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.
Bagheera's steps were soft and tentative as they made their way down the cobblestone path. When they looked in either direction, a sea of tombstones and flowers were spread out as far as the eye could see. Away from the hustle and bustle of Sundial City, the cemetery was like a world of its own where the dead could rest in peace. The panther sighed and read the names as best as they could in dim lighting. Some of the graves were adorned with flowers which were near the state of wilting while others were colored and blooming.
It was almost sad how the dead could be so easily forgotten by their family members and even their final resting place wouldn't be honored as it deserved. Eventually, Bagheera turned down one of the strips and walked a few paces until they came to rest in front of a familiar tombstone. One that they'd seen countless times while strolling through the cemetery and yet could never shake the lingering sense of dread.
The gravestone was adorned with several flowers, blooming and swaying with the cool night air. A symbol which had long since been etched into the marble stone glinted proudly underneath the moonlight. Bagheera huffed and looked to the plaque, grimacing at the name inscribed.
"Bagheera," a voice called. "Are you coming?"
The familiar lifted their head and looked to their witch who stood a few paces away. He didn't say anything and motioned with an incline of his head before continuing his walk.
"Right behind you," Bagheera said as they gave another fleeting glance to the plaque. "Lazarus."
As the pair continued on, they'd eventually come to rest on a hilltop where many flowers bloomed but no markers were placed.
"Why do you come here?"
Lazarus looked to his familiar and said nothing, turning his attention back to the sky.
"It's a reminder."
Bagheera didn't want to ask of what. Somehow, they were sure they'd already known. Resting in the glade, they looked to the sky and remained silent for the time being.
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on May 22, 2017 5:10:23 GMT
wanderers
reality is a lovely place, but i wouldn’t want to live there
for a person with no family or friends buried under the weight of carved marble tombstones, kasimir spends an inordinate amount of time at the cemetery.
his steps are silent as they trail upon cold stone path, leaving naught a whisper behind save for the murmurings of the night and his hair a tattered crimson banner fluttering in his wake. the air is still. he holds no flowers in his hands, no offerings or trinkets or blessings to proffer the dead - but he is not here to honour those deceased. no, he is here to remember, to regret, to carve the names of those fallen to his hand into the annuls of his memory so that he may remind himself of what has been sacrificed for his own life to continue and to never, ever forget. he owes them that much, at least.
kirjava steps forth tacitly as if borne from the shadows themselves, darkness sliding off her coat to be replaced by the burnished silver of moonlight. she says nothing, merely matching his steps with her own as she follows him on his silent vigil. they have no need for words - everything that they have shared, the full weight of their experiences, their discussions, their regrets, everything - their bond and this long-familiar routine speaks for them with a depth and complexity mere words cannot fathom.
but in this night, in this solitary march, neither he nor his familiar expect to stumble across company, of all things.
the ocelot scents them first, ears flicking up into wary alertness as she halts and tenses halfway up a flower-crowned hill. 'there is someone ahead.' her eyes are narrowed, luminous and all but gold in the dark.
perhaps it is the tiredness that weaves itself so insidiously in his bones, or perhaps it is the tranquility of the night, but kasimir does not turn and leave as he typically would. "a cemetery is no place for an ambush," he murmurs, and walks on ahead.
'kasimir!' kirjava's mental voice is sharp, alarmed, and she races after him, but it is too late. they are in eyeshot of whomever it is that is seated on the hilltop.
Bagheera hadn't expected to feel the presence of another witch roaming about in the graveyard at night. But, there were many things that the leopard hadn't expected in its lifetime. Surprises were one of the nice things about being alive and having your wits about you, they thought. And Lazarus didn't seem perterubed as he continued staring up at the sky without a word. Bagheera reasoned that he could've heard the shift in the wind and felt the presence of another person but chose not to acknowledge it.
Too lost in thought to even speak upon someone else potentially coming to bring him to his doom.
You're exhausting, Bagheera thought. You know that right?
Lazarus tilted his head and glanced at his familiar before finally taking notice of the pair making their way closer. That was odd. Then again, his own presence in the graveyard was even stranger.
"If you want to have a nice view," he called. "This would be the best place to do it."
Bagheera would've quirked a brow if they had one and looked to Lazarus with a tilt of their head.
He shrugged.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and in most cases, if someone doesn't show their colors then you wait until they do. Besides that, if someone was to try and find a bit of solace from the hustle and bustle of the city, who was he to deny them of that.
Well, it is a nice night for stargazing.
That he'd have to agree with a thousand times over.
Looking to the sky again, he tapped his finger against his leg and waited.
Post by kasimir burovski ✨ on Jun 4, 2017 6:44:39 GMT
wanderers
reality is a lovely place, but i wouldn’t want to live there
he sees them first silhouetted in ink against the low-hanging moon, jet inlayed in silver as they are dwarfed by the night. colour and detail leech into view as he steps closer: a man, built along sturdy lines with the stars reflected in his eyes, and his snow leopard familiar, a breathtaking power hidden beneath that coat which mirrors the galaxies trailing above them all; they do not look out of place on this flower-crowded hill with the palace of the dead spread beneath their feet.
tranquil. this encounter will not be as terrible as his own familiar fears, kasimir thinks.
the man finally shifts his gaze from the glimmering sky. he does not seem troubled by their approach.
"if you want to have a nice view," he says, not loud but voice carrying clearly in the quiet. "this would be the best place to do it."
kasimir pauses, tilts his head as he considers the man's offer. even without looking at kirjava, he knows his partner is not pleased by his actions, much less approving of any prolonged association with strangers, but...
but. however much times he spends in graveyards of his own volition, however much he willingly subjects himself to be reminded of the phantoms of the dead and his sanguine past, it is obligation that chains him such. and it is wearying, as evidenced by the exhaustion sunk deep into the marrow of his bones that has nothing to do with physical exertion.
resignation tickles at the back of his mind from his partner, and he realises he has long made his decision. "thank you," kasimir says simply, and makes his way up the hill to seat himself on the grass.
notes go here • @lazarus - i'm so sorry this took so long ;;; and kasi is a reticent idiot • 284
