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@releasedtristan

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Β Β Β β³ original gif credit toΒ @winterswakeβΒ
MICHAEL LANGDON (+ details )
thereβs a beast in my veins, that was birthed by my father. it is quiet. it sleeps through most nights. tonight, sir, my tail switches in the darkest shadows. I AM THE ONE YOU ARE WAITING FOR.
@senatusstarters location: Lupercal notes: open to all
If nothing else, this was good practice; monsters came with various weaknesses and strengths. Most were resistant to magic somehow, so just throwing whatever you had at them and hoping for the best wasn't a great option. It took study to understand what worked and then practice to actually be able to pull it off, but lucky for him stymphalian hated sunlight, and he'd stumbled upon a hoard that was tucked into some barracks in Lupercal. Blood magic had its uses, the most primitive being an amplifier; this was a numbers game, and Raffaele wanted to win those Cirque tickets for him and Tamlen.
Raffaele lifted his palm towards the wooden barracks; the Narcissus would send financial compensation later. With a thought, a small vial of blood floated just beyond his marred palm. It shattered, and flames erupted in an influx of the destruction school. They scorched and fanned out in a cone as Raffaele took advantage of the vampire blood as amplifier and source to use little more than a tiny spark of his own magic. The barracks were reduced to embers in moments, and the stymphalian that weren't caught in his blaze burned under the sunlight.
A hand laid on his shoulder, Raffaele turned towards the sun and caught a glimpse of his father's profile, but by the time he opened his mouth to speak, the man was gone. Raffaele wasn't alone; ashes fell, and the smoldering scent of Stymphalian's otherworldly flesh permeated the air. "How many do you think that was? Twenty?"
Fighting monsters was his first love and perhaps his greatest passion. The young witch had slayed a hell beast for his coven and spent every year since learning what he could about the universe's creature horrors. This was child's play, or at least it might have been had it not been for the years of missed practice within a cell and the immortals that now surrounded him. He had always seen himself as quick, sure-footed and strong but the Aspects triumphed as though killing was easier than breathing while a mortal man such as himself had to exercise strategy, energy and focus. One day he'd prove himself at their level, or at least close to it. For now, Tristan worked to regain that confidence, leaving behind another carcass of a beast to follow the sound of ominous wings and cawing. StymfalΓdes Γrnithes was the word that came to mind, the vivid memory of pages in his head depicting bronze-beaked birds. The largest swarm recorded in mortal history defeated by Heracles...
"... in his sixth labour for Eurystheus," Tristan muttered idly to himself, slightly breathless as he rounded a building just to be blinded by the heat of an explosion. "Fuck. You couldn't save any?" Tristan muttered, gazing over at the carnage. He at least seen the birds flying up. After a second of thought, eyes glazed over, he focused back on his fellow witch. "21 and a half. One was smaller than a crane so, hatchling." He looked to the ground, spotting the red around broken glass. "Is that blood?" Blood magic might've explained the impressive potency of the spell.
(suffering the clear and obvious ramifications of my voluntary actions) once again god torments me for no purpose but sick amusement

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#mood
Cody Fern x Fred Gervais > Paris 2022
"Conjuring." In all honesty, Rowan hadn't realized summoning Sybella was that big of a deal. He'd needed someone on his side to sort of guide him through all this, he liked demons, it'd seemed like a good first step. What'd been harder for him was the delicate hand meant to heal when Ciro had taught him about reforming that grape. But Rowan looks up at Tristan with casual curiosity, he doesn't quite get the guy's attitude, thinks he's maybe a bit stuffy, but he's not really one to judge. It's not like the guy is outright an ass, if anything he seems a little hesitant when it came to change or having someone like him in his space and he figured he'd be a little offput by some guy who just got magic out of the blue, too. "I just think it'd come in handy." And it was interesting, summoning was conjuring, right? So he'd managed something bigger in that department once already.
Tristan managed to hide the disappointment in his eyes. Conjuration? It wasn't one of the magic schools that he'd ever tried to focus on so he hadn't the practice nor the interest. However, his memory retained his the books word-from-word and he supposed it would be in the coven's best interest if Rowan got a firm grasp on something besides household spells.
