• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Fantasy Guns, Gangsters, and Grimoires- A Roaring Twenties Witch Coven

"The sunflower room," Connor said. It was very yellow, and very happy, and it was a good place to wake up in. He finished his glass of wine and slid off the counter, careful not to upset the cats too badly. "If I ask very nicely, will you look at the bullet holes in my poor car later on?" He didn't think it had been damaged badly, but he could admit to not being very clever with mechanical things.
 
( Shagranoz Shagranoz , Maxilgal Maxilgal )

Vera smiles, a thoughtful look in her eye, "I suppose their hearts were in the right place. But it was a rather awful way to go about the whole thing, don't you think? There ought to be better ways to come to terms about that sort of thing," Crossing her legs under her, she puts her fingers to her lower lip, expression far away, "If what I read had any truth to it, then Russia was as chaotic as anything during the revolution. Perhaps this spells out a beginning to a greater era?"

When there's a knock on the door, Vera raises her gaze, straightening to peer at the door from over her arm chair. She catches that Marie is speaking with two women, shifting to watch the exchange. New member? If she is honest, Vera had not met many of the coven yet. Only heard others, but had not exactly met anyone. Only Marie really knew her name, unless Marie had spoken of her to the others. Maybe, if this girl is new, she is as nervous as Vera was. That wouldn't do at all.

Vera rises, all but skipping to come to Marie's side. She supposes it might be indecent to present herself to company, dressed as she is - her leotard and tights did not leave much to imagination - but she does anyway, not giving as much heed to it as she probably should. She immediately spots the new girl, all wide eyes and nervous energy, finding particular interest in the uninteresting carpet. Vera, with little subtlety, as it's not her nature to dart around the point, bends at the waist, ducking her head down to bring herself into the girl's line of sight - easy, given the vast differences in height - with a small, coy smile on her mouth "You're nervous? Don't be. I was too, but Marie is very kind and very welcoming."

She stands straight, sure she has forced the girl's attention, "I'm new, too, so there's no need to fret about that. I've only been here a little less than a fortnight," She does a curtsy worthy of royalty, her kind expression one that she hopes is as welcoming as Marie's soft smile, "My name is Vera. It's a pleasure to meet you."
 
Dexter Atterberry

Mood: Peckish
Location: Hotel Lobby
Tags: theunderwolf theunderwolf
Dexter pepped up at Esfir's offer for food. He had forgotten to grab something to eat before he left so he was peckish. "Ah yes please. If it isn't too much to bother, I think I would like some bacon and eggs. Oh, and a coffee." Dexter spoke to the waiter. He was amazed at Esfir's heritage. Nobility and well-off. It is certainly interesting having witches from different places. "Haha, I see what you did there." Dexter chuckled at Esfir's word play. Most peoples image of a necromancer were stereotyped doom, gloom, and borderline undead warlocks or witches. Dexter's first impression of Esfir certainly wasn't necromancy. "You know, the coven has room for you to stay." Dexter began. "It's not as grand as this hotel, but it is homey and comfortable." If Esfir stayed at Marie's, perhaps he could wean off some knowledge of magic from Esfir.
 
"On my tab James," Esfir said to the waiter as he scurried away to fetch the order. She had made a point to at least know the names of all the hotel staff she met. They had been excellent hosts and if one of them were to die well, she missed having a valet. Though the last time she made an undead valet he was more of a coatrack then anything. Still worth the exhumation. Dexter's offer bore thought though. She admitted privately that she had been avoiding the question. Marie had been kind and generous to offer her a place to stay but it did worry her. She was still getting her feet on the ground and she wanted to keep the coven an arms length away until she was absolutely certain of their intentions. Moving in was not an arms length. Still the idea of comfortable space was tantalizing.
"Marie's home is lovely," She said as the food and beverages were brought out. Quick as a whip they were she would kill to know that kitchen's secret, "But I do need my own space, preferably one close to my place of business plus if I've learned anything a good coven doesn't put all its skulls in one coffin." Her skulls were of course hidden and stored vary carefully in coffin caches all over the city.
 
