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.
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Aug 31, 2017 5:31:38 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
his first set of knives were not meant for blood.
his first set of knives fit into the palm of his tiny hands, pretty and delicate and gleaming silver in a way that will never be tarnished crimson; they had oakenwood handles and minuscule engravings carved down their length worn smooth with time. his first set of knives were presented to him with love, were accompanied by the rare, precious memory of warm hands wrapped around his own, soft hair and tired, kind eyes, a comfortable quiet as he sat beside his mother and watched her whittle.
his first set of knives are long gone, lost or sold on the harsh streets when winter lined their bones and ice made its home in the depths of their lungs. but kasimir has since bought another set of woodcarving knives, a moment of sentiment and weakness he cannot ( will not ) bring himself to regret, tucked away safely in the crevices of his room waiting ever for that day he will choose to wield them.
a small block of sycamore, a row of memories sharp and silver on his bed, an itch in his hands and mind he has ignored for too long; kasimir... wants. to lay down his weapons of war for that of an artist's tools - just for now. for as long as he is able.
Post by saskia burovski on Aug 31, 2017 5:53:14 GMT
the sun scatters through the windows -- a flurry of restless white fabric as she paces -- soft light traces the edges of engraved titles on books older than she is: a collection beloved, if only for the fact that they are her constant companions when her lungs do decide to fail. but today is not a day for staying in bed and reading, she decides, fingers drumming across the shelf-top as she paces past it again.
a leap of faith: she opens her door and peers out into an empty corridor, and before long she is its only occupant, steps light and dance-like. the bear pads beside her, a steady pace; she buries a free hand in luci's fur and cannot help but smile.
then she is before a familiar door. she raises a hand to knock -- and even that sound, her knuckles rapping against wood, is somehow delicate. luci pushes the door open before there is any reply, and saskia beams. two steps, and she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "kasi!" an exclamation suffices as a greeting. "any plans for today?" she draws her knees up to her chest, and in so doing, belatedly realises that, in the excitement to see her brother, she had forgotten her shoes. no matter. the lopsided crocheted faces of dogs on her socks grin up at her. "oops."
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Aug 31, 2017 6:22:03 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
footsteps, quiet like the skip-step of wind spirits; a rhythm tapped unto his door. he glances up, startled out of thought - no time for a reply to leave his lips before it is pushed open to reveal his sister's familiar and his beloved sister herself. kasimir blinks, sits up straighter, his expression settling into something soft and warm without even a whisper of thought; "saskia," he greets, and there is a smile curving his lips, and there is sunlight blooming in his chest. "luci."
she bounds forwards, making a beeline for his bed and kasimir quickly shoves his woodcarving tools to the side to prevent them from rolling onto his sister - and to prevent her from squishing them. he notes, at the same time as she, that saskia had apparently forgotten her shoes before heading out ( not that unusual, to be honest ); amusement lights his eyes at her crocheted dog socks. "they're cute," he comments, gesturing at her socks as he settles next to her. "though, they're probably better off with some protection from the harsh, heavy elements. now if only there were something that could do that..." he trails off with a teasing glint in his eyes, bumping her lightly on the shoulder.
kirjava takes this chance to melt out of the shadows and into reality, small and cat-sized and darting onto saskia's lap. she nudges the girl in greeting - like witch like familiar - then leaping towards luci with playful intent. kasimir watches his familiar with exasperated affection, then turns his attention back to his sister. "not really," he responds. it is a rare day indeed with kasimir having no mission, nor need for recovery, nor orders from xuan jin nor obligations that must be fulfilled - nothing but a sunny day and the chance to spend it with his sister.
"but, i was thinking about, well..." he trails off with a slight shrug, gesturing to the woodcarving tools still on the bed in explanation. suddenly, they seem just that little bit more intimate, more important, laden with history and implication and memory - woodcarving, after all, is something kasimir had learnt from their mother - one of the few remaining pieces of legacy from their parents.
Post by saskia burovski on Aug 31, 2017 6:42:38 GMT
she wiggles her toes, examines the socks, and looks back up to kasimir brightly, grinning. she doesn't tell him, but there's a matching pair sitting back in her room, waiting to be given to him -- there's a weaver with a little shop set up at the corner of the sunday market, and she had just enough to spare to buy two sets. "one day i'll get it right," she responds good-naturedly, though she knows she probably needs luci to remind her. her hand skims across kirjava's fur as the familiar leaps onto her lap, a feather-light gesture of affection before bounding away towards luci.
luci, who at this instant is curiously examining the woodcarving tools, lets out a mildly surprised chuff at the sudden greeting. a paw raised in friendly greeting, the bear is careful not to knock anything over as she maneuvers around to better greet the ocelot. saskia extends a leg to lightly brush against the bear's fur. have fun, she tells luci, and receives a contented grunt in return.
her eyes are drawn to the woodcarving tools at his gesture, and her smile softens slightly; bittersweet. the sun yet dances, and from this angle, bathe the pair in a comfortable, cozy warmth. she folds her legs and hands braced on ankles, looks back up at him. "can i watch?"
