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.
The better part of the day had been spent prepping meals, setting up tables and chairs, and organizing the people who would be cooking and serving. The sun was yet still in the sky, but beginning to dip by the time a snaking line of red- and orange-draped tables running through the residential district and hovel were set and ready for people to serve. The dinner bells ring and criers call out, announcing that Great Feast is about to begin. [break][break] Many people were already waiting, some dressed up while others dressed down, and rush in to take seats next to their family or friends. Some coins clink into the donation bowls before the food even comes out, and some leave immediately after offering their monetary support. [break][break] The drinks come out first -- pitchers of water, apple cider, and punch, and kettles for hot tea -- followed by platters of bread rolls, stuffed mushrooms, dumplings, spring rolls, and a vast, savory variety of food to start off the meal. Conversations flourish as plates are filled and passed around, and servers swoop in to refill any platters which had been emptied. The Great Feast had begun.
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[attr="class","stafftemptitle"] ooc notes
Welcome to day 6 of saturnalia! There will be no staff updates in this thread until the very end on november 24th, so feel free to post with full creative freedom! For more detailed lore about this day, and the entire saturnalia event, visit the overall thread here.
[break][break]This thread is not death nor injury enabled and anyone can join! Posting 4 times or more in this thread will count as a completed event thread for day 6 of saturnalia.
There's a lot of things that make Ling happy, and good food is one of them. One of the higher things on the list, actually -- who doesn't love a good meal? And really, there are very few feasts that are better than a Saturnalian one, with a full day dedicated to ensuring everyone is stuffed to the gills and satisfied. It just gets better every year, she swears, though how that's quite possible is a bit of a mystery to her, given how every year she's convinced there's no more improvements that can feasibly be made. No pun intended.
All but bouncing around like a bunny hopped up on sugar ( another pun! ), she scrambles from table to table helping with the last minute set ups -- adjusting a chair here, putting a plate there, dashing around telling people where to go and what to do. For once, her small stature is coming in handy, allowing her to duck and weave throughout the frantic chaos without too much pushing and shoving going on. But hey, even if you can't see her, you can definitely hear her yabbering at people!
Finally, finally, after a day of running to and fro, the Feast is ready to begin. Again, short stature coming in handy-- Ling is one of the first people to the tables, snatching up some mouthwatering cheese rolls that she's been eyeing all day. And biting into it? Yes, yes it really tastes as good as she imagines.
@ open
feel free to trip over her or smth
— ASHNIRAI ♥ ♥ ♥ —
Last Edit: Nov 12, 2019 13:42:17 GMT by líng lù-xī
[attr="class","j1scroll"] She hopes she will not get too picky on the food today. Good food is such a rarity for Jelly that sometimes gatherings of this kind, with food involved, do not amuse her. But the table in front of her -- the largest one she has seen yet -- is covered in food, utensils sprawled out for everyone to use, glasses and drinks all neatly placed on one side. Jelly won't need the utensils, she thinks. There is no sense for her not to get her hands oily or sticky.
[break][break]She wants to eat everything presented on the table, but she knows she could not. This day has given her a rather golden opportunity for her to have lunch and breakfast the way she should have had from a few hours ago, and for that she is thankful. Of course, she could not forget the money. She flips through her coins while watching eagerly at the food placed literally in front of her; these coins are to be dropped on the donation bowls later.
[break][break]But for now, there is still food to eat. She picks fried fish, chicken, anything with garlic, and two glasses of mango juice; she is too hungry to even think of the circumstances if ever she were to trip with a full plate. Still, she carries her plate with one hand and eats a chicken leg with another. Soon enough, she is eating non-stop, looking at the other foods she is yet to try out.
The Great Feast was one of the few days in the cycle of years that Desmond paid attention to, though he only did so due to the insistence of the Cunninghams. It was the day they'd first found him, still fairly young and unaccustomed to the way the third day drained him. It was the day they had given him willingly what he had planned to steal (and, though they express ignorance of this intent, he's certain that they knew). The caliber of their kindness was, and still is, truly a lethal thing.
