Private Post ⇒ recluserose, spellbent

[recluserose]

[It was another night in the town of Blackgale, with no moon in sight to set the dark sky aglow amid the blanket of stars. The lack of moonlight, however, was not stopping the local (and only) witch, Amelia Steinbeck, from doing a much needed patrol for this particular night. After all, when a demon from the darkest realm from who knows where comes to ones doorstep with the intention of murder, there's probably others lurking around.

That wasn't going to do, not at all.


Of course, she had to be at school soon for an early morning meeting... But hey, it's high school and she was always on time no matter what, thanks to magic. And thus, Amelia began to wander around in the streets, with a green flame flickering in one hand-- only visible to her, other magic users, and a magnet for more demons.

Come at her bros.]

Comments

[recluserose]

[FUUUUUUUUUUUU. But she's calmly pouring herself some more bourbon and keeping up her poker face.]

Only a little.

[spellbent]

I suppose it worked out well, all things considered.

[recluserose]

[She doesn't take a sip, contemplating for a moment. If there was anything Amelia preferred to do it was to keep to herself and not involve herself in troublesome affairs. Or at least she thought she did. For the past ten years, the Emerald Witch somehow found herself in more or less interesting situations-- angering a vampire lord, inciting the wrath of the psychics, rejecting apprentice hopefuls, angering demons--

Welp. Apparently, the Emerald Witch was good at making people angry in general. Right now it doesn't help that she's practically lying through her teeth. Makes one wonder if it's even worth it.]

Well. You know me. Perfectly capable and all that.

[spellbent]

Amelia, please. Don't waste your time lying.

[recluserose]

[Uuuuuuuuugh it sucks being somewhat prideful and then getting called out on one's BS. Gulps down half of her glass]

Fine.

[spellbent]

[ Warren just chuckles ] I'm actually glad you ran into him. Of all the wizards in this city, Jacob Randall is the one you want to be seen with.

[recluserose]

I seem to remember you implying that I shouldn't run into him? [Haha, sounding and looking so annoyed, just like ten years ago when he met her]

[spellbent]

"Mortal enemies" sound so cliché and... supervillain-esque when I say it, but that's a good way to describe our relationship.

[recluserose]

I can see why ... He's a very kind man.

[spellbent]

This goes far deeper than the fact that he's nice and I'm not.

[recluserose]

[Finishing her second glass... A third seems so tempting.]

I know.

... I would like to know how you kept track of my activities specifically?

[spellbent]

I wasn't watching you specifically.

I've lived in this city for a long, long time. I have eyes everywhere- you just wandered onto my radar.

[recluserose]

I feel so carefully looked after. You truly are quite the host Warren. [And haha, first time she used his first name, gd alcohol]

[spellbent]

[ That didn't go unnoticed. He smiles ] Is that meant to be sarcasm, Amelia?

[recluserose]

It was... But regardless, it's true in an odd twisted way. [... Why the hell not, going for a third glass, but only filling it until it's one fourth full]

[spellbent]

Is it now?

[recluserose]

Mm. People seem to watch me no matter where I go. [She's thinking about her teacher, Micheal, Adam, the rest of the magical commune...]

[spellbent]

To keep an eye on your or because you attract attention?

[ He's just now starting on his second glass. ]

[recluserose]

Both apply in my case.

... When I was first introduced as an official apprentice, it caused an uproar. No understood why a normal human was made into a witch. I wasn't one of 'them.' And just half a century later said witch gained a title when it takes some wizards and witches twice as long.

Oh, damn. And now I'm rambling. I knew I should have stopped at two glasses.

[spellbent]

Nothing wrong with that. I find your whole situation fascinating.

[recluserose]

And I find myself being flattered.

... [Palm meet forehead]

[spellbent]

I'm not much of a flatterer, to be honest.

[recluserose]

[Her hair is getting loose so she sits up straight to unpin it and readjust it]

It's not your style is it?

[spellbent]

Not really.

[ He takes a loooong drink from his glass, watching her for a moment ] You should really wear your hair down more often.

1/2

[recluserose]

[O-Oh. That makes her pause a bit. And... It brings up a memory. It's happy one and yet...]