#when they like a witch they give them berries and other little trinkets

[crayonverse]

i love .. making creatures for wittawood . anyway heres the Cake Fox that i love

[the-faceless-bride]

The woods, a witch, and a wolf pack. Punchline?

Summary: (paranormal Au and takes place 1874) Kyle was out later than normal. Away from his pack wasn't a good idea he knew he shouldn't have gone out late; but Johnny had set his heart on a pie tonight, and he wanted Johnny to get his wish. Staying out looking for berries revealed itself to be an awful idea as a group of hunters we in the woods. And he... wasn't fast enough. Good thing he found a house.

Warnings: Not many. blood, inaccurate monster lore, Gaz being adorable but untrusting, 141 members being worried and upset.

This is pretty short compared to what I would normally write, but I'm trying to get in the groove. I've been writing all of my fics on my phone, I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing.

Kyle cursed himself for being careless, not telling the others of his pack where he was going before sneaking off; he wanted to surprise Johnny, but had he known there were a group of hunters playing Van Helsing nearby he would've been more careful.

Now he was trying to limp away and hide with an arrow sticking from his side, it was much more painful than anything he'd felt before; and he had been roughed up bad before, but not like this. This was agony; a seething, burning pain. It traveled from his side through his ribs to his chest, from his stomach to his weakening knees.

Fuck. He didn't want to die here. In the woods, alone and in agony. That's when he smelled it. A welcoming smell, one that made him feel safe.

A house. A house that he'd never seen before, behind a hidden Rocky arch that was covered by a waterfall of vines and leaves. When did this get here? He always knew this hidden archway, but last he and his pack checked, it led to a dead end. Didn't it? Fuck. He can't remember, not when all he can hear is the pounding of his heart trying to escape his ribcage.

The door slightly ajar, he stumbled clumsily through the old wooden door; a cozy interior. A war fire, candles light all on the walls and interesting clocks, trinkets, and spices hung from the walls. The house was warm, very warm compared to the cold, sharp air outside; a soft velvet couch, a dark green covered in a flower pattern.

Kyle tossed himself down on it with a sigh and a groan. He wanted to pull the enflamed arrow from his side but didn't dare; not wanting to bleed out. 'Merow' Kyle jumped, a skinny black cat with the largest, brighest yellow eyes he'd ever seen sat on the arm of the sofa saring at him.

Kyle gave it an awkward wave, "hello," he said, just above a whisper. "Well, isn't this delightful. A pup bleeding all over my nice sofa." a voice jokes, Kyle whips his head to the voice with a growl, he didn't know who this was but he wasn't going to give them the idea he wouldn't harm them if they tried anything.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," Kyle stops his growls but still sits stiff ready for anything, "now before we start, would you like a warm drink? Coffee, tea, whiskey?" - Kyle shakes his head, "I made pancakes earlier? Fancy one? Best you'll ever taste," - he again shakes his head. "Well then, let me take a look."

Kyle slowly and hesitantly leans to you, letting you see his wound. He was confused. Most people who knew who or what he was normally would shoo him away or try to kill him.

"Don't worry, this should be a quick and easy fix."- you move to a corner, wall filled top to bottom with shelves pulling a trinket box out before taking a small flower.

"hear, eat this." - Kyle look from the flower to you then back - "I know, strange. But it will help; Wolvesbain is a pretty flower. It's probably what led you to me. The sent is pretty irresistible to pups like you," - Kyle rolled his eyes at being called a pup, but you were right; that sweet smell that lead him to this house was coming from the pretty little flower clipping that you held between your thumb and forefinger.- "wolvesbain is a helpful little flower, it can be rather helpful to you, when not mixed with poison... In fact, looking to plant this flower was the whole reason for coming here,"

Kyle hesitantly ate the flower. It wasn't as earthy and awful as he expected, though it made his mouth water, not in the good way. More of the he shoved a handful of pepper mint down his throat way.

"I'm terribly sorry for the hunters," -Kyle raise a brow at you-

"The hunters are particularly my fault. You see, when I came looking for these flowers, my reputation of a witch followed me, and they trailed behind. Wolvesbane normally only grows near the paranormal creature themselves, much like Monotropa uniflora or black roses. I needed them for my garden. However, I tried to say clear of you and your pack. Usually, the lesser the flower, the further away the pack is. However, you seemed to be nearby," - This was true, Kyle and his pack were nearby. Not very close, but close enough that he was able to run here in his time of need, not wanting to bring the hunters to his lovers - "so either you and your pack just got here, are hidden or you're a long way from home,"

Kyle sat, thinking of what this meant. You'd unintentionally brought danger to him and the ones he loved. What does this mean? Were you going to stay in these woods? If you left, would the hunters go too? Where did this house come from? You say you just got here, yet you have a garden filled with magic plants and a house that wasn't exactly small. It wasn't a small cozy cottage like his packs. It wasn't a tent you'd just set up. It looked as if it had always been here.

"Well, it should be about that time," you say as you look as an old pocket watch from your dress pocket, " I'm happy you ate that flower, I'd hate for this to have been painful for you," - Kyle tilts his head, confused - "that arrow is a hunters arrow, it's been crafted specifically to hurt you. A normal needle and thread wouldn't be able to close that wound. And this type of threat can be... painful to the paranormal creatures of the night. But with that Wolvesbane, you won't feel a thing!" You say as you stick his side with a needle.

He felt nothing.

"There. You should be good now, I'm no doctor, but I'd say I did a rather good job." You smile as you begin to clean up, putting the needle and tread away before storing the arrow away with the rest of your gunter weapons you've collected over the years. "Thank you." You jump, the first words he's said since he's been here. "Well, thank you as well," - "for what?" - "not ripping me to shreds as I walked through the door," you tease.

"Where's the mutt?"

"I'm not sure,we lost track of him"

"He probably bled out somewhere,"

"Well find him, he'd make a nice furr rug! Haha!"

They were still looking for him. While due to the flower he ate, he may not feel the pain, but that doesn't mean his body isn't affected by it. He wouldn't be able to outrun them, not a chance.

"You can stay here. You won't be able to run if they see you. Tomorrow, I'll travel halfway with you, I'll throw off your trail. Then you'll be gone before those hunters realize your long gone." As you say this, the house seems to dim. The candles along the walls begin to dim their glow.

"Come now." You say, nodding your head up the stairs. He follows right behind you, Kyle can't thank you enough. Now, the only thing he'll have to worry about is the earful he'll get from John and some whining from Johnny. He's never been so happy to hear those than right now.

"I live alone and don't get much company, so if you don't mind, you can sleep with me. I'd prefer you have something soft to rest on, especially with that bad side."

"I have no problem," he smiles at you. You certainly are strange. You climb onto your bed after taking off your over dress and shape wear sighing as you get warm under the covers. Kyle shortly following after.

He can't sleep. He's worried sick. What if his boys came out looking for him and got hurt? He hated making them worry, and he's sure they were worried sick. He felt guilty. He's pulled from his thoughts as he felt a soft touch, "they'll be ok." A soft and low whine crawls from his chest, he knows. But that fact doesn't settle his mind.

When morning comes, Kyle finds himself wrapped around you, his face buried in your hair arms and legs tangled. You smell nice. "Good morning, Pup," -you say with a sigh as you struggle to get up sleepily putting on your dress,- "morning,"

"Fancy breakfast? Or should we hurry on our way? I'm sure your pack is worried sick," - "As much as I'd love some pancakes, I think I've caused enough trouble," - "next time then?" - Kylr smiled, "next time."

