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.
[attr="class","intext"]Sima sat gracefully, legs crossed and back straight. The full-neck collar she wore made it difficult to look up and down, but that was the small cost of fashion. The golden dress she wore was much more comfortable and much easier to move in with its short skirt and sleeves and loosely belted waist. The shorts she wore underneath kept her confident, too, should the need to do any physical activity like running or maybe even fighting arise. Such chances were incredibly low, though. If the higher ups thought they could be in danger, they wouldn't be having a coven meeting here of all places. Although it wasn't like they were talking about anything of real importance. It seemed like most of these meetings consisted of recaps and news and the introductions of new members. New assignments were given, too, were they big enough. Perhaps more interesting meetings happened among those higher ranked than she was. Perhaps they didn't talk about the interesting things around flighty fledglings. She itched to climb higher, to put behind her the delivery jobs that had been nothing but tedious and boring.
She uncrossed her legs and then recrossed them, thighs aching with restless energy. It wasn't that the meeting wasn't interesting, because some topics they covered were, in fact, interesting and informative. Changes in the other covens was what Sima really latched onto. She wanted to know, at the end of it all, exactly what steps lead to the end result: Their win or their loss. Who would drive who to extinction? Sima wanted to know every detail of history as they made it. Perhaps that was why she paid so little attention to her surroundings during her meeting, her attention instead entirely focused on whoever was speaking at the time. It wasn't until after the meeting that she noticed her. She was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. It nagged at her mind too much for her to just pass it off as perhaps seeing her previously at another one of these meetings. She chewed over the possibilities. Had she been a client? Had they worked together once? Perhaps they'd interacted once on the street. There was a simple enough way to try to find out for sure, though.
"Excuse me." She approached her, hands clasped together in front of her waist, "If you'll forgive me interrupting you, but you look quite familiar, beyond simply being coworkers. Can I ask your name?"
[attr="class","diag"]These little trips to Sundial were the bane of Eleanor's existence. She hated them. She hated returning to this city full of memories of better times, but also of hypocrisy and hurt. She hated leaving her family behind. She hated the worried expression that Liam put on whenever she told him she needed to leave for the evening. There was little she could do to avoid attending them when a pigeon letter came, though, or when Nike notified her of an upcoming meeting—in code, of course. Their ventures were to be kept secret from the public eye.
She sighs in defeat as she steps into the meeting room. A few witches already occupy the seats neatly arranged around an exquisitely carved table, so she takes one empty seat next to a stylishly dressed young woman, and a largely unremarkable young man. Appearance-wise, that is. She's talked to him once or twice before, during meetings also, and remembers fondly how his eyes sparkle when he talks about his affinity. A precious dear, that one. "Good evening," she greets as she settles on the chair.
The other witch, though? Eleanor is certain she hasn't seen her in any other meetings, although that could be due to a good number of reasons besides being new. She is fully intending to find that out, her mouth opening and ready to start a conversation, when the clear voice of their immediate higher-up interrupts her from this train of thought. The meeting was beginning.
One council member did something at odds with their objectives, this other council member agreed to put a word in for the removal of such a measure in exchange for money, new recruits were introduced. Somehow, their meetings always managed to sound as inconsequential as Eleanor felt in her new coven. Even after all six years since she'd last attended a meeting in the Helios Knights, she couldn't shake off the feeling that she did more good there, defending what she believed to be right, helping organize raids, lending her services to the poor and the hurt, than in these Leviathan meetings. How things have changed, she muses. She wonders what's become of Dizzy and Hugo, her old friends, but her heart has long grown cold to these thoughts. She wouldn't ever see them again, anyway, and that was for the best.
It's as the meeting draws to a close that Eleanor is returned to the present by none other than the young woman she had been meaning to speak to. The witch that had been sitting between them appears to be gone, and she hangs by the empty spot. Eleanor is again impressed by her beautiful attire, and soon afterwards surprised at her words. Did she look familiar, now? "Oh, my." The older witch blinks. Now that she mentioned it, she did look a lot like the sweet child she used to babysit all those years ago, before she even joined the coven she refused to name now.
"You caught me by surprise just there," she apologizes, a warm smile dancing on her lips. It was evident whoever raised her did a very good job indeed, because the politeness with which she spoke was incredibly endearing. "You can call me Eleanor. No need to be so formal, sweetie. I may be older than you, but that does not make me an old lady. At least, I hope not," she laughs lightheartedly at her own words. "Allow me to ask you a question in kind: Are you, perhaps, related to the Pahlavis in any way?"