The couple continues to give him things, though Desmond has never really understood why. He struggles to grasp beyond the rules of contracts and exchanges, and can only stand to accept so much from them without some sort of repayment. And so, he helps them bake for the Great Feast -- a yearly tradition he intends to keep, if for no other reason than to keep them from finding some more extravagant way to celebrate his existence.
But... sometimes he thinks they may be making this too extravagant already. "Rosario... how do you plan on baking all of this before midnight..?" he asks, eyeing the boxes of ingredients with concern. They always seem to get more every year and just... haven't stopped. "There's other cooks and bakers here, you know -- you don't have to feed the entire city yourself..."
[attr="class","a1lyric"]i got nothing but dreams inside[break] i got nothing but dreams
[attr="class","a1lyric2"]i'm just young enough to still believe, still believe [break]young enough not to know what to believe
[attr="class","a1icon"]
[attr="class","a1white"]
[attr="class","a1scroll"]
The best day of the year had come around again: The day of the Great Feast. To this day, it was the one time of year that he saw countless amounts of food and cuisines all gathered around together and endlessly flowing. Without fail, the boy had always stuffed his face and stolen tastes out of things from the kitchen while moving to and fro to put out more dishes. The Cunninghams in their infinite generosity were well steeped as neighborhood stars of the Feast Day. Rosario Cunningham in particular was always reaching out to residents in the neighborhood and taking names for volunteers to help her in the kitchen. While she made a couple of warm dishes, thick hearty soups and hardy beef and potatoes, her specialty was desserts. She was the reason Aiden was so fond of sweets. [break][break]
She leads the preparations from early in the night before. After visiting a play or two with Macintosh and having a nice dinner, the pair set up for preparations for the next days, beginning the process of vats of sauces and other foods to kick start the next night. It had been an incredibly active day, and while she had taken many breaks and had a cup or two of tea with her family, she was still rolling right along gently nudging bakers and table setters in one way or another. She’d set Aiden on the chore of inviting as many people as possible and he would be the one taking the leftovers around for those who had not attended, for whatever reason. Macintosh helped in his own ways, more so sticking to those fishermen and helping them clean fish to throw in stews or to be fried. [break][break]
Rosario seemed unperturbed by the amount of ingredients still left to bake, but she was sure they wouldn’t go to waste. There were so many hungry and expectant mouths tonight, the food would go as quickly as it came out. And of course, she had extraordinary help as well. The old woman gave her son a knowing smile and a pat on the shoulder. “We have so many fire witches and ovens, I wouldn’t worry about it too much Desmond.” She doesn’t seem to mind her workload despite her age, looking forward to it every year now more than ever when it was one of the rare days Desmond visited them. “Oh, it’d take a lot more food to feed an entire city. This is just the neighborhood-ish.” She added with a laugh. “Besides, it’s just working up an appetite.” She continued, clearly looking forward to another break where they could all sit down as a family again. [break][break]
Just then a young redhead weaved his way into the kitchen and giving a loud greeting. “Everyone’s already finished off the lemon tarts, and I told them the next batch was blueberry.” Aiden said as he dusted himself off. He’d had an active day of sending flyers around and being chased off from trying to steal tastes out of different kitchens. But he was young, and his hunger seemed eternal. He tried not to get into anyone’s way as he waited for yet another platter to be finished off. “Desmond! Are you keeping up with Gran?” he asked wit ha grin still not used to the man baking. He was very tall, and very sullen, and very brooding looking. In contract, Rosario was a rather small but bright and plump old woman. Sometimes the light shined just right on her hair and you could see the faint traces of what was once wild copper hair. “Pop a tart in your mouth boy, I’ve heard you’ve been harassing the kitchens a couple blocks south of us.” Rosario said, though she sounded more amused than disappointed. Aiden tried to work just as hard as the rest did. He was just a little impatient.
"Mm, I suppose..." Desmond offers with an unconvinced hum. He could admit, though, that bringing people together wasn't exactly his area of expertise. Maybe there would be enough hands to bake and enough mouths to eat, and maybe there wouldn't. One way or another, the evening would have no shortage of work to be done.
