this is Salem, a land filled with magic and maladies. It is a place where witches and their elemental familiars gather, a home to legend and
lore that predates time itself. Yet of all the wicked and wonderful stories the past can tell us of, the most magical are the ones yet to happen.
This is Salem - this is the start of your very own journey. Welcome to starfall
Starfall is an animaga witch roleplay set in mostly modern times. Members play as witches in a world plagued by monsters, where the only safe spots are walled cities. Starfall strives to be a character-driven roleplay with expansive lore and a highly interactive plotline. We want to allow members to
create and look back on a magical journey, and mold the site and its plot as their characters grow.
all events below occurred approximately one day before the events of "the demon's nightmare." please keep this in mind. to clarify:[break] you may not post in this event if one of your characters is currently participating in the demon's nightmare.[break] you may react in any way to the events described below.[break] each NPC is open for interaction. [break] do not wait for staff posts, though we will do our best to be regular.[break][break] there is a crowd around the open lawn that sits idly next to the jester's den cafe. usually, s a few odd members of the coven are hanging around and ezra hangs her stall in the corner. the red-haired woman is not the type to do her business too daringly in the open. but she is not the type to refuse the wishes of the public, and here she is.[break][break]
There are three separate crystal balls, and the tent is huge enough to accommodate at least a hundred different people. The man before her holds out his arm impatiently. Few are patient with magic these days, and it truly is a shame. [break][break]
Her eyes fill with sorrow. [break][break]
There is a moment of eerie anticipation- the moment she knows all too well. It is the moment where people let go of their needs to be superior and scientifically correct- the overlooked half-second where everyone returns to being the children they are. [break][break]
And then thoughts and images fill her mind, as they do.[break][break]
The tricky part is making sense of them. And it starts off simple, it really does. And she knows what will come next- she will read to this man his fortune behind her veil and there will be silence and muffled lack of empathy and the man will walk away and people will begin to talk only to be hushed again. [break][break]
But that never happens. She never makes it past her trance like state. [break][break]
Because as the images in her mind start coming to life, Ezra Vigo descends in a screaming fit of hysteria.
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medeia trevil
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Blue was her color, but honestly red worked just as well. However, she wasn't here on official business. Such an outing could never be marked as official. The long chain of events that led her to be here had begun long before she made plans for the morning. And Medeia was by no means a follower of fate. But she was no foolish follower of the false notion of modernity, either.[break][break]
But she, Medeia Trevil, could play as either. An advocate of truth or an advocate of sensibility. Whatever the public needed to hear. Her head was covered by a blue hood, the ends of a tylish braid pulled to sit comfortably on her shoulders. Without even trying, she had outdressed most of those present. And she was in an attempt to seem inconspicuous, too. [break][break]
Medeia had taken up a seat on one of the tables at the edges of the tent. Ezra Vigo was doing the annual demonstration of divination. Her family, Medeia knew, was traditionalist and highly secretive. But even they, like all others, ultimately need the powers of the people. [break][break]
Medeia waited for her little date to arrive, although she had the feeling she was being stood up. Sighing and standing up, she was about to leave when someone began screaming. Her eyes flashed to the center of the stage, but people crowded the area.
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lunacea joyheart
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Rowenna was late. Which worried Luna, because Rowenna was never late. Unless she was in trouble or something held her up. But what on earth could hold Rowenna J. Shephard of all people up? It didn't make any sense and Luna was anxious. Her blonde hair was out and about in her usual tie, and she felt the stares of many people while wearing her white and gold robes. [break][break] She breathed and wondered if she was thinking too much. Maybe she ought to step outside and send a pigeon just in case something had happened to her friend. Though, knowing Rowe, she'd probably arrive with the letter in hand and ask why Luna had attempted something so impractical. Sighing, she stood to grab herself a glass of water. [break][break]
Ezra was always fascinating to talk with, and Luna wondered if she ought to ask for her fortune read. It would. But no, she ought to visit the girl when she wasn't taking requests for free. It wouldn't be fair, honesty. She wondered how much strain the diviner had taken to herself---. [break][break]
Clearly, it was a little too much.[break][break]
Her blue eyes flashed with vivid concern, and she abandoned all hope of getting water. Her hood slipped off her head, and she stormed into the crowd with purpose.[break][break] "Calm down and step away from the central area!" she shouted with a surprisingly authoritative voice. Ah, it was times like these that she really felt Rowe's absence.