Leaving the house and back into the woods was nerve-wracking for Kyle, constantly peaking over his shoulder, worried he'd find a man with a crossbow pointed at him. But you didn't seem worried at all. You seemed to know exactly where you were going; like you'd lived in this wood your whole life.

Just as you approach the babbling brook, you stop; "This is where my path ends, Kyle." You smile up at him, "it's time for you to go." - "Well, would you maybe like to stay? It's almost time for lunch, won't you stay?"- You smile, bit before you can answer, You both hear voices that have Kyle's head whipping around to see them.

"I FOUND HIM!"

Kyle smiles excitedly, "JOHNNY!" Kyle breaks into a sprint, colliding into the smaller yet muscular Scott, a pair of footsets coming quickly behind. "What the hell were you thinking?!" - "it's good to see you too, John."

"Where have you been?"

"Why didn't you say you were leaving?"

"What happened to your side?! Your shirt is drenched in blood!"

John, Simon, and Johnny all firing questions one after the other, "it's alright, I got help." - "help? From who?" - "Well, she -" while Kyle turned around to point you out, you were gone. Where did you go? "Well, whoever she was, I'm glad she helped you." - "yeah, I'll have to introduce you..." he says, his voice trailing off as he wonders where you went, and what exactly was your name? He'd forgotten to ask... infact, you had said his name just now... when had he told you his name?...

[neonthewrite]

Gilded Birdcage

Today's prompt is "Bird", and really the only thing that comes to mind for that one is Adrian, specifically Adrian from a trust AU that I don't think @creatorofuniverses and I have elaborated on that much. The Doppelganger AU has some artwork out there ... and also one other bit of writing that has nothing to do with where Adrian is in the AU. So this could probably be taken mostly standalone!

Poor Adrian.

~~~

Adrian can’t count the days he’s spent in that golden cage. It’s usually hard to focus on something for too long. His attention always fractures, fluttering to something else, especially the few tokens and baubles in the cage with him. The gentle swaying of the cage doesn’t help, hanging from a hook on the ceiling of the witch’s traveling cart. She has a lot of fancy things to catch the eye, feathers and furs and trinkets and cloth. The cart is an explosion of colors inside and out, wherever they go.

She trades these things, hands them all back and forth amidst friendly conversations, words that he knows in his rapidly-beating heart that he understands and yet struggles to parse or remember. He has tried to speak to her curious customers too. His voice comes out in delicate whistles and chirps, a new song every time that never matches what he wants to convey. They smile in fascination at him. Tell him he is so pretty, yes he is, and what a fine little helper he is to his witch.

Indeed, his songs draw attention, though not the kind he sometimes wishes. No one looks at him and sees someone in need of help. They see a pretty little bird, perched in a pretty little cage, singing a pretty little song. It brings customers close enough for the witch to strike up a conversation with them, really; that’s why she hangs his cage by the window when she goes into town to open up her cart. A witch with an endearing little songbird promises interesting wares, if nothing else.

One or two have tried to buy him before. They hold out very shiny things, and lots of them, while pointing at his cage where it hangs by the cart’s window. His witch never accepts these offers.

He’s mine, she always says, and for some reason those words don’t give him the same trouble the others do. He’s mine, forever and always.

Certainly, he is cared for, as well as one might expect someone to care for a small bird. His feathers, the palest yellow, always have a healthy shine to them. He has several perches in his gilded cage, ones that feel nice on his feet when he grips them. The witch gives him berries and greens and, occasionally, seeds. He isn’t sure why, but these things always delight him, filling him with excitement when offered.

He hasn’t always been this way. He doesn’t know when it happened. He hasn’t always had wings; once upon a time he had hands, just like the humans he sees in great numbers most days. He had long legs, he had front facing eyes. He … he’d been a human before. Trying to remember it only gives him a kaleidoscope of confusing memories.

~~~

He brings a book of blank paper to the woods. His fingers smudge with charcoal. The image of the forest is suddenly repeated on the paper.

She smiles at him. Where did she come from? She smiles so wide, her eyes big and delighted.

He’s dwindling. The world grows larger. He looks to her for help but that smile remains.

He’s small and confused. The grass stands over him. He stumbles, something is wrong with his legs. His heart beats so rapidly it’s all he can feel, the fluttering in his chest. He again tries to ask for help. Only whistles come out.

He runs. He stumbles. He shoots out his hands to catch himself‒he doesn’t have hands. In their place, wings.

Wings! I’m a… the thought falls away from him like rain off a window. He doesn’t understand. The world looks so different.

She’s coming closer. She’s still smiling. Where did she come from?

You’re mine, she tells him as she stoops over him. Mine forever and always. She reaches for him. Her hand is bigger than his body now.