Desmond keeps himself well away from the heart of the action, settling instead for shaping the crust for the tarts. The ingredients in the dough were fairly mundane, so there was little risk of any of his magic inadvertently slipping in and causing hallucinations, as it occasionally did for certain leaves and seeds. Furthermore, he needn't worry about mixing the correct amount of ingredients, nor applying the correct amount of heat -- he only needed to make the treats look presentable, which suited him just fine. It reminded him a bit of shaping clay, which was a hobby he'd once enjoyed during a more clement point in his life.
Even Amelia's son was helping, though Desmond had to wonder if the boy was eating more than he was serving. The seer lets out an amused huff of air at the question and levels the boy with a narrowed gaze. "Don't compare me to those impossible standards," he says, deadpan aside from a small smirk gracing his features, "And next time you come back you'd better bring some food with you."
[attr="class","j1scroll"] Jelly swears she is on a diet. But she could not help the full plate placed clumsily on her fingers; so full, any moment now it could tip and spill all the food she had tirelessly gathered. Jelly is not one to allow such an even to happen, however. So, as she walks in a circle around the table, she sinks her teeth hungrily on the chicken leg on her hand. It's slick in her fingers because of the oil, but she doesn't mind.
[break][break]She comes across another corner of the table, where people are wrestling among themselves to get a hold of the food. Jelly picks her glass and takes a sip of her mango juice (so it won't spill) and bumps into the crowd, wanting to take yet another share of food. The food sprinkled with cheese catches her eye. She is not too fond of cheese, but it's worth a try.
[break][break]Jelly gets a hold of the cheese rolls and watches a people take some for themselves. "Ah, hope there's still some left for me!" She giggles, mostly to herself, her eye catching first a girl with dark hair and a long braid. Come to think of it, there is something familiar about her, but it's stuck to the back of her head...
[break][break]But hey, the Great Feast really isn't for trying to remember familiar people, isn't it?
[attr="class","a1lyric"]i got nothing but dreams inside[break] i got nothing but dreams
[attr="class","a1lyric2"]i'm just young enough to still believe, still believe [break]young enough not to know what to believe
[attr="class","a1icon"]
[attr="class","a1white"]
[attr="class","a1scroll"]
Rosario was more than confident most, if not all, of the ingredients would be put to good use. If not, it would just be one of the tings people took home with them. Another type of leftovers from the Great Feast. “We’ll sort it out when we get there, Desmond.” She added with a nod. She doesn’t speak up as Aiden’s sticky fingers make their way to the steaming platter of blueberry tarts. Despite all the noise and the people, even McKenna makes a quick appearance darting out of the ether to snatch Aiden’s tart right out of his hands. The only sign she’d been hear was the tinkling of silver bells that now adorned her body for the holidays. The boy let out a sharp protest before picking up another one and huffing on it before shoving it in his mouth as ungracefully as he could. [break][break]
As the redhead choked it down, and Rosario let out a sharp, “Chew boy, chew!” Aiden wiped his mouth and looked back at the seer. “Gran says you keep up pretty well, when you bother tryin’. Right Gran?” Aiden replied before looking at the woman who was sprinkling what looked like a type of spice into another bowl of jam, this time bright red as she helped set up a couple of other bakers with another type of jam filled pastry. “Right. And he doesn’t try to eat half the bowl before I’m done baking.” She said as she smacked away Aiden’s hand with her own, noting the boy had been trying to steal a taste while she wasn’t looking. He shook his hand but seemed undeterred. [break][break]
“Any orders then uncle? I’ve seen meat skewers, dumplings, some pigs in blankets.” He asked looking from one to the other. “Grandad asked me for some of your tea cookies. He’s been picking at crawfish for the past hour apparently.” He added having already visited his grandad who was kept occupied elsewhere. His attention shifted to a new silver platter, the top already put on top signifying it was ready to get moved back out. Aiden dutifully went to grab it. He would wait for preferences to be shouted at him before picking the treats and shoving open the leg, McKenna assisting as she led the way to help part the busy crowd. “Scuse me, Sorry! Move!” Aiden shouts as he scoots between witches eyeing where he had left the empty tray from earlier. [break][break]
McKenna nudges whoever is sitting and Aiden leans in, balancing the platter against himself and sliding the empty tray towards them. With it removed, he slaps down his dish, pulling off the cover to reveal a small mountain of blueberry jam filled tarts, glaze and all. The heat of the freshly baked pastries wafting outwards. “Have at it then.” He said as he moved out of the way and began to snatch up finger foods to bring back to the kitchen.