"Aaaw, Tiger, you big sap, you always pick the sunflower room," She said with a smile, "You know where it is- and you know not to wake me up before noon."
She made her way up the servant stairs in the corner of the kitchen and left him alone in the quiet of it. Her foot steps pitered somewhere above him- there was a small thump and a swear and then longer stretchier silence. It was good no one had named her Grace.
 
"The biggest sap," Connor agreed. He listened to Helen thump upstairs and grinned, trying very hard not to laugh. He suspected she'd hear and he'd wake up in a bed full of engine grease if he did.
Connor made his way into the big foyer and up the stairs into the sunflower room. It was small, but the standards of Helen's house, but far bigger than either his room at home or at Marie's house. It was painted all in shades of yellow, with a big window on most of one wall and a big painting of sunflowers on another. Connor pulled the curtains closed and his shoes off, and nestled into bed.
 
He's been in New York barely a week and he's already made the front page of the paper.

Sure, the picture's utter shit - just a vague black blob that, if you squinted just so, tilted the paper in just the right way, and held it up in exact light, might resemble a wolf-man - but Dante knows it's him. There's no way he should, since he's never conscious in his wolf-man form, nor does he remember a flash of the episode, but there's stirring in his gut about the whole thing that tells him that the unlucky son of a bitch caught on camera is him. And, if he pays real close attention, sure enough, he recognizes the shape of the body, in a strange sort of way, and the fuzzy maw hidden in darkness.

The newspaper clerk barks, snapping his fingers by Dante's head, "Hey! You gonna buy that or are you gonna just fondle it?"

Dante gives the man a level look, even going as far as to lower the sunglasses he wears further down his face, just so the man can see that Dante could not be fucked, and would stand here another hour, not paying, just holding the paper, if it meant it would spite him. Maybe the man will see the bags under his eyes, the tired redness to his gaze, and know that Dante had a rough night last night, and shut the fuck up.

The man looks like he's about to speak again. A little, imaginary man driving a nail through Dante's temple reminds him that he's hungover from piss-poor liquor and a full moon transformation, and doesn't need this man yelling. So Dante rolls the paper, throws it into the man's face with a scoff and some choice words in Italian, and walks off, stuffing his hands in his pockets as the man yells after him.

But still. He's only been here a week, and he's already on the paper. He wonders what other exciting things New York has got in store for him.
 
Dexter Atterberry

Mood: Peckish
Location: Hotel Lobby
Tags: theunderwolf theunderwolf

Dexter glanced at the waiter as he scurried off. Studying Esfir's expression, he was hopeful that she would be inclined to move into the Coven. His hopes sunk once Esfir expressed her wish to keep a little more private. Dexter hid his disappointment but nonetheless understood that sometimes it was good to keep certain things to oneself. He smirked at Esfir's little metaphor. She did have a knack for undead humor. It did make Dexter contemplate the status of the coven. Is the Black Rose a "good" coven? The young warlock perked up when the food was set on the table. "Wow, the service here is great too!" Dexter was impressed. The wait was not long at all. Rubbing his now only slightly cold hands together, Dexter began eating the food. "I think something's been on Marie's mind." Dexter said after swallowing some bacon. "She's said nothing of concern but it's just a gut hunch." Dexter says after taking a sip of coffee. "I've heard some rumors of other... "kinds" of people "mobilizing" their organizations." Dexter was referencing to the various other supernaturals in the bustling city. "What do you think that means for us?"
 
“Of course, ma’am!” Her dictation to Marie was interrupted by a smaller girl catching her attention. “Oh, ah! A pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Vera. My name is Maureen...I believe you might know my sister, Hannah?” She turned and saw Hannah’s sly grin as she took up some lazy needle point she had stashed in her bag. Maureen felt that it was time to sit and immediately took her place next to her sister. “I’m very happy to be a part of the coven...to be honest my charms and simple magic have been left to the wayside lately with my other research and practice...runes take a lot of memorization…” She sat there, still slightly unsure what to do. She had never been in a situation like this. Let alone one with fellow witches. “Did you happen to see the report about the werewolf in the human newspaper?”