He has wings. He can fly away. Adrian spreads those wings, entirely new to him, and flutters into the air. It feels wrong. He can’t move them the right way. He has tail feathers now, too. They don’t cooperate. He doesn’t get very far. A hand closes around him.

~~~

Adrian doesn’t really have other memories beyond those. He can’t make much sense of them, either. They always feel present, yet distant, something he could hold onto without fully knowing why.

He sings when she asks. Even when he doesn’t feel like singing, it warbles out of him, a little tune from the golden bird in the golden cage. She’s a proud witch; she’s happy with him. When she closes up the cart for the night, she murmurs nice words at him.

Sometimes she even opens up the cage and lets him hop onto her offered finger. She whistles with him, strokes the crest feathers atop his head with a fingertip. It feels nice, especially when he’s molting (he molts from time to time now, and it’s agonizingly itchy). She loves him. She tells him so, and he understands. Then she closes him in the cage again with that same delighted smile he remembers. It’s hard to be afraid of that smile anymore. The memory is so old, though he’s unsure exactly how old. Surely he doesn’t have it completely right.

He’s only a bird, after all. He can’t be expected to remember things perfectly.

He’s hers. Hers forever and always.

[savethelastdan]

Kagura Week 2020 Day 4: Avarice/Greed

Concept by @dearestpartnerofgreatness​

“So this is what you do for a living.” 

Hands pressed together fingertip-to-fingertip, Kagura bowed her head slightly with a mock-thoughtful hum. The tree’s leaves above her head moved only slightly in the breeze. When she glanced back up through her bangs to look at the monk’s face, it looked deceptively calm. 

The slight tremor in the hand holding his Shakujo staff, however, gave the game away.

Silently, he settled cross-legged on the ground a few feet from the foot of the tree where she herself reclined. His staff, along with the bag of goods that he’d received from thankful customers, settled easily into his lap. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Lady Kagura.” The forced pleasantness in his voice stung her ears. “Usually you are in the village with Rin and Kohaku.”

“I like to travel,” she said, keeping the words close and cutting. “Thought for a moment that I’d been sloppy, after all those human farmers started freaking out about a ‘demonic presence’. But, as it turns out, that’s just a little trick you play. For what?” 

Miroku’s lip quirked. “What do you think? My children need food and clothes. My wife needs to replenish her stores of weaponry. Not to mention armor repairs, medicine, and nice things for Rin and Kohaku.”

What boring prizes. Placing a finger to her chin, Kagura eyed the sack in his lap as though trying to see through it to its contents. “Despite your rather dramatic performance--the scratches on the shrine walls were a nice touch, by the way--don’t you think it’s quite likely you’ll be caught? After all, most demons don’t just disappear when vanquished.” 

“Vengeful spirits do,” he retorted, but the faint few lines forming in his forehead undermined his confidence. “Besides, you don’t seem like the type to judge a man for his exploits, rooted as they are in survival.”

With a snort, she lay back against the tree’s trunk, feeling the rough bark dig in through the many layers of her outfit. “Of course not. I want in.”

Miroku stared at her for a few moments, expression frozen in serenity. “Excuse me?” 

The dark slash of her mouth turned up. “You need a demon to defeat. I’m willing to play the part. So long as we don’t hit the same town twice, we should be able to pull it off easily.” 

Shrewd eyes searched her face for a hint of jest. “I’m afraid any explanation for why you’d want to do so escapes me.” 

“If I help, then you’ll have to split your bounty with me.” Waving a hand at the sack, she added, “Defeating a demon of my caliber, you could inflate the prices handsomely.” 

Miroku released a short, quiet laugh before he could stop himself. Pressing one hand to his mouth in a feigned coughing fit, he sighed, “What an idea…”

“Look.” Kagura pushed herself to her feet. The leaves of the tree shook harder, a few raining down on her shoulders only to be quickly whisked away. “It’s not like I can support myself in any normal way. And it won’t be long before everyone figures out you’re a fake--you don’t exactly have the best reputation to start with.” 

Shuffling about until he matched her standing position, Miroku managed a rueful smile. “I suppose you have a point there. Although I don’t see how choreographing your own defeat would be fulfilling.” 

One shoulder bobbed nonchalantly. “Anything’s fulfilling enough, at the right price.”

“Can’t argue with that, Lady Kagura.” Shouldering the sack, he gave her a deceptively casual nod. “Well, let’s try it and see where it goes…” 

“Wind witch!” Eyes bugging out from his head, Jaken swept his head in a dramatic line from Kagura’s chin to her toes. “Running around with all that nauseating razzle-dazzle again! I bet you’ve been off looting sad little villages in your spare time. Just like a greedy vulture--”  

“Oi, Sesshomaru, I think your little lackey ate some poisonous berries again.” Cutting her eyes in the kappa’s direction, Kagura snapped, “His tongue’s so swollen that I can barely understand half of what comes out of that nosy little beak.”  

From where he sat on the edge of the hill, watching Rin play with Shippo and Kohaku, Sesshomaru didn’t bother to turn around. Kagura and Jaken stuck their tongues out at each other before Kagura turned away, muttering to herself. 

One fingertip ran repeatedly over the column of bracelets gracing her left wrist, letting them slide into each other with delicate clinks. 

“Kagura.” Still facing the opposite direction, Sesshomaru’s voice was as cold and void of urgency as ever. “Your excess in embellishment is distracting.” 

“Huh?” One hand went to shade her eyes, sending the bracelets jangling in the wind. 

Jaken huffed. “He means all the pointless accessories, you stupid witch! All those gaudy little trinkets, as if you have anyone to dress up for!” 

“Why shouldn’t I have nice things if I want them?” Baring her teeth in Jaken’s direction to make him jump, Kagura added, “Besides, I worked hard for these.” 

The magnitude of the kappa’s eye roll could have shifted mountains, but it was true. Just last week, she and Miroku had put together a dramatic death scene that rivaled her actual death scene, just to convince a four-generation family of innkeepers. Her now handsome bracelet collection was the result--the monk always gave her any jewelry he received in payment, since Sango preferred not to wear anything that could accidentally scratch the babies. She’d also scored a pair of earrings, and a Fukurokuju charm that lay cold against her skin on a thinly braided cord beneath her kimonos. 

“It’s noisy.” Sesshomaru stated, shoulders tensing a bit as the wind jostled the silver and jade rings she’d threaded through the holes in her ears. “Take them off.” 

Kagura glared at the back of his head, more than a little tempted to thumb her nose at it. “No. They’re mine, and I’ll wear them if I want to.” 

“Stealing things doesn’t make them yours,” Jaken sniffed, crossing his arms petulantly. Kagura made to grab his staff, so that she could finally put into reality her fantasy of thrashing him about the head with it, but her reflexes were just a touch too slow with the added weight on her arm. 

“If you don’t shut--”

Sesshomaru glanced just over his shoulder. “Does the slayer know her husband has given you such expensive tokens?” 

She nearly fell over and rolled down the hill; from the stretch of Jaken’s wide-open maw, he was even more horrified by her antics than usual. 

“How the fuck did you know that?” 

Gold eyes flicked to each earring, then the subtle line of the necklace cord where it curved behind her neck. “His scent is all over them.” 

“Ew, what the--” It figured, since by the time she met back up with Miroku after her “demise”, he’d be carrying their payment for a while. Still, did Sesshomaru really think her to be so desperate as to accept gifts from a perverted human man? “Obviously it’s not what you think. The whole thing is just business.” 

“Busi-” Jaken squawked, but this time Kagura was faster. The clunk of his staff as it made contact with his skull was practically melodic; even more so when it was followed by a solid thud, as Jaken fell back into the grass. 

“Seriously.” She met Sesshomaru’s eyes, unconsciously fingering the edge of one earring between her thumb and forefinger. “He didn’t give them to me. It’s more of an...extremely temporary middleman situation. It’s not anything for you to worry about.” 

Turning back around, Sesshomaru muttered something in a low tone that she couldn’t catch. But he didn’t bring up her jewelry again.