"Well, you summoned already so I guess that makes sense." Tristan pulled up a chair without any prompt and sat himself down. "So that's the biggest thing you've managed to conjure so far and what's the most complicated? Besides a demon. And big doesn't always equal complicated... there are advanced 10 year olds that can conjure inflatable pool rafts."
Grayson rolled his eyes, but what else could he say to Tristan? He'd apologized once, but he didn't want to anymore. He had been tired of doing something like that. He'd been ambitious, once. Kicked out by the Crown, only for the Tower to welcome him back in. Change. The Dahlia were the ones that kept their hands clean, the Amaranthus some strange middle ground between the healers of Dahlia and the cunning of the Narcissus. Yet they had a chance to make things right, to change what the old could not, and Tris was here as living proof of that. As was Grayson.
"To me? Or to everyone?" Grayson frowned, but he shook his head after a second. There was this air of dissatisfaction, only because Gray knew how they'd left it. Unspoken, nothing mentioned of whatever beginning of a relationship they'd had. Silence, and now no way to pick up where they'd left off because everything remained unclear. "What do you want from me, Tris? I gave you...everything, once. And now we're here."
Tristan was taken off guard at Grayson's words, his gaze faltering as his mind tried to grapple with the heaviness and conjure up a response. It was daunting how much his nerves just seemed to jump in Grayson's presense, more so if he said anything like this. It was almost like a panic rose up in his chest, a weird fear that Tristan hadn't got to analyze yet. "We were kids," he managed, finally looking back. "Or the closest thing. We thought we had everything figured out and that night- the night I kissed you before your spell... it was thinking that it was us against the world. But it wasn't. And I don't know what else we were fucking up in those days but it's clear neither of us are the same men we were back then. I figured you'd want to leave your past behind... seeing how well you're doing now." Much better than Tristan anyway - at least that's the way it looked to him from afar.
Tristan attempted to pull himself together and exude an aura of more nonchalance. "I think I just want a fresh start to get to know what that means." He hesitated, sheepish despite his every effort to remain cool. "I also might need your help."
American Horror Story: Apocalypse (2018)

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He was brilliant, off the charts. His brain brain always seemed five steps ahead of everyone else.
who: @releasedtristan where: Amaranthus Estate
Hazal had sustained so much loss and grief and it gave her a determination to set things right and to do things right, to not give into deathly temptation as the darkness had first found her when the Amaranthus coven had been nearly wiped out beside from the lone survivor which was herself and Ezekiel who she had asked to rejoin the ranks. Life was short, even for those who were promised immortality and so she'd make good use of the time that she had, releasing the Amaranthus prisoners that Neva had locked away. They would rebuilt and they would be wonderful, magnificence could be theirs if they broke free from tradition and she had always known the dangers of repeating history from her archives. Tristan had been her best friend when he had been locked away but she had been in no position to help him, now she was Soverign and she would see him free. Knocking on the doorframe of his old room, she was happy to see it filled with life once again. "How are you settling in?"
It would make sense the boy with the eidetic memory and thirsty ambition would cling to the budding and future Archivist of his coven. However, he never expected her to be his savior. Tristan didn't love keeping books, scrolls, tomes and all those dusty things; the job would have frustrated him. But how often would be sit at the floor of the archives, nose buried in some new research of mythical beings? Should Hazal ever have second guessed her own memory, chances were that Tristan remembered the exact section, shelf, book, page and line she needed. So if he wasn't making trouble or having fun with Grayson, it was Hazal who he clung to. The sweet, kind, intelligent woman who not once made him feel like the outsider that he made himself out to be, even before his imprisonment. He hadn't even gotten to probably say goodbye to his best friend before the Senate took him away - a position he'd put himself into, sure, but that Hazal got him out of. If it was their friendship or her own compassion that made that decision, Tristan still couldn't tell. He kept their conversations short and uncertain, closed off as he tried to adjust to being back and the fact she was his Sovereign now. But no matter, he could tell some of the other new witches he didn't know didn't trust him at all. Hazal couldn't keep saving him if he didn't save himself by proving himself.
"You asked me that before," he muttered. But he remembered that he hadn't even answered her the first time, just stating that he was sleepy and sending her away. He had barely spoken to Hazal those first few days back in the sun. Tristan should have been completely adjusted by now but that just wasn't the truth. Still, speaking with Grayson made Tris realize pulling away was nothing but self-sabotage. "But sure. I'm thinking about how I know you're here. Grayson's here. Ciro's back... Even so, it doesn't feel like the Amaranthus anymore." They were all gone - everyone else he had known.