Shagranoz Shagranoz CelticSol CelticSol
 
"Well for a start," Esfir said gently, " things are always mobilizing according to someone. To make a rash decision because one of our furry friends appeared in the newspaper would be a mistake. I can't claim to know what Marie is thinking, but so far all this movement might just be, what was the quote? full of sound and fury, signifying nothing?" She sipped her fresh cup of coffee daintily as she watched Dexter eat. She desperately missed bacon. But her lack of appetite had kept her away for over a century. " As for us specifically though," She said after a quiet moment,"I think we would prefer to stay out of it, but as the world gets smaller we may not have a choice. With all these cars and trains it gets harder for those of our persuasion to stay separate and hidden."
J Johannes
 
Last edited:
( Maxilgal Maxilgal , Shagranoz Shagranoz )

Vera's gaze turns to Hannah, smiling brightly, "I actually have not had the pleasure yet. My name is Vera. A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hannah," Vera dips into another curtsy, shifting her gaze to Maureen while lowered, "You as well, Ms. Maureen."

Upon hearing of Hannah's unsure tone about charms and spells, Vera brightens, quick to assure her, "Oh, don't fret about a thing like that! I've only known I've been a witch for..." She pauses, trailing off, then looks down at her fingers, mouthing dates as she counts backwards on her fingers. Once she figures it out, she bounces, holding up her hands, "Twenty five days! I'll be honest, I don't know the first thing about charms and spells at all but Marie-" Vera lays a hand on Marie's arm, "-has been so kind as to teach me some of the fundamentals of spellcasting. All I really know is how to summon a little spark or cast a simple good-luck charm, but Marie says I'm getting better, especially given I've had little experience my whole life."

A bundle of energy and enthusiasm, Vera comes to squish into the space by Maureen, eyes bright with rapt interest as she takes Maureen's hands between hers, "But you mentioned rune work? I've heard it can be very difficult to perform, and, like you said, requires lots of memorization. You must be brilliant! Oh, maybe you could teach me a little bit about it someday? I'm sure that, now you're in the coven, we'll be spending a bit of time together, at least."

She knows she's rambling, but she's so excited she can't even help herself. She loves Marie, and the way Marie has easily slid into a place of a kind, motherly caretaker, but Maureen looks to be just about Vera's age, and Vera's never really had a friend before. She supposes she was friend's with some of the girl's of her mother's ballet company, but her mother never allowed her to see them after practice, so she never got to get truly close to them. And sometimes, they were mean to Vera, envious of the principal roles she won at the company, or of her family's wealth, or maybe just inclined meanness. But Maureen seems kind, and like she didn't have a mean bone in her body, if a bit shy, and a big part of Vera hopes to befriend her. Maybe become best friends? Vera had always wanted one of those.

Upon the comment Maureen makes about the paper, she gasps, turning her gaze to Marie, "You didn't tell me they exist!" Returning her eyes to Maureen, Vera squeezes her hand, "What did the article say? What happened?"
 
Last edited:
Maureen was slightly shocked at what Vera said. She must not come from a magical family, or at least, one that talked about magic very much. She couldn’t help but blush fiercely when Vera came close to her.

“Oh yes...quite difficult. I must admit I’m still working on it myself. I haven’t even begun to get near medium runes. Mostly rocks and other objects that don’t make so much commotion when I accidentally blow it up.” She couldn’t help but smile at Vera’s excitement on her subject. “I’ll be happy to show you one or two runes I know fairly well. Well enough to not blow poor Marie’s house to bits.” A mannequin in a suit lurched forward, bringing tea and a few light cookies to the ladies. It was an impressive work of magic. Kinetic magic was fascinating to say the least. Vera’s outburst on werewolves returned her attention to the conversation.