Claire wakes up to a normal day. Or, at least, that is what she thought. She opens her window to check upon the regular courier pigeon from the Knights, but finds no sign of a white bird. She frowns, stepping back from the window ledge. That is very unusual, but she does not mind it. It just opens an opportunity for a new mission.
"Vani, do you think we should get another mission?" she asks her familiar while eating her breakfast. She sliced the yolk, letting the yellow flood her bread just as she prefers. It takes her only five seconds of silence, and her heartbeat quickens--
"Nah, you should take a rest," comes the comforting harsh inner voice of the wild boar, and Claire basks into it.
"You're there," Claire breathes, voicing the sentence out loud. She can't explain the sudden influx of relief. Vani would never go anywhere, he would always be by her side. Claire's lips press into a thin line as an absurd scenery flashes on her mind.
"Cut it out, Claire. You know I'll never leave you."
Claire believes him.
Donning her usual get-up, Claire steps out of her apartment. She takes one glance at the worn-down building, the cheapest building around residential area, the only place she can afford. She has not walked far from her residence when she spots a crowd gathering. She stays in the back, observing. She cannot see the scene upfront, but she can hear. Screams of hysteria, an authoritative voice, and Claire wonders what is happening.
"All right, you heard her. Make way. Give some space. Shoo if you are just going to make trouble." Responding to her serious, grave voice, part of the crowd follows her with spite and leaves. She makes her way upfront to take control.
She nods at the acolyte. "Ms. Luna, I'll help," says Claire, standing between the group and the seer. She also spots the coven leader, Medeia, and if the woman notices her entrance Claire would give her a polite bow. "But what is exactly happening here?" she further asks.
"Oh today is going to be so fun!" Sybil chimed, running care free through the crowds of people. Arveen his giraffe familiar was nowhere to be seen, but he knew that creepy ol' thing could hear him. Arveen didn't talk much, but when he did, it was more of a series of ghostly shrieks and cries. It definitely sounded weird, but Sybil was so used to it that it didn't phase him one bit.
There was plenty of attractions here today, tents pitched up all over the show. Sybil very rarely got to do this kind of stuff, since he was always confined to his family mansion. Sometimes he thought his parents were too embarrassed of their kind son to let him out. Which was probably true. Despite the name, 'Chime's' were a nasty bunch of people who wanted nothing more than to earn money and flaunt their collection of artefacts.
Thank Merlin Sybil wasn't like that.
"Arveen, do you not want to come out and see any of this stuff? It's really fun!" Sybil said out loud again, glancing upwards as if he were talking to his head (which he was kind of).
'AAaaoO U Ah AARrSuSSHAra NAOoO!'
Sybil nodded, "You're right, you probably will scare people." Shrugging, he'd turn to face a large crowd of people gathering around a tent, only to be pushed out again.
'AAaaA oOOo RASssSARA OOOooO'
"Okay, okay I'm going!" The witch ran over, standing on the outskirts while peeking in. There was... A woman? Screaming? People were barging past him on their way out, but Sybil stood there watching. There was no point in him interfering, some other people looked like they had it under control.
Billy loved divination. It was like the purest form of magic in his own opinion. He was certain it was a sight to behold. He'd never gotten close to the girl... Erza... Ezra... something like that... when she was doing her readings. He'd always stuck to the back. He was kind of scared to know his own future after all. By the sounds of the commotion happening he was glad he was so far back.
