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.
Raven pirouettes in front of her wall-sized mirror, admiring her delicate black dress. It hugs her slim figure and billows nicely in the ends. Paired with this is a matching black thigh-highs and red killer heels. She puffs up her hair, brushed a twintail a little bit more just to get that strand to its proper place, and the star is good to go. Oh, she forgot--her sunglasses, black frame to match her get-up.
"Isn't the color a little too flashy to be worn in broad daylight?" Dai asks, materializing a few feet from the sauntering eye candy, namely, his witch. "And why didn't you require the House a carriage?" Raven does not answer the inquiry, instead continues further forward. She is already garnering looks from the passer-bys, and she is delighted. She tips her sunglasses when a particularly good-looking boy heads her way, and she could swear by the Cross that the guy is so mesmerized by her beauty and doesn't know what to do, thus the reason why he hurries away.
If that doesn't answer Dai's question, Raven would wonder how in the world would she explain it further. Raven Delacroix is showing off. The world needs more of her presence, she decided the night before and proceeds to carry out her mission today.
Like a philosopher heading out to the marketplace to teach, Raven opens the doors of the Sun Cafe, to, well, let the people know she is the Raven Delacroix. The star, the very sun of Sundial itself.
The place is not particularly crowded, as expected of Wednesday mornings. There is not telling which side of the spectrum of emotions would her mood fall, but apparently today it falls to the good, optimistic side of Raven. She sees the small number of people as an easier opportunity to get to know her.
Flipping her hair back, she goes over to the counter to order her favorite coffee. Oh, but first, a seat.
There are so many empty tables in the Cafe, but Raven chooses the table of a certain blond. She only sees him, not what is in his table, but frankly that is enough. Perfect. The stag sighs, turning towards the Counter. He is the one to approach the counter and orders the witch's drink. Knowing Raven she would forget why she is here the moment she strikes a conversation.
"Hello," she says sweetly, approaching from the back. "Mind if I sit here?"
Post by heath ambroise on Sept 15, 2017 5:14:52 GMT
Heath ran his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time, and sighed through his nose. This wasn’t working out. He stared at the draft he had finished last night. Honestly, what had possessed him to write at 3 in the morning? Whatever it had been, it had pumped out something practically ineligible. The article was less of an article and more of a mix of multiple ideas all written together. In his sorry state, he’d even attempted to pull them all together. In short, he couldn’t turn this in to his editor. His note pad was filled with scribbles as he tried to correct the fragmented articles and untangle the strange phrases he had picked in his sleep deprived state. Crumple up balls of paper lay next to a tall, coffee cup. It was barely touched and condensation had run down the cup and pooled onto the table.
He scribbled on his own draft with a red pen, muttering to himself. The witch’s voice distracts him from his writing and he looks forward expecting someone. It took him a moment but he finally turned around to stare at the girl before him. “Yes.” He says without hesitation. The table is barely enough for two and he wasn’t about to move all his notes into his lap. There were also plenty of other tables she could choose from. “Sorry.” He added as he tried to soften the bluntness of his answer. “I’m not in the mood to- er, I’m not going to be a good conversationalist at the moment.” The blond explained as he nodded over at his work. Hopefully she understood. He gave her a once over and wondered why she was pregaming for a club party so early but didn’t question it. With a quick, almost dismissive, wave he turned back to work and began gathering his trash so he could throw it out. Heath snuck one last glance at the girl to check if she’d left already. Just in case he really had to bail.
Now that she is beside the guy Raven could now see the mess his table is. Raven's eyes widen in horror and disgust as she takes in the sight of scattered phrases, crumpled papers, pens and the general mess the paparazzi has. But Raven can forgive that, if only he has accepted the genuine, once in a lifetime offer of a celebrity.
Her fine eyebrow twitches. Twice. "What do you mean," she says, giggling slightly. The menace in her voice cannot be mistaken, even though she's smiling oh so sweetly. "You don't want to share tables with someone like me?" She can't imagine this is happening. Who would reject a kind invitation like, considering that it's from Raven Delacroix. That's right, The Raven Delacroix. Fans clamor for her handshake, for a glimpse of her beautiful face, for a measly signature they'd hand on their walls. And then this?
