| Staff | Member | Guest
NO: plotting, tagging or advertising in cbox

fugu stat
e
Welcome to fugue state!

We're a premium, no WC, 18+ supernatural site set in San Francisco, California. Please register first & last in proper case. If you have any questions poke our cbox or contact a staff member and we'll get back to you ASAP!~

Pages: (2) 1 2  ( Go to first unread post )
Reply
New Thread!

 Playing With Fire, Open
Sloan Dysis
 Posted: Apr 16 2017, 06:40 PM
48 posts
puppeted by kenzie
Slo
EST (Canada) she/her
job
Cashier (Thistledown)
species
Mortal
group
Lucidum
sexuality
Confused AF
status
single
age
23
mature
bring em on
You're just a ghost of blissful feelings, a cloud of smoke that I keep breathing
N/A
magic 8 ball




It was hard to try to balance, Sloan's need for social acceptance and feeling of belonging and her occasional need for seclusion. A balancing act that often had her overcompensating on one side and tipping off of her balance. Needing to then try and swing back and overcompensating again on the opposite side. A balancing act that Sloan was mostly wildly attempting to maintain while swinging back and forth.

The desire to be accepted and to belong put Sloan around other people and therefore their auras as her magic seemed intent on making her days filled with a pounding in her head. Dropped her into a cacophony of colours, all insistent and demanding her attention. The colours blurring together and hinting at a plethora of things that people sometimes preferred to keep hidden and made it a jarring experience to interact with anyone putting on a front that had their real disposition opposite to what they were presenting. Jarring and not pleasant in any means. It put Sloan in a position where she was unsure how to act and where the normal cues clashed with what her magic was telling her. Unfortunately, her magic didn't come with an off switch either, it flared up when it pleased to and especially if there were strangers around her; as if her magic was trying to help her in an incredibly unhelpful way.

That lead to Sloan secluding herself for periods, cutting off contact almost completely to give her mind a rest. There was only so much imposed colour and augmented perception her mind could take at a time. It was a kind of way to force the magic to recede and give her some time to breathe and relax from its effects. She couldn't see auras if there was no one around her to have an aura, and Sloan had never been able to see her own. Monty, her python, also helped her here in giving Sloan a companion to not feel so alone even if her seclusion would lead her to feel isolated. Even after all these years with her magic Sloan still hadn't found an actual balancing point between the two. Sometimes she could use up more magic and focus with her farsight, but that also took up considerably more energy.

Confusing and jumbled and leaving Sloan swinging between the opposing needs.

That was where the drugs and alcohol had often come in, it gave the witch a way to be around others without the pain of auras souring the experience. Dulled the sensation and then the presence of overwhelming colours, letting them melt away. Unless a coven mate asked her to read someone.

Her focus was pulled back to Xander, and her lips pulled down slightly as Sloan considered his words. Genetics. That thought had never really occurred to her, that perhaps that suffering side effects was linked to family, that some witches were more susceptible than others and passed it down through their families. Mallory and most of her friends had seldom displayed such negative side effects from their magic that Sloan had. And she had no idea if her parents suffered from over- or under-use of their magic either, the knowledge of her being given up something that was almost always in the back of her mind; taunting and reminding her that she hadn't ever really belonged. "I don't know, maybe? It sounds possible and makes some sense and would give a reason for something that's a part of us affecting us so badly." Like a wonky genetic sequence. Did one example of a family show a possible trend or a flute? "I don't know if my parents had any side effects, so I can't really speak for or against a trend of them being in the family." She admitted, a small shrug when she mentioned not knowing if her own parents were negatively affected by magic. Technically Sloan didn't even know if both her parents were magic, only that her mother was dead and her father had been unable to cope. Apparently, bad coping ran in the family, so maybe bad side effects did too?

A measure of awe filled her both at the control of manipulating the fire and at how much of the face it conveyed. Of course, Sloan had no idea what the girl had looked like in life, but the visage of fire definitely looked life like and as if it could materialize into a flesh and blood face like an elemental shifting into a human. There was a question stuck on her tongue, but it couldn't seem to escape her teeth because Sloan was unsure if asking about the girl in the fire would make Xander sadder or more unburdened. She remembered how much she had enjoyed talking about Mallory while they were together, but since leaving Florida the witch was almost scared of speaking about her first love. As if talking about her would somehow conjure the other witch.

The witch shook her head, hair swaying with a wan smile on her face. "It's really not, Xander. And I don't see how being a mess means you can't have your head on right. Life's messy, we are too." The two weren't incongruous for Sloan. If anything Xander knowing he was a mess probably helped to prove his head was on better than hers because she'd never have acknowledged the mess her life had become if her farsight hadn't decided an intervention was in order. The witch knew she was a mess now, but back then, when she was a whole lot messier? There'd been no realization and no view that anything had been wrong. At least not consciously. So it had been up to her subconscious and magic to rip the rose tinted glasses from her. The thought of seeing her old coven again was quite honestly a terrifying concept to Sloan, because she wasn't sure she'd have the willpower to walk away from them again. They knew her too well, know how to play on every sympathy and insecurity. "I...I hope you get to Xander." Really the only person she'd truly lost through the years was herself. Her father gave her up and she ran from her coven. There hadn't been anyone to lose during her years in the foster system either.

"I think it's possible, but I don't really know how heaven works. It could take years for her to walk among mortals again or she could have simply passed on. It depends on how the afterlife and all of that works." She commented, gesturing vaguely at 'all of that'. The metaphysics of all the afterlife possibilities mostly went over Sloan's head. She knew angels, demons, and ghosts were all very real but beyond that or how it was decided which one you became? Beyond her.
PMAIM
^
Xander Grayson
 Posted: Apr 17 2017, 07:46 PM
109 posts
puppeted by J-Chan
N/A
MST Him/His/He
job
Bookstore Clerk
species
Witch
group
None
sexuality
Heterosexual
status
Single
age
25
mature
Yes, bring 'em on.
If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together.
N/A
Firestarter



Life was all about balance, of this he was sure. How much to eat, how much to sleep, how much play you put into your life – moderation and balance. Given time, it was easy to decide how you wanted your schedule to be. A lot of people took advantage of this, though. For them, it was simple to feed themselves, and even simpler to know when they needed sleep. A person like Xander didn’t have that luxury. Tired as though he might be one night, the racing thoughts and troubles weighing down on him just wouldn’t leave him be. As much as he wanted to eat, food just choked him or turned his stomach entirely. It was a never-ending cycle that presented itself when he least wanted it to, and made the easiest of tasks so aggravating and nearly impossible to do. A balancing act though it was, sometimes he tumbled and fell – and other days, he surprised the shit out of himself. And, even, surprised other people that were in his life. In just a few short months after he started taking his pills, things became easier. He wasn’t as tired now, didn’t have to live life from one meal to the next, and he managed to slip play time into his routine, too. Nights like this where it didn’t matter how long he was out – so long as he made it back to his place in time to feed his pet, Oscar.

But then life wasn’t meant to be easy. It was downright difficult at times, and that’s what made it half the fun, what made it worth it in the end. He could see that, and that gave him comfort, even when others tried to put it in a different perspective for him. Make him see it the way they wanted him to. That wasn’t how life worked. At least, that wasn’t how his life worked. His experiences and his life might be different for another person; who was really to say? That is why he tried to be sympathetic to other people. In a way, he knew what it was like for them. Not always, but he had been there himself. He’d lost people dear to him, been at the bottom of the barrel with no hope for escape – he’d put on those shoes and danced to that beat, so to speak. It wasn’t an easy dance by any means. But then again, life wasn’t meant to be easy.