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Aug 31, 2017 7:04:57 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
he narrows his eyes as saskia grins, mischievous and bright. there is something to that grin, he decides, a big brother instinct telling him to watch out, that his cute little sister has something planned. i'm onto you, he wills his expression to convey; but drops the suspicion for now. "luci will remember, you mean," he reponds dryly, reaching out to ruffle his sister's hair.
kirjava, meanwhile, lets out a playful growl at luci, darting underfoot and pressing into the bear's pretty fur. loose and relaxed - with saskia and luci is one of the very few times the ocelot feels comfortable enough to let down her guard and act impish as she is now.
sunlight like liquid gold streams through the window, weaving a halo of light in saskia's hair; angel, kasimir thinks fondly, and wonders when she will take to the sky and proclaim it her own. reality is bittersweet, however - his own expression acquires the same half-melancholic tinge as he gathers his tools with soft hands. "of course," he says, inching closer to his sister in whatever comfort their shared warmth can provide. a world of unspoken words, a universe of faded memories carefully pressed and preserved within the pages of a book, the air between them like strains of music loaded with tacit feeling.
"is there anything you want to see?" he murmurs to her as he turns the block of wood over in his hands.
Post by saskia burovski on Aug 31, 2017 7:29:57 GMT
saskia realises she's not the best at hiding her intent, but that's okay. her eyes sparkle -- he still doesn't know. ( she hopes he'll like them. )
at their feet, the bear is absolutely at home, batting playfully at the ocelot, a good-humoured growl rumbling deep in her throat. eventually, the familiar sinks to the ground and rolls over, pale fur bright against wooden floorboards. she raises a paw to bat at the ocelot once more, misses, and contents herself with their company. luci, for one, at least has enough common sense to not thrash about, lest she accidentally knock something over.
she leans against him as he inches closer, and, for a moment, thinks of the memories that she has long pressed into the yellowed pages of a journal, its cover worn and greyed. ( she can breathe more easily now. )
the smooth planes of the wood block tell her of infinite possibilities. she hums in thought, fingers drumming against her thigh lightly. "what about..." a momentary pause. there is so much she wants to see! "what about her?" she gestures to kirjava, affection clear in her eyes as she watches the ocelot play.
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Aug 31, 2017 7:51:49 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
warmth blossoms in the room like flowers in spring, like stars spinning themselves into existence, like dawn creeping across the horizon; it has nothing to do with the sunlight gilding them gold. from kirjava's end of their bond radiates quiet contentment, glee like ember sparks and a fierce love echoed by kasimir himself; the ocelot curls up close to luci as the bear rolls over, burying her nose in pale fur and sinking into trusted company with a low, pleased rumble in her chest.
in a mirroring of their familiars' position, saskia leans into his side as he inches closer, and he takes a moment to simply feel her warmth at his side. this is what he fights for, this is what he shatters himself for - and it is absolutely and utterly worth the price he has paid.
but now is not the time for such contemplations; kasimir turns his mind away from the shadows and back into the light, fingers absently tracing the woodgrain swirls of his sycamore block. "kirjava?" his mouth tilts up in a crooked grin as his sister points to his familiar. "careful, you'll make her ego swell up so big she won't be able to play with you anymore."
from her position curled up at luci's side, the ocelot huffs in mock offence and whacks her tail against his shins, turning away with pseudo-offended air and snuggling closer to the bear. kasimir laughs, then shrugs. "but if you insist." secretly, he resolves to carve a figurine of luci too, and sneak it into saskia's room some day.
hands turning over the block wood, a flash of silver, curls of wood shavings falling to the ground like autumn leaves; kasimir begins the process of carving, shaping, refining - turning sycamore into something more.
