the most solemn of the fae. they came about as magical guardians of nature, and for this reason, they have a difficult history with st. ostara. with the construction of the city came the clearing of several forested areas to make room for more residents, and the native spriggans initially did not welcome this change. in modern times they are known for their collective conservation efforts and attempts to make the forest a more understood and respected part of st. ostara.

+ botanical communication the ability to communicate with plantlife.

+ plant manipulation the power to control and shape plantlife.

+ chlorokinetic scrying the ability to see, hear, or otherwise perceive things anywhere there are plants.

+ contaminant immunity unaffected by all poisons, venoms, bacteria and viruses.

spriggans can live up to 300 years.

KNOCKERS

a common type of fae in the underbelly, knockers are renowned for their helpfulness to those working in the mines and cave systems. after years and years of mining resources out of the earth under st. ostara, knockers’ power to find and lead other species to precious minerals has proved invaluable. while they do enjoy serving and helping, they also well-known for being practical jokers, hiding in shadows and phasing through walls to spook the workers of the underbelly for fun.

+ earth manipulation the power to control and shape earth.

+ mineral detection the ability to sense and pinpoint the location of minerals within one’s vicinity.

+ shadow mimicry the power to transform into a shadow.

+ phasing the ability to be move through solid objects.

knockers can live up to 200 years.

PURITIES

the physical embodiments of blinding white light and soft, harmonious music, purities are those in st. ostara whose powers serve a completely unselfish, greater purpose in the city. although they are perhaps the rarest species of the city, they are well sought out, and many keep their true identities secret.

UNICORNS

ethereal and delicate, unicorns are historically the most hunted species still holding ranks in the city, making crossing paths with one few and far between. in the days of old, unicorns would only appear before virgin maidens, pure of heart - nowadays, they are still skittish of who they reveal themselves to, but the requirements are decidedly more lax. over time, their horns have evolved down to a single, opaque gemstone on their foreheads - the likes of which are rumored to be the key to discovering the secrets to immortality, making them incredibly valuable to both monsters and humans alike.

+ healing kiss the ability to heal the wounds of others with a kiss.

+ fertility inducement the power to strengthen life-giving forces, causing growth and reproduction.

+ empathic healing the ability to heal others’ emotional wounds.

+ curse removal the power to permanently remove curses from those pure of heart.

if a unicorn's gem is shattered or otherwise broken, they lose all their powers.

unicorns can live up to 1,000 years.

ANGELS

appearing as though they were carved from stone, angels operate as st. ostara’s guardians and harbingers of justice. together, angels watch over the city, guiding and helping its citizens and punishing those who dare disturb its peace - karma doesn’t exist in st. ostara, but the angels sure do. they are methodical creatures who follow a strict moral code - but despite their tendency to reap sharp punishments, there is a softness to angels and an intense willingness to nurture and care for others.

+ light manipulation the ability to emit and create constructs out of light.

+ bond empowerment the power to gain strength from friendship and love.

+ illusion awareness the ability to detect illusory magic.

+ lie detection the ability to identify a lie.

+ elemental wing manifestation the ability to create wings out the elements, such as water, air, fire, etc.

angels can live up to 1,000 years.

PSYCHOPOMPS

st. ostara’s ‘clean up crew’, responsible for transporting the dead and keeping those that still linger in the afterlife in check. psychopomps are powerful beings, whose ability to have one foot in the land of the living and one in the beyond tends to frighten the rest of the city, leading to superstitions and protective charms to keep them at bay. 

REAPERS

despite other species’ wariness around them, reapers are an essential part of the ecosystem of the city, and much of ostara’s medical field is composed of them.reapersscythe-wielding and cloaked in black fabric, reapers are the species the humans were the closest to getting right. they travel through shadows, and while they look no different from any other human, there is a ghastly aura about them, one that gives away their true nature and abilities. some reapers are no-nonsense, and simply swing their blade and move on, while others may take the time to care for the souls they reap, making sure to fill any last wishes.

+ mediumship the power to communicate with spirits in the afterlife.

+ weapon manifestation the ability to conjure and call a weapon out of thin air.

+ necromancy the power to raise and re-animate the bodies of the dead.

+ shadow manipulation the ability to manipulate and call forth shadows.

+ after-life transport the ability to send souls to the afterlife.

+ life-force absorption the power to steal life-force from those they reap and gain strength from it.

weaknesses: reapers are more aware of the prescence of the afterlife in the city, and the constant taunts of ghosts can be psychologically damming. 

reapers can live up to 200 years.

