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.
[attr="class","m2content"]he begins preparations just as the sky threatens to darken. at least, that is what he would like to tell himself, but the truth remains, insistent, that he started long before that -- the sun was still high in the sky when he panicked and began preparations for multiple dishes. granted, he operates with passable grace, common sense dictating that he doesn't rush through this with reckless abandon as he does with everything else. there's a certain desperation that he calls out for help, and sima, blessed sima, offers their assistance readily. [break][break]
some time later, not a moment too soon, they're done with preparing; he nudges a bowl into place and straightens up immediately at the sound of the door opening. maddox whirls about on the spot, a smile broader than the horizon, looking so genuinely glad to see whichever guest had just walked in.[break][break]
it is likely that guests are greeted by a smiling crocodile, all four sprawling metres of her, lounging contentedly by the 'please wipe your feet' doormat that leads to the back of the blacksmiths shop. pragmatism dictates the workspace, but the living quarters that they open up into upon passing through a narrow doorway are fairly homely. the couches, worn but comfortable, are positioned around a fireplace. a fireplace blissfully unlit, that is, in light of lazy summer evenings. the backdoor is left ajar, the windows open generously.[break][break]
bringing the dishes out, he realises, slowly, that he may have made a little too much food. maddox voices his thoughts accordingly, mildly sheepish:[break][break]
"so! i might have made a little too much!"[break][break]
"but!" holding a finger up, he continues, "never any harm in overabundance, yes? please, thank sima for the sauces and sides-- grab a plate and help yourselves!" with a good-humoured, theatrical bow, he gestures to the line-up of dishes -- risotto, tagliatelle and your classic spaghetti, among a rich helping of sides and sauces -- and sets down a stack of plates beside them.
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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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A pale hand reaches for
the door's handle. It turns, and the shadowed figure pushes inside without so much as a second's hesitation. Erin does scowl, however: she's never liked having to enter any place through the backdoor, even if they led to Maddox's actual residence. She's never been particularly fond of being greeted by smiling—could that even be considered a smile?—reptiles, either. She eyes the colossus of a crocodile carefully, the tips of her fingers lightly tapping the wand hidden under her skirts, before moving on to the furniture surrounding a thankfully unlit fireplace.
"Maddox," she offers simply, as way of greeting, once she's settled on one of the couches. Her eyes wander to the other witch in the room: Maddox's boyfriend. Or girlfriend. It was hard to tell sometimes, and now was one of them for the younger witch. Erin is still unsure of what to think of the dark-skinned witch, after exchanging no more than polite words in passing until now. "Sima," she adds after a second, "Kind of you to help him with the dishes. Morgaine knows his taste in food could use cultivation." Erin has learned as much after only a couple of evenings eating out with him after a mission for their coven.
The purifier's abilities in the kitchen, on the other hand, remained to be tested. She just hopes they were above his ability to pronounce foie gras, or bouillabaise. On this topic, Siri, the small vampire bat perched on Erin's shoulder and shyly looking out from behind the curtain of her witch's dark hair, comments: Pasta isn't conventionally named in French. His Italian could be better.
"And thanks for the invitation are due, of course." Erin and many of their coven mates had invited themselves, in fact, but that was one detail better left out of the conversation.
When their host invites the small party to help themselves, Erin stands up—something she hasn't done for any of the other guests, or Sima, or Maddox. Her heels are noiseless against the room's carpeted floor as she approaches the three generous plates of pasta laid out before them, alongside their equally generous bowls of sides and sauces. "They look good, actually," she muses, half-compliments even, though her arms don't move towards any of them. Instead, she lingers by the sides, waiting for another brave witch to step up as the first.
[attr="class","gearcore"]"PEARLIE!" the boisterous greeting announced Zephyr's presence to the rest of the household. "How're ya doin', luv? It's been ages!" In truth, it couldn't have been more than two weeks since they'd seen each other last. It wasn't uncommon for Zephyr to drop by the shop, either for pasta, or because he needs some metal reshaped, or even just to check up on everyone there. He'd made himself acquainted with all of its inhabitants, familiar's included.
