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.
Mimi was a tiny fleck of grey and yellow among the crowd of people. She sat quietly at a table that hugged the wall, a cup of tea warming her pin-pricked hands. Now and again, Quincy would squirrel out of the pocket of her yellow knitted sweater to nibble at the muffin that rested upon a small plate before dipping to the sanctuary of the tailor’s pockets once more. ‘What about that one?’
The stoat gestured with beady eyes to a woman that sat alone and reading a book. The stranger looked calmly enough, with gentle eyes and a sweet air about them. Nothing to be fearful of, he thought, looking up to his witch with a hopeful look. Yet, that hope quickly diminished as Mimi shook her head faintly and took a sip of tea as if it were a way to excuse herself. Little rodent fingers dug into knitted wool of the pocket and whiskers began to twitch in irritation.
‘You can’t hide from the world forever, Mimi. This is getting boring.’
Soft, pink lips pressed into a worried line. She knew he was right. He was always right…but Quincy didn’t understand. It already took so much to leave the sanctuary of the backroom of the shop and to sit in such a loud, boisterous place. It was scary. It was new. Yet, he wanted her to walk up to strangers and strike conversation as if it were the meek lass’ second nature?
Progress, the familiar would say.
Worst nightmare, disagreed the witch.
And so the usual standstill went on. It had become an awful habit: Show up, have a cup of tea, argue, then leave. Smoothing out the skirt of her grey dress, Mimi softly clicked her tongue. Quincy was cruel for expecting anything more. She was simply a boring eldest sister of three. To have something worthwhile happen to her was simply not written in the stars.
There was no reason that today wouldn’t be just as uneventful as the last.
Post by heath ambroise on Feb 21, 2019 0:37:24 GMT
It was, overall, a calmer day. A day of rest and some sense of routine. Heath walked along the sidewalk idly glancing around at interestingly dressed witches or overtly cute familiars as he ran possible lines in his head for his next article. He didn’t have one, per se, yet. But he would. The paper always kept him occupied. They would either assign him to do something specific or he would be able to submit something. He was still rumbling along though, trying to get that first major investigative break. The spot during the fall of the tower was nice and all, but he wanted to capture something new. Something revealing.
It just hadn’t happened yet. His last missions had given him a lot to think about. Then again, maybe he was just putting too much stock into a hillbilly cultist stuck out in the middle of the swamp. He slid a hand over his side, feeling a twitch of pain as he remembered the knife dipped with poison that had pierced flesh before. He’d pulled himself out of that, crudely. Sinclair snorted in the back of his consciousness. Barely. And with the help of his teammates no doubt. The pinkette shook his head, pausing at the outside of the café, eager to visit HQ once more. If not for the possible slew of work someone might have, then for the warm cocoa that always had way too many marshmallows on the top. The baristas had always tried to make him feel more welcome at least.
The café isn’t too busy right now and as a young woman hands him his cocoa on a saucer with a smile, he looks for seats. There’s plenty. That’s pretty obvious. He glances around before his eyes slowly land on someone by themselves and he steps towards them. The Jester’s were fairly open minded, and it seemed to be habit in their members to simply sit at each other’s tables and strike up conversations. With such a rotating colorful cast, there was always someone new. Heath had missed this in his first few years at the coven, but he’d picked up the habit. Or well, he supposed it was more so a tradition. He’s not really in the mood to sketch or write, despite lingering phrases and ghosts of ideas floating inside his head. “Hello.” He greeted, offering a small, polite smile before gesturing at the empty chair in front of her, keenly aware of all the other empty seats he’d disregarded. “May I sit with you for now?” he asked as he carefully eyed the stranger. He hadn’t seen her before. Then again, he was fairly new at being social in his coven. He was getting better at it at least. There’s a pause before he added, “It’s ok if your busy. I don’t mind.” The pink witch straightened up about to cast his eyes over another coven mate to pester.