Eleanor couldn't recall Sima having any sisters, only a big brother; but perhaps this was a cousin, or some other close relative of his? The prospect of being so close to someone who knew Sima was already exciting news.
[attr="class","intext"]It all clicked into place, puzzle pieces fitting together nicely. Of course, of course. Why hadn't she thought of it earlier? "Eleanor!" She lit up in a beaming smile, laughing in delight, "It's me, Sima! I think the last time we saw each other I wasn't sure of who I was yet." It was a little frightening, this exchange. Most people from Sima's childhood took the change well enough, if a bit awkwardly, but would Eleanor? Would she respect her new identity, changing as it was? She quickly pushed the subject along. "I didn't know you were part of Leviathan. I've been here for about a year now, but I've never seen you around before now. Have you been out of town?" Sima was excited. Such a reunion and after so many years! There was surely much to catch up on and she was bubbling with questions.
She relaxed and the polite demeanor slipped away in the comfort of someone familiar. She had worried that perhaps she was mistaken and that, worse, Eleanor turned out to be someone far outranking her. She had absolutely no desire to offend someone like that yet. Eleanor, though? She'd seen her as a child. Such formalities were unnecessary.
"Y'know," And her smile dropped, concern quick to replace it, "my parents wouldn't tell me anything after you stopped coming. Brother wouldn't either. Did something happen? You disappeared so suddenly. I was worried." After Eleanor left, they didn't get her another babysitter. Maybe replacing Eleanor simply felt wrong or maybe the decided Sima was old enough to start looking after themselves for a few hours of the day. She couldn't remember any particular reason, but she did remember how she filled the days following with cooking and woodworking. Ever moving, she dove into the crafts and the hours flew by even in the quiet stillness of her childhood home. She smiled again. Maybe later she would have the opportunity to cook for Eleanor later.
"For goodness' sake, you've grown so much, I couldn't even recognize you!" Eleanor is smiling back now, just as brightly as Sima himself—oh, herself?—is. She laughs, too, though hers is sheepish laughter. "I think it's going to take me a while to get used to this new you, though," she says. She was so used to seeing Sima as a little boy, for so long too. Past the initial confusion, however, there is no judgement, no reproach, at who she sees in front of her now.
She stands, deeming it hardly appropriate to remain sitting when her dear Sima's standing right over there, waiting for a hug. Well, not really waiting for a hug, but he should know better than to expect Eleanor not to hug him at a time like this. Specially so after the sad expression on his face when he talked of her sudden departure. Her arms reach towards his—her—towering form, and it's only then that she realizes how much Sima has really grown. Eleanor squeezes her in a tight hug that lasts almost a full minute, before pulling back. Even then, though, she doesn't let go completely. One of her hands still squeezes the other's own. It's supposed to comfort, just like in the old days, but this time she's comforting herself as well.
"I'm so sorry to have gotten you worried, my little treasure," and the pain she truly felt at having to leave Sima behind is visible in her eyes and in her unconsciously pouting lips. "It was so sudden, we didn't get a chance to say goodbye..." she tries to say, but ending that sentence would be revealing too much, too soon. Eleanor wasn't ready to tell Sima what happened. In her eyes, she was still a little boy with eyes full of wonder, asking her a million questions about the world.
Eleanor shakes her head. This reunion could and would not end in a bitter note. She's conveniently leaving certain questions, too awkward for her to address, unanswered. Instead, she turns the conversation back towards Sima, as it rightfully ought to be. "But tell me about you. I mean, just look at you. You look gorgeous. To think baby Sima would be putting my outfit to shame." Her joke is filled with nothing but affection, even as she feigns indignation at the very end. "And you're so tall now! How did this come to pass? Oh, you need to tell me everything."
[attr="class","intext"]She laughed and nodded in affirmation, anxiety still twisting in her gut. "I'm sure it will. I'm genderfluid, so sometimes I'm a girl and sometimes I'm a boy. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it, though." She takes the hug gracefully, but Eleanor hugs so long that she begins to feel awkward. Soon, thankfully, she pulls away and she feels like she can breathe again.