The tinker crouched down in front of the crocodile at the door and held out his opened palm for a low-five. Spock, waiting for nothing, swung around the human's collar and gave the reptile a quick fist-bump with an extended foot. This had become a habit after he and Spock had spent most of a weekend debating how to best greet certain familiars, given their varied physiology. Pearlie, being the sweetheart she was, didn't complain, so the tradition stuck.
As he makes his way back towards the living space of the Rothscus' home, he catches the tail end of Erin's overly professional greeting. "Then Morgaine's taste must've been utter shit, yeh?" he offers as he walks through the entrance to the room. Zeph garnered great satisfaction from being obnoxiously contrary towards this enchantress, just as she must have enjoyed being a constant killjoy. They had a reputation in Leviathan for acting like siblings who could never see eye-to-eye. "An' I just gotta' say, the food smells fuckin' amazing." he added as a compliment to their hosts, turning an appreciative eye towards the duo.
Thankfully, it wasn't long before they were invited to have their fill. Zeph takes one plate and two sets of utensils so that Spock can sample the various options at her leisure. However, Erin, positioned in front of them seems to just be staring at her options. The blonde rolls his eyes and walks past her, huffing a short "They weren't cooked t' just be looked at, mate," before shoveling a bit of everything onto his plate.
Zephyr Hart She hasn't actually done anything to the food I swear. I'm also just... eternally sorry in her behalf, tbh.
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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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Zephyr's loud entrance
doesn't surprise her in the slightest. It was entirely Zephyr of him to shout and fist-bump and all those other graceless things he and his monkey had accustomed her to. Erin could even name each of the greeting gestures by now, just from their sounds, if only because she'd witnessed them done so many times in the last two and a half years she's been with Leviathan. There's a small, barely perceptible smile curving her lips as she rolls her eyes at the blond. She attempts to hide it by prompting her own familiar to switch shoulders.
"Must be, if she plans to take even you to the Gardens of Avalon." It's become a running joke for her, now, using Morgaine as her lowkey act of subversion against the too-common occurrence of Merlin. Extra points when she made others believe her devout to the Old Religion.
She stops herself just in time, before snapping back with a nasty "Are you sure the fire didn't take your sense of smell as well?" There were many things wrong with that retort, clearly, starting from how it would imply their hosts' food wasn't actually good, and Erin did enjoy not being poisoned—or worse; to how offensive and legitimately hurtful using something like the magical engineer's past against him would be. The witch may be accurately described as a ruthless bitch, but there were limits when it came to family. As lame and plainly embarrassing as these two idiots could be, she considered them family too.
"I'm aware of the purpose of a necessity as basic as food, Zephyr." Erin turns in the direction opposite from which she heard his voice come from and makes a full spin, barely but successfully avoiding his rampant stride towards the small buffet. Taking advantage of his proximity and his eager distraction with their meal, she adds a whispered "I'm just waiting to see its effects on someone else first," and lets a smirk and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes do the rest for her.
Like a creep he is, Percy arrives at the said residence but does not enter. He can hear people already inside, and he wonders if he got the right info. Are these people all Leviathans? If he steps inside surely he would recognizes some faces. If he steps inside, that is.
Taking deep calming breaths, Percy prolongs his pettiness. Seraph is urging him to just go. Percy is refusing. It's rare to see his confidence waver, but hey, he does know when to be confident, and when to be... reserved, at the very least. Needless to say he is a tad nervous.
Word is just going around the Docks. Percy happens to hear it, and if he heard it correct, then all members are open to join this so-called pasta night. Cool, pasta. Percy idly wonders if they have some cheesy, saucy spaghetti. He also knows, however, that there is more to this pasta night than the innocent name it bears. Afterall, this is Leviathan.