Over the next few months, Kagura built up a sizable collection of gaudy little baubles, each of which she made a point to thoroughly wash in the river before wearing. She also ended up with a remarkable amount of darkly-humored inside jokes with Miroku, that served to discomfort pretty much all of their friends whenever they made them in mixed company. 

Jaken still grumbled, calling her greedy and sneaky and all that. But for the price of her new hobby and adornments, Kagura felt confident that she could put up with it. 

[meihemtrash]

Decadence

Meihem for @caromellarts. I was yah secret Valentine! I hope you and the rest of this lovely fandom enjoys!

Rating: NSFW//SUGGESTIVE

Pairing: Mei/Junkrat

Summary: A mercenary for hire, Mei’s latest expedition leads her to an abandoned cottage where she hunts a dangerous shifter claiming the the manor to be his home. As Mei uncovers the truth of the beast that lives here, her vampiric instincts lull her to temptation like nothing she’s ever known. (A smutty au with lots of smooches and lovebites) (tw. blood)

One shifter. One tiny witch’s cottage. Mei fully expected to earn her money’s worth on this expedition. She shifted her hooded gaze upwards, to the house in question sitting high upon a meadow’s hill. White picket fencing squared off the humble, flowered lot. She could sense a menial barrier spell in place and spied the black runes etched along fence posts.

With a wave of her hand, the enchantment crumbled, yielding to her power and giving her free passage. A tempest picked up, threatening to send her wide brim hat billowing in the wind. She cupped one hand to her head, the other to the silver sword snug against her thigh. Hair whipped her cheeks, lashed her sun-chapped skin till her eyes watered.

The tumultuous wind halted once she’d stepped over, only a lazy, warm summer breeze greeted her now. Fat dandelions wafted in the current, lacy umbels clung to her dark fabrics, decorating her breeches with iridescent fronds.

As lovely as it were, high grasses promised the best cover for her prey.

Quietly, she stalked, oh so thankful for the breath her body no longer required. Her sharp eyes had begun to ache in the setting sun’s light, but blessedly, dusk would cover soon. She’d be at her best, prowling the land studiously.

Mei couldn’t help but gaze at the surrounding area with appreciation.The late witch of this manor had lived a most beautiful life. Ever fruitful garden surrounded an unyielding stone cottage. Vegetation clung to every surface, blanketing her view in hues of brilliant green. Songbirds hummed a late evening tune, giving way to the noisier crickets and toads at this hour.

A worn path led her through arches of climbing flowers, little bees worked hard around her. Their buzzing a perfect companion to the bubbling rush of water flowing inside grounded stone channels. Mosaiced lovingly into the landscape— the man made rivers beckoned her towards the garden’s centerpiece. Awash in the scent of husk berries, nearly choked by climbing roses— sat a tiny greenhouse.

Mei tilted her head, feeling an odd sense of familiarity. She reached forward to touch a glass panel, withdrawing to feel heat on the other side. She parted the thick bundles of roses with care—  silly, considering she’d no reason to— and to her surprise, beyond the obscure glass, she saw a dying fire in what looked to be a woodstove. Brows knitted, she circled the building. The doorknob had been cleverly disguised as a rose at one time, but now the worn lacquer coat revealed oxidized brass.

She’d been told there were but one property, not two. As she slipped beyond the double doors, she wondered, could someone have lived here?  Inside, she confirmed her suspicions. The scent of a shifter overpowered this solitary space. Not even the roses creeping in from the port window above could dilute it. Heady and rich. Like good soil and cold rain.

The greenhouse’s occupant had made ingenious use of its rounded shape and limited area. Book shelves lined the walls all the way to the top— hanging baskets, some with fruit, others with trinkets circled above. Papers littered the stone floor and on closer inspection, Mei realized they were someone’s blueprints. Intricately detailed prototypes of odd mechanisms. She picked one up as delicately as she’d handled the roses. The scrawled handwriting in the corner signed simply ‘J’.

“I have no idea,” She set one away for another, “What these are…” Mei murmured while she folded one up. A treasure from her conquest she tucked into her boot.

She ambled around, nearly tripping on bedding sheets. A flattened pillow and mass of blankets were tucked to one side of the greenhouse, snugly against what appeared to be a drawing board. Beneath it were…prosthetics? Laying carelessly as if they’d been thrown.

Mei crouched, hips popping and hat floating to the floor. She reached for the metal casts, thumbed the little cuts and indentations curiously. A forearm and leg. Both right. Joints interlocking perfectly, well oiled and squeak free.

Peculiar.

Put back in their places, Mei stood. She dusted her trousers, raining snowy petals that shimmered in the sunbeams struggling through. Admiring the fine arboretum a final time, she went to the door almost reluctantly. This warm room hidden among the flowers called to her. Tugged the tethers of her wilder instincts, urging her to perhaps purchase this manner once her job was finished.

With a sigh, she exited, sealing the entrance behind her. The roses mended themselves, coiling over one another like snakes.

Mei had known nothing like this in her childhood and felt foolish now for thinking herself nostalgic. Not completely lost in the fog of her daydreaming, she tensed as rustling sounded in the husk berry thicket ahead. If her heart still beat it’d likely be in her throat. Ten centuries in the mercenary trade and she could still jump at a pin drop. Mei blamed her heightened senses.

Now, she listened well, already perceiving the faint intake of sharp breaths her target took. She approached the bordering thatch while a tiny, frantic heartbeat ticked in her ears. Mei narrowed her gaze on shuddering leaves and movement just beyond. She nearly shouted when a barn owl leapt from the brush, blood dappling its snow white wings. The creature took to the sky, stark against the darkening canvas.

She chased without hesitation, satisfaction surging like nothing else when the bird swooped low, seemingly disappearing in the meadowy grass enveloping the estate. A laugh escaped her when the little barn owl shuddered on its ascent, shifting its form in an explosion of tendons, bone and plumage. Amidst the falling feathers, an enormous black dog emerged. Shoulders hunkered, casting Mei an unreadable expression before bolting.

Their chase led them far past the property fence line, where she could see the dog’s gait growing slower and slower— heartbeat sluggish and breaths laborious. Perplexed, she watched the shifter tear almost immediately back towards the manor.

“You’re not allowed to be here!” Mei shouted after the creature, clambering over the fence.

“You’re the one who’s not supposed to be here.” A guttural, undeniably accented voice growled in response. Sending shivers dancing up her spine.

Huffing, she tore after her target and unsheathed her sword. She leapt for the beast, hacked its ankles— faulting in severing a foot, but managing to nick deep enough to earn her a pitiful howl. Blood suffused the air, suffocating her for a wild moment before she cleared her senses. Seemingly unscathed, the dog darted— leaving a trail right to the garden for her to follow.

The overwhelming need to care for a wounded animal disappeared upon reminding herself this creature was no scared pup or barn owl, but a devious shifter she’d been told had murdered the good witch that’d lived here before.  That thought fueled her next actions. With precision unmatched in her field, she flung her sword for the head of the beast, missing by a hair. Her blade skewered the earth, warbling a metallic song.

The creature yipped, tucking bushy tail and delving into the rose thickets. Mei had to shield her nose from the intoxicating aroma of blood flourishing. Thorns scored flesh and ripped tendons. The shifter’s heartbeat transitioned to a shrill rhythm, signaling its change to a smaller animal. She fell to her knees, face pressed against the ground as she spied a tiny mouse darting amongst the foliage.

Mei reached into the depths, snagged the plump mouse and wrenched it free, cutting herself in the process. The sting of spurs faded with the conquest of her bounty. Little teeth bored into her hand, the fangs snapping larger in an instant as the shifter reshaped.

Writhing from her grasp in another ghastly explosion of sinew and bone, a deformed black dog emerged once more, cords of muscle slithering over one another in an attempt to fuse. Mei gasped, shocked as the transformation failed utterly— sending her target sprawling backwards.

