Wizarding Realm
Winter 2018

Welcome to Wizarding Realm! We are an alternate universe Harry Potter site set in the present day at Hogwarts. With the end of November, arrives the Winter Term! Snow isn't the only thing to dust these cold, Scottish months; many new and exciting events await the students and staff as they prepare for both the holidays and the new year. In the meanwhile, they can skate across the lake, go gift shopping in quaint Hogsmeade, or stay indoors and enjoy a hot cup of cocoa!

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 [R]{sick of breaking necks}, hotaru // luz de mi vida
Lyx is Offline | 50 Posts | Prefers they/them | Rep: 1 pts | Profile| Plotter | Tracker | Ranking | Extra Info | Etc.
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Prentiss liked creepy spaces. He imagined that it had something to do with growing up in swamps, but also in the south, Spanish moss hanging off the trees and probably infested with spiders, if not something a little more sinister depending on the location. He had always been the kind of boy who sought out the rotted out locations that he saw in his dreams, the boy who followed the sounds out in the forest that surrounded the Sutton grounds, the boy who knew full well that there was something ancient and evil in the ravine that they’d found once while hiking and still wanted to swim in it.

He gave people the creeps. That was kind of his thing.

The cool thing he’d found about Hogwarts in the months that he had been there without Lindy was that there were so, so many untouched places. It was amazing that anything in this place could go unused, given the sheer number of students. Then again, he supposed, there were places in Ilvermorny that he walked into only to not remember ever entering the room, places at home as well where it was like he was just waking up and wasn’t sure why he was there.

JP wondered briefly if he was going to find one of those places in his wanderings at Hogwarts. He wondered briefly if his wondering about those strange occurrences would bring more of them into his life.

Following the feeling in his gut, he turned and turned and turned corner after corner. If he had any aversion to labyrinths, this would be excruciating for him, surely. Crossing an intersection of two corridors, Prentiss swore that he saw another person in the periphery of his vision, the soles of his shoes skidding as he stopped and turned back. When he looked, the person he’d thought he’d seen was gone, Prentiss making a soft, disappointed sound. His lips might’ve even curled into a pout, neither here nor there. Looking around him, the Southern boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, turning to change his path and almost immediately colliding with a young woman. “Oh, excuse me,” he breathed, more a whisper than actual vocalization, really. His head tilted slightly to the right, much like a confused puppy. “Were you just-” he gestured vaguely behind him, where he had seen the phantom out of the corner of his eye.

@Hotaru Myeong

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domingo en fuego
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Salem chased after a mouse down one of Hogwarts’ many corridors, his slender and sleek frame arcing through the air; back curving as he soared and then tilted to a downward angle. His front paws hit the ground first and his entire body seemed to scrunch while his spine bent at what Hotaru thought would be a rather painful angle on a human spine. Then he was off again, using his tail and whiskers for balance and direction while the mouse continued to run towards safety. She didn’t know which would win in this game of survival of the fittest but supposed that nature had to take its course, even if she didn’t want the mouse to die. Salem had to eat. Cats had a cruel way of playing with their prey, they seemed to feed off the screeching and suffering of their captives more than the actual meat. She’d once seen Salem capture a mouse in their home, the mouse had squirmed and screeched – making oddly human dying sounds as the cat’s sharp teeth pressed down on it. Not killing it, but toying with it. Letting the rodent know it was welcome to try and escape all the while knowing he’d end up crushing it between his jaws. Hotaru hadn’t been able to sleep that night, the mouse’s futile cries ringing in her ears for an entire week afterward.

The petite Hufflepuff was burdened by book laden arms, her footsteps quiet as the ghosts coasting through the halls and in the dining area. She caught sight of one specter moving down the intersecting hall and grew curious because it looked like it was moving with purpose. Usually when ghosts flitted about they were just doing so to either scare students of because they were lounging, letting the castle’s magical currents set them adrift like leaves in a pond pushed about by the water’s ripples. Hotaru wondered if the ghosts were gathering again, the last time they had done so she had been outside in the thick of them; telling them about Medusa and the great hero that defeated her. She’d brewed her moon ink that night as well, the boy puppeteer and the phantoms keeping her company. Curious as to what the creature was up to, Hotaru's trajectory shifted ever so slightly; at the witch's disappearance, Salem turned to follow suit, his pursuit of the rodent all but forgotten.