He knew there would be times where he didn’t want to be around people, and that was okay; the coven wouldn’t kick him out for wanting a little privacy. Sometimes he showed up to the coven gatherings, other times he didn’t, but he always called when he was certain he couldn’t show up. Whatever excuse the coven leaders gave the others was their own business, if they chose to give one at all. People had the right to their privacy, so long as others were kept in the loop. And he never failed to do that; not once. Even when life had beaten him down to his lowest point, somehow he managed to keep his coven leaders informed. Vincent knew some of what the young witch was going through. They’d talked, and he thought that the advisor would understand, given his position at the hospital.

“It would make sense, yes,” he confirmed, nodding his head as he spoke. He pondered it some more, and wondered – he never really asked his mother her opinion on the matter. All he knew was that it was entirely possible, seeing as how it had affected two generations that he knew of. Were there more in his family? He never asked that, either – there was still so much about his family that he didn’t know. “It’d be something that I could maybe ask my mother about, see if it affected anyone else in her side of the family. No one in my dad’s side of the family is magically inclined… that I know of.” And that part did make sense, seeing as how only one child in his immediate family had magic – namely him. His sister seemed to have an empathic gift, and she was skilled at throwing potions together – but she had never exhibited any magical ability of any kind. Maybe she was a late bloomer? If she hadn’t showed signs of magic by now, he doubted she ever would. It would have been nice not to be the only weird one – even in spite of the fact that he and his sister were rather close.

The image in the flames was so lifelike that Xander felt a familiar longing nagging at his insides. A hand moved over his lips absentmindedly, the sensation he had felt from kissing her still as real as if it had just happened. God, how he missed her. Love like that was so rare that he wondered if he’d ever have that again. How much he could stare at her, though – his mind recalling every moment they shared together, each of them praying that it’d never end. Good things, though, had to come to an end. Life was not all sunshine and rainbows; God, how he knew that. He held onto the image as long as he could, each minute that passed feeding on his magic reserves – or whatever it was. “What’s on your mind, Sloan? It’s okay. Talk to me.” He tells her, sensing the change in her demeanor – a particularly bad habit, his empathy, but like her own abilities, one that he couldn’t shut off.

“Does anyone know how heaven works?” He said, somewhat jokingly. He’d never had the opportunity to meet an angel – at least, not that he knew of – so he hadn’t had the chance to ask them that very question. After the image was gone, Xander looked tired – as if the magic he used had been a tremendous amount. It wasn’t, not by a long shot, but recalling the image, the memory, had been tiring. “It’s a nice thought, to think that I might see her again, but I don’t think that not everything that lives – and dies – becomes something else. As you say, she simply could have just passed on – “ a somber topic he didn’t want to discuss further. Turning his eyes downward, he closed them and shook his head. When his head came up again, his eyes were open, and he said, a small smile on his face, “All this talking and not once have I asked you how you are…” so – “So how are things?” Though he’d never talk to her about her drug use, he did want to know how she was doing. They’d talked about him so much tonight – it’d be nice for a change of topic. For his sanity’s sake.
PMEmail
^
Sloan Dysis
 Posted: Apr 28 2017, 12:04 AM
48 posts
puppeted by kenzie
Slo
EST (Canada) she/her
job
Cashier (Thistledown)
species
Mortal
group
Lucidum
sexuality
Confused AF
status
single
age
23
mature
bring em on
You're just a ghost of blissful feelings, a cloud of smoke that I keep breathing
N/A
magic 8 ball




Balance wasn’t something she’d ever really had, there had always been a sense of teetering and instability. Little to no constants in her life until the coven, and then it was the drugs. Perhaps there had been a small period in there somewhere between being adopted and dealing with the fallout of her powers that would give way to her drug addiction. But that would be a period still marked with uncertainty as she tried to fit into a new home and environment. It was more stability and balance than she’d known, but her standards for that was low. The witch was trying to find that balance now that she was the one in charge of her life and her daily decisions. There was no state institution, no mother, no coven, and no girlfriend – all people who had driven her life before were completely absent from her current life.

Sloan was finding out exactly how hard that was, after all how did you manage to build stability and balance in your life when it wasn’t anything she had ever really known. She had yet to manage to stop her constant swinging to and fro in terms of balance, constantly overcompensating and completely unable to find that middle ground. Or even slow that cycle down enough to come closer to a balance. There was always something to toss her spiraling away from it again and again. Tossing her either running to be around people and feel like she belonged somewhere, or running for her lonesome apartment and nest of blankets that made up her bed. Which would inevitable have her craving the opposite.

There were only three things that Sloan knew about her biological father. One, that her mother died while Sloan was still an infant. Two, Sloan’s father was about as good as she was at coping which was to say that he couldn’t, and that lead to him giving Sloan up. Three, at least one of them was magically inclined and had known she would be as well. All of it was summed up on a little, well-worn and very faded note; one of the very few things that she’d been left with and something that Sloan was attached to despite the melancholia it caused. It wasn’t much, but it gave some kind of answer to her abandonment. Plenty of children she’d met while in the foster system didn’t even have that much to go on, and it had made the admission of guilt and apology writing in ink something precious.

She looked down at her hands and she began to fidget, habitually spinning a plain black band she wore on a middle finger. Again the words wanted to spill out – that her life wasn’t losing people, it was people leaving – but they seemed stuck behind her teeth. Like some kind of white anchors, stopping the words before they could make it too far and out of her mouth. Held in safety and silence where they were. Anchored by a lingering fear of being rejected in some way. Like her sorrow couldn’t count because she hadn’t lost others, that her mourning of a potential life she’d never known was worthless and painless in comparison. Just as worthless as she’d believed herself to be throughout her life. A torrent of words, held back by her fears, draining back into her soul through those cracks in her sense of self. Draining until they were just hollow echoes of the words she wasn’t to say but couldn’t find the voice. A weight that grounded her and made her feel like she was sinking. Silently she struggled, not realizing her shoulders had tensed until Sloan forced herself to take a deep breath and relax them. They were words that weren’t unfamiliar to her, but often carried an ulterior motive. Insecurities and fears to be played on at future times. But this was Xander, and even without her knowledge of his aura Sloan doubted that it would turn out like any other time she’d confided in another coven member. She’d almost wished she’d begun crying again, at least that would be some kind of expression of the tone of her thoughts. Another deep breathe, and spinning the ring a little faster. ”I didn’t exactly lose people, just me. Leaving was always someone’s choice. They’re people I shouldn’t ever want to see again. So I don’t hope to see the people no longer in my life, but I do hope you get to.” Half formed thoughts and nostalgia that tried to convince her it wouldn’t be that bad, but the witch knew better, she knew that seeing them would irrevocably draw her back into the life she’d run away from.

