❝ Scattered Dust ❞ } a witch roleplay

[oops.]

─── ＦＬＥＵＲＥＴＴＡ ───
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
|| female || hekate || fiddler || elysia & katherine ||
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

fleuretta felt like a school-girl as a giggle passed through her smiling lips and joined the noise of the coffee shop around them. elysia and katherine's excitement for tonight fueled her own, like gasoline being poured onto a fire, she almost squealed like a pig. she always felt like a child in the presence of those who were in the coven, something about other witches pulled out the wonder and joy that had been buried within her heart, forgotten with age. it was moments like this that made fleuretta forget about all the dark and gloomy stuff that usually kept her up late into the night when there wasn't a coven meeting waiting to be held. things like antonia and her disappearance. for a heartbeat the smile on her face faltered as she was reminded about the problems that plagued her, but she quickly pushed it to the back of her mind; there was no point in letting such things ruin her mood, mostly when she needed to show a confident facade to the witches she was chosen to lead. any sign that she was worried would carry throughout the group, fracturing the false image that everything was going to be alright even if none of them knew it for sure because, in all honesty, fleuretta wasn't even positive things were okay now. when it came to handling the coven, flora felt like she was walking on top of a frozen lake, where every step was a risk, but one she needed to take if she wanted to survive because it was already too late to turn back.

the hekate was about to give the two girls more information to satisfy their thirst for more knowledge of what to expect for tonight when katherine's gentle touch reminded fleuretta that they had been waiting in line to order breakfast. slightly embarrassed that the three of them had held up the line while lost in their conversation, flora nodded her head in apology to those behind them and offered a small awkward smile as she followed elysia and katherine to the counter where they were asked for their orders. "well," the brown-haired witch said, giving katherine a mischevious smile."if you are paying..." her voice came out deviously in an attempt to make the kind witch become nervous and fear that fleuretta would order something expensive. "I'll just have a small hot chocolate and a blueberry bagel, please." she said to the barista, making sure that she didn't spend more than five dollars of katherine's money. the next time they were out getting food it would be on her, fleuretta decided as she smiled thankfully at katherine.

as she waited for elysia to place in her own order, fleuretta dug into the pocket of her coat to pull out a small leather notebook that she normally wrote reminders and lists in. fleuretta wasn't well known for being an organized person but once she became the hekate she made an effort to try and keep things organised, if not for herself than for the witches she had to lead. flipping through the pages, flora opened up to the note she had written last night, on it was a list of materials she would need for the meeting tonight.

' i. violet candles for everyone
ii. lots of rope
iii. chamomile and lavender
iv. paper '

the list was messy and not in detail, if anyone else had seen the list of material they wouldn't have been able to connect the dotes. all of the notes in the small notebook that she carried around were written in sloppily and extremely vague so that if she ever dropped it no one would really understand what everything was about, nor would they know whose it was. turning it over she showed the list to katherine and elysia. "this is some of the stuff I need, I'll tell you more later." fleuretta said, her grey eyes glancing to the barista for a second, signalling to the other witches that she didn't want to discuss it at that moment, not when there was attention on them

[lokean]

A r w e n . . . male // estrella // open // library
Arwen Ressaeler was no stranger to the silence and old book smell of the library, and he spent a lot of his day to day there. It went the same every time, usually; when he walked in, the librarian greeted him in that droning, “I wish I weren’t here,” tone that she had. He would make his way back to the language section with ease and pick up an arabic to english dictionary before heading off to find something that seemed interesting. Once he found something that had him piqued, he’d settle in at the back of the library in one of the darker corners, comfortable in the chair he’d chosen, and read until he fell asleep with his chin on his chest, buried in a sweater or wrinkling a button up he’d ironed before he’d put it on. Someone he knew would come in and laugh into their hand or out loud or inwardly, snap a picture or shoot a text, and then cross the floor to wake him. The witch wasn’t narcoleptic - he was just very good at falling asleep and the library brought him at ease. The building was a shelter, to him, as he wasn’t the most social of people.