Raven takes a shallow breath. "Oh, you must be kidding. Here, I'll help with a little organization," she says, trying again. He might be confused and irritated, it's obvious that he was struggling. She clears the other side of the table to make room for who else but her. She almost gags at the blocks of text. She could swear she sees her name on it.
Raven cannot fathom that she is in fact trying to get in terms with a stalker, but then again it's too late to back down. She will not have her pride stepped by that blunt rejection.
The white-tailed deer comes around, balancing a tray with his antlers. Raven picks up her coffee and sets it down on the table. She proceeds to pull the chair and sit on it. She eyes the guy under her long eyelashes, silently challenging him. "Don't mind me," she says. "I just want some company, isn't that so hard to give? You can work with... that, while I'm here." Dai can clearly sense the disgust on the word that, and all he can offer is a sigh.
Post by heath ambroise on Sept 18, 2017 21:24:00 GMT
“I’m mulling over more important things.” Heath replied before covering his mouth to stifle a yawn. The completed article was due in three days and he was still editing his own first draft. The editor still hadn’t seen his work yet. At least the bare bones of it was done, but there was still a lot he could cut and fix. He looked back up at the girl at the psychotic giggling. He felt his blood run a little cold. Heath had been leaning over his work until then. Now he sat up a little straighter and leaned away slightly from Raven. Amber eyes shifted around as he tried to locate some sort of guardian that would claim this lost child. “I-” his next rebuttal dies on the way out as the girl adamantly, if not with a hint of irritation, sets to work her newly claimed seat.
He reaches over as she does, snatching up papers here and there that he didn’t want thrown out by accident. He can’t really shoo her off as she hurriedly makes room for herself, despite him specifically saying he didn’t want her to. He feels more flustered than annoyed really. He’d been straightforward enough. Raven was just being stubborn now. The man looked over at the familiar frowning at the tray. Great, she was going to be here for a while. Heath grabbed the tray off the stag’s head before locking eyes with Raven. Without blinking, he picked up her coffee and set the tray underneath in before setting to work on putting away his things. He wouldn’t get any work done with a teenager leering at him. “I don’t like being watched while I write.” He said as he carefully put together his notes into a large notebook and unceremoniously slammed it shut.
He pulled his backpack into his lap and tucked away his works in progress before grabbing a small, simpler notepad. The writer propped up a leg on his knee and then rested his notepad on his leg. “My name is Heath.” The man stated, finally giving up and introducing himself to the young woman. “Who’re you?” His right hand began twitching quickly as Heath quickly started a little caricature of Raven’s head.
Raven easily brushes off his excuses. His resolve has significantly gone weaker, to which Raven is proud of. Things are falling into places--what Raven wants, Raven gets. She does feel slightly guilty when the man actually clears the whole table. She only wants her side to be clear of clutter. Raven can work surrounded by all sorts of people, whether rewriting trash script or memorizing lines and actions, she cannot comprehend what's the problem with a little company.
"I'm not the only one watching you, though," the white-haired girl reasons. "You're working in a cafe, people's eyes will inevitably fall on to you. Especially with all of the papers you have earlier." She sips her iced coffee, then, genuinely enjoying the cream and milk.
Her eyes never taken off of the man, who now introduced himself as Heath, Raven beckons Dai closer. "Get me a cinnamon bun, too. Tell them to charge it off later--"
Dai holds his breath as Raven comprehends the words, then the whole sentence, and what could Heath possibly mean by that. Before the girl is able to act, Dai approaches the man and attempts to advice on him on how to survive the onslaught. "Save yourself, lad," he starts gravely. He, above all else, even Raven's personal assistants or her family and friends, knows how to deal with his witch's tantrums. The answer to that is: ignore her. She'll eventually come to terms with herself and apologize. "Go to the entertainment section of your newspaper."
Instead of rage, raven's voice comes out as sickly sweet and nothing but a whisper. "Young man. Heath, isn't it? It's a pleasure to meet you, Heath. You should be honored."