HELLHOUNDS

once rabid, foaming beasts, hellhounds were imprisoned in the confines of the underbelly long ago. freedom at their grasp for the past century, hellhounds are still regarded as dangerous and unhinged. unlike the other psychopomps, they cannot transport souls from one side to another, but rather assist in the tracking of particularly troubling phantoms or predict death before it happens and nudge the process along. while they can be bred, anybody can become a hellhound by offering to take the place of someone who was supposed to die.

+ hellhound form the ability to transform into a hellhound - a large, menacing black beast.

+ death song the power to cause or call attention to death through howling.

+ vice inducement the power to compel people to give into their vices.

+ psychic navigation the ability to track people mentally.

+ death sense the ability to know when and where someone will die.

+ fire breath the ability to expel bursts of fire from their mouth.

weaknesses:

their power of death sense is highly emotionally taxing. additionally, if a person becomes a hellhound by saving another person, they cannot see that person or be physically near to them without becoming dangerously feral, unable to stop attacking until either the other person is dead or they grievously injure themselves.

hellhounds can live up to 200 years - these 200 years are set once someone becomes a hellhound. 

VALKYRIES

frighteningly beautiful creatures who are proud of who they are. typically seen working in groups, valkyries thunder into the city on pegasi, makeup fashioned in the form of warpaint. while reapers clean things up and hellhounds sense death, valkyries are the psychopomps who cut the strings of fate. they decide who lives or dies, and they value strength and barbarism over all.

+ healing the ability to heal the wounds of oneself or others.

+ wing manifestation the ability to manifest wings at will.

+ death inducement the ability to choose who will die.

+ enhanced combat heightened battle skills.

+ probability manipulation the ability to manipulate the outcomes of situations.

+ war empowerment to gain strength from conflict and battle.

weaknesses:

due to their role in st. ostara’s life cycle, ‘soft’ valkyries who form emotional bonds with non-immortals are often ostracized.

valkyries can live up to 200 years.

[spiritvaleroleplay-blog]

Faceclaim: Katie McGrath Name: Vaermina Goldsmith  Age: Appears in her thirties, but is the very definition of ‘ancient’ Species: Dragon, masquerading as a Witch (Major: Fire, Minor: Spirit, Arcane Focus: None) Occupation: Magic Tutor and Old Court Champion How Long Have They Been in Spiritvale?: Too freaking long

Mina can seem somewhat aloof in her nature, giving off that air of calm and collected distance that could easily be mistaken for arrogance. She is undeniably vain, and even she’ll admit to it. There’s definitely a sultry element to her as well, Mina isn’t one to shy away when she likes someone and she’ll always let the other party know and even when rejected, she may still persist in the vain hope that she might just change their mind. She is a law unto herself and constantly seeks the more attractive option. She’s shallow and she likes it, and anyone who tries to change her ways may end up with a nasty burn.

In perspective, the true nature of her lies in the fact the only thing that she truly cares for is the mountain and those who live on it. Her allegiance is with The Old Court and the spirits who made their home here first, and who were born from the mountain’s magic. Her protection does extend across the town, but only to a certain degree. Petty mortal issues are not problems that she considers her own. Don’t call her if a wolf tears out a vampire’s throat, she could care less… But she’ll be right there if a group of witches try to spread dark magic in her territory.

Time is a fickle and funny thing, and Vaermina honestly doesn’t remember most of it for the time that she’s been alive. There are glimpses from time to time, that resurface themselves in the form of faraway dreams that felt just like that, dreams. But even with their distance, they were far too familiar, deep in her memories she knows them to be truth. One thing for certain however, was that she had been born amongst fire, blood and the screams of the innocent. The very things that had roused her from an impenetrable shell.

At that time, the great scaled winged beasts known as dragons were relatively common in the world; dominating the skies and terrorising towns – or sometimes not, instead taking more benevolent roles in society and acting as guides and counsellors rather than aggressive monsters wishing to cleanse the earth in dragon’s fire. Vaermina’s own mother fell into the former category, and her daughter fell much into the same even without her guidance.

Vaermina never actually knew her mother, because she had given up her egg to a tribe who had travelled far and wide in search of a protector. They had sailed a vast ocean, and had come to land in what would now be known as Anglesey, but Vaermina hadn’t known much of that small island either. She had been born across the Atlantic in the vast lands of America, and raised by the humans she had been entrusted to. Through that alone it forced her to test those innate magical talents, taking the form of a human child to run around with the others.

The tribe always made it clear to Vaermina that she had a great destiny ahead of her, and told her of the lands they were returning to. A great mountain that held great strength, felled by dark spirits that overwhelmed their stone guardian. They needed someone stronger, more tenacious than the old guardian to rid the mountain of evil, someone just like her.

