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Post by MORDRED HAEMON on Oct 4, 2011 21:28:26 GMT -8
The books were dusty, covered with a faint layer of grim and filth - the kind that could only be built up after years and years of neglect and of storage. In this case the cause was the later, this particular volume having been stashed away in some obscure corner of the old store's basement until Mordred had located it that very afternoon, digging through the old crates and shelves and nearly killing his lungs in the process after breathing in the age-old dust that had been kicked up as he moved things around. The work required had come as no real surprise for him - anyone working with books save for novices at a modern public library (or, God forbid, Chapters) knew about the dreaded "storage cleaning," a thankless job in which the employees presumably drew straws and laughed in the face of whomever happened to be unfortunate enough to draw the short one.
Tasteless.
Bringing his hand up to his forehead, Mordred allowed himself to magic away the faint sheen of sweat that had accumulated there, caused not by any particularly hard work on his part but rather by the musky, hot atmosphere of the basement he currently sat in - a basement which almost literally lay in shambles around him. And it really was a mess: crates piled everywhere, shelves crammed haphazardly with old tomes and copies of useless things, with the occasional classic forced in between them like one might force their particularly attractive son in between two hideous daughters, as if to distract from the undesirable affect one might otherwise experience. Tarps littered the floor from where he'd pulled them off the crates, which had kicked up yet another layer of dust he would have otherwise magicked away instantly were it not for the fact that his lungs had seized up, tearing a cough from his throat as his body tried to get rid of the inhaled particles.
But, he figured ruefully, reverently running a slender finger along the spine of the tome he had just uncovered, it appears my efforts have not been for nothing.
It was not a written law of magic for a witch to have to use a spellbook or even any spells in order to perform their magic, but Mordred had found after years of practice that sometimes the spells made things easier, giving the magic less leeway and enabling him to control it better through carefully placed phrases written in a mixture of Latin and another language that had been long-since forgotten except to those who already knew of its existence.
And fortunately, Mordred Haemon was one of those people.
With a gusty sigh the witch covered the book with a large piece of cloth, his movements reverent; reminiscent of a priest caressing an old or jewel-encrusted copy of the Bible they cherished so. It had been a lucky find, this rare tome, one that had required a sparing use of magic for fear the magical current would somehow react with any protection spells that may have been placed on it. Alas, his efforts had paid off, and now, as he moved up the stairs of he back stairwell, he was about to reap the rewards.
-x-
The bookstore he had purchased one and a half year ago was small, but it lacked the "quaint and homey" feel that so many others did. In fact, it looked vaguely unfriendly to the average passerby, who tended to ignore it and him in favour of one of the other bookstores, which suited Mordred just fine - it wasn't like he catered to humans, anyway, at least for the most part. Or rather, he did, but it wasn't what he specialized in, and most humans tended to stay far away.
Nay, his work lay more within the realms of magic and the supernatural, and instead he dedicated his abilities to researching and finding other... things of interest, carefully reading and keeping an eye on the emotions of the other magical beings who entered his shop, sending out subtle waves of magic that wrapped around the emotional core of each creature, feeding him the basic information he needed to know whilst simultaneously placing the first Layer, almost like a string ready for him to pluck at and tug and shape to his heart's merry content.
Werewolves, vampires, witches, and even the occasional hunter - Mordred had seen them all at some point, recognized them from the imprints they left behind, skulking in metaphorical shadows as they struggled to hide what they were from the humans they lived among.
But it was not his place to judge.
After all, as far as most of them knew (the creatures, anyway), he was Mordred Haemon: general witch and informant. Hardly anyone saw the teeming energy and magic that lurked beyond the soft smirk; hardly any could comprehend the threads he could place and weave and manipulate.
And if Mordred had his way, no one ever would. |
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Post by ISABELLE HART on Oct 6, 2011 16:15:04 GMT -8
Isabelle loved books, she also was interested in magic, she was a vampire though so she didn't know if she could really use magic but it was fun to know what kinds of spells they could use. She dressed up in an extravagant outfit, she always did that even when going to the simplist of places. She put her hair up and headed to a small shop that had just opened. Isabelle entered the shop and smelled dust, old age pages and mustyness. It was because of her extra senses.