Sima isn't easily thrown off by something as simple as a change of subject. Such a basic diversion tactic rarely ever goes unnoticed by her and this situation is no exception. She wanted to press and dig her fingers in until she could grab the answers to her questions, but she didn't. Eleanor wasn't some stranger she didn't care to anger. So, she let it go and followed obediently the new direction. She will, after all, find out in time whatever it is that Eleanor is hiding. "Puberty, you know, does wonders for one's height." She laughed, "A lot has happened, you know. Let's talk somewhere more comfortable, though. Maybe the galley? I could go for a snack." She smiled again and walked out of the meeting room, although she didn't proceed down farther until she was sure that Eleanor was following. "After you left, father grew sick. Mother died before father's sickness could take him, though. So right now it's just be and brother." Her voice was just as cheery and light as before as they walk to the galley. She immediately sets to getting out ingredients and pots and pans, countless different possible foods running through her mind before she finally settles on one. "I've taken over the workshop and the business, but brother helps out, too, of course. Needless to say I've gotten pretty good at woodcarving. For the past few years I've had a steady stream of commissions, which brings the money in nice. That's—" She paused and looked at Eleanor. "Do you know Maddox Rothscus? I did a commission for his family once. Had me carve a couple wood fixtures in their house. I've known them for several years and I've been dating Maddy for around four years. They brought me into the coven about a year ago. Do you eat eggs?"
[attr="class","diag"]She nods not in understanding, but in an attempt at it. Eleanor isn't the most knowledgeable about all these newly named gender identities. Back in her day, no witch would have thought of gender fluidity. Suddenly, she's made aware of just how quickly things had changed since she was around Sima's age. Let no one claim she doesn't try, though, because she does. Thankfully, Sima's helpful explanation makes everything run more smoothly, and it gets her further interested in the topic.
"All right. I think I get it. When do the changes happen? You'll let me know, won't you?"
The answer to Sima's growth spurt is simple enough, but still she can't quite reconcile this new image of him in her mind. She's spent the last decade and a half away, with the same picture of him as a small, but rather mature child, and very few things could put that image to contest. Of her, she corrects herself. Yes, this would really take some getting used to.
When Sima starts leading the way, Eleanor answers with a warm "Sounds lovely," and doesn't take her while to follow. The galley sounds like a safe place to hold a more private conversation at this time of day, though Eleanor has frankly never been to it before. Despite having joined Leviathan some good years ago now, she still led the vast majority of her life in Eclipse, and only came back to Sundial for meetings and specific missions. The latter being few and far between, to her relief. Nina, her baby girl, her ray of sunshine, was already starting to ask questions Eleanor wasn't sure she had the courage to answer.
There was hardly any time for her to worry about her child, safe and sound and restlessly protected by her husband back home, when her other child reveals to her just what transpired after her disappearance. All with such a cheerful expression, too. Eleanor really did not know what to make of it. Sima had always been strong, but smiling despite such a sad topic could not be a good sign at all. "I'm so sorry." She briefly considers trapping her sweet little treasure into another hug, but is held back by the utensils now occupying Sima's hands. Probably not a good idea.
"That's amazing news, though, to learn that you and your brother stuck together. I'm so glad you had him." Sima's brother was a good boy, from what she could recall. Eleanor is certain he's been a good role model for Sima, and she's glad beyond the guilt she also felt tugging at her heart to know he wasn't alone. It couldn't have been easy, not by far, but suffering in loneliness was the worst that could possibly happen to anyone. "Continuing the family business, too, eh?" she smiles. "Your parents must be proudly looking over you two from the spirit realm."
Sima's pause has Eleanor thinking it's the right time to mention the different ingredients the former had taken out, but her words have the older woman stopping too, before breaking into a truly gleeful gasp. "No way! My baby boy can't have gotten a boyfriend while I was away." Except he had. And it was this boyfriend who dragged Sima into the morally questionable mess that was Leviathan, too. Her expression doesn't change, but worry forms in her subconscious. Eleanor didn't want to judge this Maddox Rothscus before even meeting him, but introducing Sima to such a dangerous coven led far from a good impression. It makes her lose her grasp on Sima's current gender, as well.
"You have to introduce him to me one of these days, honey. What is he like? Is he romantic? He must be sweet and nice to you; I'm not forgiving him otherwise."