Ahead of her, unconscious in the grass, lay a man. His skin mending before her eyes, leaving behind a perfectly formed person. His tousled blonde hair a stormy mess abound his freckled face. His bruiser nose fittingly crooked with the rest of his sharp features.

Striding forward, Mei chanced a touch with her boot. She kicked the dirtied sole of his foot, awakening him with a start. His eyes flashed open, petrified as he scrambled away from her, dragging himself as best he could through the grass.

Mei reached behind her, retrieving her sword from the dirt.

“O-our sudden introduction is lacking any formal— er introduction.” The shifter trembled violently as he placed his left hand— his only hand— over his bare, hammering chest. “I-I’m Jamie. Jamison Fawkes, ma’am— “ His voice wavered. “A-and we can call you bloodthirsty huntress in all practical sense.”

Mei scowled at his use of the word bloodthirsty. As if he knew just what she was. She poised the tip of her sword at his throat. She needn’t but thrust lazily and sever his bickering. He swallowed audibly, sweat beading on his furrowed, unmanaged brow. Realization dawned as the sun set finally behind her.

Cold night swaddled her in its familiar embrace, soothing the sun’s brutal treatment of her skin. Daylight tended to smother her senses since The Change. Her horrific transition from human to devil. Vampire. During day hours direct sunlight had her flesh blistering, even the indirect warmth of it fatigued her. Time in the sun wilted her, but the moon’s cold shine did nothing but give.

“You’re radiant.” He stated matter-o-factly, motioning towards her. “Like— you’re glowing. In your cheeks.” He cupped his own face, gazing at her with wide amber eyes.

Mei touched a hand to her cheeks, not surprised to find her skin a hue brighter. The moon gave many things. Light inside and out. It didn’t help she’d been surging with satisfaction as the sun had fell to the horizon.

Jamison nudged her sword aside. “And just who sent you here? If I can be so bold to ask— was it her? I-If the old cunt wanted me gone so badly— Why didn’t she just come back?” He blithered senselessly to her. When his golden eyes fell downcast to his muddy foot, and he refused to meet her gaze— she pitied him. The pain in his voice spoke volumes more than he would.

“Why didn’t she just come back and tell me to go?!” He shouted, not at her, but rather over the darkened, empty meadow. “Let me go….?” He trailed, weakly nodding towards the fence.

Mei decidedly delved into conversation she should forbid. Jamie was still her bounty. Upfront commission be damned… “Usually the people I meet with…are not the ones looking to get the job done.” Folks, especially the upper class, loved to send their lackey or a fumbling servant down her end of the district. She knew everyone there was to know in seaside Gibraltar. And she also knew, she’d never seen the young man who’d commissioned her that day. Not around town, not by the docks, not even lurking in the wayback of the markets. Not once.

The shifter looked to her, a quickened flash of resolve flickering across his features. “Tell me that, at least.” He clasped his palm around his throat, leaving a grimey handprint. “Before you’re really done with me.” The bitter tone suggested he still had plenty of fight left in him. He watched her every movement keenly, but relaxed a bit once she’d lowered her sword.

“Client confidentiality.” Mei countered, blade sheathed.

Jamie sputtered. “What? You’re going to kill me and I can’t even know who sent you?” Anger festered in him, beneath his heavy layer of fear.

“Hush hush.” She quieted before coming to her knees before him. She took in the scarring across his muscular abdomen, the chip in his right ear. The…lack of limbs on his right side entirely. Save for a hint of bicep and thigh bound in blue fabric.

Mei had been advised by her commissioner to find the shifter and ‘do with him as she pleased.’ Which could be taken a great deal many ways. Beheading certainly didn’t have to be one of them.

“I’m not going to kill you.” She promised, offering her hand out for him to take. Which he did so. Hesitantly.

“W-why?” He asked tightly, his palm impossibly warm against hers. She hauled him to a stand, taken aback to see Jamison towered a good head above her.

“Because I don’t need to.” She answered simply, lacing his arm over her shoulders. He stooped to accommodate their height difference. The feeling of his pulse against her gave her pause. How long it’d been since she’d felt that.

“You— you’ve got no idea how excited you got me.” Her new companion interjected her musings. “Earlier, when I could hear your rustling about in the garden— ” He buffed the back of his neck, averted his lovely eyes. “I’d thought you was the witch. Back from elsewhere. Come home to stay or…free me.”

“And why do you need her to be free?” Mei prodded tentatively, leading them both back towards the greenhouse. Which she knew now must be his home. His earthy scent washed over her, the same that’d lingered in his nest of blankets.

“The old witch was my witch. Made me her familiar decades and decades ago. I can’t even leave this place or I get fucking ill. A few steps past the fence see’s me doubled-over, vomiting whatever I had that day. And believe me love, I’ve tried to go. I fucking want to go.” He shook his head defeated, muttering curses beneath his breath. His wild hair tumbled over his eyes and Mei brushed it absently behind his ear.

Jamison is a wounded pup.

She could sense no magic on Jamie. No lingering curses knotted in binds. Whatever spell there was upon him wouldn’t break to her will.  “I can shatter a great deal of magic, but I can’t— “

“I know it.” He finished gently. Tiring. Giving her a smile that might’ve had her heart racing if it’d still beat. “But you’re not going to kill me now, huh?” His smile blossomed into a toothsome, boyish grin. “Cause me life’s story is just so sad and all.”

Mei couldn’t help but agree on some level.

Jamison sat— fell—  on his nest of blankets with an exasperated sigh, his chest rising and falling as he simply breathed. She could watch that for hours. The lofting of breathing. His could be so different, too.

“Can you turn into a cat, as well? Or something like a horse?” She tried to imagine his odd transformation into a creature so large. Would the transition be a long, grueling process? How did his body know what organs to make— the shape of the bones? “Do you think like an animal when you are one?”

Jamison turned towards her lazily, with exhausted eyes and blood warm cheeks aglow. Had she embarrassed him somehow? He shook his head. “I think like me. Just…” He shrugged. “Wilder? I’m real free like that, y’know? Decisions with less thought, actions fueled by instinct.” He clenched his hand, drawing his knees up to his chest. “And yes. Yes, I can be all of that.”

Try as she might to ignore it, the scent of his blood proved overwhelming. She spoke up despite herself. “We need to clean that wound.” She extended carefully, always keenly aware the perception of others.

“The smell bothers me, too.” He agreed, setting up with a wince before leveling his gaze on her. “A gentleman doesn’t lick his wounds in front of a lady.” He reached beside him and plucked her hat from the floor. With a grin, he adorned himself and gave her a few different angles. “A good look for me, you think?” He teased, tilting away as she attempted to snatch it.

“That’s mine— “

“You sure? I swear I have one just like it somewhere.” He looked around her dramatically, effortlessly dodging her swipes. “Besides,” He pointed to her boot. “You’ve got somethin’ of mine in there, don’t ya?”

Mei paused, recalling the blueprint from before. She flushed, pulling it from her shoe and handing it over like stolen candies. A trade off ensued, though his grip tightened a split second on the brim of her hat before he released it.

“You can wear it another time.” She promised as one would promise a child having a tantrum. Her chastising hint of a smile made him snort.

“Can I have your name, instead then?” He sprung, grappling beneath his drawing board. He retrieved a wicker basket with a foggy philter of water, a cork fastening the spout. He bit away the stopper and lifted his ankle.

“You’ll make a mess that way.” Mei scolded, taking the bottle for herself and setting across from him. She pulled the wicker basket and found a neat folding of linens inside. Their flowered trim would be a worthy sacrifice. She eyed Jamison, listening to his steady heart indulgently, blanching when it quickened beneath her gaze.

Wordlessly, she brought his wound forward, draping his left leg over her lap. Linens stuffed beneath, she tediously poured water across his gash. The aroma of blood wafted to her.

Jamison retracted his leg in response, cringing before setting it back in her lap. Mei set out to be twice as gentle, taking extreme caution as she wrapped the cloth round and round his ankle. She patted the red bleeding through and held the fabric there till the flow stemmed. Discarding the soiled rags, she wound a clean swatch three times around. “Mei.” She stated plainly. “My name is Mei.”

