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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 14, 2017 18:40:10 GMT -5
There was a bite to the female’s tone as she shot back a response, as if his question had annoyed her. Rhys simply raised an eyebrow and mimicked her movement, crossing his arms over his chest as well. “You are the one invading my home,” was his response, “so I shall call you what I like, little fire.” He watched as she strode back into his home with little hesitation, eyes darting about from the lavender hanging in his window, to the table where he kept most of his materials for spell-casting. As a Fae, magic came naturally to him, and there was much he could do on intent alone. For instance, he could light the wood on fire, influence the weather to some extent, and could influence shadows and the darkness. He cocked his head to the side, following her line of sight. When she’d stepped through the doorway and rather unceremoniously disrupted his wards, the cloak he’d had bound to those wards hiding the more… nefarious objects of spell-casting had also been shattered. She accused him of being a witch, to which he almost had to laugh. No, he was not a witch; he was something far more dangerous. He raised an eyebrow. “Do I look a witch?” he responded. She obviously knew a bit about magic, although how much was uncertain. To be fair, though, most people would see the assortment of objects upon the table and instantly jump to the conclusion that he was casting black magic.
Dark magic, yes; his power lay in the darkness, the quiet solitude of the wide night sky. Black magic, no. Black magic was altogether something different, something dangerous. The stain of black magic could never be removed, could never be washed away. It tainted and twisted those it touched to a degree that one could never be free of it; the taint carried down family lines, forever. Black magic was blood magic; magic that fed on life, and thrived in death. Magic that rejoiced in agony and torment, and lurked in the darkest places of the world. Rhys’ amber-gold eyes hardened when she accused him, yet again, of being a witch. While there were witches who did not practice black magic, the most notorious of their kind were the ones who wielded pain and grief as a tool. “Careful,” the Fae warned, his voice cold and emotionless.
“Do I look a witch to you, girl?” Rhys responded. He studied for a long moment, the tension thick in the air. There was an air of curiosity surrounding the female, as if she were determined to sniff out his identity. She planted her feet and stared at him, rather unblinking, as the silence continued onward. Something about the little female interested him greatly, and after a brief hesitation, he extended his magic outward. The door swung shut with a silent click, trapping them both in the house. The nearby candles flared to life with a soft whoosh of air. “You are mistaken,” Rhysand said, almost in a bored voice. He watched her for another moment, before he uncrossed his arms. He waved a handle and dispelled part of the glamour hiding him from mortal eyes.
“I am no witch,” he said, glowing amber-gold eyes boring into Nighean. “I am Fae.”
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 14, 2017 19:39:49 GMT -5
(( no worries. I'm probably gonna go see a movie at 10 anyway so ))
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on May 14, 2017 19:58:49 GMT -5
Nighean Blackwood
Nighean's eyes widened further as he conceded to being a person of magic. It confirmed what she had already known, but hearing it said aloud was enough to stop time. Her breath caught. She hesitated, taking him in with greater clarity. She should have known as soon as she'd first seen him. No average man possessed such brilliant eyes. Or such a controlled wildness. She thought then that he was more wolf or bear than man. For he was surely not of her kind, and she found herself simultaneously in awe and fear of him. Yet she sensed he was more graceful and powerful, likely far more intelligent than any other human she had encountered.
"A fae?" she echoed. The door closed to her right. Her gaze remained on the man.
"What's your name?" she asked, eyebrows knit. She was going back to the beginning. She needed to piece everything together in order for it to make sense. Fae were even more powerful than witches, or so the old wives' tales said. But how much of what they said was true? A million questions swarmed her mind. That feeling was quickly shoved aside, however, and she was overcome with a sudden and overwhelming hope; for it was then she realized that a chance encounter might just lead to the salvation of her sisters' lives. "Wait--" she started. She took several steps toward him, landing just beyond an arm's length away. Her hands hovered in the empty air above his middle. An idea had formulated, but it paused on her lips for fear that it would be impossible to make reality. She breathed a quick inhale.
Then all at once she said: "Listen, you have to help me. If you're a fae then you must know how to break the curse that has plagued my family for centuries. A witch long ago proclaimed that every female child of the Blackwood family would die before the age of thirty, often of madness that surfaces much earlier." Her eyes searched his face, waiting for any indication that he might refuse her. "Please, if you know of any way to change our fate. I have two sisters, both of whom are older than I. I would do anything to save them from the same death my mother faced."