She flips a stray strand of white hair back before reaching out for his notepad. She stands with an outstretched hand. "Let me give you an idea on who am I," she hisses. She brings out a glitter stylus, product of a renowned alchemist. "Though I'm sure you already know. Trying to pretend, how petty. You need to do your job better."
“Yes, but who’s sitting right in front of me begging for attention?” Heath replied as he gave her another glance before looking back down and beginning to outline raven’s hair. He occupied himself with carefully putting down some quick lines before beginning to draw a pair of quick circles for the eyes. He was vaguely aware of Raven commanding her familiar, but it is when the lovely stag speaks up again that he looks away from his work. “Hmm?” he didn’t really process the warning just yet. “Entertainment…? I apologize but that isn’t my area of interest, nor do I work for that department anymore.” He replied before looking back as the young witch. He snickered at the title of ‘young man’. How precocious.
He stared at her outstretched hand, slowly pulling his notepad back. He knew this would happen. He was glad he’d put away his work before she began trying to touch it all. The glitter stylus catches his eye though and he quietly wonders where the teenager got enough gold to purchase it. Or, perhaps it was better assumed she got it from her parents. “I can assure you I don’t know what you mean.” Heath said evenly. He didn’t stand up to tower Raven for emphasis. Instead he simply pulled his notepad closer to his body and continued his sketch. He added a couple of quick lines for her nose and then a curve for her frown. What a touchy kid… What had he done to deserve babysitting duty?
“You can see when I’m finished and when you ask for it with manners.” He added as he gave Raven another cursory look before finishing up the angry caricature. He made a note of where he’d met her and the name provided. What had it been again? Something foreign sounding… Raven De…Delacour? No. He wrote out ‘RAVEN DELAKROI’ before underlining it and adding his brief notes on the girl. Moody, Teenager, met at the Sun Café, Stag Familiar, etc. Once completed he turned his attention to Dai before beginning to draw the stag just as quickly as he had done Raven. He had no concern for the angry girl standing before him.
Raven's fine eyebrows twitch. In her whole life she has not begged for attention. Attention is something she gets, as natural as the sun rising from the east and setting in the west. She is the apple of the eye, the limelight itself. That itself is an insult to the artist, and she has the perfect comeback, she sure do, it just hasn't come to her yet.
The insult is enough to shut Raven up. She gives up trying to give him her signature and just opts to relax on her seat. She crosses her legs and languidly sips her drink. Another shift of personality--now she is as calm as sea after the passing of a terrible storm.
She gives him a sideway glance as she aesthetically swirls her drink. "All right, whatever," she dismisses him. She further rolls her eyes heavenwards and scoffs at the boy's sketchpad. Judging from the hurried strokes, he should be drawing her a portrait.
"You can have it, I don't need another petty sketch." It's true, she has a ton of fans willing to sketch her for free, to the best of their abilities. Her fans are great, she loves them. But then again, she tend to avoid the large crowd simply because paparazzi takes advantage of it. She treasures every single portrait and sketch she receives during fan meet.
But not this guy's. She can't feel any love, heck, he does not even know her, how dare he. She'll just have to make him. "I have thousands of paintings and caricatures customized for me, perhaps I should give you one? Would you like it? Oh, you will love it."
She sets the frappe on the table and leans forward again, eyes mindful and calm. "All right, how about we make a deal? Don't worry it's nothing absurd! I'm going to try to be reasonable with you, mister."
Post by heath ambroise on Nov 25, 2017 4:57:10 GMT
She dismissed him after his rebuff and his notebook is safe. His eyes flick over to the girl and then back to the stag who, despite the witch that is linked to him, is a very lovely looking stag. Perhaps this was where the girl got so pride in her appearance. An attempt to imitate the natural elegance of a woodland creature. A childish pursuit but who was he to really think anything of it. As he takes a moment to color in the eyes, he looks back at Raven and frowns once more. “Who said I was gifting it to you?” he asked taken back by the girl’s self-entitlement. This brat had fans? With that kind of attitude? He had considered showing her, if she asked nicely because that was still important to him, but now he just wanted to erase it. Why give her the honor to look at his work? It wasn’t amazing work, but it was his and in that respect, he took pride in it. It was something he had made wit skills he had nurtured and therefore it was good and important to him.
