Maybe laying on the roof of the Lava Java to practice hadnât been his best idea- but he had been getting better at keeping control. Until he got distracted, of course- and then all bets were off and he was dropping 24 ounces of water over the edge. âShit! Incoming!â He called as soon as he realized his control had slipped, wincing as he heard it splatter. He waited a beat before sticking his head over the edge, not sure if it had hit someone or just pavement. @revivalreblogsâ
Legba was walking the side streets to the coffee shop. He was dressed in rags and a hat and used an old cane to help his vesselâs legs. He was nearing around the building when he heard someone shout a warning. The Loa took a step away and looked up to see water falling and hitting the street. It splashed the old Loaâs clothes and he frowned as he shook his head. âThe forecast did not call for rain today,â he said as he looked at the young person looking back at him, peeking over the side of the building. âQuite the magician you are,â he said with a smile.
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status: open ( enderâs trail ) | @revivalreblogsâ
The setting sun spilled the last of its warmth over the cover of leaves and branches. The forest itself buzzed with life from every inch and corner. Yet all of it, even the sun, fell on blind senses. The only thing he could hear was the low groan of twisted wood. A body, just below the height of his knee, shifted and formed until it was fully built. Twin slits opened to reveal nothing but a gaping mass of darkness. Phantom like tendrils smoked from the orifice; dissipating into thin air as wisps.
The golem he had created was one of the most common types his past coven had summoned. Except his was all sorts of wrong. The thick bark that made up the beingâs body was gnarled and half withered where it shouldâve been glossy from good health. From cleansed health.
If his magic had been kept pure then the results wouldâve come out drastically different. Well, the appearance would have been at least. The power of which the tree spirit contained was just the same, albeit more corrupted. His creation remained idle in all of itâs ghastly stature, and he remained lost in thought with his hand rubbing at the scruff on his face.
No matter what angle he wanted to view this at, Emmerick had to face that this was the embodiment of how far he had fallen. From the purity of nature to the curse of the damned â this was what he is to this day.
He didnât hear or sense another presence come close. It wasnât until the golem turned itâs head to peer at something past him, did Emmerick realize they had company. Even when he craned his neck to see who it was, he didnât utter a single word. A simple motion of his hand and the golem crumbled within itself, crushed into the organic matter it had once been birthed from.Â
âMove along.â As if he was in a place to make such demands, but the instinctual defense of unfriendliness currently fell short.
The sounds that the Loa made in his weakened vessel could certainly be heard in the woods as he walked. He came upon someone who immediately insulted his presence by telling him to go. Hephaestus immediately stopped and shook his head as he looked over the man, would be man anyway. He didnât recognize this face and so he knew to make his way of greeting.
âHow lost are you?â he asked with an impish chuckle. âYou have summoned me so you must be headed in the wrong direction, yes?â The Loa lifted one side of his brow and smiled. âPerhaps Iâll show you a way and not just out of these woods. Maybe, you wish to find someone and donât know what your heart desires?â
âYou misunderstand my intentions, old man,â he spat. âI do not want to talk, I want to devour them. That is, of course, the only proper punishment for their betrayal, donât you think?â He didnât really get the calmness of the other. There was no calm in Asgard, was there really such calmness other places?
Either way, the wolf made no motion to move from his spot. While the Vidar was not a deity, he was still the son of one - and so his ego remained.
âHappy memory? I do not have happy memories. Expecting me to come here with them is silly.â Really, Vidar doubted the chip on his shoulder would ever dissipate. He lived his life praying for revenge upon those who had betrayed him and locked him away, waiting for Ragnarok to come so he could devour Odin.
The Loa let a heavy stripe of smoke out of his lungs which rose slowly around his face. He looked to the Norse wolf and gave him an understanding nod. âI didnât say I was looking for them so you may talk,â Hephaestus replied warmly. âThey know you are looking for them to kill them and as I said, most donât want to be bothered with you.â
A bartender appeared and put a pair of short glasses and a bottle of rum on the table. She took the chip from aside Vidarâs leg and left. The Loa moved his cane back to behind the table and reached for the bottle before Vidar had a chance to kick it and make a scene.
