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 was an air about Medeia that would make her imposing even if she were stripped barren of title and authority- and it wasn't not like her dear friend, Rowenna's. It is subtle, carefully created and effortlessly executed. She walked into the Library dressed in her fine robes- red and gold, for official occasions.[break][break]
Or when she felt like keeping fans at bay. [break][break] The double doors opened and Medeia made her way to the back of the building- There was a lot in the library that had been cleverly hidden by spatial enchantments and signature Costwicks spells, but there was also a more direct method of entry restriction, a place reserved for those with status, power, or a special permit and a brilliant mind.[break] [break] She slid her witch's license into the door to the staircase. [break][break] The door responded- "What came first, the phoenix or the fire?" [break][break] Medeia frowned, thinking for a moment. "A circle has no beginning or end," she said, and the doors slid open. [break][break] She moved up the stairs and towards her little corner of the library- a table at which Cain Delcaour was conspicuously sitting. "High Priest Delacour. To what do I owe your visit?" [break][break]
He had been here since early morning, dressed in casual clothing with only a worn cloak over his shoulder. Such times are when he could walk through Sundial uninterrupted by the public, without the worry of coven members nor the stray fan. Cain likes to think himself as highly social; but there are moments where he needs to think to himself. [break][break] Old tattered books lay open, scattered across the surface of the table, flipped to random pages of history and magic. What was that mark? He wonders idly, flipping through a particular one on enchantment. He's seen it before, but despite the constant thought, his memory fails him. [break][break] It's not long before he hears footsteps come up the wooden stairs. Medeia Trevil makes her apperance in a deep red robe, lined with golden threads and weavings. He can't help but look slightly sheepish--this nook of the library is commonly known as Medeia's domain. When she refers to him by his rank and last name, he whines, offended. [break][break] "You know I don't like that title, Medeia." [break][break]
Medeia smiles her diligent smile- the kind that melts the hearts of those who do not know her very well- and pressed forward, putting a few books on the table and pulling away the chair that lies before Cain's. [break][break] "Is that so? I must have forgotten," she says, voice clear like water from a stream and twice and pleasant-sounding. "Pardon my intrusion," she said sarcastically, giving Cain a veiled glare from above the rims of her glasses. Instead of sitting down at the chair, she put her bag on it instead and stood triumphantly behind it. [break][break] "I was expecting you to at least write to me before you came here. At any rate..." There's a heavy pause in the atmosphere. "As much as I loathe to say it...I told you so." [break][break]
Cain's worked with Medeia long enough to know that she plays into the role of High Priestess Trevil, Her Grace of Coven Helios Knights very well, even if it may not be what she wants. Her smile is tailored to perfection; clear white teeth, just enough to charm, like the other facets of her image. She's maintained high opinions from citizens for as long as she can remember. [break][break] He wonders who Medeia really is under all that pressure. [break][break] "Ever so grateful for your consideration." He snarks back, not bothering to hide when he rolls his eyes. She settles her bag onto the chair, not bothering to take her seat. Instead, she stands confidently behind ( to look down on him, he swears ). [break][break] He steeples his fingers and frowns, not quite believing it himself when he says, "Hey, we still don't know if it was truly Silvertongue or not..." [break][break]
Cain was a complex creature that continually defied every law of the established universe that Medeia looked after. But the trick was that for the most part, his heart was in the right place. And in a world like this, that was the one and only thing she had come to respect. Not like he needed to know this. [break][break] She smiles smugly at his eye roll, but her gaze quickly drifts to the book that he has cracked open in front of him. She vaguely recognizes the cover and the spine, and briefly wonders what he's picked up and why. [break][break] "Oh?" she asked, wondering if he said silly little things just to try her nerves. "Wasn't that the thing you were sent to investigate? Really, never let a fool do a knight's job." [break][break]
When he was young, he had never envisioned that he'd get caught up in all of this-- politics and secrets and missions. He had just been an ordinary performer, after all. He's worked tirelessly to prove himself worthy of the title High Priest. And yet, people say that he doesn't deserve it. Well, he doesn't hear it per se, but with his lackluster presence and their dubious, grudging respect, it's not a hard leap to make. Such criticisms will always come with rank, but it still doesn't make it less annoying. [break][break] His eyes scan over the page in front of him, and he deduces that the information is irrelevant to him before flipping it. Medeia's as difficult as ever, especially when it comes to her precious coven. [break][break] He doesn't blame her though. They've all been a little off since the nightmares. [break][break] "Someone's in a bad mood--" [break][break] Cain suddenly stops, his eyes locked onto the page. A hexagram laid in the middle of the tattered paper, ink faded into a brown musty color. It looks intimately familiar, yet alien at the same time.
Medeia's eyes flick to Cain again. She can put her grievances aside and respect anyone that's earned the same spot as her, but that doesn't really mean anyone gets special treatment. "Bad mood?" she asks, tone accusing. Was she supposed to be frolicking after losing a handful of good coven members to whatever had plagued them in their sleep? "I'm livid," she declares, eyes narrowing. [break][break] "First, the unsolved assasination...Now the bastard's going through the gala. Parading unearned immunity. Rowe's a flick of the wand away from chasing them down like the revolutionists..." [break][break] She neutralizes again, expression blank as she looks over the page. [break][break] Her eyebrows narrow. "You're joking, right?" she asks, gingerly moving towards Cain, her eyes hard. "Cain...are you an idiot?" [break][break] There is an uneasy feeling in her stomach, like some fabric of time is crumbling apart.
