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.
Rainclouds hover above every major city and swath of farmland, showering each of them with glistening droplets of varying intensity. [break][break] The shouts and laughter of teens blossom throughout the streets as they start water fights with their friends and revel in one of the last days off before returning to work or school. They often manage to encourage the volunteer paint cleaners to join in. [break][break] Other witches stay indoors, enjoying the relative peace and quiet of this day. [break][break] The day is yours, regardless of where you are. Enjoy it how you wish.
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[attr="class","stafftemptitle"] ooc notes
Welcome to day 9 of Saturnalia! There will be no staff posts before the end date of december 12th, 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 just 1 time in this thread will count as a completed event thread for day 9 of Saturnalia.
[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"]
His room is at is has always been, messy, colorful, coated in old weaving projects he’d been so proud of when he was younger. It’s later in the morning and Rosario and Wilhelm are both busying themselves with tending to the garden and setting plants out on the windowsill. Hanging plants of all sorts cascade down old brick walls and Aiden moves silently, gathering himself in worn in clothes. When he’s ready, the trio sit down for a warm breakfast while listening to the gentle rain hit their windows. Later on, the family does as they always do, they head to church and in the silence quietly reflect for a few minutes, leave a little offering, and whisper to the spirits on the other side whom they believe can hear them better. Saturnalia after all, was an old magical thing.[break][break]
When they are done, they head out to the muddy cemetery, Wilhelm carrying a flower crown of freshly cut cosmos flowers which he lets Aiden set gently on top of Amelia’s grave. And again, the trio quietly send their words, their thoughts, their prayers to ghosts in hopes that they hear them. Rain runs slick off the three and the old couple both pat their grandson and begin the walk home. Aiden remains for what seems like hours. The sky grows darker and dark and he lifts up his hair to twirl a strand of hair from his bangs. He tries to sense others near him, perhaps watching him like before but finds nothing and his hands burn hot, but he does not reach for the little doll hidden away in his pouch of holding. He is not ready. He still had things to learn, power to grow. But the impatience gnaws at him anyway and roils inside him with a plethora of other wild emotions he much leash tightly down. [break][break]
He drops his hood letting the cooling rain soothe his frayed nerves and bruised skin and calloused hands. And quietly, with tremendous effort, he ignores the urge to impulsive charge ahead a memory of his mom when he lay half dead flashing to once again warn him, ‘don’t be so reckless’. [break][break]
It’s nice. Water drips past his hair and down his neck slowly under his collar that begins to soak through. It’s time to go home. With a last goodbye to his mother’s tombstone, he turns on his heel, and begins to head home to take a hot bath and have a cup of tea with his grandparents while watching an old Christmas movie.
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[attr="class","a1notes"]will i ever not write about aiden in a cemetery oops
[attr="class","j1scroll"] Her ninth day of Saturnalia is so quiet. Yes, it may be that, but it's not to say she hates it. Because she gets to go home and be with her family again, even if for just one day. She gets to see their faces again, smiling like they hadn't been before. She gets to see her family in their final states, changed from all the pain that the past had caused. She just gets to see them, and she's happy.
[break][break]She spends her ninth day of Saturnalia sitting around the living room of the family house, drinking coffee with her siblings. They all talk about a lot of things, and ask how each had been doing, and Emery answers them truthfully. She could not help the questions regarding her new appearance, as well, but Emery doesn't deter them from asking; it's only right for them to do so.
[break][break]"What happened to your face?" "You look like a cat now, sister." "Did you cast a spell on yourself?" "Why did you have to do that?" "Is that spell going to help you?"
[break][break]They all ask simultaneously, and of course, Emery responds to each of them. She could not help but smile. Now curiosity has blossomed in them, she realizes, when before questions certainly weren't allowed to be asked and answered. Now they are inquiring her without any punishment, and that is good.
[break][break]After the hours with her family, she walks up to her old room and stays there for now. Her new ears twitch at the sound of rain pattering at her window. Rogue materializes and snuggles up next to her, and now she could hear his sleepy purring better than before. She lets him be, however. Her eyes are focused on the blurry city outside of her window, even though it doesn't look too blurry anymore.
[break][break]Tomorrow is New Year's Eve. She wonders if she should take her whole family to the mainland with her on the tenth day.
[break][break]She would just have to ask them tomorrow.
