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.
Sometimes the walk from downtown to the hovel was too enervating to make especially when it was well past midnight. But it often wasn't just physical exhaustion, it was the weary well worn clip off an old film-- watching skyscrapers turn to ramshackle apartments, and marketplaces turn to landfills as the scene chnaged little by little while returning home.
So, which was it that had her on the precipices of sleep tonight? Well, a mixture of both.
Cloak and hood hanging over her delicate features, Isadora turned the alleyway and into the Hireling's keep. It was nights like this where she made full use of what little lodges Silvertongue supplied. And of course, full use of its kitchens.
Gliding across the halls she had familiarized herself with (but with so many doors unexplored)-- she began tracing her fingers over shelves and into cold storages in an attempt to find chocolate, before turning up tired, annoyed and empty handed.
Isadora sighed and crossed the kitchens, opening the doors to see if she could bother Gryffin into waking up. Her eyelids crashed down and opened up again, as she found herself caught in a cloud of pleasant smells. So he was already awake, was he?
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
Post by Gryffin Bordeax on Apr 25, 2017 7:53:56 GMT
it's the bitch of living
[attr="class","humour"]He awoke in a cold sweat, red inflamed scratches crisscrossed his ashen skin like a stale candy cane. Another night terror. They had been in frequency recently and not even his familiar could offer him solace. Piqûre was pulsing his signature aquamarine glow in slow and steady beats high above Gryffin's head. It was where he slept and watched guard, and had been watching guard since he'd moved to the Silvertongue HQ. In those early days, Gryffin reminisced as he picked up the sweat stained sheets and took them to the wash, Piqûre acted as a nightlight of sorts. That rhythmic glow lulling the young recruit to sleep.
His sheets in the wash, Gryffin decided to head to his comfort zone -- the kitchen. It wasn't like he'd be going back to sleep any time soon. The laundry would take at least an hour or two and that nightmare left him shaken. For the gilled witch it was it in the creative cauldron of the kitchen that he felt safe. Master of measurements and spices it was easy for Gryffin to get lost in the art of cooking.
Even now, he didn't notice Isadora as she stuck her head in. Scents of rosemary and juniper would have flooded her nostrils with hints of cinnamon, the aromatic spices having been simmering on a spare burner. All the others were occupied. A simple stock was being made in a large pot while a dark sauce thickened in another. Gryffin's back was to the door as he carefully butchered a whole chicken for the soup he was making. In fact, he wouldn't haven ever noticed Isadora if he hadn't needed to stir some sautéing veggies. "Oi! Whén did you get haire? And 'ow long 'ave you just... been standeng zére." Gryffin called, painfully aware he was wearing nothing but jellyfish pajamas in homage to Piqûre.
Post by isadora almic on Apr 29, 2017 13:46:21 GMT
The thickening aroma of rosemary and juniper stirred a hunger she wasnt quite she had bee nursing. But to be fair, she didn't eat nearly enough and usually munched on chocolate instead. Even then, the brunette was comfortable with slipped quietly into the kitchens, as stealthy as her element made her out to be.
Her lazy eyes traced Gryffin's steps about the room, wondering if she should jump at him from behind and startle out whatever nightmares had been eating away. The pale-faced monstrosity was a curious thing, but she wasn't quite the kind to pursue secrets. After all, she had hers. And people ought to be allowed theirs.
Gryffin spun around and nearly jumped out of his pyjamas upon seeing her standing there, leaning against the now-closed door. She gave him a few moments of silence for the embarrassment to truly sink in before smirking triumphantly.
"Isn't it such a shame all the chocolateries are closed at this time of night? They really ought to cater towards midnight snackers more," she lamented, completely ignoring Gryffin's questions in favor of making him uncomfortable.
She gave a disdainful look of her surroundings, nothing close to what she actually felt. But she was feeling a little on edge tonight, and could not explain the feeling. "So what, they make you slave through the night or something? Positively morbid..."
It was a clever technique she had picked up from an old friend. By making a false assumption, people were more inclined to defend themselves (and thereby explain themselves) than if you had asked the question outright.
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