“Mei.” He repeated back, voice husky.

“Put your hand here, hold this bit, please.” She instructed. He nodded diligently, watching from beneath his lashes as she unbound her hair, sending her mane cascading down her shoulders. She tied her hair ribbon to the loose ends of cloth, sealing it with a sloppy bow.

He gave his ankle a roll, seeming satisfied with her work. Patching him up was the least she could offer, seeing as she’d gouged him in the first place.

“How long have you lived here? Alone?”

Jamison quirked a brow. “I’ve lived here a century. Only a few decades alone, though.” He answered faux casually, masking his truer emotions. Years of solitude would take its grievous toll on any creature. Let alone a social one like a witch’s familiar…

Mei grabbed a metal casting from the floor, the same one she’d inspected earlier. Clearly Jamison’s prosthetics. To which she handed him tenderly. A soft plinking rang in the arboretum when he received them and set to adjusting them on himself. She’d been ready to lend a hand with the leather straps, but he applied them snuggly. Each piece fit lovingly, these’d been expertly made for him. A present from his witch?

Jamison flexed his metal prosthetics, opening and closing his right hand clumsily, but practically. He gripped a pen, tested leafs of paper beneath his fingertips.

“Metal won’t change when I do.” He rotated his wrist back and forth, eyeing the menial tarnishing. “I dropped everything when I realized you wasn’t the witch. Turned into a lark and whoosh.” He made a swooping motion, upwards towards the single porthole window choked with vines.

Mei clasped his metal hand in her flesh and blood palms. She marveled as his fingers twitched. The intricacy of these devices astounded her.

“Can you feel with them?” She asked, bringing it up to cup her cheek.

There were many things to become entranced by in the witch’s garden, and Mei was loathe to admit that the sensitive pace of Jamison’s heart was one. The fiery glow in his irises, another. The lean cut of his body yet another.

“Hardly a thing.” He admitted. “But I supposed that’s not a bad thing.” He brought his left hand to her face, let her feel the difference in each as he caressed her. The tips of his fingers played across her pointed ears, over her parted lips and into the waves of her hair. She found herself drifting in the sensation, tilting in closer to him.

Jamison brought a lock of her hair to his face, scenting it and painting it down the bridge of his crooked nose. Blood whirled in his cheeks, pumped vigorously through his heart. Before she could fix their too-close proximity— the shifter destroyed the space between them. His mouth hovered just above hers. And without thought, she stole what should never have been taken. She crashed her lips over his, hectic and crazed, kissing him. For years she’d denied herself intimacy for the sake of others.

“So soft…” She uttered against him, leaving him no room to speak as she melded back, daubing her tongue to taste his mouth. He responded timidly, his shock palpable as he shot still, left hand quaking before deciding to rest on the swell of her hip. Their kiss deepened when she felt him calm, his hallowed sigh of relief fanning over her.

Jamison’s strong heart thundered in her ears, the rhythmic sound undoubtedly erotic. Closer together, she could feel its beat against her own. Inside of it. As if it wanted to bring hers to life again. Growing chaotic, her mind fogged with a whispering instinct. Asking sweetly to bite him. Convincing her he’d be alright if she only stole a little blood. What if he likes it?

Some did. But before she could think of sampling him, his curiosity led him into exploring her mouth. One lave of his tongue across her aching fang released a heated drop of his life essence. She froze just as he groaned, and sent him away from her with a shove. Her body mourned the loss of his warmth and she almost grappled for him.

“Why— why did we stop? You just nicked me, love— no harm.” He pleaded with hooded eyes, his cheeks colored beautifully. Temptingly.

Mei dashed the back of her hand over her mouth. “Immense harm.” She insisted, shaking her head as he approached.

“I’m not human.” He suggested dangerously, angling closer to her again. “You don’t have to worry about taking too much.”

She covered her ears childishly, shaking her head. “I can’t even listen to that!” The line she refused to cross. Never straight from the flesh. She’d promised herself. Donors and butcher’s markets had humanity. What would she be if she dared to drain someone?

Jamison rested his hands over hers, the cold metal of the right felt wondrous on her skin. He waited patiently, pulling away as she did.

“You can’t hurt me with those little things.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over one, daring to slip it past her lips. “You couldn’t if you wanted.” His voice dropped and his heart quickened when she darted her tongue. “Let me kiss you, again.”

And before she could give her agreement he took it from her, replacing his thumb with his tongue. He kissed her recklessly harsh, dizzying her— endangering himself with his eager flicks. She stifled a moan, not unnoticed by her shifter. He pet her curves, polishing her like treasure, stroking her wherever he thought he could get away with.

He touched deviously between her legs, making her gasp and him chuckle. “Take more, just a bite.” He implored, brazenly slipping his tongue across one of her fangs. “It felt nice, Mei.” He spoke kindly, leaving their kiss to trail more across her cheeks and down her throat.

Mei fell back against his sheets, abound in the scent of him. Swimming in it. She grabbed at his bedding for anchorage, trying to rise against the unyielding desire. But her hands found his strong shoulders and her fingers danced the length of his spine, and she veered him back for another kiss.

Jamison sensed her enthusiasm, her abandon— and responded wickedly. He parted their union, only to bring the fluttering column of his neck to her lips. Any tethers of inhibition melted as she tasted the salt on his skin. His pulse just beneath the surface called to her and with a moan she relinquished control. Sinking her fangs into Jamie’s shuddering body surpassed any pleasure she could remember.

Mei could feel him speaking, but heard no sound above his heartbeat roaring in her ears. He embraced her, holding her flush against him as if he were terrified she’d bolt. She wished she could communicate how irrational the fear. She couldn’t if she wanted.

She drew deep of his clean blood, selfishly taking— rocking her hips against him, crawling atop him instinctively. Pinning him. Trapping him beneath her. He thrust against her in concert, bucking between her legs, chasing her softness.

Through willpower she hadn’t known she possessed, Mei interrupted the decadent flow and placed a delicate kiss to her fresh bite. Jamison spasmed beneath her, groaning about her, “Ripping it right out of me.” The lewd dampness in his trousers suggested he didn’t mean blood.

She muttered a love-drunken apology above him, all the while sucking her fangs and laving his bite clean. Though bruising would most assuredly bloom, at least she’d made her bite a precise one. No tearing, no pain. Not as lost to instinct as she’d thought.

He massaged her sides, pawing at her lovingly while he wriggled beneath. Words turned coherent again— sort of. “H-How? How’d you leave me boneless like that?” He asked with fallen stars in his eyes. He palmed the back of her head, beseeching her to lay across his chest. Which she obliged, happily. With her cheek mashed against his scorching flesh and her claws curling into his shoulders.

“I’m not bloodthirsty.” She half-lied. While she’d never craved stealing it from the flesh, she’d never encountered the temptation. Certainly never in the form of a wily shifter begging for her to take it.

Jamison nodded absently before rolling atop her, tucking her comfortably beneath him. His hands caged her, his shadow doing the same. “You don’t smell like it.” He dipped his head to the crook of her neck, inhaling her. “Hell, you don’t smell like anyone else.” Which he said with approval before brazenly licking her collar.

As suggestive as he’d had meant it, she laughed. The pinprick sensation tickling her. Something that would prove disastrous for Jamison to know, because he focused there, savoring her involuntary, boisterous laughter and pleas of mercy gone unheard in their solitary garden.

When a little tear spilled from her eye she could feel his heart break. He cradled her, murmuring, “Sweetheart, oh no— no.” Before he rained a dozen kisses in her head and on her nose. “I won’t do it again.” He promised, giggling throughout.

“You’re the worst.” Mei surmised affectionately, smiling in answer. Pleasure radiated as his essence coursed through her. Bringing warmth to her cheeks and a familiar weight to her chest. He tilted, inspecting her change with a touch of his hand.

