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.
Cain's always viewed himself as an ordinary person. He's by no means a prodigy at magic, nor does he have a prominent family or a heroic deed to be remembered by. He's only gotten here today by hard work and sheer luck; and sometimes he still wonders if he's fit for the title of High Priest, much less the leader of Jester's Den. [break][break]
Medeia, by contrast, wears her title like a well-worn glove. He can't remember a time where she ever deviated from her reserved, carefully crafted look. [break][break]
He laughs, and fortunately, it's broken the tense atmosphere around them. Everything will work out, He thinks, All things do eventually. Although he doesn't know if he's convinced himself quite yet. [break][break]
"I'm trying--but it's not as easy as charging into a castle and saving the princess, Medeia." He says. At the mention of the girl, Cain leans forward and steeples his fingers under his chin. His memory proves murky but he still remembers one crucial, important fact. [break][break] "The girl...she has the mark."[break][break] notes: a continuation of this NPC thread
"Well now, isn't that quite literally the knight's job," Medeia mused, for once not thinking too much about her words as she contemplated Cain's. [break][break]
She blinked at the revelation, and all of a sudden she was reminded of that swelteringly sick feeling, as though summer had caught up to her at long last. The sick feeling she had had when Ezra has started screaming in that tent those days ago-- "To be an enchantress, it is not enough to trust your gut. You need to act on it, at all times, and never fear the mistakes you will make." [break][break] The memory floated in her mind before she banished it. "Don't be ridiculous," Medeia remarked, wanting to laugh but finding herself unable to. Cain, at least, would never lie to her. He was unmotivated by personal gain or political agenda, a remarkable specimen of witch that really shouldn't exist in this day and age. [break][break] And yet...A member of leviathan? "Unless she's some kind of radical." Her lips pursed at its implications- the worst and best case scenarios, how exactly to deal with them. "I'll increase security. The second anything happens I'll have a team ready to take her in. We can't let that sickness spread again."[break][break]
She felt the imperious urge to change the topic. "Next on the list. The artefact." [break][break]
Cain shrugs ad runs a hand through his hair. "I don't know, but it's exactly the same. She didn't look like a fanatic about it, either." He says, tone serious. Medeia seems unconvinced, but she should know that he wouldn't lie about something like this. Cain grunts and purses his lips--it's something, but he doubts that it'll be enough. He couldn't shake off the sickening feeling in his stomach. Something is happening, and neither he nor Medeia are prepared for it. [break][break] When they move on to the next topic, he's relieved. "What about it?" He asks, but he has a feeling that he knows what they'll talk about. Deny it all they want, Sundial has been rife with rumours of Silvertongue, and their behavior didn't help their case.
medeia gives cain a look when he asks her flatly about the stolen prize. "to be frank, i couldn't care less about who stole it." she stalks the llibrary with a sort of viscious pacing before inveitably coming back to the same table. "i don't care if it was a gang of pretentious bandits or the fool wisbane himself that slipped those snakes there." [break][break] "stolen items hardly stay in the hands of their thief for very long." her hands, which had been placed on the edges of a table in a fashion more suited to a prosecutor than a lady, quietly relaxed as she drummed her fingers daintily on the wooden surface. "but i've heard no whispers of an ancient wand on the blackmarket. unless they're still trying to lie low, this means that it's already in the destined hands of its consumer." [break][break] "and i don't think an antique collector wanted mallori's wife dead." [break][break] the message is clear: time is running out. [break][break]
Medeia paces around the room, and in her ever-so-knowledgeable tone, analyzes the situation at hand. The artifact is gone--and despite its priceless value, has not shown up in the underground scene. And knowing Medeia, if she wanted information, she could have easily gotten it. [break][break]
He raises his eyebrows and looks at her incredulously. "Are you sure you don't need better connections in the blackmarket?" He says, half joking. Cain hasn't dared to step into the rabbit hole of illegal goods and services, but he wouldn't be surprised if Medeia already has connections there. [break][brea] He steeples his fingers and leans forward, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. "But why would they kill Mallori's wife?" She didn't have anything dirty on her, at least, that they know of. She didn't have to die in order for them to steal the artifact. [break][break]
"are you suggesting something?" she asks- a dangerous twinkle in her eyes. "i, medeia trevil, with connections in such a grimey place?" [break][break] she smiles then, expression serene as she stops her frenzied pacing in favor of a rigid stance as she stands on the glass bottom of the library- her heeled feet point like daggers at the populace below. "i don't think that suits my character, cain." [break][break] but what was her character, really? [break][break] she sighs. "almost certainly. her death is the distraction or a message. probably both." her lips purse. she has quite the few assumptions and careful guesswork ready to be tested. "with recent events in mind, i--" ah, slip of the tongue-- "the council of sundial has an assignment for you, mr delacour." [break][break]
He leans back into the chair and folds his arms across his chest, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I would be surprised if you didn't." He says, smiling back, and takes the time to stand and stretch, interlinking his hands before he stretches up to the ceiling. "You're the type to be prepared, right?"[break][break]
He can't help but sigh at her last statement. "Why is it always me that gets assigned on these missions?" He gripes, but Cain already knows why. Given the confidentiality of the mission and everyone else's motives, he's the best fit. [break][break]
Although that's hardly an excuse. He does miss being around the cafe all the time. And Valerus isn't the best witch to entrust the coven to, despite his rank. He slides his hands into his pockets and turns to Medeia, his casual cloak and plain outfit out of place in Medeia's refined, luxurious presence. [break][break] "When's the last time you've been sent on one of these assignments?"