“Nothing but a normal human spotting a large, fuzzy shadow in an alley. Here, I have the paper here.” She produced it to Vera and Marie, ignoring Hannah’s quiet eye-roll. “It’s seems quite sensationalized though. I don’t think any non magic people will think anything of it really. It is quite disturbing if it gets out of hand...but Hannah assures me that nothing will come of it…” She offered only a small smile in regards to Marie. She still didn’t really know how to address the older lady properly.

Shagranoz Shagranoz CelticSol CelticSol
 
( Maxilgal Maxilgal , Shagranoz Shagranoz )

Vera smiles broadly when Maureen agrees to show her a few runes, clapping her hands, "Oh, that'd be wonderful!" She notices the suit of armour come towards them with snacks, and smiles, grabbing a cookie and a cup of tea, "Thank you, sir," The first few times he had appeared with food, Vera had jumped out of her skin, but now, she favoured him as a very magical butler. Besides, how could she be frightened when the cookies he brought were so good?

As Maureen brings out the paper, Vera shifts to better look, then gently takes the bottom of the paper in her hands to better inspect the image. It's not a good picture, as the subject appeared to have been moving and thus had distorted the quality and accuracy of the imagery. It's just a dark blob against a dark background, but... It's a large blob. With a broad figure, and she is sure she can see almost luminous reflect of the camera's flash against a pair of animal eyes, maybe even the shine of light against white teeth. Maybe. The picture is not clear enough to be sure.

Vera's thumb runs over the picture, a small indent of a focused frown between her dark brows as she examines the picture. The expression lasts only a moment, smoothing away as she lifts her eyes, "Legends always says werewolves were large creatures, but if this paper, sensationalized as it is, actually captured a picture, then he - or she - ought to be more than eight feet tall!" She shakes her head, deep in some thought, then looks to the witches around her, appearing rather sheepish, "You must all think me foolish. I had just never imagined werewolves were real, much less as large as that."

She looks to Maureen and Hannah, and, assuming they likely come from a family comprised of witches and have lived their entire lives surrounded by magic, she explains a little bit of her background, "I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with witchcraft, or anything of the supernatural world. You see, I was raised in a mundane family. As far as I know, both my mother and father are not witches. If I'm honest, I don't know where I got my witchery from, nor do I know how..." She trails off, then, a bit hesitantly, adds, "They do not know I'm a witch. My parents, I mean. But I do know that they would not approve of it, if they believed me at all."

Looking around, she clears her throat, shifting gears suddenly, "Well, the article looks a little too sensationalized for the picture to be believed, anyway. Even if the picture is real, I'm sure no person in this day and age would believe in such a thing. If I didn't know that I was a witch, I certainly wouldn't."
 
The show had been a complete success! But that was to be expected. Thea exited the stage to the sound of enthusiastic applause and wolf whistles. She half skipped towards the bar, the gold beading on her dress gleaming dimly in the gin joints low lighting. The bar tender, a strapping youth by the name of Thomas Turner, was grinning mischievously at her as he poured a golden stream of whiskey into a glass.
"Well done, Miss Magician," he complimented as she sat down in front of him.
The glass of liquor was slid towards and elderly gentleman on the other end of the bar. He tipped his hat to Thea.
"Good show, little lady."
Thea laughed and thanked him. She was on top of the world. An absolute feeling of elation was washing over her, flushing her cheeks bright pink.
"I like it when you smile," Tom told her. He handed her the usual post show cigarette, already attached to it's long, black stem. She put it between her teeth as he lit it for her.
She inhaled, drawing smoke into her lungs and exhaled the wispy grey cloud through her nose. Her sigh was one of complete contentment.
"Thank you, Tom, I needed that."
"Can I get you anything else?" the young bartender asked.
"A red wine," she said, taking another drag of her cigarette.
If her father could see her now. He'd have a heart attack. Her face darkened thinking about the late Hector Berrisford.