”Angels? Maybe demons, gotta know your enemy and all that?” She offer in a much lighter tone. The working of heaven and hell, or even just death in general was a safer topic for Sloan and one that she could joke about much easier. Morbid, definitely, but she’d always been just a little off kilter from the norm. Talking about family had her more likely to break down and talking about death had hermore likely to crack a joke. But not everyone felt that way, obvious from Xander’s sudden break off topic. The witch thought for a moment, ”Things are going good, work hasn’t been too hard on my head lately. And no mayhem to speak of,” she comment, lips tilting up into a half grin, ”and I think Monty’s gonna shed soon.” Sloan was a little bit of a proud snake mother at that. It was also simultaneously disheartening and warming that she had so little going on. It sounded a bit boring, but that was a good thing for Sloan. Not boring and mayhem had led to more than questionable situations and the occasion stay in the police drunk tank. Having stories usually meant mayhem in her life in one way or another. Avoiding that, even for a small time on her own gave Sloan some hope that she hadn’t wandered down a path too far to recover from
PMAIM
^
Xander Grayson
 Posted: Apr 30 2017, 08:19 PM
109 posts
puppeted by J-Chan
N/A
MST Him/His/He
job
Bookstore Clerk
species
Witch
group
None
sexuality
Heterosexual
status
Single
age
25
mature
Yes, bring 'em on.
If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together.
N/A
Firestarter



Honestly, since arriving to San Francisco, this was as stable as he thought it was going to get. The pills made daily life a little better. He didn’t have to worry about having an attack every other day now, and he was at least sleeping a little better, too. Living on his own was a challenge, but he had the coven to back him every step of the way. He loved the fact that the coven was like a family, how they helped one another and were supportive. It made him miss home all the more. But he knew his life in Louisiana was over. Maybe one day, people would forget it all and he’d be allowed to go home once again. He wasn’t holding his breath, though. Wouldn’t count on people who were friends with him, and suddenly hated him, to go back to liking him as if everything was still okay. He would still see the hurt in their eyes, the sudden betrayal as though he’d stabbed them in the back. And he’d still feel the eyes on him, no matter where he went in the state. Annabelle’s death had made headlines, although the details of her death were fuzzy and no longer the truth.

Truth; the truth of the matter hit him every day, knocking him down when an attack did come. The truth stared him in the face each night before he went to bed, a picture of both he and Annabelle on his bedside table. Some days he laid it face down, and didn’t have the courage to even look at her picture. There was an album of photographs of her on a shelf out in the living room of his apartment that he not been touched since he put it there after he had moved in. He went through a torrent of emotion the last time he did look at it, and didn’t know if he’d ever be able to flip through those pages and not shed a single tear. It hit him, first, that emotion of anger; then it was guilt; and then, finally, sorrow. One human being shouldn’t have to experience all that all in the same day.

His grandmother had been a resounding source in which to spill out his emotions through magic. How each emotion could fuel his magic, making it easier to deal with what he had to deal with. Of all the people he missed from home, his grandmother was probably the first one on that list. Definitely was, even. His mother was a close second, and then, finally, his sister. These three women were the reason he was still sane, and still breathing when by all rights he should have been fried for what happened. That thought alone was enough to make him miss them with every fiber of his being. And yet, he refused to go back for any extended period of time. He had to make it on his own, and in her own way, his mother understood that. He could miss Sunday dinner, miss every holiday, and every birthday, and still his mother would continue to love him in spite of everything.

He took the stick he’d been teasing the fire with, holding it for a moment as he grabbed another log of wood and he dropped it into the fire. Flames welled around it, beginning to eat at the new log as though it was a food source and the flames were the hungry beast. Best analogy he could come up with, his mind nearly a thousand miles away as he absently poked the fire with the long stick. He rested the other hand in his lap, toying with the fabric of his pants. After a few moments, Sloan began talking again and he looked at her as she spoke. “I lost a lot of friends after it all happened. Some of them call me once in a while, and we’ve more or less patched things up. But they never ask to visit me or ask if I want to visit them.” A thought erupted in his mind and he spoke it aloud, “How can someone you’ve known your entire life look at you like you’re a monster?” He continued, completing the thought with – “If I ever do something like that, hit me over the head with a shovel.” He sounded serious at that too.

The next thing they’d talk about was how Sloan was doing. At the news about Monty – he knew of her pet snake like she knew about his ferret, Oscar – his eyes widened a bit as if surprised by the news. “Oh yeah? That time of year again already?” Oscar never had anything like that happen to him. He was just a little ferret that like dried fruit and a scratch behind the ears once in a while. In a lot of ways he acted more like a dog than a dog ever could. He could even play a game of fetch now and again – but his main role was to alert Xander of an attack and give his owner time to get to a safe place. “Oscar makes me laugh sometimes – I swear he acts more like a dog than a dog does,” he said, grinning, “He got away from me the other day and jumped into the bath tub. Luckily I was quick to get him, seeing as how I was getting ready to take a bath – and there was water in the tub.” So – “So, oops?” He laughed at that.
PMEmail
^
Sloan Dysis
 Posted: May 13 2017, 09:31 PM
48 posts
puppeted by kenzie
Slo
EST (Canada) she/her
job
Cashier (Thistledown)
species
Mortal
group
Lucidum
sexuality
Confused AF
status
single
age
23
mature
bring em on
You're just a ghost of blissful feelings, a cloud of smoke that I keep breathing
N/A
magic 8 ball




It was the way that the city seemed to have faded away that allowed for Sloan to feel like they were in some place that was other. Beyond and removed, one that allowed for breathing space and for the mourning of lives they had lost to be expressed. No one to witness it but each other, no voyeur to their pain or places that would hold reminders of this conversation. It would burn down into embers as their emotions flared and were used up. The sorrow would abate for now and so would the mourning.

A disconnected bubble of mourning and honesty that would float away and disappear once they left this place, leaving some of the pain as they left too. Hopefully.

Those kinds of thoughts and impressions seemed to make it easier for Sloan. Easier for her to make the comments hinting at the nature of her past. It wasn't quite enough to pry her teeth open and let the truth spill out, but it was more than she had been able to speak to anyone. To make her past real and to give it a weight that she hadn't let it have outside of her own thoughts and recollections. Speaking made it all real. All of her realizations and past indiscretions. While she couldn't confront all of that - all of those realities - yet, this little bit seemed to help some. Not quite a step towards being able to admit her past, but almost like turning towards the right direction. It may not seem like much to any other person, but for most of her life Sloan hadn't even known which direction was right or even good for her. So this movement towards some better direction, and knowing it was a good direction was a big step for the witch. One she was certain would have been harder had they been somewhere in the city. A place that was more anchored, more concrete than the forest felt to Sloan.

San Fran was a lot different than Florida in a lot of ways, but there were always those little places that seemed to exist in any city and could be almost startling in their similarity. Every stop where Sloan had picked up rides had felt the same, as if the rides had just driven in a circle and dropped her off exactly where they had picked her up. It hadn't felt as if she was really putting distance between her and her old life until she'd made it into the city proper. That was when all at once Sloan had felt the distance between the coasts.

Here she had been alone, completely on her own to try and scrape her emotions and life together. That had made it so much harder as each new realization hit her, bringing on an onslaught of emotions and stirring up her magic. But she'd somehow made it through and had found a new coven that felt lighter and more supportive. There was no social vacuum like before and no one dangling drugs and love all wrapped up together in exchange for her abilities. Every emotional struggle had had to be handled on her own, as Sloan had found herself unable to confide in her coven members; the words never coming out quite right. Or at all. It had probably done a small number on her sanity, but that had been questionable to begin with. But shifts towards better relationships and better directions. And there was something soft about Xander that made this kind of honesty easier for Sloan.

So startled slightly as the new log was placed on the flames and sparks flew up into the air as the embers were disturbed with the new weight. Xander adding the log shook her out of her thoughts and brought her back to their conversation. Forced her thoughts and focus on starting moving along with the conversation rather than getting stuck on her inability to do more than hint at what brought her to this side of the country. "I guess there are just things that override everything else you know about a person. Something that takes over ever other perception they have of you. Souring a friendship to the point that it's ruined." Sloan had experienced it as a child, her lack of a family changing how others treated her. As she aged having a girlfriend and a drug habit did the same thing. To a point that Sloan had stopped even trying to establish any real connection outside of her coven. "We both know even with a shovel I wouldn't be able to do much."