With some luck, that day would also not be the present day. Eleanor would rather spend her reunion with Sima away from other Leviathan members. Away from constant reminders that Sima was not entirely safe. She wonders if his brother knows. If he's also in on Sima's less-than-legal affiliation. Before that, though, there is another pressing matter on her mind: "Are you going to be making me food?" The thought of the kid she used to babysit cooking for her brings an amused smile to her lips.
[attr="class","intext"]"Of course, for a while." She hummed, "It's impractical for me to tell every person I interact with in a day what I am presenting as for that day, so if you're not sure, just make an educated guess. Gods forbid I correct you. It's really not that big of a deal." She laughed a little as she spoke. To her, at least, it wasn't really that big of a deal. She wasn't going to get angry at someone for accidentally using the wrong pronouns. She just didn't have the energy or patience for such a thing.
"Sorry?" She paused and glanced over at Eleanor before returning to the task at hand, "What are you sorry for? You've done nothing— Ah, you're not apologizing because you did something wrong, you're apologizing because you feel sorry for me." She frowned as she stirred the eggs. "They were going to die eventually, they simply went earlier than we had anticipated. It's nothing to feel sorry for me about." She could never quite wrap her head around the sadness on people's faces when they learned her parents had died when she was still young. She didn't understand the shock. They were all going to die. What difference did "when" really make?
She smiled at her at the warm comments of the relationship she maintained with her brother. "Of course, of course." She simply said before moving on to the next topic. She didn't want to talk about her brother right now. "Maddy is very kind to me. He's been a pillar of support in my life and I am incredibly grateful to him for all he's done for me. He's been busy with coven business recently, but next time I'm sure he'll be here." Maddox and his father Aeris had done more for her than anyone ever had. They had given her a different purpose in life and now she could look forward to something beyond the next customer who wanted a custom wood carving. She could look forward to the growing of Leviathan and her advancement through the ranks. She worked hard on her magic and every improvement filled her with a sense of achievement. Her life was fuller than it had been before and she was nothing less than eternally grateful to them.
"No, no, I only made food for myself." She sarcastically replied, "I wouldn't have asked you if you liked eggs if I wasn't making you something, too. Here, it's called menemen." She set a plate of it down in front of Eleanor. Just how mom used to make it. Scrambled eggs and olive oil with fresh cut tomatoes and peppers, seasoned with aleppo chilies and oregano. She settled down across from her with her own plate full of food and dug right in. "So, can I ask what made you join Leviathan?" Her curiosity was starting to get the better of her and in this particular situation, there was no real danger in indulging herself a little, "You just don't seem the type."
[attr="class","diag"]Sima hasn't changed much, Eleanor realizes with a thoughtful, appreciative hum. At least not personality-wise. Ever the hardheaded, down-to-earth kid, Sima's answers are to the point and, sometimes, so methodical they border on cruelty. It's the opposite of Eleanor's own outlook on life, and it makes her wonder if the absence of a more lenient, emotional role model in all these years didn't negatively affect Sima. She lingers by the threshold, watching her lost-and-found kid go about the kitchen as if she owned it, and in turn thinks about every other aspect that has changed. Eleanor can't remember little Sima ever getting close to the kitchen, though that could easily have been because of the circumstances of her visits to the Pahlavi house: Eleanor was there to babysit their little boy, not to have them feed her.
"Sounds complicated," she admits, and for a brief moment worry flashes over her eyes. Eleanor's never been good at keeping up with all these complex abstract notions. The woman could have been a remarkable summoner in her prime, but philosophy and numbers and the more challenging fields of study were all foreign to her. Sima's reassuring words that it wasn't that big of a deal even if she did mess up her pronouns one day, at least, makes her muscles relax.
Eleanor's frowning when Sima speaks of her late parents. She'd legitimately faint if she ever heard her own daughter speak of her like she was expected to die, at some point, and too bad she went earlier but what can you do? The very idea pains her. It's not normal, or right, in Eleanor's mind. "I was sorry for not being there to offer my support when they passed away, but now I'm also sorry that you think that way," she says, way too frankly for what was publicly acceptable.
She is very close to sounding like a nagging mom, which she kind of is, but she doesn't care and doesn't stop herself at this point. Eleanor never got to bury her mother, herself. It's one of her biggest regrets to this day.
