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.
Isadora had an interesting idea of where to take him when he had free time to explore and do as he wished. Now, while an establishment of arts from paintings and pictures was perfectly fine he wondered over the intent of it all. Could they be friends? Roderick wasn’t proficient in the whole process genuinely. Sure, he could fake a smile and say the right things, but it wasn’t wholly pure and from the heart. That is where his talents ended, and Roderick was left by his lonesome.
And yet Isadora was a unique individual. Unlike himself, keeping everything inside, she vocalized it without thought on consequences. It was admirable, shocking, and pleasant to watch, but could he do it himself? Not yet, if it were possible. Not only was he not ready to divulge his true feelings, but his goals simply wouldn’t be met if he revealed how angry he was. There is a proper time and place and this wasn’t it.
Roderick glanced at the building again, waiting for the woman in question to join him inside. Perhaps she shared more interests than he thought. He was a little excited about looking at the arts today and to know she suggested it? A quirk of his lips formed, brief, but there.
Post by isadora almic on May 12, 2017 14:05:11 GMT
Isadora did not particularly have friends. That term was too kind and binding, the word itself had enough baggage to make Isadora want to drop the use of it altogether. But steadily, she supposed, she was growing an odd number of acquaintences throughout her little coven. Well, little was used lightly of course. She wasn't sure of what end of the stick she'd received when it came to the snakes she knew, but she didn't really care.
As long as they could be convinced to take her to an art gallery, she'd easily throw the most gruesome of faults under the rug. "What are you smiling about?" she asked, her reaction to the brief smile just as quick as the gesture itself. She walked into the museum with a sort of silent curiosity, letting the larger than life ceilings and quiet hush of the people over take her.
Ah, art.
Wordlessly, she walked over to whatever piece of art that captured her interest first, walking across Rodie in the process. He seemed to fade into the background for a brief moment, for once his shimmering hair and pretty face designated to a minor role in her peripheral vision.
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
tag: @tagger
notes: squints
words: xxx
give it one more try to a lullaby And turn this up on the radio
It seems that even a momentary lapse of normalcy on his face was caught expertly well from his acquaintance. Despite being caught with it, it merely became more apparent as he chuckled along the way. Following her inside, the overall air of the place was quiet and contemplative. In other words, perfect for what it was intended for. When Isadora stopped to take in the detail of one such piece of art Roderick followed and stood next to her to see what caught her interest. “Hm…” He mused over what he was looking upon. The painting in front of them was a twisted yet vibrant construction and vision. It was titled ‘Despair’. Colored with blues, purples, and blacks, it looked like a twisted depressing void, but was aptly named. A plaque held the name of the artist and a quote that he had create to sell the piece to onlookers.
“Few things crumble man more than despair, especially when hope is snatched at your highest point.” It was quite true this painting spoke greatly of his own tribulations. Though Roderick couldn’t exactly think of a time where he was happy for an extended amount of time. It was always ripped away from him, sending him into that very abyss that the painting depicted so excellently. “You have interest in this one?” He would ask, no doubt curious on her interpretation.
Post by isadora almic on May 20, 2017 16:33:39 GMT
Unlike Roderick, Isadora remained entirely silent while looking at the painting- the hustle and bustle of the people around her were enough to act as background noise, and contributing to it herself would be redundant. Instead, she let her eyes to the work.
Art wasn't about the heart or the mind, it really was entirely based on the senses. So she let her eyes wander and inspect every inch of the painting for what it was before she blinked at Rodie's voice. Mellifluent as always, he presented a simple interpretation that could have been guessed from the title alone.
Art wasn't meant to be interpreted. It was meant to be enjoyed for what it was worth.
"I do," she said simply, and then she paused a bit as though that was all she was going to say, as though she hadn't read between the lines to understand what Roderick wanted from her. But then her eyes moved to the side to give her friend a look.
"I don't really believe in interpretations...but doesn't this look like a canyon to you?" She turned back to the painting-- the blacks and blues, though at first glance scattered, seemed to make two separate walls that faded lightly. The painting was scattered with contrasting specs of white and gray to add to the effect of a bottomless pit. "What do you think the white is for?" she asked, feigning innocence.