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[attr="class","a1notes"] Desmond Grey have some tarts everyone!! ;;
Last Edit: Nov 27, 2019 22:19:09 GMT by aiden emerson
The energy of Amelia's son was truly limitless today, and Desmond had to wonder at how so much enthusiasm could fit into a single body. Maybe it was the abundance of sugar from all of the pastries? He'd once heard something about that making children restless...
"That's... a fair judgement," Desmond replies after a moment of pause to consider the genially barbed compliment. Even now, after all these years, he was ever so slightly disarmed by how close this family was, and how quickly each of its members accepted him and pulled him in. He still felt the whiplash after his icily impersonal coven work.
The title "uncle" is another thing that he hadn't had the time to fully process. The idea of being part of a family didn't really fit into any image the seer had of himself, but rather than wrestling with that cognitive dissonance he'd instead sidestepped the issue by ignoring it completely. Truly, this was a flawless tactic with absolutely no risk of later biting him in the ass. (At least, that's the lie his subconscious had come up with).
"Any of those are fine. Surprise me," he answers, hardly picky when it comes to the topic of food, and his preference for dumplings too slight to warrant mentioning.
After the boy dashes away, Desmond shakes his head with a smile as he returns to his own work. "He has your enthusiasm," he says simply.
[attr="class","a1lyric"]i got nothing but dreams inside[break] i got nothing but dreams
[attr="class","a1lyric2"]i'm just young enough to still believe, still believe [break]young enough not to know what to believe
[attr="class","a1icon"]
[attr="class","a1white"]
[attr="class","a1scroll"]
Rosario is quick to note, as soon as her hot-headed grandson appears, he’s gone in a flash once more. Rarely did he ever sit still nowadays, but she chalked it up to having so much pent up energy. Lately, especially today, it seemed Aiden’s impulse control was even less reigned in than usual as if he was making up for lost time. Like a dog almost, any movement in his peripherals distracted him and though he carried on conversation, his head would snap between targets of his focus. She can’t help but let out a snort at the comparison. “You should see him in the summer. Takes an hour to get him to do anything because of the heat.” She remarked with a laugh, keen eyes looking over the man before back to work. [break][break]
It seemed like every few minutes the woman was changing tasks. Done spicing jelly? Onto applying glazes? Finished with that? Hands reached over quickly to beat dough or clear off trash to set up plates and platters. Every moment was a flurry of activity with Rosario taking the time to address concerns and questions of people nearby before settling back next to Desmond. “Feel free to tease him. I’m sure you’d surprise him.” She continued. Aiden hadn’t been aware over Amelia’s brother, adopted technically but the Cunningham’s no longer made that distinction, but he’d taken to the man as much as one of his age could take to a person of Desmond’s character. The knight was quick to take their word on things. Still after the initial prickly reception, Rosario was glad he’d rolled over on the subject and things hadn’t been that awkward. “Though…if you keep eating as little as you do, even a twiggy child like him would be able to walk over ya.” The woman added lightly smacking Desmond on the arm, not one to miss out on roasting all of her children. [break][break]
The festivities move on, and the sound of coins hitting bowls and chatter fills the air lie ka dull roar. Aiden is one the move, snatching things off plates that he could bring back, holding back his drool all the while. His eyes were hungrier than his stomach, but by the Gods he would make his stomach keep up. He sidestepped stews and curries, casseroles and salads, whole baskets of stuffed foods picking out a selection he would be able to easily carry. Some spicy deep fried vegetables for grandpa, savory spiced chicken skewers for gran, and...bits and pieces of things he would share with Desmond. A couple rolls, some fish on a stick, empanadas, pork pot stickers, whole peppers, pickled greens… He stopped when he realized the platter was getting a little unwieldy for him in the crowd and began making his way back. [break][break]
“McKenna, go get Paps, he’s due a break.” He said, as he watched his gazelle friend sidestep into an alleyway and make her way off. He took care to make it back to the kitchen with his loot, doing his best to stick to the wall with his tray of food. “Gran! I called over Gramps too.” He said, though it sounded more of a rushed explanation than anything else. “I grabbed your favorites, and then stuff me and Desmond can share.” He added looking over at the taller man. One would note, most of the food was either meaty, or fried. “We can sit in the back, right?” he added, eyes shifting to Rosario who was already handing off her task to another baker and clapping her hands clean of flour. “Should be something free for the four of us.” She noted before the boy rushed off to settle down, grabbing a handful of napkins on his way out.