"Where are their bodies buried? Or their ashes? I'd like to pay them a visit sometime, if possible. Their spirits may not be attached to this physical realm anymore, but there's symbolic value in it, don't you think? Sadness, grief even, takes over her features at the loss of not only Sima's late parents, but also the emotional pillar that they were supposed to be for the then young man.
It seems this new boyfriend filled in that role, though. She doesn't miss the contrast between Sima's animated chatter about virtually everything else but her brother, but she doesn't push it. The entire 'being on an undercover organization's boat' business was a bit too pressing for her to afford that.
On one hand, learning that Sima did have someone's support through recent years was a relief; but, again, what kind of support was that if he led Sima to this dangerous world? She'd just have to wait and see. "I'm sure. A supportive sweetie, eh? That's good, really good. Can't wait to meet him." Whether a good or bad influence, there was one undeniable fact: Sima looked happy. Vibrant, when she spoke of her boyfriend. If this Maddy made Sima happy, she would be happy to meet him as well, even if later she'd have to worry about their wellbeing. One could call it skewed priorities, and Eleanor herself may agree, but what good did safety do without happiness?
She's found her way to a seat by the time Sima's done with their food. Menemen, she calls the plate. It looks really good, which again makes her wonder when her little treasure learned to cook without her knowing. And then she takes a bite, and all other thoughts fly out the window. Partially because of the delicious flavor of Sima's food, but mostly because of the question she poses.
The woman can't bring herself to look up and face Sima, which restricts her to the plate in front of her. "When did you even learn how to cook? This is so good!" she hurries herself to compliment, to bury any hint of the other question even though she knows Sima to be way too observant and way too curious to be fooled by her lousy attempt. "I'm going to need a proper recipe to try this at home. Both Nina and Liam would love it."
It's not that she doesn't want to tell Sima. It's just that it would mean explaining so many other things she'd never gotten around to sharing, and those she didn't want to talk about, and— Well, yes, she didn't want to tell Sima. Eleanor would squirm under this scrutiny, if she didn't consider it a great shame to let the kid she used to babysit have that kind of effect on her.
Finally, she settles on a "What do you mean, I don't seem the type? What type do I seem? And what is Leviathan's type?" that's detached enough for her not to give anything away, but fair enough of a point not to be entirely out of place.
[attr="class","intext"]Sima frowned and looked at Eleanor with something almost like disdain. "Keep your apologies to yourself." She said sharply, "What I feel about my parent's death is not your business and it's not your place to judge how I deal with their absences. Just because I don't grieve in the same capacity you might doesn't mean my way of thinking is somehow wrong and deserves some feeling of regret." She hated how Eleanor's face changed. She hated the sorrow and the grief, as if she ever knew them beyond the simple formalities involved in babysitting their child. What gave her the right to make a face like that? It soured her appetite, but she ate anyway if only because she hadn't eaten yet today and knew she would regret wasting this food.
"They don't have a grave here." She replied, a little calmer now than before, "Neither of them were from Sundial so neither are buried here. Their ashes were sent to mother's hometown to be buried with the rest of her family, as has been done for generations." She didn't agree. She didn't particularly see the value of visiting corpses. They were buried together only so that their souls, in whatever was after, might find their family easier. That was the belief she had been raised on, but she didn't expect Eleanor to understand that.
Was she just going to judge? Judge her grief, her views, her boyfriend? Was she going to stand there and determine what was "best" for her based on the arbitrary standards passed down through Sundial's culture? She had hoped that Eleanor's reactions would be different than that of others she'd told, but they weren't. They were the same only worse. She didn't comment any further on Maddox and instead focused on the next topic of conversation, which was her cooking, a change made in an attempt to keep her from asking about Eleanor's Leviathan origins. "My parents taught me." She said, "Menemen is a traditional dish from where my mother's from." She was a heartbeat away from trying to dig in deeper when Eleanor tried to stop him. "Oh, you know, you just don't seem like the type to spy on someone like the Helios Knights." She coolly stated, "You like the rules. You like justice and doing things 'right.' People like that don't join an underground criminal coven unless they have no other choice. Something happen?" She frowned, her unhappiness with the conversation thus far showing, "I wonder how badly you fucked up." She took another bite of her eggs and her smile was back, cheery and warm. "Anyway, who are Nina and Liam? Your kids? I'll write down the recipe for you later, but it's really easy. If they're old enough to use a stove and a knife, they could probably learn it themselves."
