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.
He unfolds the packaging instead of tearing it, quick yet surgical in its treatment; he'd always opened gifts like that, as if he'd never been taught how to properly open a present with even an ounce of enthusiasm (despite the Cunninghams' encouraging guidance in his younger years). Just as carefully, he unfurls the woven material within, and at first thinks it might be a sweater or blanket with how thick and plush and warm it is. It takes a few moments of visually tracing its shape before the realization dawns that it's a scarf -- a very long scarf.
"You made this," he says to Rosario, more of a statement than a question as his fingers brush over the pattern of the fabric, "... Thank you." (The statement of thanks wasn't much, and didn't feel like enough, but expressing genuine gratitude was one of many basic life skills that the seer had never managed to get quite right. He was fairly sure that Rosario would understand -- at least, he hoped she would.)
Accepting the tin of desserts (and evidently pondering how best to carry all of these undeserved gifts while maintaining at least one free hand), Desmond is quiet until Aiden mentioned seeing each other again. "Saturnalia's Great Feast," he corrects the teen, "You'll see me then." Mostly, he doesn't want to give the Cunninghams even more ideas of holidays when he'll disappoint them for not visiting, but it probably would be a good idea to start gaining the trust of Amelia's son. Her ghost had been pestering to do so for years, yet he continued to avoid the boy whenever he visited the couple who'd sheltered him. It might have been viewed merely as a bit of inconvenient luck if he wasn't a seer, but as it stood, it was fairly obvious that his choice of time to visit up until now had deliberately kept Aiden out of the equation.
Draping the coiled scarf loosely upon his shoulders, he expectantly reaches out to Macintosh, one hand palm up, waiting for something to be placed there. "But I should be going. Thank you for having me on short notice," he says. Despite how infrequently he verbalized it, Desmond really did appreciate the Cunninghams, and for a long time he struggled with how to express this. In his line of work, he gave gifts to patrons he hated, smiled for coworkers who made even his insides squirm, spoke genuine-sounding assurances to targets who he planned to dismantle. To him, none of these things felt right to express something real. So instead, whenever they parted, he insisted on a palm reading, to give them luck when he was away -- a small tradition, just for them and a few others.