Today was different. Today, Arwen had brought his laptop and brought a monster in in his satchel. He wasn’t falling asleep with college applications to submit, no sir. He found his usual dark corner and plugged in, setting the monster between himself and the chair arm. If anybody saw, they didn’t say anything. As a usual, there was a but of leeway that he was given. As long as he didn't spill it and nobody else saw, the staff wouldn't tell if he didn't. It was a perk, the witch had to admit. With the changing of routine, there was a change of atmosphere. Arwen glanced around his immediate area before muttering a small air-manipulation spell to block out loud sound and then popped the cap off of the monster, chugging a fourth of it and setting to work. Hopefully, nobody would disturb him this time around.

[turpitude.]

⋆ m a r c e l l e t t e ;;
___↳ where : library, mood : bored, tagged : arwen


she was never the type to get up early, preferring to sleep past the buzzing of her alarms and the humming of life just beyond the closed curtains of her window. "she" was marcellette, and marcellette was not pleased, the frown and scrunching of her eyes brows gave that away. but who would be okay if their mother entered their room, without their permission, and threw water on them and their bed? you wouldn't be happy, and marcellette definitely wasn't. it wasn't just the act of waking her from her slumber that made marcel see red, it was the idea of someone intruding her space; a huge no-no in marcellette's mental list of things that were okay and things that weren't, add that to having icy water being thrown onto her and you did not have girl you'd like to make mad. marcellette never really had a temper, if you had to describe it, it would be lukewarm. she rarely got angry, but everyone had their limit, and today her mother had passed it. scratch that, her mother didn't just cross that limit, she completely stomped on it to get her daughter out of bed and to the library to finish an assignment that was already two months late; her teacher's orders.

so there she was a mess of dirty blond hair and ratty sweatpants and a dirty hoodie, stomping down the sidewalk and up the steps of burfield's library. she looked like an idiot. huffing, marcellette stomped her foot and pouted, she really didn't want to be here, mostly during the weekend, but if she didn't come she knew that her mother wouldn't let her back into the house. the lack of a key around her neck proved that what her mother had said wasn't just a threat, it was a promise, one that marcellette didn't want to see fulfilled. so, even if unwillingly, marcel yanked open the library door and took a step into the ac-ed hall.

right away the musky scent of old books and dust assaulted her. it was a scent many people claimed to love, something about the stale smell attracted a large group of admirers, marcel was not one of them. she liked to think of herself as a realist. while everyone was focused on the lovely scent and the age of the books, she took into consideration what the scent really meant; germs. how many nasty fingers had ran over the yellowing pages and down the spines of the books over the years? too many! shuddering at the idea, marcellette rolled her eyes, this whole ordeal was going to be torturous and for a minute it didn't seem that bad to be locked out of her house, she had plenty of friends who would gladly open up their doors for her. heck, she belonged to a whole coven that surely wouldn't mind letting her stay over, but marcellette didn't want to be childish. what she as doing would help her in the long run. so sucking up the false pain she was feeling just by breathing in the scent of the library, the dirty blond witch pulled up the grey hood of her hoodie and stalked over to where the tables were. the witch was about to sit down at one of the large tables when she felt an odd feeling in her gut. it was the feeling one got when they were on a rollercoaster, or when they found out their crush actually likes them back; it was the feeling of a thousand butterflies fluttering in her stomach and the feeling of a spell being cast near her.

ripping off her hood, marcel's blue eyes scanned across the large hall that was filled with bookshelves and tables until they landed on a lone figure sitting in one of the dark corners. a devilish smile took the place of her frown as she pushed the chair she was about to sit on back underneath the table and headed in the direction of the loner, there was a small skip in her steps; maybe today wasn't going to be that bad. as she approached the unidentified stranger, the feeling in her gut grew stronger until it finally became an ache as she slid beside the stranger. " arwen, " she said cooly as she identified the stranger as one of the few male witches who belonged to the coven she was in. " watcha doing? " she asked him dully as she lifted up the monster can and sat where it had been; on the arm of his chair. squinting her blue eyes she tried to read what was on the screen of his laptop, she wasn't positive but she figured it had something to do with college, but as stated, she wasn't positive. as she waited for him to confirm her theory, marcellette sniffed the boy's drink, her nose twitching slightly at the unnatural smell of chemicals before she leaned down and placed it on the ground by her foot. when she straightened up she stretched her arm behind him and rested it on the back of arwen's seat so all of her weight was on the chair the two sat on.