[break][break]
[attr="class","a1notes"] Desmond Grey have some tarts everyone!! ;;
The man huffs in amusement at Rosario's statement about her grandson's summer lethargy. "Well, with that I can sympathize," he comments. Really, it was no surprise that the man with a predisposition for wearing dark colors and covering as much skin as possible wasn't a fan of hot temperatures. At least today he'd worn a mottled, middling-dark grey sweater so he had no need to worry about smudges from flour or spices (or, more accurately, he had no need to worry about Rosario shoving aprons into his hands and insisting he wear them, since she cared much more than him about the wellbeing of his clothes).
He returns to quietly shaping the dough, pressing and cutting and pinching, switching styles when asked, until Rosario returns again. "Mm, I feel that you have that front covered already. And I eat plenty," he retorts. And, to his credit, this isn't a lie. Though his attire barely showed it, his body is a stark contrast to what it was in his early teens, once gangly and malnourished. Somewhere along the way, he'd realized that the future isn't always something that can be shifted by a change as subtle as a butterfly's wingbeat or a few clever words -- sometimes it needs a very physical, skull-cracking shove.
It doesn't take long for Aiden to return, a whirlwind of movement and noise. He eyes the boy, eyes the plate, then plucks one of the fish skewers from the tray, taking a bite and offering a curt nod of approval. His hands are still marbled with smudges of dough and jam, but he doesn't seem to care.
[attr="class","a1lyric"]i got nothing but dreams inside[break] i got nothing but dreams
[attr="class","a1lyric2"]i'm just young enough to still believe, still believe [break]young enough not to know what to believe
[attr="class","a1icon"]
[attr="class","a1white"]
[attr="class","a1scroll"]
It was funny, in a way, how similar her children were to each other without really knowing it. Like how sometimes they just happened to have similar habits or attitudes to each other. An avoidance of the summer sun being a main theme for the Cunningham brood. Wilhelm truly was the one among them that could stand the sun, evidence by his decades old farmer’s tan and the faint smell of fish that lingered on the old fisherman. At thought at her family’s intolerance she snorted to herself as she kept occupied. [break][break]
“Well even so, feel free to eat even more. It’s not every day you get a home cooked meal now is it?” she returned. There was no undertone of irritation in her words. She’d long given up trying to reign in the see, far more content allowing her daughter, and now her son, bring him in whenever a holiday approached. He was an adult, and could do what he wanted, but hell if she and Wilhelm didn’t miss seeing him every other day. Even if she wanted to see him more, she would rather he enjoy the few times he came than always dragging him out of his home, wherever that was. Though, this line of thinking oscillated from time to time, but she meant well. [break][break]
She wipes her hands on her apron before turning to Desmond and lightly slapping the side of his arm to get some of the flour off out of habit. “Don’t keep the boys waiting then.” She said as she stepped around the taller man, moving through the kitchen to pick up utensils or something. Aiden meanwhile as cleared off a little make shift table for the four of them, dragging fold out chairs and setting them out for his grandparents. He perked up to look at his familiar who trotted along with an older gentleman, with his sleeves rolled up and his hands a little pruney form the work. Macintosh would give McKenna a grateful pat before she stepped off once more before giving a cheerful wave to Desmond. “Rosa keeping you busy eh?” he said, noting the battle marks of a days’ worth of baking on his adopted son’s clothing. He would give a good clap on the back to Desmond, as he always did, attempting to help him clean up a bit before taking a seat. [break][break]
“You smell great, Gramps.” Aiden noted, flashing a grin at the old man at Macintosh roughly ruffled fiery locks. “I’m surprised you still notice it.” He returned with a laugh before patting a seat next to him for Desmond. As Aiden handed out napkins and explaining the different neighbors that had made their food for the day, Rosario came back out with a small dish in hand. In the middle there was a small loaf of warm pound cake, with a light glazing on the top that reflected light with each step. Stuck into the top was a single, lit candle that she set in front of Desmond. “You know Aiden, I think it’s been around 24…25 years since we’ve been blessed with yer uncle, Desmond.” Macintosh said. He always spoke like that. They never found or picked up a stray child. They’d simply been given one by the gods, and by the gods wisdom alone did their only child take to him so well too. The teenager nods slowly, glancing back at the dark seer curiously as he tried to guestimate just how old the man was. After a moment or two the old couple laugh before gesturing at the cake for their son and reminding him, multiple times, how nice it was that he celebrated another year with them.
