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.
for timeline purposes, the events of this thread unfold shortly after the events in gale valley and 3 weeks before the demon's nightmare. this also occrus post-pasta night.[break][break] Under the stifling heat of Summer, with the sun's rays beating on his back, Cain Delacour finds himself sweating through his clothes. Despite being advertised as lightweight and good quality, it's by all means, just the opposite. Such promises should only be expected in tourism, Cain reflects. He's half tempted to just take off his shirt, but that would only attract more attention--and that's the last thing he needed at the moment. [break][break] So he trudges on. [break][break] The roads are as busy as ever, and he branches off from the crowds of other witches, unwilling to add himself to the sweaty mix. Winding and small, he finds slight comfort in the temporary isolation. It's not long, however, until he finds a young woman sitting on a bench nearby. With bright pink hair and eyes to match, it's hard to miss. He lightly taps her on the shoulder and smiles cordially. [break][break] "Excuse me, Miss, do you know where the beach is?"
The summer's begun. The Joker's Jamboree has ended, and shit had gone down in Gale Valley. It was time she checked her sources and paid a few faces certain visits, and it was time to start pulling harder at certain strings. But it was hard to think about all that with a sarong draped loosely over her body and ice cold lemonade trickling down her throat.
[break][break] This was peace.
[break][break] Someone taps her on the shoulder and Fane lazily turns around, unphased by the sudden invasion of her privacy. She opens her mouth to respond but then her lips twitch and she finds herself smirking instead. Sunglasses fall down the slope of her nose, sliding down skin until she can look at the man with her own two eyes.
[break][break] "You've got bad taste in jokes, my friend," she says, gesturing to the wide horizon before them, where shore met sea and waved on to the edges of the sky. How much of a simple tourist could he be?
She turns, her sunglasses sliding down until he can see her eyes. Soft pink eyes meet his, and he finds himself matching her grin. He notices how her long hair falls over the sarong on her shoulders, a glass of cold lemonade in her hands. If she had a tiny umbrella hanging on its edge, it'd be perfect. [break][break] "Ah, that's not a joke though! I'm lost." He says, although the shitty grin on his face says otherwise. Cain straightens and gestures to the rolling waves in the distance, sparkling sand and shouts of the tourists in the background. [break][break] He leans forward, leaning over the bench with lidded eyes. "Would you be so kind as to escorting me to the beach?" [break][break]
She snickers as he speaks again, eyes wary yet not adverse to the shitty grin the male gives her. Fane is taking her sweet time off today, and she wonders if it's luck or fate that someone decides to approach her like this. Or maybe, it's something else entirely. Instinct tells her there are no things as coincidence, and that she has to be prepared-- yet acting out will land her nowhere. [break][break] "Are you really?" Fane asks, tone surprised and raised slightly as though she believed him in earnest. She supposed she could bite at this man's play. "Then, I suppose I ought to take you there, being what you would call a local." There's an odd air to how she says that word, but her speech is thick and sweet like honey and her eyelashes rise and fall lazily as she stands up to extend her arm towards the man. [break][break] She would then walk from the safety of her bench to the wide and unending sea, refusing to let go until they were both at least knee-deep in water. "Did I take you too far?" she asked, finally sparing the man a glance. her beguiling eyes belying her mirrored, shitty grin. "Where are you from, dearest stranger? And what's your name?"
