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 elijah silverwood on May 1, 2017 5:55:27 GMT
eye for an eye.
It is late afternoon when the fledglings are sent from Silvertongue to gather ingredients in the southern hillocks of Salem. Elijah is no exception, and he joins a small mob of new witches, upholding Silvertongue's tradition. For their coven's reputation as a loose group of independant mercenaries, one would think that this event is unlike of them--but there's one thing that each witch here has in common; the hunger for money.
This particular client has offered a very generous reward for whoever does it, and Elijah doesn't hesitate. He plucks a couple plants here and there, stuffing it into the knapsack at his side. It's grunt work; but he supposes that he has to start somewhere.
He straightens, wiping light sweat off his brow. At this, he sees another witch off in her own corner, chatting with what seemed to be her familiar, laughing and giggling. His expression twists from neutral to unhappy. She seems familiar but not enough to know her name.
Elijah slides the knapsack from his side and holds it in front of him, setting it down just far enough to keep an eye on it. He turns to the girl and raises an eyebrow, greetings forgone.
It's the time where afternoon is giving way to evening, a time where Persephone seemed to be at her bitchiest. Somehow, the butterfly's toxicity seemed in direct proportion with her levels of humor, and Isadora couldn't help but agree with all the comments the butterfly was making. It was fun to relax in the sunlight and be completely shallow without anyone overhearing her, except the occasional giggle that escaped her lips. She relaxed, approximately two or three herbs clutched in one hand as her playful eyes rested on her familiar. Telepathic communication was so relaxing.
The sudden interruption is unwelcome, and the way Isadora's curved lips fall into a flat line is a sure fire indicator of that. Her violet eyes look at the boy. He's working on the herbs until he straightens to call her out. She lets his words fall into silence for several moments, saying absolutely nothing. People are often put immediately on the defensive when they are given the time to reflect on what they said, a little pause in the conversation is usually enough to slip the tide. It's an unconscious form of knowing, the kind of unease she can create as effortlessly as shadows.
"I should," she agrees seamlessly, patting the edges of her well-worn cloak. Her violet eyes dart to and fro, seeing something that is as plain as day yet means nothing to the average onlooker.
"Say, why is one of your sleeves a little heavier than the other?" If anyone thinks she's been engrossed with her familiar to the point where she hasn't been paying attention, they're wrong. She's always paying attention, it's something she can't turn off even if she wanted to.
Around them, business continues as usual. It's a whole flock of mercenaries just doing their jobs, as it always is with Silvertongue. There's no unity in their movements, but there is efficiency. Systematic efficiency. Not the unity of a pride of lions, but the likes of cogs in a machine. The wind billows across the hills, the sun sets a little further. Witches continue trying to distinguish grass from herb. And Isadora's unnerving stare doesn't leave the stranger's eyes until she hears her answer.
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
Post by elijah silverwood on May 10, 2017 11:04:08 GMT
eye for an eye.
Elijah's lips quirk as her expressions shifts suddenly, her lackadasical smile fading away. What's left is something something unhappy, and he can't help but scoff at such entitlement. If she had been expecting to get rewards from this mission scott-free, she'll be sorely mistaken. Her gaze lingers on him for several moments, but he stands his ground. He's keenly aware of what he said, and the seething quiet is far cry from uncomfortable.
"But you're not." He adds. He rubs at the sleeves of his jacket, sneaking in a couple spare herbs. Eyes dart from side to side; if she's not pulling her weight, she has no right to tattle on his misdeeds either. His attempts at subtlety, however, are useless. She's more keen than she lets off, and he makes a note to be extra caution around such a person.
"Are you going to do anything about it?" He questions, reluctantly admitting to his sins. He glances around them, eyes landing on the witches in the distance. They're working hard, and he idly wonders if they had anything better to do than picking flowers in the for hours.
"Am I not contributing to the mission as long as I put in ingredients?"
The man's lips quirk upwards and Isadora smells provocation (but when does she not) and so she straightens her posture and regards him more carefully. She wants to roll her eyes at the obvious statement. It was quite clear she wasn't really herb gathering. Group missions meant more freedom, and Isadora enjoyed that word to its full extent, especially when it went hand in hand with excuse.
"Am I not contributing to the mission as long as I put in ingredients?"
She notices his shift in attitude and scoffs at him admitting to his game so easily. "What a quitter," she says teasingly, violet eyes alight with a relaxed kind of mischievousness.
She considers the questions, teasingly looking away and towards the so-called supervisor before shaking her head. "Meh. I'm uninterested." But her minds already working on the male's habits, picking them apart so she has something to occupy herself with. Persephone flies around her, wings beating heavy and slow as though aiming to hypnotize.