There was screaming and the eerie howl of pain. It was a lot going on inside the actual tent. He was a little worried and would love to say that those weird knight helios people quickly rushing to the scene to aid the witch made him feel better. It did not. It never did. He knew how they could be when something didn't fit in their world view or abide their rules. He knew all to well.
The group before him was slowly pushed back as more space was needed near the front. A young man ran up right by him and was trying to peak in. He was a little cutie, like a small child whose cheeks he could just pinch until they were red. The boy looked to be about the same age as his sibling. He should just interact like he would with them. Yeah.
"I wonder whats going on... any ideas kid?" he questioned as he went on his tip toes to try and peer over the crowd. It wasn't very effective given how... well not tall he was. He needed a nice growing jinx or maybe some stilts. Or to go through a second puberty because he wasn't getting any taller from the original one. Damn short parents and their bull crap. He took Dr Puddy in his hands and lifted her up so she could see... and of course report back to him. He probably looked like a weirdo holding up a cat.
[attr="class","econtent"]the day is normal. silver moves from the mounds of blanket, gradually steering onto the side with a strained yawn. the golden is illuminated by the grasp of morning's star, and then the body unravels from the covers. flesh is pale, untouched and seemingly pure. it is a later start to the day, with reason to the work that had been given before. meandering about would not get him anywhere-- yet breaks were still a necessity once and awhile. today would be that start-- he thought, knowing it to be unavoidable. [break][break] the floor creaks, the tap deluges the sound of water. various noises emit from the shabby apartment, with time he is already leaving. casual wear adorns his figure, the usual lacing upon his neck remains. there is a voice at the back of his mind, bidding him farewell. lips curl upward, the momentary laughter so quiet that not a single in the empty hall can manage to hear. it is simply a gift that one is genuine enough to notice. the silent wolf-- wherever she may be watching. for a moment he lingers on the memory of such company. and then it fades, into the opening of civilization, the door closes behind him. [break][break] an interesting fold of events was beginning, various tents scattered across insight. something of divination-- a girl who could see the future. such a thing was surely remarkable, then again he preferred the thrill of surprises, rather than the spoils of the story. it was much more exciting, especially with what had been planned. a far-off ending to this seemingly bright crowd. the crown lowers, few strands slipping by. as he turns towards the cafe, hoping to indulge himself in a drink, there is a sharpness that strikes through the noise. [break][break] --a scream [break] von goes to look-- [break][break] just as soon as he moves, the face smacks into the chest of another, causing him to stumble backwards. "ow!..." nose throbs for a moment, urging fingers upward to knead the pained. eyes searching for the one at fault. he doubted the other had been affected. at least with a chest that was so uncomfortably rigid. if one had moved swiftly enough they might've broken the bone. [break][break] "ah... sorry!" he decided to start.