She snickers as he speaks, and he can't help but wonder if he's gotten rusty. It's been a while, and he's not getting any younger--but then she plays into his game, and he would've thought that she actually believed him if he didn't know any better. When she emphasizes on the word local, her words thick, Cain isn't quite sure what it means. [break][break] He saves that thought for later when she extends her arm. He grins, eyes lidded, and takes her offer. Hand in hand, they slowly make their way to the beach. His soles long since warmed by the summer's heat, instantly cool at the touch of water. They don't stop until they're both knee deep, waves lapping at the edge of his shorts. [break][break] "I have to admit, I'm a little scared," He says, but his expression says anything but. She has a nice sense of humor, he notices, and smiles at the thought. [break][break] "Cain from Sundial, at your service." [break][break]
"Already?" Fane asks, and while at surface she's only kidding, the thought resonates to a darker tone hidden in the depths of her mind. If this is the council's next attempt at uncovering her, she will be cautious. But caution does not mean she cannot enjoy herself -- and on the off hand that she does make the wrong decision then there are ways to clean her mistakes.[break][break]
"Cain?" she asks, and her eyes flicker bemusedly, initial thoughts going of course to the rumored Cain Delacour. She doesn't think that a High Priest himself would come to greet her, yet she knows the procedure to follow. After all, if it is the one then she has to be on guard. [break][break] There is only one way to be sure. [break][break]
"Then let me be your Medeia~" she says playfully, cusping the ocean's water with her hands and tossing them towards the so-called lost tourist.[break][break] [break][break]
"Ah yes, it's just so cold here...I might freeze!" He hugs his arms to his chest and turns away dramatically. He looks back and grins, wondering how much longer she'd play into this game. He waits for her response, listening as her eyes flicker with emotions unnamed. [break][break] While being a coven leader meant the occasional fanmail or some recognition on the street, Cain wouldn't say he's really that famous. He may be a coven leader, but most ordinary citizens couldn't put a name to his face. When his company mentions Medeia--her lips turned into a wry smile, he pauses. [break][break] "Wha--" [break][break] Water hits his face, and he rubs away at what little water had gotten splashed on his face. Medeia definitely has his respect; he would even go to great lengths to call her a friend. Whether she thought mutually, however, really depends on the day. [break][break]
And there's a flicker in his eyes. Subtle, but subtle is what you're looking for. The eyes are not shocked, surprised, or even laughing. They are remembering. Who in their right minds can remember Medeia Trevil with a wry smile and a sudden caught-off guard look? Fane quickly understands the implications of his reactions, and she feels a jolt of electricity run down her spine. [break][break] A High Priest? This soon? And why this one of all the ones? [break][break] So whatever the snakes stole must have been important, huh...Now she's left with two options. She realizes this even as the flecks of water hit Cain's face and knock him out of whatever memory he'd been lost in. She can either stay wary and push this threat away...or play a little game of sorts. [break][break] "Don't you know? The whole public ships the two of them. Cain and Medeia..." she watches his emotions with eyes like a hawk- eyes that are in conflict with her curved lips. She laughs then. [break][break] "So you are Cain Delacour." Coyly, she offers a hand to shake. "Consider me your biggest fan." [break][break]
The name catches him by surprise, but Medeia is by no means a stranger. In fact--it's a reminder that he has to bother her sometime soon. They're both as busy as ever, they haven't met for a while. He has a bet to settle with her, and he can't help but grin at the thought. [break][break] At his reactions, the woman coos at him. Cain sputters, flushing under such teasing. "There's nothing--" He starts, but she's already speaking before he has a chance to defend himself. He pauses to look at her. She's good. [break][break] A beat passes before he laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck--he's been caught. He smiles, bowing before her. Cain gently takes her hand and brings it towards his lips, kissing the top of his thumb in a rare act of chivalry. [break][break] "A pleasure. And your name is...?" [break][break]
xxxxx[break][break] Some days later, Fane was still being watched. Cain Delacour was an exhausting man when he put his mind to it, but Fane could be just as bad if she tried. She could not escape the eyes of the High Priest, because doing so would be invariably suspicious and disrespectful. Laughable, really. [break][break] Cain Delacour was not the type of man that demanded respect, and yet Fane found herself growing uncharacteristically attached to him. Or perhaps, characteristically attached. They seemed to mix well- and whether that chemistry was an art both had fabricated was up to anyone to say, but she found herself genuinely laughing once or twice between the mountai of fake ones she'd performed. [break][break] She wondered idly if he had noticed. What, exactly he had noticed. And why, most all, he was there to notice. [break][break] Spinning the glass lazily, Fane shook her head and smiled. "What a story, Cain." She leaned into the table, eyes lidded and expression unreadable. She needed the man off her trail. And there was always a way to get what she wanted. "You really are something." [break][break]
Despite the stranger's reluctance as first, Cain finds a way to meet her again, days later. He can't but feel inexplicably attracted to her presence, like a moth to a light. Their personalities mesh well together--well, what he'd seen of Fane. There's always something about her that he can't seem to pinpoint; they say that the eyes are the windows the soul, and he can't see much behind the lock she's placed. [break][break] But that only encourages him to find out more, no matter how secretive, he's determined to find out exactly who this person is. When she lazily spins her glass, smiling and giving him the same set of sultry eyes he'd seen before, he eagerly grins back. [break][break] "Oh, you flatter me. Are you just saying that to make me feel better?" He jokes, trying to subtly parse her expression. Unreadable as ever, he seeks to crack what mask she's put up. Cain twirls his own glass, wine swirling against the sides. [break][break] "I can't say I'm that interesting. Not as much as you are, anyways."