She just smiled and headed over to check out all the books. After a few minutes she found the magic section, she pulled out a book with an intriquite design and started reading. It had simple spells, opening a window, lighting a candle but there was also dark spells in the back. She grabbed a few other victorian novels and headed to the front desk.
She rang the silver bell and a man came from the back room. She smiled and he started doing what he did. He was kind of cute in a older guy thing, Isabelle usually went for the older guy but now she was trying to be a normal "teenager". She smelled that he was human but also... a witch.
She almost let her face go, her smile faded but she put back her smile and grabbed the books, "Thank you. Ttyl." And she headed for the door.
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Post by NATHAN FILLIST on Oct 9, 2011 9:21:55 GMT -8
Nathan was tired and needed some quiet. He would have gone to his house but on his way over there, he saw his parents, so he rushed to the bookstore. He knew Mordred worked here, he actually owned it. So why not pop in? Nate loved that he knew someone like Mordred. Of course he knew he was a witch, he could sense it like all the others. He even knew that Mordred could sense he was one too...but then again he might be wrong. Nate was pretty positive he did know though.
Nate finally reached the shop. He entered just when a girl was leaving. He kind of stared a little bit. She was pretty, but then looked again. Not wanting to show any emotion. He smiled at Mordred. "Hey. I just thought I should pop in and look around a little." Nate never talked about his parents or magic. Unless forced to.
He walked around the store, wondering if Mordred would reply or not. Maybe he shouldn't have come. Maybe he was reading and just interrupted him. Oh Nate was always like this. He worried constantly about the little things. Oh well. It wasn't going to change anytime soon.
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Post by MORDRED HAEMON on Oct 9, 2011 11:19:26 GMT -8
He had always found mundane texts boring. They offered no real news on anything - merely another retelling of a fact or story that had been heard so many times it was a wonder people kept coming back for them. It had been why his teacher - a human woman, to his distaste - had confronted his father about his lack of reading, her belief in his supposed stupidity so humourous Mordred had forgotten to be truly insulted at the time. Besides, the look when he had demonstrated reading comprehension far beyond what a second-grader should have been able to do was something he cherished even to this day. Human conformity, or the belief of humans that everything should conform to each of their individual values, was nothing short of amusing.
All their silly ideals gave him was things to manipulate. After all, Mordred was an intelligent witch, at least by supernatural standards and general comparison.
It was why he had chosen to ignore the vampire who had walked into his store until she was at the front desk, tomes clutched in her hand and her face contorted in an expression that momentarily betrayed just what she thought of the newfound knowledge concerning his... race. Of course she would be able to... scent it, as disgusting a habit as it was for creatures such as vampires. He, of course, could merely read her signature - the imprint she left behind on the objects he had specifically enchanted (and even those he hadn't) fed him that information quite easily.
But oh, the purchases... now there was a problem right there. See, Mordred had a strict policy on customers, and who could buy what books. The problem of the matter was also that he did not carry any spellbooks in the front room (please, he kept those in the back) so he had no idea what she thought she was buying. Either way, he couldn't allow it. The information would be useless to her - a leech with no powers, for no creature but a witch could activate those ruins and spells.
Reaching out, the witch curled a hand around her wrist, one eyebrow carefully raised. "I would love to know what you are going to do with those, vampire," he said as if it were a mundane conversation he had with anyone who entered the shop. "They are of no use to you, and I cannot let you take them." With a small swish of his hand from under the counter he activated the pulsing barriers on the door, clicking his tongue as they were bypassed quite suddenly by Nathan. Of course he had worked them to admit his friend, but it was still a mite inconvenient.
"Nathan, I hadn't expected you," the witch said, ignoring the vampire but keeping his grip firm. "You don't usually browse."
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Post by NATHAN FILLIST on Oct 9, 2011 11:47:30 GMT -8
Nathan was very oblivious on what was going on. He was just looking around. Of course he could sense the tension, anyone would. He was just trying his best to ignore it. He didn't want to be caught in the middle of it. He did wonder what was the problem, so he took the chance to turn around. There was Mordred having his hand gripping the girl's wrist. Then he soon heard the word 'vampire'. Oh that was why. Now he couldn't look away. He never had gotten close to a vampire before. He really wasn't one to interact with people, or vampires.