"One of these days you've gotta tell me your secret."
Tom was back with a glass of red wine in hand. Thea looked back up, her reverie shattered.
"What?"
"Your secret. Or rather secrets."
She forced a laugh, "I have no secrets."
She took a long, steady drag as she waited for Tom to reply.
"Then I guess you won't have a problem telling me how you make your shows so convincing," Tom said, leaning forward on the wooden surface of the bar.
Thea shrugged, "There is no secret. I'm just magic."
That made Tom erupt into a fit of laughter. She took a sip of bitter wine and waited for him to quiet down.
"Fine Thea," he patted her hand lightly, "I'll give up for now."
Thea grinned back at him. Why did they find real magic so hard to believe?
 
Marie listened quietly as Vera and Maureen discussed the picture. "Let me have a look at that, please." The picture was fairly grainy, and the low light didn't help matters, but the picture was disturbing, to say the least. "I have no idea if this picture is real, but if it is, there are frightening implications. There are things we don't know right now, and not knowing could get us all killed. Maureen, given this emergency, you can consider yourself a Black Rose. We witches need to protect our own."

Marie reached into her bag, pulling out a list. Thankfully, the telephone had been adopted fairly reliably, even if it required the recipient to be at home. "I need to get things moving here. There's going to be a meeting tomorrow night, to discuss what this could mean. I want as many witches as I can get here, whether they're Black Roses or not." She went over to a bench, starting to enchant a bunch of hand mirrors with a speaking spell. Communication was going to be critical if things went bad.
 
Maureen looked at Hannah quickly, but a hand wave settled her nerves. She knew Hannah wouldn’t let one werewolf spoil their night of fun. Maureen and her siblings had quite progressive ideas about werewolves, vampires, etc. She didn’t quite know how Marie felt yet, but Hannah had told her not to bring it up in the Coven. Just because they were all witches didn’t mean they all thought the same things. Maureen then turned to Vera and started whispering.

“You know, my siblings and I are going out tonight...you should really come with us.” She looked over at Hannah who nodded over her stitching. It appeared to be a limerick on potions. “See, my sister has allowed it. You seem like a nice girl, and I think it would be a good opportunity to meet other witches, don’t you agree?” She gave a wide grin, the first one she’d had while stepped in this house. She felt surprisingly comfortable around Vera.

CelticSol CelticSol
 
( Maxilgal Maxilgal , Shagranoz Shagranoz )

Vera is tempted to ask about the concern - she knows why she is shocked, because she had not known werewolves existed at all, but what did they have fear from them? - but by the severe tone Marie speaks with, and her tense expression, Vera knows she should leave her questions to another time. It seems a little dramatic of a reaction, but perhaps that's Vera's lack of knowledge. Can the situation truly be that serious? It's just a picture.

As Marie moves to plan a meeting, Maureen draws her attention, inviting her out with her siblings, including Hannah. Instinct from her mother's refusal to let her participate in possible endeavors of 'teenage delinquency', a reluctant 'no' starts to form on her tongue, her shoulders sinking in shame. She always had to say no. 'You're a Belikova, the blood of aristocracy flows through your veins, you shouldn't give a moment of your time to people like them', or 'you have to practice your dance, you have no time for such stupid outings,' her mother would always say, often berating her for asking at all. Disappointment would always curl tight around her heart, loneliness filling her heart with cement.

Vera looks at Marie's back, and with a sudden epiphany, she remembers her mother's voice is no longer at her ear, controlling her every move with an iron grip and a sneer.

Vera straightens, suddenly vibrating with excitement as she takes Maureen's hands, eyes wide in absolute wonder, "Really?" She whispers in kind, sounding breathless in surprise, "I - I would love to! Oh, what will we be doing? I've never gotten to go out before!"
 
