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.
Post by iolani kótsyfas on Nov 25, 2017 2:44:31 GMT
there's always something comforting about being in a bar. something about the atmosphere, maybe - rough, aged wood and scratches and pockmarks and evidence of generations gone by, sweet smell of whiskey and beer lingering in smoke and dim lights, the hubbub of a hundred different voices crashing over her like a wave; or maybe something about the company - rough people, sharp eyes, hard eyes, grins too toothy to be trusted, pretty girls pressed together in a huddle of laughter and bubbling gossip, the miserly few pressed into corners drinking their worries away, barkeeper ever reliable behind the counter. iolani's lips curl up in a ruby-red smirk as she takes another draught from her glass, grey eyes glinting as they survey the bar.
sundial is... well, it's not home, but it's a nice place, and since she's never going to be able to go home, sundial is good enough. the people of bell's bar are welcoming - as if to prove her point, she catches the eye of a red-haired woman she'd had a lovely time with in her first week here, and they exchange winks - the alcohol is good, the city is just about big enough for her liking, and...
her fingers find their way towards the silver-grey ring sitting innocuously on her finger. iolani taps it absently, wondering at its significance. or lack thereof - she hasn't decided just quite yet. leviathan - not something she's quite expected to find herself involved with, but hey, with the way her life has gone so far, she can't say she's too surprised. the only question is, would she regret it?
ah, but what does she have to lose anyway. she knocks the rest of her rum back in one gulp, signaling the barkeeper for another, and goes back to eyeing the crowd. she can contemplate the implications of her acceptance again in the morning - for now, hopefully she can find a pretty girl willing to have some fun tonight.
Post by maddox rothscus ✨ on Nov 25, 2017 4:45:46 GMT
he doesn’t visit bars as often as he used to. he attributes that to several factors: his slow rising work load in leviathan, or the perpetual chaos that his associates seem to be embroiled in ( inevitably dragging him along by the sheer intensity with which they lead their lives, motivation in the wake of falling stars ).
but here he is again, the simple silver ring sitting on a chain beneath his shirt, hidden from sight, from mind. bell’s bar is a place inevitably associated with the coven, but for today, that’s really not why he’s here at all. though, in retrospect, he has intertwined himself so deeply with everything that he thinks to be leviathan that there’s really no hope of true separation.
and, try as he might, he can’t. try as he might, he cannot help but scan the place for familiar faces, of which seems to be in shortage tonight. try as he might to return his attention to the glass in hand, silent solitary drinking in a manner reserved for contemplative individuals that are not one maddox rothscus, his eyes spy the glint of a particular ring. the light catches it at just the right angle.
from across the room, his gaze follows it to a face he does not recognise. huh.
he stands, weaves his way slowly through the crowd until he reaches the bar where she is. he smiles, curious and warm. it doesn’t match his eyes, sharp and sword-metal grey. “i haven’t seen you around here before.”
Post by iolani kótsyfas on Nov 25, 2017 7:40:52 GMT
there's a pretty dark-haired girl with a streak of blue in her fringe the slyest smile nursing a glass of whiskey not far from where iolani's sitting. cute, mischievous, and can hold her liquor - most definitely her type. she's debating the merits of approaching the girl - is in fact just about to hop off her stool and saunter over - when she becomes aware of someone approaching. someone approaching her.
she could duck his attempts and go over to the girl. there's nothing stopping her from doing so. but... iolani doesn't, because she's curious, and she's never been good at curbing her curiosity. she doesn't need to curb her curiosity now. and heck, it's not like she doesn't swing both ways.
not quite swiveling around to watch him cross the last few steps, but not doing anything to hide the quirk of her eyebrow, iolani scans the stranger - up, down - and offers him a smirk. not bad, not bad at all. if he's here to proposition her ( which, if her instincts are right, he's not ) she certainly wouldn't mind spending the night with him. alas, it is probably not to be. how disappointing.
"i haven't seen you around here before," the man says, and his tone is innocuously curious, but his eyes are sharp enough to cut herself against. silver-grey, the colour of live steel, the colour of storms. they match. iolani eyes him beneath her dark, dark lashes, and lets her lips curl up in a ruby-red smile.
"oh, i'm new to sundial," she says airily, waving a casual hand. her ring glints in the dim light. "arrived here about a week ago." black painted fingernails tap against her glass, an appraising look from smokey-silver painted eyes. "you come here often?"
if this man wants any information from her, he's going to have to work for it.