Really her life, when it was going well, was a quiet boring one. It was when she started craving and needing a fix or having her sanity drowned by her magic that excitement and mayhem came into her life. Oh, the stories she had and ended up in because of her inability to say 'no'. But quiet was something to be craved too, it meant stability and balance if only for a short time. Excitement in a quiet life was very different, like the excitement of Monty shedding. Any morose expressing linger would completely melt away with an excited bobbing of her head as she nodded, "Yeah! He's getting big enough I might need to start looking for a bigger tank for him." Sure pythons weren't the most cuddly or active pets but Monty was a great companion and happy enough nestling with her and in her hair when Sloan would take him out for some quality time. She laughed at Xander's story about Oscar. "At least that means you had a clean ferret?" She managed before laughing again and the mental image of a ferret just floating like an otter, or maybe a seal in the water. "Does he swim? Or just like give you funny stories? I would suggest a pet play date but I don't think pythons and ferrets would get along too well." She offered with an other chuckle. Monty wasn't active enough to keep up with a dog like ferret, and would probably just debate eating him.... Yeah somehow Sloan was sure both Xander and Oscar would object to that.

PMAIM
^
Xander Grayson
 Posted: May 16 2017, 10:15 PM
109 posts
puppeted by J-Chan
N/A
MST Him/His/He
job
Bookstore Clerk
species
Witch
group
None
sexuality
Heterosexual
status
Single
age
25
mature
Yes, bring 'em on.
If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together.
N/A
Firestarter



Sometimes being alone could be a good thing; you didn’t have to depend on people and no one had to depend on you. There was no one to disappoint, no one to please; no one to tell him he couldn’t do something, and no one to say no. Of all the things there weren’t, Xander wished there was a were to this lonely life he lived. He wanted there to be someone to come home to, someone to smile when he cracked a joke – someone that he could love. Was that too much to ask? He had the love of his life taken from him, and that was a blow to him. But his mother always told him that he’d find someone else. He didn’t know for a long time if he wanted someone else though. Maybe he was living too much in the past, hoping for what could have been. It was nice to dream, and often he’d be lost in his dreams, happy never to wake again. But he would wake and be met with the cold, hard reality that was life. Life wasn’t meant to be all sunshine and rainbows, and he knew that. Just once, though, he wished for total and complete happiness to come his way again.

San Francisco was a place where the happiness was sure to come again. He had a feeling deep down in the pit of his stomach about this place. Whether it was real or not, he hadn’t really found out quite yet. But as with all places in the world, it had that promise of a new start. To begin life anew where he didn’t have to impress anyone. He wasn’t so sure about coven life when he first moved here. Covens were where he had to – not necessarily impress people – but show them a part of himself that he kept secret from the rest of the world. Magic was private to him, had been for a long time. People knew about it, of course, but it was better to think he was normal than accidentally set them on fire or toss them into the side of a bridge. He was homeschooled most of his life so accidents wouldn’t happen – but there had to be a time in his life where he’d have to take the risk and step out of that cozy little bubble his mother provided for him. How was he to experience life if he didn’t take risks? Accidents happened, though. They were inevitable.

The day the accident happened was one he replayed over and over in his mind when he was alone. He always wondered if it could have gone differently. Maybe Annabelle would be alive; her baby would be alive; but would it change his relationship with her? Could he honestly say that they would still be together after she’d betrayed him? Those were the questions he avoided. Everything happened for a reason, and there was nothing to be done about the past. That was why it was the past.

The new log added to the fire yanked him out of those kinds of thoughts, and he watched as the fire accepted the new log, inching along the thing and beginning to engulf it. If he had his way, he’d stay out here tonight and let the fire burn all night long. It would have been nice to stay out here for a night or longer, live as though reality was just a state of mind. Reality, though, had a funny way of reminding him that this was the way life was. He’d really killed someone, and lost a piece of himself that he’d never get back. Each friend he’d lost took a part of him too, until his heart was a tattered tapestry of missing cloth, as though it had holes ripped into it. “Some things just aren’t meant to last, not even when you try so hard to make sure they don’t die out,” like with those relationships with his now ex-friends, little candles that died out the moment they’d learned of what he had done. He smiled a bit when she said that with a shovel she’d not be able to do much, and he said, “It’s all in the knees. Just lift and whack; not really all that hard to do. I’m sure you’d be a natural at it.”

“Really? Wow, how big is he now?” Pets were a safer conversation than whacking people over the head with shovels, “Oscar is a little big for his species, but he has a nice big cage that takes up a good chunk of my apartment.” And of course, Oscar would and could have the run of the apartment if he wanted it. Xander often let him out, but usually only when he was home. Oscar didn’t like getting into stuff, though, even if he was left alone. Usually he just liked curling in Xander’s lap when his owner watched TV. A low maintenance pet, in spite of the things said about ferrets. “Yeah, well, he likes water anyway. I give him a bath every couple months, and boy does he like his rubber ducky I got him.” And he wasn’t joking about that. “He’s not much of a swimmer, really, but he can. And yeah, I don’t think that they would get along too well, unfortunately. Oscar has always been a one pet kind of pet.”

Xander knew it was none of his business, but – “If I ask you a question, promise not to get mad at me?” He asked, and went right into the question once she confirmed, “Are you still using? And does it help you?” A weird topic to discuss, he wanted to know because he had been contemplating drug usage for a long time. Maybe it would abate the side effects of his schizophrenia, or erase them completely. Any way he tried to see it, the little birdy in his mind yelled at him that drugs like that were illegal.
PMEmail
^
Sloan Dysis
 Posted: May 18 2017, 11:08 PM
48 posts
puppeted by kenzie
Slo
EST (Canada) she/her
job
Cashier (Thistledown)
species
Mortal
group
Lucidum
sexuality
Confused AF
status
single
age
23
mature
bring em on
You're just a ghost of blissful feelings, a cloud of smoke that I keep breathing
N/A
magic 8 ball




Sloan hadn’t really been physically alone until she came to the west coast. The witch had lack the emotional support that she had needed growing up, but there had always been other people around her. Often crowded foster and group homes meant something was always happening and noise was a constant, even if it was only in the background. Always people surrounding her and taking up the same space she did while leaving Sloan mostly on her own and isolated in terms of support. That’s where her need to be validated and feel like she belonged – if even for a little while. It made the lack of real support fade into that background noise for a little while. After the homes it had been school and the coven house, both of which were always filled with people doing something. So Sloan hadn’t exactly ever really been physically alone until she’d moved away from all of that.

The witch had adjusted to it surprisingly well, grown used to having her own space to fill however she pleased and unconcerned with what others might think because they were no others to worry over. No one to comment on the lack of colour she surrounded herself with or the absurd amount of pillows and blankets piled onto her bed making it resemble more of a nest. Truthfully it helped that in her apartment building there was a constant influx of background noise, crappy enough that sound moved through the building offering the illusion of not being alone. She couldn’t hear everything but enough sound came through to fill that background lull she’d grown used to.

Of course being alone posed its own challenges – namely Sloan’s dismal cooking skills. Sure she could mixed potions fine, but food was difficult and not something she’d managed to get a hold on yet. It was a good thing she liked ramen. And her difficulty with tracking the passage of time. The young witch had never been good at keeping track of days or time, often relying on those around her to have a better handle on that. It was part of her reasoning to get Monty, the responsibility of feeding him properly meant that she had to take notice of the days passing.

