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.
The rooftops, they weren't close enough together. The space between ate and belched shadows, and soon maybe herself, with just one false step or jump. It was dark, so much so that if not for the lights lining the street, one could argue that it was all shadows tonight, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. Said clouds were tinted green last she saw them at dusk. Rain? She couldn't smell it coming though, and the wind was eerily absent save for small gusts to remind her that close to heel were shop signs and hanging laundry.
She itched to use her magic, to be able to push or catch herself as needed. She hesitated to however, watching the skies as if one extra bit of wind, mana induced or otherwise, would cause it to catch fire. Blazes set by lightning... she would perhaps even argue lightning as one of fire's mothers. Her mind shifted to her own mother, and the stories she told of a living sky and land, scolding each other with harsh words and strikes out of some sort of twisted love.
Hemlock shook her head, and felt the entire shake involuntarily travel down her body. Was she cold? Somewhat, but being a mildly chilled person shouldn't make her shiver, least she was sick, or afraid. Ah, was fear aiming to eat her as well? She imagined bickering shadows and tangible fears in her mother's fashion of storytelling, before hanging upside down. The sign she clung to with her legs was carved from the building itself, sturdy enough to hold what was still a light human being soaking wet. She ignored whatever it said, instead looking to the open door, and warm glow peeking from within. She twisted, then hanging from her arms, before letting go, and herself in.
This probably was an inn, or at least a pub, a bar and patrons glaring at her from a nearby corner. It could be a home too, she in the past having found herself in a lavish abode, lavish enough for a bar without the tradesman. The witch's eyes continued from the bar, to a few scattered tables, before resting on a stage. It was empty, save for stacks of chairs. Perfect. No one greeted her, or maybe they did in one of the strange ways townsfolk are want to do. Making her way towards the stage, her eyes have yet to stop darting to and fro.
Post by percival grayreme on Apr 30, 2017 17:51:14 GMT
[attr="class","Morning"]
[attr="class","mff"]
[attr="class","scarlett"]Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.
[attr="class","windyscarlett"]
The first victim has entered the premises. Percy let her take in the scenario of the empty room, save for the few patrons he made arrangements with. They'll not be doing anything. It is he who would be doing something. A minute passes by, and Percy decides it is time. He steps out of the dark with a sly expression. With his dark suit, red tie, and sleek, brushed hair, he looks respectable yet suspicious enough. Exactly what he is aiming for.
He offers a kind smile to the lady and bows. "Welcome, milady," he says courteously. He closes the distance her and pulls a chair, offering her a seat. "The show is about to start in a few minutes. Why don't you take a seat? Perhaps order a drink while you wait? No need to worry about the bills. Because it's Joker's Jamboree, everything for today is free."
Percy snaps his fingers, and a calm classical music began playing. Lights flicker on, bright enough to illuminate the dining area but low enough to keep the stage shrouded in darkness. The AC also comes to life with that snap, providing utmost comfort for the whole room. Percy, still with a light smile, excuses himself only to come back within a minute bringing a menu with him. The Leviathan lays down the menu to the table and pulls out a notepad and a pen, in case the lady does order something.
"Please, do not hesitate. We have an assortment of food and beverage here. Order as you please," Percy says against his will. What he really wants to say is, don't hate me for this please!
Deep down, Percy wants to stop. His heart thunders and his gut clenches. Yet, he keeps the act up, patiently waiting for the lady to speak.
@mop , 301 words, IDK how to do this I am sorry. Also you write so well <33 I aim to write just as beautifully as you do <33
She hadn't thought her wanting to perch on the stage be an issue. Shows meant a lot of people didn't they? She hesitantly let the man lead her to a table, and with a bit of a struggle of personal willpower, sat in the chair instead of on the table. She looked to the menu, then to the man, and then to the menu again. She could read, but it was awkward and disjointed whenever she did.
"I want something snappy." Texture, not haste, though whether or not the stranger knew that... She regarded him with large eyes, silly to look at maybe, but made to be aware. She subconsciously brought her legs up onto the chair, shifting to rest on her soles. Beginning to rock, she already regretted choosing the chair. They were tall, but not where they could hold someone's weight, not usually. She rocked back a bit to test it, and sure enough it nearly toppled over. No way she could have herself on the top of its backrest.
She was told that people don't like to be stared at, yet she continued to stare at the man, and then if she couldn't do that, the patrons at the bar. If she looked hard enough they wouldn't look at her, surely. It was a cocked plan, and she may be scolded anyway, but she rather not be caught in the process of picking up the chair, and laying it down on the table. If not stopped, or given no unseen time, she would then place herself on the front of the seat, the chair backrest down.
If all went as intended, she would find herself quite comfortable. Hmm, though that that table in the corner might be better... It even had a window, though it looked to be complicatedly closed. Curse latches everywhere.
Post by percival grayreme on May 2, 2017 15:43:30 GMT
[attr="class","Morning"]
[attr="class","mff"]
[attr="class","scarlett"]Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.
[attr="class","windyscarlett"]
Percy could not care less on her order. He simply writes it down and offers a kind smile to the white-haired woman. "Is that all?" he asks. "Any drinks you might prefer?" As he waits for the answer, he stares right back at her. Her tantalizing blue eyes are hard to look at, but Percy manages. He stares right back at her, hoping to assert dominance. He is the one in charge here, not her.
Whether or not she'll add more or say nothing at all, Percy will retreat back to the shadows to order the food. He gives the order to the counter, and let several minutes pass again before he goes back to the light with the tray in hand.
Percy spends the minutes observing the woman. He is quite surprised with the way she sat. It is almost funny, and Percy would have giggled if only his mind isn't a wreck. He convinces himself he's got a plan (he really does) but then would he be able to execute it properly?
Of course! Percy thinks. Because if others can do it, so can I!
What a horrible motto if uttered by the wrong person with a twisted intention. Just like him.
The Leviathan places the order on the tray, then balances it on one hand. He makes his way towards the woman, who is still sitting oddly. "I hope you're comfortable," he says as he places each plate on the table. "Enjoy your meal."
Percy decides to pull a chair for himself and sit. Whether or not the woman eats, or ignores the food, or do whatever, he would continue to watch her with genuine interest. "Say," he starts. "Can you answer some questions? It's for the betterment of our establishment. What do you think?"