Post by saskia burovski on Aug 31, 2017 8:18:33 GMT
"aw," she says, and laughs, clear and bell-like, as kirjava protests. "we wouldn't want that, would we?" luci rumbles agreement somewhere deep in her chest, a rolling, gravelly sound as she wraps herself around the ocelot. in times like this, it is possible to picture her simply as a child's oversized toy, a cuddly teddy bear synonymous with home.
just then, the sun angles at the right slant: the shafts of sunlight hit the carving knife and splinter into a million pieces -- stardust across the walls -- and for a moment, she is mesmerized not by his carving but the flecks of gold like spun glass moving with spotlight swiftness.
unbidden, a memory rises in her throat, swells into a half-whispered song as she watches. luci sighs, a contented breath that sends the curls of wood shavings spinning idly in a pirouette of their own. if saskia ignores the reality of the solidity of the colour and the wood-paneled floor, the shavings are golden leaves eddying on the red-yellow forest floor past summer. she hums, mildly off-key, the exact tune hazy with memory, a childhood song of gray doves preening themselves at dawn, and of gentle autumn breezes as the world takes its time to slow down and breathe.
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Aug 31, 2017 9:17:48 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
for a moment, contented quiet settles over the room like a spidersilk veil, a soft dusting of dust motes sprinkled across their skin. framed by the window and the morning sun, they could almost be a polaroid picture of the past, kasimir small and eight again without the webwork of repeated shatterings fractured against his skin, saskia with pearls for teeth and the sun in her eyes, ( kristian with freckles like constellations across the sky and a grin like supernova-shards ); ( three ) two siblings pressed together like paper-thin petals between ink-stained pages.
then-
soft; a crystal note breaking the porcelain quiet, the moth-bitten pages of an aged music sheet, a song, a sigh, a melody from years long forgotten. he stills, breath hitching in his throat, a beat; then- kasimir joins in, half-remembered chords dusting themselves off from the recesses of his memory and lending themselves once again to voice. humming at first, a phantom beat matching the curve of his knife, matching the rain of wood shards drifting to the floor - then lyrics, faded and incoherent on his tongue until some ghost from the past grants him once again reprise of song.
Post by saskia burovski on Aug 31, 2017 9:36:35 GMT
for a moment, the song carves open an old wound: the air beside her is suddenly empty in a way it hadn't been before; she closes her eyes and envisions an identical pair of hands intertwined with her own, the back of his hands dotted with the freckles that she can trace easily in her mind's eye; dust motes coalesce into a vision of the past, a dream of a kingdom yet untouched.
gold spins across the underside of her eyelids, forces her to open them, and she does -- her voice falters, then she catches the memory at the edge of her mind and the song continues, a tune that grows stronger with a voice echoing her own. they are no choir singers; their song is dedicated to no one but themselves, but it dazzles nonetheless. sunlight still dances to the beauty of a tune unheard of in years, light-etched sunflowers on the walls.
and eventually, it tapers to a sigh ( a ghost, a figment of itself but the song braids the tongue at its root and the memory is bittersweet ). the steady scratching of woodcarving continues, comforting. she laughs, a sound simultaneously joyous and helpless, but her eyes are clear. "honestly, i didn't realise i still remembered that."
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Aug 31, 2017 11:12:11 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
saskia's voice falters, wavers; and kasimir feels a helpless sense of understanding. this song, their song, singing - there is missing too many voices, a gaping hole neither of them can fill, scabbed over but deeply scarred in a way impossible to ignore. 'are you thinking of kristian,' he wonders, the loss of his little brother aching at his side; ( his hands falter as saskia's song catches against her throat, the steady fall of shavings to the ground halting ) 'or are you thinking of mother, of father,' and he reminds himself to breathe.
their song dips, fluctuates, trembles against their ribcages like the desperate flutter of a baby bird's wings; it strengthens, swells, twines brother and sister together with gleaming silver thread; a reprise of their hazed-over history.
but all songs must end, and so theirs do. softly, tacitly like a quiet sigh, their voices die in their throats and the air swallows the last of their notes. kasimir continues to work though, hands constantly in movement as the wood between his fingers slowly begins to take shape. saskia laughs, and he takes comfort in her physical presence, the warmth of her skin bleeding into his. "neither did i," he says quietly, a beautifully bittersweet smile curving his lips. there are tears half-formed in the corners of his eyes, but he forces them back - now is not a time for tears; it is a happy occasion.
from the floor, kirjava stirs. she untangles herself from luci's giant bear hug and pads towards saskia, pressing herself against her legs in wordless support.
Post by saskia burovski on Aug 31, 2017 12:03:23 GMT
she can see the corners of his eyes glitter with tears and she understands -- their past is carved into their bones ( but their bones can only hold so much grief ). she cannot coherently string together her thoughts into a sentence; a smile and a gentle nudge of the shoulder is all she can offer.
a gentle brush against her legs; she looks down to see kirjava, liquid grace and a welcome sight. then suddenly--
a flurry of white fur as the bear hauls herself up, gives herself a good shake, and unceremoniously ( and with some effort ) springing up onto the bed -- "luci, no," -- only to sprawl across brother and sister alike in a generous bear hug. it, as blatantly as possible, chases any traces of sorrow off her expression. saskia dissolves into giggles almost immediately, but, for the most part, seems resigned to her fate of being smothered under her well-intentioned familiar. luci has some mercy for kasimir, adjusting herself carefully to avoid the knife and settling her head against his shoulder.