[attr="class","j1scroll"] He finds a letter in his mail on the ninth day of Saturnalia, of all days; it is an invitation from an old friend he had from years back, one of the kids in the slums. The letter tells of a reunion, only him and the two other kids he had played with when he was younger, whom he assumed are both fully grown now.
[break][break]Caleb is never one for events like these. He had planned on staying at home during the day of Cleansing, simply hearing the rain fall and wet his window and watch Aria sleep in her cage. But nostalgia hits him like a tidal wave; these boys had been very close to him before, after all. He hasn't seen them for years, the very last one he remembered from when they said goodbye when he and his mother moved cities. Now he wonders what they are up to. Now he wonders if they are still the same.
[break][break]He asks Aria if he could go, and he gains her approval. "Why are you asking, master? It's completely your choice if you would like to go or not." She adds with a laugh. "I'll be with you should you choose either choice."
[break][break]The next thing he knew, he's packing his bags and running through the rain, hoodie drenched as he enters the train boarded for Mirrorlight Metropolis, according to the address.
[break][break]And once he arrives, he sees them, his two childhood friends. They all embrace and laugh and share jokes and have no care in the world what others are going to say about them. Caleb discovers that they have their own businesses. Caleb shares what he had experienced, but he forgets they won't be able to understand him anymore like they used to.
[break][break]They seem shocked to discover him mute, but they don't mind even a single bit. He is still their friend, and they are going to have fun whether he's speaking or not. Caleb smiles at the two. They are still the same, joyous boys he had met from before when he was a child. Now they're grown up, but they are still his friends. He hopes he gets to meet with them more and more in the future.
[break][break]Through the rain and the weather, they run around and scream to the top of their lungs, and Caleb has no care if the world hears them or not.
[break][break]The wind brings him back to old friends. He would not have it any other way.
[attr="class","j1notes"]SEWN LIPSthis is long i'm sorry-
[attr="class","junescroll"] HE IS UP BEFORE DAWN, before the rest of the house stirs; he is awake before the rest of the city rouses, deep in its slumber. the ninth day of saturnalia tips over like a soul balanced on the precipice of the cliff, and it is tradition for a rothscus to spend it alone.[break][break]
not that there's much of that left, anyway; not much to clean, when the fires have razed it all away. the family is built on bone and blood and unholy things, and maddox knows he cannot begin to fathom the pain of someone who had it all once and then had nothing, so he leaves his father alone. twenty four hours is the cycle of silence, here, and he contemplates it on his own; imagines quietly, curled up on the highest rooftop he can find, possibilities under a kinder sky, long gone under this one. [break][break]
the ninth day of saturnalia is a quiet one, decrescendo, and he watches the city as he dangles his feet off the ledge, heels tapping listlessly against the walls. the rain strips away the adrenaline, the bravado, the sharp edges; he is a boy sitting on the edge of a building in the rain, grey eyes heavy with something like grief that he never lets himself slow down to feel. he is a boy trying to remember how his mother had sounded, trying to imagine how the old oak trees would curl over the family graveyard like watchful guardians.[break][break]
he is a boy watching the city rearrange itself beneath him, trying to see how he fits into the puzzle of the city, with all his jagged edges. he's normally too busy running himself ragged to care; too busy thinking about war; he does not know what he will do, when it is finally all over.[break][break]
he wonders, briefly, if he will see it all to its end.[break][break]
the city moves, and moves, and moves. there is no lull in motion, only the barest shifts in trajectory; the river flows on, and on, and on. he watches the second dawn with his eyes wide open, and the unfamiliar morning coaxes him into movement. the new year is here, and there is no path left but forward.
[attr="class","j1scroll"] She's had too much fun, too much than she should have deserved. However, now it's time for rest.
[break][break]Rain hits the ground like gunfire, loud as they hit the rooftops and clear and fast approaching. The droplets hit her body and they do not help in the cold of night, but she wasn't anyone to care for that. She's standing, presumably all alone, in a cemetery, in front of a tombstone, the engraved name blurred at the mercy of the vicious rain. However, she knows the name. It's all too familiar, all to memorable for her to forget.
[break][break]"...Hello, Nana."
[break][break]She called her Nana before. The old woman, although kind, did not like being called anything else, especially by her adopted daughter. And Jelly respects that.
[break][break]She stops with that greeting, her voice only a minimum volume in the pounding rain. Other people around her are walking through the streets, others sharing umbrellas, others alone, others like her without one at all. She falls silent for a few moments, reminisces on memories she cannot ever forget, even if Nana asked her to... memories she treasured more than anything, half of them buried along with the old woman 6 feet below the ground, memories she would like to dig up and relive again.
