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.
there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying
that i should probably keep my pretty mouth shut
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Had she known that
a mission from Fantasia Salon's very founder and owner would make its way to her doorstep, Erin likely wouldn't have spent the last two weeks asking her parents' contacts about that new subsidiary being built in one of Mirrorlight's best known shopping districts. She likely wouldn't have gone just last weekend to get her hair retouched, either, if only she'd known she'd get a chance to be in the brand new establishment so soon afterwards. Apparently, though the official opening was still days away, there was to be a private event for a few select people to test and offer their opinion on the new location.
Erin wasn't one of the lucky few, as it happened. Why her family wouldn't receive such an invitation wasn't too big of a surprise, really—Mirrorlight's highest social spheres still liked their traditions, and disliked the nouveau rich—but she found no less offense in finding out of the exclusive event for it.
The witch had half a mind to arrive late to the rendezvous point for her mission in silent complaint. If she did, however, her reputation would no doubt suffer for it, and that was one of many things Erin was not willing to let happen. So she crossed the business' glass doors just in time, at exactly eight o'clock, to report to whomever thought was in charge. They weren't, of course; from the moment she stepped in, Erin had assumed control. Everyone else just needed to realize it. "Erin Caulfield, from Sundial." She introduced herself as if no more explanation was needed.
In a sense, no further explanation is actually needed, despite it being the polite thing to do. The employees would have been told about her and the reason for her arrival already. It's only when the project's supervisor takes a moment to look down and read the sheet of paper she had in her hands that she realizes she isn't the only witch called in to help oversee the beauty salon's atmospheric decoration. Such an action would not be needed with only one name to remember.
"Oh, dear," she lets out, once her eyes settle on the other witch, dark-haired and blue-eyed just like her. Perhaps a little younger. Had he really been there all this time? She wonders if his presence isn't simply so unremarkable she didn't notice it before. "I wasn't expecting an assistant, but I suppose you'll have to do. Bring me that brush over there, won't you?" Erin's feet are already taking her towards one of the few cushioned chairs already set up and ready to be used, each one in front of a long mirror, as she continues scanning the room.
Post by elijah silverwood on Jun 1, 2017 0:01:34 GMT
eye for an eye.
Elijah has always considered himself a 'serious' witch. He has no time for luxuries, no energy for the frivolous. He doesn't have any interest, either. So when he had taken on a mission to oversee the completion of a building, he had never expected to see a salon, out of all the things.
He arrives ten minutes early, and to his confusion, introduces himself to the project supervisor. She nods, and informs him that there'll be another witch coming in too. Elijah shrugs and nods along. Another mission that's a waste of his time; he'd rather get this done right and over with.
He settles himself in the work in things, asking politely of any of them need help. Moving a lamp here, swinging a few chairs over to the room over there; it's easy enough, no heavy work required. It looks like they'll be done by the time the sun sets--or earlier, if they move quickly.
And true to the supervisor's word, the other witch shows up in due time. Blue hair with pink highlights, dark blue eyes that looked as bored as ever. She introduces herself as Erin and sits herself on one of the cushioned chairs that he'd moved earlier, not hesitating to drawl orders right away. Elijah narrows his eyes and doesn't make any effort to grab the brush.
"I think you're mistaken," He says with thinly veiled aggression. "I'm not your assistant, and I expect to be treated as such."
there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying
that i should probably keep my pretty mouth shut
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Not a full five minutes in,
and already there was trouble that needed to be taken care of. Erin should have expected even a mission as easy as supervising would be met with its own set of difficulties. Especially when this mission was to be carried out with a witch outside of her circles. Nothing good in life came out of sitting back and watching. She turns to the source of this latest inconvenience. The boy seemed to be refusing to cooperate. What's more, he was narrowing his eyes at her as if she was somehow at fault for anything other than being fashionable.
It's amusing, in a sense. One of her eyebrows is arched even as she rests a judging elbow on the chair's arm rest, and her face atop the same arm's hand. "Are you not?" she drawls out, patiently impatient. She doesn't miss the tinge of aggression in his tone. If anything, she plans to exploit it. "Pray tell, what are you then? How do you want me to treat you?"
Erin doesn't wait for him to answer before getting her own. There was no time to dilly-dally, and she really did want that brush. In a matter of seconds, the object is lifted into the air by the invisible force of the mana she's manipulating, and propelled towards her second, outstretched hand. She considers shoving the brush at him on the way, as thanks for his kind cooperation, but ultimately deems it too childish an act. Only Julius would be capable of it. Besides, she was working right now.
Post by elijah silverwood on Jun 9, 2017 0:19:26 GMT
eye for an eye.
She arches an eyebrow and leans her head on her elbow, looking down her nose at him. Tch. He should've known. A mission as frivolous as this would only attract like minded people. Erin is no exception. Her sense of authority brushes him the wrong way; he's never met someone so arrogant.
"A partner." He says, leaving the conversation on that note. Equal or not, he'll at least finish the mission. Elijah doesn't seek disagreements, nor does he have the luxury of wasting time. His reputation's on the line, and he would hate to tarnish it because of such pettiness. At least Erin actually moves to retrieve the brush. And by herself--if only because of her own magic. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. If she could've done that, why didn't she just do it in the first place?