âYou have my symbol now. If you are meant to find one of them, you will,â Hephaestus told him. âNow, letâs have a drink.â
her senses were going haywire , lungs almost bursting from the energy she breathed in . but edie doesnât turn around and leave. instead , she steps further into the establishment with as much curiosity or stupidity as a lost angel could have . she was surrounded by a variety of characters , either living or dead , that much she knew . but she couldnât pin point just who or what she could be worried about. and it set a rush of adrenaline through her , one she wholly welcomes as she eyes the various patrons. a table at the far end makes her pause to look , almost as if it were calling her attention. she cranes her neck just to see , before inching closer. an easy smile and a small quirk of her brow comes her response at the manâs statement. â oh , iâm not looking to play , â she admits , standing stock still. â but iâm not opposed to buying a possible new acquaintance a drink : whatâll you be having ? â
The Loa could still feel the heat of the angelâs memory burning in his chest, but not like the sear of the smoke he often filled his lungs with. This was healing and this was biblical, things he hadnât felt in a while. When he invites the angel to play and she declines, he smiles slowly and sits back to watch her, not unlike a creature heâs never seen before. Of course, heâs seen angels, but none quite so... fresh and dewy new as this one.
âRum,â he says with a chuckle. âMay I ask what brings you to Epoch?â he continues as one of the other players gathers the chips of the pot toward the Loa. âAfter all, you do seem,,, lost,â he notes and takes a deep pull from his pipe. âYou look as though youâve arrived where you belong.â
carnelian: our muses fight together and have each otherâs back
The whites of the vesselsâ eyes were all that could be seen of either Loa as they came to a crossroads in the moonless night. They were drunk on merriment and liquor and Hephaestus would blame that drunken state for the reason why heâd taken such a dangerous path. Immediately, he heard the hounds of hell and gripped his cane which was helping his feeble legs toward home from the gathering that had been held in the forest. âDo you hear them, brother?â was all the Loa could ask before he felt the presence on something slamming into his chest and knocking him back. Thankfully, Baptiste was there to catch the old man and as magic flew from both their presences, keeping the dogs back. Hephaestus was rather insulted actually. After all, he was a scrappy dog in his other form as well. He looked to Baptiste and there seemed to be an understanding there, they both knew they needed the crossroads entity to come forward for them to be able to pass. The Loa known as Legba, poured blood from a flask on the ground and drew his protective symbol with the tip of his cane. He then looked to the Loa known as Ghede, who was holding up a dog with his Vodou and saw that his vessel was about to be taken by another hound and Legba did not have time to shout a warning before he impaled the demon dog with his walking stick. That caused the crossroads demon to appear with a roar of rage for the fallen hell beast, but how could a demon hope to challenge two Loas? That remained to be seen.
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â˝ âź âž Â Â â   đ¸âđ´âđŤâđšâ  đ¨âđˇâđžâđ¸âđšâđŚâđąâ  đˇâđľâ  đľâđˇâđ´âđ˛âđľâđšâđ¸â !
amethyst : Â Â my muse calms yours down in whatever way is found suitable
citrine : Â Â Â my muse reassures your muse that their goals are not our of reach
clear quartz : Â Â my muse dismantles your museâs negative thoughts about themselves
selenite : Â Â our muses spent some time in the moonlight after a productive evening
labradorite : Â Â our muses take a class of whatever kind together
rose quartz : Â Â my muse speaks words of affection to your muse, whether platonic or romantic
carnelian : Â Â our muses fight together and have each otherâs back
obsidian : Â Â my muse admits an unspoken truth to your muse
tigerâs eye : Â Â our muses take part in a ritual, whether magical or just meditative
bloodstone : Â Â my muse patches up your muse after getting wounded
moonstone : Â Â my muse gives yours words of advice
black tourmaline : Â Â my muse sits by your museâs side as they vomit
Hephaestus puffed on his pipe as he collected chips and stacked them, smiling around the bit. He enjoyed their attitude because it made him think of a confident child -- well, a child to him. The Loa was an old being, most everyone was a child to him and he enjoyed acting as a father or grandfather, as the case might be.
âHaitian Rum,â he said thickly after he blew the smoke out of his lungs. The whisps engulfed his features and for a moment only his dark eyes could be seen. He grinned when they seemed mildly bored with him, after all who rolled their eyes in the presence of the owner of the establishment if they were not bored. âThen, I will answer your question about travels or speak to the god you wish to see on this night.â Those were, after all, two of his purposes in life.