[break][break]...Jelly finally finds her words. "I'm good and alright now, Nana. Thanks for asking." She says in dead air; she wipes a wet arm through a wet face and she sniffs just a little. "At least... I thought you would ask."
[break][break]Jelly knows that Nana is sleeping deep below, but she also knows that even in this state, she wants to talk about a lot of things. Jelly sighs, and the rain pounds harder than a while ago. "But Saturnalia was good. Great, actually. You've told me a lot about it before, how beautiful everything is, and once upon a time I was a little brat who didn't believe you." She sniffs again. Her eyes are wet, either from the rain or from something else.
[break][break]"But you were right, Nana. Saturnalia is beautiful. It's colorful and vibrant and energetic and a little girl like me won't understand how much that feels and you know that." She talks again, and once more rubs a wet arm against her eyes. "I still don't understand even a bit of it. But it was beautiful, and I love it very much."
[break][break]By now she doesn't realize it, but tears are springing from the tips of her eyes and she tries to wipe it off again, but this time, she can't. "I wish you were here, Nana. To enjoy and meet the friends I've met. But I guess you're too busy sleeping for eternity." She lets her tears flow with the rain pattering on her head. She's now completely drenched, and she doesn't care. "Anyway, the rain's pounding hard, Nana, so I gotta go. I'll see you again as soon as I can."
[break][break]She stands there for a few more moments. Then, as she feels the rain slowly disperse for a bit, she turns back and walks away from the tomb.
[break][break]"...Good night, Nana."
[break][break]And as she leaves, the rain pours harder again. But she smiles as she leaves, with tears in her eyes, but she's not sad.
[break][break]She's contented with yet another yearly visit. Nana must be proud of her.
Post by Charani Petrov on Dec 13, 2019 4:11:06 GMT
@learning bois
LOREM IPSUM
me @ me
Me @ Aiden u fratboi
"I don’t know if I could ever go without"
"Watermelon sugar high"
“Thank you Mister Bevin. I hope you have a lovely day as well and a speedy recovery.” He hummed as he placed the patients chart into a stack to be filed away later for the discharged patients. It was later in the afternoon, maybe 4 or 5 at this point. He sat at the nurses station contemplating snacking a little on the salad and chicken he had brought from his apartment.
The holiday of relaxation. The holiday of water fights and fun. Of course this was only mostly true as certain places and certain positions still had their duties to perform. A hospital never really had a holiday after all. Sick people were always a thing.
“I wonder how aiden emerson is doing. Maybe I’ll send him a message later.” The area hustle and bustle of the hospital was less pronounced than normal but still present. He walked around taking to the nurses, the doctors and doing what was asked of him. Practicing his healing magic when allowed.
The night would be somewhat long. He had spent the morning at home with his family relaxing before coming into the hospital. He was supposed to be here until the wee hours of the night getting in his 12 hours. Maybe he’d go home a little early though, assuming nothing crazy happened. A day to relax indeed.
[attr="class","s1lyrics1"]constellation of tears on your lashes
[attr="class","s1lyrics2"]burn everything you love then burn the ashes
[attr="class","s1write"]
[attr="class","s1scroll"]
Corvus wakes up in his borrowed room and for once, Merle is not seated aggressively by the Door or the window or pacing between the two with unnatural silence. No, the large hound is on his belly at the side of his master’s bed, his tail flicking gently and ears twitching as he listens to the rest of the house breath. He doesn’t look at Corvus when he stirs or sits up or even the pspspspspspsps sounds Corvus gently makes. However, when he decides to move on to the kissing sounds, it grates Merle’s nerves enough to deign a look, more like a glower. “Who’s a good boy? Who…who’s a good boy??” the illusionist asked trying very much to elicit a reaction out of his incredibly serious, and very well trained, dog. He has made strides with the dog, but he truly is Not Like Goose. Merle sits and watches. Merle sizes you up. Merle is the first paranoid beast to check for exits because he will be quick to chase you down and drag you back out of them and into the room. Merle is always on the attack, and Corvus simply isn’t. [break][break]