And so Percy lingers, at the doorway. He tries to muster the same courage he gathered during his Bell's Bar escapade, and so he tries to peer at the door to at least get a glimpse of what would welcome him. To his poor heart the door creaks open, and what greets him is a sizable crocodile--
[attr="class","m2content"]he meets the comment on his taste with an over-exaggerated haughty sniff. the act drops almost immediately, though, when he does actually voice an objection. "not everyone is gifted in their ability to pronounce fancy dish names, like all that--" wisely, he refrains from attempting to repeating the mistake, and frowns slightly, almost petulantly, instead. "you know." zephyr and spock make their way in, and he takes that as his cue to turn his attention elsewhere.[break][break]
at the door, pearlie was being the best doorman -- doorcrocodile -- one could ask for. no words are spoken ( she's not the talkative kind ), but she accepts spock's fist-bump eagerly, then reaches out for the proffered low-five by zephyr. if anything, it looks as though her smile, in all its reptilian glory, widens. there's little doubt about whether she's playing favourites -- she is. [break][break]
patience is, fortunately, a relatively strong suit of maddox's. it is as much as a necessity as having working lungs, he soon learns after spending not more than a few moments in the combined presence of zephyr and erin. a smile, begrudgingly affectionate, firmly establishes itself on his lips. he's not so sure moosely shares the same sentiments; maddox hears a long-suffering sigh from the invisible familiar, and does not deign it with a reply.[break][break]
instead, he looks delighted as zephyr helps himself to the food. "see," maddox looks at erin pointedly, but the gaze lasts no more than a split-second before he's distracted by a new face at the door. he calls over his shoulder nonetheless, moving to receive the newcomer before darling pearlie scares them to death. "at least someone appreciates good food!"[break][break]
he doesn't recognise the new face. not entirely. there's a healthy amount of suspicion accorded, likely not a very welcoming combination; staring down at percy with the crocodile at his feet. thankfully, a distant part of his mind does reward his effort with some semblance of a name. he brightens almost immediately. "hi, uh, peter? no, i don't think that's it. m' sorry, bad with faces." a half-lie. not that it matters. "c'mon in, pearlie won't bite. she's a darling. mind the tail, though!"
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[attr="class","m2hov2"]ONE MAN'S OBSESSION IS ANOTHER MAN'S TRASH
Post by Rowan Ashworth on May 29, 2017 16:04:21 GMT
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Rowan hears word of the leviathan gathering quickly. Mainly because his grandmother has somehow gotten wind of it - he's not surprised, the old woman has connections everywhere - and she's gone and told him that he has to attend. It's informal, so it'll be "good practice for you to polish your social skills and stop making a fool of yourself." He begs to differ, especially since he tends to make a fool of himself at social events, but there's no arguing with his grandmother. [break][break] Apparently, word has even reached his mother, who gives him a smile and quickly tells him not to worry too much. But he worries anyway. Most, if not all of his grandmother's schemes for him end up badly. Last time, he'd been sent to fight simulated monsters - and frankly, that had shaken him badly, especially since he was no fighter. It had helped increase his rank, yes, but Rowan had no such ambitions beyond studying at university and living in peace. [break][break] The servants have set out a tailored suit for him to wear, but he declines and instead wears something far more casual. He flees the mansion before his grandmother can screech at him for not wearing the suit - he knows she'd rather he be on time than late and dressed better. Though she'll scold him for it later, anyway. [break][break] It takes a while for him to find the place, and eventually, it's the smell of pasta sauce that leads him to the right doorstep. That, and a brown-haired male who stood before him, seeming to be here for the event as well. [break][break] From his vantage point, he can spot what looks like a grinning crocodile, and he feels dread flood through his veins. Perhaps he was wrong to have thought this event would be more relaxed than the other social events his family attended. The croc didn't look exactly friendly, displaying all its teeth for newcomers to see. [break][break] He hears someone call out that the crocodile won't bite, but Rowan's expression is dubious. He gives a belated "Hello," that's not really directed at anyone, before he asks, "May I come in?"