He wouldn’t hand something over to some stranger that didn’t really care about that. She didn’t even know him why did she expect him to do anything for her. His eyes glided over to the area behind Raven, suddenly wondering if he could switch to am empty table and see himself out of this horrible conversation. “I don’t want anything form you other than silence.” He said finally looking back at her. His words ha taken on a sudden harsh edge to them. He waited a moment to suppress his annoyance before clearing his throat. Before he can really say something a lot more polite however, the girl leans forwards and he instinctively leans back in his chair. Maybe vanity was contagious who knew, but he wanted to avoid direct contact with the girl.
The blonde stared back and sighed through his nose. Common sense said get up, but common courtesy said let her finish. So, he did. “I’ll consider it.” He stated evenly, not wanting to agree to anything proposed by a little girl with a superiority complex. Lord knew, what shenanigans that would lead to. And the article he needed to write was pressing. The deadline was approaching, and he was burning daylight. With any luck it would just be something petty that he could do quickly, and the young witch could be right on her way. “It sounds more interesting than anything else you’ve mentioned so far.” He added. He would be lying if he said his curiosity wasn’t slightly piqued. What could such a well to do girl like this need from him? She had made it abundantly clear that he was incredibly beneath her. Materialistically, that was probably true. Intellectually? Far from it.
This guy is really testing his patience, isn't he? Here she is, trying her damnest best to be in magnificent behavior, but what does he do? She fakes a sweet smile and innocently bats her long lashes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just assumed you will give it to me. Oh no, now I know not to generalize." She knows, she has always known. But sometimes she forgets. Being in front of the crowd and seeing the numbers from the front, every singularity disappears, all one ever sees is the collective group.
Raven is reminded of that now, and it infuriating, but kind of refreshing as well. Most importantly, she feels challenged.
Oh, how she wishes she could say her name right here and then. Some people are already turning heads towards their table, and Raven knows she could not afford to spare more time here. The easiest thing to do for this goddamn boy to recognize her is to say that she is the Raven Delacroix, the sun of Sundial itself, everyone's star. She sold albums and after albums and emptied ticket counter after ticket counter at her concerts.
But she cannot do that.
Raven takes a swig of her drink before fishing out a calling card. She folds it in half and slides it towards the boy. "Keep that. Anything you receive from that name and that address, keep it and use it."
The white-haired girl dismisses Heath's statement. "I do need your attention, honey. I need you to pay attention. I'm going to prove to you that I'm not the bratty kid you think I am--tho it's true, because I have the right to do so. Hmph. I mean--"
That's Dai's cue to enter before it could get any worse. "Allow me, madam," the stag says, stepping in. Raven is about to protest, but Dai silences her with an even gaze. He adores his witch, he really does, but sometimes, she just isn't fit to deal with certain circumstances. Certain circumstances being when she faces opposition. "It's a calling card. In the following days Raven will send some... packages to you, and we want you to use it. You will be provided with the most comfort, you do not need to fall into lines. Let the witch show you how... competent she is, at the very least."
"Competent," Raven whispers under her breath. "I am always competent."
"Hush," Dai reprimands. "You did terrible today, I'm going to remind you."
Post by heath ambroise on Jan 23, 2018 4:08:20 GMT
Heath bit back a remark about her insincerity. Better not to fan the flames If he wanted his sweet freedom from this conversation. Although, there really was nothing stopping him from leaving either. Ugh, he would have had to put away his things and she probably would’ve nagged while he did that. He didn’t want to cause a scene. She slides a small business card and he’s back in. “I’m not sure what you me-" he begins before she cuts him off by speaking up once more. He silences himself expecting an explanation. “Heath.” the journalist interjects, grimacing at the pet name she gives him. His eyes narrow further, but aside from that he lets the girl continue speaking.
