Jaya El-Amin

        “ it’s pink! ”  is what she squeaks out at first, taking the drink from him. the glass is warm with his magic, when she gets it, and allie fits her fingers over where his had been. the drink becomes even more enchanting.  “ and sparkly, and i love flowers, and, oh, it’s so pretty! thank you! ”

        her eyes sparkle as she takes a sip, and, duh, she does like it- but allie gets caught up in his next question before she can tell him all about that.  “ well … i like magic, maybe that’s it. ”  the drink gets set down, and allie winds a strand of hair around her finger, absentmindedly.  “ i keep looking for it, anywhere i can find it in the city. to, like, learn i guess, but also … ”  she shrugs.  “ i dunno’, i’ve never been anywhere that feels like this. ”  and, allie really means port leiry, but, for now, she means obsidian.  “ like, do you know what i mean? like, obsidian feels different. ”  her hands flutter around, for a bit, trying to make sense of it.

        then, allie stops, gives up. she sighs,  “ i dunno’, i’m not very smart, only, like, super nosy. ”

“I was only in town looking for an apartment when I was guided here, and I have to say, running the place has done wonders for me. Quite a lot of my regulars are the same, unable to explain why they thought to come here in the first place.” He dropped a garnish in his own drink, lifting it to his lips.

“So, I wonder... Did it bring you here because you were looking for magic, or did it bring you here because it was looking for you?”

Maja barks a laugh. Pretty boy omitted a detail. Garnett's personal.

She could have hexed him until he pleaded for release; only his suggestion to awaken ghouls at the mauseoleum saved his flesh peeling from his muscles. His ancestors would not mind — whatever might be left of them, if not soil, ash or bone.

She likes his confidence. It's ambitious and testy.

"You." Grimhjarta is yet to know his name, his origin, or if he possesses anything more than a parlour trick of a tavern. "Talent." She plucks out the word from his string of reasons why the coven is unsuitable for her request. Trouble. Maja's curious, but she's not invested until it might bleed into Grimhjarta territory.

Perhaps Maja could ignite this pilot flame in the man's furnace; she could fan this flame, patiently, with a certainty to know he might be brave enough to bleed. Just to glimpse a power beyond his own.

New interest sparks in her gaze: "I take your name, now." a beat, "And then I tell you how to walk on the other side of the veil, and smile at Gods bigger than you."

Not that that place meant anything to him, these days, but he had the talent and hard work to fall back on, and that never failed him. Arrogance had no place in the undeserving, and he made sure he'd earned every ounce of his.

What was wrong with his cow predictions, anyway? Cows were beautiful, ancient creatures, worshipped by gods long before men learned to complain.

To hell with this random guy.

Ivar had plenty of capabilities, dragging himself back from the dead being at the top of the list. He’d like to see him choke to death and crawl his way back, but being a natural prankster, Ivar settled for a joke instead. He gasped with the theatrical flair of a court jester. "Are you here to insult my third eye? How dare you?" Eyes turned to slits. "I’ll have you know, I also see great danger in here—" (The cow would eat his face, but he decided to spare that part.) "—someone’s going to sneak into your house, through your bedroom window, and take everything you’ve got."

That someone being him, once he figured out where the guy lived.

"Oh no," He frowned, bottom lip popping out in mock sympathy, "it also says you’re never getting laid again. I’m so sorry—" Another faux sigh, quickly replaced by a bright smile. "—but don’t worry, whoever you might be leaving disappointed, you can always send my way."

“Tell me, fortune teller, where would that be? Oh, wait, don’t tell me!” He cocked his head to the side, pointing in the direction of the parking area. “The pasture just across the street from the parking your little circus has set up? Do you have another clever insight for me, oh master of the future? I was going to head over to the stands and browse after this, do you predict I’ll see t-shirts?”

The fake fortune teller’s retort was even more childish. “Never getting-! I’ll have you know that I-” He had to force himself to stop speaking. He knew bait when he heard it, and this was the sort of thing that might get a less controlled person to end up yelling about their sexual habits in the middle of a public place (bad), or just sitting by and accepting the smug fortune-teller’s jabs (worse). 