Post by kasumi akamatsu on Jun 30, 2017 23:27:40 GMT
❧
Might I ask why we’ve come here again? Vasilios drawled as he slinked beside his witch, his golden spots glistening from the light, his characteristic headpiece slung over his shoulders, chest, and top of his head. Kasumi cast him an impassive, sidelong glance as she walked toward what looked to be a sizable crowd. [break][break] You never know what you can find out when people think they can’t be heard, Kasumi responded. What’s better than the din of chatter to drown you out? [break][break] Vasilios’ hum simply broke through her mind, the cheetah keeping his thoughts to himself, though she could sense that he likely agreed with her assessment. Kasumi drew her dark, accented hood over her deep crimson hair, casting a scrutinous look around them before her eyes caught sight of a particularly intriguing woman. [break][break] If I’m not mistaken, that woman over there— she’s an apparent Seer. Kasumi didn’t know if she was entirely convinced of the woman’s abilities, though she supposed magic knew little, if any, bounds in their reality. [break][break] Vasilios’ hard gaze shifted to examine the witch in question, his head tilting in consideration before he let out a small chuff. I think I’ve heard of her; her name is bound to run in our circles. Ezra, I believe, she’s called. [break][break] Interesting. [break][break] The two companions continued their way, changing course toward the Seer’s booth, stalling to a stop, Kasumi leaning against a nearby post whilst Vasilios settled himself on his hind legs, giving off an air of royalty. They were close enough to hear, though far enough to be mostly left alone— seeming inconspicuous, maybe even as though they were waiting for someone; Kasumi took the effort to even check the time and adjust her behavior to act as though she was. This wasn’t the first time she had to— or wanted to— blend in, the tactics coming naturally to her. [break][break] Of course, her presence didn’t stop the occasional leering comment from mostly men, though Kasumi wasted no time in shutting them down and ridding herself of their trivial pursuits; despite this, there was the occasional passersby, dropping a compliment, asking a question, engaging in meaningless talk for a few minutes before moving on. It didn’t really matter much that Kasumi was occupied— Vasilios was still there, and had naturally more acute hearing than Kasumi could ever hope to possess. [break][break] It was when she was caught in conversation with an older, possibly late adulthood aged woman, when the screams started. Kasumi’s sharp gaze flicked over in the direction of the commotion, excusing herself from the woman’s company with a plastic smile and a forced, seemingly pleasant farewell, and approached the onlookers with a raised brow and pressed lips. [break][break] It seems our local Seer is having a difficult time, isn’t she? Vasilios commented flatly, no particular care for the woman’s wellbeing present in his voice.
475 words ● @everyone rip ● I POSTED AS LYNNELIA ON ACCIDENT FIRST RIP ME PLS DISREGARD
the crowd parts before her, and they start back off at her authoritative voice. rowena's strong presence is usually enough to get people to listen, but luna commands a fair amount of respect as well. when she sees the familiar face of one of the novices, she sighs in relief. [break][break]
"oh, thank merlin. thank you, claire fermont." she manages, "please help me and contain the crowd." [break][break]
luna turns her attention to the ezra, screams wracking her every being. luna doesn't hesitate--she reaches forward and wraps her arms around the seer. "ezra, my dear, please calm down..." she whispers. questions linger in her mind, but her concern lies in the seer's well-being. [break][break] when the screams die, she sighs in relief. she lays gentle hands on ezra's shoulders, ignores the murmuring crowd behind them, and squeezes slightly. [break][break]
"are you alright?"
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she does not know what the imagery is of, she only knows that for some reason there is a darkness he cannot explain and that it feels as though someone is surely pressing against her heart and ordering it to stop, and that maybe she is going to die right now.[break][break]
she does not even hear her own hysterical screams- but when she does and when she realizes what has happened, a hand clamps to her mouth. the action is sudden. it's like she's never screamed at all. lunacea appears before her instantly, looking truly like an angel. [break][break]
there is silence, and luna's voice seems to ring in that silence. then the nauseating declarations of the crowds come to pass- "the one thing she's skilled at is acting" "prophets are all mad" "seers don't exist" "what a gimmick!" "do you see all those props..."
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she smiles a bitter smile, heart racing wildly as she tries to figure out what to do. "no, i'm...i'm fine." she just wants to leave this place. there are too may people. far too many people. she needs to be alone with her thoughts. [break][break] and then she stands and suddenly bumps into Sybil Chime , and her eyes are frozen in horror.
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It was unneccessary to make a scene, but the people here disgusted her to no avail. Unable to help, unable to hinder. Caught in between. Yet here she was, attempting to escape the role of a High Priestess (for once). She sighed upon hearing Lunacea's voice over the rumble of the crowd. That girl had been nothing but support since they had met, and Medeia owed it to her to give her her freedom.[break][break] She spun away from the crowd, but regretting doing so immediately. She knocked a boy backwards and blinked at his response. Had she really moved that swiftly? A bemused expression crossed her eyes for a second before it softened. From underneath her hood, she wasn't all so recognizable. "Are you okay, child?" she asked @von. [break][break] She had walked into a queer crowd indeed- one was holding up a cat, the other an easily distinguished mop of red hair and the last-- a boy that seemed to be pained. She finally lifted her head from her observations of the white-haired boy, her shoulders relaxing. The hood gently fell off, though Medeia did not really notice it. Her eyes went to the clearing of the crowd- flashing suspicion and distate for merely a second before she turned back to the boy.
npcs have begun interaction- if your character does not post within 48hrs they will skip over you. you will need to post at least 5 times in this thread to be elligble for any rewards.