Be prepared she mutters internally, mulling over the idea that Cain seems to have of her. If only it were so easy. Unfortunately she could not prepare for forty-four innocents dying overnight, nor the shocking implications of a Leviathan revival. There were few things anyone could prepare for. But if the forces wanted to act against her, she would take them out. [break][break] One by one, strike by strike. Perhaps that's the best preparation anyone can make. [break][break] She tunes in to hear Cain complain, and for once she offers him a sympathetic smile. Her eyes soften at his words. "Ah, but who else would we send?" The question hangs in the air and she lets it lie suspended, gracing the atmosphere with a sense of whimsical magic. "You are Cain Delacour," she says, words sweeter than sugar. "The valiant champion against the enemies that lurk in the dark." [break][break] Her tone is unsarcastic- painstakingly sincere and docile.
He pauses and raises and eyebrow when Medeia asks her question. Because it made sense; these missions are highly confidential and secretive, but they can't expect him to be missing and not raise any attention, can they? Cain doesn't answer, and Medeia only continues. [break][break]
At such compliments, surprisingly unsarcastic and sincere, he can't help but scoff. Ever so charismatic --Cain would even go far as to say she's quite manipulative. He's not daft; her compliments may be sincere, but her motives might differ. Although, it may not be an entirely bad thing. Sundial needs someone to look up to when things get desperate, and Medeia's handled that responsibility very well. [break][break] At the praise, he leans forward on the table, chin lazily resting on top of his palm, and laughs. [break][break] "Oh please, now you're just saying that to make me feel better."
Oh Medeia's almost always being fake or sarcastic. It's usually what gets people to believe her when she says something sincere, the sort of thing that drives another to take the stringless compliment without heed to whatever is driving it. Cain doesn't seem to believe her, but she just shrugs absentmindedly, pushing the genuineness of the act as far as it would go. [break][break] "Believe me or not. People look up to you, Cain. They appreciate you." [break][break] She lets her words hang as she retrieves a small stack of books that she had likely come to collect. She slips the envelope containing Cain's next mission on to the table. Before he can take it, she taps on it cheerfully with her finger to grab his attention. [break][break] "By the way..." A confident, wide-lipped smile slips from out of her mask and onto her features. "A thank you would have sufficed."[break][break]
And with that, she turns to leave the library. The set of instructions will explain themselves. She doesn't need to be there for the fallout. [break][break]
"Hmm." [break][break] He hums, not quite believing Medeia just yet, although he does appreciate the compliment, however genuine it is. There is always a sort of truth to everything, even if it doesn't seem like it at first. The thought of people looking up to him, however strange, makes him happy. [break][break] He reaches for the envelope, fingers barely grazing the heavy parchment before she taps on it briskly with her fingers. At her grin, unabashed and wide, he can't help but smile confidently. [break][break] Was it the real Medeia that said that? [break][break] "Thanks, Medeia." He lays a hand on his heart, and waves her away as she starts walking, her red dress flowing smoothly behind her, gold inscriptions blindingly bright, like the sun itself. He cups his hands and yells. [break][break] "Oh great leader Medeia! For your honorable presence, I shall gift you a thousand flowers!"
Cain's always viewed himself as an ordinary person. He's by no means a prodigy at magic, nor does he have a prominent family or a heroic deed to be remembered by. He's only gotten here today by hard work and sheer luck; and sometimes he still wonders if he's fit for the title of High Priest, much less the leader of Jester's Den. [break][break]