He turns to the familiar, grimace softening as he begins making sense faster than Raven had. “I don’t recall giving out my address.” He says, not sure how alright he was with a pratty witch tracking him down to send him packages. The familiar had said it perfectly and he refrained from outwardly agreeing with him. “Sure.” He stated, giving up. There was no point in arguing about it. Good luck, getting to his place. He prayed this would all be forgotten once some other poor stranger crossed paths and irritated the girl.
In a show of good faith, the journalist sets his sketchpad and pencil down before reaching over and pulling up the card. He read it for a few seconds noting the design and the lettering before leaning over and pulling out his wallet. He put away the card in one of the folds before showing it and shoving the wallet back into his pants. “Is…that all?” he asks tentatively. He waits patiently for a response. As he does, he gives a glance at his work before holding up the sketchpad, one hand spread out over his notes so the pair could only see the caricatures. “Since you were interested. I’m finished.”
Oh, so now he reveals his name. Heath. Raven racks her mind trying to place the name, and as expected she comes up blank. Okay, maybe she is indeed wrong at her accusation earlier, but that doesn't matter now, does it? "Heath," she says lovingly, her voice silky sweet with venom. "I can track you down, don't worry. You're pretty easy in the eyes, so that won't be a problem."
Truth to be told it's hired athenians who would do the job, not Raven. The woman watches Heath take the calling card with an amused expression. Once he puts his wallet back to his pocket Raven claps in glee. "Perfect," she purrs. "Try not be a brat on the things you will receive eh? It's free, and you should appreciate that."
Now satisfied, Raven settles back on her seat comfortably. She nods at his question as she takes her cup and swirls it slightly. Taking her sweet time, she's going to finish her drink and leave this place. It's not everyday she can enjoy a quiet atmosphere without someone fawning over her. Well, okay, maybe not really.
There it is, the splitting contradiction. Raven's head begins to hurt, but in a second she shrugs it off. She has a caricature to see.
"You could at least have drawn me with a... much more attractive face, ya know," Raven huffs. It's Dai who appreciates the caricature. Even Raven's face, drawn as irritated, comes out skillfully made. He notices the bias on his image, though, but he's not about to comment on that.
"Would you mind if she signs it?" Dai tilts his head to Raven's direction, then back at Heath. "Maybe that could give you a clue on who she is. She's wrong to rub it off, but she gets what she wants. Always."
Exasperation is apparent on Dai's tone. Raven doesn't mind, she's used to it. Instead, she fishes out her glitter stylus once again. "So, where?"
Post by heath ambroise on Apr 20, 2018 14:18:18 GMT
He holds his tongue unsure if he was meant to return the compliment. “Thanks…” he mumbled, deciding it best to be polite. Truthfully when was the last time he'd thought of his appearance aside from whether or not he was dirty. Heath frowned as he tried to be tactful now that she had eased up on him. “Of course.”
She releases him and he wonders if his moods as a teenager were ever this bad. “Worse.” Sinclair whispers in his mind before drifting off with a chuckle. He begins tucking away his supplies as his models looked at his work. The blond can't help but snicker at the girl. “It shouldn’t be a problem. These are for my personal reference.” he explained, not intending to redraw the girl. He turns his head towards the familiar before shrugging. “Sure, I don't mind.” he relented. He pointed to a space above his neatly written notes and tapped it. “Here.”
Heath refrains from noting openly that he could tell Raven was used to always getting her way. He waited a minute, glancing at Dai foe extra hints or directions before looking back at his witch. “Well then, enjoy your coffee.” he said with a nod as he reached for his notepad again.
Post by raven delacroix on Apr 20, 2018 14:51:40 GMT
"Personal reference," Raven huffs. She flips her hair for the nth time today. What does he mean, for personal reference. Aren't references supposed to be based on actual person, topics or things? She understands it's a caricature, but she at least wants him to have a real reference of the great Raven Delacroix. Sure, she's still actually rubbish at witchcraft, but she's great on stage, that's what she's talking about.
And so she fishes out her wallet, and rummages through several copies of some of her favorite shoots. She drops the pen, and for a while is entirely engrossed in picking out her photos.
"Missus," Dai reminds her, careful not to say her name. "The signature."