â a visit from the boss? to what do i owe the honor? â mauve asked, their tone not nearly as impressed as their words might suggest. all they did was finish the drink before them and handed it off. itâd make its way to the proper patron, though they werenât too bothered by being sure of it right then. â performance review? new dress code? a dress code in general? â there was nothing snarky about their words, their tone still sounding bored and distracted as they opened a few more beers and handed them off.Â
Hephaestus leaned on the bar as he used his old cane to take his lanky, feeble body covered in layers of rags of clothes that surely were once beautiful, to sit on a stool in front of the counter between him and Mauve. The Loa spoke with an always changing accent for heâd never settled in places for too long, other than Haiti and now Nova Satus, âMy rum will be good enough for me,â he said as he poked around for his pipe among the tatters and pulled it out to set it between his lips. He watched as Mauve moved behind the bar and handed off drinks. It was somewhat busy tonight, but he knew not to ask if they needed him to call in others. If they needed help, they would say so. âI grew tired of requests so I'm here to talk to you instead.â This came with a flash of a smile as he took the pipe from his lips and watched them work as he hunted for pipe tobacco. He took their words as something to ease him. He thought of Mauve as his own, no matter how cold they were, he would always be warm, a father type of man, if you will. âHavenât found one god who wishes to be disturbed tonight, so no flashes of magic for them to appear in, no spectacle, no show. Not that Iâm disappointed. Gods donât like Mondays anymore than the humans do.â
Vidar was never one to take orders well. Perhaps it was a side effect of his father being the god of chaos, a trickster. Or maybe he was just destined to be an utter asshole.Â
Whatever the reason, he sat at the table regardless and moved to place his feet atop the table - in the way of the game. âNow, now,â he chirped. âI was just going to watch, but now youâve told me I canât do something. We both know that just wonât do, old man.â He paused, tilting his head. âAnd have you ever considered wearing less fabric?â
Hephaestus gave a wider smile which became terse as he put his pipe to his lips as pulled in the pot on the table to be stacked in his favor. The Loa easily lifted the feet of a son of a god and gathered the last of his chips before tossing one to land aside Vidarâs leg.
âWhy are you here this time? I told you that I cannot take you to gods who do not wish to be found. That would make them mistrustful and as you well know, I am amiable to everyone.â Hephaestus opened his hands to the other people at the card table. He halted the dealer because Vidarâs feet were still on the table. âI merely desire for you to hand that chip to the bartender. Seems Iâm out of rum.â
Pulling up his cane Hephaestus finally addressed the feet on his table and tapped the manâs boot with his handle. His traveling symbol slowly carved itâs way through the sole and Hephaestus lowered his cane before taking his pipe from his mouth. âIt will guide you, Vidar, and not through peril.â The Loa puffed on his pipe and then settled back into his seat so that only the whites of his eyes could be seen in the dimly lit speakeasy.
âAllow me a moment with our new guest, my friends,â Hephaestus finally announced and waited for they to leave for other tables. Hephaestus then signaled to one of his bartenders that he needed more of the spiced rum he was drinking. He sat for a moment and looked from Vidar to the chip the Loa had tossed. âYour memory was not happy, Vidar. You cannot keep leaving such murky things at my door and expect me to always allow you to enter.â
Pipe tobacco was the first thing one would smell when they neared Epoch. Woodsy smoke laced with fruity undertones, it was undeniable and yet, you wouldnât know where the scent was come from, and maybe it was just a whiff on the air? Or maybe, perhaps, you might know it was the indication that you should ready your sacrifice -- a good memory, a strong one if you really wanted to speak to the man who owned the speakeasy. Flights of fancy would not get you anywhere and depressive stuff? That would merely get you a seat in the bar on most nights, but tonight, a Friday night? The place was full and patrons were chosen carefully. So, what memory would it be? Which would be sacrificed to the Loa known simply as Papa Legba and secularly as Hephaestus Thyme. Tonightâs game was poker, Razz, lowball poker, 7-card, and eight players to a table, ace-to-five low, lowest hand wins. Wearing his usual rundown and gaudy garb of faux fur, silk, velvet, leather, and even a stitched-up cotton bandana, plus his ever-present burgundy red hat on top of everything else, Hephaestus was seated at table toward the back of the room with six other players, meaning a seventh could join. He was drinking Haitian Rum and smoking a pipe, the other men and women may have looked tense and well, that was normal on a Friday. Everyone wanted his attention so they could spend the weekend carrying out their plans, if he allowed them their request that is. Breathing out the thick smoke from his immortal lungs, warm-eyed Hephaestus gave a smile and looked to the two men across from him as he saw someone approach the table. âCall,â he said in his deep, rasp of a tone. He held up a finger to the person standing at the table. âOnly sit if you plan to feed me more liquor,â Hephaestus said as he threw his cards on the table -- aces under twos. @revivalreblogsâ
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HEPHAESTUS THYME called into ORACLE FM. They were a little bit CHEEKY & ENIGMATIC at first, but we kept them talking until they got a little WATCHFUL & GUIDING. They said theyâve been working as OWNER OF EPOCH, and thinking about aligning themselves with N/A since they have been living in Nova Satus for FIFTY-FIVE YEARS, and from what we can tell, they still give off huge THE DRIPPING OF BLOOD ON THE GROUND, POWER THROUGH DARKNESS, & FEEBLE-LEGGED BUT WISE-EYED GAMBLER vibes. [ DJIMON HOUNSOU, HAITIAN LOA (PAPA LEGBA), CIS-MAN, UNKNOWN, HE/HIM ]
The vessel of Papa Legba was already embroiled in violent sacrifice when the Loa followed his people from West Africa to their destination in the Americas. The vesselâs mother was stripped of her dignity and clothing, and raped by men who had sold her to Spanish ships taken to the Caribbean.