Turg was currently sitting in the back of his shop sorting an array of ginuwine death masks both magical and non. He had had trouble with the first one seeing that it screamed all the time but he fixed that with an old sock and duct tape. He was soon distracted as one of his boys walked in with a newspaper that changed his mood for the worse. "Heres the paper you wanted boss." Turg nodded his thanks and read it until a certain article caught his eye. "Huh a werewolf." He quickly fokded the paper and went downstairs to get his book. As he entered the basement the smell of sulfer and rot meet him. "Imply could you please stop that?" He said as he walked over to a table with a large leather bound book on is. As he tossed the paper aside a small human like creature caught it and chuckled. "I can't help the way I smell." it hissed out through its fanged maw. The creature in question was a 3 foot tall red morbidly onesie man with a pair of bat wings, a single horn sprouting from the top of its head like a party hat, a pair of goat legs and two beady black eyes. It sat on a chair opened the newspaper, farted and began to read. "Huh a Werewolf, now I see why your upset, the last furry face you meet tried to ripp out you heart through your nose." Turg sighed. "Don't remind me." He was currently looking through the book to see if it had any notes on werewolfs.
 
  • Evelyn sipped on her drink- she had made sure it had no alcohol in it. She didn't drink on the first date, she had told Jim, and he had believed her. Of course, if she decided to go on another date with him, it'd take a lot to convince him that she also didn't drink on the second date. Or any dates for that matter. She didn't trust potions like liquor- she couldn't control them like she could her own brews, and that made them dangerous.

    "Now, who is this... magician?" Evelyn asked the man next to her, her eyes focused on the stage.

    Jim squeezed her shoulder, his hand brushing her exposed skin. "Thea Strange- she's a bit of a celebrity around here. No one can figure out this girls tricks." He told her, his eyes focused only on Evelyn's face.

    "Oooh. How interesting! I love magic!" She replied, carefully widening her eyes to portray innocent excitement, as though she hadn't been doing similar spells when she was a teenage. "Do you think if we went to say hello, we might get a hint at her secrets?" She looked up at Jim, an eager smile spreading across his face. She hoped the small compulsion potion she had mixed with her perfume was enough to convince him.

    He smiled lazily at her. "Sure, cupcake- if you wanna meet the magician, I'm sure we can see if she has a few minutes." Between the liquor, the potion, and Evelyn's own charm, he would do just about anything she asked.

    As they approached the stage, Evelyn artfully seperated herself from Jim, meeting the Magician as she spoke to another man. "Pardon me." She said, more forcefully than politely. "That was a marvelous show- I know a little magic myself! Maybe you and I could swap tricks sometime." She smiled up at the girl in front of her, sparkling with life in that dress. What was it like, being a woman like that? Owning your magic and flashing it in the face of those too stupid and drunk to care?
    Cinderlily Cinderlily
 
( The Succubi Queen The Succubi Queen )

Dante is really tempted to just ignore the woman calling after him. And he knows it's him because of fucking course he's created a situation to have some random woman screaming at him while he's so hungover he's ready to scrape his brain out through his eyes to stop the pounding in his skull or the nail driving into his mind. He walks, turns a corner sharply to try and lose her in the crowd. All for naught - her voice follows him still, only drawing closer with each second. Faster than it was, too - Christ, is this woman actually chasing him?

A hand locks around his shoulder, stopping him and half turning him to face this random woman who has suddenly become absolutely fixated on Dante. Dante turns the rest of the way, scowling at her from behind the cover of his sunglasses, flexing a leather gloved hand to keep from snapping. You're already in the paper, Dante; no need to shift in broad-fucking-daylight, too.

He looks down at the woman, then at the paper, then at the woman. She's pretty, he supposes, with large, doe eyes, full lips, and a slim nose, dark hair against pale, pale skin, but too skinny to fit her tall frame, but there's something about her demeanour that let's him know she doesn't really care about it. Couldn't care less what anyone thinks. He likes that - that sort of rebellious fire. But he's aching in his head and his body and everywhere in ways a woman just can't fix.

But despite the little man still hammering away at his skull, he's intrigued. He looks down the line of her arm, holding out the newspaper, to her other, where she is holding her high heeled shoes. Then down the slim curves of her body, the stretch of her legs, down to the bare feet against iced concrete. He can feel the nip of the frigid January air - it's not even warm enough for her little number with shoes, much less bare. Concrete is unforgiving besides, and the trash and glass that litters the streets would have cut through the flesh, or at least scuffed them. But her feet look as intact as anything. Abnormally so.