[lokean]

A r w e n . . . male // estrella // marcelette // library
Arwen felt Marcel coming more than he saw her, but she tore his gaze from his application when she lifted his drink. He stared at her for a second, making sure she wouldn’t lift the chemical cocktail to her lips, and shrugged when she spoke. It was all in arabic so of course she’d ask what he was doing; language barriers never occurred to the witch until they actually presented a challenge. “College,” He answered simply, skimming the first paragraph he’d written of an essay. Some of the sentences were choppy or just didn’t gel well, but he’d work on sentence structure in a minute. What was really concerning at the moment was getting his ideas out so that he could go back over them. Arwen wasn’t a wordsmith, but once he had a rough draft, the boy was an expert at weaving in flowery phrases and melding fragments together. Editing made Arwen’s heart sing. The original was usually ugly; that was just how it went. Arwen’s focus was on the potential. He like what things could become, no matter how long it took to work it that way. He was a scavenger - a thief, and he cane away with a well-written essay out of disaster.

Marcelette’s settling on the arm of the chair was not unwelcome and actually helped to sooth any stray nerves the library had not been able to calm. Arwen was familiar with everyone in the coven and Marcelette’s family and home life was the only real question mark he had, so he was down to let her hang over his shoulder as he wrote. Maybe then the library interns wouldn’t bother him like they usually did, and if she distracted him, so what? Marcelette was his friend, whatcha meant it wouldn’t strike a nerve to be dragged away from his applications if need be. It also meant she understood his silence wasn’t meant to offend. The male with just wasn’t a talker. Not with his shaky grasp on the language, anyway.

When her arm slid behind him, Arwen moved to accommodate it calmly. Her energy was too muted - she seemed upset, he wasn’t going to add more stress to what was a hurricane of a day, for all he knew. She was being nice enough, not commenting on his choice of drink, and all. When time enough had passed he leaned back against her arm comfortably, speaking as he typed. “You look … not good.” Arwen cursed that little pause as he searched for words. Why couldn’t his english be better at times like this? “Something going on?”

[-Chime]

caell jacĸѕon ☀
|| cherri's cookies (foodcart) at the stadium || open || distracted, in a lull || el polvo ||

The stadium lot, usually full of Burfield citizens either on their way to a sporting event or to pick up some food, was unusually deserted. Long beams of sunlight had turned everything into a hazy glow, and Caell was sure -if one was moving about, generating their own breeze in what to anyone else would be a fairly crisp autumn day-its warm kiss would be quite pleasant. However, she was stuck inside a large metal truck, guarding boxes and boxes of cookies that no one was lining up to buy. The silvery, completely metal interior acted as a conduit for heat, sucking it in and turning the vehicle into something slightly more tolerable than a giant oven. It took all she had not to leave the small quarters and stretch her legs. She took a deep breath, pushing a lock of blonde hair out of her face. The action, completely automatic, gave her immediate pause. As a food handler, touching her hair meant she ran the risk of contaminating the product. Another cursory glance, a guilty shrug, and she decided not to wash her hands until there was more commotion and they actually had a customer. Her head dropped to her phone, where a text from her grandmother was waiting - something about what they were having for dinner. A small smile flitted across her face, and she sent back a quick text to let her know she was excited about it.