She spotted the taller boy a few moments before he turned around and nearly collided with her. Large brown eyes followed the length of his torso to settle upon his features, her head cocked slightly in the opposite direction. Razor sharp tips of hair falling like a straight curtain with jagged edges over her shoulder, left floating in the air. She blinked once and as he gestured her eyes flicked past him to where the ghost had vanished. “Yes. I think it’s up to something.” Her reply was soft as well, not a whisper but like she always took into consideration that speaking too loudly might startle the people she was speaking to or disturb the flies on the walls. Salem made his way past them, the cat as quiet as its witch. He rounded the corner and Hotaru could have sworn she saw a pale hand beckoning him forward. Alarms went off in her head and her fingers constricted like a snake around the books in her arms. If anything happened to Salem she would feel incomplete and jagged. “I’ve been hearing chanting coming from the depths of the dungeons for several nights now. It sounds like curse working and some of the ghosts have been pale and subdued. Frightened.”

Urgency was settling into her bones, breathing life into the words drifting from her flushed lips and blood-red tongue. Perhaps Oisin Woodbane had been right that night, and Hotaru truly was a creature of dark and bone. She was nearly as pale as moonlight.

@Prentiss Sutton

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Her scapulae were delicate wings; her skull was a psalm to the elegant dancer waiting beneath the flesh of all who walked the earth.


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In JP’s mind, there was this dichotomy with witches. There were witches like his mother, who could dance storms into existence, sing blankets of fog to hide herself and everything she cared about from prying eyes, people who could make anything grow and thrive with the right amount of swamp mud and faith. And then there were witches like this girl. Pretty, pale, as if she was made of shadow and bone, creatures of blood, and if he was right, pain as well.

She was pretty, made his heart stutter in his chest, and not just because this corridor was giving him, King of Creeps, that tingling feeling of bad juju ahead at the back of his neck.

Prentiss had thought that he’d heard the whisper of voices, repetitive and cacophonous, but he had also been known to have auditory hallucinations at times, so he hadn’t pursued the thought. It sounds like curse working. That was why he’d thought he’d been hallucinating, because British wixes typically didn’t work curses that way, voices writhing together across charmed circles until they became one and their purpose, their intent, became a spear to strike down the object of their fascination. For as calm as the girl seemed, she still held a quiet type of concern. He supposed he could understand that. Some of the ghosts had disappeared from some of the Civil War sites near the Sutton plantation when he was younger, giving him a bad vibe, but nothing had ever come of it. At least… not that he knew of.

Coffee colored eyes followed her gaze, catching sight of what looked like a spectral hand beckoning the cat away from the young wixes. He didn’t hesitate, slinging his backpack off of one shoulder and taking the books from her arms, carefully placing them inside. “Cats see the world in ways we can’t, all the intersections human eyes, wixen eyes, are blind to. We have to follow him. If not so we get answers, then so he stays safe.” Prentiss was more of an alligator kind of person, and gators had eaten his mother’s tomcat, but he’d hate to see someone lose their familiar to something sinister.

@Hotaru Myeong

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domingo en fuego
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Hesitantly Hotaru's dark eyes drifted away from the disappearing tail of her familiar and back to the boy who was already reaching forward and pulling the books from her arms. She did not fight him for her property but allowed his hand to pull them away from her and unburden her of their weight. It relieved some physical pressure the witch hadn't realized she'd been feeling as it had become a part of her ever since the books had been picked up. Now, without anything for her hands to do Hotaru was at a slight loss. Still, she appreciated his chivalry and was once against surprised to find it in the unlikeliest of places. He didn't seem to shy away from her as a whole like most people did with the exception of Ezra and perhaps even Thanatos. Although the latter had been more attracted by the story and ghostly congregation than any desire to be in the petite Hufflepuff's presence.

The thought that Salem might be in some kind of danger only caused her to look back to the place where he had disappeared. She was doing her best not to break into a run around that corner until she caught up with her feline companion and snatched him up only to press him firmly against her heart. Feeling Salem's heartbeat against her palm was one of the most relaxing experiences Hotaru ever had and the thread of life had always been so fragile within its fleshy casing. "I can feel it." Explaining to a boy in her house that her senses were extremely sensitive to magic was like telling a physicist about philosophy. He might not even understand her, least of all believe her.

"It wants..." Hotaru's words faltered, her head tipped back to stare at Prentiss and then she shook her head before she started walking towards the intersection, wand in hand. Hotaru was familiar with intersections and roads, her aunts had a book of crossings that she'd often pry open to study. They also tried to help her invoke dreams by placing bay leaves under her pillow and kept the cats indoors and at windows because it alerted them. Of course whenever a broom fell the older crazy witches would burst into a frenzy all while babbling about company. She didn't know how to say any of this to him. Instead she said, "When I was thirteen an ex obeah man crept through the attic of the aunts. I could hear him up there, skulking just above my bed, the floorboards creaking..."