“That’s cause of me, right?” He asked proudly, pressing his ear to her breast, listening for perhaps her heartbeat. He withdrew undaunted, before proclaiming, “I want to be your familiar. How’s that sound?”

Mei almost choked at his offer.

“We can be like this more, is that something you’d want?” He asked, stifling his vulnerability with a placid expression.

Something she’d want? A willing blood font in the design of an adoring mate? Mei looked over him, unreadable as she silently came to a decision. One she prayed wouldn’t hurt him.

Jamison led her as a gentleman should to the edge of his home. His fists clenched tight by his sides as he forced himself to take another step. Another. And another. Jaw locked and heart shattered, he watched her. The long tresses of her hair bouncing in the wind, her countenance of guilt. A garish contrast to her soft, pretty face. Her soft pretty everything.

And here he stood, on the border of his confinement, screaming from within, “Don’t go! Please, don’t leave me. Promise to come back. God, promise to come back.”

The huntress peered up at him, with her cheeks rosy from his blood and her mouth plump from his kiss. He was dimly aware she’d forgotten her hat, yet again, but knew he’d never tell. She extended her hands, slipped them along his sides and embraced him.

He looked foolish, but didn’t think he’d have the strength to let go if he grabbed her now. He stood with her, night cutting them out— two mashed bodies, silhouetted by the struggling crescent moon.

Jamison opened his mouth to speak, but she blessedly interjected.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

Yes you are.

“I know it.” He responded, forcing a smile and stroking her hair, fighting to not inhale her a final time. To smother her in his scent so that everyone out there knew! Knew she had someone to come home to…

And then she kissed him. Melded their mouths together in a desperate goodbye, a hint of her fangs grazed his bottom lip. Giving him a taste of that earlier mind scrambling pleasure she’d introduced him to. Now she had the power to take it all away and every right to do so.

She parted their kiss with a little smack, her eyes still fanned shut for a moment after. Whacking his beaten heart for all it had left. Mei was going to take parts of him with her and she wasn’t even aware.

Jamison didn’t know when he’d put his arms around her, but it couldn’t be helped now. Not with her leaning against him so sweetly and listening to his shaken breathing.

“I’ll be here tomorrow. In this very spot.” She made a scuff mark in the ground with her boot. “So, can you meet me here?”

He nodded, refusing to take his eyes off her for their last fleeting moments. “I’ll be waiting, then.” And heavens above if she actually returns he’ll have no choice but to make her his wife. Because she could get away with leaving him once, but he doubted his heart would survive it again.

Jamison helped her over the fence, his left hand caught fast in hers. She squeezed it before she said, “Jamie…you made me feel. Exceptional today.” She blushed his blood. “And you’re delusional if you think I’m not returning to experience that again and again.”

As believable as she sounded, Jamison knew the hurt of abandonment too well. Too closely. But when she kissed him one last time and grasped his hand with all her might— he felt inclined to trust her.

Stupidly all he could say was, “I’ll miss you.” While she disappeared into the night, with him forever unable to follow.

                                          (NSFW)

  Jamison had her body covered by his in one clean movement. His amber eyes burned above her, gaze consuming her. She shuddered helplessly as he leant beside her sharp ear to ask, “Wake up thirsting, did you, sweet wife?” He canted his head to the side, baring the strong column of his neck to her with pride brimming in his wicked grin.

An unbecoming moan escaped her as Mei clutched his nape in both hands, claws greedily curling in his scorching flesh. She breathed his scent, sighing, tongue darting out to prepare him for her bite. She felt chills break across him and his magnificent body trembled before she plunged her fangs in.

Jamison keened, he fisted her silk nightgown, hiked it up to her waist while he rocked his shaft between her plush thighs. She whined most pitifully against him, growing wet in a rush from his taste alone. His rich blood coated her tongue thick, flowing down her throat like ambrosia. She always grew a hint dizzy from the raw sensation of her feeding, the pleasure could make her eyes roll back.

But Mei knew her husband’s limits and she retreated with a final, deep draw— which earned a rumbled growl, “Take all that you need, love.”

Her skin flushed with his lifeblood, bringing with it blistering heat. Jamison laughed darkly, nipping her neck with a lovebite of his own, and another and another. Marking her in return, possessively. He nuzzled her face and collar, ruining her with his addictive scent.

Her instinct clamoured mine whilsts his spoke in tangent with a rough kiss. Mei could always count on Jamison for her supply, he didn’t simply jump at the chance— he came at her maddened in broad day, pinning her hips against their kitchen table, brandishing his neck and demanding she take her fill.

“I need to give to you, now.” He’d confessed, while placing her hand over his thrumming heart. “It’s addictive, Mei.” He’d laughed boyishly, playing a deep, neanderthalic voice. “Feed wife.”

Though recently, spoil wife seemed more his endgame as he brought his neck to her lips once more. She pleaded for his sake, quivering when resistance failed and her fangs sank. Jamison fumbled with her panties, shoving inside her before she could taste a drop. His crude thrusts plunged him deep, making her back arch and her toes curl. Blood spilled into her greedy mouth and she reveled in his strong pulse around her aching teeth.

His hands encompassed her, fonded her pillowy breasts and tugged on her nipples. He had her squirming against his lap before he dipped his hands beneath her gown. His thumb found her clitoris and he made slow, tantalizing circles on her sensitive flesh. His actions a direct contradiction to his next words.

“Mei— Mei, love— I can’t— “ He tried to warn her, he always did. “Too much— “ He uttered helplessly, voice hoarse as he humped without rhythm,  reduced to clawing at her. Clinging to her.

She laved her tongue, coming roughly around the thick base of his shaft. He followed with a shout to the rafters, pumping wildly and flooding her. His hips continuously rocked after his orgasm, stirring their wetness and sullying their sheets to no end. A broken laughed escaped his chest, vibrating above her.

“Did my wife enjoy her feeding?” Jamison asked.

Mei nodded uselessly from the bedsheets, marveling at his firm backside while he prowled the room, looking for a towel to clean them with. She thrummed the dampness between her thighs, sighing contentedly when her husband returned, his body thrumming with their pleasure.

He shot her a devilish grin. “You’re glowing. In your cheeks.” .

Mei pat her face, savoring the coolness in her palms and the towel tossed her way. Jamison scrambled back beneath the sheets like he’d gotten away with thievery and needed to hide. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour or so, and even at the height of its brilliant cycle, light hardly had a chance to permeate the thick foliage blanketing the windows of their home.

Jamie rolled onto his side, facing her and grinning from ear to ear. “Turn over. Let me hold you.” He urged, scooting closer to the middle of the bed. He pulled her in before she could argue. As if she could with the heavenly warmth her shifter offered.

Mei drifted into a blissful sleep with one thought on her mind. They fit together perfectly.

[childrenofathoria-rp-blog]

◆Out Of Character Information◆

Name/Age: Sora, 27 Preferred Pronouns: She/Her Timezone: EST Desired Character: Jade Nicoline

◆Character Information◆

(1) What pronouns will your character be using? Would you like to list their sexuality at this time?: She/Her, Homoromantic Pansexual

(2) Any changes or comments?  I would like to suggest Lindsey Stirling for Jade’s faceclaim, but I am flexible so if there is conflict I’d be fine looking for another. I would also like to request that we add a sibling to Jade’s history. I feel that a younger sibling would further push her to offer herself up in place of her father. Adding a small child into the mix is more plausible than two adults agreeing to send off their only daughter in their place, in my opinion. FACECLAIM CHANGE: Freya Tingley

(3) Why this character? I see a lot of room for growth with this character. When I read through Jade’s bio, I see a pure gentle girl with hopes and dreams. But I also see a hidden streak behind those carefree eyes, a mischievous witch with a curiosity for her craft that I am very intent on exploring. I see fear, pain, shame, curiosity, love, and a childlike innocence that, despite her past, refuses to be extinguished. She is loyal, respectful, and needs a sense of home and family in her life. Something that I believe could be both beneficial and dangerous considering the ultimate secretive wants of her coven.