She paused to let him answer, half expecting him to bellow in rage at her request. Surely it would not be so easy. Curses, as far as she knew, could be irreversible. She felt it more likely that he would deny her outright, demand that she return home and never speak to him again. She braced herself, tense and silent and desperate.
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 14, 2017 20:21:11 GMT -5
(( haha poor Nighean appealing to Rhys ))
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 14, 2017 20:34:30 GMT -5
(( gonna go see a movie soon then I'll respond ))
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Post by Deleted on May 14, 2017 21:05:42 GMT -5
I just finalized my form! )
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Post by Deleted on May 14, 2017 21:13:35 GMT -5
Yeah, I thought she was perfect. XD Thanks! I'll just wait for Robin then. )
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Post by Deleted on May 14, 2017 22:56:02 GMT -5
Cairstine Blackwood
Cairstine closed the door to the little shop, gripping her mouth with one hand and the door handle with the other. The village people walking by spared no glances in her direction, not that she noticed. She felt numb. Nothing made sense anymore. Her limbs moved, but her heart seemed to slow the world around her. She looked around and barely noticed that the sky, the grass, the people... they were all gray. She took a breath to steady herself in the numbness. Even through the fog, she knew she had to get home so she could make dinner. She almost laughed. It was funny how the mind worked; she had just heard the most gut wrenching news of her life and she was worried about not making it home in time for dinner. Not bothering to straighten her dress, she picked up her basket at her feet and set a fast pace out of the small village.
Fate could be cruel. This fact was becoming abundantly clear to the eldest Blackwood sister. There was never a moments reprieve, a chance to sink down into her wool sheets for some much needed rest. No, life kept Cairstine on her toes at all times. If she became careless and neglected her anxiety for a moment, fate would find a way to punish her. When it rained, it poured. And hailed. And stormed. She simply couldn't get away from her troublesome fate. It always tracked her down and struck where it hurt. For generations, her family had been tormented by it. No one could escape the curse of the Blackwood family. But apparently, the gods (or fate or the universe or whatever) thought that she hadn't enough heartbreak. Maybe they wanted to play a malicious practical joke on her just for kicks.
The doctor's voice was on repeat and even if she wanted to make it stop, she wouldn't have been able to, "I'm terribly sorry, dear child." She remembered how the old man rubbed the back of his neck, obviously struggling with his words, "I'm afraid that it will be near impossible for you to conceive." She also remembered the way his brow wrinkled in angst as if his assessment of her affected him personally. Hot tears welled up behind her eyes at the memory.
Cairstine exited the village and headed into the woods just as the initial shock finished running it's course. She let herself cry and grieve like she would if she had lost a child, the tears came in never ending waves. She rummaged in her basket for a piece of cloth so she could wipe them away, but frustration made her red in the face when she couldn't find it. She screamed into the wind and threw the basket as far as she could before sinking down to her knees. Pain sliced through her as she cried, her tears bouncing off the blades of grass of the forest floor. Hugging herself, the eldest wept for what seemed like eternity, letting her dreams and hopes die along with her chance of having a child.
She kneeled there in silent torment for hours, maybe decades, before she stood and dusted herself off. Silently, she located her basket. It's contents were lost to her; honestly, she didn't even remember what they were. After a few calming breaths, she set off for her home. After all, dinner wasn't going to make itself.
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Post by Deleted on May 14, 2017 22:57:04 GMT -5
uggg, that starter is trash. I hate writing starters because I always feel like they stink. XD)
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Post by Deleted on May 14, 2017 23:09:48 GMT -5
I know. Just wait until she has to tell her husband. And thanks. I'm glad someone likes it. I'm going to head to bed for now. See ya'll tomorrow!)
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 15, 2017 1:03:51 GMT -5
There was a flash of realization across the young woman’s face as she processed his words. She stared at him in near open-mouthed wonder, not that he could blame her. Fae were grace personified; his ears swept upwards into a gentle point. His eyes seemed too bright, as if they glowed with an unnatural energy. His nose was straight and proud, cheekbones a little more pronounced than usual, and his hair seemed brighter and full of life. Rhysand watched the emotions play across her face with a slight fascination, for it had been a long time since he’d encountered a human or human emotions – too long, he realized, with a slight pang of sorrow in his chest. Rhys raised an eyebrow at her first question: what was his name? “Names have power, girl,” he responded. Names were powerful indeed; with a name, one could hold sway over another in some manner. Still, as he studied her for a moment, she didn’t seem malicious. Before he could even respond, she paused and seemed to come to a realization. Rhysand simply waited for her to spill the words she was so haphazardly holding back.