"That's what I get for shortcuts, I guess." When he's not spending time at the shop he's now at the Amaranthus house in the library or some nook or cranny trying to find useful spells. Stuff to clean his apartment, to keep drawings pinned up at his station, things that just made life easier. The first thing he'd done was sit down with that spell to get ink to stick to immortal skin, he could cut out the middle man there now. Closing the book in his hands, Rowan looks to Tristan and he likes all of the Amaranthus witches, he's a bit nervous to be around them, but they're alright. "What would you say is the most useful spell?"
Tristan was annoyed for .5 seconds at being asked a question before realizing he actually wanted to answer. He remembered how fun it was being a know-it-all as a young witch learning in class. There was no classes for old ass Rowan now. Maybe it was a little sad he had to miss the chaos of 11 year olds trying to levitate their tamagotchi's, and maybe Tristan really did want to help. Shaking off his broody post-prison attitude was something that he badly needed to work on.
After sighing, he shrugged and walked over, glancing at the tome. "Household spells? Useful spells? You summoned a Familiar already, I would have thought you'd have started thinking broader than that." He considered briefly. "Anyway, I'd say it depends. What school of magics are you thinking of focusing on?"
It was very Tristan to get in his face. Grayson wasn't going to move; he was always ready for a game of chicken. There was always some kind of cocksure attitude he was going to get from Tris, but Grayson rolled his eyes now, looking away. He was always the first to break, despite his stubborn streak that was legendary. "Fuck off with that. Of course you did." How could he not? It had been Grayson's spell, his idea to tamper with the one mark that kept them safe from a very real Pythia. Grayson didn't want to think about what would have happened if he wasn't protected and she was able to get in his head after she'd returned from way off wherever.
"I chose to be here, Tristan. Like all of us did. The coven was fucking wiped out. It means change can happen." He'd stood on his father's grave and laughed βΒ laughed β until he couldn't breathe. There was something wrong with him, and Grayson wasn't going to think about that until he was forced to face whatever it was. "Narcissus? Yeah, because I'm sure the Senate will be thrilled if everyone has a bit of blood magic they can throw around. If you're so fucking upset about it, then stop complaining and do something. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, Tris."
Of course you did. Tristan wouldn't say he didn't consider the logic of just blaming the man who made it easier to commit his own crime; Tris' own anger and desperation getting the better of him in the misery behind a prison cell. But days would pass and weeks and months and than years and the whisper of blame was nothing but a foggy memory by then. In the end, Tristan couldn't have blamed Grayson even if he'd wanted to. He looked at Grayson and he wasn't all too sure that was anything his fellow broody, moody, witch wanted to hear. Grayson had always been the livelier and kinder one between the two but it seemed that even his old friend had changed a lot since their youth. The one thing that they held in common now was a dark cloud hanging over their heads.
Grayson gave him that quick short-temper and attitude that made Tristan's brows raise slightly. "Okay. Okay, fine, I deserved that," he relented with nonchalance. "Though, again, I wasn't avoiding you because I'm mad at you. I just didn't know what to say anymore." Didn't know what to do, either, but though it might've been obvious he wouldn't say so out loud. "I still don't know. However, it's finally dawned on me that no one's been pushing Hazal to kick me out yet so it looks like we'll be here, together, for a while."

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CODY FERN via instagram
Date: January, some time Location: Amaranthus House Characters: @rowanivar & @releasedtristan Notes: noobz
He found a certain amount of jealously in him when it came to the fact Rowan was able to summon a Familiar so quick. After losing his magic for so many years in jail, there was none of that for Tristan. Eventually, he hoped to get it done... at least once it felt like he was on more even, trusting ground with the Amaranthus. Summoning a demon would otherwise earn him looks. For now, he managed to just take out his slight annoyance on the mild impatience he had when the new witch didn't do something perfectly right.
"You're pronouncing it wrong," Tristan piped up. "80% of ancient spells around here are Latin or Greek so you really need to get on that or you can forget about the Sumerian and even Norse. Sticking to the English and Italian spells gets boring, I'll tell you that much."