The idea of food was absolutely tantalizing. She hadn't eaten since lunch, and Caell wasn't much of a snacker. Her stomach growled, and she tried to ignore it, checking the clock and noticing she only had about a half hour left to her shift. With that in mind, she pulled a piece of scratch paper from her bag and began to sketch. While her artistry skills were laughably poor, the images in her mind were so brilliantly vivid it made up for some of the quality. A face began to appear amongst the graphite scratches. Peering at it, as Caell's hand moved to add detail to the nose, she couldn't shake the feeling she'd seen this face before. A strange tingle washed over her - something between dread and curiosity. This face had most likely come out of the fever dreams she'd been having during her walks. She tried to push the thought away, hating the fact she couldn't remember how she'd come to see it, couldn't remember the place she'd wander last night. It made her feel too dreamy, too unreal, and her head hurt with the thought. Despite her confusion, the pencil scratched on, bringing her visions to life on the paper. The face was joined by several others - ones that belonged to students at the school or others around town. That was when it grew too much for her, and she flipped the sheet over, studying the blank canvas.

[turpitude.]

⋆ m a r c e l l e t t e ;;
___↳ where : library, mood : bored, tagged : arwen


the slight bobbing of her head was the only sign she had heard arwen when he answered her question, although she was a bit disappointed to know that he too, like her, was being forced to do such serious work on the weekend. her precious weekend that was destroyed due to a phone call from her teacher to her mom, just the idea made marcel withdraw into her hoodie as her blue eyes scanned the library for any wondering gazes that were held on them. "fun..." she said with a note of sarcasm as her gaze met the librarian's. her frown turned into a false polite smile that she hoped would make the crone's attention turn elsewhere, cause no one liked being watched like an insect under a magnifying glass, at least not by some crabby old woman who probably lived with a million cats. maybe if the librarian was younger and didn't look like a bulldog macel would've appreciated the attention, but she didn't show any signs of regaining her youth so the young witch was more than happy to see the woman focus back on the stack of papers in front of her. snorting quietly to herself marcellette rolled her eyes at the fear everyone felt for the old-bat who looked like she would drop dead any second, but even she seemed to straighten up and feel nervous when the greying eyes landed on her.

marcel was about to comment on the librarian when a sudden warmth on her arm made her turn her attention back to arwen as she leaned in closer to him so they wouldn't be scolded for being loud within the hall. her mind automatically flickered to her mother when he questioned her mood in broken english, something marcel was slowly getting adjusted to the longer they talked. what type of monster throws icy water at someone? the idea still baffled the blond witch as she shuddered and cosied herself into her warm hoodie, she could still feel a chill deep in her bones. "my mother." she grumbled as if the word caused her physical pain.

deciding not to dwell on her unpleasant wake-up call marcellette changed the subject by asking arwen a question. leaning forward she tapped the corner of his laptop with her left pointing finger. "how is this going?" twisting her torso, she moved so that they could see each other's faces and read each other's expressions so that it would be easier for arwen to understand her. "good?" she question as she gazed into his dark brown eyes. in the dull town of burfield where almost nothing ever changes, or so her mother has said, arwen was a refreshing sight; from his unusual accent to his exotic looks. marcel was never the type to lie to herself, she thought arwen was good looking, but he wasn't someone she would flirt with, like the usual boys who she walked by on the sidewalk. they were in the coven together, they were family whether blood was involved or not, and something as complicated as dating wasn't needed. yet even if she didn't plan on hitting on him nor attempting to enter a relationship, she was going to take advantage of hearing his voice and staring into his brown eyes.

[lokean]

A r w e n . . . male // estrella // marcelette // library
When Marcelette mentioned her mother with the tone she did, Arwen nodded. He understood parents ruining things; his mother was an awful tiger of a woman about his schooling. The boy had been a solid A+ student when he was young, and one occurrence had become the expected norm. From then on, school had been torture. High grades were expected, and if he didn't have them, his parents all but cut him off from the world. No electronics, only allowed to hit the library or go to any mandatory academic club, hobby items restricted. Arwen's sleep schedule and any love he had for maths or the sciences had been ruined. He really only held to his love of reading, and only because he could get away a while if a novel was particularly good. The witch could run from any failures when he was in a land that didn't exist. It was therapeutic - for a few hours, he didn't have to be real. He didn't have to think about homework bring due. Arwen just had to read. "Me also," He sighed, motioning to his computer. "We are in same ship, huh."