She turned the corner and didn't spy Salem but felt the flesh and fine hairs along her arms and back of her neck rising in warning. Something dark and malignant lurked further ahead. "He ate one of the aunts' cats. It wasn't until he was climbing down the stairs towards my room that they found him." Hotaru looked over her shoulder at the taller Hufflepuff boy, "he's still trapped inside that attic. They bound him when they found his pinky bone. This," she motioned towards the sounds, "it sounds like what they used to curse him."

@Prentiss Sutton

--------------------
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Her scapulae were delicate wings; her skull was a psalm to the elegant dancer waiting beneath the flesh of all who walked the earth.


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One thing that Prentiss remained adamant about was that Mimi had raised a disaster, but she had raised a gentleman. Sure, the boy was prone to snapping over the littlest things, spoke with his fists -and the occasional baseball bat- more often than with diplomacy... But when the situation called for some good old-fashioned Southern chivalry, he straightened his spine, let his smile soften from something like a snarl to something soft and charming, and did what he’d been taught. He helped.

Helping this girl was no different than helping out the dorky ingenues that flitted about at the debutante balls back home.

Prentiss didn’t scoff when she expressed that she could feel whatever this entity was. JP wasn’t sensitive like she was, at least not in some place as hollow and cold as Hogwarts could be. This magic was man-made, and the Sutton boy could feel ambient magic a lot better than any other kind of magic. To hear her admit her sensitivity in so many words made him pause, but he simply followed as she drew her wand and marched toward the intersection.

A crossroads.

The twitchier of the pair jerked slightly at the mention of the Obeah man, his eyes narrowing on the back of her frame. He could practically imagine that man skulking around, stalking her, and that made him uncomfortable, but he could see how anyone might be drawn to her. Prentiss would admit that he was, and that part of the draw was most certainly the advantages brought with finding out what it was that drew him. As they rounded a corner, there was no sign of the ghost, or the cat, but the energy was palpable, goosebumps rising on the boy’s arms. As they moved, he could hear what sounded like chanting, voices layered over each other, and it chilled him to the core. “This magic sounds like home,” he breathed out, his wand slipping down his sleeve and into his willing, waiting palm. Not the Sutton homestead, either.

He followed her lead, but was definitely on guard now, unsure if a wand would really do any good. . “Before my mother moved us back to civilization,” the Hufflepuff muttered, “I grew up in a couple of deep, Unplottable swamps in Louisiana, places that time and colonization forgot. This… this is in my bones.” Reaching up, he pulled a necklace over his head, absently pressing the carved alligator bone charm into her hand, fingers finding her palm without the need to look for it. The bone was stained red like rust, especially in the carvings, having been repeatedly anointed with war water. “Put that on, I have a feeling you're gonna need it.” The mojo his mother had made him weighed heavy in his pocket, usually something he blissfully forgot about until he pulled it out to feed it every Saturday, or speak to it before bed. Suddenly inherently aware of it, he was all the more grateful for the duty his mother placed on him in caring for the mojo when he was just a child.

@Hotaru Myeong

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domingo en fuego
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Words slid over her skin with cool malice, even beneath the long sleeves of her shirt Hotaru could feel her skin prickling and hair rising. She felt the way her body instinctively shied away from that touch and every instinct in her small frame told her to turn around and run away. This was not something she could fix on her own. Her heart hammered away against her chest and for a few moments her breathing sped up. Magic rose all around them, oily and tainted. The voices distorted by the castle walls as they bounced off the stones and echoed back into their ears, nearly unintelligible.

She did not expect for him to believe her. What Hotaru did expect was for the boy to suddenly remember that he had something to do. Yet he had seen or at least felt something here and instead of turning away at the appearance of the pale witch, he had followed after her. It was more than mere manners and chivalry that seemed to drive him. Although as she peered at him out of the corner of her wide, round eyes, Hotaru noticed that he jerked at her mention of the Obeah man. Her eyes drifted forward and stared straight ahead as she waited for him to find and gather his wits enough to excuse himself. Instead the witch found herself jumping at the touch of his fingers finding her palm.