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
tag: @tagger
notes: squints
words: xxx
give it one more try to a lullaby And turn this up on the radio
Her answer was short and sweet. Roderick honestly wasn't perturbed by such a response. It was as she was. He wouldn't want her to change or fly off a completely different spectrum. She did however, move to speak again, asking him if what he saw was a canyon to his eyes as well. Hm, actually when he took a closer look he too could see similar imagery to what she depicted. "Ah, I see what you mean." He remarked, and asked what the white represented to him he shrugged his shoulders gently.
"To an artists standpoint and blunt technique, the white has been displayed here to convey a sense of depth. Poetically, I'd say they may wanted to convey to others that it is lost hope. It truly looks bottomless, like it never has an end." And, if he had any experience with the subject, it certainly could be never-ending if you let it engulf and overwhelm you forever. He's seen people around him wrapped in despair and helplessness. With that and desperation gnawing at their heels, they would do anything to rectify it but putting them deeper and deeper into it at the same time.
He released a breath, closing his eyes. Lumin shuddered within his mind, concerned by his sudden negative thoughts. "Let's look at another." A brief glimpse into his eyes held an intense distaste, a sudden disliking of this image before him. He wanted to cast it away from his mind now being the one to lead and look for something else in the place to capture his interest. It may have been abrupt, and he had an inkling she may ask what's bothering him, but he needn't bother her with it.
It was his own business and his own burdens to bear.
Roderick doesn't get annoyed by her blunt response and instead waits patiently for the second part of it, to which she can only mentally click in distaste. It's hard to rile him up, and sometimes it sucks the fun out of teasing him. Though it does make it worth it when she succeeds.
He looks at both the options again, going from a vision based perceptive to appeal to her and then tossing his own interpretations. She wonders if honing in on other people's perspectives and pretending like they are is own is something he does genuinely, or if the nebulous nature of his remarks is something he's learned with time.
Curious.
She blinks, almost (but alas, never) missing his subtle shift in emotion. The change in the mood and the atmosphere. The dulled eyes close and when they open they are alight with a flicker of intense loathing, similar to her own. He turns to leave, but Isadora doesn't walk with him.
"You don't like this one?" she asks openly, eyes turning to appraise the work of art once more. "Art is always equivocal, Rodie."
She shrugs, tearing her eyes away from the pretty mix of colors before gliding across the floor towards the silver haired male. "But I wonder what you see that makes you hate it so much."
She shrugs. It's not her business. They're not close enough, not like this. And him opening up to her is just another burden, because that in itself would beg her to open up to him. And, frankly speaking, she doesn't trust the disparity she sees between his mouth and his eyes.
"Show me one you like, then."
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
tag: @tagger
notes: squints
words: xxx
give it one more try to a lullaby And turn this up on the radio
"I do not." Was his response, cool like water rushing over a sunken blade, but that same weapon was sharp. Its metal sung beneath, waiting to be unleashed instead of forgotten.
But just like his experiences had taught him, her wonderment over what possibly triggered him was met with a smile. The walls built themselves up over again, and Roderick was quick for any amount of damage control. This wasn't how his day should be, riled up with things no one should know about. Not yet. "It's merely an interpretation that holds little weight. Pay it no mind." He brushed it off without a single afterthought, but at the request of finding one he would be interested in he took the time to look around to do so. "Hm..." His eyes caught a statue in the center and he indulged in his curiosities. The statue was made from marble, painstakingly crafted and molded that even the details of her dress seemed so hyper-realistic. She was holding a baby in her arms and was looking upward seemingly with a look of peace on her face. "...the Hopeful Mother." He read on the plaque, seeing the title was quite accurate.
She seemed so content, but thoughts of his own mother often led to a dead end of desperation and a lack of care for her own son. Such things like this where he was born and cared for properly were foreign empty concepts. "I must be getting sentimental today, but I do like this one a great deal."