He’s weak, almost frail. But he tries. And he paid everything he had to get him out of a cage so there was that. But he doesn’t realize he is not a lap dog, and so the cold shoulder continues. Still, the great hound sits up and while he doesn’t go to Corvus’ hands, he rests his head on the bed, his attention momentarily on Corvus. The boy moves his hand slowly, anything faster has earned him snaps and growls. Merle HATES when you move too quick without warning. It makes the old dog flinch his snout away and bare his fangs. He HATES collars, as evidenced by the damn thin g thrown on the side of the room. He’s ok with puppy sweater though considering Corvus Shave All His Fur off. “You’re so much more clean cut!” the witch would say. ‘Yeah but now I’ll Fucking Freeze Moron’. He wasn’t a lapdog, and Corvus didn’t get it. He thinks of this as the boy pats his fur back and gently scratched behind the ears before giving him a final pat and getting up. [break][break]
IT’s raining, and in the low light there’s a huge part of Corvus that wants to go back to sleep. But he should move, or at the very least leave. There’s a lack of smells in the home. No food cooking, no fires burning. An eerie silence stretches over this home and Corvus, still family and yet still la stranger, gets dressed and silently leaves, Merle in tow. Philippe makes a rare appearance, smaller than ever, and perched on Corvus shoulder, all glitter and gold. He doesn’t mind the rains. Corvus doesn’t either, and Merle never cares, determined to keep going. They make their way to the park and he gives soft orders of Merle to play, but the dog doesn’t exactly. He roams sniffing and digging at spots, hunting something always hunting something. Corvus sits and reflects with his familiar who nestles himself resting on the side of his witch’s head. He hoped Ninos was ok, and by extension- no one else. No one in particular form that side of the family. The Knights- The Orpheus- he didn’t care for any of them. Siobhan is the most aggressive of his family members but even she took better care of him than all of them combined. [break][break]
It’s dark, and bitter. Memories of the taste of iron and dirt resurface along with blurry vision and long days crying alone in some forgotten corner of their home. There’s a part of him that wondered if they would take him back, act as if nothing ever happened. Quietly brush everything under the rug and finally tell him how happy- how proud they were. His feel numb and any energy left in him form long sleep drains. No. That wasn’t satisfying at all. There’s a flicker inside him, like a spark of static. Why would he go back? Why should he go back? To become another asset? Another child in the Orpheus’ long line of prodigies. He could barely channel stardust, what kind of homecoming did he expect? Besides, he thinks as his blood runs cold, why would he ever want to meet eyes with her again? The next time he did, he swore, would be after absolutely, irrevocably crushing his brother.
Post by heath ambroise on Dec 13, 2019 6:57:17 GMT
The day of cleansing is a day for self-reflection, as is tradition. And as tradition dictates, Heath his up in the wee early hours, when the rain is still a heavy mist that blankets the sound of his footsteps. He moves quietly, with purpose, the location of his day already predetermined. He takes a mirror, and it lands him in the middle of a silent and dark forest. Fog is thick, and Heath finds himself planting mana seeds and marking the plants he passes by for a better recollection of his path. Sinclair is by his feet, scurrying to the side, backward, forward, scavenging for pretty flowers or important seeds. He was convincing Heath to grow a small garden in their bare apartment, if only to help have fresh food for his witch to eat.
Heath treks through underbrush with ease, weaving his way on a winding path till he finds a clearing that suits him well enough. He doesn’t have his bag today, just his long coat with essentials in it. Quietly, he picks a large tree and sits down. His gaze becomes affixed in the swirling fog and the every so sparse calls of birds. Time passes, and slowly the fog melts just enough to reveal the whole clearing. Rain continues to fall and while Heath remains relatively dry under a large tree he reminisces on the past year. The terrorist attack?? Attacks?? The resurgence of old magic. The disappearance, coincidentally, of multiple people and even coven leaders. The path to Saturnalia was cold and worn. It had not been a good year had it? Was he satisfied? Was he happy?
No. Saturnalia had dragged out a painful year hadn’t it, but maybe he was too close to the source material, researching and thinking about this most of the time. Perhaps that had tainted his perspective. Try harder. At what? Painting? Magic? Writing? Sleeping? All of the above. Ah, yes Sinclair. Thank you for always reminding him. Heath passes the rest of the day, drifting in and out of a meditative state. When Sinclair pats him and warns him that the sun is setting, the pair set off back home.
[attr="class","gearcore"] Zephyr may have been adopted by the Rothscus family, but he hadn't grown their roots. Their traditions, at least the oldest ones, were not his own.