For her magic had never really been a private thing. It was something she hadn’t ever really actively hidden from other people, often indulging questions of her classmates when she was younger. Before the headaches had started to take a toll on her Sloan would have happily read anyone who happened to ask her, describing their auras or looking into her farsight for them. And then she’d read anyone if she was asked by her coven mates, often doing so without bothering to ask why they wanted her to read someone. Rather Sloan had been content to be helpful and needed, offering the insights for them to use as they wanted. In retrospect it was probably to gain an upper hand or advantage over the other person by having an insight into them that couldn’t be feigned. You could fake a tone but not an aura.

“Maybe it’s that you’ve outgrown or become something different than the people around you and you just need roots in a different place to keep growing.” Those kind of thoughts made the tough days a bit easier for her. That Sloan had grown as much as she could in Florida and wouldn’t be able to grow or change anymore had she stayed there; she had needed new soil to keep changing. It wasn’t wrong, just a prettier and perhaps more poetic way to think of her situation. She let out an amuse snort, “Just don’t expect anything more than a sore head and maybe a headache from it. I still doubt how effective it would be to have me swinging the shovel.”

Gleefully Sloan held her hands out in front her, about two and a half feet apart. “Two and a half feet now. And he’s a little fat.” She had a lot of pride over managing to keeping something else alive and healthy despite her difficulties with time and being a functional human being. Honestly Monty probably ate a lot better than she did, he always got properly nutritious meals whereas Sloan didn’t. It snakes were able to safely roam on their own Monty would have had the run of the apartment, but for his safety he was confined to his tank unless Sloan was watching him and sober. The witch was not going to lose her beloved python on a stupid decision or on him seeking heat and hiding somewhere she couldn’t get him. “That’s absolutely adorable! Does the duck even have a name?”[b] Or maybe that was just an odd thing Sloan did for Monty’s stuff. [b] “But I guess it’s good he jumped in with your there then.”

Considering their earlier conversation Sloan couldn’t quite wrack her brain for what question Xander would worry might make her mad.“Yeah Xander, go for it.” Of conversation topics she thought she’d have with Xander, her drug used definitely wasn’t one of them. She tried to be mostly sober around the coven, or at the very least keep any of the harder drugs she used completely separate from them. Still a bit caught off guard at this particular topic – and not used to it being in relation to helping her rather than ‘ruining her life – Sloan nodded mutely, attempting to gather her thoughts. “Yeah I’m still using, it helps me with the pain or completely escaping the effects of my magic sometimes. But… Xander my use isn’t just limited to alcohol and weed. It helps me, but it affects every other part of my life.” She was an addict with a bad habit of not caring about how she got high, only that that oblivion was reached when the need got too bad. “Are you just asking after my wellbeing or for something else Xander?” She asked voice cautious, really hoping that the scent of smoke on her had been concerning.
PMAIM
^
Xander Grayson
 Posted: May 21 2017, 09:26 PM
109 posts
puppeted by J-Chan
N/A
MST Him/His/He
job
Bookstore Clerk
species
Witch
group
None
sexuality
Heterosexual
status
Single
age
25
mature
Yes, bring 'em on.
If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together.
N/A
Firestarter



Xander’s lifestyle out here in the west wasn’t one really to write home about. His life was fairly simple out here, and lacked the excitement of his siblings. Most of his days were spent catching up on sleep, tending to Oscar, or maybe paying a rare friend an even rarer visit. His nights were devoted to work, seeing as how he worked the closing shift at the bookstore. A lot of bookstores/coffee shops weren’t open till two o’clock in the morning. In fact, most of them closed around nine or ten at night. In a city there was a benefit of being open that late. Xander didn’t mind working the long closing shift. It gave him time to sift through the titles they sold as he was putting them in their proper sections. Read and commit those titles to memory or write them down on a piece of paper from the notebook he carried so he could buy them at a later date when they weren’t as popular.

Being a single young man, cooking was almost required to learn. If he didn’t eat, he’d live a very short life indeed. He knew how to make potions – a thing that was nearly impossible not to learn with a modern day kitchen witch for a mother – but he didn’t make too many of them if he ever made them. If it came right down to it, all he had to do was pick up the phone, put a call in to his mother to make him a potion gift basket and send it to him. Honestly there was no reason to drink potions to gain a lover or become luckier – he’d always been a man that didn’t believe in luck, and if he did, it was bad luck. And love? He had fallen in love on his own without any magical help whatsoever, and we knew how that story turned out.

The magic that ran in his blood was old – a line of witches nearly in every family dating pretty far back. He didn’t know how old the line was, but it was pretty old. Seemed like a contradiction in terms, but what else could he say? His grandmother had never really gone into details about the magical blood that ran through their veins, other than vague references to previous ancestors here and there. Like ‘oh your great-great grandmother was famous for this kind of potion’ or something ambiguous like that. There were albums and books passed down through the generations – but no solid record, other than the family Grimoire that would one day be given to Xander. If his parents were somehow expecting him to pass it on to his kids, there might be a little problem with that. He’d have to find a girlfriend, get married, and have kids in order to pass it on – and honestly, he didn’t know if that would happen. It was a nice thought, that he could live a normal life like that, but he didn’t know if it was all that real of a way to think.

“Could be; that was one reason I decided to leave home,” but – “But not the whole story.” It was easier to tell himself there were other reasons that the main big one that made him leave home. Louisiana had been confining territory, and didn’t allow for much room to grow, if he was putting it in terms that Sloan was trying to make him understand. She was right, of course; California was much more open – granted it was much more populated – but he had the advantage of not knowing anyone when he first came here. A clean slate, as it were – no one to judge, and perhaps that was the most important aspect about this land out west. He let out a laugh, and said, “Oh anyone can wield a shovel Sloan. I don’t even have to move in order to wield one – think about that – so in reality, I could make it look like you were lifting it,” of course, there was – “Of course in that aspect I’d be whacking myself with the shovel… you know, I’ve never tried something like that. Maybe I should.” He had a grin on his face that suggested he might to it to himself just for shits and giggles.

“Oh wow – well you know what they say ‘a fat pet is a healthy pet.’ Oscar’s a bit chunky, too, actually.” Although he knew that wasn’t necessarily true – it didn’t change the fact that in his experience it was. “Funny story behind that, actually. When I first bought the duck for him, I had it in my hand in front of his cage and I was trying to come up with a name for it. Said names like Ducky, Feathers, and such – to which Oscar – I dunno, snorted at? Do ferrets snort? – Anyway, I finally said one: Squeaker, and Oscar squeaked at me. I took that as a sign that that is the name for the duck now.” And that was the truth. Oscar had a lot of personality for a little guy; there was no denying that.

Xander took a deep breath when Sloan said to go for it – they were jumping through a lot of emotional rings, so to speak, and he wondered how much longer it would be before he broke down in tears again. Sometimes, though, you just needed a good cry. “I can see that it would – and that it does help you. Perhaps not in the same way as my meds help me, but similarly,” he looked down when she asked what she did – and honestly, he didn’t have a straight answer, so he went with – “A bit of both, I think. While my meds do help me, honestly they aren’t enough, and I was thinking of asking for a medical prescription of marijuana,” before she started in on him, he added, “I’ve done my research – there is a lot of good stories out there are success stories involving marijuana. I think it could help me.” Honestly he had no qualms about buying it off the street – and that was the likelier thing for him to do – but he’d get opinions where he could. “I can understand if you don’t want to part with the name of a dealer or anything, but I was thinking – maybe I could try some of yours? I’d gladly pay you what I can.”
PMEmail
^
Sloan Dysis
 Posted: May 30 2017, 03:37 PM
48 posts
puppeted by kenzie
Slo
EST (Canada) she/her
job
Cashier (Thistledown)
species
Mortal
group
Lucidum
sexuality
Confused AF
status
single
age
23
mature
bring em on
You're just a ghost of blissful feelings, a cloud of smoke that I keep breathing
N/A
magic 8 ball




Adjusting to living on her own had both its perks and its difficulties. With the freedom of her own Sloan had been free to all but drain the colour out of her apartment just like she had with her wardrobe. The blacks and greys more of a comfort, easing the pain of colours pressing in to her mind. A dark escape from the auras, relieving the pressure of them pressing down on her psyche and a pseudo oblivion to hide in for a while. One that wasn't inherently damaging, but a place to hide away for a little while when everything else around her became a little too much to handle. Retreating until the auras, the magic, and her anxieties receded.