And spill she did.
Great sky, the words tumbled out of Nighean’s mouth with such speed that it took Rhys a moment to even process what she said. He stared at her, brow furrowing, before he sent a magical probe in her direction. There was a field of resistance around her, but he pushed against it, and finally broke free, until he could see this so-called curse. There it was; Rhys’ lip curled upward, amber-gold eyes slightly gazed as he studied the curse. It was like a web, an inky black lattice that wrapped itself around Nighean’s mind and aura, pulsing with a darkness that he’d heard of, but hadn’t seen in a long, long time. A cursory probe told him that the spell was ancient, woven deep into Nighean’s mind and soul. Whoever had sought to curse them clearly had much animosity towards their family – that much was clear. Still, as Rhys scanned the layout of the curse, he located several weak spots – places where he could unravel the dark magic and dispel its hold on Nighean. He wasn’t sure if breaking Nighean’s personal curse would break those on her sisters; he’d have to meet them, scan them, to be sure. He opened his mouth to state that such curses were child’s play to him when an idea formed in his head, and he snapped his mouth shut again. He ran a hand through his hair as he carefully considered his next words.
“I will make a bargain with you, girl,” the Fae said after a tense moment. He wondered if she’d been warned not to make a deal with Fae, as his kind were crafty and were known for making bargains that never turned out well for the human. “I will break your curse, and in return you will be indebted to me. A favor for a favor, one might say.” Rhysand eyed her.
“Well, girl? Yes or no?”
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Post by Deleted on May 16, 2017 15:37:47 GMT -5
hey guys! )
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 16, 2017 16:03:12 GMT -5
(( yo ))
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Post by Deleted on May 16, 2017 19:17:24 GMT -5
How are ya'll?)
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on May 16, 2017 19:34:30 GMT -5
{{ I'm good. You? }}
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Post by Deleted on May 16, 2017 19:42:11 GMT -5
I'm doing all right. Finals are this week so I'm trying to cram. XD)
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Post by Deleted on May 16, 2017 21:01:53 GMT -5
Nice! I have to write a paper and two take of my finals. Oh! I will most likely not be on next week. I have a school trip and I don't know if I will have internet.)
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Post by Deleted on May 16, 2017 21:06:09 GMT -5
Thanks! )
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on May 16, 2017 21:44:46 GMT -5
Nighean Blackwood
"Yes, I will. I'll do anything" She said it without hesitation, and it was then that she looked younger than ever before. Although there was bravery in the set of her brows, there was an innocence too. She knew it was unwise to make a deal with magic folk, but she was unwilling to consider denying his proposal. If it was to save her sisters, Nighean decided then that she was would pay any price.
She straightened, meeting his gaze without fear or hesitation. "Now tell me. How do we break the curse?" His stipulation could be dealt with later. She had no idea what it meant to be "indebted" to a fae, but she imagined nothing he could ask of her could be worse than losing her sisters. So many years she had spent lying in bed at night, too afraid to sleep, for she knew that one day upon waking the curse would begin to take effect on one of them. She was too young to remember what it had done to her mother, but she knew from Cairstine's reservation about the subject that it must have been the stuff of nightmares. The rumor in the village was that it was not sickness at all that killed her parents. Rather, her mother's insanity had sent her father into an irreparable depression. It was heartache that had killed them and exhaustion. What worse death could there be? Well, that is where Nighean was naive, for she believed there was none.
The young woman cast her red curls over her shoulder, eyes brightening slightly. "Well, if we're to be working together, we might as well introduce ourselves officially. I am Nighean Blackwood. I enjoy blackberry jam, summer evenings, and raising baby goats. What about you?" There was a humor in her gaze that was perhaps ignorant of the weight of the moment, but her intentions were genuine. Underneath her desire to rescue her sisters, the small voice in her head decided that perhaps she could help this strange man too. If his cabin was any indication, he was a lonely soul. And she doubted he would ever admit it.
She smiled a small, ironic smile, then looked back toward the table with the herbs. "Let's get started, shall we? The night is an impatient fellow."
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