At this point, he’d be making his day better just to stand up and walk away. “You know what? Keep the money. You’ll need it, if this is the sort of service you’re offering. Good day.” He gathered up his bag, standing. 

TRICK: You wake up with a really sore neck. A sore neck with holes in it. A sore neck with holes in it that's bleeding.

She's not sure how long it's been when her brain turns back on, and its fuckin' windy, and all that shroomy high is gone, and she also feels pretty cold, and also she tastes blood in her own mouth that tastes off - like not that blood doesn't always taste off, but like, extra off. Then it dawns on her in little flashes, a vampire biting her, she goes a little crazy without thinking about it, and then whoosh, it's all a blur.

A handful of powdered verbena in the face, a muttered curse, and the runes he’d taken the time to embroider around the edges of his sleeves to make everything tie itself together easier, and the vampire was frozen in place. Not a true, freezing, no ice and no time-magic, but a physical one, the seizing of muscles and the halting of joints. They wouldn’t have long. 

Not his best work, admittedly, but he had to work with what he had, and for a split-second decision, it proved to be a fruitful one. He'd been forcing paralysis onto supernaturals for harvesting for years, and personal preferences aside, he was still an El-Amin. After the hurricane incident, the only vampires who were getting his blood were the ones he chose to give it to. 

“Thank you for the warning.” He said, looking around for a box, a crate, whatever could be climbed on to cut the poor mouse down, giving him ample time to take in just how ridiculous the predicament was. “How on earth does someone end up in this situation?” 

Crate secured, he pushed it over and climbed up on it, taking the time to smooth out his outfit before producing a small knife from one of its many pockets and beginning to saw away at the tail. 

Juniper gathered her notes and spread them out across the living room table. Walking through the steps of the surgical side of the procedure was simple enough, establish an intravenous line, make sure Juniper can’t feel a damn thing, cut, break, puzzle the bone back together- it was the rest that was within the realm of the unknown. “Basically, I am going to be fusing the bone and incision back together, fusing isn’t the right word… growing.” She sighed. 

“I’ve been… experimenting. So far, I’ve been able to completely regenerate dermal incisions and lesions with high rates of success, minimal or nonexistent scaring. Balancing the cost is tricky, and I’ve never done it on this scale, or with bone. But if it can be done, we’ll know by the end of the night. If not… Then I’ll just be in a cast for a couple months. No biggie.” Yes Biggie. But she wasn’t going to make a show of her fragile pride. This had to work. It all had to be worth something.

They’d gone over it again and again. Juniper may be nervous, but Jaya wasn’t, and in this moment, the best he could do is make that clear. He had full confidence in her skills and his own. “That won’t happen.” He said, at her last rueful comment. “I’ve seen your notes, and I’ve seen your work. Your theories are sound, and I have full confidence in this.” 

They had gone through every little detail, pored over their shared notes enough that the both of them could probably recite all the steps from memory. There was only one thing left to do. "Shall we head over and begin, then? Are you ready?"

It does cheer him, though, to hear Jaya’s interest in their contents. “I’ll bring them, next time. I guess they’re academic, from what I can tell, but I’ve never really made heads or tails of it.” He’d looked over them a couple times, but he’d never had the head for witchcraft. “They were just little illustrations,” he said. “My… he would leave notes of what they wanted, and when I’d come by, I’d work on it. He said it made their work feel more… complete. I’m not sure, though. Maybe he just wanted me to feel included.”

He traced his fingers along the fabric of the couch. “It was things like… plants. Gemstones, rocks. Potion and ritual ingredients, you know. A couple diagrams… some anatomical sketches. Nothing fancy or finished like I used to do, but I think they still hold up.”

Orville, he suspected, truly had no immediate desire to do that, and it was a pain to go out and  build enough trust with someone else who might be willing. He was a romantic, it was clear in the way he spoke about his own late love, and Jaya really didn’t have the energy for romance these days.

“That’s a sweet notion. You shouldn’t discount the need for good sketches in magical notes.” Jaya said, honestly, “I, myself, hate to draw. I'm not terrible at it, but it's never what I am looking forwards to when I am starting notes on a new ritual idea. I would have loved to have someone to do the chore of copying down the visuals, and to leave the fun parts to me.”