Inky black hair swayed as her head turned and her eyes seemed to glitter in the light, they looked up into his face and then flicked down to where the heavy amulet lay against her pale palm. No one touched her beside the aunts, their warmth she was familiar with. Their hands soft but rough, weathered by age, magic and gardening. This boy's touch had been light and casual but what she had felt of that feathered touch were cold and calloused fingers. It wasn't so much to cold of his skin that had jolted Hotaru, but rather the fact that his skin had grazed the supple texture of her body with his fingers. Her eyes rested on the amulet, taking in the color and shape of it all while her mind tried to wrap around the fact that someone had felt her virgin skin.

Since he had started talking the Hufflepuff pulled the necklace up over her head and lest it rest against her chest. Fingers slid over the ridges of the figure, her eyes drifted to the bare spot on his neck and she wanted to protest that he should wear it. The question was written all over her face since she didn't want to interrupt him. Are you sure? What would happen to him if he was unprotected? While she wouldn't let something harm him if she could help it, perhaps it would be best to tell him that she did not like hurting things. No matter what they were, but Salem was down that corridor and the more they lingered here the more likely it was that he was already hurt. "Are you afraid?"

A crunch had the girl stopping, her head cocking to the side like a bird of prey as she listened. It sounded like someone stepping onto dirt floor. Ghosts didn't make any noise when they moved. She listened more intently. It came again, a shifting, crackling sound, like someone dropping a handful of pebble-filled dirt. Her fingertips gripped the wand more firmly, she'd stopped moving in the corridor and looked straight ahead where the torches were going out, one by one. Slowly her head turned, the last of the torches sputtering out. The last thing she saw was something standing behind the boy before they were plummeted into a black hole.

"Don't move." Her voice was a whisper in the darkness.

@Prentiss Sutton

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Her scapulae were delicate wings; her skull was a psalm to the elegant dancer waiting beneath the flesh of all who walked the earth.


Lyx is Offline | 50 Posts | Prefers they/them | Rep: 1 pts | Profile| Plotter | Tracker | Ranking | Extra Info | Etc.
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He could sense her misgivings and see them all over her face, and he didn’t have the words to respond, probably because she hadn’t used her words to ask. Prentiss slipped a hand in his pocket, the leather strings of his mojo bag hanging from his closed fist as he removed it again. I’ll be fine. That was what the action asserted, but as her whisper questioned Are you afraid?, the boy heard his own voice chime in, “I’m terrified,” the slight Cajun lingering there much more pronounced than it usually was.

The sickening crunch made him jolt, Prentiss staring to the end of the corridor. They needed to go, but something in him, the part of him that had been a babe surrounded by some of the darkest, most powerful magic in the world as a little one, knew that running would be useless. The girl tilted her head like a vulture of some kind, listening for the sound, and when it came again, it sounded like someone was behind him, throwing handful after handful of dirt onto a coffin lid. He knew better than to look, tempted as he was.

The torches at the end of the corridor behind her went, and Prentiss flinched as each one dropped to embers, the orange glow not nearly enough to keep the hallway bright enough that he could continue to see. As the darkness began to close around them, some desperate part of him wanted to reach out and grab hold of the girl, keeping her safe from whatever it was that was about to come for them.

Don’t move.

They were plunged into darkness.

Almost immediately, the feeling of being watched increased, as if closing them in from all sides. What felt like claws grazed the front of the boy’s neck, the unmistakable feeling of a hand around his throat making him shiver. The corridor seemed twenty times colder without the torches, and the rasping sound of heavy, sticky breathing behind him didn’t help as the panic began to rise in his throat. The rich, heady smell of a woman’s perfume filled his olfactory sense and burned his eyes, mixing with the smell of death, a body well into rigor mortis.

In an instant, his ears were filled with an inhuman roaring, the torches all flaring to life with blinding, white hot fire. The girl was blinded as well, and for a moment, Prentiss could see a void like shape reach to take her hand. “Don’t-” The taller Hufflepuff moved to follow her, only to have an invisible hand grab him around the throat, throwing him like a ragdoll. His head hit the wall as he collided with it, stars exploding behind his eyes. The seconds it would take him to recover were precious, but now not only was this girl’s familiar in mortal peril, so was she. Stumbling to his feet, despite the black spots that danced in his vision, Prentiss tried desperately to follow after the bone girl. “Don’t, it’s hungry-” The words were choked out of him as the force threw him to the ground, a feeling like someone standing digging knees into his back to suffocate him. He struggled, clawing at the stone floor. He hadn’t ever felt so genuine and sure a connection with a person that fast, and his mother had always told him that if he did, he should hold tight to them, and just like that, she was going to be taken away.