So he spends the day surrounded by people, minding the trains at Sundial's station. (The station pays overtime to mechanics over the holidays, and traders of illegal wares offer better bribes to hide their stock within the machines' rumbling innards.) The light pattering of rain along the rooftops of metal and glass is hardly audible over the commotion caused by the crowds, but the droplets on the glass make the dim lights dance and waver. Families visiting (or returning to) small towns along the rails bicker and worry over each other, conductors shout last calls to get aboard, a drove of Emborus let out grumbling moos as they're led onto a transfer destined for Mirrorlight. Rarely is it a dull moment here.
His clothes are smeared in oil and grease, but he doesn't seem to mind when he's joking and laughing with his coworkers. He'll take this over bloodstains any day... which, he is beginning to realize, might be a problem. When Zeph first took this job, it was intended to be a cover where he could help Leviathan track persons and objects of interest. But, he no longer had a clear individual to report to since Fane was jailed, so he had started going to work for purely legitimate reasons (or, at least mostly legitimate)... and If he was being honest with himself, it was kind of nice to be able to worry just about fixing things.
Spock is the only one he'd told, of course -- these weren't the types of thoughts someone should give voice to, and it wasn't as if they were urgent. They were more of a subtle undercurrent, the kind that slowly erodes foundations.
In a way, he supposes, he is lucky. His job today was meant to make someone talk rather than to make them hurt, so it was easy to lie and say the first cut was intended for getting a sample of the target's blood for divining. It was easy to hide the crimson streak that had painfully appeared on his own skin, a copy of what he had just inflicted (he'd felt it the moment the knife pierced through). Indeed, he was lucky that the target had loved ones whom Desmond had been able to See and use as leverage before he would have been expected to resort to more violent measures.
He was able to complete the job without suspicion and leave. And then, only then, does he allow the panic to begin to seep through.
He looks at his own aura, a gangly thing with too many hands and too many eyes in all the wrong places. Usually, it claws at itself (a reflection of his psyche he isn't terribly proud of, but accepts as truth), but at this moment it appeared much more disturbed by the dark and pulsing thing squirming around and under its skin. And the seer accepts this as truth as well, because he is disturbed by the idea that someone had cast something vile on him. The questions of who and when and how storm through his mind, though he knows he's unlikely to find any answers from hypotheticals.
So he returns to the den of serpents where he had been staying since Saturnalia's third day, and locks himself away with a bottle of rum and a divining pool.
Between the abstract images he can't grasp well enough to remember even seconds later, he catches glimpses of the distinctive face of the half-old necromancer woman. Of course, of course he'd get cursed by some obscure necromancy spell... But, when he tries to find where she'll be, his visions are interrupted by something dark and gold, with ruination emanating from its mere image. Desmond is left on the ground with a frantic, too-loud heartbeat and trembling limbs, dread seeping though him even more thoroughly than the curse.
This marks the end of the Day 9 event! As always, if you missed the window to participate in this thread, you can always make your own day 9 Saturnalia celebration threads as outlined in the main event post. Additional posts in this thread are allowed & welcome, but will not count towards the "completed" status of day 9. [break][break] Everyone who posted 1 time in this thread will receive 100 gold (in addition to the 50 gold that was sent to all active characters) and the below item:
[attr="class","stafftempstore"]
[attr="class","item"]
CLEANSING SHARD
REUSABLE ITEM - ADEPT - UNIQUE
An unassuming shard of selenite, no larger than a human thumb. The material will absorb poisons and impurities of a non-magical or weakly magical nature from its surroundings, visibly darkening the more it absorbs. Such shards are used often by world leaders and high-visibility personalities when they're offered a drink in a crowd, simply dropping it in their cup and waiting a few seconds before taking a sip. Be aware that it also purifies alcohol, so it isn't very fun at parties!
[div][attr="class","item"][img style="max-width:100%;" src="https://i.imgur.com/j6T0RjR.png"] [h2]CLEANSING SHARD[/h2] [h3]REUSABLE ITEM - ADEPT - UNIQUE[/h3] [div]An unassuming shard of selenite, no larger than a human thumb. The material will absorb poisons and impurities of a non-magical or weakly magical nature from its surroundings, visibly darkening the more it absorbs. Such shards are used often by world leaders and high-visibility personalities when they're offered a drink in a crowd, simply dropping it in their cup and waiting a few seconds before taking a sip. Be aware that it also purifies alcohol, so it isn't very fun at parties![/div][/div]