As most dragons do, she matured slowly, but she also quickly outlived a generation or two of the tribe as she grew. But she was always surrounded by family, and her large winged shadow on the land was nothing but a joy for them to see. The journey to the mountain obviously did not take so long, but they were careful, they needed their new protector ready for the fight ahead of her.

And that time came, roughly at two hundred years old when she was only a juvenile dragon, but large and strong enough where neither she knew any differently and neither did the people. It was time, and if you ask Mina now what happened? Well… She can honestly tell you that she doesn’t remember much. And it really is the honest truth, she can call vague scenes of a barren and stripped bare mountain; so unlike the lush, well forested lands of today, and a dreadful sense of darkness looming.

It took a considerable time to clear out the dark energy, and Vaermina nearly lost her life in a battle with the very dark entity that had killed the last guardian. She was too young and too untested, but in that moment in the near sacrifice of her life, the magic within the mountain seemed to stir and push back against the dark, to then accept this brave new soul as if it were an extension of itself. The mountain appointed Vaermina with power she had never felt before; witches would call the power Spirit magic, and it healed her rapidly, giving her a second wind to destroy the beast in the heat of her fire. That’s one part she certainly can remember.

Vaermina’s intervention with the dark spirits and her newfound power seemed to be the kickstart that the mountain needed to start protecting itself again. Nymphs awoke from long slumbers, and nature spirits rose up in numbers that began to repel the invader. With a dragon at the head of their army, a war that had been waging for far too long was finally won.

The tribe could resettle at the foot of the mountain, and Vaermina found her permanent home within it. However, in this fight, she didn’t quite realise the extent of the responsibilities that she was entrusted with now. She had unwittingly become The Old Court’s new Champion, and it did not take long to discover these new tethers. The fact she found that if she left the mountain’s reaches that an excruciating pain would quickly push her back within the safe limits of the mountain. As generations came and went, she also noticed how after a while she simply… stopped aging. Although not really understanding much about her own self and species, the mountain put a stop on her growing any older. She had matured to full adulthood, and it had no intention in allowing her to grow old. So whilst her age is certainly in the thousands, her physical age is remarkably younger.

It wasn’t so bad, to start with. The lack of aging was a benefit, as was her new power; for when she became Champion, the magic from within the mountain became hers to use as she saw fit. It manifested in the form of Spirit magic, entirely on loan, but none the less hers for as long as she was Champion. However, she very quickly grew tired of only being allowed within a certain limit. She tested the boundaries as much as she could, desiring to fly farther than before, to explore and do as dragons do, but every time she always had to return to alleviate the pain. She had become a part of the mountain now, and she was never to leave.

Vaermina watched on as time rolled ahead. Dragons grew to becoming near extinct, the few remaining deciding to take refuge within the safe, welcoming clutches of the earth in the news that was carried to her. Eventually, she grew tired of the same scenes that played out before her; so she too decided to do as her kin had done. She clawed down the entrance to all of the caves that led to her warm abode within the mountain, and within it she slept without any true intention of waking.

The mountain shaking was when she was rudely awoken, into the wild rush of the 1800s when her tribe had long since died out and new men with pale faces came to break into her home in search of gold. As it turns out, those old rumours were true after all, of molten red and gold eyes glaring out from the dark, and fire that left nothing but withered cinders of the men who dug into the rock.

Vaermina took a human form to explore and find out what was going on, sneaking in the town that the locals were calling ‘Spiritvale’. They had even given her mountain a name, Mount Beacon, as they had all been called here by forces unknown. Vaermina learned how the inhabitants were not in fact human, though there were some amongst them. They were other creatures; werewolves, vampires, spirits and witches all coming together. Vaermina altered her name to sound more human, dropping to simply Mina, and took the guise of a witch of fire and spirit as she caught up on what had happened since she’d fallen asleep. It seems a whole lot had changed… And it was exciting.

She had woken angry, but quickly fell in love with the newly created town just as others did. The rush and energy the place had was unlike anything she had ever experienced, technology had new and strange, but she adapted and grew used to it. But one consistent thing carried across, that dragons were merely a myth and they had never even heard of The Old Court, and for her own safety she decided to remain in that guise… Especially as these people seemed to take as much pride in the mountain as she did, and protected it in their own way, making her role effectively redundant. 

As a witch without a Focus, others simply assumed she used her Spirit magic to remain youthful and live longer, but on occasion she would change her face. Eventually coming away from the dark skinned look of her natives, and going for what appeared to be whatever was attractive for the time. She had been all colours at some point, but at the moment she is the brunette that this generation have come to know so well. No doubt she’ll switch it up again in a few decades.