Please don't leave me,” Prentiss all but whimpered as he clawed at the floor, nails breaking at his fruitless efforts to just move and protect her, hoping beyond hope that she would hear him.

@Hotaru Myeong

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domingo en fuego
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Before the light had gone out he had managed to show her the bag he carried and it had satisfied Hotaru enough that she'd kept the amulet. She too was terrified but before she could offer him any form of comfort darkness had consumed them. The last thing heard was her whisper, followed by the sound of pebbles falling. Cool fingers found their way between her own and the fear that had gripped her suddenly seemed to be very far away. He had reached to touch her once again in the darkness, and cool detachment settled into her veins, muting every other sense as he tugged at her and begun to leade her away. As they appeared to move further away from the darkness the torches flared back to life and she blinked furiously against it.

Red and black spots danced against her vision, the edges blurred by a gray fog. She turned to look over her shoulder, her sclera gone black. There was nothing but the corridor behind them, her fingers closing reflexively tighter around the hand that gripped hers. This boy of shadows and intrigue had pulled her from the jaws of something terrible and calmed the storm of terror that threatened to splinter her bones with its violent vibrations. Still, some part of her felt that this was terribly wrong and the amulet now pressing against her chest burned at her skin. She had felt the magic within it flare to life and then like everything else, it had become dulled and muted. Slowly, unseeing of what truly transpired, Hotaru turned back and continued to follow him. Her head tipped back, razor black hair scratching at her neck, her sightless eyes flickering in the torchlight seemed like oil. She could not see his face clearly, and somehow even the outline of him that she could see felt utterly wrong. "Salem."

They had to go back for Salem. He was leading her the wrong way, but something in her mind murmured that all was well even though he had not turned or said anything. Hotaru turned back to look behind her, sightless eyes settled on the prone form of Prentiss but instead of seeing the boy she saw the cat trotting along to fall into step. The worry eased and her tense body relaxed, her fingers reaching up to tug at the amulet's chain. It hummed against her fingers, and when she scooped it up into her palm it scalded. Take it off. Yes, she should take the thing off and return it to him now that they were all out of danger.

"Please don't leave me." The words slammed into her back and caused her to stumble. She fell to one knee, her hand scraping along the stone floor; the pointed beak of her bird-skull ring digging into the back of her middle finger. They were not the words of a boy but the silent scream of a little girl holding her teddy bear at the doorstep of an old house where cats looked out from the windows, their eyes glowing in the dark of the night. In the driveway a car sped away as soon as the door closed and the last thing she remembered seeing were the tail lights creating crimson butterfly wings as they faded around the bend and into the night. She had not used her words then, they had stranged her into silence and she had swallowed them ever since. Abandonement was something Hotaru knew well.

A cat's prolong yowl had her head looking up, away from the blood marring her pale bones and the stone floor. Salem's standing at the end of the corridor, the stench of decaying bodies hit Hotaru like a sledgehammer and she bends forward to dry heave. The thing is still holding onto her, hard bones pressing against bone and now that she looked up at it she sees that it isn't the boy made of shadows but something else. Her fingers fly to the amulet, the blood dripping into her palm seeps into the bone carving and she yanks it off just as the creature begins to drag her forward while she tries to yank away. The chain rips, tearing some of her hair the harder she pulls and she isn't sure why but she slams the amulet into the things grasp. It shrieks horribly, Salem darting forward like he's just been given a signal. The sound of a bell fills the room and Hotaru's eyes slowly start to clear. The dark creature keeps its hold on her. She digs the amulet deeper into it until it dissolves and lets go of her.

"Go," her voice is a rasp and Salem darts past her, the bell continuing to ring like it's bringing forth the light. Dark eyes go towards the bend in the corridor and she sees it then. The horrible thing is flickering in and out like an image on a computer screen, some dark specter trying to find its was out of the video and into reality. When its hand grips the stone wall it becomes corporeal, and it whines and clicks its teeth. Not missing a beat Hotaru scrambles to her feet, her heart beating erratically as she runs back towards the boy on the ground. Salem's bell grows louder as the bone charm within it begins to cast an eerie light and the walls become marred with red runes shining from her familiar. They sway against the castle walls, reflect off the thing - the woman pinning her shadow boy down. Hotaru knows they will scald and repel it, keep it away. But not for long.