Post by maddox rothscus ✨ on Nov 26, 2017 6:45:34 GMT
he almost feels apologetic, noting how her eyes flit to a dark-haired girl down the bar. almost. curiosity has a way of quite effectively doing away with such feelings, tucking them away into a separate corner of mind to be ignored. it sharpens his attention, renders it both kinetic and grants it leonine languidity; allows him, thus, a moment of indulgence manifest in a mirrored smile. unbidden, his eyes flit to the ring once more, then back to her face. she has nice eyes, he thinks. dangerous, a storm-grey maelstrom; admired best from a distance, fatal up close.
her answer doesn’t give much information -- it is not what he wanted, per se, but frankly he scarcely has any idea what he is doing here in the first place. if he hadn’t come over, he could have just stayed in his booth at the corner, admired the world through the distorting prism of an expensive glass of scotch. if he hadn’t come over, he could have sat there, unmoored, looking that perfect shade of pathetically and aesthetically desperate that someone would have struck up an idle conversation on the colour of rain or something equally inane.
if. if. if.
no time for that; he is already here. “often, i guess,” he says, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. it is not too big of a lie. “but apparently, not often enough.” his fingers drum against the wooden bar surface, noiseless, restless.
Post by iolani kótsyfas on Nov 26, 2017 7:24:50 GMT
his eyes catch on the glint of her new ring, something like familiarity in that breathless split-second before they return to her face, and iolani thinks, ah. of course, it is nothing but suspicion still, nothing but conjecture and speculation and the most likely conclusion, but she would like to believe her instincts are at least somewhat accurate ( in her mind, huginn/munnin scoffs and tells her there is nothing 'like to' about her belief; she ignores him with the ease of long practice ). maybe she'll have to find a way to... bring up its significance in the passing.
or not; she's just here to have a good time. he's the one here to interrogate her, presumably. ( she wonders, briefly, if he'd try to bring the interrogations into the bedroom - she certainly wouldn't mind if that were the case. )
the man shrugs, playing casual just as well as she - except, her eyes flicker to where his fingers tap out a restless beat against the wood. iolani lifts her glass to take another drink, though her eyes never leave his, silver-grey and smirking beneath dark lashes. her lipstick leaving a crimson stain on the rim. "i've seen a few places," she says, matching shrug for shrug and slouching lazily in her seat. her lips curl up at the edges at she tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind an ear, deliberately adding a touch of indolent sensuality to her movements. "the towers, the library, the observatory..."
she shrugs again, watching the stranger carefully behind her casual veneer. "i gotta say though, bell's bar is one of the better places."
Post by maddox rothscus ✨ on Feb 8, 2018 15:05:59 GMT
he should probably stop looking at the ring. the reminder comes courtesy of the one and only moosely, who bellows it out so infuriatingly loud in his mind that maddox fights the urge to scream back in reply. but he is restless in the way that one is restless when searching for a distraction, every movement a secret message that he can’t quite concentrate long enough on to decipher. lingers on the scarlet lip stains. considers.
his focus darts to and fro, from leviathan, to sima, to the nightmares, to the fact that he hasn’t slept properly in what must have been a week and he probably should call it an early night and at least try to rest but alas, he is here. does he want to be here at all? logically speaking, if past experience is anything to judge by, he knows he enjoys this, or at least he should.
in a gesture unhurried, his gaze drops to the glass still in his hand, and takes a generous drink. it stills his thoughts as it burns, slow; he meets her eyes once more, lips crooked into a smile that toes the line somewhere between appreciative and amused. “you’ve got good taste, then,” he remarks, and motions vaguely with the glass of scotch, as though inviting one to look about the room. “i'd say it’s a favourite with the locals, so you’re fitting right in.”
Post by iolani kótsyfas on May 27, 2018 13:37:28 GMT
the guy seems a little frazzled, or a little off centre maybe. y'know, shifty and restless and broody like when there's a shit ton of stuff all clamouring for attention so you decide just to ignore everything and drown yourself in alcohol and indolence. not that it fucking works, unfortunately. or hey, maybe iolani's projecting ( 'no fucking shit,' huginn snarks, and she doesn't even need to think to shove nem off whatever mental perch ne is on ).
not that it matters anyway, because iolani's not really in the mood tonight to prod and pry out every thought, every secret this guy might have, though he'd be a pretty good target if she was. no, she just wants to drink and flirt and have some hopefully fantastic sex, lose herself in indulgence and hedonistic gratification for this night - oh! the irony.
she takes another sip, eyes the hunking guy and casually angles her hand just so so that the light catches off the ring again, for the simple reason that is amuses her. hey, not a bad thought. maybe she should be one for dramatic hand gestures tonight. if she can be bothered, that is. might depend on if the guy reacts or not, or might just depend on her mood. sometimes, it's fun to be unpredictable.
his smile is somewhere between hot and humorous, and it's crooked at the edges as if there are secrets to unfold there. iolani decides she approves. his tone is casual, unhurried, just like hers, and it practically invites her to see if there's hidden meaning there, to hold a double conversation. sometimes, she'll be all over that shit, though it's way more fun to talk dirty with double entendre than anything meaningful. but huh, would you look at that, she can't be fucked tonight. just take it as it is, baby. "and you'd be one of the locals, i presume?" she drawls, reaching out to drape an arm over his shoulders without a single fuck to personal space.