He looked like a fool just standing and staring, awkwardly. So he decided to walk over to the counter, but a good distance away from the vampire. He put his arm on the counter and looked at Mordred. "Yeah well...I thought it would be nice to come on in. I usually don't see you around town. This is like the only place I could find you." He shrugged. It was true. Nate never really saw Mordred around. There was probably a good explanation for it, but he didn't really care if there was.
Nate glanced at the girl next to him. He gulped. He saw him as an awkward boy and could never attract any girls. He always got really nervous and weird around them. He didn't know why, then again he was a guy. He looked down, not wanting to make eye contact. This wasn't really a good time to be noticed by someone. It was probably the worst time. Then again, no girls seemed to notice him. He was one with the air, invisible.
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Post by ISABELLE HART on Oct 9, 2011 12:06:53 GMT -8
Isabelle looke at the witch's hand around her wrist and knew she was in trouble. She pulled away and headed for the exit but suddenly there was a barriar. Isabelle sighed and turned around and stood where she was. She crossed her arms and instead of just killing him she decided to talk. And then kill him if he didn't let her go.
"Listen I think we've gotten off of a bad start," said Isabelle as she walked closer, "I know what you are and you know what I am but you might think I'm evil or a monster but I'm not. So can I go?"
Isabelle hoped she wouldn't have to kill anyone. Through the years whenever Isabelle had met a witch, male or female they never hated her so... why did he? Was it because of the magic books. She just wanted to try it or maybe he just didn't want anyone to use magic.
"I'm... sorry about trying to buy magic books," said Isabelle as she walked a bit closer, "I promise if you let me go I'll never come back." |
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Post by CASSIOPEIA WILLIAMS on Oct 9, 2011 12:13:55 GMT -8
"Crap," she muttered. She couldn't find her book. Cassie was practicing her alchemy, as she always did on odd days of the month. She did alchemy, power-tuning, alchemy, spells, alchemy, potions then repeat. She was focusing on alchemy because it was a new study for her. Thinking back she remembered leaving her school bookbag in... Chapman's car the last time he was up. He was now back in Boise. She'd have to summon the bag later but she didn't know which phrase of the Old Religion to use. Then she remembered the little bookstore in the business area of town. It was small and very inviting. At least to her it was. Other's seem to avoid it but it seemed nice and unbeknownst to her the magic of the store was what attracted to her. Hopefully they'd have something past the average witch's catalogue. It took her ten minutes to get there and as she stepped out of her car, her Aston Martin Rapide that she got from her grandma for her eighteenth birthday, she checked that she looked good in the window of the little store. She wore a Roksanda mini-dress, with black jeans, matching strappy heels, a black jacket and a little black purse with golden chains. Smiling she'd enter the store..... ---------------------------------------- Outfit |
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Post by MORDRED HAEMON on Oct 9, 2011 12:44:32 GMT -8
Smiling indulgently only at his friend, eyes half-lidded, Mordred felt a twinge of amusement enter his system. He had been friends with Nathan for a long time - two years, in fact, and often he found himself feeling a faint spark of thankfulness for the man's rather withdrawn and quiet nature. It was one less person he wanted to strangle in the world and, if he were honest, silence was golden in situations like this. It was just another thing he appreciated - many people would have said something unnecessary to try and disfuse the situation.
Sighing, Mordred let out a low chuckle, dark eyes sparking.
"You know you are welcome to drop by my place. You can hardly miss it, Nathan, really, and he would be glad to see you I'm sure." As rare as it was for his friend to mention magic it was far more rare fo Mordred to mention his son, especially in the presence of others. That was why he didn't name him - he knew Nathan would know to whom he was referring to without Mordred having to say "Arthur."
"Wandering around town when there is no purpose does nothing for me," he continued, his ton hardening as he trained his eyes back on the vampire girl, releasing her wrist and stifling a small chuckle as he read the threads of magic that had been draped over her - threads that carried back emotions of contempt, perhaps, and a gracious intent to... oh, not kill him? Now that was a treat.
"I'm not threatening your life, vampire," he said easily, withdrawing from the counter to grab the old tome he had placed on a table behind the desk, his mouth twitching up in an expression of wry amusement; however, his primary concern was the threads he had placed - threads that were beginning to manifest familiar imprints...