This post marks the end of this Saturnalia day 6 thread! As always, for more detailed lore about this day, and the entire Saturnalia event, visit the overall thread here.
[break][break] You may continue posting in this thread for additional Saturnalia points, but further posts will not count towards completion of the thread for extra rewards. You may, of course, make your own Saturnalia day 6 threads to explore other activities of the day.
[attr="class","stafftemptitle"] day 6 rewards
Everyone who has posted at least once in a day 6 event thread will receive 50g and
[attr="class","stafftempstore"]
[attr="class","item"]
TOASTY HOT CIDER
LIMITED USE ITEM - UNIQUE - 3 USES
A steamy, flavorful drink that never seems to get cold no matter how much ice you drop in it. When consumed, it will keep the person who drank it nice and warm for the next few hours, even against arctic conditions.
Anyone who has completed a day 6 event thread or posted at least 4 times in this thread (Desmond Greyaiden emerson) will also receive an additional 150g and:
[attr="class","stafftempstore"]
[attr="class","item"]
PRESERVATION BOX
REUSABLE ITEM - ACOLYTE - UNIQUE
A well-made box, no larger than a lunchbox. When completely sealed, this box will keep its contents in the exact same state that they were in when it was closed. Hot foods will say hot, cold foods will say cold, and even small creatures placed inside will not age or notice any passage of time between when they were placed in there and when they were let out. Familiars which are small enough to fit in the box will be banished back to their native strata when the lid is closed as if they'd willingly de-materialized.
"Mm, I suppose not," he hums in response, casual despite not being at all sure if the statement was true. After all, Taylan cooked frequently, and made enough to feed the both of them more often than not. (Desmond had, at first, thought it was merely a ploy to keep his drunk ass away from the kitchen knives, but later found that the florist actually had an inexplicable, overwhelming generosity which reminded him strongly of the Cunninghams. Maybe, he thinks, that is why images of the flower shop have begun to bloom unbidden around his idea of "home".)
So he joins the rest of the Cunningham family, bringing along a small plate of the sweets which Rosa's team of workers had been baking. "I'd be concerned if she wasn't," he admits to Macintosh, accepting the contact for a few moments before taking a seat.
He should have been used to the couple's treatment by now, really -- how they spoke about him as if he were a treasure, how they celebrated his existence as if it were good. And yet, it often left him with a loss for words. How was he supposed to tell them that they were sorely mistaken about him -- that, if anyone here was a blessing, it was them? He didn't know how to explain that he legitimately didn't know what it was like to feel safe before they took him in. He hadn't understood, before then, that his childhood wasn't the norm.
"Thank you," is all he says in the end, voice solemn. He has never been good with words, nor with emotions. He eyes the candle's flickering flame and the shadows that it casts for a moment. He never really believed in making wishes. Asking for answers, on the other hand, was a tried and true tradition, even if the seer rarely spoke about it.
Though the shadows are slight, they are enough. As he closes his eyes to blow out the single candle, the darkness shows a little doll held by a boy with hair as red as the candle's flame and eyes as dead as its ashes. He knows that boy. His eyes flash open at the last moment, stained black throughout as they lock onto Amelia's son. The candle goes out, he blinks, and his eyes just as swiftly return to normal.
He's quick to move his gaze away to someone else. "How could I refuse when I know there'll be such excellent food?" he replies to the couple, his smile slight, but present all the same. "Really, thank you for this," he says again, taking a fork and scooping up a mouthful of the cake.
aiden emerson spells used: elements of insight, darkness