From gestation on the ships, the vessel was born into slavery and put on an auction block. Legba, being the fatherly figure he was to the slaves, followed the child through the trials of being ripped from his mother and forced to grow up in a stunted world. The boy would develop osteomalacia or Rickets due to lack of nutrients and vitamins he needed. Crying in pain, day and night, the boy became a young man with a terrible limp.
To supplement the vesselâs disability, Legba would come to him and encourage the boy through puberty and he would speak Legbaâs name and draw the Loaâs symbol for others who also needed guidance. Mistaking Legba for an indulgent Loa, his first sacrifices were goats in the Americas, but knowing they had so little. Legba advised his worshipers that all they need do was invoke his symbol or drip rum on the ground and call for him.
Legba never asked for the would-be vesselâs body, but when said vessel became a man, he slowly tired of his existence and offered himself again and again to Legba so may the Loa be of this world. Legba bided his time until the man decided to make an escape plan to leave the island with others.
The raft was simple and easily put together under the cover of darkness, they asked for Legba to speak their deities for blessings but there was no time for sacrifice to anyone but Legba. Unfortunately, this angered some of the other Loa spirits and the escape was not a success. When the vessel was shot and clinging to life, he once again called out to Papa Legba to take his body and make it a home. Legba finally saw to the dying wish and entered the vesselâs body while it floated at sea.
Papa Legba took the vesselâs body to what would become known as Louisiana in modern times. The Loa traveled the swamps and waited for the coming of more of his people. Other Loa encouraged Legba to seek out a healer for his vessel, but Legba always saw it as a point of his own existence to keep the vesselâs body intact and disabled.
Over hundreds of years, Papa Legba traveled between America and the island nation known as Haiti where his people practiced Vodou and called for him. Only in the last sixty years did he learn of Nova Satus and he took his time in coming to the city for he knew too well how an ill-timed escape to somewhere better could lead to death.
Being a Loa of peculiar tastes, he opened Epoch, a speakeasy that is not easily found. Being the Loa of roads, doors, and keys he made way for a place to come and have oracles deciphered, fortunes told, or guidance given to people who worship him. The cost at the door? One good, strong memory that you will sacrifice forever. After all, it makes no sense to put more blood on the ground, at least not yet, though such a dripping of blood in Legbaâs symbol might bring you closer to the threshold as the rumors are said.
Papa Legba has the ability to shift into an old mutt of a dog with a limp and this is often the form he chooses when someone wanders into a crossroads and calls for his presence. He will usually be a menacing beast in this form because he is not happy that heâs been called to a place of trickery. He expects his worshipers to plan their journeys so there will be no crossroads.
Some additional abilities include knowledge of the location of other deities, but that does not mean he will give up the location without being told what is desired and given sacrifice. Itâs going to take more than rum on the ground in most cases. He can also decipher oracles and in that way, fortune telling is also his privy as is the granting of luck in his presence. Also, he has pet rats. Try not to mind them.
Legbaâs main ability, however, has to do with travel. He is the keeper of roads, keys, doorways, and gates. You will find his symbol in these places and Legba may choose, depending on the sacrifice if he will allow the person to enter, be it his speakeasy or otherwise. Finally, he can grant the ability to speak directly to a deity, however, he is not responsible for the deityâs mood or the consequences of the disruption.
Legbaâs weaknesses are mainly physical. He is always carrying his vesselâs pain and inability to walk without a cane. He also has a slight hunch to his back and cannot stand up straight without help, which he usually rebuked. The Loa is also vulnerable at crossroads, which is why he doesnât like to be called to them.
For appearances, most of Papa Legbaâs clothes are old and out of style, but he finds the loud suits and under clothes to be comfortable and he will wear them until they are rags. He also typically wears a hat and always has a cane as well as a pipe or cigar in his hand. He prefers rum to all other liquor so if you want to appeal to him, buy him one at the speakeasy, if you can find it.
A final note: despite being a traveling and crossroads spirit, Legba is not a trickster. In fact, he is seen as a father figure in Haitian Vodou and West African religions.
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