Arwen watched Marcelette get comfortable and did so in turn, bringing his legs up to cross them and settling back into the other corner of the chair. His sweater swallowed him up to the collar, a heavy, cableknit thing in a sort of hazy cream cashmere. He believed in being warm and and Idaho was still taking some getting used to. His homeland was much, much warmer on the daily and rain hadn't constantly plagued him then, but now it seemed to beat a symphony against his wide window every other day. Wind, though. Wind was welcomed, as Arwen was very inclined toward the element, and when it whipped his hair against his skin it almost felt they were speaking some secret language.

The inquiry on the progress of his paper made him frown. The witch gave the screen a lofty, distasteful look and bit his lip. If he was answering honestly, it was a very blunt no, but then, it was a horrendous work in progress. He'd only just started! She probably thought it was going well because she didn't speak his language - a common complication that he'd come to expect - and there were a lot of monosyllabic words that boosted the count from an english translation. An unbelievable amount of 'sh' sounds. "I rather to read. Actually," Arwen set his hand on the rim of the laptop lid, looking up at Marcelette curiously. "You have to be here? I am boring of studies."

[turpitude.]

⋆ m a r c e l l e t t e ;;
___↳ where : library, mood : bored, tagged : arwen


a shadow of a smile could be seen on marcellette's face as she heard the same weariness in arwen's voice that she heard in her own, it was the sound of a child being bounded by their mother's words. a tragedy every child faced witch or not apparently. it was funny how terrified kids were of disappointing their parent's and facing their scorn. if anyone besides her mother ever treated marcel that way, they'd be in a world of pain, yet even marcel didn't dare to go against her mother. the women knew the girl like the back of her hand, any nerve that could be struck was struck in order to gain complete control over the troublesome teen. marcellette wondered if arwen's mother way the same, yet her mouth didn't bother to form the question on her mind as she watched the boy get comfortable, the creamy sweater he wore nearly devoured him like a beast.

pinching the tip of her nose with her thumb and pointing finger, marcel rubbed it slightly as she got lost in her own thoughts that were like a maze. just the thought of what she'd rather be doing at that moment plunged her down a rabbit hole of things she could've been doing at that second rather than sitting in a library that still had its ac on even if outside was freezing. of course it wasn't actually freezing outside, if anything it was a bit chilly, but any temperature below 75°F ( 25°C ) was freezing to her, she was a child who loved the heat, even if her favorite season was winter something that surprised everyone who knew her sensitivity to the cold, and even herself. during the winter, marcellette was usually at home, clinging to the window with a mountain of blankets on her, the room would be sickly hot and the window would provide a refreshing chill. when marcel thought of the word cosy, she thought of the winter. sadly, at that moment, the dirty blond didn't feel cosy at all as she shifted in her hoodie, trying to block out the chill of the room from caressing her flesh. marcellette would much rather be somewhere warmer or at least somewhere not as suffocating, where any action could get her yelled at by a blinding crone.

huffing, marcellette stood up from the arm of her chair and yanked her hoodie down so it just barely touched her mid-thighs. "come on arwen, lets ditch this whole thing." she said to her companion after he asked her if there was somewhere else she'd rather be at that moment. stretching, she grunted slightly as the knots of discomfort in her bones cracked and she didn't even care when the librarian, and a few others, stared at her disapprovingly. a quick snarky smile from her sent most onlookers looking away and the librarian's face to turn an angry pink. chuckling in approval, for she was definitely happy to flare up the woman's temper, marcel turned back to arwen and waited for him to stand up and accept her offer, maybe the two of them could grab a quick snack. marcel never ate breakfast, at least not big ones when she did. most of the time the idea of eggs, bacon, and even pancakes made her stomach turn in disgust, and even if she did force herself to wolf all of it down, the day would be filled with nausea and a rumbling stomach; no one would want that. but a quick snack never hurt anyone, as long as it wasn't too sweet or 'heavy', marcel would be fine with anything.