Post by maddox rothscus ✨ on Sept 28, 2018 23:18:50 GMT
in the dim lights of bell's bar, his eyes reflect warmer hues, burning a restless orange as he tilts his head, curious. she's definitely the type for leviathan, and she definitely has her fair share of stories and secrets and part of him wants to see if they'll ever go on a mission together, because there's really no better way to bond than over fighting monsters. but that's still based on a big if, and-
he wants to focus on the moment at hand -- a pretty stranger, the warmth of the bar and the chatter of its patrons, the slow burn of good alcohol. but then the light catches the ring and bounces off it once again, and unbidden, his eyes dart towards it once more. oh, for fucks sake-
tonight doesn't have to be a night where he is maddox rothscus, leviathan loyalist; he would much rather it be maddox rothscus, just that guy at the bar with the grey eyes and dark hair and glass of scotch, just another face in the crowd. he takes another drink, unhurried and languid, pulls his gaze from the ring back to her face, and smiles slow.
"that would be correct," he says, practically a purr. he feels her arm snake around the back of his neck -- considers, for a moment -- and makes no move to shift away. might as well see where the night takes him. "why, were you hoping for a tour?"
Post by iolani kótsyfas on Sept 29, 2018 6:37:06 GMT
iolani has absolutely no shame in smiling, wild and wicked, at the guy, at the way his eyes are drawn to the glint of her ring unbidden, a moth to flame, magnets placed in vicinity, icarus to the sun. poor guy, just can't help himself it seems. should she take pity on him? she's really, really tempted to clasp her hands, let the light catch, linger, illuminate the metal with the sparkly siren call he seems to hear.
but nah, maybe later. for now, she returns his slow smile with a look of her own, silver-eyed and smouldering and lined in kohl. he doesn't move to shake her off, and they press skin-to-skin in indolent physicality that is so gloriously material, grounding them in the present, in reality, in sensuality and sin. his voice is low, rumbling through his chest deliciously; iolani smirks, presses closer. "a tour?" she murmurs. "or a tour?" she all but purrs it, breath whispering against his ear like something illicit and shameful; then she draws back, arranging her limbs and expression in such a display of sweet, wide-eyed innocence that it cannot scream fake any louder than if she actually yelled it. "why, i would love one. how very kind of you."
and then she lets the light flicker of her ring again, 'cause she's an asshole like that.
Post by maddox rothscus ✨ on Dec 15, 2018 6:21:17 GMT
he leans closer with a smile playing sweet on his lips, an eyebrow arched. “whichever you prefer,” comes an answering drawl, the words lazy, voice drawn rough in his throat. she draws back, and he almost follows — lingers, for a moment, then pulls his shoulders back and rearranges his fingers around the rim of an empty glass. considers, briefly, the offer he has just made.
a familiar dance by now, because he has seldom been one for restraint, but there is something electric in his blood and dangerous in the air. or maybe tonight he has just had a little too much to drink and too little to do.
carefully, with the sliver of rational sobriety he has left, he commits her features to memory — the steel-sharp glint in her eyes and the leonine smile, the placement of limbs in a forgery of virtue, the glint of the silver ring. there’s a gut-feeling that this isn’t the last he will see of her. god knows he probably won’t remember the next few hours in the morning anyway.
the light flickers off the ring and traces lightning-vein through his eyes. the smile is wicked. he tilts his head towards the door. “why don’t we get out of here, then?”
Post by iolani kótsyfas on Dec 17, 2018 7:46:45 GMT
huh. y'know, she really wasn't expecting the guy to actually be down for doin' some horizontal tango - thought he was just another face from her new and oh so mysterious coven come to grill her a bit, check out the newbie. but hey, he's really quite handsome with the rugged hair and the cut of his jaw, his broad shoulders and his dangerous, dangerous eyes.
to be quite honest, she's kinda tempted to draw back, blow him off and laugh because, hey, asshole ( plus, that cute redhead with the smokin' curves is still there across the bar; she may swing both ways, but girls are definitely hotter ) - but iolani isn't afraid to admit she's addicted to danger, drawn to it like a stupid stupid moth. or, like this guy's eyes to the sparkle of her ring.
( she definitely doesn't sparkle it again, just for lolsies, 'cause by this time he has to have caught on, and there's nothing more fun than wearing a joke down to the tee, and then running it one more time )
but yes, she's drawn to danger, and this guy is dangerous no matter if he's showing it overtly or not - he could probably kill her a hundred ways before she could slit his throat ( but she's confident she could stab him before she dies too, 'course she wouldn't let her killer go away scott free ), and that burns in her blood, in a way that pretty girl with her soft curves and her innocent eyes never could.
iolani laughs, lips curling up in a smirk that's just a tad more like a smile than any of her previous expressions. "lead the way, tiger," she purrs.