"Regardless, call if anything important actually happens." He says before spinning on his heel, making his way towards the other side of the room. There's no shortage of help needed, and he finds himself folding washed towels, warm to touch. Salon or not, he would hate to sit so idle when there are more important things to do.
there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying
that i should probably keep my pretty mouth shut
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This boy's answer amuses her,
and not in a good way. She hums briefly, questioningly, at his words. A partner, really?" she repeats in her mind. Is that the best thing he could come up? Apparently, it was. Erin finds herself sighing. She could see now that she got a partner both uncooperative and fun-hating. The situation could be much better, but she realizes it also could be much worse—she could have gotten paired up with someone with awful taste. After just a glance in his direction, she could at least confirm that wasn't entirely the case with the other witch.
Of course, that's one bit she fully intends to keep to herself, as well as one he might not be too keen to hear, considering he's turning on his heels and leaving her. Just like that. Leaving. If the young woman didn't know better, she'd be questioning her eyesight.
"How cheeky," she mutters as she watches him go.
Cheeky, adds her familiar at the exact same time. If anyone thought two entities couldn't be in complete synchronization with each other, this moment would certainly show them.
Regardless of how in sync familiar and witch were, the deed had been done and Erin, for a change, could do nothing but deal with it: something she had very little experience with. Being who she was, Erin was more than used to people like this going out of their way and bending over backwards to do her bidding. She still hasn't completely shrugged the shock off when her two other nameless background characters in the play that was her life ask her to excuse them. She steps aside distractedly, and proceeds to follow them with her eyes as they fix the last red chair in its place. "A bit more to the right!" she calls after them, and nods when they do as she says.
That's exactly what everyone else in the room should be doing.
The thought brings her attention back towards the rude boy. The killjoy. The boy currently folding towels on the other end of the room. "What do you think you're doing?" she asks, aghast. To think that he'd come all the way here from Sundial to fold towels! "Grumps, I don't know what they taught you in the countryside, but that is not how you fold towels, and you did not come here for such a menial task. Let the magically talented fold them properly."
She's pointedly looking at the boy she'd happily chosen to ignore and treat as background noise minutes ago, just in case he tried to argue she wasn't referring to him. "Aren't you an alchemist?" she asks. He ought to be, and not a failure of an alchemist either, but a proper one. Why would he be picked for a mission like this, otherwise? "Come here and help me arrange these potions instead." Erin motions towards the basket of vials and jars sitting atop the table beside her, which needed to be moved to the shelves farther back.
Post by elijah silverwood on Jun 27, 2017 21:21:04 GMT
eye for an eye.
Elijah is far from the most rebellious witch out there. He's willing to cooperate ( even if some witches can be insufferable ) as long as other people are.
What he won't do, however, is to kneel and bend to everyone's will.
He pushes. He barters and argues when he thinks he's right, and if they don't show him decent respect--well. It's their loss. He has too much pride to let someone run him over. In this case, it already seems clear that any cooperation between the two is a lost cause.
Towel folding is admittedly not Elijah's strong suit--but it should be easy enough, right? But when his partner approaches him, she's already starting to scold. And yet, her words aren't entirely hostile.
"Yes?" Elijah replies testily. He raises an eyebrow, and his gaze follows when she motions to the basket of vials on the table. For a moment, he's tempted to refuse out of pettiness. But he supposes that there's an air of truth to her words, and moves to inspect them.
"Ah."
Different jars, labelled with their names and ingredients. All of them related to their salon, but thrown in together with no regard for safety--but what did he expect? Elijah picks up the closest one and twirls it, watching as the liquid sloshes from side to side. He plucks a basket on the ground next to them and settles the vial softly on its woven floor.
"Let's put all the dyes in this basket. I'll get another one and we can start putting the rest in the backroom, or something."
there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying
that i should probably keep my pretty mouth shut
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"Or something" were the keywords here,
because Erin was fully intending to just use her magic to levitate all potions into place. But, as two vials swiftly make their way around other witches and to her hands, one vial to each hand, she realizes she doesn't really know what concoctions lie inside all of them, or how volatile they could be when subjected to great amounts of mana. She hums, unhappy with the idea of having to manually organize the vials like some lowly, talentless fledgling.
It will build physical and mental resilience, her familiar unhelpfully chides in. Erin is not interested in any of that. She does want to get the mission done, however. Most importantly, she wants to get a glimpse at all these different recipes for different dyes and skin care products, which would not be accomplished at all if she refused to do this small sacrifice.
"All right," she says, bringing one of the vials closer for inspection. It's lavender in color and probably also smells like lavender. Erin doesn't want to risk opening it, but she also doesn't need to. Its consistency already reveals its identity as hair conditioner. The other potion isn't as dense. Small star-shaped pieces of soap, or paint, or something in-between, float around its crystal-clear surface. Red and yellow and orange, all swirling as she puts it down on the basket. "They'll want one of each at hand once the salon opens, so these stay, and extras can be brought back."
Each potion is quite a pretty sight, honestly. A bit like Pepper's stars.
"You ever been to one of Fantasia's salons before? My visits have always been brief, but I think the little stars are what give each dye their color. This one," she adds, picking up a third vial that looks almost the same as the second but with more pale yellow stars and no red, "is probably used for ombré blending, along with the orange one there." She wonders if the stylists working here are all alchemists, if they make the act of dying their customers' hair a show by mixing those colors in front of them. That would certainly be a popular selling point.
Separating repeated colors is a bit of a chore, but it's all relatively easy compared to what the witches must go through at their own working stations. Erin makes sure to set aside an extra dark purple-blue dye to test herself afterwards.