Fane is dressed in a light daily-wear cloak, shaggy hair pressed over by the cloth and pinkish eyes hidden under the pink guise of her bangs. A coy smile is at play on her lips as she weaves her way through downtown Sundial.[break][break]
"Well, I just met with Lord Lorraine and they had something quite different to say...Are you trying to lie to me?" She asked to no one in particular, eyes and mouth smiling all the while as she worked her way through the busy intersections. Her feet walked without needing to be directed towards Aries's workshop, a place she didn't exactly frequent but a place whose location she had more or less memorized. [break][break] "No, not right now. I'm heading to meet with the kids." She chortled, near hysterical, if not for the fact that no one in the whole of the way seemed to hear her or even notice her presence. "Of course they're my kids! Who else's kids would I be visiting." She tsked, walking around the building to the back entrance. "Well, I'm afraid I gave up that habit some eons ago. Bye bye now." [break][break]
On the steps leading up to the back door entrance, she saw two young men she vaguely recognized. One had been making a sort of scene around Bell's Bar, and the other was the grandson of Ashworth. She walked up from behind and slapped both of them across the backs, attempting to lightly shove them through the door. [break][break] "Of course you may. Come on now. Pearlie's a sweetheart, she won't bite."[break][break]
After she had finished shoving the two men inside, she'd walk in after and look around, waving lazily to the inhabitants of the room, introductions forgone in favor of a pleasant smile.[break][break] new arrivals are welcome. as always, there is no need to maintain posting order. do not wait on NPC posts.
Post by lynnelia arnett on May 30, 2017 6:31:11 GMT
❧
If you asked Lynn why she was doing this — going to what was apparently a pasta night at a fellow Leviathan’s place — she wouldn’t have an answer for you. The only noise to be heard was the sorrow of her stomach as she made her way to wherever Medea had convinced her to go to yet again. The fox said it was for coven bonding, but Lynnelia knew her far too well — Medea was up to something, though she had no clue what. [break] I won’t know anyone. It’ll be so beyond awkward it’ll change the definition. [break] Hush; you spent so long trying to find your way into this coven, why not make some connections? You can’t do everything on your own. [break] Lynnelia gave an inelegant scoff at the fox’s words. I have you, that’s all I need. [break] She could feel Medea’s cool breath fan over her thighs in a sigh. I can only do so much, you know. [break] “Pfft,” Lynnelia huffed audibly, though she wasn’t mad at Medea — she was simply anxious at the prospect of being thrown into unknown scenarios with no preparation. [break] It took a while to find the place, but the smell was unmistakable; her courage, however, left her the moment she stepped up to the door. Someone had just recently entered, and she didn’t know if that had made her presence known through the door opening, which made her all the more frightful. After a good minute of just standing there, shaking slightly, she felt a sudden cold nudge against her waist, putting pressure for her to step forward. [break] She looked over her shoulder, a frown turning her lips, but by the time she’d done so the fox had vanished. Lynnelia cursed to herself before taking a deep breath of air and turning the doorknob. [break] Of all things, she wasn’t expecting to be met with a full-fledged crocodile, but she didn’t flinch at the sight, merely gave the creature a smile. Maybe she was weird, but when thinking of the situation logically, the crocodile would have little reason to attack her considering it was docile in the company of so many coven members. [break] Oh. Right. Coven members. [break] She stood there a bit awkwardly for a bit before forcing herself to smile despite her nerves, looking genuine regardless of how she truly felt. “Erm, hi… is it alright if I come in?” The door was still open, and half of her remained outside; she really didn’t know how to approach this, but she figured simply intruding wasn’t the best option. Maybe she really didn’t belong there, despite it supposedly being a coven get together of sorts.
[attr="class","intext"]Sima had always been one eager to help in the kitchen and so he was quick to answer Maddy's cry for help. It wasn't too often that he had the time for pasta night, though. Whether he was busy with commissions or other plans or he just didn't have the emotional energy for such a social gathering, his presence was a rare one. So, he was a little anxious and it manifested in his choice of dishes. While Sima had been born and raised in Sundial, his mother had not and she passed onto him dishes from her home such as penang laksa, a wonderfully sour noodle soup, and several savoury side dishes. They all stood at odds amongst the pasta and Sima was a little worried no one would try what he made or, maybe even worse, no one would like the dishes. He pushed the anxiety down and threw on a smile as Erin was the first to arrive.