He draws in a long breath through his nose, and sure enough, the too-sweet - almost sugary, but just darker, smokier than that - scent of freshly performed magic clings to her skin like fine perfume. Normally, he'd flirt, get a feel for this woman, but this is not a random human woman, interchangeable with the thousands of women he could find at a speak-easy or something of the sort, but a witch, a creature that dances the line between his world and the mundanes, separated and distinct only by the potent magic that runs through her veins. He let's a wandering thought take him as he looks into her face - what would be her talent? She doesn't have the scents of herbs and flowers and plants stuck to her skin, so she is no potions master, nor does she have the tell-tale smell of dirt and rock for runes. Maybe it's a talent within her own head.

Besides the point regardless - she is still holding out that paper, indirectly questioning him on leaving it behind when he paid nothing for it. He tossed it into the face of that insufferable paper boy. Why chase him about it?

Dante lowers his sunglasses down his nose, intense, striking blue eyes staring into her eyes over the rim of the glasses. He peeks once more at his wolf-man form across the front page, then looks to her with a wry look, and speaks in a dry tone, Italian accent light enough to understand his English, but heavy enough to be distinct, "I appreciate it, bella," He steps close, ducking his head as he wraps his hand around the paper, his fingers brushing along hers as his tone lowers to a mere murmur, "Except... You've chased me down a filthy, garbage strewn New York City block in no shoes, in subzero temperatures, and you seem unshaken by that fact. And for what? To give me a newspaper I didn't buy?" He takes the paper from her hands, using it to tap her under her chin, his voice lowering further, "I'd be more careful about using your powers so openly in this city, magi. I hear you've been suffering from a leech problem. Someone might think you're a snack."

It was rather daring to make such a public comment about witches and vampires and the like to a woman he doesn't know, but with or without a hazy mind, Dante's never had good judgment. So he just continues to speak, "If there's something further you'd like - besides giving me a free newspaper - then I'm going to leave."
 
Last edited:
Thea smiled at the other woman. A fellow witch. She had a distinct face, beautiful in a way most didn't appreciate. Immediately Thea was envious of the other witches height.
"Always happy to meet a fan," she a beamed.
"I'd hate to take you away from your date date but I'm sure we can get together some other time to swap secrets," she gave the girl a conspiratorial wink. She didn't interact with other witches very often and was glad to have someone who understood her to talk to.
"I'm Thea Berrisford, just don't tell anyone that. Strange goes better Wirt the whole magician ambiance."
She extended her hand to the other girl.

The Succubi Queen The Succubi Queen
 
“I’m not very well acquainted with it myself, but there will definitely be dancing and drinks and food and parties!” She could scarcely believe she was going herself. It was such an exciting moment, and to share it with another person made her feel much less anxious about the whole situation. “I’ve never really been out either, you see. My father didn’t want me running around as a girl...but now that I’m 17, an adult in the magic world, he’s finally let me go. Oh! I think you’ll like it. Hannah has told me so many stories about the magic places around town. Of course we could go to some normal human establishments but it really depends on what suits us at the moment we go.”
CelticSol CelticSol
 
"I know several speakeasies that cater that cater to witches, as well as more normal clienteles," Marie said. "Not that I'd ever frequent such disreputable places," she added with a wink.

"Before you go, take these," the older witch commented, handing the pair some of the magic mirrors she had been making. "They will allow me to see and hear out of them, enabling me to keep something of an eye on you. Purely for the sake of my own sanity- my coven is the closest thing I have to a family. If you need to, you can use them the same way, and they will also allow us to talk to each other as easily as we do now."
 