Her bloody hand reaches down as she nears him and she yanks him up, leaving an imprint of her on him just the way he has already tainted her. She could feel the salt of his skin finding its way into the microscopic cuts in her palm. He was becoming a part of her. "Come on," the horrible sound of something dragging had her shivering, she wanted to look back at it but didn't. Only when the boy was up and moving as she yanked him along did she dare a chance. The woman's feet dragged horribly along like she couldn't use them at all. It's skin pale and missing patches, purplish veins cutting through the patches it did have. Its dress it wet and res, constantly moving. It drips onto the ground.

For a brief second Hotaru dares to let go of the boy's hand as she - panicked and terrified - slams her hands into a door. One tugs while the other bangs against it as if there is anyone inside. The sound continues behind then, click-drag-click-drag-click-click-clickclickclick. Somehow that sound is infectious and she yanks and rattles and pounds more desperately as the fear slams and slams into her. Finally the door gives and she turns to grab the boy by the front of his shirt; tossing him inside with surprising strength. Strength provided by adrenaline and nothing more. Salem follows him in and Hotaru has enough time to grab the door's handle, she sees the thing dragging itself with surprising speed towards them. The door slams shut just before its gnawed off fingers reach them.

She doesn't make a sound as she steps back, away from the pounding and rattling of the door. Bangbangbang! It repeats in counts of three. Trembling, she removes the ring from her hand and dips her fingers into her own blood before stepping forward. Then very slowly, the girl of bone starts to paint protection runs around the door's frame despite the horrible clawing, banging and creaking of the wood.

@Prentiss Sutton

--------------------
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Her scapulae were delicate wings; her skull was a psalm to the elegant dancer waiting beneath the flesh of all who walked the earth.


Lyx is Offline | 50 Posts | Prefers they/them | Rep: 1 pts | Profile| Plotter | Tracker | Ranking | Extra Info | Etc.
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reference to teen boys making dick jokes


The lack of air made his head start to feel like it was going to explode, his body feeling as though it was trying to burn itself from the inside out. Black spots danced across his vision as the world started to go dark around the edges. Was this the last of his nine lives, the seven that remained? Was he going to die there on the cold stone floor, suffocated by something otherworldly and monstrous masquerading as a woman of some ind? The low yowl of a cat made the boy start, especially as the oxygen came rushing swiftly back into his lungs. Something -the cat maybe?- threw the weight back, and the sudden rush of air to his system made him feel almost sick and dizzy. Prentiss gasped down heavy lungfuls of air that tasted like rotting flesh, even as the girl pulled him to his feet.

The feeling of choking on his own breaths was not one that was unfamiliar, but it was not a feeling that he wanted to be having at that exact moment in time. He was also familiar with the sound of someone limping on a horribly broken leg, a strange but distant memory of a zombie hovering somewhere in his mind’s eye. The sound, in combination with the smell of decomposition, made Prentiss’ stomach turn over, but he didn’t need to vomit in addition to choking as he tried to catch his breath. He knew better than to look back as the terrified, battered pair of Hufflepuffs ran for their lives.

Her hands grappled with the door before, as if the castle were sensing their desperation, the door gave way. He didn’t have the chance to pull her inside and slam it shut before she practically grabbed him and threw him inside. A black cat followed, her cat, and the door slammed closed before rotting, gnawed-off fingers could grasp at them again. The creature, whatever it was, was determined to get at them, even as magic kept the door closed. His hands bled as much as hers, his hands becoming tacky, and he stepped into the space behind her, using his own life to add to what she was painting.

Memories of his mother’s sigils painted on his bedroom door came to him the way phallic symbols came to any teenage boy with a pen and a surface that was not theirs to draw on. Protection sigils were far more productive, Prentiss’ blood mingling with the bone girl’s as they drew on the door. As he completed his sigils, the gravity of the situation hit him, and he found himself on the floor, knees pulled to his chest. He could feel his heart pounding in his digital injuries, and he knew that they would hurt later, maybe even risk infection. His hands shook, and much as he wanted to grab hold of the mojo bag in his pocket, he fed it with drops of his own blood, and this was not an offering by any means. He didn’t want to taint the magic. Instead, his sticky hands found his hair, fisting the short brown strands tightly. It was an anxiety response, and now he felt like he was suffocating for another reason.

He wasn’t sure just when the girl came close, nor her cat, but the feeling of the dark animal’s tail curling in the crook of his elbow helped to ground him some, as well as the soft smells that clung to the girl, something he only realized due to her closeness.