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Jul 2, 2017 13:43:56 GMT
and i won't feel a thing
reality is a lovely place, but i wouldn’t want to live there
he is... not quite certain why he is here.
the open lawn, the brightly-coloured tent, the throngs of people, the crystalline balls - it perhaps the furtherest from his typical scene as one could possibly find. his skin prickles with pinpoint paranoia with every contact with unknown ( liability, his instincts scream ), his spine is all but forged into an iron rod from the glances he receives, from the eyes lingering on his face, his eyes, his accursed crimson hair - it is almost difficult to breathe with the surges of smothering people. this is a scene to be attended only through necessity or coercion, and for once neither has branded their chokehold upon his throat - beyond the usual, of course. so, why is he here?
the answer, as much as he despises himself for it, is curiosity. curiosity and desire and a yearning for things he cannot have, for things he does not deserve. this is a scene from a civilian life, painted in the cheerful shades of sunshine yellow and sky blue, a revelry bright with laughter and freedom. kasimir is drawn to it like a moth to a flame, as icarus to the sun, entranced, longing, so desperate for a glimpse and a fleeting moment of brilliance that he would accept being burnt as a more than acceptable price. and he would be drawn back again if he survives, drawn back to the light with the hopeless thrall of an addict, over and over and over until at last the flames burn brighter than his caution and he ventures too close and pays the price.
he wants to hit himself. where is his common sense, the sense that commands him to depart now and leave this place of cheer and festivity to which he does not belong. leave and return to the dingy streets, the frosted eaves of winter morns, the cruelty of shadows and the coppery smell of blood - his world, where his soul is condemned to fester.
but he doesn't leave. and the screaming starts, shrill and desperate and filled with pain, and inexplicably, he does not leave. later, he will tell himself it is for information that he stays. erza vigo and medeia trevil and lunacea joyheart are decidedly important people after all.
[attr="class","m2content"]a mere suggestion and they have made their way into the tents; maddox is comfortable even in the middle of the crowd, though caution ( and moosely's own grumbling ) urges him to favour the edges a little more. the controversy surrounding divination and its like has the familiar complaining more than usual, each word dripping with disdain. it's a good thing that he's long perfected ( or nearly ) the art of refocusing his attention elsewhere, the mental equivalent of flipping moosely off, though it doesn't give the familiar any pause. if anything, moosely ploughs on relentlessly, an oddly comforting torrent of criticism and grumbling at the back of his mind. as if erin's own comments aren't enough.[break][break]
the chatter of the crowd is subdued as the seer begins her ritual -- maddox takes the momentary peace to scan the crowd, ever so slightly uncomfortable in the presence of so many knights -- and then the seer beings to shriek, and he freezes.[break][break]
there's no blood that he can see ( the immediate thought is assassination, but a split second's consideration points at something more beyond his comprehension ). the crowd shifts slightly in the face of her hysteria, murmurs slowly building up; he debates staying or retreating, takes a step backwards towards the exit, before the recognition of certain figures give him cause to stop. lunacea joyheart ( on the stage, calming the seer ) is important by herself, but it is another face, hood coincidentally slipping down as he turns, that prompts an attempt to catch erin's gaze.[break][break]
"man, i didn't expect that." a collected, conversational tone; he gestures towards medeia, discretion employed in the subtle nod of the head in her direction. then, lower, "i didn't know these readings were that popular."