Cooking was more difficult, and something that she had never mastered before. The witch could get by on simple meals and a kitchen that looked like it belonged to a broke college student. Potions were easier than meals for her, something she'd grown up helping her mother with. Cooking - not so much. That was something that was still as much as work in progress as Sloan herself was, piecing bits of knowledge together to try to take care of herself. There was a lot of trying to look up easy recipes online and attempts with mixed results. It wasn't much, but it was more than she'd have to be responsible for previously in her life.

The musing like reasoning helped Sloan rationalize a part of her need to move, to run away from Florida and come to the city. Room to grow and flourish as her own person was a more comforting reason than acknowledging that the witch had left to try and avoid the ruin she saw her life careening towards. It wasn't just a chance to grow into her own person, but a chance to actually get to live beyond a few more years. A dark reality that could easily sink her into a downward spiral of a mood. "Is it ever just one reason to leave?" Sometimes parts of the story were a little too dark, better left in the shadowy place of her mind and memories. A roll of hazel eyes was the witch's response to Xander, "Well not all of us are telekinetic, some of us are stuck relying on good old physical strength. Or rather a lack there of." Sloan knew she wasn't particularly strong. The witch hadn't ever been particularly physically inclined and had never fit any inclination towards building up physical strength. And Sloan definitely wasn't intimidating in any way.

"Fat and happy isn't a bad thing to be." She agreed with a laugh. The witch's expression melted a little at the story, finding it absolutely adorable. Especially that Oscar had squeaked for the name Squeaker. It was obvious that Xander's ferret had more personality than her own pet, but Sloan really wasn't sure she'd be able to keep up with Oscar. Monty's calmer personality was a lot more of what she needed and was able to take care of. "That's ridiculously adorable, I think Oscar might be my favourite pet that isn't mine."

Relief was the entire reason Sloan had first started smoking and drinking underage, it was offered as the more effective way to handle the pain and other affects of her magic. The continuous requests for her to call upon her magic and read the people around the coven had lead to unending headaches, an unrelenting beating of her head and tired eyes. Weed as a cleaner option, a way to avoid all the chemicals of other ways to reduce pain had been the beginning. Without the pain Sloan could call on her magic with greater ease, look deeper into an aura and let the colour wash over her perception. Weed didn't take long to turn into alcohol, and then whatever else her coven thought could work as well, or could interact with Sloan's magic in interesting and beneficial ways. Trusting them and striving to help the young witch had taken all that was offered to and was gently lead down the path to where the high had been most of her life. Mood once again solemn she nodded, "Not the same way, it just manages the effects at best. It doesn't help keep them moderate or try to stop the side effects or anything like that." Of course she'd run into people who would argue how much the drugs helped Sloan, particularly because of the harder drugs she took.

But Sloan was almost holding her breath waiting for Xander's answer, for as addicted as she was the witch also knew how close her addictions had come to causing her demise and how they were a huge part in most of her more regrettable decisions. As poisonous and consuming as the cracks in her psyche, infecting almost every facet of her life. One of the dark secrets and a part of her story that she kept as quiet as she could. Hiding the worse addictions and near constant craving in the space behind her teeth, anchored in silence. Like a confession for dark bars and out of sight alleys. Marijuana was where it had started for her, the first step down the path towards oblivion that Sloan had started on years ago. But as far as she knew, Xander didn't have anyone like her old coven who had been more than obliging in their enabling of her addictions. Sloan shifted, to face Xander more squarely, this was something that Sloan didn't want to leave room for, didn't want the other witch to tread the same path of intoxication as she had. But at the same time couldn't deny that weed could help, could make things easier too. "Just promise me one thing Xander, nothing more than weed. And when you want to try it, don't smoke or eat it by yourself ." The witch had messed up a decent part of her life, still was honestly, lost in the blissful haze of drugs.
PMAIM
^
Xander Grayson
 Posted: Jun 1 2017, 07:50 PM
109 posts
puppeted by J-Chan
N/A
MST Him/His/He
job
Bookstore Clerk
species
Witch
group
None
sexuality
Heterosexual
status
Single
age
25
mature
Yes, bring 'em on.
If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together.
N/A
Firestarter



Sometimes it was good to escape the tedious aspects of a person’s life. That’s where reading and meditating came into play for the young witch. Even for a few minutes he was allowed an escape, those few minutes allowing him to clear his mind and focus on something else. Something more relaxing, more calming. Often he could have sworn that his magic had a mind of its own, and those few minutes allowed him to take a step back and regain control over his mind and body. But nothing would replace actually using his magic. If he didn’t use his magic, it would sort of back log, you could say, and cause problems for him. Those problems were of course the condition he was diagnosed with. Sometimes it was an attack here or there, or just seeing things and hearing voices. Mild symptoms to severe appeared at least a handful of times a month, and they were never pleasant. But the meds helped, and so did his support system. Two years ago he wouldn’t have been able to say he had people that cared about him, outside of his own family anyway. And now that was different. He truly believed that his coven mates cared about him.

It was difficult to say what there was before everything happened. He had his family, his friends, and a girl that he loved with all of his heart – but was there anything more solid than that? The only thing he could think about that had been constant was his wielding of fire. It was a part of him, always present and always being tested with his emotions when things got too out of hand. But it was an aspect of his being that would always be there. He supposed, too, that his family’s love for him would always be a dependable thing for him to draw on – a constant from which he could draw strength and hope. Could be that that was the only thing that kept him sane in prison and in the mental ward. And yet all the strength could not stop the accidents from happening. People were hurt, even killed by him, and still there seemed to be one person in this world that didn’t think him wholly evil.

“You have a point there,” in fact it was a whole plethora of reasons behind the main one; there just wasn’t any room to grow back in Louisiana – only the torment of those he called friend and a spiral down the proverbial drain of the shattered remains of his life. Dismal and depressing didn’t even begin to cut it. He spent years beating himself up and blaming himself, so many that he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to pick himself up, dust himself off, and move on with his life. His dark reality swarmed around him so often, so close to his skin that he could feel each day that it was pressing in around him. To smother any chance of rising above it all. A smirk crossed his lips, and he shook his head, “Well, then, perhaps I need to school you in the arts of telekinesis so you can whack me over the head with a shovel.” He knew that even with all the schooling he could give someone, they’d never be able to do what he could. Maybe through spells and enchantments, but it wasn’t as natural as the things he could do with his mind.

“Well, if ever you get some time, you should come over to my apartment. I’m sure he’d love to see someone else’s mug than mine.” It was an easy invitation because he knew that Sloan was trustworthy – a thing he used to see in everyone who he came into contact with – and he knew that she’d benefit from getting out of her apartment, whether to spend time with him or not. Because everyone needed to get out from time to time, even the shut in pyro and telekinetic witch who wasn’t all that sane. He liked when people came over to his house, though, and he was always down to have a visitor.