@Hotaru Myeong

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domingo en fuego
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Soft whispered words tumbled from bloodless lips as her fingers continued to work in strokes or jerky straight lines. She sensed rather than felt when he was behind her. His magic brushed up against her aura and turned the dial on the terror and chaos down a few notches. Gathering the tranquility often felt by the pale witch in these situations had never proven as quite as hard as they were now. The pounding on the other side of the door mirrored the hammering of her heart. Fortunately the moment the last of their blood wards had been completed and set into place it stopped. Hotaru wasn't sure whether it was because they had managed to scare it away or hurt it somehow, but she was grateful for the silence. It left only the sounds of their heavy breathing to fill the silence of the room.

Had her flesh not been covered in cold sweat, Hotaru might have shuddered at the chill of the castle. The witch waited with baited breath for the creature to continue its assault on the door, for the wards to flare up as they were called to action; but nothing happened. A heavy thud resounded in the silence behind her and for a terrifying moment she pictured the creature crawling down the walls like a spider, dropping down behind the Shadow boy and pulling him in darkness. Slowly her head turned to look over her shoulder, her body frozen in place before following seconds later. Breath expelled from her lungs at the sight of the boy sitting on the cold floor, his hands buried in his brown hair. Rusted streaks of dried blood clung in clumps to his hair. He seemed to be having an attack of sorts.

When her aunt was having a particularly bad day and could not handle the weight of her visions she would sit in this exact position and tear at her hair. Somehow it did not feel like the shadow boy was having this problem. Initially the petite pale witch had taken a seat beside him, resting her weight against him, but now that his fingers remained there and she could see the strain of his veins against his flesh; she knew something had to be done. Salem, a feline who hated being touched, had settled himself against the boy as well coiled his tail about his elbow. The action was rare for her familiar but perhaps he too had sensed their merging upon meeting.

Quiet as descending darkness she shifted away from him, crawling forward only to kneel in front of him. Slender, pale fingers with polished black nails smoothed over his wrist and the back of his hands. They hooked around the sides of his palms and eased the fingers free of his hair, tugging them away gently. "I'm here... I'm not leaving." The words made her voice sound tight but her tone was still gentle, barely above the whisper he had heard from her in the corridors. "Look at me, my boy of shadows."

Dark brown eyes watched him as he raised his head to meet her gaze, hands drawing his palms and placing them on her cheeks, uncaring that they were bloody. He had to know that she was real, to feel the touch of her bone-white flesh and realize she was not a ghost. He was not alone. Once his hands had settled on her cheeks, smearing their now mingled blood against her skin; Hotaru's hand rested with a palm against his chest. "Breathe in.... Now out." upon the exhale, she pressed into his chest to mimic the way it would cave when his lungs collapsed. Never once did her eyes drift away from his. This way they could sink into sensation and swim in it instead of drowning. If the entire room disappeared then so did the horrors that awaited them out in the dungeons.

She had not realized she had been humming until her voice bounced back at her in a soft, eerie echo. The lullaby was something she had heard from a film with the god Pan and his labyrinth. It was not suited for their current situation, but her worry was not about being appropriate but of getting him to focus and re-center. Somehow it felt like sharing her breath with him. She exhaled and he inhaled. The action seemed almost a spell the two were weaving, their magic exploring each other.

Familiar but alien.

@Prentiss Sutton

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Her scapulae were delicate wings; her skull was a psalm to the elegant dancer waiting beneath the flesh of all who walked the earth.


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I’m here… I’m not leaving.

Something about that was soothing, so much more than they thought that she was really aware of.

It made Prentiss feel weak to need the reassurance that she was real, that she was there and she wasn’t going to leave them. They didn’t like to rely on anyone, save for maybe Wilder, Lindy, and Landry, and even then, that was pushing it a bit more than they were equipped to tolerate most days.

Even still, panicked as they were, she didn’t seem real to them until they were holding her face in their hands. Their mingled blood smeared on her skin, marring the pretty porcelain with raw streaks of coppery red. Her palm moved to their chest, their heart racing like a herd of wild horses under her palm.

Prentiss inhaled; her palm rose with their chest.

Prentiss exhaled; her palm pressed, making sure that their lungs truly caved. They weren’t sure, for a moment, that she wouldn’t reach into him and pull out his insides.

Counting carefully, they let their eyes drift closed and kept breathing. Her eyes were almost uncomfortably hypnotizing, and they needed distance from her despite her physical closeness. It was easier this way, and between her familiar kneading at their knees and her humming, everything melted into void, the shadow boy finding that their muscles unwound from a hyperaroused state. The adrenaline and other chemicals crushing through their system made their body begin to feel as though they were a dishrag that someone had wrung out and thrown on the ground. They were coming down.