"Maddy's taste is just fine." He hummed as he placed a dish of lokma on the table. It was perhaps too sweet a snack considering the entrees, but it was one of his favourite, so on the table it went.
Zephyr's arrival was quick on the heels of Erin's and neither wasted time before going at each other again. He gave a small wave, mouth full of lokma, but he quickly swallowed as their food became the subject of their argument. He put a had dramatically to his chest and feigned offense. "The fact that you would even imply that our food is anything less than astounding is insulting, dear Erin." His wry smile widened as he turned to Zephyr, "I assure you, only Erin's food is poisoned."
Vaguely familiar faces begin to stream in and as Maddox gets names wrong, Sima urges everyone else inside. "Come in, come in, there's plenty for everyone!" Or there probably was. If there wasn't then they could just whip something up pretty quickly. "Oh, Rowan!" The last time he saw him was during the apprentice exchange program, wasn't it? "It's good to see you again."
Post by Rowan Ashworth on May 30, 2017 15:55:04 GMT
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Rowan stands at the doorway, fidgeting badly until he feels a hand clap against his back and push him forward lightly. The voice that later lilts, telling him that of course he is welcome, is one that brings a tingling familiarity with it. When he turns his head, he freezes with shock.[break][break] He knows who this is - vaguely, and only because he's seen her around at Leviathan gatherings and such. He knows her by reputation and name only, but it's enough to escalate his nervousness up another level. He gulps, muttering a quick thank you as he steps inside. His eyes watch the crocodile warily, still not trusting "Pearlie" fully.[break][break] There's already quite the gathering of people, and he's overwhelmed. On habit, he lowers his head, letting his longer bangs sweep down and cover part of his face as he lingers towards the back. Oh dear, he really does not like parties...[break][break] He hears a familiar voice and he lifts his head. He blinks momentarily as he tries to place the face with the voice, and he realizes that it's Sima. A fellow he met at the Apprentice Exchange Program. Their exchange was brief, but they'd been together in the same room as well...[break][break] He shuffles a little closer and gives Sima a smile that holds an apology in it. Though what he's apologizing for, he's not sure. "Hello, Sima," he says. "Indeed - It's good to see a familiar face here. How are you doing?" He glances around the room, taking in the decor and atmosphere. It's homey, and the fireplace is an inviting prospect, as are the worn couches that sit around it. He's tempted to simply sit there and keep to himself, but the rules of social etiquette have been hammered into him since he was a child, and he knows it's better to at least attempt to socialize.[break][break] His attempt to socialize was his poor "how do you do" to Sima, and frankly, he's too shy to go up to other people and introduce himself. He truly wishes he had a bit more courage, but he supposes it's at least a step forwards. Perhaps he can involve himself a little more in the dinner conversation later...[break][break] Sima Pahlavimaddox rothscus ✨lynnelia arnettpercival grayremeErin CaulfieldZephyr Hart @allthelevs
[attr="class","m2content"]more people are making their way to the gathering; maddox finds himself mildly surprised, truth be told. he hadn't expected so many to show up for the modest invitation -- erin and zephyr had been most likely, sima had been roped into the preparation of food, but the others were a welcome presence nonetheless. he is just about to call out again to the newest guests again, pulling the door open a little wider, before the two are quite literally shoved towards him by a certain pink-haired woman. he steps out of the way just in time, presses his back against the door as they move into the room, and offers each a grin that doesn't seem to falter in enthusiasm at all.[break][break]
gazing into the room, still not quite moving from his position at the door, maddox feels fairly satisfied at the current ongoings of the gathering. a decided plus: nothing seems to be on fire, yet. the briefest worry of the food going cold before the guests have settled down crosses his mind, but it only takes a glance to pearlie before she acts: a lazy flick of the tail, and air concentrated around the various bowls warms considerably. not enough to warrant discomfort, but enough to preserve the heat of the dishes.[break][break]
in fact, he almost misses the woman standing at the entrance, if not for following pearlie's unblinking gaze. her tentative greeting is met with a wide smile, and a casual gesture towards the room beyond him. "be my guest, really." for a moment, he looks amused at his own words, before the briefest flicker of recognition crosses his face. "oh right, i saw you at gale valley, i think?" it had been for not more than a short moment, the other supposedly witnesses his graceful descent onto the floor and collision with the table leg.