"So you're an alchemist?" she asked conversationally, completely ignoring the original topic of her not having put in any work.
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
Post by elijah silverwood on May 14, 2017 20:29:43 GMT
eye for an eye.
His lips quirk upwards, noticing how her eyes glitter with mischief at his reply. It seems like neither of them have a completely clear conscious. She's surprisingly sharp--few people could deduce that he's an alchemist five minutes from their first meeting, but if she noticed the herbs in his sleeves, then she must have noticed that he kept them because he was an alchemist.
If she notices, what if the others do too? Vesuvia says, her words echoing in his mind in the tone of a worried mother. He shrugs, brushing off his familiar's concerns on corruption and thievery.
"Nobody will notice, Vesuvia." He says, craning his head to look at the snake, her rough scales brushing up against the nape of his neck. Her tongue flickers, tasting the air before she drops from his shoulders and edges towards the girl, cautiously but curiously.
"Am I nobody, now?" she asks, her tone appraising and quite arrogant but her eyes flicker from their stance briefly when she sees a snake slither from his neck. Interesting.
It's not that she's particularly deductive or ingenious, she has just learned to trust her observations and be fearless with accusations. After all, guilty until proven innocent. The snake's tongue flickers and she blinks, captivated by the patterns but also wondering if this is the boy's idea of a threat.
Well, there's only one way to find out.
She bends her knees and crouches on the grass, hovering in the air, halfway between sitting and standing. Her hand reaches out to Vesuvia unknowingly, eyes caught in the splash of green that comprises the snake's sharp, feather-like scales.
She looks at him when he asks the question but quickly turns back to the snake, wondering lightly if he honestly expected her to answer that question. There was, after all, such a thing as too much information. "Are you going to bite me?" she asked innocently, wondering if the familiar would take offense at her master getting ignored.
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
Post by elijah silverwood on May 26, 2017 19:25:29 GMT
eye for an eye.
Elijah can't help but roll his eyes at her answer, her tone undeniably arrogant. "Well if you aren't going to do anything about it, then it's just the same." He says. He notices the sudden shift in her face when she sees Vesuvia slither out, curious as to what she thought. She's by no means a threat, at least, to the likes of this girl.
The girl doesn't respond to his question. Her attention's already moved from him to Vesuvia, and he can't help but huff--that had probably been on purpose. He watches as she crouches near Vesuvia and tenses, suspicious of such actions. His familiar can defend herself all the same, but he doesn't know if he can trust the girl.
And Vesuvia --the traitor; she lilts her head curiously and basks under the attention. "Of course not...you seem like a nice girl." She says. If snakes could smile, she'd be grinning. Elijah can't help but scoff, and runs a hand through his hair.
Thankfully, the snake seems innocent. What a twist.
She hears the boy's comment and nearly shudders at how fatalistic it sounds, how resigned and totally uninteresting. It's skill to make a drawl sound captivating and sadly a skill not all possess, she thinks, wryly. Her eyes to lift to him, but she smirks when she hears him huff, and her hands calmly reach out to pet the familiar.
Her fingers brush lightly across the scales, reveling in the texture and aesthetic appeal of the bush viper. She hasn't seen one in person, and she's honestly admiring the snake until the boy asks her a simple question. Her Mona Lisa smile disappears and she says in a bland tone: "Petting your familiar...."
She cups Vesuvia's head in one and raises an eyebrow before finally turning to look at Elijah. "Are you going to do anything about it?"
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
Post by elijah silverwood on May 30, 2017 20:48:15 GMT
eye for an eye.
Vesuvia beams under such attention, and pushes her head closer into her hand. She closes her eyes and rests her head on Isadora's warm hand. With a flicker of her tongue she slowly edges closer, wrapping her body around the girl's hand.
"...That's up for her to decide." He says, his lips compressing into a frown. Despite his insistence, Vesuvia isn't afraid to deny him, and he's unwilling to call her back because of something so petty. She doesn't respond, but the answer is clear; she doesn't mind, and so he won't do anything about it.
Vesuvia. I don't think this girl can be trusted. He warns, but his familiar is none the wiser. When she responds, her voice is distant, as if distracted. Ah, but she's so nice! You're always so cynical Eli... At this, he can't help but roll his eyes; Vesuvia lets her emotions rule her far too much.
Elijah huffs and goes back to collecting ingredients, subtly putting some in the bag in his sleeve.
Despite what she may be doing (or not doing at all), he still needs to finish this mission.