Raven looks up then, with a satisfied look on her face, and a photo at her hand. "Oh, right, here." She then receives the caricature, once again hmphed at the drawing, and writes her name at the lower part, just beneath the actual drawing.
Heath would find the words 'Raven Delacroix, star of sundial' written at the bottom of the art piece. The words glitter with the sparkly ink, and Raven is entirely happy with that. She then places the photo in its front on top of the drawing, so that nobody else could see them except for Heath. It's a simplistic shoot of her getting ready for a show, all smiling and happy, chatting with the personnel.
And that is true, on every aspect. Raven is a brat everywhere else, except at the backstage.
She then leans forward and tilts her head slightly to the side, eyeing the blond as he gets his notepad again. "So, you have more work to do, eh?" she asks in a tone that suggests she isn't going to stay much longer. Her drink is already at the bottom, and well, she is beginning to gather unwanted attention.
[attr="class","itemsraven"]items used //
[attr="class,"imageraven"]
notes // NOTES HERE
I had to break it, the wars are raging on And I have taken my glasses off You got me nervous I'm right at the end of my rope A
Post by heath ambroise on Apr 21, 2018 2:23:36 GMT
Heath can only watch as the teenager searches through her things for something or other. She fixated herself on the ‘reference’ thing. Really, it was just a way to keep track of all the people he met if he didn’t actually exchange information with them. Like a contact list. Besides, he’d remember who the person was more clearly from the features of the caricature than a photo. He opened his mouth to relay this before stopping. She probably didn’t really care. Worse. Judging from how the entire conversation had gone, she’d just get mad at him again. And he was so close to being excused. He looks at Dai as if secretly asking if his witch always felt the need to grace total strangers with her visage.
He quietly takes the photo, ready to slap it on top of his cartoons. The blond notes in slight dictate that she does not sign where he told him to, thus not completing the little information profile he had already written up for her. It wasn’t a big deal. But it bugged him. Not it looked weird. He looks over the glittery signature, though there really isn’t much recognition at the name. He’s not sure, and perhaps this was his fault. After all he barely knew the people of his coven, much less anything he didn’t actively report on. Still, there wasn’t a huge flash of recognition and he decides to humor the girl. “I’ll show my colleagues. They’ll be ecstatic.” Heath assured, as he placed the photo on top and closed the work pad before sliding it into his backpack. “Yes, I have to double check a couple of leads for a friend and turn in a draft.” He explained as he pushed in his chair. He felt the urge to bolt, but common courtesy keeps his feet planted. “And you?”
Post by raven delacroix on Apr 21, 2018 3:16:51 GMT
Raven fervently hopes that he would be able to recognize her. She had been trying relentlessly for the past few minutes, and she hadn't really made any progress. None at all. She should have known better. Not everyone would know about her, and she should have known better than to piss of Heath over the his lack of knowledge upon the star of sundial. She could go over and over justifying herself from behaving so badly...
But still, when he mentions the least bit of hint that finally, finally, he recognizes the name that has been plastered on the countless headlines, Raven instantly looks at him, her crimson-eyes shining.
Deep down, Raven has something much bigger to prove. That's why she is happy when she thinks her hard work had paid off. It makes her happy.
"I'm sure they will be~" Raven laughs. She briefly wonders if any of Heath's colleagues are in fact her fans. She'd love to meet them. Although... as Heath rummages through his stuff again, he must be some kind of artist or writer.
Raven can only hope that they're not a stalker.
"I'm about to go too, soon. Much... stuff to take care about, places to travel and grace with my presence. Though I have one last concern, Mr. Heath." Raven finishes her drink and her food and looks at Heath solemnly. "Stalkers. Are any of your colleagues a stalker? Of anyone, of course."
Alarmed, Dai presses forward and nudges his witch with his antlers--a sign of warning. Raven is quick to smile at him and pat his head. She speaks in an otherwise calm voice. "It's fine. I just want to hear... their side."
[attr="class","itemsraven"]items used //
[attr="class,"imageraven"]
notes // NOTES HERE
I had to break it, the wars are raging on And I have taken my glasses off You got me nervous I'm right at the end of my rope A