When they came back to themselves, she was still humming. Was that Pan’s Labyrinth? They could fel themselves shaking, the lingering effects of the neurotransmitters that had sent them into flight and fight all at once. Out of nowhere, they were exhausted. Untangling themselves from the Bone Girl, they stood carefully. However careful they tried to be, it wn’t enough to stop them from wavering where they stood, nearly keeling over before catching the edge of a desk at the front of the room. “Hold onto the charm. It’ll keep you safe.” They breathed, making their way to the door.

It was eerily quiet beyond the heavy wood, but Prentiss was going to chance it for the opportunity to shower and get their hands bandaged up. “There’s a monster over your head,” they added, as an afterthought. They could feel something like creeping hunger surrounding her, something that surrounded them as well. “It’s hungry for your marrow.” The door opened easily as they pushed it, and beyond, the corridor seemed deceptively normal as they started down it, not looking back at the witch. The only evidence of their altercation was a faint odor like heavy patchouli and rigor mortis lingering like a base note in the perfume underneath.

@Hotaru Myeong

--------------------
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Cool air brushed over the tacky liquid on her cheeks as he pulled away and moved, leaving nothing but empty space where his outline had once been. There was a certain type of absence there. Despite their having been made of shadows it was void now where they'd been. A small tear of desolation shone through the crack of her ribs, the darkness there not as full as it usually was. This was not the first time someone had moved away, left her stranded in that sea of darkness. It was the first time it had caused this pain inside her chest.

For a brief moment the bone witch felt hollowed out, like someone had reached in and removed a vital part of her. A part that not only kept her breathing but also composed the entirety of what she was. The room came into perspective and internally she shoved the feelings down, pushing to her own feet but not closing the distance even to catch them as they swayed on their feet. If they wanted distance then she would oblige them. Each foot they set down only managed to carry them further away from her. Hotaru half expected to see crimson butterfly wings sprouting from the dark of their back. Her gaze become unfocused as she pictured the gossamer appendages sprouting from between their scapulae. The crimson liquid drifting up their arms like veins to coalesce and blossom. "Like flowers of evil.." she mumbled.

Salem's questioning meowing forced the thick dark lashes to sweep down in a blink, and she crouched with her arm bent to have the familiar hop gingerly up into her arms. She held him close then, taking refuge in the warmth of Salem's fur, timing her breaths and heartbeat to the rhythm of her other half. Hotaru's eyes drifted shut, the void of her stare imploding upon itself like a black hole. The hollowness of the room filled her ears and the smell of musk and cat dandruff filled her nose. Harsh hairs were mingled in with the soft fibers of Salem's fur as he rubbed against her cheek. Onyx so deep it was almost purple caught what little light the room provided and from her tipped head, staring out of the red and porcelain color of her skin, the inky oily pupils watched the Shadow boy.

She looked half demon herself, standing stock still and hunched over her cat as she was. Perhaps that had been what had caused them to retreat lest they be eaten by the voracious appetite of her eyes. The footfalls were silent as she moved with specter-like movements. Her atrophied limbs finding that they still had a bit of flow to them. Tremors wreaked havoc on her hands, sending shudders down the column of her spine and her skin rising in gooseflesh.

Ever so careful the bone witch closed the distance, pressing to the side of the wall as she approached them. "He is behind me and before me. Marrow is not all he wants." The Obeah man was not the only creature hungering to suck on the marrow of her bones, there was another waiting for the virgin of her flesh. Eventually decay would mar the soft, moonlit colored skin. She'd be spotted as a leper soon enough. "You should go before it comes again. This is not where you'll find your grave."

Petrichor. As Hotaru stepped out into the empty corridor her void-filled eyes drew the darkness towards her. Petrichor drifted in the stale air and she thought she heard something shift in the dark near her wand. The witch glanced over one bony shoulder, her flesh colored lips peeling back to reveal bone-white teeth in the baring of a smile. "Don't run, predators love a chase." She stepped towards that watching darkness. In her arms Salem perked, laser green eyes alert as he hissed and curved his back; letting out a warning yowl.

The blood charm of protection cast eerie light as she stepped towards the darkness to retrieve her wand. Hotaru hoped the boy would go. She had faced darkness alone before, she'd be well enough alone.

@Prentiss Sutton

--------------------
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Her scapulae were delicate wings; her skull was a psalm to the elegant dancer waiting beneath the flesh of all who walked the earth.


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