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[attr="class","m2hov2"]ONE MAN'S OBSESSION IS ANOTHER MAN'S TRASH
there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying
that i should probably keep my pretty mouth shut
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The Vigos know how to
put on a show, that's for sure. When she enters the tent, she's with Maddox, whose hair finally—finally—looks presentable. She's so pleased with herself at this small feat that even the mocking tone with which she spoke of seers, throughout the entirety of their short stroll from her flat to the unassuming tent placed just next to Sun Café, doesn't sound as harsh to her own ears. Having grown up surrounded by the modernity and individualism that thrives in Mirrorlight Metropolis, Erin simply could not wrap her mind around the idea of witches claiming to see the future. A single future. As if fate was set in stone. As if she couldn't and wouldn't write her own fate.
Most visitors are focused on the ceremony taking place at the center of the tent. Maddox is probably scanning the place, practicing his second affinity on the masses. Erin? Erin has her eye on the three crystal balls put on display, wondering about their weight in gold, wondering what sort of witch is responsible for sponsoring these events.
When the seer screams, there's a complete stillness in the tent that is soon followed by chaos. The enchantress frowns, annoyed and at the same time intrigued. What could possibly have triggered such a reaction from the woman? Was it all part of the show, or had she been jinxed by a nonbeliever? She doesn't miss the sight of Lunacea Joyheart jumping on the stage to soothe the redhead, or the even more grandiose sight of High Priestess Medeia Trevil that Maddox points her towards. Unlike what her companion lets on, Erin is genuinely surprised by the appearance of not one, but two high-ranking Helios Knights.
"A perfect time and place to strike," she jokes, in that same low, conspiratorial tone. Although, their allegiances considered, it's not really that much of a joke. Uncertainty fills the air surrounding them, but Maddox's unfazed expression and Erin's amusement make it look like anything but. "We might just see Valerus Blaze sweeping in to save the day, if we stay long enough." Erin hadn't been around to witness the illusionist's prank for the annual Joker's Jamboree, but she'd heard enough about it to decide that enough people would be offended if she joked about it. Even if Maddox himself wasn't her intended target for such a joke, she wasn't about to miss that chance now.
Once her own mental scan of the crowd is over, she turns to address him again. "Shall we? Stay, that is. Things seem to have taken an interesting turn." People are still rushing around, tripping over themselves, crowding at the exit before being funneled out. Erin doesn't plan to be near them when they start to shove each other out of the way, and motions for her companion to follow her to a less congested section of the tent, where they could oversee the events about to unfold more comfortably. On the way, she wonders about the benefits of acting as Trevil fans and "accidentally" bumping into her.
Post by kasumi akamatsu on Jul 2, 2017 23:06:37 GMT
❧
Kasumi’s interest was piqued once her eyes caught sight of the witches in the area— important, powerful witches. There was an almost hungry look in her gaze as she studied them, how they moved, how they spoke; their reaction to Ezra’s outburst. It seemed the acolyte— Lunacea Joyheart — had taken the position of a person with authority, warding off others with the strength of her voice alone. Kasumi was mildly impressed, though it passed after a moment, eyes trailing over to a witch that was no short of feared. Medeia Trevil, a well-known high priestess: someone to truly be wary of. She knew she had to be careful, a shadow in the crowd… innocent, unsuspecting, if she wanted to do anything with the opportunity that had so plainly been thrust upon her. [break] The question was how she would go about doing so; perhaps approach an onlooker, gather any information she could from her sharp tongue and quick wits — a nudge here, a whisper there — or advance further, possibly hiding behind witches who were closer to the scene in order to analyze. [break] Deciding against the risk of the two figures of widespread respect knowing her face, Kasumi’s demeanor morphed, forcing a look of sincerity and concern to mask her features, adopting a more dulcet tone to her speech, as she took a step into the crowd. It wasn’t particularly difficult to catch people’s attention— with the current public caught in a stunned panic, the others almost welcomed a chance to voice whatever thoughts or conspiracies their weak minds could conjure. Kasumi wasn’t one to dwell on the unknown through far-fetched and near ridiculous conclusions; rather, she focused on the realistic factors and the probabilities of cause, granting fleeting interest to things that did not directly concern her until she could collect someone to do her bidding. This was no different; she made a mental note to call for a suitable clan member when the time came. [break] She could catch snippets of conversation as she weaved easily through the groups gathered round; very few tended to question her, even when she wasn’t operating— perhaps it was the air in which she surrounded herself with in that moment, showing herself to be nothing more than a faceless witch among shock stilled people. [break] Eventually, with Vasilios carefully following her movements, she happened upon a witch who seemed… viable enough to warrant Kasumi’s efforts. [break] She seems promising, wouldn’t you agree? [break] It’s worth a try, I suppose, her familiar’s dry words echoed through her. [break] “It’s a pity, isn’t it,” Kasumi tutted, giving a look of sympathy toward the Seer in question before casting an imploring glance toward the woman. “Poor woman merely came to do her business, and it seems she’s suffering for it.”