(4) Interpret this character: 

I am very curious to see how Jade’s connection to her coven will ultimately effect both her beliefs and personality. Jade is a mischievous little bugger and developing strong powers for her age. And how does she use them? To play pranks and knock down her competition. I would like to explore how she would react when her curiosity gets the better of her in terms of magical prowess. Would she go against her coven, her family, the only people who fully understand her for answers? How will she react when she is refused information that she is not high ranked enough to know? Would her personality get her into trouble with non magic folks? Well, that one is not really a question. That one is almost sure to happen; still fun to explore, though. Something else I really love about Jade is her awkwardness.

I don’t see it as a hindrance but something that just adds to her interesting personality. She is a strange one, I imagine that she rambles on when speaking, passion in her eyes, her odd expressions the only sign that her mind is flipping through ideas a mile a minute. She is as unpredictable as the weather itself, giving no heed to social cues or unspoken rules. Happy as a sunbeam to walk into town totally barefoot, blood from a simultaneous hunt-memorial-ritual splattered up her arms, and twigs in her flowing hair. She is nature personified. Beauty and grace, unpredictability and power. Embracing both life and death in one confusing expression. 

Given Jade’s history and how hard she had to work to pay off a debt, I believe that these experiences have shaped her into almost hating the exchange of money. I like to think that she now understands the value of finances and whenever possible, rebukes the power it holds over people. Due to this, Jade probably lives a simpler lifestyle, trading goods or skills for that which she desires. This would also suggest that she is against the form of currency that the Kingdom is pushing upon the land. This is only one aspect of the Kingdom but a rather important one for Jade. I am not sure yet if this means that she is necessarily “against” the ruling power, but something tells me that she is not so keen on being told what to pay and when to pay it. Jade is not one for capitalism and despises the idea of being kept under someone’s thumb.

Before becoming a member of the Coven of the Mighty Oak, Jade had been lost. Even with her parent’s support and protection she never quite felt that she belonged. She had always been a free spirit to an extent but never fully understood the what her magic and wandering soul could accomplish until the fated day that she met Matilda. Instantly, she felt a strong, powerful connection to the witch that she had never felt with anyone in her life. Not even that of her own mother. There was a sort of bond between the two in a matter of moments, as though she had met a long lost friend whom she had spent her life with; perhaps in another existence. Jade loves her family deeply; even after her father’s mistakes, she still cannot find it within herself to feel anger towards the man. 

Yet still, despite the love and memories that she shared with her bloodline, Matilda’s bond was stronger. A complete stranger instantaneously becoming more familiar than her own family. Time passed with two souls, Jade’s love and admiration for her mentor growing more and more until the day she was invited to join The Coven of the Mighty Oak. A series of emotions was to follow: blinding excitement, happiness, sudden realization, nervousness, fear, self doubt. 

She had heard stories of Matilda’s home, her family, and allies. She learned of the Green Man and how he protected them with a fierce love and natural balance and found herself questioning her place with such amazing people.The feeling did not last however as the girl was met with open arms, seamlessly falling in to place with the others of the Hallowed Oak. The young witch was relieved to find that after only a week she began to doubt that she had ever even had a life outside of the forest. After years of being log in a fog, Jade was finally home, surrounded by people who understand her. People who relate to her struggles and offer helpful assistance. 

After several years absorbing every spec of knowledge that she could, Jade left the Hallowed Oak to start a little farm in the hills of Brailston.Her home is very small, only a wide hearth and kitchen with a small room in the back which holds a small cozy bed and a heavy wooden chest where she kept certain trinkets. This is her home away from home, spending her days tending to her bees and crops and her nights cozied up by the fire. But the girl refuses to stay away from the Hallowed Oak for long. Frequently making trips out to her Coven’s central location with pack fulls of honey, cakes, vegetables, and various handmade goods for her fellow witches.

◆ Interview Questions ◆

(1) Question One: What’s the worst weather you’ve ever produced? Was it on accident or purpose?

Okay, so, I was experimenting with different ways to stun my bees so that I could safely collect their honey, right? I was worried that spraying them with smoke was bad for them and decided that there HAD to be a better way. There was this book I found about how some insects go dormant in the cold, that they could feel winter in the air and go into this hibernation state. So I figured, “Hey! If I could lower the temperature slightly, the bees would simply nod off and go to sleep for a little while letting me gather up the goods.” That’s uh… that’s not how it happened. Unfortunately, I sort of used too much of… something… in my spell and uh.. well. I sort of froze everything solid. Killed every one of those poor bees and ruined half my crops. On the upside, the bees were so cold that they solidified into this hard stone type material that ended up making a really neat necklace. I uh… I don’t do ice magic at the farm anymore…

(2) Question Two: Are there any other raw ingredients from nature you find easy to work with?

Hm, that depends on what I’m using it for. I love roots, specifically the roots of trees. You have to be careful when working with them though, you don’t want to dig too deep or accidentally damage the roots while exposing them. They are fascinating, so fragile yet so powerful that they support life in all of the forest. Touching exposed roots is similar to reaching into someone’s chest and gripping their heart. You must be gentle, cautious, you are holding life itself in your palm. Feather’s are also great, there are so many spells you can do with feathers! Air, wind, flight, freedom, dreams, balance, all seeing… so many things. Oh, and teeth! Especially dragon’s teeth! I’ve never seen one, though. Actually, I’ve never known anyone whose seen one either. But could you imagine the power in those things? Wow..

◆Writing Sample:◆

Bushes bursting with berries lined up in rows before the surveying witch, each branch reaching out to offer up its bounty of blues and reds. The crops were doing very well for this time of year, something not every farmer could say for themselves. In fact, a bitter cold wind from the east had stunted if not completely killed most of the crops on this side of Athoria. Save for one. Jade walked the paths between rows of plants leaving a haunting yet melodic tune as she went. She felt the cool soil beneath her feet, each step keeping beat with her quiet song, the words being swept away with the gentle breeze of the day. Lifting her hand, she carefully ran just the tips of her ash coated fingers over the tops of the hearty crops, making sure to greet each and every one individually.

“You truly are magnificent.” The witch spoke, the sudden stop of her tune a bit jarring and leaving a strange feeling in the air at its absence.

Finding her way to the very center of the garden she knelt down, lifting the skirt of her dress so that her knee would settle down into the earth. With a soothing breath, she slipped her blackened fingers deep into the loose soil, grabbing a fist full of dirt and silently reciting a well worn prayer. When her scriptures were spoken she lifted her clump of earth, leaving behind a hungry hole which she quickly fed a tightly wrapped parcel. A flash of mischievousness crawled over her face as she sprinkled the excess soil over her mark. Lastly, she brought two fingers to her lips, transporting her kiss to the waiting curse below.

“It’s a real shame you don’t belong to me.”

Jade stood, taking one final look over what would soon shrivel and die. She almost felt sorry for the deed but the guy had it coming. Every other farmer was struggling, this would simply level the playing field. Bowing her head in reverence to mother earth, the girl grinned wickedly and trotted off down the worn forest path to tend to plants of her own.