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Climb until you're getting high Be a part of the scene like you're living your dream Walk the room like you're on fire Like your chasing the truth, gripping tight to your youth
Eira was never the one to be fond of large gatherings though there was an aspect of this particular one that she seemed fine with, it was gathering among her fellow coven members or so she heard from others. She was curious to say the least and when she heard of food being provided, it was another reason for her to attend to the gathering asides from the supposed bonding that would be had there.
She moved quietly towards the entrance of the residence, her steps slowing as she neared the door and she hesitated briefly. Eira leaned to take a small peek into the home in an attempt to get a hint of those who arrived to the event, briefly catching glimpses of those she vaguely saw at Gale Valley; it was a relief to have some familiarity despite it being so small in hindsight. When she determined that it was fine, she knocked gently on the wood of the door to announce her arrival, “Is there room for one more?” She called out into the household, raising her voice a tad louder to bring attention to the host.
“I don’t want to be a hassle.” She adds after a moment, while she would have gladly stepped inside if she had known better, yet she still wanted to maintain some form of politeness than to step inside at all.
One cannot imagine how relieved Percy is after being told that the crocodile is friendly. Percy almost laughs when a witch calls him by the wrong name. Percy is not offended in any way. Soon everyone would know of his name. "It's Percy," he politely corrects, simultaneously introducing himself to the whole bunch. "Percival Grayreme."
Needing no more encouragement but still slow to go, he pushes open the door and steps in. He notes two more person behind him, having no idea who the man is, but he does recognize the woman. She was there when he went to Bell's Bar last time. Percy almost trips when she pushes the two young men in, and quickly he regains his balance and utters an nervous laugh.
Apparently most of these people knew of each other. Percy does not, at all, recognize any of their names. And so he lingers back, fading in the background--or rather, drifting towards the pasta buffet. More and more people are coming through. He'll make his move... not this time.
Percy scans the several recipes, and, finally, his favorite!
He looks around, confirming that someone actually has food in their plate. And so he follows, serving himself some spaghetti. He speaks as he scoops sauce. "Pardon me, I'm just going to get some. This looks delicious." He smiles at the same man who spoke to him a while ago. Percy assumes he's the, what do you call it, the host of this little gathering. "I'll sample each of these dishes."
[attr="class","gearcore"]"Well that's just bad plannin', innit," Zephyr huffs at Erin's retort, "Never had much 'f a talent for gardenin'." He was well aware that the whole idea of the Avalonian Gardens was to not need to work, but he was equally aware that it was a pain in the ass to argue with someone who interpreted things too literally and didn't mind some self-deprecating humor.
He spares a brief moment to return Sima's wave before he moves to get his food. Erin's mutterings give him pause, however. He turns deliberately to look at her with narrowed eyes. Spock, perched on his shoulder, did the same. Was she the type of person to put some bizarre potion in the food just to get back at him for a previous offense? Did her pettiness outrank her loyalty to her coven? The fact that Zephyr even had to consider this was a testament to the sorry state of their relationship. But he trusted Sima (who spoke up about her comment) and Maddox. Gaze still on Erin, he expressed this by taking a slow bite from the contents of his plate and made a "I'm keeping my eyes on you" hand motion (with a small bit of spaghetti sticking from his lips) as he moved to the table to put down his plate and take a seat.
It seemed, however, that he would not be able to sit right away, as he hears a familiar voice across the room. The blonde's head whips around and arms raise outwards in greeting. Spock, in the meantime, jumps down onto the table next to their plate and begins poking at the various pastas with her fork.
"Fane," was all Zeph said in greeting before taking less than a second to bound over and give her a quick, but firm hug. It wasn't that the two of them never saw each other, but they were usually in a public space when they did. As one would imagine, treating other Leviathan members like family in public without a good reason was generally not advised. "An' here I thought you'd be too busy t' show!" he exclaimed with a wide grin, clearly glad that she found some time.