[attr="class","diag"]We shouldn't be here, Eleanor's familiar makes sure to remind her of this as soon as she's found a comfortable place for herself somewhere around the middle of the crowd. Close enough to the action that she could properly watch the redhead work her magic, close enough to the exit that she could leave as soon as it was time for her tram back home to depart. A tad late for that, isn't it? comes the witch's answer. Eleanor shifts in her place, but doesn't turn her attention towards the exit even after the reading turns sour and the seer starts to shriek. If anything, it makes her want to stay longer than planned.
A voice greets her, expressive in her disapproval, mirroring Eleanor's own feelings at all this hysteria. "Truly," she agrees, turning so she can properly assess and address the stranger. She looks sweet, and amiable, and honest: all qualities Eleanor values. "And here I thought transfiguration was a dangerous affinity. Do you think the vision's causing her physical pain?" She sure hopes not. As much as she wanted to help the poor sweetheart, Eleanor still found too much stress in practicing magic—much more in one that wasn't her innate one.
The thought stresses her even more.
Eleanor forces her eyes back to Ezra Vigo, the redhead seer. "At least Lunacea's on the job," she adds. There is relief in her words, though they don't completely offset her initial worry. Though she doesn't know the alchemist personally, Eleanor remembers hearing about her during her time with the Helios Knights, and she's confident she'll have things under control. Which gives Eleanor just enough peace of mind to offer proper conversation to the witch who had approached her.
"Were you looking to get your future read to you?"
[attr="class","elihcontent"]HE IS NO STRANGER to the hustle and bustle that typically surrounds the cafe. the tents, the milling crowds, expectantly waiting for their beliefs to be proved right -- or wrong -- that is new. he's vaguely aware of the reason behind the gathering, courtesy of hamster's dutiful reminder, but that does little to quell the anxiety that rises rapidly as soon as he steps out of the cafe, and into the crowd.[break][break]
the familiar is by his side, a cat-sized, reassuring presence at his heel. with the crowd's focus on the seer sat in front, they don't give too much of a protest as elih skirts the edges, lingering just outside the tent. he remains at the fringe, eyes wide with curiosity, yet even that interest cannot bring him to step inside. the fact that he's still here, as though pulled here by an invisible thread, is effort enough. elih contents himself to watching from afar. a mere observer, as per usual.[break][break]
when she starts screaming, elih is glad to have kept his distance.[break][break]
it's noticeable that he gives a jump, startled, skitters backwards a few paces and narrowly avoids backing into someone. some of the crowd dissolve into harsh criticism ( he winces, internally ), some murmur in vague distress, and some others step forward to calm the crowd. hamster winds himself tighter around the witch's legs, and, for a moment, sounds even concerned. 'i didn't think visions were that-- scary?'[break][break]
elih can't quite find coherent words to reply, but nods dumbly instead, eyes fixed upon the witches in front. part of him is keen to help, but that part is pitifully minute; he presses himself to the sides of the tent instead, barely out of the way. for reasons unknown, he can't quite bring himself to leave.