His halfhearted attempt to lighten the mood only makes it worse. He frowns, fingers tapping lightly on the faded text. Perhaps he could've said it better. To hear Medeia admit such strong emotions is somewhat unsettling; Dmitri Wisbane walking free and unopposed must be eating away at her since Gale Valley. [break][break] Cain sighs. "I know. But if we could arrest him, we already would've. We just don't have any concrete evidence..." He trails off, eyes searching. He feels like he should know what it is, and yet his mind comes up blank. He looks up to Medeia, eyebrows drawn, entirely clueless and throughly confused. [break][break] "I don't have time to be playing your games, Medeia..."[break][break]
Her lips thin grimly. "I'll have evidence yet," she swore. Because, in the end, it was easier to focus on the things you could control than the ones you couldn't. A quick flashback of the nightmare from the other night makes her sigh with impatience. [break][break] The past is in the past. [break][break] She glares at Cain, at first thinking he's playing some kind of joke on her. But then he looks genuinely confused, and then, upon this realization, so does she. "It's the mark of Leviathan, Cain," she says, her words quick and tone rising with disbelief. [break][break] "I'd forgive a random layman for not knowing what it is, or some idiotic teen that's never opened a history book. But you? Cain...what's going on with you?"
I don't doubt that you will, He thinks, because if there's anyone that's more determined to see Silvertongue taken care of, it's Medeia. Lately it seems like everyone's been suspicious of them--for good cause. Dmitri Wisbane hadn't denied nor has he affirmed the accusations concerning Gale Valley, and he's been strangely quiet after the nightmares. [break][break]
He pushes that thought to the back of his head. There are more important things than a shady coven leader to deal with at the moment. He squints at the mark, but there's nothing to remember, and he thinks that it might just be him going crazy when he feels the sharp throb of a headache at his temples. [break][break] Of course, Cain had been a slacker when he was young. He's had his fair share of dangerous adventures, books forgotten in his room. But the mark of Leviathan? It seems like something too crucial to forget. [break][break] "...So this is the symbol of Leviathan?"[break][break]
"Do you need Luna?" she asks immediately, raw and genuine concern flashing over her features. Cain looks like he's have some issues as his gaze fixates and jaw seems to clench. She catches herself panick and forces her breathing back to normal. She can't jump to any conclusions...and as much as she'd like to look into Cain, she's afraid of what she might find-- what implications her findings may have. [break][break] As the leader of the Helios Knights, it's her job to sustain the present, for as long as time will allow.[break][break]
"Cain...I lost at least a dozen good witches the other night. I don't need you going AWOL on me too...if something's the matter..." [break][break] Something unsettling is in the atmosphere-- like the fortune reading, like the nightmare from the other night. [break][break] "Yeah." Her gaze is fixed on the High Priest. "The barbarians used it to identify themselves for a long time. but if any of them are alive...i wonder what they'll think of it now."
Cain rubs at his temples and nurses at one of his many new headaches, eyes briefly fluttering closed. He waves away Medeia's ( rather uncharacteristic ) concerns with a shake of his head. He'd been completely fine before looking at this symbol. [break][break] "No no--I'm fine," Cain says, although he knows that it's hardly believable at the moment. He scratches his head as he thinks of an explanation. "Just tired, I guess," he says before frowning, as if he didn't truly believe it himself. He's lost quite a few coven members as well, perhaps it's just the stress that's been getting to him. [break][break] Cain's face blanks at the mention of death, something that's taboo in midst of what's happened lately, "If any of them are alive...?"[break][break]
Medeia's worries, as much as she could pray, could not simply vanish with her willing them to. Instead, her gaze on Cain lingers before she gives up. If she's going to start giving history lessons, she can't afford to be emotional. And so she speaks, tone and words devoid of the humanity that she had cleverly weaved into armor: [break][break]
"the helios knights won that war, cain. it might have been a close call but after the first month the end of it was almost all but certain. the pests, like pests, refused to give up and it dragged on for two whole years... [break] [break]
and at the end of it, there was too much destruction. they needed to be ended quickly and efficiently. and so the whole of the coven and any that dared stand in its support was marked with their own symbol. the extinction, or so it was termed. [break] [break]
no age limit, no care for gender. each of them was either exiled or removed from existence systematically by the Grand Order of the Helios Knights."
He nearly sighs in relief when Medeia backs off, because as much as he appreciates her concern, her approach to everything is always so...methodical. There's no room for emotions--she is the enforcer of the law and order. In her position, there's little room for much else. [break][break] He listens to her as she tells history, a terrible war in between what must have been very prominent covens. He breathes as knowledge slowly comes back to him, bits and pieces flowing slowly from under a locked door. There's a short silence that follows the end of Medeia's words, comfortable but filled with thoughts. Questions with no answers. [break][break] He tears his gaze away from his book, and looks up at her, knitting his eyebrows in concern. [break][break] "...Do you agree with what was done?"[break][break]
The silence hangs heavy like the curtain after a long show. Medeia has never performed on stage, but she feels as though she understands, to some degree, what it feels like. [break][break]
Her eyes close. When they open it's clear she is no longer a friend of Cain's, a socialite, a mentor, a priestess, an enchantress, or a number of other things she usually is. At this moment she is no one but High Priestess Medeia Trevil, Leader of the Grand Order of the Helios Knights. [break][break] "Does it matter?" she asks, one eyebrow raised in cocky opposition as her head tilts to the side. "I have to."