Mina has certainly grown comfortable in this new world and what it had brought, and her heart no longer seemed to feel so heavy. Still, she yearns to see the world outside, but her duty to the Court remains and so she is to stay. At the very least, these colourful characters and their stories keep her entertained; and continue to do so to this day.

[tipsycad147]

Wiccan Devotional for Tuesday

Today's Candle

Light a red candle to receive vigour and strength. Meditating with a red candle enables courage, power, fertility, magnetism, desire, and action.

Ruling Deities

Ares, Ceres and Demeter are rulers of Tuesdays.

Crystals for Tuesdays

Carnelian, Coral, Bloodstone, Ruby, Garnet and Pink Tourmaline

Carrying these gemstones today can bring success and fulfilment of your goals. Wear them as a talisman or simply keep them close to you to harness their energy.

A Tuesday Potion 🍵

Drink a cup of Pu-Erh Tea today for a boost of vital strength. This type of tea will keep you alert during the day due to its caffeine contents, but it also has many powerful effects on the body such as protecting from harmful bacteria, fighting inflammation, and eliminating body toxins¹.

Guided Meditations for this Tuesday

A Spell for Tonight

Cast the perfect spell for Tonight’s Moon Phase. This spell generator is updated by tracking the lunar transits and phases. Click below!

Tonight’s Lunar Spell Generator

How to Incorporate Wicca into Everyday Life

A Daily Wiccan routine doesn’t have to be much different from that of anyone else. Magic is simply working with the energies for channelling an intention, and the fact is that we can all practice Magic, and in fact we do it without realising it. For example, while health experts agree that we shouldn’t take a shower every day¹ , many of us still do it as a ritual act of self-love. By setting a few minutes to consciously take care of our body, we let the water wash away any physical or emotional damage from the day, re-energising our heart and soul 🛀

If you have ever been surprised by your own thoughts and realisations under a warm shower, then you have already experimented a ritual of Magic. Incorporating Magic into our daily lives feels just the same: A cleansing exercise for the spirit.

Daily Wiccan Practices

You probably already have some daily rituals or personal superstitions, so try combining these ideas with your usual routine in different ways until you find your preferred way to be a Wiccan:

When you wake up, greet the day by doing a Sun Salutation or a simple Wiccan Meditation. You can burn some incense along with it. On this same page, you will find daily recommendations for incenses, crystals and teas. ⭐ Save it to your Bookmarks!

When drinking your morning tea or coffee, you can use a spoon to stir it in a clockwise direction to attract something, or counterclockwise to repel something. Focus on your intention and then clear your mind. If you need ideas, try these Tea Meditations.

You can also draw a symbol or sigil at the bottom of your cup with some honey and then pour your drink over it.

Set up an altar for your ancestors, deities, or spirit guides and say a Wiccan prayer every day upon waking up or when going to bed. You can also place your offerings there.

Carry crystals or personal amulets in your pocket or around your neck, so they remind you of your Magical powers. See How to charge an amulet here.

Consecrate or charge things like jewellery, makeup brushes, cooking utensils, musical instruments, etc. These are all part of your path and your identity as a Wiccan or a Witch.

Write in your Book of Shadows, journal, or grimoire every day. Find pages and spells and print them out on printer-friendly parchment paper (link to Amazon).

Track the moon phases and tune in to its changing energies. Decide what’s the best time to cast spells, rituals and meditations.

Grow a garden full of many different plants, aromatic herbs and shrubs. Learn about Herbal Witchcraft. Every day go out and spend some time to clear your mind and become more intimate with your spirituality and intuition.

Being an Eclectic Wiccan

Eclecticism is a philosophical current that tries to reconcile the doctrines that seem better or more credible, although they come from diverse systems. Eclectic Wicca mixes ideas from various traditions of Wicca, and elements from other sources. This opens up the faith so that it can adapt to your background and your current identity as a Witch, Pagan, Non-Pagan, or other.

You can embrace spirituality and live a more Wiccan life without renouncing to your daily life or even your current beliefs. All it takes is study and commitment. Creating a devotional routine (even if you start with as little as 5 minutes a day) can help you become more centred and spiritual.

A Daily Wiccan Practice can be beneficial for:

Grounding your thoughts when your head is going a thousand miles per hour.

Improving your confidence and self-esteem by changing attitudes and patterns.

Focusing and empowering yourself.

Achieving mental peace like you haven’t felt for years.

https://spells8.com/wiccan-devotional/