He watched with curious eyes as Sloan turned to face him a bit better, and he swallowed hard against his throat, the same thing he’d do when someone was about to tell him the bad news flavor of the week. But instead of yelling at him and telling him not to try it, she seemed understanding, and for that he was thankful. He breathed a little easier, but he had to raise an eyebrow when she said what she did about eating it. “Eww. I’ve heard of pot brownies and the like, but just,” he had a disgusted look on his face and he let out a short laugh, “Just eww. Pass on that for me, thanks.” After another moment came and went, he let out a breath and asked, “So you have a regular dealer, right? Think you could introduce me? I’d rather you be there with me than to have to go alone.” Perhaps it was asking a lot of her, but he’d not dare ask Vincent something like that, and there was no one else in the coven that he trusted thus far not to get him into a situation that he’d rather not be in. “If not, it’s fine. I am sure I’ll find a source somewhere.” He added.
PMEmail
^
Sloan Dysis
 Posted: Jun 5 2017, 06:06 PM
48 posts
puppeted by kenzie
Slo
EST (Canada) she/her
job
Cashier (Thistledown)
species
Mortal
group
Lucidum
sexuality
Confused AF
status
single
age
23
mature
bring em on
You're just a ghost of blissful feelings, a cloud of smoke that I keep breathing
N/A
magic 8 ball




There was no real option for her magic to back log if she went too long without actively using it. Instead Sloan's magic would become insistent and almost suffocating as it pressed auras into her awareness, the colours washing over her mind in an unrelenting stream of coded information. Her need to socialize and to desire to be around people acting as a source of her pain. Times like that, when the auras left no room to breathe quite right and her farsight flickered in through any haphazard conduit where times the witch was left needing any form of oblivion she could get her hands on. Something to ease her psyche and quiet the chaos caused by her magic in her mind.

It would prompt either her drug habit or tendency towards hermitting away every so often. Hiding away into oblivion or into the dark comfort of her apartment.

The magic had been about the constant in her life, the one thing that she had always known she would have. Even before it had manifested into her natural abilities, Sloan had known she was a witch. The note that Sloan had been given up with had told her the magic would manifest in her blood; that had been the only insight she'd been given. There had been no mention of how her abilities might develop, no warning for where they'd push her or how they'd lead her into a life where she was constantly trying to maintain some kind of balance. And usually failing at it.

Amicably she'd softly bump their shoulders, "Oh I'm sure he adores you Xander. But I'd love to meet him." It would be nice, getting out of her apartment without really having to worry to much about being around a bunch of people. And who could say no to the opportunity to meet what sounds like an adorable and sweet furry ball of energy? Definitely not Sloan.


Really Sloan had no basis for trying to yell at Xander for asking about drugs, especially since in her opinion weed was run of the mill and largely harmless. Marijuana itself hadn't lead to the rest of her addictions. It had been how Mallory had eased her into everything else, it was used to sway her more easily towards the demands. But prescription pills could lead down the exact same road, the same oblivion tempting others to run head long into it. Though Sloan's serious air was broken for a moment by the other witch's reaction to her comment about eat pot snacks. "Brownies, cookies, chocolate, well most baked goods really can have it." She'd list off easily. But edibles were incredibly easy to get way too messed up on. The delay in the high prompting someone to eat more and more until all of it hit them at once, making someone little more than an immobile blissed out semblance of a person. Of course, assuming they didn't have a bad trip from all of that weed. She'd nod, "Yeah I do, and yeah just, when that happens don't freak out or anything okay? It's not the most normal thing to just bring someone to meet your dealer so he may be a little cautious? I don't really know, this isn't something I've done before." She admitted, Sloan had be tempted by her girlfriend before eventually venturing on her own to dealers. It wasn't her first time trying the drug, and she'd been around other users plenty. "No, no, I'll go with you. I'll probably be seeing him soon, but do you want to try it before hand? See if it actually helps you first?"
PMAIM
^
Xander Grayson
 Posted: Jun 10 2017, 03:04 PM
109 posts
puppeted by J-Chan
N/A
MST Him/His/He
job
Bookstore Clerk
species
Witch
group
None
sexuality
Heterosexual
status
Single
age
25
mature
Yes, bring 'em on.
If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together.
N/A
Firestarter



Xander was no stranger to hiding away, but his reasons were very different from Sloan’s. Just being around people was sometimes too much for him, and his magic became too overwhelmingly tempting to use. Aggravation, for whatever, drove him to hurting his cell mates, for example, when he was in prison. As such, he was a willing participant of solitary confinement. Sometimes for just a half an hour, and other times, for a whole night. To be left alone with his own thoughts was just easier. That way, at worst, only he would be hurt. He was willing to be locked away for even days at a time if it meant his cell mates and those around him were safe from him. Both of his powers were particularly volatile when they first appeared, as evident from the accident that had occurred. Now they were more manageable, so long as he didn’t go too long without using them or using too much.

There had been a little tarot reading so many years ago that had prophesized the arrival of a special boy in his family. That his parents would be blessed with a child that would be different from the rest. All the Grayson children weren’t magically inclined – only Xander had been born with the gift. But it was like that in a lot of his line. Out of more than three children, there would only be one that was birthed with magic. At least, magic that would develop later in life. However it was explained didn’t matter – only that a magical baby would be gifted by God to the newly wedded couple. He was that child, and in spite of there not being magic in his other siblings, all of them got along fairly well. Michael always came around for holidays and birthdays, and did not try to hide his children from their uncle. Rowena wasn’t married, nor did she have any children, so there was never any worry where she was concerned. But in reality, was he concerned at all about Michael’s family?

He grinned and her, and nodded, knowing that the little ferret would have no other owner. Once, not so long ago, Rowena had come to his place to visit and he left her alone with the little guy. Oscar was never aggressive, but he wouldn’t have much to do with Rowena the entire time Xander was gone. “I am sure he does. One time my sister came over, and I left her alone with him for a bit. She told me when I got back that he would have nothing to do with her. Wasn’t aggressive or anything, just that I think he likes me to be around when he has other people near him,” some animals were that way – one person animals that preferred their constant to be around when there were other people around them, “I have no doubt that he’ll be nice, though. He usually is.” It’d been some time since last he had someone over, but he knew it would go smoothly. Sloan had a clam, laid back personality, and Oscar seemed to do fine around calm people. Of course, if Xander had an attack, he’d also be very vocal, as if trying to call for help from one of the other tenants in the building. Sometimes it worked, even.

“Of course. I am pretty chill around new people,” and that was true, but not all of those people were murderous raving lunatics, now were they? Of course, that was something that wasn’t even close to what he was thinking. Some guy that was dressed in a hoodie in the back alley behind some business – that was what he was picturing. And while that wasn’t wrong, he’d never have imagined just what kind of guy the guy would be. Drug dealers weren’t known for being nice. “I’ll keep that in mind. Is he at least nice? Ish…” Some people were just the nicest people in the world when they wanted to be – and the rest? Well… “I take it he’s a local guy? How’d you meet him?” Conversation for conversation’s sake. Might as well dig a bit to see if this was really something he wanted to do.
PMEmail
^
Sloan Dysis
 Posted: Jun 19 2017, 10:09 PM
48 posts
puppeted by kenzie
Slo
EST (Canada) she/her
job
Cashier (Thistledown)
species
Mortal
group
Lucidum
sexuality
Confused AF
status
single
age
23
mature
bring em on
You're just a ghost of blissful feelings, a cloud of smoke that I keep breathing
N/A
magic 8 ball



Sloan had no idea how her parents had known that she would inherit the magic that ran through the family. Which side it came from - or even both - wasn't something she knew. That didn't bother the witch so much, of the questions she had regarding her parents who had had the magic wasn't near the top of her list. Who was more important than where did my magic come from. Of any questions she'd ever imagined asking her absent father that was probably among the last ones that would have crossed her mind. Of course that was only in the fleeting moments Sloan had ever allowed herself to imagine that 'what if', normally she'd pushed it from her mind. The question if he'd ever gotten through his mourning and chose to have another child was a particularly haunting and troublesome question that weighed heavy on her mind. Pushing those 'what if's and wishes to come face to face with her father into little metaphorical boxes, locking them up tight and shoving them to some tiny corner of her mind. It was better for her to leave those kinds of things out of her mind.