Jumping at the sudden stranger speaking to him, Sybil would awkwardly laugh it off and sigh, closing his eyes as he tried to calm himself. "Oh, um... I'm not entirely sure?" he replied, glancing back and forth between the source of the screaming and the darkly dressed man. It was quite a queer situation, but Sybil was too innocent to think of the worst case scenario. People might think murder, attacks, wild beast but Sybil's mind was just... Blank. Of course he was on slight alert but he just wasn't the pessimistic type. Well, he liked to think so anyway.
"Maybe someone's hurt?" he spoke again, trying to polite and continue the conversation. But then it stopped. All that was left was an eerie silence and a few hushed whispers. In the crowd (or what was left of it) were a cluster of female mages and many onlookers, all of them probably too scared to help but too nosy to keep watching. In Sybil's case, he wasn't very well... Knowledgeable of all these fancy famous witches. He knew of the most important people, like of course his Coven leader. But the blonde and the red head? He just thought they were common folk like everyone else here. Merlin, he should really start to learn more about the world he lived in, but spending so many years cooped up in a family mansion will do that to you. Sybil was utterly clueless.
"How odd..." he thought, only to have Arveen screech in his mind, roughly translating to something along the lines of, 'I feared the worst. Though I'm sure that isn't everything. And watch where you're walking, child.' Sybil raised his eyes, wondering what on earth that giraffe was talking about. Turns out he was right, as he had bumped into the red head who had just finished screaming. Did he overhear someone call her Ezra? He wasn't too sure, so he decided it be best to say the name.
"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" he blurted, holding one hand above his mouth and one hovering over her arm to show support. "Is everything o-" Sybil stopped halfway. The witch was staring directly at him, the look in her eyes was... Unnerving to say the least. He wasn't sure if it was pity, fear or sadness. Maybe a mixture of both. Sybil swallowed the lump in his throat and twiddled his fingers, looking at the floor.
"Is everything okay?" he'd ask again, shy from the sudden gaze now locked upon him.
I press the button and[break]it bursts into life[break]This time nothing will escape my sight
Ling has always been fascinated with divination. For as long as she can remember - which, admittedly, is not as far back as most can lay claim to - the ability of precognition, of seeing events that have happened or are happening or will happen, has been something beautifully complexely mystifying, like an ability straight out of a fairytale belonging to wise, Delphic beings draped in deep indigos and violets and shimmering golden stars. Okay, so she may have a few unrealistic expectations and dreams, but hey, at least she knows they're unrealistic.
The point is, divination is gloriously baffling and Erza is captivating as she sits before the crowd and prepares to divine a man's fortune.
Ling watches with wide-eyed awe and baited breath in cadence with the hushed anticipation of the audience, light rolling off the gleaming crystal balls and shattering into a thousand silver beams; she can almost feel the gathering of mana, so vivid is her imagination. But then-
But then. Everything stops as Erza starts screaming, the agonised cries jagged and sharp like serrated daggers ripping through the gossamer air. There is a fraction of complete, utter stillness, silence like the aftermath of the apocalypse, then everything comes crashing down. Noise, panicked yelling, people jostling around not knowing whether to stay or to flee, to shout insults or to pull their hair with concern - it's a riot of colour and sound that mixes and crests in the worst of ways.
Being near the front of the crowd, Ling is never the less jolted back and forth, elbows and hands and voices until she stumbles out front closer to blond she recognises as Lunacea Joyheart, alchemy specialist. It also registers that Erza's terrible, terrible screams have died down, and a modicum of order is restored. Ling wrings her hands, breath coming in slightly too fast as she bites her lip and panics wondering what to do.