A frown. Familiar imprints? What on...
His thoughts were interrupted by the barriers clanging, alerting him to another person - a witch, the signature read, and with a wave of his hand Mordred momentarily dismissed the shields, which hopped right back up once the new witch had entered.
Female, darker hair, strong magical signature... ah.
"Hullo, Miss Williams." |
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Post by CASSIOPEIA WILLIAMS on Oct 9, 2011 21:24:15 GMT -8
A witch by blood and born of a beautiful Spanish mother and strong-jawed Brazilian father, Cassie's beauty was indisputable. Witches often had a genetic predisposition for beauty. It was similar to the way that most vampires were gorgeous. Cassie's naturally tanned and bronzed skin is the product of both her Brazilian and Spanish heritage. Her wavy chocolate locks fell about her face in an effortless way, her pale-blue eyes accented with flecks of silver and gold. Her lips were full and naturally a soft brownish-pink that matched her skin tone so perfectly. As if this wasn't enough, her high, sloping cheekbones and soft jaw are framed by her hair.
As she walked through the door she could feel the lingering tingle of a magical barrier. Most witches could do simple magic without speaking, but it was different with those who had a Gift. They didn't even have to think about it. Their ability often became second nature to them. Cassie's had. She often used her telekinetic abilities as a third arm or an extension. She did not have to fully concentrate for menial tasks as she once had.
This of course was only important in this situation because she could tell that something was happening between the vampire-girl, Mordred and that some hottie that she'd seen around the college before was only a witness. Cassie to was an extremely intelligent and powerful witch but had no prejudice against vampires, she had no reason to, but seeing as the tomes in her hands were apart of witch culture and heritage Cassie felt that it would be wrong if she left with them. " Hi Mordred. What's going on guys?" Turning to the girl she said simply, "Can I see those? Thanks." She said this in the politest way possible before reaching out with her hand and having the books leave the girls grip in one fluid motion.
Cassie got the feeling that this book could be absolutely harmless in the right hands but terrible in the wrong. Flipping to the back she saw the spells for darker magicks....
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Post by NATHAN FILLIST on Oct 10, 2011 14:28:11 GMT -8
Even though Nathan had his stomach in a twist, he did force out a small smile. Mordred was the only person he could ever be himself around. Yes, he never told anyone of his magical abilities but he knew for sure that Mordred had to have the slightest hint. Nate did sometimes drop hints here and there. He just could never really come on out and say he was a wicca. It was too hard for him. He did keep it a secret for quite sometime. He felt like he couldn't tell a living soul even if he tried.
"I wasn't worrying about being welcomed here. I know I am." Nathan gave a little chuckle. He knew exactly whom Mordred was talking about. He liked that he knew. It was like a code or something. "I would like to see him too. It's not like I've only come to see you." Nathan did actually just come to see him, but he didn't mind seeing Arthur as well. He knew Arthur was a big part in Mordred's life. Nathan looked towards the vampire again. He kind of wanted to say something but knew it wasn't his place. He was sort of a wimp like that. He just looked towards the door as someone entered.
'Wow.' was all Nathan thought. The girl who walked in was gorgeous. He could sense her power to. She was also a witch. He blinked. He kind of recongized her. Probably from the college. He slightly blushed. God. He hoped Mordred didn't notice. He looked away once she began to talk. He felt like she was too beautiful to even look at, even though he knew that wasn't true. She was supposed to be looked at and be admired. He knew if he talked or moved, he would probably embarrass himself. He didn't want that. He had already embarassed himself enough in front of most of the Meadow Heights female population. He didn't want to add on more to that list.
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Post by ISABELLE HART on Oct 10, 2011 18:28:15 GMT -8
Isabelle looked at the three witches and snatched the 18th century books from the counter. All she did was want to read and now three witches were ganging up on her. She could totally rip out their throats if she wanted but she didn't want to move again.
"Can I just buy some books and leave?" asked Isabelle as she backed away to the door.
Isabelle was hungry, she could smell each witch's bloodtype, the sun was too hot and she was sweating badly. She took out her wallet and handed Mordred a fifty.
"Is that enough to pay for the non magic books?" She asked kindly.
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