  • [color= yellow]Sasha de Vries[/color]
    [color= yellow]Ugh, it's too early to exist[/color]​


    Sasha woke up craving a cigarette. This was nothing out of the ordinary, given that it was an almost every day occurrence. He stumbled out of his bed, and immediately started stumbling toward the door-

    [color= purple]'Sasha, aren't you forgetting something?'[/color] The words echoed in Sasha's head, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. Forgetting something. What could he have been forgetting? Ezekiel was sure that he was about to walk out the door without something, but Sasha's still half-asleep mind couldn't put together just what he was missing.

    [color= purple]'Your pants, dumbass. You're not wearing any pants.'[/color] Sasha looked down to find that the demon was telling the truth. That should've come as a given to him, considering he never wore pants in bed, but he had never been the most graceful riser. In the past, he had forgotten to get dressed and Ezekiel hadn't told him, which led to him walking out in just his underwear. Marie hadn't been too happy, and he didn't really want to repeat that situation.

    [color= #e5e500]"Ah, no, I'm not...,"[/color] He groggily mumbled in response. If Ezekiel could've rolled his eyes, Sasha was sure that's what he would've done. After several minutes of Sasha fighting to get his pants on and then lazily draping a shirt over his shoulders (buttons were far too much work), he once again started to go out the door, snagging the pack of cigarettes and box of matches he kept on top of the dresser by his door before he left. Cigarettes, so much less work than a pipe.

    He struck a match as he walked to light his cigarette, then put the match out. Sure, he could've used magic to light it, but that was generally a bad idea when he wasn't completely awake. He'd settle for using mundane objects for simple things, due to how sure he was that Marie didn't want to deal with a house fire because he felt impatient for a moment. He felt slightly more awake after a few drags, but not quite awake to actually be surprised when he saw a brand new person sitting in the living room with Marie and... Dera... Hera.... Vermillion? Shit, her name just wasn't coming to him. [color= #e5e500]"Ah... Morning?"[/color]

    [color= purple]'I'm embarrassed to be part of you.'[/color]

    [color= #e5e500]"Hou je smoel,"[/color] Sasha snarled under his breath.

    Sasha de Vries

    e2f1a014a0d738307fa1847a66eea19cf52001e4_hq.gif


    Important actions

    Lit a cigarette, walked in on Marie

    mentions

    Maxilgal Maxilgal , Shagranoz Shagranoz , CelticSol CelticSol

 
Turg hadn't found anything in his book so he decided to go for a walk to clear his head. Imply was currently sitting on his shoulder with a illusion that made him both look and sound like crow to none magical folk. He was about to head back when Imply whispered to him. "I smell magic." Turg stopped and looked to his imp. "Oh really, where?" The demon pointed towards a house that seemed normal enough. "Well then lets go say hi to them." He said as a smile creeped onto his face as he knocked on the door. "I hope there friendly." Turg said as he straightened his bowtie. "I don't, if there hostile I'll get to eat'em right.?" Imply asked with begging eyes. "That's not fair, you know I can't resist the puppy hound eyes." The imp continued its oddly adorable attack. "Fine, but only if there not friendly ok." The imp smiled and gave a nod.
Necromantic Necromantic Shagranoz Shagranoz
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 3 (members: 0, guests: 3)

Similar threads

Vannette
Multiple Settings looking for a rp Parther/group!
roleplay roleplay partner search
Replies
0
Views
17
Vannette
Vannette
Gears
Futuristic The Forgotten Frontier: A Sci-Fi Exploration and Horror RP
Replies
6
Views
58
Gears
Gears
cemiller 1292
Multiple Settings Anyone interested in a stardew valley/harvest moon inspired rp group
Replies
5
Views
148
Rcticwolf
Rcticwolf
zyla
Multiple Settings ✦ THUNDERING SKIES - A WARRIOR CATS ROLEPLAY [ TSWCRP ] ✦
2
Replies
45
Views
511
OfficialCosplayerVA
OfficialCosplayerVA
Hell0NHighWater
Multiple Settings Life's A Game ⎨IC⎬
apocalypse dark fantasy dice system: d20
Replies
22
Views
589
Cara
Cara
Back
Top