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Aug 31, 2017 12:25:03 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
like sister, like brother; saskia offers him a soft, small smile and a gentle nudge to his shoulder - and kasimir understands. understands and appreciates and loves; he smiles back, meeting her eyes in a moment electric against his tongue. words fail, but they do not need words, not really.
his attention is drawn to luci as the bear stands, shaking herself down in a minor explosion of snowy fur and then springing upon them. the bed dips noticeably beneath her weight ( kasimir takes a moment to pray for the bed frame's integrity ) and he only has a single alarmed moment to try and put his knife out of reach before the familiar sprawls down across their laps like the world's biggest, heaviest, fluffiest blanket. ( he also appreciates how luci makes an effort to avoid his knife or his work )
saskia instantly dissolves into giggles at her familiar's ( literal ) bear hug ( and thank whatever deity that maddox is not here - kasimir can only begin to image what terrible puns may be thrown his way ); "luci," kasimir complains, but it is half-hearted at best, fondness belied by the warmth in his eyes and the twitching of his lips. he gives in after a few moments, surrendering himself to quiet laughter and pressing a brief hug back at the bear. kirjava leaps up onto the bed and worms her way into their little huddle and they sit there, sister and brother and two familiars - the last of a family - pressed together heart to heart.
it is almost impossible to carve with a bear draped on his shoulder and an ocelot tucked half in his lap, so kasimir does not. he tucks his tools away for a moment, grounding himself squarely in the present, breathes. "what have you been learning recently, saskia?" he asks his sister. he is away too much, too often to know exactly what she has been up to, despite his best efforts.
Post by saskia burovski on Aug 31, 2017 13:01:14 GMT
luci does not care for their complaints; she lets out a satisfied huff at her work, extending her nose to peer curiously at the half-carved wooden figure. both witch and familiar share the same opinion: they are content to simply lie there, simply breathe, in the company of those who remain ( the four letters of 'home' extend into seven: kasimir, a name with the halo of a scarlet sunset sky ).
"what have you been learning recently, saskia?" he asks, and her eyes light up. she hums for a moment, gathering her thoughts. ( the bear, on the other hand, seems as though she is asleep -- only half-open eyes betray her attention. )
"i've been trying to figure out this technique," she says, lifting a hand towards a stray ray of sunlight, the other nestled in luci's fur. a moment passes before the light coalesces, simple light melting into a single aureate thread looped loosely about her fingers. it lingers for a second before dissipating once more, and she lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "it's pretty useful i think -- supposed to help stitch up wounds, or something like that." saskia pauses, and for a moment, her smile is almost uncertain. "i think, at least. it'll be some time before i can do that, shaky hands and all."
then somehow, her tone brightens once more; she finds a new topic to grasp at and almost trips over her own words in her excitement to tell him. "oh, and augmentation! it's pretty complicated, but--" there is steel in her voice, in this frail and dainty frame. "--i'm getting better at it, i'm sure!"
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Sept 1, 2017 13:59:25 GMT
blue moon
you saw me standing alone
he watches as fireflies spark to life in her eyes, a beautifully brilliant enthusiasm lighting up in swirls along her skin. he loves seeing her like this: seeing saskia illuminate the world with her smile, vivacity like crimson fire and all the incandescence of stars captured within her passionate words; he loves seeing her happy, loves seeing her love, loves seeing her live and learn and dance to the primal beat of the universe spinning ever onwards - luminary, he thinks; saviour, grace, light.
as if she were privy to his thoughts, his little sister lifts a hand to a beam of sunlight, letting the light curl around her fingers like a thread of liquid gold; his breath catches in his throat. "that's beautiful," he whispers, and loops and arm around saskia's shoulders. "brilliant." if one looks closely, there may be a distinctly wobbly edge to kasimir's smile, though nothing next to the quiet wonder and pride. "i have full faith in you, little sister."
and then- and then- there is steel woven into the pretty curve of her smile, tempered iron worked into the graceful way she holds herself; his chest tightens as fervent pride blooms like summer flowers against his ribs. "i don't doubt that," he says, implacable affection burning within the green of his eyes, and conviction, because kasimir has no doubt for even a single instant that his sister could make the sky her supplicant should she put her mind to it. "you'll have to show me, when you're ready."