If she kept herself busy enough she wouldn’t have the spare time or energy to talk herself out of it. Her accomplishments by sundown included pacing for a couple hours, pacing while reading through what she was calling her Book of Bad Ideas- which really was just all her accumulated notes and research on her new magical limits- as well as cleaning the kitchen twice. By the time she was alone in her apartment and the sky went from amber to indigo she was exhausted. Her leg ached with over-use and she was forced to sit. 

It wasn’t the surgery she was worried about. Fracture reduction was simple enough in theory. She had faith in the combined knowledge and skill of herself and Jaya. It was the magic that scared her. It was only a couple months ago she realized testing her limits was even an option. Now she wondered if she was being overzealous, which is why no one but Jaya knew about tonight's plan. She couldn’t handle the embarrassment if she ended up making things worse.   

A knock at the door made hours pass in a blink. She came too at her keyboard, hands moving with muscle memory to play songs that were heavy with comfort and nostalgia. She didn’t know if she was better, but she was calmer; ready. 

Opening the door and being greeted with Jaya's enthusiasm for the macabre actually did wonders to make her smile more genuinely. Though it wasn’t as bright as usual. “I’m ready… Why don’t you come in and we can talk about the actual gameplan before heading down to the basement.”

“I’ve got everything we agreed on, and then some extra of everything, just in case.” He said, opening his bag to set out the various bottles and tools he’d brought, holding out the too-strong liquor to her. “For you. Keep the bottle, I don’t serve the stuff in my lounge and I’m more of a wine man, myself. Now, talk me through the procedure.”

Deft fingers trace the shape of the chalked rune she’s carelessly scratched into the underside of the wood, easing off on buckling his knees so prematurely. It's merely a little entertainment when she might tire of him.

Siltshore Mausoleum. Maja does love to play in the walls of cursed stone and sacred burial plots. It's one of her favourite Tuesdays. Sometimes, ghouls are the best conversationalists, too. Mostly, they're just bitter hags that want to rattle the town as bones and gristle. Creatures and biting, and sucking, and all manner of deviant, dead-rising get boring quickly when that's all they devolve into.

A lot of the time, Maja considers letting them. But the troupe would call her careless.

She tips the contents of the bottle into the offered glass. Sceptical but satisfied that he has opted to understand the manner of this game. The hum of this tavern's magic prickles against her own; the song isn't known; it is as if it does not know what she is, other than a creature who knows what teetering on death's tightrope is like.

"Soon." She corrects. Eventually is a timescale that she does not favour. Eventually, all things must die, but that is not soon. Not even for this man.

Maja swills the rum, drops it back and refills it. All she needs is flame, and he may see a show for which her brother is formidable. "No business of yours. You have—" She gestures around to the bar they're sat in, a rattle of beaded bracelets, and the clink of rings as it flays wildly. "— this invasive-like power to dance with. Ingen." She mutters a hexing phrase about the dark-eyed boy in her language. However, he has given her a new haunt to play in, so it's only a minor curse about his ancestors' feet detaching from their resting places. "I thought maybe this meddling power may show me to helpful things." a beat, another dismissive slide of her hands across the bar, "Instead, I get pretty boy who believes he belongs to self, ha!"

“Well, if you’re looking for a Garnett witch to help with a ritual, I would suggest you start by not hexing the ancestors of your best choice.” He said, drumming his fingers on the table. “Considering the other options are busy, on sabbatical, or... with magical talents that lean away from complicated rituals.” That was the kindest way he could phrase the Roy boy’s situation, and there was a level of delicacy he was holding onto as he spoke to this outsider. “I’m afraid the coven is facing some trouble, lately, the kind that leaves me the most available member. So, I’ll ask again. What kind of ritual?” 

Calling him a pretty-boy was going to earn her no good will, not with how she’d already disrespected him and his bar. 

“You are correct about the Rune being protection oriented, the glyph allows for a period of intangibility though not invisibility,” she warned knowing Jaya liked to push limits, “ the charm is special,” she slowly slide it off the counter, “it binds life forces.” She still didn’t know what she was going to do with it but it was a powerful and rare bit of magic that shouldn’t be taken lightly.

