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.
I press the button and[break]it bursts into life[break]This time nothing will escape my sight
There is excitement, and then there is excitement - Ling is currently quite clearly experiencing the second kind of excitement where a liquified rainbow bubbles through her technicolour veins as butterflies swirl by their thousands in her stomach with brightly-patterned wings and anticipation fizzes golden on her tongue. She's about to meet up with another runescripter, and they're about to explore and reinforce some of sundial's most ancient runic wards; history, exploration, runescripting, and new people - so many of her favourite things coalesced together, how could she not be excited?
She bounces on the balls of her feet, anxiously looking around for any sign of her mission partner-to-be. Restless energy practically radiates from her, and she can’t help a brilliant grin from spreading across her face every few moments. “Maybe you should try to calm down a little,” Valkea comments dryly, flicking a pristine tail in her direction from where he’s calmly seated in the shade, elegant and composed as ever. Not for the first time, Ling wishes she had his poise.
“I can’t!” she exclaims, tugging rather hard on her long braid. “How can I sit still when- when-“ She gestures animately in the air as if attempting to articulate her nervous-restless-excited state with wild arm movements instead of words - which, for the record, is actually quite effective.
“I know,” her familiar deadpans; she sticks her tongue out at him.
Then hastily retracts it when she spots a dark-haired woman headed her way. “Hi!” She brightens like the sun bursting out from behind the clouds, and bounds up to the woman with a cheerful wave. “I’m Ling! Are you my mission partner?”
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown yet longed for still.
Prejudiced? She wasn’t going to pretend she was a saint. Judgmental? Yes, because judgment is vital to action. Yvella is going to be working with someone on ancient runic inscriptions, the person is a novice of Jester’s Den, the person by all means… should not be so young.
The girl’s youthful energy is like the sun--- to someone who has been living enshadowed for so long, it’s nearly blinding. “You--are Ling?” She asked, and then instead of reacting horribly, she found herself splitting into an awkward grin. “Yes, that’s right. I’m Yvella Strom. You must forgive me. You’re hardly older than my sister!”
She doesn’t seem upset at all by the runescriptor’s age, but who knows what’s swirling through her head? Surely not the lady herself. Severa is in more of a position to answer, but the cat does not quite seem to want to introduce itself today.
“Regardless, it’s good to finally meet you.” She outstretches her hand in greeting- her amber eyes were warm and unsharpened. She could not bring herself to be wary of someone so young. The runes loom beyond them, older than their lifetimes and wiser than their generations.
Several figures in coats rush to and fro, responsible for different sectors of this site. Research, enhancement, everything at once. And they will be exploring their own sector of the site...and yet, Yvella does not even dream of it to go so smoothly.
“Let’s go get our passes,” she says, faint smile obscuring the anxiety as she nears what she already knows will be an annoying encounter with the head of the project.
I press the button and[break]it bursts into life[break]This time nothing will escape my sight
There is a split second of hesitation, of realisation. Of course there is - Ling has not yet met a single person who hasn’t had this confused-disbelieving-startled moment upon being told her rank - and with good reason too. There aren’t many 16 year old novices running around, after all, and she’s been told she looks younger than her age to boot. Still, regardless of how much she understands the reaction, there is still that brief flicker of annoyance that turns into apprehension.
The woman looks nice, hopefully she won’t react too negatively? ( or worse, patronise the heck out of Ling )
“I am!” she answers brightly, and is immensely relieved ( and infinitely delighted ) that she received a smile in response, awkward as it might be.
“Haha, don’t worry, I get that a lot.” She grins, a touch sheepish, and returns the other runescriper’s handshake. “It’s good to meet you too! It’s always so cool to meet another runescripter; I’m so excited to work with you today, Miss Strom!” Slight pause, another vaguely sheepish smile. “Uh, how d’you want me to call you? I don’t wanna make this awkward- sorry if I have!”
Yeah, maybe she should consider shutting up a bit.
Valkea, lifesaver, shifts the attention to him as he walks gracefully to Ling’s side, dipping a head in greeting towards Yvella. “Good morning,” he offers, serene and quietly amused as always. “I am Valkea, Ling’s familiar. It will be our pleasure to work with you.” He continues before Ling can interject - not that she’s opposed to her much more cool and in control and not-a-trainwreck partner taking the lead - white fur ripples as he flicks his tail in the direction of a pompous man in a maroon suit and a crimson cape standing with two obvious lackeys. “That man should have the requisite passes.”
Ling makes a slight face at the prospect of going up to him - he doesn’t exactly seem like the nicest guy to talk to - but gamely puts on a cheerful smile as she bounds forwards towards him, glancing back to make sure Yvella is following. “Hello sir!” she says, coming to a halt in front of him. “My name is Ling, and this is Yvella Strom, and we’re the runescripters hired to-“
“Runescripers?” He cuts her short with a scoff, finally turning to face them with a condescending look scrawled across his face. “We don’t need runescripters here,” he drawls, looking her up and down and obviously finding her lacking. “You should run home to mummy and consider a proper affinity, little girl. And you!” This time, his eyes fall upon Yvella. “You should know better.” He sneers at them, though something tells Ling he was attempting for a less evidently scornful expression. “We have no need for you here. You should leave.”
He begins to turn to his similarly disdainful lackeys, evidently considering this conversation to be over.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown yet longed for still.
Severa took the cue to appear- a mess of wispy shadows like the black flames after a candle is put out- and she promptly regarded the fox with a disdainful look. "Pleasure to meet you, Valkea," Yvella said, shooting the fox an apologetic glance and giving her own familiar a glare. "You'll have to excuse that one. She's not in the best of moods, ist seems." Severa's eyes trailed the fox wearily, and she spun a circle around Yvella. For once, she did not say anything incriminating.
"I see," said Yvella, eyeing the man as they approached him but choosing to say nothing. She knew what kind of game this would be.
Her head snaps involuntarily to attention when the man addresses her so sharply, but there is hardly a change in her dulled amber eyes. She has seen too much of this to even have the energy to be offended.
"You're absolutely right, sir." Severa, lagging behind the group, hisses loudly at Yvella's resigned tone. "It's odd that they'd have even asked for an evaluation. Unfortunately, we would be unable to leave without completing the meager task." Silently, her hand has already drawn the flier for the mission and she pressed it to the head honcho. "A token of no value, if you will. Surely two archeologists won't disturb your exploration? We only require the passes. "
Nothing in her tone suggests sarcasm- her voice itself is but a soft breeze. The words are mellifluent, like the song the nightingale knows it can sing the best. There is no need to argue with others over something as trivial as her affinity. She has long since given up that flame.
"Let us help you."
She holds out her hand expectantly, eyebrows raised in a humble but silent plea. She has done nothing to beg and has held her head high- it is not a matter of surrender; simply of avoiding confrontation and siding with the enemy. No. It's a matter of eliminating the enemy altogether.