[lokean]

A r w e n . . . male // estrella // marcelette // they're going somewhere
As Marcelette cast her gaze around, Arwen leaned down to pick up his monster and held it to his lips, not drinking but scanning the room. Consumed as he was by his clothes, Arwen put off an inhospitable air. His eyes traversed the room slowly, a beast assessing unwelcome strangers in an unwelcoming manner. His eyes landed on a particular man whose gaze lingered on Marcel a little too aggressively for his taste. Arwen straightened up so that the sweater he’d buried himself in didn’t encase him anymore. Once eye contact rolled around Arwen narrowed his eyes and let his lip curl. His brow furrowed and the man looked down a his book. Arwen leg the look melt away. That served him right. Arwen let his eyes continued to wander, landing a blank look for the librarian who he saw flush pink with what looked to be rage. To onlookers, he realized, he and Marcelette were a pair of delinquent, intimidating kids. He didn’t mind; they were a nice looking pair. He held no feelings for her that weren’t familial, but he would admit that their contrast just made them all the more beautiful beside eachother. Nice to look at, nicer to watch from a distance as they glared. The mean-lookers, though neither were genuinely mean.

When Marcel rose, Arwen rose with her like clockwork. He tucked his laptop into his satchel and righted his sweater, still making sure to make eye contact with everyone who decided to stare. Marcelette’s invitation to leave was exactly what he’d been hoping for, if he was honest for himself. Silently, he crossed the little space to throw the half-full energy drink into a nearby trashcan before returning to Marcelette’s side. He had the tendency to walk a little too close to his covenly companions, comfortable around them in the way he was with nobody else. When the other witches - he called them alluwliwat alsawda, black pearls - were around, there was magic in the air, and not just figuratively. He could feel the auras, read them like a book. It always left him spellbound, for lack of a better word. There was a certain kinship among the other he was sure he’d never felt. He belonged there.

He found himself beside and a bit behind Marcelette, his satchel bumping her thigh as he took her hand and started to lead her from the corner with a soft smile. “Let’s, how you say, cut.” Of course, he meant split, but he didn’t know that. They were synonymous in his book.

Arwen’s oxfords clicked on the hardwood library floor as he made his way towards the door. Really, the witch didn’t want to go outside, but they were definitely leaving. The bell on the door sang a tinkling farewell as he pulled it open for Marcelette and stepped out after her, never letting go of her hand. The air was crisp and cold and Arwen took a deep breath to let it fill his lungs to shove all the stale air out. He started down, and then looked back at Marelette. “The Fiddler?”

[SilentMelody]

－ callantha jade devereaυх
( sexuality ) lesbian ( rank ) las estrella ( location ) blackwater woods ( tags ) ayvin

she froze at the sound of a familiar voice and turned to meet the gaze of the woman who stood not too far away. callantha let her eyes roam over the el hueco that leaned against a tree a few paces away with a slight smirk plastered onto her face. she stood up and clenched her fists at her sides, although she made no aggressive moves otherwise. "good thing i am careful and learned control," callie answered calmly before adding, "unlike you, miss ayvin, who chose to dabble in blood and dark magic."

she raised an eyebrow, and although she was more angry than curious, she asked, "why'd you do it anyways? do you have something against someone? or you just can't take the pain of losing someone anymore?"

inhaling deeply, callantha ran a hand through her unruly hair and murmured softly a pace later, "we're all torn up about her disappearance, ayvin. i just don't...i don't know why you would've thought to go down that path." normally, she would never bring up such a topic. but this el hueco...she had done things. perhaps because she was only hurting.

"we're not that different, y'know."