“The candle,” she tossed it in her hand before extending it to Jaya, “I actually have no use for, my space is bound and protected with a thread tightness any weaver would be jealous of but you,” she was beating around the bush, “it creates a ring of protection when lit that will prevent anyone from coming in or out of its range and will last several hours, I believe until it goes out. Have you seen into warding Obsidian or your apartment in any way?” She arched an eye brow knowing the accident prone witch probably hadn’t, “If you haven’t this can be used in case of emergencies. Please take it.” She smiled.

The candle, however, was interesting. The magic was evident, in both the runes swirling through the wax and the smell of potions ingredients when he lifted it to his nose, and the temptation to light it and try his hand at preservation magic just to see how long he could push it for was strong. “Oh, this is wonderful! Have you tested it at all?” 

The interest he had in figuring out how to replicate its magic was stronger. “I’ll have to take it back to my place to figure out how it works, and how to replicate its protective wards in ways that could help Obsidian, but this is very promising!”

There was just something so charming about Jaya, and the sense of familiarity had only grown the longer they spent around each other. And Orville had found every excuse imaginable to spare time for him. It was fun, and he hadn’t realized just how lonely he’d been all these years.

“Mm, but I have been enjoying it.” Call him romantic, but he felt like he could listen forever. “But, something you don’t know about me…” he mused. “I still got some of the notes from the coven I was with back then. I don’t know what all they’re about, really, but… at the time, I thought I was saving them for when we regrouped. It meant I saved some of my old sketches, at least. It’s about all I have left of my old art that I didn’t sell off.”

That was what Orville was becoming to him. A presence that helped to remind him of what his late love’s loss had done to him, while also being different enough to keep him from falling into one of his moods. 

And, of course, it was always a delight to have someone who would sit there and listen happily as Jaya said whatever came to mind, made even more delightful when that someone was a handsome man.

“I’d like to see them sometime. Were they personal notes, or more academic in nature? I do have an interest in the rituals and spells of other covens, you know.” It was never a bad time to seek out new ways to improve his own magic, new spells to do things in three steps that he’d been doing in five. ”And I'm curious about your art. What sort of sketches were they?”

        she may be a little doe eyed, but, mostly, she just wants to see as much of obsidian as she possibly can. allie wonders if she’d stepped into an enchanted forest, cloaked in shades of midnight. unfortunately, there’s just not enough trees for it to be a forest, is there? but allie’s happy to bask in the enchantment, and finds her way to the bar soon enough. she feels the magic in everything she touches, even dusting her fingertips over the countertop, she feels like little sparks dance up to meet them.

        allie hums, meeting the brown eyes of the witch on the either side of the counter- and this time, she knows he’s a witch, she can feel him filling up every corner of obsidian. allie giggles,  “ what about ... a surprise? ”  then her eyelashes flutter, her gaze dancing away from him as she looks around the room, thinking.  “ ooh, or maybe … ”  back to the witch, curious. allie puts her chin into her hands, propped up on the counter.  “ no, i want a surprise. ”  her head tips to one side,  “ pretty please? ”

A surprise. Those were always fun, a chance to exercise some creativity in this new world of bartending that he’d stepped into, without the explosive consequences that come with creativity in the alchemical lab. 

“So,” He set the glass on the counter, all pink and flower petals with a bit of that edible glitter he’d added to the order sheet in the last supply delivery, and slid it over to the smiling witch. “What brings you to Obsidian? Or, more accurately, what about you would Obsidian want to bring here?”

She took a steadying breath, “I am just glad they are better now,” She pasted a smile on her face, “and I’ve been quite busy. I have a childhood friend staying with me and I always have my work.” She indicated the shop.

Thera then opened a drawer near her hip which held the items she had received. “I received a lot of things. I have a glyph, a charm, a Ward, and a candle.” her hand lingered over each object as she said them. She had had time to look into each object, the magic in the tethering charm was of particular interest to her. “Did you receive anything interesting?” She asked.

He shrugged, setting out his own favors from the gala onto the counter for her to inspect. A rune that he’d already determined was protection-oriented, and a key he had no idea the use of. 

“Nothing too interesting. May I?” He asked, only waiting for a nod before he reached across the counter to inspect the various objects, the symbols etched and drawn on them. “Do you have any suspicions on what these could be for?”