Lest that become more fodder for the things she would use drugs and alcohol to run away from.

Monty was similar in a way to Oscar, preferring to curl into Sloan's body heat than anyone else. He'd curl and nestle into her with what seemed like delight, content to doze on her for hours when he was let out. Even at times almost refusing to be returned to his tank. And he had never slithered off in search of other sources of heat either. It probably didn't help that snakes made some people uneasy, a thing that could be picked up on easily. That probably didn't do well to warm Monty to any others either. "Aaaaw he just obviously loves you the most. By a long shot." Wasn't that also just a warm and fuzzy feeling to? To know that something had an unconditional love for you. Especially when that was a cute little thing to snuggle.

Sloan gave Xander an amused huff. There was obviously stereotypes of drug dealers, one perpetuated by tv and movies where they were cast in a particularly unfavourable light. Skulking around in shady and dirty alleys, rubbing their hands maliciously and just waiting to pounce on some poor unsuspecting person. Preconceived notions that would implicitly play into how a person acted when confronted with a drug dealer. Particularly the ones that somewhat played into those stereotypes. Sure Xander was generally a calm person; it was part of what had allowed Sloan to get closer to him than some of the other coven members. It made her feel more comfortable and accepted, letting her reach out and manage a friendship even when she'd been scared and weary to because of her history of building bridges in her coven.

But meeting a new person and meeting a new potential drug dealer were different ball games. Different social cues and expectations. Particularly considering it was Kae that she was brining Xander to meet. Not everyone did so well when encountering the kind of aura he had; dark and heavy. A familiar sensation for the young witch, gravitating towards being drawn into that kind of aura, almost imitating the kind of oblivion she craved. Where colours weren't pressed into her and there was a wash of soothing dark. Draining the colours along with the pain she dealt with. She hesitated for a moment, considering whether 'nice' could apply to the demon. What constituted as nice? He hadn't been particularly mean or abrasive, rather the two had seemed to easily get on from the start. "I'd say so, I mean there haven't been any arguments or antagonism at all." She offer, still unsure on whether Kae's niceties could qualify him as having been nice. "Yeah local, actually met him at a bar. Had a brutal day magic wise and I needed something to take the edge off y'know? And I guess we kinda sized each other up as client and dealer and it just went from there. Kae's stuff is worth it and reliable." And there was the ability to use other forms of payment if her money was tight. Something that was reassuring considering Sloan was certain there were going to be times.

"Just, um I don't know what kind of people you work with but shifters can smell it if you use of whatever before a shift so keep that in mind for when you want to try it."
PMAIM
^
Xander Grayson
 Posted: Jun 22 2017, 01:24 PM
109 posts
puppeted by J-Chan
N/A
MST Him/His/He
job
Bookstore Clerk
species
Witch
group
None
sexuality
Heterosexual
status
Single
age
25
mature
Yes, bring 'em on.
If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together.
N/A
Firestarter



Xander wondered if his siblings had been born with gifts of their own, would things be any different? It was something on his mind when he went into prison and sat through counseling sessions at the mental ward. Shrinks that would sit there and psychoanalyze him to see if there was any underlying trauma or whatever that had caused him to do what he had done. Had he been abused? And if so, who was the abuser? Usually he’d stare blankly at the person, thinking it incredulous that they would ever ask such a thing. Of course he hadn’t been abused. His parents loved him, his siblings cared for him, and everyone else in his life at the time of the incident was just as friendly as can be. But then again, how would shrinks make money if they didn’t ask those kinds of questions? He didn’t know what each of them wrote down about him, but it wasn’t hard to guess what those things were. Put it in his past, and trying to move on was easier said than done. And yet, somehow he had managed to do just that.

“I guess that’s the case, yeah,” he knew the little guy loved him. It wasn’t hard to see that when the two of them were together. Ferrets weren’t everyone’s cup of tea, either, really. They could be messy and smelly if not taken care of, yet wasn’t it that way with any animal? They could be noisy, vocal creatures that for the hours that they were awake. And seeing as how Oscar slept a lot, he was a low maintenance pet for Xander, and didn’t need much to make him happy. Oscar was always generally an oddball in the ferret world, though. “Ferrets don’t usually act the way he does, though. I swear he has a dog mixed in the gene pool somewhere,” he joked, knowing full well that that was not possible, but from the way the animal acted sometimes, it made him wonder.

Xander gave Sloan a bit of a confused look when she gave him that huff, and he instantly wondered if his curiosity about weed and drug dealers was going to get the better of him. He knew the stereotypes behind drug dealers, how all of them were hoodie wearing hooligans that only cared about money and didn’t give a shit about the customer. But was that true in every case? He’d think not, mainly because how, then, would a dealer get repeat business from obviously loyal customers? As with most things, experience would let him see things for himself and let him make his own decision at a later date. And there was always the option that if the situation appeared too gritty for him, he’d back out and going about his own way, away from the idea of drugs and dealers. That was the smartest option, any way he tried to slice it.

“Well then I guess that is a good sign, right?” He said, clearly under the impression that drug dealers weren’t so very different from every day people. They were people, right? True there was bound to be a Fae or some other race underneath that hood, but it wasn’t enough to turn him away. At least, so he thought initially, anyway. “What a wonderful location to meet people, bars are,” he let out a bit of a laugh, yet the look in his eyes wasn’t entirely one of being sold on the idea of meeting a drug dealer in a bar. It seemed ominous to him, a familiar feeling of dread rising in the pit of his stomach. Still, the stubborn streak that ran through him won out, and he said, “Can’t wait to meet him. What days usually work for you? You know I usually work evenings, Tuesday through Saturday, till about two in the morning.” A hectic schedule, the night shift, and yet he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Good thing I don’t work with any shifters that I know of, then,” he said, not entirely sure if that was the truth – his co-workers generally didn’t wear a sign that said, ‘Hi, I’m A’ and fill in the blank with the species they were. He certainly didn’t advertise his magic, and in fact, only his boss knew exactly what he was. Had been a co-worker or two that could sniff him out, yet they were long gone and onto bigger, better things, having graduated college and all that. “Wasn’t planning on trying it before work, anyways, if I’m being honest. It’d be a thing for a day off, most definitely.” He said.
PMEmail
^

Topic Options
Pages: (2) 1 2 
Reply
Fast Reply
New Thread!



 


 

affs & tags
Affiliates [ View All | Link-us | Apply ]
From the Darkest Hour We Rise Maelstrom All of Me Fractured Preeminence 
 


SURFACE LIES Black Prism ACTA ruinandrise UNTIL DAYLIGHT: POST-APOC, TLOU BASED MEFA; a pre-Shepard Mass Effect RP
Shadowplay RPG-D
Tagbox requires separate login. Sign up using the gear below.

Skinned by SARAH exclusively for Fugue State.