Isadora quirked an eyebrow at the sudden response. She had learned to not trust the tone, but the speediness of the response- not the mouth but the eyes. She'd make for a great detetive if she could have been bothered with such a routine lifestyle. Unfortunately, she was the kind that desire luxury with little effort. Her lips quirked upwards. "Whatever you say," she said easily, voice thick like honey and beguiling like the same, yet her tone held a bit of warning in it, too.
Isadora blinked at the statue, eyes overloaded by the detail that had gone into crafting it. They turned quickly from admiration to distate, however as violet eyes narrowed and she shifted focus to a nearby painting without moving from her spot.
"Really?" she asked after Rodie had finished what he had to say. "I suppose I can say I like it from an aesthetic point of view."
It was beautiful. But such a waste of talent to craft something so boring, so mundane. "But in terms of symbology, I guess we really don't have the same taste, do we?" She asked, sighing as she stepped away, crossing Rodie on the way to dive deeper into a less crowded section of the museum.
Clearly, the sound of people talking was bothering her so she waited until she reached an aisle where the only thing she could hear was the sound of her heels clacking against the ground, and she was mostly alone to admire the pieces of art around her. She turned to check if Rodie was following her, but likely wouldn't have minded if he wasn't.
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
tag: @tagger
notes: squints
words: xxx
give it one more try to a lullaby And turn this up on the radio
A chuckle warmly rose from his lips and to the air. Her answer was a mixture of expected and unexpected. He liked that unpredictable sense of mystery about her. It was part of why he was attracted to her to meet her in the first place. "Well, it would be boring if we shared a liking of everything wouldn't it?" Without a second to spare, Roderick had faithfully followed her to a less inhabited part of the museum where quiet reflection was the sole purpose with less talking mouths and movement around. It was a nice change of pace to the crowded areas of before.
This time, as she perused the paintings at her leisure, Roderick gave her some space to do as he wished. Not too far but far enough to where she would feel content by her lonesome. That Isadora, she truly is an enigma, and yet you are as well to everyone else. You two share a fine dance together, not close but not far away. Lumin was quite amused in his head, lingering there like a passing glowing light in a sea of raging darkness.
A mural was before him, of Goddesses and men intertwined but clearly defined. He who worships and they who are the divine. It was a line that men should not tread: that path to false godhood, ambitions, and greed.
What constitutes the fall to man? The creation of lofty ambitions or the fall itself when it crumbles away and he is left with nothing?
Isadora hummed in her mind, smirking iternally at Persephone, for once, who was quiet and obseravnt, almost as though she was sleeping. The butterfly loathed company (or seemed to, anyway) and she disdain anything she saw was too good or too kind-- she rarely had moments where she had nothing to say. Cat caught your tongue? Isadora asked, eyes drifting over and basking in the details of one painting and then the next.
Hardly, there's nothing interesting to talk about, Persephone drawled, her response almost annoyingly instant.
Oh, a pale-skinned pale-haired man that's following me around isn't of interest to you? I'm almost disappointed. Isadora chided, wondering if Roderick was above her quippy familiar's criticism. I have no complaints, Persephone informed her, voice the usual slow-paced and honey-thick sound that it was.
Huh, was the only response Isadora could muster, eyes drifting to Rodie who seemed to be standing still, captivating by a painting she hadn't seen yet. Her violet eyes turned from appraising to mischievous as she took advantage of the lack of passersby. "You know, you could stand against the wall and you'd blend right in."
Despite her saying this as some form of praise of his looks, the method and tone used to deliver it made it sound like anything but praise. That tactic, as of course, was one that she had mastered. Steadily, her stance shifted so she could observe Rodie thoroughly. "I wonder if I could make money like that..."
Persephone did a little flip in her mind. Sometimes, Isadora, I can't even tell whether you're joking or not.
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
tag: @rodie
notes: squints
words: xxx
give it one more try to a lullaby And turn this up on the radio
It was amazing how diverse and flexible art could be. Just like singing, he supposed. No matter if a hundred paintings were made on the same base subject, they'd all be different because each person understands and perceives things their own way. It is these nuances, subtle or not, that make an individual and in turn their paintings. By the time that Isadora made her way to him, he had grasped his own chin in thought, nodding until he heard her voice to snap him out of his thoughtful reverie.