This had become dangerous. The bastard's been on her for three days on end and she hasn't been able to do any upkeep with Leviathan. She had safely cut herself away from the coven to ensure she did not slip, but she had ends to tie (and cut off). [break][break] Does a High Priest really have nothing to do but follow her around? Why is he so interested? It frustrates and aggravates her, pushing her temper. But her face is quiet and blissfully serene. Her eyes flicker unconsciously and it's plain that she is not all there, but is trying her greatest to appear so. [break][break] She laughs cheerily, but this not a genuine one. "Surely a High Priest like yourself has no need to feel so...insecure?" She lazily reaches a hand out to play with Cain's resting arm. She drinks from her glass but doesn't break the eye contact he has begun. From under the rim her eyes seem to dare him to try harder to poke apart at her. [break][break] "Me? I'm just your average tavern girl. The folks here are nice enough to lend me a room, you know. Life is easy when the old are old and the young are young." She gestures to an old couple sitting on the inward facing balcony of Bell's Bar. The top floors are reserved for the owners, but she does technically have ownership over a room in the corner. She never uses it, though. [break][break] She doesn't want to give the folks that much trouble, after all. [break][break]
Her presence both frustrates and excites him. Her expressions are as serene as ever, but his gut tells him differently. His stomach lurches uneasily, and Cain can't tell whether it's from nervousness or something more. Maybe he's overthinking it?[break][break] "Ah, but I can't help but feel nervous around someone so pretty." He says, feeling his skin tingle from her touch. He doesn't dare to stray from her gaze, and looks deep into her rosy irises. [break][break]
Life is easy when the old are old and the young are young.[break][break]
Such words linger in his mind, and he can't help but think that it's characteristically...cryptic of her. What does that mean? He makes a note to write it down and ask around about it later; he can't think so deeply about it right now--especially with Fane's touch, soft on the skin of his arm. [break][break]
He glances over the old couple in the background, a sweet sight in contrast to the bustle of the tavern. His eyes light up at the mention of another room. [break][break] "Oh? Do you mind showing me around, then?"
Pretty? She shakes her head. It's not like no one has ever called her that, but the compliment does take her by surprise. However unnerving Fane may be, Cain is just as frightening. At one point during the past three days she had been convinced Cain was indeed just some idiot pretending to be lost and picking up chicks at the beach for his idea of a vacation. His seeming harmlessness was throwing her off. Maybe she is just overthinking it. [break][break] She laughs at his direct attempt and stands up to humor him. "Of course, my Priest," she mocks eyeing him before she twirls around and moves towards the staircases of the bar. They pass by a few rooms and she slides to the edge of the building, pushing open a door to let Cain in first. [break][break] "You felt taller before," she remarks casually. [break][break] Ah, what a Freudian slip. She has to bite her tongue to keep from correcting herself. [break][break] The door slides shut behind her, and Fane's slippers have already left her feet somewhere in the walk. She looks at Cain, and pretense has left her face. She doesn't even notice as the shoulder of the loose-hanging blouse slips off from the left end, and the mark of the unicursal hexagram reveals itself- right above her heart [break][break]
"Ah, there's no need for such formalities." He says, flushing under the title. High Priest or not, he refuses to be referred to as such--by anyone, and much less a stranger he'd met days ago. Cain stands and follows her to the staircases, watching the sway of her hips as she does so. [break][break] They make their way to the edge of the building, and she steps forward into the room, holding the door open for him. Shouldn't it be the other way around? He wonders before reluctantly stepping in. [break][break] "Hmm? Have we met before?" He responds thoughtlessly, and takes his time to look around the room. Plain and impeccably clean, it feels like a place he'd check out at an inn. It would've been homely if everything didn't look so...unused. [break][break]
When the door shuts closed, he turns. She's slipped off her shoes, her expression surprisingly...open. Cain's eyes catch on the hexagram that sits on her chest, and he takes a step closer, coal black ink stark against her light skin. [break][break] "Interesting." He says. Cain lies a gentle hand on her shoulder and runs a thumb across the mark on her collarbone. [break][break]
Under the stifling heat of Summer, with the sun's rays beating on his back, Cain Delacour finds himself sweating through his clothes. Despite being advertised as lightweight and good quality, it's by all means, just the opposite. Such promises should only be expected in tourism, Cain reflects. He's half tempted to just take off his shirt, but that would only attract more attention--and that's the last thing he needed at the moment. 
The summer's begun. The Joker's Jamboree has ended, and shit had gone down in Gale Valley. It was time she checked her sources and paid a few faces certain visits, and it was time to start pulling harder at certain strings. But it was hard to think about all that with a sarong draped loosely over her body and ice cold lemonade trickling down her throat.