Yuo'd think being given a compliment like this would be most nurturing to ones ego. Instead, Roderick caught on the tone of hers immediately and smoothed some hair from the side of his hair subconsciously. "I wonder what blending in is even like. I've never had the opportunity to grasp it fully." You couldn't look like him and blend in anywhere. Parties, a walk on the street, doing simple errands? Never. As a child he was noticed for them at that whorehouse he used to live in and it got him into some dangerously messed up situations. It wasn't said with an ounce of pride however. Nothing about his looks rarely did these days.
Instead of feeling mildly put off by her words of using him for money he merely shrugged his shoulders. "Your opportunistic ideas never truly cease for a moment do they?" Isadora was that woman that when she saw an opportunity she took it. Reminded Roderick of a fox or a bird of prey always surveying and waiting for that right moment. Trickery is what she excelled with, whether it was flung from a scroll or her own mouth. "I have to admit, just standing there sounds a pleasant task compared to the things I've previously done."
Persephone sighed but said nothing, clicking her non existant tongue at Rodie's move to fix his hair- a gesture of self consciousness at best. Isadora would have smiled, but he quickly responded to her and instead she blinked and tilted her head to the side, her eyes appraising and eyebrows raised. "Oh? Is that so? Never dyed your hair or wore a cloak and stood in a busy intersection? The finer things aren't all that make art, you know..." her voice trailed off, and in that moment she almost fet a speck of pity for the angel-faced man before her. The emotion went unreleased and unvoice, but it lingered for a few seconds before fading.
Persephone scoffed, and Isadora's eyes became lidded.
"I don't know about that, standing is quite the chore..." The comment was offhanded and casual, but it was also a clever attempt at provoking a response- the sort of response that started with, "Right, but compared to..." and ended with the speaker feeling confused. Somehow, Isadora doubted that prying into Rodie of all people would be that easy, but by nature, she felt compelled to try.
She shrugged. "And as for that, I'll take it as a compliment. You'll get nowhere if you don't take the initiative, or so they say."
Her lips pursed together as she began to think. "But honestly setting you up with a standing job would require too much interaction with too many mindless people..." Yes, it wasn't the humanity of the job (or lack thereof) that caught her off guard, but rather the amount of bureaucracy that would be required to see it through. God forbid she'd have to deal with forms.
"Have you ever done it before though? Modelling?" It was the first time she had display direct curiosity instead of her veiled attempts at poking through what she persumed was her acquaintance's mask.
I know the feeling Of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
tag: @rodie
notes: squints
words: xxx
give it one more try to a lullaby And turn this up on the radio
You'll never get anywhere in life if you don't have the initiative. Those words struck him deeply, more than what Isadora usually said at or about him. She rambled on about the situation, the troubles it would cause and her lack of a means to care or have patience for them. However, among this chatter, she asked a question that was devoid of her usual slow burning venom and sharp point. Instead, it was filled with a curiosity that was as rare as any spot of tangible long lasting kindness.
He took a moment to look at her and then turned back to the painting in front of him. "I wouldn't say officially, but there were moments where it seemed close to it." Roderick took this pause, this single moment, to choose his words wisely. While he enjoyed Isadora's company for what it was he thought of her as a crow. Undeniably smart, but opportunistic when she had the right cards. Such was the troubles of intelligent company. You had to be on par or they'd walk all over you at a lapse of weakness.
"There are plenty of rumors about me from the gracious to the abhorrent. And, poetic romantic speech aside, I am merely a tool to be used for coin. That is most definitely the truth of things." He smiled though, not trying to hide the soft chuckling that flooded from his lips and to the air around them. It was with mirth, but Roderick too had his own poison. It went unnoticed until the very last second and only when he willed it. "To know you'd hang around with a person such as myself is perplexing Isadora. I like that about you, the unpredictability." For one moment, she could be faintly on his side, a shadow that matched her element. And the next she stretched so far that she is scathing, ready to cut down any faint traces of contempt and complacency. It was a welcome challenge.
"Since we're asking questions, what made you decide that taking initiative was better than remaining passive in life?"
